Ghost fan writer

The clock shows 6:20pm, your bakery — supposedly — closes at 6:30pm.

You finish serving the last table — that seems to have no hurry to leave — and go back behind your counter, watching your step to avoid the missing tile behind your cakes' display.

It's almost closing time and all your prayers are concentrated on asking for this couple to leave as soon as possible, as you still have to clean, prepare your doughs for tomorrow and close everything before finally going home.

And after a whole day of working — mostly alone — on your bakery, all you want is to get some rest.

You're on your computer looking up flooring options, and your search is interrupted by a man walking in, his large frame stopping in front of your cakes and carefully looking at all of them, his eyes focused on the options.

"Hi, good evening!" You greet him, getting up, your smile widening as you take him in. Large shoulders, fluffy hair, big eyes, sculpted nose.

He's wearing a blue jacket, his sunglasses are, for some reason, still on his head, and he has his backpack on his back.

"Hey, good evening." He greets you, his voice deep and soft, his eyes still glued to the cakes on your display. Frowning when he sees a particularly pretty one.

"Can I help you?" You ask sweetly, and he looks up at you for the first time, smiling back at you, cursing himself for taking so long to look at you.

"I'm sorry, I was just looking at them, they're all so pretty." He says, embarrassed by how he didn't even aknowledge you when he entered your store.

"No it's fine, I'll take it as a compliment." You say, laughing.

"It's not like they're the only thing worth looking at here. But they sure catch your attention." He says, watching your face, and you feel your cheeks on fire, your eyes almost watering at how flustered the man's got you.

"Thank you." You manage to say, your voice slightly smaller, and he looks back at the cakes.

"What flavor is this pink one?" He asks, and you bend over the display to look at it.

"Hmm, that's a pink velvet! With a custard and fresh strawberries filing." You say, and he frowns. The cake is covered in white and pink frosting, decorated with fresh strawberries.

"Oof, that sounds amazing." He says, and you smile.

"It's one of my favorites." You admit.

"Well, then I'll take it, please." He says, laughing.

"Alright. Is it a gift?" You ask, reaching for the packagings, and he shakes his head.

"No, no. It's for me." He says, and you grab a regular box.

"Well, you do like cake then, huh?" You joke as you take the cake to pack it, and he laughs at it.

"I do, yeah. But this one's for my birthday." He says, laughing, and you smile at him.

"Oh, why didn't you just say it?" You ask. "Happy birthday! Did you know we have a special discount for people's birthdays?"

"Uh, you do? Well... but I don't really want to show you my ID. Don't like to think about the number there, you know?" He laughs, his pretty eyes scrunching at his own words.

"How about I take your word?" You suggest, and he smiles. "I mean, you're either telling me the truth or you really like cake. Or you're just hungry, I mean, your job looks like really heavy work." You say, mentioning his clothes, covered in concrete and paint.

"Those would be three checks. I do love cake, and I am starving because of work. But it is also my birthday." He says.

"Well, then you do deserve the discount." You say, closing the bag. "It'll be 22 dollars." You say.

"Alright." He says, reaching for his wallet on the front pocket of his worn out jeans. "Here." He hands you 30 dollars, and you grab his change.

"Here you go." You hand it to him.

"Oh, no. Keep the change, please." He says.

"No, c'mon. Birthday discount, remember?" You say, almost pouting.

"Here says the cake costs almost 35 dollars." He says, leaning to read the price tag on the display, scrunching his eyes so the numbers become clear. "You were generous enough with your discount." He adds, grabbing the bag.

"Because it's your birthday discount!" You say playfully, extending your arm further, and he pushes your hand away.

"I said keep it." He says firmly, making you flinch, your breathing getting stuck in your throat. "How about I take the discount and you take the change as a tip for you?" He suggests, and you smile. "Keep it." He insists, smiling.

"Thank you." You say, putting the change back, a shy and uncontrollable smile stuck on your face.

"Thank you." He says, looking at you, his eyes somehow even softer. "'Till next time." He says, and you take a deep breath as he turns around.

"Hey, sorry?" You call, and he turns back — a bit eagerly, you could swear —, looking at you, a smile on his lips.

"Yeah."

"You do work in construction, right?" You ask. "I mean, your clothes and all."

"Well, they don't let me lie." He jokes. "I'm a contractor. Was just working across the street." He explains.

"Do you work with renovations? Like, changing floorings, fixing drywalls, changing lights and custumized furniture?" You ask.

"I do, yeah. I have a company, actually. I work for myself." He says. "Although furniture isn't exactly my field. But I know some good people who do it, I can give you their number." He offers.

"Yeah, I'd love that." You say, and he puts the cake back on top of your counter, reaching for his wallet.

"Here." He hands you two cards. "This one's mine, this one's a guy that builds all sorts of furniture. Almost all kinds of materials, I work with him all the time, you can trust him." He says.

"Joel Miller?" You ask smiling, looking at him, his cheeks reddening when he hears you say his name.

It sounds so goddamn sweet on your lips.

"Yeah." He says. "You just give me a call and I come over to talk, see what you wanna do, no commitment."

"Sure! I just want to renovate the floorings, fix some broken stuff." You say. "I'll call you before the weekend so we can talk better." You promise.

"Great. Can't wait to hear from you." He says, grabbing his cake again. "See you." He says, turning around, and you wave goodbye, but he turns as soon as he reaches the door. "Will you call from this number?" He asks, pointing at the number printed on the bag.

"Yeah, that's my professional number." You say, smiling.

"Alright. Just so when you call I know it's you." He says. "Make sure I won't miss it." He adds, smiling.

"Thank you." You smile back.

"Well, now I'll go. See ya." He says, this time actually leaving the store.

You watch as he gets into a black truck, and almost jumps when he looks at you, giving you a little wave — that you're eager to mimick — as he starts his car, driving away.

Your cheeks hurt as you can't control your smile. A beautiful, kind and funny man just walked in, bought a pink cake — with no problem with the color —, maybe flirted with you and now you have his number? And he said he'll make sure he won't miss your call?

God bless the couple that made you stay open for a little longer.

And just as you think of them, they come towards you to pay, thanking you for the food and complimenting your pastries. You thank them — although it's not just for the nice words — and close soon after they leave.

You put all the chairs up, clean the floors and go to the kitchen, where you prepare some of your dough for the next day.

Now you're even more excited to start the renovations around your bakery.

The next day you try to focus on your chores and not call him, and he spends the whole day rushing to his phone and sighing when he picks it up and sees it's not you.

The day after that you can't help it anymore, though.

Not only because you're dying to see the man again — and make sure he wasn't just a mirage your tired brain came up with to distract you from how tired you were that day —, but also because you couldn't stand anymore having to ditch loose flooring pieces, the broken doors of your balconies, the dying ceiling lights.

So you take a deep breath, almost shaking as you leave your mixer mixing your brownie batter and go to the open patio to call him.

His phone rings while he gives Ellie, his toddler, her breakfast — or tries to, anyway.

"Ellie, baby, c'mon, help daddy, your sister's gonna be late for school."

"No!" She laughed, amused with her dad's suffering. He lets his head fall down, defeated.

"Alright, then you're going to daycare with just apple juice on your tummy, because we really need to leave now." He says, and she cheers. "Sarah, honey, are you ready?" He asks his four-year old when she comes downstairs, and she nods enthusiastically.

"Yes, daddy! Can we go now? I don't wanna be late, Mrs. Roberts gives a star for who arrives early." She says. "And I haven't gotten one in over two days!" She says, frustrated.

"Did you brush your teeth?" He asks her while he starts washing the dishes.

"Yes! Of course I did." She says, her tone not even convincing herself.

"Let me check." He says, leaning down, and her eyes widen. "C'mon, come here." He calls, beckoning for her to come close to him, and she sighs.

"I'll go brush them now." She says, defeated. "But then we're leaving!" She yells the last part as she runs upstairs.

He finishes the dishes and cleans Ellie, removing her from her highchair. Just when he's about to take her to the bathroom to brush her teeth, his phone rings, and he sits Ellie on the table to see who's calling him.

He sees the unsaved number and remembers it faintly from your bakery bag, so he looks around, trying to see if he can find it.

"Ellie, don't move, alright, baby?" He tells her, who doesn't even aknowledge him, too busy playing with her toys.

He lets go of her and opens the cabinet where he keeps his plastic bags, looking for the pink one from your bakery. He finds it and sees the number is indeed yours.

"Fuck." He curses quietly. "Tommy!" He yells, calling for his brother. "Come here, I need to pick up the phone, quick." He screams, and Tommy shows up almost immediately.

"Hey." His brother says, clearly just out of bed.

"Watch Ellie, don't let Sarah come after me." He says, walking to his backyard.

He doesn't like his clients knowing how agitated and insane his personal life can be with two small kids and no one around to help. So he always tries to make work calls as quiet as he can.

"Hi!" He says, almost too excited as he picks up the phone, thanking God he made it in time.

"Hi! Joel?" You ask, and he smiles when he hears your voice.

"Yeah, it's me." He says, and you can almost hear the smile on his lips.

"Oh, hey. I'm from the bakery where you bought that pink cake?" You ask, and he takes a second to respond, trying to not make it obvious that he's spent the previous day running to his phone, hoping to hear from you.

"Oh, yeah, I remember! You said you wanted new floorings and furniture, right?" He asks, shooting Tommy a look when he grabs Sarah last minute so she doesn't go after him.

"Yeah, that's me!" You say, feeling awkward. Trying to remind yourself that it's just a professional call, and you don't have to be so nervous. "Could you come over? As soon as you can? I wanted to talk about the renovations." You say, and he nods, only after a second realizing that you can't see him, feeling stupid.

It's just a work call, for God's sake, chill out, Joel Miller.

"Sure, I can be over today, does that work for you? Maybe after you close, or maybe tomorrow before you're open?" He suggests, trying not to sound too eager.

As silly as it sounds, you can't help but think about how you're dressed, what your hair looks like. You stop in front of a window, checking yourself, and only when you make sure you won't die if he sees what you look like today, you can confirm.

"Today would be great! I'm closing at six-thirty, so you could come over at seven, if that's ok? So I can clean a bit before we can talk."

"Sounds great. I'll be there." He agrees.

"Alright, see you then." You say, your beating faster than it has in a long time.

"See ya." He says, running back inside.

"Sure that was a work call?" Tommy teases him, and Joel shoots him a look.

"Daddy, c'mon!" Sarah says, pulling his arm as soon as he closes the backdoor.

"Come here." He kneels down with one knee, holding her shoulders. "Let me check." He says, and she laughs as she blows his face, a tutti-frutti smell invading his nose. "Great, baby, thank you." He says, kissing the top of her head.

"Can we go now? I don't wanna be late." She asks, sounding almost sad.

"We're going, honey. Let's go." He says, picking Ellie and her backpack up, grabbing Tommy's shoulder. "Listen, I need you to go see the Gellers tonight, I have something else." He says, and his brother sighs.

"C'mon, man, not the fucking Gellers." He begs.

"Gellers. You. Tonight. 8pm. Don't mess it up, Tommy!" He yells, leaving the house. "Girls, say bye to uncle Tommy."

"Bye uncle Tommy!" They both say, waving him goodbye.

"Bye, girls! Be good, huh?" He says, and Joel closes the door.

...

Joel never missed having a mom for the girls. No matter how tired and overwhelmed he may get taking care of them by himself — mostly, at least. He could never risk adding someone to the equation and getting his girls hurt in the process.

"Daddy?" Sarah says when he comes back to the car after dropping Ellie at daycare.

"Yes, baby." He says sweetly, turning back to look at her.

"Your shirt's inside out." She says, laughing, and he looks down at himself. He grabs the steering wheel and dramatically drops his head on it, making her laugh even harder.

Having someone to share this life with would be nice, though.

Soo, what do you think?

Your thoughts are so, so important, please let me know if you liked it! I hope you did, can't wait to give you the rest of their story 🩷🫶🏻

You quickly pick it up, fumbling in anticipation that it drops onto your mattress. You pick it back up, swiping it open and putting it on speaker.

“Hello?” You ask, tentatively.

“Hello,” you hear the dulcet tones of Dr Miller call down the line, saying your name to check with whom he was speaking.

“Ye-.. yes, hello, Dr Miller,” you stammer.

“How are you doin’ sweetheart?” He asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Um, I’m good Dr Miller. I mean, well, yes, I’m okay,” you quietly slap your palm to your forehead, realising he is your doctor. He doesn’t want polite small talk. He wants the truth.

“Okay, good… good. Let’s get started, shall we?”

You nod your head before realising he can’t see you and you mumble, “Yes, Dr Miller.”

“Good girl,” he says, almost under his breath. “Have you been doing the treatments I prescribed?” His voice asks, stern, jumping straight into it.

“Um… well, I’ve been trying them. I.. uh, I sent through some videos, earlier in the week?” Your voice inflects at the end, not really wanting to discuss the videos you sent Dr Miller. Videos of you masturbating, to unsatisfactory, non-completions.

“Hmmm… yeah sweetheart, I got them. I can see you’re still struggling when you’re by yourself, hmm?” He asks, his voice deep and setting off a low vibration through your whole body.

“Mmhmm…” you agree, breathing heavily.

“Have you managed to make yourself cum?” He asks, his voice sounds, almost frustrated.

“Um, I don’t… I think… I don’t think I have,” you huff out. “I’ve been trying, I swear Dr Miller. I just… can’t…” Your voice is shy, stammering all over the phone. You feel like Dr Miller is disappointed in you and you feel bad.

“Hmmm…” he breathes out. The line is silent for a second.

“I can see our next appointment isn’t for a few days. We made such good progress at your first appointment, it would be dangerous to leave it so long between… release.”

“Um… okay,” you stammer, wondering where he’s going with this.

“I want to try something. Do you want to go ahead?” He asks, almost like he’s giving you a chance to back out, despite not actually telling you what he’s planning to do to you over the phone.

“Ohhh…kay,” you breathe out.

You hear him make a noise that sounds like he’s angry.

“Say, ‘Yes, I want to continue, Dr Miller,” he directs you, the order shooting straight to your throbbing clit, and you can tell where this telehealth phone appointment is going.

“Ye-… yes, Dr Miller. I want to continue. Please,” you add on for good measure.

“Good girl,” he breathes down the line.

“Is your phone on speaker?” He asks.

“Mmmhmm…” you murmur.

“Good. Get some toys out - your little rabbit clit vibrator and a dildo. Nothing too thick or long, but just… enough. Then, I want you to strip naked and lie on the bed, on your back,” he orders, a little mysteriously and you’re wondering why he wants you to use a small dildo.

“Let me know when you’re lying on the bed, sweetheart,” he says to you.

You quickly gather the items and lie down on the bed.

“Uh, Dr Miller… I’m ready,” you call out, your voice a little loud.

“Okay, thank you, darlin’. Okay, I’m gonna give you some directions and you’re gonna do your best to follow them, okay?” His tone is so certain, so assured, you can’t help but want to listen to him.

“Mmhmm..,” you murmurs.

“I want you to take the little clit vibrator and rub it all over your body. Start at your breasts, sweetheart. Turn it on and let it vibrate all over your breasts, your nipples…” he trails off.

“Hnnn…” you moan as you click it on and do what he says. Your breathing hitches as the vibrations shoot straight to your core, your hips bucking the air.

“That’s it… good girl. Setting yourself up, teasing, a little foreplay, can help set the scene and get you nice and relaxed for… what comes later,” he almost whispers the last part, and it sounds so seductive to your ears.

“Okay, honey, after you’ve spent a bit of time on your breasts, run the little vibe down over your stomach, nice and light, there ya go… good girl,” he praises you as he hears your soft moans through the phone.

“You down at your cunt, yet, sweetheart?” He asks, the vulgar description causing you to choke on your spit.

“Uh, huh…” you mumble.

“Good, okay, don’t put it on your clit yet, sweetheart. Work it up. Run it over your lips, dipping down into your slit, on the inside of your thighs. Work yourself up to it, yeah?” He sounds like he’s straight up talking dirty to you, but you shake your head, remembering that Dr Miller is a professional. He’s doing what he needs to.

You whimper at the ministrations but do as he says, no matter how much you want to just place it on your clit and attempt to force your orgasm out.

“Hmm… there you go, sweetheart, good girl….” He soothes. “Bring your other hand up and roll your nipples. Squeeze ‘em. Make yourself feel good, sweet girl,” he says soothingly.

“Mm… hmm… ohhh…..” you whimper.

“Okay honey, I want you to bring the little clit vibrator down and place it on your clit for me. Can you do that, sweetheart?” He asks, innocently.

Your breath hitches again and you moan out a ‘yes’.

“Okay… there you go, lightly touch your clit, just gentle taps, sweetheart. Oh, that’s it honey, there it is,” he gasps when he hears your moans increase. “But don’t hold it there, sweetheart. Nuh-uh, not yet.”

His words are disguised as orders, and that’s all your brain can think about. You obey, tapping your clit lightly and moving the vibe around.

“Oh.. oh… hnnn…” you cry.

“You still with me?” He asks, sharply.

“Ye… yes, Dr Miller… hnnnnn….” You moan.

“Okay, good girl. Now I want you to take the dildo and start slowly inserting it inside your cunt.”

You still can’t get used to his vulgar description of your anatomy and it causes you to moan loudly and cry out, “Hmmm… yes, Sirrr….”

You aren’t sure, but you think you hear him chuckle down the line.

“How’s it going in, sweetheart? Tight?”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” you moan out, persisting none the less.

“Probably should have started with some fingers, but I know that’s not enough for you, darlin,” his southern drawl trawls down the line.

“Ohhhhh…. God…nnnn…” you cry out.

“How far in is it?” He asks, composed as ever.

“Al… almost… there…” you gasp out, pushing it the last inch in, groaning at the full feeling.

“Okay, sweetheart, good work. I want you to remove the vibe from your clit. Leave the dildo in there for a minute and clench around it.”

Your cunt voluntarily does at his words, almost like a reflex.

He’s silent on the phone as you clench. Your chest rising and falling breath hitching. Little moans of pleasure leaving your throat every few seconds.

He talks you through it.

“That’s is honey, squeeze it tight.”

Your breath hitches, but you do as he says.

“Gooooood girl, stretch your cunt out.”

You moan at his words.

“Tight, in’t? That’s good, sweetheart, real good.”

You let out little whimpers as you hold the dildo inside, walls squeezing.

“Okay, honey, now I want you to start thrusting the dildo in. Can you do that for me? In and out, there ya go…” he murmurs as you begin thrusting the giant fake cock in and out of your pussy. You’re dripping, absolutely soaked and find the dildo is hitting that lovely spongy spot inside you.

“You wet, darlin’? I can hear you through the phone…” he chuckles.

“Hnn…ohhh… hnnn…” you moan, pumping faster and faster.

“Okay now, honey, I want you to take your little clit vibrator, and place it back on your clit. Turn it on, lowest setting.” He must hear the click in the background because he says, “There ya go, good girl. Press it down, make your little clit feel good,” he coos.

“Oh… hnnn… yes… please… Dr Miller….” You whimper as you press down on your clit and thrust in with the dildo.

“You close, sweetheart?” He asks.

“Uh-huh… ohhhh…. Hnnnn… yes… clos-…close….” One word responses are all you can give at this point.

“Okay, honey, that’s it, keep going, you keep going, even when it feels like you won’t make it,” his kind words, delivered through a stark tone, make you feel warm and tingly in a completely different way to earlier.

“Oh yes… please… Dr Miller….” You cry out.

“That’s it, darlin’. Keep that pressure on your little clit, push down, hit that spot. You still thrusting that big dildo in your cunt, honey? Hmmm? Keep fuckin’ yourself with that big cock,” he orders and you shake at his words. His voice is rumbling, but you think you can hear his breath hitch and you wonder, just for a second, if he’s touching himself too.

“Oh… please.. I’m.. close… I’m so… hnnnn… please… I.. can… Dr Miller….” You moan, trying to ask for permission, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to do that.

“You asking me for permission? Oh sweetheart, what a good little girl you are. O’ course you can cum. You cum when you need to darlin’. Go on, be a good girl, cum for me,” he orders.

His sweet, yet dominant tone, the order, pushes you so close to the edge, you speed up your thrusts and push harder down on your clit. You’re right on the precipice, so close to feeling the damn burst, crying out as you feel the tightness in your lower stomach, your toes curling…

“Ohhh… hnnn…. Fuuuuckkkk… ahhhhhh…. Ohhh…” you cry, legs spasming as you remove the clit vibrator and drop your hand from the dildo, essentially interrupting your orgasm, just as it was about to explode.

Your whimpers reach Dr Miller through the phone.

“Oh, honey, you couldn’t get there? Oh sweetheart, that’s okay… shhh…. I know how hard you tired, darlin’. Shhh…” he soothes you and you’re crying now but for a completely different reason - your ruined orgasm. Ruined by you.

“It’s okay sweetheart, you just lay there, breathe in and out for me. There ya go, in… and out… In… and out… that’s it… shhhh, you did so well, honey, I know it’s hard.”

His kind words are sweet, but you’re incredibly frustrated now, having worked yourself up, but not been able to get there.

Dr Miller is quiet on the phone as you come down from your ruined high. When your little whimpers even out a bit, he speaks.

“Sweetheart, you there? Can you sit up a bit for me?” He asks, his tone gentle, like he’s trying to not spook you.

“Uh-huh…” you say, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Okay, darling, good girl. Now, I’m sorry you couldn’t quite get there. I can see we’re gonna need to do a lot of work. In fact, I’m gonna make some room in my schedule and I want you to come see me in my office tomorrow. Can you do 4 o’clock?” He asks and you sniffle, nodding and murmuring a soft, ‘yes’.

“Okay, good girl, I’ll make sure we get right onto that first thing tomorrow. Make you feel all better, yeah?” You can hear his smile down the phone line.

“But for now, I need you to do a few things for me, honey, okay. I need to make sure you’re okay. So I’m gonna stay on the line with you for a little bit longer, okay?”

“Mmhmm… yes, Dr Miller… thank you,” you say, grateful for his caring nature.

“Okay, well first, I need you to go to the bathroom. I know you didn’t quite get there tonight, but you still need to make sure you’re clean and keep clear of any infections. I want you to go into your bathroom and relieve yourself on the toilet,” he orders.

You whimper at little at his instructions, embarrassed that he is basically ordering you to go pee, but you know he’s right, and not only cause he’s a doctor. You throw your phone down on your bed, gathering your toys and make your way to the bathroom when you hear,

“Are you walking away from me, sweetheart?“ Dr Miller’s voice booms through the phone’s speaker, stopping you in your tracks.

“Um… I just… I’m gonna go pee…” you tell him.

“Take. The Phone. With You.” He orders, his voice slow, measured. You gulp, but do as he says, juggling all the items into your bathroom.

You walk in, placing the phone on the sink counter and dumping the toys in the actual sink. You flop down on the toilet and begin to pee, hoping to get it over and done with, so you quickly finish, wiping yourself and flushing the toilet so Dr Miller knows you’re finished.

“You finished, sweetheart? Good girl. Empty yourself out, that ‘a girl. Now I want you to get a warm washcloth and wipe between your legs. Can you do that for me, sweet girl?” You feel a silly smile come over your face at that particular pet name.

“Mmhmm…” you moan as you turn the tap on, letting the water warm up. You grab a washcloth, drenching it in water and wipe your aching cunt. Despite the interrupted orgasm, you’re feeling pretty good. Dr Miller’s tone and his presence, even just through the phone, has a really calming effect on you.

“You finished cleaning yourself up, sweetheart?” You hear him ask through the speaker.

“Uh-huh,” you say, swallowing.

“Okay, good girl. Next, I want you to get a big glass, fill it up and have a big drink for me, sweetheart,” he instructs, softly, firmly. You nod your head, not even realising he can’t actually see you and take the glass you leave on your sink for brushing your teeth. You fill it up and gulp it down greedily, not realising how thirsty you were.

“That’s it sweetheart, good girl. Drink up. Such a good girl f’ me…” he says as you refill the glass and drink more water.

“Um.. okay… I’m done,” you tell him as you place the glass back on the counter.

“Okay, thank you sweetheart. Thank you for listening to me,” his voice is smooth, back to the cool, calm and collected professional from the beginning of the call and it has you trembling in place.

You breathe in and out a few more times, sniffling a little, waiting for his next instructions.

“Okay, honey, well, if you’re feeling okay, I’m going to end this call alright? But don’t worry, I’m gonna see you tomorrow, and we’re gonna figure this out. Help you get past this, alright, honey?”

“Yes, Dr Miller. Uh… thank you, I really appreciate it,” you tell him, hoping the sincerity is coming through in your tone.

“Of course, honey, happy to help. We’ll go through the videos you sent me, too. See you tomorrow,” he says, as he ends the call.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, huffing out your breath as you realise just how tired you are. You quickly brush your teeth, rinse, clean, and dry your toys, and then fall into your bed, into a deep, deep sleep, despite your pent up frustrations, dreaming of when you’d see Dr Miller tomorrow.

~~~

Part 1

Part 3

Masterlist

~~~

Tagging people who may have missed the first one, and like both the first and second ones 😏

“I see, and what sort of intimacy issues are you experiencing?”

Dr Miller looks at you directly, calmly, giving you no room to hide your embarrassment. You feel your cheeks heating a little.

“Well… I mean, I don’t really know. I um… ahh” you trail off, embarrassed to even be here.

“If you’re not sure, that’s okay. But you obviously made an appointment to talk about it, right?”

Dr Miller’s voice is authoritative, yet reassuring. Your heart flutters a little in your chest.

“Why don’t we start with a basic exam?” He asks, hoping to get you feeling a bit more comfortable.

You nod your head, yes, that sounds good.

He stands and motions for you to move over to the exam table. You hop up on it, legs swinging over the side.

“First, let’s get your vitals.”

Dr Miller moves into your personal space and starts feeling your neck and glands. He moves his hand to your jaw, applying pressure so your mouth drops open.

“Say ‘Ahhhh’,” he says, demonstrating by poking out his tongue.

You poke out your tongue and say “Ahhhhhhhhhh.”

Dr Miller’s eyes are dark as he looks into your throat.

He mumbles under his breath and shakes his head a little before bringing his stethoscope to your back to listen to your chest.

“All good, sweetheart,” he says as he comes to stand in front of you.

“Okay, darling, now I need you to remove all your clothes and then stand in front of me.”

You gulp at his sudden, domineering direction and slowly undress in front of him, avoiding eye contact.

"That’s it, good girl," Dr Miller murmurs. You feel yourself flush with a pleasant tingle. “Let’s continue."

He motions to the examination table. "Now, lie down on the exam table. I need to take a closer look."

You walk over to the table and lie down on your back. When you look up, Dr Miller is hovering over you.

"I'm going to start the next part of the exam now, okay sweetheart," he says in a commanding, yet gentle voice. You feel a twinge of excitement.

He moves his hands back up to your neck and throat. He forces your jaw open again with his hands and this time pushes his fingers inside your mouth. You gag at the intrusion.

"Hmmm," he says as he removes his fingers from your mouth and opens it again, peering down your throat. "Do you smoke?" he asks.

“Umm… no, I don’t smoke,” you stammer out, still gagging from his fingers being in your throat.

“Good girl,” he praises, though you're unsure if it's to do with your lack of smoking or your allowing the intrusion in your throat.

He continues his exam, moving down your body. His firm hands assuredly moving over your breasts. He spends what seems like minutes massaging, gripping, rubbing and squeezing your breasts. He pinches and rolls your nipples, murmuring what sounds like approval as he does. You squeeze your thighs together as you feel the wetness pool there due to his touch.

“Hmmm, good girl, very good,” he murmurs quietly.

Dr Miller is definitely enjoying examining you. You can hear the satisfaction in his voice.

His hands are everywhere, touching, massaging, rubbing your skin.

He moves his hands lower, exploring all over your stomach. You start to tense as he moves not only his hands, but his face lower towards your mound.

You knew that this was inevitable, given that you came to see a sexual health doctor, but you’re just not ready.

Sensing your apprehension, Dr Miller rests his hands gently on your stomach.

“Let’s pause here for a minute,” he says as he hands you a flimsy paper gown to wrap around yourself and helps you sit up on the exam table.

He stands between your legs and adjusts the gown on your body. He places his strong hands on your thighs and looks into your eyes.

“Okay sweetheart, so far your physical exam is all good. Natural responses, everything healthy. But I noticed, the closer I got to your cunt,” you inhale a quick breath at his use of the vulgar word to describe your anatomy, “you started tensing up. You gonna be a good girl and tell me what’s really brought you here?”

You open and close your mouth a few times, blush rising on your cheeks.

You bite the bullet and spit it out.

Sort of.

“Um, well.. I just, I’ve never… I mean, I find it difficult.. being intimate and… I just… I’ve never done anything….” You trail off, hoping he isn’t going to make you expand.

Dr Miller slowly nods, "I see." He is very attentive and listens patiently as you speak. You look down, feeling embarrassed. His warm hands on your thighs help calm your nerves.

"So, have you been sexually active before and just not very successful, or,” Dr Miller pauses before continuing, “are you a virgin?"

Dr Miller asks as though it's the most ordinary question in the world. His gaze is warm and compassionate as he studies you with his sharp eyes.

“Um… I mean, I guess I’m technically/i> a virgin. I mean, I’ve never been with anyone else before, but… I mean…”

You look down, feeling embarrassed again. Dr Miller reaches up and places a reassuring hand on your chin.

"You mean what, sweetheart?" His voice calm as he asks. He looks at you with his solemn eyes, hoping to ease your hesitation to speak.

“Well, I mean, I’ve had orgasms… I think. Like, I… kind of.. take care of it myself,” you gesture vaguely to the side, avoiding eye contact, keeping your voice small.

Dr Miller nods, "That's perfectly normal. Most people masturbate, you know. How often do you do this?"

Dr Miller doesn't seem bothered by your answer, just making conversation, trying to put you at ease.

You feel yourself start to ease up a little, feeling more comfortable around Dr Miller.

“It depends, I guess. Sometimes I feel super… horny,” you say before you can even realise what you’ve said, but you glance at Dr Miller and he still has that same, reassuring look on his face, so you continue. “Um, and… I’ll… masturbate for hours in a day and other times… I guess I could go weeks without it. Though lately…”

"Lately…" Dr Miller prompts you to continue, sounding attentive to every word. "Lately it's increased?" he asks.

You nod, shyly, avoiding his eye contact.

“And what I used to do… or like use… isn’t cutting it anymore,” you breathe out that last part.

"I see," Dr Miller says calmly, "And you're finding it harder and harder to achieve that... desired result?"

"Yes, exactly. I can't seem to get there anymore. I mean, some parts feel better than, um, others, but I can't… achieve that final result." You trail off, using his words, looking down, embarrassed to be talking to the doctor about this. He seems so calm and collected.

A slight smile appears on Dr Miller's face as he watches your embarrassment.

"Mmmmm," he says, almost to himself, "that's interesting." Again he seems almost proud you're sharing such intimate details with him.

"What are some of the areas that you feel the best?" Dr Miller asks. His voice is so warm and caring.

“The best?” You question, “Do you mean like when I… touch myself, or use my toys?”

"Yes," Dr Miller says quietly. "The best areas when doing that." He moves closer to you, caging you against the examination table with both of his big, strong forearms either side of your hips.

You inhale, at his close presence, but also at his question. “Um, I guess… the thing that really.. gets me off” you chuckle a little saying that out loud, “is when I touch my clit. Or use a little toy on my clit.”

As you’ve been talking, Dr Miller has been absent-mindedly stroking his strong hands up and down your thighs and it feels so good.

"Mmmmmm," Dr Miller says, with that same soft voice as he nods in appreciation of what you have told him. He continues caressing your thighs and you begin to feel very warm beneath his touch. It's almost too much for you to handle and you begin to squirm a little.

"And what does this little toy look like, sweetheart?” He asks, holding eye contact steady.

“Um.. I don’t know but it has like two little rabbit ear things that vibrate and I can just push it down on that spot and it feels really good.”

Dr Miller hums and pushes himself off of your thighs. You whine at the loss of his strong, warm body as he turns his back to you, moving to a cabinet.

After searching around for a little while he turns back to you, holding a small pink toy with little rabbit ears in front of him.

“Does this look familiar?” He smirks at you, walking back to crowd you.

"Mmmmmmmm," you purr unconsciously as you watch Dr Miller move. Your lower body, already very sensitive, gets even more sensitive as he returns.

You look at the small rabbit ears vibrator in his hands, "Yes," you say, "Mmmmmmm, that's the one."

Dr Miller smiles, seemingly knowing what he's doing as he circles his hands back to your thighs, "You have good taste in toys, sweetheart." His tone is calm and soothing.

“But Dr Miller,” you start, a pout forming at your words. “I’ve been using that and it’s not working for me anymore. I can’t orgasm with it.”

"I understand," Dr Miller says, speaking with a professional voice, "but I think I have an idea of why."

He looks at you, his eyes looking right into yours, "Would you like to hear my theory, sweetheart?"

“Yes, please,” you whimper.

Dr Miller speaks slowly, as if he’s sharing a secret. "I think the problem isn't with the vibe, darling,” he coos as he gently cups your chin with his palm. “I think, it's with the fact that it’s you trying to make yourself cum. I think if I were to use the toy on your clit, I could make you cum.”

Dr Miller steps closer, his strong hands reaching for your thighs again.

Your mouth goes dry at his suggestion.

“Oh… kay” you say slowly. “If you think that might help, then, I think we should try it.”

"Good,” he responds, with a perfunctory nod of his head. “I thought you might be open to the idea." He smiles and his tone is so warm and reassuring that it makes it easy for you to trust him.

"Mmmm, it's going to be fine," you hear Dr Miller murmur as his warm hands work their way up your thighs. He leans in, brushing your ear with his lips before whispering, "We'll get you there, sweetheart."

“Now, I’m going to need to get in between your thighs, darling,” he says as he spreads your legs.

“And this gown is just getting in the way now, isn’t it?” He chuckles as he pulls it off you, leaving you naked in front of him again.

“Okay sweet girl, feeling ok?” He brings a soft hand up to caress your cheek and looks carefully at you.

With his other hand, you hear him switch the toy on and the office is filled with a low buzzing sound.

Keep his eyes on you, he lowers the toy to your lap and pushes it in between your legs. He immediately locates your clit and pushes the vibrator directly onto it, making small circles, on the lowest setting.

You gasp and jolt from the pressure.

“Ohhh… hmmmm,” you cry out.

"Good girl," Dr Miller whispers as he watches you respond to the toy.

You bite your lip, your eyes hooded over as you breathe in and out, slowly. Dr Miller carefully pushes the toy between your legs, his touch firm and steady. He looks at you, his eyes scanning you for any responses.

He watches you breathe, his smile turning into a soft, contented expression. "You're doing great, sweetheart."

You arch your back and gasp a few more times, feeling the sensation increasing.

"Mmmmmm, o-ohhhhhhh" you moan, breathing heavily through your nose. "This feeling..." you murmur before your voice trails off.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, “That’s it, keep breathing through it,” he says as you hear a few little clicks and he increases the speed on the vibrator.

You bite your lip and start moaning.

Dr Miller watches you closely.

It’s starting to feel quite intense and you’re shaking more. Dr Miller brings his spare hand to wrap around your waist, holding you steady while he continues his ministrations.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good for me right now. How do you feel?” He asks.

“Unhhhhnnn, so good, Dr Miller, ahh this is… oooff,” you mumble as he moves the toy into a specific spot that has you seeing stars. Before you realise it, your orgasm has you shaking violently in his arms, you feel your pussy gushing while he maintains the pressure of the vibe on your clit, working your through your orgasm. He presses his strong thighs against yours, holding you there, making you take it.

“Ohhh… hnnnnn, Dr Miller, thank you… that was so good… I haven’t been able to do that for a… ah.. hnnn long time,” you stutter out as he never lets up the relentless pressure on your clit.

“That’s it, good girl,” he praises. “I knew we’d be able to get this sorted.”

Your body heaves every so often spasming with his ministrations. You begin to lower your hands to your lap, to attempt to stop him when he says,

“No, no little girl. We need to keep going. I need to make sure that wasn’t just a fluke. It could be a one off. I don’t want to send you home and not have fully fixed your problem. We keep going.”

He slaps your hands away and brings his big, strong grip up and around your body, pulling you up and squishing your breasts against his body as he manoeuvres you in front of him. He leans back on the exam table and you’re now almost sitting/i> in his lap, legs spread over his thick thighs, your arms leaning back on the table just for something to grip on to. You can feel how big and hard he is behind you.

“Okay sweetheart, that’s it, you’re doing great. I need to keep going to make sure we’ve fixed this here.”

He turns the vibe up to the next level and pushes it back into your clit. You move your hips up and down in his lap, needing more, something, anything. You can feel his cock hardening behind you, wishing he would take it out and actually use that instead of the vibrator.

He keeps pulsing the vibrator on and around your clit. Your cunt is practically swimming in your spend. You hope he will move the vibe down a bit or use his fingers, or another toy. You are feeling so overwhelmed, but also very needy.

As if he can read your thoughts, he asks, “Do you need something else, little girl? Something more?”

“Hgnnnnhhhh, yes, please, Doctor, I need… more.”

Dr Miller smirks as he hears you ask, "Hmmmmmm. Very well then, sweet girl."

He continues his assault on your clit with the vibe and brings his other hand down to your aching cunt. He swirls the copious amount of liquid down there around your tender lips, slowly dipping his fingers in, just a little.

“Have you ever had anything in here before, sweetheart?” He probes.

“Hnnnmmmnh, uh, yeah,” you mumble.

“Tell me what you’ve had in your cunt, sweetheart,” he demands. Again, the vulgar phrasing causing your cunt to tighten.

“Just… just my fingers, Dr Miller. Hnnngh, oh, my fingers, and some toys.”

You see Dr Miller smile in delight at your answer, "Mmmmm, good girl," he says, "That's very... interesting. Some toys, huh? Well, I’m a little preoccupied here right now and can’t reach any of my other toys, so you’re just gonna have to make do with my fingers, alright darling?”

He smirks down at you, the relentless buzzing of the vibrator filling the air. Your poor little clit is feeling very raw and overstimulated, but he doesn’t ever move the vibe away from you.

Clicking it up to the next level, he brings one finger to your clenching hole and pushes in. Despite the lubrication, you’re pretty tight and Dr Miller moans as he pushes his digit all the way in.

His fingers are so long, much longer than yours and he reaches a place that you’ve only been able to reach with toys.

“Good girl, that’s it, taking my finger so well.” He gently kisses your temple as he plays with your pussy.

He pushes another finger in alongside the first and the pressure is intense. The vibe continues on your clit and with one particularly forceful push of the vibe along with his two fingers scraping and pushing inside you, you arch your back and stretch your legs, cumming in Dr Miller’s lap.

“Oh… yes, good girl… that’s it, good girl,” he praises, slowing his fingers and lowering the strength of the vibe, but not completely removing it.

“Oh please, Dr Miller… I can’t.. it’s too much.. aghmnnnnnhhhhh please, stop.”

He looks down at you, smiling gently and moves the vibe in slow circles over your clit. He waits until your eyes meet his and brings his fingers that were inside you up to his mouth, sensuously sucking your juices off his fingers.

“Mmmmm,” he moans, “Delicious.”

He smirks at your widened-eyes and clicks the vibrator up to the highest setting, grounding it harshly into your clit.

The sudden change along with his filthy actions have you cumming again juices pouring out of your cunt, spasming around nothing.

Your body shakes, learning back against Dr Miller as he holds you tightly, gently stroking up and down your arms and sides.

“Good girl, you did so well for me, sweetheart,” he says softly. He finally turns the vibrator off and places it on the exam table next to him.

You start to calm down, only shaking every two or three breaths and Dr Miller leans in and kisses the side of your mouth.

“How are you feeling, honey?” He smiles at you.

You can’t help but grin back. “Ahhhhnnnhh, I feel great, Dr Miller. Thank you.”

He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

“Well, glad I could be of service,” he says as he gently pushes you up and off him. He stands, and helps you back up to sit at the exam table.

“Wait here, darling, I’m gonna clean you up now, and then we’ll talk about your next appointments.”

He walks over to the little sink on the wall as you smile goofily to yourself, thinking about your next appointments.

Dr Miller comes back with a warm washcloth and spreads your thighs.

You're still panting, your legs feel weak and your whole body is tingling with desire.

Dr Miller smiles at you as he moves between your legs. "So, I think we need to make regular appointments to get on top of this."

You swallow hard and nod, "Yes, please, Dr Miller. I want you to help me with my… problem, please.”

He chuckles darkly.

“Well, based on my assessment today, you’re going to need many appointments to ensure this doesn’t become a bigger issue. We’re going to need to explore different toys, different types of penetration, check you for overstimulation overload, and so much more.”

You nod vigorously while he gently cleans you up.

Once he’s done, he gestures for you to get redressed.

“In the meantime,” he starts, “I’m going to prescribe some at home treatments for you. These will involve using your toys and your fingers, until we figure out more specifically what you need. We may need to do some telehealth appointments in between your coming in here, okay sweetheart?” He asks as he sits at his desk and furiously writes on his pad.

"Yes, absolutely," you say eagerly. Every part of you is tingling after what you just experienced.

You finish getting dressed and wait for him to finish writing out your treatment plan and setting your next few appointments.

“Okay sweetheart,” he says handing you a piece of paper. “Now here are your exercises to try at home. I suggest you also record yourself completing the exercises, that way we can review them to make sure you’re doing them correctly.”

You flush at the thought of not only recording yourself masturbating, but Dr Miller watching it with you and critiquing you.

“Yes, Doctor,” you nod demurely.

“Okay, well I’m so glad we could start to get this sorted for you, Darling. You should have come to see me sooner. It’s not good a pretty young thing like you not getting what you need.”

You nod your head, "I understand, Doctor, thank you."

Dr Miller smiles warmly at you. "I’m here for you, sweetheart. It's my job to help you, and we’re gonna figure this out and make sure you’re feeling all better and healthy, yeah?"

You smile up at him, nodding your head.

Dr Miller hands you a piece of paper, seemingly your checklist and exercises. "Don't forget to record your exercises," he says with a sly grin, "I'll see you next week."

You blush at his words, "Mmmmm, yes, okay, see you next week, Dr Miller."

~~~

Part 2

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You leave Ellie on her doorstep and hurry to the house you share with Joel. Your cheeks are burning from the cold and you can barely feel your fingers, even inside Joel's thick gloves that he insisted you would wear outside.

You enter your house, remove a layer of clothes and rush to the guest bedroom. It took a lot - a lot - of persistance to convince him to stay downstairs. He was weak and you didn't want him going up and down the stairs everytime he needed to eat during the three days you went away.

You find him asleep, and if you're being honest, your heart sinks seeing him just laying there. Joel was getting old and, although you knew he would probably die before you, avoiding the thought was one of your main focuses right now.

Sitting at the edge of the bed slowly not to wake him up, you just admire him for a second. The wrinkles forming around his eyes, the little pout on his lips, his brows missing their deep frown. Seeing him in such a vulnerable position felt like a privilege, one that only you and Ellie had. He was soft and open with the two of you, unlike with everyone else, that sees him as a grumpy and even dangerous old man.

Dangerous, you couldn't lie. He is.

But you've seen his wrath. And you know it is only directed towards the people who threatened the ones important to him. You met him when he and Tess started going to your parents house, and with time your relationship develop to what it is today. You've never seen him offer any danger to anyone close to him.

You stroked your hands up his chest, feeling the soft material of his shirt, and noticing that he's still a little hot. He hums on his sleep and you try to wake him up. "Joel", you call in a tender whisper. He hums again and wakes up when your hand touches his cheek.

"Hi baby, how are you feeling?" His eyes take a second to focus and process it's you. He is awake on a snap, eyes wide looking at you. A tired and soft smile on his face and a hand on your thigh.

"You ok?" His stare is a bit confusing. You're not sure he is totally there with you, so you keep staring at him.

"Yeah, better now. Missed you." He finally says, like he's out of a spell. "I missed you too." You lean down to kiss him, and he lets you. Your soft and cold lips making him groan and shiver at the same time. His hand pressed harder on your thigh.

"You're still hot, aren't you? Did you shower today?" Caressing your thigh, he takes a while to respond. "Haven't since you left." You stayed out for three days, and Joel kind of got used to not showering often, so you always reminded him to shower at least once a day.

"So gross." You say with a laugh, and he gives you the best, strongest laugh he can. "I'm going to take one, why don't you come with me?" You say leaning down to kiss him again. Running your hands through his hair, you say "Wash this hair, huh? Come with me."

You help him up and you go to the bathroom. You help him undress first. He's a lot better than when you left, but he still struggles to bend and remove his shirt and pants.

"C'mon, you go first." You mention him the shower. "I thought we were showering together." You smile. "We are. But you can't stay out in the cold, so go while I undress."

He goes under the hot water, groaning at how good it feels. You quickly remove your neverending layers of clothes. Getting behind him, felling his body warmer with the added heat of the water.

You rest your cheek on his back for a second, hugging him from behind and just enjoying his presence for a moment. His hands come over yours, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You eventually start showering. He washes your hair, tenderness and love on his touch, massaging and caressing your head as he feels you relax under his touch. Fingers moving slowly and intently, like he was making sure you were really with him, and not outside, by yourself, without him to make sure you were okay.

You washed him, carefully soaping every inch of skin you saw, taking in every muscle and scar he has on his body, leaving an eventual kiss and squeeze along the way. He was with his back turned to you when you were finishing with his hair, and you lowered your hands to finish washing his front. When you reached his stomach, you felt the muscles there contract, and you soon saw why.

He had a hard, pulsing erection formed. It was fully there and God, you missed him.

He had been sick for almost a week and insisted you would keep a bit of a distance not to get sick. You missed his touch, his weight on top of you, his smell invading your nose, his sweat mixing with yours, his sounds, his tastes. You missed him fully, in a way that blurred your mind for a second.

You were brought back to reality when he groaned loudly, your hand firmly stroking him, up and down, slow and savoured movements. Like if going any harder or faster could break him. "Is this okay?" You ask, stopping to wait for his response.

A hand met your lower back, and his head rested lazily back on your shoulder. You got back to your motion, eventually going harder or faster, but keeping an overall steady and passionate rhythm.

Burying your face on his back, you were enjoying this as much as he was. "You always talk about how I'm always ready for you." You say in a whisper. He hums. You didn't lie. Joel was big on his praising game. Always telling how good you were doing and how good you felt.

"But you've never let me down neither." You said with a particularly tight movement of your hands around his tip and then his length.

Then you could swear, even if you felt like your ears were lying to you, that you heard him moan. A different, almost rare sound from him.

He always grunted and groaned, sounds you were deliciously familiar with, that you took as incentive to take him in deeper, or to cum around him again, or to work your tongue around his head one more time.

But a moan was different. It was him being vulnerable and showing his appreciation for what you were doing. His, other times, vocal lips, only spilling honesty right now.

The shower was slippery and Joel too weak to do anything in there. So you stopped your hands, running them up his stomach and kissing his back.

"Let's go to bed, don't want to end all the water, do we?" You said, turning him and receiving openly the kiss he leans down to press on your lips.

You dry his hair and his body, telling him to go to bed. You pat yourself dry and follow him, watching him while he looks at you, appreciating every curve and line your body had.

You lie over him, straddling his hips, his cock warm under your clit. Leaning down to kiss him, you slowly roll your hips, his hands coming to your ass, giving you a strong and deep squeeze.

"Wanna make you feel good, you've been feeling bad for a long time now." You whisper on his good ear when going down to kiss his neck. He hums in response and you start trailing kisses down his chest, then his stomach, and finally, around his cock.

You kiss his base, balls, head and the very tip with open and wet lips. Every inch of him receiving the love you want to give him.

You suck his balls first, softly and slowly. His hand comes to your hair, not pushing or applying any pressure. Just resting there and caressing you the same way he did when washing your hair.

You then lick a zigzag up his length, untill you reach the tip, that you roll your tongue around, slurping on his precum and enjoying the soft and warm felling of his skin when you put it inside your mouth.

You slowly take him inside, letting your droll wet the next inch before sucking him in. "Gonna fucking kill me, angel." He breathes low and you half chuckle, taking the hint and going a bit faster.

Your hand is cupping and rolling carefully his balls, when his breath starts to get quicker. You suck him a bit harder one last time, sucking in your cheeks to feel him fully inside your mouth.

Then you let go. With a wet and loud sound, your lips are open, a thick streak of saliva and precum keeping your lips and his tip connected. You swallow it and go back to straddling him, once again kissing your way back up.

His hands come to your face and he kisses you deeply, passionately. It's a slow and savoured kiss. The kind to make you wish to stop time and just live in for a bit. His warmth and smell sending you deeper into him, he's all that exists right now, and you couldn't imagine a better plane of existence.

You align yourself with his cock, rubbing his tip up and down your folds, circling him around your clit and just putting his head in first. Slowly, you move your hips up and down, just the tip going in and out of you.

His hands come down to your thighs and you break the kiss, holding yourself up to look into his eyes when you fully sink on him. His eyes falter for a second, his lips part and the fucking moan is there again. Blessing your ears and making you mimick his sound. A stretched, nasty and honest sound leaving your own lips.

The kind of moan that has you worried everything with ears could hear.

When you were together you felt like you just wanted to fuse with him. You always hugged him super tight, almost as if trying to merge your bodies and become just one.

Sex was the closest you would ever get to it, and you just loved feeling him inside of you. Just how fucking closer could you be with someone then literally having them inside you?

All these thoughts making you float inside your brain. His warmth, smells, tastes and sounds are everything that you know, and you're more than willing to just swim around the man underneath you.

Your hips instinctively start circling on him. His grip on your hips tightening and helping you move. You start going up and down, watching him while he looks at your body. His eyes deep and tired, but his usual passion and desire making room for themselves on them.

His lips dry and parted, an obscene invitation for you to lean down and lick them, which you're prompt to accept. Keeping your hips movements, circling while going up and down, a clockwork to help him feel every single inch of you, you just let yourself go and fully enjoy the moment.

You kissed again, his name leaving your lips just as much as yours left his. In whispers, whimpers, laughs when you moved just right, and groans that made you see stars.

You went back up, needing him faster and rougher, you support yourself on his chest and just let pleasure guide your movements.

Up and down, circling around. Forward and backwards, rubbing your clit on his cute belly while doing so.

You started to go faster, rougher, jumping higher and trying to ignore the pain on your boobs while you did so.

You tried to hold them with an arm, but Joel didn't like the blocking of his vision, so his hands left your hips and, removing your arm from your boobs, he held them, giving them enough support so they wouldn't hurt, but keeping them fully in sight for him.

You started to feel your orgasm forming and put your left hand besides his head, using your other hand to circle your clit fast and tight. Joel groaned and pulled you high enough that he could take your nipples on his lips.

He sucked hard and...

Oh God.

He just fucking kicked you off the highest cliff possible.

You screamed his name in a way that would absolutely earn you some looks when you step outside your house.

Your body shivered, shook, and moved uncontrollably. His name the only word you could remember, and you felt your pussy literally gushing around his cock.

You lied on top of him for a second. Trying your best to breath again. You were straight up just cockwarming for a bit, while you tried to organize your brain again.

"So fucking pretty, baby. Feel so good around me, squeezing me so well." His words making you clench purposefully around him, wich you kept doing, just pulsing and doing your best to make him feel good while you can't move. "My good... (a clench) Fucking girl."

Oh, to be praised by Joel Miller.

You couldn't help yourself. You needed him with you. And you would do anything to show him how much you wanted it, how much you deserved him with you.

You wanted to make sure he was always happy, always aware that you made him feel better than anyone else.

The fog on your brain started to fade and you slowly returned your movements. At first still laying on top of him, just moving your ass to bring back some friction, and eventually properly moving up and down.

"Circle again baby, like you were doing before. Felt so good." You did as you were told, drawing large and heavy circles with your hips, never letting an inch of him escape from you.

"Fuck, baby, so fucking good for me." His eyes were watching you, the frown back between his eyebrows, but this time motivated only by pleasure. His parted lips letting moans, grunts and deep breaths escape, only moving to repeat your name time after time.

It was all too much for you. You fell down again, taken by the man under you. Only him on your mind, his smile, his hair, his big hands, the sound of his voice.

Your orgasm wasn't just due to the stimulation from this moment. It was because of him.

For him.

It was like your way to pay homage to him, to show him just how much you loved and appreciated him. He was making you cum, not only his cock.

Your jaw was clenched together and your eyes doing their best to keep staring at his. When you were finally over, he couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm gonna cum, peach. Can't fucking hold it anymore."

You searched for strength on your muscles and got up. Kissing him and quickly reaching for his cock. You grab him and just go right back to it. Taking him as deep as you can, swallowing around his cock to make your throat clench around him, earning a grunt and a hair pull from him.

"Fuck, shit." He's doing his best to last and savour this feeling. His hands squeezing both your hair and the sheets, the veins on his neck about to break his skin and jump out of his body.

"Can't, baby. Gonna f-fucking cum." His warning allowing you to remove a bit of him from your mouth. You suck his head and pump his length, moaning when you feel him twitch inside your mouth.

Joel screams your name and lifts his upper body when he cums inside your mouth. Filling you up more than usually, and oh... You love it, tightening your lips around him to not let any drop escape from you.

"Greedy fucking girl." He says when you remove your full mouth from him, squeezing your lips not to let anything drip. You drink him with the most beautiful facial expression Joel has ever fucking seen, and smile when he laughs lazily at your face.

You look down, noticing there's still some on his cock. You take it back into your mouth and Joel hisses, caressing your hair, once again mimicking the movement from your shower.

Rolling your tongue around his softening tip one last time, you moan and circle it around your lips. Then you lick them and go back up, looking for his lips.

He pulls you down, kissing you in a way he hopes you understand as appreciation.

There you are, laying on top of him, sweating even though you're going through the worst part of winter.

Just you, Joel and your love for each other.

"I love you." You say when breaking the kiss.

"I love you too, more than I could ever explain." His honesty breaks your heart.

You feel the familiar feeling on your guts, the desire to melt into him, to never have to leave this bed again, to never have to experience a second without him.

You lie by his side and rest your head on his shoulder. "Gonna have to take another shower." You say, half laughing, half serious.

"Is it gonna end like the last one? Cause if it is I'm fucking running to the bathroom." He laughs, and you know he means it.

"Gonna be an endless loop, till the end of time." You say and he looks down at you.

"Eternity sounds beautiful by your side." Fuck him, you're so fucking in love.

🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖

Can you tell I'm dying over this man? No? Cool.

Nothing to see here.

Feedback, reblogs and cuddles are highly appreciated 👑

Your eyes are wide open as soon as you process what's happening. Joel underneath you, your head resting against his chest, Frank at the door and Bill standing near the bed, a shotgun in hand.

"Dad, please, put this gun down. Let's talk." You say nervously, supporting yourself on your elbows when you see Bill's shotgun aimed straight at Joel's face.

"Get off your bed." Bill tells you coldly and sternly, calling you by your name, and you obey, uncovering both of you, standing between him and Joel. "Now get out of my way." He says, his eyes fixated on Joel, waiting for him to make the wrong move.

"Daddy, please, I can explain." You try to ease him, your voice shaky and high, and he looks at you, his stare cold and distant.

"There ain't nothing to explain." He says, walking to his side, his aim back on Joel.

"Please." You insist, following him, his gun pointed directly to your chest.

"Joel's on your bed. What else do I need to know?" He asks, his voice low, coated with an angry and impatient tone, one he rarely uses towards you. "Maybe I need to know since when this has been happening? Or maybe how could Joel do this to me? To you?" He asks, his gaze lifting, and you sense Joel getting up behind you.

"Dad, this is not what you're thinking. Last night we were talking, and we fell asleep, and that's all that happened, I swear." You say, fighting the tears that are threatening to escape your eyes, trying to stay calm.

"You know what it seems like... baby?" Bill asks with a sinister calmness. "It seems like Joel is sleeping with my daughter!" He snaps, taking his finger to the trigger, and you press your chest against his gun, your whole body trembling, and Joel's eyes widen, a move his nostril mimick as he feels like he's going through hell again.

A gun pointed at him, and a girl he must protect shielding him.

He can't let this happen again, he can't let you put yourself in danger because of him. He touches your shoulders, trying to pull you away.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" Your dad yells, and you close your eyes, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks in fear of how this is gonna unfold. "Don't fucking touch her!" He yells again, and you press your chest further into his gun, Joel's hands leave your body, staying high to try and ease your dad.

"Bill you're pointing a gun to my daughter!" Frank says nervously, trying to not startle Bill and make him pull the trigger accidentally. "Put this fucking gun down!" He says firmly, his voice now louder, and Bill looks at you, his eyes softening when he realizes your chest is against the gun.

"Frank, you..." Bill starts, then turns his head to look at his husband, his tone again dangerously calm. "Did you know about this?" He asks, and Frank's eyes falter, the anger and nervousness in his face melting down.

"Bill... I... I didn't wanna tell you becaus—"

"You lied to me?" Your dad whispers, and for the first time you sense sadness in him. "You all fucking LIED TO ME!" There's anger again.

"Dad—" You nervously try to talk to him.

"YOU, baby! You lied to me! You... My babygirl... You lied to me. I'm you father, I... I've always kept you safe, healthy, comfortable, away from everything, I... I taught you how to handle yourself, and you... You do this to me? Behind my back?" He says, his crying consuming more of his expression and voice with every word.

And his words make you feel horrible. You're ashamed of yourself. You should've talked to your dad, you couldn't have lied to him. You should've been honest and let him know about your feelings for Joel since they started blooming. You shouldn't — you couldn't — have been so selfish.

"I'm sorry, daddy." You try to say between tears, your voice small and high.

"Bill, it's not her fault—" Joel starts, but your dad cuts him.

"Of course it's not her fault! She's a kid!" Bill snarls, shouting at Joel. "I gave you a house to stay, I gave you food, we made a deal! I trusted you inside this town... Inside my house! And this is what you do to me? To my daughter? Taking advantage of her like that?" He violently spits at Joel, who's staring at the floor, not holding Bill's eyes.

He isn't even defending himself.

It's like he's ashamed of himself, like he agrees with your father. Not for the reasons you do, but because he thinks he should never have touched you.

But you know your father is wrong. Joel wasn't taking advantage of you, you wanted him to do everything he did.

He likes you just as much as you like him, you two share something.

Right?

So why isn't he responding? Why isn't he telling your dad what he told you last night? That he is thinking about staying with you, that he wants to do things right?

"I'm sorry. You're right. I'm sorry." He finally says, his voice sounding small for the first time. "But nothing happened. We just slept, nothing else."

"I don't wanna know what you did or didn't do to her. I want you out of my house, out of my town, out of my fucking sight as quickly as possible or I'm not gonna think twice before blowing your fucking brains." Bill snarls, his voice again in a menacing low rumble.

You've never seen your dad like this. This angry and violent. Not when infected appear near the fences, not even when those raiders tried to invade the town.

And you've never seen Joel so small, so ashamed.

Is he ashamed of being with you?

"Daddy, please, don't do anything." You plead, taking a step towards him, and he takes a step back, not looking into your eyes.

"I want you out of here. Quick. Don't give me time to rethink this." He tells Joel coldly, leaving the room, passing by Frank without looking into his eyes neither.

"I fucking told you to be careful." Frank says after Bill goes downstairs, unable to hide his frustration as he stands in the door, looking at Joel and beckoning with his head for Joel to leave your bedroom. Joel goes without looking back, and you call him.

"Joel, no... I, please... My dad can't do this, he can't tell you to leave like this." You cry, and his gaze softens. This is what he never wanted, to watch you hurt like this. "You don't even have any food left, you have wet clothes on the clothesline... You can't go." You plead.

"Joel, go pack your things." Frank says, and Joel purses his lips before turning back around and leaving your bedroom, his eyes avoiding Frank's.

You sit on your bed, crying copiously. Because of everything. Because you lied to your dad, to an extent you lied to both of them — Frank had no idea you and Joel were this close —, because you saw Joel fall asleep and didn't wake him up.

You're crying because of how Joel reacted, because of how he agreed that he was wrong. You're crying because... Because you love him, and he's going away, and you're helplessly watching him go and never come back.

And you're watching as he shows no resistance whatsoever. He didn't try to explain, to defend himself, he didn't try to ask to stay.

He just agreed that he was wrong and that he had to leave.

Frank kneels on the floor in front of you, holding your forearms tight. "Love, look at me. Stop crying." He says gently yet firmly, but you can't stop the tears flowing down your cheeks.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You hug him tight, your words muffled by his shoulder, and any leftover of anger in him melts away at your pain.

"Darling. I need you to stay calm, ok? I'll keep your dad in our bedroom and you're gonna help Joel get ready to leave."

"I can't... I can't help him leave me." You cry, and Frank dries your face with your own shirt, using the fabric that's covering your stomach.

"Here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna get up, you're gonna take his clothes that are on the clothesline, you're gonna pack him something to eat and you're gonna give it to him. Put the wet clothes in a plastic bag and make sure he has enough food to go back home, ok? It's a two day trip." He says. "Do that for him. He's gonna appreciate it, ok? You're not helping him leave, there's no choice there. You're just taking care of him one last time and making sure he's gonna be ok." He says, and you agree, nodding and trying to control your tears. "C'mon, let's go." He says softly, taking your hand in his and guiding you downstairs, soothing you when you look at Joel's bedroom, keeping you focused on doing what he asked.

You take Joel's clothes out of the clothesline and pack him a few roasted vegetables, some of your dad's cans of ravioli, orange juice and water.

You take it to his bedroom, stopping at his door. He has his back turned to the door while he packs his things.

"Joel." You cry out from his bedroom door, and he looks at you, his eyes red and regretful.

"I'm so sorry, baby." He says, his voice low and raspy, from sleep and from crying.

"It's not your fault." You say, placing the bags with his clothes and food on his bed. "I saw you fall asleep, I should've told you to go to your room." You confess.

"No, baby. I mean I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for ever touching you, for ever doing everything I did to you." He says, and the regret in his voice hurts you.

Every touch, every whisper, every look... It was all new and overwhelming for you... And regretful for him?

"You regret everything?" You ask, your voice small and hurt.

"No. No, baby, I regret nothing." He whispers, walking closer to you. "You made me feel in a way I thought I'd never feel again." He cups your cheeks, his thumbs caressing the skin under your eye. "But look at what it did to you." He says, wiping your neverending tears away with his thumbs, a few more escaping his own. "This is all I know how to do. Hurt everyone I love. You didn't deserve to feel any of this, my angel."

"You made me feel alive, Joel." You say, holding his wrists. "I'm only hurting so much because of how you make me feel. Because what I feel is new, is real, and because I don't want you to go." You say, hugging him tight, burying your face in his soft and good smelling shirt.

"My baby." He says, hugging you back, his hands on your back and the back of your head, your tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt as you hold him, trying to memorize what his embrace feels like. Not ever wanting to let him go.

"Where you really thinking about staying?" You ask softly, and you feel his chest rumble with his chuckle.

"I was." He squeezes you tighter. "But I don't want you to think about that right now." He says, pulling back to look at your face.

"Why not?" You ask softly, looking up at him.

"No need to hurt yourself even more with what could've been, baby."

"But I wanna know." You plead, and he sighs, smiling softly.

He walks you to his window, holding you close as he points to the house across the street from yours.

"I'd renovate that one. See how much grass it has behind it? I'd put fences there and make a small ranch. Raise some... Sheep, maybe. I'd look for the seeds you wanted. Maybe make a tiny greenhouse, grow some wheat so we could have bread. We'd have even more things to eat." He says, his eyes glistening and his lips in a smile that weakens when he looks down at you, your gaze focused on the house across the street.

It's never gonna happen.

"Would we live together?" You whisper, still focused on the house.

"If you wanted, yes. I'd love to." He smiles, fixing your hair, tenderly playing with it, trying to registrate it's softness and smell as he pulls you closer, his nose buried on your hair.

"Joel... My dad can't do this. You should stay. Stay for a few more days, I promise I'll talk to him and we'll fix this." You say, hugging him tighter, determined to not give up just yet. "He can't do this." You repeat, your eyes welling up again.

"He can. And he's right, it'll be best if I go." Joel says gently.

"Not best for me." You cry, your lips trembling under your emotions. "He can't do it." You say once again, like a mantra, your face darkening this time, as anger consumes you. "He can't keep me from making my own decisions." You say.

"Listen to me." Joel says sternly, calling you by your name, his hands holding your face so you have no choice but to look at him, his eyes as soft as ever. "Your father has his reasons. I need you to promise me you're not gonna hold this against him." He says, and you shake your head. "You won't get mad at him, you won't let this in any way get in the way of the two of you." He says sternly. "Can you promise me that?" He asks, softer this time, and you shake your head.

"I can't... He's making you go. Go back to the QZ, you said your life there is miserable." You say, crying.

"Promise me." He says, once again saying your name, using the same voice he used when his weight was on top of you, his hands all over you, his smell on your nose, his lips on yours, his hot breath on your neck.

The voice that makes it impossible for you to say no to him.

He gently taps your cheeks with his thumbs, raising his eyebrows, asking for a response.

"I promise." You say, and he hugs you tenderly, savoring your presence while he still can.

"That's my good girl." He whispers in your ear before kissing your cheek, and you cling tighter to him. To imagine never feeling his warmth again, his comforting embrace, his presence...

And he's gonna miss you just as much. Your pretty clothes, your bright smile, your citric scent, your cooking, your laughing, your voice, your curiosity and genuine interest and care for him.

You're still indulging in each other's presence when Frank shows up by the door, his already red eyes watering as he sees you two by the window. He clears his throat before speaking, and you two look at him, just turning your heads, not pulling one inch apart.

"Bill's in our bedroom. He agreed to not leave, to let you go." He says, and Joel nods.

"Alright, I'm ready to go." He says, trying to pull you away, but you hold onto him, desperate to not lose this.

"Darling, let him go." Frank says, his voice shaking.

"I can't." You cry, your body not ready to allow this. To allow him to go forever.

"Baby, look at me." Joel calls, lifting your chin, and you let him maneuver you. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself. You'll be careful when you go outside, you'll take care of your parents, you won't be upset with your father." He says.

"Joel..." You cry out quietly, and he gently shakes his head.

"Promise me you'll let me go. You won't hurt yourself with what could've happened. You'll try and forget about all this." He says, his own chest hurting.

"I can't forget you, Joel." You say.

"And I won't forget you, baby." His voice breaks. "I'll think about you everyday. Everytime I feel sad, I'll come back to us, I'll remember you when I need comfort." He promises, making your heart ache. "But I need you to be ok." He says. "Can you promise me you'll try?" He asks.

"Joel..." You cry, feeling powerless and desperate, your chest tight.

"Baby, I need to know you're gonna be alright. I can't have the pain of leaving you hurting like this." He says. "I can't know I let you down too." He cries in a whisper, his voice almost inaudible.

"I promise." You recompose yourself. "I promise I'll try. But I'll hope to see you every day Joel. Every day." You say. "I'll never run out of hope." You promise, tears cascading down your cheeks.

Joel smiles, his eyes scanning your face, his fingers tenderly pulling your hair behind your ear. "I'll always love you, baby. You're forever with me, I'm never gonna hurt alone again." He says, hugging you tight and kissing the top of your head before softening his arms around you.

You cry, releasing your grip around him and sitting on his bed, watching him put his backpack on. He grabs your chin, making you look up at him, his thumbs run over your cheeks, feeling your soft skin one last time, as if trying to memorize your face, and you run away to your bedroom. He looks at Frank, sighing sadly.

He can't believe he hurt you this much. He let this all happen.

"I'm sorry." He tells your dad.

"I'm sorry too." Frank responds.

He walks past your bedroom and you call him.

"Joel!" You say, your voice shaken by your crying. He looks at you, a hint of relief in his eyes; you didn't run from him.

"Yeah, baby?" He asks gently.

"Here. I took a photo of Sarah's photo. You talked about how it was fading, and I wanted to make sure it lasts for a little longer." You say, handing him her photo, his eyes flooding at his girl's smile.

"Thank you, baby. It means the world to me." He says, caressing her photo, feeling that there's another photo underneath hers. He pulls it and finds a picture of you, sitting under the sunlight, wearing a pretty dress and an even prettier smile.

"That one is so you don't forget about me. I sprayed some perfume in it." You smile weakly, and he chuckles, his eyes glistening as he smells the photo.

"I could never forget you, baby." He smiles, touching his forehead to yours and cupping your face the way he always does; your ear between his thumb and index finger while he caresses the skin under your eye. "Take good care of yourself. I'll always be thinking about you." He whispers, pulling back to kiss your forehead before looking at Frank. "Let's go." He says, looking into your eyes one last time before walking down the stairs.

And you watch him go. Trying to keep yourself together to not hurt him, but feeling like there are a million feelings stirring inside you, just waiting for him to disappear so they can erupt.

And as he walks past the gates, and then disappears in the horizon, that's exactly what happens. You collapse onto your bed as you cry. You cry like you've never cried before. You cry until your chest and your stomach hurt. They hurt and they burn in a way that feels like they're never gonna stop hurting again.

You cry until the pain eases. Until your head hurts more than your heart, then you stop crying, trying not to think about him. Trying to not think about what's gonna be of you now.

You have your parents until they die.

And then...?

Loneliness wraps you in a cold and dry embrace, and you fall asleep.

About an hour later Bill leaves his bedroom, finding Frank seated on the stairs. "Let me pass." He says, and Frank gets up.

"Bill... Please don't break our daughter's heart. Don't tell her Joel used or abused her, she really likes him, in ways you still don't know." He says. "And — sigh — I believe him when he said he likes her too.

"You believe he likes her, Frank? He was in our daughter's bed! He was in my babygirl's bed! God knows what he did to her!" Bill growls, keeping his voice low as tears threaten to fall again.

"Bill, I understand, but-"

"Don't defend him, Frank. I haven't forgotten you lied to me. You knew what he was doing and you didn't tell me anything." He says. "You asked me to let him go and I did. I did because I couldn't kill him and have her hate me the rest of her life. But you don't fucking ask me to try and understand him." He says, nudging Frank out of the way and going to your bedroom.

...

He unlocks your door — that you're locking again, now that Joel's gone — and walks in, watching you sleep.

He sits at the edge of your bed, right beside your lower back, and gently caresses your hair. You feel it and wake up, turning eagerly, hurting yourself with the hope that it'd be him.

"Hi, dad." You say, for the first time disappointed to see your father.

Bill looks at you. For the first time he doesn't know how to talk to you, what to say to you. He honestly doesn't even know why he came to your bedroom.

"... How are you feeling?" He asks a few seconds after parting his lips, not finding anything better to say.

You look at him, your eyes burning as they flood again, and you advert your gaze, not sustaining your dad's anymore.

He tries to soothe you, caressing your hair and softening his gaze, feeling bad because of how much Joel hurt you. Because of how selfish he was.

He thought of Joel as a good man. Even if older than you, he seemed to be a good man, a good man for you. He could provide for you, he could look after you. He could keep you happy and safe. Bill knows he made you happy. He saw it in your smile every time you were around him.

The problem is he decided to do that under his nose.

You can't help but cry again. Your dad's touch, that always soothed you when you needed, now stings the skin on its path, like if his own touch knows it took something away from you.

"He lied to me... And look what he did to you, I've never seen you cry like this." He says, genuine worry in his voice.

"I never cried like this because I've never had anything like this, dad. I never had anyone like him, I never felt like this... Loved like this." You manage to say, and Bill's eyes harden, his hand stopping its caress and pulling back.

"I don't know what kind of delusions he put in your mind, honey, but he doesn't love you more than your father and I do." He says sternly.

"I'm not saying that. He never said that." You defend yourself and him. "But for the first time I felt like a woman, not a child." You say, and his eyes narrow.

"Did he ever touch you?" He asks.

You hesitate before answering.

"He never did anything I didn't want him to."

He gets up, angry and exasperated. All under his fucking nose.

"I can't fucking believe this. How could I be so fucking.... Argh!" He screams, frustrated with himself.

How could he be so careless?

"He said you lied to him. Said you told him we've had other people around. When I told him we haven't, and I've never even kissed anyone before, he said he wouldn't do anything to me." You say, your voice starting to crack as you remember that first night... How he felt, how he held you, his strong arms maneuvering you so effortlessly, his beard scratching your skin, his big hands squeezing your body in such new and good ways, his smell, his warmth. How good it felt to finally be kissed.

Your eyes burn as you think about how you're never going to feel that again, how you'll never see him again.

"The worst part of all this is seeing you like this, my love." He says, sitting by your side again and caressing your hair. You need some comforting, so you curl into a ball, resting you head on his thigh and waiting for his hand to come to your hair.

Seeking comfort in the one that's causing you so much pain.

Your crying gets uglier, and your father soothes you.

"He ruined our family." He continues. "We were happy, we were in peace. He came and everything changed, he made you lie to me, do things behind my back. Made you point a gun to your own chest." His voice darkens. "I've only ever seen you so hurt when I got shot by those raiders." He says.

"The only two times in my life I knew I could lose someone." You cry.

You weren't living before Joel, life was comfortable and you were happy and safe, but there was not much more to it than cooking, cleaning and gardening. He gave a reason to want to dress up, to cook something good and different, to wanna play songs on the piano and to feel more hope in your future.

Because even in the comfort of Lincoln's fences, you knew your future held loneliness and solitude.

"And that someone did what he did knowing you could come out of it hurt like this." Bill says. "For that I don't think I'll ever forgive him." He says, holding you.

...

And Joel won't ever forgive himself either.

All he does whole going back to the QZ is think about you. How you're doing, how you're feeling.

He thinks about you all the time. In what you told him.

'I feel so much for you.' You said.

His chest hurts, and he can only think about how yours must hurt too. So he doesn't try to cut his painful thoughts.

Much like he did when Sarah died, he forces himself through self loathing.

Like penitence, like self-punishment for what he did. He knows you're suffering, and he knows there's nothing he can do about it. He knows it's his fault, and thinking about it, suffering about it is the only way he can make up for the pain he's caused.

By suffering along with you. By not sleeping enough, not eating enough, not working enough.

He doesn't deserve a happy and comfortable life.

Not when he failed someone he loves again. Not when he knows how bad you're feeling.

Time goes by, and the deal goes on.

They work together, but Joel can't come near the gates nor call or answer the radio. He stays in a safehouse near Lincoln and Tess comes to talk to your parents while you stay in your bedroom, hoping every single time you're gonna see him. Even if just a glimpse of him behind the gates.

But he's never there, and as weeks go by, you eventually lose your hope.

You're not half as bubbly as you were when Joel was around. Not near as sunny and happy as you used to be before him.

And Bill notices it. The way you don't always play the piano anymore, the way you don't always put perfume on. It's like part of you left with Joel. And Bill can't help but grow even angrier at him because of it.

...

One night after dinner, maybe about one month after he was gone, you're by your window, and Frank comes in your bedroom, leaning against the window, the side of his hips touching the side of yours as he smiles down at you.

"How are you feeling, my dove?" He asks, pulling your hair away from your face and caressing your cheeks, noticing how pale you are and how lifeless your hair seems.

"Better, I guess. There's no point in mourning if he's never coming back. And he asked me to try anyway, so I'm trying." You sigh, leaning onto your dad's shoulder.

"That's good. What's that on your hand?" He asks.

"His plan. I like thinking about it sometimes. Of what he'd have done." You say, showing him a polaroid of the view from your bedroom window, with focus on the house across the street, the one Joel said he'd renovate.

"He wanted to fence it to raise some animals?" Frank smiles, seeing the drawing you made over the photo, with the fences, the sheep, the greenhouse and a few crops.

"Yeah. He said a greenhouse would be good to have more variety. And I thought the sheep would keep him busy." You smile.

"He'd be a great addition to our town." Frank sighs, thinking of what could come of their combined skills and resilience. "He'd be a good addition to your life too." He whispers.

"He would." You smile, allowing yourself to daydream.

Waking up early with him by your side, going to your crops, taking care of your animals, having breakfast, going to your dads' house to talk to them. Go for a run with Frank, maybe convince Bill and Joel to join you. Learn more about the guitar and teach Joel how to play the piano, take care of your dads with him, go hunting, go to the lake, make a pool and let the rain fill it.

There ain't much to do in this life.

But you'd rather do little with him by your side.

Bill's in his bunker, cleaning his guns and organizing some things.

After all the time that has passed he came to terms with you. He understood your side when you showed him you understood his, but Joel's behavior was still not something he could accept.

"Frank?" Joel's voice comes out of the radio.

Bill frowns. He made it clear to Frank that he never again wanted Joel to have any communication with them. Any and every deal or supply related exchange should be made through Tess.

"What the fuck are you doing on the radio?" Bill asks, and Joel's heart loses its rhythm. "I said I never wanted to fucking hear from you again. So what? The fuck? Are you doing? On my fucking radio?" Your dad repeats, and Joel clears his throat before speaking.

"I'm sorry." He says.

Bill hears it, but he doesn't respond.

"Not just for being on the radio." He adds, and Bill looks at the device, as if trying to see Joel's face through it. "I know what you must've felt when you saw us but—" He keeps going, but Bill interrupts him.

"You have no fucking idea what I felt, Joel." He says, and Joel goes quiet. He owns Bill as many chances to vent as he needs. "You have no fucking idea what I felt when I saw my daughter... That I have since she was a baby... That turned diapers into my priority when I only wanted to find more ammo, that I always did everything I could to keep safe... You have no idea of what it felt like when I saw her laying on her bed with you." He says, anger and sadness coating every word he let out. "To find out she lied to me? Because of you? That I trusted you inside my fences, inside my house? That I fed you, that I made a deal with you... And you were touching my daughter behind my back?" He continues, Joel's eyes pouring tears as he puts on Bill's shoes, as he thinks of Sarah.

He knew when Bill pointed that gun at him that he wouldn't shoot. Deep down him and Bill are very similar men, — very similar fathers —and he knew that, if ever in his position, he'd put his daughter in the first place.

He always would.

So he wouldn't shoot the son a bitch that was doing God-knows-what with her behind his back. Not because he believed a man like that was worth of any of his respect or mercy.

But because he knew how that'd affect his child.

So he knew Bill wouldn't shoot him. He couldn't let you have the memory of his brain splattered all over your bedsheets. He knows exactly how Bill feels.

"I know how you feel—" He says, his voice choked by his eminent tears.

"Don't fucking say that!" Bill growls, his voice low and threatening. "Don't you ever fucking say that because you don't know! If you knew what it is like to be a father you wouldn't have done it!" He lets his voice raise a bit.

Thankfully you're far away from your house, sitting besides your crops, looking for anything that requires some extra attention. Away from this.

Bill's words cut right through Joel. "I know how it feels like, Bill. That's why I'm sorry. Because if I were you, I would just not have killed me because of Sarah. Because I know a father wouldn't do that to his daughter, to have her last memory of the man she says she loves to be his brains pooling in her pillow. I'm not thanking you for not killing me because I know you didn't put that gun down because of me."

"Sarah?" Bill asks quietly.

"I know how you feel, Bill. I know what it feels like to be afraid to lose your daughter—" Joel starts, his voice drown in his crying. "There's nothing I ever wanted more than to see my little girl safe and happy... And I'd give anything to have her here with me. But to imagine having her lie to me, having someone taking advantage of her makes my blood boil, makes my skin burn." He continues. Bill is looking around, processing what Joel's telling him. "So I am sorry for what I did. I'm sorry for making her lie to you. You have all the right to never want to hear from me again, and I won't stay on your way." He says.

Bill's eyes are burning, he's feeling his chest tighten as Joel speaks. There's too much honesty in his voice for him to be lying.

The girl in the painting he saw Frank working on... Could it be her?

"You—" he tries to speak, but his voice stays stuck on his throat.

"I'll never take you as wrong for hating me. No. But as hard as it may be for you to believe me, I need you to know I do care about her. I always did. I wasn't going to do anything to her until I talked to you and Frank. I wasn't planning on leaving, because I didn't want to hurt her. I never moved one finger she didn't want me to." He says. "Because I care about her... I want to know she's okay, she's happy, she's dressed in the clothes she likes." He chuckles, thinking about how happy your clothes make tou. "And she's safe. She's safe and she's happy. That's all I care about. And I haven't felt the way I felt with her in so long, but I'd give all that up, I'd keep living in my misery just so she didn't feel those feelings too." He sounds sincere, the pain he's been carrying ever since seeing your face, your despair, being poured on the radio. "Because now I'm even deeper in misery, because I know how she's feeling. And I know she's feeling that way because of me. So I'm sorry for what I did, but I know you can't ever forgive me for making her feel this way, because I won't ever forgive myself either." He says. "Please don't ever think twice before reaching out for anything she ever wants or needs. Anything at all. I'll always be here for anything she needs."

"How'd you lost her?" Bill asks, and Joel freezes. He didn't expect him to wanna keep talking. Or to ask about Sarah.

"Outbreak day." He starts, his eyes burning. "A guard pointed a gun at us and I... I just stood there. I just... Let him shoot us, shoot her." He says, sounding monotonic, almost apathetic as he's shut down any feelings he still had about that day. As he knows you're not there to soothe him and he can't let his feelings overwhelm him.

"How old was she?" Bill asks, his voice shaken by his emotion.

Joel takes a few seconds, when he speaks, his voice is barely understandable. "Fourteen."

"Oh my God—" Bill says, feeling a pang in his chest. "I'm sorry." He continues. "She's... I... Just to imagine losing her I... God." He can't express how painful the loss of a child must be.

The two of them go silent for a few seconds, each processing their own feelings and relentless thoughts.

"I called to say I've found the medicine Frank asked for. We need nothing, Tess and I will bring the medicine to you in a few days." Joel says, recomposing himself.

It takes Bill a second to respond.

"Alright. We'll give you something in return here." He says, and the radio goes silent.

Later that day, Bill and Frank lay on their bed, and Bill can't seem to fall asleep.

"Frank?" He calls his husband, who turns around to face him.

"Yeah, love?" He answers.

"Tell me everything you knew about them." He says, and Frank studies Bill's face before laying on his back, telling everything he saw and everything you've told him.

He tells Bill how happy and in love you were. What he heard from Joel's bedroom the day he left; how he made you promise you wouldn't hold any resentment towards your father.

He tells Bill about how he saw you two kiss before Joel left that one time and how you asked him to paint Sarah. How Joel had the plan to raise sheep and make a greenhouse to provide better food for you. How honest Joel's feelings seemed, and how sad he seemed to have to leave you.

"Bill... You know she's gonna stay alone one day." Frank says, his voice shaken by the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes, all caused by the inevitable. "Our girl doesn't deserve loneliness. She deserves love. Love like the one we have." He says, holding Bill's hand. "Aren't you happier now than you'd be without me and her?" He whispers, and Bill's eyes water, pools forming on their corners.

"You two are my everything." He cries. "I don't know what would've been of me without you."

"You'd still be alive, thriving even. Because you're you." Frank laughs gently. "But that's not everything, is it? It's not fair with her. To be forced into an inevitable solitude." He says. "I understand and respect your decision. We all do, even her, even though all the pain it caused her. But think about her." He says, gently kissing Bill's lips before snuggling close to him.

Bill's quick to return the closeness, wrapping his arms around Frank protectively.

And this intimate moment makes him think of you.

Alone in your bed, with no one to talk to before you fall asleep, no one to dream with, no one to share a life with after him and Frank are gone.

The next day he sits on his bunker, besides the radio, his forehead resting on his hands. His legs shake nervously as he waits for a voice to come up and answer his call.

"This is Tess. Is everything ok?" He hears, and his heart pounds inside his chest.

"Tess?" He tries to not let his voice come out too shaky. "This is Bill. Can you get Joel, please?" He says, doing perhaps the greatest act of love he's ever done.

Please, please tell me what you thought about it, i love reading your comments and reblogs in this series, it makes my day 🩷🫶🏻

The final part is already written, and I'm editing it right now, I hope you all come back to end this story with me, ily all so much 🩷

@cruelfvkingsummer Bill finally blew a fuse 🤧

Tagging people who showed love for this series throughout this whole time:

Your eyes are wide open as soon as you process what's happening. Joel underneath you, your head resting against his chest, Frank at the door and Bill standing near the bed, a shotgun in hand.

"Dad, please, put this gun down. Let's talk." You say nervously, supporting yourself on your elbows when you see Bill's shotgun aimed straight at Joel's face.

"Get off your bed." Bill tells you coldly and sternly, calling you by your name, and you obey, uncovering both of you, standing between him and Joel. "Now get out of my way." He says, his eyes fixated on Joel, waiting for him to make the wrong move.

"Daddy, please, I can explain." You try to ease him, your voice shaky and high, and he looks at you, his stare cold and distant.

"There ain't nothing to explain." He says, walking to his side, his aim back on Joel.

"Please." You insist, following him, his gun pointed directly to your chest.

"Joel's on your bed. What else do I need to know?" He asks, his voice low, coated with an angry and impatient tone, one he rarely uses towards you. "Maybe I need to know since when this has been happening? Or maybe how could Joel do this to me? To you?" He asks, his gaze lifting, and you sense Joel getting up behind you.

"Dad, this is not what you're thinking. Last night we were talking, and we fell asleep, and that's all that happened, I swear." You say, fighting the tears that are threatening to escape your eyes, trying to stay calm.

"You know what it seems like... baby?" Bill asks with a sinister calmness. "It seems like Joel is sleeping with my daughter!" He snaps, taking his finger to the trigger, and you press your chest against his gun, your whole body trembling, and Joel's eyes widen, a move his nostril mimick as he feels like he's going through hell again.

A gun pointed at him, and a girl he must protect shielding him.

He can't let this happen again, he can't let you put yourself in danger because of him. He touches your shoulders, trying to pull you away.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" Your dad yells, and you close your eyes, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks in fear of how this is gonna unfold. "Don't fucking touch her!" He yells again, and you press your chest further into his gun, Joel's hands leave your body, staying high to try and ease your dad.

"Bill you're pointing a gun to my daughter!" Frank says nervously, trying to not startle Bill and make him pull the trigger accidentally. "Put this fucking gun down!" He says firmly, his voice now louder, and Bill looks at you, his eyes softening when he realizes your chest is against the gun.

"Frank, you..." Bill starts, then turns his head to look at his husband, his tone again dangerously calm. "Did you know about this?" He asks, and Frank's eyes falter, the anger and nervousness in his face melting down.

"Bill... I... I didn't wanna tell you becaus—"

"You lied to me?" Your dad whispers, and for the first time you sense sadness in him. "You all fucking LIED TO ME!" There's anger again.

"Dad—" You nervously try to talk to him.

"YOU, baby! You lied to me! You... My babygirl... You lied to me. I'm you father, I... I've always kept you safe, healthy, comfortable, away from everything, I... I taught you how to handle yourself, and you... You do this to me? Behind my back?" He says, his crying consuming more of his expression and voice with every word.

And his words make you feel horrible. You're ashamed of yourself. You should've talked to your dad, you couldn't have lied to him. You should've been honest and let him know about your feelings for Joel since they started blooming. You shouldn't — you couldn't — have been so selfish.

"I'm sorry, daddy." You try to say between tears, your voice small and high.

"Bill, it's not her fault—" Joel starts, but your dad cuts him.

"Of course it's not her fault! She's a kid!" Bill snarls, shouting at Joel. "I gave you a house to stay, I gave you food, we made a deal! I trusted you inside this town... Inside my house! And this is what you do to me? To my daughter? Taking advantage of her like that?" He violently spits at Joel, who's staring at the floor, not holding Bill's eyes.

He isn't even defending himself.

It's like he's ashamed of himself, like he agrees with your father. Not for the reasons you do, but because he thinks he should never have touched you.

But you know your father is wrong. Joel wasn't taking advantage of you, you wanted him to do everything he did.

He likes you just as much as you like him, you two share something.

Right?

So why isn't he responding? Why isn't he telling your dad what he told you last night? That he is thinking about staying with you, that he wants to do things right?

"I'm sorry. You're right. I'm sorry." He finally says, his voice sounding small for the first time. "But nothing happened. We just slept, nothing else."

"I don't wanna know what you did or didn't do to her. I want you out of my house, out of my town, out of my fucking sight as quickly as possible or I'm not gonna think twice before blowing your fucking brains." Bill snarls, his voice again in a menacing low rumble.

You've never seen your dad like this. This angry and violent. Not when infected appear near the fences, not even when those raiders tried to invade the town.

And you've never seen Joel so small, so ashamed.

Is he ashamed of being with you?

"Daddy, please, don't do anything." You plead, taking a step towards him, and he takes a step back, not looking into your eyes.

"I want you out of here. Quick. Don't give me time to rethink this." He tells Joel coldly, leaving the room, passing by Frank without looking into his eyes neither.

"I fucking told you to be careful." Frank says after Bill goes downstairs, unable to hide his frustration as he stands in the door, looking at Joel and beckoning with his head for Joel to leave your bedroom. Joel goes without looking back, and you call him.

"Joel, no... I, please... My dad can't do this, he can't tell you to leave like this." You cry, and his gaze softens. This is what he never wanted, to watch you hurt like this. "You don't even have any food left, you have wet clothes on the clothesline... You can't go." You plead.

"Joel, go pack your things." Frank says, and Joel purses his lips before turning back around and leaving your bedroom, his eyes avoiding Frank's.

You sit on your bed, crying copiously. Because of everything. Because you lied to your dad, to an extent you lied to both of them — Frank had no idea you and Joel were this close —, because you saw Joel fall asleep and didn't wake him up.

You're crying because of how Joel reacted, because of how he agreed that he was wrong. You're crying because... Because you love him, and he's going away, and you're helplessly watching him go and never come back.

And you're watching as he shows no resistance whatsoever. He didn't try to explain, to defend himself, he didn't try to ask to stay.

He just agreed that he was wrong and that he had to leave.

Frank kneels on the floor in front of you, holding your forearms tight. "Love, look at me. Stop crying." He says gently yet firmly, but you can't stop the tears flowing down your cheeks.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You hug him tight, your words muffled by his shoulder, and any leftover of anger in him melts away at your pain.

"Darling. I need you to stay calm, ok? I'll keep your dad in our bedroom and you're gonna help Joel get ready to leave."

"I can't... I can't help him leave me." You cry, and Frank dries your face with your own shirt, using the fabric that's covering your stomach.

"Here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna get up, you're gonna take his clothes that are on the clothesline, you're gonna pack him something to eat and you're gonna give it to him. Put the wet clothes in a plastic bag and make sure he has enough food to go back home, ok? It's a two day trip." He says. "Do that for him. He's gonna appreciate it, ok? You're not helping him leave, there's no choice there. You're just taking care of him one last time and making sure he's gonna be ok." He says, and you agree, nodding and trying to control your tears. "C'mon, let's go." He says softly, taking your hand in his and guiding you downstairs, soothing you when you look at Joel's bedroom, keeping you focused on doing what he asked.

You take Joel's clothes out of the clothesline and pack him a few roasted vegetables, some of your dad's cans of ravioli, orange juice and water.

You take it to his bedroom, stopping at his door. He has his back turned to the door while he packs his things.

"Joel." You cry out from his bedroom door, and he looks at you, his eyes red and regretful.

"I'm so sorry, baby." He says, his voice low and raspy, from sleep and from crying.

"It's not your fault." You say, placing the bags with his clothes and food on his bed. "I saw you fall asleep, I should've told you to go to your room." You confess.

"No, baby. I mean I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for ever touching you, for ever doing everything I did to you." He says, and the regret in his voice hurts you.

Every touch, every whisper, every look... It was all new and overwhelming for you... And regretful for him?

"You regret everything?" You ask, your voice small and hurt.

"No. No, baby, I regret nothing." He whispers, walking closer to you. "You made me feel in a way I thought I'd never feel again." He cups your cheeks, his thumbs caressing the skin under your eye. "But look at what it did to you." He says, wiping your neverending tears away with his thumbs, a few more escaping his own. "This is all I know how to do. Hurt everyone I love. You didn't deserve to feel any of this, my angel."

"You made me feel alive, Joel." You say, holding his wrists. "I'm only hurting so much because of how you make me feel. Because what I feel is new, is real, and because I don't want you to go." You say, hugging him tight, burying your face in his soft and good smelling shirt.

"My baby." He says, hugging you back, his hands on your back and the back of your head, your tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt as you hold him, trying to memorize what his embrace feels like. Not ever wanting to let him go.

"Where you really thinking about staying?" You ask softly, and you feel his chest rumble with his chuckle.

"I was." He squeezes you tighter. "But I don't want you to think about that right now." He says, pulling back to look at your face.

"Why not?" You ask softly, looking up at him.

"No need to hurt yourself even more with what could've been, baby."

"But I wanna know." You plead, and he sighs, smiling softly.

He walks you to his window, holding you close as he points to the house across the street from yours.

"I'd renovate that one. See how much grass it has behind it? I'd put fences there and make a small ranch. Raise some... Sheep, maybe. I'd look for the seeds you wanted. Maybe make a tiny greenhouse, grow some wheat so we could have bread. We'd have even more things to eat." He says, his eyes glistening and his lips in a smile that weakens when he looks down at you, your gaze focused on the house across the street.

It's never gonna happen.

"Would we live together?" You whisper, still focused on the house.

"If you wanted, yes. I'd love to." He smiles, fixing your hair, tenderly playing with it, trying to registrate it's softness and smell as he pulls you closer, his nose buried on your hair.

"Joel... My dad can't do this. You should stay. Stay for a few more days, I promise I'll talk to him and we'll fix this." You say, hugging him tighter, determined to not give up just yet. "He can't do this." You repeat, your eyes welling up again.

"He can. And he's right, it'll be best if I go." Joel says gently.

"Not best for me." You cry, your lips trembling under your emotions. "He can't do it." You say once again, like a mantra, your face darkening this time, as anger consumes you. "He can't keep me from making my own decisions." You say.

"Listen to me." Joel says sternly, calling you by your name, his hands holding your face so you have no choice but to look at him, his eyes as soft as ever. "Your father has his reasons. I need you to promise me you're not gonna hold this against him." He says, and you shake your head. "You won't get mad at him, you won't let this in any way get in the way of the two of you." He says sternly. "Can you promise me that?" He asks, softer this time, and you shake your head.

"I can't... He's making you go. Go back to the QZ, you said your life there is miserable." You say, crying.

"Promise me." He says, once again saying your name, using the same voice he used when his weight was on top of you, his hands all over you, his smell on your nose, his lips on yours, his hot breath on your neck.

The voice that makes it impossible for you to say no to him.

He gently taps your cheeks with his thumbs, raising his eyebrows, asking for a response.

"I promise." You say, and he hugs you tenderly, savoring your presence while he still can.

"That's my good girl." He whispers in your ear before kissing your cheek, and you cling tighter to him. To imagine never feeling his warmth again, his comforting embrace, his presence...

And he's gonna miss you just as much. Your pretty clothes, your bright smile, your citric scent, your cooking, your laughing, your voice, your curiosity and genuine interest and care for him.

You're still indulging in each other's presence when Frank shows up by the door, his already red eyes watering as he sees you two by the window. He clears his throat before speaking, and you two look at him, just turning your heads, not pulling one inch apart.

"Bill's in our bedroom. He agreed to not leave, to let you go." He says, and Joel nods.

"Alright, I'm ready to go." He says, trying to pull you away, but you hold onto him, desperate to not lose this.

"Darling, let him go." Frank says, his voice shaking.

"I can't." You cry, your body not ready to allow this. To allow him to go forever.

"Baby, look at me." Joel calls, lifting your chin, and you let him maneuver you. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself. You'll be careful when you go outside, you'll take care of your parents, you won't be upset with your father." He says.

"Joel..." You cry out quietly, and he gently shakes his head.

"Promise me you'll let me go. You won't hurt yourself with what could've happened. You'll try and forget about all this." He says, his own chest hurting.

"I can't forget you, Joel." You say.

"And I won't forget you, baby." His voice breaks. "I'll think about you everyday. Everytime I feel sad, I'll come back to us, I'll remember you when I need comfort." He promises, making your heart ache. "But I need you to be ok." He says. "Can you promise me you'll try?" He asks.

"Joel..." You cry, feeling powerless and desperate, your chest tight.

"Baby, I need to know you're gonna be alright. I can't have the pain of leaving you hurting like this." He says. "I can't know I let you down too." He cries in a whisper, his voice almost inaudible.

"I promise." You recompose yourself. "I promise I'll try. But I'll hope to see you every day Joel. Every day." You say. "I'll never run out of hope." You promise, tears cascading down your cheeks.

Joel smiles, his eyes scanning your face, his fingers tenderly pulling your hair behind your ear. "I'll always love you, baby. You're forever with me, I'm never gonna hurt alone again." He says, hugging you tight and kissing the top of your head before softening his arms around you.

You cry, releasing your grip around him and sitting on his bed, watching him put his backpack on. He grabs your chin, making you look up at him, his thumbs run over your cheeks, feeling your soft skin one last time, as if trying to memorize your face, and you run away to your bedroom. He looks at Frank, sighing sadly.

He can't believe he hurt you this much. He let this all happen.

"I'm sorry." He tells your dad.

"I'm sorry too." Frank responds.

He walks past your bedroom and you call him.

"Joel!" You say, your voice shaken by your crying. He looks at you, a hint of relief in his eyes; you didn't run from him.

"Yeah, baby?" He asks gently.

"Here. I took a photo of Sarah's photo. You talked about how it was fading, and I wanted to make sure it lasts for a little longer." You say, handing him her photo, his eyes flooding at his girl's smile.

"Thank you, baby. It means the world to me." He says, caressing her photo, feeling that there's another photo underneath hers. He pulls it and finds a picture of you, sitting under the sunlight, wearing a pretty dress and an even prettier smile.

"That one is so you don't forget about me. I sprayed some perfume in it." You smile weakly, and he chuckles, his eyes glistening as he smells the photo.

"I could never forget you, baby." He smiles, touching his forehead to yours and cupping your face the way he always does; your ear between his thumb and index finger while he caresses the skin under your eye. "Take good care of yourself. I'll always be thinking about you." He whispers, pulling back to kiss your forehead before looking at Frank. "Let's go." He says, looking into your eyes one last time before walking down the stairs.

And you watch him go. Trying to keep yourself together to not hurt him, but feeling like there are a million feelings stirring inside you, just waiting for him to disappear so they can erupt.

And as he walks past the gates, and then disappears in the horizon, that's exactly what happens. You collapse onto your bed as you cry. You cry like you've never cried before. You cry until your chest and your stomach hurt. They hurt and they burn in a way that feels like they're never gonna stop hurting again.

You cry until the pain eases. Until your head hurts more than your heart, then you stop crying, trying not to think about him. Trying to not think about what's gonna be of you now.

You have your parents until they die.

And then...?

Loneliness wraps you in a cold and dry embrace, and you fall asleep.

About an hour later Bill leaves his bedroom, finding Frank seated on the stairs. "Let me pass." He says, and Frank gets up.

"Bill... Please don't break our daughter's heart. Don't tell her Joel used or abused her, she really likes him, in ways you still don't know." He says. "And — sigh — I believe him when he said he likes her too.

"You believe he likes her, Frank? He was in our daughter's bed! He was in my babygirl's bed! God knows what he did to her!" Bill growls, keeping his voice low as tears threaten to fall again.

"Bill, I understand, but-"

"Don't defend him, Frank. I haven't forgotten you lied to me. You knew what he was doing and you didn't tell me anything." He says. "You asked me to let him go and I did. I did because I couldn't kill him and have her hate me the rest of her life. But you don't fucking ask me to try and understand him." He says, nudging Frank out of the way and going to your bedroom.

...

He unlocks your door — that you're locking again, now that Joel's gone — and walks in, watching you sleep.

He sits at the edge of your bed, right beside your lower back, and gently caresses your hair. You feel it and wake up, turning eagerly, hurting yourself with the hope that it'd be him.

"Hi, dad." You say, for the first time disappointed to see your father.

Bill looks at you. For the first time he doesn't know how to talk to you, what to say to you. He honestly doesn't even know why he came to your bedroom.

"... How are you feeling?" He asks a few seconds after parting his lips, not finding anything better to say.

You look at him, your eyes burning as they flood again, and you advert your gaze, not sustaining your dad's anymore.

He tries to soothe you, caressing your hair and softening his gaze, feeling bad because of how much Joel hurt you. Because of how selfish he was.

He thought of Joel as a good man. Even if older than you, he seemed to be a good man, a good man for you. He could provide for you, he could look after you. He could keep you happy and safe. Bill knows he made you happy. He saw it in your smile every time you were around him.

The problem is he decided to do that under his nose.

You can't help but cry again. Your dad's touch, that always soothed you when you needed, now stings the skin on its path, like if his own touch knows it took something away from you.

"He lied to me... And look what he did to you, I've never seen you cry like this." He says, genuine worry in his voice.

"I never cried like this because I've never had anything like this, dad. I never had anyone like him, I never felt like this... Loved like this." You manage to say, and Bill's eyes harden, his hand stopping its caress and pulling back.

"I don't know what kind of delusions he put in your mind, honey, but he doesn't love you more than your father and I do." He says sternly.

"I'm not saying that. He never said that." You defend yourself and him. "But for the first time I felt like a woman, not a child." You say, and his eyes narrow.

"Did he ever touch you?" He asks.

You hesitate before answering.

"He never did anything I didn't want him to."

He gets up, angry and exasperated. All under his fucking nose.

"I can't fucking believe this. How could I be so fucking.... Argh!" He screams, frustrated with himself.

How could he be so careless?

"He said you lied to him. Said you told him we've had other people around. When I told him we haven't, and I've never even kissed anyone before, he said he wouldn't do anything to me." You say, your voice starting to crack as you remember that first night... How he felt, how he held you, his strong arms maneuvering you so effortlessly, his beard scratching your skin, his big hands squeezing your body in such new and good ways, his smell, his warmth. How good it felt to finally be kissed.

Your eyes burn as you think about how you're never going to feel that again, how you'll never see him again.

"The worst part of all this is seeing you like this, my love." He says, sitting by your side again and caressing your hair. You need some comforting, so you curl into a ball, resting you head on his thigh and waiting for his hand to come to your hair.

Seeking comfort in the one that's causing you so much pain.

Your crying gets uglier, and your father soothes you.

"He ruined our family." He continues. "We were happy, we were in peace. He came and everything changed, he made you lie to me, do things behind my back. Made you point a gun to your own chest." His voice darkens. "I've only ever seen you so hurt when I got shot by those raiders." He says.

"The only two times in my life I knew I could lose someone." You cry.

You weren't living before Joel, life was comfortable and you were happy and safe, but there was not much more to it than cooking, cleaning and gardening. He gave a reason to want to dress up, to cook something good and different, to wanna play songs on the piano and to feel more hope in your future.

Because even in the comfort of Lincoln's fences, you knew your future held loneliness and solitude.

"And that someone did what he did knowing you could come out of it hurt like this." Bill says. "For that I don't think I'll ever forgive him." He says, holding you.

...

And Joel won't ever forgive himself either.

All he does whole going back to the QZ is think about you. How you're doing, how you're feeling.

He thinks about you all the time. In what you told him.

'I feel so much for you.' You said.

His chest hurts, and he can only think about how yours must hurt too. So he doesn't try to cut his painful thoughts.

Much like he did when Sarah died, he forces himself through self loathing.

Like penitence, like self-punishment for what he did. He knows you're suffering, and he knows there's nothing he can do about it. He knows it's his fault, and thinking about it, suffering about it is the only way he can make up for the pain he's caused.

By suffering along with you. By not sleeping enough, not eating enough, not working enough.

He doesn't deserve a happy and comfortable life.

Not when he failed someone he loves again. Not when he knows how bad you're feeling.

Time goes by, and the deal goes on.

They work together, but Joel can't come near the gates nor call or answer the radio. He stays in a safehouse near Lincoln and Tess comes to talk to your parents while you stay in your bedroom, hoping every single time you're gonna see him. Even if just a glimpse of him behind the gates.

But he's never there, and as weeks go by, you eventually lose your hope.

You're not half as bubbly as you were when Joel was around. Not near as sunny and happy as you used to be before him.

And Bill notices it. The way you don't always play the piano anymore, the way you don't always put perfume on. It's like part of you left with Joel. And Bill can't help but grow even angrier at him because of it.

...

One night after dinner, maybe about one month after he was gone, you're by your window, and Frank comes in your bedroom, leaning against the window, the side of his hips touching the side of yours as he smiles down at you.

"How are you feeling, my dove?" He asks, pulling your hair away from your face and caressing your cheeks, noticing how pale you are and how lifeless your hair seems.

"Better, I guess. There's no point in mourning if he's never coming back. And he asked me to try anyway, so I'm trying." You sigh, leaning onto your dad's shoulder.

"That's good. What's that on your hand?" He asks.

"His plan. I like thinking about it sometimes. Of what he'd have done." You say, showing him a polaroid of the view from your bedroom window, with focus on the house across the street, the one Joel said he'd renovate.

"He wanted to fence it to raise some animals?" Frank smiles, seeing the drawing you made over the photo, with the fences, the sheep, the greenhouse and a few crops.

"Yeah. He said a greenhouse would be good to have more variety. And I thought the sheep would keep him busy." You smile.

"He'd be a great addition to our town." Frank sighs, thinking of what could come of their combined skills and resilience. "He'd be a good addition to your life too." He whispers.

"He would." You smile, allowing yourself to daydream.

Waking up early with him by your side, going to your crops, taking care of your animals, having breakfast, going to your dads' house to talk to them. Go for a run with Frank, maybe convince Bill and Joel to join you. Learn more about the guitar and teach Joel how to play the piano, take care of your dads with him, go hunting, go to the lake, make a pool and let the rain fill it.

There ain't much to do in this life.

But you'd rather do little with him by your side.

Bill's in his bunker, cleaning his guns and organizing some things.

After all the time that has passed he came to terms with you. He understood your side when you showed him you understood his, but Joel's behavior was still not something he could accept.

"Frank?" Joel's voice comes out of the radio.

Bill frowns. He made it clear to Frank that he never again wanted Joel to have any communication with them. Any and every deal or supply related exchange should be made through Tess.

"What the fuck are you doing on the radio?" Bill asks, and Joel's heart loses its rhythm. "I said I never wanted to fucking hear from you again. So what? The fuck? Are you doing? On my fucking radio?" Your dad repeats, and Joel clears his throat before speaking.

"I'm sorry." He says.

Bill hears it, but he doesn't respond.

"Not just for being on the radio." He adds, and Bill looks at the device, as if trying to see Joel's face through it. "I know what you must've felt when you saw us but—" He keeps going, but Bill interrupts him.

"You have no fucking idea what I felt, Joel." He says, and Joel goes quiet. He owns Bill as many chances to vent as he needs. "You have no fucking idea what I felt when I saw my daughter... That I have since she was a baby... That turned diapers into my priority when I only wanted to find more ammo, that I always did everything I could to keep safe... You have no idea of what it felt like when I saw her laying on her bed with you." He says, anger and sadness coating every word he let out. "To find out she lied to me? Because of you? That I trusted you inside my fences, inside my house? That I fed you, that I made a deal with you... And you were touching my daughter behind my back?" He continues, Joel's eyes pouring tears as he puts on Bill's shoes, as he thinks of Sarah.

He knew when Bill pointed that gun at him that he wouldn't shoot. Deep down him and Bill are very similar men, — very similar fathers —and he knew that, if ever in his position, he'd put his daughter in the first place.

He always would.

So he wouldn't shoot the son a bitch that was doing God-knows-what with her behind his back. Not because he believed a man like that was worth of any of his respect or mercy.

But because he knew how that'd affect his child.

So he knew Bill wouldn't shoot him. He couldn't let you have the memory of his brain splattered all over your bedsheets. He knows exactly how Bill feels.

"I know how you feel—" He says, his voice choked by his eminent tears.

"Don't fucking say that!" Bill growls, his voice low and threatening. "Don't you ever fucking say that because you don't know! If you knew what it is like to be a father you wouldn't have done it!" He lets his voice raise a bit.

Thankfully you're far away from your house, sitting besides your crops, looking for anything that requires some extra attention. Away from this.

Bill's words cut right through Joel. "I know how it feels like, Bill. That's why I'm sorry. Because if I were you, I would just not have killed me because of Sarah. Because I know a father wouldn't do that to his daughter, to have her last memory of the man she says she loves to be his brains pooling in her pillow. I'm not thanking you for not killing me because I know you didn't put that gun down because of me."

"Sarah?" Bill asks quietly.

"I know how you feel, Bill. I know what it feels like to be afraid to lose your daughter—" Joel starts, his voice drown in his crying. "There's nothing I ever wanted more than to see my little girl safe and happy... And I'd give anything to have her here with me. But to imagine having her lie to me, having someone taking advantage of her makes my blood boil, makes my skin burn." He continues. Bill is looking around, processing what Joel's telling him. "So I am sorry for what I did. I'm sorry for making her lie to you. You have all the right to never want to hear from me again, and I won't stay on your way." He says.

Bill's eyes are burning, he's feeling his chest tighten as Joel speaks. There's too much honesty in his voice for him to be lying.

The girl in the painting he saw Frank working on... Could it be her?

"You—" he tries to speak, but his voice stays stuck on his throat.

"I'll never take you as wrong for hating me. No. But as hard as it may be for you to believe me, I need you to know I do care about her. I always did. I wasn't going to do anything to her until I talked to you and Frank. I wasn't planning on leaving, because I didn't want to hurt her. I never moved one finger she didn't want me to." He says. "Because I care about her... I want to know she's okay, she's happy, she's dressed in the clothes she likes." He chuckles, thinking about how happy your clothes make tou. "And she's safe. She's safe and she's happy. That's all I care about. And I haven't felt the way I felt with her in so long, but I'd give all that up, I'd keep living in my misery just so she didn't feel those feelings too." He sounds sincere, the pain he's been carrying ever since seeing your face, your despair, being poured on the radio. "Because now I'm even deeper in misery, because I know how she's feeling. And I know she's feeling that way because of me. So I'm sorry for what I did, but I know you can't ever forgive me for making her feel this way, because I won't ever forgive myself either." He says. "Please don't ever think twice before reaching out for anything she ever wants or needs. Anything at all. I'll always be here for anything she needs."

"How'd you lost her?" Bill asks, and Joel freezes. He didn't expect him to wanna keep talking. Or to ask about Sarah.

"Outbreak day." He starts, his eyes burning. "A guard pointed a gun at us and I... I just stood there. I just... Let him shoot us, shoot her." He says, sounding monotonic, almost apathetic as he's shut down any feelings he still had about that day. As he knows you're not there to soothe him and he can't let his feelings overwhelm him.

"How old was she?" Bill asks, his voice shaken by his emotion.

Joel takes a few seconds, when he speaks, his voice is barely understandable. "Fourteen."

"Oh my God—" Bill says, feeling a pang in his chest. "I'm sorry." He continues. "She's... I... Just to imagine losing her I... God." He can't express how painful the loss of a child must be.

The two of them go silent for a few seconds, each processing their own feelings and relentless thoughts.

"I called to say I've found the medicine Frank asked for. We need nothing, Tess and I will bring the medicine to you in a few days." Joel says, recomposing himself.

It takes Bill a second to respond.

"Alright. We'll give you something in return here." He says, and the radio goes silent.

Later that day, Bill and Frank lay on their bed, and Bill can't seem to fall asleep.

"Frank?" He calls his husband, who turns around to face him.

"Yeah, love?" He answers.

"Tell me everything you knew about them." He says, and Frank studies Bill's face before laying on his back, telling everything he saw and everything you've told him.

He tells Bill how happy and in love you were. What he heard from Joel's bedroom the day he left; how he made you promise you wouldn't hold any resentment towards your father.

He tells Bill about how he saw you two kiss before Joel left that one time and how you asked him to paint Sarah. How Joel had the plan to raise sheep and make a greenhouse to provide better food for you. How honest Joel's feelings seemed, and how sad he seemed to have to leave you.

"Bill... You know she's gonna stay alone one day." Frank says, his voice shaken by the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes, all caused by the inevitable. "Our girl doesn't deserve loneliness. She deserves love. Love like the one we have." He says, holding Bill's hand. "Aren't you happier now than you'd be without me and her?" He whispers, and Bill's eyes water, pools forming on their corners.

"You two are my everything." He cries. "I don't know what would've been of me without you."

"You'd still be alive, thriving even. Because you're you." Frank laughs gently. "But that's not everything, is it? It's not fair with her. To be forced into an inevitable solitude." He says. "I understand and respect your decision. We all do, even her, even though all the pain it caused her. But think about her." He says, gently kissing Bill's lips before snuggling close to him.

Bill's quick to return the closeness, wrapping his arms around Frank protectively.

And this intimate moment makes him think of you.

Alone in your bed, with no one to talk to before you fall asleep, no one to dream with, no one to share a life with after him and Frank are gone.

The next day he sits on his bunker, besides the radio, his forehead resting on his hands. His legs shake nervously as he waits for a voice to come up and answer his call.

"This is Tess. Is everything ok?" He hears, and his heart pounds inside his chest.

"Tess?" He tries to not let his voice come out too shaky. "This is Bill. Can you get Joel, please?" He says, doing perhaps the greatest act of love he's ever done.

Please, please tell me what you thought about it, i love reading your comments and reblogs in this series, it makes my day 🩷🫶🏻

The final part is already written, and I'm editing it right now, I hope you all come back to end this story with me, ily all so much 🩷

@cruelfvkingsummer Bill finally blew a fuse 🤧

Tagging people who showed love for this series throughout this whole time:

As if you had much of a choice. Joel had you here for 2 days by this point, and the man was fucking insatiable. He had explained to you, not that you asked, that he goes in and out of “shifts”, essentially. For a few weeks, he raids and stocks up on all he needs. Then, if he’s got somewhere decent to stay, he’ll take a pretty girl for a week or so and just go insane on sex, food, and any drugs or booze he could get. You were well fed at least, and sometimes Joel let you take a few hits of weed or sips of alcohol to numb you, but other than that he wasn’t giving many mercies.

It had been hours at this point, no refractory period except sometimes to go have a smoke, but 5 minutes later he came back hard and thrusting into your swollen lips.

You were exhausted, spread out naked on your back as Joel knelt before you, thrusting. You just wanted it to be over, sobbing into the pillow you pulled over your face.

“Awwww, little babies embarrassed? Wassamatter, little baby, don’t want me to hear you moaning again?” Joel taunted you with a laugh. He liked laughing at you. He did make you moan, that was the embarrassing part. Joel wasn’t necessarily trying to make you cum, but he did get giddy and gleeful when the stretch of his cock was enough to make you orgasm.

You weren’t entirely sure that’s what was happening right now, but something was. “Joel…” You whine into your pillow. “My stomach hurts…”

“Why -thrust- the fuck -thrust- do I care?”

“It feels funny…” You hoped maybe he’d stop if you were sick. Not that he cared about your well being, but rather he wouldn’t want you getting sick all over him. Or maybe he was into that. 

“Just shut the fuck up and -mmmph- just fuck’n take it. Always fuck’n whining like you got a hard job.” Joel smacked a tit, making you whimper and clench down.

Then you realized what the feeling was. “Joel, I gotta- MPH!”

Joel shoved the pillow into your face. “Tired of your fucking voice. ‘Joel I need this, Joel I need that!’” He mocked you in a high pitched voice. “Just shut the fuck up before I smoother you and use your cold pussy instead. Bet the rigor would tight’n you up a bit.”

Fresh tears wet your pillow as you wriggle, trying to keep quiet. You needed to pee. Or maybe you were going to cum. Joel had gotten you pretty drunk this time and his dick jamming into your cervix made everything a little hazy, but you needed to pee, and you needed to pee BAD. Still, the struggle to breath was the first concern. It wasn't cutting off all your hair, but it was getting difficult.

You tried to warm him, but Joel simply kept the pillow over your mouth and he filled you up again and again, thick cock stretching you so far you weren’t sure how you were supposed to be any tighter, but men were never satisfied. The pressure continued to build and suddenly you were very confused; was this an orgasm, pee, or both?

Joel was growing erratic above you, and you wondered if he got off, if this would be it for today. You tried to hold it back, never wanting Joel to have to satisfaction, but the combination of the feeling and Joel in your stomach were too much. Unconsciously, you let go.

Joel stops, not pulling back enough to pull out but enough to see you and you release the warm liquid onto him as you cum. “Oh shit” He chuckles. “Did you squirt?” You remove the pillow the your face to catch him looking at your sore cunt as the liquid isn’t stopping and he realizes what was happening. “Ohhhh fuck!” He says gleefully, thrusting into you with renewed vigor.

“That’s it baby, piss on my cock, ooooooh yes, fuck yes, pee on daddy’s fuck’n cock, mmmmm god, gonna- fuuuuck, gonna cum, gonna cum in daddy’s little piss baby.”

You cover your face with your arms as you crying, sensitive as all hell from cumming hard as you reveal yourself, humiliated but knowing he’s close. Just gotta power through.

Huffing, Joel pressed his hand down on your lower stomach, pushing out more pee as you yelped.

“Goooood DAYUM!” Joel shouts loud in your ear as he cums inside you, filling your tired pussy with his cum.

Joel falls on top of you, laughing, his heavy weight nearly as suffocating as the pillow was. A light cuckold turned louder as he laughed harder and pulled away. As Joel pulled his cock out of your soaked folds, he was all but cackling, derangement in his eyes as he looked at the disaster that was the shitty bed you slept on.

“Such a messy girl…” He eyed your cunt, and you whimper. Joel didn’t go down on you. This was for him to get his dick wet, nothing else…

But soon, his mouth was between your legs, lapping at the mix of cum and piss and sweat between you two, his beard a rubbing irritant against your puffy skin. “Such a pathetic little girl” He muttered between breaths, rutting himself against the bed, and you knew he was hard again. “Fuck’n weird, can’t even keep from making a mess of yourself” He growls, licking you clean. “Fuck’n- ohmygod- fucking disgusting little piss Wh-who-oooooremmmm.” Joel came against the bed, jut as you were about to come again, and pulled away.

You can’t help the way your body wriggles as the “Nooo” You whine, ever so quiet. You hated how much he made you want him sometimes. 

Joel giggles, awfully pleased with himself. “Nah, baby, I’m done with you for now. Maybe next time you’ll learn to appreciate when I give you this cock.” 

Butt naked, Joel exited the room, telling you to clean yourself up. “You smell.”

*************************

TW depression, skip to the bold for romana housekeeping

I havn't posted much outside an occasional Blessed Be the Fruit and if you follow my main, you kno why. This semester has been incredibly hard on me, a genuine deep depression i han't experienced in a long, long time. It was awful. I nearly hospitalized myself a few times and I should have but I am american and not insured. I was not safe, and was a danger to myself.

Yet, somehow, I managed to get my course work done and I finished the semmester on friday ;-; now i have 2 weeks approximately off from work which isnt ideal but hey, traveling and shit. Then for about a month I'll be working back at day care again before coming back for second semmester soooooo im hoping this free time will allow me to catch up on writing and reading

Housekeeping

As linked above, this is for my event dead dove December! It's for the Oscar Isaac/ Pedro Pascal fandom, and we got so many fun entries including lots of Joel, some triple frontier (santi AND frankie) William tell, and soon some Jack from mojave, rydall keener and more!! Would love for you to join me! if you dont wanna write but like dead dove, search #deaddovedecember2023 I didn't realize at the time there was a similar event for the bucky barnes fandom but they have the same hastag, so if you like bucky, check them out too!

Also, i'm gonna be working on a new series once Blessed be the Fruit and a few on my main end, a dark!triple frontier. Check out the coming soon info, and comment if you'd like a tag!

Be sure to join the new tag list, as i changed my tag options just a little!

Joel wouldn't be honest if he said he was looking forward to this. Not only because Bill is a very closed man — they both were — but also because he felt like Bill somehow knew what he's done. Like he could hear Joel's thoughts and watch his memories.

And he couldn't stop thinking about you as they drove away from Lincoln. He couldn't not think about you, about how he kissed you, how he touched you, his growing feelings for you. The more he tried not to think about you, the more you took over him.

"You said you've let everything where you've found them, right? Are the stores near one another?" Bill breaks the deafening silence.

Joel almost sighs in relief. Any conversation would be better than thinking about you when he was certain that your dad could read his mind.

"Yeah." Joel cleans his throat. "The stores are near one another. I didn't wanna leave everything together and have someone come by and see it." He says and Bill looks at him. "You never know. A lot of the things I've found need electricity and fuel. If someone saw them they'd wait for whoever wanted them. Whoever could use them." He adds, and your dad nods.

"That's better, yeah." Bill agrees.

They go silent for a while, and Joel's tiredness allows him to not think about you as he looks out the window.

"Did you talk to Tess?" Bill asks and Joel breathes deeply, taking a while to respond.

Silence would be better.

"I did. She called on the radio the other day." He sighs, readjusting himself on his seat. "She doesn't think about leaving the QZ." He adds when Bill doesn't say anything else.

Bill grunts in response, confusing himself with how disappointed the news got him.

He never before thought about having other people in Lincoln, but as him and Frank age, he started worrying about leaving you all by yourself.

Especially because he knows how much happier you two got after Frank arrived, how miserable he would've been if he had never found you. He doesn't want you to experience loneliness.

"But she said she'd keep the deal if I wanted to stay." Joel says, and Bill frowns.

"And you'd stay without her?" He asks, confused.

"Unless you have a problem with that." Joel shrugs, his tone unreadable but not confrontational.

"Aren't you two a couple?" Your dad asks, confused.

Maybe that's the first truth Joel owes Bill.

"We aren't... Together anymore." Joel sighs, and Bill looks at him. "We haven't been for a few years now."

"I didn't know that." Bill says, his posture tensing as he thinks about how close you and Joel seemed the last few days.

It's not like they were trying to hide it. Tess told you when you met that she and Joel were just friends. But Bill's guard was so high that day that he forgot about the details about their relationship.

"We're just business partners now." He says.

"Do you think about staying without her?" Your dad insists, and Joel moves his neck, as if trying to crack it, to release some of the tension this conversation is bringing him.

"I'm thinking about it." Joel admits.

"Alright." Bill says, looking uncomfortable.

"Is the offer still up without Tess?" Joel insists, his tone still unreadable, but calm.

Bill shakes his head. "I don't know." He says, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "I thought you were with Tess, and... With my daughter at home..."

"I know." Joel agrees. He knows.

He knows the feeling of never trusting anyone enough to let them alone with his daughter.

And he feels like he broke Bill's trust, like he did the one thing he couldn't.

And he feels bad, he feels like curling into a ball, like telling Bill the truth so he punches him until he forgets what he's done with you. Because that's what he'd do to the man that dared to touch his Sarah.

After a few seconds your dad sighs. "I'm sorry but this changes everything. I thought you two would stay, stay with her after Frank and I—" he cuts himself when his voice starts cracking.

"No, it's okay. I get it." Joel says, and Bill looks at him.

"I'm not saying you can't stay. I just... I need to think about it first. Need to talk to her and Frank, see how they feel about it." Bill says honestly, his mind racing as he tries to follow Frank's request to be nicer to Joel.

"Sure." Joel nods, looking out the window and commiting to silence until they get to their destination.

...

No long after, they see the stores in the distance, the streets around them dirty, empty and quiet, a sense of uneasiness on the air, the certainty that danger hides in the shadows.

"We should continue by feet. At least if something happens we don't lose the truck." Joel suggests, and Bill nods, slowing the car, looking for a place to hide it.

They leave the truck and walk silently until the first store.

"I left this here." Joel says, touching a red wooden panel that's partially blocking the main door, a subtle mark perfectly aligned from the door to the panel. "To see if anyone would touch it." He adds, and Bill looks at him. "No one did." He finishes, and they walk in.

"What's in this one?" Bill asks, looking around, his rifle in hand, and Joel takes a note out of his back pocket, reading him the list he's made.

They take everything out of the stores, working together and fast so they can get out of there as quickly as possible.

When there's just one store left, Joel goes to it while Bill brings the truck closer to where they've placed everything.

...

Bill's struggling to place some heavy tools on the back of his truck when a gunshot near him makes him jump. He draws his gun and turns around, almost stepping on a dead stalker's body that's unexpectedly close to him and the truck.

He looks in the stores direction, his heart racing. He finds Joel holding his shotgun, a simultaneously worried and relieved expression in his face as his shoulders fall back down.

An infected, mere inches away from him. And he didn't notice it, he didn't even hear it. If Joel weren't there with him, looking at him... he could be dead right now. He would be dead right now.

It numbs him for a while. He leans on the truck, catching his breath and trying to calm himself.

Joel comes close and touches his shoulder firmly.

"Are you ok?" He asks, and your dad nods, his eyes wide and scared as he looks at Joel. "Did it touch you?" Joel asks, looking at Bill's arms.

"No." Your dad responds shaking his head, his voice weak. He clears his throat before continuing. "No, it didn't. You shot it before it got too close." He says nodding, his tone grateful.

"Yeah, but I almost didn't." Joel says in a warning tone. "I shot it as soon as I turned to look at you. Didn't you hear it coming close to you?" Joel asks, a clear worry in his eyes.

"Thank you." Your father says dryly, more like he's asking Joel to drop it than actually thanking him.

Joel nods, respecting Bill and giving him space, taking a step back and pulling the infected body away from the truck so they can keep packing up.

...

They finish what they had to do in silence, Bill always looking behind his shoulders and Joel always checking on him.

Seeing how startled ana scared Bill still was, Joel insisted on driving them back home, and so they did in silence, both with their heads full of worries, all of them related to you.

They arrive and park the truck in front of the garage, unloading the truck. Not a word spoken about what happened.

"Hey, boys!' Frank enthusiastically greets the two tired men, and Joel turns instantly, expecting to see you. But he turns back around as soon as he sees that Frank's by himself, offering him a small smile.

"Hey." They say together, and Frank tilts his head at how weird them both seem.

"Is everything alright? You've found everything, did something happen?" He asks, and Bill looks at Joel, who's focused on unloading the truck and not getting in between them.

If Bill doesn't say anything about what happened, he won't either.

"Yeah, alright." Bill dismisses Frank, putting on a smile to mask any tension. "We've brought your paint! We can start working on the houses, the boutique!" He says, and Frank finds his sudden enthusiasm in renovating the facades suspicious.

"Joel?" Frank calls, looking past Bill, and Joel closes his eyes, taking a subtle deep breath before turning around.

"Frank." He nods.

"What the fuck happened?" He asks. "I thought you two would arrive at least happy that you came back home safe, happy to have found everything you were looking for." He says, frustrated.

"We are." Joel says. "But it's not like going shopping. You see things you didn't wanna see, you're tense and worried all the time." He says, not giving space for further questioning, and Frank lowers his guard, looking almost embarrassed by his impatience.

"Ugh, you're right, I'm sorry. My head's full, I'm..." He looks at Joel and cuts himself, turning to Bill, touching his arm. " Sorry, love, why don't we go inside, we can unload the truck later." He tells Bill, who nods and turns to Joel, an appreciative look in his eyes.

"Leave it, Joel. Go get some rest, we'll do this later. I'm gonna take a shower, you should do the same." He says, and Joel follows them inside the house.

You've finished washing the underwear Joel's brought you. He told you to wash them thoroughly, and so you did, carefully washing each piece, looking at them, imagining what you'd look like with them on.

The thought of wearing such revealing pieces, of being so exposed to him — all while he'd probably still be fully clothed — makes you feel your insides warm up.

You run two fingers through your folds and moan at how wet you are. At how wet just thinking about him got you. You run circles around your clit, slow, light and controlled at first, then deeper and stronger as you get closer — just like he taught you.

But your arm gets tired before you get anywhere, and you moan in frustration.

So you remove the small shower head from it's hose and partially block the water flow, directing the pressured water to your clit, moaning with the sensation. And your mind goes right back to Joel.

His broad back, his warm chest, his rough hands running up and down your sides. The soft skin of his cock pressing against your clit, the praisings he whispered on your ears while he touched you.

How softly and gently he talked to you while making you cum, how good and overwhelming it feels to experience pleasure with someone else.

To experience pleasure with him.

You're holding back your moans as well as you can when you hear footsteps coming closer to your bathroom door, and you freeze, your heart slamming against your chest.

"Baby?" You hear Joel's soft voice calling, and your fingers instantly return their needy circles.

"Joel..." You moan in response, seeing his shadow under the door. He starts moving the doorknob, but suddenly rushes away from the door.

You imagine him walking in, the face he would've made when he saw you like this, how wet you are for him, how ready you are for him, how much you want him inside you, how he could just do it right there...

How tired he probably is, how much you just want to make him feel better and appreciated for everything he's doing for all of you, how you just want him inside your mouth...

You cum, his name choked on your throat as your legs stiffen, your walls convulsing desperately around nothing, and you do your best to not scream nor fall down on the slippery floor.

...

As he goes up stairs to his bedroom, he stops before your bedroom door. No sounds from your dads. He goes into your bedroom, following the steam coming from your bathroom. He stops right in front of the door, your low hums and moans making him close his eyes.

It brings him back to that other night, feeling you underneath his body, your skin so soft and warm, the citric and flowery smell of your neck, the way your hands are still learning how to behave, where to touch him, how to scratch his skin, how to run your fingers through his hair, how your tongue is still learning to explore his mouth, how goddamn curious and eager you are to learn how to share intimacy with him. How responsive you are to his touches.

"Baby?" He softly calls you, his brain painting the torturous and irresistible picture of what you're doing in there.

"Joel..." You moan back, and the sound makes him grunt under his breath, turning the doorknob.

But before he opens the door, he hears a squeak coming from the stairs, and rushes out of your bedroom, closing the door and quickly making his way down the hallway to his own bedroom.

"Joel?" Bill calls as soon as Joel reaches his bedroom door, his heart is beating so fast he's certain your dad can hear it.

"Hey." He responds, turning around and trying to hide his heavy breathing.

"What happened today... We're gonna keep it down. They don't need to know." Bill says. "Ever." He emphasizes.

"They won't hear it from me." Joel agrees, and Bill awkwardly stands there, like he's gathering the courage to speak.

"And I'm sorry I said you weren't invited to move in by yourself. You are. Not just because you saved me... but because I'm getting old. I didn't even hear the damn thing coming near me." He says in a hushed whisper, his voice getting caught in his throat. "They can't even dream that it happened. And I need someone to look after them when I can't anymore. Someone to look after her." He says firmly.

"I think you've taught her enough to handle herself." Joel reassures him.

"She's never been in real danger, Joel." Your dad chuckles. "She's a good hunter, a good shooter, she's good in body combat. She helped me take those raiders down, but she doesn't know how this world works." Bill sighs, letting his worries out for the first time.

"To be fair, no one knows." Joel shrugs, seeing the worry and protectiveness in Bill's eyes. "And she's not a child, Bill. You've taught her enough for her to look after herself." Joel insists, trying to ease some of your dad's distress.

"She's safe as long as she's in here, Joel." Bill sighs. "But I'd like to know that there's someone here with her. Someone I know can keep her safe. And after today... I know you can." He says, his heart swelling just to imagine you being all alone. "She looks like an adult but... She's just a child, Joel. She only knows me and Frank, life inside these fences..." Bill says, and Joel's heart sinks.

For the first time he's talking to your dad about you, and for the first time he's seeing you under Bill's light. He's seeing you as a secluded, inexperienced and naive twenty three year old girl who never had the chance to mature normally, who fell for the first unknown man she ever saw.

The realization sours his expression, it makes him not trust himself, not wanna stay, it makes him wish Bill got upstairs quicker and caught him in your bedroom. It makes him feel sick to remember the things he's done to you, how at the time it felt like intimacy and love, when in reality he should've taken things much... much slower with you.

When his mind goes to Sarah his eyes start to well up, and he's unable to respond to your dad, who silently watches his inner turmoil.

"I don't want you to feel like you owe me this, Joel. You don't. You could have just let me die back there and come back here with a tragic story to tell them. I'm the one in debt with you, but I'm willing to trust you to take care of things, if you choose to stay. I'll talk to her and Frank. You already have my yes." Your dad finishes, sinking Joel further into his misery.

"Thank you, I'll think about what you said." Joel manages to say, nodding and turning back to his bedroom. "Oh." His voice breaks when he turns back to your dad. "The guns are downstairs, on the dinner table." He says, not able to look Bill in the eyes.

"Oh yeah, sure, hum... thank you. But I was thinking you could keep them? At least until tomorrow." He says.

"Why?" Joel asks, his eyes meeting Bill's.

"Well, the last time I went hunting was before you arrived, and there's not a lot left for all of us. So I was thinking we could go hunting tomorrow morning." Bill invites him, the shyest smile appearing on his face. "I mean, I know you got an hell of an aim." He chuckles softly.

"Yeah, sure." Joel agrees, ready to help. "We'll go." He offers your dad a faint smile before going into his bedroom.

He goes to his bathroom, removing his clothes while he thinks about your dad's proposal.

This is what he wanted. To stay. To stay with you. He doesn't see it as a burden, no. He has Bill's green light to move in, to be part of your life. But he knows he only has it because your dad doesn't know about anything.

The fact that he invited him to move in just proves how oblivious Bill is to everything that's happened between you two. How well you kept it a secret, after all.

But he also knows that it only has to be a secret because he moved too fast. Because he couldn't battle his own desires, and now he can't tell your dad the truth without breaking his trust completely.

He turns on the shower, hoping the warm water will help clear his mind.

When you're done showering you hang your new lingerie around your bathroom and lock the door, knowing it's the only room in the house your dad doesn't have the key to.

You go downstairs to Frank's studio, where he's using the last few minutes of sunlight to work on the base for Sarah's painting.

"It looks amazing already." You smile, kissing the top of his head.

You sit outside his studio, taking the guitar, and you notice him looking at you with a smile.

You start playing the guitar, confidently touching the strings when you see Joel walking in, his hair slicked back, it's wetness shinning under the sunset light.

He sits besides you and starts laughing softly.

"What?" You laugh back. "Is it too horrible?"

"No — laughs — no, baby, it's not." He says, barely holding his smile, even after letting the nickname slip. "It's just a bit... out of tune." He says softly, choking back his laughter.

"Oh, THANK GOD!" Frank playfully yells.

"Dad!" You yell back, laughing, feeling your cheeks burn.

"Oh, my dove, I'm so sorry, but it was a tough afternoon." He says laughing, and Joel looks back at you, his eyes scrunching with his smile.

"Can I?" Joel asks softly, asking for the guitar.

"Well, yeah, I guess. Or my dad might throw himself into the fence or a trap." You playfully pretend to be sad.

"Uh! I never said that out loud!" Frank gasps, defending himself, sounding overly offended, and you shoot him a playfully angry look.

You hand Joel the guitar, and he starts adjusting the things at the top of it while you curiously watch it over his shoulder.

"This is where you tune it." He says, quickly taking his eyes off the instrument and looking back at you, your faces accidentally almost touching.

"And how do I know it's good enough?" You ask, pulling back a bit.

"When it's not sounding like that anymore." Frank says, his voice cut by his own laughter.

"DAaAD!" You yell again, laughing, feeling your cheeks in fire.

"Frank leave her alone!" Bill says when he passes by, sounding like a dad scolding his child for messing with their sibling.

"You don't even know what's going on!" Frank protests.

"Well, I know you're bothering her." Bill says, giving you a gentle kiss at the top of your head before leaving, his smile clear in his voice.

"I'm sorry, love, I'll stop." Frank tells you, getting up and coming to kiss the top of your head too before following Bill. "I always knew she was your favorite." He playfully tells Bill.

"You'll get the hang of it with time." Joel says, gaining back your attention after your parents disappear. "But also... It won't sound as bad as it did just now." He laughs, and you playfully kick his leg.

"Stop it." You laugh, looking at the small book he got you, searching for the part about getting the guitar ready.

He finishes adjusting it and starts playing a slow and mellow melody, and you recognize it as the one of the songs you played on the piano the first night he's spent with you.

"You already knew it?" You ask, looking at him with a smile.

"It keeps playing in my mind. Everytime I think about that night." He whispers with an even softer smile, and you shy away from his eyes. "Did we ever... Cross a line, you think?" He asks softly, his gaze falling, and you look back at him, frowning.

"Why?" You ask, confused.

"Do you think?" He insists, his tone serious.

"No. We only did what we both wanted to do. No lines to be crossed." You reassure him confidently.

"You promise you'll say if we ever do?" He asks, his eyes reddening.

"I promise." You respond with an empathetic smile. "But I know you won't ever make me feel bad." You whisper tenderly next to his ear, touching your cheek to his shoulder.

"Thank you." He smiles at you, pressing his head tenderly against yours. "I wanna show you a song." He says, changing the chords he's playing on the guitar.

An even mellower and softer melody occupies the room, his fingers skillfully working through the chords. He closes his eyes and you see a tear falling down his cheek.

You gently wipe it away. "What's so special about this one?" You whisper softly.

"I used to play it for Sarah." He says, his eyes still closed. "She loved it... She was almost learning it when..." He stops himself, his voice breaking, and you caress his back.

"It's ok." You whisper. "It's ok if you want to cry about it, I'm here with you." You say softly, and he looks at you, his eyes wet and a faint but honest smile in his lips.

He continues playing the melody, and you quietly start humming it. "She also liked to hum along with it... She said it helped her memorize the chords." He says, looking down at you, his smile slightly wider.

You stop humming instantly, your eyes wide. "I'm sorry... I... I didn't know." You say, feeling bad for invading their memory.

"No, it's fine. She'd love to sing along to it with you." He says, his voice lower and deeper, emotion dripping from it.

You smile. "Thank you, I know we'd have a lot of fun together. The three of us." You say, your eyes locked on his, and they water even more at your words.

"We would." He smiles softly. "She'd love you." He says, his voice shaking with the thought of having you and Sarah by his side. Of experiencing all those loves at the same time, the paternal love he has for her and the romantic, passionate love he feels for you.

You take your camera, standing in front of him and taking a picture of him playing the guitar.

"Stop that." He chuckles.

"But you look so good playing it." You playfully defend yourself, looking at the photo and smiling.

"You know, there's one thing your dad never got you, and it shows." He says, and you tilt your head. "Glasses." He laughs.

"Oh, yeah, so I could see your beauty even better." You smile, sitting back by his side, scooting closer to him and turning the camera to the two of you. "C'mon, say cheese." You smile widely, taking the picture.

Your face softens when you see the photo: You're with your wide and typical smile, and Joel's looking adoringly down at you, his eyes scrunched and a silly smile on his lips.

You look up at him, hoping he can see in your eyes all of the things you're still not sure you can tell him. Hoping he can read and understand all the feelings you're still learning how to feel, all the new and overwhelming sensations he's bringing into your life.

And he hopes you can see the little beam of light your presence brings to him. How you're the only one that got close to making him feel happy again.

The only one that makes him believe that he can genuinely feel happy and fulfilled again.

...

Not long after he followed Bill, Frank calls the two of you to have dinner, and you sit across from each other at the table.

You all eat while talking about all the renovations you're gonna do on the facades, on your house. It feels good to see your dads excited again, to see the smile on Joel's face.

And you think to yourself that this is what life should feel like. This is what it will feel like, after you and Joel talk to your dad and he lets Joel stay.

This.

The happy and satisfied smiles of your parents, Joel's feet caressing yours under the table. Soon Joel shamelessly displaying his affection to you.

You're meant to feel all these loves, from your parents and your lover. And hopefully you're on the right way to have them.

After dinner you say goodnight to your parents and discreetly call Joel to your bedroom.

"Baby?" He calls you a few minutes later, after locking the door, confused by not seeing you in your bed. You open your bathroom door, wearing a lingerie set he got you and a thin, silky robe that hugs your body perfectly.

"Hi, Joel." You smile, walking towards him, feeling confident and womanly in the outfit, especially with the way his eyes are roaming around your figure, his chest raising and falling heavily.

But when you reach him he looks at your face and his eyebrows glue together.

"Baby... Take this off." He says, his voice low and husky. And you undo the robe's tie, but he holds your hand. "No, baby... Get changed. In the bathroom. Put your pajamas on." He says, kissing your forehead and going to sit on your bed.

"Ok." You agree, confused, going to your bathroom and putting your pajamas on. A set with a t-shirt and pants.

You get changed and come back to bed, sitting by his side. "You didn't like it?" You ask, feeling insecure after his reaction.

"No! No, baby, it's not that, I... I loved it, you looked beautiful." He smiles weakly at you. And you notice a glint in his eyes that's only ever there when you talk about Sarah.

"Are you alright?" You whisper, scooting closer to him, your hand going to his lower back.

He nods.

"Have you tried any of the clothes I brought you?" He changes the subject, turning a little so he's almost facing you and tenderly pulling your hair behind your ear.

"Not yet. They're still wet." You say, gently brushing away some food crumbs from his shirt, making his heart soften a bit because of how tender and small the gesture is.

This is what he loves about you. Your small and caring gestures that remind him that you're there, that you care for him. Like how you always softly pinch his arm or his side whenever you walk past him.

Reminding him he has you now.

"Did you like the new clothes?" He smiles, cupping your face, his thumb caressing your cheek.

"Uhum. I loved them." You smile sweetly, leaning into his hand and closing your eyes and just feeling his touch for a few seconds. "Joel?" You whisper, your eyes still closed.

"Hmm?" He responds gently, his soft gaze locked on your face.

"Can we lay down a bit?" You ask, feeling your cheeks warm up under his touch, and you find a silly smile on his lips when you open your eyes.

"Alright." He agrees softly. "Just for a bit. I gotta wake up early tomorrow." He says before kicking his boots away and laying on your bed. You crawl on top of him, laying on his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

You two just lay together for a few minutes, allowing your breathings to sync and enjoying each other's warmth, all of your hands busy tenderly caressing each other's skin.

You love this. You love having someone to hold, someone to hold you. You used to always snuggle with your dads, but eventually you'd all go to bed and you'd stay alone, somehow never feeling warm even with layers and layers of blankets suffocating you. You love having Joel like this.

And Joel loves it too. To have someone to silently share this much with, to feel this comfortable and this vulnerable with. Someone to look after, to protect, to make him feel like he's not just waiting for time to pass, but that he has a reason to continue. A reason to leave the QZ, a reason to try again and do things right, to talk to your dad the next morning, explain to him that he has feelings for you, but that he wants him to know it all before moving forward, before accepting to move in. Before touching you again.

A reason to try and make it work, even though his chances are almost nonexistent.

"What are you gonna do tomorrow morning?" You curiously ask.

"Huh?" He asks, furrowing his brows.

"You said you can't stay for too long because you gotta wake up early." You explain, playing mindlessly with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Oh, yeah. Your dad called me to go hunting tomorrow morning." He says, a small smile on his lips.

"Really?" You ask. Your dad takes hunting very seriously, and he'd never take someone he doesn't trust with him.

"Uhum." He says. "At first light."

"How can you always wake up in time? I can never do it, he always has to wake me up when we go hunting." You say, and he pulls your hair away from the side of your face, gently caressing it and your scalp.

"You get used to it eventually. And I never sleep well anyway, so I'm always just half asleep. The sun comes in and it wakes me up." He explains.

"Well, but you used to always be late." You almost giggle and he looks down at you, frowning. "You got a watch for your birthday." You explain, smiling, and he looks at it.

"Yeah." He chuckles. "I actually already had it, Sarah just fixed it for me." He smiles. "I was always home later than I said I'd be." He says, his smile souring. "I... I'd never spend enough time with her, I'd always leave the house early with her, when she went to school, and come back much later than her." He says.

"But you were working, weren't you?" You ask, confused by his guilty tone.

"I was." He says. "But... It's ok, I don't wanna talk about it." He smiles softly.

"Are you sure? It feels like you never talk about her." You say gently, trying not to push his boundaries.

"Talking ain't gonna bring her back, baby. It's just gonna remind me of everything I did wrong to her." He says, a hint of bitterness and shame in his voice.

"Don't you wanna talk about all the good things you did to her?" You suggest, noticing how much he has bottled up about his life before the outbreak. About how much he seems to focus on what he did wrong, what he lost.

"The only good things I did for her was love her like I've never loved anyone before and provide for her." He says. "And not even the providing part I did right."

"What do you mean?" You ask, looking up at him, your stomach touching his as you gently caress his hair, your chin resting on his chest.

"She asked me for two things on my birthday. Three actually. Pancakes for breakfast, and I forgot to buy the pancake mix. A cake, and I forgot to buy it. And for me to come home early, and work kept me busy until late." He says, his eyes focused on the roof. "Those were the three last things she ever asked me for, and I didn't do any of them." You see his eyes glisten.

"But you didn't do any of them on purpose. And you didn't know it was your last day with her." You comfort him. "And if you think about it... You were protecting her in a way." You say, and he looks down at you, puzzled. "The fungus got spread through flour and sugar, didn't it? The pancake mix and the cake could've been contaminated." You say, and he frowns, looking back up.

Then he chuckles, his eyes welling up.

"I've never looked at it that way." He says, and you smile, believing that he's happy with the new perspective. "I was better at protecting her by accident than when I actually needed to." He says, a single tear falling from his eye.

"Why?" You whisper, your smile melting, and he frowns, all the thoughts, guilt and shame he's felt all day bubbling up along with the all the feelings he carries from Sarah's death.

"I... I couldn't move, I... I shouldn't have..." He starts, tears starting to flow down his cheeks, his chest moving frantically with his crying, his body shaking, his eyes wide and fixated on a single spot on the ceiling. "I told him... I... But she wasn't infected." He stutters between heavy breaths.

You get off him, lying sideways by his side and pulling his head to your chest, hugging him.

"Hey... Let's take it slow... Don't do this to yourself." You say softly, trying to soothe him, running your hands through his hair and caressing his back.

He snuggles close to you, his head pressed against your chest and his arms wrapped tightly around you, like he's found the comfort he so desperately needed.

You stay silent until his breathing steadies, shushing and tenderly keeping him tightly into your arms.

"She..." He starts after a few minutes. "She hurt her ankle when we were running away from an infected. I... I told the guard she was hurt, but not infected. She wasn't infected." He says, drenching your pajamas shirt, and your own eyes start watering. "I shouldn't have said she was hurt... I... The way I was holding her, I was almost using her a shield." He says, his voice barely intelligible as his grip on you tightens almost painfully.

"But you weren't doing it on purpose, Joel. You'd never do that." You reassure him, seeing the guilt and shame he feels from it.

"I was better at getting her killed than at killing myself." He cries, and you caress his hair, noticing the scar on his forehead.

"I'm so sorry, Joel." You really are. It hurts to imagine how much he's suffered. The scar you're caressing in his forehead proof of just how much.

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me, angel." He says, almost bitterly, and you brush it off, knowing this is a complex topic for him.

"Joel... — deep breath — I don't understand all the feelings I feel for you yet. A lot of them are still so new to me." You say. "But I feel so much for you. And I am sorry for you. You didn't deserve to go through any of this." You say, gently but firmly, making it clear to him that you're not gonna let him push you away.

And there goes his walls again.

The walls he built so fast and spent so long fortifying, the walls you somehow crumble so easily, so effortlessly. He still doesn't understand it; how you can do it every time, how easily you can make him open up to you.

How he, that's so used to provide and protect everyone, also has the need to feel protected, to feel safe in someone's arms. In your arms.

"She was lucky to have you." You reassure him softly, caressing his hair, looking into his vulnerable and big brown eyes.

"No, she wasn't." He says, looking away from you, burying his face on your chest shamefully.

"She was." You insist.

"I couldn't even protect her... How could she be lucky?" He almost snarls, his tone new to you, making you flinch, his eyes cold and blank all over again.

Breath, take it slow, it's not personal. He's just not used to talk about this.

"She had you, and now I have you too, and I'm lucky to have you." You say, trying to keep your tone soft and gentle.

"You're not lucky to have me, baby." He says, his crying becoming more heartfelt, more intense.

"Of course I am, Joel... You make me feel special, and good. In a way I've never felt before. My dads love me, but they're supposed to. Not you. You decided to love me. You didn't have to." You smile down at him, tenderly wiping his tears away while a few of your own stream down your cheeks.

"No, baby, no." He says, shaking his head. "You're... I should never have done any of the things I did to you." He cries, his tone shameful and apologetic.

"What do you mean?" You ask, trying not to get hurt by the regret in his words.

"Baby you're... You're a kid... I shouldn't have even looked at you the way I did." He says. "You're younger than Sarah would be today—" His crying cuts his words.

"No, Joel, no.... don't do this to me, please." You cry, for the first time being affected by his words. "You're the first person I've ever met that treated me like an adult. I don't want you to talk to me like I'm a child." You say, begging him to see you as a woman, not as a sheltered and defenseless girl.

"I should have taken it slow... I shouldn't have lied to your parents, I... I can't even look at Bill. I feel like I've crossed the one line I couldn't." He says.

"Joel, if it depended on my dad I'd never do anything. I wouldn't even leave this house! He gets worried when I go to the crops by myself, and I never leave these fences." You say. "You never did anything I didn't want you to do." You reassure him.

"But what if you don't know what you want, baby?" He asks, hugging you tighter. "What if you only see me the way you do because I was the first man to walk through those gates?" He asks you, letting his fears and guilt take over.

"Joel, you make me happy... You make me happy in a way I haven't felt in a long time." I cry. "My life was just do my chores, cook and... And nothing else. You make me want to do more, you make me want to take care of you, to get out of my bed. You're good for me." You say. "I've never felt this way." You say, honesty coating your words.

"And you make me feel in a way I thought I'd never feel again, baby. You make me feel like I'm not just waiting for my time to come... Like I have a purpose again. I wanna keep you happy, safe, taken care of." He smiles, squeezing you even tighter. "I wanna go out and look for the things you want, I wanna hunt so I know you're well fed, I wanna hold you at night so I know you've slept well..." He says, his eyes once again soft and warm, a vulnerability you've never seen in them before.

"I want you to stay here, Joel. With me." You whisper, tears flowing down your cheeks.

"You know I can't sleep here, baby." He smiles gently.

"No... I don't mean just right now. I mean... Stay here with me." You say. "I know it's selfish, but I want you to stay." You cry.

"Baby..." He says, unsure if he should tell you about the conversation he had with your dad.

"I know... I know. Just stay here right now, for a little bit more." You not wanting to think about the day he has to go back to the QZ.

He smiles, wrapping his arms even tighter around you.

"Of course, baby. I'll stay for a bit." He says, snuggling against your chest, and you caress his hair, soothing him.

"Thank you for letting me in." You whisper.

"You gave me no choice." He smiles. "You made it impossible to not wanna let you in, baby." He whispers back.

"I'm sorry, then." You giggle, still running your fingers through his hair.

"Thank you for being so... You." He smiles, his gaze going from your eyes to your lips, and you kiss his lips lightly, moaning when he licks them, deepening the kiss.

He chuckles and pulls back, his thumb caressing your back.

"We're gonna do this right this time." He says firmly yet gently. "I'm gonna talk to your dad. We're gonna go on a hunt early tomorrow, and I'm gonna talk to him."

"You are?" You ask, a mix of excitement and apprehension in your voice and eyes.

"I will. At least if he kills me I'm gonna be far from here and you won't see it." He chuckles, and you laugh.

"Oh, God, don't even joke with that." You laugh, a genuine concern behind your smile as you hug him tighter.

"We're gonna do it right." He reaffirms. "We're not gonna do anything else until your dad knows about us." He says. "But you gotta promise me you're gonna keep what already happened between us a secret." He says, looking deep into your eyes.

"I promise." You smile. "It's gonna be like nothing happened."

"My good girl." He smiles, kissing your neck, his right hand squeezing your hip teasingly.

"Hmmm... Joel..." You moan at his words and his touch. "Don't make this harder than it has to be." You say, your hips instinctively rolling against him.

"Alright." He agrees, his hand going back to your upper back, pressing you against him. "I mean it. We're gonna go slow, make this special to you." He smiles.

"You already make everything special." You smile, pulling his hair back and touching your lips to his forehead, gently caressing his scalp with your whole hand and your fingers.

You two lay into each other's embrace. Uncertainty and concern battling with excitement and hope for what's to come, for how your dad's gonna react, for what life's gonna be like with each other.

And under each other's warmth you both fall asleep. Your best sleep in long time. Joel's most peaceful night since... ever.

A comfortable slumber that's interrupted only by Joel's heavy breathing underneath you and a warm sunlight coating your bedroom.

A shadow suddenly blocks the sunlight, and you sleepily open your eyes, seeing what... Or who... Is blocking it.

Fuck.

I'm so sorry for this, besties. The next chapter is the last official one for this series, the bomb is ticking.

Please don't forget to tell me your thoughts, the second most fun after writing is reading what y'all have to say about it.