✨

With each ring of the phone, the knot in Josephine’s stomach grows tighter. It had taken a full five days since her last session with Marcus to work up the courage to call her sister, and each day she had stared at the phone, willing herself to do it, but she had been unable. This morning, after scolding herself for being so cowardly, she resolved that she just needed to do it – just pick up the phone and call.

She really isn’t expecting Adrienne to answer, the line rings again, and then—

“Josie,” comes her sister's voice through the phone.

She lets out a surprised noise but recovers quickly. “Oh. Hi. I– I wasn’t sure if you’d be busy,” Josephine pauses, turning her wrist over to check the time on her watch, “Sorry, you’re at work, aren’t you?”

Adrienne sighs. “Just got out of a conference.”

Josephine frowns, picking at a loose thread on her jeans. “Sorry, I’ll call back tonight, I—”

“What is it, Josie?” Adrienne asks in a bored voice, cutting her off. She asks it as if Josephine needs a reason to call, as if she can’t just chat with her sister, talking about everything and nothing just for the sake of it – not that they ever had, or ever could. 

“Nothing, I just– I haven’t heard from you in a while. We haven’t spoken and I thought I’d give you a call.” 

“Okay,” Adrienne responds expectantly.

Josephine waits. The line is silent for a long moment; there is no ‘how have you been doing?’, ‘how has your therapy been going?’ or ‘are you taking care of yourself?’. Her frown deepens and she swallows down the lump in her throat. 

“I don’t know, I just thought... we should try and make more of an effort with each other. Maybe it’s silly. But I don’t think we don’t talk enough, and I mean, you’re my sister, we should try harder, shouldn’t we?” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “I was going to see if you were free sometime this week to catch up, but I know you’re busy. It was just a silly idea, so it’s okay if you have too much on...” Josephine rambles, already talking herself out of the idea. 

Adrienne lets out a reluctant sounding sigh. “You’re right, I guess. I have an hour free tomorrow morning. That’s my only availability this week.”

“Oh, that’s great, actually. I have therapy at noon tomorrow, so I can just go there straight after.” 

“We can have breakfast somewhere near my office. Oh, wait– you can’t do that, can you?” Adrienne scoffs.

“No! I can, I can,” Josephine rushes out, heat crawling up her face and embarrassment twisting in her gut.

“Really?” comes her sister’s mocking reply.

“I can, I promise. I swear.”

Adrienne doesn’t respond for a moment, before huffing out, “Fine. I’ll pick somewhere and text you the address.”

“Okay. I– I’ll see you then.”

Once they hang up the call, Josephine lets out a long sigh, her shoulders drooping. Her throat feels thick and her eyes burn.

The next morning, Josephine spends far too long picking out her clothes. She knows that if she wears something too form fitting or too baggy, her sister will comment on her body. She positively did not need to hear what her sister thought about the way she looked. Settling on loose jeans and buttoned-up cardigan, Josephine looks at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks aren’t swollen and puffy anymore, her skin isn’t pale and ashen, and her collarbones don’t jut out as prominently now. Tilting her head sideways, she watches her hair fall around her face – it’s still dull and dry, sitting flat against her scalp. 

Even now, after two stints in treatment, she can’t help but let her eyes roam critically over her body in any reflective surface she passes, involuntarily sucking in her stomach and curving her shoulders forward to look smaller. Old habits die hard, she thinks to herself. She’d tossed and turned in bed last night, anxiety crawling across her skin as her mind conjured up every possible interaction with Adrienne. Her sleepless night was evident in the dark circles that were set deep around her eyes.

Josephine takes the metro across town in a daze, tension curling around each knob of her spine and settling stiff in her neck. As she walks from the station towards the cafe, she squeezes her hands into fists at her sides, the tactile movement grounding her amidst the worry sitting heavy in her chest. Stepping inside, her eyes find Adrienne quickly. Tucked away in a booth at the back with her phone pressed to her ear, she beckons Josephine over with a wave of her fingers. She’s wearing a navy suit, hair pulled back into a sleek bun, and her mouth is set into a hard line. 

“...No, no, that’s not– it’s not good enough. I don’t care what the reason is, we need the amendments done by close of business today. He still needs time to review it before he presents the bill next week... no, I don’t want excuses, just get it done,” Adrienne snaps, clenching her jaw as she ends the call and tosses her phone onto the table.

Josephine offers a tentative smile, but her sister doesn’t make any move to stand up and greet her, hug her. She slips into the booth and eyes Adrienne cautiously. “Rough morning?”

Her sister sighs, rubbing her fingers in circles along her temples. “Fucking nightmare, you have no idea. It just never ends with this job.”

“Yeah, I can only imagine. What’s been happening?” She asks with a tilt of her head, trying to latch onto a topic of conversation, something they can speak about.

“Robert has been working on a new bill that he’ll be introducing next week, and it’s been unbelievably difficult to put together,” Adrienne says, rolling out her shoulders before haphazardly adding, “Oh, and I already ordered for us, by the way.”

Josephine thanks her with a smile before Adrienne begins to explain the process of preparing the proposed bill, the drafting, the amendments. Josephine tries – she really tries – to take it all in, but her sister doesn’t seem to take a breath, and her brain is still foggy with anxiety. It’s some sort of education reform, she gathers, but she struggles to absorb much else.

“...And some of the other aides working for Rob now, fuck, they are absolutely incompetent. I really fail to understand why it’s so hard— Josie, are you even listening to anything I’m saying right now?” 

“Yes, I am, I am. Sorry, I just—”

Adrienne lets out a harsh breath and purses her lips. 

“I’m sorry,” Josephine murmurs, raking her fingernails back and forward over her jean-clad thighs.

Adrienne’s jaw ticks. “When you asked me to meet, I thought you would want to actually listen to what’s been going on in my life. What was it you said on the phone yesterday? That we should ‘try harder’?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m paying attention, I’m just... tired. I didn’t sleep very well last night,” Josephine sighs, rubbing a hand across her brow.

Her knee bobs up and down under the table as she absently fiddles with a button on her cardigan. She feels out of place. With her sister staring at her with those hard eyes, and everyone at the tables around them sitting in freshly-pressed suits. Her stomach twists and her shoulders curl inwards, trying to shrink under the weight of her sister's gaze.

“Please, I really would like to hear about your work. I know you don’t have a lot of time, but I wanted to talk with you properly, it’s been weeks...”

Adrienne just looks at her, and before she can say anything else, a waiter sidles up to their booth with a tray. 

“Okay, I have your crepe and black coffee...”

“That’s mine,” Adrienne responds, reaching up to accept the plate while the waiter places the mug of coffee on the table.

“And here’s your green tea,” he says with a smile, placing the cup in front of Josephine. Her mouth goes dry. She looks down at it and then back up at her sister. “Is that everything for you, or are you waiting on something else?”

Josephine swallows hard. “No, actually, I haven’t ordered any—”

“No, that’s everything.” Adrienne responds quickly, cutting her off.

She feels her cheeks flush and her eyebrows pull together in a frown. “Wait, no, I– I’d like to order something too, please.”

Adrienne kisses her teeth and the corners of her mouth turn down. The waiter looks at Josephine expectantly. She turns back to glance towards the cabinet of pastries, looking over it for something safe to order. Her eyes land on a plain bagel. Just with low-fat cream cheese, that’s not too bad, she thinks, but the carbs—

Her stomach twists. She looks back to her sister, who is still staring at her, and then to the waiter, who is oblivious to her internal struggle and her sister's judging eyes. “Just the– just the regular bagel, please, with low-fat cream cheese, if you have it. If not, then just plain is fine,” she requests in a meek voice.

The waiter just smiles and nods before he walks back to the counter, while her sister levels her with a firm stare, eyes dark and unwavering. “Really? You’re going to eat that?” 

“It’s really not that bad, I swear,” Josephine assures quickly, defensively, “It’s probably only two or three hundred ca—”

“Whatever,” she responds with a dismissive shake of her head, hands raised up, “But don’t cry about it to me afterwards because you’re setting yourself up for failure.”

Failure? Failure because Adrienne thinks that she’s going to struggle to eat it, or failure because she is actually eating?

Adrienne just keeps talking about work, completely ignorant to the way she has just reduced Josephine down to nothing. She listens dutifully as her sister speaks, plastering a pleasant smile on her face as she tries to ignore the way her chest grows increasingly tight. The waiter comes back and places the bagel in front of her. It’s plain. She takes a few bites, swallowing them down past the lump in her throat, but she doesn’t miss the way Adrienne's eyes purposefully track the movements. 

Once there is a lull in conversation (or, more accurately, once Adrienne stops talking at her), Josephine clears her throat and speaks up. “So, therapy has been going pretty well. I think I’ve been making some progress.”

“Progress?”

“Yeah, you know, we’ve been going back and talking more about my history, and it’s much more intimate and personal than treatment. So we’ve really been connecting and he’s so easy to talk to, it just comes so naturally. The painting, too, it’s really been helpful in terms of visualising my feelings,” Josephine says in a small voice, hoping that her sister will be gentle with this piece of her heart she’s laying out for her.

“That’s great,” Adrienne replies around a bite of her food as her eyes scan over a notification on her phone.

“Yeah, it’s been really good. Dr Pike was the one that suggested I call you, actually—”

Adrienne freezes, mid bite, and scoffs. “So, what, you had to have a doctor tell you to call your sister? Couldn't have just done that yourself, Josie?"

Josephine makes a panicked noise in the back of her throat and shakes her head quickly. “No, no, that’s not... he just suggested it. Of course, I want to have a relationship with my sister, but we’ve never been particularly close, so, it’s just hard—”

“You know, I agree. We’ve never been close, and I’ll tell you why. Because it is extremely difficult to be close with someone when they’re in and out of treatment, when you can’t invite them over for family dinners, when you can’t even have a conversation with them because there is always something wrong. I have a life, a family, a career, I can’t be on call for you all the time,” Adrienne snaps, “And you never ask about Marie, do you even care how she is?”

“That is not fair, of course I care about her – she’s my niece, and I love her. And– and to say you have ‘a family’? What about me? I’m your family. Does that mean nothing to you? I’m trying my best, and it’s so fucking hard—”

“I really don’t want to hear it. It’s selfish—you’re selfish and it’s exhausting.”

Josephine feels as if someone has just tipped a bucket of freezing cold water over her, pins and needles pricking all over her skin as her fingers start to tingle. “Adrienne...” she croaks.

Her sister's phone starts to ring, and she stands, collecting her bag and digging out a twenty-dollar bill before tossing it on the table. “I don’t have time for this. I have to go,” she mutters before answering the call and placing the phone to her ear, “Robert, what is it?”

Adrienne walks out without another glance at her. 

Marcus’ laptop chimes from where it sits on his desk across the room, and he wipes his damp hands on a rag where he was cleaning brushes before walking towards it. He sits in his office chair and logs in, seeing a new email in his inbox he opens it as his eyes peruse the screen. 

Marcus,

Can’t make it today. See you next week.

Josephine

He frowns. Marcus quickly types out a reply before deleting it and trying again. He reads it back, shaking his head, and deletes it again. He smooths his hand across his jaw, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. There could be a million reasons why Josephine can’t attend their session today, he knows that, and he tells himself not to worry but he still finds himself typing out an overly cautious reply.

Josephine—

That’s fine, but please let me know that everything is okay. You have my number if you need me. 

Marcus

Marcus hits send and stares at his inbox for a full two minutes. He waits, expecting a reply, but it doesn’t come. He still has one more patient before he was supposed to see Josephine, so he busies himself by continuing to clean the paintbrushes and setting up the office for the next session. She’s fine, he tells himself, she’ll reply when she can, it’s fine. 

His next session goes smoothly, it’s a patient he’s been seeing for close to a year who is about to be discharged, so it’s a shorter appointment. He tries to keep his focus, but everytime he hears the notification chime from his laptop, he’s across the room in a flash checking to see if it’s an email back from Josephine. Once his session is finished, Marcus stands with his hands braced on either side of his desk, staring at the computer screen. 

The rational part of his brain tells him that it’s not a big deal, that she probably just had something come up, or maybe she was simply feeling under the weather. That part tells him to take a breath and relax. But the other part of his brain—the one that asked a woman to marry him on a whim, that would move mountains for the people he cares about, that wants to hold Josephine in his arms and protect her from all of the things that could hurt her—that part is screaming at him to make sure she’s okay. Marcus doesn’t realise his hands are shaking until he pulls out her file, trembling fingers hastily combing through the pages until he finds the referral letter from Dr Stevens with Josephine’s details on it. 

He takes a shuddering inhale and holds his palm to his chest where his heart is pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Marcus dials the number on the page and waits as the phone rings.

Josephine only just makes it over the threshold of her apartment before she feels her chest seize. She drops her bag on the ground and wobbles as she steps inside. It’s early May, and the weather in D.C. is still brisk, but she feels hot all over. Warmth blooms across her skin and she roughly tugs the cardigan over her head, tossing it aside and she’s left in just the thin camisole she was wearing underneath. She walks on unsteady legs into the lounge room as she brings a clammy palm to her chest, trying – and failing – to suck in a breath. 

Her knees give and she keels over, hands falling against the floor to keep her body upright as she gasps and wheezes. Josephine can feel the sweat pooling at the base of her spine as the anxiety vibrates under her skin—it’s alive, a tangible, corporeal thing that squeezes at her throat. Selfish. Exhausting. Failure.

The woman sitting in front of her wasn’t her sister. Those cruel eyes, and that vicious tongue—it wasn’t Adrienne looking back at her. That was her mother. Josephine had felt so small, so insignificant; a burden. One minute, she’s kneeling on the floor of her apartment, struggling to take a breath, and the next, she’s pulled underwater, choking on the flood of memories. 

Suddenly she’s eight years old, being locked away in the bathroom for crying too hard.

Suddenly she’s twelve years old, and having the skin around her hips pinched and prodded while her mother weighs out a cup of almonds for her to eat.

Suddenly she’s fourteen years old, and she can’t bear to look at her reflection; she’s doing sit-ups in the middle of the night while everyone else in the house is asleep, and she gets lightheaded everytime she stands up.

Suddenly she’s sixteen years old, and now she’s the one locking herself away in the bathroom, pressing her fingers down her throat and sobbing alone on the cold tiled floor.

Suddenly she’s eighteen years old, crying to her mother, begging for help because she’s not safe while her mother tells her to drink more coffee because it keeps the hunger at bay.

Now she’s twenty seven, alone in her apartment. Drowning, chest seizing under the weight of failure. Failure to be what they wanted, failure to be what she wanted, failure to recover, failure to succeed, and it’s nauseating.

Her hands shake where they fist into the carpet as she trembles through the full-bodied sobs. Distantly, Josephine can hear her cell phone ringing, but it’s muffled over the blood pounding in her ears, and she physically can’t move from her spot on the floor. She can feel bile rising in her throat, and she claws at her chest, swallowing down as she takes a stuttering breath in through clenched teeth. The ringing stops.

She tries to envision Marcus, his soft demeanour, calm voice—soothing, talking her down. She can see it; him kneeling next to her, a cool palm pressed against the small of her back as the other smoothes her hair off her forehead. He whispers, a gentle lilt in his voice. It’s okay, just breathe for me, I’m here. Except he’s not here. She can feel his hand running calming strokes down her spine, guiding her to breathe in and out. The phone rings again, but she’s frozen, unmoving, unable to stand. She can hear his voice, guiding her, pulling her out. Josephine, breathe. And she does. She takes a full breath, lungs expanding, and another, and then another. 

The phone stops ringing again, and Josephine slumps, boneless, on the floor. She lays down fully and squeezes her eyes shut as she tries to slow her heart. She can hear Marcus whispering again, and another press of his palm on her shoulder. You’re safe, it’s okay. She takes in another breath and releases it slowly, blinking up into the empty room, and then the phantom hands are gone. 

She’s jittery in the elevator ride up to Marcus’ office. She’d seen his email and his two missed calls the week before, but she had been too unsettled to reach out to him afterwards. Marcus, on the other hand, has been a nervous wreck. The entire week, his thoughts kept drifting back to her, and his mind clouded with worry. It’s his job to help her heal, keep her safe—mentally and emotionally. His stomach churns as he waits for her to arrive, knowing that he’s about to find out if he had failed her.

When he hears the elevator ding and the sound of footsteps, Marcus hastily stands and holds his breath. As soon as Josephine steps through the door, their eyes lock and his heart lurches. He takes in her resigned face, the deep purple circles lining her eyes, and her slumped shoulders. She looks wilted—exhausted.

“Josephine,” he breathes, and he has to stop himself from crossing the room and drawing her into his embrace. 

She takes him in fully, and he doesn’t look much better. His hands are clenched, shoulders drawn up tight, and the dusting of stubble across his jaw has him looking less put together than usual.

They both start to speak at the same time, but Josephine stops, seeing the frantic look in his eyes.

“Are you— are you alright? Last week...” he trails off, searching her face.

She lets out a deep sigh and moves closer. “Yeah, I’m... okay.”

Marcus takes the last few steps until they’re right in front of each other, and she has to tilt her head up to look at him when he speaks. “Are you lying to me?”

She doesn’t hesitate to respond. “Yes.”

“I tried to call,” he murmurs.

“I know, I’m sorry, I couldn’t...” Josephine replies softly, shaking her head as she trails off.

“You don’t need to apologise to me. I was just trying to make sure you were okay.”

She has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop another apology spilling from her lips. “Can we... is it okay if I don’t paint or anything today? I just want to talk.”

He nods, and places his hand on her arm to guide her towards the couch before he takes a seat in his armchair across from it. 

Josephine sits, and draws a cushion up into her lap, copying her position from their first session. Her eyes stay glued to a spot on the ground illuminated by the stream of light coming in from the window. 

Please, talk to me, tell me what’s wrong, he wants to beg. But forces himself to stay quiet and wait for her to make the first move.

“So I spoke to my sister,” she sighs out, mouth twisting up in a grimace.

Marcus immediately feels his face fall and the crushing weight of guilt causes him to slump in his chair. This is my fault, he thinks, before she even has a chance to explain.

“Josephine, I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“You don’t need to apologise to me,” she replies with a shake of her head, mirroring his words back to him.

“No, I do. If she’s the reason you’re so... upset... then I do need to apologise. I told you to reach out to her.”

“I haven’t even told you what happened. I didn’t even say I was upset.”

She still won’t look at him, and he rubs a hand across the stubble on his jaw. “I could tell you were upset as soon as you walked in. It’s literally my job,” he pauses, “I knew something was wrong last week.”

Josephine doesn’t reply, and before he can stop himself, Marcus murmurs, “I’ve been so worried about you,” her eyes snap up to him then, and he can see them glistening. He mentally scolds himself, thinking that he’s suddenly made her feel guilty. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you—”

“No, no, it’s not you. It’s Adrienne.”

She starts from the beginning, laying out every detail of what happened with her sister. Josephine explains the things Adrienne said that morning, and how it had sent her spiralling. Selfish. Exhausting. Failure. Marcus can feel the anger rising in him, the protective thing inside him clawing at his chest. She purposely leaves out how it was the thought of him that pulled her out of a panic attack. 

“It was like— when I was talking to her, it was like I was talking to my mom. It wasn’t as bad as the things my mom says, but fuck, she was so much like her.”

He stays silent, waiting to see if she’ll keep talking about her mother. Every time she’d tried to before, she’d always stopped herself, the wound still too sore. 

“Marcus, my mom...” Josephine pauses, wiping a knuckle under her eye, “She caused my eating disorder. She is literally the reason.”

And so she tells him. She rips open the stitches, and the words come spilling out of her. It had started with small comments here and there, when she was too young to understand the implications. Her family had always been unkind to her, but her mother fixated, set on moulding her into the perfect little daughter by any means necessary. Even early on, she had been the odd one out in the family, and she struggled to live up to her siblings who were so much older than her and always in a completely different stage of life. 

Josephine explains how her mother had her own issues with eating, and it was clear that she had impressed those upon her daughter from a young age. She tells him how she felt like a puppet, completely controlled at the hands of someone who didn’t care what happened to her, so long as she obeyed the commands. As she speaks, the tears flow over her waterline, and Marcus realises it’s the first time he’s seen her cry. 

He stands and picks up the blanket that he’s been keeping on the couch for her since their second session. He unfolds it and wraps it around her shoulders before moving to sit next to her. Josephine sniffs, clasping the edges of the blanket in both hands, and takes a moment to collect herself before she keeps talking. She tells him about how when she was at her worst, lowest moments, her mother not only did nothing to help, but encouraged it. 

“There were times when I was a teenager, and I would tell her that I hadn’t eaten and she would tell me that she was proud of me,” she murmurs, throat thick from the tears, “I think that was one of the reasons why it got so bad. It was the only thing I had to connect me to her. The rest of my family just didn’t give a shit, and then I had her saying things like that. It’s so fucked up. But when things got too bad, she just tossed me in the ‘too hard basket’ because it was too difficult to deal with anymore.”

Josephine chokes on a sob, and Marcus places a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, grounding her.

“Now I just feel so lost. I’ve been in treatment twice, and I don’t feel any better. It’s been going on for so long, I don’t know if I even want to get better. Who am I without this? I don’t know anything about myself. Fuck, I’m twenty-seven, and this is all I know. And they don’t care, none of them care.”

He takes a moment before responding, sucking in a breath, and squeezes her shoulder again. “I know it’s not the same, and it’s no substitute for your family, but I care. Josephine, you need to know that I care. I care about you. I care about your recovery, I care about your feelings, all of it. I’m here. It doesn’t make any of that okay, and you never deserved to have been treated like that, but I need you to know that there’s someone who cares about you.”

She wipes her palm across her cheek and looks up at him through red-rimmed eyes. In that moment, Marcus swears that he feels his heart cleave in two, so overcome with emotion for the woman sitting in front of him. The voice in the back of his head speaks up, and the impulsivity that he’s worked so hard to control flares, and against his better judgement, he speaks.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hooking an arm around her shoulder and pulling her towards him. 

She curls into his side, tucking her head under his chin, and he wraps his other arm around her. Josephine feels the muscles in her back loosen, and a sudden lightness overtakes her as she goes lax in his hold. The guilt that was weighing heavily on Marcus’ chest slowly dissipates, and they both let out a breath. 

Josephine’s mind quiets, and she finally relaxes.

Safe. 

—

End notes:

I'm so sorry for the angst, and I'm so sorry for how long this took to write and post. As I said in the author's note, if this was triggering for anybody, please feel free to DM me if you need to vent/chat.

I also decided to make a proper tagslist, so if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters you can find it here.

The room is still dark when Frankie wakes with a start – jerking up in bed, the covers are pooled around his waist. His shirt clings to his back, sticky with sweat. He can feel his heart beat pounding in his ears, the thrum vibrating all over his body. He tries to take a few calming breaths, but they come out ragged, choked.

He can see flashes of memories imprinted in the back of his eyes. Noises echo throughout the otherwise quiet room. Gunshots, bodies dropping to the floor in a heap. Warning alarms, the chopper lurching under his hands, plummeting out of the sky. The money, falling down the side of a cliff and him almost going with it. Tom with a bullet through the skull. And blood—so much blood. 

Frankie can feel it, warm and gooey on his palms. He takes a heaving breath in, reaching up to claw at his chest as he gasps for air. His hands are hot, and he can feel the blood seeping in through his shirt, thick and viscous against his skin. He bolts up out of bed, shaking legs carrying him into the bathroom where he switches on the light and turns the taps on full. He’s looking at his face in the mirror as he begins to scrub his hands, his sweat-slicked brow, hair flat and stuck to his forehead, pupils bloodshot and blown wide. Frankie scrubs his hands, rubbing his palms back and forward against each other, skin burning under the heat of the boiling water. 

The blood, he thinks, the fucking blood. I have to get it off—need to get it off.

He scrubs harder, knuckles rough against the backs of his hands while his eyes don’t leave his face in the mirror. His skin is pale, dark circles rimming his eyes. Frankie looks like a ghost. He feels like a ghost. 

Once he can no longer stand the scalding tap, he looks down and freezes. His hands are red, but not with blood, instead his skin is flushing crimson from the heat of the water. His shirt isn’t red or soaked with blood from where he’d clutched at it. It’s damp with clammy sweat, but no blood. Frankie looks back up, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, shaking his head, “I need to get a grip.”

As Frankie walks into the bar, he pulls his baseball cap down and keeps his eyes trained on the floor, obscuring his face from view. After the dream—nightmare—he’d had last night, he was feeling particularly on edge, and was trying to keep his cool amongst the rowdy crowd. He doesn’t need to look up to know where his boys are sitting, moving towards the booth tucked away in the back, away from prying eyes and the continuous din of the bar. 

It’s a run down place off the highway, with grimy floors and tables that are continuously sticky with overflowing beer. They’d become regulars in the past year, meeting up once or twice a week, depending on how bad they itched for a drink. Frankie was usually the one who needed it the most. He slides in next to Benny, across from Will. There’s already a bottle of Bud Light waiting for him, and the brothers are mid-conversation, so he just tips his head in greeting and to say ‘thanks’ for the beer.  

“...I think it’s about time we get you a professional trainer, Ben, I’m not cut out for this shit anymore. You wanna move up the ranks, get recognised? That’s bigger than me, man, and I want that for you,” Will says, staring his brother down with firm eyes.

“Shit, I want that too, but that don’t mean I can do it without you,” Benny replies, shaking his head.

“That’s not what I’m saying, I’ll still—”

“It’s not the same, you know that,” Benny says around the rim of his bottle.

“Fish, what do you think, huh? You agree with me?” Will asks, turning his gaze to Frankie whose eyes are glued to the table, “Frank? You listening?”

Frankie blinks and shakes his head, taking in a deep breath through his nose, “Yeah, man, sorry. I don’t– I’m not sure. This is between the two of you.”

“We know that, but I’m asking for your opinion here,” Will presses.

Frankie shakes his head again, running his thumb nail over a groove in the wood of the table. “I don’t know.”

Benny taps Frankie’s thigh and motions to the bar. “I need another drink if I’m gonna keep gettin’ lectured by my brother.”

Frankie stands, letting Benny out past him before he drops back into the booth, scooting further around to where Benny was just sitting. He clasps the neck of his beer between his palms, staring into it as if it’s going to tell him the secrets to life. Maybe it will, he thinks as he brings the bottle to his lips, taking a long swig.

“What’s going on, man?” Will asks with a tilt of his chin, lips pulled down.

Frankie doesn’t answer for a long moment. “Nothing, nothing. Really, it’s fine.”

Will surveys him, moving his face closer as he tries to catch Frankie’s eyes. “You clean?”

“Yes—Jesus, fuck. Yes, I’m clean,” Frankie grits out, his jaw clenching hard.

“You sure? You’re not using again, are you?” Will grabs him by the jaw, pulling his face up to search his eyes.

Frankie pulls back abruptly, smacking Will’s hands away. “Yes! I’m fucking clean, man,” he snarls, sliding his wallet from his pocket to pull out the 12-month sobriety chip he keeps tucked away.

“Okay, good. That’s good,” Will sighs, pausing to look back to where Benny is still lining up at the bar, “What’s the problem then?”

Frankie huffs out a laugh, a dry, humourless thing, and shakes his head again. “You really asking me that? C’mon, man.”

Will pins him with a stern glare.

He relents, slumping back into the booth and dropping his head against the top of the seat. “It’s just... I’ve been having these– they’re these—”

“Dreams?” 

Frankie breathes out harshly before slowly nodding. “Yeah.”

“Hey, Frank, look at me,” Will pauses, waiting for Frankie to meet his eyes, “I get them too.”

“Really?”

Will frowns, taking a sip of his beer. “Yeah, but not very often anymore. I see Tom.”

Frankie can’t speak, his mouth goes dry and he feels a thick fog hanging over his head clouding his thoughts, so all he can do is nod to signal that he sees Tom too.

“Have you– are you seeing anyone?” Will asks

“What, like a therapist?” Frankie looks to him and waits for Will to nod before speaking again, “No, I’m not. It’s fine, really, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Frankie just nods and takes another pull from his beer before Benny is walking back over to them with Santi trailing behind.

“Pope, hey, nice of you to finally join us,” Will smirks before turning his attention to his brother, “Benny here was just saying before how he thinks he can kick your ass in pool.”

Santi barks out a laugh. “Is that so? Didn’t you say the same thing last week and then you ended up losing spectacularly? Come on then, let’s go see how easy it is for me to beat you again,” he grins, steering Benny over to the pool tables by his shoulder.

Benny sends a confused glance back at Will who just waves him off. “I just needed to get rid of them for a bit,” Will says, looking back to Frankie.

“Why? I don’t have anything else to say, man,” Frankie releases with a tired sigh, running his palm across his whiskery jaw.

“Well I do. Jesus, Frank, when was the last time you did anything for yourself? Have you looked in a mirror recently? You look like shit.”

Frankie scoffs. “Don’t remind me.”

The two stare each other down for a moment before Frankie finds his gaze being drawn to a woman sitting at the bar with an older man. She laughs at something he says and curls a hand around his bicep, leaning closer to him. Her hair is tied back with a dark blue ribbon and it swishes around her shoulders as she talks animatedly, cheeks flushing pink, most likely due to the drink she’s gripping in her hand. Frankie swallows hard as he watches her. She’s wearing a pale blue and white gingham dress that rides up her thigh as she moves closer to the man. He wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in before she tucks her head under his chin, nuzzling at his jaw.

Will follows his gaze, and Frankie clears his throat and hastily averts his eyes once he realises he’s been caught staring by the man sitting across from him.

The gears shift in Will’s brain as he observes Frankie, who lifts his hat to nervously run a hand through his hair. “Have I ever introduced you to Sam’s best friend?”

Frankie frowns and shakes his head. “No, why?”

“Nothing, I just–” Will looks back at the woman sitting at the bar, before turning to observe Frankie again, “I think you might like her. Maybe I should set you two up.”

Taking another gulp of his beer, Frankie grimaces. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think I’m up for it. You basically said it yourself, I’m a mess.”

“C’mon, Frank, you need to stop getting so caught up in your own head. The dreams will never stop and nothing will ever get better if you keep wallowing in self-pity. Take your mind off it. Live a little, do something for yourself. And you think Sam’s nice, right?” He asks, and Frankie nods, “Well you’ll love her friend then. What’s the worst that could happen?”

That weekend, Frankie had found himself fussing over his clothes while staring in the mirror. He’d tried on what felt like twenty different shirts, before he’d finally settled on a plain white t-shirt that pulled tight across his broad shoulders. He’d tugged at the collar of his faded denim jacket until it sat right, pulled at the cotton shirt underneath until felt comfortable, and fiddled with the waistband of his black jeans as he’d looped a belt on.

Now, as he sits in front of Will in the diner booth, he finds himself repeating the same actions.

“Would you stop it?” Will scolds, “They’ll be here any second, so just calm down. It’ll be fine, she’s really nice.”

“Fuck, I can’t help it, you roped me into this. I haven’t been on a date in God knows how long, so sorry if I’m nervous,” Frankie snaps.

“Frank, just stop, it’s going to be fine.”

Frankie huffs out a sigh, “Sure, it’s—”

But whatever was about to leave Frankie’s mouth is cut off when he sees Will’s girlfriend Sam walking towards their table with you in tow. He feels as if the air has been sucked from his lungs as he takes you in. Your eyes meet and you offer him a shy smile before he hastily stands up to greet you both.

“Frankie! It’s good to see you,” Sam grins as she draws him in for a hug.

“You too, it’s been too long,” he replies, but his eyes are glued to you over her shoulder.

Sam pulls back and looks to you, smiling gently as she touches your arm, guiding you forward. She tells him your name, and you look up at him with curious eyes.

“It’s really lovely to meet you, Frankie,” you say shyly.

Frankie’s mind is playing catch up and he feels dazed as he looks at you and your pretty smile. He rushes to reply as his nerves double in size. “You too, Will’s told me so much about you.”

He hasn’t, but Frankie doesn’t know what else to say. He was feeling nervous before, but once you’re actually standing in front of him, he doesn’t stand a chance.

Sam moves to slide into the booth next to Will who presses a kiss to her forehead. “Hey, honey.”

Hugging closer to his side, Sam whispers something into his ear with a small laugh before turning to look back to you and Frankie, “C’mon, guys, sit down.”

Frankie gestures to the booth. “Ladies first,” he says with a wry smile.

You return the smile with a giggle and sit down before he slides in next to you. You smooth your hands over your sundress before turning to sneak a peek at Frankie’s side profile. He’s tall and broad, sun-kissed skin with a smattering of freckles that disappear below the neckline of his shirt and he has a patchy beard that spans his strong jaw. You swallow hard as you feel a flush creep up your cheeks.

He catches your eye and looks down at your dress where your hands are still absently moving across your thighs. “Are those daisies?”

You can’t help the smile that overtakes your face and you nod enthusiastically, “Yes, they are!”

“Very pretty,” he murmurs, and you duck your head with a shy smile.

“Did Will tell you she’s a florist?” Sam asks from where she’s tucked under Will’s arm.

Frankie raises his eyebrows and turns to you, “Oh? Will didn’t mention that.”

“Yeah, it was my mom’s shop, originally.”

“How long have you been working there then?”

“She retired a while back—about three years ago, I think it would’ve been. So I took it over back then. It’s my pride and joy,” you say as you tuck an errant piece of hair that has fallen from your braid behind your ear.

Frankie leans closer, his whole body now facing you in the booth, “To be honest, I can’t say that I know much about flowers, but I would love to see it, if you’d show me.”

You grin up at him with soft eyes, and Frankie feels his stomach flip. “Of course, I would love to. I would ramble on about it all day if nobody stopped me.”

Looking at you now, Frankie doesn’t think that he would mind listening to you talk about it for hours on end if it meant that you kept looking at him like that.

“So, you and Will, you know each other from the army?” you ask.

“Yeah, we were in the service together, years ago. I was a pilot, back then,” Frankie replies lightly, not wanting to have to go into detail on what it was they did. Not ideal first date conversation topics, he thinks, internally grimacing at the memories.

You perk up immediately, “You flew planes?”

“No, helicopters, actually.”

Your face lights up and he feels himself flush under your inquisitive gaze, “Oh, wow! That’s so impressive, Frankie,” you gush excitedly. You look down at his forearms, and they look thick and strong even under his jacket, and you imagine him at the controls of a helicopter. His firm hands on the control stick, steady and capable. You clear your throat and hastily avert your eyes. “So, what– what do you do now?”

Frankie quickly glances over at Sam and Will who are talking quietly, focused on their own conversation. “I actually still work with choppers, I’m a specialist mechanic.”

You turn in the booth so you’re completely facing him, your bare knee brushing his leg where your dress has ridden up. “That sounds like hard work, but I imagine it’s much easier compared to being in the army. You’re so brave, both of you—”

“No, no,” Frankie rushes out with a shake of his head, “You don’t need to– we don’t need to talk about that. Really, it’s not exciting,” he lies, quickly changing the topic, “Tell me more about you and your pretty flowers.”

You glow under his attentive gaze, and his eyes don’t leave yours as you tell him about your shop, all of the work you put into it once you had taken it over, and some of the upcoming events that you are preparing arrangements for. 

When a waitress comes over to take orders, you look between Frankie and the menu. He leans closer to you, wrapping an arm around the back of the booth. “What do you wanna order?” he asks softly.

“I wanted the waffles, please, and also a latte.”

Frankie turns to the waitress and repeats your order to her along with his own, before Will does the same. As Frankie turns his body towards the waitress while he speaks, you shuffle slightly closer to him in the booth, and when he turns back he has to bite back a smile when he notices your closer proximity.

Sam and Will were ready to jump in to fill any gaps in the conversation between you two, but they don’t come. You two talk easily, and Frankie finds himself feeling surprised. He didn’t expect anybody to be interested in him, let alone someone like you—so soft spoken, gentle and lovely. He keeps his arm tucked over the back of the booth, and the longer you talk, he ends up resting the tips of his fingers on your shoulder.

When the food arrives, he takes the plates from the waitress and places yours in front of you. Frankie watches fondly as you douse your plate in syrup, the waffles swimming in the thick, sugary liquid.

“Have you ever tried them with bacon?” he asks, gesturing to his own plate, and you shake your head, “Oh, c’mon, give it here. It’s delicious, promise.”

Frankie pulls your plate closer. He cuts up the waffle into pieces before slicing into the bacon in front of him, and heaping some on to your plate before sliding it back to you. He sucks the tip of his thumb into his mouth where some of the syrup got stuck, and you feel your stomach flip when his cheeks hollow. “C’mon, try,” he urges.

You can see Sam watching the two of you from across the table, a knowing smile on her face. Picking some of it up on your fork, you place it in your mouth and stop mid-bite. “Oh, wow. I don’t know how I’ve never tried this before.”

“Well, it seems I’ve got a lot to teach you,” Frankie murmurs, voice low and thick.

You feel a thrill run up your spine at his words. “I could say the same,” you reply, looking up at him through your lashes.

The two of you talk like Sam and Will aren’t even there, completely absorbed in each other’s company, and Frankie can’t take his eyes off you. Once the plates are cleared, you end up pressed closer to his side, and he curls his arm around the back of the booth again, his thumb drawing small circles on the exposed skin of your shoulder blade.

Just as Frankie hadn’t expected you to be interested in him, you were equally surprised that he seemed to hang on every word you said. You knew he was older than you, and you guessed throughout his time in the service that he had probably lived through things you could never even imagine. You had expected him to be indifferent, maybe even a little bit dismissive towards you. You hadn’t expected softness in his gaze when he looked at you, the crinkles by his eyes, or the lopsided grin with a dimple on one side. You had expected him to be battle-hardened and rough around the edges, but somehow he had remained gentle. 

He offers to drive you home. He pays for your meals, and after you both say your goodbyes to Sam and Will, Frankie guides you out to his truck with a hand on the small of your back. 

He opens the door for you, and places his hand on the top of the frame. “Watch your head,” he says, guiding you in with a hand on your shoulder. You huff out a quiet giggle as you buckle in your seatbelt and he makes his way around to the passenger side. 

You give him the directions to your apartment block, and a comfortable silence hangs in the air as you drive, the only noise coming from the stick shift as Frankie changes gears and the radio humming quietly in the background. He keeps taking his eyes off the road to glance over at you. You glow under the sunlight beaming in through the open window, the rays catching on the wisps of hair that slip out of your braid in the wind. Your fingers delicately fiddle with the hem of your sundress, and Frankie wants to reach out from where his hand rests on the gears to tangle your fingers together. He doesn’t realise you’re thinking the same thing. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his gaze and feel your cheeks heat. Frankie’s chest grows impossibly tight as you look away with a shy smile on your face. Once you pull up out the front of your apartment, he walks around to open your door again, and you reach out to hold his arm as the two of you walk up the front steps together. 

“Is it too soon to ask when I can see you again?” Frankie murmurs, nervously rubbing his free hand across his whiskery jaw. 

You shift closer to him as you come to a stop on the final step, and you have to tilt your head up to look at him as his broad frame looms over you. “No, it’s definitely not too soon,” you say softly, squeezing his arm, “Would you like to come by and see the shop this week?”

“Absolutely,” he replies. In that moment, you could’ve suggested anything and he would’ve said yes, his brain already completely captivated with the thought of you.

Your gaze is warm and open, your attention is all consuming. He brings a hand up to brush the back of his knuckles across your cheekbone, before he touches his palm to the back of your neck, pulling you in. You think he’s going to kiss you, but then his lips press against your forehead, soft and delicate. You smell like coffee and waffles and sugary sweet syrup and Frankie lingers for a moment before he has to pull back to stop himself from crowding you against the door and kissing the taste directly off your mouth.

Your smile is bright and beautiful when he steps away, and he wishes he could stay in this moment, this perfect little bubble. “I’ll come visit you during the week,” he promises.

For the rest of the day, his thoughts remain on you. When he goes to bed that night, for the first time in a long time, he has peaceful, dreamless sleep. 

Frankie ends up coming to visit your shop every morning for the next week. Each day he arrives with a latte and a different kind of pastry for you. The morning after you’d had breakfast with him, Sam and Will, you’d felt your heart thrum against the inside of your ribcage when you’d seen him walk in the door.

He’d looked at you shyly as he passed you the coffee and brown paper bag containing a cinnamon bun. “Is it– is it too much? Sorry, I should’ve waited a few days to come by, right?”

“No, not at all! I’m happy to see you,” you had admitted.

He had grinned and reached out to run his fingers across the back of your hand. “I’m glad. Truthfully... I couldn’t wait.”

You’d beamed at him. If Frankie had thought you looked pretty when he’d first seen you at breakfast, it was nothing compared to how beautiful you looked in your shop. Absolutely in your element, flitting around to pick out different flowers from bouquets as you’d hummed to a song playing softly over the speakers. His chest had felt tight as he watched you, and all he’d wanted to do was hold your face and kiss you breathless.

It had become your favourite part of your morning for the next week, always looking up when you’d hear the bell over the door chime, waiting to see if it was Frankie. Today, he had brought you coffee along with a raspberry muffin, and now you sat on the counter as he leant next to you as you shared it.

“I’ve really liked spending time with you this week, Frankie,” you say as you move a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear. He catches it, bringing it towards his face as he presses a kiss to your palm.

“Me too,” he murmurs, resting your joined hands on your lap. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“I’m working in the morning, but I usually close the shop around midday on Saturdays, so I’m free after that.”

His eyes move back and forward between yours, and you squirm under his gaze. “Can I take you out tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, absolutely! What would you like to do?”

Frankie steps closer to you, moving to stand in between your knees. “I thought we could go to the botanical gardens,” he says shyly.

Your eyes turn soft, and you feel your stomach flip. “Oh, Frankie—that’s so thoughtful. I would love to.”

He watches you, gaze careful. “I have one more question.”

“What?”

He pushes impossibly closer, so he’s flush to the counter, his hips touching your thighs as he brings his hands up to cradle your jaw. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

Frankie moves deliberately, pulling you into him as he nudges his nose against yours. You’re breathing the same air, and his thumb strokes your cheekbone softly before he leans in the rest of the way and captures your bottom lip between his own. You sigh against him, and press forward to fist your hands in his shirt. He curls one hand around the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips move languidly against yours. You taste like coffee and vanilla and raspberries and your skin is smooth and warm against his hands and you smell like jasmine and—

And you squirm, gasping as he licks into your mouth before he pulls back to nip at your lower lip. You draw him back in, slotting your lips against his, and he groans, low in the back of his throat. It’s a push and pull, your soft hands pulling him in, his calloused ones pushing you closer. Frankie pulls back, breathless, and rests his forehead against yours. He tugs you in again, and presses his lips to yours gently once, twice, three more times. 

“Frankie,” you murmur, resting your palm against his cheek.

He hums in response. You don’t say anything, but lean forward to kiss him again. When you part, he can feel his heart beating in his ears.

Frankie moves back, and runs his palms down your arms, smiling softly at you. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon, cariño.”

You feel heat creep up on your cheeks at his words. “I can’t wait.”

He starts to walk towards the door but when he glances over his shoulder and notices you watching him with a dazed smile on your face, he turns on his heels. Frankie steps towards you and holds his hand against the back of your neck before he presses one last lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, “I’ll see you then.”

You can’t wipe the smile off your face for the rest of the day.

-

End Notes:

Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed! Daddy Frankie is coming in chapter 2, we just needed to set them up first.

In Bloom taglist: @casa-boiardi, @cutesyscreenname, @tieronecrush, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite, @gaypoetsblog, @voteforpedro09, @smokeinherperfume, @janeie87, @ultimamensagemrecebida, @bluebirdsis, @harriedandharassed, @flugazi, @your-voice-is-mellifluous, @daydrea-minq, @tanzthompson, @1andthesame, @ravenpoe67, @mashomasho, @sexisquid, @almaeunice, @pedropascalmylove, @beee-haw, @laaundromat, @greenclues, @k-k0129, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @marvelforever352, @pr0ximamidnight, @atinylittlepain, @romanarose, @queer_poncho, @thew0rldsastage, @lalalalemonade11, @janebby-blog, @stormseyer, @hiddenbabynyc, @meanderingcaptainswanmusings, @sadfashionlife, @happy--birthday--kiddo, @littlelou22

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

you showed me colors

you know I can’t see with anyone else

“Oh fuck Joel, please don’t stop! Please don’t—”

You stopped short and buried your face right into the flannel blanket underneath you in an effort to muffle the sounds of your loud cries.

Although the chances of a single soul being out of bed and outside near the barn at this godforsaken hour in the middle of the night were about slim to none, it certainly didn’t hurt to at least try and be quiet. However, keeping your noise to a minimum was almost impossible, not when Joel Miller was positioned behind you, fucking you into oblivion.

You simply couldn’t hold back, not when his thick, calloused fingers were digging deeply into the soft flesh of your hips, bringing them back against him with each thrust and keeping your body moving in perfect sync with his own. Not when every inch of his throbbing cock was stretching you completely, filling you up and feeding the addiction that you’d so quickly developed for it—the addiction you had developed for Joel.

He had been quick to show you what real pleasure could and should be and there was no going back from it, not a chance in hell.

Joel was the only man you wanted to satisfy you, now and for the rest of your goddamn life. 

You lifted yourself from the blanket and sank your front teeth hard into your bottom lip as you began to eagerly drive your hips backwards, meeting his thrusts halfway out of your own desperate need to feel more and more of him. Arching your back, you squeezed your eyes shut and relished in heavenly sound the back of your sweat slicked thighs made as they slapped roughly against the front of Joel’s over and over and over again.

Joel’s grip on your hips tightened. “That’s it baby, that’s a good girl,” he panted from behind you. He picked up his pace, delivering smooth strokes that gradually became harder and harder as that sweet release drew closer for both of you. Even when he was close to completely losing himself in the heat of the moment and his head was clouded with the most delicious haze, Joel still somehow managed to keep himself grounded enough to pay attention and make sure he wasn’t being too rough—though you’d reassured him on numerous occasions since the beginning of what turned out to be a very, very consistent sexual relationship that you enjoyed it when he got a little rough, there was a part of him that couldn’t bear the thought of crossing the line between pleasure and pain, not with the woman he cared about more than anything. But whenever you pleaded him, begged him over and over again to fuck you harder, Joel didn’t have much choice but to oblige. He couldn’t say no to you, much less when he was buried inside of you, balls deep. “You take my cock so fuckin’ well, sweetheart—so good for me, baby. So, so good.”

“Joel,” You moaned his name, any kind of thought about being quiet flying right out the window. You lifted a hand and reached behind yourself, placing it on your ass and spreading yourself for him. This kind of lewd act would result in a shameful scold if you ever even thought about doing such a thing in bed with your husband. Luke hated whenever you would try and touch yourself in any kind of way, he would never allow it. But Joel? 

Oh, Joel fucking adored it. 

He fucking adored you. 

And he always made sure to show you that he did. 

Joel groaned. “Fuckin’ Christ, Peach. It’s like your sweet little pussy was made just for me, you know that?”

It was something of a challenge, figuring out what did you in more when it came to Joel—was it more when he was soft and gentle, whispering the most beautiful and sweetest little nothings against your collarbone while you were underneath him, hands locked together and fingers interlaced as he slid in and out of you slowly?

Or what about when he would put you on all fours, deliciously obscene filth spilling from those lips of his as he took what belonged to him from behind?

He knew how to make love, but god, he also knew how to fuck and you couldn’t decide which side of him you liked better because both were perfect. 

So unbelievably, devastatingly perfect.

“So fuckin’ tight, you feel so good—” Joel grunted out, driving himself deeper and deeper, hitting the one perfect spot inside of you that drove him just as wild as it did you, if not more. He moved one of his large hands away from your hips and dragged it down the softness of your lower belly. What had to be one of your least favorite parts of you ended up being one of his favorites, and Joel made it his mission to show you just how perfect he thought every inch you was to him. He caressed it lovingly with his hand for a moment, then trailed it further down, dipping it between your thighs. His fingers went to your clit and began rubbing the bundle of nerves in a firm, circular motion.

“Joel, baby, I’m so close, I’m going to—” Your own gasp cut off the end of your sentence. You tried to speak again, but your words were washed away by the wave of pleasure that crashed over you as Joel gave you one final, hard thrust that tipped the two of you over the edge you’d both been teetering on for the last several minutes. You fisted handfuls of his blanket, mewling out his name as your orgasm tore through your body, making it shudder almost violently. 

Behind you, Joel let out a low, guttural groan then followed it with a string of curses as he spilled into you. He gripped your hips even harder, feeling you convulse around his cock, milking him of each and every last drop he had in him. “Fuck,” he muttered as he leaned over, draping his body over yours. His breaths were rapid and labored, and it took him a minute or two, but they finally steadied. Instead of pulling out of you, he gingerly pushed his hips into you one more time. Feeling your walls clench, Joel dropped his head and snickered, his warm breath tickling the damp skin on your back. “You’re ready for more, ain’t you?” He planted a tender kiss right between your shoulder blades. “Didn’t know I had me such a greedy girl, Peach. Guess that innocent little angel face of yours had me fooled.”

You opened your mouth to retort, however you let out another gasp as Joel pushed himself in further into your center. You involuntarily fluttered around him once again, and although you couldn’t see his face, you could picture Joel’s smug little grin. You groaned, feeling him buck his hips forward lightly, knowing damn well that he would have your body begging for more if he kept at it like this—after the first two rounds, you just didn’t have it in you for a third, not without a fucking nap first. With sunrise approaching, taking a nap to recharge was out of the question.

“We’ve still got some time left for one more,” Joel said. He peeled himself off of you and palmed the curve of your ass, kneading at the perfect mound with his fingers. 

“Joel, I really don’t think I have it in me for another round,” You mumbled tiredly, shaking your head at the mere thought of it. “I’m all fucked out.” Finally, you felt him pull himself out of you and you nearly sighed out a small breath of relief. Just as you had started to make a move to get off your hands and knees, Joel slid an index finger up your slit and the arousal started pooling in your lower belly all over again. “God, please don’t,” You whined. “I swear I can’t take anymore, I really fucking can’t.”

“You sure about that, darlin’?” 

“Yes, I’m sure—” 

The lustful moan that echoed throughout the barn as he pushed his finger inside you said otherwise and you silently cursed your own body for its cruel betrayal.

“Hm, doesn’t sound like you’re sure,” Joel teased in a low, husky voice, slipping a second finger into you. He leaned over and trailed a line of hot, open mouthed kisses down the length of your spine. He stopped at the small of your back and with his lips still against your skin, he murmured, “I just fuckin’ know that my sweet girl has one more left in her. I can feel it.” He pushed his fingers deeper inside of you, curling them downwards and brushing them against one of your most sensitive spots. “Tell me, Peach. You think you can be an extra good girl and give me just one more?” 

You immediately whimpered in defeat.

Of course you could give Joel one more. You could give him as many as he wanted you to give him, as many as he could possibly coax out of you. Part of you wondered exactly how many that could be if it weren’t for the time constraints.

“Yes,” You breathed out in reply after a moment of silence. “I’ll give you one more. But I just hope you know that I’m probably going to need you to carry me back across the commune after this.”

“Hm, I reckon I can handle that,” Joel mused with a small chuckle. He withdrew his fingers from you, his hands spreading you open for him.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, only to see him staring at you in complete and utter awe.

In a bright beam of silver light shining through one of the windows in the barn, he saw everything that he wanted and needed to see. “Too fuckin’ pretty,” he remarked, admiring the way your swollen folds glistened with a mixture of your juices and his own come. Licking his lips, his gaze met yours. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, baby. I promise I won’t ever let you forget it.” 

Your heart fluttered wildly at his words. 

Before you could even think of how to respond, he shifted his position, moving off of the large bale of brown hay the two of you had been using as a bed for the last several nights. Lowering himself down onto his knees behind you, Joel looked at you and smirked when he noticed the shocked expression that crossed your facial features. He had devoured you plenty of times before, but not in this position and certainly not when you were still dripping with his come. “Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?”

“I-I’m a mess right now,” You stammered out. “Are you sure you want to—?”

Joel tossed you an amused grin. “Is that a serious question?” His grin widened when you nodded in reply. “Well, here’s my answer.” He moved his face closer towards your soaking center, letting the tip of his nose brush against it teasingly before finally putting his mouth on you. He slid his tongue over your seam, flattening it out as he slowly dragged it upwards and then down again. Joel groaned into you, savoring the taste of you and your sweetness combined with him and his slight bitterness. His tongue slipped itself between your folds, eager for more. 

“Joel!” His name tore from the back of your throat in a burning, strangled cry.

With how sensitive he had left you during the last round, your body involuntarily jerked forward and it squirmed to get away from him—but Joel would have none of that. You felt him wrap his two hands around your upper thighs, or at least, he curled his fingers as far as they could go around them.

Bringing you back towards him, Joel tightened his grip on you and held you firmly in place, where he needed you. He buried his face into your dripping, warm cunt and wrapped his lips right around your clit, his tongue swirling around the swollen bud.

He might have teased you about being greedy but in reality, it was him who was the greedy one. Joel feasted on you, his desire to have you fall apart on his tongue driving him to hungrily ravage you as if his very fucking life depended on it. The sounds of your whimpers, which he could hear were so close to turning into full blown sobs of pleasure spurred him on and he went even harder. It was more than just making sure he sent you home satisfied—Joel wanted to make certain that, even when you were apart from each other, you would still feel him. His tongue on your cunt, his cock buried inside of you, his lip and his hands all over you, all of it. He might not have been able to leave any physical marks on you, but he could, at the very least, leave you with trembling legs and a need for more of him. 

You lifted a tightly curled fist to your mouth, biting into it to keep from screaming out.

It was too much for you to handle.

And somehow still not enough?

You wanted him to stop.

And yet you needed him to keep going.

“Joel, please! Please!” You begged him out of pure desperation, although you weren’t really sure what you were begging him for at this point—for him to make you come or for him to fucking stop before you dissolved into nothing but a pathetic, sobbing mess. One of his hands abandoned your thigh and without warning, he pushed two of his fingers into you, pumping them in and out of you all the while his tongue lapped at your clit. You exploded, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you came undone and went tumbling right over the edge for the third time that night. There wasn’t one single part of you that wasn’t shaking, trembling—it took you a minute to even realize Joel had gotten to his feet and was helping you turn around so you could lie on your back.

“I got you. I got you, sweet girl.” Joel climbed onto the bale of hay and nudged your thighs apart with his knee, settling himself between them. Planting his hands on either side of you, he dipped his head and peppered gentle kisses all over your neck and chest, giving you time to ride out the remainder of your mind numbing high before it was time to get up and start getting dressed soon.

After a few minutes, you finally found your voice.

Or at least, a tiny, meek version of it. 

“Joel?” 

His nose skimmed along your jawline. “Hmm?”

“I think you really are going to have to carry me.”

Joel chuckled, gingerly nipping at your chin with his teeth. “That good, huh?”

“That good,” You confirmed with a giggle.

You brought a hand up to his face and cupped it in the palm of your hand, your gaze finding his in the dimming moonlight. Smiling up at him, you swept your thumb across his lower lip.

Joel’s breath caught in his throat.

Those eyes. That smile.

He wondered if you knew just how effortlessly you did him in.

Joel swallowed, dryly. “Peach?”

“Yes?”

“There’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to tell you.”

You stiffened underneath him, your eyes widening slightly. 

“What is it, Joel?” You asked, sounding nervous.

He hesitated.

Joel had been trying for some time now to say it.

To tell you that he loved you.

But whenever he thought he’d finally mustered up enough courage to spit it out, he would lose it the moment those three little words were about to fall from his lips—and Joel couldn’t for the life of him figure out what the hell he was so afraid of. It was obvious that he loved you, and he had no doubt in his mind that you loved him too.

So why couldn’t just fucking say it? Could it be the same reason why you couldn’t say it either?

He didn’t know what he was afraid of, but did you know what you were afraid of?

“Joel?” You said his name, breaking him out of his train of thought. “Are you okay?”

Letting out a small, frustrated sigh, Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry, darlin’. It’s just that—”

He stopped short, unsure of what to say next.

You understood him. “It’s alright, Joel. I know how hard it is to say it. It’s really not as simple as you’d think.” You laughed in spite of yourself. Grazing his beard lightly with your fingertips, you managed to give him another small smile. “Please don’t worry about it. It doesn’t have to be right now. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow or the day after that. I’m not going to rush either of us into saying something if we aren’t ready to say, okay? It can wait until you are good and ready—until both of us are ready.”

“You’ve gotta know how much you mean to me—”

“I already do.” You dropped your hand away from his face and placed it on his bare chest. His heart thrummed against your fingertips. “And I feel the same way about you. You do know that, don’t you, honey?”

His heart skipped a beat at the sweet pet name.

Joel leaned down, brushing his lips softly against your forehead. “Of course I do,” he murmured. He then pulled back slightly, reassuring, “It couldn’t be any clearer.”

You pressed a delicate kiss to the tip of his nose, a sweet little token of affection that caused his dark eyes to flutter closed. “Good.” You started to drag your fingernails, scraping them gingerly down the length of his chest and over his soft belly. With the tiniest, most innocent smirk you could muster up, you wrapped your hand around his length, giving it a few strokes until he hardened in your palm.

His eyes snapped open and he groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “Christ. What happened to not havin’ it in you for more, baby?”

“Mm, I lied.” You gripped him and ran the tip of his cock up your slit, moaning as you teased your own entrance with it. “I’ve got one more in me. Do you think we have enough time?”

Joel bucked his hips into yours, causing your back to arch up off the blanket. He entered you, his own moan echoing throughout the barn the second he bottomed out.

“Oh, I reckon we can make it happen, sweet girl.”

“If you smile any fucking harder, your face might actually fall off,” Ellie quipped.

You looked up from the clipboard you held in your hands and glimpsed over Duke’s back, only to see Ellie smirking to herself as she ran a brush across the brown and white spotted Appaloosa’s side, its stiff bristles clearing his stunning coat of dirt and debris.

Clearing your throat lightly, you tried your hardest to wipe the stupid grin off of your face, however it was just about impossible. You raised an eyebrow at her, questioning, “I’m sorry, is there something wrong with me being in a good mood today?”

“Of course not.” Ellie briefly paused what she was doing and her gaze met yours. She shrugged. “It’s nice to see you so happy.” Her rich, chocolate eyes shifted back to the task at hand. As she continued to brush the horse, her smirk widened. “So I guess last night with Joel went pretty well, huh?”

You didn’t even flinch. Thanks to the warning Joel had given you a while back, she hadn’t caught you too off guard. More than anything, what surprised you most was the fact that it’d taken the teenager this long to confront you about it.

“Ellie—”

She snorted. “Don’t bother. Look, I know you two have been meeting up in the middle of the fucking night for the last couple of months,” she stated in a blunt, matter of fact tone. “And I also know that the two of you know that I know. So let’s not beat around the fucking bush, here. Are you two like in a relationship or something? Or are you just, what do the kids call it these days—hooking up? What’s the deal with you and Joel?”

Gasping, you were quick to shush her. “Ellie!”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, relax princess. It’s close to lunchtime, there’s no one in here but us. So spill it, woman. What’s up with you and my old man?”

You sighed. Setting your clipboard down on top of the folding portable wooden table beside you, you stepped around Duke and walked up to Ellie. Even though you knew everyone else in the stables had taken off to the dining hall for lunch hour, you kept your voice low and hushed. “Yes, okay. We’ve been meeting up at night and seeing each other.” You’d tried your best to prepare yourself for this, made a list of things you could say to her to make the fact that you were having a full blown secret affair with the man who was essentially her father seem a bit less shameful. But it was useless. No matter what way you tried to spin it for her, the bottom line was that you were a married woman who was cheating on her husband. And you were cheating with Joel.

“Listen, what we’re doing, it’s not right—”

Ellie lifted her free hand and stopped you.

“You guys make each other happy, don’t you?”

“I can’t speak for Joel, but he definitely makes me happy,” You replied, shifting from one muck caked boot to the other.

She laughed. “Oh come the fuck on, you know you make his cranky ass happy too,” she told you. She grinned at you and continued to say, “Seriously, if only you could see him in the mornings after being with you. Picture it, he’s getting ready to head out for patrol and he’s going about the kitchen smiling like an idiot as he makes his coffee.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Ellie confirmed. “It’s fucking sickening.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her comment.

A brief silence fell over the two of you, but she was quick to break it. “Can I ask you something?”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Figured,” You sighed. “Alright, go ahead.”

“Do you love Joel?”

Anxiously, you chewed the inside of your cheek.

“Yes,” You admitted softly after a minute. “I do.”

Ellie glanced down at the brush in her hands. She fiddled with it, running her fingertips over the stiff bristles. “Wow,” she murmured, quietly. Any trace of humor had completely vanished. “It really must fucking suck having to hide being with the person that you love, huh?”

“Yeah, it does. It really, really fucking does.”

Ellie opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated.

Frowning, you took a step closer to her. “What is it?”

“You could leave him, you know. Luke.”

Your mouth went as dry as sandpaper. “What are you talking about?”

“You could leave him,” Ellie repeated, biting down on her bottom lip. She seemed sort of nervous as she shuffled from foot to foot, something that you found kind of strange considering how brazen the girl could be. “You could—you could move in with us into our house, you know?” For as tough as she could be, it tugged at your heart strings whenever her innocence peeked through her facade.

Much like it was doing now.

“Don’t you want that?”

You smiled sadly at her. 

A life where you could openly be with Joel, be with him and with Ellie and live happily and in peace?

Of course you did.

But it was a dream much too far out of reach.

“I would love that,” You murmured, reaching up to tuck a loose lock of her hair behind her ear. You let your finger graze the softness of her cheek before dropping your hand back down to your side. “You honestly have no idea how happy that would make me, Ellie. But it’s not all that simple—it’s much too complicated for me to leave Luke.”

“How the fuck is it complicated? You aren’t happy with a man you aren’t even really married to. Just take off the ring, pack up your shit and it’s done. I don’t see what’s so fucking complicated about it.”

You sighed. “You wouldn’t understand—”

“Because you’re not even giving me the chance to fucking understand,” Ellie shot back at you, anger and frustration glazing over her brown eyes as she tried to make sense of it all. “You could actually be happy with Joel—with me. We could be a family, a real fucking family!”

You stared at her in complete shock. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of how close Ellie had grown to you, but the fact that she saw you as more than a friend and the veterinarian she worked for caught you off guard—did she really see you as family?

“Ellie, sweetheart. Please. You have to believe me. Nothing would make me happier,” You admitted in a choked reply. You blinked back the stubborn hot tears that were threatening to fall. “Being together with Joel, being with the two of you and living life together as a family? That would be incredible.”

“Then? Why not leave?” She demanded, growing even more irate. “Why miss out on your chance to be truly fucking happy for once?”

You remained silent. How could you even begin to explain it to her? How could you tell a fifteen year old girl that you were trapped with no way out?

“Well?” Ellie prompted you after a minute. “Come on man, just tell me the fucking truth already. Why can’t you leave?” Her gaze found yours and before another word could be exchanged, her brown eyes went wide as the realization suddenly sank in. “Oh shit.”

You quickly shook your head. “Ellie, wait—”

“It’s because he won’t let you leave, isn’t it?”

Your heart sank deep into the pit of your stomach.

Before you could even think of how to respond to her, the sound of Tommy Miller’s voice rang loudly throughout the stables.

“Ellie! Ellie! You in here?”

Relieved, you called out to him. “She’s with me in Duke’s stall!”

Ellie pointed a finger at you. “This conversation is not over,” she muttered. “Far fucking from it.”

Tommy rushed into the stall, his chest heaving. He was out of breath and sweating profusely. His blue denim shirt was stained with bright red blood and so where his hands.

“Tommy!” You gasped out his name and ran up to him, grabbing onto his arms. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alright! Blood ain’t mine,” he said, giving you a reassuring nod as he wrapped his hands around your forearms. He then looked over your shoulder at Ellie. “It’s Joel. He’s been shot.”

Your fingernails dug into his arms, an ice cold chill running up the length of your spine. 

“What?” Ellie cried, running up to the two of you in a panic. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck happened? How did he—is he okay?”

“He’s alive,” Tommy said quickly, eliciting a breath of relief from her, as well as from you. “He was hit in the shoulder. But I had to come find you and tell you right away,” he explained to her. “I wanted you to hear it from me and not from anybody else.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s at the clinic. I can take you there now—”

Ellie dropped the brush in her hand. “Let’s fucking go!”

Tommy nodded and dropped his hands away from you. He whirled around on the heel of his boot and started leading her out of Duke’s stall.

You almost followed behind them, but stopped.

What business did you have going to see Joel? As far as Tommy knew, you were nothing to his older brother. Just a neighbor, maybe an acquaintance.

But nothing more.

“Wait.” Ellie halted in her tracks and turned to you, beckoning with her hand. When you didn’t move a single muscle, she rolled her eyes and hurried over to you, taking your hand in hers. “Come on!”

Tommy shot her a strange look.

“Ellie—” You tried to say as she pulled you along.

Ellie’s head whipped around and she glared at you as if telling you to be quiet.

“I need you to come with me,” she said. “I’m going to need you for, um, for emotional support.”

You could have hugged her right then and there.

Ellie was giving you the excuse to see Joel.

Squeezing Ellie’s hand in silent thanks, the both of you followed Tommy out of the stables and across the settlement towards the clinic.

“What happened out there?” You asked him.

“Raiders,” Tommy answered over his shoulder. His long strides were difficult to keep up with, and you and Ellie had to jog to keep up with him. “Fuckers came out of nowhere and ambushed us. They got Joel in the shoulder, hit Carl in the stomach. Peter got shot in the chest—he’s in bad shape. We don’t think he’s gonna make it.”

Your stomach churned.

Peter. Martha’s husband.

“Anyone else wounded?”

He shook his head. “No, but we did lose two of our horses. Daisy and Cash.”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“How could this fucking happen?” Ellie demanded furiously.

“We think it was that group we were trackin’ back a few weeks ago.” Tommy’s voice was strained. He tightly shook his head, his hands curled into angry fists at his sides. “Must have realized we stopped with double patrol. Motherfuckers caught us with our guard down. I fuckin’ knew we shouldn’t have eased up with patrol duties, I should’ve had every able bodied patrolman man out there—”

You frowned at the back of his head. “Tommy, you can’t blame yourself for this. It isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known they were still out there after all this time.”

“Tell that to Martha,” he replied bitterly. “Tell that to Carl’s wife and to his daughters.”

Knowing that there wasn’t anything you could say to console Tommy or ease the guilt he was feeling, you clamped your mouth shut.

Now was not the time to even try.

Jackson’s clinic was a real, proper clinic.

Before the outbreak, the building had served as an urgent care facility for the small town.

Abandoned and picked clean over the years, it had taken a lot of time and effort for the community to restore what was left of the old building into a safe place that could be used for healthcare services. It still wasn’t much even after the fact, but the clinic boasted three examination rooms for patients and its shelves, once bare, were now decently stocked with precious medical supplies such as bandages, vials of penicillin, and clean syringes.

Tommy led you and Ellie inside, and the first thing the both of you noticed was the trail of splattered blood on the white linoleum floors.

In the first examination room, you could hear Carl, a man who used to work in the stables before he’d been assigned to be a patrolman. He was sobbing and screaming out in agony, begging for someone to help him. In the next room, you heard Luke. He was speaking to someone, presumably one of the nurses, instructing them to hand him more gauze as well as a scalpel.

“Joel’s in here.” Tommy went to the very last door at the end of the brightly lit hallway. He opened it and stepped aside, leading the two of you inside.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw Joel perched on the examination table without his shirt on, firmly holding a bloodied cloth to his left shoulder. 

“Oh shit,” Ellie breathed out, dropping your hand. She hurried over to his side. “Joel, are you okay?”

Joel glared at his younger brother. “Why did you bring her here?”

“Because she’s your—” Tommy paused, searching for the right word. “She’s your Ellie. She should be here with you.”

“She doesn’t need to fuckin’ see me like this—” He stopped abruptly. He caught sight of you standing at the door, looking like you’d just seen a ghost. 

Noticing the confusion in his eyes, Ellie shot him a look. “I asked her to come here with me,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Hope that’s okay?”

He gave a single, subtle nod of his head. “You can come in,” he told you. His gaze met your own, but he was careful not to let it linger for too long. “It’s alright. Come in.”

You stood there frozen. It wasn’t until Tommy put a hand on the small of your back and nudged you forward that you finally moved. “Hey,” You said to Joel in a small, feeble voice. You approached him, your mouth and throat completely dry. Resisting the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around him, you fell into step beside Ellie. She reached for your hand, holding it in hers.

“I’m okay.” Joel looked from you to Ellie, nodding his head in reassurance. “I’m gonna be okay.”

“Anyone been in to see you yet?” Tommy asked.

“It look like anyone’s been in to see me yet?” Joel deadpanned.

“When is someone going to take a look at him?” Ellie demanded. “He’s been fucking shot!”

“We only got one doctor and two nurses,” Tommy reminded her gently. “But one of ‘em should be in any minute now. Or at least I hope so,” he added, placing his hands on his hips.

Letting go of Ellie’s hand, you moved to stand in front of Joel. You gestured to his shoulder. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you wanna do that?”

You nodded.

“Go ahead,” he murmured.

You reached up and peeled back the blood soaked cloth from his shoulder to inspect his wound. “It’s right there, the bullet. I can see it. It’s still intact as well. The good news about that is that it’s going to make extraction a lot easier since the bullet didn’t break off into fragments.” You managed to keep a calm, cool and collected demeanor, but inside you were losing your goddamn mind. Words could not even begin to explain how fucking terrifying it was to see Joel injured, covered in his own blood. Still, with Tommy in the room standing just feet behind you, there was no choice but to stay composed to avoid raising any kind of suspicion.

Ellie frowned at you. “And the bad news?”

“Well, he could get a serious infection if that bullet doesn’t come out of his shoulder soon. It needs to be removed and his wound needs to be cleaned. It also looks like something we can stitch up. He will be fine but he needs to be tended to sooner rather than later.” You glanced back at Tommy. “We need Luke.”

“He’s still workin’ on Peter. Carl’s next in line since he got hit in the stomach. Luke said he needed to tend to the injuries in order based on how bad the injury is. Said it was called triage or somethin’ like that—”

“Well, what about Donna? Or Rose?” You referred to the two nurses who worked in the clinic. Every last nerve in your entire body was on edge; all you wanted was someone to tend to Joel. It was quite selfish considering the severe nature of the other men’s injuries, but you couldn’t help yourself. “We can have one of them do it.”

Tommy ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I know Donna is helpin’ Luke with Peter. Rose is in the room next door tryin’ to stop Carl’s bleedin’—”

Finally, you snapped, letting your emotions get the better of you as you turned to the younger Miller, a frustrated expression on your face.

“He can’t just sit here with a fucking bullet lodged in his shoulder, Tommy!”

Taken aback by the outburst, Tommy tossed you a puzzled look.

“Wait a minute.” Ellie grabbed your arm, garnering your attention. “Didn’t you take a bullet out of one of the horses once?”

“That’s right,” Tommy realized. “My horse Ranger, he got hit in the shoulder. She took the bullet right out and had him all patched up within an hour.”

Your eyes bounced between them in absolute and complete disbelief. “Ranger’s a horse!”

“How different could it be?” Tommy wondered out loud, raking his hand through his black curls once more.

Furiously, you shook your head. “I’ve never treated a human wound before! I can’t—”

Ellie’s fingers dug anxiously into your arm. “Please do it,” she whispered, her worried eyes looking up to meet yours. “You’ve got to help him. Please?”

Slowly, you turned to Joel, who hadn’t uttered one single word in the last two minutes of discussion.

“It would be kinda nice to get this fuckin’ thing out of my shoulder,” he remarked, meekly. He brought his gaze to meet yours, holding it. “I trust you.”

“Joel, I can’t. I’m not capable—”

“Oh fuck that, you are capable,” Ellie said, shaking her head at you.

Helplessly, you turned to Tommy for backup.

“I agree with the kid. You’re capable.” 

“Please,” Ellie pleaded. “It could be fucking hours before Luke gets to him. You said it yourself just a minute ago, Joel can’t just sit here with a fucking bullet in his shoulder. Please, you have to do it.”

Hearing the desperation in Ellie’s tone, you didn’t have much choice but to reluctantly agree. “Okay. I’ll do it,” You said, releasing a sigh of defeat. “But if I’m going to do this, I would rather do it without an audience.”

“Say no more.” Tommy gently took Ellie’s arm and started tugging her along toward the door. “Let’s wait out in the hallway, kiddo.”

“But—” She began to protest. 

“Ellie.” Joel bit out her name. “Listen to Tommy.”

She huffed out in annoyance. “Fine.”

As soon as they disappeared and closed the door behind them, you turned to Joel, your heart racing inside of your chest.

“I trust you,” he repeated, firmly. “Alright?”

Swallowing harshly, you nodded. “Alright.”

Walking over to the opposite side of the room, you began digging around through the cabinets and in drawers, searching for the supplies that you would need—a bottle of saline solution, a pair of surgical forceps, and a clean needle. You tossed them onto a small silver tray along with plenty of gauze and a packet of nylon sutures that had expired well over fifteen years ago. The only thing you couldn’t find were gloves, and while you were sure there had to be a box somewhere in the clinic, you didn’t have the spare time to search for them and you washed your hands as thoroughly as you could with warm water and a bit of natural, handmade soap one of the women in the commune made and sold in her apothecary shop.

Mind spinning, you dried off your hands and then picked up the tray, slowly making your way over to Joel. You set the tray down on the exam table and stood in front of him, inhaling a long, deep breath through your nose. Exhaling it slowly and steadily through parted lips, you asked, “Are you ready?”

Joel reached out with his hand, placing it on your hip. His fingers brushed the skin peeking between the waistband of your jeans and then hem of your light blue camisole. “Are you?”

You could have laughed. “Of course I’m not.”

“You can do this, baby. I know you can.”

Your eyes met his. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because. I know my girl,” Joel murmured, softly. He made certain to keep his voice low, just in case Tommy and Ellie were too close to the door. “And I know she’s capable of a hell of a lot more than she thinks she is. I believe in you, Peach,” he asserted, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. “With everythin’ that I’ve got in me, I believe in you.”

You stared at him for a moment, your eyes glazing over with tears. More than his words, the sincerity behind them has been exactly what you needed to find the courage to do what you were about to do.

“It’s gonna hurt like hell,” You warned him. “I don’t have any anesthetic.”

His hand fell away from you and he curled it into a loose fist on his thigh. “I’ve had worse, sweet girl.”

Reaching for the cloth on his shoulder, your hands threatened to tremble but you willed them to stay as steady as possible. You removed the cloth from his shoulder and set it aside before picking up the bottle of saline and a piece of gauze. The bleeding had slowed, and you cleaned the area well enough so that you had a clear view of the small projectile. “It’s quite superficial,” You observed, wiping at the wound and causing him to wince. “It doesn’t look like it caused any kind of severe damage, either.” Throwing the used gauze aside, you picked up the pair of forceps and showed them to him. “Ready?”

“Ain’t got much of a choice, do I darlin’?”

“Nope.” You shot him a tiny, wry smile. “Okay, I’m going to count to three and begin the extraction. I need you to stay as still as possible, alright?”

Joel nodded grimly, lips pressed in a tight line.

“One, two, three—take a big, deep breath in.”

He did as you instructed, his fist tightening on his leg as he braced himself.

Firmly holding the forceps, you carefully inserted the jaws of the instrument into his wound. Though you wanted to get the painful procedure over with as quickly as possible, being careful not to cause any kind of further damage was your priority.

“Fuck,” Joel hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes pinching closed. “Jesus Christ.”

You managed to get a good grip on the bullet with the forceps. “Almost done,” You assured him. “I’m going to pull it out now. Take another deep breath in.”

He nodded and inhaled, his chest expanding.

“On three, let it out—one, two, three.”

Joel exhaled sharply as you swiftly pulled out the bullet from his shoulder. “Fuck!” he cursed again, shaking his head. Although his shoulder felt like it was on fire, he did feel a sense of relief as soon as the round had come out of it.

“I got it,” You said, lifting the forceps to show Joel the projectile clamped in the instrument’s jaws. It made you sick to your stomach to think that there was even a possibility that the bullet in your hand could have hit him somewhere else—that it could have been fatal. Shoving the frightening thought out of your mind, you set it down on the tray and picked up the bottle saline and a couple pieces of gauze. After flushing the wound and cleaning it a second time, you took a closer look at it just to be sure there was no serious damage to the tissues in his shoulder. “Everything looks alright. You’ll have to take a round of antibiotics—I cleaned it as best I could but there’s always a risk for infection. You’ll also have to be in a sling for four to six weeks.”

“Tommy’s gonna pull me off of patrol,” he realized, miserably. “What the hell am I gonna do for four to six weeks?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Recover?”

“Fair enough.”

A curtain of silence fell over you and Joel as you prepared the suture, looping it through the needle. The moment that you started stitching him up, an emotional lump rose in the back of your throat.

Joel was fine. He was going to be alright—and yet, all that you could think about was how frightened you’d been when Tommy ran into the stables and said that Joel had been shot, how fucking terrified you had felt.

He said your name softly.

When you didn’t respond to him, Joel reverted to his nickname for you. “Peach.”

Trying to stay focused on finishing closing up the wound, you gave him a small, “Hm?”

“Look at me, baby.”

“Joel, I’m kind of in the middle of something—”

“I love you.”

You stopped mid stitch and looked up at him, lips parted and eyes widened in shock.

“I can’t even count the times I almost said it, but I couldn’t. How many times those words have been right there on the tip of my tongue and just when I’m about to say it, I let the coward in me win and I don’t. After what happened today, I’m gonna stop being such a fuckin’ fool. I’m gonna tell you every single chance I get,” Joel swore, his gaze piercing into yours. “You had my heart from day one. And you’re gonna have it for the rest of my life, sweet girl. I love you.”

His declaration knocked all of the wind out of your lungs, leaving you feeling breathless.

“I love you too, Joel,” You whispered back to him.

Joel reached up with his uninjured arm, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “Do me a favor darlin’ and finish up what you’re doin’ so I can get some sugar.”

You let out a small, tearful little laugh and carefully finished patching him up.

As soon as you’d finished with the last stitch, Joel wrapped his arm around your waist. “C’mere,” he murmured. He pulled you closer to him, tilting his head up for a kiss.

You smiled at him before leaning in and capturing his mouth with yours. 

Suddenly, Luke’s voice echoed loudly out in the hallway. “What the hell do you mean she’s—”

You jerked back and stepped away from Joel just as the door swung open.

Luke entered the exam room, his dark green eyes flickering from you to Joel. 

Tommy and Ellie entered behind him.

“Joel!” Ellie hurried up to him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alright,” he replied stiffly, carefully watching your husband.

“Tommy told me you were treating Joel’s wound.” Luke approached you, and while he was keeping a collected composure for the sake of not causing a scene in front of the other people in the room, you could detect the furiousness in his eyes.

You nodded, nervously. “Yes. I extracted the bullet from his shoulder, flushed and cleaned the wound and stitched him up.” You noticed the blood on his light blue medical scrubs and glanced around him at Tommy. “How is Peter?”

His expression was grim. “Didn’t make it.”

“God,” You muttered, your heart clenching in your chest.

Luke walked over to Joel, whose hands curled up into fists in his lap. He inspected his shoulder for a moment, observing the work you’d done. He then looked over his shoulder at you and frowned. “You shouldn’t have don’t this,” Your husband chastised you, shaking his head tightly. “You aren’t a trained medical professional. Do you even realize—”

Joel interrupted him. “Your wife did a great job.”

Luke’s head whipped back around and their eyes met.

“Give her some fuckin’ credit. She’s amazin’,” the older man stated without breaking his gaze.

“Yeah,” Ellie chimed in agreement. “She’s fucking amazing.”

Luke turned to her and arched an eyebrow. Before he could say anything, the sound of Donna’s voice came from the room next door.

“Doctor! I need a little help in here!”

Lips pursed together, Luke took a step back from Joel and turned on his heel to leave. As he passed you, he stopped briefly, long enough to whisper to you quietly, “We’ll talk about this at home.”

A chill went up your spine.

You knew what that meant. 

Luke tossed you a subtle glare and left the room.

“I’d better go and find Maria,” Tommy said with a sad sigh. “We’re gonna have to break the news to Martha about Peter.” He gave you a nod. “Thank you, little lady. For takin’ such good care of my big brother.” He disappeared, closing the door behind him.

Ellie went up to you, curling her arms around your waist. “Thank you. We fucking owe you one.”

You said nothing as you hugged her back, holding onto her tightly. You tried your very hardest not to think of what your evening would have in store for you at home.

lyrics: Illicit Affairs - Taylor Swift

;series taglist

@joelsversion @ariiiloves @mayflower1217 @iconictragedies-reads @pattwtf @quality-lust @evylzzz @iamemy4 @sarahhxx03 @rogersbarnesxx @tonysttank @mylostloversbookmarks @cutesyscreenname

You were all grown up when he left the next time. Twenty-three years old and walking right by his side.

With Javier’s hand clasped in your left and the tickets in your right, you had excitedly bid your mamá, your brothers, and Chucho farewell at the Laredo airport gate with long hugs and tearful promises to call and to write whenever you could.

And you did. You both did. For all the time you spent traveling, you sent postcards full of details from every destination, called whenever you landed somewhere new, packed stamp-laden envelopes full of photos so that they could see for themselves that the two of you really were doing just fine. Better than fine. 

In the pictures, Javier is always smiling as if he never knew a time when he didn’t. His dimpled grin is wide, his eyes crinkling at the edges as his head tilts in your direction. Keeping an arm around your shoulders as you wrap your own around his waist, grin up at him while you try to remember to look at the camera instead of at him. 

Sometimes you even succeeded. Although seeing Javier  increasingly happy and at ease would forever remain your favorite sight of all the ones you saw.

Where once you used to only catch glimpses of that part of him, you now found it all the time. Someone who was quick to laugh and to gently tease. Who was increasingly less wary to be caught in conversation now that he had things he wanted to talk about. Who sat and planned a future with you instead of trying to outrun a past on his own.

Before the two of you had packed your bags at the end of the summer of ‘98, you and Javier had decided on eighteen months. Eighteen months of traveling down a list built from all the places that you both had already marked out with thumbtacks on Javier’s maps, carefully calculating a route that would be funded by some of Javier’s savings as well as a portion of what you had received when your mamá had made sure that you and Gabe were each given the share of your family’s ranch that you were due. 

Funny how by the time you had the means to leave, you were just as worried over what you were missing at home as you were over what you were missing away from it. No longer so sure that when you returned that everything would be just the same as you left it.

A good thing. Because neither were you.

With each new place you came to know, you got to know yourself better, too. With each part of the world you saw, you saw the place you wanted to occupy in it more clearly. And so did he. 

Until eventually more and more conversations turned from where you would go next to what you wanted when you got there, to the life you would build when you did. Until the moment came when you both decided once again that you had already waited long enough… only to have to wait just a bit longer.

Almost a year to the day after you left, you sat side-by-side with Javier on the edge of the small tub in your hotel bathroom. Two pairs of eyes trained on his watch as you both willed the seconds to tick by faster, your fingers playing anxiously with the gold wedding band on his left hand so that you wouldn’t reach for the small plastic test on the counter too soon.

“You ready, bonita?” he had asked you the moment three minutes had passed, the excitement visibly thrumming off of him at the idea of confirming what you both already suspected.

You had nodded, tears already brimming even before you shakily stood and revealed to him the two pink lines that would cross through more than a few of the remaining places on your list. Although judging by the beaming smiles on each of your faces right before he stood and scooped you up, neither of you had felt like you were missing out on a thing.

And you never did.

*****

Monday, October 31st, 2005

Javier checks the wall clock once more, not wanting to be late as he tries to bring some sense of organization back to his cluttered desk. A collection of papers and files and framed photos all competing for the little space left unoccupied by his massive computer.

He really never thought he’d miss typewriters but — 

A knock on his door makes him lift his head and quickly remove his reading glasses, shoving them out of sight into the front pocket of his shirt as he stands and squints slightly in the direction of the visitor. 

“Hey, Javi, you heading out?” asks his office mate, a young man named Michael who makes up for in undiminished enthusiasm what he lacks in years of experience. “I thought I’d take off early, too, unless you needed anything?”

Javier frowns, thinking as he looks around again with one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip before he answers, “No. Nothing that can’t wait a few days. Unless… has the DEA office come back with an answer on Torres yet?”

“Yes,” Michael replies, a suppressed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I, uh, I sent you an email.”

Javier’s jaw works to the side as he looks at Michael and then back at the computer. He had just turned the fuckin’ thing off. 

“I’ll give you the high notes,” Michael says quickly, stepping further into Javier’s office. “Basically they said that they want the information first and then they’ll decide if — ”

“Fuck, no,” Javier snaps, immediately irritated. “I want it in writing that — ” He stops when he sees Michael already nodding. “You told them?”

“Even added a ‘fuck you’ on your behalf,” Michael assures him with a satisfied smile. “Anyway they said they’d get back to us later this week. You’d think by now they’d know better than to even ask…”

“That would require them to actually learn from their mistakes,” Javier points out, rolling his eyes as he shoves his last few folders into the cabinet by his desk. “Never been the strong suit of a government office.”

Javier glances again at the clock, and seeing it’s nearly three, he makes a grab for his leather jacket hanging on the coat rack in the corner, checking that his keys are still in his pocket before he heads for the door and Michael follows him.

“Thanks. You head out and give your family my best,” he says to Michael, clapping him on the shoulder before Javier moves to lock up the door where his name and “Laredo Immigration Advocates” are printed on the glass. 

“You, too,” Michael says after him as Javier starts to briskly move down the hall. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

Instead of heading for his truck once he was out on the sidewalk, Javier takes a sharp turn to his right. Walking the familiar few blocks between his office building and the once closed restaurant that was now a few years into its new life.

The door for Panadería Cinta Roja opens to the sound of a cheerful ringing that might as well be a starting bell. A small projectile launching itself at him from across the room as soon as he steps in the door.

“Hello, bebita,” he says with a grin as he catches his five-year-old little girl mid-leap, tossing her up in the air in a riot of brown curls and high-pitched giggling.

“Hi, papá,” she says, still laughing as he holds her on his hip and starts walking toward the bakery counter. “Are we going trick or treating?”

He chuckles, raising his eyebrows at her. “Oh, I’m not sure. Is that something you’re wanting to do?”

She gives him a look of exasperation that he can’t help but notice is one of his own before she says, “Yes! You told me we were!”

“Then I guess we’d better,” Javier tells her, kissing her forehead before he sets her on the counter in front of a smiling Eva. “Were you a good help to your abuela?”

“Of course, she was,” Eva says, reaching out to retighten the bright red ribbon that had come loose in her granddaughter's hair during her sprint. “She helped me with all my customers, and we made treats for tonight. Didn’t we, Maria?”

His daughter beams, nodding as her brown eyes. “We made sugar skulls!” 

“You did?” Javier asks, not needing to inquire if she also happened to eat a few judging by the sticky handprints left on his jacket. “What else did you make?”

He helps her down from the counter and allows himself to be led around the bakery for a few minutes. Listens attentively as she tells him about each of the mostly sold out pastries and candies made up for Día de los Muertos. As she points out all the corresponding and colorful hand-painted signs done when his brother-in-law Gabe was last in town with —

A loud cry makes Javier turn his head towards the back of the shop, and Eva holds a hand up to tell him she’ll go so that he can keep up with his impromptu tour.

“And then we made conchas and we made them look like pumpkins and we made empanadas with caramel and… and… abuelita said it would be okay to have another one if you said it was okay once you got here. Is it okay?” 

Javier chuckles, crouching down in front of her so that they’re nearly eye-to-eye. “Mija, do you remember what happened last year? You had so much sugar that you were practically vibrating and then you fell asleep halfway through trick-or-treating.”

Her small face turns serious as she considers this, clearly debating the pros and cons of delayed versus instant gratification with the kind of severe gravity that can only be felt when you’re five-years-old and sweets are on the line.

“I won’t this time,” she tells him confidently at last. “This time I will eat the empanada and all my Halloween candy.”

“No,” he says quickly, trying to figure out how he’d made it worse. “No, that’s not what I…”

Her brown eyes seem to get five times bigger as she stares up at him, something she must have gotten from her mother because he’s certain this is the precise instant he always caves when it comes to Isabel.

If they end up bringing home any more stray animals…

“Okay, one more empanada,” he says, feeling very accomplished to have maintained some shred of authority when he adds, “but we’re going to have to talk about the Halloween candy.”

The door to the back office blessedly chooses that moment to swing open, Eva reappearing with Javier’s two-year-old son in her arms, just up from his nap judging by the way he’s rubbing at his eyes.

Once he blinks them open and upon seeing his dad, he makes grabby hands in Javier’s direction until Eva hands him over. 

“Isaac, how are you, mijo?” Javier asks, planting a kiss on his toddler’s round cheek and making him giggle with his mustache. “You ready to go trick-or-treating, too?”

“Yes! He is! Let’s go!” Maria answers for both of them, running to snag an empanada from the case before starting to tug Javier towards the door by the bottom of his jacket.

“Thanks, Eva,” he says over his shoulder once he’s already halfway to the door. “See you later back at the house!”

*****

“And done!”

You lean back in your office chair and smile, a profound sense of satisfaction settling over you as you watch the email go out. Another story filled and early enough at least that you would still have the rest of the afternoon to prepare for all of the company that would be stopping by over the next few days.

Before getting up, however, you allow yourself to have just a few minutes to sit in the quiet of a house that is usually anything but. To let your eyes habitually travel over the wall of carefully framed and arranged newspaper clippings, many of them carrying your name in the byline while the exceptions feature your husband as the subject. Both the work he’s doing now and the work he did before. 

Your gaze moves to one in particular, your notes still preserved in the margin and beneath the headline that reads:

Gilberto Rodríguez arrestado

You had been so proud of Javier then but you’re even more so now. Of the man he is. The husband. The father.

The sound of tires crunching in the driveway out front makes you smile and push yourself up out of your chair, your steps slow as you move out of your office and into the hallway towards the kitchen and front room. Passing as you go more framed family photos, sketches from Gabe, and even one perfect page-pressed daisy. 

When you and Javier had first returned home from traveling, he had worked to build this house with a single-minded focus that only he could have managed. Promising that you would have your own nursery when it came time to bring the baby home, not to mention a place that felt utterly yours in the meantime. 

Of course, he had some help keeping that promise.

Chucho had been by his side nearly every step of the way, driving down the half-mile road that connected your house to his and helping his son with everything from electrical to shingles. A pleased smile always on his face as he watched Javier survey the progress they’d made for the day.

Whenever they could, your brothers helped as well. Eli turning up for a few hours between his shifts on the Peña ranch and back at home, Aarón pulling up whenever there was something that required heavy lifting, and Gabe making the trip down from Austin to assist with whatever it was that needed doing. Your mamá was also a frequent self-appointed site foreman, making sure no one overdid it in the Texas heat, including you who happily hauled your increasingly pregnant self over from Chucho’s. Not about to miss the chance to watch Javier build you a house.

If only the teenage pages of your diary could see you now… 

In the end, the only notable although not exactly unanticipated absence from the construction site had been your dad. Likely knowing better than to come to a place where Javier had a hammer within easy reach even if he had started to show up in other ways. Unfortunately things that weren’t broken overnight aren’t likely to be fixed that way either. 

All the more reason to try never to break them in the first place.

“Mamá!” 

Your eldest announces her presence with a shout and the sound of rapid footsteps on the porch, the bang of the screen and the dramatic swing in of the front door as she bursts into the front hall and makes a beeline for you.

“Mi corazón,” you greet her enthusiastically as you bend down to receive your hug. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yes!” she says, hardly able to contain her excitement and talking a mile a minute. “I made empanadas and Isaac tried to eat them all but I stopped him and Papá says we can’t go trick or treating until later but that — that Tío Gabe will be here soon to carve pumpkins with me and…” She takes a deep breath before immediately picking up where she left off. “And that tomorrow we will go to see Abuela Peña and I can show her my costume and and and Papá said I can eat all my candy.” 

“Maria,” Javier says as he steps through the front door with your son. “I did not say you could eat all your candy. You’re going to get me in trouble.”

She grins, not seeming the least bit bothered when she briefly gets sandwiched between her two parents as Javier leans in to give you a kiss and to pass you Isaac. The happy toddler looking more and more like his father every day.

“Reinforcements not here yet?” Javier asks, looking around briefly to be sure his house hasn’t been invaded yet while you give Isaac a kiss and a hug before setting him down beside his sister. “I didn’t see Pop’s truck when I drove by so I’m guessing he must be out with Eli. Did he say earlier when he’d get here? The kids want him to come trick-or-treating with us.”

You nod, trying not to laugh as your daughter grabs her younger brother conspiratorially by the hand and starts running with him towards their bedrooms on the other side of the house. No doubt meaning to make a grab for their costumes regardless of if they weren’t going trick or treating for at least another hour or so.

“Yes, he did,” you say, crossing your arms and staring your husband down. “He was by at lunch. And this morning. And he should be back again any minute now if he’s sticking to the same schedule as last week. I know what you’re doing, Javier Peña.”

His jaw ticks to the side as he plants his hands on his hips, his barely smothered grin keeping him from looking the least bit innocent. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mmhm,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him as he starts to move forward, an increasingly apparent smile on his face as he backs you into the kitchen. “This isn’t my first rodeo, you know. You always get like this.”

“Like what?” he asks, just as your butt bumps into the kitchen counter behind you. His hands move to either side as he leans in for you, the extent of the distance he has to travel nearly comical, but somehow you manage to keep a straight face. 

“I know you’re sending him over to check on me,” you tell him, not actually the least bit annoyed but just wanting to make sure he doesn’t think he’s getting anything past you. “Make sure I haven’t — ”

“Gone into labor while I’m not here?” His hands switch from bracing against the counter to framing your rounded belly, waiting patiently for a kick as he gets that same wistful, disbelieving expression on his face that he always does. 

You smile, cupping his face as you lift his eyes to yours. “Javi, I promise that if I go into labor, I do have your number. Besides I’m still not due for another week and both your babies came late before. You’re going to wear Chucho out making him come over here every five minutes.”

He chuckles, turning his head to kiss your palm. “As if you don’t already know that it was his idea. He frets over you almost as much as I do.” Javier’s eyes find yours, a trace of transparent anxiety in them. “Almost.”

“We’re okay,” you tell him softly, moving the position of his hand to the spot where you can feel the baby moving. “See.”

Javier nods, crouching down to murmur things you can’t quite hear against that same spot although you gather enough from the affectionate tone. To seal it, he presses a kiss there, too, before standing back up and fixing you with a look that you know is meant to encourage no argument before he starts guiding you towards one of the kitchen chairs.

“I tell you what, bonita,” he says, keeping a hand on your lower back. “I’ll see what I can do about the house calls if you have a seat and put your feet up.”

“I’m fine. I’ve been sitting all day,” you counter immediately, the waddle with which you’re moving not doing much to back you up. “Besides I need to help the kids get their costumes on. And it will take me at least a half hour just to change into mine.”

“I can help with that,” he insists, holding your hand for support as you fall more than sink into the chair, and given the lack of distress on his face, you wonder if he remembers that this year your daughter selected Toy Story as the family theme. Not to mention…

“Since when has you helping me take clothes off ever saved us time?” you ask him as you look up at him with raised eyebrows. “Not once has that happened.”

He grins, nearly devilish as he moves closer with his hand on the back of your chair. “And not once have you complained, mi alma.”

“In fact,” he continues, playfully cupping your jaw in the span of his palm. “I’m pretty certain that’s precisely how you got yourself into this state, Isabel Peña. By insisting — No, begging that I make us late.”

“How I got myself into — ”

He leans in and brushes his nose against your cheek, nuzzling lower until his mouth is ghosting along your neck. And you can feel him smiling when you give an involuntary albeit quiet moan.

Damn, pregnancy hormones. 

You listen quickly to make sure you can still hear the kids playing down the hall before you turn your head, tangling your fingers in his hair as you tug his mouth to yours.

More than eight years later and you’re still not over kissing him. Still never quite feel prepared for it.

“Isabel,” he warns while still trying to shift his body closer to yours. “What were we just talking about?”

“I think…” you say, moving to whisper in his ear and knowing he won’t mind at all that you’re already a little breathless. “I think we were talking about the night you got me pregnant. I'm just trying to remember now but… I may have begged but you were the one on your knees, mi amor.”

He groans, one of his hands sweeping up your side to make you tremble before landing in your hair and tilting your head back. “Isabel — ”

A polite knock at the front door makes you both jump, and Javier is the first to laugh, pressing his forehead against yours as he mutters, “Christ, some things never change. That will be dad.”

You laugh, too, as he straightens up and you remember again that same night from years before when you take Javier’s hand to head towards the door. As his arm settles around your shoulders and yours around his waist. As he brushes a kiss against the top of your head and murmurs how much he loves you. As you see your children reappear and race ahead of you. You remember that night when you had thought to take a chance that maybe… just maybe…

It really never was just a crush.

-----------------------------------------

Additional A/N: If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Thank you for reading! Whether you did so silently or loudly, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! ❤️

When I started this story over a year ago now, I had only planned to do a one shot for Javier that gave him some peace and a soft place to land after everything he’d been through. But as is tradition, I quickly fell in love with the world and the characters I was building around him. And how fortunate for me, that so many of you did, too.

While this story has allowed me to learn so much about writing and the type of writer that I want to be, it’s also given me a truly amazing gift in the community that’s built up around it. To my Crush Fam, thank you for trusting me with this story and with these characters, for offering me help when I asked and for supporting and encouraging me for every step of the way. I’ll love you always and be forever grateful to have had you on this journey with me. I hope you’ll love where this story goes from here.

Now that the epilogue is out, I’m going to be working on turning Crush into a novel to be released next year. Publishing is something I have always wanted to do since I was a kid, my own dream in my diary, and I can’t imagine a better story to do it with than one I love as much as Crush. My plan is also to write sequels for each of Isa’s brothers so when I say there is so much more to come, I really mean it. 😂

Crush fam, if you would like to follow along for updates about Crush becoming a book and about me becoming a published author, I would love for you to follow me on TikTok at renbrownewrites. I’ll also post updates here and on @ren-browne-writes.

Thank you again for supporting me and this story! Thank you again to Crush Fam! To everyone who helped me with questions on everything from translations to traditions. To everyone who made art and sent in asks and who left comments and reblogs that made me so excited to keep going. Thank you to @astroboots and @djarinsbeskar and @write-and-buried and @daddydindjarin and @imaswellkid and @the-hinky-panda for being the best ongoing hype crew and friends for the entirety of this story. I love you so much. ❤️

If I knew it all then, would I do it again?

Would I do it again?

If they knew what they said would go straight to my head

What would they say instead?

when you reached the house, you immediately plopped down on the couch and allowed your tears to flow freely. you never in a million years would have thought joel would be that mean to you. when y’all first met, he was quiet and reserved, but he only gave harsh treatment to raiders or untrustworthy strangers. soon, your sadness and turmoil transformed into anger.

you know what? you were still scheduled for a patrol, joel or not. you had done it by yourself for years, what’s a few more hours? despite how joel was making you feel in the moment, you were still an independent woman. although there was an outbreak currently happening, the world was more peaceful and quiet than it had ever been. a ride to clear your mind and gather your thoughts outside of the walls wouldn’t hurt.

joel.

he was fuming with the way you had been treating jenny so far. ‘Women…’ he thought with a scoff. “Something on your mind?” jenny broke joel of his thoughts, her hazel eyes scanning her face as the horse she rode lazily walked. “Thinkin’ about earlier. I swear she’s nice, I just don’t know what’s gotten into her lately.” the two of them were on their way back from a swift and laid back patrol, steadily approaching the gates. jenny hummed in response as she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and between her teeth.

once they got to the gates, they both dismantled their horses and briefly greeted the guards. “I’ll put your horse up. You go get cleaned up and rest.” Joel offered before grabbing both of the horses leads. before jenny left, she spoke. “You know, Joel. It sounds like you deserve someone better.” she gave him a sweet smile and a nod before turning and walking away from the gates.

joel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her comment, but he brushed it off due to his scattered thoughts. he didn’t really think on it and what it meant at the moment. joel was just too pissed off with the previous situation to analyze jenny’s words.

joel shook his head with a huff before tugging the horses towards the stables. he’d have to talk to you eventually and try to dig around your mind to understand what your deal was. when joel finished unsaddling the horses and tying them to their respective places, he noticed something was out of place. his eyes narrowed as he put his hands on his hips and scanned the stables. after he mentally counted the amount of horses in front of him, he finally figured out that one was missing. more specifically, yours. the familiar caramel coat was no where in sight, which meant you weren’t going to be either.

no matter how pissed off joel was with you, it still sent him in a small panic. before he jumped to conclusions, he decided to just look around and hope that you lended june to tommy or ellie.

the greenhouse was not far from the stables, so that’s where he looked first. typically, if you didn’t have patrol, you’d be tending to the fruits and vegetables and possibly harvesting them. a memory of you getting giddy about finding seeds from strawberries outside of the walls popped into his head. you knew how much ellie loved them, so you had decided to grow as much as you could so she could have as much as possible during the season. joel always knew you had a green thumb. no, stop it. he was reminiscing as if you were dead or he had lost you. deep down, in a way, he had these past few weeks. he set a determined pace to the greenhouse, finally approaching the sliding door to it. joel's hand gripped it before applying pressure and sliding the door, no presence of you to be found. to confirm your lack of attendance, he called out your name. to no avail, there was not a single reply.

maybe you had went to the diner. you would sometimes go there when you had a bad day and needed some comfort food to cheer you up. in fact, you would order a banana split and share it with joel if he turned up (he would 'pretend' to run into you, but he knew you were there). this time, his pace was more determined than the last. joel could picture it now: your hair loosely tied into a bun, upper body clad with his flannel with a banana split sat in front of you. once he was in front of the diner doors, he swung the door open harder than intended as his earthy brown eyes scanned the room. you would sit in the booth in the corner and move the ice cream around with the spoon in your hand, a pout adorning your oh-so kissable lips. that's if you were there, except you're not. "god dammit!" he roared, startling some guests that were once enjoying their meal before his sudden outburst.

the house. that's the last place you could possibly be. he was hoping, praying, to whatever god was out there or left that you were curled up on the couch with a book or sprawled out on your bed--y'all's bed. at this point, he was jogging to the house rather than the brisk pace he had set before. he looked like a damn lunatic running across town, but he didn't care. joel's priority at this moment was you. once he opened and slammed the front door shut, he took two steps at a time when hurling himself up the stairs. he mentally crossed his fingers to find your being in it's rightful place, in the comfort of y'all's house home. when joel didn't immediately see you, he quickly checked the closet as if you'd magically appear. the bathroom light had been off, but he still checked to see if you would be sitting in the tub, bubbles surrounding your bare skin and hair damp. to no avail, you were not there either.

you.

the sun had been setting, so you decided to head back to jackson. after you had put june up and showed her some much earned appreciation through grooming and an apple, you grabbed your weaved basket full of goodies and dreadfully walked to the house. your basket held some flowers as well as some scraps of fabric that you could use to patch up some of ellie's clothes. although you could've gotten these things inside of the walls, you felt more...purposeful. you walked inside the tense house before treading up the stairs. when you entered you and joel's shared room, there he stood looking disheveled. you rose an eyebrow in thought.

you brushed past him to your dresser, making your presence known. "Jesus fuck-- where have you been?!" joel exclaimed, his voice laced with worry. "Not on patrol with you, that's for sure." you snorted before he scoffed at your sarcastic response. "You can't just go and do things without telling someone!" you rolled your eyes at that. you continued to move around, finally finding a small duffel bag under y'all's bed to pack a few clothes and belongings in. "You'd know something about that, wouldn't you?" you didn't have time for his line of interrogative questions, you just wanted to head over to tommy and maria's as soon as possible. "(Y/N), I'm serious--wait, where are you going?" joel questioned, only met with silence. you packed a few outfits and pajamas into the bag before brushing past his figure to grab some things from the bathroom. "(Y/N)--" he called out again, his hand reaching out to softly grab at your upper bicep in an act of grabbing your attention.

this pissed you off.

suddenly, you harshly yanked your arm away before whipping around and landing a hard smack upon the flesh of his cheek. "Don't you fucking touch me!" you snarled, your blood running hot. joel's eyes widened in shock, his lips slightly ajar at your assault to his face. "What? You gonna talk down on me again? Say I'm a fucking let down? About how I was childish to slap you? That I should apologize like a mature person would?" he stayed silent, just watching and listening to you intently. "You want to be listened to, to be heard, but the second I try and speak my piece, you don't want to reciprocate." you continued to speak, your skin flustered a pinkish-red hue from stress and anger. "When I try and tell you about whatever feeling of premonition I have about Jenny, you defend her with your entire being. You might as well just take your knife and jab it into my fucking back at this point." your hands waved in the air as you spoke, illustrating how hurt you were about the whole situation. "Baby--" joel began to speak and reached out to you, but you cut him off before he could mutter another word or take another step. "No. You're not gonna try and talk down to me. Let's not pretend you care now, that's not going to work, Joel. You made it very clear who you care about at this point." you turned to zip up your duffel bag, "you want dinner? Cool, have her make it for you. Clothes washed? I bet she can do it a lot better than I ever could. I'm sure she's closer to your age, too. 'Wouldn't want you with someone who's immature and childish like me, y'know." you grabbed the sleeves of joel's flannel and discarded your body of it with a small sniffle. "Here, she can have this shit too." you seethed, yet you had the decency to neatly fold it and place it on the bed. you grabbed the handles of the duffle bag before picking it up and holding it to the side of your body.

as you began to walk out, he took a step to follow. "Don't come after me, God knows she'll distract you, she seems pretty good at doing that." you spoke softly, no more energy left to be angry. you were just sad. joel watched you with slightly clenched fists and teary eyes, a sad scowl on his face. he hadn't realized how hurt he had made you feel, how small. that was the last thing he ever wanted you to experience, especially at the hands of himself.

with that, you left and headed to tommy and maria's house.

taglist (if there's a strike, you couldn't be tagged!)

Although you wanted to spend as much time as humanly possible with Joel, you understood that sometimes he had to work long hours. You had tried to assure him time and time again that you didn’t feel neglected, that Sarah didn’t think he was a bad dad, that the two of you didn’t love him any less. Still, he couldn’t help being worried.

He’d left earlier than usual that morning, and you didn’t get to say goodbye. After sliding out of bed silently, Joel had tucked you back in under the blankets and kissed the top of your head as you slept before getting ready for work and leaving for the day. You’d woken up with a headache, a dull throbbing ache spanning across the back of your head and settling achingly in your temples. Moving about the house in a daze, you’d quickly dressed and made your way to the kitchen to find Sarah already packing her bag for school. After downing two Tylenol and eating some toast together, you’d sent Sarah off to the school bus with a hug, and settled in for the day in Joel’s home office with a cup of coffee. 

Today had been a research day for your thesis, compiling notes and comparing datasets as you awaited feedback on the first draft you’d submitted to your advisor the week before. As the day wore on, your headache worsened and was joined by a throbbing pain low in your stomach. It had gotten so bad that it had made you feel nauseous, as you’d fought the urge to curl around the toilet bowl and willed the breakfast you’d eaten earlier to stay down.

The shrill sound of the telephone ringing had pierced through your already achingly tender head, and you had moved sluggishly to answer it. You’d had to fight back a snort of laughter when the school nurse on the other end politely asked you to come and pick up Sarah, who was reportedly feeling sick. Ironic. You’d driven across town in the rain and arrived at the school, filled out all of the necessary paperwork to sign Sarah out for the day, and had herded her back into your car. The pain in your stomach had made its way around to your lower back, so severe that you’d had to hold yourself up with a hand positioned on your hip. Sarah, on the other hand, had made a suspiciously remarkable recovery. Once you’d arrived home, she’d mentioned that she was feeling ‘much better’ as she set herself up on the couch with the television remote in one hand and a bag of potato chips in the other. The fact that she was missing math class had told you that had something to do with it. You didn’t have the energy to scold her, as the ache in your skull continued throbbing.

You’d taken two more Tylenol and made yourself another coffee before deciding to put your reading glasses on to stop your headache from worsening with eye strain. Stealing a blanket from the back of the couch, you’d wrapped it around your shoulder and trudged back into the home office. Logging back into the computer, you’d noticed a new email from your advisor. Once you had read it and opened the attached document, your heart sank as you saw countless amendments, notes, and questions across the pages. Fuck. You had worked so hard on your first draft, and while you’d known there was room for improvement, it hurt to see it essentially torn to shreds. You’d blinked back the sting in your eyes as you read the notes and reviewed all of the changes. 

It wasn’t until early evening when you’d been changing into some comfier clothes that you’d discovered you’d gotten your period. All of the pains throughout the day suddenly made sense and you’d began making yourself a cup of hot tea to try and help with the cramps. As the sun sank low and gave way to the cool Texan night, you’d began counting down the minutes until Joel came home. But, his usual arrival time came and went, with no sign of him. You’d told yourself that you understood that sometimes he had to work long hours, but at that moment, all you’d wanted was for him to come home and curl his strong arms around you. 

Sarah had ordered pizza for dinner, and you’d only managed a few slices before the pain in your stomach stopped you from eating anymore. Eventually she’d moved into her bedroom, and you’d cuddled up alone on the couch with the television playing quietly in the background as you had thumbed through pages in various textbooks to supplement the research in your draft that your advisor suggested was wrong. You knew it wasn’t, and you were determined to show her that. Your throat felt thick and your eyes burned, stifling back the frustrated tears.

Now, hours later, as Joel pulls his truck into the driveway, his hands twitch to feel your skin against his. Immediately as he steps out and unloads his toolbox, he notices the light still on in the lounge room. As he quietly makes his way inside, he toes off his dirtied boots at the door, and follows the sound of the low hum of the television. His eyes find you within a matter of seconds, and he spots the various opened textbooks scattered around your sleeping form, one squished under your shoulder where you’d curled into yourself. You’re still wearing your glasses, the frames awkwardly pushed against the side of your face from where it was pressed into the couch cushion. His heart clenches when he realises you’d clearly tried to wait up for him, but had drifted to sleep before he’d been able to get home to you in time. 

The guilt that had been churning in his gut all day doubles when he notices the way your eyebrows are pinched together — clearly in pain, even as you sleep — and the heating pad that is haphazardly placed against your lower stomach. You register the feeling of a warm palm pressed against your cheek as another smoothes your hair away from your forehead. As you begin to slowly wake up, your arms involuntarily move to curl around your stomach when you become consciously aware of the agonising cramps. 

“Baby?” comes a quiet voice.

You let out a small noise as your eyes begin to blink open. “Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me. Sorry I’m home so late, tried to call you on my way back but the damn battery on my cell phone died,” he murmurs, gently carding his fingers through your hair.

“S’okay. Just glad you’re here,” you reply before you burrow further into the couch, scrunching your eyes back up to block out the light emanating from the television. Joel moves to slide the textbook out from where it’s stuck under your shoulder, before his knuckles softly skate over the top of your cheekbone. 

He notices the way you squeeze the heating pad against your stomach before he speaks again softly, “You not feelin’ well?” 

You hum quietly and nod. “Woke up with a headache that got worse all day, then my stomach started hurting really bad. Got my period.”

“Oh, honey, and you had to go pick up Sarah? I’m so sorry, the school called me but I was busy on site after the rain this morning – if I had’ve known you were sick I would’ve got Tommy to cover for me and gotten her myself.”

You shake your head as if to say ‘it’s alright’. Joel leans in, cradling your jaw in his warm palms and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before he pulls back to nose against your hairline. “My sweet girl.”

He runs his thumbs against the hollows of your cheeks for a brief moment before he gently stands up and moves away from the couch. You continue to lay there with your eyes scrunched shut, taking long even breaths through the pulsing pains in your stomach. You can hear him shuffling around on the other side of the house, before he returns a few minutes later. 

Joel slides one arm beneath your shoulders and the other under your knees before he lifts you up, holding you against his broad chest, warm and solid. You begin to protest, “Wait, Joel, your back—”

“I’m fine, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

He carries you through the hallway, past the bedroom and into the ensuite where he’s started filling up the bath with warm, soapy water. He gently places you down and guides you to sit on the edge of the bath. Joel drops to his knees before you and clasps your ankles, rubbing slow, soothing circles into your skin before he moves to pull your clothes off. With each piece of fabric shedded, he presses his mouth against your skin, slow and deliberate, sighing against you. 

He slides your glasses off and places them on the vanity before he eases you into the bath with a hand around your waist, helping you settle in. You look up at him with wide eyes, eyebrows pulled together before asking in a quiet voice, “Will you get in too?”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Let’s just get you all relaxed and clean first, and then I’ll get in with you afterwards, okay?”

Joel stays kneeling by the side of the bath, dipping his arms into the warm water to run a washcloth against the soft planes of your body. You sigh, beginning to feel the tension loosen from your body as the heat from the bath starts to ease the cramps in your stomach. He hums a quiet tune, one you don’t recognise, as he helps you wash. You stay like that for a while, Joel watching you adoringly as he gently trails his hands across your skin under the water. He brings a soapy palm up to your jaw and leans in to kiss you, capturing your bottom lip between his. He makes a noise, low in the back of his throat, and his hand moves to curl around the back of your neck as his mouth slides languidly against yours. 

He pulls back slowly and presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth, his stubble tickling your cheek. Joel leans forward and tugs the stopper out now that you’re all clean. He moves back up towards you and glides his lips against your neck, trailing featherlight kisses along your skin as the water drains out of the bath. After a few minutes, once the bath is empty, he puts the stopper back in and begins running the water again. Joel stands then and starts peeling off his work-dirtied clothes, depositing them in a heap on the floor. You reach a hand out and run it against his soft stomach and he touches his palm to your shoulder with a warm smile. You move forward to make room for him in the bath as he slides in behind you, before he pulls you back against his chest, the warm water flowing around the two of you. 

Joel wraps his arms around your waist and presses his palms against your stomach, rubbing slowly. He hides a kiss in your hair, before leaning in and pressing another behind your ear. “Feelin’ any better, baby?”

You sigh and relax back against him, resting your hands against his thighs where they cage you in. “Yeah. The hot water is really helping. Thank you,” you murmur as you tuck your head under his chin. 

He continues to glide his hands in circles across your stomach, and you sigh as he nudges his nose against the shell of your ear. The spell is too quickly broken, though, when Joel murmurs his next words. “Did your advisor send you her feedback on your draft?”

Freezing in his hold, he notices immediately and cups your chin, turning your face back towards him. “Yeah, she did. I– I don’t want to think about it right now, she—” you stop, looking away as you feel your eyes start to burn again. 

“She what? What is it?” he prompts gently.

You shake your head and he tightens his hold on your chin, dipping his head to meet your gaze. You look up at him with glossy eyes. “She basically tore it apart. I’ll have to rewrite the whole thing. I know it’s her job but it made me feel so dumb.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I know how hard you worked on that,” Joel says softly, running his thumb across your jaw, “I know it must be really upsetting after all that effort. This doesn’t make it any better, I know, but at the end of the day you’re going to end up with such an amazing thesis. She’s probably just trying to push you to get there, because she knows you can do it, hm?”

You sniff and nod, wiping your knuckles against your waterline to catch the tears that are threatening to fall. “I guess so.”

He presses a delicate kiss against your cheekbone. “No matter what, I’m so proud of you. My smart, perfect girl. You always amaze me, with what goes on in that head of yours.”

Hearing him say that makes something snap in your chest, and suddenly hot tears are running down your face. You suck in a heaving breath, the weight of the stressful day finally hitting you like a tonne of bricks. “Really? You’re proud of me?” you ask weakly through the lump in your throat. 

Joel wraps his arms around your shoulders, crossing them over your chest before pulling you further into him. Leaning his head forward, he presses his nose against your temple. “Yeah, baby. So proud. Always,” he breathes against your skin. 

He gently sways you back and forward in his arms as the tears continue to pour. He can see that this has been building all day, and he doesn’t attempt to quiet you, instead letting you sit with your emotions where he can comfort you. You don’t even need to explain the full events of the day, the few small sentences you gave him were enough. He understood. Before Joel, you always felt like you lacked a safe place to express your feelings, but now, you can let go, and he’s always there to take care of you.  

“You’re okay. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

After a few minutes of him whispering calming reassurances and hugging you tight against his chest, the tears begin to slow as you take in a shuddering breath. Joel lets out a soft hum and squeezes you in his arms. “You’re okay, sweet girl.”

With one last sniffle, you wipe your eyes clear and turn in his hold, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His palms move down and rest against the small of your back, and he pushes you up so you’re sitting on top of his lap. The position is awkward in the cramped bath, but neither of you care, wanting to feel the soft slide of your skin against each other. 

You hug him tight, pressing your cheek against his chest, letting the constant beat of his heart calm you down. Taking in a deep breath, you kiss across his collarbone and up his neck until you’re face to face. 

Joel leans forward and nudges his nose against yours before moulding your lips together. It’s slow and unhurried, as his mouth moves softly against yours. He pulls away and caresses the skin of your lower back with his fingertips, touching you like glass, delicate and precious in his palms. You push forward and slot your lips against his; he’s gentle, hands dancing delicately across your skin, but when you whine and press closer to him, he understands. 

His hands slide up your back, around your shoulders, and move to cup your face before he presses a thumb into the hinge of your jaw. He licks into your mouth and you let out a sigh as your hands fist in his hair. When he kisses you, he devours you, consumes your every thought, and all you’re left with is JoelJoelJoel—

He catches your bottom lip with his teeth and tugs, and you keen for him, whining high in your throat. “Joel,” you whisper, moving back to take a breath.

He doesn’t give you time to recover, pulling you back to him with a hand at the back of your neck, and his lips claim yours again. Joel’s other hand now rests delicately against the top of your thigh, thumb moving in slow circles, edging closer and closer to your core. The touch is so gentle, barely there, and everytime you feel his hand brush against your skin as he moves it slightly closer, you feel your stomach twist with need. 

He moves to bury his face in the crook of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your throat as his hot breath fans against your skin. His teeth graze the hollow above your collarbone, beard scratching against you, and he sucks a mark into the skin. Joel’s other hand moves to clasp your side, fingers splayed across your ribcage as his thumb brushes against your nipple. You can feel the simmering heat below the surface of your skin, fire licking at your pores.

“Joel, please,” you sigh against his temple.

He looks up at you then, and he revels in the way you watch him through half-lidded eyes, chest heaving. “Can I make you feel good, baby? Let me take care of you.”

“Yeah—yeah, fuck, please,” you whimper. 

Joel dips his head lower and skims his lips down your sternum. The water sits just below your breasts, and it swirls between the two of you with every gentle movement. You can feel the tip of his tongue against your skin as he moves along your chest; his hand stays in place on your thigh and you push yourself closer to him, willing him to do something, anything. The beginnings of a ‘please, Joel’ are forming in your mouth when his teeth graze your nipple. He flicks his tongue back and forth before he catches it between his teeth and pulls. You cry out, arching your back to bare more of your chest to him. 

“Yeah? Does my baby like that?” he murmurs against your skin. 

You nod frantically, whining as he moves to the other side and takes the sensitive bud into his mouth. Swirling his tongue, he sucks hard and begins to push you towards the point of overstimulation. He pulls away, and your head falls back as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses across your breast. Too distracted by the feeling of his lips, Joel uses the opportunity to move his other hand lower, pressing his thumb against your clit.

You let out another whine as his thumb starts to move in agonisingly slow circles, “Fuck, Joel, please, I need—I need more.”

He huffs out a small laugh, kissing his way back up your chest. “I know, darlin’. Be patient.”

You gasp when you feel him nip at the skin of your throat – he had a tendency to tease you, leaving you a sensitive, whimpering mess, but you were extra responsive today. He knew that, and he played on it every month when the time came. Every touch feels like fire against your skin, and you are desperate for him to soothe the burn.

Joel’s fingers speed up as he leans up to lick across the seam of your lips. His other hand guides you the rest of the way towards him, palm spread across your neck. He slants his lips across yours and kisses you hard, tongue gliding against yours. You lose yourself in him, in the way he crowds your space and occupies your mind — drunk on the feeling of his skin against yours, your body reacts on instinct, chasing his touch.

He pinches your clit and you let out a broken cry, crumbling into his chest before his fingers continue rubbing rough circles. “Barely even touched you and you’re already desperate, aren’t you, baby?”

“Shit, yeah— oh, God—”

Your stomach burns, pleasure coursing through your core as he pushes just right against your clit. Dipping his head lower, he sucks a nipple into his mouth again, lavishing his tongue across the sensitive skin. The press of his mouth, his fingertips burning into your skin, the scrape of his stubble — your brain feels fuzzy, all consumed with Joel. He twists his wrist, bringing you closer as the heat builds up, up, up.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmurs against your nipple before flicking his tongue across it. 

“Oh my God, please. Joel, I’m—” you cry out as he bites into the soft flesh of your breast, soothing his tongue over the skin as his fingers work over your clit. 

“C’mon, pretty girl, cum for me—fucking give it to me,” Joel husks.

The burning heat ruptures in the base of your spine and you cry out into his neck as waves of pleasure throb throughout your body. You shudder as your cunt pulses, the warm tingling sensation dancing across your skin. His fingers work you through it and he brings his other hand up to splay across your shoulder blades, bringing you into his chest as he peppers kisses across your head. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty when you cum, baby. That’s my girl, did so well for me,” Joel murmurs into your hair, fingertips trailing up your spine.

You press a kiss against his throat and hum, going lax against him. You’re soft and pliant and Joel slowly manoeuvres you off his lap so he can reach forward and pull the stopper out of the drain before he stands and gets out. He makes quick work of drying himself before he reaches down and places his hands under your arms, gently helping you step out of the bath on shaky legs. He wraps a towel around you and presses his chest against your back, mouth moving slowly against your shoulder, up your neck, and along your jaw. You sigh out as your head lolls against him, his thick arms wrapped around your smaller frame. 

“My pretty girl,” he whispers as he nips the shell of your ear. 

He breathes in slowly as he presses a kiss behind your ear, his hot breath sending a thrill up your spine. Slowly moving the towel across your body, he makes sure you’re dry before he moves in front of you and drops to his knees. Joel looks up at you through his eyelashes and your heart clenches as he grips your hips in his warm palms before resting his forehead against your stomach. You reach out and tangle your fingers in his curls while he places delicate kisses to your stomach. He exhales against your skin as he moves his mouth languidly up your sternum, kissing you reverently, causing a trail of goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

Slowly, he makes his way back up to your face before he stands to his full height. Joel reaches his hands up and cradles your jaw before he presses an achingly tender kiss to your lips, and another to your forehead. His hand trails down your arm and he threads his fingers with yours before pulling you into the bedroom, grabbing another fresh towel from the rack by the door. He lays it flat on the bed and fluffs up the pillows before sitting down and leaning back against the headboard.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, beckoning you over with a small wave of his hand. 

You drop the towel from your shoulders and climb onto the bed, making your way up between his legs. With a gentle palm on your waist, he guides you so your back is pressed flush to his chest, your head tucked into his neck. Joel brushes his knuckles against your shoulders, running his hands along your arms before they settle low on your hips. Ghosting his fingertips along your mound, he leans forward and licks a stripe along the side of your neck before he seals his lips over the juncture between your throat and your jaw, causing you to let out a whine.

Joel brings one hand up to your mouth and holds it out. “Spit.” 

You feel heat settle across your cheeks and you have to take in a shuddering breath before you let a glob of drool pool on his fingers. You flush when he moves back down and runs his hand along the seam of your pussy. He slowly circles your clit before he dips lower and presses a thick finger into your cunt. Joel gently begins to move and you whine, grinding your hips to meet the thrust of his hand. He noses into your hairline, laying hot kisses to your temple as he works you open. You’re hot and pulsing around him, and he has to bite back a groan at the feeling as he moves in you.

“More, please,” you sigh.

He adds another finger and his pace quickens before he curls reaching the spot that always leaves you gasping and writhing in his hold. You push your head into his neck and let out a broken cry as he does it again, your cunt squeezing tight around him. 

“That’s it, taking it so well for me.”

Lost in the feeling of him pushing into you, you don’t notice his other hand leaning over to the bedside table. He moves his arm back and you feel his hand brush against your skin; you hear a faint click, and before you have a second to register what Joel’s doing, he presses a vibrator firm to your clit. You feel as though the air has been punched from your lungs and you pitch forward, choking on an inhale before slumping back against him.

“Fuck—oh my God, shit,” you moan out as he works it back and forward. 

He presses into you harder, faster, and you feel your stomach twisting up as he moves the vibrator in quick circles against you. He’s hitting something devastating inside you, those thick, clever fingers stretching you beautifully. You feel your legs twitch every time they brush that spongy spot as heavy, pulsing need thrums in your veins.

“You want another, hm? Or do you want my cock, honey? Want me to fill you up?” Joel whispers into the skin on your shoulder, now sticky with sweat. 

“Just need you like this tonight—God, just like this, just your fingers, please. Fuck, it’s so good—”

“I’ll give you what you need, baby. My perfect girl.”

Joel hums and twists the top of the vibrator and it speeds up, causing you to sob into his neck as you clutch the towel beneath you. He stops moving it and just holds, and you whine, high in your throat, wiggling your hips in a desperate attempt to get him to move. 

He kisses along your shoulder delicately, a stark contrast to the way he’s fucking you hard with his fingers. He nips, softly at first, before he bites down into the meat of your shoulder and you moan in wanton, pushing further into his broad chest. In the back of your foggy, hazy mind, you think there’ll be teeth marks there tomorrow.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you? You like when I mark you up for everyone to see? Dirty girl,” he mouths against the skin before soothing it with his tongue. 

Joel turns the vibrator up again with his thumb, adjusting the speed to the highest setting as his other fingers curl up into you again, pressing so hard you can feel it at the base of your stomach. You begin to shake, your mouth opening in a silent cry as your cunt clenches tight—pulsing, radiating waves of pleasure flow across your skin as you cum. There was no warning this time, no teetering on the edge, just white, hot, searing bliss coursing through your body. 

Joel’s fingers speed up while you cum, and you nearly wail at the overstimulation, his thick fingers filling you tight. “Yeah, good girl—good fucking girl, you cum so hard, squeeze me so tight. Oh, that’s it, you perfect fucking thing.” 

You slump further into him, boneless, exhausted, and he turns the vibrator off before good overstimulation turns painful. He withdraws his fingers slowly and you feel the last waves throb through your cunt as you come back down. Joel wipes his hand on the towel before he leans forward and captures your lips with his own in a warm, delicate kiss. He smooths his hand across your head, brushing your hair away from your face, before pinning you with a soft smile. 

He rubs a hand down your back and slowly guides you forward, extricating himself from behind you and pulling you up with him. Grabbing the towel off the bed, he leads you into the bathroom and, like before, guides you to sit on the edge of the bath. Throwing the towel in the hamper, he grabs a washcloth, runs in under warm water in the sink, and scrubs his hands clean. Joel kneels in front of you and takes your hand, pressing a tender kiss to the backs of your knuckles. He wipes the cloth between your folds and along the insides of your thighs, cleaning you thoroughly. 

“How are you feeling, honey?”

You smile sleepily — happy, satiated. “Mmm, good. No more cramps.”

He chuckles, and moves his free hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, before he cups your cheek with his palm, “Good. That was the idea. Always wanna make sure you feel good.”

You lean forward and kiss him for what feels like the millionth time, but you don’t care. This is what makes you feel good. His hands on your body, his warm smile, his deep brown eyes staring at you like you hung the stars, his lips pressing against yours. Joel throws the washcloth in the hamper and helps you stand.

“All clean. Probably should’ve had the bath after and not before, now that I think about it,” he huffs out with another affectionate laugh, “Are you alright to get dressed and hop into bed? I just need to run to the kitchen,” he asks with a hand resting on your waist. 

You nod and he leaves you to it, walking out of the ensuite and further into the house. Joel turns the television off, which had been since long forgotten, and picks up your heating pad where you’d left it. Moving into the kitchen, he places it in the microwave and turns it on, filling up a glass of water for you while it heats up again. 

When he returns back to the bedroom, you’re cuddled up beneath the blankets, with just your eyes visible over the comforter. He feels a swell of affection as he looks at you, and hurries over to join you in bed. He switches the lamp off as he leans over to place the glass on your nightstand, before putting the heating pad under the blankets, next to your stomach.

“Heated it up again, just in case.”

“Thank you, my love,” you whisper. You touch your hand to his cheek and he turns, pressing a kiss into your palm.

He settles in and guides you to roll over, wrapping his body around yours. Joel presses a lingering kiss to the nape of your neck, gently nosing along your hairline, before he gives you a gentle squeeze with the arm holding you close.

“Good night, baby. I love you so much,” he whispers into your skin.

“I love you more.”

Somewhere I can be loved

Where I don't have to run away from my flaws

And I don't have to be afraid of my thoughts

With this high, this high that I've been chasing

you had severely fucked up. yes, joel called you childish, but he hadn’t meant it the way you took it as. it was ironic how you’d reassure joel about y’all’s age gap but allowed it to control your behavior earlier.

your boot kicked into the dirt beneath it while a grunt of frustration came from your throat. “God dammit!” one hand rested on your hip while the other held your forehead. at the moment, you couldn’t understand the underlying cause of your intense feelings. all you knew was that something was off about jenny, even if no one else saw it. there was just this… feeling you got from her.

to spare yourself further embarrassment from those passing by or shamelessly watching, you turned and walked towards the stables. you still had patrol with him despite y’all’s argument, so you had no choice but to grab june from her stall. what you hadn’t expected was to see jenny brushing your horse’s coat.

“Oh—! Hey, (Y/N)! Joel told me to get a horse, so I was about to take this one. I saw Joel riding this one and how tame it was.” jenny spoke with a soft smile upon her face as she continued to groom june. “You can’t take this one.” you grabbed ahold on june’s lead and gently pulled her in your direction. “Is she hurt? I didn’t see her get any injuries during our patrol yesterday, so she should be fine to ride, right?” you stayed silent, which didn’t go unnoticed to jenny. she didn’t take too kindly to that and sighed before breaking the silence. “Look, Joel asked me to go on patrol with him today, so I really—” “He what?!” your head snapped towards the gorgeous woman as your brows furrowed.

“Jesus fucking Christ— first, you want my boyfriend, now you want my fucking horse? I said no. You cannot take my damn horse, now get your hands off of her.” you seethed with pure anger at the girl. You hadn’t realized how long the two of you had been there when you heard your name being roughly called behind you. joel must’ve came to see what was taking jenny so long with grabbing a horse that he had seen your outburst. “Jenny, I’ll bring you a horse and meet you at the gate.” joel’s eyes stayed glued to your face, his arms crossed over his chest. “Joel, honestly it’s fine—” joel cut jenny off before she could finish, “No, it’s not fine. Go.” jenny so slightly jolted at his tone before walking out while giving joel an apologetic look.

after a few long seconds passed and joel was sure she was out of earshot, his nostrils flared. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but you will not treat her that way.” you weren’t sure why joel was so adamant on defending her, and your confusion showed in your demeanor. your body recoiled away from the tone he was speaking to you with. “Are you serious right now?” you scoffed and narrowed your eyes at the man in front of you.

“She just got here and you’re treating her like shit. As far as I know, that girl hasn’t done a thing to you for you to be acting like this.” he had a point. although she hadn’t directly done anything towards you, you still didn’t feel comfortable with how close she had gotten to him. “Why are you fighting so hard for her? God, if you defend her any harder, I’d think you fucking liked her.” joel wasn’t too fond of how jealous you were acting when in reality, it was fear.

“Are you hearing how you sound right now? I don’t know why you’re being so insecure, but it’s making you disgustingly possessive and it’s extremely unattractive.” your face contorted into something else, something softer. that familiar burn began to sting behind the bridge of your nose as you looked at joel. “You don’t mean that..” the last thing you wanted was to be clingy and possessive. sure, you knew you were territorial, but you didn’t expect it to get this out-of-hand.

“You know I’ve never given you shit about your age, but I didn’t expect you to be this immature about me having another female friend.” your bottom lip began to tighten and quiver from his verbal assault. he’s never spoken to you quite like this, especially ripping into one of your biggest insecurities in y’all’s relationship.

after a few minutes of silence, a few fat, hot tears trailed down your cheeks. “You know what?” you wiped your nose with your sleeve (actually joel’s, it was a flannel he gave you) and sniffled, “You’re absolutely right. I’m very sorry that I treated your friend like that.” you nodded with slight disbelief and disappointment before raising your brows and planting a fake smile upon your lips. “In fact, she can take my horse since it matters that much to you. What’s mine is hers, you’ve made that abundantly clear.” before joel could hurdle another hurtful comment your way, you roughly brushed past him and fled from the uncomfortable space.

when the outbreak happened, you were essentially alone from the start. as an eight year old girl, you were extremely scared to have been pushed onto a crowded bus with your parents. y’all were in a very unorganized community, but it was shelter none the less. when FEDRA raided it, you were fourteen. your father was quick to defend you and your mother from their harsh grips upon y’all’s skin. despite his effort, a FEDRA soldier wasted no time with putting a bullet in his head.

your mother died when you were nineteen. if you had to explain her cause of death, you’d say it was from a broken heart. maybe it was from the never-ending hopelessness that FEDRA constantly served their ‘citizens’, or maybe it was the exhaustion of having to keep going, to keep trying. all you knew was that you couldn’t stay at the shitty QZ anymore, you had to leave if you wanted to survive.

the night after your mother passed, you packed all of your essentials as well as weapons that you had traded for some rations and alcohol your mother had fermented (she would use whatever extra bread and fruit you guys had to make it). with your rifle slung over your back and a pistol shoved in an old leather holster upon your belt, you snuck out of the QZ and become a lone wolf.

after years of trial and error and dropping bodies, you finally came across joel at the ripe age of 24. you had your fair share of shitty groups that tried to backstab you (a few had succeeded), so you were not fond of the idea of him. with the barrel of your pistol pointed towards his figure, you saw his hands raise in the air in defense (knowing joel now, you know he wouldn’t have done that if he had been alone). behind him appeared a frightened girl that stood frozen with fear.

you remembered the first time he confessed any sort of affectionate feelings towards you. it was almost a year after initially meeting. you had been rushed by a clicker, and lo and behold, your pistol was jammed. joel was quick enough to lay a fat shotgun shell into its head before roughly yanking your body up. his arms had wrapped around your body as he reassured you with loving words.

Somewhere I can be loved

Where I don't have to run away from my flaws

And I don't have to be afraid of my thoughts

With this high, this high that I've been chasing

you had severely fucked up. yes, joel called you childish, but he hadn’t meant it the way you took it as. it was ironic how you’d reassure joel about y’all’s age gap but allowed it to control your behavior earlier.

your boot kicked into the dirt beneath it while a grunt of frustration came from your throat. “God dammit!” one hand rested on your hip while the other held your forehead. at the moment, you couldn’t understand the underlying cause of your intense feelings. all you knew was that something was off about jenny, even if no one else saw it. there was just this… feeling you got from her.

to spare yourself further embarrassment from those passing by or shamelessly watching, you turned and walked towards the stables. you still had patrol with him despite y’all’s argument, so you had no choice but to grab june from her stall. what you hadn’t expected was to see jenny brushing your horse’s coat.

“Oh—! Hey, (Y/N)! Joel told me to get a horse, so I was about to take this one. I saw Joel riding this one and how tame it was.” jenny spoke with a soft smile upon her face as she continued to groom june. “You can’t take this one.” you grabbed ahold on june’s lead and gently pulled her in your direction. “Is she hurt? I didn’t see her get any injuries during our patrol yesterday, so she should be fine to ride, right?” you stayed silent, which didn’t go unnoticed to jenny. she didn’t take too kindly to that and sighed before breaking the silence. “Look, Joel asked me to go on patrol with him today, so I really—” “He what?!” your head snapped towards the gorgeous woman as your brows furrowed.

“Jesus fucking Christ— first, you want my boyfriend, now you want my fucking horse? I said no. You cannot take my damn horse, now get your hands off of her.” you seethed with pure anger at the girl. You hadn’t realized how long the two of you had been there when you heard your name being roughly called behind you. joel must’ve came to see what was taking jenny so long with grabbing a horse that he had seen your outburst. “Jenny, I’ll bring you a horse and meet you at the gate.” joel’s eyes stayed glued to your face, his arms crossed over his chest. “Joel, honestly it’s fine—” joel cut jenny off before she could finish, “No, it’s not fine. Go.” jenny so slightly jolted at his tone before walking out while giving joel an apologetic look.

after a few long seconds passed and joel was sure she was out of earshot, his nostrils flared. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but you will not treat her that way.” you weren’t sure why joel was so adamant on defending her, and your confusion showed in your demeanor. your body recoiled away from the tone he was speaking to you with. “Are you serious right now?” you scoffed and narrowed your eyes at the man in front of you.

“She just got here and you’re treating her like shit. As far as I know, that girl hasn’t done a thing to you for you to be acting like this.” he had a point. although she hadn’t directly done anything towards you, you still didn’t feel comfortable with how close she had gotten to him. “Why are you fighting so hard for her? God, if you defend her any harder, I’d think you fucking liked her.” joel wasn’t too fond of how jealous you were acting when in reality, it was fear.

“Are you hearing how you sound right now? I don’t know why you’re being so insecure, but it’s making you disgustingly possessive and it’s extremely unattractive.” your face contorted into something else, something softer. that familiar burn began to sting behind the bridge of your nose as you looked at joel. “You don’t mean that..” the last thing you wanted was to be clingy and possessive. sure, you knew you were territorial, but you didn’t expect it to get this out-of-hand.

“You know I’ve never given you shit about your age, but I didn’t expect you to be this immature about me having another female friend.” your bottom lip began to tighten and quiver from his verbal assault. he’s never spoken to you quite like this, especially ripping into one of your biggest insecurities in y’all’s relationship.

after a few minutes of silence, a few fat, hot tears trailed down your cheeks. “You know what?” you wiped your nose with your sleeve (actually joel’s, it was a flannel he gave you) and sniffled, “You’re absolutely right. I’m very sorry that I treated your friend like that.” you nodded with slight disbelief and disappointment before raising your brows and planting a fake smile upon your lips. “In fact, she can take my horse since it matters that much to you. What’s mine is hers, you’ve made that abundantly clear.” before joel could hurdle another hurtful comment your way, you roughly brushed past him and fled from the uncomfortable space.

when the outbreak happened, you were essentially alone from the start. as an eight year old girl, you were extremely scared to have been pushed onto a crowded bus with your parents. y’all were in a very unorganized community, but it was shelter none the less. when FEDRA raided it, you were fourteen. your father was quick to defend you and your mother from their harsh grips upon y’all’s skin. despite his effort, a FEDRA soldier wasted no time with putting a bullet in his head.

your mother died when you were nineteen. if you had to explain her cause of death, you’d say it was from a broken heart. maybe it was from the never-ending hopelessness that FEDRA constantly served their ‘citizens’, or maybe it was the exhaustion of having to keep going, to keep trying. all you knew was that you couldn’t stay at the shitty QZ anymore, you had to leave if you wanted to survive.

the night after your mother passed, you packed all of your essentials as well as weapons that you had traded for some rations and alcohol your mother had fermented (she would use whatever extra bread and fruit you guys had to make it). with your rifle slung over your back and a pistol shoved in an old leather holster upon your belt, you snuck out of the QZ and become a lone wolf.

after years of trial and error and dropping bodies, you finally came across joel at the ripe age of 24. you had your fair share of shitty groups that tried to backstab you (a few had succeeded), so you were not fond of the idea of him. with the barrel of your pistol pointed towards his figure, you saw his hands raise in the air in defense (knowing joel now, you know he wouldn’t have done that if he had been alone). behind him appeared a frightened girl that stood frozen with fear.

you remembered the first time he confessed any sort of affectionate feelings towards you. it was almost a year after initially meeting. you had been rushed by a clicker, and lo and behold, your pistol was jammed. joel was quick enough to lay a fat shotgun shell into its head before roughly yanking your body up. his arms had wrapped around your body as he reassured you with loving words.

And something's got a hold on me

They don't see the world I see

Heartbeat in my chest feels weak

It's really startin' to weigh on me, yeah

it wasn’t unusual to see heads turn at the presence of joel, especially women (although their reasons were different). this didn’t bother you much, though. joel made it very clear that he was yours from the way he often worshipped your body like a follower devoting themself to their deity. sometimes, you’d get a wild hair up your ass and get jealous, but joel would shut that thought down as soon as he noticed it.

things were fine. you, joel, and ellie had a place to call home in a quaint little house within jackson’s walls. y’all were able to eat 3 meals a day and roam the streets without fearfully watching your back for any raiders or infected. ellie was able to quickly make friends upon initially arriving to jackson, and joel reunited with his younger brother that he had been desperately searching for since the outbreak began. you and joel were able to be as normal as a couple could be these days.

things were fine.

that was until the addition of a new face to jackson. of course, due to your and joel’s weary nature, the two of you typically kept y’all’s guard up in regards to people y’all weren’t close to (like maria, tommy, and ellie). the three of y’all formally met the woman at the tipsy bison. initially, you had no idea it was a woman, but both maria and tommy thought you would benefit from gaining a new friend in jackson.

“Joel— hey! Over here!” tommy loudly called out to two of you, not addressing you due to knowing you guys were a package deal and essentially one being. joel glanced over at you before briefly tilting his head towards tommy’s direction. “C’mon, darlin’.” joel was always gruff, but the small upwards quirk of his lips told anyone outside of the conversation that he was content.

ellie ran off to a group of people her age, making sure to stay in y’all’s line of sight. tommy and maria sat in their usual spot that y’all frequented from time to time. the only thing that was unfamiliar was the new face. they must be new. “I have someone I want you guys to meet. Joel, Y/N, this is Jennifer. She’s new to Jackson, so make sure to make her feel at home.” tommy spoke, a hand set upon jennifer’s shoulder as he announced her presence. “You can just call me Jenny. It’s a pleasure to meet you two.” jenny spoke, a sweet smile taking place upon her lips.

she was beautiful. jenny had brown wavy hair that stopped right at her elbows, freckles that littered her tanned skin, and hazel eyes that looked like they held the earth itself.

you didn’t know why, but you began to feel an itch of jealousy. shoving down those feelings, the two of you politely shook her hand. there was a slight issue though: she was sat on your and joel’s usual side of the booth. it began to obviously hang in the air when you glanced back and forth from the space and joel. jenny followed your gaze before her eyebrows rose in embarrassment. “Oh goodness— I’m sorry! Let me get up—“ jenny exclaimed and began to get up. you felt at ease to see jenny’s acknowledgement of you and joel’s partnership before hearing joel’s voice cut through the awkward tension. “Don’t worry about it, I can stand or pull up a chair.” your brows slightly furrowed at his words. you knew he was being polite like a true gentleman, but it slightly struck something in you.

throughout the night, y’all found out that jenny had been from san antonio, not too far from joel’s place in austin. the topic of texas was familiar for joel and tommy, and they soon engaged in conversation with their experiences. you were from houston, so it was familiar to you as well.

they began to speak about san marcos and the rivers that ran through the terrain. you had been a few times, but you didn’t frequent it as much as the three of them had. “You know, Galveston is pretty nice. The water looked like shit, but the strand was super fun to walk along.” you joked with a small laugh, but it didn’t seem to stick for too long. “I haven’t been! I usually spent my summer floating down the river with an ice cold beer. I don’t think you can do that at the beach, sharks and what not.” jenny acknowledged what you said with a smile and a friendly shrug of her shoulders until joel and tommy continued on with talking about their activities. “No way! Joel and I loved floating the river! We’d get one nasty sun burn the next day, but it was totally worth it.” well, there went your attempt at inserting yourself in the conversation.

it started to get late, so y’all said your goodbyes. ellie had already headed back to the house, so it was just you and joel. as the two of you walked back to y’all’s house, he spoke up. “She seemed nice. I think you two would get along.” joel playfully bumped his shoulder into your own with a quirk of his lips. “Yeah, maybe.” you spoke and gave him a half-assed smile before averting your eyes towards the ground.

monday rolled around, which meant it was time for the apocalypse version of a nine to five. sometimes, you’d go on patrol with joel and check the perimeter. other days, you’d work on the garden and harvest some crops for the community. today, you were supposed to be partnered with joel. after you saddled and straddled your favorite horse, june, you approached the gates for your shift. tommy and joel had been stood in their usual spots, but this time, jenny had been accompanying them. “Mornin’, (Y/N)! Me and Joel were talking and thought that maybe he could take Jenny on a patrol today to show her the ropes.” Your brows furrowed in not only confusion but frustration. “I— I’m sorry? And you decided to tell me just now?” you hadn’t meant to sound so snarky, but there was a system of how things were done.

you hopped off of june and put a hand on your hip. joel furrowed his own brows at your impolite behavior, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know what, that’s fine. I’m sorry, I just don’t like sudden changes, y’know?” you lifted your hands apologetically before grabbing june’s lead. you were stopped by tommy’s voice stating that she would need a horse. oh hell no. “Joel, give her your horse. You can take June.” this was not something you were willing to negotiate. no one else but your circle would touch your horse, and that was a promise.

before you could get even more annoyed with the situation, you walked away towards the green house.

during your time in the greenhouse, sour thoughts of this morning flooded your conscious. you grumbled to yourself with annoyance as you roughly pulled out some ripe vegetables from the soil. you would have to exchange some words with joel later on about the situation. it’s not that you had a problem with someone else taking your shift, you just didn’t understand why they separated you and joel for another woman. you were very territorial, so it definitely struck a nerve.

you had lost track of time, only noticing how much had passed from the orange hues painting the sky. around this time, the two of you would be getting back from patrol. dusting yourself off with your hands, you stood to your feet and put your tools up before leaving the greenhouse.

because joel had to update tommy on the patrol, you decided to go back home and get started on dinner. ellie had been in her room reading a comic book you had found on patrol a while back and given to her. you took out vegetables from the fridge as well as rabbit meat from the freezer. tonight, y’all would have stew.

as you were finishing up, ellie had came downstairs a bit ago and was talking your ear off. as soon as joel walked in, you nodded your heads towards the staircase at ellie in a silent order to go to her room for a moment.

“How was patrol?” you bit the inside of your cheek after you spoke and continued to sir the spoon inside the pot. “It was good. I showed Jenny the ropes and taught her how to do a proper patrol.” setting down the spoon on the counter, you turned towards joel with your arms crossed over your chest. “Joel, I mean this as nice as possible, but don’t let that happen again please. I understand she needed to be taught, but Tommy or somebody else could’ve done that. You know we always patrol together when it’s my day to. I really didn’t appreciate the last minute change.” He rose his eyebrows in slight surprise before nodding. “You’re right. It wasn’t right to tell you last second, but I had only found out right before you did.” Joel took heavy steps towards you before pressing his lips upon your forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.” you couldn’t stay mad at him, especially when he showed affection towards you. “It’s alright. I love you.” You spoke and pecked his lips as he responded with ‘I love you too, darlin’’ against your own.

once the air wasn’t so tense, joel called ellie down for dinner. you fixed their portions before setting it down on the table in front of them. that night, y’all ate together like a family.

the rest of the week went smoothly. until it didn’t. you took a look at the new schedule for the next month only to see that jenny had patrols with joel. “What the fuck?” you seethed to yourself before slamming the clipboard back onto the desk and storming out. you weren’t sure what pissed you off more, the fact that she had patrols with him or that they were on days that you and joel didn’t have patrols together. sure, joel was scheduled with tommy as well, but she didn’t like that jenny was getting even a sliver of time alone with him.

before you could even think of what you were doing, you were in front of tommy and chewing his ass out. “Tell me you had an aneurysm or something because your brain must be scrambled to put her together with Joel. Especially on my days in the greenhouse? It’s like you guys just want to piss me off.” joel had been walking up and caught a glimpse of your angry demeanor. “Woah— what’s going on here?” joel questioned before you waved your hand towards tommy. “This jackass put you and Jenny together on patrols damn near every day I’m not.” tommy knew you weren’t degrading him, as you two often joked with each other. although this was out of pure frustration, he didn’t take offense. tommy looked over at joel with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, his mouth opening to speak until joel beat him to it.

“I told him to.” it was your turn to reflect tommy’s expression, your brows raised in confusion. “Excuse me? Why would you do that?” joel put his hands on his hips and popped his slutty lil knee out before speaking again. “Because she doesn’t really know anybody else. Besides, she needs to be trained more.” you were taken aback at the way he was essentially treating her like a clueless child. “Joel, she’s not a fucking kid. She could easily go with anyone else.” tommy awkwardly and slowly backed away from the two of you before turning around and leaving like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs. joel’s own eyebrows furrowed at your words because why were you acting like this? “(Y/N), you’re being extremely rude right now. That girl does not have any friends here, and with all due respect, those idiots couldn’t train her any better than me.” you scoffed at his words and rolled your eyes. “Okay, but on my days off of patrol? Like, why are you splitting your time between me and her?”

The two of you stood on opposite sides of the bed in your – his – room, chest heaving as you stare at Joel. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, the two of you were fine when you returned from patrol a few hours earlier. Joel had gone to help Tommy with something and you had taken Ellie to see whatever movie was playing tonight.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so cold with me,” you spoke, shaking your head. 

And you truly didn’t. You and Ellie had stopped at the Tipsy Bison to pick up dinner for the three of you after Joel was helping Tommy. Ellie had run off while you waited for the food, seeing Dina stationed at one of the tables. You passed the time at the bar, occasionally making forced small talk with the other patrons. Even though you had been in Jackson for a few months, you still didn’t feel quite at ease with most of the people here.

After you got the food, you ventured off home with Ellie to wait until Joel was done. But he never showed, not until after you and Ellie had eaten and the younger girl had gone off to bed. Joel had stormed in, kicked off his boots, and immediately went upstairs, not sparing you a single glance. Obviously, you had followed him, but you have no idea how you ended up here.

“I’m done with this,” Joel says, eyes everywhere except on you. “I’m done with you.”

“What?” You take a step back as if his words had physically pushed you.

“I needed you for her. That’s it,” Joel snapped at you. “Now that it’s over, I don’t see a reason to pretend anymore. Understand?”

You felt as if the air had been sucked out of you, as if Joel had kicked you right in the stomach. You thought you finally had a grasp on Joel, that you could finally read how he was feeling. But as you stared at him from across the room, he felt more like a stranger than the man you fell in love with.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to plead with him to not do this. To not leave you like everyone else did. But you didn’t – you couldn’t. Before you could even process what was happening, you were nodding.

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding your head. You felt the tears burning behind your eyes, begging to be released, but you refused to crack in front of him. Refused to let him see how much his words had made your heart ache. “If that’s how you feel, then okay.”

So, you left. Out of his bedroom and down the hall, passing Ellie’s door where you knew she was inevitably listening to the fight. Down the stairs and out the front door, letting it swing closed behind you. Your feet carried you down the dark street until you couldn’t go any further. The tears burned behind your eyes, a sob escaping you as you stumbled into the stables, barely making it to one of the hay bales before collapsing in on yourself.

You didn’t understand what happened, what had changed since you got back from Salt Lake City. Since the three of you tried to integrate into the community. Since Ellie started at school. Since you and Joel started to patrol and help wherever you could in Jackson. 

Did you do something that upset Joel? That made him rethink whatever it was between the two of you? The two of you weren’t officially together but your relationship wasn’t nothing. At least, you didn’t think you were nothing.

Clearly, you were wrong. What you thought was a relationship was actually just a means to get by, a way to pass time for Joel. You get it, you really try to. The road was long, it was tough, and it was lonely. The three of you had seen, and done, unthinkable things to get Ellie to the Fireflies. Obviously, that didn’t go as planned, landing the three of you back in Jackson. Where it felt impossible to return to some semblance of normalcy. So, how could you blame him for using you as an escape?

You just wish he would’ve told you from the beginning what it actually was.

It was morning by the time you dragged yourself out of the stables. Thanking whatever higher power there was that you didn’t have morning patrol, you made your way to Tommy and Maria’s. If Joel didn’t want to pretend, then neither could you. You couldn’t pretend to be okay with being around him after what had happened, so you decided to avoid him at all costs. But, you couldn’t abandon Ellie, not after everything the young girl had been through. Even if she was more distant after Salt Lake, you couldn’t bring yourself to up and leave her. You wouldn’t.

With a deep breath, your knuckles rapped against Tommy and Maria’s front door. You knew it was early, the sun barely just peeking over the horizon but you couldn’t wait. You and Joel were assigned second patrol, and you’d rather not be subjected to that after last night.

“You look like shit,” Tommy said after answering the door. You knew you did, sleeping on a rectangular stack of hay could only offer so much.

“Good morning to you too,” you force a smile at him. You liked Tommy, you had become close with him and his wife after settling in Jackson but you didn’t want to see the younger Miller brother right now. You knew it wasn’t his fault, but you couldn’t help the deepening pit in your stomach at the sight of him. “Is Maria up yet?”

“She’s out back, hanging laundry on the line,” he answers, eyes scanning over your puffy eyes and pale face. “You okay, bug?”

“M’fine Tommy, thank you” you grimace at the nickname. Joel had gifted you the name when the two of you met and upon arriving in Jackson, Tommy took up to calling you that as well. You make your way to the back of the house where you found Maria, true to Tommy’s word. Sighing, you grab one of the shirts in the basket, joining her at the laundry line.

“Good morning,” Maria muses, a playful smile on her face as she turns to you, wiping her hands on her jeans before resting them on her hips. “What can I do for you?”

“What makes you think I need something?” You can’t help but respond. Maria was the closest thing to a friend you had in Jackson, it was hard not to feel as though you could be yourself around her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up and out this early in the morning,” she says, glancing back at the house to see Tommy in the window, watching the women through the glass. He shrugs, answering her silent query. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh heavily, pinching your nose between your fingers after hanging the shirt on the line. “I need you to switch my patrol partner.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Maria asks, voice gentle as if you were a frightened deer.

“No paradise to have troubles in,” you mutter, shaking your head. “I don’t want to talk about it. It didn’t work out, I just need you to switch my partner.”

Maria stared at you, narrowing her eyes as she, like Tommy, surveyed your condition. You knew she saw right through you. Knew there was more to the story than you were letting on to.

“Okay,” she nodded after a minute, looking at the watch on her wrist. “There’s still fifteen minutes before first patrol, go let Alexander know he’s with Miller now. You can patrol with Marcus now.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, relief filling you to the thought of not being around Joel. The relief soon left at the mention of your new partner, but you couldn’t be picky here. “Thank you Maria, I won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You better get going if you want to make it.”

“Right,” you say, turning on your heels to start the walk back to the stables, knowing the morning patrol people would be there by now.

Maria watches you leave, only making her way inside once you are out of her sight. As she enters the kitchen, Tommy appears before her with raised eyebrows.

“What was that about?” He asks, passing her a cup of warm tea.

Maria sighs, shaking her head. “I’m not sure, but your dumbass brother might.”

“Joel?” Tommy questions, confused as to what might’ve happened between his brother and the woman he is obviously infatuated with.

“Do you have another brother that I don’t know about?” she raises her eyes at her husband, shaking her head. “She wanted to switch patrol partners, wouldn’t tell me why or what happened.”

“Shit,” Tommy sighs, leaning back against the counter before muttering. “What did you do, Joel?”

“I have no idea,” Maria shrugs before setting her mug in the sink. She pats Tommy’s shoulder before making her way towards the stairs, turning to face her husband before she climbs them. “But have fun letting him know!”

“That was fun,” Marcus smiled at you as the two of you rode your horses through the front gates after patrol. Eyes zeroing in on your hips as they rise and fall with each step of your horse.

You force a smile at him, half listening to him as your eyes dart back and forth in search of Joel. You knew he was due to head on second patrol and the last thing you wanted to do was see him. “It sure was.”

“Alex never looked that pretty when taking down Infected,” Marcus continues, not picking up on your disinterest in him. “Glad there was a change up, I was beginning to get bored of watching him.”

You don’t offer him a response as you continue towards the stables, preoccupied with hoping and praying that Joel and his new partner had already left for patrol. For once, whatever higher power out there was on your side as you find the stables vacant.

“Thank God,” you mutter to yourself, sliding off your horse, Luna, to guide her towards her stall which was thankfully far away from Marcus’. Once you got her in her stall, you began to take off her saddle and get her ready for the night. As you did so, your mind wandered to your new patrol partner. 

You weren’t oblivious, you knew what Marcus was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time that he tried to sweet talk you. The man had been adamant to gain your attention since you stepped foot in Jackson after the Firefly incident. Whether it was at the stables, the Tipsy Bison, or at movie night, Marcus tried everything to engage you in a conversation.

Any chance he got, Marcus would try his best to make an impression on you. To ask you out on a date. None of his advances ever made it far, you weren’t interested in the men of Jackson and had made it clear. At least, you thought you did, especially after yesterday’s event at the Tipsy Bison.

While you were waiting for the food, Marcus and his friends were putting the ‘tipsy’ in Tipsy Bison. When drinking, Marcus liked to get a little handsy and his previous rejected advances did not seem to deter him trying again. In good Marcus fashion, he attempted, again, to get you to go out with him. You rejected him, as you had many times before, by sliding his arm off your shoulders before moving to a different part of the bar. Luckily, your food was ready soon after so you didn’t have to endure his stares any longer.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice rang out in the stall, causing you to whip around to find the intruder.

Ellie leaned against the opening, arms crossed over her chest as she watched you catch your breath, clearly you had not heard her enter the stables.

“Jesus, Els, you can’t sneak up on people like that,” you breathe, shaking your head at the young girl. You eye the backpack she throws onto the ground before she flops down onto the stool you had brought in earlier. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school right now?”

“It’s boring,” she answers as if it was an acceptable reason. “You gonna tell Joel I’m skipping?”

You stiffen at the mention of his name, glancing at Ellie before answering. “Nope.”

“You want to talk about what happened last night?” She presses, confirming your previous suspicions of her eavesdropping tendencies.

“Nope.” Exiting the stall, you make yourself appear busy to avoid further questioning from the girl.

Ellie follows, picking at the end of her sleeves, shifting from foot to foot as she watches you flit around the stable. You spare a glance at her, knowing that her mind is running a mile a minute as it gears up before speaking.

“You okay, Bellie?” You ask, halting your work.

“You aren’t gonna leave, right?” Ellie asks after a moment, eyes avoiding your face.

You sigh, setting down the pail of food you gathered before walking up to the girl. You place your hands on her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. “Of course not, I promised you that I would never leave you, remember?”

The girl nods, “I remember.”

“Good,” you smile at her, ruffling up her hair before giving her a gentle push towards the stable doors. “Go back to school before you get us both in trouble.”

After Ellie leaves, you putter around the stables for a few hours before you hear the clopping of horses approaching the stables. Peeking out of the window, you see Joel and his new patrol partner.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You think, immediately running back to Luna’s stall. You frantically grab your things and hightail it out of the back entrance of the stables. Leaning against the back of the barn, you wait until you hear the men enter before making your way back to town. You had no idea how you were going to avoid Joel for the foreseeable future, but there was no way you were ready to face him.

The next few weeks went by similarly. You left the house before the sun rose, before anyone in the house was awake. You would go on patrol, endure several hours of the torture that is Marcus and his antics before returning to the town. You’d wait to watch Joel leave for patrol before going to the house you shared or going into town. Once he was back home, you’d return to the stables where you would spend your evenings, only returning home in the late hours of the night. One day while he was on patrol, you had moved all of your things into the third bedroom that was now your own. It worked, you rarely ran into Joel. When you did, you would turn and go the opposite direction or retreat back to your room. 

It worked until it didn’t.

You were at the Tipsy Bison, leaned against the bar with a drink in your hand as you listened to Maria. She had to practically drag you out here after days of begging for you to socialize. To be a part of the community. You partly did it to get her off your back, but as you listened to the conversation around you, you felt happy that she managed to get you to come out. It had been a long time since you stayed in one place for longer than ten minutes without constantly checking over your shoulder.

Maria had been recounting a story about Tommy from early on in their relationship when you felt it. Felt eyes burning into your back. Stares that felt like ice water spilling down your shirt, sending vicious shivers up your spine. It felt uneasy, putting you on edge. The longer it lingered, the more uncomfortable you grew.

Turning to give the establishment a once over, you noticed two things. One, Joel was in the corner with his brother, hands full with glasses of neat whiskey as they conversed with one another. Eyes on Tommy, not on you. And two, your oh so lovely patrol partner making his way over towards your group.

“Maria,” you start, turning to your friend, attempting to say your goodbyes before booking it out of the bar when a rather large and heavy arm is slung around your shoulders.

Marcus steadies himself on your shoulder, the smell of alcohol seeping from his pores as he surveys your group, eyes lingering on you for too long. “Ladies! Looking fantastic tonight!”

“Why thank you, Marcus,” one of the women, Fiona, in your group respond, smirking at the obviously drunk man. She bats her eyelashes at him and you feel sick. “How can we help you?”

“Just wanted to talk to my patrol partner here,” Marcus turns to peer down at you, offering you a smile as he squeezes you to his side. “Tommy told me we are patrolling a new area tomorrow, so I figured the two of us could talk strategy. Maybe over a drink or two.”

You grimace, trying to shrug his arm off your shoulder but he is gripping onto you impeccably tight. “It’s late, Marcus, and I was just about to leave. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“How about he walks you home?” Maria suggests, raising her eyebrows at you. You throw her a look, hoping she picks up on the obvious disapprovement you have over this idea. But she doesn’t, the other women in the group joining in on the idea. “The two of you can discuss it on the way back.”

“It’s the least you can do,” Fiona nods at you, cutting you off when you go to protest. “You did force him to change partners, you can’t blame the man for wanting to make sure he’s safe tomorrow.”

Sending Fiona a hard glare, you push Marcus’ arm off of your shoulder to slip on your coat. “Fine, let’s go.”

You wave off the group’s goodbyes before beelining for the door. The faster you get out of here, the faster you can get home and away from Marcus. On the way out, you glance at the table that Tommy and Joel were residing at, finding it vacant. At this point, you didn’t care if you would run into Joel at the house. Anything was preferable to spending any more time than necessary with your insufferable patrol partner. 

After exiting the building, you start towards home at a quick pace, hoping to shorten the usual ten minute walk into a five minute walk. You don’t feel Marcus at your side, hoping that you lost him in your haste out of the bar. Your thoughts are silenced when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, yanking you to a halt and into one of the allies in the town square.

“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” Marcus smirks, pulling closer to you as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Got the kid waiting up for me back home,” you quickly lie, tugging your wrist back in an attempt to free yourself. “QZ schools weren’t the best, she needs help with her homework.”

He chuckles, shaking his head at you before backing you into the brick wall of the alley behind you. “I’m sure her dad can help her with that. We have some things to discuss.”

“It would be best to discuss whatever it is in the morning,” you gulp, pressing closer to the wall to create more space between the two of you. “When we both haven’t been at a bar for the night. With clearer minds.”

“Baby,” Marcus breathes, “My mind has never been more clear.”

He ducks his head, pressing his lips forcefully against yours. His hands move to your hips, pressing himself into you. You desperately try pulling your head back to avoid him, but the brick wall behind you prevents you from moving away. Panicking, you sink your teeth into his lip, biting down until you taste the metallic tang of blood. Your hands move to his chest, pushing him off with all your strength. Marcus stumbles back, hands dabbing at his lip to feel the damage. 

“What the actual fuck are you thinking?” You seeth, wiping the taste of him away with the back of your hand. You stare at him for a beat, bewildered, before pushing off the wall to make your escape.

You make it a few steps before Marcus surges forward, arms encircling your waist to pull you off the ground. All attempts of your struggle are thwarted when he throws you onto the pavement, hands wrapping around your throat as he straddles your stomach, your arms pinned to his thighs.

“You disrespectful, little bitch,” he spits, hands tightening at your throat. “Your daddy ever teach you manners as a young girl? Like all girls need to be taught?”

You gasp at the lack of oxygen as you try to squirm your way out of his grasp. Your constant struggle only seems to agitate Marcus more as he pulls you off the ground before slamming you back down. The back of your head bounces off the hard pavement beneath the two of you. All efforts to fight cease as dots begin to swarm your vision. 

“You respect men that want to talk to you,” Marcus growls, smirking at your dazed face. His hands continue to tighten around your throat. “You’re lucky to even have my attention.”

Your vision is starting to go dark when his weight is suddenly pulled off of you. Coughing, you roll onto your stomach, attempting to gain your bearings. You hear fighting next to you, propping yourself on your hands and knees to try to see what’s going on.

“So help me god,” Joel practically snarls, one hand gripping Marcus’ collar while the other delivers a nose shattering punch. 

“If you ever go near her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you look at her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you even so much as breathe in her direction, I will kill you.” Punch.

“Do I make myself clear?”

You watch from your hands and knees as Joel delivers punch after punch until Marcus is whimpering under him, gasping for air like you were only moments earlier. Once he believes the message has been received, Joel drops his hold on Marcus and backs away, chest heaving.

You must make a noise as he turns to you, eyes quickly scanning your face before his gaze settles on the hand prints adoring your throat. He’s rushing to you before you know it, gentle hands helping raise you to your feet.

“Can you stand, bug?” Joel whispers, softly turning to check the spot where your head had kissed the payment. Today must be your lucky day, no blood appearing on his fingers after he gently ran them through your hair.

“M’fine, Joel,” you rasp, embarrassment pooling in your stomach. While you were thankful that he came by when he did, you couldn’t help but wish it happened to be anyone else. 

Joel sighs, running his hand down his face. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I said I’m fine Joel,” you pull yourself out of his gentle grasp, wrapping your arms around your midsection tightly. You take a few cautious steps back, stumbling but steady enough to walk.

“Let me get you home, angel,” Joel steps forward, hands reaching out to help you. “Ellie’s been askin’ bout you.”

Shaking your head, you continue to take tentative steps away from him. “I can take care of myself, Joel. You don’t have to pretend anymore, remember?”

And with that, you turned on your heels and began to make your way back to the house. You knew he was trailing some feet behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. All you wanted to do was crawl into your bed and forget that the night ever even happened.

“It looks like the bruising should heal in a few weeks,” Rick, Jackson’s one and only doctor, assesses, fingers gently pressing against the prominent hand marks on your neck. “The petechiae should clear up within the next few days.”

You nod, readjusting your collar whenever the doctor leans back to scribble down some notes. In the corner of your eye, you see Tommy and Maria share a glance before whispering, as if you weren’t even in the room.

“Any new loss of consciousness? Confusion? Dizzy spells?” Rick asks, pen pausing on the paper.

“Nope,” voice still scratchy but nowhere near as bad as it was a few days ago. “Can I go back on patrol now?”

With a sigh, Rick sets his clipboard down. “Sweetheart, what you went through was a traumatic event. You need to let yourself have time to recuperate mentally too, not just physically.”

“I take that as a no then,” you deflate when the doctor nods.

After answering the rest of Rick’s questions, you’re finally able to leave the infirmary. It seemed like you were there for hours, so to feel the sun on your face whenever you exited felt like sweet relief.

“Y/N,” Maria starts, guilt practically dripping from her.

“Maria, if you apologize one more time, I think I might implode,” you interrupt her, turning to face her. “You didn’t know, I didn’t tell you what he had been saying on patrol. This isn’t your fault.”

“But –”

“No buts,” groaning, you grab her shoulders, giving her a playful shake. “Some drunk asshole’s actions are not your fault. There was no way you could’ve known what would happen.”

“Darlin’, she’s right,” Tommy intervenes. “It’s no one’s fault but the man that did it.”

You hum in agreement, rolling your eyes at the way Maria practically pouts. “Just don’t give me another shitty patrol partner and we can call it even. Okay?”

Maria nods, pulling you into a tight hug. You gently pat her back, knowing the hug is more for her sake than yours, so you allow yourself to enjoy it, just this once.

You’re about to walk away but Tommy stops you, hand gently on your wrist. “Ellie wanted me to tell you to meet her at your house, said she needed help with somethin’.” 

“Little shit skipped school again?” You groan. “What would be so important that we have to do it now instead of after dinner?”

Tommy shrugs, smirk playing on his lips. “You really think I'm privy to how she operates?”

“I wish I was,” you mutter, waving your goodbyes before trudging back to your house.

You were going to have to talk to Joel about this. Ellie skipped at least twice a week and you thought the last discussion you had about it got through to her, but apparently not. You understood why she struggled with it, being one of the only outsiders in a building full of kids that had never been outside the walls of Jackson. People looked at you guys funny, you and Joel got it too. Even in the apocalypse, school was important.

After what seemed like an eternity, you crossed the threshold of your home. “Ellie?” you called.

No response.

“Ellie Bellie?” You called again, hanging your coat on the hooks by the door. You knew Joel was on patrol so you began to wander to find the girl.

After checking the entire upstairs, you began to worry.

“Ellie!” You yelled, thundering down the steps and into the kitchen.

“In the basement!” The girl finally responded.

With a breath of relief, you descended the basement steps and found the girl sorting through boxes, various tools of Joel’s spread around her.

“What did we talk about?” You approach, tugging on her ponytail. “No more skipping school, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she waves you off, pointing to the door behind her. “The water heater is in there, right?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You shrug. “The old man takes care of that stuff.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the door. “Well the stupid fuckin’ thing stopped working and I want Joel to be able to have a hot shower when he gets back from patrol.”

“So call Tommy, Els,” you resist her tugging. “I can’t fix it.”

Pouting, the young girl bats her eyelashes at you, putting on her best puppy dog face. “Please, please, please?”

After a few more seconds of her insistent begging, you cave in. “Fuck, fine. Just stop with the face. Promise you won’t skip school again and I’ll see what I can do?”

“Promise!” Ellie smiles in victory, holding out the worn owner’s manual to you.

You grab the dusty book from her before shouldering the door open, wandering into the room. It’s pitch black and you can’t seem to find the lightswitch.

“Els, where’s the light?” You ask, blinking to try to adjust to the lack of light.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” You hear the girl plead before the lights flicker on and the door slams shut, lock clicking.

A tired looking Joel sits in front of you, one hand handcuffed to the gas line of the water heater. You gape at him, part of you impressed that Ellie was able to get the one up on him.

But then the reality of the situation sets in and you start to bang on the door. “Ellie, open the damn door!”

“You can come out when the two of you work out whatever shit happened,” Ellie’s voice is muffled through the door but her message is loud and clear. A key slides in from under the door. “Unlock him if you want to.”

“Great, just great,” you mutter, forehead resting on the door. “Looks like we’re never going to get out of here.”

You can hear Ellie stomp up the basements and slam the door, off to do god knows what with both of her guardians locked in a room. Turning, you look to see Joel, his eyes watching your movements. You take in his appearance – right hand cuffed to the flimsy gas line of the water heater, left hand resting in his lap, both legs extended in front of him with crossed ankles. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed.

“Would you mind givin’ me that key?” Joel asks, motioning to the key resting on the ground by your feet.

Nodding, you kick the key to him, praising yourself that it slides within reach of him. You watch as he uncuffs himself, rubbing his skin where the cuff adored his wrist. Joel slowly stands, exhaling as he stretches himself up right. Once he’s upright, you take into account his bruised knuckles, undoubtedly from the other night.

The two of you are silent. The tension is palpable – too thick to cut with a knife, maybe even a chainsaw. You watch as Joel awkwardly shifts foot to foot. You can tell that he has a lot on his mind, but you aren’t sure if you want to know what he’s thinking.

You clear your throat, already regretting your next words. “Thank you, by the way.”

Joel nods, staying on his designated side of the small room. “I’d never just let that happen to you, y’know that.”

The awkward silence lasts a few more beats, neither of you know what to say to the other.

“You don’t have to avoid the house and town,” Joel breaks first, clearing his throat. “We can be friends, can’t we?”

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, turning around to see if the door is actually locked. It is, to your dismay.

“Bug…” Joel starts but the nickname sets you off.

“Can you, like, not call me that?” You snap, whirling around to glare at him. “You lost any and all privilege to that the second you decided to use me for your own personal pleasure. Without regard to how I would feel, may I add?”

Joel scoffs, shaking his head, “I didn’t use you for my ‘own personal pleasure’.”

“Really?” Laughing, you feel insane with how worked up he has got you in one sentence. “Then what exactly did you mean by, and I quote, ‘pretend’.”

Joel opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off.

“Or what about ‘I’m done with you’?” You step into his space, practically chest to chest. “Because being done with someone doesn’t really leave room for friendship, now does it?”

“That’s not what I meant, y’know that!”

“Do I, Joel? Because it doesn’t feel like it!” You can feel your hands shaking as you shove him back. “You are so hot and cold. You give me fucking whiplash. I can’t stand it! You–”

His lips press against yours, hands settling on your waist to keep you in place. You freeze, the feeling of his mouth moving against yours is a foreign after not feeling it for so long. You feel yourself melting into his arms, your own wrapping around his neck as you kiss him back, lips fusing together as if they were made for each other.

Until you realize what’s happening.

“What’s wrong, bug?” Joel whispers after you throw yourself back, chest heaving.

“You can’t just do that,” your voice shakes and you feel small under his gaze. “You can’t fuck with my feelings like this.”

Joel lets out an aggravated sigh, hands running through his curly locks. “I’m not tryin’ to, sweetheart.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Joel? Because I can’t do the back and forth.” You desperately try to blink away the tears pooling at your eyes. “One minute you want me, the next you don’t. I don’t know what you want from me.”

A tear slips down your cheek.

And all of Joel’s resolve breaks.

“Baby,” he breathes, hands cupping your cheeks as he thumbs away your tears. “I…shit, hold on.”

You wait. You wait as his eyes squeeze closed. As he inhales and exhales deeply. As he shakes his head before looking at you again.

“I love you,” Joel admits. “But I’m no good for you.”

“Joel–”

“Please,” he begs. “I can’t protect you, or Ellie. You saw what happened with the raiders at the university, I almost got the two of you killed because I’m not as young as I once was. I’m not a good man, bug, I’ve done so many bad things that I will never deserve someone like you, no matter what I do now.”

You listen to all of his reasons why he doesn’t think he deserves you. You watch the pain of his past hold him back from ever realizing how much he is worth.

“Is that why you did that?” You ask quietly, hands coming to rest on his chest. “You pushed me away because you think you’re too old for me? Too much of a burden on me?”

Joel nods, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“But, Joel, those are your reasons,” you breathe. “Your thoughts, your opinions. Not mine.”

He shakes his head. “But–”

“But nothing,” you interrupt. “I love you because of all of that. I love everything about you, your past included, Joel. There is nothing that you could do or say that could ever possibly change that. Why do you think I avoided you for weeks?”

“Because you hated me?”

“Because I couldn’t be around you thinking that I loved you when you hated me.” You laugh, leaning up to briefly press your lips against his. “Next time, how about you talk to me before you make all the decisions?”

Nodding, Joel leans forward and slots his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, locking your hands together. You feel Joel smile against your lips, a feeling you had missed, before pressing yourself as close to him as possible. Your kisses become more feverish, Joel backing you up against the door as his hands run down your sides to your hips. His hands snake around your waist, lowering themselves to your butt, groaning at the way you react to him.

A loud bang on the door startles the two of you apart.

“As much as I love that the two of you figured it out,” Ellie yells through the door. “I don’t want to hear those noises. Ever.”

A giggle escapes your lips as you hide your face in Joel’s neck, a smile spreads across your lips when you feel his arms encompass your waist.

“Are you decent? Can I let you out now?”

“Yes, Ellie.”

“Thank god,” Ellie unlocks and swings the door open. She smiles seeing the two of you wrapped up together. “I was beginning to think you’d never figure it out.”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up.”

“You mean ‘you’re welcome’,” Ellie teases before escaping up the stairs, pausing at the top. “Just don’t suck each other's faces around me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” you salute her goodbye before turning back to Joel, who is pretending to look annoyed at the teen.

“By the way, how did she manage to handcuff you?”