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last updated: july 31, 2025
Joel Miller - the last of us ★
Eddie Munson - stranger things ϟ
Steve Harrington - stranger things ♚
+ Stranger Things Cast (Robin, Nancy, & Jonathan) ⁂
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#kay's delicate reads ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ (fluff)
#kay's secret moment ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ (smut)
#kay's bookshelf ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ (to be read)
#kay's answered requests 💌
#here's a toast to my real friends ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ (moots + replies)
#kay's wishful thinking ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ (random thoughts)
summary: 4 times you and Steve find yourselves acting as parents for the party, and the one time you act like a couple
pairing: steve harrington x fem!(byers)reader
word count: 8k
warning(s): some swears, plot inaccuracies, definitely canon divergent (please don't come for me), highly unedited, I wanted to write something fun but I honestly feel like it's really jumbled and not great so I apologize for the poor writing (I'm still kind of getting back into it)...
a/n: another 4 + 1, who could’ve guessed? they really seem to be what I always go back to. This one is a little (more than a little) fluffier and lighthearted than my last steve fic...hopefully y'all enjoy! Feedback and comments are always highly appreciated <3
• ж • ж •
I. D&D Danger
The Wheeler's basement smells like old carpet mixed with the faint chemical tang of permanent markers from Mike’s countless D&D maps. Whatever pizza the boys had abandoned two hours ago left the air with a fading scent of pepperoni and melted cheese. Strings of mismatched Christmas lights are hung along the walls—Will’s doing, of course—casting the whole room in a warm, patchwork glow.
You sit cross-legged near the old record player, flipping through a borrowed, totally not stolen box of Jonathan’s carefully labeled cassettes, trying to decide between The Clash or the Talking Heads. The boys had been playing D&D for hours, their voices rising and falling in bursts of excitement. The girls had decided to have a sleepover at Hopper’s—no boys allowed, they’d specified. But with no one else around to supervise, that left you responsible for your brother and his three best friends.
For this campaign Will was the Dungeon Master, and it was Mike’s turn to make a move. While he pondered his options, for a blissful moment, everything was quiet.
Then it wasn’t.
“MIKE, you can’t just skip the traps!” Dustin barks, slamming his palms on the table so hard the character sheets flutter.
Mike leans back in his chair, arms crossed with the dramatic flair of a teen boy convinced he was right. “I’m not skipping them. I’m strategically avoiding them.”
Lucas throws his pencil down. “That’s literally the definition of skipping.”
“It is not–”
“Yes it is!” Lucas responds with a mature indignation you knew only he was capable of making look cool. On Dustin, it would come across whiny and petulant.
“No, it’s not—”
“It is!” Lucas insists once again. He wasn’t about to back down, especially not to Mike.
Will’s voice comes out small, drowned beneath the storm. “Guys, can we just—”
No one hears him.
You sigh, setting down the cassette you’d been holding. Here we go again. You stand and brush dust off your jeans, already halfway to the table when the basement door creaks open.
Boots thud down the old wooden stairs.
“Hey, uh, sorry I’m late,” Steve calls, shaking the cold from his body as he descends. He holds a paper bag in one hand. “I brought ice cream.” Even though it’s freezing outside, ice cream really does sound great right about now.
You steal a glimpse of him as your gaze locks on his figure. Steve’s hair, impossibly thick and wild, catches Will’s Christmas lights like a halo of soft brown waves. His eyes, warm and alert, flick around the room, half in amusement, half in exasperation, and his jawline carries that mix of boyish softness and emerging sharpness that makes him impossible to ignore.
The denim jacket on his shoulders is worn in all the right places, sleeves casually rolled, and his sneakers are scuffed but perfectly comfortable, like they’d barely survived the walk from his car to the front door. His every movement has an easy confidence, that subtle sway of someone who could be both reckless and dependable at the same time.
He freezes when he reaches the bottom step. So do you.
The boys are mid-argument, halfway standing, voices overlapping. You’re standing with your arms half-crossed in irritation. And without even thinking, without even meaning to, you and Steve both plant your feet, cross your arms, and give the exact same unimpressed stare.
Identical and perfectly mirrored.
“Hey, hey!” Your voice calls in a chastising manner. “Knock it off.” You say firmly.
“Knock it off,” Steve echoes at the exact same time, nearly a fraction of a second apart. You both look menacing and parental and totally in tune with each other.
The table goes dead silent and all four boys stare with wide, unnerved eyes.
Will blinks, slow and owl-like. “Did you guys just…”
Mike’s jaw hangs open. “That’s creepy.”
Lucas leans forward as if studying a strange new species. “Oh my god,” he shudders, “they’re synchronized, like they’re one person.”
Dustin points dramatically. “You two spend so much time together you’re starting to sound the same.”
Heat rushes across your face, spreading onto your cheeks, just now realizing how close you are to Steve. You drop your arms like they’re on fire. “We are not—we didn’t coordinate that.”
Steve’s face flushes with embarrassment. “Yeah, that wasn’t— I mean, we didn’t— it’s just a coincidence shitheads…"
“No one said it wasn’t,” Dustin’s tone carries teasingly, grinning like Christmas came early.
You agree, gesturing between yourself and Steve, “Right.” You affirm. “A coincidence.”
“Uh-huh,” Lucas responds flatly.
Will tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “You guys kind of do that a lot.”
Your stomach does a weird little flip. “Do what?”
“Act like parents,” Mike says, not even trying to cushion it.
You nearly choke on your own breath. “Parents?” Being a babysitter you could get behind, even being an older sibling figure is something you’d expected. But a parent? Absolutely not…you don’t act like one.
Steve doesn’t like the warmth that fills his chest at the implication. “Okay, wow—okay—nope. No. We’re— that’s— absolutely not what’s happening.”
“Totally,” Dustin adds cheerfully, “full on married couple, mom and dad energy right there.”
“Excuse me?” You and Steve blurt in unison again.
This time, the kids don’t hold back before losing it. Mike slaps the table in sheer amusement at your expense. Lucas simply doubles over wheezing. Will hides a smile behind his hand, and Dustin practically vibrates with smugness. It’s written all over his expression, got ya.
You press both palms to your face in exasperation. “Oh my god.”
Steve leans closer to you, lowering his voice while the boys cackle. “They’re doing this on purpose, y’know? They like to see us riled up.”
“They’re evil,” you whisper back.
“We can hear you,” Lucas cuts in with a sly grin.
Dustin gestures proudly between the two of you. “We’re right here.”
Steve's posture straightens, blowing out a breath before attempting to regain control. “Look—just—can you assholes get back to your campaign before I lose the last bit of sanity keeping me alive?”
“Language,” you blurt automatically, pointing at him like a scolding mother. It’s a habit you’d picked up from being around Dustin’s fowl mouth so much.
Steve stares at you, wide-eyed. “Did you just mom-voice me?”
The boys almost howl in laughter and Mike nearly slides right off his chair. You feel your ears burning. “I did not mom-voice you.”
Steve raises a brow, mouth tugging into a teasing, lopsided grin. “You totally did.”
“I did not.”
“It was kinda hot,” He mutters, so quietly you almost question whether you heard it.
Your heart plummets into your shoes. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Nothing,” Steve says immediately, voice slightly too loud and too serious. “S’just a figure of speech.”
Across the table, the boys all exchange glances, eyebrows wiggling, smirks forming. The kind of smirks that make you want to lock them in the Upside Down for an hour.
You glare. “If you tell anyone about this, I swear—”
“We won’t,” Will promises sweetly.
“We absolutely will,” Dustin corrects, grinning.
You groan, dramatically dropping onto the couch like the world had betrayed you.
Steve walks over and gently nudges your knee with his. “You okay?” he asks, voice softer than before. “They’re… um… a lot.”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Believe me. I know.”
He offers a crooked, warm smile—the one he only does when he thought no one else was paying attention. “For what it’s worth… I like when we’re on the same team.”
Your chest tightens again, pleasantly, confusingly.
You look up at him and he looks back at you. And for a brief, suspended moment, the chaos of the basement falls away. The glow of the string lights warms Steve’s face. And the two of you feel oddly, undeniably in sync.
Will’s voice breaks the moment, soft but hopeful: “Um… can we keep playing now?”
You and Steve answer instinctively, perfectly in time: “Sure.”
Another round of laughs erupts from the table. But neither of you corrected it. They were never going to let you live this down.
• ж • ж •
II. The Group Project
Outside, dusk settles over the yard in deep purples and soft peach streaks, turning the kitchen windows into reflective glass. Indoors, the overhead light casts a warm glow across the clutter —half-finished meals pushed aside, a pile of school mail crumpled on the counter, and one lone sock that definitely didn’t start the day where it ended up.
Tonight was supposed to be simple.
The plan—your plan—was to spend a quiet Wednesday finishing a book you’d been putting off. Maybe make some tea. Maybe listen to music. Maybe not referee any disasters for at least a few hours.
But fate, apparently, had other ideas.
Because at nearly 7pm there’s a frantic, uneven knock at the Byers’ front door followed by Dustin’s unmistakable voice calling, “(Y/n), open up!”
You don’t even get a chance to answer. Will opens the door instead, and Dustin barrels in like he’s fleeing wolves.
“We need help with a project,” He announces, breathless like he sprinted the whole way. His curls are wind-tangled, his jacket is half-zipped, and his cheeks flushed from the cold.
Before you can even speak, he’s dumped the contents of his bag onto the table in an academic explosion: glue sticks with bitten caps, an avalanche of loose papers, two crushed Twizzlers, and what looks dangerously like a frog diagram Will did last year.
Will appears behind him, looking apologetic. “Sorry,” he says. “He got…excited.”
Lucas trudges in next with the exhausted despair of a man going to war. “This project is killing us.”
You raise your eyebrows, you know for a fact this project isn’t due until later this week. “It’s Wednesday.”
“Exactly,” Lucas says, dropping into a chair like he’s accepted death. “It’s basically due tomorrow.”
“It’s actually due Friday,” Will mumbles.
Lucas waves a hand. “Same difference.” Unlike the others, Lucas has never been one to procrastinate. He prefers to be ahead of schedule.
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “So what exactly do you need help with?”
“History presentation,” Dustin says. “We need a poster. A good one. Like, award-winning. Like the kind of poster people applaud for.”
You blink slowly. “You don’t get applause for school posters.”
“You do,” Dustin says gravely, “if you do them right.”
Before you can sigh again, the door opens again, and Steve pokes his head inside. He steps cautiously into the kitchen, shaking off his jacket, eyes scanning the room with the practiced alarm of the seasoned babysitter he is.
“Hey! Am I late? I came as soon as I heard—” His gaze falls on the table. “Oh. Wow. That’s… a lot of paper.”
You cross your arms, mildly begrudged and equally curious. “Why are you here?”
“Lucas told me you might need backup.” He shrugs, lifting a grocery bag with the confidence of a man who believes snacks can solve anything. “Plus, I brought provisions.”
He unloads chips, pretzels, Capri Suns, and a box of brownies like he’s setting up camp. And the boys look at him the way baby ducks look at the first thing they see.
Steve beams like he’s been handed a trophy. You fold your arms. “So you’re helping too?”
He shrugs with a grin that is far too casual to be accidental. “Just in case.”
Dustin takes a bite out of one of the brownies, sending you a toothy grin as he does it. He passes one each to Will and Lucas with glee. “This,” Dustin announces, “is why Steve is allowed to come to group projects.”
Steve salutes him. “Glad to be of service man.”
Within minutes, the dining table turns into a chaotic workshop, an island of absolute academic activity. Will is sorting his pencil crayons by shade like you knew he would and Lucas, well, Lucas is fighting and losing against a glue stick cap that refuses to open.
You pull the poster board to the center. Spreading it out, you smooth its surface with your palms. It’s cool and stiff under your hands — blank and expectant.
Dustin’s voice whispers a quiet shit, shit, shit, as a tin of glitter spills on his pants. He stands, dusting it off onto the floor. You chuckle and sigh, shaking your head in bemusement, that’ll be a clean up problem for later.
“Okay,” you say, ready to begin. “Let’s get started. We’ll keep it simple. Neat. Clear.”
You tuck your knees under the chair you’re sitting on and lean forward, sketching the first pencil guidelines. The familiar pressure of graphite scraping paper grounds you; it’s something you can control.
Steve wanders to your side, pulling a chair next to yours. He doesn’t lower himself gently, he drops into it with that boyish clumsiness he pretends he doesn’t have, the seat legs squeaking across the floor.
He sits next to you — right next to you, close enough that your elbows brush every time you shift — and he tries to look like he understands what’s happening.
He doesn’t. At all. He hasn’t completed a school project like this in years. You try not to think about how close he is, but you fail immediately. He smells like winter air and the faint cologne he uses only when he’s trying to impress a girl. It’s warm with something sweet pulling at its edges.
He picks up a pencil and squints at the page of instructions. “So, uh…what’s this part?”
“That’s the rubric,” you reply.
“Right. Right. Of course.” He nods confidently. Then lowers his voice. “What’s a rubric again?”
You bite back a smile. “It’s just the grading guide.”
“Oh.” He leans back slightly. “Yeah, I totally knew that.”
“No you didn’t,” Will says without looking up.
“Didn’t ask for your input, Wizard Boy.” From anyone else, you might have taken offence on your brother’s behalf, but Steve has this teasing rapport with each of the kids—it’s easy and heartwarming.
Will just rolls his eyes and keeps colouring.
You slide a reindeer-shaped eraser toward Steve. “Here. For morale.”
He accepts it solemnly. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”
A few minutes pass in silence as each of you work diligently on your parts. Honestly, you’re kind of having fun; getting back into the groove of a school project reminds you of your own time in high school. It wasn’t always the best, but it brought you closer to Steve. Despite hailing from very different social groups, trauma had bonded you together in a way you’d never have expected. The upside down feels distant in this moment, and that in itself feels nice.
You’re sketching out the title letters when you feel Steve lean closer, his arm brushing yours again.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Can you… uh… help me with this?”
You look over. He’s struggling with the scissors, fingers covered in a light coating of glue. He’s stuck.
You blink slowly, staring at him with a soft smile.
“Steve.” You snort.
He grins, embarrassed but charmingly so, and nudges your knee with his under the table.
“C’mon, don't laugh” he says softly. “I feel stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.” You tap the poster board sending him a lopsided grin. “You just, look a little sticky.”
Standing to grab a wash cloth from your kitchen counter, you wet it slightly. “Here,” you say, taking Steve’s hand in yours, careful not to cut yourself with the scissor’s blades. You help Steve, guiding his hand free once the glue has been successfully wiped away.
The kids notice that change in the room. They absolutely notice. A fresh, nervous energy fills the air.
Lucas nudges Will. Will raises an eyebrow, and Dustin smirks knowingly like he’s in on some grand romantic conspiracy.
Steve eyes Dustin carefully, as if to say not a word, not ONE word. But Dustin doesn’t care, he’s more than happy to watch his friend fall apart at a simple touch from your hand on his. The curly haired teen bites the inside of his cheek trying not to comment—and failing, whispering something like they’re so obvious.
You pretend not to notice.
Another bout of silence falls amongst the group, settling with your dissipating nerves. Each of you agrees, you want to get this done as efficiently as possible, even if it doesn’t seem like it. Now, you’re busy shading the title letters — your hand resting naturally close to Steve’s
Just when the chaos seems manageable, Joyce wanders by carrying a basket of folded laundry. She stops and takes one long look at the table. Her brown eyes take in the scene piece by piece: You leaning in, fingers smudged with pencil dust, and Steve beside you, shoulders angled inward as if drawn to your orbit. Your hands brush each time one of you reaches for a marker.
Joyce watches as the boys work with suspicious innocence. Five Capri Suns sit next to each other, straws already poked in.
A subtle, knowing smile touches her face — warm, gentle, approving. “Oh,” she says, lingering just a heartbeat too long, “you two look cute working together.”
The room freezes. Steve inhales sharply, feeling caught. He blinks unnaturally hard like someone hit pause on his brain. Your eyes widen, sending a glare her way that says: Mom, get out. Joyce simply glides out of the room without clarifying or apologizing, leaving behind the smoldering embarrassment of the interrupted moment you totally weren’t having.
By the time the project is almost done, the boys have stopped doing much of anything, letting you and Steve finish their work for them.
Steve is helping you outline the final border — or at least trying to — his shoulder brushing yours in a way that feels intentional now. He holds the ruler, his long fingers guiding him as he traces the final touches. He leans in a little closer, voice dropping to something low and warm.
“You know,” he nods at the poster. “At this rate, we’re basically co-parenting a school project.”
Your cheeks warm at the thought. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” His tone is soft, teasing but honest underneath. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”
You freeze for half a second. Just half. And you try to focus, you really really do, but he’s just so distracting.
The house is suddenly very quiet. The distance between you and Steve is small, just a few inches, maybe less but the air shifts, humming with an almost-something neither of you has been brave enough to name. And Steve is watching you, not in the big, bold way he sometimes does, but softly, like he’s asking a question he already knows the answer to.
You swallow. Then you snatch the ruler from his grasp and jab it into his chest.
“Focus, Harrington.”
He laughs under his breath. It’s low, sweet, and the sound slides right under your ribs.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Sure thing Byers.”
But he doesn’t move away.
And neither do you.
• ж • ж •
III. Mad Max
The call comes just after sunset, the hour when Hawkins shifts from blue to violet, when houses glow with warm windows and the ravens call loudly enough to fill the cracks of silence. You’re drying the last dish when the phone rings again. Will grabs it before you do, the cord stretching across his chest like a lifeline.
You can tell it’s one of those calls by the way his face changes—brow pinched, lips pressed thin, eyes flicking toward you.
“It’s Steve,” he says, voice tight, eyes wide and anxious. “Max ran off. Again.”
Your stomach drops. There’s a small, tight pull in your chest. It’s not fear, definitely not panic—just that familiar weight of here we go, mixed with the tug you always feel whenever the kids need you. You suppose it’s a familiar responsibility that comes from loving too many people too much.
You’re grabbing your jacket before you even realize it. Will isn’t surprised. He doesn’t have to ask; he just steps aside to let you pass.
And when you finally step outside, the cool night air hits your skin—crisp like late autumn and early winter should be, carrying the scent of dry leaves and woodsmoke. And there he is.
Steve, leaning against his car, fiddling with his gloves. His hair is wind-tousled, his cheeks flushed, his hands jittery with too much adrenaline and too little direction. He looks up the second you appear.
Relief floods his entire expression.
“You came,” he breathes out, like he was half afraid you wouldn’t.
“You called.” You affirm. As if there’d be a time when you could say no to him. Like you’d ever not show up.
When you finally get a good look at him, you notice there’s worry in his eyes. And underneath it—because you’ve learned to read him—there’s this fear that he’ll mess this up. He doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the car and you slide in, the familiar smell of pine car freshener wrapping around you.
As he pulls away, he keeps glancing over at you with these quick, jittery cuts of his eyes on you like he needs to make sure you’re actually there.
“She just—she took off,” he mutters, voice clipped. “Lucas said something, and then she was gone, and I—” He swallows hard. “I don’t know if she’s mad, or scared, or both. Jesus probably both.”
You touch his arm lightly, grounding him. “She’s not running from you, Steve.”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t believe you yet.
He drives the two of you in complete silence for a while before coming to a stop on the edge of the woods. You find yourselves at an entrance to a trail you know Max likes, one she uses when she just needs to get away.
“You ready?” You ask Steve with a soft smile. He doesn’t respond, too caught up in his thoughts to speak. He simply nods and takes your hand in his. It’s grounding…for both of you, in a way that usually would spark a kind of nervous energy. But right now, it’s exactly what Steve needs.
As evening clings to the forest trail like a heavy blanket, it's cast in a half-shadow, half-silver moonlight state. The air is cool and smells of pine needles and damp earth as the last bit of violet sky filters through the branches.. Steve’s flashlight cuts through the shadows as you both walk, the beam slicing through the trees like thin, trembling fingers.
The crunch of frozen soil under your feet fills the silence between you.
“She could be anywhere,” Steve mutters. His shoulders are tight, a helm of anxiety written all over him.
You can feel Steve’s worry, almost like it’s a physical heat pouring off him. He’s walking too fast, scanning everything, body coiled like he’s ready to fight whatever hurts the people he cares about.
You’ve seen that look before. In the Upside Down, in hospital rooms, in quieter nights like this.
“She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone,” he murmurs as if it’s his fault she ran. “None of them should.”
But you hear the real fear beneath it: I should’ve kept her safe. I should’ve noticed sooner. I should’ve been enough.
In the years you’ve grown to know Steve, he’s always held himself to an insurmountable standard. It’s one that he would never expect from anyone else but himself. He has to be ready for anything at any time from anyone. And he has to be able to take it on alone. That’s one of the things you’re trying to break down—this need to fix everything by himself. You’ve tried countless times to tell him I’m here too. Sometimes you think you’re getting through to him…this isn’t one of those moments. But you’d be damned if you stopped trying.
After a few minutes of more silent sulking, you hear something familiar: the uneven scrape of wheels on the dirt. You follow the sound around a bend, and there she is, sitting at the edge of the tree trunk with her skateboard on her lap like a shield.
Her chin is tucked to her chest, knuckles white on the board's underside.
“Red?” You murmur softly, easing down beside her. You approach slowly, like you’re nearing a cornered animal, because in some ways, you are.
Max sniffles once, but doesn’t look up. In Max-language, that means: I’ll talk, just not yet.
“Hey,” you continue, leaning in closer beside her. The ground is cold through your jeans. “Want to tell me what happened?”
She shrugs, nails digging into the underside of her skateboard. You can see the tension coiled in her shoulders. Her body language betrays her, anger, shame, frustration, hurt all tangled up.
“It was stupid,” she mutters.
“If it made you feel this bad,” you glance at her with a sympathy for her pain, “it wasn’t stupid Max.”
She shakes her head in slight protest before muttering, “The boys were just being idiots,”
Behind you, Steve hangs back, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, pretending he’s not desperately listening while also desperate to give space. His hands rest on his hips and his eyes don’t leave her for a second.
“They wouldn’t stop arguing, I just felt like I couldn’t control anything.” Max finally says. “And then Lucas said I didn’t need to be so dramatic. And Mike got all Mike about it. So I left. Before I yelled…or cried.”
The last word breaks. Just slightly. “I don’t know,” she continues, “I figured they wouldn’t even notice I was gone.”
You give her a look. “You know they notice everything you do.”
Max kicks a pebble, hard. “Yeah, well… I didn’t want them to see me cry.”
That slices clean through you. You bump her shoulder gently. “Max. Crying doesn’t make you weak.”
“It makes me look like a baby.” Is her honest response, and she means it.
“It makes you look human,” you correct softly, pulling her into a soft side-hug.
She sniffles but refuses to cry in front of you. It’s Max’s way of trying to be tough, even though you already know how soft-hearted she really is. For a moment, the world goes still around the three of you. Steve leans down to meet your level, each of you now sitting on the cold dirt floor. Max’s breathing is easier, her shoulders are lower, and her jaw unclenches. She needed to be seen, and with you and Steve, she feels she has been.
But just when the moment is finally tender, real, and grounding—she ruins it in the most Max Mayfield way possible.
“Ya know,” she grumbles abruptly, staring between you and Steve, “You two are like our divorced parents who still love each other. It’s kind of annoying.”
You blink. In that moment, Steve actually chokes on his own saliva.
“Divorced?” he echoes, like she just accused him of murder. His voice cracks on the second syllable.
The red head rolls her eyes. “Yeah. Like the way you show up together. And fight together. And then act weird when anyone points it out.” You give each other a look that asks, we totally don’t do that right? But she continues before you can think about it more, “One of you is the calm one,” she points to you, “and one of you is the chaotic one, but you’re always together anyway. It’s a whole thing…Classic divorced-but-still-grossly-in-love behaviour.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, when Steve makes a move to protest being labelled the chaotic one. “Don’t even start,” you warn Steve without looking at him.
“I wasn’t!” he puts his hands up in defence. Then quieter, “…I wasn’t.”
Max snorts. “God. That’s exactly what a divorced dad would say.”
Steve looks incredulous and personally victimized. Divorced? Why can’t you both be happily married in this scenario?
But as he takes in Max’s smile and the quiet laugh she lets out at his reaction, he can see how much she needed this—a moment to break the tension with something ridiculous. Her eyes are no longer stormy…and that was the whole point of this.
“C’mon,” you say gently, nudging them both to get up from your spots on the ground. “Let’s get you home.”
Max finally nods, rubbing her eyes tiredly as you lead her back to the car. She leans on you both during the short walk, and when you finally reach the vehicle, Steve lifts her onto the seat gently. He buckles her in like a true parent.
Max falls asleep before you’re even back on the road, skateboard still clutched to her chest. She curls into the corner of the back seat, exhausted and small in a way she’ll deny forever.
Steve drives slowly now—the careful, protective version of him that surfaces only when the kids are nearby… or when you are. The silence in the car is warm, heavy. Not awkward. Just… charged.
The road unwinds in long, quiet stretches. Golden pools of streetlight glide over the windshield. The car hums.
You rest your elbow on the window, watching the blur of passing houses. Steve glances at you a few times—quick, flickering looks from under his lashes, like he’s trying to find the right words but they keep slipping away. They’re the kind he thinks you don’t notice.
Halfway down the road, pulling into the Mayfield driveway, he inhales deeply.
“You know…” he says quietly, “you’re… really good with her.”
You shrug off his words. “She just needed someone to listen.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean… you’re good with all of them. With the boys. And El.” He pauses, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.
“—and with me.”
Your heart stutters. “I never expected anyone to care about me the way you do.” His brown eyes meet yours as he puts the car in park.
It’s subtle, but the way his voice dips? The way the words feel heavier than they should? It does something to you.
You try to play it off, but your pulse betrays you, thrumming in your ears. You can feel it in your wrists, in your ribs, and in your throat.
“Somebody has to be the calm one,” you say softly.
Steve huffs a laugh, warm and self-deprecating. “Yeah. Well. That’s definitely not me.”
You pretend to look out the window, steadying your breath. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” you murmur.
“You give me too much,” he replies.
“That’s not true.” He shifts his hand on the center console. Yours shifts too. Barely, casually. Maybe not casually at all.
Your pinkies brush. And Steve freezes—just a breath, just a heartbeat—but long enough for the air between you to thicken, warm and electric with currents of tension.
He doesn’t pull away and neither do you.
“Thanks,” he whispers, almost too quiet. “For being you.”
Your heartbeat answers for you and you let your hand drift the final few centimetres until your pinkies tough tentatively. Steve exhales and neither of you pulls away.
• ж • ж •
IV. School Pick-Up
The Hawkins High School parking lot looks like a battlefield every weekday at 3:15 p.m.—car exhaust drifting in the cold air, teachers shouting instructions like air-traffic controllers, and children flooding through the front doors in unpredictable, chaotic waves.
You’re already tense just pulling in. Picking up Will always stirs something in your chest: protectiveness, guilt, that familiar edge of worry you’ve never really shaken since he came home from the Upside Down. Even on normal days, you watch the doors like he might need you in the span of a heartbeat.
You exhale, trying to shake it off. Will is safe. School is just school. Your fingers tighten around the wheel anyway.
You turn into one of the few remaining spots—and then a flash of gold catches your eye.
Of course. The BMW.
You watch as Steve swings into the spot right next to yours with practiced ease, like the two of you rehearsed this moment. Which is ridiculous. Except he really does show up at the same time as you more often than not, and you really have noticed. And part of you hates that you’ve noticed, and the other part—some stubborn, traitorous part—really, really likes it.
Your heart jumps a little before you can stop it. Great. Fantastic. Wonderful.
You open your door and step out just as he does, and his face lights up instantly, as if your presence was the best thing he could’ve seen in this entire parking lot disaster.
“You doing the afternoon pickup too?” He asks, jogging a few easy steps toward you.
His tone is casual, but his eyes flick over you with that warm, open softness you’re still not used to. You fight the flutter of it.
“Yep. My mom’s working late, again.” Your voice sounds normal. You feel anything but.
His expression dips into something gentler. “Ah. I’m here for Dustin and Max. They wanna check out some new arcade game or some nerdy shit like that.”
The image of Steve watching aimlessly as Dustin and Max school each other on some arcade game is… absurdly cute. Dangerous thoughts. You push it away.
You’re about to say something back, something normal, something friendly, something not obviously lovesick, when the school doors burst open.
A tidal wave of kids floods out.
“Steve! I’ve been waiting forever!” Max yells, barreling toward him with her skateboard like she owns the pavement.
At the same second, you spot Will weaving through the crowd, his backpack bouncing. The way he breaks into a grin when he sees you cracks your chest open a little. He still looks so small coming out of a building so huge.
“You’re here! Finally!” He gasps when he reaches you, even though you’re early.
You laugh and ruffle his hair. “Nice to see you too.”
And that’s when the universe decides to absolutely annihilate you.
A teacher—you think she’s one of the kids’ English teachers—approaches you and Steve with that warm, frazzled, end-of-day smile teachers wear for parents like armor.
“Oh, good! There you are!” She chirps. “Your kids were very well-behaved today.”
Your brain trips over itself so hard you actually blink. Your kids?
Beside you, Steve goes rigid. Max snorts so loudly she almost chokes. You and Steve make the exact same face—wide-eyed, frozen, about to malfunction.
“Our what?” You stammer, but Steve jumps in, panicked.
“Oh—they—um—only one of them is mine,” He blurts.
You whip your head toward him. Only one of them is his? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
He realizes what he just said in real-time, eyes going feral. “I mean—none!. None are mine, I don’t—I’m just, you know?” He shrugs his shoulders in panic, struggling to get his point across. You know what he means…he’s just picking them up. But the teacher in front of you doesn’t seem to get the message.
Will is wheezing against your arm, absolutely delighted.
Dustin materializes out of the crowd like a summoned gremlin. “What is happening?” He demands—but then the teacher smiles fondly at him too, like he’s your collective third child, and he looks like Christmas arrived early.
“Oh my god,” He whispers, nudging you and watching Steve with utter amusement. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”
“Sir,” the teacher says kindly to Steve, patting his arm like he’s having a breakdown, “You don’t have to explain anything. Parenting is hard.”
You swear you see Steve’s soul momentarily leave his body. Max crosses her arms. “Yeah, Dad, stop being weird.”
Your jaw drops. You’re 97% certain Steve just lost the will to live.
“MAX,” he hisses, voice cracking.
You try—really try—not to laugh. But a strangled sound escapes anyway, and you have to hide your mouth behind your hand before you openly lose it. The teacher, blissfully unaware of the carnage she’s caused, waves cheerfully and moves on to the next cluster of kids.
Will is practically vibrating. “You two should get matching minivans!”
“Don’t. Even,” you warn him, but your cheeks are already burning.
Steve looks like he’s seriously considering changing his name and moving to another state. “Okay, shitheads.Nobody ever speaks of this again. Got it?” He points to each of them with an intensity you adore.
“No promises Dad,” Dustin cackles.
You start steering Will toward your car before he throws more gasoline on the fire. Your heart is still thumping, too fast, too warm, and you’re terrified it’s obvious.
But then—something prickles at the back of your neck.
You glance over your shoulder. Steve is still standing beside his BMW, leaning one elbow on the roof, watching you like he doesn’t want this moment to end. Like you’re something he’s memorizing.
When your eyes meet, he says aloud: We’d be cool parents though.
Everything inside you short-circuits. You pretend not to hear him, but a small smile creeps its way onto your face. Your hand slips, keys nearly tumbling. Will looks up at you with raised eyebrows. “Why do you look like that?”
“Headache,” you say immediately.
Will squints. “You’re the weirdest person I know.”
You don’t look back again. You don’t trust yourself not to melt into a puddle in front of the entire school—but even as you close the car door, you swear you can still feel Steve’s grin pressed somewhere under your skin.
You’d make great parents, you think.
And on the way out, you’re nearly certain you hear Dustin ask Steve, “So, between me and Max, which one of us is yours?”
And you can’t help but laugh…you wonder how he’s going to get out of that one.
• ж • ж •
+ I. When acting like a couple ends in becoming a real couple.
Your house always feels a little small on nights like this.
Not physically—God knows Joyce keeps the place spotless, every corner well-loved and lived-in—but emotionally, the walls feel closer when the whole Party is together. Their energy ricochets around the room: loud, sharp, earnest, and chaotic. You’ve grown used to it by now: the mess, the noise, the unpredictability, but even so, every movie night walks that thin line between heartwarming and total combustion.
Tonight lands firmly on the combustion side. It happens fast, so fast that you don’t notice the exact moment the tension shifts. One moment the kids are debating movie choices, the next they’re fighting over pizza, and it devolves—fast.
Mike grabs the last slice before Dustin’s hand even reaches the plate.
“I called it!” Dustin erupts, shoulders shooting up like he’s about to engage in mortal combat.
Mike clutches the slice to his chest. “Calling doesn’t count!”
Dustin’s mop of curly hair takes up most of the space in your vision. He lifts an eyebrow with conviction,“Uh, yes it does!”
“It actually doesn’t!”
Somewhere behind them, Lucas shouts, “You’re both idiots!” which does absolutely nothing to de-escalate the situation.
On the other side of the room, Max throws her head back with a guttural noise of disgust before bracing her hands on the wall and storming down the hall. The bathroom door slams so hard the vibration echoes into your teeth.
Will tries to intervene once—very softly, very hesitantly—but Mike snaps something over his shoulder without thinking, and Will immediately shrinks back, retreating toward the end of the couch like he wishes he could disappear into it.
El stares at the TV remote with growing frustration. You know what she’s thinking. Maybe she could fix the evening with her powers if she tried hard enough, and you swear you see her jaw tremble.
You know the signs. You’ve babysat these kids long enough. Once one kid spirals, the rest follow like dominos.
You inhale through your nose, prepared to wade into the emotional battlefield, and then you look up. Steve, standing by the kitchen counter, meets your gaze across the living room. His gaze immediately grounds you.
What happens next is wordless and instinctive. It’s a practiced rhythm you didn’t even know you had with him—but apparently you do, because the two of you fall into perfect sync without so much as a nod.
You head for the emotional fires; Steve heads for the practical ones.
It’s almost choreographed, like some part of you already knew how to do this together. You calm the feelings while Steve stabilizes the room.
You move to Will first, because the defeated slope of his shoulders is impossible to ignore. His anxiety is a quiet thing, but you’ve learned to read him better than anyone. While you try not to treat him any differently than the others, he’s your brother. And he’s been through far too much for a kid his age.
You crouch down. “Hey,” you say gently, touching his elbow. “Take a breath with me, okay?”
Will’s eyes flicker up to yours, glassy and full of unshed worry. But he listens. He always listens.
You breathe slowly. He follows. He steadies.
“There you go,” you whisper. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His shoulders sag with relief.
Next, you make your way down the hall and knock on the bathroom door. “Max? It’s me.”
A beat. Then a muffled, “They’re idiots.”
You lean your forehead against the door, trying not to smile. “They are,” you admit. “Certified idiots. But they’re also your idiots, and they’ll feel pretty terrible if you stay mad all night.”
Silence. Then a very soft: “I’ll come out in a minute. Don’t tell them I said anything.”
You smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When you head back down to the living room, the entire energy of the room has shifted and it only takes you one glance to know why. Steve has transformed the space.
The lights are now dimmed to something warm and soft. He’s grabbed popcorn from the microwave as it's quietly replenished, and the last slice of pizza has been mysteriously replaced with two half-slices so no one feels cheated.
Blankets have been pulled down from the hall closet, unfolded and ready. He hands pillows to each of them with ease. The chaos now feels smoothed, softened, and rearranged into a soft sense of comfort.
Somehow he even got Mike and Dustin to sit, still glaring at each other but at least seated, their anger settling from wildfire to the faint glow of an ember.
You meet Steve’s eyes over the room. It hits you in the chest—unexpected and overwhelming—that this feels easy. Natural. Not like something you’re improvising, but something you’ve done a hundred times together. You’ve been a team long before either of you admitted it.
And one by one, the kids melt into calmness.
Will curls into a pillow pile, comforted. El leans against Max who has now rejoined the group, her frustration dissolving with sleep. Lucas steals a corner of a blanket and tucks it under his chin. Mike and Dustin argue, but it's half-hearted now, the kind of bickering they only do once they feel safe.
It happens gradually, but beautifully. Their breathing evens out, their fighting drains away, and instead of chaos, your living room becomes a cocoon of trust, warmth, and soft teenage exhaustion.
And the whole time, you and Steve move in tandem: adjusting blankets, soothing frayed edges, nudging cups out of danger, exchanging small, fond looks that make your stomach twist.
And by the time they’ve all settled, the house is quiet except for the hum of the TV.
You and Steve end up on the couch. It’s totally not intentional, but because there’s nowhere else to sit. A single blanket is draped over both of you, and though neither of you comments on it, you feel every point of contact like a spark.
As you sit there, the kids finally asleep, the movie plays low in the background. Your knees suddenly brush and you rest your shoulders together. Your hands settle close, almost touching on the cushion.
Steve’s warmth bleeds into you, calm and familiar and terrifyingly comforting. When you look over, his gaze is already on you. In the way that you’re noticing more and more often, it’s soft around the edges, lit by something you’ve never seen from him so openly before.
In a voice so gentle it feels like an intimate secret, he says “Sometimes I feel like we really are their parents. I mean, we’re already doing the hardest parts.”
Your heart feels like it skips a beat. He continues, watching you with a bravery that makes something twist in your chest. “Maybe,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to your lips for the briefest, most devastating second, “we should just make it official.”
It lands differently than you expected. Not teasing, not flirty, and it certainly doesn’t seem like a joke. He’s serious. Nervous. Hopeful.
You swallow, because suddenly there’s a whole confession rising inside you—a tidal wave of things you’ve been too scared to voice.
“Hmm. You do make everything easier,” you hum teasingly, then seriously, you whisper. “With the kids. With Will. With… everything really. When you’re here, it feels like I don’t have to hold everything alone.”
His expression breaks open, softens, deepens. “You don’t,” he says, voice thick. “You never have to, not with me. We have something real, and something I never want to lose (Y/n).”
Your heart surges. “Are you sure you really want this?” You ask, searching his face for any uncertainty.
He nods without hesitation. “Yeah.” His tone carries with so much confidence, you wish you could express yourself like him. “I want you and I want this. I have for a long time.”
Something in you unravels. Something else roots itself deeper. You lean in slowly, giving him time to pull away if you’ve misread this—if this isn’t what he meant—
But he moves with you. You meet halfway, and he meets you with as much care for you as you have for him.
The kiss is slow and warm and breathtaking in its tenderness. Steve exhales against your mouth like he’s been waiting for this—for you—longer than he knows how to admit. His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek in a touch so gentle it makes your eyes sting.
You melt into him as he pulls you closer, and the world narrows and expands all at once.
It feels inevitable, yet so so right.
You’re officially together. Exactly where you both belong.
summary: 4 times you and Steve find yourselves acting as parents for the party, and the one time you act like a couple
pairing: steve harrington x fem!(byers)reader
word count: 8k
warning(s): some swears, plot inaccuracies, definitely canon divergent (please don't come for me), highly unedited, I wanted to write something fun but I honestly feel like it's really jumbled and not great so I apologize for the poor writing (I'm still kind of getting back into it)...
a/n: another 4 + 1, who could’ve guessed? they really seem to be what I always go back to. This one is a little (more than a little) fluffier and lighthearted than my last steve fic...hopefully y'all enjoy! Feedback and comments are always highly appreciated <3
• ж • ж •
I. D&D Danger
The Wheeler's basement smells like old carpet mixed with the faint chemical tang of permanent markers from Mike’s countless D&D maps. Whatever pizza the boys had abandoned two hours ago left the air with a fading scent of pepperoni and melted cheese. Strings of mismatched Christmas lights are hung along the walls—Will’s doing, of course—casting the whole room in a warm, patchwork glow.
You sit cross-legged near the old record player, flipping through a borrowed, totally not stolen box of Jonathan’s carefully labeled cassettes, trying to decide between The Clash or the Talking Heads. The boys had been playing D&D for hours, their voices rising and falling in bursts of excitement. The girls had decided to have a sleepover at Hopper’s—no boys allowed, they’d specified. But with no one else around to supervise, that left you responsible for your brother and his three best friends.
For this campaign Will was the Dungeon Master, and it was Mike’s turn to make a move. While he pondered his options, for a blissful moment, everything was quiet.
Then it wasn’t.
“MIKE, you can’t just skip the traps!” Dustin barks, slamming his palms on the table so hard the character sheets flutter.
Mike leans back in his chair, arms crossed with the dramatic flair of a teen boy convinced he was right. “I’m not skipping them. I’m strategically avoiding them.”
Lucas throws his pencil down. “That’s literally the definition of skipping.”
“It is not–”
“Yes it is!” Lucas responds with a mature indignation you knew only he was capable of making look cool. On Dustin, it would come across whiny and petulant.
“No, it’s not—”
“It is!” Lucas insists once again. He wasn’t about to back down, especially not to Mike.
Will’s voice comes out small, drowned beneath the storm. “Guys, can we just—”
No one hears him.
You sigh, setting down the cassette you’d been holding. Here we go again. You stand and brush dust off your jeans, already halfway to the table when the basement door creaks open.
Boots thud down the old wooden stairs.
“Hey, uh, sorry I’m late,” Steve calls, shaking the cold from his body as he descends. He holds a paper bag in one hand. “I brought ice cream.” Even though it’s freezing outside, ice cream really does sound great right about now.
You steal a glimpse of him as your gaze locks on his figure. Steve’s hair, impossibly thick and wild, catches Will’s Christmas lights like a halo of soft brown waves. His eyes, warm and alert, flick around the room, half in amusement, half in exasperation, and his jawline carries that mix of boyish softness and emerging sharpness that makes him impossible to ignore.
The denim jacket on his shoulders is worn in all the right places, sleeves casually rolled, and his sneakers are scuffed but perfectly comfortable, like they’d barely survived the walk from his car to the front door. His every movement has an easy confidence, that subtle sway of someone who could be both reckless and dependable at the same time.
He freezes when he reaches the bottom step. So do you.
The boys are mid-argument, halfway standing, voices overlapping. You’re standing with your arms half-crossed in irritation. And without even thinking, without even meaning to, you and Steve both plant your feet, cross your arms, and give the exact same unimpressed stare.
Identical and perfectly mirrored.
“Hey, hey!” Your voice calls in a chastising manner. “Knock it off.” You say firmly.
“Knock it off,” Steve echoes at the exact same time, nearly a fraction of a second apart. You both look menacing and parental and totally in tune with each other.
The table goes dead silent and all four boys stare with wide, unnerved eyes.
Will blinks, slow and owl-like. “Did you guys just…”
Mike’s jaw hangs open. “That’s creepy.”
Lucas leans forward as if studying a strange new species. “Oh my god,” he shudders, “they’re synchronized, like they’re one person.”
Dustin points dramatically. “You two spend so much time together you’re starting to sound the same.”
Heat rushes across your face, spreading onto your cheeks, just now realizing how close you are to Steve. You drop your arms like they’re on fire. “We are not—we didn’t coordinate that.”
Steve’s face flushes with embarrassment. “Yeah, that wasn’t— I mean, we didn’t— it’s just a coincidence shitheads…"
“No one said it wasn’t,” Dustin’s tone carries teasingly, grinning like Christmas came early.
You agree, gesturing between yourself and Steve, “Right.” You affirm. “A coincidence.”
“Uh-huh,” Lucas responds flatly.
Will tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “You guys kind of do that a lot.”
Your stomach does a weird little flip. “Do what?”
“Act like parents,” Mike says, not even trying to cushion it.
You nearly choke on your own breath. “Parents?” Being a babysitter you could get behind, even being an older sibling figure is something you’d expected. But a parent? Absolutely not…you don’t act like one.
Steve doesn’t like the warmth that fills his chest at the implication. “Okay, wow—okay—nope. No. We’re— that’s— absolutely not what’s happening.”
“Totally,” Dustin adds cheerfully, “full on married couple, mom and dad energy right there.”
“Excuse me?” You and Steve blurt in unison again.
This time, the kids don’t hold back before losing it. Mike slaps the table in sheer amusement at your expense. Lucas simply doubles over wheezing. Will hides a smile behind his hand, and Dustin practically vibrates with smugness. It’s written all over his expression, got ya.
You press both palms to your face in exasperation. “Oh my god.”
Steve leans closer to you, lowering his voice while the boys cackle. “They’re doing this on purpose, y’know? They like to see us riled up.”
“They’re evil,” you whisper back.
“We can hear you,” Lucas cuts in with a sly grin.
Dustin gestures proudly between the two of you. “We’re right here.”
Steve's posture straightens, blowing out a breath before attempting to regain control. “Look—just—can you assholes get back to your campaign before I lose the last bit of sanity keeping me alive?”
“Language,” you blurt automatically, pointing at him like a scolding mother. It’s a habit you’d picked up from being around Dustin’s fowl mouth so much.
Steve stares at you, wide-eyed. “Did you just mom-voice me?”
The boys almost howl in laughter and Mike nearly slides right off his chair. You feel your ears burning. “I did not mom-voice you.”
Steve raises a brow, mouth tugging into a teasing, lopsided grin. “You totally did.”
“I did not.”
“It was kinda hot,” He mutters, so quietly you almost question whether you heard it.
Your heart plummets into your shoes. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Nothing,” Steve says immediately, voice slightly too loud and too serious. “S’just a figure of speech.”
Across the table, the boys all exchange glances, eyebrows wiggling, smirks forming. The kind of smirks that make you want to lock them in the Upside Down for an hour.
You glare. “If you tell anyone about this, I swear—”
“We won’t,” Will promises sweetly.
“We absolutely will,” Dustin corrects, grinning.
You groan, dramatically dropping onto the couch like the world had betrayed you.
Steve walks over and gently nudges your knee with his. “You okay?” he asks, voice softer than before. “They’re… um… a lot.”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Believe me. I know.”
He offers a crooked, warm smile—the one he only does when he thought no one else was paying attention. “For what it’s worth… I like when we’re on the same team.”
Your chest tightens again, pleasantly, confusingly.
You look up at him and he looks back at you. And for a brief, suspended moment, the chaos of the basement falls away. The glow of the string lights warms Steve’s face. And the two of you feel oddly, undeniably in sync.
Will’s voice breaks the moment, soft but hopeful: “Um… can we keep playing now?”
You and Steve answer instinctively, perfectly in time: “Sure.”
Another round of laughs erupts from the table. But neither of you corrected it. They were never going to let you live this down.
• ж • ж •
II. The Group Project
Outside, dusk settles over the yard in deep purples and soft peach streaks, turning the kitchen windows into reflective glass. Indoors, the overhead light casts a warm glow across the clutter —half-finished meals pushed aside, a pile of school mail crumpled on the counter, and one lone sock that definitely didn’t start the day where it ended up.
Tonight was supposed to be simple.
The plan—your plan—was to spend a quiet Wednesday finishing a book you’d been putting off. Maybe make some tea. Maybe listen to music. Maybe not referee any disasters for at least a few hours.
But fate, apparently, had other ideas.
Because at nearly 7pm there’s a frantic, uneven knock at the Byers’ front door followed by Dustin’s unmistakable voice calling, “(Y/n), open up!”
You don’t even get a chance to answer. Will opens the door instead, and Dustin barrels in like he’s fleeing wolves.
“We need help with a project,” He announces, breathless like he sprinted the whole way. His curls are wind-tangled, his jacket is half-zipped, and his cheeks flushed from the cold.
Before you can even speak, he’s dumped the contents of his bag onto the table in an academic explosion: glue sticks with bitten caps, an avalanche of loose papers, two crushed Twizzlers, and what looks dangerously like a frog diagram Will did last year.
Will appears behind him, looking apologetic. “Sorry,” he says. “He got…excited.”
Lucas trudges in next with the exhausted despair of a man going to war. “This project is killing us.”
You raise your eyebrows, you know for a fact this project isn’t due until later this week. “It’s Wednesday.”
“Exactly,” Lucas says, dropping into a chair like he’s accepted death. “It’s basically due tomorrow.”
“It’s actually due Friday,” Will mumbles.
Lucas waves a hand. “Same difference.” Unlike the others, Lucas has never been one to procrastinate. He prefers to be ahead of schedule.
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “So what exactly do you need help with?”
“History presentation,” Dustin says. “We need a poster. A good one. Like, award-winning. Like the kind of poster people applaud for.”
You blink slowly. “You don’t get applause for school posters.”
“You do,” Dustin says gravely, “if you do them right.”
Before you can sigh again, the door opens again, and Steve pokes his head inside. He steps cautiously into the kitchen, shaking off his jacket, eyes scanning the room with the practiced alarm of the seasoned babysitter he is.
“Hey! Am I late? I came as soon as I heard—” His gaze falls on the table. “Oh. Wow. That’s… a lot of paper.”
You cross your arms, mildly begrudged and equally curious. “Why are you here?”
“Lucas told me you might need backup.” He shrugs, lifting a grocery bag with the confidence of a man who believes snacks can solve anything. “Plus, I brought provisions.”
He unloads chips, pretzels, Capri Suns, and a box of brownies like he’s setting up camp. And the boys look at him the way baby ducks look at the first thing they see.
Steve beams like he’s been handed a trophy. You fold your arms. “So you’re helping too?”
He shrugs with a grin that is far too casual to be accidental. “Just in case.”
Dustin takes a bite out of one of the brownies, sending you a toothy grin as he does it. He passes one each to Will and Lucas with glee. “This,” Dustin announces, “is why Steve is allowed to come to group projects.”
Steve salutes him. “Glad to be of service man.”
Within minutes, the dining table turns into a chaotic workshop, an island of absolute academic activity. Will is sorting his pencil crayons by shade like you knew he would and Lucas, well, Lucas is fighting and losing against a glue stick cap that refuses to open.
You pull the poster board to the center. Spreading it out, you smooth its surface with your palms. It’s cool and stiff under your hands — blank and expectant.
Dustin’s voice whispers a quiet shit, shit, shit, as a tin of glitter spills on his pants. He stands, dusting it off onto the floor. You chuckle and sigh, shaking your head in bemusement, that’ll be a clean up problem for later.
“Okay,” you say, ready to begin. “Let’s get started. We’ll keep it simple. Neat. Clear.”
You tuck your knees under the chair you’re sitting on and lean forward, sketching the first pencil guidelines. The familiar pressure of graphite scraping paper grounds you; it’s something you can control.
Steve wanders to your side, pulling a chair next to yours. He doesn’t lower himself gently, he drops into it with that boyish clumsiness he pretends he doesn’t have, the seat legs squeaking across the floor.
He sits next to you — right next to you, close enough that your elbows brush every time you shift — and he tries to look like he understands what’s happening.
He doesn’t. At all. He hasn’t completed a school project like this in years. You try not to think about how close he is, but you fail immediately. He smells like winter air and the faint cologne he uses only when he’s trying to impress a girl. It’s warm with something sweet pulling at its edges.
He picks up a pencil and squints at the page of instructions. “So, uh…what’s this part?”
“That’s the rubric,” you reply.
“Right. Right. Of course.” He nods confidently. Then lowers his voice. “What’s a rubric again?”
You bite back a smile. “It’s just the grading guide.”
“Oh.” He leans back slightly. “Yeah, I totally knew that.”
“No you didn’t,” Will says without looking up.
“Didn’t ask for your input, Wizard Boy.” From anyone else, you might have taken offence on your brother’s behalf, but Steve has this teasing rapport with each of the kids—it’s easy and heartwarming.
Will just rolls his eyes and keeps colouring.
You slide a reindeer-shaped eraser toward Steve. “Here. For morale.”
He accepts it solemnly. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”
A few minutes pass in silence as each of you work diligently on your parts. Honestly, you’re kind of having fun; getting back into the groove of a school project reminds you of your own time in high school. It wasn’t always the best, but it brought you closer to Steve. Despite hailing from very different social groups, trauma had bonded you together in a way you’d never have expected. The upside down feels distant in this moment, and that in itself feels nice.
You’re sketching out the title letters when you feel Steve lean closer, his arm brushing yours again.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Can you… uh… help me with this?”
You look over. He’s struggling with the scissors, fingers covered in a light coating of glue. He’s stuck.
You blink slowly, staring at him with a soft smile.
“Steve.” You snort.
He grins, embarrassed but charmingly so, and nudges your knee with his under the table.
“C’mon, don't laugh” he says softly. “I feel stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.” You tap the poster board sending him a lopsided grin. “You just, look a little sticky.”
Standing to grab a wash cloth from your kitchen counter, you wet it slightly. “Here,” you say, taking Steve’s hand in yours, careful not to cut yourself with the scissor’s blades. You help Steve, guiding his hand free once the glue has been successfully wiped away.
The kids notice that change in the room. They absolutely notice. A fresh, nervous energy fills the air.
Lucas nudges Will. Will raises an eyebrow, and Dustin smirks knowingly like he’s in on some grand romantic conspiracy.
Steve eyes Dustin carefully, as if to say not a word, not ONE word. But Dustin doesn’t care, he’s more than happy to watch his friend fall apart at a simple touch from your hand on his. The curly haired teen bites the inside of his cheek trying not to comment—and failing, whispering something like they’re so obvious.
You pretend not to notice.
Another bout of silence falls amongst the group, settling with your dissipating nerves. Each of you agrees, you want to get this done as efficiently as possible, even if it doesn’t seem like it. Now, you’re busy shading the title letters — your hand resting naturally close to Steve’s
Just when the chaos seems manageable, Joyce wanders by carrying a basket of folded laundry. She stops and takes one long look at the table. Her brown eyes take in the scene piece by piece: You leaning in, fingers smudged with pencil dust, and Steve beside you, shoulders angled inward as if drawn to your orbit. Your hands brush each time one of you reaches for a marker.
Joyce watches as the boys work with suspicious innocence. Five Capri Suns sit next to each other, straws already poked in.
A subtle, knowing smile touches her face — warm, gentle, approving. “Oh,” she says, lingering just a heartbeat too long, “you two look cute working together.”
The room freezes. Steve inhales sharply, feeling caught. He blinks unnaturally hard like someone hit pause on his brain. Your eyes widen, sending a glare her way that says: Mom, get out. Joyce simply glides out of the room without clarifying or apologizing, leaving behind the smoldering embarrassment of the interrupted moment you totally weren’t having.
By the time the project is almost done, the boys have stopped doing much of anything, letting you and Steve finish their work for them.
Steve is helping you outline the final border — or at least trying to — his shoulder brushing yours in a way that feels intentional now. He holds the ruler, his long fingers guiding him as he traces the final touches. He leans in a little closer, voice dropping to something low and warm.
“You know,” he nods at the poster. “At this rate, we’re basically co-parenting a school project.”
Your cheeks warm at the thought. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” His tone is soft, teasing but honest underneath. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”
You freeze for half a second. Just half. And you try to focus, you really really do, but he’s just so distracting.
The house is suddenly very quiet. The distance between you and Steve is small, just a few inches, maybe less but the air shifts, humming with an almost-something neither of you has been brave enough to name. And Steve is watching you, not in the big, bold way he sometimes does, but softly, like he’s asking a question he already knows the answer to.
You swallow. Then you snatch the ruler from his grasp and jab it into his chest.
“Focus, Harrington.”
He laughs under his breath. It’s low, sweet, and the sound slides right under your ribs.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Sure thing Byers.”
But he doesn’t move away.
And neither do you.
• ж • ж •
III. Mad Max
The call comes just after sunset, the hour when Hawkins shifts from blue to violet, when houses glow with warm windows and the ravens call loudly enough to fill the cracks of silence. You’re drying the last dish when the phone rings again. Will grabs it before you do, the cord stretching across his chest like a lifeline.
You can tell it’s one of those calls by the way his face changes—brow pinched, lips pressed thin, eyes flicking toward you.
“It’s Steve,” he says, voice tight, eyes wide and anxious. “Max ran off. Again.”
Your stomach drops. There’s a small, tight pull in your chest. It’s not fear, definitely not panic—just that familiar weight of here we go, mixed with the tug you always feel whenever the kids need you. You suppose it’s a familiar responsibility that comes from loving too many people too much.
You’re grabbing your jacket before you even realize it. Will isn’t surprised. He doesn’t have to ask; he just steps aside to let you pass.
And when you finally step outside, the cool night air hits your skin—crisp like late autumn and early winter should be, carrying the scent of dry leaves and woodsmoke. And there he is.
Steve, leaning against his car, fiddling with his gloves. His hair is wind-tousled, his cheeks flushed, his hands jittery with too much adrenaline and too little direction. He looks up the second you appear.
Relief floods his entire expression.
“You came,” he breathes out, like he was half afraid you wouldn’t.
“You called.” You affirm. As if there’d be a time when you could say no to him. Like you’d ever not show up.
When you finally get a good look at him, you notice there’s worry in his eyes. And underneath it—because you’ve learned to read him—there’s this fear that he’ll mess this up. He doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the car and you slide in, the familiar smell of pine car freshener wrapping around you.
As he pulls away, he keeps glancing over at you with these quick, jittery cuts of his eyes on you like he needs to make sure you’re actually there.
“She just—she took off,” he mutters, voice clipped. “Lucas said something, and then she was gone, and I—” He swallows hard. “I don’t know if she’s mad, or scared, or both. Jesus probably both.”
You touch his arm lightly, grounding him. “She’s not running from you, Steve.”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t believe you yet.
He drives the two of you in complete silence for a while before coming to a stop on the edge of the woods. You find yourselves at an entrance to a trail you know Max likes, one she uses when she just needs to get away.
“You ready?” You ask Steve with a soft smile. He doesn’t respond, too caught up in his thoughts to speak. He simply nods and takes your hand in his. It’s grounding…for both of you, in a way that usually would spark a kind of nervous energy. But right now, it’s exactly what Steve needs.
As evening clings to the forest trail like a heavy blanket, it's cast in a half-shadow, half-silver moonlight state. The air is cool and smells of pine needles and damp earth as the last bit of violet sky filters through the branches.. Steve’s flashlight cuts through the shadows as you both walk, the beam slicing through the trees like thin, trembling fingers.
The crunch of frozen soil under your feet fills the silence between you.
“She could be anywhere,” Steve mutters. His shoulders are tight, a helm of anxiety written all over him.
You can feel Steve’s worry, almost like it’s a physical heat pouring off him. He’s walking too fast, scanning everything, body coiled like he’s ready to fight whatever hurts the people he cares about.
You’ve seen that look before. In the Upside Down, in hospital rooms, in quieter nights like this.
“She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone,” he murmurs as if it’s his fault she ran. “None of them should.”
But you hear the real fear beneath it: I should’ve kept her safe. I should’ve noticed sooner. I should’ve been enough.
In the years you’ve grown to know Steve, he’s always held himself to an insurmountable standard. It’s one that he would never expect from anyone else but himself. He has to be ready for anything at any time from anyone. And he has to be able to take it on alone. That’s one of the things you’re trying to break down—this need to fix everything by himself. You’ve tried countless times to tell him I’m here too. Sometimes you think you’re getting through to him…this isn’t one of those moments. But you’d be damned if you stopped trying.
After a few minutes of more silent sulking, you hear something familiar: the uneven scrape of wheels on the dirt. You follow the sound around a bend, and there she is, sitting at the edge of the tree trunk with her skateboard on her lap like a shield.
Her chin is tucked to her chest, knuckles white on the board's underside.
“Red?” You murmur softly, easing down beside her. You approach slowly, like you’re nearing a cornered animal, because in some ways, you are.
Max sniffles once, but doesn’t look up. In Max-language, that means: I’ll talk, just not yet.
“Hey,” you continue, leaning in closer beside her. The ground is cold through your jeans. “Want to tell me what happened?”
She shrugs, nails digging into the underside of her skateboard. You can see the tension coiled in her shoulders. Her body language betrays her, anger, shame, frustration, hurt all tangled up.
“It was stupid,” she mutters.
“If it made you feel this bad,” you glance at her with a sympathy for her pain, “it wasn’t stupid Max.”
She shakes her head in slight protest before muttering, “The boys were just being idiots,”
Behind you, Steve hangs back, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, pretending he’s not desperately listening while also desperate to give space. His hands rest on his hips and his eyes don’t leave her for a second.
“They wouldn’t stop arguing, I just felt like I couldn’t control anything.” Max finally says. “And then Lucas said I didn’t need to be so dramatic. And Mike got all Mike about it. So I left. Before I yelled…or cried.”
The last word breaks. Just slightly. “I don’t know,” she continues, “I figured they wouldn’t even notice I was gone.”
You give her a look. “You know they notice everything you do.”
Max kicks a pebble, hard. “Yeah, well… I didn’t want them to see me cry.”
That slices clean through you. You bump her shoulder gently. “Max. Crying doesn’t make you weak.”
“It makes me look like a baby.” Is her honest response, and she means it.
“It makes you look human,” you correct softly, pulling her into a soft side-hug.
She sniffles but refuses to cry in front of you. It’s Max’s way of trying to be tough, even though you already know how soft-hearted she really is. For a moment, the world goes still around the three of you. Steve leans down to meet your level, each of you now sitting on the cold dirt floor. Max’s breathing is easier, her shoulders are lower, and her jaw unclenches. She needed to be seen, and with you and Steve, she feels she has been.
But just when the moment is finally tender, real, and grounding—she ruins it in the most Max Mayfield way possible.
“Ya know,” she grumbles abruptly, staring between you and Steve, “You two are like our divorced parents who still love each other. It’s kind of annoying.”
You blink. In that moment, Steve actually chokes on his own saliva.
“Divorced?” he echoes, like she just accused him of murder. His voice cracks on the second syllable.
The red head rolls her eyes. “Yeah. Like the way you show up together. And fight together. And then act weird when anyone points it out.” You give each other a look that asks, we totally don’t do that right? But she continues before you can think about it more, “One of you is the calm one,” she points to you, “and one of you is the chaotic one, but you’re always together anyway. It’s a whole thing…Classic divorced-but-still-grossly-in-love behaviour.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, when Steve makes a move to protest being labelled the chaotic one. “Don’t even start,” you warn Steve without looking at him.
“I wasn’t!” he puts his hands up in defence. Then quieter, “…I wasn’t.”
Max snorts. “God. That’s exactly what a divorced dad would say.”
Steve looks incredulous and personally victimized. Divorced? Why can’t you both be happily married in this scenario?
But as he takes in Max’s smile and the quiet laugh she lets out at his reaction, he can see how much she needed this—a moment to break the tension with something ridiculous. Her eyes are no longer stormy…and that was the whole point of this.
“C’mon,” you say gently, nudging them both to get up from your spots on the ground. “Let’s get you home.”
Max finally nods, rubbing her eyes tiredly as you lead her back to the car. She leans on you both during the short walk, and when you finally reach the vehicle, Steve lifts her onto the seat gently. He buckles her in like a true parent.
Max falls asleep before you’re even back on the road, skateboard still clutched to her chest. She curls into the corner of the back seat, exhausted and small in a way she’ll deny forever.
Steve drives slowly now—the careful, protective version of him that surfaces only when the kids are nearby… or when you are. The silence in the car is warm, heavy. Not awkward. Just… charged.
The road unwinds in long, quiet stretches. Golden pools of streetlight glide over the windshield. The car hums.
You rest your elbow on the window, watching the blur of passing houses. Steve glances at you a few times—quick, flickering looks from under his lashes, like he’s trying to find the right words but they keep slipping away. They’re the kind he thinks you don’t notice.
Halfway down the road, pulling into the Mayfield driveway, he inhales deeply.
“You know…” he says quietly, “you’re… really good with her.”
You shrug off his words. “She just needed someone to listen.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean… you’re good with all of them. With the boys. And El.” He pauses, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.
“—and with me.”
Your heart stutters. “I never expected anyone to care about me the way you do.” His brown eyes meet yours as he puts the car in park.
It’s subtle, but the way his voice dips? The way the words feel heavier than they should? It does something to you.
You try to play it off, but your pulse betrays you, thrumming in your ears. You can feel it in your wrists, in your ribs, and in your throat.
“Somebody has to be the calm one,” you say softly.
Steve huffs a laugh, warm and self-deprecating. “Yeah. Well. That’s definitely not me.”
You pretend to look out the window, steadying your breath. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” you murmur.
“You give me too much,” he replies.
“That’s not true.” He shifts his hand on the center console. Yours shifts too. Barely, casually. Maybe not casually at all.
Your pinkies brush. And Steve freezes—just a breath, just a heartbeat—but long enough for the air between you to thicken, warm and electric with currents of tension.
He doesn’t pull away and neither do you.
“Thanks,” he whispers, almost too quiet. “For being you.”
Your heartbeat answers for you and you let your hand drift the final few centimetres until your pinkies tough tentatively. Steve exhales and neither of you pulls away.
• ж • ж •
IV. School Pick-Up
The Hawkins High School parking lot looks like a battlefield every weekday at 3:15 p.m.—car exhaust drifting in the cold air, teachers shouting instructions like air-traffic controllers, and children flooding through the front doors in unpredictable, chaotic waves.
You’re already tense just pulling in. Picking up Will always stirs something in your chest: protectiveness, guilt, that familiar edge of worry you’ve never really shaken since he came home from the Upside Down. Even on normal days, you watch the doors like he might need you in the span of a heartbeat.
You exhale, trying to shake it off. Will is safe. School is just school. Your fingers tighten around the wheel anyway.
You turn into one of the few remaining spots—and then a flash of gold catches your eye.
Of course. The BMW.
You watch as Steve swings into the spot right next to yours with practiced ease, like the two of you rehearsed this moment. Which is ridiculous. Except he really does show up at the same time as you more often than not, and you really have noticed. And part of you hates that you’ve noticed, and the other part—some stubborn, traitorous part—really, really likes it.
Your heart jumps a little before you can stop it. Great. Fantastic. Wonderful.
You open your door and step out just as he does, and his face lights up instantly, as if your presence was the best thing he could’ve seen in this entire parking lot disaster.
“You doing the afternoon pickup too?” He asks, jogging a few easy steps toward you.
His tone is casual, but his eyes flick over you with that warm, open softness you’re still not used to. You fight the flutter of it.
“Yep. My mom’s working late, again.” Your voice sounds normal. You feel anything but.
His expression dips into something gentler. “Ah. I’m here for Dustin and Max. They wanna check out some new arcade game or some nerdy shit like that.”
The image of Steve watching aimlessly as Dustin and Max school each other on some arcade game is… absurdly cute. Dangerous thoughts. You push it away.
You’re about to say something back, something normal, something friendly, something not obviously lovesick, when the school doors burst open.
A tidal wave of kids floods out.
“Steve! I’ve been waiting forever!” Max yells, barreling toward him with her skateboard like she owns the pavement.
At the same second, you spot Will weaving through the crowd, his backpack bouncing. The way he breaks into a grin when he sees you cracks your chest open a little. He still looks so small coming out of a building so huge.
“You’re here! Finally!” He gasps when he reaches you, even though you’re early.
You laugh and ruffle his hair. “Nice to see you too.”
And that’s when the universe decides to absolutely annihilate you.
A teacher—you think she’s one of the kids’ English teachers—approaches you and Steve with that warm, frazzled, end-of-day smile teachers wear for parents like armor.
“Oh, good! There you are!” She chirps. “Your kids were very well-behaved today.”
Your brain trips over itself so hard you actually blink. Your kids?
Beside you, Steve goes rigid. Max snorts so loudly she almost chokes. You and Steve make the exact same face—wide-eyed, frozen, about to malfunction.
“Our what?” You stammer, but Steve jumps in, panicked.
“Oh—they—um—only one of them is mine,” He blurts.
You whip your head toward him. Only one of them is his? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
He realizes what he just said in real-time, eyes going feral. “I mean—none!. None are mine, I don’t—I’m just, you know?” He shrugs his shoulders in panic, struggling to get his point across. You know what he means…he’s just picking them up. But the teacher in front of you doesn’t seem to get the message.
Will is wheezing against your arm, absolutely delighted.
Dustin materializes out of the crowd like a summoned gremlin. “What is happening?” He demands—but then the teacher smiles fondly at him too, like he’s your collective third child, and he looks like Christmas arrived early.
“Oh my god,” He whispers, nudging you and watching Steve with utter amusement. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”
“Sir,” the teacher says kindly to Steve, patting his arm like he’s having a breakdown, “You don’t have to explain anything. Parenting is hard.”
You swear you see Steve’s soul momentarily leave his body. Max crosses her arms. “Yeah, Dad, stop being weird.”
Your jaw drops. You’re 97% certain Steve just lost the will to live.
“MAX,” he hisses, voice cracking.
You try—really try—not to laugh. But a strangled sound escapes anyway, and you have to hide your mouth behind your hand before you openly lose it. The teacher, blissfully unaware of the carnage she’s caused, waves cheerfully and moves on to the next cluster of kids.
Will is practically vibrating. “You two should get matching minivans!”
“Don’t. Even,” you warn him, but your cheeks are already burning.
Steve looks like he’s seriously considering changing his name and moving to another state. “Okay, shitheads.Nobody ever speaks of this again. Got it?” He points to each of them with an intensity you adore.
“No promises Dad,” Dustin cackles.
You start steering Will toward your car before he throws more gasoline on the fire. Your heart is still thumping, too fast, too warm, and you’re terrified it’s obvious.
But then—something prickles at the back of your neck.
You glance over your shoulder. Steve is still standing beside his BMW, leaning one elbow on the roof, watching you like he doesn’t want this moment to end. Like you’re something he’s memorizing.
When your eyes meet, he says aloud: We’d be cool parents though.
Everything inside you short-circuits. You pretend not to hear him, but a small smile creeps its way onto your face. Your hand slips, keys nearly tumbling. Will looks up at you with raised eyebrows. “Why do you look like that?”
“Headache,” you say immediately.
Will squints. “You’re the weirdest person I know.”
You don’t look back again. You don’t trust yourself not to melt into a puddle in front of the entire school—but even as you close the car door, you swear you can still feel Steve’s grin pressed somewhere under your skin.
You’d make great parents, you think.
And on the way out, you’re nearly certain you hear Dustin ask Steve, “So, between me and Max, which one of us is yours?”
And you can’t help but laugh…you wonder how he’s going to get out of that one.
• ж • ж •
+ I. When acting like a couple ends in becoming a real couple.
Your house always feels a little small on nights like this.
Not physically—God knows Joyce keeps the place spotless, every corner well-loved and lived-in—but emotionally, the walls feel closer when the whole Party is together. Their energy ricochets around the room: loud, sharp, earnest, and chaotic. You’ve grown used to it by now: the mess, the noise, the unpredictability, but even so, every movie night walks that thin line between heartwarming and total combustion.
Tonight lands firmly on the combustion side. It happens fast, so fast that you don’t notice the exact moment the tension shifts. One moment the kids are debating movie choices, the next they’re fighting over pizza, and it devolves—fast.
Mike grabs the last slice before Dustin’s hand even reaches the plate.
“I called it!” Dustin erupts, shoulders shooting up like he’s about to engage in mortal combat.
Mike clutches the slice to his chest. “Calling doesn’t count!”
Dustin’s mop of curly hair takes up most of the space in your vision. He lifts an eyebrow with conviction,“Uh, yes it does!”
“It actually doesn’t!”
Somewhere behind them, Lucas shouts, “You’re both idiots!” which does absolutely nothing to de-escalate the situation.
On the other side of the room, Max throws her head back with a guttural noise of disgust before bracing her hands on the wall and storming down the hall. The bathroom door slams so hard the vibration echoes into your teeth.
Will tries to intervene once—very softly, very hesitantly—but Mike snaps something over his shoulder without thinking, and Will immediately shrinks back, retreating toward the end of the couch like he wishes he could disappear into it.
El stares at the TV remote with growing frustration. You know what she’s thinking. Maybe she could fix the evening with her powers if she tried hard enough, and you swear you see her jaw tremble.
You know the signs. You’ve babysat these kids long enough. Once one kid spirals, the rest follow like dominos.
You inhale through your nose, prepared to wade into the emotional battlefield, and then you look up. Steve, standing by the kitchen counter, meets your gaze across the living room. His gaze immediately grounds you.
What happens next is wordless and instinctive. It’s a practiced rhythm you didn’t even know you had with him—but apparently you do, because the two of you fall into perfect sync without so much as a nod.
You head for the emotional fires; Steve heads for the practical ones.
It’s almost choreographed, like some part of you already knew how to do this together. You calm the feelings while Steve stabilizes the room.
You move to Will first, because the defeated slope of his shoulders is impossible to ignore. His anxiety is a quiet thing, but you’ve learned to read him better than anyone. While you try not to treat him any differently than the others, he’s your brother. And he’s been through far too much for a kid his age.
You crouch down. “Hey,” you say gently, touching his elbow. “Take a breath with me, okay?”
Will’s eyes flicker up to yours, glassy and full of unshed worry. But he listens. He always listens.
You breathe slowly. He follows. He steadies.
“There you go,” you whisper. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His shoulders sag with relief.
Next, you make your way down the hall and knock on the bathroom door. “Max? It’s me.”
A beat. Then a muffled, “They’re idiots.”
You lean your forehead against the door, trying not to smile. “They are,” you admit. “Certified idiots. But they’re also your idiots, and they’ll feel pretty terrible if you stay mad all night.”
Silence. Then a very soft: “I’ll come out in a minute. Don’t tell them I said anything.”
You smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When you head back down to the living room, the entire energy of the room has shifted and it only takes you one glance to know why. Steve has transformed the space.
The lights are now dimmed to something warm and soft. He’s grabbed popcorn from the microwave as it's quietly replenished, and the last slice of pizza has been mysteriously replaced with two half-slices so no one feels cheated.
Blankets have been pulled down from the hall closet, unfolded and ready. He hands pillows to each of them with ease. The chaos now feels smoothed, softened, and rearranged into a soft sense of comfort.
Somehow he even got Mike and Dustin to sit, still glaring at each other but at least seated, their anger settling from wildfire to the faint glow of an ember.
You meet Steve’s eyes over the room. It hits you in the chest—unexpected and overwhelming—that this feels easy. Natural. Not like something you’re improvising, but something you’ve done a hundred times together. You’ve been a team long before either of you admitted it.
And one by one, the kids melt into calmness.
Will curls into a pillow pile, comforted. El leans against Max who has now rejoined the group, her frustration dissolving with sleep. Lucas steals a corner of a blanket and tucks it under his chin. Mike and Dustin argue, but it's half-hearted now, the kind of bickering they only do once they feel safe.
It happens gradually, but beautifully. Their breathing evens out, their fighting drains away, and instead of chaos, your living room becomes a cocoon of trust, warmth, and soft teenage exhaustion.
And the whole time, you and Steve move in tandem: adjusting blankets, soothing frayed edges, nudging cups out of danger, exchanging small, fond looks that make your stomach twist.
And by the time they’ve all settled, the house is quiet except for the hum of the TV.
You and Steve end up on the couch. It’s totally not intentional, but because there’s nowhere else to sit. A single blanket is draped over both of you, and though neither of you comments on it, you feel every point of contact like a spark.
As you sit there, the kids finally asleep, the movie plays low in the background. Your knees suddenly brush and you rest your shoulders together. Your hands settle close, almost touching on the cushion.
Steve’s warmth bleeds into you, calm and familiar and terrifyingly comforting. When you look over, his gaze is already on you. In the way that you’re noticing more and more often, it’s soft around the edges, lit by something you’ve never seen from him so openly before.
In a voice so gentle it feels like an intimate secret, he says “Sometimes I feel like we really are their parents. I mean, we’re already doing the hardest parts.”
Your heart feels like it skips a beat. He continues, watching you with a bravery that makes something twist in your chest. “Maybe,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to your lips for the briefest, most devastating second, “we should just make it official.”
It lands differently than you expected. Not teasing, not flirty, and it certainly doesn’t seem like a joke. He’s serious. Nervous. Hopeful.
You swallow, because suddenly there’s a whole confession rising inside you—a tidal wave of things you’ve been too scared to voice.
“Hmm. You do make everything easier,” you hum teasingly, then seriously, you whisper. “With the kids. With Will. With… everything really. When you’re here, it feels like I don’t have to hold everything alone.”
His expression breaks open, softens, deepens. “You don’t,” he says, voice thick. “You never have to, not with me. We have something real, and something I never want to lose (Y/n).”
Your heart surges. “Are you sure you really want this?” You ask, searching his face for any uncertainty.
He nods without hesitation. “Yeah.” His tone carries with so much confidence, you wish you could express yourself like him. “I want you and I want this. I have for a long time.”
Something in you unravels. Something else roots itself deeper. You lean in slowly, giving him time to pull away if you’ve misread this—if this isn’t what he meant—
But he moves with you. You meet halfway, and he meets you with as much care for you as you have for him.
The kiss is slow and warm and breathtaking in its tenderness. Steve exhales against your mouth like he’s been waiting for this—for you—longer than he knows how to admit. His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek in a touch so gentle it makes your eyes sting.
You melt into him as he pulls you closer, and the world narrows and expands all at once.
It feels inevitable, yet so so right.
You’re officially together. Exactly where you both belong.
warnings: no use of y/n, semi proof-read, established relationship, lots and lots of dirty jokes, illusions to smut but not explicitly written, fluff, mild cursing, and holiday cheer hehehe
summary: You’ve got the humor of a middle schooler—dirty jokes and innuendos that never seem to end—and it turns out this Christmas season, you’ve caught the holiday glee and you most definitely will be saving all your dirtiest jokes for your lover, Steve, until the end of time.
note: stream 'nonsense christmas' by sabrina carpenter
dividers by @chateaubarnes
It’s safe to say that Santa Claus and his little elves practically threw up all over every inch of Steve Harrington’s home–correction, you and Steve’s home. And another correction: it wasn’t Santa Claus or those pesky elves. It was just you and your complete love for the holiday season that Steve willingly entertained…most times, at least.
You two had arrived back home after another weekend trip to the mall, attempting to finish all the gift shopping for your friends before the Christmas party you would be hosting. To be quite fair, you and Steve had already finished shopping for most of the gifts a week ago, but you just wanted to spoil everyone a little more, grabbing a few extra things for your friends, and Steve couldn’t protest.
“Be careful with that one babe, there’s glass in there!” You cautioned as Steve took a heavy bag containing candles from your grip.
“I got it sweetheart, can’t put to waste $50 over some candles” He huffed, fake irritation on his face as he waited around for you to pick up the remaining shopping bags and shut the door with your hip.
You threw him a lighthearted glare, brushing past him to unlock the front door.
“It’s precious cargo, and I don’t think they accept returns.” You pointed out as he muttered something under his breath about how companies were totally taking advantage of their customers especially during the holiday season.
You walked through the doors, stepping out of your boots and letting the bags fall from your hands and thump softly against the carpet runner while Steve trailed behind you, nudging the door shut. His fingertips didn’t let up on the bags, proceeding, or more like attempting to pass by you in the tight hallway so that he could unload in the living room—your designated gift wrapping spot where you could easily place them under the already congested Christmas tree.
But you stepped in front of him, nearly causing him to trip if you hadn’t grabbed onto his shoulders, keeping him upright in the narrow hallway. He should’ve known something was up the second you didn’t barrel into the living room and get wrapping, but now he knew it. That calculated look festering upon your features and your bottom lip tugged between your teeth, staring at him for all he was worth.
“What’s going on?” His brows raised, keeping a watchful eye on you as you took it upon yourself to take the bags from his hands, gently placing them on the floor then wrapping your arms around his neck.
“There’s a mistletoe.”
You tilted your head with a mischievous grin, biting back laughter as his eyes began to dart every which way attempting to spot it.
He looked everywhere but behind him, where you had hastily hung it up before the two of you left for the mall. For the past couple of days, you had been moving it to different places in the house, just so you could have an excuse to steal one of his famous kisses that he didn’t mind ever giving you, no matter the season or day.
“Where?” He finally gave up and wrapping his arms around your back, nearly taking you off your feet as he lifted you up to your tiptoes.
You giggled, holding onto him tighter, and throwing your head back towards the door that was upside down from your view. He spun the two of you around, your back facing the door, and only then did he have a clear view of the evergreen sprigs hanging just above the frame.
“How’d that get up there?” He asked, playing into your game.
You shrugged, fingers dancing along the nape of his neck, as you stared at him lovingly.
“Must’ve been the elves? Maybe we have a secret elf on the shelf in here?”
“Are you insinuating that our home is haunted with an evil elf spirit?”
“Your words, not mine.” You replied, lips curling in defense.
“You know, if you want to kiss me so much, all you have to do is ask? You don’t have to ask the elf spirits to lift you up just so you can put it up there.” He chuckled, squeezing you tighter as you rolled your eyes.
“You’re so mean!” You whined dramatically, pinching his sweater covered shoulder while he snorted and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.
“I just want you under the mistletoe, that’s all. It’s romantic.”
You insisted with a pout, knowing Steve really didn’t mind your fun little game—in fact, he loved it, especially coming home after a long day and getting to kiss his favorite girl in the house he called his own.
“Well, in that case, keep moving them around, I’ll kiss you anywhere.” He murmured, finally pulling you impossibly closer to him, molding yourselves as one in the best way possible.
“Lay one on me, baby.” You beamed, eyes fluttering shut as your faces slotted against each other and, like the first time all over again, sparks flew when your lips met.
He always took the time to feel your skin on his, plump lips encasing yours and moving in tandem without ever trying to take over. A simple yet electrifying touch that you both wanted to commit to memory, happy to remember all the kisses under mistletoes and those in between the year too.
He pulled away just a few inches, looking down at you with a playfully raised brow.
“Happy now, elfie?”
You nodded all proud and triumphant, all before he caught that sneaky twinkle in your eye as if it never left.
“Are you hiding a gift in your pocket, or is your North Pole usually this huge?”
You gasped, wiggling against him and trailing your eyes between your bodies, making him snort and shake his head at your antics.
“You’re terrible you know that?” he chided, squeezing your cheeks together as you couldn’t help your laughter.
“And that doesn’t even make any sense. What you should’ve said was South Pole.”
He set you back down on your feet with a wink, hands planted on your shoulders as he finally walked you into the living room.
“Oh no, please, Santa, I’ve been a good girl, please don’t give me coal for loving on my boyfriend!” You begged dramatically through your endless giggles.
It should be Hopper a thousand percent. Hell, he practically already had the build and stature for it, all he would need is the fake synthetic snow colored beard and the obnoxiously thick fleece outfit to complete the whole look.
Yet there Steve Harrington sat in the stiffest, most uncomfortable chair known to man, unceremoniously sporting the entire Santa get-up inside the makeshift workshop built from four flimsy cardboard walls painted like a gingerbread house in the middle of StarCourt.
It was practically a humiliation ritual and Steve didn’t even need the money to be taking up some kind of side hustle like this, but he had been guilt tripped into it, and of course it wouldn’t be work without his best friend tagging along.
“Oh, Santa, we’ve got a few more kiddos who want to see you!”
It was torture for her too, but Robin couldn’t help but giggle as she guided the group of children towards Santa. Unlike Steve, she was way more comfortable in her get-up, sporting a cute little green and red dress with ridiculously pointy shoes and an even pointer hat.
She was well aware that she looked pretty preposterous herself, but in her eyes, the little elf outfit was nothing compared to Steve’s outrageous Santa suit that was undoubtedly three sizes too big for him.
The itchy synthetic beard was the worst part of it all, practically concealing his entire mouth. It would have been ideal, seeing as though none of the kids could see the curse words he kept muttering, but then again the damn thing was suffocating him every two seconds.
He had been constantly tugging the elastic so much so that the beard was basically stretched by then, hanging loosely around his mouth—he looked like a complete Santa fraud.
Groaning at the sound of Robin’s cue, he adjusted the beard back into place the best he could, grumbling under his breath as she pulled back the red velvet curtain with a group of children trailing behind her.
Clearing his throat, he dropped his voice down for that signature Santa voice he couldn’t quite get right no matter how many times he tried…
“Ho, ho, ho, it’s a pleasure seeing—”
“Say cheese, Harrington!”
Before he knew it, there was a bright flash that stunned him so hard he grimaced, pinching his eyes closed. But then there was laughter. Unmistakable, for he was more than familiar with who they belonged to: the gang of dinguses who promised they wouldn’t come see their favorite babysitter act as Santa’s stand-in for a few weekends out of the month.
“What the heck!”
The faux Santa voice was long gone as Steve ripped the uncomfortable beard away from his face, staring at the kids in horror and annoyance for breaking the sacred promise that was solely in place to protect his own dignity.
“Dude, the costume is drowning you, don’t you have like a fake belly to wear or something?”
Lucas approached, poking him in the tummy where the velvet remained fabric creased instead of puffed out.
Steve scoffed, swatting the boy’s hand away, not like he could inflict any pain anyway with the damn fluffy red and white trimmed gloves he had on.
“It’s the only size they had in storage, and you guys swore you wouldn’t come here and see me. You swore!” He pointed accusingly.
It was embarrassing enough that he recognized some of the families that came in to take pictures with Santa Claus which would now be hung up on refrigerators across the town, and now the last thing he wanted was to be pestered by the kids who would never let him live this down.
“But El wanted a picture with Santa.” Max argued with a dramatic pout, tugging her best friend towards Steve who just stared at the two girls blankly.
He knew. They all knew that Hopper dressed up as Santa for El’s first Christmas in Hawkins. Hell, you and Steve were there at the cabin, where they all got to celebrate and open gifts, all while El suspiciously questioned the whole Santa thing and found it more so funny that Hop would go through so much to make her first Christmas memorable.
“I thought you didn’t believe in Santa?”
Robin finally stepped in, settling beside Steve with her arms crossed as if she was Santa’s personal bodyguard.
“I don’t believe my dad is Santa…but maybe you were all this time.” El snickered, failing to smother her laughter behind her hands, all while Max openly cackled in his face because she knew Steve just couldn’t say no to either of them.
“Real or not, El cannot be deprived of a proper picture with Santa Claus. Everyone has at least one picture with Santa,” Dustin reasoned, stepping forward with his clunky polaroid ready to snap another picture.
“But first, we need to make sure you know what to get us for Christmas!”
Mike interjected, plopping onto his lap before a chorus of voices rang out in the small gingerbread house.
Steve didn’t even need to hear it, considering they had already hounded you two the second November rolled around, strategically talking about things that they wanted and needed. And all those things were now pretty presents sitting under the tree, wrapped and bowed up, waiting for their little grabby hands to shred them open.
Robin eventually managed to round all the twerps up around Steve, mindful that there was one more person waiting outside to meet Santa, and she would hate to keep them waiting.
“Big smiles everyone!” She sing-songed, squinting through the viewfinder before hitting the button and watching the quick flash go off.
“Thanks!” they said in unison.
Dustin scrambled over to retrieve his camera before turning back and looking at Steve.
“Oh, and we need a ride home from the arcade at seven. See ya!”
Steve shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head before opening them back up staring pleadingly at his best friend, hoping to finally put an end to the long day just so he could go home to you.
“Please tell me that’s everyone?”
She pursed her lips, shaking her head.
“Actually, there’s just one more person.” She squeaked, holding out a single finger, watching him sigh deeply.
“Can’t you just tell them Santa had to go or some bullshit?” He groaned.
“Oh, suck it up! Don’t you wanna see a smile on their face?”
Steve couldn’t lie, no matter how ridiculous he looked, there were a few times the kids who still believed in Santa, genuinely looked star-struck to see him wearing smiles and eyes so wide that it kinda made the whole thing worth it for a solid ten minutes.
“Fine.”
He fitted the beard back over his face, as Robin headed back out the curtain to greet the last customer.
“If I slip you a $20 will you let me go in there by myself?” You whispered with a smile, already digging into your purse, but she shook her head, giving your arm a pat.
“Keep it sweet cheeks, he’s in a grumpier mood than usual.” She scoffed, arms crossing over her chest as she watched you laugh, trying to keep it down so Steve didn’t know it was you.
“You’re the best,” You grinned, kissing her cheek as she pushed the curtains aside for you to go in by yourself.
“Ho, ho, ho—”
“Is that the sexist Santa I’ve ever seen or what?” You whistled, clasping your hands behind your back as you kicked your foot up in the air bashfully.
“Oh, thank God it’s you!”
He yanked off the stupid beard, tossing it aside and patting his lap as you giggled and immediately ran into him, getting cozy across his velvet covered thighs.
“I’m kinda mad that you banned me from seeing you like this until now.” You said half wistfully, fixing his lopsided hat.
“I look stupid.” He frowned, looping his arms across your waist.
“Stupidly cute, you know the beard thing is kinda hot.” You winked, eyeing the synthetic beard laying on the floor where he tossed it.
“I hate it. It’s itchy and gross.”
“Awww, poor you, Santa.” You cupped his cheeks, pressing a quick peck to his lips to make him feel a little better.
“I don’t think I’m good with kids. Two babies cried, and I think I permanently traumatized a toddler with my Santa voice.” He sulked, hooking his chin on your shoulder as you pouted, and shook your head with a sincere smile.
“Don’t say that, you’re great with kids… you were just attacked by a whole mob of them.” You teased, pulling his cheeks up to form a smile.
You just wished he could see himself through your eyes and how truly amazing he was by not just being a good babysitter, but a brother figure who was always around to protect them and most of all, encourage them to have fun.
“Wait… you saw them?” He raised his brows, fingers squeezing gently at your waist.
“I drove them here.”
He pulled back, eyes widening as shock and betrayal covered his face.
“You plotted against me?!”
You rolled your eyes, staring at him pointedly.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They said they wanted a picture with Santa and I just couldn’t rob them of that.”
“You know they’ve got you wrapped around their pinky and you don’t even know it.”
“Says the guy who got them all custom embroidered stockings.”
“Those were a good deal!”
Your joint laughter filled the gingerbread house, the realization that the two of you were complete suckers for those kids no matter what.
“I’ve got an even better deal,” you began, nuzzling your face towards his cheek, pressing kisses along the underside of his jaw.
“Yeah? What is it?” He wondered, clueless.
“How about you come home with me and you can be Santa Claus and I’ll be Missus?”
“I-is there like a matching costume I don’t know about? Prop department only said they had—”
“What I mean is, I wanna take a ride on Santa’s sleigh.” You smirked, wiggling in his lap, as his cheeks began to heat up.
“Oh…Oh,” The realization hitting him.
“And I was thinking that maybe you could come down the chimney and—”
“Robin, I’m going home! I’ll see you tomorrow!”
The Indiana weather was always unforgiving: in summer it was scorching hot and in the winter it was blistering cold. There was no such thing as pleasant weather unless you were willing to count the days spent locked inside an air-conditioned room or a heated space, depending on the conditions.
It especially didn’t help when there was outdoor decorating to do accompanied by moderate snowfall. You weren’t much help either considering your lack of coordination and fear of heights, but thankfully Steve was more than willing to handle any outdoor decorating that was needed.
You stood on the snow covered grass, steadying the ladder with your gloved hands as you craned your neck up, watching Steve hook the string of lights beneath the perimeter of the roof ridges.
“Stevie,” you called out past the chilly breeze, “I think we should call it a day, you must be freezing up there.”
You shivered, tightening your grip on the ladder as he reached to his left, carefully hooking the lights on the tiny nails he had hammered in the day prior.
Thank goodness for preparation at the very least.
You expected him to climb down the rungs, happy that he could take a break from your decoration requests, but to your surprise he let out a soft grunt, shaking his head, completely focused on the task at hand.
“I’m all good up here, babe, just a few more and then I’ll be all done.” He said casually, as if he weren’t ten feet off the ground with a higher chance of getting frostbite all over his face.
But of course, if there was anything your boyfriend was, it was determined. To be the best man he could. To do anything and everything to make you smile–even if it meant spending his off day hanging neon Christmas lights to make the house he grew up in finally a home where more memories like this one could be made for the years to come–and of course, seeing his best girl happy.
“What did I do to get so lucky?” You sighed deeply, thinking to yourself what you must have done right in this lifetime to score a man as doting as Steve Harrington.
You heard him snort, taking a quick glance down at you before continuing his work.
“Fall in love with an idiot whose parents would leave him behind a house to pay all by himself.” He supplied a dry laugh, but it only made you frown.
“You’re not an idiot.”
“Yeah?”
You hummed, a smirk playing on your face and Steve didn’t even need to take a glimpse towards you to know what was coming.
“You’re a hunk with a nice ass.”
“Dude!” He chortled, throwing his head back and laughing up into the frigid crisp air all while you giggled from below.
“Just sayin’…” You whistled, shrugging your shoulders.
“I’m starting to believe the only reason why I’m up here is so that you can ogle at me.”
“Caught me red-handed, Stevie.”
He continued working with you keeping him company with your never ending jokes that surely was the reason why his cheeks were becoming so red, and not so much the cold anymore.
“Hmm baby, don’t you know why Santa always lands on the roof?”
He let out a grunt mixed with laughter, shaking his head as he peered down at you curiously.
“No, why?”
Then he caught it—that sly look in your eyes, and before he could even think to stop you from making him laugh too hard, he might’ve taken a fall, you replied…
“It’s because he likes being on top.”
Your laughter filled the air before he could even react, and that alone made him laugh even harder, so smitten by you and your disgustingly unique sense of humor.
“Is your name jingle bells because it looks like you want to go all the way.”
You sing-songed, boots crunching above the snow, as you did a little dance while Steve hung the very last light on the nail.
“If your left leg is Thanksgiving and your right leg is Christmas can I visit between the holidays?”
With a crooked grin on your lips, you stepped aside while Steve finally climbed down the rungs, landing just inches from you.
“You know,” he brushed the light layer of snow off the top of his beanie, “only you could make Christmas dirty.”
You took a step forward, reaching up on your tiptoes as you looped your arms around his neck, placing a peck on his lips.
“I take that as a compliment by the way.”
He smiled against you, caging you in his arms and pressing another kiss to your lips as he mumbled. “Hell of a talent if you ask me, baby.”
“But really, can I visit between the holidays?”
“Christmas really has the pillow princess in a giving mood huh?” he teased lovingly, bringing his gloved fingers up to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear.
You rolled your eyes, nudging him away weakly trying not to crack a smile and immediately failing.
“I changed my mind.”
“Hey c’mon I’m just joking baby,” he chuckled, not letting you leave his grip so easily. He leaned down, whispering all low and hoarse into your ear.
“You know Santa loves to give, it is his forte, after all.”
This time you gasped, cheeks hurting as you smacked his upper arm.
“Dirty!”
The television was background noise to the surrounding happenings at this point. The living room of you and Steve’s home was filled with laughter, surprise, and thanks coming from every direction as your friends and family gathered around and tore at the wrapping paper to reveal their gifts.
Steve sat in the worn-in grandfather chair and you settled comfortably in his lap clutching your camera tight and snapping pictures of everyone’s joyous faces while he held open a garbage bag, catching all the balled up wrapping paper they tossed in.
“How did you even get these! I thought they were sold out everywhere?”
El shrieked, excitedly flipping open the shoebox to reveal the limited edition plum colored Nikes that she had been eyeing but too indecisive on to actually buy before it was gone from The Footlocker.
You turned to Steve, watching the proud smile on his face as he shrugged his shoulders casually like it was no big deal.
“I went back and bought it while you and Max went to grab food, and I hid it in the trunk.” He confessed.
El pouted gratefully, remembering that day her beloved babysitter had driven her and Max to the mall and back, having no idea her present was sitting in the trunk of his car the whole time.
“Come on, I want a picture of you two together.” You chirped, sliding off Steve’s lap and patting his knee before ushering El over.
She beamed from ear to ear, leaning into Steve's side as she proudly displayed her new kicks that were surely going to be worn in before the next year begun.
“Adorable!” You cooed, snapping a few more candids when she reached over and hugged him extra tight, repeating her ‘thank you’s’ while Steve said they could now officially start matching shoes together.
If the kids weren’t already spoiled enough by the gifts you had picked up for them, then they were going to be completely pampered by Steve’s selection.
Max was elated when she ripped open her present to see a new Walkman and headphones after her original one broke–so happy and relieved to be able to listen to music on the go again.
Dustin rambled eagerly when he opened his fancy transceiver that Steve didn’t know anything about, except the fact that it was the one missing piece to his Cerebro so he could get back to talking to his dear Suzie.
Lucas’ arms practically flew through the sleeves of the gray Members Only Racer he had specifically asked for, coining it the ‘cool looking jacket’ that he needed to have in his closet.
Will clutched the official copy of the Dungeon Master’s guide and the new set of dice against his chest, squealing that he couldn’t wait to plan the next campaign.
And last but not least, Mike had immediately ripped off his old Casio G-Shock, replacing it with the Nelsonic Pac-Man game watch that he swore was going to keep him entertained through his boring social studies class next semester.
Steve not only was the best babysitter, but clearly an amazing gift giver, catering ever present to the kids’ likes and wants to make for an unforgettable Christmas.
“Everyone get in, I want a family picture with your babysitter!” You hollered.
You couldn’t help but giggle as you squinted through the viewfinder, seeing all six nuggets gather around Steve and fall into place like it was the most natural thing in the world. The sight made your heartache in a balmy-wholesome way, knowing that there was no man who had as big of a heart as Steve did—and it was the reason why you were positive you’d be stuck together forever.
“Say ‘Merry Christmas’”
“Merry Christmas!” they chorused, with smiles miles wide.
“Now say, ‘We’re having a baby!’”
“We’re hav–Wait! What!?”
Their smiles turned into gaping mouths, eyes wide as they froze and stared at you, then each other, then back at you, waiting for answers.
You lowered the camera slowly, a smile creeping up on your face, not having it in you to say anything more. It took him a second or two, but Steve finally shot out of the chair, feet shuffling against the carpeted floor, hands splayed out in front of him trying to form words until they finally came through.
“Y-You’re messing with me, right?”
You didn’t answer, just setting the camera down, walking over to the empty Christmas tree where one tiny gift was left. Walking back towards him, you placed the present in his hand, nodding.
“Open it.” You whispered, watching his trembling fingers undo the knot of the bow then rip gently through the paper.
There it was. A bright pink pregnancy test with an even brighter ‘+’ sign.
For a moment you thought he was going to be terribly sick, but then came a choked out sound–a mixture been a laugh and a cry–all before he finally looked up at you and smiled.
“Holy crap… we’re going to be parents.” His voice broke, bottom lip wobbling, and his eyes glazing over with happy tears.
“We are.” You replied softly, hooking your arms around his neck as your own vision blurred with tears.
“I know you said you wanted six nuggets, but I guess seven can’t hurt, right?”
“Seven’s not bad at all, sweetheart.” He murmured, hands cradling your face, the two of you staring at each other so sickly sweet before your lips finally met warm and slow.
“I can’t believe there’s gonna be a little Steve running around!” Dustin shouted, pumping his fist in the air. .
“Or Stevie!” Max countered, she and El beginning to gush at how cute your baby would be.
You and Steve broke away, foreheads resting against one another as you laughed at the sound of the kids completely losing their minds over a new addition. You knew deep down they were going to be the best babysitters in their own right, and might even spoil your kid rotten more than they have been by you and Steve.
After all the congratulations, Robin generously offered to snap some photos of you and Steve, and of course some with your illegitimate-legit children who teased that Steve totally had to dress up as Santa the next year again.
Finally, you settled back on Steve’s lap, watching in content as everyone shared a special moment with the ones they loved, creating new priceless memories that would live on forever. And as Steve’s hands settled on your stomach, you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, before whispering just for him to hear.
“Here’s to keeping my stocking filled.”
His eyes pinched shut, shoulders shaking as he laughed so loud it drowned out everything else, as if it was just you and him, and then he hugged you close, nose sweeping against your ear as he murmured…
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!
a/n: hey my loves!!! first stevie fic in a minute yay!!!! i hope you all loved this short and sweet little thing I was able to throw together. i had this one sitting in my wips since last year and finally got the inspiration to finish it <3 thanks for sticking around and i hope you all are taking care of yourselves!!!
MY DARLINGS IM ALIVE AND HAPPY TO REPORT DJO WAS ARRESTED BY SAB FOR JUNO! MY DJOBRINA HEART IS GOING TO FLY OUT OF MY CHEST! MAY WE THANK ALL THE FANGIRLS FOR MANIFESTING THIS! 🍳💓
johnny storm (fantastic four: first steps) x female!reader oneshot
cw: besides being described as female and wearing a skirt, no descriptions of reader were given (i know images are white reader, but it is so hard to find diverse pics for an aesthetic, i tried), female!reader, implied smut (i mean, it's really implied), reader has chapped lips (like me!), i think that's all (but let me know if i forgot to add anything)
Winters in New York City were always a problem to everyone. Sometimes it would be too dark before 4 PM. Or such a challenge to take the grocery bags with the thick gloves. Or move around the town with the subways, skytrains, buses and taxis. And the always-too-cold weather, of course.
But none of those things bothered you more than your chapped lips as soon as the temperatures dropped below the 70s. Like clockwork, no matter how much water you’ve had in your body for the past hours, it would always look like you’ve spent the last one hundred days in the middle of the desert.
Obligatory, you always had a chapstick at your desk, a lipgloss in your purse, and a water bottle in hand. It was a habit that stuck early on, and never went away. Still, nothing could delay your lips’ nature from showing.
Some found it cute, some would pass you more water and tell you to look for a doctor. Too used to all of those reactions, you’d always thank them and move on. You wished you could fix your chapped lips — but they always came back.
It took Johnny a few weeks before he noticed why you’re always reapplying your translucent gloss or taking small sips of water at any given moment. It was like watching his brain click, and then he was asking if you needed anything else.
“Hm, no, I’m ok.”
“You sure you’re not sick?”
“I’m sure, Johnny. I’m just putting in the work to avoid chapped lips before winter hits us.”
“Uh-oh. I thought it was a seduction tactic," he joked.
After that, it wasn’t strange to find lipgloss from your favorite brand at Johnny’s bedside and or a chapstick in his bathroom vanity or hidden in his coats’ pockets. He even tried to leave one in his suit, but the compounds were altered as soon as he caught on fire — which earned an instant “Don’t!” from Reed.
You swear you’ve heard him asking Sue about the difference between the very fancy hydration lipgloss every magazine carried an ad for, and the ones from the drugstore — it was cute, like sparkling pink lipgloss. He already made sure to stock up on your go-to one, you didn’t need him spoiling you more than necessary.
On a cold January night, you and Johnny were admiring the city from the Baxter Tower balcony after a family dinner. He reached for the lipgloss in the pocket of his pants and you noticed it wasn’t the same as usual.
“Bought this one by accident,” he explained. It was from the same brand, but a different shade, which wasn’t a problem for you, “and if you don’t like it, I’ll just throw it away.”
“Oh, no, it’s ok, I like this one too,” you opened the small bottle and applied it to your lips, carefully. “It’s been a minute since I wore it.”
“Can I try it?”
His question caught you off guard, and as you moved the lip wand to gather some product, he stepped closer and pressed his lips against yours. His hands wavered through your body, resting around your waist as he pulled you in.
The white spirals filled the space once he broke the kiss.
“I still prefer the other one,” he announced, his thumb gently holding you by your chin.
“Really? You weren’t kissing me as much when I had it on,” you pouted and baited your eyes. “I thought you were growing bored of me.”
“Of you? Never.” He kissed you again, proving his point. “But I think this one,” he took the lipgloss from your hand, taking a good look at it, “needs more experimentation.”
“Since when you’ve become a lipgloss specialist, Johnny Storm?”
“Since I started dating you, babydoll.” Another kiss was pressed to your lips. “I’m gonna get you a haul of lip products, we’re gonna catalogue and experiment all of them.”
“And what parameters do you have in mind?”
“I was thinking of color, flavour, texture and durability. And a secret one.”
“Which is…” You leaned in.
“How much I like tasting it from your lips.” As he dipped for one more kiss, you pushed him back by his chest, a playful smile touching your eyes. “What?”
“Should we take this to the lab?” you teased him, taking a step back to go inside the house.
“The lab can’t take my type of experiment, doll.”
As you turned to question him what he meant, Johnny grabbed you by your middle and threw you over his shoulder, one hand around your knees, another over your ass, holding your skirt's hem in place.
“Johnny!” You slapped his back muscles, and he held you firmer as you tried to slip away.
“Don’t make this harder on me,” his words were low and threatening.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll ruin more than just your lipstick.”
His threat sent shivers down your spine, and his firm steps into the stairs announced your destiny. As you crossed paths with H.E.R.B.I.E., the robot said something your ears didn’t catch, but earned a smirk and a “We’re busy, Herbert.”
A few more steps, a door closed, and Johnny said, “Let me get to work.”
a/n: i was bored, suffering from chapped lips myself, when my spotify played "chapstick" by COIN and i ended up writing something funny just because i wanted to. thanks @live-love-be-unique and @munsonsreputation for the help and support!
i need this man biblically its not even funny!!!! effie gave me a sneak peek to this fic and i literally said, and i quote, "BITCH. CHAPSTICK IS SO FUCKING GOOD. WHAT THE FUCK."
but there's no surprise here seeing as though my bestie is literally a mastermind!!! i mean all the small details of johnny noticing why reader was always reapply and then proceeding to have a variety of chapstick around for her all the time!! and the attempt to leave one in his suit for her?!!? don't even get me started with johnny asking his big sis about which products work best!!!
im foaming at the mouth this was everything. pic down below was literally me while reading!!!
summary: Joel’s favorite day of the week is Friday and for good reason.
OR
Joel knows you're prone to stressful weeks and he does what he can to take some of it off your plate and get you through to Friday.
warnings: no use of y/n, no outbreak, age-gap (joel is late 30s/early 40s and reader is in her mid to late 20s), reader is also in college & has an internship, sarah is alive and well and happy (!!!!), sarah is also in high school (freshman i think are like 14? 15? so yeah that's how old she is), joel's love language is acts of service and literally the rest of them too, lots of joel comforting reader w cuddles and dinner, and words of affirmation, slight mention of stress and sleep depravation (?), basically a bunch of fluff and domestic life with the Millers <3
Mondays are regularly a rough one, no matter if you wake up on the right side of the bed or put your best foot forward. But Joel understands it completely. The start of the demanding days ahead, and you just want it to be over before it has even truly begun.
It’s routine by now and he gets it—he always will until routine changes and you decide otherwise.
On this particular Monday, the sun has already begun to set. Rays of oranges and pinks filter through the backyard sliding door and into the kitchen. The big light is already being switched on, slightly brightening up the space where Sarah sits at the island working on her essay while Joel busies himself with making dinner.
In the distance, he can finally hear the rumbling of your car pulling into the driveway. The kill of the engine and the keys jingling as you unlock the deadbolt, letting yourself in.
“Hey babes.” You call out just loud enough for them to hear, shutting the door behind you.
You toe off your shoes, dropping your bags to the ground and keys into the ceramic bowl beside his. Padding across the house, you follow the sounds of faint bustling, entering the kitchen where you find them like two peas in a pod, never far away from one another.
He and Sarah turn their heads, watching a tired yet content smile wash over your face, eyes crinkling at the edges despite the fatigue in your orbs. The day has so clearly worn you down, yet coming home to see their faces makes it all feel a little better, no matter how crappy the hours prior have been.
“Hey hey.” Sarah beams as you round the island, hugging her from behind.
You take a quick peek at the progress she’s made on her essay since she first asked you to look over it last week. There are more paragraphs now, and it looks more complete—the suggestions you had initially made in the margins were erased having been considered upon her best judgement.
You whisper out a quiet ‘good job’ before leaving her alone to continue working, before trailing towards Joel. He hovers over the stove with a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder, deeply observing the pot over the open flame.
You wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to the middle of his back, where you feel him chuckle and reach behind you to run his palm over your hip.
“Hi there darlin’” he greets, covering the lid and drawing you to his side, holding you tight to his chest and placing a kiss on the top of your head.
You don’t say much at first, just letting your bones temporarily free themselves of the weight of the day, giving it all to Joel who happily carries it for as long as you need. A minute goes by before you finally shift your eyes elsewhere and part your lips to speak.
“What’re cooking?” You rest your head on his chest, peeking into the foggy lid where something simmers on low, a savory smell permeating the air making your stomach rumble.
“Stew. Got some chunks of beef in there, some baby potatoes, and carrots. Nice and soothing.” He explains, gently thumbing your shoulders lulling the excess stress away.
“It smells delicious.” You hum, reaching out to uncover it, getting a better look and smell.
Joel feels quite proud seeing the way you flutter your eyes shut, taking a deep whiff, like the aroma alone could heal your tiredness. It was the same recipe his late mother would whip up for him and Tommy when they were younger, and without fail it always left him feeling a little warmer inside after a long day. And now, it was the same kind of comfort he was trying to give to you.
“It’s not quite done yet, though.” He says, keeping one arm locked around you as he reaches for the wooden spoon, stirring the contents and ensuring nothing is getting burnt to the bottom of the pot.
The rich brown broth is still a tad bit runny for his liking, needing more time to reduce, yet even then it still looks appetizing with all the hearty ingredients floating around becoming more tender by the minute.
He drags the bottom of the spoon along the pot’s edge, blowing the steam gently and offering you a small taste. You take a small sip of the broth, nodding your head in satisfaction as the flavors melt onto your tongue–watching as he samples the remainder while you cover the pot again. He hums at the taste, setting the spoon back onto a plate before speaking once more.
“Should be finished by the time you get out of the shower.”
His suggestion is not only considerate of the food he’s making, but your own wellbeing and schedule. By getting you into the shower now, it means getting you to bed earlier without needing to do much after. On Mondays, Joel knows you never really feel inclined to take any work home, just simply wanting to close out the day and get some rest to prepare yourself for the next day.
Though it pains him to see you so blue and restless, it makes him feel a lot better to know you’re resting rather than forcing yourself to work through the night–because those nights will come later on in the week, he knows from experience. Without putting up a fight, you pull yourself away from his side, slowly stretching out your stiff limbs.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ve been wanting to scrub the day off, anyway.” You say with a groan, gripping your back and pushing your chest forward, hating yourself for not taking more breaks from your desk today.
He leans over to peck your lips, rubbing the small of your back gently.
“Go baby.”
Before you can fully exit the kitchen, Sarah whistles, grabbing your attention promptly.
“Don’t fall asleep in there. You’re the only one I can trust to proofread my essay!”
She shoots you a pointed look then aiming it at her dad and finally back to you in a pleading manner.
He can only tsk, while you reassure her with a small laugh.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”
Joel had tried giving his own string of feedback earlier in the afternoon when Sarah asked, but all he could manage to find wrong was the incorrect date on the front page of her paper.
Call it the dad in him, but he thought everything she did was perfect. No flaws to ever grace her, not even in the academic work she did. And while Sarah always appreciated having such a supportive dad her whole life, in times like these, it was when she really cherished having you around to step in and help her find what she could improve on–not necessarily to be perfect, but to progress and learn more from her previous tries.
So, Joel didn’t mind being a second-place proof-reader, at all. Not when you consistently speak so highly of his little girl and continue to encourage her to keep learning. And especially when Sarah feels comfortable enough to go to you for help, no matter how big or small.
He knows that even when your plate's full with a hundred different things, you’d drop it all to make time for her, never making her feel like she’s adding to your responsibilities because you never saw Sarah as such to begin with.
No matter if she wasn’t yours the same way she was Joel’s–you cared for the kid like she was your own. It’s what made coming home to her and Joel everyday extra special.
Twenty minutes later the island was set with three steaming bowls of stew over a fluffy bed of white rice. Sarah’s handwritten essay cast off to the side, free from stray splatters and potential spills.
“Food’s already plated sweetheart.” Joel calls out when he hears your footsteps pad down the stairs, reentering the kitchen.
You sport an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweats, quietly saying thank you to him before taking your seat, getting comfortable.
Sarah hisses around a hot mouthful of food, standing up and going for the fridge.
“Water or Coca-Cola?” She garbles between chews, fanning her mouth while you and Joel stifle your laughter.
“Cola, please.” You say kindly, beginning to mix your food around with your spoon, getting every grain of rice coated with the velvety broth.
“Water for me.” Joel answers.
She takes her seat again after you all have your respective drinks, warning you guys that the food is really hot. You grin, rubbing her back as she sips her soda, Joel snickering at her for being too impatient to dig in.
“So how was everyone’s day?” You raise your brows, blowing on your spoonful, and looking between the two of them.
Joel clears his throat, going first.
“Didn’t go on the work site today,” he takes half a bite, chews, then continues, “stayed in the office doin’ paperwork, WD40-ed a squeaky door. Solid, easy day.” He says casually.
“Did the office ladies ogle while you did that?” Your lips quirk up into a smirk, peering over at Sarah who mirrors your expression with a giggle.
“Last time I visited, I swear Martha was flirting with him.” She badgers, tilting her head at her dad all while you feigned a gasp, brooding in your chair.
“Martha’s sixty-one with a husband and three adult children.” Joel deadpans between the two of you, but it doesn’t seem to shake the devious grins on your faces.
He won’t say it, but he doesn’t mind, even when the teasing is at his expense. Anything to see you smile on Monday makes him happy, even the accusations that the office ladies who he considers his elders find him attractive.
“She’s also a woman with desires, Joel.” You argue, going to poke at his cheek as he cringes inwardly.
“You know most women her age often have more elaborate fantasies and higher sex drives than women in their thirties.” You pester on, taking another bite of your food while his cheeks go bright red.
Sarah cuts in dramatically, slapping her palms down on the granite countertop, drilling in on the joke.
“Oh my God, I just learned about that in my health guidance class!”
Laughter swiftly fills the kitchen as you and Sarah throw your heads back and Joel can’t help but shake his head in amusement at the two of you. He likes to think that he wields the magic wand of getting you through the week, but the truth is, it really is a team effort between him and Sarah, giving you a reason to smile and laugh as hard as you were now.
When your combined laughter finally dies down, you glance over at her in curiosity, wondering how the high school freshman was holding up.
“Tell us about your day, Sarah.” You ask, going back to enjoying your home-cooked meal.
She chews quickly as if she remembers something intriguing she just has to tell you and her dad.
“Jessica and Ben from third period English broke up last weekend, and now it’s like, super awkward. The class is basically split into two sides, and even Mrs. Click can sense something is wrong.” She spills without missing a beat.
“Why’d they break up?” Joel raises a brow, taking a sip of his water.
“Apparently Ben went out to the movies with Jessa from fourth period biology, and even though he says he’s just friends with her, Jessica doesn’t buy it.”
“Wait,” you tip your head up suddenly perplexed, “So Ben’s ex-girlfriend’s name is Jessica and the girl he decided to ‘cheat’ with is named Jessa?”
She nods totally aware of the absurdity of it all, before telling you two the kicker.
“And they both have blonde hair and green eyes.”
Joel snorts disapprovingly, while you purse your lips and roll your eyes.
“Yeah, he definitely has a type.” He mutters.
“Totally! But the worst part is Mrs. Click said that if the class doesn’t start getting on the same page she’s gonna get the counselor in to do a big talk for a whole period.” She groans with a roll of her eyes.
The three of you continue dinner, entertained by the rest of Sarah’s recollection of her day, which is hands down way more interesting than you and Joel’s combined.
He’s thankful for her willingness to share parts of her life that many teens her age would much rather keep to themselves. And he always thought there’d be a time where she’d brush him off and barely give him the time of day, but it seems quite the opposite–her never failing to include you and him in her life, even when you two don’t always ‘get’ the newest teenage fads.
When you all finish eating, Sarah helps bring the dirty dishes over to the sink where he begins to scrape the scraps into the garbage bin. He tells you to sit back down when you offer to help, not wanting you to exhaust yourself more than you already were.
“I think I’m gonna head up early. I wanna read before bed.” Sarah says, rinsing her hands under the warm water.
“Sounds good, sweetheart.” Joel nods, leaning into her as she hugs at his side saying goodnight.
“I’ll look over your paper and leave it here for you okay?” You reach over across the island, just as she comes over to you.
“You’re the bestest,” she hugs you tightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “and make sure you get some sleep too.” She reminds you, privy to the workload you carry on your shoulders too.
“I’ll go to bed as soon as your dad finishes up.” You promise, kissing her temple sweetly, so grateful for her thoughtfulness that she so undeniably got from her father.
Joel steals glances at you every so often as runs the dishes through the stream of water before loading them into the dishwasher. You were concentrated, mouthing the words on the paper, pausing every so often to squiggle notes in the margins before flipping through the rest of the pages.
By the time he starts the washer and finishes wiping down the counters, he’s peering behind you, watching as you wrap up your last set of notes on the final page, giving her citations a quick skim to make sure they were all formatted correctly to which they were.
“How’d she do?” He rubs your shoulders tenderly, before you tip your head back to look at him upside down while he grins, fingertips moving to rub at your cheeks instead.
“Phenomenal as per usual, but she just needs to clarify some sentences to make it stronger, then she’s good to go.” You explain, shutting your eyes just briefly, only to open them to the sight of him bending down, connecting your lips.
His are tender and warm against yours, sweeping just softly as you kiss back, feeling the dull scratch of his stubble graze across your skin as you both smile into each other like tired idiots, desperately needing sleep.
He pulls away just to tilt your head back up, offering you a hand as you stand from the chair.
“Thanks for lookin’ over it even though I know you’re tired.” He murmurs, lacing his fingers through yours, standing still in the amber light of the kitchen.
You shake your head at his small hint of remorse, the task actually doing more to help you forget about the real cause of your tiredness, if anything at all.
“Anything to get my mind off school and the internship helps a lot.” You tell him, and he nods understandingly, silently slinging his arm around your waist as you two begin shutting off the lights and making your way up the stairs quietly.
“Do you wanna talk about your day?” He asks casually, always reminding you that you never had to if you didn’t want to revisit it.
Tonight, you shake your head, sighing softly. “Not really.”
He nods, fingers kneading into your side sympathetically, just doing what he can to help you know he’s here for you.
“S’alright baby, I got you.” He opens the bedroom door, walking you to the bathroom where you two brush your teeth in silence.
His eyes stayed glued to your reflection in the mirror, watching the way your eyes begin to droop heavily with every blink now turning into a longer pause. The hand holding your electric toothbrush becomes limp, just holding it weakly and letting the brush do all the work. When the cycle finishes, he gently steals it from your hands, running it under the water and encouraging you to rinse your mouth just for a few seconds.
He eventually steers you back into the bedroom, guiding you towards your side of the bed where he pulls back the covers, letting you fall onto the mattress like deadweight. He pulls the covers up a little higher over your collarbones, switching on the bedside lamp so that you can fall asleep easily, though it doesn’t look like you need the extra help.
“I’ll be out in a bit.” He whispers, placing a kiss to your forehead, but to his surprise, you squirm under the overs, brows furrowing as you mumble.
“Don’t be long, I want cuddles.”
He grunts with a shake of his head, not knowing how you were still able to form words after all that, but he pressed another kiss this time on your lips.
“I promise darlin’.”
He returns from the bathroom fifteen minutes later to find you snoring quietly. Soft breaths of air leaving your mouth, chest rising and falling, and your limbs finally resting like they’ve craved for.
He rounded over to your side to shut off the lamp, now completely eclipsing the room. His eyes adjust to the dark, walking back over to his side and letting his back meet the comfort of the mattress. Like clock-work he turned his body towards you, snaking his arms around your body and pulling you close before he finally shut his eyes.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He murmurs, burying his face in your hair.“I love you.”
Tuesday and Wednesday are equally draining as Monday’s, but the pace seems to quicken with the days bleeding into one another and your schedule getting busier. You share a few texts when you can throughout the day, checking in on how the new renovation is going on his end, and he asks about the final internship project on yours.
The next time his phone buzzes, it’s not a text but a FaceTime call coming from you. His fingers click the green button, and he flashes a small smile, waiting for the screen to connect.
“Hey baby.” He greets when finally graced with a grainy video of you adjusting your earbuds.
“Hi,” you wave, gazing down at your phone just briefly before looking back up at what’s in front of you. “Sorry I’m walking to a coffee shop right now.” You say, keeping the phone at a low angle.
“Goin’ to get some late lunch?” He suspects, noting the two hours that have gone by since he had his own—leftover stew from two days ago.
“Yeah, I’m starving. I barely had time for breakfast.” You let out a small groan, pulling open a glass door as he suddenly hears faint jazz music and chatter in the background.
Joel leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you tap a finger on your chin as you look over the menu.
“And what is it you’re always tellin’ me about never leaving’ the house on an empty stomach?” He teases while you roll your eyes playfully, whispering for him to ‘shut up.’
You finally seem to decide what you want, stepping up to the counter as you greet the cashier with a smile and begin ordering.
“Yeah, can I do a medium iced vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso?”
Joel would chastise you for consuming enough caffeine to induce a heart attack, but you were clearly in the working groove, just needing a little something extra to get you over.
He hears you order two more items: a ham and cheese croissant and a chocolate chip cookie. You thank the cashier, moving off to find a seat while you wait. Setting your bag down, you finally set the camera upright where he can see all of you now.
“Sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing any office time.” You say, noticing that he isn’t in fact taking his usual break from the comfort of his truck, but in his office with his phone propped against what you assume is his computer monitor.
He shakes his head, turning the camera a little to show you what he was doing before you called.
“Not at all, sweetheart. Just finished up sendin’ the invoice to the new clients.”
“All done with the worksite today?” You assume, and he nods, turning the camera back to himself and catching you up on his day so far.
“Just needed to check on the concrete pour from yesterday and get some of the electrical started. Headin’ to pick Sarah up from school…” he pauses, looking down at his watch, making a note of the time, “in about an hour, then take her to practice.”
Wednesdays were early after school pickups and late afternoon practices, ones that Joel never missed no matter how tied up he was at work.
You pouted deeply, propping your chin up on your fist, “Wish I could get out early too, but the stupid deadline got moved up and I really want to finish this before—”
“Baby, s’okay,” he cuts in with a deep chuckle, “Sarah understands how busy you are. I understand. You’re nearly done, sweetheart, and when you are we know you’ll be there.”
He catches you on one too many occasions beating yourself up for feeling as if you’re missing out on their lives. But the truth is Joel doesn’t want you spreading yourself out thinner than you already are, especially when you’re juggling more than he is. He doesn’t say it out loud though, he never does, not when he knows you’d defend his honor about being a full time present dad all while running an independent contractor business with no outside partners–which you find way more difficult than grad school and an internship.
He disagrees with your argument by a long shot, but he’s content with keeping it to himself, knowing deep down in his heart you’re the most hard-working person he’d ever met, and a selfless one at that.
“Thanks, babe.” You smile sincerely, in awe of how easily he can soothe your worries without feeling like pity, but understanding.
You two chatted for a few more minutes, catching him up on what you did in the office today and the free time you had to work on some course assignments before your order was called out.
“I’m gonna head back to the office now, but I’ll text you when I’m free. I might be home later than usual. Just trying to squeeze in as much work as I can today.” You let him know, not wanting him to worry too much if you didn’t get home at your usual time.
He nods, drawing the phone close to his face, as if he’s trying to bring you closer to him too. “Sounds good sweetheart, I love you.”
“Love you, too.” You grinned, pursing your lips together, giggling as he returned the gesture with a wet smooth and then the line disconnected.
As he anticipated, you did get home later than usual. Sarah was already fast asleep, but not without reminding him to stay up and wait for you to get home before he tucked in. Without a doubt, he was going to do so, never sleeping well, or at all without knowing you got home safe and sound.
He was sitting on the couch freshly showered and his belly full of Chinese takeout, by the time you pulled into the driveway. He greeted you at the door, pecking your lips and taking your bags, telling you to head to the living room where dinner was waiting.
There was a steaming plate of fried rice and an array of leftover entrees and side dishes beside a cold glass of water. Even though you had called him to let him know you were on the way and not that hungry, he still made the effort to lay it out for you, just in case you had a change of appetite.
And of course you did with such a long day you had.
He sat with you on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs as you forked through the plate on your lap telling him about the drive home. There was a minor accident on the highway, leaving one lane closed and traffic beginning to pile up. You would have been home twenty minutes earlier had it not been for the jam, but Joel still murmurs that he’s happy you got home safe.
He tells you about early pick up and Sarah’s practice, while occasionally reaching over to spoon more food onto your plate as you eat, knowing you didn’t have much since your late lunch FaceTime call.
The hour ticks on late, and he yawns deeply from time to time, trying to get himself to stay up even when you tell him he can head up to bed before you. Sarah’s practice also had run a little overtime, leaving Joel too tired to cook something at home by the time they left the field, and so takeout it was.
“I’ll be up in a bit,” you promise him between bites, your foot rubbing against his thigh hoping he would sway. “I just need to log in to do some forum replies and start the next chapter reading.”
“How long is ‘a bit’?” He let out a groan, eyes crinkling shut and yawning once more.
You wiggle your shoulders, still chewing, “Like an hour tops.”
“They due tomorrow?” He assumes, noting that you never stay up this late unless you really have to.
“Just the replies,” you reply, swallowing, “but if I can at least get half the chapter reading done, it’ll help for the lecture.”
He gives you a slow but hesitant nod, shifting your legs off his lap and onto the cushions as he stands up.
“Just leave the dishes in the sink. I’ll load them in the washer tomorrow before I head out.” He mumbles, bending down to peck your lips.
“Okay.” You nod, watching as he walks up the stairs, leaving you to work in silence for a while.
He manages a little more than an hour of rest until his body wakes up on its own after feeling you were nowhere to be found when he shifted, trying to cuddle you. If his intuition served him right, you were passed out on the couch with your laptop nearly falling off onto the ground at this point.
He threw off the covers, making his way down the stairs groggily, doing his best to stay quiet and not wake Sarah. And just as he suspected there you were completely passed out.
“Sweetheart,” he shook your shoulders gently, seizing your laptop before it could topple over and placing it on the coffee table.
You stirred slightly at the sudden touch, pinching your eyes and finally opening them.
“W-what time is it?” You croaked, rubbing your eyes and causing your mascara to smudge around your skin.
“Almost 1:30.” He squints at the clock on the wall then back down to you.
“Already?” You whine, covering your face with your hands, trying to get yourself a little more awake but failing.
He helps you sit up straight before gesturing to your laptop.
“Is your work all saved? Goin’ to shut it and charge it for you.”
You nod your head wordlessly, watching as he sifts through your work bag, pulling out a long charger and plugging it into the wall, connecting the other side to your laptop as it makes a soft ding and he shuts it gently.
“Let’s get you to bed.” He says, holding his arm out to you as you stand up and lean into his side, his elbow knocking the light switch off.
“I still have to shower.” You whisper, slowly walking up the stairs.
“Just be quick.” He tells you, shutting off the stairwell light, and closing your bedroom door.
You agree wordlessly, heading towards the bathroom while he rifles through the drawers grabbing you a clean pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt leaving it on the counter for you. He slips back into bed, eyes shutting as he hears the water run. It’s a few minutes before it finally shuts off, and the slide of the glass shower door tells him you’re all done. A few minutes pass, and he feels the bed shift with you settling beside him.
“Sorry,” you whisper, enclosing your arms around his body and placing a delicate kiss to his bare shoulder.
He makes a disapproving low sound, drawing his fingers up to yours where they rest on his sternum, clasping them together.
“Nothin’ to be sorry for baby…go to sleep.” He mumbles tiredly.
You shuffle as close as you can get, brushing your lips against his skin once more before your breaths begin to fall against his spine, the two of you lulled to sleep, and this time without Joel missing you beside him.
On Thursday, Joel feels like he’s counting down the seconds to midnight just so he can get closer to his favorite day of the week. But in some ways, he feels like Thursdays offer a head start to that day, especially when his phone erupts with messages coming from a group chat Sarah has named Family.
Your message comes in first.
‘Just remembered we have beef patties in the freezer. Want burgers for dinner tonight?’
Sarah replies almost instantly, ‘Sure. Can we have sweet potato fries too?”
‘Yeah, I’ll grab some otw home. Need anything else?’ You add.
Joel’s fingers type something out, a stupid self-indulgent smirk spreading over his features as he stares down at his phone like a skittish teenager texting their crush.
‘Your pretty face’ he hits send without a second thought prompting Sarah to flood the chat with a slew of eye-rolling emojis.
Then, ‘Really dad? Text her privately. Gosh!!!!’ He can practically hear her embarrassment seeping through the messages.
Before he can send back his own string of pixelated emoticons, his screen lights up with a picture of you as an incoming call rings. He picks up, pulling off a bright yellow hard hat and pressing the phone to his ear.
“Are you trying to gross your daughter out or what?” You scold him jokingly, and he swears he can picture the smitten look on your face.
“She’ll live.” Joel chuckles, eyes fleeting around the site where his brother and few other guys work on prepping the next concrete pour some feet away.
“So you’re gettin’ off early today, huh?” He asks, pleased that you don’t have to stay back as late as you have been the last few days.
The long days you have been pulling have put a dent in your usual sleep schedule and it certainly hasn’t been easy on your body or mind, especially when working uncomfortably at a desk for hours at a time, barely getting to eat a proper filling meal. Today is one of those lucky Thursday’s and he can only hope for more of them, as you near the end of your semester and things are beginning to fizzle out into a manageable calm.
“Yup.” You quip eagerly.
He can hear some rustling in the background, zippers pulling shut and the fabric of your bag crinkling as you pack away your things.
“I’m just about finished with the project, and all I have to do is look over it one more time before I send it over. And I can do all of it from home.” You inform him, slinging your bag over your shoulder and swiping your keys off your desk, quietly saying your goodbyes to a few of your colleagues.
He feels slightly relieved to hear the day has been kinder to you, despite the obvious obligations you still have yet to fulfill and get off your plate. Nevertheless, the light at the end of the tunnel is closer than you think.
“I’m proud of you, darlin’,” he praises warmly, already making plans to grab you a little something before he gets home.
“Couldn’t have done it without you.” You reply gratefully before continuing with a short laugh, “But seriously, do you need anything else from the store?”
He chuckles, thinking for a moment, trying to remember what he had in the fridge. “Grab some sesame buns and a red onion.”
“And my pretty face, right?” You tease, and he hears your car door open and shut.
He doesn’t miss a single beat, buzzing out something soft and low.
“Pretty sure they don’t sell ones like yours there…too special, too already mine.”
From across the site, Tommy shouts something in the distance, badgering Joel about getting off his phone and joining the rest of the crew. He grumbles, shouting something back at him as you start up your car and giggle at their banter.
“Go back to work flirt.” You chastise, pulling his attention away from his younger brother.
“Sorry about him,” Joel sighs apologetically, though you think it’s cute they still poke fun at each other now that they’re older. “Drive safely, sweetheart.”
“I will, baby.”
By the time his truck pulls up in the driveway later that afternoon, your car is already parked in its usual spot. He took a little longer to get home, stopping by the grocery store to pick up a bouquet and your favorite candy bar as a small congratulations for getting one step closer to finishing up the big project.
“I’m home!” He announces, undoing the laces of his boots and setting them aside, throwing his keys beside yours.
“We’re out here!” Sarah clamors from the backyard.
He stops a few feet away from where you two don’t notice him, allowing himself to revel in the sight of his two favorite girls. You both stood in front of the deck grill, changed out of your usual work and school attire, and your hair pulled out of your faces. Sarah waved an aluminum pan in the air, gently fending off any flies, meanwhile you stood with one hand on your hip, the other gripping a metal spatula, staring intently at the grill.
He doesn’t expect to see you two starting without him, but he can’t complain knowing there was no better sight to come to than this, especially on the rare occasions that it’s you home before him.
“You started without me?” He whistles, hiding the goodies behind his back as steps outside to join you both.
Sarah manages to catch a glimpse of the flower petals, nodding her head when he mouths at her to ‘not say anything’ without you catching it. She hovers the pan behind his back, helping keep the gift hidden.
“I just put them on a few minutes ago. Sarah had to help me watch a YouTube tutorial on how to get the grill started.” You met his lips in a quick peck before you turned your attention back to the grill, hoping it wasn’t burning.
He took notice of the charcoal bag resting on the ground, ripped open and slightly lopsided as you and Sarah struggled to lift and pour the heavy thing into the firebox. It had finally set in that you had been aiming to get dinner done before he arrived home. He had been pulling a lot of your weight lately, always making sure you came home to a warm and cozy dinner no matter how tired he was, and you wanted to attempt to at least try to do the same for him today.
Sarah points at you, smacking her dad on the shoulder gently.
“She was the brave one and actually lit it up. I was kinda scared but she did it just like how you always do.”
You grin, letting your back fall against his chest, peering up at him.
“Yeah, and I’m coming for your title as grill master.”
Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he finally pulls his arm from behind him, presenting you with the colorful arrangement and the candy bar he managed to lay in the center.
“Reckon these are yours, grill master.” He hums, letting you take hold of the stems, trading you for the spatula instead.
You stare down at them in appreciation, shaking your head up at him with a shy smile. “You didn’t have to.”
He shrugs, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “I wanted to.”
Finally, Sarah laughs, bonking her dad’s head with the pan, and making grabby hands at the arrangement, wanting to see which kinds of flowers he picked this time. You handed it over, trading her for the pan as she took in every kind of flower.
“I’ll leave you lovebirds alone,” she sings, making the two of you laugh.
“And I’ll get started on the fries.” She tosses the candy bar towards you, skipping into the house, but not before looking over her shoulder and giving her dad a thumbs up for his choice of bouquet.
“Thank you.” You say quietly, ripping open the treat already enjoying a bite.
He laughs, shaking his head telling you it was nothing.
“So how was pick up?” He adds curiously, silently thanking you for grabbing Sarah from school today.
“Good! I surprised her with a milkshake and donut from the cafe I went to yesterday, and she loved it.” You held the bar out for him to take a bite.
“No carpoolin’?” He chews, sliding the spatula under the patties checking on the char.
“Not today, but some of her friends stopped by to say ‘hi’ to me.” You reveal a little proudly, hoping Sarah doesn’t hear you pathetically brag about how neat it was that she brought you up to her friends enough that they wanted to meet you.
“Hmm, is that right?” He nudges your side with his elbow, teasing just slightly at your clear giddiness.
“Apparently, they’ve been dying to meet Mr. Miller’s cool, pretty, and super smart girlfriend.” You repeated in the same inflection Sarah had introduced you to them through the passenger window.
He smiles at the thought, knowing plenty of his daughter’s friends often ask him about you too when it was his day for carpooling. He suspected that next week he’d probably have to deal with a bunch of teenage girls asking him how he managed to luck out with someone like you, but he says it would be pretty worth it.
“Can’t say that I haven’t bragged about you a few times either.” He grins, flipping the patties as you giggle beside him.
“It was definitely the right pick-me-up for today.” You tiptoe, kissing his cheek sweetly.
Dinner is eaten outside, with the three of you watching the sunset and talking about the plans for tomorrow. Sarah doesn’t need a ride home because it’s a home game, so you and Joel agree to meet there. Your last lecture of the day ends right when her game starts, so you warn her that you’ll be a little late, but she assures you she’ll save her scoring drive when you turn up.
Joel finds that as the week comes to a close, you open up a little more about your day, finding small parts of it that don’t seem draining to revisit. Sarah asks about the office you intern at and if they’ve fixed the air conditioning that went out last week. Joel grins proudly when he hears that you were this close to having him stop by and take a look at it himself, before they actually got someone to come and get it up and running again.
With Sarah being a freshman in high school, she has been a little more interested in taking a look at her different options after graduation. You attend a university just a half hour away from the house, and they offer an array of concentrations. You offer to bring her on campus one of these days to show her around and maybe talk to some friends of yours in different degree paths just so she can get a feel of what is out there.
Joel can’t help but feel a little sad that she’s growing up so fast, but at the same time he’s thankful to know you were always there to help her through anything, especially with these sorts of things that he didn’t have much knowledge in.
By the time your bellies are full, Joel picks up the dirty dishes, taking them into the kitchen where you trail behind holding a stack of watered down glasses.
“Go rest up kiddo, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.” He calls out to Sarah who hovers around the kitchen about to jump in and help you two clean up.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” She asks, looking over at you who nods reassuring her that she can go rest up.
“I don’t have much work to do tonight, so I can help out. Thanks again, sweetheart.”
She hugs you both goodnight, making a pit-stop in the garage to grab her cleats and kneepads to pack into her duffle bag for tomorrow, leaving you and Joel in the kitchen. You are in charge of dishes tonight and the countertops, while Joel goes back outside cleaning off the grill and throwing out the used charcoal.
By the time the kitchen is nice and tidy, he meets you in the living room where you lounge on the couch, mindlessly scrolling on your phone for a quick break.
“You goin’ to work down here tonight?” He asks, flopping beside you, draping his arms around your thighs and laying his head on your hips.
You sigh heavily, fingers running through his hair. “I don’t know. I kinda wanna put it off, if I’m being honest.”
He looks up at you, lifting his brows. “When’s the deadline again?”
He recalled just a few days ago that you said the project’s due date got pushed closer than expected, but you were already practically done with it.
“Next week.” You answer.
“And you just gotta look through it and send it in, right?”
You hum in agreement, beginning to feel his fingers dig into your thighs with a gentle squeeze.
“I say you get it out of the way tonight and save yourself the extra stress next week.”
“You’re so right.” You murmur, pulling your hands away to rub at your cheeks, trying to find the sliver of energy left in you to do it.
Joel had no problem with letting you put it off if you really wanted to, but he knew you just needed an extra push.
“What if you work from bed?” he suggests, hands running up your thighs and over your hips. “We’ll go have a nice hot shower, and I’ll stay up with you until you’re finished.”
There had been no space in the week for you and Joel to have some proper alone time. And it wasn’t that the kisses and small gestures weren’t enough—Joel knew just how much it all meant to you, how it kept you grounded throughout the busy week—but there was a need to feel his hands more than just the touch of him pulling you closer in bed when you two were half asleep.
“You sure?” You ask, weary of his own exhaustion that doesn’t seem to ever phase him nor get in the way of him being there for you.
He nods, reaching up for your hands and bringing your knuckles towards his lips.
“Positive, sweetheart.”
The shower is steamy just how you like it, and his hands glide over the slopes and dips of your body, taking the time to feel you the way he’s been missing—the way you’ve been needing. Your hands do the same to his architecture, running down his arms and over his chest, murmuring sweet words of thanks as he massages your scalp and presses scattered kisses where he can. There’s nothing more to it than tenderness, nothing sexual or heated, just intimacy in the simplest form as water cascades the two of you.
He dries the two of you down after using up all the hot water, staying glued to your side as he watches you complete your night-time routine in front of the foggy mirror. He pulls on a pair of boxers before plucking one of his faded t-shirts, guiding it over your frame before entering the bedroom.
“I should be done in less than an hour.” You settle beside him against the headboard with your laptop in hand.
He swipes his reading glasses and a book off his bedside table. “Take your time darlin’, I’ll be right here.”
He looks over at you after every few pages, watching as you scroll through the screen, mouthing words as you re-read and type on your keyboard, making a few edits here and there. When he hears you let out a deep breath, raking your fingers through your damp hair, he sets his book down, giving you his full attention.
“I’m pretty sure this is good to go.” You whisper.
“Yeah?” He leans over, closing the space between you both to take a peek at your screen. Just a month and a half prior, it was a blank slate, so much planning and hours you had spent to make it what it was now.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous about submitting it.” You bite down on your lip, scrolling through it once more, just trying to make sure everything was in its rightful place.
Above the covers, his hand squeezes your thigh encouragingly. “It’s normal to feel nervous baby, you’ve been workin’ on it for a while now.”
“Want me to give it a look?” He suggests, sitting up a little straight offering you to pass it over to him.
You nod with a faint smile, placing it on his lap.
“You don’t have to read the whole thing, but could you just make sure it makes sense?”
“‘Course I can.” He nods, bringing the screen closer to his aging eyes.
He reads to himself quietly, nodding his head every so often, prompting you to scroll to the next page for him–Joel afraid that he may accidentally click something and mess up all your hard work.
“Sweetheart, it’s perfect.” He removes his glasses, glancing over at you with a proud expression.
You let out a breath of relief, kindly thanking him as you take the laptop back into your lap, opening up your mailbox and typing out a quick email to your supervisor. He watches as you attach the final link, telling them to reach out if they have any questions or concerns before finally pressing send.
He can see the visible relief that washes over you the second you close your laptop and set it aside. The weight that falls from your shoulders and the tug of your lips rising into a content smile for getting it out of the way.
“God that felt good.” You admit, making him laugh, as he pulls you closer, pressing kisses to your temple and your cheeks, wherever he can feel you.
“Rest now, baby.” He murmurs, guiding your cheek into the crook of his neck, feeling your soft breaths hit his skin.
His eyes watch you, ears drawing in on the sounds of your gentle snores, feeling the way your limbs tangle with his on their own accord. He doesn’t need a clock to know the hour, but just by the feel of it alone, he knows Friday is almost here.
Friday hits you when you need it most. Your schedule is a little less hectic with the claws of responsibility loosening its grips on you and giving you the chance to leave home later than usual.
Joel sees the color and life seep back into your skin, from the moment he wakes with you still asleep at his side, the sun shining down on your skin and greeting you for the day ahead. Breakfast is a messy and rushed affair enjoyed between the three of you. Sarah scrambles to find her favorite pair of jeans while you and him whip up some pancakes and coffee.
You eat fairly quickly, remembering you had a study group to meet up with before your first lecture of the day. You kiss Sarah’s cheek and wish her good luck on her game, promising you would be there as soon as possible–she hums thankfully, chewing and mumbling past the syrup-soaked pancakes in her mouth.
And of course you linger a little when you kiss Joel goodbye, reminding him to have a safe day at work and text you when he has the chance to. He watches from the front door as you load up into your car, rolling down your windows to wave one last time before you drive off.
When lunch rolls around, he’s smiling down at his phone.
Sarah sent in a picture of her final essay with a big red A+ at the top of the page. You flood the chat with a bunch of hearts and congratulations, even sending a selfie of you grinning from ear to ear with a thumbs up.
From the background, he can make out the shelves of books and a few tables behind you where bystanders look locked in on their laptops and overpriced textbooks. You were most likely on a quick break between classes, squeezing in some extra studying and clearly a text chain.
‘Proud of you, baby girl’ He sends first followed by more hearts and thumbs up.
Then, replying to your picture he types, ‘Lookin’ pretty sweetheart’
You send in a few smiley emojis which can hardly depict the way you find yourself actually blushing down at your phone in the half empty library where your peers probably think you’re crazy–but you don’t find it in yourself to care, not today at least.
And now, this time Sarah isn’t badgering him for being in love, just liking the picture of you and commenting about how he was obsessed. Yes, he was guilty, and there was nothing anyone could do about that fact.
The workday and the aches in his muscles fade into the bygone as he sits on the bleachers. The late afternoon breeze grazes his exposed arms, a pleasant warmth of the sun beating down as the team huddles on the sideline getting ready for the game. You had called just a while earlier to let him know you were leaving campus and heading their way, and he didn’t miss the chance to let you know Sarah had scored a goal during their warm-up.
The girls finally shouted something in unison, clapping excitedly as they ran out onto the field getting in their positions before the whistle blew and the game began. Joel kept his eyes zeroed in on Sarah, watching her sprint across the field, waving her hands in the air to her teammates, trying to get an opening.
But it wasn’t too long before he heard a familiar voice barreling through the air as you walked up the bleachers with a bunch of flowers in hand–your post-game gift to her after every game no matter win or loss.
“Go, Sarah!” You shout, barely acknowledging the steps and the fact that you almost missed one with your gaze focused on the game instead.
Joel immediately stands, hands reaching out to grab you by the shoulders.
“Jesus baby, you wanna try not crackin’ your skull open before the game ends?” He jokes, helping you take a seat beside him.
“She’s so fast!” You exclaim, finally turning to kiss his lips quickly, “Did they just start?”
He nods, sliding his arm across your shoulders. “How was everythin’ today?”
You rest your head on his shoulder, watching intently. “Not so bad, actually. My lectures went well, and I got some work done for next week.”
He gives you a warm squeeze, thumbs tracing circles over your arm. “Good, cause I wanna enjoy the weekend with my girls.”
“Trust me, it’s going to be the best—”
Your mouth shuts mid-sentence, elbows bracing on your knees as your eyes widen at the sight.
Sarah had managed to steal the ball, flying down the field like she magically grew wings. Her legs stride briskly, keeping the ball close to her foot as she made a beeline for the net. Her foot swung with full force, driving it right into the goal.
You and Joel were on your feet, cheers erupting in the air as you two screamed and clapped.
“Let’s go, baby girl!”
“Woo-hoo, Sarah!”
She finds you two in the crowd of cheering families and students, smiling from ear to ear and pointing at you both like you’re her biggest fans—and of course you and Joel are and always would be. She catches the way you two blow her kisses before high-fiving each other, laughing so proudly, and making it the most memorable goal in her book.
The game drags on with a good back and forth between the two teams, but ultimately finishes with Sarah’s winning on their home turf. You and Joel step down the bleachers, watching in admiration as she celebrates with her team, giving out hugs and praises to everyone before she comes jogging over with open arms, embracing you two tightly.
“We’re so proud of you, baby girl.” Joel kisses her sweaty temple, holding onto her a little tighter.
“You killed it, honey.” You add, placing the flowers in her arms, watching as she smiles appreciatively. It’s tradition and a reminder to her that no matter the outcome, to always be proud of herself and that she always had you two in her corner to cheer her on.
“Today’s like the best Friday ever! I got an A+ on my paper and scored, and won!” She hoots, jumping like the luckiest girl in the world, making you guys laugh.
“Are you gonna celebrate with the team tonight?” You reach over to push her damp hair away from her forehead and cheeks, tucking it behind her ears.
She scoffs, waving off a few of her teammates who were already beginning to exit the field, before looking at you with a sneaky grin.
“And miss out on our Friday pizza party? Absolutely not.”
That’s all you need to hear as you drape your arms around her shoulders, the two of you walking to your car as Joel trails behind carrying her school bag and her duffle.
“Go on and head home. I’ll go pick up the pizzas and meet you there.” He says, gesturing to you to unlock your door.
You reach into your purse, pressing down on the key fob.
“Remember our order, right?”
He shoots you a look, like he could ever forget the never-changing order that you two consistently request every week.
“One supreme pizza with extra bell peppers and one cheese pizza.”
“And…” You and Sarah say in unison, the word dragging out as he sighs, pretending to be annoyed.
“A brownie pie with extra chocolate chips.” He sighs while you two smile and give him a nod of approval.
“Don’t forget the parmesan packets!” Sarah calls out, rounding your car and getting into the passenger seat.
You step closer to him, tiptoeing and brushing your lips over his. “I’ll see you at home.”
“See you there.” He kisses back, giving your bum a small tap before you push him away towards his truck.
He arrives a half-hour later, finding you two changed into pajamas and lounging on the couch, flicking through one of the many streaming services Sarah’s has convinced him to buy, trying to decide what to watch.
You look over when you hear the front door shut, waving him over.
“Babe, did you know your daughter has never seen Dirty Dancing?” You stand, grabbing the paper bag from around his wrists, while he places the boxes of pizza on the coffee table.
He snorts, glancing up at Sarah who shrugs her shoulders unknowingly. “I’m surprised you haven’t watched it at any of the sleepovers you’ve been to.”
“Dad, we don’t watch 80s movies. We talk about social media and boys and—”
“Boys?” he repeats incredulously as if it were a sacred word that she had never uttered until now.
“Oh God.” She rolls her eyes, covering her face while he stares, still completely astounded–he’s dramatic, he knows, but seeing her act a little embarrassed at him makes him laugh inside.
You shake your head at the two, nudge his shoulder for him to knock it off Sarah’s sake. “Go shower! We’ll wait for you.”
“This conversation isn’t over, alright?” He barks jokingly, adding a stern point of his finger, all while Sarah groans, waving him off, while you fail to stifle your laughter.
Joel takes less than 20 minutes to shower, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a faded shirt as he makes his way down the stairs. You two scroll on your phones, showing funny videos to each other to pass the time.
“There you are.” You smile, tossing your phone to the side as you scoot over and pat the empty space.
“Surprised you two haven’t ransacked the food yet.” He half jokes, plopping down between the two of you. “What are we watchin’?”
“Dirty Dancing.” Sarah answers, pressing play on the remote and glancing over her dad as she gestures to you. She says I need to be aware of the cultural impact of Patrick Swayze.”
“You’re in for the time of your life, kid.” Joel smirks, nudging your side while you giggle, and Sarah can do nothing but raise her brows in confusion, not quite getting the reference just yet.
But alas, an hour and fifty minutes later, the movie had finally wrapped up after a whole lot of you and Sarah squealing, drooling over Mister Swayze himself and occasionally using the sleeves of Joel’s t-shirt to wipe your teary eyes.
Anyone else would probably ditch the movie all together, but Joel wouldn’t be anywhere else. In truth, he probably paid attention to less than half of the movie, too busy smiling at the two of you and reveling in your combined laughter throughout the whole thing.
And it’s no different now that Sarah has decided to put on what she argued was the best song from the movie.
“Cause I’ve had the time of my life…” She lifts the TV remote up to her lips, singing along passionately.
Joel can’t help but chuckle as you join in, but only this time dramatically perching up beside him as you hold his face in your hands.
“And I owe it all to you…” you sing, drawing out the words just until Joel can’t help himself.
He closes the space and presses his lips to yours in a wet smooch that leaves you squealing and giggling against him, all while Sarah groans out an ‘ewww’ and manages to pull you away from him.
“Dad, do we still have that tub of ice cream?” She asks, tugging you along to the kitchen with her.
“Pretty sure we haven’t touched it since last Friday’s movie night.” He replies, trailing behind you two, watching as you pull open the freezer and Sarah goes to retrieve two spoons.
You let out squeal when you find the tub, the two of you immediately digging in as if you didn’t ransack the entire pizza pies throughout the entire movie. But all Joel can do is smile, too consumed with the joy he feels from watching you two have this much fun together without worrying about what next week will bring.
He lingers, just watching as he always does, enjoying every second of his favorite sight like it’s the true movie he doesn’t want to miss. He doesn’t patronize you or Sarah for leaving the freezer door propped wide open, thawing everything out. But he just watches with immense happiness.
The refrigerator light casts a glow across your smiley faces. You stand tall, leaning your head against hers where she lays her cheek on your shoulder. There’s nothing but love and care between the two of you–pieces of each other’s hearts that neither of you knew were missing until you found each other.
Joel feels it so deeply in his bones, the fact that he’s gotten lucky two times in his life. The day Sarah was born and the day he met you. Nothing could beat what he had, and despite even the struggles he had gone through before all of this–he wouldn’t change anything, not when it all led him home to this.
“You think someone could really do that lift in real life?” Sarah asks, eyes flicking to the television and rewatching the iconic lift.
“Maybe,” you said around your spoon, “looks kinda scary though.”
“Wanna try?” Joel clears his throat, lifting his brow towards you.
“No way, dad, you’ve got a bad back.” Sarah snorts with a ridiculous shake of her head.
“My back is fine.” He waves her off, then holds his arms out towards you with a smirk. “No one puts Baby in a corner, right?”
You giggle, stabbing your spoon into the tub of ice cream, as Sarah takes it from you and instantly puts it down on the counter.
“I’m so recording this.” Sarah shouts, pulling out her phone and stepping back to capture you and her dad in the frame.
“Ready, babe?” You stare at him with a nervous smile, taking a deep breath.
He nods, legs bending slightly. “I got you, sweetheart.”
You jog, hands bracing against his shoulders, as you feel his fingers dig into your hips and suddenly your feet lifted off the ground.
You can’t help but shriek from above him, peering down to see him staring up at you with an ear to ear grin on his face before he finally sets you down again.
“Oh, my god!” Sarah let out an amazed laugh, while you giggle uncontrollably, jumping up and down as his arms looped around your waist keeping you close.
“I can’t believe you just did that!” You praise proudly, patting his chest.
“Told you so.” He murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips as you laugh against him.
“And that’s my cue to leave,” you hear Sarah pipe, waving her hands in the air as she turns around. “I’m going to bed, lovebirds.” She shoots you two a grin over her shoulder.
“You sure you don’t want to watch Grease next?” You shout after her, but she shakes her head.
“Tomorrow.” She replies.
“Goodnight, sweetheart, we love you.” You call out through the room, peering a little past the hallway to see her.
“Thank you! Love you guys too!” She yells back, voice fading as she gets to the top of the stairs.
The house is suddenly quiet, except for the faint buzz of the television and the whirling of the air conditioner. The second Joel hears the familiar sound of Sarah’s door closing, he can’t help but kiss you again, but this time a little deeper than before. His hands glide down your hips to the backs of your thighs, lifting you up.
“Babe!”
You pull away and whisper quietly, locking your legs around his waist, stifling your laughter into the crook of his neck as he walks you over to the couch.
He plops down comfortably, with you in his lap, smiling up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he murmurs softly.
“Just wanna spend more time with my girl.”
“I’m not complaining,” you smile, fingers trailing across his salt and pepper stubble, slowly inching towards his face once again.
“Not. Complaining. One. Bit.”
You emphasize each word with a soft kiss, all before Joel’s patience finally dwindles. With a firm yet gentle hold, his hand meets the back of your neck, holding you to him and keeping your lips sealed against one another.
He can feel the plush of your lips curling up into a smile, and then his own breath of laughter falling against yours. In this moment, nothing else seems to matter–not when he’s here with you. And after what seems like the longest week, time and everything in between stands still and for once you can finally just be.
Sure, tomorrow would bring another day and then another week to come, but today is Friday. And Joel’s in love.
*literal depiction of joel's calendar he has hanging somewhere in his office or perhaps hung on the fridge at home hehehe*
💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!
a/n: i know i'm one day late from posting this on a friday (I AM SORRY!!!!)!!! i really wanted to write something sweet and domestic w/o the outbreak so i came up with this! i also got the idea after plenty of listening to Olivia's cover of 'Friday, I'm in Love' and figured this would be super cute hehehe. i hope you guys liked reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 have an amazing weekend and take care MWAH!
Just wanted to say I’m so happy you are back!!! I was refreshing your blog every now and then ngl 🤭🤭 I’m so excited that you’re working on part 2 of your works I love them SO MUCH!!!
and ALSO I’m glad you got better, keep taking care of yourself babe xoxo🫶🫶🫶
sweet ray thank you so so so much!!!
i've been feeling a lot better and doing more writing 🤭 and yes, every time i work on the part 2, im like 'ray is gonna love this omgggg!!!' HAHAHA! it's slowly but surely coming together, writing dad!joel is such new territory for me because its a literally newborn HAHAHA.
thank you so much for the support and all the love, it truly means the world to me 🥹💫💕
p.s. did i mention part 2 is titled: 'the best thing thats ever been mine' ?
summary: Last winter, you nearly died at the hands of raiders during a supply run gone wrong. Joel Miller, head of scheduling, indefinitely barred you from participating in any more of them, as a means to protect you, not just from what lurked outside, but your own incessant need to provide even if it meant risking your life to do so. After a year of being at odds with each other, you and Joel finally throw caution to the wind and begin to unravel at the seams—this time, winter isn’t just about surviving, but mending what was always there.
warnings: no use of y/n, age-gap (joel's older than reader), mentions of blood and wounds, brief mention of sarah, cursing, mentions of physical violence (punches), two terrible communicators, smut, fingering, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap pls), joel's a soft dom (ofc he is duh!), aftercare, basically porn with plot!
Everyone in Jackson had a specialty. Teachers. Doctors. Builders. Cooks. The list goes on and on, with roles that contributed immeasurably to the functioning of the town, despite how some may carry more weight than the others. But no matter how big or small one’s role was in the community, everyone appreciated the efforts, for the town needed the collective help to preserve its integrity beyond the gates that closed it off from the rest of Wyoming.
And all you knew since your arrival was that the town was the closest thing you’d ever had to a home. Something real. Somewhere safe. The one thing you couldn’t possibly bear to lose, for you didn’t know if anything would ever suffice the way this town had.
You weren’t a stranger to the cruelty lurking outside of the gates, spending a good portion of your life weaving in and out of the fallen QZ’s and deserted cities, just hoping to survive another day, until you finally stumbled upon Jackson.
They had taken you in with tentative, yet open arms, allowing you to adjust to the town you would come to call home before asking what it was you could provide. What you could give back to Jackson, not just for you, but for all its citizens. After all, the town belonged to everyone—those old and young, seasoned and novice—living for the hope of it all to make it to another day.
And so you were a supply runner, one of the most distinguished specialties the community was always looking to have more of, and it was just their luck that you weren’t just good at what you did.
You were great.
Reliable.
Confident.
Never coming back empty-handed even when something unexpected was thrown into your path.
Last winter proved that.
It wasn’t a part of the plan to stumble upon a group of raiders during a run all by yourself, and truth be told you didn’t want to kill any of them. But the second your presence was known, the moment you saw the greed in their eyes, the realization dawned on you that you needed to do what was necessary.
It had been hours since your expected arrival, and a few members of Jackson’s committee including Tommy, Maria, and Joel were waiting impatiently behind the gates. Joel suspected something went sideways, proposing a search party go out and look for you, but he’d been outvoted. His brother assuring him that everything was fine and that you always came back in one piece.
When they finally spotted you from a distance, a blob among the falling snow and dwindling daylight, they almost breathed a sigh of reprieve, but as the gates creaked open to greet you, and you drew closer, it all came crashing.
You were hunched over your horse, clothing tattered and blowing against the wind. A rope tightly wound across your waist, dragging duffle bags of enough weapons and ammunition to last months of patrol across the blankets of snow. The pungent smell of blood saturating the air before they finally took sight of it staining skin.
Protocol was ignored, Joel bolting to you without thinking twice.
He hauled your half unconscious body off your beloved horse Ivy, diligently clutch the back of your head as he laid you down and his brother dropped beside him, immediately going to undo the knot around your waist.
Joel’s eyes flashed over your face, taking in your appearance, searching for any signs of life. Your heavy-lidded eyes were barely hanging on, frost bitten lips parted with weak breaths, and your cheeks and chin daubed with dried blood. It was a miracle that you even made it back, but that optimism instantly seemed to fade when he spotted more blood, the steady dribble of blood trickling onto the frosty snow beneath you.
With shaky hands, he tore through the rest of your shredded coat, discovering the deep incision on your abdomen, angry and throbbing, pooling with enough blood to make his run cold. His hands were coated in your near-death, transporting him back to that harrowing memory of his dear Sarah, reliving the greatest loss of his life all over again.
He knew the cost of hesitation and he wasn’t going to let it take you next. Lifting you back into his arms with a devastatingly rehearsed movement, he clutching you tight to his chest, rushing you to the infirmary paying no mind to the shouting voices behind him.
He didn’t need to be told to know what you had done.
He had already pieced together the story once he saw the crimson and the baggage you pulled behind.
He knew what you had done to survive.
But most importantly, he knew what you had done to risk losing your life.
To Joel, you weren’t good. Not even great. Just plain reckless. Willing to put yourself in grave danger against god knows how many of those ruthless raiders just to make it back with a contribution without ever weighing your own chances of survival.
He knew what this town meant to everyone, how much your recklessness would provide for everyone’s safety, yet he couldn’t look past what it meant beyond the surface.
You possessed a sort of recklessness that teetered the edge of selflessness, the one thing that would end up costing your life one day–and even if it wasn’t his place to care as severely as he did, he couldn’t let you go on.
Since that last winter, Joel kept his sights on you, refusing to send you out on any runs or patrols, alone or grouped, even despite your argument that every journey beyond the gates was risky no matter what. All you could see was him punishing you, his all of a sudden authoritarianism taking away the one thing you could give to this place that fucking mattered.
You didn’t understand why he was putting so much effort into controlling you, when at some point you were nothing more than a body to send outside of the gates to protect the community and him.
Granted, you and Joel were never more than just strangers forced to interact scarcely. Joel made the patrolling and run schedules, posted them up, and only if you ever needed to switch, was when you talked to him.
And that was almost never.
But since his imminent shift in demeanor, you found yourself almost always at his throat, while he sat back silently, brushing you off like you weren’t even there, though you knew deep down his stoicism was crumbling with every hurtful word you threw his way.
He enraged you.
You wanted to crack him open. To get a reaction out of him. The one you knew he was actively burying deep within him day by day. Then maybe, just maybe, you’d understand where he was truly coming from.
Why was he punishing you?
Why Joel Miller wanted to keep you in a cage that made you feel useless to the community you knew you were obligated to provide for?
Luckily for you though, his authority didn’t last long into the next winter where the need for supplies grew.
Tommy had been a lingering presence in and out of Joel’s makeshift office, hinting at the abandoned hospital miles out that was stocked with necessities that would tremendously benefit Jackson and the influx of new individuals coming in.
Joel wasn’t stupid, though. He knew exactly what his little brother was getting at, trying to convince him to put you back on runs without twisting his hand and making him feel as though he had no other choice. It wasn’t working and Joel knew it was only a matter of time until Tommy would intervene, putting a stop to whatever power he held.
He knew it was coming.
You were the only one who knew enough about the ins and outs of the particular route, what shortcuts to take, what possibilities you could run into. And with Jackson getting desperate to brave out the winter with as few hiccups as possible, he knew Tommy was going to put you on that run–solo or grouped it didn’t matter–but it was going to be you.
It didn’t take much convincing from Tommy to get you on board, but he still respected his older brother and his position as head of patrols and runs. And so there you were in his quaint office, pretending Joel’s existence wasn’t real as you stared down at the shabby fading map with a pen in hand as Tommy listened and Joel brooded silently.
“The run will take a day and a half.” You explained, drawing a messy line across the paper, detailing the route, “Half of day one is traveling, alone. Then we’ll gather supplies, and clear whatever infected there is.”
Then you circled a different spot on the map, fitting your eyes up to Tommy’s.
“Before sunset, we have to stop at this cabin. It’s a safe house. We’ll need to rest and so will the horses. The next morning we’ll make it back home by around mid-day.”
Tommy agreed without a second thought, and that alone made Joel’s irritation boil over. His brother had always had blind faith in these sorts of things and Joel never understood why he couldn’t be a little more skeptical, especially considering what they both faced together.
“What do you think?” Tommy wrung his head towards Joel, meanwhile you bit back the urge to say ‘fuck what he thinks.’
He looked unimpressed, jaw clenching and his broad shoulders standing stiff as his boots rocked against the creaky floors. The tension was palpable if anything at all. Whatever strain that lingered between you and Joel filled the room with something so suffocating, Tommy couldn’t wait to be freed.
His silence was like drowning and you’d be damned if you let him take you under.
“It’s a good plan, Joel.” You spat sharply, pressing your hands against the desk, straightening your stance.
He only grunted, narrowing his sights on you, before he finally spoke.
“What happens if you aren’t out there alone? If there’s infected in that building? Or if there’s raiders in that cabin.”
His jab at your expertise disguised as concern made your blood boil, your self control withering by the second, especially when he brought up the raiders.
Tommy was going to be thrown into the middle of you and Joel’s indifference whether he liked it or not. He was immediately regretting not dragging Ellie or Maria along to try to at least neutralize the situation or better yet free him of his developing migraine.
Whether you believed it or not, you and Joel were cut from the same cloth of obstinance, the kind of flaw that got the best of you both, the one that Tommy was going to need to put up with.
“What the fuck is your problem, Miller?” You accused, shuffling across the room to where he stood, “I’m not incapable and you know that. Whatever vendetta you have against me, fucking drop it, Joel.”
His arms uncrossed over his chest, dropping to his sides as he flexed his fingers stiffly. You were damn near getting under his skin, and he had been so good at showing otherwise. He didn’t have any vendetta against you—it was tolerance, mercy, postulation—something you were too young, too reckless to possess, let alone see with your own eyes.
“I didn’t say you weren’t capable, but what you are is reckless.” He bellowed too loudly for your liking. “And I don’t need that type of recklessness out there bein’ brought back here.”
‘Or not making it back at all,’ Joel bit back.
Without taking his eyes off your heated glare, he muttered to Tommy who was already burrowing his head behind his hands.
“She’s not going on that run.”
You furrowed your brows, lips twitching with anger, “The hell I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Enough.”
Tommy’s voice silenced the two of you, once and for all, slicing through the tension.
“She’s going on that run with Jesse.”
Joel’s eyes widened, hands clenched into fists as he turned to his brother, ready to tell him he needed to know his place. Yet the younger stood his ground, shaking his head and holding his hand out with purpose, keeping both of you silent.
“You’re still in charge here and she won’t go alone. It’s a compromise, and it’s final. Jackson needs this.”
‘Still in charge’ my ass, Joel thought, dropping his gaze down to the floor as his hands rested on his hips. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but be pleased by the decision, happy to be finally getting your way after all this time forced to yield to Joel’s rules.
“They’ll leave in a few days.”
With that, Tommy didn’t stay any longer than he needed to, not trying to mitigate the feelings between you both, as he knew you both were too far gone to help. He stomped towards the door, grumbling to himself before letting it slam behind him.
You and Joel didn’t say a word, and part of you wanted to antagonize him. Tell him that his old ass needed to find a hobby other than trying to control you.
But you didn’t.
You caught the hitch in his chest, the way his scowl undoubtedly slipped into something almost insistent when he finally looked up at you. You wanted to ask what his deal was all of sudden.
But you didn’t.
He didn’t stop you from leaving.
Didn’t try his very hardest to explain where he was coming from because believe it or not, he too was in your shoes at one point in his life. Too confident for his own good. Too willing to lay it all out without thinking of what he would be leaving behind.
He knew you wouldn’t see it the way he did. He didn’t want to waste his breath expressing words you wouldn’t take to heart.
He didn’t.
But he wasn’t letting you go.
Joel knew you were going to find out what he did before daylight. Before every run and patrol, you’d stop at the stables the night before, checking up on your horse Ivy and double checking the written schedules he always had posted up. It was only a matter of when and how angry you were going to be with him.
And as if he could feel it coming from a mile away, your rage approached and suddenly the double doors of the cafeteria swung open and he watched you sweep over the room until your eyes fell onto his.
“What the fuck, Miller!” You roared, making a beeline towards him.
Ellie, who was sitting right across from him, wore a shocked expression, mouth moving to ask Joel what was going on, but before she could, your voice echoed through the room again.
“Why’d you take off the run? And why the fuck are you going instead of me?” You demanded, slamming your palms against the table, shaking it roughly.
He sighed, picking up his napkin as he ran it across his mouth, eyes moving across the room, seeing the concerned and taken aback faces from the others watching—waiting to see what he was going to do.
“Let’s go outside.” He mumbled quietly, beginning to stand up.
You shook your head, hitting the table once more, “No, I want to know right now! Who the fuck gave you the right to—”
“Outside. Now.” He growled, patience wearing thin, taking hold of your arm tightly.
You fought against him feebly, attempting to jerk your arm back as he walked towards the backdoors, pulling you behind him until the cold air hit your skin and he finally dropped his grip.
“Do you get off on this? Punishing me for no reason at all?” You snarled, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to control your anger and stop yourself from decking him right across the jaw.
“M’not punishin’ you—”
“Then what is it?” You demanded, cutting him off, “Why are you icing me out of the one thing I’m good at, Joel?”
You couldn’t miss the scoff he let out, as if he was laughing at you. Mocking you for feeling the way you felt after all these months. It fucking ticked you off.
“You think you’re good at what you do?” He stared down at you with a coldhearted gaze.
“I think I’m great at what I do.” You rebutted, tipping your chin up at him.
“You call making it back here, damn near falling off your horse while you bleed out, great?” His nostrils flared, arms tightening over his chest as he waited on your smartass remark he knew was coming.
And so you jabbed a finger into his chest, voice filled with disdain and fury. “I brought back months of supplies that you and the rest of the goddamn commune use on a daily basis and I don’t hear them giving me shit about—”
His resolve snapped, gripping your wrist strongly as he leveled face to face with you. Through gritted teeth, his voice came out in rigid whispers, making sure only you heard every word he had to say.
“You think you’re special because of what you provide here, but you’re too damn stupid to see past that.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the mild ache around your wrists and his unforeseen reaction that you never thought you’d get.
But he didn’t stop.
“These people don’t give a shit if you make it back alive or not. You’re. Replaceable.” His eyes bored through yours, forcing you to take every word like bullets on skin.
You loathed the way he quickly made you feel so small, so unimportant. Embarrassment creeping into your chest, blood rushing towards your cheeks, and stinging blooming behind your eyes.
There was regret in your bones for angering him, for driving him to reveal such a mean version of himself that you wished he kept suppressed. You wanted to strike back with words just as cruel, your mouth opening with a wobbly breath, yet you weren’t sharp enough to stop his turmoil.
“You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for. Why is it you’re so eager to risk your life because I promise you it isn’t for them and it sure as hell isn’t for me.” He dropped your wrist as if he was determined to get away from you, but his words only drilled deeper.
“Someone else could walk through those gates, just as great, if not better than you are, and no one would think twice about whether you made it back here with something to show for, alive or not.”
Your jaw trembled, eyes blinking, letting a single tear run down your cheek as you braced for more, but all that came was silence and the devastation of his words sinking bone deep.
It stung, and what hurt the most was the fact that there was truth behind everything he said. You tried to breathe through it, clenching your fist tight ready to throw it his way, but you couldn’t do it.
The shame twisted in your gut, and more tears flowed without restraint.
“F-fuck you, Joel.” You choked, voice barely a whisper, turning around and walking around the building refusing to let anyone else see you cry.
It was the first time Joel managed to wrangle any reaction besides anger or frustration out of you. But he hadn’t meant to make you cry, or let his words out with such crassness, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to break you.
He fucked up, and he knew it. All he wanted was to keep you away from runs and patrols. For you to see that you were more than the work. He didn’t ever intend on making it seem like he didn’t care.
He walked back into the cafeteria, aloof to the eyes that drifted back down to their plates or the whispers that wondered where you were. Returning to his seat across Ellie, he picked up his fork and poked at his food as if nothing happened.
“Dude what the hell was that?” Ellie chided, nudging his leg under the table, getting his attention.
He shook his head and shrugged plainly, brushing off her question and posing one of his own.
“You goin’ to see Jesse tonight?”
Her brows pulled together, and she nodded. “Uh, yeah why?”
“Tell him he’s off tomorrow. I’m goin’ on the run with her.”
He was thankful that Ellie didn’t throw 101 questions his way, simply nodding as they finished their dinner in silence and parted ways. He spent the night packing what he needed for the two-day trip, replaying what had happened in his head, wondering if he could ever right the wrong and make you understand. But there was no way, not when he was going to complicate things even more by leaving like this.
The next morning, with his gun and pack slung over his body, he saddled up Ivy, signing out without writing another name next to his, sneaking past the gates without causing a scene.
Joel would throw his life into the unknown before letting anyone, but especially you drown in it without care.
You sulked in the bitterness in the comfort of your own home, refusing to leave your bed until the sun beat too brightly past your curtains, forcing you to mope from room to room as you kept yourself busy.
Sleep barely came to you the night before as Joel’s words echoed through your head like a record stuck on repeat. You tried to bury the shame into a pit deep down inside of you, attempting to brush it off the same way he probably did to all your venomous words thrown his way.
But it was impossible.
You’re too damn stupid.
You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for.
It isn’t for them and sure as hell isn’t for me.
He was haunting you in ways that had you second guessing if Jackson was ever home to begin with. If all this time, this place was merely a facade ready to forget about you the same way they let you in. And if you really were replaceable like Joel made it sound, then what was the point of ever risking your life if it didn’t matter to anyone else besides your internal ache to provide?
Everyone had someone and yet you…
You had acquaintances–people you called friends and nothing more. But they had always had someone else. Someone they mattered to.
Siblings. Parents. Partners.
You had no one, and Joel was right.
There was no reason for you to so willingly put your life on the line—there was no one relying on you, forcing your hand to succumb to whatever death lurked outside Jackson just to make sure they were well off. Instead, all you had was the longing buried deep into the vault of your soul–the thoughts of maybe one day, meaning something more than what you could provide, but just for who you were.
You had spent all this time thinking you were so important, only to realize that it was only ever significant to you. The role Jackson played as your only home made it seem as if you had to carry it on your shoulders, gamble your life in order to keep it in the palm of your hands, when in truth it was never yours to begin with.
Tears had spilled down your cheeks relentlessly, like a petulant child learning how it felt to be told ‘no,’ for the first time. And even though you wanted to hide away, pick up the backpack you stocked for what was supposed to be today’s run and leave Jackson behind—you couldn’t give Joel that satisfaction.
He deserved to know how much he hurt you. To know that even if you had no one standing in your corner of the way he had Ellie or Tommy, you had yourself, and you would be OK.
At least you hoped you would.
By the time the purple and pink hues began to tumble across the sky, you found the energy to leave home and grab dinner at the cafeteria. You were already dreading seeing the faces of those who witnessed your outburst yesterday, but then again the thought of Joel’s words–no one caring about you–made the dread seem miniscule in comparison.
Rocks and sludgy snow croaked under each step you took, the winter breeze pushing past your layers as you approached the double doors, shoving them open as you kept your gaze on the ground. You picked up a plate, moving along the half empty trays of food, muttering out a quiet thank you as a few cooks spooned you whatever was left.
Then suddenly your name was shouted across the room by none other than Ellie. You flinched, furrowing your brows as you looked her way, and took in her indecipherable expression. Before you knew it, she was striding over with urgent steps, lips pursing and breathing getting heavier as she neared you.
You sighed, placing your plate down on the line ready to hear whatever she was probably about to throw your way in order to defend Joel’s honor.
“Look whatever Joel told you, I don’t want to hear—”
“What are you doing here?” She cut you off sharply, her voice subduing the rest of the cafeteria with her anger and confusion–and just like her, you mirrored it.
“Excuse me?” You blinked wildly, shaking your head at her, not realizing what she was going on about.
“Yesterday, Joel told me that he took Jesse off the run. That he was going with you.” She gestured her hands in the air, signalling to her table across the room.
You shook your head once more, baffled at her words that didn’t make any sense, until you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you saw Jesse stand up and reveal himself.
Right about now, he was supposed to be with Joel. He was supposed to be with him since early this morning, and he wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.
Your blood ran cold, immediately twisting around and bolting out the building without a second thought. Voices shouted and footsteps pounded close behind you, but none of it was registering. Your mind was a blur, repeating the same harrowing thoughts one after the other, over and over.
Joel was out there. Alone. On a route he barely knew. On a run too dangerous.
You nearly knocked your front door off its hinges, ripping a thicker coat off the hooks and sliding your arms through it in a haste. You grabbed your pack, flinging it over one shoulder. Flipping open an old shoe box, you clutched your knife, sliding it into its protective sheath the securing it over your belt loops.
Ellie stood in your doorway breathless as she watched on, there was a delay in her movements to follow your lead but she spoke.
“I’m coming with you.” She panted, going to turn around and rush home for her things.
“No, you’re not.” You snapped, stopping her in her tracks before she could even leave your porch.
She whipped around quickly, voice ragged. “If you think I’m gonna let Joel die out there alone, then you’re wrong!”
Despite her scowl, you could read the tears starting to cloud her eyes, the way they filled with fear and hopelessness. Joel mattered to her, the same way she mattered to him.
You understood what their bond meant–how important they were to each other, but you also knew you couldn’t let her follow down this path. Wherever Joel was, you knew he’d make it back to her, and it was your job to make sure she understood that.
“He’s not going to die, Ellie. I won’t let him.” You said firmly, stepping up and holding her by the shoulders.
You took a breath, hoping your next words would be well received, despite the visible state of distress she was in.
“I know you want to go out there for yourself and make sure he’s okay, but I’ve got this. If anything were to happen to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.”
It was almost scary, the way she mirrored Joel’s mannerisms when he was at odds with his words and what he felt inside. It was that same shift you saw when Tommy left his office, leaving you two there alone, where you knew Joel wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to.
You were going to tell him all about his and Ellie’s similarities right after you kicked his ass for doing something so stupid.
“I promise, he’s gonna be ok.” You squeezed her shoulders again, offering a tight smile, a contrast to the panic you were feeling inside.
“Swear on his life.” She whispered.
You didn’t hesitate.
“I swear on Joel’s life, I’ll do everything I can.”
She nodded once.
“Go.”
You didn’t waste another second. Sprinting to the stables and throwing a saddle over the first horse you saw. Only when you hopped on and gripped its reins, did you realize it was Callus–Joel’s horse. The gates opened with a high-pitched creak as you crossed over. Shouts belonging to Tommy who seemed to have caught onto what his idiotic brother had done, was trying to stop you. But before he could, you barked out a command to the horse, letting him take you away into whatever lay ahead as desperation seeped in.
Making it to Joel and seeing him alive.
His bones ached, exhaustion gnawing over every inch of his aging body that threatened to give out under pure fatigue and the added weight of the supplies he snagged hours ago. Still, he managed through, mustering enough strength as he dismounted off Ivy, securing her around a tree to rest up for the night.
He tossed a ration of his food onto the ground, giving her cheek a proud pat, before stumbling the rest of the way towards the cabin in the distance, not wanting to alert anyone of his presence if someone was inside.
“Fuckin’ hell,” He sputtered under his breath, drawing his pistol out.
As quietly as he could, he padded up the rickety porch steps, peeking through the dusty windows with his fingers hovered over the trigger reach to shoot. Thankfully, though, there was no one in sight thus far, prompting him to give the jammed door a stern push until it gave way.
He had heard about the cabin in passing before you mentioned it in his office a few days ago. Back before the incident last winter, you’d often be cooped up there after long runs, needing a day’s break to recharge before heading back home. It wasn’t the prettiest or most homey place, but it made do with its lumpy couch and half-burned candles you kept stashed away behind the flimsy kitchen cabinets.
His eyes raked over the area, ensuring it was all clear, before lowering his gun and dropping the bags against the ground with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t been hurt, making it out of the hospital without a scratch, though his luck seemed to run dry as he was leaving. There was a group of infected on the shorter trail, forcing him to clear what he could before giving Ivy’s reins a stiff jerk and tearing back around to the longer route.
Clearly it had been stupid to do what he had done, his body paying the price, finally collapsing against the frumpy couch and giving his limbs a rest. Leaving Jackson without telling a soul, especially Tommy, would come with consequences, but he knew he had his reasons–good ones–or at least he liked to think so.
They’d probably put up in front of the council for trial when he returned, but if it meant steering you out of danger, then he could live with it.
Selfishly, he didn’t care about the orange bottles filled with unknown medication or the expired vials of local anesthesia stuffed in his pack that would benefit the community he called home.
Something else was haunting him. Someone. You.
He stormed room to room with shaky hands, snatching whatever he saw, yet the only thought racing through his mind was the fact that you had been in the same predicament on multiple occasions. Alone.
Even as he exited the hospital unscathed, he couldn’t shake the twist in his gut. It only wound tighter as he bullied an infected’s head into the ground with his boot–his mind playing out a hundred different scenarios where you had been fighting not just them, but the unturned monsters.
The raiders who almost took your life.
The scary realization ate him up when he trotted along the route with Ivy in search of the cabin–that the near death experience you had wasn’t the first–it was just the one Joel had seen with his own eyes.
The blood you didn’t have time to clean up.
A fake smile you didn’t rehearse when you got past the gates to mask the ache in your bones.
All of the hurt you had endured was not consoled in an empty cabin all alone before you made it back and pretended it didn’t exist.
You had been relinquishing your safety each time you went out of the walls and each time you came back you weren’t held up by your strength, but rather what you had to show and give.
It was a familiar feeling that Joel used to know well, the one that lived in his bones back when Jackson was just a figment of his fantasy. Back when living in QZ’s meant not knowing if tomorrow was promised and putting his life on the line to bank on another day.
But Jackson was home now, and even when those fearful pains attempted to sprawl up through the pit of stomach, wanting to spread through the bones once tainted, he remembered there was more to life now other than survival.
Ellie was his light, his second chance, and he’d spent every waking moment protecting her in any way he could, even when he knew she didn’t need it. He had Tommy, the pain in his ass brother that he was still so lucky to bicker with even at their age.
And even though he couldn’t admit it out loud, for the past year Joel had you.
A lingering presence he couldn’t keep his mind off of. Constantly plagued by your insistence to step out of the walls that almost took you away, and most of all your plea to mean something again when all along you had meant so much more than you’d know.
The moment he saw your blood pouring as you laid lifeless in his arms.
When all he could do was stand back and watch the doctor and nurses do everything, they could to bring you back.
Every day he spent sitting at your bedside while you weaved in and out of consciousness.
Putting his foot down and telling Tommy and Maria he wouldn’t be sending you out to meet your death anymore.
Even when you bombard him with ignorant fury and resentment for taking away what made you useful.
He knew what he was up against–not just the dangers that lurked outside waiting to claim you, but yourself, too.
Your selflessness had morphed into recklessness that should have cost you, and Joel promised himself, even through all the animosity you held towards him, that you would never have to touch that feeling again.
He needed you to understand that it wasn’t your responsibility to give so much of yourself to matter. That getting close to death on multiple occasions, whether he knew it or not, was a wake up call that you had a bigger purpose. That you were worth more than what you could risk and provide.
You deserved to be protected the same way you did for the town. You deserved to matter, even if you didn’t see what Joel was doing as such.
“Quit it.” He muttered to himself, trying to fight away at all the guilt he had built up and was beginning to split him up at the seams.
Sleep should have hurdled towards him, for he knew his body was begging for it, but all he could see was your face, as if it was etched in memory. And come morning he hoped it would be you greeting him at the gates even if you were wearing an angry snarl because at least then there wouldn’t be any blood split from you, no traces of a life almost lost, no risk taken.
A piece that mattered ripped away.
None of that.
The sunset was ebbing away with each second that passed, clouds dissipating as a looming gray hue cast above. By now, Joel should have made it back to the cabin, and if you were right, he would have needed to take the long route back there.
You did your best to keep your breathing at bay, uttering words of encouragement as Callus continued steadily, as if he knew you were guiding him to his loyal companion somewhere out in the woods.
“Easy boy, that’s it.” You gently petted through his mane, seeing the cabin in the distance, slowing down in case anyone who wasn’t Joel picked up on your presence.
You weren’t as quiet as you thought, or maybe Joel wasn’t as deaf as he once was, but he picked up on the sounds just beyond the walls. The crunching of leaves and mush of snow that snapped him out of the fatigue he felt. He gripped his gun tighter, moving up off the couch and making his way behind a wall still in view of the front door, waiting for movement.
You spotted Ivy in your peripheral as you got closer, her body lax against the forest floor resting from what you knew was a treacherous journey. Joel had taken your horse, and yet even when you should have felt relief, you wouldn’t allow it… not until you saw him with your own eyes.
You drew your knife out of its sheath, footsteps as silent as they could be under the leaves and twigs. Stepping up on the creaky porch, you squinted through the dusty windows, making out the faint flickers of orange flames from a lit candle.
With one fluid push, you nudged the door open, stepping forward and holding your breath, hoping he was there. Joel squinted through the fog of exhaustion, thinking for a split second that his old eyes were playing a trick on him, seeing the familiar silhouette that was supposed to be back home, not right in front of him.
He stepped out into view, and your eyes snapped to his. The two of you stood face to face mere feet away until your voices collided in the air.
“The hell are you doing here?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
You shared a wide-eyed look, chest heaving as you stared at each other. Joel lowered his gun, listening as you shut the door and let your knife clattered to the ground. Before he could say anything, you closed the space between you two. Footsteps heavy against the floorboards as your mouth twisted into a snarl.
“Do you have any idea how stupid you are?” You roared, pushing at his chest, not realizing the way he winced at your touch, “What the fuck were you thinking going out all by yourself?”
“M’fine—“
Your palms met his chest again, this time harder.
“It’s not fine, Joel! What if something happened? What if you got bit or… or if you weren’t the only one out there searching for supplies?”
He tried to open his mouth, attempting to tell you he had the same concerns just a few days ago that you seemingly brushed off, but before he could spit it out, you kept going.
“What about Ellie? Tommy?” You demanded, not missing the way his shoulders stiffened at the sound of their names. “Do you have any idea how worried they are right now? How distraught would they be if something happened to you?”
You shook your head at him, puzzled and disappointed at the fact that he would go as far as to risk everything he had just to spite you.
He didn’t answer.
He knew what he did wasn’t right–putting his daughter and his brother through hell once more, but he knew he had to do it…for the right reasons… for you. He couldn’t apologize for something he wasn’t sorry for, so instead he settled for something else.
“You would’ve found me.”
He spoke so sure of himself, as if the thought had passed through his mind more than once, a kind of statement that was completely unwavering. His sentiment caught you off guard, a clear look of disbelief covering your features as you stood there glaring.
“W-What?”
He swallowed, arms crossing over his chest never letting his sights wander from you.
“If something did happen, you would’ve been in charge of the search party. You would have found me and brought me back home. I know you. It’s what you would’ve done.”
You stand with that sentiment for a moment, letting the scene play out in your head.
What if you didn’t leave your home until the next morning? What if something happened, and he was out there all alone? What if he didn’t make it back at all?
Ellie and Tommy would surely be in shambles. The turn of events alone who have them acting on impulse, but you knew you wouldn’t let them, not in the distraught state they would be in. It’s the same reason why you didn’t let Ellie follow you, and it’s exactly why you left before Tommy could join you.
If all those ‘what if’s’ played out so cruelly, would you would have done what you did just hours ago without thinking twice? The answer was so obviously ‘yes.’
Perhaps it was impulsive and hypocritical in itself, but Ellie and Tommy had Joel to hold onto, someone who was too important to lose even if they had good intentions of seeking him out themselves.
“No.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as your lips pursed, “I would not.” You lied straight through your teeth.
Joel didn’t look convinced in the slightest, huffing out a strained, almost bemused breath of laughter, letting his eyes bore straight through you, as if he knew your every thought, spoken and suppressed.
“I know you would because if you had done what I did, I’d do the same for you.”
You rolled your eyes at his admission, but you couldn’t feign the feeling of warmth swarming through your chest. It was utterly stupid to think anything more of Joel’s altruism that he wore proudly on his arm despite his reserved demeanor, but you couldn’t help but feel as if he was showing you his cards–the hand he once kept hidden, now laid out bare for only you to see.
You swallowed down the words that lingered on the tip of your tongue. The ones that wanted to ask him why he suddenly was beginning to level with you and why he couldn’t have done it sooner.
Instead, you settled on something safer.
The one thing you knew he needed to hear coming from you, because then maybe he would understand how lucky he was and how him doing what he did was pure stupidity.
“You shouldn’t have done this to begin with,” you countered, turning your back on him as you walked away and picked up your knife off the ground.
“You’ve got too much to lose.” You muttered, sliding it back into its sheath, undoing the button from your belt as you tossed it onto the dusty counter.
His eyes narrowed at your figure as if he was trying to get deep into your thoughts and wonder why you were selling yourself short when both of you had too much to lose. He refused to let you think that, even if he did sign off on letting you come out here alone, it still wouldn’t change the fact that you were risking too much.
“And you don’t?” He shot back, almost accusatory.
You whipped your head around, a ridiculously obvious look on your face, “You know what, yeah, I don’t. I’ve come to realize that over the last twenty-four hours all thanks to you.”
“You really think that?” He argued.
“Don’t act so damn surprised, Joel. You said it yourself. Nobody gives a shit about me. I’m replaceable.” You mocked his gravelly voice, rolling your eyes as you watch him take it in regretfully.
A beat of silence passed, remorse permeating his face as he shut his eyes, recounting the events of yesterday that he seemingly buried beneath the fresh thoughts of seeing you here before him.
“I didn’t mean—” you lifted your hand in the air, silencing him with a long pointed look.
“Save it, I don’t need your pity all of a sudden, alright.” You exasperated deeply, letting your hand fall against your side.
Your eyes shifted past him, surveying the small living room where you had no choice but to bear the nightfall with him just a few feet away. There was no point in arguing with him any longer. All you wanted to do was sleep just so you could avoid him. His apologies would mean nothing at all, not when he was only saying it because he was forced to. In an attempt to brush past him, his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you to face him once more.
“Joel, stop–” You griped firmly, though the desperation was unmistakable in your voice, coming off as begging as you tried to pull your hand back.
The last thing you needed right now was a repeat of what happened back in Jackson. Not only did you have nowhere to run, but not a single fiber of strength left to hear whatever cruel words Joel had kept harboured for you, now ready to be unleashed.
But the bitterness and the usual look of disdain never came. Instead, his fingers loosened just slightly, still firmly anchoring you to him, and there was that catch in his breath, a frown that meant more than just disgruntlement.
“I didn’t mean what I said. I just—it came out wrong.” His voice came to you with a softness that hadn’t been heard before, completely taking you aback all over again.
“You matter, but you take risks–you live your life like you don’t.” His voice nearly broke, betraying himself as he pinched his eyes shut frustratingly.
You stared at him, trying to search for an ounce of pity or deception that would’ve made you snap, but all you could find was him. When his eyes snapped back to yours, there was nothing but truth and even if you didn’t believe any of it personally, he deemed it true to him and that was enough to send you reeling.
“You don’t think I don’t hear the end of it from Ellie and Dina?” He dropped your wrists, running his hands over the scruff of his beard, looking down at the floorboards then back up at you.
“Always beggin’ me to put you back on patrols and runs with them?”
There was an apparent heat behind his words, not towards you, but the thought of letting you out of safety–out of his sight.
“Then why don’t you let me?” You asked coolly, crossing your arms over your chest trying to get down to the truth this time, not provocation.
“Because I know you’d throw your life on the line to protect them.” He spoke harsher than he intended to, sighing deeply, regaining his composure and swallowing hard, “To bring back whatever it is that the town needs.”
He faltered just slightly, as if guilt was eating him alive for knowing he too was the one who’d benefit from your
He wasn’t wrong. There’d been many close calls before the one last winter. Runs with Jesse, patrols with Dina, even occasional ones with Ellie, where you throw yourself in the face of danger without thinking twice, perhaps forcing them to watch you die in order to save them and give the town what it needed.
Before you could tell him, it was for good reason, especially to protect his daughter, he spoke up again.
“But I already saw you once on your deathbed, and I can’t see you there again.” His voice pinched, refusing to consider the thought of you slipping away, even if it was only in mind.
It never occurred to you–not until now–just how present Joel had been during the time you were in and out of consciousness, teetering the dead and the living. Somehow, without needing to hear him elaborate, you grasped the weight he carried from that day. How wound up he was had been seeing you in that state, that even now it still destroyed him, but that wasn’t you… not anymore.
“I’m not made out of glass, Joel.”
Your throat tightened, taking an effort to bring the words to the tip of your tongue and out into the open, because in that very moment, all you felt like was glass. Completely see through for Joel to read inside and out, to know your every fear and thought, to know you were in as much denial as he was.
“You sure ain’t.” He huffed sarcastically, his hands coming down on hips as he shook his head and let his shoulders fall. “You have no idea what it was like for me. To… to know I was the one who let you go out there all by yourself because you were so sure, and not able to do anythin’ but stand there and—and hope you’d wake up.”
He went on before you could stop him.
“I mean what the hell were you thinkin’?” His brows furrowed deep, staring at you with a look that you had seen before, but never with this much anguish tangled within him.
“The second you killed the last guy, you should’ve come back home right away. But no. You stayed back and took your time bagging all that crap instead of saving your goddamn self first.”
His words hit you like a ton of bricks, the frustration and helplessness behind them, revealing something unprecedented to the indifference he always offered instead. This wasn’t the Joel who’d brushed you off or the one yesterday that yelled at you with no mercy–this was a cry for understanding, a last-ditch attempt for you to finally see where he was coming from all this time.
You were at a loss for words, mouth parting, trying to figure out what you could say, how you could reason with his regard to ease the burden you had no idea had been carrying all this time. It wasn’t his place to care as much as he did and hide it all behind a facade he should’ve never put up, but he did it and you were willing to compromise.
“We… we’ve all got things we’re not proud of. Guilt we have to live with Joel.”
He barely let your sentiment hang in the air before his voice tumbled.
“Yeah well, if you had died… if you didn’t make it back, I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself.”
You never pegged Joel Miller as the type of man to drop down to his knees and beg for forgiveness for anything, let alone to some unknown God for almost letting you die. But there he was confessing to you like he had committed a sin so abysmal that he couldn’t bear to go on if death ever came close to you again–on his watch or not.
All this time, he had been protecting you, shielding you from what you refused to see in the same light as he did. Even if it bruised your pride to admit, Joel had been seeing you. Truly seeing you from a distance and doing what he could, what he deemed right to keep you safe.
To keep you from ever feeling like you needed to die to mean something. To keep you from leaving behind a place that was home without ever needing to prove yourself worthy of it. To just know that you weren’t going anywhere if he was around to save you first.
Your lips began to part, a small croak pushing past them before you spoke quietly, enough for him to hear. “Would it help if I forgave you now?”
He blinked, standing still with eyes filled with turmoil, trying to decode what it was you were saying.
“If I forgave you for sending me out on that run even though I asked for it. If I forgave you for icing me out even though you had good intentions. If I forgave you for letting me go this long thinking no one cared about me.”
He inhaled roughly, shaking his head at you as if he was trying to dodge your words, unsure if he was worthy of letting himself be freed of the guilt, even by your words.
“You… You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He muttered, wiping a hand over his face, processing everything you just said.
You had never been more certain. Never been more willing to forgive so easily because you both needed it. Not just him, but you, too.
“No,” Your voice grew stronger, standing your ground as you stepped closer to him. “I know exactly what I’m asking for–what I need.”
His eyes leaked of hesitance, body tensing when you got close. Too close than you’ve ever been with the air as thick as it was between you two. There were barely any inches separating your bodies, the warmth of your shallow breaths fanning over his face flooding his senses before you spoke.
“You’ve been haunting me…making me think you were just out to get me all this time, when in reality you’ve been the only one seeing me.”
He felt stuck, heart beating out of his chest, at a loss for words to tell you how wrong it would be to let himself show you just how much he’d been seeing you.
“I’m right here, Joel.”
It was all he needed to hear.
He crashed into you. Lips first then body. Large and calloused hands holding you to him as your mouths moved against each other, like your lips were finding a home they’ve been searching for all this time. Somehow, there was an effortlessness to the neediness you two felt, meshing together so perfectly that nothing else had ever felt so right.
Your feet shuffled with every backwards step he took, dragging you with him across the cabin. Neither of you dare to pull away, even when the need for air became burning. All you two could offer were labored breaths as your hands carelessly undid the buttons of his flannel, while he roughly tugged on the zipper of your coat.
A trail of your outerwear laid messily across the cabin floors, leaving you in a thin tank top and him in his gray undershirt. Joel collapsed against the couch cushions with a heavy thud, pulling you down with him on his lap. There was a pause in his kiss the second his back met the couch. He sucked in a sharp hiss, body tensing beneath yours just for a split second, but it was enough for you to detect.
His hands went to pull you to him again, but you refused, eyes leaking with concern as you shook your head and let your hands roam across his body.
“Are you hurt?” You were quiet but panicked, searching for any signs of injury, feeling stupid for not asking sooner, before all of…this.
“It’s nothin’, just sore.” His features mellowed, running his hands through your hair in an attempt to soothe your worry, but his words only caused more unease.
“Do you have a hard time breathing? Did you take any painkillers yet?” You asked again, worried that he was hiding something from you because he didn’t want to bother.
“Baby…”
The word slipped out so easily, rolling off his tongue and reigning down on you as if he was bestowing a sacred title. You couldn’t pretend to be unaffected even if you wanted to, cheeks flushing and lips tugging up unabashedly.
“M’fine, I swear.” He gave you a sure nod, opening his hand against your thigh, waiting for you to lace yours through his.
Sighing, you thread your fingers between his, the feel of his thumb beginning to stoke along the curve of your wrist, grounding you to him–making sure you knew he was safe.
Your eyes peered up from your hands, drifting to his face where you found his eyes studying you like he didn’t want to miss a thing. As selfish as it was, there was nothing more you wanted than to stay right there, despite the visible fatigue that was lingering behind his weary eyes.
You took your time and savored the comfortable silence, memorizing every wrinkle, every sunspot, every inch of his face that you never gave much thought to before. When you had your fill, certain that by the time you fell asleep you could picture it behind your eyes, did you finally stop being selfish.
“We should probably get some sleep,” you whispered quietly, your free hand coming up to push his graying curls back into place, “You’ve had a long day and we’ve got our work cut out for us tomorrow too.”
Joel hummed in agreement, but his fingers stayed tangled in yours, not daring to let go. He just kept on watching you, letting his thumb continue the comforting path over your skin–this time it was him who was being selfish.
Just moments ago his body wanted sleep, but the second you walked in, it was you he craved. It had always been you, even when he tried to starve himself off and convince himself it was nothing more than him being vigilant. Fulfilling his duty by making sure you didn’t drive yourself into the ground because you put others first.
When he boiled down all the irritation and anger he had once felt, he was still left with you. You had become part of him whether he liked it or not–always living in the back of his mind, deep within the cracks of himself until the truth finally clawed its way out.
If he had haunted you, then you had certainly been plaguing him, holding him hostage to a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever set free until he had no choice but to.
He needed you, and he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer.
His hands slowly loosened from yours, trailing up your waist, ghosting over the pulse of your neck, stopping just shy of your jaw, cradling your face between his palms.
“I don’t wanna pretend anymore…” He mumbled, shaking his head, coasting his thumb along your jaw, eyes burning into yours, “spent too long pushin’ you away and actin’ like an ass… but I want–need you.”
Your chest tightened, air trapped in your lungs all while your heart raced and your blood ran impossibly hotter. Maybe it was desperation or quite simply the heat of the moment, but it swallowed you whole. His confession wrapping you up and keeping you there where, for once, you could just be.
He undid you and pieced you back together all at once, suddenly filling spaces that were once hollow but not broken–seeing and needing you was just enough.
“I need you, too,” you whispered, leaning forward to close the space, pressing your forehead to his, lips ghosting over one another.
“You came all the way out here for me, gotta say, you know how to make a man feel special.” A weak chuckle leaving his mouth, breathing fanning over your face.
You smiled, shrugging your shoulders timidly, “just did what you would’ve done.”
“That right?”
Before you could think twice about the smirk on his lips, his hips shifted up, the stiffness behind his jeans pressing against your center.
Your breath hitched, head thrown back while your hips move once then began to roll against his, needy for more. He took advantage of the skin calling out to him, pressing kisses up the column of your neck, letting you grind and seek out the dull pleasure that wasn’t at all ever going to be enough.
“Want this off, sweetheart,” He nipped at your jaw lightly, his hands dropping to curl around the fabric of your camisole.
There was a broken hum, an eager nod as you felt his fingers guide the garment up your body, leaving you in a basic black bra that was surely two sizes too small and no help to the breathlessness in your chest. But he didn’t seem to notice it, not when his eyes suddenly went somber, trained on a particular scar on your skin.
It was no longer than a few inches, just a thin, fading line of skin that healed a shade lighter than the rest of your body, but nonetheless still apparent. Joel knew what it looked like before–clean cut, too deep, even more bloody. Just seeing it reeled him back to that winter, even when you’re in his lap, safe and well as can be–he still felt the weight of his guilt.
“Joel,” you wrapped your hands around his wrist gingerly, leading his fingertips to the scar and keeping him there, “I’m right here… safe.”
Your voice called out to him steadily, softly, trying to ground him back here with you, instead of his dreadful memories of your dying self that were swarming his thoughts. His fingers traced the skin, eyes never leaving it as he spoke something thick and rough.
“It shouldn’t have happened to you.”
He didn’t need to say it for you to understand that what he meant was it should have been him instead. But it was your choice. It always was, even when it was him signing off on letting you exit those gates–it was because you felt secure enough to go and he trusted you at one point.
But even now, he couldn’t take place and you couldn’t let him blame himself any longer.
“But it did.” You said, setting your hands on top of his, letting them splay across your skin, hiding the scar behind his palms, not wanting him to think back on those memories any longer.
You then wrapped your arms around his neck, tethering yourself to him completely as his gaze finally softened when he saw your eyes locking onto his.
“It happened and I can’t go back to change it, but even if I could, I wouldn’t dare to because it means I’d risk leading myself to you.”
Even when you looked at him so delicately, weary of his own emotional turmoil for something that happened to you, your voice remained sure and strong, like roots settling into the scariest parts of him and promising you weren’t going anywhere.
His heart ached, this time with a feverish warmth that threatened to take his life just because he couldn’t fathom this–you–and the way you made him feel. He didn’t need to say much, not when his lips were already encasing yours, hoping you could feel all the things he wanted to say but wasn't quite strong enough to, just yet
The message was received loud and clear, the two of you simultaneously needing more and acting upon it. Your fingers threaded through the messy curls at the back of his head, pulling him deeper into you just as his hands curved around your waist forcing your bodies flushed against each other, fitting perfectly.
“You tryin’ to kill me?” He mumbled, lips never straying away even as he caught his breath.
He felt you giggle, then placed another kiss on his top then bottom lip, teeth grazing at his skin, “Trust me, death isn’t fun… I would know.”
He rolled his eyes with another deep sigh, debating on whether he should scold or kiss you to quiet down your sweet laughter for a joke so vicious. He decided on the latter, relishing in the touch of your lips and the way your laughter died subtly with every part and glide of his tongue against yours.
“Can I?” His hands hovering over the elastic of your bra behind your back.
You hummed, pulling away to lean back on his thighs, giving him the perfect view. Your arms rested beneath the bust waiting as his fingers unclasped the closure with a smooth flick. The straps glided off your shoulders with ease and you helped pull the garment the rest of the way before tossing it to the floor.
Joel sucked a deep breath in, palms sliding up and down the tops of your thighs, using whatever restraint he had left to resist the urge to lay you back and make you his. But he wanted to take it slow, to show you how much he cared and make up for the time that was wasted.
“So beautiful,” He rasped, letting out a groan and throwing his head back against the cushions needing to shut his eyes for a split second, giving himself a moment to take you in.
You couldn’t help but blush, a weak, almost shy giggle escaping your mouth at the thought of him being this affected by only a portion of your naked body. Deciding to coax your shared neediness, you brought his hands up to your chest, causing his eyes to snap open. He was momentarily stunned, unsure of himself, but not for long as he felt you practically melt under the newfound touch.
“God, baby.” He muttered, thumbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger, giving them a gentle pinch.
You let out a broken moan, hips jerking up instinctively into the hardening bulge beneath his jeans. Your sweet sounds and desperate friction egged him on, repeating the deliberate pinch and rolls watching closely as you began to unravel at the seams. You were shamelessly seeking out more, hips moving faster over him with your lip caught between your teeth.
“Let me get this off you, sweetheart.” He spoke lowly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin, fingers running along the waistband of your jeans.
You blinked, tilting your head down at him swallowing the dryness in your throat.
“I-I can do them,” you whispered, attempting to catch your breath and fight the urge to rut your hips again.
Joel nodded, letting you take a moment to breathe and pull yourself together. In the meantime, he pressed chaste kisses to wherever he could reach before you shuffled out of his lap, standing wobbly between his spread thighs.
He watched as you bent down to work off your boots first, nudging them off to the side before your shaky fingers undid the button and zipper of your jeans. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband, you gradually pulled them down, hips swaying naturally, lifting one foot then the other, peeling the denim off the rest of the way without breaking your gaze with him.
He shifted, straightening his back against the cushions, while his eyes swept over the expanse of your skin, drinking you up, committing every inch of you to his memory.
“C’mere.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back on top of him, needing to feel you close.
You let out a short squeal, carefully placing your knees on either side of his hips, letting the thin and undoubtedly soaked fabric of your panties graze the rough material of his jeans head on.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself even more.” You chided, running your hands underneath his t-shirt feeling the warmth of his skin, moving the fabric up higher with every sweep of your palms.
“Worth it.” He smirked, letting you guide the t-shirt off his body the way you wanted, until he had no choice but to tug it over his head, leaving nothing between your chest and his.
You braced your hands against his sternum, gliding to feel the beat of his heart before connecting your lips once again. You learned quickly that kissing him nice and slow allowed you to really feel him. The dull scratch of his stumble against your skin, his hands mindlessly roaming across your back, the push and pull of breaths he took.
But nice and slow, could only do for so long, quickly turning urgent and messy.
He took advantage of your desperation, giving the small of your back a gentle but firm push, rocking you back and forth over the tent in his jeans before your hips began to move on their own accord, resuming your earlier pursuit of pleasure.
“Please.” You gasped, abruptly pulling away to stare up at him with frantic eyes.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” He cooed, almost condescendingly, amused at the fact that you were already this wound up without him doing much.
“Touch me,” you reached behind you to take one of his hands, guiding it to where you needed him most, “Need you to touch, right here.”
His fingers smoothed over the arousal soaked fabric, groaning to himself as he pressed his digits right over your clit, making you whimper.
“I’ve got you.”
He pulled his hand away to maneuver you into a more comfortable position. Cradling you into his side and letting your head rest against his shoulder, he guided your legs to sling over his thighs.
“This OK?” He asked, running his hands up to shin down to your ankle wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.
“Perfect.” You nodded eagerly, leaning up for another kiss, thanking him for being so considerate even in the heat of the moment.
When you pulled away, he nodded at you to lay your head back on him while he did the work. His fingers finally trailed up over your hips, sliding under the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to drag the fabric off your body and tossing it somewhere. His hand settled on your knee farthest away from his body, bending it just enough for him to open you up further and give him a complete view of your soaking center.
“Jesus,” he choked out, his fingers gliding up and down the seam of your folds, torturing you slowly, “Need it bad, huh sweetheart.”
You whimpered, nodding your head as your nails scraped down his chest, digging into his skin, asking for more.
“Gonna make it better,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your temple, “just let me do all the work and you feel good alright?”
He didn’t waste any more time, parting your folds with his pointer and middle, dipping them into your heat and gathering your arousal, only to take it up towards your clit where he pressed down firmly and began rubbing slow circles.
“F-fuck!” Your hips stuttered up, chasing his movements that felt like too much, and not enough all at the same time.
Joel tsked, shushing you quietly as he used his free arm to settle you back down, holding you tight.
“Shh, shh, relax.” He eased up just slightly on your bundle of nerves, helping lull you, “Need to take it slow, wanna make it last.”
You wanted to tell him that there was no need to take it slow, not when he could have you for as long as you lived from this point on. But you could barely focus, let alone form coherent words as he murmured praises into your ear, picking back up the pressure of his thumb over your nerves.
Your chest dipped with a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering shut while your fingertips dug into the flesh of his biceps, anything to keep yourself from lifting your hips from where he wanted.
“Feels good darlin’?” He asked, deliberately dragging his digits lower, sliding them into your core with ease, crooking them up before his thumb ghosted over your clit.
“Just like–fuck–just like that,” you panted, tongue running over your lips, feeling yourself grow wetter.
“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.”
You didn’t need to open your eyes to tell there was a smile on his face, the feel of his hand giving your waist a squeeze where he held you still, while still keeping up his movements.
“Been needin’ to feel this.”
The cabin was filled with your moans and labored breaths, squelching between your thighs falling deaf on your ears as Joel dragged the pleasure on and on, not daring to tear his eyes away from such a sight as perfect as you.
“Open those eyes, c’mon,” He commanded softly, his thumb stilling on your clit again, but his fingers still continued those deep strokes, “Wanna see those eyes when I tell you this.”
Your eyes open, glazed over with pleasure, a whimper leaving your mouth seeing the content smile on his lips at your obedience.
“Atta’girl.”
You thought that was it. The praise dripping with heat and honey, enough to have you plunging past the finish line as your eyelashes kissed the skin under your eyes. But the action only made him grunt, prompting you to keep them open, for he had more to say that would completely unravel you.
“Should’ve never let you walk away yesterday.” He said, thumb resuming their movements on your clit, but just lightly, enough to keep you focused on his words and the pleasure-something tolerable for now.
“Should’ve apologized and told you that I care for you.”
“J-Joel, I forgive you. I do.” You stuttered, swallowing down a moan, hoping he’d believe you just as much as you did him.
He shook his head, more so at himself, before continuing.
“You scare the shit outta me. Always givin’ so much of yourself without ever askin’ for anythin’ in return.”
“You don’t know how much I think about you.” He admitted, fingers speeding up, dragging a new string of moans out of you, struggling to keep your eyes open.
“If you’re takin’ care of yourself,” he murmured, trailing kisses over your warm cheek. “If you know how much I want to protect you.”
“Iknowiknow,” You babbled, leaning your head against him as your thighs shook when he prodded at the deep spot inside you, “I know n-now.”
His eyes stayed glued to you, watching every word escape through your lips with extra effort, before becoming muddled with your moans. Nails leaving crescents across his skin anywhere you could grab him and anchor yourself to the feeling. Your pussy shuddering with every stroke and prod of his fingertips bringing you closer.
“Should’ve told you sooner baby. You gonna let me make it up to you?” He crooned.
“Yes, p-please…I will, I promise I–”
“Let me show you how much you matter to me.” He stuffed his fingers impossibly deeper, thumb relentlessly orbiting your clit with more pressure now. “How it feels to be mine.”
“I’m yours, Joel…please, I’m so close.” Your voice cracked, head beginning to tip back as your body gave in completely, but he wouldn’t let you fall apart without seeing it for himself.
He threading his fingers through the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his.
“Cum for me baby,” His lips crashed onto yours, the final catalyst that sent you over the edge as he pulled away, breath ghosting over your lips. “Give me what’s mine.”
Only then did your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed with the intense pleasure that seemed to be never ending. Your limbs shook against his body, breathing deeply through the waves of euphoria that he kept you on. His fingers still stroking, rubbing, coaxing everything out of you, tethering you to him, watching your every move as you succumbed.
“I–baby, I…please.” Your voice was weak, your body feeling equally weightless going limp against him.
Your hands instinctively reached for his forearms, squeezing him tightly, needing more of him to help ground you through the shocks of pleasure still coursing through your nerves.
“I’ve got you,” He murmured, finally dragging his slick fingers away from your oversensitive heat, cradling your body closer. “Did so good for me, sweetheart.”
He tucked your face under his chin, kissing the crown of your head, letting his hands soothe over your tingling skin to bring you back down to the delicate place with him once more. Your breathing was still irregular, shallow puffs of air hitting his chest, feeling his heart pound over your lips where you pressed soft, mindless kisses, grateful for his tenderness.
“S’ok, baby,” His voice remained soft, cooing more words of praise to you before guiding your face away, just enough for him to see you and know you were back with him.
His chest tightened at the sight of your wet eyes blurring with a sheen of tears and lips swollen, flashing him a devastatingly sweet smile.
“Oh, sweetheart...”
You blinked, laughing nervously as you felt his thumb swipe away at the tear before it could tumble down your cheek.
“T-that was nice,” you cleared your throat, voice still a little hoarse and spent all thanks to him. “Really nice,” you added, stroking your fingers over his stubble.
He grinned, tucking your messy hair behind your ears, “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”
You stared at each other, all dopey and lovesick, basking in one another like nothing else in the world mattered. It should’ve felt unnatural, a little odd for the two of you considering the state of your relationship just twenty-four hours before, but instead it felt familiar, something so intimate and complete without much labor to make it feel as such.
You used your arms as leverage, wanting to sit back into the original position on his lap. He helped you, carefully holding you by the hips as you maneuvered only for you to let out a gasp catching him by surprise.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, Joel.” You looked down half embarrassed, half amused, fingers trailing over the dark patch of your wetness that settled on his jeans.
He followed your sights, shaking his head as he laughed and laced his fingers with yours, pulling them up to his mouth to press a reassuring kiss over your knuckles.
“Nothin’ to worry about, it’s for memory’s sake.” He joked lightly, easing you of any self-consciousness even after he brought you to a breathtaking orgasm just minutes ago.
You shifted your hips against his lap, eliciting a groan from him, jaw tightening and his hands squeezing yours. He grew harder beneath his boxers, the tip of his cock begging for release behind the garment and his thick jeans, at this rate probably dripping with pre cum too. He could have easily flipped you over and given into what you both were needing, but he curbed the thoughts, letting you set the pace.
“I can feel you.” You whispered, taking your time circling your hips lightly, core still overstimulated, but somehow demanding more, “Can we…”
Your voice died with a hint of uncertainty, eyes shifting to his, hoping he’d read your mind and understand that you still needed him…you just didn’t know what to call it.
Fuck?
Make love?
Neither sounded right to say aloud. You knew crossing this line would mean more than just a quick fuck, but you also realized it was too soon to call it love–though you were positive you’d fall, eventually.
He rested his hands on your thighs, eyes boring into yours, trying to read your anxiety, not wanting you to feel pressured just because he was rock hard.
“We don’t have to do any–”
“No, I do,” you interjected hurriedly, shutting him up as he smirked at your insistence causing you to roll your eyes and smack his chest.
You sighed, wringing your fingers nervously, shifting your eyes to his lap instead as you spoke. “I just haven’t… I want it to be good for you.”
It was no surprise that an outbreak would leave getting laid one of your last priorities with survival being number one. But truthfully, it had been a long while, and even as natural as it felt to have Joel pull an orgasm out of you with his fingers, you hoped to God you’d be able to deliver something just as good for him. But before you could let the perturbation swallow you whole he laughed.
You quickly shot your eyes up to his, watching the crow’s feet around the outer corner of his eyes crinkle, his chest rumbling with snickers, causing you to pout, wondering what amusement he got out of seeing you like this. He settled after a few seconds, shaking his head in disbelief going to grab your hands once more even as you tried to fight him off weakly.
“Sweetheart,” He started, rubbing his thumbs over the top of your hands, silently telling you to loosen up, “Do you know how close I’ve been to creamin’ my pants like a fuckin’ teenager?”
His bluntness made your cheeks go up in flames, wanting nothing more than to hide away in the crook of his neck and laugh there, but he didn’t let you, cupping your cheeks and thumbing your heated skin. He was old enough to understand why you must’ve felt the way you did, but he too was devoid of anything as intimate for years. You’d already made him feel the tenderness and lust he once thought was over for him, and he’d be damned if he let you think otherwise.
“You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ alright? It’s goin’ to be good because it’s with you.” He confessed, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, then to your lips, making you smile as your heart rate began to pick up once more.
“I wanna be on top,” you started, a new wave of boldness washing over you as he smirked and nodded.
“I can do with that.” He hummed, leaning back just to get an eyeful of your naked body, pinching himself for finally getting to have you.
“Here, I’ll–” You went to undo his belt, a mixture of excitement and neediness urging your motions, but before you could he stopped you, moving your fingers out of the way.
“I got it, sweetheart,” he pulled the end of the leather through the buckle, eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t need to lift a finger.”
You giggled, tilting your head and raising your brow. “Hmm, cause I’ll be too busy lifting my ass, right?” You quipped.
“There’s my brat,” He huffed feignedly, pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it to the ground.
You let out a giggle, moving off of his lap causing him to protest, only for you to drop down to your knees between his legs, pulling at the laces of his boots and tugging them off.
“What? You said I couldn’t help with the belt, not stripping your jeans off.” You winked up at him while he grumbled, simply undoing his fly and zipper before letting you do the rest.
He lifted his hips as you tugged on the waistband of his jeans and boxers His cock came into view, thick and heavy, tip glistening with pre-cum as it rested against his stomach. Your gut twisted tighter, heat growing hotter between your thighs as your mouth watered, eyes remaining fixated on his length.
Your visible engrossment made him twitch, the hunger in your eyes causing his blood to rush and welcome the newfound attention. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling your fingers wrap around his shaft, barely able to cover him wholly even with both hands. You leaned forward, parting your lips, breathing warmth over his tip before you closed your lips around him gently, humming at the salty bead, salivating for more.
If he had any more willpower, he’d let you have your fill. To swallow him down the way you wanted to–messy, slow, deep–but right now it was ebbing, and all he wanted to do was bury himself within you. There was no way he was going to let himself finish within the first minute of you getting him naked.
As if it pained him, he grimaced and cradled your jaw, pulling you off with a pop, and almost immediately you began to pout, mouth opening to tell him you wanted a proper taste.
“Come back up here.” His eyes were glazed over with need, voice dripping with a gentle firmness as he offered you a hand, helping you lift off your knees and take your place back on his lap.
“I’ll let you have it in your mouth next time.” He promised, placing a kiss to your lips in an apology, guiding you to sink your knees into the cushions beside him.
You smiled, breath catching in your chest at the thought of ‘next time’ because it meant that Joel wanted to have you the same way you did him. Truthfully, there was no turning back, and you and Joel were both aware of the implications, too far gone in each other to think you’d be walking away from each other after this.
His hands looped securely around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours as your noses brushed against one another.
“Take it nice and slow, alright?” He cautioned sweetly.
“Y-yeah.” You nodded, kissing him once more before you pulled away and took a deep breath.
You brought your fingertips to your mouth, swiping them over your tongue, reaching down and curling your hand around him. You stroked him slowly, mixing together your spit and his precum, which you knew would help the slide. He stilled his hips, keeping from rutting up into your hand, letting you do what you needed to first.
Bracing one hand on his shoulder, you guided him towards your entrance, the thick head notching inside of you with a stretch as you dropped your hips, settled down on the first few inches of him.
“Oh, f-fuck,” you whimpered, thighs trembling weakly as your eyes flew shut at the sudden fullness.
“Slow down, babygirl…breathe for me,” he steadied you carefully, hands squeezing your waist, letting you adjust. “Know it’s a lot, but you’re doing so good.”
The sound of his voice was warm and guiding, reminding you there was no need at all to rush. Your head spun at the praise and guidance, using it as encouragement while you kept your eyes closed and took a deep breath in through your nose and held it for a moment. He hummed something that sounded like approval, spurring you on as you released the breath and sunk down to take more of him.
A strangled moan left your lips, his cock already reaching parts of you that had been untouched for what felt like forever. And even as the fluttering walls of your pussy sent a tremor up his spine, he swallowed back his own grunt, gritting his teeth and setting his focus on soothing you instead of his frenzied pleasure.
“Sweetheart, you gotta–” He spoke raspy and strained, but whatever he had left to say, never came as you blew your eyes open to meet his, all glassy and filled with ruin already.
“J-Joel,” you whined, grabbing harshly at his shoulders, trembling over nearly half of his cock, but already feeling split open and ready to fall over the crest of pleasure. “S-so full, already.”
He nodded understandingly, clenching and unclenching his jaw, as he stroked your sides, hoping to calm the shivers that were dancing along your skin. He leaned up slightly, nudging his nose across cheek until he settled soft kisses along your earlobe.
“It’s all yours baby, right sweetheart?” He murmured possessively, staking your claim over him before you could do it yourself–but he wanted to hear you, needed to hear that you understood he was yours now.
Your lips parted with a breathy moan, walls clenching around him at the thought, before you swallowed thickly and nodded against him.
“Uh, huh… mine.”
He grinned, satisfied with your response and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, feeling your hot labored breaths against him.
“So take it.”
He snaked one of his hands between your bodies, using your wetness and circling your clit with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back and your mouth drop open. The added stimulation helped distract you from the massive stretch, but not enough to send you over the edge just yet.
“I know you can do it, sweetheart.”
And somehow you did.
You focused on the sound of his voice, shutting out all the tingling nerves and worries in the back of your mind, sinking down the rest of the way, and nestling his cock deep inside you.
“S-shit, sweetheart,” Joel hissed, digging his fingers into your hips as his eyes dropped down to where you fully sheathed his length. “Fuckin’ grippin’ me so damn tight.”
Your stomach clenched, walls clinging to every inch of him, carving out a new home where you’d crave him constantly. He couldn’t look away even if he tried, his eyes sailing towards your face and back down your body, reveling every gasp and shake not wanting to miss a thing.
Your brows furrowed, finally testing the waters by rolling your hips in small circles, anticipating the first rumble of pleasure. But with him buried so deeply, relentlessly budging the spongy spot inside you, the small action stole your breath altogether, sending you toppling, slump against his chest.
“Oh my–fuck…toomuchtoomuch, Joel–”
“Hey, shh, relax for a minute,” His hand came down to the back your head, pressing you deeper into his chest, stroking your hair and feeling the way your walls spasmed around him uncontrollably.
Joel hugged you close, letting you bury your face into the crook of neck where you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat racing just as quick as yours, yet still somehow sounding unaffected as he continued whispering words of solace, gently caressing your body like you were all that mattered to him.
“I–I’m sorry…” You choked between a sniffle, not knowing exactly why you were apologizing suddenly, probably because Joel had spent more time comforting you through your pleasure without giving in to his.
You needed to make him feel good.
He grunted disapprovingly, kissing the crown of your head. “Baby, you don’t have to apologiz–”
You attempted to lift your hips off of him, going to ride him the way you wanted to, but his hands immediately stalled your movements as you protested.
“Joel, let me, c’mon.”
“Sweetheart,” He shook his head, tugging your face away from hiding, staring at you all dark and tender.
“This is gonna be over before you even start,” He reasoned, rubbing the back of your scalp, wanting you to ease up, “You’re sensitive and she needs it gentle.”
“But I’m supposed to be taking care of you now and I–”
“Hey, listen to me,” His voice was stern though his eyes remained a softened contrast, “Feelin’ you around me is already you takin’ care of me. Now, let me take care of you at the same time. Deal?
“Okay...” you whispered, nodding your head as he kissed you deeply before lifting his back off the couch, allowing him to lay you on your back.
You spread your legs, letting him bracket his hips closer, planting one foot on the ground to give himself leverage, while the other remained bent at the knee on the couch.
“How’s that sweetheart?” His hands glided over your stomach, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses up between the valley of your breast until he stopped at your chin peering up at you.
“B-better…” You breathed, palms meeting his right over your stomach and pressing down slightly, “I can feel you deeper I think.”
“Good,” His lips quirked up into a smile, nipping your jaw before leaning up the rest of the way and pressing his forehead against yours, “I’m gonna move now. You say the word and we’ll stop whenever you want, alright?”
You nodded, connecting your lips as you wounded your arms around his neck, readying yourself for the first thrust of his hips. His hands slid up to your ribcage, gripping you there tenderly, pulling his hips back barely a few inches, before sawing back in.
He swallowed up your moans, dragging his hips back once more, setting a slow yet thoughtful pace, stretching out your combined pleasure, basking in other another. With every thrust, the pleasurable sensation blossomed brighter within you, your legs spreading more, hips stuttering up not wanting to let him go far from where he belonged.
“Takin’ it so good, baby. Nice and deep.” Joel panted against your lips, pulling out almost halfway now, then back in again, eliciting a soft cry from your lips. “So perfect for me…my girl, my fuckin’ pussy, right?”
“Yes, yes, it’s yours…I-I’m yours, Joel.” You choked out, nails raking across his shoulder blades and down his back, “Please don’t stop, please, just–fuck!”
“Keep fuckin’ you baby?” He teased, your whimpery moans agreeing with his filthy words, “Never gonna stop, sweetheart…promise. You just keep feelin’ good on my cock.”
Your throat tore with a high-pitched squeal, Joel pulling out nearly all the way before driving back home, repeating the movement that had your legs trembling around him. The sounds were obscene, wet slaps of your skin nearly overpowering your moans, occupying the cabin.
“Hear how wet you are?” He gritted, sucking in deeper breaths with every squeeze of your walls, “Pussys’ leaking all over me. She’s a sweet thing, alright.”
“S-s-so good, you’re so deep,” You gasped, “M-more.”
“Let me,” He guided one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing impossibly deeper, making you moan loudly.
“Fuck! Right there, p-please just like that,” You held him tighter, muffled words beating against his skin.“Don’t stop, please don’t–”
“I won’t baby,” Joel assured you, maintaining the deliberately deep pace, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips, “Let me feel you, c’mon, give my cock some lovin’, let me feel you cum.”
You crashed hard without even thinking twice, incoherent begging jumbled with your moans as stars flashed behind your pinched eyes. His movements didn’t falter, working every inch of himself within you, encouraging you to ride the wave of pleasure for as long as possible, reeling in the way your nails scratched down his back, pulling him tighter into you until your body went lax.
Slowing his thrusts, he placed a chaste kiss to the inside of your knee, guiding your leg back down, allowing you some reprieve. He felt your motionless hands along his back, settling for weak grazes across the fresh scratches you left behind, while your chest rose and fell deeply.
“Too much?” He rasped out, hands going to cup your cheeks, forcing your eyes to open and blink through the haze, “Need a break, baby?”
You let out a shaky noise that told him ‘no,’ turning your head just slightly to take a deep breath in the out, repeating the action until you could bear to open your eyes, taking in the mouthwatering sight of him.
His hair was tousled all thanks to your grabby hands, sweat beading at his hairline, trailing down the sides of his face. His lips were as swollen as yours from the endless kisses you two had shared, and his eyes burned through you with fire, so strong yet delicate, needed to get close and finally feel the heat soar through you.
“K-Keep going,” you stuttered, still catching your breath, snaking your hands through his hair, gawking up at him hungrily, “I need it–I need to feel you…”
The realization washed over him, and you swore you could feel the twitch of his cock spur inside you, a restrained jerk of his hips sending his length somewhere deeper—right where you needed him to stick.
“Needa feel me extra deep, is that right?” He whispered, one hand splaying over your stomach, groaning to himself when he felt the faint brunt of himself beneath your skin. “Need me to leave my mark, remind you who you belong to?”
You licked your lips, nodding frantically. “Yes… I-I want that…I’m all yours, please.”
He reached for your free hand, intertwining them as he bent to kiss your shaky knuckles.
“I’m yours too, baby…never lettin’ you go.” He began to thrust into you again, pressing his hips flushed between your thighs, grinding deep and precise. “Promise.”
It didn’t take long to have you breathless all over again, your legs moving on their own accord to wrap around his waist, barely allowing him any escape from your heat—just simple, heavy, deep strokes, that caused tears to prickle at your eyes, the blossoming happening all over again, and this time stronger than the last two he so graciously gave you.
“Joel–shit, I’m…” You gasped, crushing his hand tightly, your entire body beginning to quiver as you tiptoed to the edge.
“Just like that… fuck, darlin’” He hissed, throwing his head, feeling your walls close in on him impossibly tighter, like they were begging as much as you were for him. “Just keep feelin’ me… every goddamn inch baby..”
You did more than just let yourself feel. But be all consumed by him. Giving in to a need that would never be satiated by anyone besides Joel Miller, not that there was anyone else who could suffice, anyway. You gave yourself to him wholeheartedly, the same way he did to you. More than just a feeling. A deep-seated care that would never leave, always within you wherever you strayed because Joel proved it to you.
His hand untangled with yours and before you could whine out of protest, one escaped thoughtlessly, the feel of fingers sliding over your mound, easily finding your clit and rubbing steady circles. Y
You were dangling over the edge, just waiting to drop.
“Oh… oh,” Your jaw went slack, voice so small, “Joel, please.”
He cooed softly, infatuated with you beneath him, ready to give you his all. “Need to feel you fall apart one more time baby, let me see it.”
“Cum with me,” you begged, snaking your hands through his hair pull him closer, letting him swallow and steal your every breath, “Please… I need it. Fill me up, p-please.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks, body seizing up into his, walls clamping greedily, taking him right over the edge with you.
“Fuckin’ hell… oh, fuck,” Joel groaned, hips stuttering, grinding and pushing deeper, spilling everything he had to give you, as he reveled in your take.
There was a saccharine smile on your face, weak but still there. Cheeks stained with a warm flush as tears remained stuck in their path, littering the wisp of your lashes with faint drops, blinking up at him starry-eyed. It was a sight that made his heart ache—not haunting or plaguing in a sense, but chained to knowing it could only ever be you from that point forward, and there was no need to deny himself.
Quietly, the two of you came back down together. Hands lazily roaming the skin your fingertips could reach, lips resting, not kissing, just feeling each other be there, and your hearts settling into a shared thump.
You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat,
“T-thank you.” You croaked out, reaching up with shaky hands to hold his cheek in your palm, not caring about the sweat trickling over your already sweaty skin.
He turned just slightly, chapped lips pressing into your pulse point.
“You’re… you’re thanking me for…” He tilted his back at you raising his brows with a smirk, still catching his breath, meanwhile you laughed weakly and shook your head.
“That too, but mostly for seeing me… for showing me I matter.”
“Don’t gotta thank me for any of it,” He assured you, bringing his hand to wipe the tears off your cheeks, “and I don’t think I said it earlier…but I’m sorry everythin’.”
“I forgave you already,” you replied with a smile, welcoming the feel of his lips on yours again as he kissed you so tenderly.
Slowly, he helped ease your legs from around his waist, swallowing up your whines as he apologized lowly, shifting his hips back to pull out of you. The emptiness felt foreign, almost unbearable, but the faint trickle of your shared spent seeping out was a filthy yet pleasant reminder that you two were stuck together.
He reached down, picking up his discarded t-shirt, bending down to catch a better glimpse of the mess, holding himself back from wrecking you some more.
“So you’re just going to let me ruin all your clothes at this point?” You shivered with a laugh, watching as he carefully swiped the shirt between your thighs, cleaning up the mess between your thighs.
He looked up at you, kissing the inside of your knee. “Got a whole drawer at home waitin’ for you,” He winked, making you roll your eyes as he tossed the fabric to the floor after cleaning himself up too.
Carefully, he maneuvered you off your back, sliding his body against the cushions to take your place, before setting you inside his side—your warm naked bodies tangling snugly to brave the winter night.
“I’ll take first watch so you can rest darlin’,” Joel whispered, running his palm along your shoulder blades while you traced random shapes over his chest.
You rocked your head against him slightly, whispering loud enough for him to hear.
“We’re safe out here.”
It was loaded, both a promise to take and a question for him to answer.
“Yeah, we’re safe, baby.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, eyes falling shut effortlessly, the sight of you still fresh behind his lids. “I’ve got you. Always, got you.”
💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!
a/n: i'm horny and ovulating, im sorry!!! thank you to my love, Effie for proof-reading and unapologetically encouraging my delulu for dilfy joel 💕💕
the 'need to reacquaint myself with nature tag' is soooo real!!! (like literally me after staying up till the ass crack of dawn to get the smut scenes just right HAHAHA) thank you so much for taking the time to read and reblogging 🥹💕
summary: Last winter, you nearly died at the hands of raiders during a supply run gone wrong. Joel Miller, head of scheduling, indefinitely barred you from participating in any more of them, as a means to protect you, not just from what lurked outside, but your own incessant need to provide even if it meant risking your life to do so. After a year of being at odds with each other, you and Joel finally throw caution to the wind and begin to unravel at the seams—this time, winter isn’t just about surviving, but mending what was always there.
warnings: no use of y/n, age-gap (joel's older than reader), mentions of blood and wounds, brief mention of sarah, cursing, mentions of physical violence (punches), two terrible communicators, smut, fingering, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap pls), joel's a soft dom (ofc he is duh!), aftercare, basically porn with plot!
Everyone in Jackson had a specialty. Teachers. Doctors. Builders. Cooks. The list goes on and on, with roles that contributed immeasurably to the functioning of the town, despite how some may carry more weight than the others. But no matter how big or small one’s role was in the community, everyone appreciated the efforts, for the town needed the collective help to preserve its integrity beyond the gates that closed it off from the rest of Wyoming.
And all you knew since your arrival was that the town was the closest thing you’d ever had to a home. Something real. Somewhere safe. The one thing you couldn’t possibly bear to lose, for you didn’t know if anything would ever suffice the way this town had.
You weren’t a stranger to the cruelty lurking outside of the gates, spending a good portion of your life weaving in and out of the fallen QZ’s and deserted cities, just hoping to survive another day, until you finally stumbled upon Jackson.
They had taken you in with tentative, yet open arms, allowing you to adjust to the town you would come to call home before asking what it was you could provide. What you could give back to Jackson, not just for you, but for all its citizens. After all, the town belonged to everyone—those old and young, seasoned and novice—living for the hope of it all to make it to another day.
And so you were a supply runner, one of the most distinguished specialties the community was always looking to have more of, and it was just their luck that you weren’t just good at what you did.
You were great.
Reliable.
Confident.
Never coming back empty-handed even when something unexpected was thrown into your path.
Last winter proved that.
It wasn’t a part of the plan to stumble upon a group of raiders during a run all by yourself, and truth be told you didn’t want to kill any of them. But the second your presence was known, the moment you saw the greed in their eyes, the realization dawned on you that you needed to do what was necessary.
It had been hours since your expected arrival, and a few members of Jackson’s committee including Tommy, Maria, and Joel were waiting impatiently behind the gates. Joel suspected something went sideways, proposing a search party go out and look for you, but he’d been outvoted. His brother assuring him that everything was fine and that you always came back in one piece.
When they finally spotted you from a distance, a blob among the falling snow and dwindling daylight, they almost breathed a sigh of reprieve, but as the gates creaked open to greet you, and you drew closer, it all came crashing.
You were hunched over your horse, clothing tattered and blowing against the wind. A rope tightly wound across your waist, dragging duffle bags of enough weapons and ammunition to last months of patrol across the blankets of snow. The pungent smell of blood saturating the air before they finally took sight of it staining skin.
Protocol was ignored, Joel bolting to you without thinking twice.
He hauled your half unconscious body off your beloved horse Ivy, diligently clutch the back of your head as he laid you down and his brother dropped beside him, immediately going to undo the knot around your waist.
Joel’s eyes flashed over your face, taking in your appearance, searching for any signs of life. Your heavy-lidded eyes were barely hanging on, frost bitten lips parted with weak breaths, and your cheeks and chin daubed with dried blood. It was a miracle that you even made it back, but that optimism instantly seemed to fade when he spotted more blood, the steady dribble of blood trickling onto the frosty snow beneath you.
With shaky hands, he tore through the rest of your shredded coat, discovering the deep incision on your abdomen, angry and throbbing, pooling with enough blood to make his run cold. His hands were coated in your near-death, transporting him back to that harrowing memory of his dear Sarah, reliving the greatest loss of his life all over again.
He knew the cost of hesitation and he wasn’t going to let it take you next. Lifting you back into his arms with a devastatingly rehearsed movement, he clutching you tight to his chest, rushing you to the infirmary paying no mind to the shouting voices behind him.
He didn’t need to be told to know what you had done.
He had already pieced together the story once he saw the crimson and the baggage you pulled behind.
He knew what you had done to survive.
But most importantly, he knew what you had done to risk losing your life.
To Joel, you weren’t good. Not even great. Just plain reckless. Willing to put yourself in grave danger against god knows how many of those ruthless raiders just to make it back with a contribution without ever weighing your own chances of survival.
He knew what this town meant to everyone, how much your recklessness would provide for everyone’s safety, yet he couldn’t look past what it meant beyond the surface.
You possessed a sort of recklessness that teetered the edge of selflessness, the one thing that would end up costing your life one day–and even if it wasn’t his place to care as severely as he did, he couldn’t let you go on.
Since that last winter, Joel kept his sights on you, refusing to send you out on any runs or patrols, alone or grouped, even despite your argument that every journey beyond the gates was risky no matter what. All you could see was him punishing you, his all of a sudden authoritarianism taking away the one thing you could give to this place that fucking mattered.
You didn’t understand why he was putting so much effort into controlling you, when at some point you were nothing more than a body to send outside of the gates to protect the community and him.
Granted, you and Joel were never more than just strangers forced to interact scarcely. Joel made the patrolling and run schedules, posted them up, and only if you ever needed to switch, was when you talked to him.
And that was almost never.
But since his imminent shift in demeanor, you found yourself almost always at his throat, while he sat back silently, brushing you off like you weren’t even there, though you knew deep down his stoicism was crumbling with every hurtful word you threw his way.
He enraged you.
You wanted to crack him open. To get a reaction out of him. The one you knew he was actively burying deep within him day by day. Then maybe, just maybe, you’d understand where he was truly coming from.
Why was he punishing you?
Why Joel Miller wanted to keep you in a cage that made you feel useless to the community you knew you were obligated to provide for?
Luckily for you though, his authority didn’t last long into the next winter where the need for supplies grew.
Tommy had been a lingering presence in and out of Joel’s makeshift office, hinting at the abandoned hospital miles out that was stocked with necessities that would tremendously benefit Jackson and the influx of new individuals coming in.
Joel wasn’t stupid, though. He knew exactly what his little brother was getting at, trying to convince him to put you back on runs without twisting his hand and making him feel as though he had no other choice. It wasn’t working and Joel knew it was only a matter of time until Tommy would intervene, putting a stop to whatever power he held.
He knew it was coming.
You were the only one who knew enough about the ins and outs of the particular route, what shortcuts to take, what possibilities you could run into. And with Jackson getting desperate to brave out the winter with as few hiccups as possible, he knew Tommy was going to put you on that run–solo or grouped it didn’t matter–but it was going to be you.
It didn’t take much convincing from Tommy to get you on board, but he still respected his older brother and his position as head of patrols and runs. And so there you were in his quaint office, pretending Joel’s existence wasn’t real as you stared down at the shabby fading map with a pen in hand as Tommy listened and Joel brooded silently.
“The run will take a day and a half.” You explained, drawing a messy line across the paper, detailing the route, “Half of day one is traveling, alone. Then we’ll gather supplies, and clear whatever infected there is.”
Then you circled a different spot on the map, fitting your eyes up to Tommy’s.
“Before sunset, we have to stop at this cabin. It’s a safe house. We’ll need to rest and so will the horses. The next morning we’ll make it back home by around mid-day.”
Tommy agreed without a second thought, and that alone made Joel’s irritation boil over. His brother had always had blind faith in these sorts of things and Joel never understood why he couldn’t be a little more skeptical, especially considering what they both faced together.
“What do you think?” Tommy wrung his head towards Joel, meanwhile you bit back the urge to say ‘fuck what he thinks.’
He looked unimpressed, jaw clenching and his broad shoulders standing stiff as his boots rocked against the creaky floors. The tension was palpable if anything at all. Whatever strain that lingered between you and Joel filled the room with something so suffocating, Tommy couldn’t wait to be freed.
His silence was like drowning and you’d be damned if you let him take you under.
“It’s a good plan, Joel.” You spat sharply, pressing your hands against the desk, straightening your stance.
He only grunted, narrowing his sights on you, before he finally spoke.
“What happens if you aren’t out there alone? If there’s infected in that building? Or if there’s raiders in that cabin.”
His jab at your expertise disguised as concern made your blood boil, your self control withering by the second, especially when he brought up the raiders.
Tommy was going to be thrown into the middle of you and Joel’s indifference whether he liked it or not. He was immediately regretting not dragging Ellie or Maria along to try to at least neutralize the situation or better yet free him of his developing migraine.
Whether you believed it or not, you and Joel were cut from the same cloth of obstinance, the kind of flaw that got the best of you both, the one that Tommy was going to need to put up with.
“What the fuck is your problem, Miller?” You accused, shuffling across the room to where he stood, “I’m not incapable and you know that. Whatever vendetta you have against me, fucking drop it, Joel.”
His arms uncrossed over his chest, dropping to his sides as he flexed his fingers stiffly. You were damn near getting under his skin, and he had been so good at showing otherwise. He didn’t have any vendetta against you—it was tolerance, mercy, postulation—something you were too young, too reckless to possess, let alone see with your own eyes.
“I didn’t say you weren’t capable, but what you are is reckless.” He bellowed too loudly for your liking. “And I don’t need that type of recklessness out there bein’ brought back here.”
‘Or not making it back at all,’ Joel bit back.
Without taking his eyes off your heated glare, he muttered to Tommy who was already burrowing his head behind his hands.
“She’s not going on that run.”
You furrowed your brows, lips twitching with anger, “The hell I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Enough.”
Tommy’s voice silenced the two of you, once and for all, slicing through the tension.
“She’s going on that run with Jesse.”
Joel’s eyes widened, hands clenched into fists as he turned to his brother, ready to tell him he needed to know his place. Yet the younger stood his ground, shaking his head and holding his hand out with purpose, keeping both of you silent.
“You’re still in charge here and she won’t go alone. It’s a compromise, and it’s final. Jackson needs this.”
‘Still in charge’ my ass, Joel thought, dropping his gaze down to the floor as his hands rested on his hips. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but be pleased by the decision, happy to be finally getting your way after all this time forced to yield to Joel’s rules.
“They’ll leave in a few days.”
With that, Tommy didn’t stay any longer than he needed to, not trying to mitigate the feelings between you both, as he knew you both were too far gone to help. He stomped towards the door, grumbling to himself before letting it slam behind him.
You and Joel didn’t say a word, and part of you wanted to antagonize him. Tell him that his old ass needed to find a hobby other than trying to control you.
But you didn’t.
You caught the hitch in his chest, the way his scowl undoubtedly slipped into something almost insistent when he finally looked up at you. You wanted to ask what his deal was all of sudden.
But you didn’t.
He didn’t stop you from leaving.
Didn’t try his very hardest to explain where he was coming from because believe it or not, he too was in your shoes at one point in his life. Too confident for his own good. Too willing to lay it all out without thinking of what he would be leaving behind.
He knew you wouldn’t see it the way he did. He didn’t want to waste his breath expressing words you wouldn’t take to heart.
He didn’t.
But he wasn’t letting you go.
Joel knew you were going to find out what he did before daylight. Before every run and patrol, you’d stop at the stables the night before, checking up on your horse Ivy and double checking the written schedules he always had posted up. It was only a matter of when and how angry you were going to be with him.
And as if he could feel it coming from a mile away, your rage approached and suddenly the double doors of the cafeteria swung open and he watched you sweep over the room until your eyes fell onto his.
“What the fuck, Miller!” You roared, making a beeline towards him.
Ellie, who was sitting right across from him, wore a shocked expression, mouth moving to ask Joel what was going on, but before she could, your voice echoed through the room again.
“Why’d you take off the run? And why the fuck are you going instead of me?” You demanded, slamming your palms against the table, shaking it roughly.
He sighed, picking up his napkin as he ran it across his mouth, eyes moving across the room, seeing the concerned and taken aback faces from the others watching—waiting to see what he was going to do.
“Let’s go outside.” He mumbled quietly, beginning to stand up.
You shook your head, hitting the table once more, “No, I want to know right now! Who the fuck gave you the right to—”
“Outside. Now.” He growled, patience wearing thin, taking hold of your arm tightly.
You fought against him feebly, attempting to jerk your arm back as he walked towards the backdoors, pulling you behind him until the cold air hit your skin and he finally dropped his grip.
“Do you get off on this? Punishing me for no reason at all?” You snarled, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to control your anger and stop yourself from decking him right across the jaw.
“M’not punishin’ you—”
“Then what is it?” You demanded, cutting him off, “Why are you icing me out of the one thing I’m good at, Joel?”
You couldn’t miss the scoff he let out, as if he was laughing at you. Mocking you for feeling the way you felt after all these months. It fucking ticked you off.
“You think you’re good at what you do?” He stared down at you with a coldhearted gaze.
“I think I’m great at what I do.” You rebutted, tipping your chin up at him.
“You call making it back here, damn near falling off your horse while you bleed out, great?” His nostrils flared, arms tightening over his chest as he waited on your smartass remark he knew was coming.
And so you jabbed a finger into his chest, voice filled with disdain and fury. “I brought back months of supplies that you and the rest of the goddamn commune use on a daily basis and I don’t hear them giving me shit about—”
His resolve snapped, gripping your wrist strongly as he leveled face to face with you. Through gritted teeth, his voice came out in rigid whispers, making sure only you heard every word he had to say.
“You think you’re special because of what you provide here, but you’re too damn stupid to see past that.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the mild ache around your wrists and his unforeseen reaction that you never thought you’d get.
But he didn’t stop.
“These people don’t give a shit if you make it back alive or not. You’re. Replaceable.” His eyes bored through yours, forcing you to take every word like bullets on skin.
You loathed the way he quickly made you feel so small, so unimportant. Embarrassment creeping into your chest, blood rushing towards your cheeks, and stinging blooming behind your eyes.
There was regret in your bones for angering him, for driving him to reveal such a mean version of himself that you wished he kept suppressed. You wanted to strike back with words just as cruel, your mouth opening with a wobbly breath, yet you weren’t sharp enough to stop his turmoil.
“You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for. Why is it you’re so eager to risk your life because I promise you it isn’t for them and it sure as hell isn’t for me.” He dropped your wrist as if he was determined to get away from you, but his words only drilled deeper.
“Someone else could walk through those gates, just as great, if not better than you are, and no one would think twice about whether you made it back here with something to show for, alive or not.”
Your jaw trembled, eyes blinking, letting a single tear run down your cheek as you braced for more, but all that came was silence and the devastation of his words sinking bone deep.
It stung, and what hurt the most was the fact that there was truth behind everything he said. You tried to breathe through it, clenching your fist tight ready to throw it his way, but you couldn’t do it.
The shame twisted in your gut, and more tears flowed without restraint.
“F-fuck you, Joel.” You choked, voice barely a whisper, turning around and walking around the building refusing to let anyone else see you cry.
It was the first time Joel managed to wrangle any reaction besides anger or frustration out of you. But he hadn’t meant to make you cry, or let his words out with such crassness, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to break you.
He fucked up, and he knew it. All he wanted was to keep you away from runs and patrols. For you to see that you were more than the work. He didn’t ever intend on making it seem like he didn’t care.
He walked back into the cafeteria, aloof to the eyes that drifted back down to their plates or the whispers that wondered where you were. Returning to his seat across Ellie, he picked up his fork and poked at his food as if nothing happened.
“Dude what the hell was that?” Ellie chided, nudging his leg under the table, getting his attention.
He shook his head and shrugged plainly, brushing off her question and posing one of his own.
“You goin’ to see Jesse tonight?”
Her brows pulled together, and she nodded. “Uh, yeah why?”
“Tell him he’s off tomorrow. I’m goin’ on the run with her.”
He was thankful that Ellie didn’t throw 101 questions his way, simply nodding as they finished their dinner in silence and parted ways. He spent the night packing what he needed for the two-day trip, replaying what had happened in his head, wondering if he could ever right the wrong and make you understand. But there was no way, not when he was going to complicate things even more by leaving like this.
The next morning, with his gun and pack slung over his body, he saddled up Ivy, signing out without writing another name next to his, sneaking past the gates without causing a scene.
Joel would throw his life into the unknown before letting anyone, but especially you drown in it without care.
You sulked in the bitterness in the comfort of your own home, refusing to leave your bed until the sun beat too brightly past your curtains, forcing you to mope from room to room as you kept yourself busy.
Sleep barely came to you the night before as Joel’s words echoed through your head like a record stuck on repeat. You tried to bury the shame into a pit deep down inside of you, attempting to brush it off the same way he probably did to all your venomous words thrown his way.
But it was impossible.
You’re too damn stupid.
You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for.
It isn’t for them and sure as hell isn’t for me.
He was haunting you in ways that had you second guessing if Jackson was ever home to begin with. If all this time, this place was merely a facade ready to forget about you the same way they let you in. And if you really were replaceable like Joel made it sound, then what was the point of ever risking your life if it didn’t matter to anyone else besides your internal ache to provide?
Everyone had someone and yet you…
You had acquaintances–people you called friends and nothing more. But they had always had someone else. Someone they mattered to.
Siblings. Parents. Partners.
You had no one, and Joel was right.
There was no reason for you to so willingly put your life on the line—there was no one relying on you, forcing your hand to succumb to whatever death lurked outside Jackson just to make sure they were well off. Instead, all you had was the longing buried deep into the vault of your soul–the thoughts of maybe one day, meaning something more than what you could provide, but just for who you were.
You had spent all this time thinking you were so important, only to realize that it was only ever significant to you. The role Jackson played as your only home made it seem as if you had to carry it on your shoulders, gamble your life in order to keep it in the palm of your hands, when in truth it was never yours to begin with.
Tears had spilled down your cheeks relentlessly, like a petulant child learning how it felt to be told ‘no,’ for the first time. And even though you wanted to hide away, pick up the backpack you stocked for what was supposed to be today’s run and leave Jackson behind—you couldn’t give Joel that satisfaction.
He deserved to know how much he hurt you. To know that even if you had no one standing in your corner of the way he had Ellie or Tommy, you had yourself, and you would be OK.
At least you hoped you would.
By the time the purple and pink hues began to tumble across the sky, you found the energy to leave home and grab dinner at the cafeteria. You were already dreading seeing the faces of those who witnessed your outburst yesterday, but then again the thought of Joel’s words–no one caring about you–made the dread seem miniscule in comparison.
Rocks and sludgy snow croaked under each step you took, the winter breeze pushing past your layers as you approached the double doors, shoving them open as you kept your gaze on the ground. You picked up a plate, moving along the half empty trays of food, muttering out a quiet thank you as a few cooks spooned you whatever was left.
Then suddenly your name was shouted across the room by none other than Ellie. You flinched, furrowing your brows as you looked her way, and took in her indecipherable expression. Before you knew it, she was striding over with urgent steps, lips pursing and breathing getting heavier as she neared you.
You sighed, placing your plate down on the line ready to hear whatever she was probably about to throw your way in order to defend Joel’s honor.
“Look whatever Joel told you, I don’t want to hear—”
“What are you doing here?” She cut you off sharply, her voice subduing the rest of the cafeteria with her anger and confusion–and just like her, you mirrored it.
“Excuse me?” You blinked wildly, shaking your head at her, not realizing what she was going on about.
“Yesterday, Joel told me that he took Jesse off the run. That he was going with you.” She gestured her hands in the air, signalling to her table across the room.
You shook your head once more, baffled at her words that didn’t make any sense, until you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you saw Jesse stand up and reveal himself.
Right about now, he was supposed to be with Joel. He was supposed to be with him since early this morning, and he wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.
Your blood ran cold, immediately twisting around and bolting out the building without a second thought. Voices shouted and footsteps pounded close behind you, but none of it was registering. Your mind was a blur, repeating the same harrowing thoughts one after the other, over and over.
Joel was out there. Alone. On a route he barely knew. On a run too dangerous.
You nearly knocked your front door off its hinges, ripping a thicker coat off the hooks and sliding your arms through it in a haste. You grabbed your pack, flinging it over one shoulder. Flipping open an old shoe box, you clutched your knife, sliding it into its protective sheath the securing it over your belt loops.
Ellie stood in your doorway breathless as she watched on, there was a delay in her movements to follow your lead but she spoke.
“I’m coming with you.” She panted, going to turn around and rush home for her things.
“No, you’re not.” You snapped, stopping her in her tracks before she could even leave your porch.
She whipped around quickly, voice ragged. “If you think I’m gonna let Joel die out there alone, then you’re wrong!”
Despite her scowl, you could read the tears starting to cloud her eyes, the way they filled with fear and hopelessness. Joel mattered to her, the same way she mattered to him.
You understood what their bond meant–how important they were to each other, but you also knew you couldn’t let her follow down this path. Wherever Joel was, you knew he’d make it back to her, and it was your job to make sure she understood that.
“He’s not going to die, Ellie. I won’t let him.” You said firmly, stepping up and holding her by the shoulders.
You took a breath, hoping your next words would be well received, despite the visible state of distress she was in.
“I know you want to go out there for yourself and make sure he’s okay, but I’ve got this. If anything were to happen to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.”
It was almost scary, the way she mirrored Joel’s mannerisms when he was at odds with his words and what he felt inside. It was that same shift you saw when Tommy left his office, leaving you two there alone, where you knew Joel wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to.
You were going to tell him all about his and Ellie’s similarities right after you kicked his ass for doing something so stupid.
“I promise, he’s gonna be ok.” You squeezed her shoulders again, offering a tight smile, a contrast to the panic you were feeling inside.
“Swear on his life.” She whispered.
You didn’t hesitate.
“I swear on Joel’s life, I’ll do everything I can.”
She nodded once.
“Go.”
You didn’t waste another second. Sprinting to the stables and throwing a saddle over the first horse you saw. Only when you hopped on and gripped its reins, did you realize it was Callus–Joel’s horse. The gates opened with a high-pitched creak as you crossed over. Shouts belonging to Tommy who seemed to have caught onto what his idiotic brother had done, was trying to stop you. But before he could, you barked out a command to the horse, letting him take you away into whatever lay ahead as desperation seeped in.
Making it to Joel and seeing him alive.
His bones ached, exhaustion gnawing over every inch of his aging body that threatened to give out under pure fatigue and the added weight of the supplies he snagged hours ago. Still, he managed through, mustering enough strength as he dismounted off Ivy, securing her around a tree to rest up for the night.
He tossed a ration of his food onto the ground, giving her cheek a proud pat, before stumbling the rest of the way towards the cabin in the distance, not wanting to alert anyone of his presence if someone was inside.
“Fuckin’ hell,” He sputtered under his breath, drawing his pistol out.
As quietly as he could, he padded up the rickety porch steps, peeking through the dusty windows with his fingers hovered over the trigger reach to shoot. Thankfully, though, there was no one in sight thus far, prompting him to give the jammed door a stern push until it gave way.
He had heard about the cabin in passing before you mentioned it in his office a few days ago. Back before the incident last winter, you’d often be cooped up there after long runs, needing a day’s break to recharge before heading back home. It wasn’t the prettiest or most homey place, but it made do with its lumpy couch and half-burned candles you kept stashed away behind the flimsy kitchen cabinets.
His eyes raked over the area, ensuring it was all clear, before lowering his gun and dropping the bags against the ground with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t been hurt, making it out of the hospital without a scratch, though his luck seemed to run dry as he was leaving. There was a group of infected on the shorter trail, forcing him to clear what he could before giving Ivy’s reins a stiff jerk and tearing back around to the longer route.
Clearly it had been stupid to do what he had done, his body paying the price, finally collapsing against the frumpy couch and giving his limbs a rest. Leaving Jackson without telling a soul, especially Tommy, would come with consequences, but he knew he had his reasons–good ones–or at least he liked to think so.
They’d probably put up in front of the council for trial when he returned, but if it meant steering you out of danger, then he could live with it.
Selfishly, he didn’t care about the orange bottles filled with unknown medication or the expired vials of local anesthesia stuffed in his pack that would benefit the community he called home.
Something else was haunting him. Someone. You.
He stormed room to room with shaky hands, snatching whatever he saw, yet the only thought racing through his mind was the fact that you had been in the same predicament on multiple occasions. Alone.
Even as he exited the hospital unscathed, he couldn’t shake the twist in his gut. It only wound tighter as he bullied an infected’s head into the ground with his boot–his mind playing out a hundred different scenarios where you had been fighting not just them, but the unturned monsters.
The raiders who almost took your life.
The scary realization ate him up when he trotted along the route with Ivy in search of the cabin–that the near death experience you had wasn’t the first–it was just the one Joel had seen with his own eyes.
The blood you didn’t have time to clean up.
A fake smile you didn’t rehearse when you got past the gates to mask the ache in your bones.
All of the hurt you had endured was not consoled in an empty cabin all alone before you made it back and pretended it didn’t exist.
You had been relinquishing your safety each time you went out of the walls and each time you came back you weren’t held up by your strength, but rather what you had to show and give.
It was a familiar feeling that Joel used to know well, the one that lived in his bones back when Jackson was just a figment of his fantasy. Back when living in QZ’s meant not knowing if tomorrow was promised and putting his life on the line to bank on another day.
But Jackson was home now, and even when those fearful pains attempted to sprawl up through the pit of stomach, wanting to spread through the bones once tainted, he remembered there was more to life now other than survival.
Ellie was his light, his second chance, and he’d spent every waking moment protecting her in any way he could, even when he knew she didn’t need it. He had Tommy, the pain in his ass brother that he was still so lucky to bicker with even at their age.
And even though he couldn’t admit it out loud, for the past year Joel had you.
A lingering presence he couldn’t keep his mind off of. Constantly plagued by your insistence to step out of the walls that almost took you away, and most of all your plea to mean something again when all along you had meant so much more than you’d know.
The moment he saw your blood pouring as you laid lifeless in his arms.
When all he could do was stand back and watch the doctor and nurses do everything, they could to bring you back.
Every day he spent sitting at your bedside while you weaved in and out of consciousness.
Putting his foot down and telling Tommy and Maria he wouldn’t be sending you out to meet your death anymore.
Even when you bombard him with ignorant fury and resentment for taking away what made you useful.
He knew what he was up against–not just the dangers that lurked outside waiting to claim you, but yourself, too.
Your selflessness had morphed into recklessness that should have cost you, and Joel promised himself, even through all the animosity you held towards him, that you would never have to touch that feeling again.
He needed you to understand that it wasn’t your responsibility to give so much of yourself to matter. That getting close to death on multiple occasions, whether he knew it or not, was a wake up call that you had a bigger purpose. That you were worth more than what you could risk and provide.
You deserved to be protected the same way you did for the town. You deserved to matter, even if you didn’t see what Joel was doing as such.
“Quit it.” He muttered to himself, trying to fight away at all the guilt he had built up and was beginning to split him up at the seams.
Sleep should have hurdled towards him, for he knew his body was begging for it, but all he could see was your face, as if it was etched in memory. And come morning he hoped it would be you greeting him at the gates even if you were wearing an angry snarl because at least then there wouldn’t be any blood split from you, no traces of a life almost lost, no risk taken.
A piece that mattered ripped away.
None of that.
The sunset was ebbing away with each second that passed, clouds dissipating as a looming gray hue cast above. By now, Joel should have made it back to the cabin, and if you were right, he would have needed to take the long route back there.
You did your best to keep your breathing at bay, uttering words of encouragement as Callus continued steadily, as if he knew you were guiding him to his loyal companion somewhere out in the woods.
“Easy boy, that’s it.” You gently petted through his mane, seeing the cabin in the distance, slowing down in case anyone who wasn’t Joel picked up on your presence.
You weren’t as quiet as you thought, or maybe Joel wasn’t as deaf as he once was, but he picked up on the sounds just beyond the walls. The crunching of leaves and mush of snow that snapped him out of the fatigue he felt. He gripped his gun tighter, moving up off the couch and making his way behind a wall still in view of the front door, waiting for movement.
You spotted Ivy in your peripheral as you got closer, her body lax against the forest floor resting from what you knew was a treacherous journey. Joel had taken your horse, and yet even when you should have felt relief, you wouldn’t allow it… not until you saw him with your own eyes.
You drew your knife out of its sheath, footsteps as silent as they could be under the leaves and twigs. Stepping up on the creaky porch, you squinted through the dusty windows, making out the faint flickers of orange flames from a lit candle.
With one fluid push, you nudged the door open, stepping forward and holding your breath, hoping he was there. Joel squinted through the fog of exhaustion, thinking for a split second that his old eyes were playing a trick on him, seeing the familiar silhouette that was supposed to be back home, not right in front of him.
He stepped out into view, and your eyes snapped to his. The two of you stood face to face mere feet away until your voices collided in the air.
“The hell are you doing here?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
You shared a wide-eyed look, chest heaving as you stared at each other. Joel lowered his gun, listening as you shut the door and let your knife clattered to the ground. Before he could say anything, you closed the space between you two. Footsteps heavy against the floorboards as your mouth twisted into a snarl.
“Do you have any idea how stupid you are?” You roared, pushing at his chest, not realizing the way he winced at your touch, “What the fuck were you thinking going out all by yourself?”
“M’fine—“
Your palms met his chest again, this time harder.
“It’s not fine, Joel! What if something happened? What if you got bit or… or if you weren’t the only one out there searching for supplies?”
He tried to open his mouth, attempting to tell you he had the same concerns just a few days ago that you seemingly brushed off, but before he could spit it out, you kept going.
“What about Ellie? Tommy?” You demanded, not missing the way his shoulders stiffened at the sound of their names. “Do you have any idea how worried they are right now? How distraught would they be if something happened to you?”
You shook your head at him, puzzled and disappointed at the fact that he would go as far as to risk everything he had just to spite you.
He didn’t answer.
He knew what he did wasn’t right–putting his daughter and his brother through hell once more, but he knew he had to do it…for the right reasons… for you. He couldn’t apologize for something he wasn’t sorry for, so instead he settled for something else.
“You would’ve found me.”
He spoke so sure of himself, as if the thought had passed through his mind more than once, a kind of statement that was completely unwavering. His sentiment caught you off guard, a clear look of disbelief covering your features as you stood there glaring.
“W-What?”
He swallowed, arms crossing over his chest never letting his sights wander from you.
“If something did happen, you would’ve been in charge of the search party. You would have found me and brought me back home. I know you. It’s what you would’ve done.”
You stand with that sentiment for a moment, letting the scene play out in your head.
What if you didn’t leave your home until the next morning? What if something happened, and he was out there all alone? What if he didn’t make it back at all?
Ellie and Tommy would surely be in shambles. The turn of events alone who have them acting on impulse, but you knew you wouldn’t let them, not in the distraught state they would be in. It’s the same reason why you didn’t let Ellie follow you, and it’s exactly why you left before Tommy could join you.
If all those ‘what if’s’ played out so cruelly, would you would have done what you did just hours ago without thinking twice? The answer was so obviously ‘yes.’
Perhaps it was impulsive and hypocritical in itself, but Ellie and Tommy had Joel to hold onto, someone who was too important to lose even if they had good intentions of seeking him out themselves.
“No.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as your lips pursed, “I would not.” You lied straight through your teeth.
Joel didn’t look convinced in the slightest, huffing out a strained, almost bemused breath of laughter, letting his eyes bore straight through you, as if he knew your every thought, spoken and suppressed.
“I know you would because if you had done what I did, I’d do the same for you.”
You rolled your eyes at his admission, but you couldn’t feign the feeling of warmth swarming through your chest. It was utterly stupid to think anything more of Joel’s altruism that he wore proudly on his arm despite his reserved demeanor, but you couldn’t help but feel as if he was showing you his cards–the hand he once kept hidden, now laid out bare for only you to see.
You swallowed down the words that lingered on the tip of your tongue. The ones that wanted to ask him why he suddenly was beginning to level with you and why he couldn’t have done it sooner.
Instead, you settled on something safer.
The one thing you knew he needed to hear coming from you, because then maybe he would understand how lucky he was and how him doing what he did was pure stupidity.
“You shouldn’t have done this to begin with,” you countered, turning your back on him as you walked away and picked up your knife off the ground.
“You’ve got too much to lose.” You muttered, sliding it back into its sheath, undoing the button from your belt as you tossed it onto the dusty counter.
His eyes narrowed at your figure as if he was trying to get deep into your thoughts and wonder why you were selling yourself short when both of you had too much to lose. He refused to let you think that, even if he did sign off on letting you come out here alone, it still wouldn’t change the fact that you were risking too much.
“And you don’t?” He shot back, almost accusatory.
You whipped your head around, a ridiculously obvious look on your face, “You know what, yeah, I don’t. I’ve come to realize that over the last twenty-four hours all thanks to you.”
“You really think that?” He argued.
“Don’t act so damn surprised, Joel. You said it yourself. Nobody gives a shit about me. I’m replaceable.” You mocked his gravelly voice, rolling your eyes as you watch him take it in regretfully.
A beat of silence passed, remorse permeating his face as he shut his eyes, recounting the events of yesterday that he seemingly buried beneath the fresh thoughts of seeing you here before him.
“I didn’t mean—” you lifted your hand in the air, silencing him with a long pointed look.
“Save it, I don’t need your pity all of a sudden, alright.” You exasperated deeply, letting your hand fall against your side.
Your eyes shifted past him, surveying the small living room where you had no choice but to bear the nightfall with him just a few feet away. There was no point in arguing with him any longer. All you wanted to do was sleep just so you could avoid him. His apologies would mean nothing at all, not when he was only saying it because he was forced to. In an attempt to brush past him, his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you to face him once more.
“Joel, stop–” You griped firmly, though the desperation was unmistakable in your voice, coming off as begging as you tried to pull your hand back.
The last thing you needed right now was a repeat of what happened back in Jackson. Not only did you have nowhere to run, but not a single fiber of strength left to hear whatever cruel words Joel had kept harboured for you, now ready to be unleashed.
But the bitterness and the usual look of disdain never came. Instead, his fingers loosened just slightly, still firmly anchoring you to him, and there was that catch in his breath, a frown that meant more than just disgruntlement.
“I didn’t mean what I said. I just—it came out wrong.” His voice came to you with a softness that hadn’t been heard before, completely taking you aback all over again.
“You matter, but you take risks–you live your life like you don’t.” His voice nearly broke, betraying himself as he pinched his eyes shut frustratingly.
You stared at him, trying to search for an ounce of pity or deception that would’ve made you snap, but all you could find was him. When his eyes snapped back to yours, there was nothing but truth and even if you didn’t believe any of it personally, he deemed it true to him and that was enough to send you reeling.
“You don’t think I don’t hear the end of it from Ellie and Dina?” He dropped your wrists, running his hands over the scruff of his beard, looking down at the floorboards then back up at you.
“Always beggin’ me to put you back on patrols and runs with them?”
There was an apparent heat behind his words, not towards you, but the thought of letting you out of safety–out of his sight.
“Then why don’t you let me?” You asked coolly, crossing your arms over your chest trying to get down to the truth this time, not provocation.
“Because I know you’d throw your life on the line to protect them.” He spoke harsher than he intended to, sighing deeply, regaining his composure and swallowing hard, “To bring back whatever it is that the town needs.”
He faltered just slightly, as if guilt was eating him alive for knowing he too was the one who’d benefit from your
He wasn’t wrong. There’d been many close calls before the one last winter. Runs with Jesse, patrols with Dina, even occasional ones with Ellie, where you throw yourself in the face of danger without thinking twice, perhaps forcing them to watch you die in order to save them and give the town what it needed.
Before you could tell him, it was for good reason, especially to protect his daughter, he spoke up again.
“But I already saw you once on your deathbed, and I can’t see you there again.” His voice pinched, refusing to consider the thought of you slipping away, even if it was only in mind.
It never occurred to you–not until now–just how present Joel had been during the time you were in and out of consciousness, teetering the dead and the living. Somehow, without needing to hear him elaborate, you grasped the weight he carried from that day. How wound up he was had been seeing you in that state, that even now it still destroyed him, but that wasn’t you… not anymore.
“I’m not made out of glass, Joel.”
Your throat tightened, taking an effort to bring the words to the tip of your tongue and out into the open, because in that very moment, all you felt like was glass. Completely see through for Joel to read inside and out, to know your every fear and thought, to know you were in as much denial as he was.
“You sure ain’t.” He huffed sarcastically, his hands coming down on hips as he shook his head and let his shoulders fall. “You have no idea what it was like for me. To… to know I was the one who let you go out there all by yourself because you were so sure, and not able to do anythin’ but stand there and—and hope you’d wake up.”
He went on before you could stop him.
“I mean what the hell were you thinkin’?” His brows furrowed deep, staring at you with a look that you had seen before, but never with this much anguish tangled within him.
“The second you killed the last guy, you should’ve come back home right away. But no. You stayed back and took your time bagging all that crap instead of saving your goddamn self first.”
His words hit you like a ton of bricks, the frustration and helplessness behind them, revealing something unprecedented to the indifference he always offered instead. This wasn’t the Joel who’d brushed you off or the one yesterday that yelled at you with no mercy–this was a cry for understanding, a last-ditch attempt for you to finally see where he was coming from all this time.
You were at a loss for words, mouth parting, trying to figure out what you could say, how you could reason with his regard to ease the burden you had no idea had been carrying all this time. It wasn’t his place to care as much as he did and hide it all behind a facade he should’ve never put up, but he did it and you were willing to compromise.
“We… we’ve all got things we’re not proud of. Guilt we have to live with Joel.”
He barely let your sentiment hang in the air before his voice tumbled.
“Yeah well, if you had died… if you didn’t make it back, I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself.”
You never pegged Joel Miller as the type of man to drop down to his knees and beg for forgiveness for anything, let alone to some unknown God for almost letting you die. But there he was confessing to you like he had committed a sin so abysmal that he couldn’t bear to go on if death ever came close to you again–on his watch or not.
All this time, he had been protecting you, shielding you from what you refused to see in the same light as he did. Even if it bruised your pride to admit, Joel had been seeing you. Truly seeing you from a distance and doing what he could, what he deemed right to keep you safe.
To keep you from ever feeling like you needed to die to mean something. To keep you from leaving behind a place that was home without ever needing to prove yourself worthy of it. To just know that you weren’t going anywhere if he was around to save you first.
Your lips began to part, a small croak pushing past them before you spoke quietly, enough for him to hear. “Would it help if I forgave you now?”
He blinked, standing still with eyes filled with turmoil, trying to decode what it was you were saying.
“If I forgave you for sending me out on that run even though I asked for it. If I forgave you for icing me out even though you had good intentions. If I forgave you for letting me go this long thinking no one cared about me.”
He inhaled roughly, shaking his head at you as if he was trying to dodge your words, unsure if he was worthy of letting himself be freed of the guilt, even by your words.
“You… You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He muttered, wiping a hand over his face, processing everything you just said.
You had never been more certain. Never been more willing to forgive so easily because you both needed it. Not just him, but you, too.
“No,” Your voice grew stronger, standing your ground as you stepped closer to him. “I know exactly what I’m asking for–what I need.”
His eyes leaked of hesitance, body tensing when you got close. Too close than you’ve ever been with the air as thick as it was between you two. There were barely any inches separating your bodies, the warmth of your shallow breaths fanning over his face flooding his senses before you spoke.
“You’ve been haunting me…making me think you were just out to get me all this time, when in reality you’ve been the only one seeing me.”
He felt stuck, heart beating out of his chest, at a loss for words to tell you how wrong it would be to let himself show you just how much he’d been seeing you.
“I’m right here, Joel.”
It was all he needed to hear.
He crashed into you. Lips first then body. Large and calloused hands holding you to him as your mouths moved against each other, like your lips were finding a home they’ve been searching for all this time. Somehow, there was an effortlessness to the neediness you two felt, meshing together so perfectly that nothing else had ever felt so right.
Your feet shuffled with every backwards step he took, dragging you with him across the cabin. Neither of you dare to pull away, even when the need for air became burning. All you two could offer were labored breaths as your hands carelessly undid the buttons of his flannel, while he roughly tugged on the zipper of your coat.
A trail of your outerwear laid messily across the cabin floors, leaving you in a thin tank top and him in his gray undershirt. Joel collapsed against the couch cushions with a heavy thud, pulling you down with him on his lap. There was a pause in his kiss the second his back met the couch. He sucked in a sharp hiss, body tensing beneath yours just for a split second, but it was enough for you to detect.
His hands went to pull you to him again, but you refused, eyes leaking with concern as you shook your head and let your hands roam across his body.
“Are you hurt?” You were quiet but panicked, searching for any signs of injury, feeling stupid for not asking sooner, before all of…this.
“It’s nothin’, just sore.” His features mellowed, running his hands through your hair in an attempt to soothe your worry, but his words only caused more unease.
“Do you have a hard time breathing? Did you take any painkillers yet?” You asked again, worried that he was hiding something from you because he didn’t want to bother.
“Baby…”
The word slipped out so easily, rolling off his tongue and reigning down on you as if he was bestowing a sacred title. You couldn’t pretend to be unaffected even if you wanted to, cheeks flushing and lips tugging up unabashedly.
“M’fine, I swear.” He gave you a sure nod, opening his hand against your thigh, waiting for you to lace yours through his.
Sighing, you thread your fingers between his, the feel of his thumb beginning to stoke along the curve of your wrist, grounding you to him–making sure you knew he was safe.
Your eyes peered up from your hands, drifting to his face where you found his eyes studying you like he didn’t want to miss a thing. As selfish as it was, there was nothing more you wanted than to stay right there, despite the visible fatigue that was lingering behind his weary eyes.
You took your time and savored the comfortable silence, memorizing every wrinkle, every sunspot, every inch of his face that you never gave much thought to before. When you had your fill, certain that by the time you fell asleep you could picture it behind your eyes, did you finally stop being selfish.
“We should probably get some sleep,” you whispered quietly, your free hand coming up to push his graying curls back into place, “You’ve had a long day and we’ve got our work cut out for us tomorrow too.”
Joel hummed in agreement, but his fingers stayed tangled in yours, not daring to let go. He just kept on watching you, letting his thumb continue the comforting path over your skin–this time it was him who was being selfish.
Just moments ago his body wanted sleep, but the second you walked in, it was you he craved. It had always been you, even when he tried to starve himself off and convince himself it was nothing more than him being vigilant. Fulfilling his duty by making sure you didn’t drive yourself into the ground because you put others first.
When he boiled down all the irritation and anger he had once felt, he was still left with you. You had become part of him whether he liked it or not–always living in the back of his mind, deep within the cracks of himself until the truth finally clawed its way out.
If he had haunted you, then you had certainly been plaguing him, holding him hostage to a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever set free until he had no choice but to.
He needed you, and he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer.
His hands slowly loosened from yours, trailing up your waist, ghosting over the pulse of your neck, stopping just shy of your jaw, cradling your face between his palms.
“I don’t wanna pretend anymore…” He mumbled, shaking his head, coasting his thumb along your jaw, eyes burning into yours, “spent too long pushin’ you away and actin’ like an ass… but I want–need you.”
Your chest tightened, air trapped in your lungs all while your heart raced and your blood ran impossibly hotter. Maybe it was desperation or quite simply the heat of the moment, but it swallowed you whole. His confession wrapping you up and keeping you there where, for once, you could just be.
He undid you and pieced you back together all at once, suddenly filling spaces that were once hollow but not broken–seeing and needing you was just enough.
“I need you, too,” you whispered, leaning forward to close the space, pressing your forehead to his, lips ghosting over one another.
“You came all the way out here for me, gotta say, you know how to make a man feel special.” A weak chuckle leaving his mouth, breathing fanning over your face.
You smiled, shrugging your shoulders timidly, “just did what you would’ve done.”
“That right?”
Before you could think twice about the smirk on his lips, his hips shifted up, the stiffness behind his jeans pressing against your center.
Your breath hitched, head thrown back while your hips move once then began to roll against his, needy for more. He took advantage of the skin calling out to him, pressing kisses up the column of your neck, letting you grind and seek out the dull pleasure that wasn’t at all ever going to be enough.
“Want this off, sweetheart,” He nipped at your jaw lightly, his hands dropping to curl around the fabric of your camisole.
There was a broken hum, an eager nod as you felt his fingers guide the garment up your body, leaving you in a basic black bra that was surely two sizes too small and no help to the breathlessness in your chest. But he didn’t seem to notice it, not when his eyes suddenly went somber, trained on a particular scar on your skin.
It was no longer than a few inches, just a thin, fading line of skin that healed a shade lighter than the rest of your body, but nonetheless still apparent. Joel knew what it looked like before–clean cut, too deep, even more bloody. Just seeing it reeled him back to that winter, even when you’re in his lap, safe and well as can be–he still felt the weight of his guilt.
“Joel,” you wrapped your hands around his wrist gingerly, leading his fingertips to the scar and keeping him there, “I’m right here… safe.”
Your voice called out to him steadily, softly, trying to ground him back here with you, instead of his dreadful memories of your dying self that were swarming his thoughts. His fingers traced the skin, eyes never leaving it as he spoke something thick and rough.
“It shouldn’t have happened to you.”
He didn’t need to say it for you to understand that what he meant was it should have been him instead. But it was your choice. It always was, even when it was him signing off on letting you exit those gates–it was because you felt secure enough to go and he trusted you at one point.
But even now, he couldn’t take place and you couldn’t let him blame himself any longer.
“But it did.” You said, setting your hands on top of his, letting them splay across your skin, hiding the scar behind his palms, not wanting him to think back on those memories any longer.
You then wrapped your arms around his neck, tethering yourself to him completely as his gaze finally softened when he saw your eyes locking onto his.
“It happened and I can’t go back to change it, but even if I could, I wouldn’t dare to because it means I’d risk leading myself to you.”
Even when you looked at him so delicately, weary of his own emotional turmoil for something that happened to you, your voice remained sure and strong, like roots settling into the scariest parts of him and promising you weren’t going anywhere.
His heart ached, this time with a feverish warmth that threatened to take his life just because he couldn’t fathom this–you–and the way you made him feel. He didn’t need to say much, not when his lips were already encasing yours, hoping you could feel all the things he wanted to say but wasn't quite strong enough to, just yet
The message was received loud and clear, the two of you simultaneously needing more and acting upon it. Your fingers threaded through the messy curls at the back of his head, pulling him deeper into you just as his hands curved around your waist forcing your bodies flushed against each other, fitting perfectly.
“You tryin’ to kill me?” He mumbled, lips never straying away even as he caught his breath.
He felt you giggle, then placed another kiss on his top then bottom lip, teeth grazing at his skin, “Trust me, death isn’t fun… I would know.”
He rolled his eyes with another deep sigh, debating on whether he should scold or kiss you to quiet down your sweet laughter for a joke so vicious. He decided on the latter, relishing in the touch of your lips and the way your laughter died subtly with every part and glide of his tongue against yours.
“Can I?” His hands hovering over the elastic of your bra behind your back.
You hummed, pulling away to lean back on his thighs, giving him the perfect view. Your arms rested beneath the bust waiting as his fingers unclasped the closure with a smooth flick. The straps glided off your shoulders with ease and you helped pull the garment the rest of the way before tossing it to the floor.
Joel sucked a deep breath in, palms sliding up and down the tops of your thighs, using whatever restraint he had left to resist the urge to lay you back and make you his. But he wanted to take it slow, to show you how much he cared and make up for the time that was wasted.
“So beautiful,” He rasped, letting out a groan and throwing his head back against the cushions needing to shut his eyes for a split second, giving himself a moment to take you in.
You couldn’t help but blush, a weak, almost shy giggle escaping your mouth at the thought of him being this affected by only a portion of your naked body. Deciding to coax your shared neediness, you brought his hands up to your chest, causing his eyes to snap open. He was momentarily stunned, unsure of himself, but not for long as he felt you practically melt under the newfound touch.
“God, baby.” He muttered, thumbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger, giving them a gentle pinch.
You let out a broken moan, hips jerking up instinctively into the hardening bulge beneath his jeans. Your sweet sounds and desperate friction egged him on, repeating the deliberate pinch and rolls watching closely as you began to unravel at the seams. You were shamelessly seeking out more, hips moving faster over him with your lip caught between your teeth.
“Let me get this off you, sweetheart.” He spoke lowly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin, fingers running along the waistband of your jeans.
You blinked, tilting your head down at him swallowing the dryness in your throat.
“I-I can do them,” you whispered, attempting to catch your breath and fight the urge to rut your hips again.
Joel nodded, letting you take a moment to breathe and pull yourself together. In the meantime, he pressed chaste kisses to wherever he could reach before you shuffled out of his lap, standing wobbly between his spread thighs.
He watched as you bent down to work off your boots first, nudging them off to the side before your shaky fingers undid the button and zipper of your jeans. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband, you gradually pulled them down, hips swaying naturally, lifting one foot then the other, peeling the denim off the rest of the way without breaking your gaze with him.
He shifted, straightening his back against the cushions, while his eyes swept over the expanse of your skin, drinking you up, committing every inch of you to his memory.
“C’mere.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back on top of him, needing to feel you close.
You let out a short squeal, carefully placing your knees on either side of his hips, letting the thin and undoubtedly soaked fabric of your panties graze the rough material of his jeans head on.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself even more.” You chided, running your hands underneath his t-shirt feeling the warmth of his skin, moving the fabric up higher with every sweep of your palms.
“Worth it.” He smirked, letting you guide the t-shirt off his body the way you wanted, until he had no choice but to tug it over his head, leaving nothing between your chest and his.
You braced your hands against his sternum, gliding to feel the beat of his heart before connecting your lips once again. You learned quickly that kissing him nice and slow allowed you to really feel him. The dull scratch of his stumble against your skin, his hands mindlessly roaming across your back, the push and pull of breaths he took.
But nice and slow, could only do for so long, quickly turning urgent and messy.
He took advantage of your desperation, giving the small of your back a gentle but firm push, rocking you back and forth over the tent in his jeans before your hips began to move on their own accord, resuming your earlier pursuit of pleasure.
“Please.” You gasped, abruptly pulling away to stare up at him with frantic eyes.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” He cooed, almost condescendingly, amused at the fact that you were already this wound up without him doing much.
“Touch me,” you reached behind you to take one of his hands, guiding it to where you needed him most, “Need you to touch, right here.”
His fingers smoothed over the arousal soaked fabric, groaning to himself as he pressed his digits right over your clit, making you whimper.
“I’ve got you.”
He pulled his hand away to maneuver you into a more comfortable position. Cradling you into his side and letting your head rest against his shoulder, he guided your legs to sling over his thighs.
“This OK?” He asked, running his hands up to shin down to your ankle wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.
“Perfect.” You nodded eagerly, leaning up for another kiss, thanking him for being so considerate even in the heat of the moment.
When you pulled away, he nodded at you to lay your head back on him while he did the work. His fingers finally trailed up over your hips, sliding under the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to drag the fabric off your body and tossing it somewhere. His hand settled on your knee farthest away from his body, bending it just enough for him to open you up further and give him a complete view of your soaking center.
“Jesus,” he choked out, his fingers gliding up and down the seam of your folds, torturing you slowly, “Need it bad, huh sweetheart.”
You whimpered, nodding your head as your nails scraped down his chest, digging into his skin, asking for more.
“Gonna make it better,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your temple, “just let me do all the work and you feel good alright?”
He didn’t waste any more time, parting your folds with his pointer and middle, dipping them into your heat and gathering your arousal, only to take it up towards your clit where he pressed down firmly and began rubbing slow circles.
“F-fuck!” Your hips stuttered up, chasing his movements that felt like too much, and not enough all at the same time.
Joel tsked, shushing you quietly as he used his free arm to settle you back down, holding you tight.
“Shh, shh, relax.” He eased up just slightly on your bundle of nerves, helping lull you, “Need to take it slow, wanna make it last.”
You wanted to tell him that there was no need to take it slow, not when he could have you for as long as you lived from this point on. But you could barely focus, let alone form coherent words as he murmured praises into your ear, picking back up the pressure of his thumb over your nerves.
Your chest dipped with a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering shut while your fingertips dug into the flesh of his biceps, anything to keep yourself from lifting your hips from where he wanted.
“Feels good darlin’?” He asked, deliberately dragging his digits lower, sliding them into your core with ease, crooking them up before his thumb ghosted over your clit.
“Just like–fuck–just like that,” you panted, tongue running over your lips, feeling yourself grow wetter.
“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.”
You didn’t need to open your eyes to tell there was a smile on his face, the feel of his hand giving your waist a squeeze where he held you still, while still keeping up his movements.
“Been needin’ to feel this.”
The cabin was filled with your moans and labored breaths, squelching between your thighs falling deaf on your ears as Joel dragged the pleasure on and on, not daring to tear his eyes away from such a sight as perfect as you.
“Open those eyes, c’mon,” He commanded softly, his thumb stilling on your clit again, but his fingers still continued those deep strokes, “Wanna see those eyes when I tell you this.”
Your eyes open, glazed over with pleasure, a whimper leaving your mouth seeing the content smile on his lips at your obedience.
“Atta’girl.”
You thought that was it. The praise dripping with heat and honey, enough to have you plunging past the finish line as your eyelashes kissed the skin under your eyes. But the action only made him grunt, prompting you to keep them open, for he had more to say that would completely unravel you.
“Should’ve never let you walk away yesterday.” He said, thumb resuming their movements on your clit, but just lightly, enough to keep you focused on his words and the pleasure-something tolerable for now.
“Should’ve apologized and told you that I care for you.”
“J-Joel, I forgive you. I do.” You stuttered, swallowing down a moan, hoping he’d believe you just as much as you did him.
He shook his head, more so at himself, before continuing.
“You scare the shit outta me. Always givin’ so much of yourself without ever askin’ for anythin’ in return.”
“You don’t know how much I think about you.” He admitted, fingers speeding up, dragging a new string of moans out of you, struggling to keep your eyes open.
“If you’re takin’ care of yourself,” he murmured, trailing kisses over your warm cheek. “If you know how much I want to protect you.”
“Iknowiknow,” You babbled, leaning your head against him as your thighs shook when he prodded at the deep spot inside you, “I know n-now.”
His eyes stayed glued to you, watching every word escape through your lips with extra effort, before becoming muddled with your moans. Nails leaving crescents across his skin anywhere you could grab him and anchor yourself to the feeling. Your pussy shuddering with every stroke and prod of his fingertips bringing you closer.
“Should’ve told you sooner baby. You gonna let me make it up to you?” He crooned.
“Yes, p-please…I will, I promise I–”
“Let me show you how much you matter to me.” He stuffed his fingers impossibly deeper, thumb relentlessly orbiting your clit with more pressure now. “How it feels to be mine.”
“I’m yours, Joel…please, I’m so close.” Your voice cracked, head beginning to tip back as your body gave in completely, but he wouldn’t let you fall apart without seeing it for himself.
He threading his fingers through the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his.
“Cum for me baby,” His lips crashed onto yours, the final catalyst that sent you over the edge as he pulled away, breath ghosting over your lips. “Give me what’s mine.”
Only then did your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed with the intense pleasure that seemed to be never ending. Your limbs shook against his body, breathing deeply through the waves of euphoria that he kept you on. His fingers still stroking, rubbing, coaxing everything out of you, tethering you to him, watching your every move as you succumbed.
“I–baby, I…please.” Your voice was weak, your body feeling equally weightless going limp against him.
Your hands instinctively reached for his forearms, squeezing him tightly, needing more of him to help ground you through the shocks of pleasure still coursing through your nerves.
“I’ve got you,” He murmured, finally dragging his slick fingers away from your oversensitive heat, cradling your body closer. “Did so good for me, sweetheart.”
He tucked your face under his chin, kissing the crown of your head, letting his hands soothe over your tingling skin to bring you back down to the delicate place with him once more. Your breathing was still irregular, shallow puffs of air hitting his chest, feeling his heart pound over your lips where you pressed soft, mindless kisses, grateful for his tenderness.
“S’ok, baby,” His voice remained soft, cooing more words of praise to you before guiding your face away, just enough for him to see you and know you were back with him.
His chest tightened at the sight of your wet eyes blurring with a sheen of tears and lips swollen, flashing him a devastatingly sweet smile.
“Oh, sweetheart...”
You blinked, laughing nervously as you felt his thumb swipe away at the tear before it could tumble down your cheek.
“T-that was nice,” you cleared your throat, voice still a little hoarse and spent all thanks to him. “Really nice,” you added, stroking your fingers over his stubble.
He grinned, tucking your messy hair behind your ears, “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”
You stared at each other, all dopey and lovesick, basking in one another like nothing else in the world mattered. It should’ve felt unnatural, a little odd for the two of you considering the state of your relationship just twenty-four hours before, but instead it felt familiar, something so intimate and complete without much labor to make it feel as such.
You used your arms as leverage, wanting to sit back into the original position on his lap. He helped you, carefully holding you by the hips as you maneuvered only for you to let out a gasp catching him by surprise.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, Joel.” You looked down half embarrassed, half amused, fingers trailing over the dark patch of your wetness that settled on his jeans.
He followed your sights, shaking his head as he laughed and laced his fingers with yours, pulling them up to his mouth to press a reassuring kiss over your knuckles.
“Nothin’ to worry about, it’s for memory’s sake.” He joked lightly, easing you of any self-consciousness even after he brought you to a breathtaking orgasm just minutes ago.
You shifted your hips against his lap, eliciting a groan from him, jaw tightening and his hands squeezing yours. He grew harder beneath his boxers, the tip of his cock begging for release behind the garment and his thick jeans, at this rate probably dripping with pre cum too. He could have easily flipped you over and given into what you both were needing, but he curbed the thoughts, letting you set the pace.
“I can feel you.” You whispered, taking your time circling your hips lightly, core still overstimulated, but somehow demanding more, “Can we…”
Your voice died with a hint of uncertainty, eyes shifting to his, hoping he’d read your mind and understand that you still needed him…you just didn’t know what to call it.
Fuck?
Make love?
Neither sounded right to say aloud. You knew crossing this line would mean more than just a quick fuck, but you also realized it was too soon to call it love–though you were positive you’d fall, eventually.
He rested his hands on your thighs, eyes boring into yours, trying to read your anxiety, not wanting you to feel pressured just because he was rock hard.
“We don’t have to do any–”
“No, I do,” you interjected hurriedly, shutting him up as he smirked at your insistence causing you to roll your eyes and smack his chest.
You sighed, wringing your fingers nervously, shifting your eyes to his lap instead as you spoke. “I just haven’t… I want it to be good for you.”
It was no surprise that an outbreak would leave getting laid one of your last priorities with survival being number one. But truthfully, it had been a long while, and even as natural as it felt to have Joel pull an orgasm out of you with his fingers, you hoped to God you’d be able to deliver something just as good for him. But before you could let the perturbation swallow you whole he laughed.
You quickly shot your eyes up to his, watching the crow’s feet around the outer corner of his eyes crinkle, his chest rumbling with snickers, causing you to pout, wondering what amusement he got out of seeing you like this. He settled after a few seconds, shaking his head in disbelief going to grab your hands once more even as you tried to fight him off weakly.
“Sweetheart,” He started, rubbing his thumbs over the top of your hands, silently telling you to loosen up, “Do you know how close I’ve been to creamin’ my pants like a fuckin’ teenager?”
His bluntness made your cheeks go up in flames, wanting nothing more than to hide away in the crook of his neck and laugh there, but he didn’t let you, cupping your cheeks and thumbing your heated skin. He was old enough to understand why you must’ve felt the way you did, but he too was devoid of anything as intimate for years. You’d already made him feel the tenderness and lust he once thought was over for him, and he’d be damned if he let you think otherwise.
“You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ alright? It’s goin’ to be good because it’s with you.” He confessed, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, then to your lips, making you smile as your heart rate began to pick up once more.
“I wanna be on top,” you started, a new wave of boldness washing over you as he smirked and nodded.
“I can do with that.” He hummed, leaning back just to get an eyeful of your naked body, pinching himself for finally getting to have you.
“Here, I’ll–” You went to undo his belt, a mixture of excitement and neediness urging your motions, but before you could he stopped you, moving your fingers out of the way.
“I got it, sweetheart,” he pulled the end of the leather through the buckle, eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t need to lift a finger.”
You giggled, tilting your head and raising your brow. “Hmm, cause I’ll be too busy lifting my ass, right?” You quipped.
“There’s my brat,” He huffed feignedly, pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it to the ground.
You let out a giggle, moving off of his lap causing him to protest, only for you to drop down to your knees between his legs, pulling at the laces of his boots and tugging them off.
“What? You said I couldn’t help with the belt, not stripping your jeans off.” You winked up at him while he grumbled, simply undoing his fly and zipper before letting you do the rest.
He lifted his hips as you tugged on the waistband of his jeans and boxers His cock came into view, thick and heavy, tip glistening with pre-cum as it rested against his stomach. Your gut twisted tighter, heat growing hotter between your thighs as your mouth watered, eyes remaining fixated on his length.
Your visible engrossment made him twitch, the hunger in your eyes causing his blood to rush and welcome the newfound attention. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling your fingers wrap around his shaft, barely able to cover him wholly even with both hands. You leaned forward, parting your lips, breathing warmth over his tip before you closed your lips around him gently, humming at the salty bead, salivating for more.
If he had any more willpower, he’d let you have your fill. To swallow him down the way you wanted to–messy, slow, deep–but right now it was ebbing, and all he wanted to do was bury himself within you. There was no way he was going to let himself finish within the first minute of you getting him naked.
As if it pained him, he grimaced and cradled your jaw, pulling you off with a pop, and almost immediately you began to pout, mouth opening to tell him you wanted a proper taste.
“Come back up here.” His eyes were glazed over with need, voice dripping with a gentle firmness as he offered you a hand, helping you lift off your knees and take your place back on his lap.
“I’ll let you have it in your mouth next time.” He promised, placing a kiss to your lips in an apology, guiding you to sink your knees into the cushions beside him.
You smiled, breath catching in your chest at the thought of ‘next time’ because it meant that Joel wanted to have you the same way you did him. Truthfully, there was no turning back, and you and Joel were both aware of the implications, too far gone in each other to think you’d be walking away from each other after this.
His hands looped securely around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours as your noses brushed against one another.
“Take it nice and slow, alright?” He cautioned sweetly.
“Y-yeah.” You nodded, kissing him once more before you pulled away and took a deep breath.
You brought your fingertips to your mouth, swiping them over your tongue, reaching down and curling your hand around him. You stroked him slowly, mixing together your spit and his precum, which you knew would help the slide. He stilled his hips, keeping from rutting up into your hand, letting you do what you needed to first.
Bracing one hand on his shoulder, you guided him towards your entrance, the thick head notching inside of you with a stretch as you dropped your hips, settled down on the first few inches of him.
“Oh, f-fuck,” you whimpered, thighs trembling weakly as your eyes flew shut at the sudden fullness.
“Slow down, babygirl…breathe for me,” he steadied you carefully, hands squeezing your waist, letting you adjust. “Know it’s a lot, but you’re doing so good.”
The sound of his voice was warm and guiding, reminding you there was no need at all to rush. Your head spun at the praise and guidance, using it as encouragement while you kept your eyes closed and took a deep breath in through your nose and held it for a moment. He hummed something that sounded like approval, spurring you on as you released the breath and sunk down to take more of him.
A strangled moan left your lips, his cock already reaching parts of you that had been untouched for what felt like forever. And even as the fluttering walls of your pussy sent a tremor up his spine, he swallowed back his own grunt, gritting his teeth and setting his focus on soothing you instead of his frenzied pleasure.
“Sweetheart, you gotta–” He spoke raspy and strained, but whatever he had left to say, never came as you blew your eyes open to meet his, all glassy and filled with ruin already.
“J-Joel,” you whined, grabbing harshly at his shoulders, trembling over nearly half of his cock, but already feeling split open and ready to fall over the crest of pleasure. “S-so full, already.”
He nodded understandingly, clenching and unclenching his jaw, as he stroked your sides, hoping to calm the shivers that were dancing along your skin. He leaned up slightly, nudging his nose across cheek until he settled soft kisses along your earlobe.
“It’s all yours baby, right sweetheart?” He murmured possessively, staking your claim over him before you could do it yourself–but he wanted to hear you, needed to hear that you understood he was yours now.
Your lips parted with a breathy moan, walls clenching around him at the thought, before you swallowed thickly and nodded against him.
“Uh, huh… mine.”
He grinned, satisfied with your response and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, feeling your hot labored breaths against him.
“So take it.”
He snaked one of his hands between your bodies, using your wetness and circling your clit with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back and your mouth drop open. The added stimulation helped distract you from the massive stretch, but not enough to send you over the edge just yet.
“I know you can do it, sweetheart.”
And somehow you did.
You focused on the sound of his voice, shutting out all the tingling nerves and worries in the back of your mind, sinking down the rest of the way, and nestling his cock deep inside you.
“S-shit, sweetheart,” Joel hissed, digging his fingers into your hips as his eyes dropped down to where you fully sheathed his length. “Fuckin’ grippin’ me so damn tight.”
Your stomach clenched, walls clinging to every inch of him, carving out a new home where you’d crave him constantly. He couldn’t look away even if he tried, his eyes sailing towards your face and back down your body, reveling every gasp and shake not wanting to miss a thing.
Your brows furrowed, finally testing the waters by rolling your hips in small circles, anticipating the first rumble of pleasure. But with him buried so deeply, relentlessly budging the spongy spot inside you, the small action stole your breath altogether, sending you toppling, slump against his chest.
“Oh my–fuck…toomuchtoomuch, Joel–”
“Hey, shh, relax for a minute,” His hand came down to the back your head, pressing you deeper into his chest, stroking your hair and feeling the way your walls spasmed around him uncontrollably.
Joel hugged you close, letting you bury your face into the crook of neck where you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat racing just as quick as yours, yet still somehow sounding unaffected as he continued whispering words of solace, gently caressing your body like you were all that mattered to him.
“I–I’m sorry…” You choked between a sniffle, not knowing exactly why you were apologizing suddenly, probably because Joel had spent more time comforting you through your pleasure without giving in to his.
You needed to make him feel good.
He grunted disapprovingly, kissing the crown of your head. “Baby, you don’t have to apologiz–”
You attempted to lift your hips off of him, going to ride him the way you wanted to, but his hands immediately stalled your movements as you protested.
“Joel, let me, c’mon.”
“Sweetheart,” He shook his head, tugging your face away from hiding, staring at you all dark and tender.
“This is gonna be over before you even start,” He reasoned, rubbing the back of your scalp, wanting you to ease up, “You’re sensitive and she needs it gentle.”
“But I’m supposed to be taking care of you now and I–”
“Hey, listen to me,” His voice was stern though his eyes remained a softened contrast, “Feelin’ you around me is already you takin’ care of me. Now, let me take care of you at the same time. Deal?
“Okay...” you whispered, nodding your head as he kissed you deeply before lifting his back off the couch, allowing him to lay you on your back.
You spread your legs, letting him bracket his hips closer, planting one foot on the ground to give himself leverage, while the other remained bent at the knee on the couch.
“How’s that sweetheart?” His hands glided over your stomach, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses up between the valley of your breast until he stopped at your chin peering up at you.
“B-better…” You breathed, palms meeting his right over your stomach and pressing down slightly, “I can feel you deeper I think.”
“Good,” His lips quirked up into a smile, nipping your jaw before leaning up the rest of the way and pressing his forehead against yours, “I’m gonna move now. You say the word and we’ll stop whenever you want, alright?”
You nodded, connecting your lips as you wounded your arms around his neck, readying yourself for the first thrust of his hips. His hands slid up to your ribcage, gripping you there tenderly, pulling his hips back barely a few inches, before sawing back in.
He swallowed up your moans, dragging his hips back once more, setting a slow yet thoughtful pace, stretching out your combined pleasure, basking in other another. With every thrust, the pleasurable sensation blossomed brighter within you, your legs spreading more, hips stuttering up not wanting to let him go far from where he belonged.
“Takin’ it so good, baby. Nice and deep.” Joel panted against your lips, pulling out almost halfway now, then back in again, eliciting a soft cry from your lips. “So perfect for me…my girl, my fuckin’ pussy, right?”
“Yes, yes, it’s yours…I-I’m yours, Joel.” You choked out, nails raking across his shoulder blades and down his back, “Please don’t stop, please, just–fuck!”
“Keep fuckin’ you baby?” He teased, your whimpery moans agreeing with his filthy words, “Never gonna stop, sweetheart…promise. You just keep feelin’ good on my cock.”
Your throat tore with a high-pitched squeal, Joel pulling out nearly all the way before driving back home, repeating the movement that had your legs trembling around him. The sounds were obscene, wet slaps of your skin nearly overpowering your moans, occupying the cabin.
“Hear how wet you are?” He gritted, sucking in deeper breaths with every squeeze of your walls, “Pussys’ leaking all over me. She’s a sweet thing, alright.”
“S-s-so good, you’re so deep,” You gasped, “M-more.”
“Let me,” He guided one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing impossibly deeper, making you moan loudly.
“Fuck! Right there, p-please just like that,” You held him tighter, muffled words beating against his skin.“Don’t stop, please don’t–”
“I won’t baby,” Joel assured you, maintaining the deliberately deep pace, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips, “Let me feel you, c’mon, give my cock some lovin’, let me feel you cum.”
You crashed hard without even thinking twice, incoherent begging jumbled with your moans as stars flashed behind your pinched eyes. His movements didn’t falter, working every inch of himself within you, encouraging you to ride the wave of pleasure for as long as possible, reeling in the way your nails scratched down his back, pulling him tighter into you until your body went lax.
Slowing his thrusts, he placed a chaste kiss to the inside of your knee, guiding your leg back down, allowing you some reprieve. He felt your motionless hands along his back, settling for weak grazes across the fresh scratches you left behind, while your chest rose and fell deeply.
“Too much?” He rasped out, hands going to cup your cheeks, forcing your eyes to open and blink through the haze, “Need a break, baby?”
You let out a shaky noise that told him ‘no,’ turning your head just slightly to take a deep breath in the out, repeating the action until you could bear to open your eyes, taking in the mouthwatering sight of him.
His hair was tousled all thanks to your grabby hands, sweat beading at his hairline, trailing down the sides of his face. His lips were as swollen as yours from the endless kisses you two had shared, and his eyes burned through you with fire, so strong yet delicate, needed to get close and finally feel the heat soar through you.
“K-Keep going,” you stuttered, still catching your breath, snaking your hands through his hair, gawking up at him hungrily, “I need it–I need to feel you…”
The realization washed over him, and you swore you could feel the twitch of his cock spur inside you, a restrained jerk of his hips sending his length somewhere deeper—right where you needed him to stick.
“Needa feel me extra deep, is that right?” He whispered, one hand splaying over your stomach, groaning to himself when he felt the faint brunt of himself beneath your skin. “Need me to leave my mark, remind you who you belong to?”
You licked your lips, nodding frantically. “Yes… I-I want that…I’m all yours, please.”
He reached for your free hand, intertwining them as he bent to kiss your shaky knuckles.
“I’m yours too, baby…never lettin’ you go.” He began to thrust into you again, pressing his hips flushed between your thighs, grinding deep and precise. “Promise.”
It didn’t take long to have you breathless all over again, your legs moving on their own accord to wrap around his waist, barely allowing him any escape from your heat—just simple, heavy, deep strokes, that caused tears to prickle at your eyes, the blossoming happening all over again, and this time stronger than the last two he so graciously gave you.
“Joel–shit, I’m…” You gasped, crushing his hand tightly, your entire body beginning to quiver as you tiptoed to the edge.
“Just like that… fuck, darlin’” He hissed, throwing his head, feeling your walls close in on him impossibly tighter, like they were begging as much as you were for him. “Just keep feelin’ me… every goddamn inch baby..”
You did more than just let yourself feel. But be all consumed by him. Giving in to a need that would never be satiated by anyone besides Joel Miller, not that there was anyone else who could suffice, anyway. You gave yourself to him wholeheartedly, the same way he did to you. More than just a feeling. A deep-seated care that would never leave, always within you wherever you strayed because Joel proved it to you.
His hand untangled with yours and before you could whine out of protest, one escaped thoughtlessly, the feel of fingers sliding over your mound, easily finding your clit and rubbing steady circles. Y
You were dangling over the edge, just waiting to drop.
“Oh… oh,” Your jaw went slack, voice so small, “Joel, please.”
He cooed softly, infatuated with you beneath him, ready to give you his all. “Need to feel you fall apart one more time baby, let me see it.”
“Cum with me,” you begged, snaking your hands through his hair pull him closer, letting him swallow and steal your every breath, “Please… I need it. Fill me up, p-please.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks, body seizing up into his, walls clamping greedily, taking him right over the edge with you.
“Fuckin’ hell… oh, fuck,” Joel groaned, hips stuttering, grinding and pushing deeper, spilling everything he had to give you, as he reveled in your take.
There was a saccharine smile on your face, weak but still there. Cheeks stained with a warm flush as tears remained stuck in their path, littering the wisp of your lashes with faint drops, blinking up at him starry-eyed. It was a sight that made his heart ache—not haunting or plaguing in a sense, but chained to knowing it could only ever be you from that point forward, and there was no need to deny himself.
Quietly, the two of you came back down together. Hands lazily roaming the skin your fingertips could reach, lips resting, not kissing, just feeling each other be there, and your hearts settling into a shared thump.
You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat,
“T-thank you.” You croaked out, reaching up with shaky hands to hold his cheek in your palm, not caring about the sweat trickling over your already sweaty skin.
He turned just slightly, chapped lips pressing into your pulse point.
“You’re… you’re thanking me for…” He tilted his back at you raising his brows with a smirk, still catching his breath, meanwhile you laughed weakly and shook your head.
“That too, but mostly for seeing me… for showing me I matter.”
“Don’t gotta thank me for any of it,” He assured you, bringing his hand to wipe the tears off your cheeks, “and I don’t think I said it earlier…but I’m sorry everythin’.”
“I forgave you already,” you replied with a smile, welcoming the feel of his lips on yours again as he kissed you so tenderly.
Slowly, he helped ease your legs from around his waist, swallowing up your whines as he apologized lowly, shifting his hips back to pull out of you. The emptiness felt foreign, almost unbearable, but the faint trickle of your shared spent seeping out was a filthy yet pleasant reminder that you two were stuck together.
He reached down, picking up his discarded t-shirt, bending down to catch a better glimpse of the mess, holding himself back from wrecking you some more.
“So you’re just going to let me ruin all your clothes at this point?” You shivered with a laugh, watching as he carefully swiped the shirt between your thighs, cleaning up the mess between your thighs.
He looked up at you, kissing the inside of your knee. “Got a whole drawer at home waitin’ for you,” He winked, making you roll your eyes as he tossed the fabric to the floor after cleaning himself up too.
Carefully, he maneuvered you off your back, sliding his body against the cushions to take your place, before setting you inside his side—your warm naked bodies tangling snugly to brave the winter night.
“I’ll take first watch so you can rest darlin’,” Joel whispered, running his palm along your shoulder blades while you traced random shapes over his chest.
You rocked your head against him slightly, whispering loud enough for him to hear.
“We’re safe out here.”
It was loaded, both a promise to take and a question for him to answer.
“Yeah, we’re safe, baby.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, eyes falling shut effortlessly, the sight of you still fresh behind his lids. “I’ve got you. Always, got you.”
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a/n: i'm horny and ovulating, im sorry!!! thank you to my love, Effie for proof-reading and unapologetically encouraging my delulu for dilfy joel 💕💕
summary: Last winter, you nearly died at the hands of raiders during a supply run gone wrong. Joel Miller, head of scheduling, indefinitely barred you from participating in any more of them, as a means to protect you, not just from what lurked outside, but your own incessant need to provide even if it meant risking your life to do so. After a year of being at odds with each other, you and Joel finally throw caution to the wind and begin to unravel at the seams—this time, winter isn’t just about surviving, but mending what was always there.
warnings: no use of y/n, age-gap (joel's older than reader), mentions of blood and wounds, brief mention of sarah, cursing, mentions of physical violence (punches), two terrible communicators, smut, fingering, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap pls), joel's a soft dom (ofc he is duh!), aftercare, basically porn with plot!
Everyone in Jackson had a specialty. Teachers. Doctors. Builders. Cooks. The list goes on and on, with roles that contributed immeasurably to the functioning of the town, despite how some may carry more weight than the others. But no matter how big or small one’s role was in the community, everyone appreciated the efforts, for the town needed the collective help to preserve its integrity beyond the gates that closed it off from the rest of Wyoming.
And all you knew since your arrival was that the town was the closest thing you’d ever had to a home. Something real. Somewhere safe. The one thing you couldn’t possibly bear to lose, for you didn’t know if anything would ever suffice the way this town had.
You weren’t a stranger to the cruelty lurking outside of the gates, spending a good portion of your life weaving in and out of the fallen QZ’s and deserted cities, just hoping to survive another day, until you finally stumbled upon Jackson.
They had taken you in with tentative, yet open arms, allowing you to adjust to the town you would come to call home before asking what it was you could provide. What you could give back to Jackson, not just for you, but for all its citizens. After all, the town belonged to everyone—those old and young, seasoned and novice—living for the hope of it all to make it to another day.
And so you were a supply runner, one of the most distinguished specialties the community was always looking to have more of, and it was just their luck that you weren’t just good at what you did.
You were great.
Reliable.
Confident.
Never coming back empty-handed even when something unexpected was thrown into your path.
Last winter proved that.
It wasn’t a part of the plan to stumble upon a group of raiders during a run all by yourself, and truth be told you didn’t want to kill any of them. But the second your presence was known, the moment you saw the greed in their eyes, the realization dawned on you that you needed to do what was necessary.
It had been hours since your expected arrival, and a few members of Jackson’s committee including Tommy, Maria, and Joel were waiting impatiently behind the gates. Joel suspected something went sideways, proposing a search party go out and look for you, but he’d been outvoted. His brother assuring him that everything was fine and that you always came back in one piece.
When they finally spotted you from a distance, a blob among the falling snow and dwindling daylight, they almost breathed a sigh of reprieve, but as the gates creaked open to greet you, and you drew closer, it all came crashing.
You were hunched over your horse, clothing tattered and blowing against the wind. A rope tightly wound across your waist, dragging duffle bags of enough weapons and ammunition to last months of patrol across the blankets of snow. The pungent smell of blood saturating the air before they finally took sight of it staining skin.
Protocol was ignored, Joel bolting to you without thinking twice.
He hauled your half unconscious body off your beloved horse Ivy, diligently clutch the back of your head as he laid you down and his brother dropped beside him, immediately going to undo the knot around your waist.
Joel’s eyes flashed over your face, taking in your appearance, searching for any signs of life. Your heavy-lidded eyes were barely hanging on, frost bitten lips parted with weak breaths, and your cheeks and chin daubed with dried blood. It was a miracle that you even made it back, but that optimism instantly seemed to fade when he spotted more blood, the steady dribble of blood trickling onto the frosty snow beneath you.
With shaky hands, he tore through the rest of your shredded coat, discovering the deep incision on your abdomen, angry and throbbing, pooling with enough blood to make his run cold. His hands were coated in your near-death, transporting him back to that harrowing memory of his dear Sarah, reliving the greatest loss of his life all over again.
He knew the cost of hesitation and he wasn’t going to let it take you next. Lifting you back into his arms with a devastatingly rehearsed movement, he clutching you tight to his chest, rushing you to the infirmary paying no mind to the shouting voices behind him.
He didn’t need to be told to know what you had done.
He had already pieced together the story once he saw the crimson and the baggage you pulled behind.
He knew what you had done to survive.
But most importantly, he knew what you had done to risk losing your life.
To Joel, you weren’t good. Not even great. Just plain reckless. Willing to put yourself in grave danger against god knows how many of those ruthless raiders just to make it back with a contribution without ever weighing your own chances of survival.
He knew what this town meant to everyone, how much your recklessness would provide for everyone’s safety, yet he couldn’t look past what it meant beyond the surface.
You possessed a sort of recklessness that teetered the edge of selflessness, the one thing that would end up costing your life one day–and even if it wasn’t his place to care as severely as he did, he couldn’t let you go on.
Since that last winter, Joel kept his sights on you, refusing to send you out on any runs or patrols, alone or grouped, even despite your argument that every journey beyond the gates was risky no matter what. All you could see was him punishing you, his all of a sudden authoritarianism taking away the one thing you could give to this place that fucking mattered.
You didn’t understand why he was putting so much effort into controlling you, when at some point you were nothing more than a body to send outside of the gates to protect the community and him.
Granted, you and Joel were never more than just strangers forced to interact scarcely. Joel made the patrolling and run schedules, posted them up, and only if you ever needed to switch, was when you talked to him.
And that was almost never.
But since his imminent shift in demeanor, you found yourself almost always at his throat, while he sat back silently, brushing you off like you weren’t even there, though you knew deep down his stoicism was crumbling with every hurtful word you threw his way.
He enraged you.
You wanted to crack him open. To get a reaction out of him. The one you knew he was actively burying deep within him day by day. Then maybe, just maybe, you’d understand where he was truly coming from.
Why was he punishing you?
Why Joel Miller wanted to keep you in a cage that made you feel useless to the community you knew you were obligated to provide for?
Luckily for you though, his authority didn’t last long into the next winter where the need for supplies grew.
Tommy had been a lingering presence in and out of Joel’s makeshift office, hinting at the abandoned hospital miles out that was stocked with necessities that would tremendously benefit Jackson and the influx of new individuals coming in.
Joel wasn’t stupid, though. He knew exactly what his little brother was getting at, trying to convince him to put you back on runs without twisting his hand and making him feel as though he had no other choice. It wasn’t working and Joel knew it was only a matter of time until Tommy would intervene, putting a stop to whatever power he held.
He knew it was coming.
You were the only one who knew enough about the ins and outs of the particular route, what shortcuts to take, what possibilities you could run into. And with Jackson getting desperate to brave out the winter with as few hiccups as possible, he knew Tommy was going to put you on that run–solo or grouped it didn’t matter–but it was going to be you.
It didn’t take much convincing from Tommy to get you on board, but he still respected his older brother and his position as head of patrols and runs. And so there you were in his quaint office, pretending Joel’s existence wasn’t real as you stared down at the shabby fading map with a pen in hand as Tommy listened and Joel brooded silently.
“The run will take a day and a half.” You explained, drawing a messy line across the paper, detailing the route, “Half of day one is traveling, alone. Then we’ll gather supplies, and clear whatever infected there is.”
Then you circled a different spot on the map, fitting your eyes up to Tommy’s.
“Before sunset, we have to stop at this cabin. It’s a safe house. We’ll need to rest and so will the horses. The next morning we’ll make it back home by around mid-day.”
Tommy agreed without a second thought, and that alone made Joel’s irritation boil over. His brother had always had blind faith in these sorts of things and Joel never understood why he couldn’t be a little more skeptical, especially considering what they both faced together.
“What do you think?” Tommy wrung his head towards Joel, meanwhile you bit back the urge to say ‘fuck what he thinks.’
He looked unimpressed, jaw clenching and his broad shoulders standing stiff as his boots rocked against the creaky floors. The tension was palpable if anything at all. Whatever strain that lingered between you and Joel filled the room with something so suffocating, Tommy couldn’t wait to be freed.
His silence was like drowning and you’d be damned if you let him take you under.
“It’s a good plan, Joel.” You spat sharply, pressing your hands against the desk, straightening your stance.
He only grunted, narrowing his sights on you, before he finally spoke.
“What happens if you aren’t out there alone? If there’s infected in that building? Or if there’s raiders in that cabin.”
His jab at your expertise disguised as concern made your blood boil, your self control withering by the second, especially when he brought up the raiders.
Tommy was going to be thrown into the middle of you and Joel’s indifference whether he liked it or not. He was immediately regretting not dragging Ellie or Maria along to try to at least neutralize the situation or better yet free him of his developing migraine.
Whether you believed it or not, you and Joel were cut from the same cloth of obstinance, the kind of flaw that got the best of you both, the one that Tommy was going to need to put up with.
“What the fuck is your problem, Miller?” You accused, shuffling across the room to where he stood, “I’m not incapable and you know that. Whatever vendetta you have against me, fucking drop it, Joel.”
His arms uncrossed over his chest, dropping to his sides as he flexed his fingers stiffly. You were damn near getting under his skin, and he had been so good at showing otherwise. He didn’t have any vendetta against you—it was tolerance, mercy, postulation—something you were too young, too reckless to possess, let alone see with your own eyes.
“I didn’t say you weren’t capable, but what you are is reckless.” He bellowed too loudly for your liking. “And I don’t need that type of recklessness out there bein’ brought back here.”
‘Or not making it back at all,’ Joel bit back.
Without taking his eyes off your heated glare, he muttered to Tommy who was already burrowing his head behind his hands.
“She’s not going on that run.”
You furrowed your brows, lips twitching with anger, “The hell I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Enough.”
Tommy’s voice silenced the two of you, once and for all, slicing through the tension.
“She’s going on that run with Jesse.”
Joel’s eyes widened, hands clenched into fists as he turned to his brother, ready to tell him he needed to know his place. Yet the younger stood his ground, shaking his head and holding his hand out with purpose, keeping both of you silent.
“You’re still in charge here and she won’t go alone. It’s a compromise, and it’s final. Jackson needs this.”
‘Still in charge’ my ass, Joel thought, dropping his gaze down to the floor as his hands rested on his hips. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but be pleased by the decision, happy to be finally getting your way after all this time forced to yield to Joel’s rules.
“They’ll leave in a few days.”
With that, Tommy didn’t stay any longer than he needed to, not trying to mitigate the feelings between you both, as he knew you both were too far gone to help. He stomped towards the door, grumbling to himself before letting it slam behind him.
You and Joel didn’t say a word, and part of you wanted to antagonize him. Tell him that his old ass needed to find a hobby other than trying to control you.
But you didn’t.
You caught the hitch in his chest, the way his scowl undoubtedly slipped into something almost insistent when he finally looked up at you. You wanted to ask what his deal was all of sudden.
But you didn’t.
He didn’t stop you from leaving.
Didn’t try his very hardest to explain where he was coming from because believe it or not, he too was in your shoes at one point in his life. Too confident for his own good. Too willing to lay it all out without thinking of what he would be leaving behind.
He knew you wouldn’t see it the way he did. He didn’t want to waste his breath expressing words you wouldn’t take to heart.
He didn’t.
But he wasn’t letting you go.
Joel knew you were going to find out what he did before daylight. Before every run and patrol, you’d stop at the stables the night before, checking up on your horse Ivy and double checking the written schedules he always had posted up. It was only a matter of when and how angry you were going to be with him.
And as if he could feel it coming from a mile away, your rage approached and suddenly the double doors of the cafeteria swung open and he watched you sweep over the room until your eyes fell onto his.
“What the fuck, Miller!” You roared, making a beeline towards him.
Ellie, who was sitting right across from him, wore a shocked expression, mouth moving to ask Joel what was going on, but before she could, your voice echoed through the room again.
“Why’d you take off the run? And why the fuck are you going instead of me?” You demanded, slamming your palms against the table, shaking it roughly.
He sighed, picking up his napkin as he ran it across his mouth, eyes moving across the room, seeing the concerned and taken aback faces from the others watching—waiting to see what he was going to do.
“Let’s go outside.” He mumbled quietly, beginning to stand up.
You shook your head, hitting the table once more, “No, I want to know right now! Who the fuck gave you the right to—”
“Outside. Now.” He growled, patience wearing thin, taking hold of your arm tightly.
You fought against him feebly, attempting to jerk your arm back as he walked towards the backdoors, pulling you behind him until the cold air hit your skin and he finally dropped his grip.
“Do you get off on this? Punishing me for no reason at all?” You snarled, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to control your anger and stop yourself from decking him right across the jaw.
“M’not punishin’ you—”
“Then what is it?” You demanded, cutting him off, “Why are you icing me out of the one thing I’m good at, Joel?”
You couldn’t miss the scoff he let out, as if he was laughing at you. Mocking you for feeling the way you felt after all these months. It fucking ticked you off.
“You think you’re good at what you do?” He stared down at you with a coldhearted gaze.
“I think I’m great at what I do.” You rebutted, tipping your chin up at him.
“You call making it back here, damn near falling off your horse while you bleed out, great?” His nostrils flared, arms tightening over his chest as he waited on your smartass remark he knew was coming.
And so you jabbed a finger into his chest, voice filled with disdain and fury. “I brought back months of supplies that you and the rest of the goddamn commune use on a daily basis and I don’t hear them giving me shit about—”
His resolve snapped, gripping your wrist strongly as he leveled face to face with you. Through gritted teeth, his voice came out in rigid whispers, making sure only you heard every word he had to say.
“You think you’re special because of what you provide here, but you’re too damn stupid to see past that.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the mild ache around your wrists and his unforeseen reaction that you never thought you’d get.
But he didn’t stop.
“These people don’t give a shit if you make it back alive or not. You’re. Replaceable.” His eyes bored through yours, forcing you to take every word like bullets on skin.
You loathed the way he quickly made you feel so small, so unimportant. Embarrassment creeping into your chest, blood rushing towards your cheeks, and stinging blooming behind your eyes.
There was regret in your bones for angering him, for driving him to reveal such a mean version of himself that you wished he kept suppressed. You wanted to strike back with words just as cruel, your mouth opening with a wobbly breath, yet you weren’t sharp enough to stop his turmoil.
“You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for. Why is it you’re so eager to risk your life because I promise you it isn’t for them and it sure as hell isn’t for me.” He dropped your wrist as if he was determined to get away from you, but his words only drilled deeper.
“Someone else could walk through those gates, just as great, if not better than you are, and no one would think twice about whether you made it back here with something to show for, alive or not.”
Your jaw trembled, eyes blinking, letting a single tear run down your cheek as you braced for more, but all that came was silence and the devastation of his words sinking bone deep.
It stung, and what hurt the most was the fact that there was truth behind everything he said. You tried to breathe through it, clenching your fist tight ready to throw it his way, but you couldn’t do it.
The shame twisted in your gut, and more tears flowed without restraint.
“F-fuck you, Joel.” You choked, voice barely a whisper, turning around and walking around the building refusing to let anyone else see you cry.
It was the first time Joel managed to wrangle any reaction besides anger or frustration out of you. But he hadn’t meant to make you cry, or let his words out with such crassness, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to break you.
He fucked up, and he knew it. All he wanted was to keep you away from runs and patrols. For you to see that you were more than the work. He didn’t ever intend on making it seem like he didn’t care.
He walked back into the cafeteria, aloof to the eyes that drifted back down to their plates or the whispers that wondered where you were. Returning to his seat across Ellie, he picked up his fork and poked at his food as if nothing happened.
“Dude what the hell was that?” Ellie chided, nudging his leg under the table, getting his attention.
He shook his head and shrugged plainly, brushing off her question and posing one of his own.
“You goin’ to see Jesse tonight?”
Her brows pulled together, and she nodded. “Uh, yeah why?”
“Tell him he’s off tomorrow. I’m goin’ on the run with her.”
He was thankful that Ellie didn’t throw 101 questions his way, simply nodding as they finished their dinner in silence and parted ways. He spent the night packing what he needed for the two-day trip, replaying what had happened in his head, wondering if he could ever right the wrong and make you understand. But there was no way, not when he was going to complicate things even more by leaving like this.
The next morning, with his gun and pack slung over his body, he saddled up Ivy, signing out without writing another name next to his, sneaking past the gates without causing a scene.
Joel would throw his life into the unknown before letting anyone, but especially you drown in it without care.
You sulked in the bitterness in the comfort of your own home, refusing to leave your bed until the sun beat too brightly past your curtains, forcing you to mope from room to room as you kept yourself busy.
Sleep barely came to you the night before as Joel’s words echoed through your head like a record stuck on repeat. You tried to bury the shame into a pit deep down inside of you, attempting to brush it off the same way he probably did to all your venomous words thrown his way.
But it was impossible.
You’re too damn stupid.
You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for.
It isn’t for them and sure as hell isn’t for me.
He was haunting you in ways that had you second guessing if Jackson was ever home to begin with. If all this time, this place was merely a facade ready to forget about you the same way they let you in. And if you really were replaceable like Joel made it sound, then what was the point of ever risking your life if it didn’t matter to anyone else besides your internal ache to provide?
Everyone had someone and yet you…
You had acquaintances–people you called friends and nothing more. But they had always had someone else. Someone they mattered to.
Siblings. Parents. Partners.
You had no one, and Joel was right.
There was no reason for you to so willingly put your life on the line—there was no one relying on you, forcing your hand to succumb to whatever death lurked outside Jackson just to make sure they were well off. Instead, all you had was the longing buried deep into the vault of your soul–the thoughts of maybe one day, meaning something more than what you could provide, but just for who you were.
You had spent all this time thinking you were so important, only to realize that it was only ever significant to you. The role Jackson played as your only home made it seem as if you had to carry it on your shoulders, gamble your life in order to keep it in the palm of your hands, when in truth it was never yours to begin with.
Tears had spilled down your cheeks relentlessly, like a petulant child learning how it felt to be told ‘no,’ for the first time. And even though you wanted to hide away, pick up the backpack you stocked for what was supposed to be today’s run and leave Jackson behind—you couldn’t give Joel that satisfaction.
He deserved to know how much he hurt you. To know that even if you had no one standing in your corner of the way he had Ellie or Tommy, you had yourself, and you would be OK.
At least you hoped you would.
By the time the purple and pink hues began to tumble across the sky, you found the energy to leave home and grab dinner at the cafeteria. You were already dreading seeing the faces of those who witnessed your outburst yesterday, but then again the thought of Joel’s words–no one caring about you–made the dread seem miniscule in comparison.
Rocks and sludgy snow croaked under each step you took, the winter breeze pushing past your layers as you approached the double doors, shoving them open as you kept your gaze on the ground. You picked up a plate, moving along the half empty trays of food, muttering out a quiet thank you as a few cooks spooned you whatever was left.
Then suddenly your name was shouted across the room by none other than Ellie. You flinched, furrowing your brows as you looked her way, and took in her indecipherable expression. Before you knew it, she was striding over with urgent steps, lips pursing and breathing getting heavier as she neared you.
You sighed, placing your plate down on the line ready to hear whatever she was probably about to throw your way in order to defend Joel’s honor.
“Look whatever Joel told you, I don’t want to hear—”
“What are you doing here?” She cut you off sharply, her voice subduing the rest of the cafeteria with her anger and confusion–and just like her, you mirrored it.
“Excuse me?” You blinked wildly, shaking your head at her, not realizing what she was going on about.
“Yesterday, Joel told me that he took Jesse off the run. That he was going with you.” She gestured her hands in the air, signalling to her table across the room.
You shook your head once more, baffled at her words that didn’t make any sense, until you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you saw Jesse stand up and reveal himself.
Right about now, he was supposed to be with Joel. He was supposed to be with him since early this morning, and he wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.
Your blood ran cold, immediately twisting around and bolting out the building without a second thought. Voices shouted and footsteps pounded close behind you, but none of it was registering. Your mind was a blur, repeating the same harrowing thoughts one after the other, over and over.
Joel was out there. Alone. On a route he barely knew. On a run too dangerous.
You nearly knocked your front door off its hinges, ripping a thicker coat off the hooks and sliding your arms through it in a haste. You grabbed your pack, flinging it over one shoulder. Flipping open an old shoe box, you clutched your knife, sliding it into its protective sheath the securing it over your belt loops.
Ellie stood in your doorway breathless as she watched on, there was a delay in her movements to follow your lead but she spoke.
“I’m coming with you.” She panted, going to turn around and rush home for her things.
“No, you’re not.” You snapped, stopping her in her tracks before she could even leave your porch.
She whipped around quickly, voice ragged. “If you think I’m gonna let Joel die out there alone, then you’re wrong!”
Despite her scowl, you could read the tears starting to cloud her eyes, the way they filled with fear and hopelessness. Joel mattered to her, the same way she mattered to him.
You understood what their bond meant–how important they were to each other, but you also knew you couldn’t let her follow down this path. Wherever Joel was, you knew he’d make it back to her, and it was your job to make sure she understood that.
“He’s not going to die, Ellie. I won’t let him.” You said firmly, stepping up and holding her by the shoulders.
You took a breath, hoping your next words would be well received, despite the visible state of distress she was in.
“I know you want to go out there for yourself and make sure he’s okay, but I’ve got this. If anything were to happen to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.”
It was almost scary, the way she mirrored Joel’s mannerisms when he was at odds with his words and what he felt inside. It was that same shift you saw when Tommy left his office, leaving you two there alone, where you knew Joel wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to.
You were going to tell him all about his and Ellie’s similarities right after you kicked his ass for doing something so stupid.
“I promise, he’s gonna be ok.” You squeezed her shoulders again, offering a tight smile, a contrast to the panic you were feeling inside.
“Swear on his life.” She whispered.
You didn’t hesitate.
“I swear on Joel’s life, I’ll do everything I can.”
She nodded once.
“Go.”
You didn’t waste another second. Sprinting to the stables and throwing a saddle over the first horse you saw. Only when you hopped on and gripped its reins, did you realize it was Callus–Joel’s horse. The gates opened with a high-pitched creak as you crossed over. Shouts belonging to Tommy who seemed to have caught onto what his idiotic brother had done, was trying to stop you. But before he could, you barked out a command to the horse, letting him take you away into whatever lay ahead as desperation seeped in.
Making it to Joel and seeing him alive.
His bones ached, exhaustion gnawing over every inch of his aging body that threatened to give out under pure fatigue and the added weight of the supplies he snagged hours ago. Still, he managed through, mustering enough strength as he dismounted off Ivy, securing her around a tree to rest up for the night.
He tossed a ration of his food onto the ground, giving her cheek a proud pat, before stumbling the rest of the way towards the cabin in the distance, not wanting to alert anyone of his presence if someone was inside.
“Fuckin’ hell,” He sputtered under his breath, drawing his pistol out.
As quietly as he could, he padded up the rickety porch steps, peeking through the dusty windows with his fingers hovered over the trigger reach to shoot. Thankfully, though, there was no one in sight thus far, prompting him to give the jammed door a stern push until it gave way.
He had heard about the cabin in passing before you mentioned it in his office a few days ago. Back before the incident last winter, you’d often be cooped up there after long runs, needing a day’s break to recharge before heading back home. It wasn’t the prettiest or most homey place, but it made do with its lumpy couch and half-burned candles you kept stashed away behind the flimsy kitchen cabinets.
His eyes raked over the area, ensuring it was all clear, before lowering his gun and dropping the bags against the ground with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t been hurt, making it out of the hospital without a scratch, though his luck seemed to run dry as he was leaving. There was a group of infected on the shorter trail, forcing him to clear what he could before giving Ivy’s reins a stiff jerk and tearing back around to the longer route.
Clearly it had been stupid to do what he had done, his body paying the price, finally collapsing against the frumpy couch and giving his limbs a rest. Leaving Jackson without telling a soul, especially Tommy, would come with consequences, but he knew he had his reasons–good ones–or at least he liked to think so.
They’d probably put up in front of the council for trial when he returned, but if it meant steering you out of danger, then he could live with it.
Selfishly, he didn’t care about the orange bottles filled with unknown medication or the expired vials of local anesthesia stuffed in his pack that would benefit the community he called home.
Something else was haunting him. Someone. You.
He stormed room to room with shaky hands, snatching whatever he saw, yet the only thought racing through his mind was the fact that you had been in the same predicament on multiple occasions. Alone.
Even as he exited the hospital unscathed, he couldn’t shake the twist in his gut. It only wound tighter as he bullied an infected’s head into the ground with his boot–his mind playing out a hundred different scenarios where you had been fighting not just them, but the unturned monsters.
The raiders who almost took your life.
The scary realization ate him up when he trotted along the route with Ivy in search of the cabin–that the near death experience you had wasn’t the first–it was just the one Joel had seen with his own eyes.
The blood you didn’t have time to clean up.
A fake smile you didn’t rehearse when you got past the gates to mask the ache in your bones.
All of the hurt you had endured was not consoled in an empty cabin all alone before you made it back and pretended it didn’t exist.
You had been relinquishing your safety each time you went out of the walls and each time you came back you weren’t held up by your strength, but rather what you had to show and give.
It was a familiar feeling that Joel used to know well, the one that lived in his bones back when Jackson was just a figment of his fantasy. Back when living in QZ’s meant not knowing if tomorrow was promised and putting his life on the line to bank on another day.
But Jackson was home now, and even when those fearful pains attempted to sprawl up through the pit of stomach, wanting to spread through the bones once tainted, he remembered there was more to life now other than survival.
Ellie was his light, his second chance, and he’d spent every waking moment protecting her in any way he could, even when he knew she didn’t need it. He had Tommy, the pain in his ass brother that he was still so lucky to bicker with even at their age.
And even though he couldn’t admit it out loud, for the past year Joel had you.
A lingering presence he couldn’t keep his mind off of. Constantly plagued by your insistence to step out of the walls that almost took you away, and most of all your plea to mean something again when all along you had meant so much more than you’d know.
The moment he saw your blood pouring as you laid lifeless in his arms.
When all he could do was stand back and watch the doctor and nurses do everything, they could to bring you back.
Every day he spent sitting at your bedside while you weaved in and out of consciousness.
Putting his foot down and telling Tommy and Maria he wouldn’t be sending you out to meet your death anymore.
Even when you bombard him with ignorant fury and resentment for taking away what made you useful.
He knew what he was up against–not just the dangers that lurked outside waiting to claim you, but yourself, too.
Your selflessness had morphed into recklessness that should have cost you, and Joel promised himself, even through all the animosity you held towards him, that you would never have to touch that feeling again.
He needed you to understand that it wasn’t your responsibility to give so much of yourself to matter. That getting close to death on multiple occasions, whether he knew it or not, was a wake up call that you had a bigger purpose. That you were worth more than what you could risk and provide.
You deserved to be protected the same way you did for the town. You deserved to matter, even if you didn’t see what Joel was doing as such.
“Quit it.” He muttered to himself, trying to fight away at all the guilt he had built up and was beginning to split him up at the seams.
Sleep should have hurdled towards him, for he knew his body was begging for it, but all he could see was your face, as if it was etched in memory. And come morning he hoped it would be you greeting him at the gates even if you were wearing an angry snarl because at least then there wouldn’t be any blood split from you, no traces of a life almost lost, no risk taken.
A piece that mattered ripped away.
None of that.
The sunset was ebbing away with each second that passed, clouds dissipating as a looming gray hue cast above. By now, Joel should have made it back to the cabin, and if you were right, he would have needed to take the long route back there.
You did your best to keep your breathing at bay, uttering words of encouragement as Callus continued steadily, as if he knew you were guiding him to his loyal companion somewhere out in the woods.
“Easy boy, that’s it.” You gently petted through his mane, seeing the cabin in the distance, slowing down in case anyone who wasn’t Joel picked up on your presence.
You weren’t as quiet as you thought, or maybe Joel wasn’t as deaf as he once was, but he picked up on the sounds just beyond the walls. The crunching of leaves and mush of snow that snapped him out of the fatigue he felt. He gripped his gun tighter, moving up off the couch and making his way behind a wall still in view of the front door, waiting for movement.
You spotted Ivy in your peripheral as you got closer, her body lax against the forest floor resting from what you knew was a treacherous journey. Joel had taken your horse, and yet even when you should have felt relief, you wouldn’t allow it… not until you saw him with your own eyes.
You drew your knife out of its sheath, footsteps as silent as they could be under the leaves and twigs. Stepping up on the creaky porch, you squinted through the dusty windows, making out the faint flickers of orange flames from a lit candle.
With one fluid push, you nudged the door open, stepping forward and holding your breath, hoping he was there. Joel squinted through the fog of exhaustion, thinking for a split second that his old eyes were playing a trick on him, seeing the familiar silhouette that was supposed to be back home, not right in front of him.
He stepped out into view, and your eyes snapped to his. The two of you stood face to face mere feet away until your voices collided in the air.
“The hell are you doing here?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
You shared a wide-eyed look, chest heaving as you stared at each other. Joel lowered his gun, listening as you shut the door and let your knife clattered to the ground. Before he could say anything, you closed the space between you two. Footsteps heavy against the floorboards as your mouth twisted into a snarl.
“Do you have any idea how stupid you are?” You roared, pushing at his chest, not realizing the way he winced at your touch, “What the fuck were you thinking going out all by yourself?”
“M’fine—“
Your palms met his chest again, this time harder.
“It’s not fine, Joel! What if something happened? What if you got bit or… or if you weren’t the only one out there searching for supplies?”
He tried to open his mouth, attempting to tell you he had the same concerns just a few days ago that you seemingly brushed off, but before he could spit it out, you kept going.
“What about Ellie? Tommy?” You demanded, not missing the way his shoulders stiffened at the sound of their names. “Do you have any idea how worried they are right now? How distraught would they be if something happened to you?”
You shook your head at him, puzzled and disappointed at the fact that he would go as far as to risk everything he had just to spite you.
He didn’t answer.
He knew what he did wasn’t right–putting his daughter and his brother through hell once more, but he knew he had to do it…for the right reasons… for you. He couldn’t apologize for something he wasn’t sorry for, so instead he settled for something else.
“You would’ve found me.”
He spoke so sure of himself, as if the thought had passed through his mind more than once, a kind of statement that was completely unwavering. His sentiment caught you off guard, a clear look of disbelief covering your features as you stood there glaring.
“W-What?”
He swallowed, arms crossing over his chest never letting his sights wander from you.
“If something did happen, you would’ve been in charge of the search party. You would have found me and brought me back home. I know you. It’s what you would’ve done.”
You stand with that sentiment for a moment, letting the scene play out in your head.
What if you didn’t leave your home until the next morning? What if something happened, and he was out there all alone? What if he didn’t make it back at all?
Ellie and Tommy would surely be in shambles. The turn of events alone who have them acting on impulse, but you knew you wouldn’t let them, not in the distraught state they would be in. It’s the same reason why you didn’t let Ellie follow you, and it’s exactly why you left before Tommy could join you.
If all those ‘what if’s’ played out so cruelly, would you would have done what you did just hours ago without thinking twice? The answer was so obviously ‘yes.’
Perhaps it was impulsive and hypocritical in itself, but Ellie and Tommy had Joel to hold onto, someone who was too important to lose even if they had good intentions of seeking him out themselves.
“No.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as your lips pursed, “I would not.” You lied straight through your teeth.
Joel didn’t look convinced in the slightest, huffing out a strained, almost bemused breath of laughter, letting his eyes bore straight through you, as if he knew your every thought, spoken and suppressed.
“I know you would because if you had done what I did, I’d do the same for you.”
You rolled your eyes at his admission, but you couldn’t feign the feeling of warmth swarming through your chest. It was utterly stupid to think anything more of Joel’s altruism that he wore proudly on his arm despite his reserved demeanor, but you couldn’t help but feel as if he was showing you his cards–the hand he once kept hidden, now laid out bare for only you to see.
You swallowed down the words that lingered on the tip of your tongue. The ones that wanted to ask him why he suddenly was beginning to level with you and why he couldn’t have done it sooner.
Instead, you settled on something safer.
The one thing you knew he needed to hear coming from you, because then maybe he would understand how lucky he was and how him doing what he did was pure stupidity.
“You shouldn’t have done this to begin with,” you countered, turning your back on him as you walked away and picked up your knife off the ground.
“You’ve got too much to lose.” You muttered, sliding it back into its sheath, undoing the button from your belt as you tossed it onto the dusty counter.
His eyes narrowed at your figure as if he was trying to get deep into your thoughts and wonder why you were selling yourself short when both of you had too much to lose. He refused to let you think that, even if he did sign off on letting you come out here alone, it still wouldn’t change the fact that you were risking too much.
“And you don’t?” He shot back, almost accusatory.
You whipped your head around, a ridiculously obvious look on your face, “You know what, yeah, I don’t. I’ve come to realize that over the last twenty-four hours all thanks to you.”
“You really think that?” He argued.
“Don’t act so damn surprised, Joel. You said it yourself. Nobody gives a shit about me. I’m replaceable.” You mocked his gravelly voice, rolling your eyes as you watch him take it in regretfully.
A beat of silence passed, remorse permeating his face as he shut his eyes, recounting the events of yesterday that he seemingly buried beneath the fresh thoughts of seeing you here before him.
“I didn’t mean—” you lifted your hand in the air, silencing him with a long pointed look.
“Save it, I don’t need your pity all of a sudden, alright.” You exasperated deeply, letting your hand fall against your side.
Your eyes shifted past him, surveying the small living room where you had no choice but to bear the nightfall with him just a few feet away. There was no point in arguing with him any longer. All you wanted to do was sleep just so you could avoid him. His apologies would mean nothing at all, not when he was only saying it because he was forced to. In an attempt to brush past him, his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you to face him once more.
“Joel, stop–” You griped firmly, though the desperation was unmistakable in your voice, coming off as begging as you tried to pull your hand back.
The last thing you needed right now was a repeat of what happened back in Jackson. Not only did you have nowhere to run, but not a single fiber of strength left to hear whatever cruel words Joel had kept harboured for you, now ready to be unleashed.
But the bitterness and the usual look of disdain never came. Instead, his fingers loosened just slightly, still firmly anchoring you to him, and there was that catch in his breath, a frown that meant more than just disgruntlement.
“I didn’t mean what I said. I just—it came out wrong.” His voice came to you with a softness that hadn’t been heard before, completely taking you aback all over again.
“You matter, but you take risks–you live your life like you don’t.” His voice nearly broke, betraying himself as he pinched his eyes shut frustratingly.
You stared at him, trying to search for an ounce of pity or deception that would’ve made you snap, but all you could find was him. When his eyes snapped back to yours, there was nothing but truth and even if you didn’t believe any of it personally, he deemed it true to him and that was enough to send you reeling.
“You don’t think I don’t hear the end of it from Ellie and Dina?” He dropped your wrists, running his hands over the scruff of his beard, looking down at the floorboards then back up at you.
“Always beggin’ me to put you back on patrols and runs with them?”
There was an apparent heat behind his words, not towards you, but the thought of letting you out of safety–out of his sight.
“Then why don’t you let me?” You asked coolly, crossing your arms over your chest trying to get down to the truth this time, not provocation.
“Because I know you’d throw your life on the line to protect them.” He spoke harsher than he intended to, sighing deeply, regaining his composure and swallowing hard, “To bring back whatever it is that the town needs.”
He faltered just slightly, as if guilt was eating him alive for knowing he too was the one who’d benefit from your
He wasn’t wrong. There’d been many close calls before the one last winter. Runs with Jesse, patrols with Dina, even occasional ones with Ellie, where you throw yourself in the face of danger without thinking twice, perhaps forcing them to watch you die in order to save them and give the town what it needed.
Before you could tell him, it was for good reason, especially to protect his daughter, he spoke up again.
“But I already saw you once on your deathbed, and I can’t see you there again.” His voice pinched, refusing to consider the thought of you slipping away, even if it was only in mind.
It never occurred to you–not until now–just how present Joel had been during the time you were in and out of consciousness, teetering the dead and the living. Somehow, without needing to hear him elaborate, you grasped the weight he carried from that day. How wound up he was had been seeing you in that state, that even now it still destroyed him, but that wasn’t you… not anymore.
“I’m not made out of glass, Joel.”
Your throat tightened, taking an effort to bring the words to the tip of your tongue and out into the open, because in that very moment, all you felt like was glass. Completely see through for Joel to read inside and out, to know your every fear and thought, to know you were in as much denial as he was.
“You sure ain’t.” He huffed sarcastically, his hands coming down on hips as he shook his head and let his shoulders fall. “You have no idea what it was like for me. To… to know I was the one who let you go out there all by yourself because you were so sure, and not able to do anythin’ but stand there and—and hope you’d wake up.”
He went on before you could stop him.
“I mean what the hell were you thinkin’?” His brows furrowed deep, staring at you with a look that you had seen before, but never with this much anguish tangled within him.
“The second you killed the last guy, you should’ve come back home right away. But no. You stayed back and took your time bagging all that crap instead of saving your goddamn self first.”
His words hit you like a ton of bricks, the frustration and helplessness behind them, revealing something unprecedented to the indifference he always offered instead. This wasn’t the Joel who’d brushed you off or the one yesterday that yelled at you with no mercy–this was a cry for understanding, a last-ditch attempt for you to finally see where he was coming from all this time.
You were at a loss for words, mouth parting, trying to figure out what you could say, how you could reason with his regard to ease the burden you had no idea had been carrying all this time. It wasn’t his place to care as much as he did and hide it all behind a facade he should’ve never put up, but he did it and you were willing to compromise.
“We… we’ve all got things we’re not proud of. Guilt we have to live with Joel.”
He barely let your sentiment hang in the air before his voice tumbled.
“Yeah well, if you had died… if you didn’t make it back, I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself.”
You never pegged Joel Miller as the type of man to drop down to his knees and beg for forgiveness for anything, let alone to some unknown God for almost letting you die. But there he was confessing to you like he had committed a sin so abysmal that he couldn’t bear to go on if death ever came close to you again–on his watch or not.
All this time, he had been protecting you, shielding you from what you refused to see in the same light as he did. Even if it bruised your pride to admit, Joel had been seeing you. Truly seeing you from a distance and doing what he could, what he deemed right to keep you safe.
To keep you from ever feeling like you needed to die to mean something. To keep you from leaving behind a place that was home without ever needing to prove yourself worthy of it. To just know that you weren’t going anywhere if he was around to save you first.
Your lips began to part, a small croak pushing past them before you spoke quietly, enough for him to hear. “Would it help if I forgave you now?”
He blinked, standing still with eyes filled with turmoil, trying to decode what it was you were saying.
“If I forgave you for sending me out on that run even though I asked for it. If I forgave you for icing me out even though you had good intentions. If I forgave you for letting me go this long thinking no one cared about me.”
He inhaled roughly, shaking his head at you as if he was trying to dodge your words, unsure if he was worthy of letting himself be freed of the guilt, even by your words.
“You… You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He muttered, wiping a hand over his face, processing everything you just said.
You had never been more certain. Never been more willing to forgive so easily because you both needed it. Not just him, but you, too.
“No,” Your voice grew stronger, standing your ground as you stepped closer to him. “I know exactly what I’m asking for–what I need.”
His eyes leaked of hesitance, body tensing when you got close. Too close than you’ve ever been with the air as thick as it was between you two. There were barely any inches separating your bodies, the warmth of your shallow breaths fanning over his face flooding his senses before you spoke.
“You’ve been haunting me…making me think you were just out to get me all this time, when in reality you’ve been the only one seeing me.”
He felt stuck, heart beating out of his chest, at a loss for words to tell you how wrong it would be to let himself show you just how much he’d been seeing you.
“I’m right here, Joel.”
It was all he needed to hear.
He crashed into you. Lips first then body. Large and calloused hands holding you to him as your mouths moved against each other, like your lips were finding a home they’ve been searching for all this time.
Somehow, there was an effortlessness to the neediness you two felt, meshing together so perfectly that nothing else had ever felt so right.
Your feet shuffled with every backwards step he took, dragging you with him across the cabin. Neither of you dare to pull away, even when the need for air became burning. All you two could offer were labored breaths as your hands carelessly undid the buttons of his flannel, while he roughly tugged on the zipper of your coat.
A trail of your outerwear laid messily across the cabin floors, leaving you in a thin tank top and him in his gray undershirt.
Joel collapsed against the couch cushions with a heavy thud, pulling you down with him on his lap. There was a pause in his kiss the second his back met the couch.
He sucked in a sharp hiss, body tensing beneath yours just for a split second, but it was enough for you to detect.
His hands went to pull you to him again, but you refused, eyes leaking with concern as you shook your head and let your hands roam across his body.
“Are you hurt?” You were quiet but panicked, searching for any signs of injury, feeling stupid for not asking sooner, before all of…this.
“It’s nothin’, just sore.”
His features mellowed, running his hands through your hair in an attempt to soothe your worry, but his words only caused more unease.
“Do you have a hard time breathing? Did you take any painkillers yet?” You asked again, worried that he was hiding something from you because he didn’t want to bother.
“Baby…”
The word slipped out so easily, rolling off his tongue and reigning down on you as if he was bestowing a sacred title. You couldn’t pretend to be unaffected even if you wanted to, cheeks flushing and lips tugging up unabashedly.
“M’fine, I swear.” He gave you a sure nod, opening his hand against your thigh, waiting for you to lace yours through his.
Sighing, you thread your fingers between his, the feel of his thumb beginning to stoke along the curve of your wrist, grounding you to him–making sure you knew he was safe.
Your eyes peered up from your hands, drifting to his face where you found his eyes studying you like he didn’t want to miss a thing.
As selfish as it was, there was nothing more you wanted than to stay right there, despite the visible fatigue that was lingering behind his weary eyes.
You took your time and savored the comfortable silence, memorizing every wrinkle, every sunspot, every inch of his face that you never gave much thought to before.
When you had your fill, certain that by the time you fell asleep you could picture it behind your eyes, did you finally stop being selfish.
“We should probably get some sleep,” you whispered quietly, your free hand coming up to push his graying curls back into place, “You’ve had a long day and we’ve got our work cut out for us tomorrow too.”
Joel hummed in agreement, but his fingers stayed tangled in yours, not daring to let go. He just kept on watching you, letting his thumb continue the comforting path over your skin–this time it was him who was being selfish.
Just moments ago his body wanted sleep, but the second you walked in, it was you he craved. It had always been you, even when he tried to starve himself off and convince himself it was nothing more than him being vigilant. Fulfilling his duty by making sure you didn’t drive yourself into the ground because you put others first.
When he boiled down all the irritation and anger he had once felt, he was still left with you. You had become part of him whether he liked it or not–always living in the back of his mind, deep within the cracks of himself until the truth finally clawed its way out.
If he had haunted you, then you had certainly been plaguing him, holding him hostage to a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever set free until he had no choice but to.
He needed you, and he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer.
His hands slowly loosened from yours, trailing up your waist, ghosting over the pulse of your neck, stopping just shy of your jaw, cradling your face between his palms.
“I don’t wanna pretend anymore…” He mumbled, shaking his head, coasting his thumb along your jaw, eyes burning into yours, “spent too long pushin’ you away and actin’ like an ass… but I want–need you.”
Your chest tightened, air trapped in your lungs all while your heart raced and your blood ran impossibly hotter. Maybe it was desperation or quite simply the heat of the moment, but it swallowed you whole. His confession wrapping you up and keeping you there where, for once, you could just be.
He undid you and pieced you back together all at once, suddenly filling spaces that were once hollow but not broken–seeing and needing you was just enough.
“I need you, too,” you whispered, leaning forward to close the space, pressing your forehead to his, lips ghosting over one another.
“You came all the way out here for me, gotta say, you know how to make a man feel special.” A weak chuckle leaving his mouth, breathing fanning over your face.
You smiled, shrugging your shoulders timidly. “Just did what you would’ve done.”
“That right?”
Before you could think twice about the smirk on his lips, his hips shifted up, the stiffness behind his jeans pressing against your center.
Your breath hitched, head thrown back while your hips move once then began to roll against his, needy for more. He took advantage of the skin calling out to him, pressing kisses up the column of your neck, letting you grind and seek out the dull pleasure that wasn’t at all ever going to be enough.
“Want this off, sweetheart,” He nipped at your jaw lightly, his hands dropping to curl around the fabric of your camisole.
There was a broken hum, an eager nod as you felt his fingers guide the garment up your body, leaving you in a basic black bra that was surely two sizes too small and no help to the breathlessness in your chest. But he didn’t seem to notice it, not when his eyes suddenly went somber, trained on a particular scar on your skin.
It was no longer than a few inches, just a thin, fading line of skin that healed a shade lighter than the rest of your body, but nonetheless still apparent. Joel knew what it looked like before–clean cut, too deep, even more bloody. Just seeing it reeled him back to that winter, even when you’re in his lap, safe and well as can be–he still felt the weight of his guilt.
“Joel,” you wrapped your hands around his wrist gingerly, leading his fingertips to the scar and keeping him there.
“I’m right here… safe.”
Your voice called out to him steadily, softly, trying to ground him back here with you, instead of his dreadful memories of your dying self that were swarming his thoughts. His fingers traced the skin, eyes never leaving it as he spoke something thick and rough.
“It shouldn’t have happened to you.”
He didn’t need to say it for you to understand that what he meant was it should have been him instead. But it was your choice. It always was, even when it was him signing off on letting you exit those gates–it was because you felt secure enough to go and he trusted you at one point.
But even now, he couldn’t take place and you couldn’t let him blame himself any longer.
“But it did.” You said, setting your hands on top of his, letting them splay across your skin, hiding the scar behind his palms, not wanting him to think back on those memories any longer.
You then wrapped your arms around his neck, tethering yourself to him completely as his gaze finally softened when he saw your eyes locking onto his.
“It happened and I can’t go back to change it, but even if I could, I wouldn’t dare to because it means I’d risk leading myself to you.”
Even when you looked at him so delicately, weary of his own emotional turmoil for something that happened to you, your voice remained sure and strong, like roots settling into the scariest parts of him and promising you weren’t going anywhere.
His heart ached, this time with a feverish warmth that threatened to take his life just because he couldn’t fathom this–you–and the way you made him feel. He didn’t need to say much, not when his lips were already encasing yours, hoping you could feel all the things he wanted to say but wasn't quite strong enough to, just yet
The message was received loud and clear, the two of you simultaneously needing more and acting upon it. Your fingers threaded through the messy curls at the back of his head, pulling him deeper into you just as his hands curved around your waist forcing your bodies flushed against each other, fitting perfectly.
“You tryin’ to kill me?” He mumbled, lips never straying away even as he caught his breath.
He felt you giggle, then placed another kiss on his top then bottom lip, teeth grazing at his skin.
“Trust me, death isn’t fun… I would know.”
He rolled his eyes with another deep sigh, debating on whether he should scold or kiss you to quiet down your sweet laughter for a joke so vicious. He decided on the latter, relishing in the touch of your lips and the way your laughter died subtly with every part and glide of his tongue against yours.
“Can I?” His hands hovering over the elastic of your bra behind your back.
You hummed, pulling away to lean back on his thighs, giving him the perfect view. Your arms rested beneath the bust waiting as his fingers unclasped the closure with a smooth flick. The straps glided off your shoulders with ease and you helped pull the garment the rest of the way before tossing it to the floor.
Joel sucked a deep breath in, palms sliding up and down the tops of your thighs, using whatever restraint he had left to resist the urge to lay you back and make you his. But he wanted to take it slow, to show you how much he cared and make up for the time that was wasted.
“So beautiful,” He groaned and threw his head back against the cushions, needing to shut his eyes for a split second, giving himself a moment to take you in.
You couldn’t help but blush, a weak, almost shy giggle escaping your mouth at the thought of him being this affected by only a portion of your naked body.
Deciding to coax your shared neediness, you brought his hands up to your chest, causing his eyes to snap open.
He was momentarily stunned, unsure of himself, but not for long as he felt you practically melt under the newfound touch.
“God, baby.” He muttered, thumbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger, giving them a gentle pinch.
You let out a broken moan, hips jerking up instinctively into the hardening bulge beneath his jeans. Your sweet sounds and desperate friction egged him on, repeating the deliberate pinch and rolls watching closely as you began to unravel at the seams. You were shamelessly seeking out more, hips moving faster over him with your lip caught between your teeth.
“Let me get this off you, sweetheart.” He spoke lowly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin, fingers running along the waistband of your jeans.
You blinked, tilting your head down at him swallowing the dryness in your throat.
“I-I can do them,” you whispered, attempting to catch your breath and fight the urge to rut your hips again.
Joel nodded, letting you take a moment to breathe and pull yourself together. In the meantime, he pressed chaste kisses to wherever he could reach before you shuffled out of his lap, standing wobbly between his spread thighs.
He watched as you bent down to work off your boots first, nudging them off to the side before your shaky fingers undid the button and zipper of your jeans. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband, you gradually pulled them down, hips swaying naturally, lifting one foot then the other, peeling the denim off the rest of the way without breaking your gaze with him.
He shifted, straightening his back against the cushions, while his eyes swept over the expanse of your skin, drinking you up, committing every inch of you to his memory.
“C’mere.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back on top of him, needing to feel you close.
You let out a short squeal, carefully placing your knees on either side of his hips, letting the thin and undoubtedly soaked fabric of your panties graze the rough material of his jeans head on.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself even more.” You chided, running your hands underneath his t-shirt feeling the warmth of his skin, moving the fabric up higher with every sweep of your palms.
“Worth it.” He smirked, letting you guide the t-shirt off his body the way you wanted, until he had no choice but to tug it over his head, leaving nothing between your chest and his.
You braced your hands against his sternum, gliding to feel the beat of his heart before connecting your lips once again. You learned quickly that kissing him nice and slow allowed you to really feel him. The dull scratch of his stumble against your skin, his hands mindlessly roaming across your back, the push and pull of breaths he took.
But nice and slow, could only do for so long, quickly turning urgent and messy.
He took advantage of your desperation, giving the small of your back a gentle but firm push, rocking you back and forth over the tent in his jeans before your hips began to move on their own accord, resuming your earlier pursuit of pleasure.
“Please.” You gasped, abruptly pulling away to stare up at him with frantic eyes.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” He cooed, almost condescendingly, amused at the fact that you were already this wound up without him doing much.
“Touch me,” you reached behind you to take one of his hands, guiding it to where you needed him most, “Need you to touch, right here.”
His fingers smoothed over the arousal soaked fabric, groaning to himself as he pressed his digits right over your clit, making you whimper.
“I’ve got you.”
He pulled his hand away to maneuver you into a more comfortable position. Cradling you into his side and letting your head rest against his shoulder, he guided your legs to sling over his thighs.
“This OK?” He asked, running his hands up to shin down to your ankle wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.
“Perfect.” You nodded eagerly, leaning up for another kiss, thanking him for being so considerate even in the heat of the moment.
When you pulled away, he nodded at you to lay your head back on him while he did the work. His fingers finally trailed up over your hips, sliding under the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to drag the fabric off your body and tossing it somewhere. His hand settled on your knee farthest away from his body, bending it just enough for him to open you up further and give him a complete view of your soaking center.
“Jesus,” he choked out, his fingers gliding up and down the seam of your folds, torturing you slowly, “Need it bad, huh sweetheart.”
You whimpered, nodding your head as your nails scraped down his chest, digging into his skin, asking for more.
“Gonna make it better,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your temple, “just let me do all the work and you feel good alright?”
He didn’t waste any more time, parting your folds with his pointer and middle, dipping them into your heat and gathering your arousal, only to take it up towards your clit where he pressed down firmly and began rubbing slow circles.
“F-fuck!” Your hips stuttered up, chasing his movements that felt like too much, and not enough all at the same time.
Joel tsked, shushing you quietly as he used his free arm to settle you back down, holding you tight.
“Shh, shh, relax.” He eased up just slightly on your bundle of nerves, helping lull you, “Need to take it slow, wanna make it last.”
You wanted to tell him that there was no need to take it slow, not when he could have you for as long as you lived from this point on. But you could barely focus, let alone form coherent words as he murmured praises into your ear, picking back up the pressure of his thumb over your nerves.
Your chest dipped with a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering shut while your fingertips dug into the flesh of his biceps, anything to keep yourself from lifting your hips from where he wanted.
“Feels good darlin’?” He asked, deliberately dragging his digits lower, sliding them into your core with ease, crooking them up before his thumb ghosted over your clit.
“Just like–fuck–just like that,” you panted, tongue running over your lips, feeling yourself grow wetter.
“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.”
You didn’t need to open your eyes to tell there was a smile on his face, the feel of his hand giving your waist a squeeze where he held you still, while still keeping up his movements.
“Been needin’ to feel this.”
The cabin was filled with your moans and labored breaths, squelching between your thighs falling deaf on your ears as Joel dragged the pleasure on and on, not daring to tear his eyes away from such a sight as perfect as you.
“Open those eyes, c’mon,” He commanded softly, his thumb stilling on your clit again, but his fingers still continued those deep strokes, “Wanna see those eyes when I tell you this.”
Your eyes open, glazed over with pleasure, a whimper leaving your mouth seeing the content smile on his lips at your obedience.
“Atta’girl.”
You thought that was it. The praise dripping with heat and honey, enough to have you plunging past the finish line as your eyelashes kissed the skin under your eyes. But the action only made him grunt, prompting you to keep them open, for he had more to say that would completely unravel you.
“Should’ve never let you walk away yesterday.” He said, thumb resuming their movements on your clit, but just lightly, enough to keep you focused on his words and the pleasure-something tolerable for now.
“Should’ve apologized and told you that I care for you.”
“J-Joel, I forgive you. I do.” You stuttered, swallowing down a moan, hoping he’d believe you just as much as you did him.
He shook his head, more so at himself, before continuing.
“You scare the shit outta me. Always givin’ so much of yourself without ever askin’ for anythin’ in return.”
“You don’t know how much I think about you.” He admitted, fingers speeding up, dragging a new string of moans out of you, struggling to keep your eyes open.
“If you’re takin’ care of yourself,” he murmured, trailing kisses over your warm cheek. “If you know how much I want to protect you.”
“Iknowiknow,” You babbled, leaning your head against him as your thighs shook when he prodded at the deep spot inside you, “I know n-now.”
His eyes stayed glued to you, watching every word escape through your lips with extra effort, before becoming muddled with your moans. Nails leaving crescents across his skin anywhere you could grab him and anchor yourself to the feeling. Your pussy shuddering with every stroke and prod of his fingertips bringing you closer.
“Should’ve told you sooner baby. You gonna let me make it up to you?” He crooned.
“Yes, p-please…I will, I promise I–”
“Let me show you how much you matter to me.” He stuffed his fingers impossibly deeper, thumb relentlessly orbiting your clit with more pressure now. “How it feels to be mine.”
“I’m yours, Joel…please, I’m so close.” Your voice cracked, head beginning to tip back as your body gave in completely, but he wouldn’t let you fall apart without seeing it for himself.
He threading his fingers through the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his.
“Cum for me baby,” His lips crashed onto yours, the final catalyst that sent you over the edge as he pulled away, breath ghosting over your lips. “Give me what’s mine.”
Only then did your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed with the intense pleasure that seemed to be never ending. Your limbs shook against his body, breathing deeply through the waves of euphoria that he kept you on. His fingers still stroking, rubbing, coaxing everything out of you, tethering you to him, watching your every move as you succumbed.
“I–baby, I…please.” Your voice was weak, your body feeling equally weightless going limp against him.
Your hands instinctively reached for his forearms, squeezing him tightly, needing more of him to help ground you through the shocks of pleasure still coursing through your nerves.
“I’ve got you,” He murmured, finally dragging his slick fingers away from your oversensitive heat, cradling your body closer. “Did so good for me, sweetheart.”
He tucked your face under his chin, kissing the crown of your head, letting his hands soothe over your tingling skin to bring you back down to the delicate place with him once more. Your breathing was still irregular, shallow puffs of air hitting his chest, feeling his heart pound over your lips where you pressed soft, mindless kisses, grateful for his tenderness.
“S’ok, baby,” His voice remained soft, cooing more words of praise to you before guiding your face away, just enough for him to see you and know you were back with him.
His chest tightened at the sight of your wet eyes blurring with a sheen of tears and lips swollen, flashing him a devastatingly sweet smile.
“Oh, sweetheart...”
You blinked, laughing nervously as you felt his thumb swipe away at the tear before it could tumble down your cheek.
“T-that was nice,” you cleared your throat, voice still a little hoarse and spent all thanks to him. “Really nice,” you added, stroking your fingers over his stubble.
He grinned, tucking your messy hair behind your ears, “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”
You stared at each other, all dopey and lovesick, basking in one another like nothing else in the world mattered. It should’ve felt unnatural, a little odd for the two of you considering the state of your relationship just twenty-four hours before, but instead it felt familiar, something so intimate and complete without much labor to make it feel as such.
You used your arms as leverage, wanting to sit back into the original position on his lap. He helped you, carefully holding you by the hips as you maneuvered only for you to let out a gasp catching him by surprise.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, Joel.” You looked down half embarrassed, half amused, fingers trailing over the dark patch of your wetness that settled on his jeans.
He followed your sights, shaking his head as he laughed and laced his fingers with yours, pulling them up to his mouth to press a reassuring kiss over your knuckles.
“Nothin’ to worry about, it’s for memory’s sake.” He joked lightly, easing you of any self-consciousness even after he brought you to a breathtaking orgasm just minutes ago.
You shifted your hips against his lap, eliciting a groan from him, jaw tightening and his hands squeezing yours. He grew harder beneath his boxers, the tip of his cock begging for release behind the garment and his thick jeans, at this rate probably dripping with pre cum too. He could have easily flipped you over and given into what you both were needing, but he curbed the thoughts, letting you set the pace.
“I can feel you.” You whispered, taking your time circling your hips lightly, core still overstimulated, but somehow demanding more, “Can we…”
Your voice died with a hint of uncertainty, eyes shifting to his, hoping he’d read your mind and understand that you still needed him…you just didn’t know what to call it.
Fuck?
Make love?
Neither sounded right to say aloud. You knew crossing this line would mean more than just a quick fuck, but you also realized it was too soon to call it love–though you were positive you’d fall, eventually.
He rested his hands on your thighs, eyes boring into yours, trying to read your anxiety, not wanting you to feel pressured just because he was rock hard.
“We don’t have to do any–”
“No, I do,” you interjected hurriedly, shutting him up as he smirked at your insistence causing you to roll your eyes and smack his chest.
You sighed, wringing your fingers nervously, shifting your eyes to his lap instead as you spoke. “I just haven’t… I want it to be good for you.”
It was no surprise that an outbreak would leave getting laid one of your last priorities with survival being number one. But truthfully, it had been a long while, and even as natural as it felt to have Joel pull an orgasm out of you with his fingers, you hoped to God you’d be able to deliver something just as good for him. But before you could let the perturbation swallow you whole he laughed.
You quickly shot your eyes up to his, watching the crow’s feet around the outer corner of his eyes crinkle, his chest rumbling with snickers, causing you to pout, wondering what amusement he got out of seeing you like this. He settled after a few seconds, shaking his head in disbelief going to grab your hands once more even as you tried to fight him off weakly.
“Sweetheart,” He started, rubbing his thumbs over the top of your hands, silently telling you to loosen up, “Do you know how close I’ve been to creamin’ my pants like a fuckin’ teenager?”
His bluntness made your cheeks go up in flames, wanting nothing more than to hide away in the crook of his neck and laugh there, but he didn’t let you, cupping your cheeks and thumbing your heated skin. He was old enough to understand why you must’ve felt the way you did, but he too was devoid of anything as intimate for years. You’d already made him feel the tenderness and lust he once thought was over for him, and he’d be damned if he let you think otherwise.
“You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ alright? It’s goin’ to be good because it’s with you.” He confessed, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, then to your lips, making you smile as your heart rate began to pick up once more.
“I wanna be on top,” you started, a new wave of boldness washing over you as he smirked and nodded.
“I can do with that.” He hummed, leaning back just to get an eyeful of your naked body, pinching himself for finally getting to have you.
“Here, I’ll–” You went to undo his belt, a mixture of excitement and neediness urging your motions, but before you could he stopped you, moving your fingers out of the way.
“I got it, sweetheart,” he pulled the end of the leather through the buckle, eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t need to lift a finger.”
You giggled, tilting your head and raising your brow. “Hmm, cause I’ll be too busy lifting my ass, right?” You quipped.
“There’s my brat,” He huffed feignedly, pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it to the ground.
You let out a giggle, moving off of his lap causing him to protest, only for you to drop down to your knees between his legs, pulling at the laces of his boots and tugging them off.
“What? You said I couldn’t help with the belt, not stripping your jeans off.” You winked up at him while he grumbled, simply undoing his fly and zipper before letting you do the rest.
He lifted his hips as you tugged on the waistband of his jeans and boxers His cock came into view, thick and heavy, tip glistening with pre-cum as it rested against his stomach. Your gut twisted tighter, heat growing hotter between your thighs as your mouth watered, eyes remaining fixated on his length.
Your visible engrossment made him twitch, the hunger in your eyes causing his blood to rush and welcome the newfound attention. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling your fingers wrap around his shaft, barely able to cover him wholly even with both hands. You leaned forward, parting your lips, breathing warmth over his tip before you closed your lips around him gently, humming at the salty bead, salivating for more.
If he had any more willpower, he’d let you have your fill. To swallow him down the way you wanted to–messy, slow, deep–but right now it was ebbing, and all he wanted to do was bury himself within you. There was no way he was going to let himself finish within the first minute of you getting him naked.
As if it pained him, he grimaced and cradled your jaw, pulling you off with a pop, and almost immediately you began to pout, mouth opening to tell him you wanted a proper taste.
“Come back up here.” His eyes were glazed over with need, voice dripping with a gentle firmness as he offered you a hand, helping you lift off your knees and take your place back on his lap.
“I’ll let you have it in your mouth next time.” He promised, placing a kiss to your lips in an apology, guiding you to sink your knees into the cushions beside him.
You smiled, breath catching in your chest at the thought of ‘next time’ because it meant that Joel wanted to have you the same way you did him. Truthfully, there was no turning back, and you and Joel were both aware of the implications, too far gone in each other to think you’d be walking away from each other after this.
His hands looped securely around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours as your noses brushed against one another.
“Take it nice and slow, alright?” He cautioned sweetly.
“Y-yeah.” You nodded, kissing him once more before you pulled away and took a deep breath.
You brought your fingertips to your mouth, swiping them over your tongue, reaching down and curling your hand around him. You stroked him slowly, mixing together your spit and his precum, which you knew would help the slide. He stilled his hips, keeping from rutting up into your hand, letting you do what you needed to first.
Bracing one hand on his shoulder, you guided him towards your entrance, the thick head notching inside of you with a stretch as you dropped your hips, settled down on the first few inches of him.
“Oh, f-fuck,” you whimpered, thighs trembling weakly as your eyes flew shut at the sudden fullness.
“Slow down, babygirl…breathe for me.” He steadied you carefully, hands squeezing your waist, letting you adjust.
“Know it’s a lot, but you’re doing so good.”
The sound of his voice was warm and guiding, reminding you there was no need at all to rush. Your head spun at the praise and guidance, using it as encouragement while you kept your eyes closed and took a deep breath in through your nose and held it for a moment. He hummed something that sounded like approval, spurring you on as you released the breath and sunk down to take more of him.
A strangled moan left your lips, his cock already reaching parts of you that had been untouched for what felt like forever. And even as the fluttering walls of your pussy sent a tremor up his spine, he swallowed back his own grunt, gritting his teeth and setting his focus on soothing you instead of his frenzied pleasure.
“Sweetheart, you gotta–” He spoke raspy and strained, but whatever he had left to say, never came as you blew your eyes open to meet his, all glassy and filled with ruin already.
“J-Joel,” you whined, grabbing harshly at his shoulders, trembling over nearly half of his cock, but already feeling split open and ready to fall over the crest of pleasure. “S-so full, already.”
He nodded understandingly, clenching and unclenching his jaw, as he stroked your sides, hoping to calm the shivers that were dancing along your skin. He leaned up slightly, nudging his nose across cheek until he settled soft kisses along your earlobe.
“It’s all yours baby, right sweetheart?” He murmured possessively, staking your claim over him before you could do it yourself–but he wanted to hear you, needed to hear that you understood he was yours now.
Your lips parted with a breathy moan, walls clenching around him at the thought, before you swallowed thickly and nodded against him.
“Uh, huh… mine.”
He grinned, satisfied with your response and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, feeling your hot labored breaths against him.
“So take it.”
He snaked one of his hands between your bodies, using your wetness and circling your clit with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back and your mouth drop open. The added stimulation helped distract you from the massive stretch, but not enough to send you over the edge just yet.
“I know you can do it, sweetheart.”
And somehow you did.
You focused on the sound of his voice, shutting out all the tingling nerves and worries in the back of your mind, sinking down the rest of the way, and nestling his cock deep inside you.
“S-shit, sweetheart,” Joel hissed, digging his fingers into your hips as his eyes dropped down to where you fully sheathed his length. “Fuckin’ grippin’ me so damn tight.”
Your stomach clenched, walls clinging to every inch of him, carving out a new home where you’d crave him constantly. He couldn’t look away even if he tried, his eyes sailing towards your face and back down your body, reveling every gasp and shake not wanting to miss a thing.
Your brows furrowed, finally testing the waters by rolling your hips in small circles, anticipating the first rumble of pleasure. But with him buried so deeply, relentlessly budging the spongy spot inside you, the small action stole your breath altogether, sending you toppling, slump against his chest.
“Oh my–fuck…toomuchtoomuch, Joel–”
“Hey, shh, relax for a minute,”
His hand came down to the back your head, pressing you deeper into his chest, stroking your hair and feeling the way your walls spasmed around him uncontrollably.
Joel hugged you close, letting you bury your face into the crook of neck where you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat racing just as quick as yours, yet still somehow sounding unaffected as he continued whispering words of solace, gently caressing your body like you were all that mattered to him.
“I–I’m sorry…” You choked between a sniffle, not knowing exactly why you were apologizing suddenly, probably because Joel had spent more time comforting you through your pleasure without giving in to his.
You needed to make him feel good.
He grunted disapprovingly, kissing the crown of your head. “Baby, you don’t have to apologiz–”
You attempted to lift your hips off of him, going to ride him the way you wanted to, but his hands immediately stalled your movements as you protested.
“Joel, let me, c’mon.”
“Sweetheart,” He shook his head, tugging your face away from hiding, staring at you all dark and tender.
“This is gonna be over before you even start,” He reasoned, rubbing the back of your scalp, wanting you to ease up, “You’re sensitive and she needs it gentle.”
“But I’m supposed to be taking care of you now and I–”
“Hey, listen to me,” His voice was stern though his eyes remained a softened contrast, “Feelin’ you around me is already you takin’ care of me. Now, let me take care of you at the same time. Deal?”
“Okay...” you whispered, nodding your head as he kissed you deeply before lifting his back off the couch, allowing him to lay you on your back.
You spread your legs, letting him bracket his hips closer, planting one foot on the ground to give himself leverage, while the other remained bent at the knee on the couch.
“How’s that sweetheart?”
His hands glided over your stomach, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses up between the valley of your breast until he stopped at your chin peering up at you.
“B-better…” You breathed, palms meeting his right over your stomach and pressing down slightly, “I can feel you deeper I think.”
“Good.”
His lips quirked up into a smile, nipping your jaw before leaning up the rest of the way and pressing his forehead against yours.
“I’m gonna move now. You say the word and we’ll stop whenever you want, alright?”
You nodded, connecting your lips as you wounded your arms around his neck, readying yourself for the first thrust of his hips. His hands slid up to your ribcage, gripping you there tenderly, pulling his hips back barely a few inches, before sawing back in.
He swallowed up your moans, dragging his hips back once more, setting a slow yet thoughtful pace, stretching out your combined pleasure, basking in other another. With every thrust, the pleasurable sensation blossomed brighter within you, your legs spreading more, hips stuttering up not wanting to let him go far from where he belonged.
“Takin’ it so good, baby. Nice and deep.” Joel panted against your lips, pulling out almost halfway now, then back in again, eliciting a soft cry from your lips. “So perfect for me…my girl, my fuckin’ pussy, right?”
“Yes, yes, it’s yours…I-I’m yours, Joel.” You choked out, nails raking across his shoulder blades and down his back, “Please don’t stop, please, just–fuck!”
“Keep fuckin’ you baby?” He teased, your whimpery moans agreeing with his filthy words.
“Never gonna stop, sweetheart…promise. You just keep feelin’ good on my cock.”
Your throat tore with a high-pitched squeal, Joel pulling out nearly all the way before driving back home, repeating the movement that had your legs trembling around him. The sounds were obscene, wet slaps of your skin nearly overpowering your moans, occupying the cabin.
“Hear how wet you are?” He gritted, sucking in deeper breaths with every squeeze of your walls, “Pussys’ leaking all over me. She’s a sweet thing, alright.”
“S-s-so good, you’re so deep,” You gasped, “M-more.”
“Let me,” He guided one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing impossibly deeper, making you moan loudly.
“Fuck! Right there, p-please just like that,” You held him tighter, muffled words beating against his skin.“Don’t stop, please don’t–”
“I won’t baby,” Joel assured you, maintaining the deliberately deep pace, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips, “Let me feel you, c’mon, give my cock some lovin’, let me feel you cum.”
You crashed hard without even thinking twice, incoherent begging jumbled with your moans as stars flashed behind your pinched eyes. His movements didn’t falter, working every inch of himself within you, encouraging you to ride the wave of pleasure for as long as possible, reeling in the way your nails scratched down his back, pulling him tighter into you until your body went lax.
Slowing his thrusts, he placed a chaste kiss to the inside of your knee, guiding your leg back down, allowing you some reprieve. He felt your motionless hands along his back, settling for weak grazes across the fresh scratches you left behind, while your chest rose and fell deeply.
“Too much?” He rasped out, hands going to cup your cheeks, forcing your eyes to open and blink through the haze, “Need a break, baby?”
You let out a shaky noise that told him ‘no,’ turning your head just slightly to take a deep breath in the out, repeating the action until you could bear to open your eyes, taking in the mouthwatering sight of him.
His hair was tousled all thanks to your grabby hands, sweat beading at his hairline, trailing down the sides of his face. His lips were as swollen as yours from the endless kisses you two had shared, and his eyes burned through you with fire, so strong yet delicate, needed to get close and finally feel the heat soar through you.
“K-Keep going,” you stuttered, still catching your breath, snaking your hands through his hair, gawking up at him hungrily, “I need it–I need to feel you…”
The realization washed over him, and you swore you could feel the twitch of his cock spur inside you, a restrained jerk of his hips sending his length somewhere deeper—right where you needed him to stick.
“Needa feel me extra deep, is that right?” He whispered, one hand splaying over your stomach, groaning to himself when he felt the faint brunt of himself beneath your skin. “Need me to leave my mark, remind you who you belong to?”
You licked your lips, nodding frantically. “Yes… I-I want that…I’m all yours, please.”
He reached for your free hand, intertwining them as he bent to kiss your shaky knuckles.
“I’m yours too, baby…never lettin’ you go.” He began to thrust into you again, pressing his hips flushed between your thighs, grinding deep and precise. “Promise.”
It didn’t take long to have you breathless all over again, your legs moving on their own accord to wrap around his waist, barely allowing him any escape from your heat—just simple, heavy, deep strokes, that caused tears to prickle at your eyes, the blossoming happening all over again, and this time stronger than the last two he so graciously gave you.
“Joel–shit, I’m…” You gasped, crushing his hand tightly, your entire body beginning to quiver as you tiptoed to the edge.
“Just like that… fuck, darlin’” He hissed, throwing his head, feeling your walls close in on him impossibly tighter, like they were begging as much as you were for him.
“Just keep feelin’ me… every goddamn inch baby..”
You did more than just let yourself feel. But be all consumed by him. Giving in to a need that would never be satiated by anyone besides Joel Miller, not that there was anyone else who could suffice, anyway.
You gave yourself to him wholeheartedly, the same way he did to you. More than just a feeling. A deep-seated care that would never leave, always within you wherever you strayed because Joel proved it to you.
His hand untangled with yours and before you could whine out of protest, one escaped thoughtlessly, the feel of fingers sliding over your mound, easily finding your clit and rubbing steady circles. Y
You were dangling over the edge, just waiting to drop.
“Oh… oh,” Your jaw went slack, voice so small, “Joel, please.”
He cooed softly, infatuated with you beneath him, ready to give you his all. “Need to feel you fall apart one more time baby, let me see it.”
“Cum with me,” you begged, snaking your hands through his hair pull him closer, letting him swallow and steal your every breath, “Please… I need it. Fill me up, p-please.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks, body seizing up into his, walls clamping greedily, taking him right over the edge with you.
“Fuckin’ hell… oh, fuck,” Joel groaned, hips stuttering, grinding and pushing deeper, spilling everything he had to give you, as he reveled in your take.
There was a saccharine smile on your face, weak but still there. Cheeks stained with a warm flush as tears remained stuck in their path, littering the wisp of your lashes with faint drops, blinking up at him starry-eyed.
It was a sight that made his heart ache—not haunting or plaguing in a sense, but chained to knowing it could only ever be you from that point forward, and there was no need to deny himself.
Quietly, the two of you came back down together. Hands lazily roaming the skin your fingertips could reach, lips resting, not kissing, just feeling each other be there, and your hearts settling into a shared thump.
You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat,
“T-thank you.” You croaked out, reaching up with shaky hands to hold his cheek in your palm, not caring about the sweat trickling over your already sweaty skin.
He turned just slightly, chapped lips pressing into your pulse point.
“You’re… you’re thanking me for…” He tilted his back at you raising his brows with a smirk, still catching his breath, meanwhile you laughed weakly and shook your head.
“That too, but mostly for seeing me… for showing me I matter.”
“Don’t gotta thank me for any of it,” He assured you, bringing his hand to wipe the tears off your cheeks, “and I don’t think I said it earlier…but I’m sorry everythin’.”
“I forgave you already,” you replied with a smile, welcoming the feel of his lips on yours again as he kissed you so tenderly.
Slowly, he helped ease your legs from around his waist, swallowing up your whines as he apologized lowly, shifting his hips back to pull out of you.
The emptiness felt foreign, almost unbearable, but the faint trickle of your shared spent seeping out was a filthy yet pleasant reminder that you two were stuck together.
He reached down, picking up his discarded t-shirt, bending down to catch a better glimpse of the mess, holding himself back from wrecking you some more.
“So you’re just going to let me ruin all your clothes at this point?” You shivered with a laugh, watching as he carefully swiped the shirt between your thighs, cleaning up the mess between your thighs.
He looked up at you, kissing the inside of your knee. “Got a whole drawer at home waitin’ for you,”
He winked, making you roll your eyes as he tossed the fabric to the floor after cleaning himself up too.
Carefully, he maneuvered you off your back, sliding his body against the cushions to take your place, before setting you inside his side—your warm naked bodies tangling snugly to brave the winter night.
“I’ll take first watch so you can rest darlin’,” Joel whispered, running his palm along your shoulder blades while you traced random shapes over his chest.
You rocked your head against him slightly, whispering loud enough for him to hear.
“We’re safe out here…”
It was loaded, both a promise to take and a question for him to answer.
“Yeah, we’re safe, baby.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, eyes falling shut effortlessly, the sight of you still fresh behind his lids.
“I’ve got you. Always, got you.”
💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!
a/n: i'm horny and ovulating, im sorry!!! thank you to my love, Effie for proof-reading and unapologetically encouraging my delulu for dilfy joel 💕💕
ahhhh ray tysm, it literally means the world!!! thank you for all the support and always leaving the most sweetest and kindest comments ever <3 it means the absolute world to me 🥹🌎💫💘
my apologies for my absence these two weeks!! i had family staying over for a week and a half, and just as they were leaving i unfortunately got food poisoning then caught a minor cold. but don’t worry all is well right now, and i’m getting back into catching up on writing again!!
currently working on the part 2 of ‘no one’s ever had me (not like you)’ fic and part 2 of ‘every second counts’
thank you all for sticking around, and i hope you all take care of yourselves!!!
summary: Last winter, you nearly died at the hands of raiders during a supply run gone wrong. Joel Miller, head of scheduling, indefinitely barred you from participating in any more of them, as a means to protect you, not just from what lurked outside, but your own incessant need to provide even if it meant risking your life to do so. After a year of being at odds with each other, you and Joel finally throw caution to the wind and begin to unravel at the seams—this time, winter isn’t just about surviving, but mending what was always there.
warnings: no use of y/n, age-gap (joel's older than reader), mentions of blood and wounds, brief mention of sarah, cursing, mentions of physical violence (punches), two terrible communicators, smut, fingering, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap pls), joel's a soft dom (ofc he is duh!), aftercare, basically porn with plot!
Everyone in Jackson had a specialty. Teachers. Doctors. Builders. Cooks. The list goes on and on, with roles that contributed immeasurably to the functioning of the town, despite how some may carry more weight than the others. But no matter how big or small one’s role was in the community, everyone appreciated the efforts, for the town needed the collective help to preserve its integrity beyond the gates that closed it off from the rest of Wyoming.
And all you knew since your arrival was that the town was the closest thing you’d ever had to a home. Something real. Somewhere safe. The one thing you couldn’t possibly bear to lose, for you didn’t know if anything would ever suffice the way this town had.
You weren’t a stranger to the cruelty lurking outside of the gates, spending a good portion of your life weaving in and out of the fallen QZ’s and deserted cities, just hoping to survive another day, until you finally stumbled upon Jackson.
They had taken you in with tentative, yet open arms, allowing you to adjust to the town you would come to call home before asking what it was you could provide. What you could give back to Jackson, not just for you, but for all its citizens. After all, the town belonged to everyone—those old and young, seasoned and novice—living for the hope of it all to make it to another day.
And so you were a supply runner, one of the most distinguished specialties the community was always looking to have more of, and it was just their luck that you weren’t just good at what you did.
You were great.
Reliable.
Confident.
Never coming back empty-handed even when something unexpected was thrown into your path.
Last winter proved that.
It wasn’t a part of the plan to stumble upon a group of raiders during a run all by yourself, and truth be told you didn’t want to kill any of them. But the second your presence was known, the moment you saw the greed in their eyes, the realization dawned on you that you needed to do what was necessary.
It had been hours since your expected arrival, and a few members of Jackson’s committee including Tommy, Maria, and Joel were waiting impatiently behind the gates. Joel suspected something went sideways, proposing a search party go out and look for you, but he’d been outvoted. His brother assuring him that everything was fine and that you always came back in one piece.
When they finally spotted you from a distance, a blob among the falling snow and dwindling daylight, they almost breathed a sigh of reprieve, but as the gates creaked open to greet you, and you drew closer, it all came crashing.
You were hunched over your horse, clothing tattered and blowing against the wind. A rope tightly wound across your waist, dragging duffle bags of enough weapons and ammunition to last months of patrol across the blankets of snow. The pungent smell of blood saturating the air before they finally took sight of it staining skin.
Protocol was ignored, Joel bolting to you without thinking twice.
He hauled your half unconscious body off your beloved horse Ivy, diligently clutch the back of your head as he laid you down and his brother dropped beside him, immediately going to undo the knot around your waist.
Joel’s eyes flashed over your face, taking in your appearance, searching for any signs of life. Your heavy-lidded eyes were barely hanging on, frost bitten lips parted with weak breaths, and your cheeks and chin daubed with dried blood. It was a miracle that you even made it back, but that optimism instantly seemed to fade when he spotted more blood, the steady dribble of blood trickling onto the frosty snow beneath you.
With shaky hands, he tore through the rest of your shredded coat, discovering the deep incision on your abdomen, angry and throbbing, pooling with enough blood to make his run cold. His hands were coated in your near-death, transporting him back to that harrowing memory of his dear Sarah, reliving the greatest loss of his life all over again.
He knew the cost of hesitation and he wasn’t going to let it take you next. Lifting you back into his arms with a devastatingly rehearsed movement, he clutching you tight to his chest, rushing you to the infirmary paying no mind to the shouting voices behind him.
He didn’t need to be told to know what you had done.
He had already pieced together the story once he saw the crimson and the baggage you pulled behind.
He knew what you had done to survive.
But most importantly, he knew what you had done to risk losing your life.
To Joel, you weren’t good. Not even great. Just plain reckless. Willing to put yourself in grave danger against god knows how many of those ruthless raiders just to make it back with a contribution without ever weighing your own chances of survival.
He knew what this town meant to everyone, how much your recklessness would provide for everyone’s safety, yet he couldn’t look past what it meant beyond the surface.
You possessed a sort of recklessness that teetered the edge of selflessness, the one thing that would end up costing your life one day–and even if it wasn’t his place to care as severely as he did, he couldn’t let you go on.
Since that last winter, Joel kept his sights on you, refusing to send you out on any runs or patrols, alone or grouped, even despite your argument that every journey beyond the gates was risky no matter what. All you could see was him punishing you, his all of a sudden authoritarianism taking away the one thing you could give to this place that fucking mattered.
You didn’t understand why he was putting so much effort into controlling you, when at some point you were nothing more than a body to send outside of the gates to protect the community and him.
Granted, you and Joel were never more than just strangers forced to interact scarcely. Joel made the patrolling and run schedules, posted them up, and only if you ever needed to switch, was when you talked to him.
And that was almost never.
But since his imminent shift in demeanor, you found yourself almost always at his throat, while he sat back silently, brushing you off like you weren’t even there, though you knew deep down his stoicism was crumbling with every hurtful word you threw his way.
He enraged you.
You wanted to crack him open. To get a reaction out of him. The one you knew he was actively burying deep within him day by day. Then maybe, just maybe, you’d understand where he was truly coming from.
Why was he punishing you?
Why Joel Miller wanted to keep you in a cage that made you feel useless to the community you knew you were obligated to provide for?
Luckily for you though, his authority didn’t last long into the next winter where the need for supplies grew.
Tommy had been a lingering presence in and out of Joel’s makeshift office, hinting at the abandoned hospital miles out that was stocked with necessities that would tremendously benefit Jackson and the influx of new individuals coming in.
Joel wasn’t stupid, though. He knew exactly what his little brother was getting at, trying to convince him to put you back on runs without twisting his hand and making him feel as though he had no other choice. It wasn’t working and Joel knew it was only a matter of time until Tommy would intervene, putting a stop to whatever power he held.
He knew it was coming.
You were the only one who knew enough about the ins and outs of the particular route, what shortcuts to take, what possibilities you could run into. And with Jackson getting desperate to brave out the winter with as few hiccups as possible, he knew Tommy was going to put you on that run–solo or grouped it didn’t matter–but it was going to be you.
It didn’t take much convincing from Tommy to get you on board, but he still respected his older brother and his position as head of patrols and runs. And so there you were in his quaint office, pretending Joel’s existence wasn’t real as you stared down at the shabby fading map with a pen in hand as Tommy listened and Joel brooded silently.
“The run will take a day and a half.”
You explained, drawing a messy line across the paper, detailing the route.
“Half of day one is traveling, alone. Then we’ll gather supplies, and clear whatever infected there is.”
Then you circled a different spot on the map, fitting your eyes up to Tommy’s.
“Before sunset, we have to stop at this cabin. It’s a safe house. We’ll need to rest and so will the horses. The next morning we’ll make it back home by around mid-day.”
Tommy agreed without a second thought, and that alone made Joel’s irritation boil over. His brother had always had blind faith in these sorts of things and Joel never understood why he couldn’t be a little more skeptical, especially considering what they both faced together.
“What do you think?” Tommy wrung his head towards Joel.
Meanwhile you bit back the urge to say ‘fuck what he thinks.’
He looked unimpressed, jaw clenching and his broad shoulders standing stiff as his boots rocked against the creaky floors. The tension was palpable if anything at all. Whatever strain that lingered between you and Joel filled the room with something so suffocating, Tommy couldn’t wait to be freed.
His silence was like drowning and you’d be damned if you let him take you under.
“It’s a good plan, Joel.” You spat sharply, pressing your hands against the desk, straightening your stance.
He only grunted, narrowing his sights on you, before he finally spoke.
“What happens if you aren’t out there alone? If there’s infected in that building? Or if there’s raiders in that cabin.”
His jab at your expertise disguised as concern made your blood boil, your self control withering by the second, especially when he brought up the raiders.
Tommy was going to be thrown into the middle of you and Joel’s indifference whether he liked it or not. He was immediately regretting not dragging Ellie or Maria along to try to at least neutralize the situation or better yet free him of his developing migraine.
Whether you believed it or not, you and Joel were cut from the same cloth of obstinance, the kind of flaw that got the best of you both, the one that Tommy was going to need to put up with.
“What the fuck is your problem, Miller?” You accused, shuffling across the room to where he stood, “I’m not incapable and you know that. Whatever vendetta you have against me, fucking drop it, Joel.”
His arms uncrossed over his chest, dropping to his sides as he flexed his fingers stiffly. You were damn near getting under his skin, and he had been so good at showing otherwise.
He didn’t have any vendetta against you—it was tolerance, mercy, postulation—something you were too young, too reckless to possess, let alone see with your own eyes.
“I didn’t say you weren’t capable, but what you are is reckless.” He bellowed too loudly for your liking. “And I don’t need that type of recklessness out there bein’ brought back here.”
‘Or not making it back at all,’ Joel bit back.
Without taking his eyes off your heated glare, he muttered to Tommy who was already burrowing his head behind his hands.
“She’s not going on that run.”
You furrowed your brows, lips twitching with anger.
“The hell I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Enough.”
Tommy’s voice silenced the two of you, once and for all, slicing through the tension.
“She’s going on that run with Jesse.”
Joel’s eyes widened, hands clenched into fists as he turned to his brother, ready to tell him he needed to know his place. Yet the younger stood his ground, shaking his head and holding his hand out with purpose, keeping both of you silent.
“You’re still in charge here and she won’t go alone. It’s a compromise, and it’s final. Jackson needs this.”
‘Still in charge’ my ass, Joel thought, dropping his gaze down to the floor as his hands rested on his hips. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but be pleased by the decision, happy to be finally getting your way after all this time forced to yield to Joel’s rules.
“They’ll leave in a few days.”
With that, Tommy didn’t stay any longer than he needed to, not trying to mitigate the feelings between you both, as he knew you both were too far gone to help. He stomped towards the door, grumbling to himself before letting it slam behind him.
You and Joel didn’t say a word, and part of you wanted to antagonize him. Tell him that his old ass needed to find a hobby other than trying to control you.
But you didn’t.
You caught the hitch in his chest, the way his scowl undoubtedly slipped into something almost insistent when he finally looked up at you. You wanted to ask what his deal was all of sudden.
But you didn’t.
He didn’t stop you from leaving.
Didn’t try his very hardest to explain where he was coming from because believe it or not, he too was in your shoes at one point in his life. Too confident for his own good. Too willing to lay it all out without thinking of what he would be leaving behind.
He knew you wouldn’t see it the way he did. He didn’t want to waste his breath expressing words you wouldn’t take to heart.
He didn’t.
But he wasn’t letting you go.
Joel knew you were going to find out what he did before daylight. Before every run and patrol, you’d stop at the stables the night before, checking up on your horse Ivy and double checking the written schedules he always had posted up. It was only a matter of when and how angry you were going to be with him.
And as if he could feel it coming from a mile away, your rage approached and suddenly the double doors of the cafeteria swung open and he watched you sweep over the room until your eyes fell onto his.
“What the fuck, Miller!” You roared, making a beeline towards him.
Ellie, who was sitting right across from him, wore a shocked expression, mouth moving to ask Joel what was going on, but before she could, your voice echoed through the room again.
“Why’d you take off the run? And why the fuck are you going instead of me?” You demanded, slamming your palms against the table, shaking it roughly.
He sighed, picking up his napkin as he ran it across his mouth, eyes moving across the room, seeing the concerned and taken aback faces from the others watching—waiting to see what he was going to do.
“Let’s go outside.” He mumbled quietly, beginning to stand up.
You shook your head, hitting the table once more, “No, I want to know right now! Who the fuck gave you the right to—”
“Outside. Now.” He growled, patience wearing thin, taking hold of your arm tightly.
You fought against him feebly, attempting to jerk your arm back as he walked towards the backdoors, pulling you behind him until the cold air hit your skin and he finally dropped his grip.
“Do you get off on this? Punishing me for no reason at all?” You snarled, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to control your anger and stop yourself from decking him right across the jaw.
“M’not punishin’ you—”
“Then what is it?” You demanded, cutting him off, “Why are you icing me out of the one thing I’m good at, Joel?”
You couldn’t miss the scoff he let out, as if he was laughing at you. Mocking you for feeling the way you felt after all these months. It fucking ticked you off.
“You think you’re good at what you do?” He stared down at you with a coldhearted gaze.
“I think I’m great at what I do.” You rebutted, tipping your chin up at him.
“You call making it back here, damn near falling off your horse while you bleed out, great?” His nostrils flared, arms tightening over his chest as he waited on your smartass remark he knew was coming.
And so you jabbed a finger into his chest, voice filled with disdain and fury.
“I brought back months of supplies that you and the rest of the goddamn commune use on a daily basis and I don’t hear them giving me shit about—”
His resolve snapped, gripping your wrist strongly as he leveled face to face with you. Through gritted teeth, his voice came out in rigid whispers, making sure only you heard every word he had to say.
“You think you’re special because of what you provide here, but you’re too damn stupid to see past that.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the mild ache around your wrists and his unforeseen reaction that you never thought you’d get.
But he didn’t stop.
“These people don’t give a shit if you make it back alive or not. You’re. Replaceable.” His eyes bored through yours, forcing you to take every word like bullets on skin.
You loathed the way he quickly made you feel so small, so unimportant. Embarrassment creeping into your chest, blood rushing towards your cheeks, and stinging blooming behind your eyes.
There was regret in your bones for angering him, for driving him to reveal such a mean version of himself that you wished he kept suppressed. You wanted to strike back with words just as cruel, your mouth opening with a wobbly breath, yet you weren’t sharp enough to stop his turmoil.
“You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for. Why is it you’re so eager to risk your life because I promise you it isn’t for them and it sure as hell isn’t for me.”
He dropped your wrist as if he was determined to get away from you, but his words only drilled deeper.
“Someone else could walk through those gates, just as great, if not better than you are, and no one would think twice about whether you made it back here with something to show for, alive or not.”
Your jaw trembled, eyes blinking, letting a single tear run down your cheek as you braced for more, but all that came was silence and the devastation of his words sinking bone deep.
It stung, and what hurt the most was the fact that there was truth behind everything he said. You tried to breathe through it, clenching your fist tight ready to throw it his way, but you couldn’t do it.
The shame twisted in your gut, and more tears flowed without restraint.
“F-fuck you, Joel.” You choked, voice barely a whisper, turning around and walking around the building refusing to let anyone else see you cry.
It was the first time Joel managed to wrangle any reaction besides anger or frustration out of you. But he hadn’t meant to make you cry, or let his words out with such crassness, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to break you.
He fucked up, and he knew it. All he wanted was to keep you away from runs and patrols. For you to see that you were more than the work. He didn’t ever intend on making it seem like he didn’t care.
He walked back into the cafeteria, aloof to the eyes that drifted back down to their plates or the whispers that wondered where you were. Returning to his seat across Ellie, he picked up his fork and poked at his food as if nothing happened.
“Dude what the hell was that?” Ellie chided, nudging his leg under the table, getting his attention.
He shook his head and shrugged plainly, brushing off her question and posing one of his own.
“You goin’ to see Jesse tonight?”
Her brows pulled together, and she nodded. “Uh, yeah why?”
“Tell him he’s off tomorrow. I’m goin’ on the run with her.”
He was thankful that Ellie didn’t throw 101 questions his way, simply nodding as they finished their dinner in silence and parted ways.
He spent the night packing what he needed for the two-day trip, replaying what had happened in his head, wondering if he could ever right the wrong and make you understand. But there was no way, not when he was going to complicate things even more by leaving like this.
The next morning, with his gun and pack slung over his body, he saddled up Ivy, signing out without writing another name next to his, sneaking past the gates without causing a scene.
Joel would throw his life into the unknown before letting anyone, but especially you drown in it without care.
You sulked in the bitterness in the comfort of your own home, refusing to leave your bed until the sun beat too brightly past your curtains, forcing you to mope from room to room as you kept yourself busy.
Sleep barely came to you the night before as Joel’s words echoed through your head like a record stuck on repeat. You tried to bury the shame into a pit deep down inside of you, attempting to brush it off the same way he probably did to all your venomous words thrown his way.
But it was impossible.
You’re too damn stupid.
You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for.
It isn’t for them and sure as hell isn’t for me.
He was haunting you in ways that had you second guessing if Jackson was ever home to begin with. If all this time, this place was merely a facade ready to forget about you the same way they let you in. And if you really were replaceable like Joel made it sound, then what was the point of ever risking your life if it didn’t matter to anyone else besides your internal ache to provide?
Everyone had someone and yet you…
You had acquaintances–people you called friends and nothing more. But they had always had someone else. Someone they mattered to.
Siblings. Parents. Partners.
You had no one, and Joel was right.
There was no reason for you to so willingly put your life on the line—there was no one relying on you, forcing your hand to succumb to whatever death lurked outside Jackson just to make sure they were well off.
Instead, all you had was the longing buried deep into the vault of your soul–the thoughts of maybe one day, meaning something more than what you could provide, but just for who you were.
You had spent all this time thinking you were so important, only to realize that it was only ever significant to you. The role Jackson played as your only home made it seem as if you had to carry it on your shoulders, gamble your life in order to keep it in the palm of your hands, when in truth it was never yours to begin with.
Tears had spilled down your cheeks relentlessly, like a petulant child learning how it felt to be told ‘no,’ for the first time. And even though you wanted to hide away, pick up the backpack you stocked for what was supposed to be today’s run and leave Jackson behind—you couldn’t give Joel that satisfaction.
He deserved to know how much he hurt you. To know that even if you had no one standing in your corner of the way he had Ellie or Tommy, you had yourself, and you would be OK.
At least you hoped you would.
By the time the purple and pink hues began to tumble across the sky, you found the energy to leave home and grab dinner at the cafeteria. You were already dreading seeing the faces of those who witnessed your outburst yesterday, but then again the thought of Joel’s words–no one caring about you–made the dread seem miniscule in comparison.
Rocks and sludgy snow croaked under each step you took, the winter breeze pushing past your layers as you approached the double doors, shoving them open as you kept your gaze on the ground. You picked up a plate, moving along the half empty trays of food, muttering out a quiet thank you as a few cooks spooned you whatever was left.
Then suddenly your name was shouted across the room by none other than Ellie. You flinched, furrowing your brows as you looked her way, and took in her indecipherable expression. Before you knew it, she was striding over with urgent steps, lips pursing and breathing getting heavier as she neared you.
You sighed, placing your plate down on the line ready to hear whatever she was probably about to throw your way in order to defend Joel’s honor.
“Look whatever Joel told you, I don’t want to hear—”
“What are you doing here?” She cut you off sharply, her voice subduing the rest of the cafeteria with her anger and confusion–and just like her, you mirrored it.
“Excuse me?” You blinked wildly, shaking your head at her, not realizing what she was going on about.
“Yesterday, Joel told me that he took Jesse off the run. That he was going with you.” She gestured to her table across the room.
You shook your head once more, baffled at her words that didn’t make any sense, until you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you saw Jesse stand up and reveal himself.
Right about now, he was supposed to be with Joel. He was supposed to be with him since early this morning, and he wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.
"Shit."
Your blood ran cold, immediately twisting around and bolting out the building without a second thought. Voices shouted and footsteps pounded close behind you, but none of it was registering. Your mind was a blur, repeating the same harrowing thoughts one after the other, over and over.
Joel was out there. Alone. On a route he barely knew. On a run too dangerous.
You nearly knocked your front door off its hinges, ripping a thicker coat off the hooks and sliding your arms through it in a haste. You grabbed your pack, flinging it over one shoulder. Flipping open an old shoe box, you clutched your knife, sliding it into its protective sheath the securing it over your belt loops.
Ellie stood in your doorway breathless as she watched on, there was a delay in her movements to follow your lead but she spoke.
“I’m coming with you.” She panted, going to turn around and rush home for her things.
“No, you’re not.” You snapped, stopping her in her tracks before she could even leave your porch.
She whipped around quickly, voice ragged. “If you think I’m gonna let Joel die out there alone, then you’re wrong!”
Despite her scowl, you could read the tears starting to cloud her eyes, the way they filled with fear and hopelessness. Joel mattered to her, the same way she mattered to him.
You understood what their bond meant–how important they were to each other, but you also knew you couldn’t let her follow down this path. Wherever Joel was, you knew he’d make it back to her, and it was your job to make sure she understood that.
“He’s not going to die, Ellie. I won’t let him.” You said firmly, stepping up and holding her by the shoulders.
You took a breath, hoping your next words would be well received, despite the visible state of distress she was in.
“I know you want to go out there for yourself and make sure he’s okay, but I’ve got this. If anything were to happen to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.”
It was almost scary, the way she mirrored Joel’s mannerisms when he was at odds with his words and what he felt inside. It was that same shift you saw when Tommy left his office, leaving you two there alone, where you knew Joel wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to.
You were going to tell him all about his and Ellie’s similarities right after you kicked his ass for doing something so stupid.
“I promise, he’s gonna be ok.” You squeezed her shoulders again, offering a tight smile, a contrast to the panic you were feeling inside.
“Swear on his life.” She whispered.
You didn’t hesitate.
“I swear on Joel’s life, I’ll do everything I can.”
She nodded once.
“Go.”
You didn’t waste another second. Sprinting to the stables and throwing a saddle over the first horse you saw. Only when you hopped on and gripped its reins, did you realize it was Callus–Joel’s horse.
The gates opened with a high-pitched creak as you crossed over.
Shouts belonging to Tommy who seemed to have caught onto what his idiotic brother had done, was trying to stop you. But before he could, you barked out a command to the horse, letting him take you away into whatever lay ahead as desperation seeped in.
Making it to Joel and seeing him alive.
His bones ached, exhaustion gnawing over every inch of his aging body that threatened to give out under pure fatigue and the added weight of the supplies he snagged hours ago. Still, he managed through, mustering enough strength as he dismounted off Ivy, securing her around a tree to rest up for the night.
He tossed a ration of his food onto the ground, giving her cheek a proud pat, before stumbling the rest of the way towards the cabin in the distance, not wanting to alert anyone of his presence if someone was inside.
“Fuckin’ hell,” He sputtered under his breath, drawing his pistol out.
As quietly as he could, he padded up the rickety porch steps, peeking through the dusty windows with his fingers hovered over the trigger reach to shoot. Thankfully, though, there was no one in sight thus far, prompting him to give the jammed door a stern push until it gave way.
He had heard about the cabin in passing before you mentioned it in his office a few days ago. Back before the incident last winter, you’d often be cooped up there after long runs, needing a day’s break to recharge before heading back home. It wasn’t the prettiest or most homey place, but it made do with its lumpy couch and half-burned candles you kept stashed away behind the flimsy kitchen cabinets.
His eyes raked over the area, ensuring it was all clear, before lowering his gun and dropping the bags against the ground with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t been hurt, making it out of the hospital without a scratch, though his luck seemed to run dry as he was leaving. There was a group of infected on the shorter trail, forcing him to clear what he could before giving Ivy’s reins a stiff jerk and tearing back around to the longer route.
Clearly it had been stupid to do what he had done, his body paying the price, finally collapsing against the frumpy couch and giving his limbs a rest. Leaving Jackson without telling a soul, especially Tommy, would come with consequences, but he knew he had his reasons–good ones–or at least he liked to think so.
They’d probably put up in front of the council for trial when he returned, but if it meant steering you out of danger, then he could live with it.
Selfishly, he didn’t care about the orange bottles filled with unknown medication or the expired vials of local anesthesia stuffed in his pack that would benefit the community he called home.
Something else was haunting him. Someone. You.
He stormed room to room with shaky hands, snatching whatever he saw, yet the only thought racing through his mind was the fact that you had been in the same predicament on multiple occasions. Alone.
Even as he exited the hospital unscathed, he couldn’t shake the twist in his gut. It only wound tighter as he bullied an infected’s head into the ground with his boot–his mind playing out a hundred different scenarios where you had been fighting not just them, but the unturned monsters.
The raiders who almost took your life.
The scary realization ate him up when he trotted along the route with Ivy in search of the cabin–that the near death experience you had wasn’t the first–it was just the one Joel had seen with his own eyes.
The blood you didn’t have time to clean up.
A fake smile you didn’t rehearse when you got past the gates to mask the ache in your bones.
All of the hurt you had endured was not consoled in an empty cabin all alone before you made it back and pretended it didn’t exist.
You had been relinquishing your safety each time you went out of the walls and each time you came back you weren’t held up by your strength, but rather what you had to show and give.
It was a familiar feeling that Joel used to know well, the one that lived in his bones back when Jackson was just a figment of his fantasy. Back when living in QZ’s meant not knowing if tomorrow was promised and putting his life on the line to bank on another day.
But Jackson was home now, and even when those fearful pains attempted to sprawl up through the pit of stomach, wanting to spread through the bones once tainted, he remembered there was more to life now other than survival.
Ellie was his light, his second chance, and he’d spent every waking moment protecting her in any way he could, even when he knew she didn’t need it. He had Tommy, the pain in his ass brother that he was still so lucky to bicker with even at their age.
And even though he couldn’t admit it out loud, for the past year Joel had you.
A lingering presence he couldn’t keep his mind off of. Constantly plagued by your insistence to step out of the walls that almost took you away, and most of all your plea to mean something again when all along you had meant so much more than you’d know.
The moment he saw your blood pouring as you laid lifeless in his arms.
When all he could do was stand back and watch the doctor and nurses do everything, they could to bring you back.
Every day he spent sitting at your bedside while you weaved in and out of consciousness.
Putting his foot down and telling Tommy and Maria he wouldn’t be sending you out to meet your death anymore.
Even when you bombard him with ignorant fury and resentment for taking away what made you useful.
He knew what he was up against–not just the dangers that lurked outside waiting to claim you, but yourself, too.
Your selflessness had morphed into recklessness that should have cost you, and Joel promised himself, even through all the animosity you held towards him, that you would never have to touch that feeling again.
He needed you to understand that it wasn’t your responsibility to give so much of yourself to matter. That getting close to death on multiple occasions, whether he knew it or not, was a wake up call that you had a bigger purpose. That you were worth more than what you could risk and provide.
You deserved to be protected the same way you did for the town. You deserved to matter, even if you didn’t see what Joel was doing as such.
“Quit it.” He muttered to himself, trying to fight away at all the guilt he had built up and was beginning to split him up at the seams.
Sleep should have hurdled towards him, for he knew his body was begging for it, but all he could see was your face, as if it was etched in memory. And come morning he hoped it would be you greeting him at the gates even if you were wearing an angry snarl because at least then there wouldn’t be any blood split from you, no traces of a life almost lost, no risk taken.
A piece that mattered ripped away.
None of that.
The sunset was ebbing away with each second that passed, clouds dissipating as a looming gray hue cast above. By now, Joel should have made it back to the cabin, and if you were right, he would have needed to take the long route back there.
You did your best to keep your breathing at bay, uttering words of encouragement as Callus continued steadily, as if he knew you were guiding him to his loyal companion somewhere out in the woods.
“Easy boy, that’s it.”
You gently petted through his mane, seeing the cabin in the distance, slowing down in case anyone who wasn’t Joel picked up on your presence.
You weren’t as quiet as you thought, or maybe Joel wasn’t as deaf as he once was, but he picked up on the sounds just beyond the walls. The crunching of leaves and mush of snow that snapped him out of the fatigue he felt. He gripped his gun tighter, moving up off the couch and making his way behind a wall still in view of the front door, waiting for movement.
You spotted Ivy in your peripheral as you got closer, her body lax against the forest floor resting from what you knew was a treacherous journey. Joel had taken your horse, and yet even when you should have felt relief, you wouldn’t allow it… not until you saw him with your own eyes.
You drew your knife out of its sheath, footsteps as silent as they could be under the leaves and twigs. Stepping up on the creaky porch, you squinted through the dusty windows, making out the faint flickers of orange flames from a lit candle.
With one fluid push, you nudged the door open, stepping forward and holding your breath, hoping he was there. Joel squinted through the fog of exhaustion, thinking for a split second that his old eyes were playing a trick on him, seeing the familiar silhouette that was supposed to be back home, not right in front of him.
He stepped out into view, and your eyes snapped to his. The two of you stood face to face mere feet away until your voices collided in the air.
“The hell are you doing here?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
You shared a wide-eyed look, chest heaving as you stared at each other. Joel lowered his gun, listening as you shut the door and let your knife clattered to the ground. Before he could say anything, you closed the space between you two. Footsteps heavy against the floorboards as your mouth twisted into a snarl.
“Do you have any idea how stupid you are?” You roared, pushing at his chest, not realizing the way he winced at your touch, “What the fuck were you thinking going out all by yourself?”
“M’fine—“
Your palms met his chest again, this time harder.
“It’s not fine, Joel! What if something happened? What if you got bit or… or if you weren’t the only one out there searching for supplies?”
He tried to open his mouth, attempting to tell you he had the same concerns just a few days ago that you seemingly brushed off, but before he could spit it out, you kept going.
“What about Ellie? Tommy?” You demanded, not missing the way his shoulders stiffened at the sound of their names. “Do you have any idea how worried they are right now? How distraught would they be if something happened to you?”
You shook your head at him, puzzled and disappointed at the fact that he would go as far as to risk everything he had just to spite you.
He didn’t answer.
He knew what he did wasn’t right–putting his daughter and his brother through hell once more, but he knew he had to do it…for the right reasons… for you. He couldn’t apologize for something he wasn’t sorry for, so instead he settled for something else.
“You would’ve found me.”
He spoke so sure of himself, as if the thought had passed through his mind more than once, a kind of statement that was completely unwavering. His sentiment caught you off guard, a clear look of disbelief covering your features as you stood there glaring.
“W-What?”
He swallowed, arms crossing over his chest never letting his sights wander from you.
“If something did happen, you would’ve been in charge of the search party. You would have found me and brought me back home. I know you. It’s what you would’ve done.”
You stand with that sentiment for a moment, letting the scene play out in your head.
What if you didn’t leave your home until the next morning? What if something happened, and he was out there all alone? What if he didn’t make it back at all?
Ellie and Tommy would surely be in shambles. The turn of events alone who have them acting on impulse, but you knew you wouldn’t let them, not in the distraught state they would be in. It’s the same reason why you didn’t let Ellie follow you, and it’s exactly why you left before Tommy could join you.
If all those ‘what if’s’ played out so cruelly, would you would have done what you did just hours ago without thinking twice? The answer was so obviously ‘yes.’
Perhaps it was impulsive and hypocritical in itself, but Ellie and Tommy had Joel to hold onto, someone who was too important to lose even if they had good intentions of seeking him out themselves.
“No.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as your lips pursed.
“I would not.” You lied straight through your teeth.
Joel didn’t look convinced in the slightest, huffing out a strained, almost bemused breath of laughter, letting his eyes bore straight through you, as if he knew your every thought, spoken and suppressed.
“I know you would because if you had done what I did, I’d do the same for you.” He said.
You rolled your eyes at his admission, but you couldn’t feign the feeling of warmth swarming through your chest. It was utterly stupid to think anything more of Joel’s altruism that he wore proudly on his arm despite his reserved demeanor, but you couldn’t help but feel as if he was showing you his cards–the hand he once kept hidden, now laid out bare for only you to see.
You swallowed down the words that lingered on the tip of your tongue. The ones that wanted to ask him why he suddenly was beginning to level with you and why he couldn’t have done it sooner.
Instead, you settled on something safer.
The one thing you knew he needed to hear coming from you, because then maybe he would understand how lucky he was and how him doing what he did was pure stupidity.
“You shouldn’t have done this to begin with,” you countered, turning your back on him, picking up your knife off the ground, “you’ve got too much to lose.”
You slid the blade back into its sheath, undoing the button from your belt as you tossed it onto the dusty counter.
His eyes narrowed at your figure as if he was trying to get deep into your thoughts and wonder why you were selling yourself short when both of you had too much to lose. He refused to let you think that, even if he did sign off on letting you come out here alone, it still wouldn’t change the fact that you were risking too much.
“And you don’t?” He shot back, almost accusatory.
You whipped your head around, a ridiculously obvious look on your face, “You know what, yeah, I don’t. I’ve come to realize that over the last twenty-four hours all thanks to you.”
“You really think that?” He argued.
“Don’t act so damn surprised, Joel. You said it yourself. Nobody gives a shit about me. I’m replaceable.” You mocked his gravelly voice, rolling your eyes as you watch him take it in regretfully.
A beat of silence passed, remorse permeating his face as he shut his eyes, recounting the events of yesterday that he seemingly buried beneath the fresh thoughts of seeing you here before him.
His mouth opened, his voice following. “I didn’t mean—”
You lifted your hand in the air, silencing him with a long pointed look.
“Save it, I don’t need your pity all of a sudden, alright.” You exasperated, letting your hand fall against your side.
Your eyes shifted past him, surveying the small living room where you had no choice but to bear the nightfall with him just a few feet away. There was no point in arguing with him any longer.
All you wanted to do was sleep just so you could avoid him. His apologies would mean nothing at all, not when he was only saying it because he was forced to.
In an attempt to brush past him, his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you to face him once more.
“Joel, stop–” You griped firmly, though the desperation was unmistakable in your voice, coming off as begging as you tried to pull your hand back.
The last thing you needed right now was a repeat of what happened back in Jackson. Not only did you have nowhere to run, but not a single fiber of strength left to hear whatever cruel words Joel had kept harboured for you, now ready to be unleashed.
But the bitterness and the usual look of disdain never came. Instead, his fingers loosened just slightly, still firmly anchoring you to him, and there was that catch in his breath, a frown that meant more than just disgruntlement.
“I didn’t mean what I said. I just—it came out wrong.” His voice came with a foreign softness, completely taking you aback all over again. “You matter, but you take risks–you live your life like you don’t.”
His voice nearly broke, betraying himself as he pinched his eyes shut frustratingly. You stared at him, trying to search for an ounce of pity or deception that would’ve made you snap, but all you could find was him.
When his eyes snapped back to yours, there was nothing but truth and even if you didn’t believe any of it personally, he deemed it true to him and that was enough to send you reeling.
“You don’t think I don’t hear the end of it from Ellie and Dina?” He dropped your wrists, running his hands over the scruff of his beard, looking down at the floorboards then back up at you. “Always beggin’ me to put you back on patrols and runs with them?”
There was an apparent heat behind his words, not towards you, but the thought of letting you out of safety–out of his sight.
“Then why don’t you let me?” You asked coolly, crossing your arms over your chest trying to get down to the truth this time, not provocation.
“Because I know you’d throw your life on the line to protect them.” He spoke harsher than he intended to, sighing deeply, regaining his composure and swallowing hard, “To bring back whatever it is that the town needs.”
He faltered just slightly, as if guilt was eating him alive for knowing he too was the one who’d benefit from your
He wasn’t wrong. There’d been many close calls before the one last winter. Runs with Jesse, patrols with Dina, even occasional ones with Ellie, where you throw yourself in the face of danger without thinking twice, perhaps forcing them to watch you die in order to save them and give the town what it needed.
Before you could tell him, it was for good reason, especially to protect his daughter, he spoke up again.
“But I already saw you once on your deathbed, and I can’t see you there again.” His voice pinched, refusing to consider the thought of you slipping away, even if it was only in mind.
It never occurred to you–not until now–just how present Joel had been during the time you were in and out of consciousness, teetering the dead and the living. Somehow, without needing to hear him elaborate, you grasped the weight he carried from that day. How wound up he was had been seeing you in that state, that even now it still destroyed him, but that wasn’t you… not anymore.
“I’m not made out of glass, Joel.” Your throat tightened, taking an effort to bring the words to the tip of your tongue and out into the open, because in that very moment, all you felt like was glass.
Completely see through for Joel to read inside and out, to know your every fear and thought, to know you were in as much denial as he was.
“You sure ain’t.” He huffed sarcastically, his hands coming down on hips as he shook his head and let his shoulders fall. “You have no idea what it was like for me. To… to know I was the one who let you go out there all by yourself because you were so sure, and not able to do anythin’ but stand there and—and hope you’d wake up.”
He went on before you could stop him.
“I mean what the hell were you thinkin’?” His brows furrowed deep, staring at you with a look that you had seen before, but never with this much anguish tangled within him.
“The second you killed the last guy, you should’ve come back home right away. But no. You stayed back and took your time bagging all that crap instead of saving your goddamn self first.”
His words hit you like a ton of bricks, the frustration and helplessness behind them, revealing something unprecedented to the indifference he always offered instead. This wasn’t the Joel who’d brushed you off or the one yesterday that yelled at you with no mercy–this was a cry for understanding, a last-ditch attempt for you to finally see where he was coming from all this time.
You were at a loss for words, mouth parting, trying to figure out what you could say, how you could reason with his regard to ease the burden you had no idea had been carrying all this time. It wasn’t his place to care as much as he did and hide it all behind a facade he should’ve never put up, but he did it and you were willing to compromise.
“We… we’ve all got things we’re not proud of. Guilt we have to live with Joel.”
He barely let your sentiment hang in the air before his voice tumbled.
“Yeah well, if you had died… if you didn’t make it back, I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself.”
You never pegged Joel Miller as the type of man to drop down to his knees and beg for forgiveness for anything, let alone to some unknown God for almost letting you die. But there he was confessing to you like he had committed a sin so abysmal that he couldn’t bear to go on if death ever came close to you again–on his watch or not.
All this time, he had been protecting you, shielding you from what you refused to see in the same light as he did. Even if it bruised your pride to admit, Joel had been seeing you. Truly seeing you from a distance and doing what he could, what he deemed right to keep you safe.
To keep you from ever feeling like you needed to die to mean something. To keep you from leaving behind a place that was home without ever needing to prove yourself worthy of it. To just know that you weren’t going anywhere if he was around to save you first.
Your lips began to part, a small croak pushing past them before you spoke quietly, enough for him to hear.
“Would it help if I forgave you now?” You proposed softly.
He blinked, standing still with eyes filled with turmoil, trying to decode what it was you were saying.
You continued, letting him know just exactly what you meant.
“If I forgave you for sending me out on that run even though I asked for it. If I forgave you for icing me out even though you had good intentions. If I forgave you for letting me go this long thinking no one cared about me.”
He inhaled roughly, shaking his head at you as if he was trying to dodge your words, unsure if he was worthy of letting himself be freed of the guilt, even by your words.
“You… You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He muttered, wiping a hand over his face, processing everything you just said.
You had never been more certain. Never been more willing to forgive so easily because you both needed it. Not just him, but you, too.
“No,” Your voice grew stronger, standing your ground as you stepped closer to him. “I know exactly what I’m asking for–what I need.”
His eyes leaked of hesitance, body tensing when you got close. Too close than you’ve ever been with the air as thick as it was between you two. There were barely any inches separating your bodies, the warmth of your shallow breaths fanning over his face flooding his senses before you spoke.
“You’ve been haunting me…making me think you were just out to get me all this time, when in reality you’ve been the only one seeing me.”
He felt stuck, heart beating out of his chest, at a loss for words to tell you how wrong it would be to let himself show you just how much he’d been seeing you.
“I’m right here, Joel.”
It was all he needed to hear.
He crashed into you. Lips first then body. Large and calloused hands holding you to him as your mouths moved against each other, like your lips were finding a home they’ve been searching for all this time.
Somehow, there was an effortlessness to the neediness you two felt, meshing together so perfectly that nothing else had ever felt so right.
Your feet shuffled with every backwards step he took, dragging you with him across the cabin. Neither of you dare to pull away, even when the need for air became burning. All you two could offer were labored breaths as your hands carelessly undid the buttons of his flannel, while he roughly tugged on the zipper of your coat.
A trail of your outerwear laid messily across the cabin floors, leaving you in a thin tank top and him in his gray undershirt.
Joel collapsed against the couch cushions with a heavy thud, pulling you down with him on his lap. There was a pause in his kiss the second his back met the couch.
He sucked in a sharp hiss, body tensing beneath yours just for a split second, but it was enough for you to detect.
His hands went to pull you to him again, but you refused, eyes leaking with concern as you shook your head and let your hands roam across his body.
“Are you hurt?” You were quiet but panicked, searching for any signs of injury, feeling stupid for not asking sooner, before all of…this.
“It’s nothin’, just sore.”
His features mellowed, running his hands through your hair in an attempt to soothe your worry, but his words only caused more unease.
“Do you have a hard time breathing? Did you take any painkillers yet?” You asked again, worried that he was hiding something from you because he didn’t want to bother.
“Baby…”
The word slipped out so easily, rolling off his tongue and reigning down on you as if he was bestowing a sacred title. You couldn’t pretend to be unaffected even if you wanted to, cheeks flushing and lips tugging up unabashedly.
“M’fine, I swear.” He gave you a sure nod, opening his hand against your thigh, waiting for you to lace yours through his.
Sighing, you thread your fingers between his, the feel of his thumb beginning to stoke along the curve of your wrist, grounding you to him–making sure you knew he was safe.
Your eyes peered up from your hands, drifting to his face where you found his eyes studying you like he didn’t want to miss a thing.
As selfish as it was, there was nothing more you wanted than to stay right there, despite the visible fatigue that was lingering behind his weary eyes.
You took your time and savored the comfortable silence, memorizing every wrinkle, every sunspot, every inch of his face that you never gave much thought to before.
When you had your fill, certain that by the time you fell asleep you could picture it behind your eyes, did you finally stop being selfish.
“We should probably get some sleep,” you whispered quietly, your free hand coming up to push his graying curls back into place, “You’ve had a long day and we’ve got our work cut out for us tomorrow too.”
Joel hummed in agreement, but his fingers stayed tangled in yours, not daring to let go. He just kept on watching you, letting his thumb continue the comforting path over your skin–this time it was him who was being selfish.
Just moments ago his body wanted sleep, but the second you walked in, it was you he craved. It had always been you, even when he tried to starve himself off and convince himself it was nothing more than him being vigilant. Fulfilling his duty by making sure you didn’t drive yourself into the ground because you put others first.
When he boiled down all the irritation and anger he had once felt, he was still left with you. You had become part of him whether he liked it or not–always living in the back of his mind, deep within the cracks of himself until the truth finally clawed its way out.
If he had haunted you, then you had certainly been plaguing him, holding him hostage to a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever set free until he had no choice but to.
He needed you, and he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer.
His hands slowly loosened from yours, trailing up your waist, ghosting over the pulse of your neck, stopping just shy of your jaw, cradling your face between his palms.
“I don’t wanna pretend anymore…” He mumbled, shaking his head, coasting his thumb along your jaw, eyes burning into yours, “spent too long pushin’ you away and actin’ like an ass… but I want–need you.”
Your chest tightened, air trapped in your lungs all while your heart raced and your blood ran impossibly hotter. Maybe it was desperation or quite simply the heat of the moment, but it swallowed you whole. His confession wrapping you up and keeping you there where, for once, you could just be.
He undid you and pieced you back together all at once, suddenly filling spaces that were once hollow but not broken–seeing and needing you was just enough.
“I need you, too,” you whispered, leaning forward to close the space, pressing your forehead to his, lips ghosting over one another.
“You came all the way out here for me, gotta say, you know how to make a man feel special.” A weak chuckle leaving his mouth, breathing fanning over your face.
You smiled, shrugging your shoulders timidly. “Just did what you would’ve done.”
“That right?”
Before you could think twice about the smirk on his lips, his hips shifted up, the stiffness behind his jeans pressing against your center.
Your breath hitched, head thrown back while your hips move once then began to roll against his, needy for more. He took advantage of the skin calling out to him, pressing kisses up the column of your neck, letting you grind and seek out the dull pleasure that wasn’t at all ever going to be enough.
“Want this off, sweetheart,” He nipped at your jaw lightly, his hands dropping to curl around the fabric of your camisole.
There was a broken hum, an eager nod as you felt his fingers guide the garment up your body, leaving you in a basic black bra that was surely two sizes too small and no help to the breathlessness in your chest. But he didn’t seem to notice it, not when his eyes suddenly went somber, trained on a particular scar on your skin.
It was no longer than a few inches, just a thin, fading line of skin that healed a shade lighter than the rest of your body, but nonetheless still apparent. Joel knew what it looked like before–clean cut, too deep, even more bloody. Just seeing it reeled him back to that winter, even when you’re in his lap, safe and well as can be–he still felt the weight of his guilt.
“Joel,” you wrapped your hands around his wrist gingerly, leading his fingertips to the scar and keeping him there.
“I’m right here… safe.”
Your voice called out to him steadily, softly, trying to ground him back here with you, instead of his dreadful memories of your dying self that were swarming his thoughts. His fingers traced the skin, eyes never leaving it as he spoke something thick and rough.
“It shouldn’t have happened to you.”
He didn’t need to say it for you to understand that what he meant was it should have been him instead. But it was your choice. It always was, even when it was him signing off on letting you exit those gates–it was because you felt secure enough to go and he trusted you at one point.
But even now, he couldn’t take place and you couldn’t let him blame himself any longer.
“But it did.” You placed your hands above his, letting them splay across your skin, hiding the scar behind his palms, not wanting him to think back on those memories any longer.
Then wrapped your arms around his neck, tethering yourself to him completely as his gaze finally softened when he saw your eyes locking onto his.
“It happened and I can’t go back to change it, but even if I could, I wouldn’t dare to because it means I’d risk leading myself to you.”
Even when you looked at him so delicately, weary of his own emotional turmoil for something that happened to you, your voice remained sure and strong, like roots settling into the scariest parts of him and promising you weren’t going anywhere.
His heart ached, this time with a feverish warmth that threatened to take his life just because he couldn’t fathom this–you–and the way you made him feel. He didn’t need to say much, not when his lips were already encasing yours, hoping you could feel all the things he wanted to say but wasn't quite strong enough to, just yet
The message was received loud and clear, the two of you simultaneously needing more and acting upon it. Your fingers threaded through the messy curls at the back of his head, pulling him deeper into you just as his hands curved around your waist forcing your bodies flushed against each other, fitting perfectly.
“You tryin’ to kill me?” He mumbled, lips never straying away even as he caught his breath.
He felt you giggle, then placed another kiss on his top then bottom lip, teeth grazing at his skin.
“Trust me, death isn’t fun… I would know.”
He rolled his eyes with another deep sigh, debating on whether he should scold or kiss you to quiet down your sweet laughter for a joke so vicious. He decided on the latter, relishing in the touch of your lips and the way your laughter died subtly with every part and glide of his tongue against yours.
“Can I?” His hands hovering over the elastic of your bra behind your back.
You hummed, pulling away to lean back on his thighs, giving him the perfect view. Your arms rested beneath the bust waiting as his fingers unclasped the closure with a smooth flick. The straps glided off your shoulders with ease and you helped pull the garment the rest of the way before tossing it to the floor.
Joel sucked a deep breath in, palms sliding up and down the tops of your thighs, using whatever restraint he had left to resist the urge to lay you back and make you his. But he wanted to take it slow, to show you how much he cared and make up for the time that was wasted.
“So beautiful,” He groaned and threw his head back against the cushions, needing to shut his eyes for a split second, giving himself a moment to take you in.
You couldn’t help but blush, a weak, almost shy giggle escaping your mouth at the thought of him being this affected by only a portion of your naked body.
Deciding to coax your shared neediness, you brought his hands up to your chest, causing his eyes to snap open.
He was momentarily stunned, unsure of himself, but not for long as he felt you practically melt under the newfound touch.
“God, baby.” He muttered, thumbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger, giving them a gentle pinch.
You let out a broken moan, hips jerking up instinctively into the hardening bulge beneath his jeans. Your sweet sounds and desperate friction egged him on, repeating the deliberate pinch and rolls watching closely as you began to unravel at the seams. You were shamelessly seeking out more, hips moving faster over him with your lip caught between your teeth.
“Let me get this off you, sweetheart.” He spoke lowly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin, fingers running along the waistband of your jeans.
You blinked, tilting your head down at him swallowing the dryness in your throat.
“I-I can do them,” you whispered, attempting to catch your breath and fight the urge to rut your hips again.
Joel nodded, letting you take a moment to breathe and pull yourself together. In the meantime, he pressed chaste kisses to wherever he could reach before you shuffled out of his lap, standing wobbly between his spread thighs.
He watched as you bent down to work off your boots first, nudging them off to the side before your shaky fingers undid the button and zipper of your jeans. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband, you gradually pulled them down, hips swaying naturally, lifting one foot then the other, peeling the denim off the rest of the way without breaking your gaze with him.
He shifted, straightening his back against the cushions, while his eyes swept over the expanse of your skin, drinking you up, committing every inch of you to his memory.
“C’mere.”
He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back on top of him, needing to feel you close.
You let out a short squeal, carefully placing your knees on either side of his hips, letting the thin and undoubtedly soaked fabric of your panties graze the rough material of his jeans head on.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself even more.” You chided, running your hands underneath his t-shirt feeling the warmth of his skin, moving the fabric up higher with every sweep of your palms.
“Worth it.” He smirked, letting you guide the t-shirt off his body the way you wanted, until he had no choice but to tug it over his head, leaving nothing between your chest and his.
You braced your hands against his sternum, gliding to feel the beat of his heart before connecting your lips once again. You learned quickly that kissing him nice and slow allowed you to really feel him. The dull scratch of his stumble against your skin, his hands mindlessly roaming across your back, the push and pull of breaths he took.
But nice and slow, could only do for so long, quickly turning urgent and messy.
He took advantage of your desperation, giving the small of your back a gentle but firm push, rocking you back and forth over the tent in his jeans before your hips began to move on their own accord, resuming your earlier pursuit of pleasure.
“Please.” You gasped, abruptly pulling away to stare up at him with frantic eyes.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” He cooed, almost condescendingly, amused at the fact that you were already this wound up without him doing much.
“Touch me,” you reached behind you to take one of his hands, guiding it to where you needed him most, “Need you to touch, right here.”
His fingers smoothed over the arousal soaked fabric, groaning to himself as he pressed his digits right over your clit, making you whimper.
“I’ve got you.”
He pulled his hand away to maneuver you into a more comfortable position. Cradling you into his side and letting your head rest against his shoulder, he guided your legs to sling over his thighs.
“This OK?” He asked, running his hands up to shin down to your ankle wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.
“Perfect.” You nodded eagerly, leaning up for another kiss, thanking him for being so considerate even in the heat of the moment.
When you pulled away, he nodded at you to lay your head back on him while he did the work. His fingers finally trailed up over your hips, sliding under the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to drag the fabric off your body and tossing it somewhere.
His hand settled on your knee farthest away from his body, bending it just enough for him to open you up further and give him a complete view of your soaking center.
“Jesus,” he choked out, his fingers gliding up and down the seam of your folds, torturing you slowly, “Need it bad, huh sweetheart.”
You whimpered, nodding your head as your nails scraped down his chest, digging into his skin, asking for more.
“Gonna make it better,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your temple, “just let me do all the work and you feel good alright?”
He didn’t waste any more time, parting your folds with his pointer and middle, dipping them into your heat and gathering your arousal, only to take it up towards your clit where he pressed down firmly and began rubbing slow circles.
“F-fuck.” Your hips stuttered up, chasing his movements that felt like too much, and not enough all at the same time.
Joel tsked, shushing you quietly as he used his free arm to settle you back down, holding you tight.
“Shh, shh, relax.” He eased up just slightly on your bundle of nerves, helping lull you, “Need to take it slow, wanna make it last.”
You wanted to tell him that there was no need to take it slow, not when he could have you for as long as you lived from this point on. But you could barely focus, let alone form coherent words as he murmured praises into your ear, picking back up the pressure of his thumb over your nerves.
Your chest dipped with a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering shut while your fingertips dug into the flesh of his biceps, anything to keep yourself from lifting your hips from where he wanted.
“Feels good darlin’?” He asked, deliberately dragging his digits lower, sliding them into your core with ease, crooking them up before his thumb ghosted over your clit.
“Just like–just like that,” you panted, tongue running over your lips, feeling yourself grow wetter.
“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.”
You didn’t need to open your eyes to tell there was a smile on his face, the feel of his hand giving your waist a squeeze where he held you still, while still keeping up his movements.
“Been needin’ to feel this.”
The cabin was filled with your moans and labored breaths, squelching between your thighs falling deaf on your ears as Joel dragged the pleasure on and on, not daring to tear his eyes away from such a sight as perfect as you.
“Open those eyes, c’mon,” He commanded softly, his thumb stilling on your clit again, but his fingers still continued those deep strokes, “Wanna see those eyes when I tell you this.”
Your eyes open, glazed over with pleasure, a whimper leaving your mouth seeing the content smile on his lips at your obedience.
“Atta’girl.”
You thought that was it. The praise dripping with heat and honey, enough to have you plunging past the finish line as your eyelashes kissed the skin under your eyes. But the action only made him grunt, prompting you to keep them open, for he had more to say that would completely unravel you.
“Should’ve never let you walk away yesterday.” He said, thumb resuming their movements on your clit, but just lightly, enough to keep you focused on his words and the pleasure-something tolerable for now.
“Should’ve apologized and told you that I care for you.”
“J-Joel, I forgive you. I do.” You stuttered, swallowing down a moan, hoping he’d believe you just as much as you did him.
He shook his head, more so at himself, before continuing.
“You scare the shit outta me. Always givin’ so much of yourself without ever askin’ for anythin’ in return.”
“You don’t know how much I think about you.” He admitted, fingers speeding up, dragging a new string of moans out of you, struggling to keep your eyes open.
“If you’re takin’ care of yourself,” he murmured, trailing kisses over your warm cheek. “If you know how much I want to protect you.”
“Iknowiknow,” You babbled, leaning your head against him as your thighs shook when he prodded at the deep spot inside you, “I know now.”
His eyes stayed glued to you, watching every word escape through your lips with extra effort, before becoming muddled with your moans. Nails leaving crescents across his skin anywhere you could grab him and anchor yourself to the feeling. Your pussy shuddering with every stroke and prod of his fingertips bringing you closer.
“Should’ve told you sooner baby. You gonna let me make it up to you?” He crooned.
“Yes, p-please…I will, I promise I–”
“Let me show you how much you matter to me.” He stuffed his fingers impossibly deeper, thumb relentlessly orbiting your clit with more pressure now. “How it feels to be mine.”
“I’m yours, Joel…please, I’m so close.” Your voice cracked, head beginning to tip back as your body gave in completely, but he wouldn’t let you fall apart without seeing it for himself.
He threading his fingers through the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his.
“Cum for me baby,” His lips crashed onto yours, the final catalyst that sent you over the edge as he pulled away, breath ghosting over your lips. “Give me what’s mine.”
Only then did your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed with the intense pleasure that seemed to be never ending. Your limbs shook against his body, breathing deeply through the waves of euphoria that he kept you on. His fingers still stroking, rubbing, coaxing everything out of you, tethering you to him, watching your every move as you succumbed.
“I–baby, I…please.” Your voice was weak, your body feeling equally weightless going limp against him.
Your hands instinctively reached for his forearms, squeezing him tightly, needing more of him to help ground you through the shocks of pleasure still coursing through your nerves.
“I’ve got you,” He murmured, finally dragging his slick fingers away from your oversensitive heat, cradling your body closer. “Did so good for me, sweetheart.”
He tucked your face under his chin, kissing the crown of your head, letting his hands soothe over your tingling skin to bring you back down to the delicate place with him once more. Your breathing was still irregular, shallow puffs of air hitting his chest, feeling his heart pound over your lips where you pressed soft, mindless kisses, grateful for his tenderness.
“S’ok, baby,” His voice remained soft, cooing more words of praise to you before guiding your face away, just enough for him to see you and know you were back with him.
His chest tightened at the sight of your wet eyes blurring with a sheen of tears and lips swollen, flashing him a devastatingly sweet smile.
“Oh, sweetheart...”
You blinked, laughing nervously as you felt his thumb swipe away at the tear before it could tumble down your cheek.
“T-that was nice,” you cleared your throat, voice still a little hoarse and spent all thanks to him. “Really nice,” you added, stroking your fingers over his stubble.
He grinned, tucking your messy hair behind your ears, “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”
You stared at each other, all dopey and lovesick, basking in one another like nothing else in the world mattered. It should’ve felt unnatural, a little odd for the two of you considering the state of your relationship just twenty-four hours before, but instead it felt familiar, something so intimate and complete without much labor to make it feel as such.
You used your arms as leverage, wanting to sit back into the original position on his lap. He helped you, carefully holding you by the hips as you maneuvered only for you to let out a gasp catching him by surprise.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, Joel.” You looked down half embarrassed, half amused, fingers trailing over the dark patch of your wetness that settled on his jeans.
He followed your sights, shaking his head as he laughed and laced his fingers with yours, pulling them up to his mouth to press a reassuring kiss over your knuckles.
“Nothin’ to worry about, it’s for memory’s sake.” He joked lightly, easing you of any self-consciousness even after he brought you to a breathtaking orgasm just minutes ago.
You shifted your hips against his lap, eliciting a groan from him, jaw tightening and his hands squeezing yours. He grew harder beneath his boxers, the tip of his cock begging for release behind the garment and his thick jeans, at this rate probably dripping with pre cum too. He could have easily flipped you over and given into what you both were needing, but he curbed the thoughts, letting you set the pace.
“I can feel you.” You whispered, taking your time circling your hips lightly, core still overstimulated, but somehow demanding more, “Can we…”
Your voice died with a hint of uncertainty, eyes shifting to his, hoping he’d read your mind and understand that you still needed him…you just didn’t know what to call it.
Fuck?
Make love?
Neither sounded right to say aloud. You knew crossing this line would mean more than just a quick fuck, but you also realized it was too soon to call it love–though you were positive you’d fall, eventually.
He rested his hands on your thighs, eyes boring into yours, trying to read your anxiety, not wanting you to feel pressured just because he was rock hard.
“We don’t have to do any–”
“No, I do,” you interjected hurriedly, shutting him up as he smirked at your insistence causing you to roll your eyes and smack his chest.
You sighed, wringing your fingers nervously, shifting your eyes to his lap instead as you spoke. “I just haven’t… I want it to be good for you.”
It was no surprise that an outbreak would leave getting laid one of your last priorities with survival being number one. But truthfully, it had been a long while, and even as natural as it felt to have Joel pull an orgasm out of you with his fingers, you hoped to God you’d be able to deliver something just as good for him. But before you could let the perturbation swallow you whole he laughed.
You quickly shot your eyes up to his, watching the crow’s feet around the outer corner of his eyes crinkle, his chest rumbling with snickers, causing you to pout, wondering what amusement he got out of seeing you like this. He settled after a few seconds, shaking his head in disbelief going to grab your hands once more even as you tried to fight him off weakly.
“Sweetheart,” He started, rubbing his thumbs over the top of your hands, silently telling you to loosen up, “Do you know how close I’ve been to creamin’ my pants like a fuckin’ teenager?”
His bluntness made your cheeks go up in flames, wanting nothing more than to hide away in the crook of his neck and laugh there, but he didn’t let you, cupping your cheeks and thumbing your heated skin. He was old enough to understand why you must’ve felt the way you did, but he too was devoid of anything as intimate for years. You’d already made him feel the tenderness and lust he once thought was over for him, and he’d be damned if he let you think otherwise.
“You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ alright? It’s goin’ to be good because it’s with you.” He confessed, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, then to your lips, making you smile as your heart rate began to pick up once more.
“I wanna be on top,” you started, a new wave of boldness washing over you as he smirked and nodded.
“I can do with that.” He hummed, leaning back just to get an eyeful of your naked body, pinching himself for finally getting to have you.
“Here, I’ll–”
You went to undo his belt, a mixture of excitement and neediness urging your motions, but before you could he stopped you, moving your fingers out of the way.
“I got it, sweetheart,” he pulled the end of the leather through the buckle, eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t need to lift a finger.”
You giggled, tilting your head and raising your brow. “Hmm, cause I’ll be too busy lifting my ass, right?” You quipped.
“There’s my brat,” He huffed feignedly, pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it to the ground.
You let out a giggle, moving off of his lap causing him to protest, only for you to drop down to your knees between his legs, pulling at the laces of his boots and tugging them off.
“What? You said I couldn’t help with the belt, not stripping your jeans off.” You winked up at him while he grumbled, simply undoing his fly and zipper before letting you do the rest.
He lifted his hips as you tugged on the waistband of his jeans and boxers His cock came into view, thick and heavy, tip glistening with pre-cum as it rested against his stomach. Your gut twisted tighter, heat growing hotter between your thighs as your mouth watered, eyes remaining fixated on his length.
Your visible engrossment made him twitch, the hunger in your eyes causing his blood to rush and welcome the newfound attention. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling your fingers wrap around his shaft, barely able to cover him wholly even with both hands. You leaned forward, parting your lips, breathing warmth over his tip before you closed your lips around him gently, humming at the salty bead, salivating for more.
If he had any more willpower, he’d let you have your fill. To swallow him down the way you wanted to–messy, slow, deep–but right now it was ebbing, and all he wanted to do was bury himself within you. There was no way he was going to let himself finish within the first minute of you getting him naked.
As if it pained him, he grimaced and cradled your jaw, pulling you off with a pop, and almost immediately you began to pout, mouth opening to tell him you wanted a proper taste.
“Come back up here.” He growled.
His eyes were glazed over with need, voice dripping with a gentle firmness as he offered you a hand, helping you lift off your knees and take your place back on his lap.
“I’ll let you have it in your mouth next time.” He promised, placing a kiss to your lips in an apology, guiding you to sink your knees into the cushions beside him.
You smiled, breath catching in your chest at the thought of ‘next time’ because it meant that Joel wanted to have you the same way you did him. Truthfully, there was no turning back, and you and Joel were both aware of the implications, too far gone in each other to think you’d be walking away from each other after this.
His hands looped securely around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours as your noses brushed against one another.
“Take it nice and slow, alright?” He cautioned sweetly.
You nodded, kissing him once more before you pulled away and took a deep breath.
You brought your fingertips to your mouth, swiping them over your tongue, reaching down and curling your hand around him. You stroked him slowly, mixing together your spit and his precum, which you knew would help the slide. He stilled his hips, keeping from rutting up into your hand, letting you do what you needed to first.
Bracing one hand on his shoulder, you guided him towards your entrance, the thick head notching inside of you with a stretch as you dropped your hips, settled down on the first few inches of him.
“Oh, f-fuck,” you whimpered, thighs trembling weakly as your eyes flew shut at the sudden fullness.
“Slow down, babygirl…breathe for me.” He steadied you carefully, hands squeezing your waist, letting you adjust.
“Know it’s a lot, but you’re doing so good.”
The sound of his voice was warm and guiding, reminding you there was no need at all to rush. Your head spun at the praise and guidance, using it as encouragement while you kept your eyes closed and took a deep breath in through your nose and held it for a moment. He hummed something that sounded like approval, spurring you on as you released the breath and sunk down to take more of him.
A strangled moan left your lips, his cock already reaching parts of you that had been untouched for what felt like forever. And even as the fluttering walls of your pussy sent a tremor up his spine, he swallowed back his own grunt, gritting his teeth and setting his focus on soothing you instead of his frenzied pleasure.
“Sweetheart, you gotta–” He spoke raspy and strained, but whatever he had left to say, never came as you blew your eyes open to meet his, all glassy and filled with ruin already.
“J-Joel,” you whined, grabbing harshly at his shoulders, trembling over nearly half of his cock, but already feeling split open and ready to fall over the crest of pleasure.
“S-so full, already.”
He nodded understandingly, clenching and unclenching his jaw, as he stroked your sides, hoping to calm the shivers that were dancing along your skin. He leaned up slightly, nudging his nose across cheek until he settled soft kisses along your earlobe.
“It’s all yours baby, right sweetheart?” He murmured possessively, staking your claim over him before you could do it yourself–but he wanted to hear you, needed to hear that you understood he was yours now.
Your lips parted with a breathy moan, walls clenching around him at the thought, before you swallowed thickly and nodded against him.
“Uh, huh… mine.”
He grinned, satisfied with your response and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, feeling your hot labored breaths against him.
“So take it.”
He snaked one of his hands between your bodies, using your wetness and circling your clit with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back and your mouth drop open. The added stimulation helped distract you from the massive stretch, but not enough to send you over the edge just yet.
“I know you can do it, sweetheart.”
And somehow you did.
You focused on the sound of his voice, shutting out all the tingling nerves and worries in the back of your mind, sinking down the rest of the way, and nestling his cock deep inside you.
“S-shit, sweetheart,” Joel hissed, digging his fingers into your hip.
His eyes dropped down to where you fully sheathed his length. “Fuckin’ grippin’ me so damn tight.”
Your stomach clenched, walls clinging to every inch of him, carving out a new home where you’d crave him constantly. He couldn’t look away even if he tried, his eyes sailing towards your face and back down your body, reveling every gasp and shake not wanting to miss a thing.
Your brows furrowed, finally testing the waters by rolling your hips in small circles, anticipating the first rumble of pleasure. But with him buried so deeply, relentlessly budging the spongy spot inside you, the small action stole your breath altogether, sending you toppling, slump against his chest.
“Oh my–fuck…toomuchtoomuch, Joel–”
“Hey, shh, relax for a minute,”
His hand came down to the back your head, pressing you deeper into his chest, stroking your hair and feeling the way your walls spasmed around him uncontrollably.
Joel hugged you close, letting you bury your face into the crook of neck where you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat racing just as quick as yours, yet still somehow sounding unaffected as he continued whispering words of solace, gently caressing your body like you were all that mattered to him.
“I–I’m sorry…” You choked between a sniffle, not knowing exactly why you were apologizing suddenly, probably because Joel had spent more time comforting you through your pleasure without giving in to his.
You needed to make him feel good.
He grunted disapprovingly, kissing the crown of your head. “Baby, you don’t have to apologiz–”
You attempted to lift your hips off of him, going to ride him the way you wanted to, but his hands immediately stalled your movements as you protested.
“Joel, let me, c’mon.” You whined, trying to lift your hips once more.
“Sweetheart...” He shook his head, tugging your face away from hiding, staring at you all dark and tender.
“This is gonna be over before you even start,” He reasoned, rubbing the back of your scalp, wanting you to ease up, “You’re sensitive and she needs it gentle.”
You pouted, truly at odds with no being able to please him the way you planned. “But I’m supposed to be taking care of you now and I–”
“Hey, listen to me,” His voice was stern though his eyes remained a softened contrast, “Feelin’ you around me is already you takin’ care of me. Now, let me take care of you at the same time. Deal?”
“Okay...” you whispered, nodding your head as he kissed you deeply before lifting his back off the couch, allowing him to lay you on your back.
You spread your legs, letting him bracket his hips closer, planting one foot on the ground to give himself leverage, while the other remained bent at the knee on the couch.
“How’s that sweetheart?”
His hands glided over your stomach, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses up between the valley of your breast until he stopped at your chin peering up at you.
“B-better…” You breathed, palms meeting his right over your stomach and pressing down slightly, “I can feel you deeper I think.”
“Good.”
His lips quirked up into a smile, nipping your jaw before leaning up the rest of the way and pressing his forehead against yours.
“I’m gonna move now. You say the word and we’ll stop whenever you want, alright?”
You nodded, connecting your lips as you wounded your arms around his neck, readying yourself for the first thrust of his hips. His hands slid up to your ribcage, gripping you there tenderly, pulling his hips back barely a few inches, before sawing back in.
He swallowed up your moans, dragging his hips back once more, setting a slow yet thoughtful pace, stretching out your combined pleasure, basking in other another.
With every thrust, the pleasurable sensation blossomed brighter within you, your legs spreading more, hips stuttering up not wanting to let him go far from where he belonged.
“Takin’ it so good, baby. Nice and deep.” Joel panted against your lips, pulling out almost halfway now, then back in again, eliciting a soft cry from your lips. “So perfect for me…my girl, my fuckin’ pussy, right?”
“Yes, yes, it’s yours…I-I’m yours, Joel.” You choked out, nails raking across his shoulder blades and down his back, “Please don’t stop, please, just–fuck!”
“Keep fuckin’ you baby?” He teased, your whimpery moans agreeing with his filthy words.
“Never gonna stop, sweetheart…promise. You just keep feelin’ good on my cock.”
Your throat tore with a high-pitched squeal, Joel pulling out nearly all the way before driving back home, repeating the movement that had your legs trembling around him. The sounds were obscene, wet slaps of your skin nearly overpowering your moans, occupying the cabin.
“Hear how wet you are?” He gritted, sucking in deeper breaths with every squeeze of your walls, “She's leaking all over me, such a sweet thing, alright.”
You gasped, reeling in ever bit of pleasure, welcoming more, “S-s-so good, you’re so deep. Please...I-I need more."
“Let me, baby.” He guided one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing impossibly deeper, making you moan loudly.
“Right there, please j-just like that,” You held him tighter, muffled words beating against his skin. “Don’t stop, please don’t–”
“I won’t baby,” Joel assured you, maintaining the deliberately deep pace, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips, “Let me feel you, c’mon, give my cock some lovin’, let me feel you cum.”
You crashed hard without even thinking twice, incoherent begging jumbled with your moans as stars flashed behind your pinched eyes.
His movements didn’t falter, working every inch of himself within you, encouraging you to ride the wave of pleasure for as long as possible, reeling in the way your nails scratched down his back, pulling him tighter into you until your body went lax.
Slowing his thrusts, he placed a chaste kiss to the inside of your knee, guiding your leg back down, allowing you some reprieve. He felt your motionless hands along his back, settling for weak grazes across the fresh scratches you left behind, while your chest rose and fell deeply.
“Too much?” He rasped out, hands going to cup your cheeks, forcing your eyes to open and blink through the haze, “Need a break, baby?”
You let out a shaky noise that told him ‘no,’ turning your head just slightly to take a deep breath in the out, repeating the action until you could bear to open your eyes, taking in the mouthwatering sight of him.
His hair was tousled all thanks to your grabby hands, sweat beading at his hairline, trailing down the sides of his face. His lips were as swollen as yours from the endless kisses you two had shared, and his eyes burned through you with fire, so strong yet delicate, needed to get close and finally feel the heat soar through you.
“K-Keep going,” you stuttered, still catching your breath, snaking your hands through his hair, gawking up at him hungrily, “I need it–I need to feel you…”
The realization washed over him, and you swore you could feel the twitch of his cock spur inside you, a restrained jerk of his hips sending his length somewhere deeper—right where you needed him to stick.
“Needa feel me extra deep, is that right?” He whispered, one hand splaying over your stomach, groaning to himself when he felt the faint brunt of himself beneath your skin.
“Need me to leave my mark, remind you who you belong to?”
You licked your lips, nodding frantically. “Yes. I’m all yours, please.”
He reached for your free hand, intertwining them as he bent to kiss your shaky knuckles.
“I’m yours too, baby…never lettin’ you go.” He began to thrust into you again, pressing his hips flushed between your thighs, grinding deep and precise. “Promise.”
It didn’t take long to have you breathless all over again, your legs moving on their own accord to wrap around his waist, barely allowing him any escape from your heat—just simple, heavy, deep strokes, that caused tears to prickle at your eyes, the blossoming happening all over again, and this time stronger than the last two he so graciously gave you.
“Joel–shit, I’m…” You gasped, crushing his hand tightly, your entire body beginning to quiver as you tiptoed to the edge.
“Just like that… fuck, darlin’” He hissed, throwing his head, feeling your walls close in on him impossibly tighter, like they were begging as much as you were for him.
“Just keep feelin’ me… every goddamn inch baby..”
You did more than just let yourself feel. But be all consumed by him. Giving in to a need that would never be satiated by anyone besides Joel Miller, not that there was anyone else who could suffice, anyway.
You gave yourself to him wholeheartedly, the same way he did to you. More than just a feeling. A deep-seated care that would never leave, always within you wherever you strayed because Joel proved it to you.
His hand untangled with yours and before you could whine out of protest, one escaped thoughtlessly, the feel of fingers sliding over your mound, easily finding your clit and rubbing steady circles. Y
You were dangling over the edge, just waiting to drop.
“Oh… oh,” Your jaw went slack, voice so small, “Joel, please.”
“Need to feel you fall apart one more time baby, let me see it.” He cooed softly, infatuated with you beneath him, ready to give you his all.
“Cum with me,” you begged, snaking your hands through his hair pull him closer, letting him swallow and steal your every breath, “Please… I need it. Fill me up, p-please.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks, body seizing up into his, walls clamping greedily, taking him right over the edge with you.
“Fuckin’ hell… oh, fuck,” Joel groaned, hips stuttering, grinding and pushing deeper, spilling everything he had to give you, as he reveled in your take.
There was a saccharine smile on your face, weak but still there. Cheeks stained with a warm flush as tears remained stuck in their path, littering the wisp of your lashes with faint drops, blinking up at him starry-eyed.
It was a sight that made his heart ache—not haunting or plaguing in a sense, but chained to knowing it could only ever be you from that point forward, and there was no need to deny himself.
Quietly, the two of you came back down together. Hands lazily roaming the skin your fingertips could reach, lips resting, not kissing, just feeling each other be there, and your hearts settling into a shared thump.
You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat,
“T-thank you.” You croaked out, reaching up with shaky hands to hold his cheek in your palm, not caring about the sweat trickling over your already sweaty skin.
He turned just slightly, chapped lips pressing into your pulse point.
“You’re… you’re thanking me for…” He tilted his back at you raising his brows with a smirk, still catching his breath, meanwhile you laughed weakly and shook your head.
“That too, but mostly for seeing me… for showing me I matter.”
“Don’t gotta thank me for any of it,” He assured you, bringing his hand to wipe the tears off your cheeks.
His lips got closer, speaking just inches away from yours as he stared lovingly into your dazed orbs. “And I don’t think I said it earlier…but I’m sorry everythin’.”
“I forgave you already,” you replied with a smile, welcoming the feel of his lips on yours again as he kissed you so tenderly.
Slowly, he helped ease your legs from around his waist, swallowing up your whines as he apologized lowly, shifting his hips back to pull out of you.
The emptiness felt foreign, almost unbearable, but the faint trickle of your shared spent seeping out was a filthy yet pleasant reminder that you two were stuck together.
He reached down, picking up his discarded t-shirt, bending down to catch a better glimpse of the mess, holding himself back from wrecking you some more.
“So you’re just going to let me ruin all your clothes at this point?” You shivered with a laugh, watching as he carefully swiped the shirt between your thighs, cleaning up the mess between your thighs.
“Got a whole drawer at home waitin’ for you.” He winked up at you, kissing the inside of your knee.
You roll your eyes playfully, watching as he tossed the fabric to the floor after cleaning himself up too. Carefully, he maneuvered you off your back, sliding his body against the cushions to take your place, before setting you inside his side—your warm naked bodies tangling snugly to brave the winter night.
“I’ll take first watch so you can rest darlin’,” Joel whispered, running his palm along your shoulder blades while you traced random shapes over his chest.
You rocked your head against him slightly, whispering loud enough for him to hear.
“We’re safe out here…”
It was loaded, both a promise to take and a question for him to answer.
“Yeah, we’re safe, baby.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, eyes falling shut effortlessly, the sight of you still fresh behind his lids.
“I’ve got you. Always, got you.”
💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!
a/n: i'm horny and ovulating, im sorry!!! thank you to my love, Effie for proof-reading and unapologetically encouraging my delulu for dilfy joel 💕💕
just wondering when are you going to post the second part of no one’s ever had me (not like you)?? no pressure tho just asking 🫠🙃
love your writing 🫶
hey ray!!!
truth is...i haven't touched that part ii document in a few days because i am finishing up a longer joel fic that should be coming out sometime this week!!! but fret not, i have about less than half of part ii done and it shouldn't take me too long to finish it!!
thanks for sticking around and for your kind words!!!
summary: Your night time routine isn't complete without feeling Joel's love and reminding him how much you love every single part of him.
warnings: no use of y/n, age-gap (joel is older but no mentions of readers age), mentions of scars and violence (nothing too specific or gory though), basically a fluffy-smushy one-shot, Joel loves his lady so much.
You could feel his eyes trained on you, studying your every move as if he was trying to commit all of you to memory, though you were positive the routine was engrained behind his eyelids at this point.
It was an almost daily occurrence, the two of you sharing a toasty shower while outside, the sky turned dark and the stars came out to play and twinkle. He ultimately ended up in bed before you each and every single time, despite getting out and toweling dry at the same time. His body would warm the bed as the minutes ticked by and his eyes remained glued to you.
You don’t know when it exactly began, but by now it’s routine, and even when he’s tired out of his mind from a long day of patrol, he still somehow has it in him to watch you as if it helps his body decompress, which it totally does.
The bathroom cools with the door propped wide open. The smell of your watered down vanilla body wash and his allspice shampoo trickling into the bedroom where he laid comfortably under the covers, his body turned towards you.
You were still wrapped up in the worn towel that has long lost its fuzz, but gets the job done, absorbing the rivulets of water that tread across your bare skin. Small droplets continue dripping down your back from the ends of your hair, falling onto the sham under your feet.
Your skin glistened with a sheer lay of jojoba oil that Joel luckily found during one of his runs. It was a simply luxury that he stowed away and kept just for you. And even when you chided at him for not sharing the small bottle of liquid gold with the rest of the ladies in Jackson who craved baby soft skin, you cherished every single drop and most importantly every night like this one.
“You almost done in there darlin’?” He calls out softly, the old mattress creaking under his movement, rustling the comforter a bit higher over his chest.
You shifted your eyes towards him, catching a glimpse of his unwavering focus on you.
“Almost,” you huffed out, pretending to be annoyed, “You know you can sleep without me right, old man?”
You swept another Joel found product across the apples of your cheeks—an oatmeal-based moisturizer that was a godsent when your skin needed the extra hydration.
He only let out a laugh, not minding your playful teasing that reminded him how lucky he was to still find humor in the world you two were living in now.
“You say that, but the second I get up in the middle of the night, you come chasin’ me from my workshop sayin’ the bed isn’t the same without me.”
You let out a dramatic gasp, turning to him as your moisturizer clatters onto the counters and you whip your head towards him.
“Hey that’s such a low blow!” You frown, flipping him off as he chortles and shakes his head at your grumbling. “Plus, you know I’m a light sleeper.”
“I know, I know,” He grins, resting his hands over his stomach, shoulders shifting a tad, “Just playin’, thought poking fun at you would get you into bed faster.”
“Now I’m gonna take my sweet sweet time,” you said half-jokingly, shaking your head as you twisted the lid back onto the jar, grabbing another product.
This one wasn’t found, but made by Joel himself. The town had got lucky with a beehive, harvesting the honey into jars and distributing a portion to everyone, but Joel had one extra request and it was preserving the beeswax. He stumbled across a tattered up apothecary book and just barely made out the recipe for homemade lip balm.
It wasn’t anything fancy—the strained and melted beeswax poured into an empty aluminium tin and gifted to your ever thankful self. But you applied it every night and every morning, never forgetting to lay a kiss upon him. He watched you like he always did, fingers dabbing into the jar and swiping it over your lips before pressing them together and making a smooch sound that always made him smile.
“I don’t mind.” He spoke after a beat, watching you run your fingers through your hair, working through the small tangles.
“I like watchin’ you, even though you don’t need none of that crap.” His voice was sure and steady, just like it always was when it came to you.
“You’re beautiful the way you are. Skin and bones, and all just you.”
He wasn’t being condescending about the care you take in yourself even in the post apocalyptic world. He was just being his sincere and honest self, the same Joel you had met the first time and remained true to this very day. His words, no matter how many times you heard them before, still made your stomach swirl and your cheeks rise with a smile.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re flirting with me.” You mumbled, failing to bite back against your turned up lips as you finished up and gave the mirror one last one over.
“I’m always flirting with you doll.” He watched you shut off bathroom light and unwrap the towel from your body, handing it on the rickety hook.
You could feel his eyes drinking you in unbashfully as you rounded the bed, reaching into one of his drawers and slipping on an oversized tee over your frame. As you straighten the hem over the tops of your thighs, you looked over your shoulder to find him smirking, patting your side of the bed, just waiting for you to join him.
“Happy now?” You whispered, tucking the sheets under your chin, trying to case yourself in the warmth he created.
His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. There was an ease to him when you were wrapped up in his arms, like a weight lifted off his shoulders where he could just exist, not in the comfort of your own home, but in the comfort of you.
“Right where you belong.” His chin rocked against the top of your head, breathing you in as he kissed your temple and you two finally began to settle in.
The moonlight illuminated the quaint room, giving light to his tanned skin. Your fingers mindlessly traced over the faded scars that littered over his chest, eyes making out the thin paths of raised skin that was healing with time. Joel wasn’t insecure of much, but you learned quick that it was the scars that troubled him most.
They were reminders of the life he had before he found peace with you. The kind of scars not acquired by an accidental fall or slip of a knife, but rather ones acquired from survival and taking away the lives who those who tried to hurt him. At first, he hated the thought of you seeing them, perhaps terrified that you’d be put off by his treacherous past, but he soon found that you accepted him wholeheartedly.
For everything he did and the person he was still growing into.
You understood the implications of the world before you. The desperation to survive, even if it meant selfishly acting upon impulse. Even when it meant spilling blood just to empty another’s completely.
You understood it even more when he told you about hauling Ellie along for the ride.
Every single scar on his skin told a story, some more painful and heart-wrenching than others, but still they belonged to Joel.
Your Joel who loved you so deeply, despite everything he had been through, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“Maybe the oil will help make them go away?” He asked softly, picking up on your quietness and feeling your fingertips coast along the scar tissue.
Immediately, your head wobbled against his chest, chin lifting up just a tad so you could meet his eyes in the dim room.
“I love you the way you are.” You rustle against the sheets, just a little higher to brush your lips against his as you spoke once more, “Skin and bone and scars and all. I love every bit of you.”
Your soft lips met his, noses smushing together as his arms tugged you impossibly closer, as if he couldn’t fathom the love he had found. The heat of his cheeks made you giggle, pressing a hand to his chest as you pulled away and just stared.
“I love every inch of you sweetheart." He smiled, tucking a strand of your damp hair behind your ear as he just melted into you.
"Body and soul, and everything in between.”
💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌
a/n: happy wednesday everyone!! this was one of the shorter imagines i have been working on--i actually finished it last night but wanted to wait until today to post it hehe!! i don't know how much beauty products would actually be salvageable in the fucking apocalypse but in my mind joel would bring back whatever he could for his girl and at least try to make what she was missing himself (yes he's such a cutie and a giver hehehe <3). i hope you guys liked this one and happy reading!!
i want to keep you all in the loop now that i'm back to writing!! down below i talk about my wips and give teeny tiny spoilers of what's to come!!!
: ̗̀➛ i've been working on a new chapter of SYGB (it's going to be shorter than the others but for good reason, i promise!!!) it's going to be full of fluff (max deserves all the happiness in the world) and a bunch of domesticity which i hope you all will love. my love @translatemunson has been such a doll and sweetheart of talking to me about this series and helping me with some ideas!!
: ̗̀➛ glitch is coming along, but i will say i am still having a little bit of writers block just because i really want to make the next chapter after glitch and stevie's first kiss perfect. i'm thinking about opening requests for the series though that way we can have some shorter imagines regarding the two love birds hehe. send me in some requests if you're interested!!!
: ̗̀➛ im working on two longer joel miller fics...both include smut hehehe. one is based off a taylor song from ttpd and it's literally almost done *i just have to write the smut* (gosh sometimes i get so nervous writing smut bcs i feel like i'm doing a shit job at explaining hahaha--don't worry it's getting there). it is enemies to lovers which is kinda my shit hahahaha!!!
: ̗̀➛ the other joel fic is based off a sabrina song, but it is in its very rough stage rn so i'm not sure if it'll be done by this month or sometime in early august. it will not be enemies to lovers but more so friends-ish to lovers?? idk, like i said it is VERY rough right now!
: ̗̀➛ i'm also working on a bunch of smaller fics/imagines in between the larger pieces of writing, which i feel is really helping me stay motivated. here are a few i'm working on:
⤑ part two of 'no one's ever had me (not like you)'
⤑ part two of 'every second counts'
⤑ 'box of memories' joel miller
⤑ 'family that i chose' steve harrington
as i get closer to finishing up each fic i'm planning to post some sort of sneak-peek the night before just to give you all a little taste hehehe. anyway, thank you for sticking around and i can't wait for you all to read these soon!!!
p.s. my requests are open right now so don't be afraid to shoot one into my inbox!!
tagging my taglist bcs they might be interested hehehe <3
summary: After a snowstorm leaves you worried sick about Joel’s wellbeing, he promises you he’ll take a break from patrols to ease your heart and mind. And as seasons change and Joel grows fonder of being safe and sound with you, he starts to reflect on the love you give him and slowly comes to terms that he actually deserves it all—especially the fact that no one would ever have him the way you did.
warnings: no use of y/n, very little angst, age-gap (joel is older, but no specifics of readers age), slight mentions of joel's past/sarah death, reader likes to garden, all takes place in Jackson, mentions of pregnancy, suggestive smut but nothing written in detail, mostly filled with tooth-rotting, heart-aching fluff, lmk if i missed anything!!
thinking of making a very fluffy part two!
It had been a rough and frigid twenty-four hours for Joel and a few other rookie patrollers under his watch. They were miles out from Jackson, on their routine sweep of the area to get them comfortable and familiar with the route, though the unexpected raging winds and heavy snow altered their plans.
He called for a shelter in place, ushering everyone into the tiny watch tower where they sat tight and faced the bitter cold that ate through their layers. They all managed perfectly fine despite the newcomers’ uncertainties and mutters of bad luck on their first patrol outing.
Joel, with years of experience, talked the younger folks into a state of calm, instructing them to focus on their breathing and preserving every bit of their strength for the unexpected. But most all he made them a promise: they would all be making it back to Jackson in one piece.
And kept was that promise.
By morning the winds had subsided, and gradually the snow above the grass and dirt melted away into sludge seeping back into Earth. Their horses had endured the night bravely too. He and the others sparing whatever food was left in their packs, getting their horses energized for the two and a half-hour ride back to Jackson.
For you, though, it felt like eternity back at the commune.
You refused to leave the watch tower despite Tommy and Ellie’s protests and promises that they would come and get you the second they saw movement. They gave up trying to convince you to go back home, settling for whispering reassuring words as the hours ticked by and at one point Maria swung by to convince you to come down to take a short break and eat a proper meal before heading back up.
It wasn’t that you didn’t have hope in Joel making it back alive, but you couldn’t stomach the ‘what if’ in the back of your mind–losing your person after already letting so much slip through your fingers.
You didn’t want to imagine it.
“Dude you’re going to fall over and crack your skull open.”
Ellie scolded you with no malice behind her words, catching sight of your body nearly slumping out of the chair beside her.
She grabbed onto your arm and pulled you into her side, waking you from the drowsiness that was settling deep in your bones. You rubbed your orbs, muttering out a ‘sorry’ as you straightened up, trying to wake yourself up.
Ellie and Tommy shared concerned looks, the two of them understanding just exactly the worry you were feeling but also knowing that yours was a different kind to theirs.
You and Joel were everything delicate wrapped up in barbed wire in this day and age. They understood that something like that–what you two had–was once in a lifetime and to lose it would mean never finding it again.
A high whine coming from the distance pulled their attention, the two of them scrambling close to the shabby window with their binoculars in hand.
“I see something!” Tommy spoke loudly, and Ellie said something in agreement.
You couldn’t bring yourself to stand up from the chair even if you wanted to. Your heart felt like it was clawing its way out of your chest and your breathing quickened, salty tears coming to your eyes just waiting for them to say something. To let you know he was alive.
All you could do was wait and wait and wait and–
“Jesse, open the gates! Joel’s leading them in!” Tommy shouted down below.
It was all the clarification you needed.
Your fingers numbly gripped onto the rungs of the wooden ladder until your feet hit the snowy ground. On shaky legs, you dragged your boots through the blankets of snow, listening to the creaky gate sliding open and the chorus of relieved breaths muddled with the trudging of hooves.
You heard him before your eyes found him. His voice strained, shouting the all clear to Jesse that no one was bitten or hurt. And the second you did find him, did all the feelings you buried through nightfall come rushing to the surface, afraid that saying something before you felt him was going to wake you up from a dream that jinxed the sight of him in front of you.
His eyes remained fixated on your figure the second the gates came open. The harsh swinging of your arms as you trampled through the snow, and as you came closer, his aging eyes could somehow still make out the furrow between your brows and the red twinge in your orbs.
To the naked eye you were furious, but Joel knew better than that. The quivering of your frost bitten lips and the frown you wore told him everything he needed to know and he’d do whatever he could to soothe it away.
He swung his leg over his horse, stabilizing himself on the iron stirrups before he hopped off, and met you halfway.
“Baby—”
Before he could say anything more, you were in his arms, and your lips pressed against his.
As if you were tethering yourself to him, you needed it to be real, to know that he wasn’t going anywhere after making it back to you because you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to survive the fear of losing him again.
The need for oxygen caused you both to pull away, just enough for you to stare into his eyes, not caring that tears were tumbling down your cheeks in front of everyone that had to brave the night far terribly than you did.
“You’re never going on patrol again.” You pushed weakly at his chest, swiping at your eyes sharply.
There was that fire.
He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, grabbing you by the arms and pressing a kiss against your hairline.
“I’m fine, baby, wasn’t gonna let anything happen to me…or them.”
He turned his head to all the rookies who still were perched up on their horses, reeling from everything, but most of all, on the fact that you were there doting on their gruff superior—and there he was, doting right back at you.
“I don’t care,” You shook your head, pulling away as you reached his gloved hand, intertwining it with yours tightly, “I don’t want you going out of these gates.”
“Sweetheart—”
“N-No, you don’t get that to me,” Your voice was uneven, letting more tears fall shamelessly, trying to keep your tone stern despite how clearly shaken you were.
“I—I want us to go home…right now.” You sniffled, your pleading morphed into demand that made his heart skip a beat.
Surely the racing in his chest would have been concerning for his age, yet he knew it was perfectly normal as you were the one causing the feeling deep within.
You loved him deeply, and he never had any doubts about it, but each time you love him loud and proudly like you do, it never ceases to feel like a punch in the gut reminding him that he had much more to live for than himself nowadays.
After all, no one has ever had him, let alone loved him the way that you do.
“Okay,” He whispered, kissing you shamlessly, not caring who was watching, “Let’s go home, baby.”
He picked up the reins of his horse in one hand, keeping the other in your grasp as you leaned your head against his arm. Taking one last look over his shoulders, he nodded towards his mentees, offering them something small proud.
“Get some rest.” He told them, “And tell whoever you care about that you love them.”
It’d been weeks since you forbid Joel from going out on patrol, and to his own surprise he didn’t feel himself longing to go back, even if it was a shared duty of all citizens to keep Jackson safe.
He knew he had done his part for a while, partaking in a routine that forced him to leave your shared bed before you woke, lacing his boots to depart into the unknown, and hoping that you knew how much he loved you if god forbid something happened to him.
Instead, there’s was a new routine, one that used to be reserved for weekends that is was ow his daily that he’d pick above patrol duty anytime.
Almost always is dinner made together, plates cleared, and glasses diluted with whatever drink of choice it is that night. He usually always has whisky, though he can’t be totally sure it’s the reason why there’s a balmy feeling in his chest.
The home he created with you and Ellie was filled with laughter and warmth. The three of you bonding as a family, making fresh memories in the comfort of the four walls.
Tonight, instead of cleaning up early and deciding to watch a movie on the couch, you and Ellie unintentionally brought to light a quirk of his that resulted in the two of you teasing him at the dining table.
“You so do that thing when you’re a little shy!” Ellie accused from the seat across from him, throwing her back as her laughter combined with yours bounced off the walls.
He crossed his arms over his chest, looking between you two with a less than entertained raised brow, “I do not.”
“You so do.” You insisted, standing up with a sly grin on your face, gathering the dirty plates into the sink.
The chairs creaked across the wooden floors, Ellie at your side, dumping the contents of the cups into the drain before stacking them neatly for you to wash.
“Gotta run and see Dina! Thanks for dinner.” You leaned into the kiss she pecked out your cheek, wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug.
“Tell her we said ‘hi’ and stay out of trouble.” Joel reminded her,watching her pull away and round the table to give him his own hug before she dashed out the door.
He was at your side not a moment later, picking up a clean kitchen towel to dry while you continued to wash and rinse. Call him old-fashioned, but he enjoyed the domesticity of it all–the small things done together even if in silence, as long as you were there, it fulfilled him.
“I don’t actually do that thing, do I?” He suspected lowly, taking a wet glass from your hand.
You snorted, glancing up at him as you picked up the next dish and began scrubbing, “You seriously never noticed?”
He pursed his lips, rolling his eyes, “I think you and Ellie are pulling my leg.”
“Well, I know I’m not because I vividly recall the first time you did it and I’ve noticed every time you’ve done it since.”
He scoffed, mumbling something along the lines of ‘yeah right,’ as he placed the cup into the cabinet. The water then abruptly shut off and you turned to him, stealing the damp towel off his shoulder to dry your hands.
“The day you first asked me out? When you were stalking me in the greenhouse?” You said, attempting to jog his memory.
“I was not stalkin’ you,” He glared, “I waitin’ ‘till you weren’t busy so I could say ‘hi.’”
“Yeah, whatever cowboy,” you giggled, “anyway, when you finally came out from hiding and almost scared me shitless, you asked me out, and you did that thing with your arm.”
Your arm extended towards the back of your neck, rubbing away at your skin nervously, followed by a poor impersonation of his voice.
“I uh, was wonderin’ if you wanted to have dinner sometime…at my place. The cafeteria doesn’t have anything appetizing for a date.”
His cheeks turned red, a smile forming upon his lips as he hung his head dramatically and huffed out a laugh.
“How’d you remember that?”
You just grinned, closing the space between you both as you wrapped your arm around his torso, forcing him to look up at you despite the vivid embarrassment on his face that you found rather charming.
“Kinda hard to forget the first time a guy was actually brave enough to ask me out on the spot.” You gently scratched your nails up and down his back while he smirked, now looking rather impressed with himself now.
“You’re telling me no one asked you out the second you got here?”
“No one I wanted to go with.”
“So, I wasn’t your first option?” He teased back.
“Oh god, shut up.” You groaned, throwing your head back as you weakly let your arms fall away from him.
He didn’t let you go far, chuckling as he pulled you in closer and tucked his face against your neck where he pressed kisses muddled with his laughter and finally got you to meet his eyes again.
“When’s the last time I did that arm thing?” He hummed curiously.
Your eyes filtered up to the ceiling, thinking for a moment, “Last week, when you asked if you could join me in the bath.”
He furrowed his brows, recalling the timeline, and of course, you were right. Just last week you were bouncing back from a common cold, curled up on the couch with about two layers of blankets accompanied with the warm fire Joel started for you.
He knew he could only do so much to help, and he figured running you for a bath would warm you up tons better than the dingy living room set up–but he didn’t want to leave you alone, and you were more than happy to lay your head back on his chest while the hot water enveloped you two.
“Hmm, didn’t know I did that all this time.” He shook his head with a small smile, leaning down and pressing a kiss near your ear.
“It’s cute,” You cradled his face in your hands, holding him to you, “Kinda love that you still get shy with me after all this time.”
“S’that right?” He hummed eyes twinkling with lust even in the dim of the night, “Well if you wanna…”
One of his arms fell away from your waist, his voice softening while that same arm trailed up behind his neck, causing his biceps to flex under pressure.
“We can go upstairs and get dirty before I run another bath for you?”
Your laughter, one of his favorite sounds besides your sweet moans, filled the kitchen and before you knew it, your lips were bound to each other as he guided you up the stairs and his soul devoted itself to you…like he always did.
Joel had been busy with other things in Jackson since his indefinite leave of absence on patrols. He was grateful for whatever you must have said to sway Tommy and Maria, since none of them seemed to give him trouble for missing out over the last few months.
He found himself involved in the community in a more personal way. He sketched up blueprints for new builds as more people entered Jackson, and with spring breaking loose it was the perfect time to start construction without the blistering cold bothering.
When he needed to rest his eyes and relax his aching hands from all the drawing and erasing, you were just a walk away for him to go and visit. It was one of the best parts of not needing to head out on patrols–he was closer to you in all aspects, and his longing didn’t have to wait until he got back through the gates–he just had to find you and you never strayed far.
He found you at the greenhouse, as he suspected, harvesting some of the seasonal fruits and veggies. Your gloved hands brushing off dry soil and tossing the gathering into a large wicker basket. Working the greenhouse wasn’t a job, at least not for you and your green thumb.
When Joel figured out just how much you loved it, he surprised you with four planters in the backyard of your home. He traded some of his beloved coffee beans with an older lady who was a teacher in order to get his hands on chalk and paint. He commissioned Ellie with the promise of a later curfew and she managed to decorate the outside of the rickety wooden boxes with a plethora of floras he knew you’d love.
He felt like a million bucks when you wrapped your arms around him and repeatedly said ‘thank you.’ That afternoon, you and Joel headed back to the greenhouse to gather cuttings to propagate for your personal garden.
Soon enough it had been blossoming with an abundance of plants also found in the greenhouse, but even some rare flowers, all thanks to some seeds Ellie found while out on patrol.
“What about you and Joel?”
The older woman’s voice beside you snapped him right out of the flashback. Her name was Mabel, a nice lady who lived on the next street over, jumping between the greenhouse and kitchen duty. She smoothed down the soil from where you had dug it up a few feet over, while you tended to the bed of vegetables.
There was a smile splaying over your face before you could utter a single word. The question alone, the mere mention of his name, had you smiling widely, just like the day he finally showed you the planters he made by hand. He was certain it wasn’t the changing season that was making his skin hot, but just the sight of you lighting up and making his heart stir.
“He’s spending more time at home, which I love. I know patrol is important, but he’s been doing it for so long, and he deserves a break from it.”
You let out a soft sigh, hands sweeping over some leafy tops of carrots and giving them a tug, pulling them out of the earth with ease.
“I know what you mean sweetie,” she said agreeingly, “but he isn’t driving you crazy at home is he?” she asked comically, making your eyes crinkle as you laughed and shook your head quickly.
“God no. Having him home is the opposite of crazy.” You simmered down with a smile, dusting the dirt off the bunch, “I love not having to worry about him outside of the gates. But I love even more getting to hear him just in the next room over, seeing him carving figures for Ellie, and I don’t know, just knowing he’s there. Safe.”
Mable wore a delightful smile, watching you closely as you spoke so highly of him.
“He’s a good man, Peter talks about him all the time.”
Her husband often flagged Joel down, asking for help for things he was too old to do on his own nowadays. Replacing the creaky stair on their front porch, tightening the pipe under the sink, checking cleaning out the gutters. Simple things that Joel didn't mind helping out with no matter the time of day or how tired he was.
“The best.” You agreed with a grin, placing the carrots into the basket along with the other goodies you would be taking to the kitchen later.
Joel took a breath, forcing himself to control the skittish smile that wanted to stay plastered on his face. His fingers bumped against the wooden gates leading him into the garden bed area where you were.
You looked up at the sound of the creak, somehow even more happiness trickling across your face as your eyes met his.
“Hey cowboy,” You stood, pulling off your gloves and letting them fall onto the ground.
“Sweetheart,” He greeted with a smile, arms embracing you as he looked at Mabel over your shoulder, “How’re you doing ma’am?”
“Great, thank you,” she smiled, “me and your lady were just talking about you.”
“Good things I hope?” He rose his brows, looking down at you where you rested your head on his chest.
The woman nodded, smiling as she stood up and dropped her own pair of gloves.
“I was bringin’ by lunch,” he held up a brown paper bag filled with a sandwich and some cut up fruits, “Would you like to join us? You can have my half?” He offered, but Mable kindly shook her head.
“Oh no, I’m okay hon. Peter and I made plans to have lunch together at the cafeteria.” She smiled, walking past you two and stopping just short of the garden gates meeting your eyes, “I’ll be back in an hour and then we can continue harvesting and gossiping OK?”
You withdrew from Joel for a moment, reaching over to give her a small hug for keeping you company, even when you assured her you could handle the harvesting by yourself.
“I’ll see you back here. Tell Peter we said hello.”
“Will do,” she smiled, pulling away and turning to Joel, patting his back, “Such a good man, you are.”
He didn’t need to ask what she meant, for he knew the weight of her words. And maybe his past self would argue with her, perhaps say he’s a bad man with a bad past, but you’ve helped him see otherwise. He was good in more ways than one now, and it was all thanks to you.
“I missed you.” You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers as you walked over to the picnic tables lined outside the garden.
“Missed you more.” He squeezed your hand, placing a kiss at the top of your head, releasing your hand as you rounded the table and took a seat right across him.
“Wanna tell me about what you and Mabel were gossiping about?” He requested curiously, unpacking your lunch while you smirked and propped your chin up on your fist.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Very much so.”
You hummed tentatively, picking up a piece of cut up strawberry that came straight from your home garden plopping it into your mouth as you chewed. He smiled ridiculously, eyes glued on yours, reaching across the table and letting his fingertips brush away the specks of dirt that clunch to your arm. You swallowed down the fruit, smacking your lips as you nudged his leg under the table.
“Tell me about the new construction first.” You chirped, awaiting to hear all the details you would later share with Mabel, just to hear you compliment how good he was not just to you, but to everyone around.
By the time summer was in full swing, Jackson found itself hosting more activities, mostly for the younger kiddos who needed something to keep busy and out of trouble. Joel said it should’ve been illegal to confine the entire town into the cafeteria for some silly award ceremony, but of course you managed to convince him otherwise.
Now the two of you were sitting side by side at the cramped table as teachers and students called out various awards and names of folks to retrieve it at the front of the room.
Ellie snagged the award for ‘Best Storyteller’ to which she threw her fist into the air, high-fiving all the children who were far too young to know she was retelling the PG-friendly versions of movies you three watched at home. You and Joel laughed and smiled, clapping along as you whispered to each other that she was indeed a great storyteller, even if half of it was plagiarism.
“And the last award is the most prestigious award of all. It’s going to the best helper in Jackson.” Ruth, the kindergarten and first grade teacher, announced.
“Benji, would you like to say who this award goes to?”
You cooed at the little boy who was Tommy and Maria’s. He was just beginning to get over his shyness, as he made new friends and got used to the routine of going to school. He nodded positively, looking to his left at his parents who gave him an encouraging thumbs up, then fitted his eyes back up to the crowded room where he somehow managed to spot you and Joel.
“Uncle Joel!” He declared proudly, taking you both by surprise as your eyes widened and you slapped your hand down on his knee in excitement.
“Oh my god, babe!” You bounded your arms around his shoulders, shaking him eagerly as the room chorused with applause and whistles.
He laughed against your skin, letting you press a proud kiss to his cheek before you urged him up to get his award. Tiny arms flung around his body the second he got to the front of the room. He bent down at their level, letting them hug him and say their ‘thank you’s’ for all that he did for Jackson.
He did more than just building houses, scheduling patrols, and even assisting in home maintenance.
He built birdhouses with scrap pieces of wood and dropped them off at the schoolhouse for kids to decorate for arts and crafts.
He read to the older folks whose eyes were getting weaker and couldn’t make out the words in books.
He checked in on the rookie patrollers, drawing them up copies of his old map marked with shortcuts and locations of emergency kits he stashed.
He even volunteered to take the kids around town for ‘field trips’ when the teachers needed ideas for more engaging lessons and of course much needed break.
In fact, a few months ago he swung by the greenhouse midday with a pack of children behind him, taking you by surprise at the unexpected guests. He said they needed to get their hands dirty and learn where all their favorite fruits and veggies came from.
You were more than happy to oblige, walking them through planting tomato seeds in one of the empty garden beds and how long the process would take.
Joel too ended up getting his hands dirty, digging holes a few inches apart and deep, after some kids squealed in disgust and fear when a worm wiggled from under the soil. He assured them it was nothing to be afraid of, just a friend who was going to keep their tomatoes company while you sat by and watched in admiration at his patience and care.
Those same groups of kids, along with Joel, stopped by every few weeks to give their tomatoes a nice watering and learn more about what you had to say about gardening. Now, their tomatoes were in the kitchen, picked by their little hands and waiting to be blended to make a very special spaghetti dinner for them to enjoy.
Your heart swarmed watching him be embraced and recognized for all the little things he did out of the goodness of his heart.
“Ew, stop looking at him like that,” Ellie snuck up behind you, poking at your cheek.
You turned, playfully smacking her hand away, “Like what?”
“Like you’re gonna have his baby.” She said bluntly, making your cheeks heat up as you groaned and nudged her away.
“Go bother Dina, Miss. Best Storyteller.” You stuck your tongue out at her watching her snorted and spin around to rush over to her girlfriend who stood at the back of the room, giving you a small wave that you returned.
Joel walked back over to you with a colorful trophy made out of cardboard and ribbon in hand.
“Kinda jealous, I didn’t get one.” You mumbled teasingly, leaning into his chest as he straddled the bench.
He handed it over to you, letting you hold the lightweight thing, inspecting the messy writing that read “#1 Helper,” in rainbow, surrounded by a border of beads and glitter.
“What’s mine is yours darlin’.” He assured you, pressing a peck to your lips, feeling you smile against his before you two pulled away, listening to Ruth thank everyone for joining them.
Soon enough the cafeteria emptied out, the two of you walking hand in hand back to your home to relax before you’d head back and pick up a plate of spaghetti to enjoy on the couch.
“You mean so much to them.” You said quietly, glancing over at him as he smiled at the pavement and shook his head.
“It’s nothin’, just doin’ what I can.”
He was always humble when it came to what he did, even back then when he’d risk his life going out on patrols. Grumbling on that it wasn’t anything special and that it was just what he needed to do and nothing more.
But he didn’t need to calm those rookie patrollers down with his words when that unexpected storm changed their plans. He certainly didn’t need to promise them that they’d make it back home alive and well.
But he did all of those things without ever needing to be asked or tasked because it was just the kind of man he was. Always giving parts of himself and never asking for anything in return, not even recognition.
But most of all he was yours.
“It’s not nothing,” You protested, squeezing his hand and forcing him to look up at you.
Your footsteps halted in the middle of the sidewalk and you shifted to stand face-to-face to him.
“You’re everything to this town. To me. I don’t know what we…what I’d do without you. I’m so lucky.” You cooed, dropping his hand swiftly, only to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling your bodies closer.
His breath fanned across your face, a puff of air leaving his mouth as he laughed a laugh that sounded like he was still trying to wrap his head around how in the world he had you.
“I’m the lucky one, sweetheart. Couldn’t be here without you…you’re the reason.” He confessed, snaking his arms around your waist.
Your eyes shined brighter than the sun beaming down, cheeks fuller than the flowers blooming in your garden, and stomach swarming with more than just butterflies at his profession.
“Can I tell you something?” You whispered, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck.
He nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed, “Anythin’ doll.”
“Seeing you with all those kids, with Benji…with Ellie,” Your voice went on, “I think I want us to have one.”
The words should’ve taken him aback–made his heart pound out of his chest for reasons too complicated to explain. He should’ve been at a loss for words, telling you it was foolish and impossible because of his age.
But instead, all he felt in the stillness was peace, the kind that wanted the same thing that you did. To bring another life into this unconventional word because you two loved each other enough to at least want to give it a try.
“Yeah?” He finally cracked a grin, tugging you impossibly closer to him, your tip-toes nearly lifting off the pavement as you nodded and smiled harder, “Think we can make that happen.”
“Our baby would have the best daddy ever,” You pressed your forehead to his, staring deeply into his eyes as if you could see the vision flashing in his orbs.
“Only cause their mama made him one.” He replied, pressing his lips into yours unabashedly, not caring who would see you two in broad daylight.
You squealed against his lips, laughing and letting him pepper kisses wherever he could, branding you with his love you would wear loud and proud.
“Let’s go home, cowboy.”
Brown and orange leaves cover the damp pavement, a gloomy darkness hovering over the town now that fall had made its way over. Funnily enough, even though he grew up with scorching Texas summers, he preferred the cooler weather that came with fall. He often sported the tan work jacket that Tommy found for him during a run, paired with the wool gloves you knitted for him.
His worn boots firmly rested against the stirrups as he trotted around town, passing friendly nods to those winding down on their front porch from a long day. He often found himself coming to a complete stop, letting the children pet the horse and feed him scraps of veggies he kept in his pack. When the horse finally nuzzled their rosy cheeks with his nose, they smiled and waved goodbye.
He continued on for a few more minutes before ultimately winding up at the front doors of the newest renovation and addition to Jackson where you were just inside.
During summer, Joel and a few other hands managed to finish up two medium builds. Both small townhomes that would house the single and coupled newcomers who didn’t need a big place to stay, just somewhere to call home.
In addition, they were able to renovate one of the existing buildings on the commune that used to be an old bank. Instead, he drew up some plans, running a few by Maria and the rest of the town’s council before settling on a flower shop.
If the reaction he got out of you from the four planters he built made him feel like a million bucks, revealing to you that he was building you a flower shop made him feel like a priceless winner–something he already was all thanks to you.
All he did was build the place for you, letting you decide how you wanted the inside and outside to look and executing it to perfection before letting you do whatever you wanted with it. The addition meant everything to the people of Jackson, newcomers and old-timers flooding your store with their presence and desire to learn more about agriculture.
In Joel’s words, you ran a far better, prettier, and more educational version of what was once known as Edible Arrangements.
You were still committed a lot of your time to the greenhouse, but found ways to include more of the community, especially the young.
They’d meet you in the mornings to pick their desired flowers and fruits, before helping tend to the garden and sowing new seeds. By afternoon, you would gather at your shop, helping them trim and assemble their arrangements into mason jars before sending them off home with a gift to give their loved ones.
The flower shop was hit and soon enough you had a little team that consisted of Mable, Dina, and a few newbies to Jackson who made arrangements out of flowers donated from the town which would then end up being delivered back to them by none other than Ellie and Jesse.
He hopped off his horse, patting the animal softly and tethering it to the bright red post outside your shop. He plucked the bouquet he made out of the groove of the saddle. Even though you were surrounded by flowers every day, often ones you saw time and time again, it didn’t stop Joel from making arrangements of his own to gift to you.
He snipped off a few daisies that were growing abundantly in your backyard before making a stop at Mable and Peter’s in order to pick a few stems of snapdragons and sword ferns to add to the bunch. He wrapped a bright yellow ribbon he found in the junk drawer at home, tying it off with a bow that was wonky, but in a charming way that you always said you loved.
Pulling the door to your shop open, he heard your voice at the same time he caught you cooing down at something cuddled close in your arms.
“Aren’t you just the most precious thing in the world?” You spoke gurgly and sweet, smiling down at the bright eyes looking up at you.
The door creaked just lightly, enough to pull your attention as you shifted your eyes and instantly smiled a little wider at the sight of your guy. You couldn’t miss the way he purposefully had one arm behind his back, hiding away a bouquet he made just for you–you couldn’t wait to see what he made today.
“Hi baby,” You greeted, jerking your head at him to come closer, the woman beside you giving him a small wave, “This is Mel and her daughter Gracie.”
You introduced the two, watching as they exchanged quiet ‘hello’s’ before his eyes drew down to the bundle in your arms.
“Look at you,” He whispered, his free hand holding out a finger that her tiny fists knocked making the three of you laugh, “Good one kiddo.”
“Mel actually is new to Jackson. She just got here last week, and she’s staying in one of the rooms at the townhouse.” You informed him.
He looked up at her, brows lifted, “Hot water working OK? Heater?”
She nodded, wrapping her arms across herself, “Everything is great and perfect. Thank you for what you do by the way.”
Mel looked over at you, then back him, “She was telling me you’re the one who’s been building all these homes and I just wanted to say, thanks. Gracie needs this more than I do.”
Joel understood the implications, the desperation to provide something stable to a child in a world that almost never was. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Mel is in it all by herself, and with the child in your arms resembling something delicate, he knew it wasn’t that long ago that she was probably out there all alone giving birth with no medication, no help, no home.
“It’s no problem,” He shook his head, giving her a tight smile, “S’ what we do for each other here…helpin’ one another out.”
With that, a small cry erupted from the tiny mouth in your arms, a frown covering your features as you gently bounced her in your arms. Mel just laughed lightly, rubbing your arm soothingly before she spoke.
“She probably just needs to feed,” You handed her over, watching as the cries softened a tad just by being in her mother’s arms, “I’m gonna head out now, but I’ll come back tomorrow?”
“Yes! Anytime. I’m always here and if I’m not, I’ll be at the greenhouse, which is right across the street.”
She smiled, waving bye to you and Joel before stopping just short of the door looking back at you two, voice speaking out something filled with sincerity.
“You two are going to be great parents.”
His heart pounded, eyes trailing over to your figure as the door closed shut. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth, looking up at him past your lashes, eyes coated with something deeper than love.
“Sweetheart, what’s she talkin’ about?” He stuttered, footsteps following you where you turned on your heel and walked around to the counter, ignoring him, or so he thought.
You bent at the waist, hands wrapped around a vase, bringing it up for him to see and settling it on the countertop. It was blossoming with flowers and foliage of all kinds, but there in the very center rested a small notecard and a stick with two bright lines across it.
You and Joel had been trying for the last two months, and while you both agreed that it was more than OK if pregnancy didn’t end up happening, you both desperately wanted it more than anything in the world. So when you were just a couple days late for your period, you immediately went to Maria who then accompanied you to the clinic where you found out you were pregnant.
You had been keeping it a secret for a little while, trying to figure out how to tell Joel in a special way. But when Mel walked into your shop with her tiny daughter glued to her chest, it was like a catalyst telling you that it was time to tell Joel that you two would be welcoming a precious little thing into the world.
She sat with you, talking to you about the beauty and complexity of pregnancy and parenthood, while you prepped and assembled the florals into something breathtaking. When you asked her how she knew everything was going to be OK for little Gracie, she said,
‘I just knew it would be. I looked at her and I knew…I still know.’
You knew–even before Joel stood before you, eyes glittering with tears that welled and his mouth parted with surprise–you knew that everything was going to be OK. That where you two were was exactly where you were meant to be.
“We’re having a baby,” you whispered, walking back around the counter, plucking off the positive pregnancy test and holding it up for him to see up close and personal.
There wasn’t a second to waste, his hand dropping his lousy bouquet to the ground as he lifted you up and kissed you like he was trying to give you the world and all the planets and stars.
You kissed him back passionately, a breath you didn’t know you were holding puffing against his mouth where you two broke out into a fit of laughter, looking at each other with so much love.
He placed you back down, shaking his head incredulously at the grand arrangement you had made just for him. His calloused hands reached for your cheeks, pulling you in for another self indulgent kiss before he broke away and just stared at you.
You giggled, noticing the fallen bouquet on the ground behind him. Gently brushing his arms away, you picked it up, admiring the bunch.
“I like yours way better.”
There was a combination of live music and voices filling the cafeteria, the place decked out in bright tinsel and paper snowflakes hung from rafters. Unlike a few months ago, where everyone was gathered for the community awards, they were all now dressed in their coziest and thickest pieces, celebrating the holiday season.
Christmas should’ve been on Joel’s mind and in some funny way it certainly was lingering despite the deep thought he was in. Just hours ago, he had dressed up as Santa and met the kids at the town square, making every one of their magical dreams come true before he bid a farewell and changed out of the ridiculously baggy red velvet suit.
Instead, what weighed most heavily on his mind was the fact that it had been a year since the snow storm incident. He hadn’t mentioned it to you, for he knew bringing it up might elicit memories and feelings he didn’t want you to revisit, not when he was there alive and well for you to have and hold forever now.
“Brother,” Tommy shuffled over to where he sat away from the crowd, handing him a glass.
Joel bowed his head appreciatively, taking a swig of the whisky and swallowing down the rich liquid as his brother took the empty seat beside him.
“Where’s Benji?” Joel peered around the room, not seeing the little rascal out on the makeshift dance floor with the other kids.
Tommy jutted his chin towards the frosty windows, chuckling to himself.
“Outside terrorizin’ Ellie and Dina with snowballs.”
Low and behold, Joel could make out the two figures running and ducking while a smaller one chuckled snow cannons through the air. There was a domesticity to it that brought him a special kind of gratitude. Tommy and Joel’s chosen family blended together so happily that it almost felt normal–it was beginning to feel normal the older he got.
Years ago he would have scrutinized everything around him–how anyone could possibly live their lives as if death wasn’t waiting around the corner, ready to pounce at any moment. But he understands it now all thanks to the life he made for himself.
Ellie revived a part of him he thought was forever lost when he buried his dear Sarah, and in a lot of ways, he knows she’s still somewhere around always watching over and guiding him–in all honesty, he feels that she led him right where he was supposed to be.
Then there’s Tommy. His little brother who he had been lucky enough to get closer to through the years despite the time they spent apart during the early outbreak. Together, they often reminisce about their childhood, sharing stories to Benji and Ellie who ask plenty of questions about the world they never got the chance to experience. Despite it all though, he and Tommy try to replicate it the best they can for their children, wanting to craft memories sweeter for them to remember and pass on.
And of course there’s you.
You’re the shift in his life, a force who reformed him into the man he never thought he’d be able to be, at least not in this lifetime. But you showed him, through and through, that your love for him ran deeper than the potential he had for himself. You never changed him, never tried to turn him into someone he wasn’t.
All you ever did was love him so honestly and fiercely that all he could do was surrender and let himself feel. You brought the real Joel right up to the surface, loving him for who he always was, and even for the man he was still growing into with each day that passed.
“I’m happy for you,” Tommy said, watching the way his brother’s eyes stayed glued to your figure across the room, “You deserve all of this.”
Joel leaned back comfortably in his chair, arms crossing over his chest as he turned to the younger.
“You lucked out too.”
The pair knew they both somehow managed to find their happy endings even if it took a whole lot of loss to finally get it. They’re happy for each other because they know deep down, somewhere past all the guilt and loss–they deserve it.
“Your lady is comin’ over,” Tommy grinned, whacking him on the arm and pointing over in your direction.
He looked at you. You looked at him. An unspoken shared gaze that reflected so much love, that he just knew.
He knew he deserved you.
All your crinkle eyed and scrunch nosed smiles.
All your fingers entwined between his.
All your kisses you left emblazoned on his skin.
Every ounce of your devotion you gave to him, he deserved.
You used to be a version of hope he would dream up in the middle of the night, patronizing himself over for ever thinking he could have.
But you were there in the flesh. Everything raw and real, making your way into his arms like there was no place you’d rather be. He reveled in your love for all to witness. For his soul to be bared by you and held in the palm of your hands to keep forevermore.
And when your lips brushed against his, when your eyes twinkled into his own, when your hands guided his to rest on the swell of your growing belly…
He just knew that no one would ever have him the way that you did…and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
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a/n: second joel fic, hi, hello!!! i've had this idea in my head for a long time, but due to writers block, i wasn't able to execute it the way i wanted. happy to say that i've spent the last two to three-ish days on the document and somehow found myself with this! i think older!jackson joel would just absolutely cherish being loved so loudly by his girl. i'm planning on making a part two to this, but let me know if you'd like that!!! thanks again for reading and i'll see you all soon <3
your kind words mean so much to me!! i really loved writing this SO much!! all i wanted to do was bottle up all the fluff in the world and chuck it out there hahahaha!!!
working on a part two so stay tuned! thank you again for your kindness and taking the time to read 🥹💕💫
