｡･:*˚:✧｡ kay! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

For this campaign Will was the Dungeon Master, and it was Mike’s turn to make a move. While he pondered his options, for a blissful moment, everything was quiet.

Then it wasn’t.

“MIKE, you can’t just skip the traps!” Dustin barks, slamming his palms on the table so hard the character sheets flutter.

Mike leans back in his chair, arms crossed with the dramatic flair of a teen boy convinced he was right. “I’m not skipping them. I’m strategically avoiding them.”

Lucas throws his pencil down. “That’s literally the definition of skipping.”

“It is not–”

“Yes it is!” Lucas responds with a mature indignation you knew only he was capable of making look cool. On Dustin, it would come across whiny and petulant. 

“No, it’s not—”

“It is!” Lucas insists once again. He wasn’t about to back down, especially not to Mike.  

Will’s voice comes out small, drowned beneath the storm. “Guys, can we just—”

No one hears him.

You sigh, setting down the cassette you’d been holding. Here we go again. You stand and brush dust off your jeans, already halfway to the table when the basement door creaks open.

Boots thud down the old wooden stairs. 

“Hey, uh, sorry I’m late,” Steve calls, shaking the cold from his body as he descends. He holds a paper bag in one hand. “I brought ice cream.” Even though it’s freezing outside, ice cream really does sound great right about now.

You steal a glimpse of him as your gaze locks on his figure. Steve’s hair, impossibly thick and wild, catches Will’s Christmas lights like a halo of soft brown waves. His eyes, warm and alert, flick around the room, half in amusement, half in exasperation, and his jawline carries that mix of boyish softness and emerging sharpness that makes him impossible to ignore. 

The denim jacket on his shoulders is worn in all the right places, sleeves casually rolled, and his sneakers are scuffed but perfectly comfortable, like they’d barely survived the walk from his car to the front door. His every movement has an easy confidence, that subtle sway of someone who could be both reckless and dependable at the same time.

He freezes when he reaches the bottom step. So do you.

The boys are mid-argument, halfway standing, voices overlapping. You’re standing with your arms half-crossed in irritation. And without even thinking, without even meaning to, you and Steve both plant your feet, cross your arms, and give the exact same unimpressed stare.

Identical and perfectly mirrored.

“Hey, hey!” Your voice calls in a chastising manner. “Knock it off.” You say firmly.

“Knock it off,” Steve echoes at the exact same time, nearly a fraction of a second apart. You both look menacing and parental and totally in tune with each other. 

The table goes dead silent and all four boys stare with wide, unnerved eyes.

Will blinks, slow and owl-like. “Did you guys just…”

Mike’s jaw hangs open. “That’s creepy.”

Lucas leans forward as if studying a strange new species. “Oh my god,” he shudders, “they’re synchronized, like they’re one person.”

Dustin points dramatically. “You two spend so much time together you’re starting to sound the same.”

Heat rushes across your face, spreading onto your cheeks, just now realizing how close you are to Steve. You drop your arms like they’re on fire. “We are not—we didn’t coordinate that.”

Steve’s face flushes with embarrassment. “Yeah, that wasn’t— I mean, we didn’t— it’s just a coincidence shitheads…"

“No one said it wasn’t,” Dustin’s tone carries teasingly, grinning like Christmas came early.

You agree, gesturing between yourself and Steve, “Right.” You affirm. “A coincidence.”

“Uh-huh,” Lucas responds flatly.

Will tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “You guys kind of do that a lot.”

Your stomach does a weird little flip. “Do what?”

“Act like parents,” Mike says, not even trying to cushion it.

You nearly choke on your own breath. “Parents?” Being a babysitter you could get behind, even being an older sibling figure is something you’d expected. But a parent? Absolutely not…you don’t act like one.

Steve doesn’t like the warmth that fills his chest at the implication. “Okay, wow—okay—nope. No. We’re— that’s— absolutely not what’s happening.”

“Totally,” Dustin adds cheerfully, “full on married couple, mom and dad energy right there.”

“Excuse me?” You and Steve blurt in unison again.

This time, the kids don’t hold back before losing it. Mike slaps the table in sheer amusement at your expense. Lucas simply doubles over wheezing. Will hides a smile behind his hand, and Dustin practically vibrates with smugness. It’s written all over his expression, got ya. 

You press both palms to your face in exasperation. “Oh my god.”

Steve leans closer to you, lowering his voice while the boys cackle. “They’re doing this on purpose, y’know? They like to see us riled up.”

“They’re evil,” you whisper back.

“We can hear you,” Lucas cuts in with a sly grin. 

Dustin gestures proudly between the two of you. “We’re right here.”

Steve's posture straightens, blowing out a breath before attempting to regain control. “Look—just—can you assholes get back to your campaign before I lose the last bit of sanity keeping me alive?”

“Language,” you blurt automatically, pointing at him like a scolding mother. It’s a habit you’d picked up from being around Dustin’s fowl mouth so much.

Steve stares at you, wide-eyed. “Did you just mom-voice me?”

The boys almost howl in laughter and Mike nearly slides right off his chair. You feel your ears burning. “I did not mom-voice you.”

Steve raises a brow, mouth tugging into a teasing, lopsided grin. “You totally did.”

“I did not.”

“It was kinda hot,” He mutters, so quietly you almost question whether you heard it.

Your heart plummets into your shoes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Nothing,” Steve says immediately, voice slightly too loud and too serious. “S’just a figure of speech.” 

Across the table, the boys all exchange glances, eyebrows wiggling, smirks forming. The kind of smirks that make you want to lock them in the Upside Down for an hour.

You glare. “If you tell anyone about this, I swear—”

“We won’t,” Will promises sweetly.

“We absolutely will,” Dustin corrects, grinning.

You groan, dramatically dropping onto the couch like the world had betrayed you.

Steve walks over and gently nudges your knee with his. “You okay?” he asks, voice softer than before. “They’re… um… a lot.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Believe me. I know.”

He offers a crooked, warm smile—the one he only does when he thought no one else was paying attention. “For what it’s worth… I like when we’re on the same team.”

Your chest tightens again, pleasantly, confusingly.

You look up at him and he looks back at you. And for a brief, suspended moment, the chaos of the basement falls away. The glow of the string lights warms Steve’s face. And the two of you feel oddly, undeniably in sync.

Will’s voice breaks the moment, soft but hopeful: “Um… can we keep playing now?”

You and Steve answer instinctively, perfectly in time: “Sure.”

Another round of laughs erupts from the table. But neither of you corrected it. They were never going to let you live this down. 

• ж • ж •

II. The Group Project

Outside, dusk settles over the yard in deep purples and soft peach streaks, turning the kitchen windows into reflective glass. Indoors, the overhead light casts a warm glow across the clutter —half-finished meals pushed aside, a pile of school mail crumpled on the counter, and one lone sock that definitely didn’t start the day where it ended up.

Tonight was supposed to be simple.

The plan—your plan—was to spend a quiet Wednesday finishing a book you’d been putting off. Maybe make some tea. Maybe listen to music. Maybe not referee any disasters for at least a few hours.

But fate, apparently, had other ideas.

Because at nearly 7pm there’s a frantic, uneven knock at the Byers’ front door followed by Dustin’s unmistakable voice calling, “(Y/n), open up!”

You don’t even get a chance to answer. Will opens the door instead, and Dustin barrels in like he’s fleeing wolves.

“We need help with a project,” He announces, breathless like he sprinted the whole way. His curls are wind-tangled, his jacket is half-zipped, and his cheeks flushed from the cold.

Before you can even speak, he’s dumped the contents of his bag onto the table in an academic explosion: glue sticks with bitten caps, an avalanche of loose papers, two crushed Twizzlers, and what looks dangerously like a frog diagram Will did last year.

Will appears behind him, looking apologetic. “Sorry,” he says. “He got…excited.”

Lucas trudges in next with the exhausted despair of a man going to war. “This project is killing us.”

You raise your eyebrows, you know for a fact this project isn’t due until later this week. “It’s Wednesday.”

“Exactly,” Lucas says, dropping into a chair like he’s accepted death. “It’s basically due tomorrow.”

“It’s actually due Friday,” Will mumbles.

Lucas waves a hand. “Same difference.” Unlike the others, Lucas has never been one to procrastinate. He prefers to be ahead of schedule. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “So what exactly do you need help with?”

“History presentation,” Dustin says. “We need a poster. A good one. Like, award-winning. Like the kind of poster people applaud for.”

You blink slowly. “You don’t get applause for school posters.”

“You do,” Dustin says gravely, “if you do them right.”

Before you can sigh again, the door opens again, and Steve pokes his head inside. He steps cautiously into the kitchen, shaking off his jacket, eyes scanning the room with the practiced alarm of the seasoned babysitter he is. 

“Hey! Am I late? I came as soon as I heard—” His gaze falls on the table. “Oh. Wow. That’s… a lot of paper.”

You cross your arms, mildly begrudged and equally curious. “Why are you here?”

“Lucas told me you might need backup.” He shrugs, lifting a grocery bag with the confidence of a man who believes snacks can solve anything. “Plus, I brought provisions.”

He unloads chips, pretzels, Capri Suns, and a box of brownies like he’s setting up camp. And the boys look at him the way baby ducks look at the first thing they see.

Dustin pauses mid glue stick sniff. “You…you brought snacks? Steve, you beautiful bastard.”

Steve beams like he’s been handed a trophy. You fold your arms. “So you’re helping too?”

He shrugs with a grin that is far too casual to be accidental. “Just in case.”

Dustin takes a bite out of one of the brownies, sending you a toothy grin as he does it. He passes one each to Will and Lucas with glee. “This,” Dustin announces, “is why Steve is allowed to come to group projects.”

Steve salutes him. “Glad to be of service man.”

Within minutes, the dining table turns into a chaotic workshop, an island of absolute academic activity. Will is sorting his pencil crayons by shade like you knew he would and Lucas, well, Lucas is fighting and losing against a glue stick cap that refuses to open.

You pull the poster board to the center. Spreading it out, you smooth its surface with your palms. It’s cool and stiff under your hands — blank and expectant.

Dustin’s voice whispers a quiet shit, shit, shit, as a tin of glitter spills on his pants. He stands, dusting it off onto the floor. You chuckle and sigh, shaking your head in bemusement, that’ll be a clean up problem for later. 

“Okay,” you say, ready to begin. “Let’s get started. We’ll keep it simple. Neat. Clear.”

You tuck your knees under the chair you’re sitting on and lean forward, sketching the first pencil guidelines. The familiar pressure of graphite scraping paper grounds you; it’s something you can control.

Steve wanders to your side, pulling a chair next to yours. He doesn’t lower himself gently, he drops into it with that boyish clumsiness he pretends he doesn’t have, the seat legs squeaking across the floor.

He sits next to you — right next to you, close enough that your elbows brush every time you shift — and he tries to look like he understands what’s happening.

He doesn’t. At all. He hasn’t completed a school project like this in years. You try not to think about how close he is, but you fail immediately. He smells like winter air and the faint cologne he uses only when he’s trying to impress a girl. It’s warm with something sweet pulling at its edges. 

He picks up a pencil and squints at the page of instructions. “So, uh…what’s this part?”

“That’s the rubric,” you reply.

“Right. Right. Of course.” He nods confidently. Then lowers his voice. “What’s a rubric again?”

You bite back a smile. “It’s just the grading guide.”

“Oh.” He leans back slightly. “Yeah, I totally knew that.”

“No you didn’t,” Will says without looking up.

“Didn’t ask for your input, Wizard Boy.” From anyone else, you might have taken offence on your brother’s behalf, but Steve has this teasing rapport with each of the kids—it’s easy and heartwarming.  

Will just rolls his eyes and keeps colouring.

You slide a reindeer-shaped eraser toward Steve.  “Here. For morale.”

He accepts it solemnly. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

A few minutes pass in silence as each of you work diligently on your parts. Honestly, you’re kind of having fun; getting back into the groove of a school project reminds you of your own time in high school. It wasn’t always the best, but it brought you closer to Steve. Despite hailing from very different social groups, trauma had bonded you together in a way you’d never have expected. The upside down feels distant in this moment, and that in itself feels nice. 

 You’re sketching out the title letters when you feel Steve lean closer, his arm brushing yours again.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Can you… uh… help me with this?”

You look over. He’s struggling with the scissors, fingers covered in a light coating of glue. He’s stuck.

You blink slowly, staring at him with a soft smile.

“Steve.” You snort.

He grins, embarrassed but charmingly so, and nudges your knee with his under the table.

“C’mon, don't laugh” he says softly. “I feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” You tap the poster board sending him a lopsided grin. “You just, look a little sticky.”

Standing to grab a wash cloth from your kitchen counter, you wet it slightly. “Here,” you say, taking Steve’s hand in yours, careful not to cut yourself with the scissor’s blades. You help Steve, guiding his hand free once the glue has been successfully wiped away. 

The kids notice that change in the room. They absolutely notice. A fresh, nervous energy fills the air.

Lucas nudges Will. Will raises an eyebrow, and Dustin smirks knowingly like he’s in on some grand romantic conspiracy.

Steve eyes Dustin carefully, as if to say not a word, not ONE word. But Dustin doesn’t care, he’s more than happy to watch his friend fall apart at a simple touch from your hand on his. The curly haired teen bites the inside of his cheek trying not to comment—and failing, whispering something like they’re so obvious.

You pretend not to notice.

Another bout of silence falls amongst the group, settling with your dissipating nerves. Each of you agrees, you want to get this done as efficiently as possible, even if it doesn’t seem like it. Now, you’re busy shading the title letters — your hand resting naturally close to Steve’s

Just when the chaos seems manageable, Joyce wanders by carrying a basket of folded laundry. She stops and takes one long look at the table. Her brown eyes take in the scene piece by piece: You leaning in, fingers smudged with pencil dust, and Steve beside you, shoulders angled inward as if drawn to your orbit. Your hands brush each time one of you reaches for a marker.

Joyce watches as the boys work with suspicious innocence. Five Capri Suns sit next to each other, straws already poked in.

A subtle, knowing smile touches her face — warm, gentle, approving. “Oh,” she says, lingering just a heartbeat too long, “you two look cute working together.”

The room freezes. Steve inhales sharply, feeling caught. He blinks unnaturally hard like someone hit pause on his brain. Your eyes widen, sending a glare her way that says: Mom, get out. Joyce simply glides out of the room without clarifying or apologizing, leaving behind the smoldering embarrassment of the interrupted moment you totally weren’t having.

By the time the project is almost done, the boys have stopped doing much of anything, letting you and Steve finish their work for them.

Steve is helping you outline the final border — or at least trying to — his shoulder brushing yours in a way that feels intentional now. He holds the ruler, his long fingers guiding him as he traces the final touches. He leans in a little closer, voice dropping to something low and warm.

“You know,”  he nods at the poster.  “At this rate, we’re basically co-parenting a school project.”

Your cheeks warm at the thought. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” His tone is soft, teasing but honest underneath. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

You freeze for half a second. Just half. And you try to focus, you really really do, but he’s just so distracting.

The house is suddenly very quiet. The distance between you and Steve is small, just a few inches, maybe less but the air shifts, humming with an almost-something neither of you has been brave enough to name. And Steve is watching you, not in the big, bold way he sometimes does, but softly, like he’s asking a question he already knows the answer to.

You swallow. Then you snatch the ruler from his grasp and jab it into his chest.

“Focus, Harrington.”

He laughs under his breath. It’s low, sweet, and the sound slides right under your ribs.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Sure thing Byers.”

But he doesn’t move away.

And neither do you.

• ж • ж •

III. Mad Max

The call comes just after sunset, the hour when Hawkins shifts from blue to violet, when houses glow with warm windows and the ravens call loudly enough to fill the cracks of silence. You’re drying the last dish when the phone rings again. Will grabs it before you do, the cord stretching across his chest like a lifeline.

You can tell it’s one of those calls by the way his face changes—brow pinched, lips pressed thin, eyes flicking toward you.

“It’s Steve,” he says, voice tight, eyes wide and anxious. “Max ran off. Again.”

Your stomach drops. There’s a small, tight pull in your chest. It’s not fear, definitely not panic—just that familiar weight of here we go, mixed with the tug you always feel whenever the kids need you. You suppose it’s a familiar responsibility that comes from loving too many people too much. 

You’re grabbing your jacket before you even realize it. Will isn’t surprised. He doesn’t have to ask; he just steps aside to let you pass.

And when you finally step outside, the cool night air hits your skin—crisp like late autumn and early winter should be, carrying the scent of dry leaves and woodsmoke. And there he is.

Steve, leaning against his car, fiddling with his gloves. His hair is wind-tousled, his cheeks flushed, his hands jittery with too much adrenaline and too little direction. He looks up the second you appear.

Relief floods his entire expression. 

“You came,” he breathes out, like he was half afraid you wouldn’t.

“You called.” You affirm. As if there’d be a time when you could say no to him. Like you’d ever not show up. 

When you finally get a good look at him, you notice there’s worry in his eyes. And underneath it—because you’ve learned to read him—there’s this fear that he’ll mess this up. He doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the car and you slide in, the familiar smell of pine car freshener wrapping around you.

As he pulls away, he keeps glancing over at you with these quick, jittery cuts of his eyes on you like he needs to make sure you’re actually there.

“She just—she took off,” he mutters, voice clipped. “Lucas said something, and then she was gone, and I—” He swallows hard. “I don’t know if she’s mad, or scared, or both. Jesus probably both.”

You touch his arm lightly, grounding him. “She’s not running from you, Steve.”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t believe you yet.

He drives the two of you in complete silence for a while before coming to a stop on the edge of the woods. You find yourselves at an entrance to a trail you know Max likes, one she uses when she just needs to get away. 

“You ready?” You ask Steve with a soft smile. He doesn’t respond, too caught up in his thoughts to speak. He simply nods and takes your hand in his. It’s grounding…for both of you, in a way that usually would spark a kind of nervous energy. But right now, it’s exactly what Steve needs.

As evening clings to the forest trail like a heavy blanket, it's cast in a half-shadow, half-silver moonlight state. The air is cool and smells of pine needles and damp earth as the last bit of violet sky filters through the branches.. Steve’s flashlight cuts through the shadows as you both walk, the beam slicing through the trees like thin, trembling fingers.

The crunch of frozen soil under your feet fills the silence between you. 

“She could be anywhere,” Steve mutters. His shoulders are tight, a helm of anxiety written all over him.

You can feel Steve’s worry, almost like it’s a physical heat pouring off him. He’s walking too fast, scanning everything, body coiled like he’s ready to fight whatever hurts the people he cares about.

You’ve seen that look before. In the Upside Down, in hospital rooms, in quieter nights like this.

“She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone,” he murmurs as if it’s his fault she ran. “None of them should.”

But you hear the real fear beneath it: I should’ve kept her safe.  I should’ve noticed sooner. I should’ve been enough.

In the years you’ve grown to know Steve, he’s always held himself to an insurmountable standard. It’s one that he would never expect from anyone else but himself. He has to be ready for anything at any time from anyone. And he has to be able to take it on alone. That’s one of the things you’re trying to break down—this need to fix everything by himself. You’ve tried countless times to tell him I’m here too. Sometimes you think you’re getting through to him…this isn’t one of those moments. But you’d be damned if you stopped trying. 

After a few minutes of more silent sulking, you hear something familiar: the uneven scrape of wheels on the dirt. You follow the sound around a bend, and there she is, sitting at the edge of the tree trunk with her skateboard on her lap like a shield.

Her chin is tucked to her chest, knuckles white on the board's underside.

“Red?” You murmur softly, easing down beside her. You approach slowly, like you’re nearing a cornered animal, because in some ways, you are. 

Max sniffles once, but doesn’t look up. In Max-language, that means: I’ll talk, just not yet.

“Hey,” you continue, leaning in closer beside her. The ground is cold through your jeans. “Want to tell me what happened?”

She shrugs, nails digging into the underside of her skateboard. You can see the tension coiled in her shoulders. Her body language betrays her, anger, shame, frustration, hurt all tangled up.

“It was stupid,” she mutters.

“If it made you feel this bad,” you glance at her with a sympathy for her pain, “it wasn’t stupid Max.”

She shakes her head in slight protest before muttering, “The boys were just being idiots,” 

Behind you, Steve hangs back, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, pretending he’s not desperately listening while also desperate to give space. His hands rest on his hips and his eyes don’t leave her for a second. 

“They wouldn’t stop arguing, I just felt like I couldn’t control anything.” Max finally says. “And then Lucas said I didn’t need to be so dramatic. And Mike got all Mike about it. So I left. Before I yelled…or cried.”

The last word breaks.  Just slightly. “I don’t know,” she continues, “I figured they wouldn’t even notice I was gone.”

You give her a look. “You know they notice everything you do.”

Max kicks a pebble, hard. “Yeah, well… I didn’t want them to see me cry.”

That slices clean through you.  You bump her shoulder gently. “Max. Crying doesn’t make you weak.”

“It makes me look like a baby.” Is her honest response, and she means it.

“It makes you look human,” you correct softly, pulling her into a soft side-hug.

She sniffles but refuses to cry in front of you. It’s Max’s way of trying to be tough, even though you already know how soft-hearted she really is. For a moment, the world goes still around the three of you. Steve leans down to meet your level, each of you now sitting on the cold dirt floor. Max’s breathing is easier, her shoulders are lower, and her jaw unclenches. She needed to be seen, and with you and Steve, she feels she has been. 

But just when the moment is finally tender, real, and grounding—she ruins it in the most Max Mayfield way possible.

“Ya know,” she grumbles abruptly, staring between you and Steve, “You two are like our divorced parents who still love each other. It’s kind of annoying.”

You blink. In that moment, Steve actually chokes on his own saliva.

“Divorced?” he echoes, like she just accused him of murder. His voice cracks on the second syllable. 

The red head rolls her eyes. “Yeah. Like the way you show up together. And fight together. And then act weird when anyone points it out.” You give each other a look that asks, we totally don’t do that right? But she continues before you can think about it more, “One of you is the calm one,” she points to you, “and one of you is the chaotic one, but you’re always together anyway. It’s a whole thing…Classic divorced-but-still-grossly-in-love behaviour.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, when Steve makes a move to protest being labelled the chaotic one.  “Don’t even start,” you warn Steve without looking at him.

“I wasn’t!” he puts his hands up in defence.  Then quieter, “…I wasn’t.”

Max snorts. “God. That’s exactly what a divorced dad would say.” 

Steve looks incredulous and personally victimized. Divorced? Why can’t you both be happily married in this scenario? 

But as he takes in Max’s smile and the quiet laugh she lets out at his reaction, he can see how much she needed this—a moment to break the tension with something ridiculous. Her eyes are no longer stormy…and that was the whole point of this.

“C’mon,” you say gently, nudging them both to get up from your spots on the ground. “Let’s get you home.”

Max finally nods, rubbing her eyes tiredly as you lead her back to the car. She leans on you both during the short walk, and when you finally reach the vehicle, Steve lifts her onto the seat gently. He buckles her in like a true parent.

Max falls asleep before you’re even back on the road, skateboard still clutched to her chest. She curls into the corner of the back seat, exhausted and small in a way she’ll deny forever.

Steve drives slowly now—the careful, protective version of him that surfaces only when the kids are nearby… or when you are. The silence in the car is warm, heavy.  Not awkward. Just… charged.

The road unwinds in long, quiet stretches. Golden pools of streetlight glide over the windshield. The car hums.

You rest your elbow on the window, watching the blur of passing houses. Steve glances at you a few times—quick, flickering looks from under his lashes, like he’s trying to find the right words but they keep slipping away. They’re the kind he thinks you don’t notice.

Halfway down the road, pulling into the Mayfield driveway, he inhales deeply.

“You know…” he says quietly, “you’re… really good with her.”

You shrug off his words. “She just needed someone to listen.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean… you’re good with all of them. With the boys. And El.” He pauses, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

“—and with me.”

Your heart stutters. “I never expected anyone to care about me the way you do.” His brown eyes meet yours as he puts the car in park.

It’s subtle, but the way his voice dips? The way the words feel heavier than they should? It does something to you.

You try to play it off, but your pulse betrays you, thrumming in your ears. You can feel it in your wrists, in your ribs, and in your throat. 

“Somebody has to be the calm one,” you say softly.

Steve huffs a laugh, warm and self-deprecating.  “Yeah. Well. That’s definitely not me.”

You pretend to look out the window, steadying your breath.  “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” you murmur.

“You give me too much,” he replies.

“That’s not true.” He shifts his hand on the center console. Yours shifts too. Barely, casually. Maybe not casually at all.

Your pinkies brush. And Steve freezes—just a breath, just a heartbeat—but long enough for the air between you to thicken, warm and electric with currents of tension.

He doesn’t pull away and neither do you.

“Thanks,” he whispers, almost too quiet. “For being you.”

Your heartbeat answers for you and you let your hand drift the final few centimetres until your pinkies tough tentatively. Steve exhales and neither of you pulls away.

• ж • ж •

IV. School Pick-Up

The Hawkins High School parking lot looks like a battlefield every weekday at 3:15 p.m.—car exhaust drifting in the cold air, teachers shouting instructions like air-traffic controllers, and children flooding through the front doors in unpredictable, chaotic waves.

You’re already tense just pulling in. Picking up Will always stirs something in your chest: protectiveness, guilt, that familiar edge of worry you’ve never really shaken since he came home from the Upside Down. Even on normal days, you watch the doors like he might need you in the span of a heartbeat.

You exhale, trying to shake it off. Will is safe. School is just school. Your fingers tighten around the wheel anyway.

You turn into one of the few remaining spots—and then a flash of gold catches your eye.

Of course. The BMW.

You watch as Steve swings into the spot right next to yours with practiced ease, like the two of you rehearsed this moment. Which is ridiculous. Except he really does show up at the same time as you more often than not, and you really have noticed. And part of you hates that you’ve noticed, and the other part—some stubborn, traitorous part—really, really likes it.

Your heart jumps a little before you can stop it. Great. Fantastic. Wonderful.

You open your door and step out just as he does, and his face lights up instantly, as if your presence was the best thing he could’ve seen in this entire parking lot disaster.

“You doing the afternoon pickup too?” He asks, jogging a few easy steps toward you.

His tone is casual, but his eyes flick over you with that warm, open softness you’re still not used to. You fight the flutter of it.

“Yep. My mom’s working late, again.” Your voice sounds normal. You feel anything but.

His expression dips into something gentler. “Ah. I’m here for Dustin and Max. They wanna check out some new arcade game or some nerdy shit like that.”

The image of Steve watching aimlessly as Dustin and Max school each other on some arcade game is… absurdly cute. Dangerous thoughts. You push it away.

You’re about to say something back, something normal, something friendly, something not obviously lovesick, when the school doors burst open.

A tidal wave of kids floods out.

“Steve! I’ve been waiting forever!” Max yells, barreling toward him with her skateboard like she owns the pavement.

At the same second, you spot Will weaving through the crowd, his backpack bouncing. The way he breaks into a grin when he sees you cracks your chest open a little. He still looks so small coming out of a building so huge.

“You’re here! Finally!” He gasps when he reaches you, even though you’re early.

You laugh and ruffle his hair. “Nice to see you too.”

And that’s when the universe decides to absolutely annihilate you.

A teacher—you think she’s one of the kids’ English teachers—approaches you and Steve with that warm, frazzled, end-of-day smile teachers wear for parents like armor.

“Oh, good! There you are!” She chirps. “Your kids were very well-behaved today.”

Your brain trips over itself so hard you actually blink. Your kids?

Beside you, Steve goes rigid. Max snorts so loudly she almost chokes. You and Steve make the exact same face—wide-eyed, frozen, about to malfunction.

“Our what?” You stammer, but Steve jumps in, panicked.

“Oh—they—um—only one of them is mine,” He blurts.

You whip your head toward him. Only one of them is his? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

He realizes what he just said in real-time, eyes going feral. “I mean—none!. None are mine, I don’t—I’m just, you know?” He shrugs his shoulders in panic, struggling to get his point across. You know what he means…he’s just picking them up. But the teacher in front of you doesn’t seem to get the message.

Will is wheezing against your arm, absolutely delighted.

Dustin materializes out of the crowd like a summoned gremlin. “What is happening?” He demands—but then the teacher smiles fondly at him too, like he’s your collective third child, and he looks like Christmas arrived early.

“Oh my god,” He whispers, nudging you and watching Steve with utter amusement. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”

“Sir,” the teacher says kindly to Steve, patting his arm like he’s having a breakdown, “You don’t have to explain anything. Parenting is hard.”

You swear you see Steve’s soul momentarily leave his body. Max crosses her arms. “Yeah, Dad, stop being weird.”

Your jaw drops. You’re 97% certain Steve just lost the will to live.

“MAX,” he hisses, voice cracking.

You try—really try—not to laugh. But a strangled sound escapes anyway, and you have to hide your mouth behind your hand before you openly lose it. The teacher, blissfully unaware of the carnage she’s caused, waves cheerfully and moves on to the next cluster of kids.

Will is practically vibrating. “You two should get matching minivans!”

“Don’t. Even,” you warn him, but your cheeks are already burning.

Steve looks like he’s seriously considering changing his name and moving to another state. “Okay, shitheads.Nobody ever speaks of this again. Got it?” He points to each of them with an intensity you adore.

“No promises Dad,” Dustin cackles.

You start steering Will toward your car before he throws more gasoline on the fire. Your heart is still thumping, too fast, too warm, and you’re terrified it’s obvious.

But then—something prickles at the back of your neck.

You glance over your shoulder. Steve is still standing beside his BMW, leaning one elbow on the roof, watching you like he doesn’t want this moment to end. Like you’re something he’s memorizing.

When your eyes meet, he says aloud: We’d be cool parents though.

Everything inside you short-circuits. You pretend not to hear him, but a small smile creeps its way onto your face. Your hand slips, keys nearly tumbling. Will looks up at you with raised eyebrows. “Why do you look like that?”

“Headache,” you say immediately. 

Will squints. “You’re the weirdest person I know.”

You don’t look back again. You don’t trust yourself not to melt into a puddle in front of the entire school—but even as you close the car door, you swear you can still feel Steve’s grin pressed somewhere under your skin.

You’d make great parents, you think.

And on the way out, you’re nearly certain you hear Dustin ask Steve, “So, between me and Max, which one of us is yours?”

And you can’t help but laugh…you wonder how he’s going to get out of that one.

• ж • ж •

+ I. When acting like a couple ends in becoming a real couple.

Your house always feels a little small on nights like this.

Not physically—God knows Joyce keeps the place spotless, every corner well-loved and lived-in—but emotionally, the walls feel closer when the whole Party is together. Their energy ricochets around the room: loud, sharp, earnest, and chaotic. You’ve grown used to it by now: the mess, the noise, the unpredictability, but even so, every movie night walks that thin line between heartwarming and total combustion.

Tonight lands firmly on the combustion side. It happens fast, so fast that you don’t notice the exact moment the tension shifts. One moment the kids are debating movie choices, the next they’re fighting over pizza, and it devolves—fast.

Mike grabs the last slice before Dustin’s hand even reaches the plate.

“I called it!” Dustin erupts, shoulders shooting up like he’s about to engage in mortal combat.

Mike clutches the slice to his chest. “Calling doesn’t count!”

Dustin’s mop of curly hair takes up most of the space in your vision. He lifts an eyebrow with conviction,“Uh, yes it does!”

“It actually doesn’t!”

Somewhere behind them, Lucas shouts, “You’re both idiots!” which does absolutely nothing to de-escalate the situation.

On the other side of the room, Max throws her head back with a guttural noise of disgust before bracing her hands on the wall and storming down the hall. The bathroom door slams so hard the vibration echoes into your teeth.

Will tries to intervene once—very softly, very hesitantly—but Mike snaps something over his shoulder without thinking, and Will immediately shrinks back, retreating toward the end of the couch like he wishes he could disappear into it.

El stares at the TV remote with growing frustration. You know what she’s thinking. Maybe she could fix the evening with her powers if she tried hard enough, and you swear you see her jaw tremble.

You know the signs. You’ve babysat these kids long enough. Once one kid spirals, the rest follow like dominos.

You inhale through your nose, prepared to wade into the emotional battlefield, and then you look up. Steve, standing by the kitchen counter, meets your gaze across the living room. His gaze immediately grounds you.

What happens next is wordless and instinctive. It’s a practiced rhythm you didn’t even know you had with him—but apparently you do, because the two of you fall into perfect sync without so much as a nod.

You head for the emotional fires; Steve heads for the practical ones.

It’s almost choreographed, like some part of you already knew how to do this together. You calm the feelings while Steve stabilizes the room.

You move to Will first, because the defeated slope of his shoulders is impossible to ignore. His anxiety is a quiet thing, but you’ve learned to read him better than anyone. While you try not to treat him any differently than the others, he’s your brother. And he’s been through far too much for a kid his age. 

You crouch down. “Hey,” you say gently, touching his elbow. “Take a breath with me, okay?”

Will’s eyes flicker up to yours, glassy and full of unshed worry. But he listens. He always listens.

You breathe slowly. He follows. He steadies.

“There you go,” you whisper. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His shoulders sag with relief.

Next, you make your way down the hall and knock on the bathroom door. “Max? It’s me.”

A beat. Then a muffled, “They’re idiots.”

You lean your forehead against the door, trying not to smile. “They are,” you admit. “Certified idiots. But they’re also your idiots, and they’ll feel pretty terrible if you stay mad all night.”

Silence. Then a very soft: “I’ll come out in a minute. Don’t tell them I said anything.”

You smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When you head back down to the living room, the entire energy of the room has shifted and it only takes you one glance to know why. Steve has transformed the space.

The lights are now dimmed to something warm and soft. He’s grabbed popcorn from the microwave as it's quietly replenished, and the last slice of pizza has been mysteriously replaced with two half-slices so no one feels cheated.

Blankets have been pulled down from the hall closet, unfolded and ready. He hands pillows to each of them with ease. The chaos now feels smoothed, softened, and rearranged into a soft sense of comfort.

Somehow he even got Mike and Dustin to sit, still glaring at each other but at least seated, their anger settling from wildfire to the faint glow of an ember.

You meet Steve’s eyes over the room. It hits you in the chest—unexpected and overwhelming—that this feels easy. Natural. Not like something you’re improvising, but something you’ve done a hundred times together. You’ve been a team long before either of you admitted it.

And one by one, the kids melt into calmness.

Will curls into a pillow pile, comforted. El leans against Max who has now rejoined the group, her frustration dissolving with sleep. Lucas steals a corner of a blanket and tucks it under his chin. Mike and Dustin argue, but it's half-hearted now, the kind of bickering they only do once they feel safe.

It happens gradually, but beautifully. Their breathing evens out, their fighting drains away, and instead of chaos, your living room becomes a cocoon of trust, warmth, and soft teenage exhaustion.

And the whole time, you and Steve move in tandem: adjusting blankets, soothing frayed edges, nudging cups out of danger, exchanging small, fond looks that make your stomach twist.

And by the time they’ve all settled, the house is quiet except for the hum of the TV.

You and Steve end up on the couch. It’s totally not intentional, but because there’s nowhere else to sit. A single blanket is draped over both of you, and though neither of you comments on it, you feel every point of contact like a spark.

As you sit there, the kids finally asleep, the movie plays low in the background. Your knees suddenly brush and you rest your shoulders together. Your hands settle close, almost touching on the cushion. Steve’s warmth bleeds into you, calm and familiar and terrifyingly comforting. When you look over, his gaze is already on you. In the way that you’re noticing more and more often, it’s soft around the edges, lit by something you’ve never seen from him so openly before.

In a voice so gentle it feels like an intimate secret, he says “Sometimes I feel like we really are their parents. I mean, we’re already doing the hardest parts.”

Your heart feels like it skips a beat. He continues, watching you with a bravery that makes something twist in your chest. “Maybe,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to your lips for the briefest, most devastating second, “we should just make it official.”

It lands differently than you expected. Not teasing, not flirty, and it certainly doesn’t seem like a joke. He’s serious. Nervous. Hopeful.

You swallow, because suddenly there’s a whole confession rising inside you—a tidal wave of things you’ve been too scared to voice.

“Hmm. You do make everything easier,” you hum teasingly, then seriously, you whisper. “With the kids. With Will. With… everything really. When you’re here, it feels like I don’t have to hold everything alone.”

His expression breaks open, softens, deepens. “You don’t,” he says, voice thick. “You never have to, not with me. We have something real, and something I never want to lose (Y/n).”

Your heart surges. “Are you sure you really want this?” You ask, searching his face for any uncertainty.

He nods without hesitation. “Yeah.” His tone carries with so much confidence, you wish you could express yourself like him. “I want you and I want this. I have for a long time.”

Something in you unravels. Something else roots itself deeper. You lean in slowly, giving him time to pull away if you’ve misread this—if this isn’t what he meant—

But he moves with you. You meet halfway, and he meets you with as much care for you as you have for him.

The kiss is slow and warm and breathtaking in its tenderness. Steve exhales against your mouth like he’s been waiting for this—for you—longer than he knows how to admit. His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek in a touch so gentle it makes your eyes sting.

You melt into him as he pulls you closer, and the world narrows and expands all at once.

It feels inevitable, yet so so right. 

For this campaign Will was the Dungeon Master, and it was Mike’s turn to make a move. While he pondered his options, for a blissful moment, everything was quiet.

Then it wasn’t.

“MIKE, you can’t just skip the traps!” Dustin barks, slamming his palms on the table so hard the character sheets flutter.

Mike leans back in his chair, arms crossed with the dramatic flair of a teen boy convinced he was right. “I’m not skipping them. I’m strategically avoiding them.”

Lucas throws his pencil down. “That’s literally the definition of skipping.”

“It is not–”

“Yes it is!” Lucas responds with a mature indignation you knew only he was capable of making look cool. On Dustin, it would come across whiny and petulant. 

“No, it’s not—”

“It is!” Lucas insists once again. He wasn’t about to back down, especially not to Mike.  

Will’s voice comes out small, drowned beneath the storm. “Guys, can we just—”

No one hears him.

You sigh, setting down the cassette you’d been holding. Here we go again. You stand and brush dust off your jeans, already halfway to the table when the basement door creaks open.

Boots thud down the old wooden stairs. 

“Hey, uh, sorry I’m late,” Steve calls, shaking the cold from his body as he descends. He holds a paper bag in one hand. “I brought ice cream.” Even though it’s freezing outside, ice cream really does sound great right about now.

You steal a glimpse of him as your gaze locks on his figure. Steve’s hair, impossibly thick and wild, catches Will’s Christmas lights like a halo of soft brown waves. His eyes, warm and alert, flick around the room, half in amusement, half in exasperation, and his jawline carries that mix of boyish softness and emerging sharpness that makes him impossible to ignore. 

The denim jacket on his shoulders is worn in all the right places, sleeves casually rolled, and his sneakers are scuffed but perfectly comfortable, like they’d barely survived the walk from his car to the front door. His every movement has an easy confidence, that subtle sway of someone who could be both reckless and dependable at the same time.

He freezes when he reaches the bottom step. So do you.

The boys are mid-argument, halfway standing, voices overlapping. You’re standing with your arms half-crossed in irritation. And without even thinking, without even meaning to, you and Steve both plant your feet, cross your arms, and give the exact same unimpressed stare.

Identical and perfectly mirrored.

“Hey, hey!” Your voice calls in a chastising manner. “Knock it off.” You say firmly.

“Knock it off,” Steve echoes at the exact same time, nearly a fraction of a second apart. You both look menacing and parental and totally in tune with each other. 

The table goes dead silent and all four boys stare with wide, unnerved eyes.

Will blinks, slow and owl-like. “Did you guys just…”

Mike’s jaw hangs open. “That’s creepy.”

Lucas leans forward as if studying a strange new species. “Oh my god,” he shudders, “they’re synchronized, like they’re one person.”

Dustin points dramatically. “You two spend so much time together you’re starting to sound the same.”

Heat rushes across your face, spreading onto your cheeks, just now realizing how close you are to Steve. You drop your arms like they’re on fire. “We are not—we didn’t coordinate that.”

Steve’s face flushes with embarrassment. “Yeah, that wasn’t— I mean, we didn’t— it’s just a coincidence shitheads…"

“No one said it wasn’t,” Dustin’s tone carries teasingly, grinning like Christmas came early.

You agree, gesturing between yourself and Steve, “Right.” You affirm. “A coincidence.”

“Uh-huh,” Lucas responds flatly.

Will tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “You guys kind of do that a lot.”

Your stomach does a weird little flip. “Do what?”

“Act like parents,” Mike says, not even trying to cushion it.

You nearly choke on your own breath. “Parents?” Being a babysitter you could get behind, even being an older sibling figure is something you’d expected. But a parent? Absolutely not…you don’t act like one.

Steve doesn’t like the warmth that fills his chest at the implication. “Okay, wow—okay—nope. No. We’re— that’s— absolutely not what’s happening.”

“Totally,” Dustin adds cheerfully, “full on married couple, mom and dad energy right there.”

“Excuse me?” You and Steve blurt in unison again.

This time, the kids don’t hold back before losing it. Mike slaps the table in sheer amusement at your expense. Lucas simply doubles over wheezing. Will hides a smile behind his hand, and Dustin practically vibrates with smugness. It’s written all over his expression, got ya. 

You press both palms to your face in exasperation. “Oh my god.”

Steve leans closer to you, lowering his voice while the boys cackle. “They’re doing this on purpose, y’know? They like to see us riled up.”

“They’re evil,” you whisper back.

“We can hear you,” Lucas cuts in with a sly grin. 

Dustin gestures proudly between the two of you. “We’re right here.”

Steve's posture straightens, blowing out a breath before attempting to regain control. “Look—just—can you assholes get back to your campaign before I lose the last bit of sanity keeping me alive?”

“Language,” you blurt automatically, pointing at him like a scolding mother. It’s a habit you’d picked up from being around Dustin’s fowl mouth so much.

Steve stares at you, wide-eyed. “Did you just mom-voice me?”

The boys almost howl in laughter and Mike nearly slides right off his chair. You feel your ears burning. “I did not mom-voice you.”

Steve raises a brow, mouth tugging into a teasing, lopsided grin. “You totally did.”

“I did not.”

“It was kinda hot,” He mutters, so quietly you almost question whether you heard it.

Your heart plummets into your shoes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Nothing,” Steve says immediately, voice slightly too loud and too serious. “S’just a figure of speech.” 

Across the table, the boys all exchange glances, eyebrows wiggling, smirks forming. The kind of smirks that make you want to lock them in the Upside Down for an hour.

You glare. “If you tell anyone about this, I swear—”

“We won’t,” Will promises sweetly.

“We absolutely will,” Dustin corrects, grinning.

You groan, dramatically dropping onto the couch like the world had betrayed you.

Steve walks over and gently nudges your knee with his. “You okay?” he asks, voice softer than before. “They’re… um… a lot.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Believe me. I know.”

He offers a crooked, warm smile—the one he only does when he thought no one else was paying attention. “For what it’s worth… I like when we’re on the same team.”

Your chest tightens again, pleasantly, confusingly.

You look up at him and he looks back at you. And for a brief, suspended moment, the chaos of the basement falls away. The glow of the string lights warms Steve’s face. And the two of you feel oddly, undeniably in sync.

Will’s voice breaks the moment, soft but hopeful: “Um… can we keep playing now?”

You and Steve answer instinctively, perfectly in time: “Sure.”

Another round of laughs erupts from the table. But neither of you corrected it. They were never going to let you live this down. 

• ж • ж •

II. The Group Project

Outside, dusk settles over the yard in deep purples and soft peach streaks, turning the kitchen windows into reflective glass. Indoors, the overhead light casts a warm glow across the clutter —half-finished meals pushed aside, a pile of school mail crumpled on the counter, and one lone sock that definitely didn’t start the day where it ended up.

Tonight was supposed to be simple.

The plan—your plan—was to spend a quiet Wednesday finishing a book you’d been putting off. Maybe make some tea. Maybe listen to music. Maybe not referee any disasters for at least a few hours.

But fate, apparently, had other ideas.

Because at nearly 7pm there’s a frantic, uneven knock at the Byers’ front door followed by Dustin’s unmistakable voice calling, “(Y/n), open up!”

You don’t even get a chance to answer. Will opens the door instead, and Dustin barrels in like he’s fleeing wolves.

“We need help with a project,” He announces, breathless like he sprinted the whole way. His curls are wind-tangled, his jacket is half-zipped, and his cheeks flushed from the cold.

Before you can even speak, he’s dumped the contents of his bag onto the table in an academic explosion: glue sticks with bitten caps, an avalanche of loose papers, two crushed Twizzlers, and what looks dangerously like a frog diagram Will did last year.

Will appears behind him, looking apologetic. “Sorry,” he says. “He got…excited.”

Lucas trudges in next with the exhausted despair of a man going to war. “This project is killing us.”

You raise your eyebrows, you know for a fact this project isn’t due until later this week. “It’s Wednesday.”

“Exactly,” Lucas says, dropping into a chair like he’s accepted death. “It’s basically due tomorrow.”

“It’s actually due Friday,” Will mumbles.

Lucas waves a hand. “Same difference.” Unlike the others, Lucas has never been one to procrastinate. He prefers to be ahead of schedule. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “So what exactly do you need help with?”

“History presentation,” Dustin says. “We need a poster. A good one. Like, award-winning. Like the kind of poster people applaud for.”

You blink slowly. “You don’t get applause for school posters.”

“You do,” Dustin says gravely, “if you do them right.”

Before you can sigh again, the door opens again, and Steve pokes his head inside. He steps cautiously into the kitchen, shaking off his jacket, eyes scanning the room with the practiced alarm of the seasoned babysitter he is. 

“Hey! Am I late? I came as soon as I heard—” His gaze falls on the table. “Oh. Wow. That’s… a lot of paper.”

You cross your arms, mildly begrudged and equally curious. “Why are you here?”

“Lucas told me you might need backup.” He shrugs, lifting a grocery bag with the confidence of a man who believes snacks can solve anything. “Plus, I brought provisions.”

He unloads chips, pretzels, Capri Suns, and a box of brownies like he’s setting up camp. And the boys look at him the way baby ducks look at the first thing they see.

Dustin pauses mid glue stick sniff. “You…you brought snacks? Steve, you beautiful bastard.”

Steve beams like he’s been handed a trophy. You fold your arms. “So you’re helping too?”

He shrugs with a grin that is far too casual to be accidental. “Just in case.”

Dustin takes a bite out of one of the brownies, sending you a toothy grin as he does it. He passes one each to Will and Lucas with glee. “This,” Dustin announces, “is why Steve is allowed to come to group projects.”

Steve salutes him. “Glad to be of service man.”

Within minutes, the dining table turns into a chaotic workshop, an island of absolute academic activity. Will is sorting his pencil crayons by shade like you knew he would and Lucas, well, Lucas is fighting and losing against a glue stick cap that refuses to open.

You pull the poster board to the center. Spreading it out, you smooth its surface with your palms. It’s cool and stiff under your hands — blank and expectant.

Dustin’s voice whispers a quiet shit, shit, shit, as a tin of glitter spills on his pants. He stands, dusting it off onto the floor. You chuckle and sigh, shaking your head in bemusement, that’ll be a clean up problem for later. 

“Okay,” you say, ready to begin. “Let’s get started. We’ll keep it simple. Neat. Clear.”

You tuck your knees under the chair you’re sitting on and lean forward, sketching the first pencil guidelines. The familiar pressure of graphite scraping paper grounds you; it’s something you can control.

Steve wanders to your side, pulling a chair next to yours. He doesn’t lower himself gently, he drops into it with that boyish clumsiness he pretends he doesn’t have, the seat legs squeaking across the floor.

He sits next to you — right next to you, close enough that your elbows brush every time you shift — and he tries to look like he understands what’s happening.

He doesn’t. At all. He hasn’t completed a school project like this in years. You try not to think about how close he is, but you fail immediately. He smells like winter air and the faint cologne he uses only when he’s trying to impress a girl. It’s warm with something sweet pulling at its edges. 

He picks up a pencil and squints at the page of instructions. “So, uh…what’s this part?”

“That’s the rubric,” you reply.

“Right. Right. Of course.” He nods confidently. Then lowers his voice. “What’s a rubric again?”

You bite back a smile. “It’s just the grading guide.”

“Oh.” He leans back slightly. “Yeah, I totally knew that.”

“No you didn’t,” Will says without looking up.

“Didn’t ask for your input, Wizard Boy.” From anyone else, you might have taken offence on your brother’s behalf, but Steve has this teasing rapport with each of the kids—it’s easy and heartwarming.  

Will just rolls his eyes and keeps colouring.

You slide a reindeer-shaped eraser toward Steve.  “Here. For morale.”

He accepts it solemnly. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

A few minutes pass in silence as each of you work diligently on your parts. Honestly, you’re kind of having fun; getting back into the groove of a school project reminds you of your own time in high school. It wasn’t always the best, but it brought you closer to Steve. Despite hailing from very different social groups, trauma had bonded you together in a way you’d never have expected. The upside down feels distant in this moment, and that in itself feels nice. 

 You’re sketching out the title letters when you feel Steve lean closer, his arm brushing yours again.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Can you… uh… help me with this?”

You look over. He’s struggling with the scissors, fingers covered in a light coating of glue. He’s stuck.

You blink slowly, staring at him with a soft smile.

“Steve.” You snort.

He grins, embarrassed but charmingly so, and nudges your knee with his under the table.

“C’mon, don't laugh” he says softly. “I feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” You tap the poster board sending him a lopsided grin. “You just, look a little sticky.”

Standing to grab a wash cloth from your kitchen counter, you wet it slightly. “Here,” you say, taking Steve’s hand in yours, careful not to cut yourself with the scissor’s blades. You help Steve, guiding his hand free once the glue has been successfully wiped away. 

The kids notice that change in the room. They absolutely notice. A fresh, nervous energy fills the air.

Lucas nudges Will. Will raises an eyebrow, and Dustin smirks knowingly like he’s in on some grand romantic conspiracy.

Steve eyes Dustin carefully, as if to say not a word, not ONE word. But Dustin doesn’t care, he’s more than happy to watch his friend fall apart at a simple touch from your hand on his. The curly haired teen bites the inside of his cheek trying not to comment—and failing, whispering something like they’re so obvious.

You pretend not to notice.

Another bout of silence falls amongst the group, settling with your dissipating nerves. Each of you agrees, you want to get this done as efficiently as possible, even if it doesn’t seem like it. Now, you’re busy shading the title letters — your hand resting naturally close to Steve’s

Just when the chaos seems manageable, Joyce wanders by carrying a basket of folded laundry. She stops and takes one long look at the table. Her brown eyes take in the scene piece by piece: You leaning in, fingers smudged with pencil dust, and Steve beside you, shoulders angled inward as if drawn to your orbit. Your hands brush each time one of you reaches for a marker.

Joyce watches as the boys work with suspicious innocence. Five Capri Suns sit next to each other, straws already poked in.

A subtle, knowing smile touches her face — warm, gentle, approving. “Oh,” she says, lingering just a heartbeat too long, “you two look cute working together.”

The room freezes. Steve inhales sharply, feeling caught. He blinks unnaturally hard like someone hit pause on his brain. Your eyes widen, sending a glare her way that says: Mom, get out. Joyce simply glides out of the room without clarifying or apologizing, leaving behind the smoldering embarrassment of the interrupted moment you totally weren’t having.

By the time the project is almost done, the boys have stopped doing much of anything, letting you and Steve finish their work for them.

Steve is helping you outline the final border — or at least trying to — his shoulder brushing yours in a way that feels intentional now. He holds the ruler, his long fingers guiding him as he traces the final touches. He leans in a little closer, voice dropping to something low and warm.

“You know,”  he nods at the poster.  “At this rate, we’re basically co-parenting a school project.”

Your cheeks warm at the thought. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” His tone is soft, teasing but honest underneath. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

You freeze for half a second. Just half. And you try to focus, you really really do, but he’s just so distracting.

The house is suddenly very quiet. The distance between you and Steve is small, just a few inches, maybe less but the air shifts, humming with an almost-something neither of you has been brave enough to name. And Steve is watching you, not in the big, bold way he sometimes does, but softly, like he’s asking a question he already knows the answer to.

You swallow. Then you snatch the ruler from his grasp and jab it into his chest.

“Focus, Harrington.”

He laughs under his breath. It’s low, sweet, and the sound slides right under your ribs.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Sure thing Byers.”

But he doesn’t move away.

And neither do you.

• ж • ж •

III. Mad Max

The call comes just after sunset, the hour when Hawkins shifts from blue to violet, when houses glow with warm windows and the ravens call loudly enough to fill the cracks of silence. You’re drying the last dish when the phone rings again. Will grabs it before you do, the cord stretching across his chest like a lifeline.

You can tell it’s one of those calls by the way his face changes—brow pinched, lips pressed thin, eyes flicking toward you.

“It’s Steve,” he says, voice tight, eyes wide and anxious. “Max ran off. Again.”

Your stomach drops. There’s a small, tight pull in your chest. It’s not fear, definitely not panic—just that familiar weight of here we go, mixed with the tug you always feel whenever the kids need you. You suppose it’s a familiar responsibility that comes from loving too many people too much. 

You’re grabbing your jacket before you even realize it. Will isn’t surprised. He doesn’t have to ask; he just steps aside to let you pass.

And when you finally step outside, the cool night air hits your skin—crisp like late autumn and early winter should be, carrying the scent of dry leaves and woodsmoke. And there he is.

Steve, leaning against his car, fiddling with his gloves. His hair is wind-tousled, his cheeks flushed, his hands jittery with too much adrenaline and too little direction. He looks up the second you appear.

Relief floods his entire expression. 

“You came,” he breathes out, like he was half afraid you wouldn’t.

“You called.” You affirm. As if there’d be a time when you could say no to him. Like you’d ever not show up. 

When you finally get a good look at him, you notice there’s worry in his eyes. And underneath it—because you’ve learned to read him—there’s this fear that he’ll mess this up. He doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the car and you slide in, the familiar smell of pine car freshener wrapping around you.

As he pulls away, he keeps glancing over at you with these quick, jittery cuts of his eyes on you like he needs to make sure you’re actually there.

“She just—she took off,” he mutters, voice clipped. “Lucas said something, and then she was gone, and I—” He swallows hard. “I don’t know if she’s mad, or scared, or both. Jesus probably both.”

You touch his arm lightly, grounding him. “She’s not running from you, Steve.”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t believe you yet.

He drives the two of you in complete silence for a while before coming to a stop on the edge of the woods. You find yourselves at an entrance to a trail you know Max likes, one she uses when she just needs to get away. 

“You ready?” You ask Steve with a soft smile. He doesn’t respond, too caught up in his thoughts to speak. He simply nods and takes your hand in his. It’s grounding…for both of you, in a way that usually would spark a kind of nervous energy. But right now, it’s exactly what Steve needs.

As evening clings to the forest trail like a heavy blanket, it's cast in a half-shadow, half-silver moonlight state. The air is cool and smells of pine needles and damp earth as the last bit of violet sky filters through the branches.. Steve’s flashlight cuts through the shadows as you both walk, the beam slicing through the trees like thin, trembling fingers.

The crunch of frozen soil under your feet fills the silence between you. 

“She could be anywhere,” Steve mutters. His shoulders are tight, a helm of anxiety written all over him.

You can feel Steve’s worry, almost like it’s a physical heat pouring off him. He’s walking too fast, scanning everything, body coiled like he’s ready to fight whatever hurts the people he cares about.

You’ve seen that look before. In the Upside Down, in hospital rooms, in quieter nights like this.

“She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone,” he murmurs as if it’s his fault she ran. “None of them should.”

But you hear the real fear beneath it: I should’ve kept her safe.  I should’ve noticed sooner. I should’ve been enough.

In the years you’ve grown to know Steve, he’s always held himself to an insurmountable standard. It’s one that he would never expect from anyone else but himself. He has to be ready for anything at any time from anyone. And he has to be able to take it on alone. That’s one of the things you’re trying to break down—this need to fix everything by himself. You’ve tried countless times to tell him I’m here too. Sometimes you think you’re getting through to him…this isn’t one of those moments. But you’d be damned if you stopped trying. 

After a few minutes of more silent sulking, you hear something familiar: the uneven scrape of wheels on the dirt. You follow the sound around a bend, and there she is, sitting at the edge of the tree trunk with her skateboard on her lap like a shield.

Her chin is tucked to her chest, knuckles white on the board's underside.

“Red?” You murmur softly, easing down beside her. You approach slowly, like you’re nearing a cornered animal, because in some ways, you are. 

Max sniffles once, but doesn’t look up. In Max-language, that means: I’ll talk, just not yet.

“Hey,” you continue, leaning in closer beside her. The ground is cold through your jeans. “Want to tell me what happened?”

She shrugs, nails digging into the underside of her skateboard. You can see the tension coiled in her shoulders. Her body language betrays her, anger, shame, frustration, hurt all tangled up.

“It was stupid,” she mutters.

“If it made you feel this bad,” you glance at her with a sympathy for her pain, “it wasn’t stupid Max.”

She shakes her head in slight protest before muttering, “The boys were just being idiots,” 

Behind you, Steve hangs back, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, pretending he’s not desperately listening while also desperate to give space. His hands rest on his hips and his eyes don’t leave her for a second. 

“They wouldn’t stop arguing, I just felt like I couldn’t control anything.” Max finally says. “And then Lucas said I didn’t need to be so dramatic. And Mike got all Mike about it. So I left. Before I yelled…or cried.”

The last word breaks.  Just slightly. “I don’t know,” she continues, “I figured they wouldn’t even notice I was gone.”

You give her a look. “You know they notice everything you do.”

Max kicks a pebble, hard. “Yeah, well… I didn’t want them to see me cry.”

That slices clean through you.  You bump her shoulder gently. “Max. Crying doesn’t make you weak.”

“It makes me look like a baby.” Is her honest response, and she means it.

“It makes you look human,” you correct softly, pulling her into a soft side-hug.

She sniffles but refuses to cry in front of you. It’s Max’s way of trying to be tough, even though you already know how soft-hearted she really is. For a moment, the world goes still around the three of you. Steve leans down to meet your level, each of you now sitting on the cold dirt floor. Max’s breathing is easier, her shoulders are lower, and her jaw unclenches. She needed to be seen, and with you and Steve, she feels she has been. 

But just when the moment is finally tender, real, and grounding—she ruins it in the most Max Mayfield way possible.

“Ya know,” she grumbles abruptly, staring between you and Steve, “You two are like our divorced parents who still love each other. It’s kind of annoying.”

You blink. In that moment, Steve actually chokes on his own saliva.

“Divorced?” he echoes, like she just accused him of murder. His voice cracks on the second syllable. 

The red head rolls her eyes. “Yeah. Like the way you show up together. And fight together. And then act weird when anyone points it out.” You give each other a look that asks, we totally don’t do that right? But she continues before you can think about it more, “One of you is the calm one,” she points to you, “and one of you is the chaotic one, but you’re always together anyway. It’s a whole thing…Classic divorced-but-still-grossly-in-love behaviour.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, when Steve makes a move to protest being labelled the chaotic one.  “Don’t even start,” you warn Steve without looking at him.

“I wasn’t!” he puts his hands up in defence.  Then quieter, “…I wasn’t.”

Max snorts. “God. That’s exactly what a divorced dad would say.” 

Steve looks incredulous and personally victimized. Divorced? Why can’t you both be happily married in this scenario? 

But as he takes in Max’s smile and the quiet laugh she lets out at his reaction, he can see how much she needed this—a moment to break the tension with something ridiculous. Her eyes are no longer stormy…and that was the whole point of this.

“C’mon,” you say gently, nudging them both to get up from your spots on the ground. “Let’s get you home.”

Max finally nods, rubbing her eyes tiredly as you lead her back to the car. She leans on you both during the short walk, and when you finally reach the vehicle, Steve lifts her onto the seat gently. He buckles her in like a true parent.

Max falls asleep before you’re even back on the road, skateboard still clutched to her chest. She curls into the corner of the back seat, exhausted and small in a way she’ll deny forever.

Steve drives slowly now—the careful, protective version of him that surfaces only when the kids are nearby… or when you are. The silence in the car is warm, heavy.  Not awkward. Just… charged.

The road unwinds in long, quiet stretches. Golden pools of streetlight glide over the windshield. The car hums.

You rest your elbow on the window, watching the blur of passing houses. Steve glances at you a few times—quick, flickering looks from under his lashes, like he’s trying to find the right words but they keep slipping away. They’re the kind he thinks you don’t notice.

Halfway down the road, pulling into the Mayfield driveway, he inhales deeply.

“You know…” he says quietly, “you’re… really good with her.”

You shrug off his words. “She just needed someone to listen.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean… you’re good with all of them. With the boys. And El.” He pauses, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

“—and with me.”

Your heart stutters. “I never expected anyone to care about me the way you do.” His brown eyes meet yours as he puts the car in park.

It’s subtle, but the way his voice dips? The way the words feel heavier than they should? It does something to you.

You try to play it off, but your pulse betrays you, thrumming in your ears. You can feel it in your wrists, in your ribs, and in your throat. 

“Somebody has to be the calm one,” you say softly.

Steve huffs a laugh, warm and self-deprecating.  “Yeah. Well. That’s definitely not me.”

You pretend to look out the window, steadying your breath.  “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” you murmur.

“You give me too much,” he replies.

“That’s not true.” He shifts his hand on the center console. Yours shifts too. Barely, casually. Maybe not casually at all.

Your pinkies brush. And Steve freezes—just a breath, just a heartbeat—but long enough for the air between you to thicken, warm and electric with currents of tension.

He doesn’t pull away and neither do you.

“Thanks,” he whispers, almost too quiet. “For being you.”

Your heartbeat answers for you and you let your hand drift the final few centimetres until your pinkies tough tentatively. Steve exhales and neither of you pulls away.

• ж • ж •

IV. School Pick-Up

The Hawkins High School parking lot looks like a battlefield every weekday at 3:15 p.m.—car exhaust drifting in the cold air, teachers shouting instructions like air-traffic controllers, and children flooding through the front doors in unpredictable, chaotic waves.

You’re already tense just pulling in. Picking up Will always stirs something in your chest: protectiveness, guilt, that familiar edge of worry you’ve never really shaken since he came home from the Upside Down. Even on normal days, you watch the doors like he might need you in the span of a heartbeat.

You exhale, trying to shake it off. Will is safe. School is just school. Your fingers tighten around the wheel anyway.

You turn into one of the few remaining spots—and then a flash of gold catches your eye.

Of course. The BMW.

You watch as Steve swings into the spot right next to yours with practiced ease, like the two of you rehearsed this moment. Which is ridiculous. Except he really does show up at the same time as you more often than not, and you really have noticed. And part of you hates that you’ve noticed, and the other part—some stubborn, traitorous part—really, really likes it.

Your heart jumps a little before you can stop it. Great. Fantastic. Wonderful.

You open your door and step out just as he does, and his face lights up instantly, as if your presence was the best thing he could’ve seen in this entire parking lot disaster.

“You doing the afternoon pickup too?” He asks, jogging a few easy steps toward you.

His tone is casual, but his eyes flick over you with that warm, open softness you’re still not used to. You fight the flutter of it.

“Yep. My mom’s working late, again.” Your voice sounds normal. You feel anything but.

His expression dips into something gentler. “Ah. I’m here for Dustin and Max. They wanna check out some new arcade game or some nerdy shit like that.”

The image of Steve watching aimlessly as Dustin and Max school each other on some arcade game is… absurdly cute. Dangerous thoughts. You push it away.

You’re about to say something back, something normal, something friendly, something not obviously lovesick, when the school doors burst open.

A tidal wave of kids floods out.

“Steve! I’ve been waiting forever!” Max yells, barreling toward him with her skateboard like she owns the pavement.

At the same second, you spot Will weaving through the crowd, his backpack bouncing. The way he breaks into a grin when he sees you cracks your chest open a little. He still looks so small coming out of a building so huge.

“You’re here! Finally!” He gasps when he reaches you, even though you’re early.

You laugh and ruffle his hair. “Nice to see you too.”

And that’s when the universe decides to absolutely annihilate you.

A teacher—you think she’s one of the kids’ English teachers—approaches you and Steve with that warm, frazzled, end-of-day smile teachers wear for parents like armor.

“Oh, good! There you are!” She chirps. “Your kids were very well-behaved today.”

Your brain trips over itself so hard you actually blink. Your kids?

Beside you, Steve goes rigid. Max snorts so loudly she almost chokes. You and Steve make the exact same face—wide-eyed, frozen, about to malfunction.

“Our what?” You stammer, but Steve jumps in, panicked.

“Oh—they—um—only one of them is mine,” He blurts.

You whip your head toward him. Only one of them is his? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

He realizes what he just said in real-time, eyes going feral. “I mean—none!. None are mine, I don’t—I’m just, you know?” He shrugs his shoulders in panic, struggling to get his point across. You know what he means…he’s just picking them up. But the teacher in front of you doesn’t seem to get the message.

Will is wheezing against your arm, absolutely delighted.

Dustin materializes out of the crowd like a summoned gremlin. “What is happening?” He demands—but then the teacher smiles fondly at him too, like he’s your collective third child, and he looks like Christmas arrived early.

“Oh my god,” He whispers, nudging you and watching Steve with utter amusement. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”

“Sir,” the teacher says kindly to Steve, patting his arm like he’s having a breakdown, “You don’t have to explain anything. Parenting is hard.”

You swear you see Steve’s soul momentarily leave his body. Max crosses her arms. “Yeah, Dad, stop being weird.”

Your jaw drops. You’re 97% certain Steve just lost the will to live.

“MAX,” he hisses, voice cracking.

You try—really try—not to laugh. But a strangled sound escapes anyway, and you have to hide your mouth behind your hand before you openly lose it. The teacher, blissfully unaware of the carnage she’s caused, waves cheerfully and moves on to the next cluster of kids.

Will is practically vibrating. “You two should get matching minivans!”

“Don’t. Even,” you warn him, but your cheeks are already burning.

Steve looks like he’s seriously considering changing his name and moving to another state. “Okay, shitheads.Nobody ever speaks of this again. Got it?” He points to each of them with an intensity you adore.

“No promises Dad,” Dustin cackles.

You start steering Will toward your car before he throws more gasoline on the fire. Your heart is still thumping, too fast, too warm, and you’re terrified it’s obvious.

But then—something prickles at the back of your neck.

You glance over your shoulder. Steve is still standing beside his BMW, leaning one elbow on the roof, watching you like he doesn’t want this moment to end. Like you’re something he’s memorizing.

When your eyes meet, he says aloud: We’d be cool parents though.

Everything inside you short-circuits. You pretend not to hear him, but a small smile creeps its way onto your face. Your hand slips, keys nearly tumbling. Will looks up at you with raised eyebrows. “Why do you look like that?”

“Headache,” you say immediately. 

Will squints. “You’re the weirdest person I know.”

You don’t look back again. You don’t trust yourself not to melt into a puddle in front of the entire school—but even as you close the car door, you swear you can still feel Steve’s grin pressed somewhere under your skin.

You’d make great parents, you think.

And on the way out, you’re nearly certain you hear Dustin ask Steve, “So, between me and Max, which one of us is yours?”

And you can’t help but laugh…you wonder how he’s going to get out of that one.

• ж • ж •

+ I. When acting like a couple ends in becoming a real couple.

Your house always feels a little small on nights like this.

Not physically—God knows Joyce keeps the place spotless, every corner well-loved and lived-in—but emotionally, the walls feel closer when the whole Party is together. Their energy ricochets around the room: loud, sharp, earnest, and chaotic. You’ve grown used to it by now: the mess, the noise, the unpredictability, but even so, every movie night walks that thin line between heartwarming and total combustion.

Tonight lands firmly on the combustion side. It happens fast, so fast that you don’t notice the exact moment the tension shifts. One moment the kids are debating movie choices, the next they’re fighting over pizza, and it devolves—fast.

Mike grabs the last slice before Dustin’s hand even reaches the plate.

“I called it!” Dustin erupts, shoulders shooting up like he’s about to engage in mortal combat.

Mike clutches the slice to his chest. “Calling doesn’t count!”

Dustin’s mop of curly hair takes up most of the space in your vision. He lifts an eyebrow with conviction,“Uh, yes it does!”

“It actually doesn’t!”

Somewhere behind them, Lucas shouts, “You’re both idiots!” which does absolutely nothing to de-escalate the situation.

On the other side of the room, Max throws her head back with a guttural noise of disgust before bracing her hands on the wall and storming down the hall. The bathroom door slams so hard the vibration echoes into your teeth.

Will tries to intervene once—very softly, very hesitantly—but Mike snaps something over his shoulder without thinking, and Will immediately shrinks back, retreating toward the end of the couch like he wishes he could disappear into it.

El stares at the TV remote with growing frustration. You know what she’s thinking. Maybe she could fix the evening with her powers if she tried hard enough, and you swear you see her jaw tremble.

You know the signs. You’ve babysat these kids long enough. Once one kid spirals, the rest follow like dominos.

You inhale through your nose, prepared to wade into the emotional battlefield, and then you look up. Steve, standing by the kitchen counter, meets your gaze across the living room. His gaze immediately grounds you.

What happens next is wordless and instinctive. It’s a practiced rhythm you didn’t even know you had with him—but apparently you do, because the two of you fall into perfect sync without so much as a nod.

You head for the emotional fires; Steve heads for the practical ones.

It’s almost choreographed, like some part of you already knew how to do this together. You calm the feelings while Steve stabilizes the room.

You move to Will first, because the defeated slope of his shoulders is impossible to ignore. His anxiety is a quiet thing, but you’ve learned to read him better than anyone. While you try not to treat him any differently than the others, he’s your brother. And he’s been through far too much for a kid his age. 

You crouch down. “Hey,” you say gently, touching his elbow. “Take a breath with me, okay?”

Will’s eyes flicker up to yours, glassy and full of unshed worry. But he listens. He always listens.

You breathe slowly. He follows. He steadies.

“There you go,” you whisper. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His shoulders sag with relief.

Next, you make your way down the hall and knock on the bathroom door. “Max? It’s me.”

A beat. Then a muffled, “They’re idiots.”

You lean your forehead against the door, trying not to smile. “They are,” you admit. “Certified idiots. But they’re also your idiots, and they’ll feel pretty terrible if you stay mad all night.”

Silence. Then a very soft: “I’ll come out in a minute. Don’t tell them I said anything.”

You smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When you head back down to the living room, the entire energy of the room has shifted and it only takes you one glance to know why. Steve has transformed the space.

The lights are now dimmed to something warm and soft. He’s grabbed popcorn from the microwave as it's quietly replenished, and the last slice of pizza has been mysteriously replaced with two half-slices so no one feels cheated.

Blankets have been pulled down from the hall closet, unfolded and ready. He hands pillows to each of them with ease. The chaos now feels smoothed, softened, and rearranged into a soft sense of comfort.

Somehow he even got Mike and Dustin to sit, still glaring at each other but at least seated, their anger settling from wildfire to the faint glow of an ember.

You meet Steve’s eyes over the room. It hits you in the chest—unexpected and overwhelming—that this feels easy. Natural. Not like something you’re improvising, but something you’ve done a hundred times together. You’ve been a team long before either of you admitted it.

And one by one, the kids melt into calmness.

Will curls into a pillow pile, comforted. El leans against Max who has now rejoined the group, her frustration dissolving with sleep. Lucas steals a corner of a blanket and tucks it under his chin. Mike and Dustin argue, but it's half-hearted now, the kind of bickering they only do once they feel safe.

It happens gradually, but beautifully. Their breathing evens out, their fighting drains away, and instead of chaos, your living room becomes a cocoon of trust, warmth, and soft teenage exhaustion.

And the whole time, you and Steve move in tandem: adjusting blankets, soothing frayed edges, nudging cups out of danger, exchanging small, fond looks that make your stomach twist.

And by the time they’ve all settled, the house is quiet except for the hum of the TV.

You and Steve end up on the couch. It’s totally not intentional, but because there’s nowhere else to sit. A single blanket is draped over both of you, and though neither of you comments on it, you feel every point of contact like a spark.

As you sit there, the kids finally asleep, the movie plays low in the background. Your knees suddenly brush and you rest your shoulders together. Your hands settle close, almost touching on the cushion. Steve’s warmth bleeds into you, calm and familiar and terrifyingly comforting. When you look over, his gaze is already on you. In the way that you’re noticing more and more often, it’s soft around the edges, lit by something you’ve never seen from him so openly before.

In a voice so gentle it feels like an intimate secret, he says “Sometimes I feel like we really are their parents. I mean, we’re already doing the hardest parts.”

Your heart feels like it skips a beat. He continues, watching you with a bravery that makes something twist in your chest. “Maybe,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to your lips for the briefest, most devastating second, “we should just make it official.”

It lands differently than you expected. Not teasing, not flirty, and it certainly doesn’t seem like a joke. He’s serious. Nervous. Hopeful.

You swallow, because suddenly there’s a whole confession rising inside you—a tidal wave of things you’ve been too scared to voice.

“Hmm. You do make everything easier,” you hum teasingly, then seriously, you whisper. “With the kids. With Will. With… everything really. When you’re here, it feels like I don’t have to hold everything alone.”

His expression breaks open, softens, deepens. “You don’t,” he says, voice thick. “You never have to, not with me. We have something real, and something I never want to lose (Y/n).”

Your heart surges. “Are you sure you really want this?” You ask, searching his face for any uncertainty.

He nods without hesitation. “Yeah.” His tone carries with so much confidence, you wish you could express yourself like him. “I want you and I want this. I have for a long time.”

Something in you unravels. Something else roots itself deeper. You lean in slowly, giving him time to pull away if you’ve misread this—if this isn’t what he meant—

But he moves with you. You meet halfway, and he meets you with as much care for you as you have for him.

The kiss is slow and warm and breathtaking in its tenderness. Steve exhales against your mouth like he’s been waiting for this—for you—longer than he knows how to admit. His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek in a touch so gentle it makes your eyes sting.

You melt into him as he pulls you closer, and the world narrows and expands all at once.

It feels inevitable, yet so so right. 

Obligatory, you always had a chapstick at your desk, a lipgloss in your purse, and a water bottle in hand. It was a habit that stuck early on, and never went away. Still, nothing could delay your lips’ nature from showing.

Some found it cute, some would pass you more water and tell you to look for a doctor. Too used to all of those reactions, you’d always thank them and move on. You wished you could fix your chapped lips — but they always came back.

It took Johnny a few weeks before he noticed why you’re always reapplying your translucent gloss or taking small sips of water at any given moment. It was like watching his brain click, and then he was asking if you needed anything else.

“Hm, no, I’m ok.”

“You sure you’re not sick?”

“I’m sure, Johnny. I’m just putting in the work to avoid chapped lips before winter hits us.”

“Uh-oh. I thought it was a seduction tactic," he joked.

After that, it wasn’t strange to find lipgloss from your favorite brand at Johnny’s bedside and or a chapstick in his bathroom vanity or hidden in his coats’ pockets. He even tried to leave one in his suit, but the compounds were altered as soon as he caught on fire — which earned an instant “Don’t!” from Reed.

You swear you’ve heard him asking Sue about the difference between the very fancy hydration lipgloss every magazine carried an ad for, and the ones from the drugstore — it was cute, like sparkling pink lipgloss. He already made sure to stock up on your go-to one, you didn’t need him spoiling you more than necessary.

On a cold January night, you and Johnny were admiring the city from the Baxter Tower balcony after a family dinner. He reached for the lipgloss in the pocket of his pants and you noticed it wasn’t the same as usual. 

“Bought this one by accident,” he explained. It was from the same brand, but a different shade, which wasn’t a problem for you, “and if you don’t like it, I’ll just throw it away.”

“Oh, no, it’s ok, I like this one too,” you opened the small bottle and applied it to your lips, carefully. “It’s been a minute since I wore it.”

“Can I try it?”

His question caught you off guard, and as you moved the lip wand to gather some product, he stepped closer and pressed his lips against yours. His hands wavered through your body, resting around your waist as he pulled you in.

The white spirals filled the space once he broke the kiss.

“I still prefer the other one,” he announced, his thumb gently holding you by your chin.

“Really? You weren’t kissing me as much when I had it on,” you pouted and baited your eyes. “I thought you were growing bored of me.”

“Of you? Never.” He kissed you again, proving his point. “But I think this one,” he took the lipgloss from your hand, taking a good look at it, “needs more experimentation.”

“Since when you’ve become a lipgloss specialist, Johnny Storm?”

“Since I started dating you, babydoll.” Another kiss was pressed to your lips. “I’m gonna get you a haul of lip products, we’re gonna catalogue and experiment all of them.”

“And what parameters do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking of color, flavour, texture and durability. And a secret one.”

“Which is…” You leaned in. 

“How much I like tasting it from your lips.” As he dipped for one more kiss, you pushed him back by his chest, a playful smile touching your eyes. “What?”

“Should we take this to the lab?” you teased him, taking a step back to go inside the house.

“The lab can’t take my type of experiment, doll.”

As you turned to question him what he meant, Johnny grabbed you by your middle and threw you over his shoulder, one hand around your knees, another over your ass, holding your skirt's hem in place.

“Johnny!” You slapped his back muscles, and he held you firmer as you tried to slip away.

“Don’t make this harder on me,” his words were low and threatening.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll ruin more than just your lipstick.”

His threat sent shivers down your spine, and his firm steps into the stairs announced your destiny. As you crossed paths with H.E.R.B.I.E., the robot said something your ears didn’t catch, but earned a smirk and a “We’re busy, Herbert.”

A few more steps, a door closed, and Johnny said, “Let me get to work.”

Everyone in Jackson had a specialty. Teachers. Doctors. Builders. Cooks. The list goes on and on, with roles that contributed immeasurably to the functioning of the town, despite how some may carry more weight than the others. But no matter how big or small one’s role was in the community, everyone appreciated the efforts, for the town needed the collective help to preserve its integrity beyond the gates that closed it off from the rest of Wyoming.

And all you knew since your arrival was that the town was the closest thing you’d ever had to a home. Something real. Somewhere safe. The one thing you couldn’t possibly bear to lose, for you didn’t know if anything would ever suffice the way this town had.

You weren’t a stranger to the cruelty lurking outside of the gates, spending a good portion of your life weaving in and out of the fallen QZ’s and deserted cities, just hoping to survive another day, until you finally stumbled upon Jackson.

They had taken you in with tentative, yet open arms, allowing you to adjust to the town you would come to call home before asking what it was you could provide. What you could give back to Jackson, not just for you, but for all its citizens. After all, the town belonged to everyone—those old and young, seasoned and novice—living for the hope of it all to make it to another day.

And so you were a supply runner, one of the most distinguished specialties the community was always looking to have more of, and it was just their luck that you weren’t just good at what you did.

You were great.

Reliable.

Confident.

Never coming back empty-handed even when something unexpected was thrown into your path.

Last winter proved that.

It wasn’t a part of the plan to stumble upon a group of raiders during a run all by yourself, and truth be told you didn’t want to kill any of them. But the second your presence was known, the moment you saw the greed in their eyes, the realization dawned on you that you needed to do what was necessary.

It had been hours since your expected arrival, and a few members of Jackson’s committee including Tommy, Maria, and Joel were waiting impatiently behind the gates. Joel suspected something went sideways, proposing a search party go out and look for you, but he’d been outvoted. His brother assuring him that everything was fine and that you always came back in one piece.

When they finally spotted you from a distance, a blob among the falling snow and dwindling daylight, they almost breathed a sigh of reprieve, but as the gates creaked open to greet you, and you drew closer, it all came crashing.

You were hunched over your horse, clothing tattered and blowing against the wind. A rope tightly wound across your waist, dragging duffle bags of enough weapons and ammunition to last months of patrol across the blankets of snow. The pungent smell of blood saturating the air before they finally took sight of it staining skin.

Protocol was ignored, Joel bolting to you without thinking twice.

He hauled your half unconscious body off your beloved horse Ivy, diligently clutch the back of your head as he laid you down and his brother dropped beside him, immediately going to undo the knot around your waist.

Joel’s eyes flashed over your face, taking in your appearance, searching for any signs of life. Your heavy-lidded eyes were barely hanging on, frost bitten lips parted with weak breaths, and your cheeks and chin daubed with dried blood. It was a miracle that you even made it back, but that optimism instantly seemed to fade when he spotted more blood, the steady dribble of blood trickling onto the frosty snow beneath you. 

With shaky hands, he tore through the rest of your shredded coat, discovering the deep incision on your abdomen, angry and throbbing, pooling with enough blood to make his run cold. His hands were coated in your near-death, transporting him back to that harrowing memory of his dear Sarah, reliving the greatest loss of his life all over again.

He knew the cost of hesitation and he wasn’t going to let it take you next. Lifting you back into his arms with a devastatingly rehearsed movement, he clutching you tight to his chest, rushing you to the infirmary paying no mind to the shouting voices behind him. 

He didn’t need to be told to know what you had done.

He had already pieced together the story once he saw the crimson and the baggage you pulled behind. 

He knew what you had done to survive. 

But most importantly, he knew what you had done to risk losing your life.

To Joel, you weren’t good. Not even great. Just plain reckless. Willing to put yourself in grave danger against god knows how many of those ruthless raiders just to make it back with a contribution without ever weighing your own chances of survival. 

He knew what this town meant to everyone, how much your recklessness would provide for everyone’s safety, yet he couldn’t look past what it meant beyond the surface.

You possessed a sort of recklessness that teetered the edge of selflessness, the one thing that would end up costing your life one day–and even if it wasn’t his place to care as severely as he did, he couldn’t let you go on. 

Since that last winter, Joel kept his sights on you, refusing to send you out on any runs or patrols, alone or grouped, even despite your argument that every journey beyond the gates was risky no matter what. All you could see was him punishing you, his all of a sudden authoritarianism taking away the one thing you could give to this place that fucking mattered.  

You didn’t understand why he was putting so much effort into controlling you, when at some point you were nothing more than a body to send outside of the gates to protect the community and him. 

Granted, you and Joel were never more than just strangers forced to interact scarcely. Joel made the patrolling and run schedules, posted them up, and only if you ever needed to switch, was when you talked to him.

And that was almost never.

But since his imminent shift in demeanor, you found yourself almost always at his throat, while he sat back silently, brushing you off like you weren’t even there, though you knew deep down his stoicism was crumbling with every hurtful word you threw his way.  

He enraged you.

You wanted to crack him open. To get a reaction out of him. The one you knew he was actively burying deep within him day by day. Then maybe, just maybe, you’d understand where he was truly coming from.

Why was he punishing you? 

Why Joel Miller wanted to keep you in a cage that made you feel useless to the community you knew you were obligated to provide for?

Luckily for you though, his authority didn’t last long into the next winter where the need for supplies grew.

Tommy had been a lingering presence in and out of Joel’s makeshift office, hinting at the abandoned hospital miles out that was stocked with necessities that would tremendously benefit Jackson and the influx of new individuals coming in.

Joel wasn’t stupid, though. He knew exactly what his little brother was getting at, trying to convince him to put you back on runs without twisting his hand and making him feel as though he had no other choice. It wasn’t working and Joel knew it was only a matter of time until Tommy would intervene, putting a stop to whatever power he held. 

He knew it was coming.

You were the only one who knew enough about the ins and outs of the particular route, what shortcuts to take, what possibilities you could run into. And with Jackson getting desperate to brave out the winter with as few hiccups as possible, he knew Tommy was going to put you on that run–solo or grouped it didn’t matter–but it was going to be you.  

It didn’t take much convincing from Tommy to get you on board, but he still respected his older brother and his position as head of patrols and runs. And so there you were in his quaint office, pretending Joel’s existence wasn’t real as you stared down at the shabby fading map with a pen in hand as Tommy listened and Joel brooded silently.

“The run will take a day and a half.” You explained, drawing a messy line across the paper, detailing the route, “Half of day one is traveling, alone. Then we’ll gather supplies, and clear whatever infected there is.” 

Then you circled a different spot on the map, fitting your eyes up to Tommy’s.

“Before sunset, we have to stop at this cabin. It’s a safe house. We’ll need to rest and so will the horses. The next morning we’ll make it back home by around mid-day.”

Tommy agreed without a second thought, and that alone made Joel’s irritation boil over. His brother had always had blind faith in these sorts of things and Joel never understood why he couldn’t be a little more skeptical, especially considering what they both faced together.

“What do you think?” Tommy wrung his head towards Joel, meanwhile you bit back the urge to say ‘fuck what he thinks.’

He looked unimpressed, jaw clenching and his broad shoulders standing stiff as his boots rocked against the creaky floors. The tension was palpable if anything at all. Whatever strain that lingered between you and Joel filled the room with something so suffocating, Tommy couldn’t wait to be freed. 

His silence was like drowning and you’d be damned if you let him take you under.

“It’s a good plan, Joel.” You spat sharply, pressing your hands against the desk, straightening your stance.

He only grunted, narrowing his sights on you, before he finally spoke.

“What happens if you aren’t out there alone? If there’s infected in that building? Or if there’s raiders in that cabin.”

His jab at your expertise disguised as concern made your blood boil, your self control withering by the second, especially when he brought up the raiders.  

Tommy was going to be thrown into the middle of you and Joel’s indifference whether he liked it or not. He was immediately regretting not dragging Ellie or Maria along to try to at least neutralize the situation or better yet free him of his developing migraine.

Whether you believed it or not, you and Joel were cut from the same cloth of obstinance, the kind of flaw that got the best of you both, the one that Tommy was going to need to put up with. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Miller?” You accused, shuffling across the room to where he stood, “I’m not incapable and you know that. Whatever vendetta you have against me, fucking drop it, Joel.”

His arms uncrossed over his chest, dropping to his sides as he flexed his fingers stiffly. You were damn near getting under his skin, and he had been so good at showing otherwise. He didn’t have any vendetta against you—it was tolerance, mercy, postulation—something you were too young, too reckless to possess, let alone see with your own eyes.

“I didn’t say you weren’t capable, but what you are is reckless.” He bellowed too loudly for your liking. “And I don’t need that type of recklessness out there bein’ brought back here.”

‘Or not making it back at all,’ Joel bit back. 

Without taking his eyes off your heated glare, he muttered to Tommy who was already burrowing his head behind his hands. 

“She’s not going on that run.” 

You furrowed your brows, lips twitching with anger, “The hell I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Enough.”

Tommy’s voice silenced the two of you, once and for all, slicing through the tension. 

“She’s going on that run with Jesse.”

Joel’s eyes widened, hands clenched into fists as he turned to his brother, ready to tell him he needed to know his place. Yet the younger stood his ground, shaking his head and holding his hand out with purpose, keeping both of you silent. 

“You’re still in charge here and she won’t go alone. It’s a compromise, and it’s final. Jackson needs this.”

‘Still in charge’ my ass, Joel thought, dropping his gaze down to the floor as his hands rested on his hips. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but be pleased by the decision, happy to be finally getting your way after all this time forced to yield to Joel’s rules. 

“They’ll leave in a few days.” 

With that, Tommy didn’t stay any longer than he needed to, not trying to mitigate the feelings between you both, as he knew you both were too far gone to help. He stomped towards the door, grumbling to himself before letting it slam behind him. 

You and Joel didn’t say a word, and part of you wanted to antagonize him. Tell him that his old ass needed to find a hobby other than trying to control you.

But you didn’t. 

You caught the hitch in his chest, the way his scowl undoubtedly slipped into something almost insistent when he finally looked up at you. You wanted to ask what his deal was all of sudden.

But you didn’t.

He didn’t stop you from leaving.

Didn’t try his very hardest to explain where he was coming from because believe it or not, he too was in your shoes at one point in his life. Too confident for his own good. Too willing to lay it all out without thinking of what he would be leaving behind.

He knew you wouldn’t see it the way he did. He didn’t want to waste his breath expressing words you wouldn’t take to heart.

He didn’t. 

But he wasn’t letting you go.

Joel knew you were going to find out what he did before daylight. Before every run and patrol, you’d stop at the stables the night before, checking up on your horse Ivy and double checking the written schedules he always had posted up. It was only a matter of when and how angry you were going to be with him. 

And as if he could feel it coming from a mile away, your rage approached and suddenly the double doors of the cafeteria swung open and he watched you sweep over the room until your eyes fell onto his. 

“What the fuck, Miller!” You roared, making a beeline towards him. 

Ellie, who was sitting right across from him, wore a shocked expression, mouth moving to ask Joel what was going on, but before she could, your voice echoed through the room again. 

“Why’d you take off the run? And why the fuck are you going instead of me?” You demanded, slamming your palms against the table, shaking it roughly. 

He sighed, picking up his napkin as he ran it across his mouth, eyes moving across the room, seeing the concerned and taken aback faces from the others watching—waiting to see what he was going to do.  

“Let’s go outside.” He mumbled quietly, beginning to stand up. 

You shook your head, hitting the table once more, “No, I want to know right now! Who the fuck gave you the right to—”

“Outside. Now.” He growled, patience wearing thin, taking hold of your arm tightly.

You fought against him feebly, attempting to jerk your arm back as he walked towards the backdoors, pulling you behind him until the cold air hit your skin and he finally dropped his grip. 

“Do you get off on this? Punishing me for no reason at all?” You snarled, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to control your anger and stop yourself from decking him right across the jaw.

“M’not punishin’ you—”

“Then what is it?” You demanded, cutting him off, “Why are you icing me out of the one thing I’m good at, Joel?”

You couldn’t miss the scoff he let out, as if he was laughing at you. Mocking you for feeling the way you felt after all these months. It fucking ticked you off.

“You think you’re good at what you do?” He stared down at you with a coldhearted gaze. 

“I think I’m great at what I do.” You rebutted, tipping your chin up at him. 

“You call making it back here, damn near falling off your horse while you bleed out, great?” His nostrils flared, arms tightening over his chest as he waited on your smartass remark he knew was coming. 

And so you jabbed a finger into his chest, voice filled with disdain and fury. “I brought back months of supplies that you and the rest of the goddamn commune use on a daily basis and I don’t hear them giving me shit about—”

His resolve snapped, gripping your wrist strongly as he leveled face to face with you. Through gritted teeth, his voice came out in rigid whispers, making sure only you heard every word he had to say. 

“You think you’re special because of what you provide here, but you’re too damn stupid to see past that.” 

You blinked, caught off guard by the mild ache around your wrists and his unforeseen reaction that you never thought you’d get.

But he didn’t stop. 

“These people don’t give a shit if you make it back alive or not. You’re. Replaceable.” His eyes bored through yours, forcing you to take every word like bullets on skin. 

You loathed the way he quickly made you feel so small, so unimportant. Embarrassment creeping into your chest, blood rushing towards your cheeks, and stinging blooming behind your eyes.  

There was regret in your bones for angering him, for driving him to reveal such a mean version of himself that you wished he kept suppressed. You wanted to strike back with words just as cruel, your mouth opening with a wobbly breath, yet you weren’t sharp enough to stop his turmoil. 

“You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for. Why is it you’re so eager to risk your life because I promise you it isn’t for them and it sure as hell isn’t for me.” He dropped your wrist as if he was determined to get away from you, but his words only drilled deeper. 

“Someone else could walk through those gates, just as great, if not better than you are, and no one would think twice about whether you made it back here with something to show for, alive or not.”

Your jaw trembled, eyes blinking, letting a single tear run down your cheek as you braced for more, but all that came was silence and the devastation of his words sinking bone deep. 

It stung, and what hurt the most was the fact that there was truth behind everything he said. You tried to breathe through it, clenching your fist tight ready to throw it his way, but you couldn’t do it.

The shame twisted in your gut, and more tears flowed without restraint. 

“F-fuck you, Joel.” You choked, voice barely a whisper, turning around and walking around the building refusing to let anyone else see you cry.

It was the first time Joel managed to wrangle any reaction besides anger or frustration out of you. But he hadn’t meant to make you cry, or let his words out with such crassness, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to break you. 

He fucked up, and he knew it. All he wanted was to keep you away from runs and patrols. For you to see that you were more than the work. He didn’t ever intend on making it seem like he didn’t care. 

He walked back into the cafeteria, aloof to the eyes that drifted back down to their plates or the whispers that wondered where you were. Returning to his seat across Ellie, he picked up his fork and poked at his food as if nothing happened. 

“Dude what the hell was that?” Ellie chided, nudging his leg under the table, getting his attention. 

He shook his head and shrugged plainly, brushing off her question and posing one of his own.

“You goin’ to see Jesse tonight?”

Her brows pulled together, and she nodded. “Uh, yeah why?”

“Tell him he’s off tomorrow. I’m goin’ on the run with her.”

He was thankful that Ellie didn’t throw 101 questions his way, simply nodding as they finished their dinner in silence and parted ways. He spent the night packing what he needed for the two-day trip, replaying what had happened in his head, wondering if he could ever right the wrong and make you understand. But there was no way, not when he was going to complicate things even more by leaving like this.

The next morning, with his gun and pack slung over his body, he saddled up Ivy, signing out without writing another name next to his, sneaking past the gates without causing a scene.

Joel would throw his life into the unknown before letting anyone, but especially you drown in it without care.

You sulked in the bitterness in the comfort of your own home, refusing to leave your bed until the sun beat too brightly past your curtains, forcing you to mope from room to room as you kept yourself busy. 

Sleep barely came to you the night before as Joel’s words echoed through your head like a record stuck on repeat. You tried to bury the shame into a pit deep down inside of you, attempting to brush it off the same way he probably did to all your venomous words thrown his way.

But it was impossible.

You’re too damn stupid.

You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for.

It isn’t for them and sure as hell isn’t for me.

He was haunting you in ways that had you second guessing if Jackson was ever home to begin with. If all this time, this place was merely a facade ready to forget about you the same way they let you in. And if you really were replaceable like Joel made it sound, then what was the point of ever risking your life if it didn’t matter to anyone else besides your internal ache to provide?

Everyone had someone and yet you…

You had acquaintances–people you called friends and nothing more. But they had always had someone else. Someone they mattered to.

Siblings. Parents. Partners. 

You had no one, and Joel was right.

There was no reason for you to so willingly put your life on the line—there was no one relying on you, forcing your hand to succumb to whatever death lurked outside Jackson just to make sure they were well off. Instead, all you had was the longing buried deep into the vault of your soul–the thoughts of maybe one day, meaning something more than what you could provide, but just for who you were.

You had spent all this time thinking you were so important, only to realize that it was only ever significant to you. The role Jackson played as your only home made it seem as if you had to carry it on your shoulders, gamble your life in order to keep it in the palm of your hands, when in truth it was never yours to begin with.

Tears had spilled down your cheeks relentlessly, like a petulant child learning how it felt to be told ‘no,’ for the first time. And even though you wanted to hide away, pick up the backpack you stocked for what was supposed to be today’s run and leave Jackson behind—you couldn’t give Joel that satisfaction.

He deserved to know how much he hurt you. To know that even if you had no one standing in your corner of the way he had Ellie or Tommy, you had yourself, and you would be OK. 

At least you hoped you would. 

By the time the purple and pink hues began to tumble across the sky, you found the energy to leave home and grab dinner at the cafeteria. You were already dreading seeing the faces of those who witnessed your outburst yesterday, but then again the thought of Joel’s words–no one caring about you–made the dread seem miniscule in comparison. 

Rocks and sludgy snow croaked under each step you took, the winter breeze pushing past your layers as you approached the double doors, shoving them open as you kept your gaze on the ground. You picked up a plate, moving along the half empty trays of food, muttering out a quiet thank you as a few cooks spooned you whatever was left. 

Then suddenly your name was shouted across the room by none other than Ellie. You flinched, furrowing your brows as you looked her way, and took in her indecipherable expression. Before you knew it, she was striding over with urgent steps, lips pursing and breathing getting heavier as she neared you. 

You sighed, placing your plate down on the line ready to hear whatever she was probably about to throw your way in order to defend Joel’s honor. 

“Look whatever Joel told you, I don’t want to hear—”

“What are you doing here?” She cut you off sharply, her voice subduing the rest of the cafeteria with her anger and confusion–and just like her, you mirrored it.  

“Excuse me?” You blinked wildly, shaking your head at her, not realizing what she was going on about. 

“Yesterday, Joel told me that he took Jesse off the run. That he was going with you.” She gestured her hands in the air, signalling to her table across the room.  

You shook your head once more, baffled at her words that didn’t make any sense, until you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you saw Jesse stand up and reveal himself.

Right about now, he was supposed to be with Joel. He was supposed to be with him since early this morning, and he wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow. 

Your blood ran cold, immediately twisting around and bolting out the building without a second thought. Voices shouted and footsteps pounded close behind you, but none of it was registering. Your mind was a blur, repeating the same harrowing thoughts one after the other, over and over. 

Joel was out there. Alone. On a route he barely knew. On a run too dangerous. 

You nearly knocked your front door off its hinges, ripping a thicker coat off the hooks and sliding your arms through it in a haste. You grabbed your pack, flinging it over one shoulder. Flipping open an old shoe box, you clutched your knife, sliding it into its protective sheath the securing it over your belt loops. 

Ellie stood in your doorway breathless as she watched on, there was a delay in her movements to follow your lead but she spoke. 

“I’m coming with you.” She panted, going to turn around and rush home for her things. 

“No, you’re not.” You snapped, stopping her in her tracks before she could even leave your porch. 

She whipped around quickly, voice ragged. “If you think I’m gonna let Joel die out there alone, then you’re wrong!”

Despite her scowl, you could read the tears starting to cloud her eyes, the way they filled with fear and hopelessness. Joel mattered to her, the same way she mattered to him. 

You understood what their bond meant–how important they were to each other, but you also knew you couldn’t let her follow down this path. Wherever Joel was, you knew he’d make it back to her, and it was your job to make sure she understood that.

“He’s not going to die, Ellie. I won’t let him.” You said firmly, stepping up and holding her by the shoulders. 

You took a breath, hoping your next words would be well received, despite the visible state of distress she was in. 

“I know you want to go out there for yourself and make sure he’s okay, but I’ve got this. If anything were to happen to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.” 

It was almost scary, the way she mirrored Joel’s mannerisms when he was at odds with his words and what he felt inside. It was that same shift you saw when Tommy left his office, leaving you two there alone, where you knew Joel wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to. 

You were going to tell him all about his and Ellie’s similarities right after you kicked his ass for doing something so stupid. 

“I promise, he’s gonna be ok.” You squeezed her shoulders again, offering a tight smile, a contrast to the panic you were feeling inside.

“Swear on his life.” She whispered. 

You didn’t hesitate. 

“I swear on Joel’s life, I’ll do everything I can.” 

She nodded once. 

“Go.” 

You didn’t waste another second. Sprinting to the stables and throwing a saddle over the first horse you saw. Only when you hopped on and gripped its reins, did you realize it was Callus–Joel’s horse. The gates opened with a high-pitched creak as you crossed over. Shouts belonging to Tommy who seemed to have caught onto what his idiotic brother had done, was trying to stop you. But before he could, you barked out a command to the horse, letting him take you away into whatever lay ahead as desperation seeped in. 

Making it to Joel and seeing him alive. 

His bones ached, exhaustion gnawing over every inch of his aging body that threatened to give out under pure fatigue and the added weight of the supplies he snagged hours ago. Still, he managed through, mustering enough strength as he dismounted off Ivy, securing her around a tree to rest up for the night. 

He tossed a ration of his food onto the ground, giving her cheek a proud pat, before stumbling the rest of the way towards the cabin in the distance, not wanting to alert anyone of his presence if someone was inside. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He sputtered under his breath, drawing his pistol out. 

As quietly as he could, he padded up the rickety porch steps, peeking through the dusty windows with his fingers hovered over the trigger reach to shoot. Thankfully, though, there was no one in sight thus far, prompting him to give the jammed door a stern push until it gave way. 

He had heard about the cabin in passing before you mentioned it in his office a few days ago. Back before the incident last winter, you’d often be cooped up there after long runs, needing a day’s break to recharge before heading back home. It wasn’t the prettiest or most homey place, but it made do with its lumpy couch and half-burned candles you kept stashed away behind the flimsy kitchen cabinets.

His eyes raked over the area, ensuring it was all clear, before lowering his gun and dropping the bags against the ground with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t been hurt, making it out of the hospital without a scratch, though his luck seemed to run dry as he was leaving. There was a group of infected on the shorter trail, forcing him to clear what he could before giving Ivy’s reins a stiff jerk and tearing back around to the longer route.  

Clearly it had been stupid to do what he had done, his body paying the price, finally collapsing against the frumpy couch and giving his limbs a rest. Leaving Jackson without telling a soul, especially Tommy, would come with consequences, but he knew he had his reasons–good ones–or at least he liked to think so. 

They’d probably put up in front of the council for trial when he returned, but if it meant steering you out of danger, then he could live with it. 

Selfishly, he didn’t care about the orange bottles filled with unknown medication or the expired vials of local anesthesia stuffed in his pack that would benefit the community he called home.

Something else was haunting him. Someone. You. 

He stormed room to room with shaky hands, snatching whatever he saw, yet the only thought racing through his mind was the fact that you had been in the same predicament on multiple occasions. Alone. 

Even as he exited the hospital unscathed, he couldn’t shake the twist in his gut. It only wound tighter as he bullied an infected’s head into the ground with his boot–his mind playing out a hundred different scenarios where you had been fighting not just them, but the unturned monsters. 

The raiders who almost took your life. 

The scary realization ate him up when he trotted along the route with Ivy in search of the cabin–that the near death experience you had wasn’t the first–it was just the one Joel had seen with his own eyes. 

The blood you didn’t have time to clean up. 

A fake smile you didn’t rehearse when you got past the gates to mask the ache in your bones. 

All of the hurt you had endured was not consoled in an empty cabin all alone before you made it back and pretended it didn’t exist. 

You had been relinquishing your safety each time you went out of the walls and each time you came back you weren’t held up by your strength, but rather what you had to show and give. 

It was a familiar feeling that Joel used to know well, the one that lived in his bones back when Jackson was just a figment of his fantasy. Back when living in QZ’s meant not knowing if tomorrow was promised and putting his life on the line to bank on another day. 

But Jackson was home now, and even when those fearful pains attempted to sprawl up through the pit of stomach, wanting to spread through the bones once tainted, he remembered there was more to life now other than survival. 

Ellie was his light, his second chance, and he’d spent every waking moment protecting her in any way he could, even when he knew she didn’t need it. He had Tommy, the pain in his ass brother that he was still so lucky to bicker with even at their age. 

And even though he couldn’t admit it out loud, for the past year Joel had you.

A lingering presence he couldn’t keep his mind off of. Constantly plagued by your insistence to step out of the walls that almost took you away, and most of all your plea to mean something again when all along you had meant so much more than you’d know. 

The moment he saw your blood pouring as you laid lifeless in his arms.

When all he could do was stand back and watch the doctor and nurses do everything, they could to bring you back. 

Every day he spent sitting at your bedside while you weaved in and out of consciousness.

Putting his foot down and telling Tommy and Maria he wouldn’t be sending you out to meet your death anymore. 

Even when you bombard him with ignorant fury and resentment for taking away what made you useful.

He knew what he was up against–not just the dangers that lurked outside waiting to claim you, but yourself, too. 

Your selflessness had morphed into recklessness that should have cost you, and Joel promised himself, even through all the animosity you held towards him, that you would never have to touch that feeling again. 

He needed you to understand that it wasn’t your responsibility to give so much of yourself to matter. That getting close to death on multiple occasions, whether he knew it or not, was a wake up call that you had a bigger purpose. That you were worth more than what you could risk and provide.

You deserved to be protected the same way you did for the town. You deserved to matter, even if you didn’t see what Joel was doing as such.  

“Quit it.” He muttered to himself, trying to fight away at all the guilt he had built up and was beginning to split him up at the seams. 

Sleep should have hurdled towards him, for he knew his body was begging for it, but all he could see was your face, as if it was etched in memory. And come morning he hoped it would be you greeting him at the gates even if you were wearing an angry snarl because at least then there wouldn’t be any blood split from you, no traces of a life almost lost, no risk taken. 

A piece that mattered ripped away. 

None of that. 

The sunset was ebbing away with each second that passed, clouds dissipating as a looming gray hue cast above. By now, Joel should have made it back to the cabin, and if you were right, he would have needed to take the long route back there.

You did your best to keep your breathing at bay, uttering words of encouragement as Callus continued steadily, as if he knew you were guiding him to his loyal companion somewhere out in the woods.

“Easy boy, that’s it.” You gently petted through his mane, seeing the cabin in the distance, slowing down in case anyone who wasn’t Joel picked up on your presence.

You weren’t as quiet as you thought, or maybe Joel wasn’t as deaf as he once was, but he picked up on the sounds just beyond the walls. The crunching of leaves and mush of snow that snapped him out of the fatigue he felt. He gripped his gun tighter, moving up off the couch and making his way behind a wall still in view of the front door, waiting for movement.

You spotted Ivy in your peripheral as you got closer, her body lax against the forest floor resting from what you knew was a treacherous journey. Joel had taken your horse, and yet even when you should have felt relief, you wouldn’t allow it… not until you saw him with your own eyes. 

You drew your knife out of its sheath, footsteps as silent as they could be under the leaves and twigs. Stepping up on the creaky porch, you squinted through the dusty windows, making out the faint flickers of orange flames from a lit candle. 

With one fluid push, you nudged the door open, stepping forward and holding your breath, hoping he was there. Joel squinted through the fog of exhaustion, thinking for a split second that his old eyes were playing a trick on him, seeing the familiar silhouette that was supposed to be back home, not right in front of him. 

He stepped out into view, and your eyes snapped to his. The two of you stood face to face mere feet away until your voices collided in the air. 

“The hell are you doing here?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You shared a wide-eyed look, chest heaving as you stared at each other. Joel lowered his gun, listening as you shut the door and let your knife clattered to the ground. Before he could say anything, you closed the space between you two. Footsteps heavy against the floorboards as your mouth twisted into a snarl.

“Do you have any idea how stupid you are?” You roared, pushing at his chest, not realizing the way he winced at your touch, “What the fuck were you thinking going out all by yourself?”

“M’fine—“

Your palms met his chest again, this time harder. 

“It’s not fine, Joel! What if something happened? What if you got bit or… or if you weren’t the only one out there searching for supplies?”

He tried to open his mouth, attempting to tell you he had the same concerns just a few days ago that you seemingly brushed off, but before he could spit it out, you kept going.

“What about Ellie? Tommy?” You demanded, not missing the way his shoulders stiffened at the sound of their names. “Do you have any idea how worried they are right now? How distraught would they be if something happened to you?” 

You shook your head at him, puzzled and disappointed at the fact that he would go as far as to risk everything he had just to spite you.

He didn’t answer.

He knew what he did wasn’t right–putting his daughter and his brother through hell once more, but he knew he had to do it…for the right reasons… for you. He couldn’t apologize for something he wasn’t sorry for, so instead he settled for something else. 

“You would’ve found me.” 

He spoke so sure of himself, as if the thought had passed through his mind more than once, a kind of statement that was completely unwavering. His sentiment caught you off guard, a clear look of disbelief covering your features as you stood there glaring. 

“W-What?”

He swallowed, arms crossing over his chest never letting his sights wander from you.

“If something did happen, you would’ve been in charge of the search party. You would have found me and brought me back home. I know you. It’s what you would’ve done.”

You stand with that sentiment for a moment, letting the scene play out in your head. 

What if you didn’t leave your home until the next morning? What if something happened, and he was out there all alone? What if he didn’t make it back at all?

Ellie and Tommy would surely be in shambles. The turn of events alone who have them acting on impulse, but you knew you wouldn’t let them, not in the distraught state they would be in. It’s the same reason why you didn’t let Ellie follow you, and it’s exactly why you left before Tommy could join you. 

If all those ‘what if’s’ played out so cruelly, would you would have done what you did just hours ago without thinking twice? The answer was so obviously ‘yes.’

Perhaps it was impulsive and hypocritical in itself, but Ellie and Tommy had Joel to hold onto, someone who was too important to lose even if they had good intentions of seeking him out themselves. 

“No.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as your lips pursed, “I would not.” You lied straight through your teeth.

Joel didn’t look convinced in the slightest, huffing out a strained, almost bemused breath of laughter, letting his eyes bore straight through you, as if he knew your every thought, spoken and suppressed. 

“I know you would because if you had done what I did, I’d do the same for you.” 

You rolled your eyes at his admission, but you couldn’t feign the feeling of warmth swarming through your chest. It was utterly stupid to think anything more of Joel’s altruism that he wore proudly on his arm despite his reserved demeanor, but you couldn’t help but feel as if he was showing you his cards–the hand he once kept hidden, now laid out bare for only you to see. 

You swallowed down the words that lingered on the tip of your tongue. The ones that wanted to ask him why he suddenly was beginning to level with you and why he couldn’t have done it sooner. 

Instead, you settled on something safer. 

The one thing you knew he needed to hear coming from you, because then maybe he would understand how lucky he was and how him doing what he did was pure stupidity. 

“You shouldn’t have done this to begin with,” you countered, turning your back on him as you walked away and picked up your knife off the ground. 

“You’ve got too much to lose.” You muttered, sliding it back into its sheath, undoing the button from your belt as you tossed it onto the dusty counter. 

His eyes narrowed at your figure as if he was trying to get deep into your thoughts and wonder why you were selling yourself short when both of you had too much to lose. He refused to let you think that, even if he did sign off on letting you come out here alone, it still wouldn’t change the fact that you were risking too much.

“And you don’t?” He shot back, almost accusatory.

You whipped your head around, a ridiculously obvious look on your face, “You know what, yeah, I don’t. I’ve come to realize that over the last twenty-four hours all thanks to you.”

“You really think that?” He argued.

“Don’t act so damn surprised, Joel. You said it yourself. Nobody gives a shit about me. I’m replaceable.” You mocked his gravelly voice, rolling your eyes as you watch him take it in regretfully.

A beat of silence passed, remorse permeating his face as he shut his eyes, recounting the events of yesterday that he seemingly buried beneath the fresh thoughts of seeing you here before him.

“I didn’t mean—” you lifted your hand in the air, silencing him with a long pointed look. 

“Save it, I don’t need your pity all of a sudden, alright.” You exasperated deeply, letting your hand fall against your side. 

Your eyes shifted past him, surveying the small living room where you had no choice but to bear the nightfall with him just a few feet away. There was no point in arguing with him any longer. All you wanted to do was sleep just so you could avoid him. His apologies would mean nothing at all, not when he was only saying it because he was forced to. In an attempt to brush past him, his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you to face him once more. 

“Joel, stop–” You griped firmly, though the desperation was unmistakable in your voice, coming off as begging as you tried to pull your hand back. 

The last thing you needed right now was a repeat of what happened back in Jackson. Not only did you have nowhere to run, but not a single fiber of strength left to hear whatever cruel words Joel had kept harboured for you, now ready to be unleashed. 

But the bitterness and the usual look of disdain never came. Instead, his fingers loosened just slightly, still firmly anchoring you to him, and there was that catch in his breath, a frown that meant more than just disgruntlement. 

“I didn’t mean what I said. I just—it came out wrong.” His voice came to you with a softness that hadn’t been heard before, completely taking you aback all over again.

“You matter, but you take risks–you live your life like you don’t.” His voice nearly broke, betraying himself as he pinched his eyes shut frustratingly. 

You stared at him, trying to search for an ounce of pity or deception that would’ve made you snap, but all you could find was him. When his eyes snapped back to yours, there was nothing but truth and even if you didn’t believe any of it personally, he deemed it true to him and that was enough to send you reeling. 

“You don’t think I don’t hear the end of it from Ellie and Dina?” He dropped your wrists, running his hands over the scruff of his beard, looking down at the floorboards then back up at you.

“Always beggin’ me to put you back on patrols and runs with them?” 

There was an apparent heat behind his words, not towards you, but the thought of letting you out of safety–out of his sight. 

“Then why don’t you let me?” You asked coolly, crossing your arms over your chest trying to get down to the truth this time, not provocation. 

“Because I know you’d throw your life on the line to protect them.” He spoke harsher than he intended to, sighing deeply, regaining his composure and swallowing hard, “To bring back whatever it is that the town needs.”

He faltered just slightly, as if guilt was eating him alive for knowing he too was the one who’d benefit from your 

He wasn’t wrong. There’d been many close calls before the one last winter. Runs with Jesse, patrols with Dina, even occasional ones with Ellie, where you throw yourself in the face of danger without thinking twice, perhaps forcing them to watch you die in order to save them and give the town what it needed. 

Before you could tell him, it was for good reason, especially to protect his daughter, he spoke up again. 

“But I already saw you once on your deathbed, and I can’t see you there again.” His voice pinched, refusing to consider the thought of you slipping away, even if it was only in mind. 

It never occurred to you–not until now–just how present Joel had been during the time you were in and out of consciousness, teetering the dead and the living. Somehow, without needing to hear him elaborate, you grasped the weight he carried from that day. How wound up he was had been seeing you in that state, that even now it still destroyed him, but that wasn’t you… not anymore. 

“I’m not made out of glass, Joel.” 

Your throat tightened, taking an effort to bring the words to the tip of your tongue and out into the open, because in that very moment, all you felt like was glass. Completely see through for Joel to read inside and out, to know your every fear and thought, to know you were in as much denial as he was. 

“You sure ain’t.” He huffed sarcastically, his hands coming down on hips as he shook his head and let his shoulders fall. “You have no idea what it was like for me. To… to know I was the one who let you go out there all by yourself because you were so sure, and not able to do anythin’ but stand there and—and hope you’d wake up.”

He went on before you could stop him. 

“I mean what the hell were you thinkin’?” His brows furrowed deep, staring at you with a look that you had seen before, but never with this much anguish tangled within him.

“The second you killed the last guy, you should’ve come back home right away. But no. You stayed back and took your time bagging all that crap instead of saving your goddamn self first.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, the frustration and helplessness behind them, revealing something unprecedented to the indifference he always offered instead. This wasn’t the Joel who’d brushed you off or the one yesterday that yelled at you with no mercy–this was a cry for understanding, a last-ditch attempt for you to finally see where he was coming from all this time. 

You were at a loss for words, mouth parting, trying to figure out what you could say, how you could reason with his regard to ease the burden you had no idea had been carrying all this time. It wasn’t his place to care as much as he did and hide it all behind a facade he should’ve never put up, but he did it and you were willing to compromise. 

“We… we’ve all got things we’re not proud of. Guilt we have to live with Joel.” 

He barely let your sentiment hang in the air before his voice tumbled. 

“Yeah well, if you had died… if you didn’t make it back, I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself.”

You never pegged Joel Miller as the type of man to drop down to his knees and beg for forgiveness for anything, let alone to some unknown God for almost letting you die. But there he was confessing to you like he had committed a sin so abysmal that he couldn’t bear to go on if death ever came close to you again–on his watch or not. 

All this time, he had been protecting you, shielding you from what you refused to see in the same light as he did. Even if it bruised your pride to admit, Joel had been seeing you. Truly seeing you from a distance and doing what he could, what he deemed right to keep you safe. 

To keep you from ever feeling like you needed to die to mean something. To keep you from leaving behind a place that was home without ever needing to prove yourself worthy of it. To just know that you weren’t going anywhere if he was around to save you first. 

Your lips began to part, a small croak pushing past them before you spoke quietly, enough for him to hear. “Would it help if I forgave you now?”

He blinked, standing still with eyes filled with turmoil, trying to decode what it was you were saying.

“If I forgave you for sending me out on that run even though I asked for it. If I forgave you for icing me out even though you had good intentions. If I forgave you for letting me go this long thinking no one cared about me.”

He inhaled roughly, shaking his head at you as if he was trying to dodge your words, unsure if he was worthy of letting himself be freed of the guilt, even by your words.

“You… You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He muttered, wiping a hand over his face, processing everything you just said. 

You had never been more certain. Never been more willing to forgive so easily because you both needed it. Not just him, but you, too. 

“No,” Your voice grew stronger, standing your ground as you stepped closer to him. “I know exactly what I’m asking for–what I need.”

His eyes leaked of hesitance, body tensing when you got close. Too close than you’ve ever been with the air as thick as it was between you two. There were barely any inches separating your bodies, the warmth of your shallow breaths fanning over his face flooding his senses before you spoke.

“You’ve been haunting me…making me think you were just out to get me all this time, when in reality you’ve been the only one seeing me.” 

He felt stuck, heart beating out of his chest, at a loss for words to tell you how wrong it would be to let himself show you just how much he’d been seeing you. 

“I’m right here, Joel.” 

It was all he needed to hear.

He crashed into you. Lips first then body. Large and calloused hands holding you to him as your mouths moved against each other, like your lips were finding a home they’ve been searching for all this time. Somehow, there was an effortlessness to the neediness you two felt, meshing together so perfectly that nothing else had ever felt so right. 

Your feet shuffled with every backwards step he took, dragging you with him across the cabin. Neither of you dare to pull away, even when the need for air became burning. All you two could offer were labored breaths as your hands carelessly undid the buttons of his flannel, while he roughly tugged on the zipper of your coat. 

A trail of your outerwear laid messily across the cabin floors, leaving you in a thin tank top and him in his gray undershirt. Joel collapsed against the couch cushions with a heavy thud, pulling you down with him on his lap. There was a pause in his kiss the second his back met the couch. He sucked in a sharp hiss, body tensing beneath yours just for a split second, but it was enough for you to detect. 

His hands went to pull you to him again, but you refused, eyes leaking with concern as you shook your head and let your hands roam across his body. 

“Are you hurt?” You were quiet but panicked, searching for any signs of injury, feeling stupid for not asking sooner, before all of…this. 

“It’s nothin’, just sore.” His features mellowed, running his hands through your hair in an attempt to soothe your worry, but his words only caused more unease.

“Do you have a hard time breathing? Did you take any painkillers yet?” You asked again, worried that he was hiding something from you because he didn’t want to bother. 

“Baby…” 

The word slipped out so easily, rolling off his tongue and reigning down on you as if he was bestowing a sacred title. You couldn’t pretend to be unaffected even if you wanted to, cheeks flushing and lips tugging up unabashedly. 

“M’fine, I swear.” He gave you a sure nod, opening his hand against your thigh, waiting for you to lace yours through his. 

Sighing, you thread your fingers between his, the feel of his thumb beginning to stoke along the curve of your wrist, grounding you to him–making sure you knew he was safe. 

Your eyes peered up from your hands, drifting to his face where you found his eyes studying you like he didn’t want to miss a thing. As selfish as it was, there was nothing more you wanted than to stay right there, despite the visible fatigue that was lingering behind his weary eyes.

You took your time and savored the comfortable silence, memorizing every wrinkle, every sunspot, every inch of his face that you never gave much thought to before. When you had your fill, certain that by the time you fell asleep you could picture it behind your eyes, did you finally stop being selfish.  

“We should probably get some sleep,” you whispered quietly, your free hand coming up to push his graying curls back into place, “You’ve had a long day and we’ve got our work cut out for us tomorrow too.” 

Joel hummed in agreement, but his fingers stayed tangled in yours, not daring to let go. He just kept on watching you, letting his thumb continue the comforting path over your skin–this time it was him who was being selfish. 

Just moments ago his body wanted sleep, but the second you walked in, it was you he craved. It had always been you, even when he tried to starve himself off and convince himself it was nothing more than him being vigilant. Fulfilling his duty by making sure you didn’t drive yourself into the ground because you put others first. 

When he boiled down all the irritation and anger he had once felt, he was still left with you. You had become part of him whether he liked it or not–always living in the back of his mind, deep within the cracks of himself until the truth finally clawed its way out. 

If he had haunted you, then you had certainly been plaguing him, holding him hostage to a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever set free until he had no choice but to. 

He needed you, and he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer.

His hands slowly loosened from yours, trailing up your waist, ghosting over the pulse of your neck, stopping just shy of your jaw, cradling your face between his palms.

“I don’t wanna pretend anymore…” He mumbled, shaking his head, coasting his thumb along your jaw, eyes burning into yours, “spent too long pushin’ you away and actin’ like an ass… but I want–need you.” 

Your chest tightened, air trapped in your lungs all while your heart raced and your blood ran impossibly hotter. Maybe it was desperation or quite simply the heat of the moment, but it swallowed you whole. His confession wrapping you up and keeping you there where, for once, you could just be.

He undid you and pieced you back together all at once, suddenly filling spaces that were once hollow but not broken–seeing and needing you was just enough. 

“I need you, too,” you whispered, leaning forward to close the space, pressing your forehead to his, lips ghosting over one another. 

“You came all the way out here for me, gotta say, you know how to make a man feel special.” A weak chuckle leaving his mouth, breathing fanning over your face. 

You smiled, shrugging your shoulders timidly, “just did what you would’ve done.” 

“That right?” 

Before you could think twice about the smirk on his lips, his hips shifted up, the stiffness behind his jeans pressing against your center. 

Your breath hitched, head thrown back while your hips move once then began to roll against his, needy for more. He took advantage of the skin calling out to him, pressing kisses up the column of your neck, letting you grind and seek out the dull pleasure that wasn’t at all ever going to be enough. 

“Want this off, sweetheart,” He nipped at your jaw lightly, his hands dropping to curl around the fabric of your camisole. 

There was a broken hum, an eager nod as you felt his fingers guide the garment up your body, leaving you in a basic black bra that was surely two sizes too small and no help to the breathlessness in your chest. But he didn’t seem to notice it, not when his eyes suddenly went somber, trained on a particular scar on your skin. 

It was no longer than a few inches, just a thin, fading line of skin that healed a shade lighter than the rest of your body, but nonetheless still apparent. Joel knew what it looked like before–clean cut, too deep, even more bloody. Just seeing it reeled him back to that winter, even when you’re in his lap, safe and well as can be–he still felt the weight of his guilt. 

“Joel,” you wrapped your hands around his wrist gingerly, leading his fingertips to the scar and keeping him there, “I’m right here… safe.” 

Your voice called out to him steadily, softly, trying to ground him back here with you, instead of his dreadful memories of your dying self that were swarming his thoughts. His fingers traced the skin, eyes never leaving it as he spoke something thick and rough. 

“It shouldn’t have happened to you.” 

He didn’t need to say it for you to understand that what he meant was it should have been him instead. But it was your choice. It always was, even when it was him signing off on letting you exit those gates–it was because you felt secure enough to go and he trusted you at one point. 

But even now, he couldn’t take place and you couldn’t let him blame himself any longer. 

“But it did.” You said, setting your hands on top of his, letting them splay across your skin, hiding the scar behind his palms, not wanting him to think back on those memories any longer. 

You then wrapped your arms around his neck, tethering yourself to him completely as his gaze finally softened when he saw your eyes locking onto his.

“It happened and I can’t go back to change it, but even if I could, I wouldn’t dare to because it means I’d risk leading myself to you.” 

Even when you looked at him so delicately, weary of his own emotional turmoil for something that happened to you, your voice remained sure and strong, like roots settling into the scariest parts of him and promising you weren’t going anywhere. 

His heart ached, this time with a feverish warmth that threatened to take his life just because he couldn’t fathom this–you–and the way you made him feel. He didn’t need to say much, not when his lips were already encasing yours, hoping you could feel all the things he wanted to say but wasn't quite strong enough to, just yet 

The message was received loud and clear, the two of you simultaneously needing more and acting upon it. Your fingers threaded through the messy curls at the back of his head, pulling him deeper into you just as his hands curved around your waist forcing your bodies flushed against each other, fitting perfectly.

“You tryin’ to kill me?” He mumbled, lips never straying away even as he caught his breath. 

He felt you giggle, then placed another kiss on his top then bottom lip, teeth grazing at his skin, “Trust me, death isn’t fun… I would know.” 

He rolled his eyes with another deep sigh, debating on whether he should scold or kiss you to quiet down your sweet laughter for a joke so vicious. He decided on the latter, relishing in the touch of your lips and the way your laughter died subtly with every part and glide of his tongue against yours. 

“Can I?” His hands hovering over the elastic of your bra behind your back. 

You hummed, pulling away to lean back on his thighs, giving him the perfect view. Your arms rested beneath the bust waiting as his fingers unclasped the closure with a smooth flick. The straps glided off your shoulders with ease and you helped pull the garment the rest of the way before tossing it to the floor. 

Joel sucked a deep breath in, palms sliding up and down the tops of your thighs, using whatever restraint he had left to resist the urge to lay you back and make you his. But he wanted to take it slow, to show you how much he cared and make up for the time that was wasted. 

“So beautiful,” He rasped, letting out a groan and throwing his head back against the cushions needing to shut his eyes for a split second, giving himself a moment to take you in. 

You couldn’t help but blush, a weak, almost shy giggle escaping your mouth at the thought of him being this affected by only a portion of your naked body. Deciding to coax your shared neediness, you brought his hands up to your chest, causing his eyes to snap open. He was momentarily stunned, unsure of himself, but not for long as he felt you practically melt under the newfound touch.

“God, baby.” He muttered, thumbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger, giving them a gentle pinch. 

You let out a broken moan, hips jerking up instinctively into the hardening bulge beneath his jeans. Your sweet sounds and desperate friction egged him on, repeating the deliberate pinch and rolls watching closely as you began to unravel at the seams. You were shamelessly seeking out more, hips moving faster over him with your lip caught between your teeth. 

“Let me get this off you, sweetheart.” He spoke lowly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin, fingers running along the waistband of your jeans. 

You blinked, tilting your head down at him swallowing the dryness in your throat. 

“I-I can do them,” you whispered, attempting to catch your breath and fight the urge to rut your hips again.

Joel nodded, letting you take a moment to breathe and pull yourself together. In the meantime, he pressed chaste kisses to wherever he could reach before you shuffled out of his lap, standing wobbly between his spread thighs. 

He watched as you bent down to work off your boots first, nudging them off to the side before your shaky fingers undid the button and zipper of your jeans. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband, you gradually pulled them down, hips swaying naturally, lifting one foot then the other, peeling the denim off the rest of the way without breaking your gaze with him. 

He shifted, straightening his back against the cushions, while his eyes swept over the expanse of your skin, drinking you up, committing every inch of you to his memory. 

“C’mere.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back on top of him, needing to feel you close. 

You let out a short squeal, carefully placing your knees on either side of his hips, letting the thin and undoubtedly soaked fabric of your panties graze the rough material of his jeans head on. 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself even more.” You chided, running your hands underneath his t-shirt feeling the warmth of his skin, moving the fabric up higher with every sweep of your palms. 

“Worth it.” He smirked, letting you guide the t-shirt off his body the way you wanted, until he had no choice but to tug it over his head, leaving nothing between your chest and his. 

You braced your hands against his sternum, gliding to feel the beat of his heart before connecting your lips once again. You learned quickly that kissing him nice and slow allowed you to really feel him. The dull scratch of his stumble against your skin, his hands mindlessly roaming across your back, the push and pull of breaths he took.

But nice and slow, could only do for so long, quickly turning urgent and messy. 

He took advantage of your desperation, giving the small of your back a gentle but firm push, rocking you back and forth over the tent in his jeans before your hips began to move on their own accord, resuming your earlier pursuit of pleasure. 

“Please.” You gasped, abruptly pulling away to stare up at him with frantic eyes. 

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He cooed, almost condescendingly, amused at the fact that you were already this wound up without him doing much. 

“Touch me,” you reached behind you to take one of his hands, guiding it to where you needed him most, “Need you to touch, right here.”

His fingers smoothed over the arousal soaked fabric, groaning to himself as he pressed his digits right over your clit, making you whimper. 

“I’ve got you.” 

He pulled his hand away to maneuver you into a more comfortable position. Cradling you into his side and letting your head rest against his shoulder, he guided your legs to sling over his thighs.

“This OK?” He asked, running his hands up to shin down to your ankle wanting you to be as comfortable as possible. 

“Perfect.” You nodded eagerly, leaning up for another kiss, thanking him for being so considerate even in the heat of the moment. 

When you pulled away, he nodded at you to lay your head back on him while he did the work. His fingers finally trailed up over your hips, sliding under the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to drag the fabric off your body and tossing it somewhere. His hand settled on your knee farthest away from his body, bending it just enough for him to open you up further and give him a complete view of your soaking center. 

“Jesus,” he choked out, his fingers gliding up and down the seam of your folds, torturing you slowly, “Need it bad, huh sweetheart.” 

You whimpered, nodding your head as your nails scraped down his chest, digging into his skin, asking for more.

“Gonna make it better,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your temple, “just let me do all the work and you feel good alright?” 

He didn’t waste any more time, parting your folds with his pointer and middle, dipping them into your heat and gathering your arousal, only to take it up towards your clit where he pressed down firmly and began rubbing slow circles. 

“F-fuck!” Your hips stuttered up, chasing his movements that felt like too much, and not enough all at the same time. 

Joel tsked, shushing you quietly as he used his free arm to settle you back down, holding you tight. 

“Shh, shh, relax.” He eased up just slightly on your bundle of nerves, helping lull you, “Need to take it slow, wanna make it last.” 

You wanted to tell him that there was no need to take it slow, not when he could have you for as long as you lived from this point on. But you could barely focus, let alone form coherent words as he murmured praises into your ear, picking back up the pressure of his thumb over your nerves. 

Your chest dipped with a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering shut while your fingertips dug into the flesh of his biceps, anything to keep yourself from lifting your hips from where he wanted. 

“Feels good darlin’?” He asked, deliberately dragging his digits lower, sliding them into your core with ease, crooking them up before his thumb ghosted over your clit. 

“Just like–fuck–just like that,” you panted, tongue running over your lips, feeling yourself grow wetter. 

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” 

You didn’t need to open your eyes to tell there was a smile on his face, the feel of his hand giving your waist a squeeze where he held you still, while still keeping up his movements. 

“Been needin’ to feel this.” 

The cabin was filled with your moans and labored breaths, squelching between your thighs falling deaf on your ears as Joel dragged the pleasure on and on, not daring to tear his eyes away from such a sight as perfect as you. 

“Open those eyes, c’mon,” He commanded softly, his thumb stilling on your clit again, but his fingers still continued those deep strokes, “Wanna see those eyes when I tell you this.” 

Your eyes open, glazed over with pleasure, a whimper leaving your mouth seeing the content smile on his lips at your obedience. 

“Atta’girl.” 

You thought that was it. The praise dripping with heat and honey, enough to have you plunging past the finish line as your eyelashes kissed the skin under your eyes. But the action only made him grunt, prompting you to keep them open, for he had more to say that would completely unravel you. 

“Should’ve never let you walk away yesterday.” He said, thumb resuming their movements on your clit, but just lightly, enough to keep you focused on his words and the pleasure-something tolerable for now.

“Should’ve apologized and told you that I care for you.” 

“J-Joel, I forgive you. I do.” You stuttered, swallowing down a moan, hoping he’d believe you just as much as you did him. 

He shook his head, more so at himself, before continuing.

“You scare the shit outta me. Always givin’ so much of yourself without ever askin’ for anythin’ in return.” 

“You don’t know how much I think about you.” He admitted, fingers speeding up, dragging a new string of moans out of you, struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“If you’re takin’ care of yourself,” he murmured, trailing kisses over your warm cheek. “If you know how much I want to protect you.” 

“Iknowiknow,” You babbled, leaning your head against him as your thighs shook when he prodded at the deep spot inside you, “I know n-now.” 

His eyes stayed glued to you, watching every word escape through your lips with extra effort, before becoming muddled with your moans. Nails leaving crescents across his skin anywhere you could grab him and anchor yourself to the feeling. Your pussy shuddering with every stroke and prod of his fingertips bringing you closer. 

“Should’ve told you sooner baby. You gonna let me make it up to you?” He crooned. 

“Yes, p-please…I will, I promise I–” 

“Let me show you how much you matter to me.” He stuffed his fingers impossibly deeper, thumb relentlessly orbiting your clit with more pressure now. “How it feels to be mine.” 

“I’m yours, Joel…please, I’m so close.” Your voice cracked, head beginning to tip back as your body gave in completely, but he wouldn’t let you fall apart without seeing it for himself. 

He threading his fingers through the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his. 

“Cum for me baby,” His lips crashed onto yours, the final catalyst that sent you over the edge as he pulled away, breath ghosting over your lips. “Give me what’s mine.” 

Only then did your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed with the intense pleasure that seemed to be never ending. Your limbs shook against his body, breathing deeply through the waves of euphoria that he kept you on. His fingers still stroking, rubbing, coaxing everything out of you, tethering you to him, watching your every move as you succumbed. 

“I–baby, I…please.” Your voice was weak, your body feeling equally weightless going limp against him.  

Your hands instinctively reached for his forearms, squeezing him tightly, needing more of him to help ground you through the shocks of pleasure still coursing through your nerves.   

“I’ve got you,” He murmured, finally dragging his slick fingers away from your oversensitive heat, cradling your body closer. “Did so good for me, sweetheart.” 

He tucked your face under his chin, kissing the crown of your head, letting his hands soothe over your tingling skin to bring you back down to the delicate place with him once more. Your breathing was still irregular, shallow puffs of air hitting his chest, feeling his heart pound over your lips where you pressed soft, mindless kisses, grateful for his tenderness. 

“S’ok, baby,” His voice remained soft, cooing more words of praise to you before guiding your face away, just enough for him to see you and know you were back with him. 

His chest tightened at the sight of your wet eyes blurring with a sheen of tears and lips swollen, flashing him a devastatingly sweet smile.

“Oh, sweetheart...” 

You blinked, laughing nervously as you felt his thumb swipe away at the tear before it could tumble down your cheek.

“T-that was nice,” you cleared your throat, voice still a little hoarse and spent all thanks to him. “Really nice,” you added, stroking your fingers over his stubble. 

He grinned, tucking your messy hair behind your ears, “Glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

You stared at each other, all dopey and lovesick, basking in one another like nothing else in the world mattered. It should’ve felt unnatural, a little odd for the two of you considering the state of your relationship just twenty-four hours before, but instead it felt familiar, something so intimate and complete without much labor to make it feel as such.  

You used your arms as leverage, wanting to sit back into the original position on his lap. He helped you, carefully holding you by the hips as you maneuvered only for you to let out a gasp catching him by surprise. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Joel.” You looked down half embarrassed, half amused, fingers trailing over the dark patch of your wetness that settled on his jeans. 

He followed your sights, shaking his head as he laughed and laced his fingers with yours, pulling them up to his mouth to press a reassuring kiss over your knuckles. 

“Nothin’ to worry about, it’s for memory’s sake.” He joked lightly, easing you of any self-consciousness even after he brought you to a breathtaking orgasm just minutes ago. 

You shifted your hips against his lap, eliciting a groan from him, jaw tightening and his hands squeezing yours. He grew harder beneath his boxers, the tip of his cock begging for release behind the garment and his thick jeans, at this rate probably dripping with pre cum too. He could have easily flipped you over and given into what you both were needing, but he curbed the thoughts, letting you set the pace. 

“I can feel you.” You whispered, taking your time circling your hips lightly, core still overstimulated, but somehow demanding more, “Can we…” 

Your voice died with a hint of uncertainty, eyes shifting to his, hoping he’d read your mind and understand that you still needed him…you just didn’t know what to call it. 

Fuck? 

Make love? 

Neither sounded right to say aloud. You knew crossing this line would mean more than just a quick fuck, but you also realized it was too soon to call it love–though you were positive you’d fall, eventually. 

He rested his hands on your thighs, eyes boring into yours, trying to read your anxiety, not wanting you to feel pressured just because he was rock hard. 

“We don’t have to do any–” 

“No, I do,” you interjected hurriedly, shutting him up as he smirked at your insistence causing you to roll your eyes and smack his chest.

You sighed, wringing your fingers nervously, shifting your eyes to his lap instead as you spoke. “I just haven’t… I want it to be good for you.” 

It was no surprise that an outbreak would leave getting laid one of your last priorities with survival being number one. But truthfully, it had been a long while, and even as natural as it felt to have Joel pull an orgasm out of you with his fingers, you hoped to God you’d be able to deliver something just as good for him. But before you could let the perturbation swallow you whole he laughed. 

You quickly shot your eyes up to his, watching the crow’s feet around the outer corner of his eyes crinkle, his chest rumbling with snickers, causing you to pout, wondering what amusement he got out of seeing you like this. He settled after a few seconds, shaking his head in disbelief going to grab your hands once more even as you tried to fight him off weakly. 

“Sweetheart,” He started, rubbing his thumbs over the top of your hands, silently telling you to loosen up, “Do you know how close I’ve been to creamin’ my pants like a fuckin’ teenager?” 

His bluntness made your cheeks go up in flames, wanting nothing more than to hide away in the crook of his neck and laugh there, but he didn’t let you, cupping your cheeks and thumbing your heated skin. He was old enough to understand why you must’ve felt the way you did, but he too was devoid of anything as intimate for years. You’d already made him feel the tenderness and lust he once thought was over for him, and he’d be damned if he let you think otherwise. 

“You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ alright? It’s goin’ to be good because it’s with you.” He confessed, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, then to your lips, making you smile as your heart rate began to pick up once more. 

“I wanna be on top,” you started, a new wave of boldness washing over you as he smirked and nodded. 

“I can do with that.” He hummed, leaning back just to get an eyeful of your naked body, pinching himself for finally getting to have you. 

“Here, I’ll–” You went to undo his belt, a mixture of excitement and neediness urging your motions, but before you could he stopped you, moving your fingers out of the way. 

“I got it, sweetheart,” he pulled the end of the leather through the buckle, eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t need to lift a finger.” 

You giggled, tilting your head and raising your brow. “Hmm, cause I’ll be too busy lifting my ass, right?” You quipped.

“There’s my brat,” He huffed feignedly, pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it to the ground. 

You let out a giggle, moving off of his lap causing him to protest, only for you to drop down to your knees between his legs, pulling at the laces of his boots and tugging them off. 

“What? You said I couldn’t help with the belt, not stripping your jeans off.” You winked up at him while he grumbled, simply undoing his fly and zipper before letting you do the rest. 

He lifted his hips as you tugged on the waistband of his jeans and boxers His cock came into view, thick and heavy, tip glistening with pre-cum as it rested against his stomach. Your gut twisted tighter, heat growing hotter between your thighs as your mouth watered, eyes remaining fixated on his length. 

Your visible engrossment made him twitch, the hunger in your eyes causing his blood to rush and welcome the newfound attention. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling your fingers wrap around his shaft, barely able to cover him wholly even with both hands. You leaned forward, parting your lips, breathing warmth over his tip before you closed your lips around him gently, humming at the salty bead, salivating for more. 

If he had any more willpower, he’d let you have your fill. To swallow him down the way you wanted to–messy, slow, deep–but right now it was ebbing, and all he wanted to do was bury himself within you. There was no way he was going to let himself finish within the first minute of you getting him naked.

As if it pained him, he grimaced and cradled your jaw, pulling you off with a pop, and almost immediately you began to pout, mouth opening to tell him you wanted a proper taste. 

“Come back up here.” His eyes were glazed over with need, voice dripping with a gentle firmness as he offered you a hand, helping you lift off your knees and take your place back on his lap. 

“I’ll let you have it in your mouth next time.” He promised, placing a kiss to your lips in an apology, guiding you to sink your knees into the cushions beside him. 

You smiled, breath catching in your chest at the thought of ‘next time’ because it meant that Joel wanted to have you the same way you did him. Truthfully, there was no turning back, and you and Joel were both aware of the implications, too far gone in each other to think you’d be walking away from each other after this. 

His hands looped securely around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours as your noses brushed against one another. 

“Take it nice and slow, alright?” He cautioned sweetly. 

“Y-yeah.” You nodded, kissing him once more before you pulled away and took a deep breath.

You brought your fingertips to your mouth, swiping them over your tongue, reaching down and curling your hand around him. You stroked him slowly, mixing together your spit and his precum, which you knew would help the slide. He stilled his hips, keeping from rutting up into your hand, letting you do what you needed to first. 

Bracing one hand on his shoulder, you guided him towards your entrance, the thick head notching inside of you with a stretch as you dropped your hips, settled down on the first few inches of him. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” you whimpered, thighs trembling weakly as your eyes flew shut at the sudden fullness. 

“Slow down, babygirl…breathe for me,” he steadied you carefully, hands squeezing your waist, letting you adjust. “Know it’s a lot, but you’re doing so good.” 

The sound of his voice was warm and guiding, reminding you there was no need at all to rush. Your head spun at the praise and guidance, using it as encouragement while you kept your eyes closed and took a deep breath in through your nose and held it for a moment. He hummed something that sounded like approval, spurring you on as you released the breath and sunk down to take more of him. 

A strangled moan left your lips, his cock already reaching parts of you that had been untouched for what felt like forever. And even as the fluttering walls of your pussy sent a tremor up his spine, he swallowed back his own grunt, gritting his teeth and setting his focus on soothing you instead of his frenzied pleasure.   

“Sweetheart, you gotta–” He spoke raspy and strained, but whatever he had left to say, never came as you blew your eyes open to meet his, all glassy and filled with ruin already.

“J-Joel,” you whined, grabbing harshly at his shoulders, trembling over nearly half of his cock, but already feeling split open and ready to fall over the crest of pleasure. “S-so full, already.” 

He nodded understandingly, clenching and unclenching his jaw, as he stroked your sides, hoping to calm the shivers that were dancing along your skin. He leaned up slightly, nudging his nose across cheek until he settled soft kisses along your earlobe. 

“It’s all yours baby, right sweetheart?” He murmured possessively, staking your claim over him before you could do it yourself–but he wanted to hear you, needed to hear that you understood he was yours now. 

Your lips parted with a breathy moan, walls clenching around him at the thought, before you swallowed thickly and nodded against him.

“Uh, huh… mine.” 

He grinned, satisfied with your response and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, feeling your hot labored breaths against him. 

“So take it.” 

He snaked one of his hands between your bodies, using your wetness and circling your clit with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back and your mouth drop open. The added stimulation helped distract you from the massive stretch, but not enough to send you over the edge just yet. 

“I know you can do it, sweetheart.” 

And somehow you did. 

You focused on the sound of his voice, shutting out all the tingling nerves and worries in the back of your mind, sinking down the rest of the way, and nestling his cock deep inside you. 

“S-shit, sweetheart,” Joel hissed, digging his fingers into your hips as his eyes dropped down to where you fully sheathed his length. “Fuckin’ grippin’ me so damn tight.” 

Your stomach clenched, walls clinging to every inch of him, carving out a new home where you’d crave him constantly. He couldn’t look away even if he tried, his eyes sailing towards your face and back down your body, reveling every gasp and shake not wanting to miss a thing. 

Your brows furrowed, finally testing the waters by rolling your hips in small circles, anticipating the first rumble of pleasure. But with him buried so deeply, relentlessly budging the spongy spot inside you, the small action stole your breath altogether, sending you toppling, slump against his chest.

“Oh my–fuck…toomuchtoomuch, Joel–”

“Hey, shh, relax for a minute,” His hand came down to the back your head, pressing you deeper into his chest, stroking your hair and feeling the way your walls spasmed around him uncontrollably. 

Joel hugged you close, letting you bury your face into the crook of neck where you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat racing just as quick as yours, yet still somehow sounding unaffected as he continued whispering words of solace, gently caressing your body like you were all that mattered to him. 

“I–I’m sorry…” You choked between a sniffle, not knowing exactly why you were apologizing suddenly, probably because Joel had spent more time comforting you through your pleasure without giving in to his. 

You needed to make him feel good. 

He grunted disapprovingly, kissing the crown of your head. “Baby, you don’t have to apologiz–” 

You attempted to lift your hips off of him, going to ride him the way you wanted to, but his hands immediately stalled your movements as you protested. 

“Joel, let me, c’mon.” 

“Sweetheart,” He shook his head, tugging your face away from hiding, staring at you all dark and tender.

“This is gonna be over before you even start,” He reasoned, rubbing the back of your scalp, wanting you to ease up, “You’re sensitive and she needs it gentle.”

“But I’m supposed to be taking care of you now and I–” 

“Hey, listen to me,” His voice was stern though his eyes remained a softened contrast, “Feelin’ you around me is already you takin’ care of me. Now, let me take care of you at the same time. Deal?

“Okay...” you whispered, nodding your head as he kissed you deeply before lifting his back off the couch, allowing him to lay you on your back. 

You spread your legs, letting him bracket his hips closer, planting one foot on the ground to give himself leverage, while the other remained bent at the knee on the couch. 

“How’s that sweetheart?” His hands glided over your stomach, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses up between the valley of your breast until he stopped at your chin peering up at you. 

“B-better…” You breathed, palms meeting his right over your stomach and pressing down slightly, “I can feel you deeper I think.”

“Good,” His lips quirked up into a smile, nipping your jaw before leaning up the rest of the way and pressing his forehead against yours, “I’m gonna move now. You say the word and we’ll stop whenever you want, alright?” 

You nodded, connecting your lips as you wounded your arms around his neck, readying yourself for the first thrust of his hips. His hands slid up to your ribcage, gripping you there tenderly, pulling his hips back barely a few inches, before sawing back in. 

He swallowed up your moans, dragging his hips back once more, setting a slow yet thoughtful pace, stretching out your combined pleasure, basking in other another. With every thrust, the pleasurable sensation blossomed brighter within you, your legs spreading more, hips stuttering up not wanting to let him go far from where he belonged. 

“Takin’ it so good, baby. Nice and deep.” Joel panted against your lips, pulling out almost halfway now, then back in again, eliciting a soft cry from your lips. “So perfect for me…my girl, my fuckin’ pussy, right?”

“Yes, yes, it’s yours…I-I’m yours, Joel.” You choked out, nails raking across his shoulder blades and down his back, “Please don’t stop, please, just–fuck!” 

“Keep fuckin’ you baby?” He teased, your whimpery moans agreeing with his filthy words, “Never gonna stop, sweetheart…promise. You just keep feelin’ good on my cock.” 

Your throat tore with a high-pitched squeal, Joel pulling out nearly all the way before driving back home, repeating the movement that had your legs trembling around him. The sounds were obscene, wet slaps of your skin nearly overpowering your moans, occupying the cabin. 

“Hear how wet you are?” He gritted, sucking in deeper breaths with every squeeze of your walls, “Pussys’ leaking all over me. She’s a sweet thing, alright.” 

“S-s-so good, you’re so deep,” You gasped, “M-more.” 

“Let me,” He guided one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing impossibly deeper, making you moan loudly.

“Fuck! Right there, p-please just like that,” You held him tighter, muffled words beating against his skin.“Don’t stop, please don’t–” 

“I won’t baby,” Joel assured you, maintaining the deliberately deep pace, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips, “Let me feel you, c’mon, give my cock some lovin’, let me feel you cum.” 

You crashed hard without even thinking twice, incoherent begging jumbled with your moans as stars flashed behind your pinched eyes. His movements didn’t falter, working every inch of himself within you, encouraging you to ride the wave of pleasure for as long as possible, reeling in the way your nails scratched down his back, pulling him tighter into you until your body went lax. 

Slowing his thrusts, he placed a chaste kiss to the inside of your knee, guiding your leg back down, allowing you some reprieve. He felt your motionless hands along his back, settling for weak grazes across the fresh scratches you left behind, while your chest rose and fell deeply. 

“Too much?” He rasped out, hands going to cup your cheeks, forcing your eyes to open and blink through the haze, “Need a break, baby?” 

You let out a shaky noise that told him ‘no,’ turning your head just slightly to take a deep breath in the out, repeating the action until you could bear to open your eyes, taking in the mouthwatering sight of him.

His hair was tousled all thanks to your grabby hands, sweat beading at his hairline, trailing down the sides of his face. His lips were as swollen as yours from the endless kisses you two had shared, and his eyes burned through you with fire, so strong yet delicate, needed to get close and finally feel the heat soar through you.

“K-Keep going,” you stuttered, still catching your breath, snaking your hands through his hair, gawking up at him hungrily, “I need it–I need to feel you…”

The realization washed over him, and you swore you could feel the twitch of his cock spur inside you, a restrained jerk of his hips sending his length somewhere deeper—right where you needed him to stick.

“Needa feel me extra deep, is that right?” He whispered, one hand splaying over your stomach, groaning to himself when he felt the faint brunt of himself beneath your skin. “Need me to leave my mark, remind you who you belong to?” 

You licked your lips, nodding frantically. “Yes… I-I want that…I’m all yours, please.” 

He reached for your free hand, intertwining them as he bent to kiss your shaky knuckles. 

“I’m yours too, baby…never lettin’ you go.” He began to thrust into you again, pressing his hips flushed between your thighs, grinding deep and precise. “Promise.” 

It didn’t take long to have you breathless all over again, your legs moving on their own accord to wrap around his waist, barely allowing him any escape from your heat—just simple, heavy, deep strokes, that caused tears to prickle at your eyes, the blossoming happening all over again, and this time stronger than the last two he so graciously gave you.

“Joel–shit, I’m…” You gasped, crushing his hand tightly, your entire body beginning to quiver as you tiptoed to the edge.

“Just like that… fuck, darlin’” He hissed, throwing his head, feeling your walls close in on him impossibly tighter, like they were begging as much as you were for him. “Just keep feelin’ me… every goddamn inch baby..” 

You did more than just let yourself feel. But be all consumed by him. Giving in to a need that would never be satiated by anyone besides Joel Miller, not that there was anyone else who could suffice, anyway. You gave yourself to him wholeheartedly, the same way he did to you. More than just a feeling. A deep-seated care that would never leave, always within you wherever you strayed because Joel proved it to you.

His hand untangled with yours and before you could whine out of protest, one escaped thoughtlessly, the feel of fingers sliding over your mound, easily finding your clit and rubbing steady circles. Y

You were dangling over the edge, just waiting to drop.

“Oh… oh,” Your jaw went slack, voice so small, “Joel, please.” 

He cooed softly, infatuated with you beneath him, ready to give you his all. “Need to feel you fall apart one more time baby, let me see it.” 

“Cum with me,” you begged, snaking your hands through his hair pull him closer, letting him swallow and steal your every breath, “Please… I need it. Fill me up, p-please.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, body seizing up into his, walls clamping greedily, taking him right over the edge with you.

“Fuckin’ hell… oh, fuck,” Joel groaned, hips stuttering, grinding and pushing deeper, spilling everything he had to give you, as he reveled in your take.

There was a saccharine smile on your face, weak but still there. Cheeks stained with a warm flush as tears remained stuck in their path, littering the wisp of your lashes with faint drops, blinking up at him starry-eyed. It was a sight that made his heart ache—not haunting or plaguing in a sense, but chained to knowing it could only ever be you from that point forward, and there was no need to deny himself.

Quietly, the two of you came back down together. Hands lazily roaming the skin your fingertips could reach, lips resting, not kissing, just feeling each other be there, and your hearts settling into a shared thump.

You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat,

“T-thank you.” You croaked out, reaching up with shaky hands to hold his cheek in your palm, not caring about the sweat trickling over your already sweaty skin.

He turned just slightly, chapped lips pressing into your pulse point.

“You’re… you’re thanking me for…” He tilted his back at you raising his brows with a smirk, still catching his breath, meanwhile you laughed weakly and shook your head. 

“That too, but mostly for seeing me… for showing me I matter.”

“Don’t gotta thank me for any of it,” He assured you, bringing his hand to wipe the tears off your cheeks, “and I don’t think I said it earlier…but I’m sorry everythin’.” 

“I forgave you already,” you replied with a smile, welcoming the feel of his lips on yours again as he kissed you so tenderly.  

Slowly, he helped ease your legs from around his waist, swallowing up your whines as he apologized lowly, shifting his hips back to pull out of you. The emptiness felt foreign, almost unbearable, but the faint trickle of your shared spent seeping out was a filthy yet pleasant reminder that you two were stuck together.

He reached down, picking up his discarded t-shirt, bending down to catch a better glimpse of the mess, holding himself back from wrecking you some more.

“So you’re just going to let me ruin all your clothes at this point?” You shivered with a laugh, watching as he carefully swiped the shirt between your thighs, cleaning up the mess between your thighs.

He looked up at you, kissing the inside of your knee. “Got a whole drawer at home waitin’ for you,” He winked, making you roll your eyes as he tossed the fabric to the floor after cleaning himself up too. 

Carefully, he maneuvered you off your back, sliding his body against the cushions to take your place, before setting you inside his side—your warm naked bodies tangling snugly to brave the winter night.

“I’ll take first watch so you can rest darlin’,” Joel whispered, running his palm along your shoulder blades while you traced random shapes over his chest.  

You rocked your head against him slightly, whispering loud enough for him to hear.

“We’re safe out here.” 

It was loaded, both a promise to take and a question for him to answer.

“Yeah, we’re safe, baby.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, eyes falling shut effortlessly, the sight of you still fresh behind his lids. “I’ve got you. Always, got you.” 

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!

a/n: i'm horny and ovulating, im sorry!!! thank you to my love, Effie for proof-reading and unapologetically encouraging my delulu for dilfy joel 💕💕

Everyone in Jackson had a specialty. Teachers. Doctors. Builders. Cooks. The list goes on and on, with roles that contributed immeasurably to the functioning of the town, despite how some may carry more weight than the others. But no matter how big or small one’s role was in the community, everyone appreciated the efforts, for the town needed the collective help to preserve its integrity beyond the gates that closed it off from the rest of Wyoming.

And all you knew since your arrival was that the town was the closest thing you’d ever had to a home. Something real. Somewhere safe. The one thing you couldn’t possibly bear to lose, for you didn’t know if anything would ever suffice the way this town had.

You weren’t a stranger to the cruelty lurking outside of the gates, spending a good portion of your life weaving in and out of the fallen QZ’s and deserted cities, just hoping to survive another day, until you finally stumbled upon Jackson.

They had taken you in with tentative, yet open arms, allowing you to adjust to the town you would come to call home before asking what it was you could provide. What you could give back to Jackson, not just for you, but for all its citizens. After all, the town belonged to everyone—those old and young, seasoned and novice—living for the hope of it all to make it to another day.

And so you were a supply runner, one of the most distinguished specialties the community was always looking to have more of, and it was just their luck that you weren’t just good at what you did.

You were great.

Reliable.

Confident.

Never coming back empty-handed even when something unexpected was thrown into your path.

Last winter proved that.

It wasn’t a part of the plan to stumble upon a group of raiders during a run all by yourself, and truth be told you didn’t want to kill any of them. But the second your presence was known, the moment you saw the greed in their eyes, the realization dawned on you that you needed to do what was necessary.

It had been hours since your expected arrival, and a few members of Jackson’s committee including Tommy, Maria, and Joel were waiting impatiently behind the gates. Joel suspected something went sideways, proposing a search party go out and look for you, but he’d been outvoted. His brother assuring him that everything was fine and that you always came back in one piece.

When they finally spotted you from a distance, a blob among the falling snow and dwindling daylight, they almost breathed a sigh of reprieve, but as the gates creaked open to greet you, and you drew closer, it all came crashing.

You were hunched over your horse, clothing tattered and blowing against the wind. A rope tightly wound across your waist, dragging duffle bags of enough weapons and ammunition to last months of patrol across the blankets of snow. The pungent smell of blood saturating the air before they finally took sight of it staining skin.

Protocol was ignored, Joel bolting to you without thinking twice.

He hauled your half unconscious body off your beloved horse Ivy, diligently clutch the back of your head as he laid you down and his brother dropped beside him, immediately going to undo the knot around your waist.

Joel’s eyes flashed over your face, taking in your appearance, searching for any signs of life. Your heavy-lidded eyes were barely hanging on, frost bitten lips parted with weak breaths, and your cheeks and chin daubed with dried blood. It was a miracle that you even made it back, but that optimism instantly seemed to fade when he spotted more blood, the steady dribble of blood trickling onto the frosty snow beneath you. 

With shaky hands, he tore through the rest of your shredded coat, discovering the deep incision on your abdomen, angry and throbbing, pooling with enough blood to make his run cold. His hands were coated in your near-death, transporting him back to that harrowing memory of his dear Sarah, reliving the greatest loss of his life all over again.

He knew the cost of hesitation and he wasn’t going to let it take you next. Lifting you back into his arms with a devastatingly rehearsed movement, he clutching you tight to his chest, rushing you to the infirmary paying no mind to the shouting voices behind him. 

He didn’t need to be told to know what you had done.

He had already pieced together the story once he saw the crimson and the baggage you pulled behind. 

He knew what you had done to survive. 

But most importantly, he knew what you had done to risk losing your life.

To Joel, you weren’t good. Not even great. Just plain reckless. Willing to put yourself in grave danger against god knows how many of those ruthless raiders just to make it back with a contribution without ever weighing your own chances of survival. 

He knew what this town meant to everyone, how much your recklessness would provide for everyone’s safety, yet he couldn’t look past what it meant beyond the surface.

You possessed a sort of recklessness that teetered the edge of selflessness, the one thing that would end up costing your life one day–and even if it wasn’t his place to care as severely as he did, he couldn’t let you go on. 

Since that last winter, Joel kept his sights on you, refusing to send you out on any runs or patrols, alone or grouped, even despite your argument that every journey beyond the gates was risky no matter what. All you could see was him punishing you, his all of a sudden authoritarianism taking away the one thing you could give to this place that fucking mattered.  

You didn’t understand why he was putting so much effort into controlling you, when at some point you were nothing more than a body to send outside of the gates to protect the community and him. 

Granted, you and Joel were never more than just strangers forced to interact scarcely. Joel made the patrolling and run schedules, posted them up, and only if you ever needed to switch, was when you talked to him.

And that was almost never.

But since his imminent shift in demeanor, you found yourself almost always at his throat, while he sat back silently, brushing you off like you weren’t even there, though you knew deep down his stoicism was crumbling with every hurtful word you threw his way.  

He enraged you.

You wanted to crack him open. To get a reaction out of him. The one you knew he was actively burying deep within him day by day. Then maybe, just maybe, you’d understand where he was truly coming from.

Why was he punishing you? 

Why Joel Miller wanted to keep you in a cage that made you feel useless to the community you knew you were obligated to provide for?

Luckily for you though, his authority didn’t last long into the next winter where the need for supplies grew.

Tommy had been a lingering presence in and out of Joel’s makeshift office, hinting at the abandoned hospital miles out that was stocked with necessities that would tremendously benefit Jackson and the influx of new individuals coming in.

Joel wasn’t stupid, though. He knew exactly what his little brother was getting at, trying to convince him to put you back on runs without twisting his hand and making him feel as though he had no other choice. It wasn’t working and Joel knew it was only a matter of time until Tommy would intervene, putting a stop to whatever power he held. 

He knew it was coming.

You were the only one who knew enough about the ins and outs of the particular route, what shortcuts to take, what possibilities you could run into. And with Jackson getting desperate to brave out the winter with as few hiccups as possible, he knew Tommy was going to put you on that run–solo or grouped it didn’t matter–but it was going to be you.  

It didn’t take much convincing from Tommy to get you on board, but he still respected his older brother and his position as head of patrols and runs. And so there you were in his quaint office, pretending Joel’s existence wasn’t real as you stared down at the shabby fading map with a pen in hand as Tommy listened and Joel brooded silently.

“The run will take a day and a half.” You explained, drawing a messy line across the paper, detailing the route, “Half of day one is traveling, alone. Then we’ll gather supplies, and clear whatever infected there is.” 

Then you circled a different spot on the map, fitting your eyes up to Tommy’s.

“Before sunset, we have to stop at this cabin. It’s a safe house. We’ll need to rest and so will the horses. The next morning we’ll make it back home by around mid-day.”

Tommy agreed without a second thought, and that alone made Joel’s irritation boil over. His brother had always had blind faith in these sorts of things and Joel never understood why he couldn’t be a little more skeptical, especially considering what they both faced together.

“What do you think?” Tommy wrung his head towards Joel, meanwhile you bit back the urge to say ‘fuck what he thinks.’

He looked unimpressed, jaw clenching and his broad shoulders standing stiff as his boots rocked against the creaky floors. The tension was palpable if anything at all. Whatever strain that lingered between you and Joel filled the room with something so suffocating, Tommy couldn’t wait to be freed. 

His silence was like drowning and you’d be damned if you let him take you under.

“It’s a good plan, Joel.” You spat sharply, pressing your hands against the desk, straightening your stance.

He only grunted, narrowing his sights on you, before he finally spoke.

“What happens if you aren’t out there alone? If there’s infected in that building? Or if there’s raiders in that cabin.”

His jab at your expertise disguised as concern made your blood boil, your self control withering by the second, especially when he brought up the raiders.  

Tommy was going to be thrown into the middle of you and Joel’s indifference whether he liked it or not. He was immediately regretting not dragging Ellie or Maria along to try to at least neutralize the situation or better yet free him of his developing migraine.

Whether you believed it or not, you and Joel were cut from the same cloth of obstinance, the kind of flaw that got the best of you both, the one that Tommy was going to need to put up with. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Miller?” You accused, shuffling across the room to where he stood, “I’m not incapable and you know that. Whatever vendetta you have against me, fucking drop it, Joel.”

His arms uncrossed over his chest, dropping to his sides as he flexed his fingers stiffly. You were damn near getting under his skin, and he had been so good at showing otherwise. He didn’t have any vendetta against you—it was tolerance, mercy, postulation—something you were too young, too reckless to possess, let alone see with your own eyes.

“I didn’t say you weren’t capable, but what you are is reckless.” He bellowed too loudly for your liking. “And I don’t need that type of recklessness out there bein’ brought back here.”

‘Or not making it back at all,’ Joel bit back. 

Without taking his eyes off your heated glare, he muttered to Tommy who was already burrowing his head behind his hands. 

“She’s not going on that run.” 

You furrowed your brows, lips twitching with anger, “The hell I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Enough.”

Tommy’s voice silenced the two of you, once and for all, slicing through the tension. 

“She’s going on that run with Jesse.”

Joel’s eyes widened, hands clenched into fists as he turned to his brother, ready to tell him he needed to know his place. Yet the younger stood his ground, shaking his head and holding his hand out with purpose, keeping both of you silent. 

“You’re still in charge here and she won’t go alone. It’s a compromise, and it’s final. Jackson needs this.”

‘Still in charge’ my ass, Joel thought, dropping his gaze down to the floor as his hands rested on his hips. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but be pleased by the decision, happy to be finally getting your way after all this time forced to yield to Joel’s rules. 

“They’ll leave in a few days.” 

With that, Tommy didn’t stay any longer than he needed to, not trying to mitigate the feelings between you both, as he knew you both were too far gone to help. He stomped towards the door, grumbling to himself before letting it slam behind him. 

You and Joel didn’t say a word, and part of you wanted to antagonize him. Tell him that his old ass needed to find a hobby other than trying to control you.

But you didn’t. 

You caught the hitch in his chest, the way his scowl undoubtedly slipped into something almost insistent when he finally looked up at you. You wanted to ask what his deal was all of sudden.

But you didn’t.

He didn’t stop you from leaving.

Didn’t try his very hardest to explain where he was coming from because believe it or not, he too was in your shoes at one point in his life. Too confident for his own good. Too willing to lay it all out without thinking of what he would be leaving behind.

He knew you wouldn’t see it the way he did. He didn’t want to waste his breath expressing words you wouldn’t take to heart.

He didn’t. 

But he wasn’t letting you go.

Joel knew you were going to find out what he did before daylight. Before every run and patrol, you’d stop at the stables the night before, checking up on your horse Ivy and double checking the written schedules he always had posted up. It was only a matter of when and how angry you were going to be with him. 

And as if he could feel it coming from a mile away, your rage approached and suddenly the double doors of the cafeteria swung open and he watched you sweep over the room until your eyes fell onto his. 

“What the fuck, Miller!” You roared, making a beeline towards him. 

Ellie, who was sitting right across from him, wore a shocked expression, mouth moving to ask Joel what was going on, but before she could, your voice echoed through the room again. 

“Why’d you take off the run? And why the fuck are you going instead of me?” You demanded, slamming your palms against the table, shaking it roughly. 

He sighed, picking up his napkin as he ran it across his mouth, eyes moving across the room, seeing the concerned and taken aback faces from the others watching—waiting to see what he was going to do.  

“Let’s go outside.” He mumbled quietly, beginning to stand up. 

You shook your head, hitting the table once more, “No, I want to know right now! Who the fuck gave you the right to—”

“Outside. Now.” He growled, patience wearing thin, taking hold of your arm tightly.

You fought against him feebly, attempting to jerk your arm back as he walked towards the backdoors, pulling you behind him until the cold air hit your skin and he finally dropped his grip. 

“Do you get off on this? Punishing me for no reason at all?” You snarled, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to control your anger and stop yourself from decking him right across the jaw.

“M’not punishin’ you—”

“Then what is it?” You demanded, cutting him off, “Why are you icing me out of the one thing I’m good at, Joel?”

You couldn’t miss the scoff he let out, as if he was laughing at you. Mocking you for feeling the way you felt after all these months. It fucking ticked you off.

“You think you’re good at what you do?” He stared down at you with a coldhearted gaze. 

“I think I’m great at what I do.” You rebutted, tipping your chin up at him. 

“You call making it back here, damn near falling off your horse while you bleed out, great?” His nostrils flared, arms tightening over his chest as he waited on your smartass remark he knew was coming. 

And so you jabbed a finger into his chest, voice filled with disdain and fury. “I brought back months of supplies that you and the rest of the goddamn commune use on a daily basis and I don’t hear them giving me shit about—”

His resolve snapped, gripping your wrist strongly as he leveled face to face with you. Through gritted teeth, his voice came out in rigid whispers, making sure only you heard every word he had to say. 

“You think you’re special because of what you provide here, but you’re too damn stupid to see past that.” 

You blinked, caught off guard by the mild ache around your wrists and his unforeseen reaction that you never thought you’d get.

But he didn’t stop. 

“These people don’t give a shit if you make it back alive or not. You’re. Replaceable.” His eyes bored through yours, forcing you to take every word like bullets on skin. 

You loathed the way he quickly made you feel so small, so unimportant. Embarrassment creeping into your chest, blood rushing towards your cheeks, and stinging blooming behind your eyes.  

There was regret in your bones for angering him, for driving him to reveal such a mean version of himself that you wished he kept suppressed. You wanted to strike back with words just as cruel, your mouth opening with a wobbly breath, yet you weren’t sharp enough to stop his turmoil. 

“You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for. Why is it you’re so eager to risk your life because I promise you it isn’t for them and it sure as hell isn’t for me.” He dropped your wrist as if he was determined to get away from you, but his words only drilled deeper. 

“Someone else could walk through those gates, just as great, if not better than you are, and no one would think twice about whether you made it back here with something to show for, alive or not.”

Your jaw trembled, eyes blinking, letting a single tear run down your cheek as you braced for more, but all that came was silence and the devastation of his words sinking bone deep. 

It stung, and what hurt the most was the fact that there was truth behind everything he said. You tried to breathe through it, clenching your fist tight ready to throw it his way, but you couldn’t do it.

The shame twisted in your gut, and more tears flowed without restraint. 

“F-fuck you, Joel.” You choked, voice barely a whisper, turning around and walking around the building refusing to let anyone else see you cry.

It was the first time Joel managed to wrangle any reaction besides anger or frustration out of you. But he hadn’t meant to make you cry, or let his words out with such crassness, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to break you. 

He fucked up, and he knew it. All he wanted was to keep you away from runs and patrols. For you to see that you were more than the work. He didn’t ever intend on making it seem like he didn’t care. 

He walked back into the cafeteria, aloof to the eyes that drifted back down to their plates or the whispers that wondered where you were. Returning to his seat across Ellie, he picked up his fork and poked at his food as if nothing happened. 

“Dude what the hell was that?” Ellie chided, nudging his leg under the table, getting his attention. 

He shook his head and shrugged plainly, brushing off her question and posing one of his own.

“You goin’ to see Jesse tonight?”

Her brows pulled together, and she nodded. “Uh, yeah why?”

“Tell him he’s off tomorrow. I’m goin’ on the run with her.”

He was thankful that Ellie didn’t throw 101 questions his way, simply nodding as they finished their dinner in silence and parted ways. He spent the night packing what he needed for the two-day trip, replaying what had happened in his head, wondering if he could ever right the wrong and make you understand. But there was no way, not when he was going to complicate things even more by leaving like this.

The next morning, with his gun and pack slung over his body, he saddled up Ivy, signing out without writing another name next to his, sneaking past the gates without causing a scene.

Joel would throw his life into the unknown before letting anyone, but especially you drown in it without care.

You sulked in the bitterness in the comfort of your own home, refusing to leave your bed until the sun beat too brightly past your curtains, forcing you to mope from room to room as you kept yourself busy. 

Sleep barely came to you the night before as Joel’s words echoed through your head like a record stuck on repeat. You tried to bury the shame into a pit deep down inside of you, attempting to brush it off the same way he probably did to all your venomous words thrown his way.

But it was impossible.

You’re too damn stupid.

You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for.

It isn’t for them and sure as hell isn’t for me.

He was haunting you in ways that had you second guessing if Jackson was ever home to begin with. If all this time, this place was merely a facade ready to forget about you the same way they let you in. And if you really were replaceable like Joel made it sound, then what was the point of ever risking your life if it didn’t matter to anyone else besides your internal ache to provide?

Everyone had someone and yet you…

You had acquaintances–people you called friends and nothing more. But they had always had someone else. Someone they mattered to.

Siblings. Parents. Partners. 

You had no one, and Joel was right.

There was no reason for you to so willingly put your life on the line—there was no one relying on you, forcing your hand to succumb to whatever death lurked outside Jackson just to make sure they were well off. Instead, all you had was the longing buried deep into the vault of your soul–the thoughts of maybe one day, meaning something more than what you could provide, but just for who you were.

You had spent all this time thinking you were so important, only to realize that it was only ever significant to you. The role Jackson played as your only home made it seem as if you had to carry it on your shoulders, gamble your life in order to keep it in the palm of your hands, when in truth it was never yours to begin with.

Tears had spilled down your cheeks relentlessly, like a petulant child learning how it felt to be told ‘no,’ for the first time. And even though you wanted to hide away, pick up the backpack you stocked for what was supposed to be today’s run and leave Jackson behind—you couldn’t give Joel that satisfaction.

He deserved to know how much he hurt you. To know that even if you had no one standing in your corner of the way he had Ellie or Tommy, you had yourself, and you would be OK. 

At least you hoped you would. 

By the time the purple and pink hues began to tumble across the sky, you found the energy to leave home and grab dinner at the cafeteria. You were already dreading seeing the faces of those who witnessed your outburst yesterday, but then again the thought of Joel’s words–no one caring about you–made the dread seem miniscule in comparison. 

Rocks and sludgy snow croaked under each step you took, the winter breeze pushing past your layers as you approached the double doors, shoving them open as you kept your gaze on the ground. You picked up a plate, moving along the half empty trays of food, muttering out a quiet thank you as a few cooks spooned you whatever was left. 

Then suddenly your name was shouted across the room by none other than Ellie. You flinched, furrowing your brows as you looked her way, and took in her indecipherable expression. Before you knew it, she was striding over with urgent steps, lips pursing and breathing getting heavier as she neared you. 

You sighed, placing your plate down on the line ready to hear whatever she was probably about to throw your way in order to defend Joel’s honor. 

“Look whatever Joel told you, I don’t want to hear—”

“What are you doing here?” She cut you off sharply, her voice subduing the rest of the cafeteria with her anger and confusion–and just like her, you mirrored it.  

“Excuse me?” You blinked wildly, shaking your head at her, not realizing what she was going on about. 

“Yesterday, Joel told me that he took Jesse off the run. That he was going with you.” She gestured her hands in the air, signalling to her table across the room.  

You shook your head once more, baffled at her words that didn’t make any sense, until you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you saw Jesse stand up and reveal himself.

Right about now, he was supposed to be with Joel. He was supposed to be with him since early this morning, and he wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow. 

Your blood ran cold, immediately twisting around and bolting out the building without a second thought. Voices shouted and footsteps pounded close behind you, but none of it was registering. Your mind was a blur, repeating the same harrowing thoughts one after the other, over and over. 

Joel was out there. Alone. On a route he barely knew. On a run too dangerous. 

You nearly knocked your front door off its hinges, ripping a thicker coat off the hooks and sliding your arms through it in a haste. You grabbed your pack, flinging it over one shoulder. Flipping open an old shoe box, you clutched your knife, sliding it into its protective sheath the securing it over your belt loops. 

Ellie stood in your doorway breathless as she watched on, there was a delay in her movements to follow your lead but she spoke. 

“I’m coming with you.” She panted, going to turn around and rush home for her things. 

“No, you’re not.” You snapped, stopping her in her tracks before she could even leave your porch. 

She whipped around quickly, voice ragged. “If you think I’m gonna let Joel die out there alone, then you’re wrong!”

Despite her scowl, you could read the tears starting to cloud her eyes, the way they filled with fear and hopelessness. Joel mattered to her, the same way she mattered to him. 

You understood what their bond meant–how important they were to each other, but you also knew you couldn’t let her follow down this path. Wherever Joel was, you knew he’d make it back to her, and it was your job to make sure she understood that.

“He’s not going to die, Ellie. I won’t let him.” You said firmly, stepping up and holding her by the shoulders. 

You took a breath, hoping your next words would be well received, despite the visible state of distress she was in. 

“I know you want to go out there for yourself and make sure he’s okay, but I’ve got this. If anything were to happen to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.” 

It was almost scary, the way she mirrored Joel’s mannerisms when he was at odds with his words and what he felt inside. It was that same shift you saw when Tommy left his office, leaving you two there alone, where you knew Joel wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to. 

You were going to tell him all about his and Ellie’s similarities right after you kicked his ass for doing something so stupid. 

“I promise, he’s gonna be ok.” You squeezed her shoulders again, offering a tight smile, a contrast to the panic you were feeling inside.

“Swear on his life.” She whispered. 

You didn’t hesitate. 

“I swear on Joel’s life, I’ll do everything I can.” 

She nodded once. 

“Go.” 

You didn’t waste another second. Sprinting to the stables and throwing a saddle over the first horse you saw. Only when you hopped on and gripped its reins, did you realize it was Callus–Joel’s horse. The gates opened with a high-pitched creak as you crossed over. Shouts belonging to Tommy who seemed to have caught onto what his idiotic brother had done, was trying to stop you. But before he could, you barked out a command to the horse, letting him take you away into whatever lay ahead as desperation seeped in. 

Making it to Joel and seeing him alive. 

His bones ached, exhaustion gnawing over every inch of his aging body that threatened to give out under pure fatigue and the added weight of the supplies he snagged hours ago. Still, he managed through, mustering enough strength as he dismounted off Ivy, securing her around a tree to rest up for the night. 

He tossed a ration of his food onto the ground, giving her cheek a proud pat, before stumbling the rest of the way towards the cabin in the distance, not wanting to alert anyone of his presence if someone was inside. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He sputtered under his breath, drawing his pistol out. 

As quietly as he could, he padded up the rickety porch steps, peeking through the dusty windows with his fingers hovered over the trigger reach to shoot. Thankfully, though, there was no one in sight thus far, prompting him to give the jammed door a stern push until it gave way. 

He had heard about the cabin in passing before you mentioned it in his office a few days ago. Back before the incident last winter, you’d often be cooped up there after long runs, needing a day’s break to recharge before heading back home. It wasn’t the prettiest or most homey place, but it made do with its lumpy couch and half-burned candles you kept stashed away behind the flimsy kitchen cabinets.

His eyes raked over the area, ensuring it was all clear, before lowering his gun and dropping the bags against the ground with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t been hurt, making it out of the hospital without a scratch, though his luck seemed to run dry as he was leaving. There was a group of infected on the shorter trail, forcing him to clear what he could before giving Ivy’s reins a stiff jerk and tearing back around to the longer route.  

Clearly it had been stupid to do what he had done, his body paying the price, finally collapsing against the frumpy couch and giving his limbs a rest. Leaving Jackson without telling a soul, especially Tommy, would come with consequences, but he knew he had his reasons–good ones–or at least he liked to think so. 

They’d probably put up in front of the council for trial when he returned, but if it meant steering you out of danger, then he could live with it. 

Selfishly, he didn’t care about the orange bottles filled with unknown medication or the expired vials of local anesthesia stuffed in his pack that would benefit the community he called home.

Something else was haunting him. Someone. You. 

He stormed room to room with shaky hands, snatching whatever he saw, yet the only thought racing through his mind was the fact that you had been in the same predicament on multiple occasions. Alone. 

Even as he exited the hospital unscathed, he couldn’t shake the twist in his gut. It only wound tighter as he bullied an infected’s head into the ground with his boot–his mind playing out a hundred different scenarios where you had been fighting not just them, but the unturned monsters. 

The raiders who almost took your life. 

The scary realization ate him up when he trotted along the route with Ivy in search of the cabin–that the near death experience you had wasn’t the first–it was just the one Joel had seen with his own eyes. 

The blood you didn’t have time to clean up. 

A fake smile you didn’t rehearse when you got past the gates to mask the ache in your bones. 

All of the hurt you had endured was not consoled in an empty cabin all alone before you made it back and pretended it didn’t exist. 

You had been relinquishing your safety each time you went out of the walls and each time you came back you weren’t held up by your strength, but rather what you had to show and give. 

It was a familiar feeling that Joel used to know well, the one that lived in his bones back when Jackson was just a figment of his fantasy. Back when living in QZ’s meant not knowing if tomorrow was promised and putting his life on the line to bank on another day. 

But Jackson was home now, and even when those fearful pains attempted to sprawl up through the pit of stomach, wanting to spread through the bones once tainted, he remembered there was more to life now other than survival. 

Ellie was his light, his second chance, and he’d spent every waking moment protecting her in any way he could, even when he knew she didn’t need it. He had Tommy, the pain in his ass brother that he was still so lucky to bicker with even at their age. 

And even though he couldn’t admit it out loud, for the past year Joel had you.

A lingering presence he couldn’t keep his mind off of. Constantly plagued by your insistence to step out of the walls that almost took you away, and most of all your plea to mean something again when all along you had meant so much more than you’d know. 

The moment he saw your blood pouring as you laid lifeless in his arms.

When all he could do was stand back and watch the doctor and nurses do everything, they could to bring you back. 

Every day he spent sitting at your bedside while you weaved in and out of consciousness.

Putting his foot down and telling Tommy and Maria he wouldn’t be sending you out to meet your death anymore. 

Even when you bombard him with ignorant fury and resentment for taking away what made you useful.

He knew what he was up against–not just the dangers that lurked outside waiting to claim you, but yourself, too. 

Your selflessness had morphed into recklessness that should have cost you, and Joel promised himself, even through all the animosity you held towards him, that you would never have to touch that feeling again. 

He needed you to understand that it wasn’t your responsibility to give so much of yourself to matter. That getting close to death on multiple occasions, whether he knew it or not, was a wake up call that you had a bigger purpose. That you were worth more than what you could risk and provide.

You deserved to be protected the same way you did for the town. You deserved to matter, even if you didn’t see what Joel was doing as such.  

“Quit it.” He muttered to himself, trying to fight away at all the guilt he had built up and was beginning to split him up at the seams. 

Sleep should have hurdled towards him, for he knew his body was begging for it, but all he could see was your face, as if it was etched in memory. And come morning he hoped it would be you greeting him at the gates even if you were wearing an angry snarl because at least then there wouldn’t be any blood split from you, no traces of a life almost lost, no risk taken. 

A piece that mattered ripped away. 

None of that. 

The sunset was ebbing away with each second that passed, clouds dissipating as a looming gray hue cast above. By now, Joel should have made it back to the cabin, and if you were right, he would have needed to take the long route back there.

You did your best to keep your breathing at bay, uttering words of encouragement as Callus continued steadily, as if he knew you were guiding him to his loyal companion somewhere out in the woods.

“Easy boy, that’s it.” You gently petted through his mane, seeing the cabin in the distance, slowing down in case anyone who wasn’t Joel picked up on your presence.

You weren’t as quiet as you thought, or maybe Joel wasn’t as deaf as he once was, but he picked up on the sounds just beyond the walls. The crunching of leaves and mush of snow that snapped him out of the fatigue he felt. He gripped his gun tighter, moving up off the couch and making his way behind a wall still in view of the front door, waiting for movement.

You spotted Ivy in your peripheral as you got closer, her body lax against the forest floor resting from what you knew was a treacherous journey. Joel had taken your horse, and yet even when you should have felt relief, you wouldn’t allow it… not until you saw him with your own eyes. 

You drew your knife out of its sheath, footsteps as silent as they could be under the leaves and twigs. Stepping up on the creaky porch, you squinted through the dusty windows, making out the faint flickers of orange flames from a lit candle. 

With one fluid push, you nudged the door open, stepping forward and holding your breath, hoping he was there. Joel squinted through the fog of exhaustion, thinking for a split second that his old eyes were playing a trick on him, seeing the familiar silhouette that was supposed to be back home, not right in front of him. 

He stepped out into view, and your eyes snapped to his. The two of you stood face to face mere feet away until your voices collided in the air. 

“The hell are you doing here?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You shared a wide-eyed look, chest heaving as you stared at each other. Joel lowered his gun, listening as you shut the door and let your knife clattered to the ground. Before he could say anything, you closed the space between you two. Footsteps heavy against the floorboards as your mouth twisted into a snarl.

“Do you have any idea how stupid you are?” You roared, pushing at his chest, not realizing the way he winced at your touch, “What the fuck were you thinking going out all by yourself?”

“M’fine—“

Your palms met his chest again, this time harder. 

“It’s not fine, Joel! What if something happened? What if you got bit or… or if you weren’t the only one out there searching for supplies?”

He tried to open his mouth, attempting to tell you he had the same concerns just a few days ago that you seemingly brushed off, but before he could spit it out, you kept going.

“What about Ellie? Tommy?” You demanded, not missing the way his shoulders stiffened at the sound of their names. “Do you have any idea how worried they are right now? How distraught would they be if something happened to you?” 

You shook your head at him, puzzled and disappointed at the fact that he would go as far as to risk everything he had just to spite you.

He didn’t answer.

He knew what he did wasn’t right–putting his daughter and his brother through hell once more, but he knew he had to do it…for the right reasons… for you. He couldn’t apologize for something he wasn’t sorry for, so instead he settled for something else. 

“You would’ve found me.” 

He spoke so sure of himself, as if the thought had passed through his mind more than once, a kind of statement that was completely unwavering. His sentiment caught you off guard, a clear look of disbelief covering your features as you stood there glaring. 

“W-What?”

He swallowed, arms crossing over his chest never letting his sights wander from you.

“If something did happen, you would’ve been in charge of the search party. You would have found me and brought me back home. I know you. It’s what you would’ve done.”

You stand with that sentiment for a moment, letting the scene play out in your head. 

What if you didn’t leave your home until the next morning? What if something happened, and he was out there all alone? What if he didn’t make it back at all?

Ellie and Tommy would surely be in shambles. The turn of events alone who have them acting on impulse, but you knew you wouldn’t let them, not in the distraught state they would be in. It’s the same reason why you didn’t let Ellie follow you, and it’s exactly why you left before Tommy could join you. 

If all those ‘what if’s’ played out so cruelly, would you would have done what you did just hours ago without thinking twice? The answer was so obviously ‘yes.’

Perhaps it was impulsive and hypocritical in itself, but Ellie and Tommy had Joel to hold onto, someone who was too important to lose even if they had good intentions of seeking him out themselves. 

“No.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as your lips pursed, “I would not.” You lied straight through your teeth.

Joel didn’t look convinced in the slightest, huffing out a strained, almost bemused breath of laughter, letting his eyes bore straight through you, as if he knew your every thought, spoken and suppressed. 

“I know you would because if you had done what I did, I’d do the same for you.” 

You rolled your eyes at his admission, but you couldn’t feign the feeling of warmth swarming through your chest. It was utterly stupid to think anything more of Joel’s altruism that he wore proudly on his arm despite his reserved demeanor, but you couldn’t help but feel as if he was showing you his cards–the hand he once kept hidden, now laid out bare for only you to see. 

You swallowed down the words that lingered on the tip of your tongue. The ones that wanted to ask him why he suddenly was beginning to level with you and why he couldn’t have done it sooner. 

Instead, you settled on something safer. 

The one thing you knew he needed to hear coming from you, because then maybe he would understand how lucky he was and how him doing what he did was pure stupidity. 

“You shouldn’t have done this to begin with,” you countered, turning your back on him as you walked away and picked up your knife off the ground. 

“You’ve got too much to lose.” You muttered, sliding it back into its sheath, undoing the button from your belt as you tossed it onto the dusty counter. 

His eyes narrowed at your figure as if he was trying to get deep into your thoughts and wonder why you were selling yourself short when both of you had too much to lose. He refused to let you think that, even if he did sign off on letting you come out here alone, it still wouldn’t change the fact that you were risking too much.

“And you don’t?” He shot back, almost accusatory.

You whipped your head around, a ridiculously obvious look on your face, “You know what, yeah, I don’t. I’ve come to realize that over the last twenty-four hours all thanks to you.”

“You really think that?” He argued.

“Don’t act so damn surprised, Joel. You said it yourself. Nobody gives a shit about me. I’m replaceable.” You mocked his gravelly voice, rolling your eyes as you watch him take it in regretfully.

A beat of silence passed, remorse permeating his face as he shut his eyes, recounting the events of yesterday that he seemingly buried beneath the fresh thoughts of seeing you here before him.

“I didn’t mean—” you lifted your hand in the air, silencing him with a long pointed look. 

“Save it, I don’t need your pity all of a sudden, alright.” You exasperated deeply, letting your hand fall against your side. 

Your eyes shifted past him, surveying the small living room where you had no choice but to bear the nightfall with him just a few feet away. There was no point in arguing with him any longer. All you wanted to do was sleep just so you could avoid him. His apologies would mean nothing at all, not when he was only saying it because he was forced to. In an attempt to brush past him, his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you to face him once more. 

“Joel, stop–” You griped firmly, though the desperation was unmistakable in your voice, coming off as begging as you tried to pull your hand back. 

The last thing you needed right now was a repeat of what happened back in Jackson. Not only did you have nowhere to run, but not a single fiber of strength left to hear whatever cruel words Joel had kept harboured for you, now ready to be unleashed. 

But the bitterness and the usual look of disdain never came. Instead, his fingers loosened just slightly, still firmly anchoring you to him, and there was that catch in his breath, a frown that meant more than just disgruntlement. 

“I didn’t mean what I said. I just—it came out wrong.” His voice came to you with a softness that hadn’t been heard before, completely taking you aback all over again.

“You matter, but you take risks–you live your life like you don’t.” His voice nearly broke, betraying himself as he pinched his eyes shut frustratingly. 

You stared at him, trying to search for an ounce of pity or deception that would’ve made you snap, but all you could find was him. When his eyes snapped back to yours, there was nothing but truth and even if you didn’t believe any of it personally, he deemed it true to him and that was enough to send you reeling. 

“You don’t think I don’t hear the end of it from Ellie and Dina?” He dropped your wrists, running his hands over the scruff of his beard, looking down at the floorboards then back up at you.

“Always beggin’ me to put you back on patrols and runs with them?” 

There was an apparent heat behind his words, not towards you, but the thought of letting you out of safety–out of his sight. 

“Then why don’t you let me?” You asked coolly, crossing your arms over your chest trying to get down to the truth this time, not provocation. 

“Because I know you’d throw your life on the line to protect them.” He spoke harsher than he intended to, sighing deeply, regaining his composure and swallowing hard, “To bring back whatever it is that the town needs.”

He faltered just slightly, as if guilt was eating him alive for knowing he too was the one who’d benefit from your 

He wasn’t wrong. There’d been many close calls before the one last winter. Runs with Jesse, patrols with Dina, even occasional ones with Ellie, where you throw yourself in the face of danger without thinking twice, perhaps forcing them to watch you die in order to save them and give the town what it needed. 

Before you could tell him, it was for good reason, especially to protect his daughter, he spoke up again. 

“But I already saw you once on your deathbed, and I can’t see you there again.” His voice pinched, refusing to consider the thought of you slipping away, even if it was only in mind. 

It never occurred to you–not until now–just how present Joel had been during the time you were in and out of consciousness, teetering the dead and the living. Somehow, without needing to hear him elaborate, you grasped the weight he carried from that day. How wound up he was had been seeing you in that state, that even now it still destroyed him, but that wasn’t you… not anymore. 

“I’m not made out of glass, Joel.” 

Your throat tightened, taking an effort to bring the words to the tip of your tongue and out into the open, because in that very moment, all you felt like was glass. Completely see through for Joel to read inside and out, to know your every fear and thought, to know you were in as much denial as he was. 

“You sure ain’t.” He huffed sarcastically, his hands coming down on hips as he shook his head and let his shoulders fall. “You have no idea what it was like for me. To… to know I was the one who let you go out there all by yourself because you were so sure, and not able to do anythin’ but stand there and—and hope you’d wake up.”

He went on before you could stop him. 

“I mean what the hell were you thinkin’?” His brows furrowed deep, staring at you with a look that you had seen before, but never with this much anguish tangled within him.

“The second you killed the last guy, you should’ve come back home right away. But no. You stayed back and took your time bagging all that crap instead of saving your goddamn self first.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, the frustration and helplessness behind them, revealing something unprecedented to the indifference he always offered instead. This wasn’t the Joel who’d brushed you off or the one yesterday that yelled at you with no mercy–this was a cry for understanding, a last-ditch attempt for you to finally see where he was coming from all this time. 

You were at a loss for words, mouth parting, trying to figure out what you could say, how you could reason with his regard to ease the burden you had no idea had been carrying all this time. It wasn’t his place to care as much as he did and hide it all behind a facade he should’ve never put up, but he did it and you were willing to compromise. 

“We… we’ve all got things we’re not proud of. Guilt we have to live with Joel.” 

He barely let your sentiment hang in the air before his voice tumbled. 

“Yeah well, if you had died… if you didn’t make it back, I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself.”

You never pegged Joel Miller as the type of man to drop down to his knees and beg for forgiveness for anything, let alone to some unknown God for almost letting you die. But there he was confessing to you like he had committed a sin so abysmal that he couldn’t bear to go on if death ever came close to you again–on his watch or not. 

All this time, he had been protecting you, shielding you from what you refused to see in the same light as he did. Even if it bruised your pride to admit, Joel had been seeing you. Truly seeing you from a distance and doing what he could, what he deemed right to keep you safe. 

To keep you from ever feeling like you needed to die to mean something. To keep you from leaving behind a place that was home without ever needing to prove yourself worthy of it. To just know that you weren’t going anywhere if he was around to save you first. 

Your lips began to part, a small croak pushing past them before you spoke quietly, enough for him to hear. “Would it help if I forgave you now?”

He blinked, standing still with eyes filled with turmoil, trying to decode what it was you were saying.

“If I forgave you for sending me out on that run even though I asked for it. If I forgave you for icing me out even though you had good intentions. If I forgave you for letting me go this long thinking no one cared about me.”

He inhaled roughly, shaking his head at you as if he was trying to dodge your words, unsure if he was worthy of letting himself be freed of the guilt, even by your words.

“You… You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He muttered, wiping a hand over his face, processing everything you just said. 

You had never been more certain. Never been more willing to forgive so easily because you both needed it. Not just him, but you, too. 

“No,” Your voice grew stronger, standing your ground as you stepped closer to him. “I know exactly what I’m asking for–what I need.”

His eyes leaked of hesitance, body tensing when you got close. Too close than you’ve ever been with the air as thick as it was between you two. There were barely any inches separating your bodies, the warmth of your shallow breaths fanning over his face flooding his senses before you spoke.

“You’ve been haunting me…making me think you were just out to get me all this time, when in reality you’ve been the only one seeing me.” 

He felt stuck, heart beating out of his chest, at a loss for words to tell you how wrong it would be to let himself show you just how much he’d been seeing you. 

“I’m right here, Joel.” 

It was all he needed to hear.

He crashed into you. Lips first then body. Large and calloused hands holding you to him as your mouths moved against each other, like your lips were finding a home they’ve been searching for all this time. Somehow, there was an effortlessness to the neediness you two felt, meshing together so perfectly that nothing else had ever felt so right. 

Your feet shuffled with every backwards step he took, dragging you with him across the cabin. Neither of you dare to pull away, even when the need for air became burning. All you two could offer were labored breaths as your hands carelessly undid the buttons of his flannel, while he roughly tugged on the zipper of your coat. 

A trail of your outerwear laid messily across the cabin floors, leaving you in a thin tank top and him in his gray undershirt. Joel collapsed against the couch cushions with a heavy thud, pulling you down with him on his lap. There was a pause in his kiss the second his back met the couch. He sucked in a sharp hiss, body tensing beneath yours just for a split second, but it was enough for you to detect. 

His hands went to pull you to him again, but you refused, eyes leaking with concern as you shook your head and let your hands roam across his body. 

“Are you hurt?” You were quiet but panicked, searching for any signs of injury, feeling stupid for not asking sooner, before all of…this. 

“It’s nothin’, just sore.” His features mellowed, running his hands through your hair in an attempt to soothe your worry, but his words only caused more unease.

“Do you have a hard time breathing? Did you take any painkillers yet?” You asked again, worried that he was hiding something from you because he didn’t want to bother. 

“Baby…” 

The word slipped out so easily, rolling off his tongue and reigning down on you as if he was bestowing a sacred title. You couldn’t pretend to be unaffected even if you wanted to, cheeks flushing and lips tugging up unabashedly. 

“M’fine, I swear.” He gave you a sure nod, opening his hand against your thigh, waiting for you to lace yours through his. 

Sighing, you thread your fingers between his, the feel of his thumb beginning to stoke along the curve of your wrist, grounding you to him–making sure you knew he was safe. 

Your eyes peered up from your hands, drifting to his face where you found his eyes studying you like he didn’t want to miss a thing. As selfish as it was, there was nothing more you wanted than to stay right there, despite the visible fatigue that was lingering behind his weary eyes.

You took your time and savored the comfortable silence, memorizing every wrinkle, every sunspot, every inch of his face that you never gave much thought to before. When you had your fill, certain that by the time you fell asleep you could picture it behind your eyes, did you finally stop being selfish.  

“We should probably get some sleep,” you whispered quietly, your free hand coming up to push his graying curls back into place, “You’ve had a long day and we’ve got our work cut out for us tomorrow too.” 

Joel hummed in agreement, but his fingers stayed tangled in yours, not daring to let go. He just kept on watching you, letting his thumb continue the comforting path over your skin–this time it was him who was being selfish. 

Just moments ago his body wanted sleep, but the second you walked in, it was you he craved. It had always been you, even when he tried to starve himself off and convince himself it was nothing more than him being vigilant. Fulfilling his duty by making sure you didn’t drive yourself into the ground because you put others first. 

When he boiled down all the irritation and anger he had once felt, he was still left with you. You had become part of him whether he liked it or not–always living in the back of his mind, deep within the cracks of himself until the truth finally clawed its way out. 

If he had haunted you, then you had certainly been plaguing him, holding him hostage to a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever set free until he had no choice but to. 

He needed you, and he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer.

His hands slowly loosened from yours, trailing up your waist, ghosting over the pulse of your neck, stopping just shy of your jaw, cradling your face between his palms.

“I don’t wanna pretend anymore…” He mumbled, shaking his head, coasting his thumb along your jaw, eyes burning into yours, “spent too long pushin’ you away and actin’ like an ass… but I want–need you.” 

Your chest tightened, air trapped in your lungs all while your heart raced and your blood ran impossibly hotter. Maybe it was desperation or quite simply the heat of the moment, but it swallowed you whole. His confession wrapping you up and keeping you there where, for once, you could just be.

He undid you and pieced you back together all at once, suddenly filling spaces that were once hollow but not broken–seeing and needing you was just enough. 

“I need you, too,” you whispered, leaning forward to close the space, pressing your forehead to his, lips ghosting over one another. 

“You came all the way out here for me, gotta say, you know how to make a man feel special.” A weak chuckle leaving his mouth, breathing fanning over your face. 

You smiled, shrugging your shoulders timidly, “just did what you would’ve done.” 

“That right?” 

Before you could think twice about the smirk on his lips, his hips shifted up, the stiffness behind his jeans pressing against your center. 

Your breath hitched, head thrown back while your hips move once then began to roll against his, needy for more. He took advantage of the skin calling out to him, pressing kisses up the column of your neck, letting you grind and seek out the dull pleasure that wasn’t at all ever going to be enough. 

“Want this off, sweetheart,” He nipped at your jaw lightly, his hands dropping to curl around the fabric of your camisole. 

There was a broken hum, an eager nod as you felt his fingers guide the garment up your body, leaving you in a basic black bra that was surely two sizes too small and no help to the breathlessness in your chest. But he didn’t seem to notice it, not when his eyes suddenly went somber, trained on a particular scar on your skin. 

It was no longer than a few inches, just a thin, fading line of skin that healed a shade lighter than the rest of your body, but nonetheless still apparent. Joel knew what it looked like before–clean cut, too deep, even more bloody. Just seeing it reeled him back to that winter, even when you’re in his lap, safe and well as can be–he still felt the weight of his guilt. 

“Joel,” you wrapped your hands around his wrist gingerly, leading his fingertips to the scar and keeping him there, “I’m right here… safe.” 

Your voice called out to him steadily, softly, trying to ground him back here with you, instead of his dreadful memories of your dying self that were swarming his thoughts. His fingers traced the skin, eyes never leaving it as he spoke something thick and rough. 

“It shouldn’t have happened to you.” 

He didn’t need to say it for you to understand that what he meant was it should have been him instead. But it was your choice. It always was, even when it was him signing off on letting you exit those gates–it was because you felt secure enough to go and he trusted you at one point. 

But even now, he couldn’t take place and you couldn’t let him blame himself any longer. 

“But it did.” You said, setting your hands on top of his, letting them splay across your skin, hiding the scar behind his palms, not wanting him to think back on those memories any longer. 

You then wrapped your arms around his neck, tethering yourself to him completely as his gaze finally softened when he saw your eyes locking onto his.

“It happened and I can’t go back to change it, but even if I could, I wouldn’t dare to because it means I’d risk leading myself to you.” 

Even when you looked at him so delicately, weary of his own emotional turmoil for something that happened to you, your voice remained sure and strong, like roots settling into the scariest parts of him and promising you weren’t going anywhere. 

His heart ached, this time with a feverish warmth that threatened to take his life just because he couldn’t fathom this–you–and the way you made him feel. He didn’t need to say much, not when his lips were already encasing yours, hoping you could feel all the things he wanted to say but wasn't quite strong enough to, just yet 

The message was received loud and clear, the two of you simultaneously needing more and acting upon it. Your fingers threaded through the messy curls at the back of his head, pulling him deeper into you just as his hands curved around your waist forcing your bodies flushed against each other, fitting perfectly.

“You tryin’ to kill me?” He mumbled, lips never straying away even as he caught his breath. 

He felt you giggle, then placed another kiss on his top then bottom lip, teeth grazing at his skin, “Trust me, death isn’t fun… I would know.” 

He rolled his eyes with another deep sigh, debating on whether he should scold or kiss you to quiet down your sweet laughter for a joke so vicious. He decided on the latter, relishing in the touch of your lips and the way your laughter died subtly with every part and glide of his tongue against yours. 

“Can I?” His hands hovering over the elastic of your bra behind your back. 

You hummed, pulling away to lean back on his thighs, giving him the perfect view. Your arms rested beneath the bust waiting as his fingers unclasped the closure with a smooth flick. The straps glided off your shoulders with ease and you helped pull the garment the rest of the way before tossing it to the floor. 

Joel sucked a deep breath in, palms sliding up and down the tops of your thighs, using whatever restraint he had left to resist the urge to lay you back and make you his. But he wanted to take it slow, to show you how much he cared and make up for the time that was wasted. 

“So beautiful,” He rasped, letting out a groan and throwing his head back against the cushions needing to shut his eyes for a split second, giving himself a moment to take you in. 

You couldn’t help but blush, a weak, almost shy giggle escaping your mouth at the thought of him being this affected by only a portion of your naked body. Deciding to coax your shared neediness, you brought his hands up to your chest, causing his eyes to snap open. He was momentarily stunned, unsure of himself, but not for long as he felt you practically melt under the newfound touch.

“God, baby.” He muttered, thumbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger, giving them a gentle pinch. 

You let out a broken moan, hips jerking up instinctively into the hardening bulge beneath his jeans. Your sweet sounds and desperate friction egged him on, repeating the deliberate pinch and rolls watching closely as you began to unravel at the seams. You were shamelessly seeking out more, hips moving faster over him with your lip caught between your teeth. 

“Let me get this off you, sweetheart.” He spoke lowly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin, fingers running along the waistband of your jeans. 

You blinked, tilting your head down at him swallowing the dryness in your throat. 

“I-I can do them,” you whispered, attempting to catch your breath and fight the urge to rut your hips again.

Joel nodded, letting you take a moment to breathe and pull yourself together. In the meantime, he pressed chaste kisses to wherever he could reach before you shuffled out of his lap, standing wobbly between his spread thighs. 

He watched as you bent down to work off your boots first, nudging them off to the side before your shaky fingers undid the button and zipper of your jeans. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband, you gradually pulled them down, hips swaying naturally, lifting one foot then the other, peeling the denim off the rest of the way without breaking your gaze with him. 

He shifted, straightening his back against the cushions, while his eyes swept over the expanse of your skin, drinking you up, committing every inch of you to his memory. 

“C’mere.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back on top of him, needing to feel you close. 

You let out a short squeal, carefully placing your knees on either side of his hips, letting the thin and undoubtedly soaked fabric of your panties graze the rough material of his jeans head on. 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself even more.” You chided, running your hands underneath his t-shirt feeling the warmth of his skin, moving the fabric up higher with every sweep of your palms. 

“Worth it.” He smirked, letting you guide the t-shirt off his body the way you wanted, until he had no choice but to tug it over his head, leaving nothing between your chest and his. 

You braced your hands against his sternum, gliding to feel the beat of his heart before connecting your lips once again. You learned quickly that kissing him nice and slow allowed you to really feel him. The dull scratch of his stumble against your skin, his hands mindlessly roaming across your back, the push and pull of breaths he took.

But nice and slow, could only do for so long, quickly turning urgent and messy. 

He took advantage of your desperation, giving the small of your back a gentle but firm push, rocking you back and forth over the tent in his jeans before your hips began to move on their own accord, resuming your earlier pursuit of pleasure. 

“Please.” You gasped, abruptly pulling away to stare up at him with frantic eyes. 

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He cooed, almost condescendingly, amused at the fact that you were already this wound up without him doing much. 

“Touch me,” you reached behind you to take one of his hands, guiding it to where you needed him most, “Need you to touch, right here.”

His fingers smoothed over the arousal soaked fabric, groaning to himself as he pressed his digits right over your clit, making you whimper. 

“I’ve got you.” 

He pulled his hand away to maneuver you into a more comfortable position. Cradling you into his side and letting your head rest against his shoulder, he guided your legs to sling over his thighs.

“This OK?” He asked, running his hands up to shin down to your ankle wanting you to be as comfortable as possible. 

“Perfect.” You nodded eagerly, leaning up for another kiss, thanking him for being so considerate even in the heat of the moment. 

When you pulled away, he nodded at you to lay your head back on him while he did the work. His fingers finally trailed up over your hips, sliding under the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to drag the fabric off your body and tossing it somewhere. His hand settled on your knee farthest away from his body, bending it just enough for him to open you up further and give him a complete view of your soaking center. 

“Jesus,” he choked out, his fingers gliding up and down the seam of your folds, torturing you slowly, “Need it bad, huh sweetheart.” 

You whimpered, nodding your head as your nails scraped down his chest, digging into his skin, asking for more.

“Gonna make it better,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your temple, “just let me do all the work and you feel good alright?” 

He didn’t waste any more time, parting your folds with his pointer and middle, dipping them into your heat and gathering your arousal, only to take it up towards your clit where he pressed down firmly and began rubbing slow circles. 

“F-fuck!” Your hips stuttered up, chasing his movements that felt like too much, and not enough all at the same time. 

Joel tsked, shushing you quietly as he used his free arm to settle you back down, holding you tight. 

“Shh, shh, relax.” He eased up just slightly on your bundle of nerves, helping lull you, “Need to take it slow, wanna make it last.” 

You wanted to tell him that there was no need to take it slow, not when he could have you for as long as you lived from this point on. But you could barely focus, let alone form coherent words as he murmured praises into your ear, picking back up the pressure of his thumb over your nerves. 

Your chest dipped with a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering shut while your fingertips dug into the flesh of his biceps, anything to keep yourself from lifting your hips from where he wanted. 

“Feels good darlin’?” He asked, deliberately dragging his digits lower, sliding them into your core with ease, crooking them up before his thumb ghosted over your clit. 

“Just like–fuck–just like that,” you panted, tongue running over your lips, feeling yourself grow wetter. 

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” 

You didn’t need to open your eyes to tell there was a smile on his face, the feel of his hand giving your waist a squeeze where he held you still, while still keeping up his movements. 

“Been needin’ to feel this.” 

The cabin was filled with your moans and labored breaths, squelching between your thighs falling deaf on your ears as Joel dragged the pleasure on and on, not daring to tear his eyes away from such a sight as perfect as you. 

“Open those eyes, c’mon,” He commanded softly, his thumb stilling on your clit again, but his fingers still continued those deep strokes, “Wanna see those eyes when I tell you this.” 

Your eyes open, glazed over with pleasure, a whimper leaving your mouth seeing the content smile on his lips at your obedience. 

“Atta’girl.” 

You thought that was it. The praise dripping with heat and honey, enough to have you plunging past the finish line as your eyelashes kissed the skin under your eyes. But the action only made him grunt, prompting you to keep them open, for he had more to say that would completely unravel you. 

“Should’ve never let you walk away yesterday.” He said, thumb resuming their movements on your clit, but just lightly, enough to keep you focused on his words and the pleasure-something tolerable for now.

“Should’ve apologized and told you that I care for you.” 

“J-Joel, I forgive you. I do.” You stuttered, swallowing down a moan, hoping he’d believe you just as much as you did him. 

He shook his head, more so at himself, before continuing.

“You scare the shit outta me. Always givin’ so much of yourself without ever askin’ for anythin’ in return.” 

“You don’t know how much I think about you.” He admitted, fingers speeding up, dragging a new string of moans out of you, struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“If you’re takin’ care of yourself,” he murmured, trailing kisses over your warm cheek. “If you know how much I want to protect you.” 

“Iknowiknow,” You babbled, leaning your head against him as your thighs shook when he prodded at the deep spot inside you, “I know n-now.” 

His eyes stayed glued to you, watching every word escape through your lips with extra effort, before becoming muddled with your moans. Nails leaving crescents across his skin anywhere you could grab him and anchor yourself to the feeling. Your pussy shuddering with every stroke and prod of his fingertips bringing you closer. 

“Should’ve told you sooner baby. You gonna let me make it up to you?” He crooned. 

“Yes, p-please…I will, I promise I–” 

“Let me show you how much you matter to me.” He stuffed his fingers impossibly deeper, thumb relentlessly orbiting your clit with more pressure now. “How it feels to be mine.” 

“I’m yours, Joel…please, I’m so close.” Your voice cracked, head beginning to tip back as your body gave in completely, but he wouldn’t let you fall apart without seeing it for himself. 

He threading his fingers through the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his. 

“Cum for me baby,” His lips crashed onto yours, the final catalyst that sent you over the edge as he pulled away, breath ghosting over your lips. “Give me what’s mine.” 

Only then did your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed with the intense pleasure that seemed to be never ending. Your limbs shook against his body, breathing deeply through the waves of euphoria that he kept you on. His fingers still stroking, rubbing, coaxing everything out of you, tethering you to him, watching your every move as you succumbed. 

“I–baby, I…please.” Your voice was weak, your body feeling equally weightless going limp against him.  

Your hands instinctively reached for his forearms, squeezing him tightly, needing more of him to help ground you through the shocks of pleasure still coursing through your nerves.   

“I’ve got you,” He murmured, finally dragging his slick fingers away from your oversensitive heat, cradling your body closer. “Did so good for me, sweetheart.” 

He tucked your face under his chin, kissing the crown of your head, letting his hands soothe over your tingling skin to bring you back down to the delicate place with him once more. Your breathing was still irregular, shallow puffs of air hitting his chest, feeling his heart pound over your lips where you pressed soft, mindless kisses, grateful for his tenderness. 

“S’ok, baby,” His voice remained soft, cooing more words of praise to you before guiding your face away, just enough for him to see you and know you were back with him. 

His chest tightened at the sight of your wet eyes blurring with a sheen of tears and lips swollen, flashing him a devastatingly sweet smile.

“Oh, sweetheart...” 

You blinked, laughing nervously as you felt his thumb swipe away at the tear before it could tumble down your cheek.

“T-that was nice,” you cleared your throat, voice still a little hoarse and spent all thanks to him. “Really nice,” you added, stroking your fingers over his stubble. 

He grinned, tucking your messy hair behind your ears, “Glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

You stared at each other, all dopey and lovesick, basking in one another like nothing else in the world mattered. It should’ve felt unnatural, a little odd for the two of you considering the state of your relationship just twenty-four hours before, but instead it felt familiar, something so intimate and complete without much labor to make it feel as such.  

You used your arms as leverage, wanting to sit back into the original position on his lap. He helped you, carefully holding you by the hips as you maneuvered only for you to let out a gasp catching him by surprise. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Joel.” You looked down half embarrassed, half amused, fingers trailing over the dark patch of your wetness that settled on his jeans. 

He followed your sights, shaking his head as he laughed and laced his fingers with yours, pulling them up to his mouth to press a reassuring kiss over your knuckles. 

“Nothin’ to worry about, it’s for memory’s sake.” He joked lightly, easing you of any self-consciousness even after he brought you to a breathtaking orgasm just minutes ago. 

You shifted your hips against his lap, eliciting a groan from him, jaw tightening and his hands squeezing yours. He grew harder beneath his boxers, the tip of his cock begging for release behind the garment and his thick jeans, at this rate probably dripping with pre cum too. He could have easily flipped you over and given into what you both were needing, but he curbed the thoughts, letting you set the pace. 

“I can feel you.” You whispered, taking your time circling your hips lightly, core still overstimulated, but somehow demanding more, “Can we…” 

Your voice died with a hint of uncertainty, eyes shifting to his, hoping he’d read your mind and understand that you still needed him…you just didn’t know what to call it. 

Fuck? 

Make love? 

Neither sounded right to say aloud. You knew crossing this line would mean more than just a quick fuck, but you also realized it was too soon to call it love–though you were positive you’d fall, eventually. 

He rested his hands on your thighs, eyes boring into yours, trying to read your anxiety, not wanting you to feel pressured just because he was rock hard. 

“We don’t have to do any–” 

“No, I do,” you interjected hurriedly, shutting him up as he smirked at your insistence causing you to roll your eyes and smack his chest.

You sighed, wringing your fingers nervously, shifting your eyes to his lap instead as you spoke. “I just haven’t… I want it to be good for you.” 

It was no surprise that an outbreak would leave getting laid one of your last priorities with survival being number one. But truthfully, it had been a long while, and even as natural as it felt to have Joel pull an orgasm out of you with his fingers, you hoped to God you’d be able to deliver something just as good for him. But before you could let the perturbation swallow you whole he laughed. 

You quickly shot your eyes up to his, watching the crow’s feet around the outer corner of his eyes crinkle, his chest rumbling with snickers, causing you to pout, wondering what amusement he got out of seeing you like this. He settled after a few seconds, shaking his head in disbelief going to grab your hands once more even as you tried to fight him off weakly. 

“Sweetheart,” He started, rubbing his thumbs over the top of your hands, silently telling you to loosen up, “Do you know how close I’ve been to creamin’ my pants like a fuckin’ teenager?” 

His bluntness made your cheeks go up in flames, wanting nothing more than to hide away in the crook of his neck and laugh there, but he didn’t let you, cupping your cheeks and thumbing your heated skin. He was old enough to understand why you must’ve felt the way you did, but he too was devoid of anything as intimate for years. You’d already made him feel the tenderness and lust he once thought was over for him, and he’d be damned if he let you think otherwise. 

“You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ alright? It’s goin’ to be good because it’s with you.” He confessed, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, then to your lips, making you smile as your heart rate began to pick up once more. 

“I wanna be on top,” you started, a new wave of boldness washing over you as he smirked and nodded. 

“I can do with that.” He hummed, leaning back just to get an eyeful of your naked body, pinching himself for finally getting to have you. 

“Here, I’ll–” You went to undo his belt, a mixture of excitement and neediness urging your motions, but before you could he stopped you, moving your fingers out of the way. 

“I got it, sweetheart,” he pulled the end of the leather through the buckle, eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t need to lift a finger.” 

You giggled, tilting your head and raising your brow. “Hmm, cause I’ll be too busy lifting my ass, right?” You quipped.

“There’s my brat,” He huffed feignedly, pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it to the ground. 

You let out a giggle, moving off of his lap causing him to protest, only for you to drop down to your knees between his legs, pulling at the laces of his boots and tugging them off. 

“What? You said I couldn’t help with the belt, not stripping your jeans off.” You winked up at him while he grumbled, simply undoing his fly and zipper before letting you do the rest. 

He lifted his hips as you tugged on the waistband of his jeans and boxers His cock came into view, thick and heavy, tip glistening with pre-cum as it rested against his stomach. Your gut twisted tighter, heat growing hotter between your thighs as your mouth watered, eyes remaining fixated on his length. 

Your visible engrossment made him twitch, the hunger in your eyes causing his blood to rush and welcome the newfound attention. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling your fingers wrap around his shaft, barely able to cover him wholly even with both hands. You leaned forward, parting your lips, breathing warmth over his tip before you closed your lips around him gently, humming at the salty bead, salivating for more. 

If he had any more willpower, he’d let you have your fill. To swallow him down the way you wanted to–messy, slow, deep–but right now it was ebbing, and all he wanted to do was bury himself within you. There was no way he was going to let himself finish within the first minute of you getting him naked.

As if it pained him, he grimaced and cradled your jaw, pulling you off with a pop, and almost immediately you began to pout, mouth opening to tell him you wanted a proper taste. 

“Come back up here.” His eyes were glazed over with need, voice dripping with a gentle firmness as he offered you a hand, helping you lift off your knees and take your place back on his lap. 

“I’ll let you have it in your mouth next time.” He promised, placing a kiss to your lips in an apology, guiding you to sink your knees into the cushions beside him. 

You smiled, breath catching in your chest at the thought of ‘next time’ because it meant that Joel wanted to have you the same way you did him. Truthfully, there was no turning back, and you and Joel were both aware of the implications, too far gone in each other to think you’d be walking away from each other after this. 

His hands looped securely around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours as your noses brushed against one another. 

“Take it nice and slow, alright?” He cautioned sweetly. 

“Y-yeah.” You nodded, kissing him once more before you pulled away and took a deep breath.

You brought your fingertips to your mouth, swiping them over your tongue, reaching down and curling your hand around him. You stroked him slowly, mixing together your spit and his precum, which you knew would help the slide. He stilled his hips, keeping from rutting up into your hand, letting you do what you needed to first. 

Bracing one hand on his shoulder, you guided him towards your entrance, the thick head notching inside of you with a stretch as you dropped your hips, settled down on the first few inches of him. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” you whimpered, thighs trembling weakly as your eyes flew shut at the sudden fullness. 

“Slow down, babygirl…breathe for me,” he steadied you carefully, hands squeezing your waist, letting you adjust. “Know it’s a lot, but you’re doing so good.” 

The sound of his voice was warm and guiding, reminding you there was no need at all to rush. Your head spun at the praise and guidance, using it as encouragement while you kept your eyes closed and took a deep breath in through your nose and held it for a moment. He hummed something that sounded like approval, spurring you on as you released the breath and sunk down to take more of him. 

A strangled moan left your lips, his cock already reaching parts of you that had been untouched for what felt like forever. And even as the fluttering walls of your pussy sent a tremor up his spine, he swallowed back his own grunt, gritting his teeth and setting his focus on soothing you instead of his frenzied pleasure.   

“Sweetheart, you gotta–” He spoke raspy and strained, but whatever he had left to say, never came as you blew your eyes open to meet his, all glassy and filled with ruin already.

“J-Joel,” you whined, grabbing harshly at his shoulders, trembling over nearly half of his cock, but already feeling split open and ready to fall over the crest of pleasure. “S-so full, already.” 

He nodded understandingly, clenching and unclenching his jaw, as he stroked your sides, hoping to calm the shivers that were dancing along your skin. He leaned up slightly, nudging his nose across cheek until he settled soft kisses along your earlobe. 

“It’s all yours baby, right sweetheart?” He murmured possessively, staking your claim over him before you could do it yourself–but he wanted to hear you, needed to hear that you understood he was yours now. 

Your lips parted with a breathy moan, walls clenching around him at the thought, before you swallowed thickly and nodded against him.

“Uh, huh… mine.” 

He grinned, satisfied with your response and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, feeling your hot labored breaths against him. 

“So take it.” 

He snaked one of his hands between your bodies, using your wetness and circling your clit with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back and your mouth drop open. The added stimulation helped distract you from the massive stretch, but not enough to send you over the edge just yet. 

“I know you can do it, sweetheart.” 

And somehow you did. 

You focused on the sound of his voice, shutting out all the tingling nerves and worries in the back of your mind, sinking down the rest of the way, and nestling his cock deep inside you. 

“S-shit, sweetheart,” Joel hissed, digging his fingers into your hips as his eyes dropped down to where you fully sheathed his length. “Fuckin’ grippin’ me so damn tight.” 

Your stomach clenched, walls clinging to every inch of him, carving out a new home where you’d crave him constantly. He couldn’t look away even if he tried, his eyes sailing towards your face and back down your body, reveling every gasp and shake not wanting to miss a thing. 

Your brows furrowed, finally testing the waters by rolling your hips in small circles, anticipating the first rumble of pleasure. But with him buried so deeply, relentlessly budging the spongy spot inside you, the small action stole your breath altogether, sending you toppling, slump against his chest.

“Oh my–fuck…toomuchtoomuch, Joel–”

“Hey, shh, relax for a minute,” His hand came down to the back your head, pressing you deeper into his chest, stroking your hair and feeling the way your walls spasmed around him uncontrollably. 

Joel hugged you close, letting you bury your face into the crook of neck where you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat racing just as quick as yours, yet still somehow sounding unaffected as he continued whispering words of solace, gently caressing your body like you were all that mattered to him. 

“I–I’m sorry…” You choked between a sniffle, not knowing exactly why you were apologizing suddenly, probably because Joel had spent more time comforting you through your pleasure without giving in to his. 

You needed to make him feel good. 

He grunted disapprovingly, kissing the crown of your head. “Baby, you don’t have to apologiz–” 

You attempted to lift your hips off of him, going to ride him the way you wanted to, but his hands immediately stalled your movements as you protested. 

“Joel, let me, c’mon.” 

“Sweetheart,” He shook his head, tugging your face away from hiding, staring at you all dark and tender.

“This is gonna be over before you even start,” He reasoned, rubbing the back of your scalp, wanting you to ease up, “You’re sensitive and she needs it gentle.”

“But I’m supposed to be taking care of you now and I–” 

“Hey, listen to me,” His voice was stern though his eyes remained a softened contrast, “Feelin’ you around me is already you takin’ care of me. Now, let me take care of you at the same time. Deal?

“Okay...” you whispered, nodding your head as he kissed you deeply before lifting his back off the couch, allowing him to lay you on your back. 

You spread your legs, letting him bracket his hips closer, planting one foot on the ground to give himself leverage, while the other remained bent at the knee on the couch. 

“How’s that sweetheart?” His hands glided over your stomach, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses up between the valley of your breast until he stopped at your chin peering up at you. 

“B-better…” You breathed, palms meeting his right over your stomach and pressing down slightly, “I can feel you deeper I think.”

“Good,” His lips quirked up into a smile, nipping your jaw before leaning up the rest of the way and pressing his forehead against yours, “I’m gonna move now. You say the word and we’ll stop whenever you want, alright?” 

You nodded, connecting your lips as you wounded your arms around his neck, readying yourself for the first thrust of his hips. His hands slid up to your ribcage, gripping you there tenderly, pulling his hips back barely a few inches, before sawing back in. 

He swallowed up your moans, dragging his hips back once more, setting a slow yet thoughtful pace, stretching out your combined pleasure, basking in other another. With every thrust, the pleasurable sensation blossomed brighter within you, your legs spreading more, hips stuttering up not wanting to let him go far from where he belonged. 

“Takin’ it so good, baby. Nice and deep.” Joel panted against your lips, pulling out almost halfway now, then back in again, eliciting a soft cry from your lips. “So perfect for me…my girl, my fuckin’ pussy, right?”

“Yes, yes, it’s yours…I-I’m yours, Joel.” You choked out, nails raking across his shoulder blades and down his back, “Please don’t stop, please, just–fuck!” 

“Keep fuckin’ you baby?” He teased, your whimpery moans agreeing with his filthy words, “Never gonna stop, sweetheart…promise. You just keep feelin’ good on my cock.” 

Your throat tore with a high-pitched squeal, Joel pulling out nearly all the way before driving back home, repeating the movement that had your legs trembling around him. The sounds were obscene, wet slaps of your skin nearly overpowering your moans, occupying the cabin. 

“Hear how wet you are?” He gritted, sucking in deeper breaths with every squeeze of your walls, “Pussys’ leaking all over me. She’s a sweet thing, alright.” 

“S-s-so good, you’re so deep,” You gasped, “M-more.” 

“Let me,” He guided one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing impossibly deeper, making you moan loudly.

“Fuck! Right there, p-please just like that,” You held him tighter, muffled words beating against his skin.“Don’t stop, please don’t–” 

“I won’t baby,” Joel assured you, maintaining the deliberately deep pace, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips, “Let me feel you, c’mon, give my cock some lovin’, let me feel you cum.” 

You crashed hard without even thinking twice, incoherent begging jumbled with your moans as stars flashed behind your pinched eyes. His movements didn’t falter, working every inch of himself within you, encouraging you to ride the wave of pleasure for as long as possible, reeling in the way your nails scratched down his back, pulling him tighter into you until your body went lax. 

Slowing his thrusts, he placed a chaste kiss to the inside of your knee, guiding your leg back down, allowing you some reprieve. He felt your motionless hands along his back, settling for weak grazes across the fresh scratches you left behind, while your chest rose and fell deeply. 

“Too much?” He rasped out, hands going to cup your cheeks, forcing your eyes to open and blink through the haze, “Need a break, baby?” 

You let out a shaky noise that told him ‘no,’ turning your head just slightly to take a deep breath in the out, repeating the action until you could bear to open your eyes, taking in the mouthwatering sight of him.

His hair was tousled all thanks to your grabby hands, sweat beading at his hairline, trailing down the sides of his face. His lips were as swollen as yours from the endless kisses you two had shared, and his eyes burned through you with fire, so strong yet delicate, needed to get close and finally feel the heat soar through you.

“K-Keep going,” you stuttered, still catching your breath, snaking your hands through his hair, gawking up at him hungrily, “I need it–I need to feel you…”

The realization washed over him, and you swore you could feel the twitch of his cock spur inside you, a restrained jerk of his hips sending his length somewhere deeper—right where you needed him to stick.

“Needa feel me extra deep, is that right?” He whispered, one hand splaying over your stomach, groaning to himself when he felt the faint brunt of himself beneath your skin. “Need me to leave my mark, remind you who you belong to?” 

You licked your lips, nodding frantically. “Yes… I-I want that…I’m all yours, please.” 

He reached for your free hand, intertwining them as he bent to kiss your shaky knuckles. 

“I’m yours too, baby…never lettin’ you go.” He began to thrust into you again, pressing his hips flushed between your thighs, grinding deep and precise. “Promise.” 

It didn’t take long to have you breathless all over again, your legs moving on their own accord to wrap around his waist, barely allowing him any escape from your heat—just simple, heavy, deep strokes, that caused tears to prickle at your eyes, the blossoming happening all over again, and this time stronger than the last two he so graciously gave you.

“Joel–shit, I’m…” You gasped, crushing his hand tightly, your entire body beginning to quiver as you tiptoed to the edge.

“Just like that… fuck, darlin’” He hissed, throwing his head, feeling your walls close in on him impossibly tighter, like they were begging as much as you were for him. “Just keep feelin’ me… every goddamn inch baby..” 

You did more than just let yourself feel. But be all consumed by him. Giving in to a need that would never be satiated by anyone besides Joel Miller, not that there was anyone else who could suffice, anyway. You gave yourself to him wholeheartedly, the same way he did to you. More than just a feeling. A deep-seated care that would never leave, always within you wherever you strayed because Joel proved it to you.

His hand untangled with yours and before you could whine out of protest, one escaped thoughtlessly, the feel of fingers sliding over your mound, easily finding your clit and rubbing steady circles. Y

You were dangling over the edge, just waiting to drop.

“Oh… oh,” Your jaw went slack, voice so small, “Joel, please.” 

He cooed softly, infatuated with you beneath him, ready to give you his all. “Need to feel you fall apart one more time baby, let me see it.” 

“Cum with me,” you begged, snaking your hands through his hair pull him closer, letting him swallow and steal your every breath, “Please… I need it. Fill me up, p-please.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, body seizing up into his, walls clamping greedily, taking him right over the edge with you.

“Fuckin’ hell… oh, fuck,” Joel groaned, hips stuttering, grinding and pushing deeper, spilling everything he had to give you, as he reveled in your take.

There was a saccharine smile on your face, weak but still there. Cheeks stained with a warm flush as tears remained stuck in their path, littering the wisp of your lashes with faint drops, blinking up at him starry-eyed. It was a sight that made his heart ache—not haunting or plaguing in a sense, but chained to knowing it could only ever be you from that point forward, and there was no need to deny himself.

Quietly, the two of you came back down together. Hands lazily roaming the skin your fingertips could reach, lips resting, not kissing, just feeling each other be there, and your hearts settling into a shared thump.

You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat,

“T-thank you.” You croaked out, reaching up with shaky hands to hold his cheek in your palm, not caring about the sweat trickling over your already sweaty skin.

He turned just slightly, chapped lips pressing into your pulse point.

“You’re… you’re thanking me for…” He tilted his back at you raising his brows with a smirk, still catching his breath, meanwhile you laughed weakly and shook your head. 

“That too, but mostly for seeing me… for showing me I matter.”

“Don’t gotta thank me for any of it,” He assured you, bringing his hand to wipe the tears off your cheeks, “and I don’t think I said it earlier…but I’m sorry everythin’.” 

“I forgave you already,” you replied with a smile, welcoming the feel of his lips on yours again as he kissed you so tenderly.  

Slowly, he helped ease your legs from around his waist, swallowing up your whines as he apologized lowly, shifting his hips back to pull out of you. The emptiness felt foreign, almost unbearable, but the faint trickle of your shared spent seeping out was a filthy yet pleasant reminder that you two were stuck together.

He reached down, picking up his discarded t-shirt, bending down to catch a better glimpse of the mess, holding himself back from wrecking you some more.

“So you’re just going to let me ruin all your clothes at this point?” You shivered with a laugh, watching as he carefully swiped the shirt between your thighs, cleaning up the mess between your thighs.

He looked up at you, kissing the inside of your knee. “Got a whole drawer at home waitin’ for you,” He winked, making you roll your eyes as he tossed the fabric to the floor after cleaning himself up too. 

Carefully, he maneuvered you off your back, sliding his body against the cushions to take your place, before setting you inside his side—your warm naked bodies tangling snugly to brave the winter night.

“I’ll take first watch so you can rest darlin’,” Joel whispered, running his palm along your shoulder blades while you traced random shapes over his chest.  

You rocked your head against him slightly, whispering loud enough for him to hear.

“We’re safe out here.” 

It was loaded, both a promise to take and a question for him to answer.

“Yeah, we’re safe, baby.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, eyes falling shut effortlessly, the sight of you still fresh behind his lids. “I’ve got you. Always, got you.” 

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!

a/n: i'm horny and ovulating, im sorry!!! thank you to my love, Effie for proof-reading and unapologetically encouraging my delulu for dilfy joel 💕💕

Everyone in Jackson had a specialty. Teachers. Doctors. Builders. Cooks. The list goes on and on, with roles that contributed immeasurably to the functioning of the town, despite how some may carry more weight than the others. But no matter how big or small one’s role was in the community, everyone appreciated the efforts, for the town needed the collective help to preserve its integrity beyond the gates that closed it off from the rest of Wyoming.

And all you knew since your arrival was that the town was the closest thing you’d ever had to a home. Something real. Somewhere safe. The one thing you couldn’t possibly bear to lose, for you didn’t know if anything would ever suffice the way this town had.

You weren’t a stranger to the cruelty lurking outside of the gates, spending a good portion of your life weaving in and out of the fallen QZ’s and deserted cities, just hoping to survive another day, until you finally stumbled upon Jackson.

They had taken you in with tentative, yet open arms, allowing you to adjust to the town you would come to call home before asking what it was you could provide. What you could give back to Jackson, not just for you, but for all its citizens. After all, the town belonged to everyone—those old and young, seasoned and novice—living for the hope of it all to make it to another day.

And so you were a supply runner, one of the most distinguished specialties the community was always looking to have more of, and it was just their luck that you weren’t just good at what you did.

You were great.

Reliable.

Confident.

Never coming back empty-handed even when something unexpected was thrown into your path.

Last winter proved that.

It wasn’t a part of the plan to stumble upon a group of raiders during a run all by yourself, and truth be told you didn’t want to kill any of them. But the second your presence was known, the moment you saw the greed in their eyes, the realization dawned on you that you needed to do what was necessary.

It had been hours since your expected arrival, and a few members of Jackson’s committee including Tommy, Maria, and Joel were waiting impatiently behind the gates. Joel suspected something went sideways, proposing a search party go out and look for you, but he’d been outvoted. His brother assuring him that everything was fine and that you always came back in one piece.

When they finally spotted you from a distance, a blob among the falling snow and dwindling daylight, they almost breathed a sigh of reprieve, but as the gates creaked open to greet you, and you drew closer, it all came crashing.

You were hunched over your horse, clothing tattered and blowing against the wind. A rope tightly wound across your waist, dragging duffle bags of enough weapons and ammunition to last months of patrol across the blankets of snow. The pungent smell of blood saturating the air before they finally took sight of it staining skin.

Protocol was ignored, Joel bolting to you without thinking twice.

He hauled your half unconscious body off your beloved horse Ivy, diligently clutch the back of your head as he laid you down and his brother dropped beside him, immediately going to undo the knot around your waist.

Joel’s eyes flashed over your face, taking in your appearance, searching for any signs of life. Your heavy-lidded eyes were barely hanging on, frost bitten lips parted with weak breaths, and your cheeks and chin daubed with dried blood. It was a miracle that you even made it back, but that optimism instantly seemed to fade when he spotted more blood, the steady dribble of blood trickling onto the frosty snow beneath you. 

With shaky hands, he tore through the rest of your shredded coat, discovering the deep incision on your abdomen, angry and throbbing, pooling with enough blood to make his run cold. His hands were coated in your near-death, transporting him back to that harrowing memory of his dear Sarah, reliving the greatest loss of his life all over again.

He knew the cost of hesitation and he wasn’t going to let it take you next. Lifting you back into his arms with a devastatingly rehearsed movement, he clutching you tight to his chest, rushing you to the infirmary paying no mind to the shouting voices behind him. 

He didn’t need to be told to know what you had done.

He had already pieced together the story once he saw the crimson and the baggage you pulled behind. 

He knew what you had done to survive. 

But most importantly, he knew what you had done to risk losing your life.

To Joel, you weren’t good. Not even great. Just plain reckless. Willing to put yourself in grave danger against god knows how many of those ruthless raiders just to make it back with a contribution without ever weighing your own chances of survival. 

He knew what this town meant to everyone, how much your recklessness would provide for everyone’s safety, yet he couldn’t look past what it meant beyond the surface.

You possessed a sort of recklessness that teetered the edge of selflessness, the one thing that would end up costing your life one day–and even if it wasn’t his place to care as severely as he did, he couldn’t let you go on. 

Since that last winter, Joel kept his sights on you, refusing to send you out on any runs or patrols, alone or grouped, even despite your argument that every journey beyond the gates was risky no matter what. All you could see was him punishing you, his all of a sudden authoritarianism taking away the one thing you could give to this place that fucking mattered.  

You didn’t understand why he was putting so much effort into controlling you, when at some point you were nothing more than a body to send outside of the gates to protect the community and him. 

Granted, you and Joel were never more than just strangers forced to interact scarcely. Joel made the patrolling and run schedules, posted them up, and only if you ever needed to switch, was when you talked to him.

And that was almost never.

But since his imminent shift in demeanor, you found yourself almost always at his throat, while he sat back silently, brushing you off like you weren’t even there, though you knew deep down his stoicism was crumbling with every hurtful word you threw his way.  

He enraged you.

You wanted to crack him open. To get a reaction out of him. The one you knew he was actively burying deep within him day by day. Then maybe, just maybe, you’d understand where he was truly coming from.

Why was he punishing you? 

Why Joel Miller wanted to keep you in a cage that made you feel useless to the community you knew you were obligated to provide for?

Luckily for you though, his authority didn’t last long into the next winter where the need for supplies grew.

Tommy had been a lingering presence in and out of Joel’s makeshift office, hinting at the abandoned hospital miles out that was stocked with necessities that would tremendously benefit Jackson and the influx of new individuals coming in.

Joel wasn’t stupid, though. He knew exactly what his little brother was getting at, trying to convince him to put you back on runs without twisting his hand and making him feel as though he had no other choice. It wasn’t working and Joel knew it was only a matter of time until Tommy would intervene, putting a stop to whatever power he held. 

He knew it was coming.

You were the only one who knew enough about the ins and outs of the particular route, what shortcuts to take, what possibilities you could run into. And with Jackson getting desperate to brave out the winter with as few hiccups as possible, he knew Tommy was going to put you on that run–solo or grouped it didn’t matter–but it was going to be you.  

It didn’t take much convincing from Tommy to get you on board, but he still respected his older brother and his position as head of patrols and runs. And so there you were in his quaint office, pretending Joel’s existence wasn’t real as you stared down at the shabby fading map with a pen in hand as Tommy listened and Joel brooded silently.

“The run will take a day and a half.” You explained, drawing a messy line across the paper, detailing the route, “Half of day one is traveling, alone. Then we’ll gather supplies, and clear whatever infected there is.” 

Then you circled a different spot on the map, fitting your eyes up to Tommy’s.

“Before sunset, we have to stop at this cabin. It’s a safe house. We’ll need to rest and so will the horses. The next morning we’ll make it back home by around mid-day.”

Tommy agreed without a second thought, and that alone made Joel’s irritation boil over. His brother had always had blind faith in these sorts of things and Joel never understood why he couldn’t be a little more skeptical, especially considering what they both faced together.

“What do you think?” Tommy wrung his head towards Joel, meanwhile you bit back the urge to say ‘fuck what he thinks.’

He looked unimpressed, jaw clenching and his broad shoulders standing stiff as his boots rocked against the creaky floors. The tension was palpable if anything at all. Whatever strain that lingered between you and Joel filled the room with something so suffocating, Tommy couldn’t wait to be freed. 

His silence was like drowning and you’d be damned if you let him take you under.

“It’s a good plan, Joel.” You spat sharply, pressing your hands against the desk, straightening your stance.

He only grunted, narrowing his sights on you, before he finally spoke.

“What happens if you aren’t out there alone? If there’s infected in that building? Or if there’s raiders in that cabin.”

His jab at your expertise disguised as concern made your blood boil, your self control withering by the second, especially when he brought up the raiders.  

Tommy was going to be thrown into the middle of you and Joel’s indifference whether he liked it or not. He was immediately regretting not dragging Ellie or Maria along to try to at least neutralize the situation or better yet free him of his developing migraine.

Whether you believed it or not, you and Joel were cut from the same cloth of obstinance, the kind of flaw that got the best of you both, the one that Tommy was going to need to put up with. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Miller?” You accused, shuffling across the room to where he stood, “I’m not incapable and you know that. Whatever vendetta you have against me, fucking drop it, Joel.”

His arms uncrossed over his chest, dropping to his sides as he flexed his fingers stiffly. You were damn near getting under his skin, and he had been so good at showing otherwise. He didn’t have any vendetta against you—it was tolerance, mercy, postulation—something you were too young, too reckless to possess, let alone see with your own eyes.

“I didn’t say you weren’t capable, but what you are is reckless.” He bellowed too loudly for your liking. “And I don’t need that type of recklessness out there bein’ brought back here.”

‘Or not making it back at all,’ Joel bit back. 

Without taking his eyes off your heated glare, he muttered to Tommy who was already burrowing his head behind his hands. 

“She’s not going on that run.” 

You furrowed your brows, lips twitching with anger, “The hell I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Enough.”

Tommy’s voice silenced the two of you, once and for all, slicing through the tension. 

“She’s going on that run with Jesse.”

Joel’s eyes widened, hands clenched into fists as he turned to his brother, ready to tell him he needed to know his place. Yet the younger stood his ground, shaking his head and holding his hand out with purpose, keeping both of you silent. 

“You’re still in charge here and she won’t go alone. It’s a compromise, and it’s final. Jackson needs this.”

‘Still in charge’ my ass, Joel thought, dropping his gaze down to the floor as his hands rested on his hips. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but be pleased by the decision, happy to be finally getting your way after all this time forced to yield to Joel’s rules. 

“They’ll leave in a few days.” 

With that, Tommy didn’t stay any longer than he needed to, not trying to mitigate the feelings between you both, as he knew you both were too far gone to help. He stomped towards the door, grumbling to himself before letting it slam behind him. 

You and Joel didn’t say a word, and part of you wanted to antagonize him. Tell him that his old ass needed to find a hobby other than trying to control you.

But you didn’t. 

You caught the hitch in his chest, the way his scowl undoubtedly slipped into something almost insistent when he finally looked up at you. You wanted to ask what his deal was all of sudden.

But you didn’t.

He didn’t stop you from leaving.

Didn’t try his very hardest to explain where he was coming from because believe it or not, he too was in your shoes at one point in his life. Too confident for his own good. Too willing to lay it all out without thinking of what he would be leaving behind.

He knew you wouldn’t see it the way he did. He didn’t want to waste his breath expressing words you wouldn’t take to heart.

He didn’t. 

But he wasn’t letting you go.

Joel knew you were going to find out what he did before daylight. Before every run and patrol, you’d stop at the stables the night before, checking up on your horse Ivy and double checking the written schedules he always had posted up. It was only a matter of when and how angry you were going to be with him. 

And as if he could feel it coming from a mile away, your rage approached and suddenly the double doors of the cafeteria swung open and he watched you sweep over the room until your eyes fell onto his. 

“What the fuck, Miller!” You roared, making a beeline towards him. 

Ellie, who was sitting right across from him, wore a shocked expression, mouth moving to ask Joel what was going on, but before she could, your voice echoed through the room again. 

“Why’d you take off the run? And why the fuck are you going instead of me?” You demanded, slamming your palms against the table, shaking it roughly. 

He sighed, picking up his napkin as he ran it across his mouth, eyes moving across the room, seeing the concerned and taken aback faces from the others watching—waiting to see what he was going to do.  

“Let’s go outside.” He mumbled quietly, beginning to stand up. 

You shook your head, hitting the table once more, “No, I want to know right now! Who the fuck gave you the right to—”

“Outside. Now.” He growled, patience wearing thin, taking hold of your arm tightly.

You fought against him feebly, attempting to jerk your arm back as he walked towards the backdoors, pulling you behind him until the cold air hit your skin and he finally dropped his grip. 

“Do you get off on this? Punishing me for no reason at all?” You snarled, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to control your anger and stop yourself from decking him right across the jaw.

“M’not punishin’ you—”

“Then what is it?” You demanded, cutting him off, “Why are you icing me out of the one thing I’m good at, Joel?”

You couldn’t miss the scoff he let out, as if he was laughing at you. Mocking you for feeling the way you felt after all these months. It fucking ticked you off.

“You think you’re good at what you do?” He stared down at you with a coldhearted gaze. 

“I think I’m great at what I do.” You rebutted, tipping your chin up at him. 

“You call making it back here, damn near falling off your horse while you bleed out, great?” His nostrils flared, arms tightening over his chest as he waited on your smartass remark he knew was coming. 

And so you jabbed a finger into his chest, voice filled with disdain and fury. “I brought back months of supplies that you and the rest of the goddamn commune use on a daily basis and I don’t hear them giving me shit about—”

His resolve snapped, gripping your wrist strongly as he leveled face to face with you. Through gritted teeth, his voice came out in rigid whispers, making sure only you heard every word he had to say. 

“You think you’re special because of what you provide here, but you’re too damn stupid to see past that.” 

You blinked, caught off guard by the mild ache around your wrists and his unforeseen reaction that you never thought you’d get.

But he didn’t stop. 

“These people don’t give a shit if you make it back alive or not. You’re. Replaceable.” His eyes bored through yours, forcing you to take every word like bullets on skin. 

You loathed the way he quickly made you feel so small, so unimportant. Embarrassment creeping into your chest, blood rushing towards your cheeks, and stinging blooming behind your eyes.  

There was regret in your bones for angering him, for driving him to reveal such a mean version of himself that you wished he kept suppressed. You wanted to strike back with words just as cruel, your mouth opening with a wobbly breath, yet you weren’t sharp enough to stop his turmoil. 

“You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for. Why is it you’re so eager to risk your life because I promise you it isn’t for them and it sure as hell isn’t for me.” He dropped your wrist as if he was determined to get away from you, but his words only drilled deeper. 

“Someone else could walk through those gates, just as great, if not better than you are, and no one would think twice about whether you made it back here with something to show for, alive or not.”

Your jaw trembled, eyes blinking, letting a single tear run down your cheek as you braced for more, but all that came was silence and the devastation of his words sinking bone deep. 

It stung, and what hurt the most was the fact that there was truth behind everything he said. You tried to breathe through it, clenching your fist tight ready to throw it his way, but you couldn’t do it.

The shame twisted in your gut, and more tears flowed without restraint. 

“F-fuck you, Joel.” You choked, voice barely a whisper, turning around and walking around the building refusing to let anyone else see you cry.

It was the first time Joel managed to wrangle any reaction besides anger or frustration out of you. But he hadn’t meant to make you cry, or let his words out with such crassness, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to break you. 

He fucked up, and he knew it. All he wanted was to keep you away from runs and patrols. For you to see that you were more than the work. He didn’t ever intend on making it seem like he didn’t care. 

He walked back into the cafeteria, aloof to the eyes that drifted back down to their plates or the whispers that wondered where you were. Returning to his seat across Ellie, he picked up his fork and poked at his food as if nothing happened. 

“Dude what the hell was that?” Ellie chided, nudging his leg under the table, getting his attention. 

He shook his head and shrugged plainly, brushing off her question and posing one of his own.

“You goin’ to see Jesse tonight?”

Her brows pulled together, and she nodded. “Uh, yeah why?”

“Tell him he’s off tomorrow. I’m goin’ on the run with her.”

He was thankful that Ellie didn’t throw 101 questions his way, simply nodding as they finished their dinner in silence and parted ways. He spent the night packing what he needed for the two-day trip, replaying what had happened in his head, wondering if he could ever right the wrong and make you understand. But there was no way, not when he was going to complicate things even more by leaving like this.

The next morning, with his gun and pack slung over his body, he saddled up Ivy, signing out without writing another name next to his, sneaking past the gates without causing a scene.

Joel would throw his life into the unknown before letting anyone, but especially you drown in it without care.

You sulked in the bitterness in the comfort of your own home, refusing to leave your bed until the sun beat too brightly past your curtains, forcing you to mope from room to room as you kept yourself busy. 

Sleep barely came to you the night before as Joel’s words echoed through your head like a record stuck on repeat. You tried to bury the shame into a pit deep down inside of you, attempting to brush it off the same way he probably did to all your venomous words thrown his way.

But it was impossible.

You’re too damn stupid.

You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for.

It isn’t for them and sure as hell isn’t for me.

He was haunting you in ways that had you second guessing if Jackson was ever home to begin with. If all this time, this place was merely a facade ready to forget about you the same way they let you in. And if you really were replaceable like Joel made it sound, then what was the point of ever risking your life if it didn’t matter to anyone else besides your internal ache to provide?

Everyone had someone and yet you…

You had acquaintances–people you called friends and nothing more. But they had always had someone else. Someone they mattered to.

Siblings. Parents. Partners. 

You had no one, and Joel was right.

There was no reason for you to so willingly put your life on the line—there was no one relying on you, forcing your hand to succumb to whatever death lurked outside Jackson just to make sure they were well off. Instead, all you had was the longing buried deep into the vault of your soul–the thoughts of maybe one day, meaning something more than what you could provide, but just for who you were.

You had spent all this time thinking you were so important, only to realize that it was only ever significant to you. The role Jackson played as your only home made it seem as if you had to carry it on your shoulders, gamble your life in order to keep it in the palm of your hands, when in truth it was never yours to begin with.

Tears had spilled down your cheeks relentlessly, like a petulant child learning how it felt to be told ‘no,’ for the first time. And even though you wanted to hide away, pick up the backpack you stocked for what was supposed to be today’s run and leave Jackson behind—you couldn’t give Joel that satisfaction.

He deserved to know how much he hurt you. To know that even if you had no one standing in your corner of the way he had Ellie or Tommy, you had yourself, and you would be OK. 

At least you hoped you would. 

By the time the purple and pink hues began to tumble across the sky, you found the energy to leave home and grab dinner at the cafeteria. You were already dreading seeing the faces of those who witnessed your outburst yesterday, but then again the thought of Joel’s words–no one caring about you–made the dread seem miniscule in comparison. 

Rocks and sludgy snow croaked under each step you took, the winter breeze pushing past your layers as you approached the double doors, shoving them open as you kept your gaze on the ground. You picked up a plate, moving along the half empty trays of food, muttering out a quiet thank you as a few cooks spooned you whatever was left. 

Then suddenly your name was shouted across the room by none other than Ellie. You flinched, furrowing your brows as you looked her way, and took in her indecipherable expression. Before you knew it, she was striding over with urgent steps, lips pursing and breathing getting heavier as she neared you. 

You sighed, placing your plate down on the line ready to hear whatever she was probably about to throw your way in order to defend Joel’s honor. 

“Look whatever Joel told you, I don’t want to hear—”

“What are you doing here?” She cut you off sharply, her voice subduing the rest of the cafeteria with her anger and confusion–and just like her, you mirrored it.  

“Excuse me?” You blinked wildly, shaking your head at her, not realizing what she was going on about. 

“Yesterday, Joel told me that he took Jesse off the run. That he was going with you.” She gestured her hands in the air, signalling to her table across the room.  

You shook your head once more, baffled at her words that didn’t make any sense, until you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you saw Jesse stand up and reveal himself.

Right about now, he was supposed to be with Joel. He was supposed to be with him since early this morning, and he wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow. 

Your blood ran cold, immediately twisting around and bolting out the building without a second thought. Voices shouted and footsteps pounded close behind you, but none of it was registering. Your mind was a blur, repeating the same harrowing thoughts one after the other, over and over. 

Joel was out there. Alone. On a route he barely knew. On a run too dangerous. 

You nearly knocked your front door off its hinges, ripping a thicker coat off the hooks and sliding your arms through it in a haste. You grabbed your pack, flinging it over one shoulder. Flipping open an old shoe box, you clutched your knife, sliding it into its protective sheath the securing it over your belt loops. 

Ellie stood in your doorway breathless as she watched on, there was a delay in her movements to follow your lead but she spoke. 

“I’m coming with you.” She panted, going to turn around and rush home for her things. 

“No, you’re not.” You snapped, stopping her in her tracks before she could even leave your porch. 

She whipped around quickly, voice ragged. “If you think I’m gonna let Joel die out there alone, then you’re wrong!”

Despite her scowl, you could read the tears starting to cloud her eyes, the way they filled with fear and hopelessness. Joel mattered to her, the same way she mattered to him. 

You understood what their bond meant–how important they were to each other, but you also knew you couldn’t let her follow down this path. Wherever Joel was, you knew he’d make it back to her, and it was your job to make sure she understood that.

“He’s not going to die, Ellie. I won’t let him.” You said firmly, stepping up and holding her by the shoulders. 

You took a breath, hoping your next words would be well received, despite the visible state of distress she was in. 

“I know you want to go out there for yourself and make sure he’s okay, but I’ve got this. If anything were to happen to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.” 

It was almost scary, the way she mirrored Joel’s mannerisms when he was at odds with his words and what he felt inside. It was that same shift you saw when Tommy left his office, leaving you two there alone, where you knew Joel wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to. 

You were going to tell him all about his and Ellie’s similarities right after you kicked his ass for doing something so stupid. 

“I promise, he’s gonna be ok.” You squeezed her shoulders again, offering a tight smile, a contrast to the panic you were feeling inside.

“Swear on his life.” She whispered. 

You didn’t hesitate. 

“I swear on Joel’s life, I’ll do everything I can.” 

She nodded once. 

“Go.” 

You didn’t waste another second. Sprinting to the stables and throwing a saddle over the first horse you saw. Only when you hopped on and gripped its reins, did you realize it was Callus–Joel’s horse. The gates opened with a high-pitched creak as you crossed over. Shouts belonging to Tommy who seemed to have caught onto what his idiotic brother had done, was trying to stop you. But before he could, you barked out a command to the horse, letting him take you away into whatever lay ahead as desperation seeped in. 

Making it to Joel and seeing him alive. 

His bones ached, exhaustion gnawing over every inch of his aging body that threatened to give out under pure fatigue and the added weight of the supplies he snagged hours ago. Still, he managed through, mustering enough strength as he dismounted off Ivy, securing her around a tree to rest up for the night. 

He tossed a ration of his food onto the ground, giving her cheek a proud pat, before stumbling the rest of the way towards the cabin in the distance, not wanting to alert anyone of his presence if someone was inside. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He sputtered under his breath, drawing his pistol out. 

As quietly as he could, he padded up the rickety porch steps, peeking through the dusty windows with his fingers hovered over the trigger reach to shoot. Thankfully, though, there was no one in sight thus far, prompting him to give the jammed door a stern push until it gave way. 

He had heard about the cabin in passing before you mentioned it in his office a few days ago. Back before the incident last winter, you’d often be cooped up there after long runs, needing a day’s break to recharge before heading back home. It wasn’t the prettiest or most homey place, but it made do with its lumpy couch and half-burned candles you kept stashed away behind the flimsy kitchen cabinets.

His eyes raked over the area, ensuring it was all clear, before lowering his gun and dropping the bags against the ground with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t been hurt, making it out of the hospital without a scratch, though his luck seemed to run dry as he was leaving. There was a group of infected on the shorter trail, forcing him to clear what he could before giving Ivy’s reins a stiff jerk and tearing back around to the longer route.  

Clearly it had been stupid to do what he had done, his body paying the price, finally collapsing against the frumpy couch and giving his limbs a rest. Leaving Jackson without telling a soul, especially Tommy, would come with consequences, but he knew he had his reasons–good ones–or at least he liked to think so. 

They’d probably put up in front of the council for trial when he returned, but if it meant steering you out of danger, then he could live with it. 

Selfishly, he didn’t care about the orange bottles filled with unknown medication or the expired vials of local anesthesia stuffed in his pack that would benefit the community he called home.

Something else was haunting him. Someone. You. 

He stormed room to room with shaky hands, snatching whatever he saw, yet the only thought racing through his mind was the fact that you had been in the same predicament on multiple occasions. Alone. 

Even as he exited the hospital unscathed, he couldn’t shake the twist in his gut. It only wound tighter as he bullied an infected’s head into the ground with his boot–his mind playing out a hundred different scenarios where you had been fighting not just them, but the unturned monsters. 

The raiders who almost took your life. 

The scary realization ate him up when he trotted along the route with Ivy in search of the cabin–that the near death experience you had wasn’t the first–it was just the one Joel had seen with his own eyes. 

The blood you didn’t have time to clean up. 

A fake smile you didn’t rehearse when you got past the gates to mask the ache in your bones. 

All of the hurt you had endured was not consoled in an empty cabin all alone before you made it back and pretended it didn’t exist. 

You had been relinquishing your safety each time you went out of the walls and each time you came back you weren’t held up by your strength, but rather what you had to show and give. 

It was a familiar feeling that Joel used to know well, the one that lived in his bones back when Jackson was just a figment of his fantasy. Back when living in QZ’s meant not knowing if tomorrow was promised and putting his life on the line to bank on another day. 

But Jackson was home now, and even when those fearful pains attempted to sprawl up through the pit of stomach, wanting to spread through the bones once tainted, he remembered there was more to life now other than survival. 

Ellie was his light, his second chance, and he’d spent every waking moment protecting her in any way he could, even when he knew she didn’t need it. He had Tommy, the pain in his ass brother that he was still so lucky to bicker with even at their age. 

And even though he couldn’t admit it out loud, for the past year Joel had you.

A lingering presence he couldn’t keep his mind off of. Constantly plagued by your insistence to step out of the walls that almost took you away, and most of all your plea to mean something again when all along you had meant so much more than you’d know. 

The moment he saw your blood pouring as you laid lifeless in his arms.

When all he could do was stand back and watch the doctor and nurses do everything, they could to bring you back. 

Every day he spent sitting at your bedside while you weaved in and out of consciousness.

Putting his foot down and telling Tommy and Maria he wouldn’t be sending you out to meet your death anymore. 

Even when you bombard him with ignorant fury and resentment for taking away what made you useful.

He knew what he was up against–not just the dangers that lurked outside waiting to claim you, but yourself, too. 

Your selflessness had morphed into recklessness that should have cost you, and Joel promised himself, even through all the animosity you held towards him, that you would never have to touch that feeling again. 

He needed you to understand that it wasn’t your responsibility to give so much of yourself to matter. That getting close to death on multiple occasions, whether he knew it or not, was a wake up call that you had a bigger purpose. That you were worth more than what you could risk and provide.

You deserved to be protected the same way you did for the town. You deserved to matter, even if you didn’t see what Joel was doing as such.  

“Quit it.” He muttered to himself, trying to fight away at all the guilt he had built up and was beginning to split him up at the seams. 

Sleep should have hurdled towards him, for he knew his body was begging for it, but all he could see was your face, as if it was etched in memory. And come morning he hoped it would be you greeting him at the gates even if you were wearing an angry snarl because at least then there wouldn’t be any blood split from you, no traces of a life almost lost, no risk taken. 

A piece that mattered ripped away. 

None of that. 

The sunset was ebbing away with each second that passed, clouds dissipating as a looming gray hue cast above. By now, Joel should have made it back to the cabin, and if you were right, he would have needed to take the long route back there.

You did your best to keep your breathing at bay, uttering words of encouragement as Callus continued steadily, as if he knew you were guiding him to his loyal companion somewhere out in the woods.

“Easy boy, that’s it.” You gently petted through his mane, seeing the cabin in the distance, slowing down in case anyone who wasn’t Joel picked up on your presence.

You weren’t as quiet as you thought, or maybe Joel wasn’t as deaf as he once was, but he picked up on the sounds just beyond the walls. The crunching of leaves and mush of snow that snapped him out of the fatigue he felt. He gripped his gun tighter, moving up off the couch and making his way behind a wall still in view of the front door, waiting for movement.

You spotted Ivy in your peripheral as you got closer, her body lax against the forest floor resting from what you knew was a treacherous journey. Joel had taken your horse, and yet even when you should have felt relief, you wouldn’t allow it… not until you saw him with your own eyes. 

You drew your knife out of its sheath, footsteps as silent as they could be under the leaves and twigs. Stepping up on the creaky porch, you squinted through the dusty windows, making out the faint flickers of orange flames from a lit candle. 

With one fluid push, you nudged the door open, stepping forward and holding your breath, hoping he was there. Joel squinted through the fog of exhaustion, thinking for a split second that his old eyes were playing a trick on him, seeing the familiar silhouette that was supposed to be back home, not right in front of him. 

He stepped out into view, and your eyes snapped to his. The two of you stood face to face mere feet away until your voices collided in the air. 

“The hell are you doing here?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You shared a wide-eyed look, chest heaving as you stared at each other. Joel lowered his gun, listening as you shut the door and let your knife clattered to the ground. Before he could say anything, you closed the space between you two. Footsteps heavy against the floorboards as your mouth twisted into a snarl.

“Do you have any idea how stupid you are?” You roared, pushing at his chest, not realizing the way he winced at your touch, “What the fuck were you thinking going out all by yourself?”

“M’fine—“

Your palms met his chest again, this time harder. 

“It’s not fine, Joel! What if something happened? What if you got bit or… or if you weren’t the only one out there searching for supplies?”

He tried to open his mouth, attempting to tell you he had the same concerns just a few days ago that you seemingly brushed off, but before he could spit it out, you kept going.

“What about Ellie? Tommy?” You demanded, not missing the way his shoulders stiffened at the sound of their names. “Do you have any idea how worried they are right now? How distraught would they be if something happened to you?” 

You shook your head at him, puzzled and disappointed at the fact that he would go as far as to risk everything he had just to spite you.

He didn’t answer.

He knew what he did wasn’t right–putting his daughter and his brother through hell once more, but he knew he had to do it…for the right reasons… for you. He couldn’t apologize for something he wasn’t sorry for, so instead he settled for something else. 

“You would’ve found me.” 

He spoke so sure of himself, as if the thought had passed through his mind more than once, a kind of statement that was completely unwavering. His sentiment caught you off guard, a clear look of disbelief covering your features as you stood there glaring. 

“W-What?”

He swallowed, arms crossing over his chest never letting his sights wander from you.

“If something did happen, you would’ve been in charge of the search party. You would have found me and brought me back home. I know you. It’s what you would’ve done.”

You stand with that sentiment for a moment, letting the scene play out in your head. 

What if you didn’t leave your home until the next morning? What if something happened, and he was out there all alone? What if he didn’t make it back at all?

Ellie and Tommy would surely be in shambles. The turn of events alone who have them acting on impulse, but you knew you wouldn’t let them, not in the distraught state they would be in. It’s the same reason why you didn’t let Ellie follow you, and it’s exactly why you left before Tommy could join you. 

If all those ‘what if’s’ played out so cruelly, would you would have done what you did just hours ago without thinking twice? The answer was so obviously ‘yes.’

Perhaps it was impulsive and hypocritical in itself, but Ellie and Tommy had Joel to hold onto, someone who was too important to lose even if they had good intentions of seeking him out themselves. 

“No.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as your lips pursed, “I would not.” You lied straight through your teeth.

Joel didn’t look convinced in the slightest, huffing out a strained, almost bemused breath of laughter, letting his eyes bore straight through you, as if he knew your every thought, spoken and suppressed. 

“I know you would because if you had done what I did, I’d do the same for you.” 

You rolled your eyes at his admission, but you couldn’t feign the feeling of warmth swarming through your chest. It was utterly stupid to think anything more of Joel’s altruism that he wore proudly on his arm despite his reserved demeanor, but you couldn’t help but feel as if he was showing you his cards–the hand he once kept hidden, now laid out bare for only you to see. 

You swallowed down the words that lingered on the tip of your tongue. The ones that wanted to ask him why he suddenly was beginning to level with you and why he couldn’t have done it sooner. 

Instead, you settled on something safer. 

The one thing you knew he needed to hear coming from you, because then maybe he would understand how lucky he was and how him doing what he did was pure stupidity. 

“You shouldn’t have done this to begin with,” you countered, turning your back on him as you walked away and picked up your knife off the ground. 

“You’ve got too much to lose.” You muttered, sliding it back into its sheath, undoing the button from your belt as you tossed it onto the dusty counter. 

His eyes narrowed at your figure as if he was trying to get deep into your thoughts and wonder why you were selling yourself short when both of you had too much to lose. He refused to let you think that, even if he did sign off on letting you come out here alone, it still wouldn’t change the fact that you were risking too much.

“And you don’t?” He shot back, almost accusatory.

You whipped your head around, a ridiculously obvious look on your face, “You know what, yeah, I don’t. I’ve come to realize that over the last twenty-four hours all thanks to you.”

“You really think that?” He argued.

“Don’t act so damn surprised, Joel. You said it yourself. Nobody gives a shit about me. I’m replaceable.” You mocked his gravelly voice, rolling your eyes as you watch him take it in regretfully.

A beat of silence passed, remorse permeating his face as he shut his eyes, recounting the events of yesterday that he seemingly buried beneath the fresh thoughts of seeing you here before him.

“I didn’t mean—” you lifted your hand in the air, silencing him with a long pointed look. 

“Save it, I don’t need your pity all of a sudden, alright.” You exasperated deeply, letting your hand fall against your side. 

Your eyes shifted past him, surveying the small living room where you had no choice but to bear the nightfall with him just a few feet away. There was no point in arguing with him any longer. All you wanted to do was sleep just so you could avoid him. His apologies would mean nothing at all, not when he was only saying it because he was forced to. In an attempt to brush past him, his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you to face him once more. 

“Joel, stop–” You griped firmly, though the desperation was unmistakable in your voice, coming off as begging as you tried to pull your hand back. 

The last thing you needed right now was a repeat of what happened back in Jackson. Not only did you have nowhere to run, but not a single fiber of strength left to hear whatever cruel words Joel had kept harboured for you, now ready to be unleashed. 

But the bitterness and the usual look of disdain never came. Instead, his fingers loosened just slightly, still firmly anchoring you to him, and there was that catch in his breath, a frown that meant more than just disgruntlement. 

“I didn’t mean what I said. I just—it came out wrong.” His voice came to you with a softness that hadn’t been heard before, completely taking you aback all over again.

“You matter, but you take risks–you live your life like you don’t.” His voice nearly broke, betraying himself as he pinched his eyes shut frustratingly. 

You stared at him, trying to search for an ounce of pity or deception that would’ve made you snap, but all you could find was him. When his eyes snapped back to yours, there was nothing but truth and even if you didn’t believe any of it personally, he deemed it true to him and that was enough to send you reeling. 

“You don’t think I don’t hear the end of it from Ellie and Dina?” He dropped your wrists, running his hands over the scruff of his beard, looking down at the floorboards then back up at you.

“Always beggin’ me to put you back on patrols and runs with them?” 

There was an apparent heat behind his words, not towards you, but the thought of letting you out of safety–out of his sight. 

“Then why don’t you let me?” You asked coolly, crossing your arms over your chest trying to get down to the truth this time, not provocation. 

“Because I know you’d throw your life on the line to protect them.” He spoke harsher than he intended to, sighing deeply, regaining his composure and swallowing hard, “To bring back whatever it is that the town needs.”

He faltered just slightly, as if guilt was eating him alive for knowing he too was the one who’d benefit from your 

He wasn’t wrong. There’d been many close calls before the one last winter. Runs with Jesse, patrols with Dina, even occasional ones with Ellie, where you throw yourself in the face of danger without thinking twice, perhaps forcing them to watch you die in order to save them and give the town what it needed. 

Before you could tell him, it was for good reason, especially to protect his daughter, he spoke up again. 

“But I already saw you once on your deathbed, and I can’t see you there again.” His voice pinched, refusing to consider the thought of you slipping away, even if it was only in mind. 

It never occurred to you–not until now–just how present Joel had been during the time you were in and out of consciousness, teetering the dead and the living. Somehow, without needing to hear him elaborate, you grasped the weight he carried from that day. How wound up he was had been seeing you in that state, that even now it still destroyed him, but that wasn’t you… not anymore. 

“I’m not made out of glass, Joel.” 

Your throat tightened, taking an effort to bring the words to the tip of your tongue and out into the open, because in that very moment, all you felt like was glass. Completely see through for Joel to read inside and out, to know your every fear and thought, to know you were in as much denial as he was. 

“You sure ain’t.” He huffed sarcastically, his hands coming down on hips as he shook his head and let his shoulders fall. “You have no idea what it was like for me. To… to know I was the one who let you go out there all by yourself because you were so sure, and not able to do anythin’ but stand there and—and hope you’d wake up.”

He went on before you could stop him. 

“I mean what the hell were you thinkin’?” His brows furrowed deep, staring at you with a look that you had seen before, but never with this much anguish tangled within him.

“The second you killed the last guy, you should’ve come back home right away. But no. You stayed back and took your time bagging all that crap instead of saving your goddamn self first.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, the frustration and helplessness behind them, revealing something unprecedented to the indifference he always offered instead. This wasn’t the Joel who’d brushed you off or the one yesterday that yelled at you with no mercy–this was a cry for understanding, a last-ditch attempt for you to finally see where he was coming from all this time. 

You were at a loss for words, mouth parting, trying to figure out what you could say, how you could reason with his regard to ease the burden you had no idea had been carrying all this time. It wasn’t his place to care as much as he did and hide it all behind a facade he should’ve never put up, but he did it and you were willing to compromise. 

“We… we’ve all got things we’re not proud of. Guilt we have to live with Joel.” 

He barely let your sentiment hang in the air before his voice tumbled. 

“Yeah well, if you had died… if you didn’t make it back, I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself.”

You never pegged Joel Miller as the type of man to drop down to his knees and beg for forgiveness for anything, let alone to some unknown God for almost letting you die. But there he was confessing to you like he had committed a sin so abysmal that he couldn’t bear to go on if death ever came close to you again–on his watch or not. 

All this time, he had been protecting you, shielding you from what you refused to see in the same light as he did. Even if it bruised your pride to admit, Joel had been seeing you. Truly seeing you from a distance and doing what he could, what he deemed right to keep you safe. 

To keep you from ever feeling like you needed to die to mean something. To keep you from leaving behind a place that was home without ever needing to prove yourself worthy of it. To just know that you weren’t going anywhere if he was around to save you first. 

Your lips began to part, a small croak pushing past them before you spoke quietly, enough for him to hear. “Would it help if I forgave you now?”

He blinked, standing still with eyes filled with turmoil, trying to decode what it was you were saying.

“If I forgave you for sending me out on that run even though I asked for it. If I forgave you for icing me out even though you had good intentions. If I forgave you for letting me go this long thinking no one cared about me.”

He inhaled roughly, shaking his head at you as if he was trying to dodge your words, unsure if he was worthy of letting himself be freed of the guilt, even by your words.

“You… You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He muttered, wiping a hand over his face, processing everything you just said. 

You had never been more certain. Never been more willing to forgive so easily because you both needed it. Not just him, but you, too. 

“No,” Your voice grew stronger, standing your ground as you stepped closer to him. “I know exactly what I’m asking for–what I need.”

His eyes leaked of hesitance, body tensing when you got close. Too close than you’ve ever been with the air as thick as it was between you two. There were barely any inches separating your bodies, the warmth of your shallow breaths fanning over his face flooding his senses before you spoke.

“You’ve been haunting me…making me think you were just out to get me all this time, when in reality you’ve been the only one seeing me.” 

He felt stuck, heart beating out of his chest, at a loss for words to tell you how wrong it would be to let himself show you just how much he’d been seeing you. 

“I’m right here, Joel.” 

It was all he needed to hear.

He crashed into you. Lips first then body. Large and calloused hands holding you to him as your mouths moved against each other, like your lips were finding a home they’ve been searching for all this time.

Somehow, there was an effortlessness to the neediness you two felt, meshing together so perfectly that nothing else had ever felt so right. 

Your feet shuffled with every backwards step he took, dragging you with him across the cabin. Neither of you dare to pull away, even when the need for air became burning. All you two could offer were labored breaths as your hands carelessly undid the buttons of his flannel, while he roughly tugged on the zipper of your coat. 

A trail of your outerwear laid messily across the cabin floors, leaving you in a thin tank top and him in his gray undershirt.

Joel collapsed against the couch cushions with a heavy thud, pulling you down with him on his lap. There was a pause in his kiss the second his back met the couch.

He sucked in a sharp hiss, body tensing beneath yours just for a split second, but it was enough for you to detect. 

His hands went to pull you to him again, but you refused, eyes leaking with concern as you shook your head and let your hands roam across his body. 

“Are you hurt?” You were quiet but panicked, searching for any signs of injury, feeling stupid for not asking sooner, before all of…this. 

“It’s nothin’, just sore.”

His features mellowed, running his hands through your hair in an attempt to soothe your worry, but his words only caused more unease.

“Do you have a hard time breathing? Did you take any painkillers yet?” You asked again, worried that he was hiding something from you because he didn’t want to bother. 

“Baby…” 

The word slipped out so easily, rolling off his tongue and reigning down on you as if he was bestowing a sacred title. You couldn’t pretend to be unaffected even if you wanted to, cheeks flushing and lips tugging up unabashedly. 

“M’fine, I swear.” He gave you a sure nod, opening his hand against your thigh, waiting for you to lace yours through his. 

Sighing, you thread your fingers between his, the feel of his thumb beginning to stoke along the curve of your wrist, grounding you to him–making sure you knew he was safe. 

Your eyes peered up from your hands, drifting to his face where you found his eyes studying you like he didn’t want to miss a thing.

As selfish as it was, there was nothing more you wanted than to stay right there, despite the visible fatigue that was lingering behind his weary eyes.

You took your time and savored the comfortable silence, memorizing every wrinkle, every sunspot, every inch of his face that you never gave much thought to before.

When you had your fill, certain that by the time you fell asleep you could picture it behind your eyes, did you finally stop being selfish.  

“We should probably get some sleep,” you whispered quietly, your free hand coming up to push his graying curls back into place, “You’ve had a long day and we’ve got our work cut out for us tomorrow too.” 

Joel hummed in agreement, but his fingers stayed tangled in yours, not daring to let go. He just kept on watching you, letting his thumb continue the comforting path over your skin–this time it was him who was being selfish. 

Just moments ago his body wanted sleep, but the second you walked in, it was you he craved. It had always been you, even when he tried to starve himself off and convince himself it was nothing more than him being vigilant. Fulfilling his duty by making sure you didn’t drive yourself into the ground because you put others first. 

When he boiled down all the irritation and anger he had once felt, he was still left with you. You had become part of him whether he liked it or not–always living in the back of his mind, deep within the cracks of himself until the truth finally clawed its way out. 

If he had haunted you, then you had certainly been plaguing him, holding him hostage to a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever set free until he had no choice but to. 

He needed you, and he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer.

His hands slowly loosened from yours, trailing up your waist, ghosting over the pulse of your neck, stopping just shy of your jaw, cradling your face between his palms.

“I don’t wanna pretend anymore…” He mumbled, shaking his head, coasting his thumb along your jaw, eyes burning into yours, “spent too long pushin’ you away and actin’ like an ass… but I want–need you.” 

Your chest tightened, air trapped in your lungs all while your heart raced and your blood ran impossibly hotter. Maybe it was desperation or quite simply the heat of the moment, but it swallowed you whole. His confession wrapping you up and keeping you there where, for once, you could just be.

He undid you and pieced you back together all at once, suddenly filling spaces that were once hollow but not broken–seeing and needing you was just enough. 

“I need you, too,” you whispered, leaning forward to close the space, pressing your forehead to his, lips ghosting over one another. 

“You came all the way out here for me, gotta say, you know how to make a man feel special.” A weak chuckle leaving his mouth, breathing fanning over your face. 

You smiled, shrugging your shoulders timidly. “Just did what you would’ve done.” 

“That right?” 

Before you could think twice about the smirk on his lips, his hips shifted up, the stiffness behind his jeans pressing against your center. 

Your breath hitched, head thrown back while your hips move once then began to roll against his, needy for more. He took advantage of the skin calling out to him, pressing kisses up the column of your neck, letting you grind and seek out the dull pleasure that wasn’t at all ever going to be enough. 

“Want this off, sweetheart,” He nipped at your jaw lightly, his hands dropping to curl around the fabric of your camisole. 

There was a broken hum, an eager nod as you felt his fingers guide the garment up your body, leaving you in a basic black bra that was surely two sizes too small and no help to the breathlessness in your chest. But he didn’t seem to notice it, not when his eyes suddenly went somber, trained on a particular scar on your skin. 

It was no longer than a few inches, just a thin, fading line of skin that healed a shade lighter than the rest of your body, but nonetheless still apparent. Joel knew what it looked like before–clean cut, too deep, even more bloody. Just seeing it reeled him back to that winter, even when you’re in his lap, safe and well as can be–he still felt the weight of his guilt. 

“Joel,” you wrapped your hands around his wrist gingerly, leading his fingertips to the scar and keeping him there.

“I’m right here… safe.” 

Your voice called out to him steadily, softly, trying to ground him back here with you, instead of his dreadful memories of your dying self that were swarming his thoughts. His fingers traced the skin, eyes never leaving it as he spoke something thick and rough. 

“It shouldn’t have happened to you.” 

He didn’t need to say it for you to understand that what he meant was it should have been him instead. But it was your choice. It always was, even when it was him signing off on letting you exit those gates–it was because you felt secure enough to go and he trusted you at one point. 

But even now, he couldn’t take place and you couldn’t let him blame himself any longer. 

“But it did.” You said, setting your hands on top of his, letting them splay across your skin, hiding the scar behind his palms, not wanting him to think back on those memories any longer. 

You then wrapped your arms around his neck, tethering yourself to him completely as his gaze finally softened when he saw your eyes locking onto his.

“It happened and I can’t go back to change it, but even if I could, I wouldn’t dare to because it means I’d risk leading myself to you.” 

Even when you looked at him so delicately, weary of his own emotional turmoil for something that happened to you, your voice remained sure and strong, like roots settling into the scariest parts of him and promising you weren’t going anywhere. 

His heart ached, this time with a feverish warmth that threatened to take his life just because he couldn’t fathom this–you–and the way you made him feel. He didn’t need to say much, not when his lips were already encasing yours, hoping you could feel all the things he wanted to say but wasn't quite strong enough to, just yet 

The message was received loud and clear, the two of you simultaneously needing more and acting upon it. Your fingers threaded through the messy curls at the back of his head, pulling him deeper into you just as his hands curved around your waist forcing your bodies flushed against each other, fitting perfectly.

“You tryin’ to kill me?” He mumbled, lips never straying away even as he caught his breath. 

He felt you giggle, then placed another kiss on his top then bottom lip, teeth grazing at his skin.

“Trust me, death isn’t fun… I would know.” 

He rolled his eyes with another deep sigh, debating on whether he should scold or kiss you to quiet down your sweet laughter for a joke so vicious. He decided on the latter, relishing in the touch of your lips and the way your laughter died subtly with every part and glide of his tongue against yours. 

“Can I?” His hands hovering over the elastic of your bra behind your back. 

You hummed, pulling away to lean back on his thighs, giving him the perfect view. Your arms rested beneath the bust waiting as his fingers unclasped the closure with a smooth flick. The straps glided off your shoulders with ease and you helped pull the garment the rest of the way before tossing it to the floor. 

Joel sucked a deep breath in, palms sliding up and down the tops of your thighs, using whatever restraint he had left to resist the urge to lay you back and make you his. But he wanted to take it slow, to show you how much he cared and make up for the time that was wasted. 

“So beautiful,” He groaned and threw his head back against the cushions, needing to shut his eyes for a split second, giving himself a moment to take you in. 

You couldn’t help but blush, a weak, almost shy giggle escaping your mouth at the thought of him being this affected by only a portion of your naked body.

Deciding to coax your shared neediness, you brought his hands up to your chest, causing his eyes to snap open.

He was momentarily stunned, unsure of himself, but not for long as he felt you practically melt under the newfound touch.

“God, baby.” He muttered, thumbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger, giving them a gentle pinch. 

You let out a broken moan, hips jerking up instinctively into the hardening bulge beneath his jeans. Your sweet sounds and desperate friction egged him on, repeating the deliberate pinch and rolls watching closely as you began to unravel at the seams. You were shamelessly seeking out more, hips moving faster over him with your lip caught between your teeth. 

“Let me get this off you, sweetheart.” He spoke lowly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin, fingers running along the waistband of your jeans. 

You blinked, tilting your head down at him swallowing the dryness in your throat. 

“I-I can do them,” you whispered, attempting to catch your breath and fight the urge to rut your hips again.

Joel nodded, letting you take a moment to breathe and pull yourself together. In the meantime, he pressed chaste kisses to wherever he could reach before you shuffled out of his lap, standing wobbly between his spread thighs. 

He watched as you bent down to work off your boots first, nudging them off to the side before your shaky fingers undid the button and zipper of your jeans. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband, you gradually pulled them down, hips swaying naturally, lifting one foot then the other, peeling the denim off the rest of the way without breaking your gaze with him. 

He shifted, straightening his back against the cushions, while his eyes swept over the expanse of your skin, drinking you up, committing every inch of you to his memory. 

“C’mere.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back on top of him, needing to feel you close. 

You let out a short squeal, carefully placing your knees on either side of his hips, letting the thin and undoubtedly soaked fabric of your panties graze the rough material of his jeans head on. 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself even more.” You chided, running your hands underneath his t-shirt feeling the warmth of his skin, moving the fabric up higher with every sweep of your palms. 

“Worth it.” He smirked, letting you guide the t-shirt off his body the way you wanted, until he had no choice but to tug it over his head, leaving nothing between your chest and his. 

You braced your hands against his sternum, gliding to feel the beat of his heart before connecting your lips once again. You learned quickly that kissing him nice and slow allowed you to really feel him. The dull scratch of his stumble against your skin, his hands mindlessly roaming across your back, the push and pull of breaths he took.

But nice and slow, could only do for so long, quickly turning urgent and messy. 

He took advantage of your desperation, giving the small of your back a gentle but firm push, rocking you back and forth over the tent in his jeans before your hips began to move on their own accord, resuming your earlier pursuit of pleasure. 

“Please.” You gasped, abruptly pulling away to stare up at him with frantic eyes. 

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He cooed, almost condescendingly, amused at the fact that you were already this wound up without him doing much. 

“Touch me,” you reached behind you to take one of his hands, guiding it to where you needed him most, “Need you to touch, right here.”

His fingers smoothed over the arousal soaked fabric, groaning to himself as he pressed his digits right over your clit, making you whimper. 

“I’ve got you.” 

He pulled his hand away to maneuver you into a more comfortable position. Cradling you into his side and letting your head rest against his shoulder, he guided your legs to sling over his thighs.

“This OK?” He asked, running his hands up to shin down to your ankle wanting you to be as comfortable as possible. 

“Perfect.” You nodded eagerly, leaning up for another kiss, thanking him for being so considerate even in the heat of the moment. 

When you pulled away, he nodded at you to lay your head back on him while he did the work. His fingers finally trailed up over your hips, sliding under the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to drag the fabric off your body and tossing it somewhere. His hand settled on your knee farthest away from his body, bending it just enough for him to open you up further and give him a complete view of your soaking center. 

“Jesus,” he choked out, his fingers gliding up and down the seam of your folds, torturing you slowly, “Need it bad, huh sweetheart.” 

You whimpered, nodding your head as your nails scraped down his chest, digging into his skin, asking for more.

“Gonna make it better,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your temple, “just let me do all the work and you feel good alright?” 

He didn’t waste any more time, parting your folds with his pointer and middle, dipping them into your heat and gathering your arousal, only to take it up towards your clit where he pressed down firmly and began rubbing slow circles. 

“F-fuck!” Your hips stuttered up, chasing his movements that felt like too much, and not enough all at the same time. 

Joel tsked, shushing you quietly as he used his free arm to settle you back down, holding you tight. 

“Shh, shh, relax.” He eased up just slightly on your bundle of nerves, helping lull you, “Need to take it slow, wanna make it last.” 

You wanted to tell him that there was no need to take it slow, not when he could have you for as long as you lived from this point on. But you could barely focus, let alone form coherent words as he murmured praises into your ear, picking back up the pressure of his thumb over your nerves. 

Your chest dipped with a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering shut while your fingertips dug into the flesh of his biceps, anything to keep yourself from lifting your hips from where he wanted. 

“Feels good darlin’?” He asked, deliberately dragging his digits lower, sliding them into your core with ease, crooking them up before his thumb ghosted over your clit. 

“Just like–fuck–just like that,” you panted, tongue running over your lips, feeling yourself grow wetter. 

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” 

You didn’t need to open your eyes to tell there was a smile on his face, the feel of his hand giving your waist a squeeze where he held you still, while still keeping up his movements. 

“Been needin’ to feel this.” 

The cabin was filled with your moans and labored breaths, squelching between your thighs falling deaf on your ears as Joel dragged the pleasure on and on, not daring to tear his eyes away from such a sight as perfect as you. 

“Open those eyes, c’mon,” He commanded softly, his thumb stilling on your clit again, but his fingers still continued those deep strokes, “Wanna see those eyes when I tell you this.” 

Your eyes open, glazed over with pleasure, a whimper leaving your mouth seeing the content smile on his lips at your obedience. 

“Atta’girl.” 

You thought that was it. The praise dripping with heat and honey, enough to have you plunging past the finish line as your eyelashes kissed the skin under your eyes. But the action only made him grunt, prompting you to keep them open, for he had more to say that would completely unravel you. 

“Should’ve never let you walk away yesterday.” He said, thumb resuming their movements on your clit, but just lightly, enough to keep you focused on his words and the pleasure-something tolerable for now.

“Should’ve apologized and told you that I care for you.” 

“J-Joel, I forgive you. I do.” You stuttered, swallowing down a moan, hoping he’d believe you just as much as you did him. 

He shook his head, more so at himself, before continuing.

“You scare the shit outta me. Always givin’ so much of yourself without ever askin’ for anythin’ in return.” 

“You don’t know how much I think about you.” He admitted, fingers speeding up, dragging a new string of moans out of you, struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“If you’re takin’ care of yourself,” he murmured, trailing kisses over your warm cheek. “If you know how much I want to protect you.” 

“Iknowiknow,” You babbled, leaning your head against him as your thighs shook when he prodded at the deep spot inside you, “I know n-now.” 

His eyes stayed glued to you, watching every word escape through your lips with extra effort, before becoming muddled with your moans. Nails leaving crescents across his skin anywhere you could grab him and anchor yourself to the feeling. Your pussy shuddering with every stroke and prod of his fingertips bringing you closer. 

“Should’ve told you sooner baby. You gonna let me make it up to you?” He crooned. 

“Yes, p-please…I will, I promise I–” 

“Let me show you how much you matter to me.” He stuffed his fingers impossibly deeper, thumb relentlessly orbiting your clit with more pressure now. “How it feels to be mine.” 

“I’m yours, Joel…please, I’m so close.” Your voice cracked, head beginning to tip back as your body gave in completely, but he wouldn’t let you fall apart without seeing it for himself. 

He threading his fingers through the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his. 

“Cum for me baby,” His lips crashed onto yours, the final catalyst that sent you over the edge as he pulled away, breath ghosting over your lips. “Give me what’s mine.” 

Only then did your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed with the intense pleasure that seemed to be never ending. Your limbs shook against his body, breathing deeply through the waves of euphoria that he kept you on. His fingers still stroking, rubbing, coaxing everything out of you, tethering you to him, watching your every move as you succumbed. 

“I–baby, I…please.” Your voice was weak, your body feeling equally weightless going limp against him.  

Your hands instinctively reached for his forearms, squeezing him tightly, needing more of him to help ground you through the shocks of pleasure still coursing through your nerves.   

“I’ve got you,” He murmured, finally dragging his slick fingers away from your oversensitive heat, cradling your body closer. “Did so good for me, sweetheart.” 

He tucked your face under his chin, kissing the crown of your head, letting his hands soothe over your tingling skin to bring you back down to the delicate place with him once more. Your breathing was still irregular, shallow puffs of air hitting his chest, feeling his heart pound over your lips where you pressed soft, mindless kisses, grateful for his tenderness. 

“S’ok, baby,” His voice remained soft, cooing more words of praise to you before guiding your face away, just enough for him to see you and know you were back with him. 

His chest tightened at the sight of your wet eyes blurring with a sheen of tears and lips swollen, flashing him a devastatingly sweet smile.

“Oh, sweetheart...” 

You blinked, laughing nervously as you felt his thumb swipe away at the tear before it could tumble down your cheek.

“T-that was nice,” you cleared your throat, voice still a little hoarse and spent all thanks to him. “Really nice,” you added, stroking your fingers over his stubble. 

He grinned, tucking your messy hair behind your ears, “Glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

You stared at each other, all dopey and lovesick, basking in one another like nothing else in the world mattered. It should’ve felt unnatural, a little odd for the two of you considering the state of your relationship just twenty-four hours before, but instead it felt familiar, something so intimate and complete without much labor to make it feel as such.  

You used your arms as leverage, wanting to sit back into the original position on his lap. He helped you, carefully holding you by the hips as you maneuvered only for you to let out a gasp catching him by surprise. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Joel.” You looked down half embarrassed, half amused, fingers trailing over the dark patch of your wetness that settled on his jeans. 

He followed your sights, shaking his head as he laughed and laced his fingers with yours, pulling them up to his mouth to press a reassuring kiss over your knuckles. 

“Nothin’ to worry about, it’s for memory’s sake.” He joked lightly, easing you of any self-consciousness even after he brought you to a breathtaking orgasm just minutes ago. 

You shifted your hips against his lap, eliciting a groan from him, jaw tightening and his hands squeezing yours. He grew harder beneath his boxers, the tip of his cock begging for release behind the garment and his thick jeans, at this rate probably dripping with pre cum too. He could have easily flipped you over and given into what you both were needing, but he curbed the thoughts, letting you set the pace. 

“I can feel you.” You whispered, taking your time circling your hips lightly, core still overstimulated, but somehow demanding more, “Can we…” 

Your voice died with a hint of uncertainty, eyes shifting to his, hoping he’d read your mind and understand that you still needed him…you just didn’t know what to call it. 

Fuck? 

Make love? 

Neither sounded right to say aloud. You knew crossing this line would mean more than just a quick fuck, but you also realized it was too soon to call it love–though you were positive you’d fall, eventually. 

He rested his hands on your thighs, eyes boring into yours, trying to read your anxiety, not wanting you to feel pressured just because he was rock hard. 

“We don’t have to do any–” 

“No, I do,” you interjected hurriedly, shutting him up as he smirked at your insistence causing you to roll your eyes and smack his chest.

You sighed, wringing your fingers nervously, shifting your eyes to his lap instead as you spoke. “I just haven’t… I want it to be good for you.” 

It was no surprise that an outbreak would leave getting laid one of your last priorities with survival being number one. But truthfully, it had been a long while, and even as natural as it felt to have Joel pull an orgasm out of you with his fingers, you hoped to God you’d be able to deliver something just as good for him. But before you could let the perturbation swallow you whole he laughed. 

You quickly shot your eyes up to his, watching the crow’s feet around the outer corner of his eyes crinkle, his chest rumbling with snickers, causing you to pout, wondering what amusement he got out of seeing you like this. He settled after a few seconds, shaking his head in disbelief going to grab your hands once more even as you tried to fight him off weakly. 

“Sweetheart,” He started, rubbing his thumbs over the top of your hands, silently telling you to loosen up, “Do you know how close I’ve been to creamin’ my pants like a fuckin’ teenager?” 

His bluntness made your cheeks go up in flames, wanting nothing more than to hide away in the crook of his neck and laugh there, but he didn’t let you, cupping your cheeks and thumbing your heated skin. He was old enough to understand why you must’ve felt the way you did, but he too was devoid of anything as intimate for years. You’d already made him feel the tenderness and lust he once thought was over for him, and he’d be damned if he let you think otherwise. 

“You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ alright? It’s goin’ to be good because it’s with you.” He confessed, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, then to your lips, making you smile as your heart rate began to pick up once more. 

“I wanna be on top,” you started, a new wave of boldness washing over you as he smirked and nodded. 

“I can do with that.” He hummed, leaning back just to get an eyeful of your naked body, pinching himself for finally getting to have you. 

“Here, I’ll–” You went to undo his belt, a mixture of excitement and neediness urging your motions, but before you could he stopped you, moving your fingers out of the way. 

“I got it, sweetheart,” he pulled the end of the leather through the buckle, eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t need to lift a finger.” 

You giggled, tilting your head and raising your brow. “Hmm, cause I’ll be too busy lifting my ass, right?” You quipped.

“There’s my brat,” He huffed feignedly, pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it to the ground. 

You let out a giggle, moving off of his lap causing him to protest, only for you to drop down to your knees between his legs, pulling at the laces of his boots and tugging them off. 

“What? You said I couldn’t help with the belt, not stripping your jeans off.” You winked up at him while he grumbled, simply undoing his fly and zipper before letting you do the rest. 

He lifted his hips as you tugged on the waistband of his jeans and boxers His cock came into view, thick and heavy, tip glistening with pre-cum as it rested against his stomach. Your gut twisted tighter, heat growing hotter between your thighs as your mouth watered, eyes remaining fixated on his length. 

Your visible engrossment made him twitch, the hunger in your eyes causing his blood to rush and welcome the newfound attention. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling your fingers wrap around his shaft, barely able to cover him wholly even with both hands. You leaned forward, parting your lips, breathing warmth over his tip before you closed your lips around him gently, humming at the salty bead, salivating for more. 

If he had any more willpower, he’d let you have your fill. To swallow him down the way you wanted to–messy, slow, deep–but right now it was ebbing, and all he wanted to do was bury himself within you. There was no way he was going to let himself finish within the first minute of you getting him naked.

As if it pained him, he grimaced and cradled your jaw, pulling you off with a pop, and almost immediately you began to pout, mouth opening to tell him you wanted a proper taste. 

“Come back up here.” His eyes were glazed over with need, voice dripping with a gentle firmness as he offered you a hand, helping you lift off your knees and take your place back on his lap. 

“I’ll let you have it in your mouth next time.” He promised, placing a kiss to your lips in an apology, guiding you to sink your knees into the cushions beside him. 

You smiled, breath catching in your chest at the thought of ‘next time’ because it meant that Joel wanted to have you the same way you did him. Truthfully, there was no turning back, and you and Joel were both aware of the implications, too far gone in each other to think you’d be walking away from each other after this. 

His hands looped securely around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours as your noses brushed against one another. 

“Take it nice and slow, alright?” He cautioned sweetly. 

“Y-yeah.” You nodded, kissing him once more before you pulled away and took a deep breath.

You brought your fingertips to your mouth, swiping them over your tongue, reaching down and curling your hand around him. You stroked him slowly, mixing together your spit and his precum, which you knew would help the slide. He stilled his hips, keeping from rutting up into your hand, letting you do what you needed to first. 

Bracing one hand on his shoulder, you guided him towards your entrance, the thick head notching inside of you with a stretch as you dropped your hips, settled down on the first few inches of him. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” you whimpered, thighs trembling weakly as your eyes flew shut at the sudden fullness. 

“Slow down, babygirl…breathe for me.” He steadied you carefully, hands squeezing your waist, letting you adjust.

“Know it’s a lot, but you’re doing so good.” 

The sound of his voice was warm and guiding, reminding you there was no need at all to rush. Your head spun at the praise and guidance, using it as encouragement while you kept your eyes closed and took a deep breath in through your nose and held it for a moment. He hummed something that sounded like approval, spurring you on as you released the breath and sunk down to take more of him. 

A strangled moan left your lips, his cock already reaching parts of you that had been untouched for what felt like forever. And even as the fluttering walls of your pussy sent a tremor up his spine, he swallowed back his own grunt, gritting his teeth and setting his focus on soothing you instead of his frenzied pleasure.   

“Sweetheart, you gotta–” He spoke raspy and strained, but whatever he had left to say, never came as you blew your eyes open to meet his, all glassy and filled with ruin already.

“J-Joel,” you whined, grabbing harshly at his shoulders, trembling over nearly half of his cock, but already feeling split open and ready to fall over the crest of pleasure. “S-so full, already.” 

He nodded understandingly, clenching and unclenching his jaw, as he stroked your sides, hoping to calm the shivers that were dancing along your skin. He leaned up slightly, nudging his nose across cheek until he settled soft kisses along your earlobe. 

“It’s all yours baby, right sweetheart?” He murmured possessively, staking your claim over him before you could do it yourself–but he wanted to hear you, needed to hear that you understood he was yours now. 

Your lips parted with a breathy moan, walls clenching around him at the thought, before you swallowed thickly and nodded against him.

“Uh, huh… mine.” 

He grinned, satisfied with your response and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, feeling your hot labored breaths against him. 

“So take it.” 

He snaked one of his hands between your bodies, using your wetness and circling your clit with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back and your mouth drop open. The added stimulation helped distract you from the massive stretch, but not enough to send you over the edge just yet. 

“I know you can do it, sweetheart.” 

And somehow you did. 

You focused on the sound of his voice, shutting out all the tingling nerves and worries in the back of your mind, sinking down the rest of the way, and nestling his cock deep inside you. 

“S-shit, sweetheart,” Joel hissed, digging his fingers into your hips as his eyes dropped down to where you fully sheathed his length. “Fuckin’ grippin’ me so damn tight.” 

Your stomach clenched, walls clinging to every inch of him, carving out a new home where you’d crave him constantly. He couldn’t look away even if he tried, his eyes sailing towards your face and back down your body, reveling every gasp and shake not wanting to miss a thing. 

Your brows furrowed, finally testing the waters by rolling your hips in small circles, anticipating the first rumble of pleasure. But with him buried so deeply, relentlessly budging the spongy spot inside you, the small action stole your breath altogether, sending you toppling, slump against his chest.

“Oh my–fuck…toomuchtoomuch, Joel–”

“Hey, shh, relax for a minute,”

His hand came down to the back your head, pressing you deeper into his chest, stroking your hair and feeling the way your walls spasmed around him uncontrollably. 

Joel hugged you close, letting you bury your face into the crook of neck where you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat racing just as quick as yours, yet still somehow sounding unaffected as he continued whispering words of solace, gently caressing your body like you were all that mattered to him. 

“I–I’m sorry…” You choked between a sniffle, not knowing exactly why you were apologizing suddenly, probably because Joel had spent more time comforting you through your pleasure without giving in to his. 

You needed to make him feel good. 

He grunted disapprovingly, kissing the crown of your head. “Baby, you don’t have to apologiz–” 

You attempted to lift your hips off of him, going to ride him the way you wanted to, but his hands immediately stalled your movements as you protested. 

“Joel, let me, c’mon.” 

“Sweetheart,” He shook his head, tugging your face away from hiding, staring at you all dark and tender.

“This is gonna be over before you even start,” He reasoned, rubbing the back of your scalp, wanting you to ease up, “You’re sensitive and she needs it gentle.”

“But I’m supposed to be taking care of you now and I–” 

“Hey, listen to me,” His voice was stern though his eyes remained a softened contrast, “Feelin’ you around me is already you takin’ care of me. Now, let me take care of you at the same time. Deal?”

“Okay...” you whispered, nodding your head as he kissed you deeply before lifting his back off the couch, allowing him to lay you on your back. 

You spread your legs, letting him bracket his hips closer, planting one foot on the ground to give himself leverage, while the other remained bent at the knee on the couch. 

“How’s that sweetheart?”

His hands glided over your stomach, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses up between the valley of your breast until he stopped at your chin peering up at you. 

“B-better…” You breathed, palms meeting his right over your stomach and pressing down slightly, “I can feel you deeper I think.”

“Good.”

His lips quirked up into a smile, nipping your jaw before leaning up the rest of the way and pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m gonna move now. You say the word and we’ll stop whenever you want, alright?” 

You nodded, connecting your lips as you wounded your arms around his neck, readying yourself for the first thrust of his hips. His hands slid up to your ribcage, gripping you there tenderly, pulling his hips back barely a few inches, before sawing back in. 

He swallowed up your moans, dragging his hips back once more, setting a slow yet thoughtful pace, stretching out your combined pleasure, basking in other another. With every thrust, the pleasurable sensation blossomed brighter within you, your legs spreading more, hips stuttering up not wanting to let him go far from where he belonged. 

“Takin’ it so good, baby. Nice and deep.” Joel panted against your lips, pulling out almost halfway now, then back in again, eliciting a soft cry from your lips. “So perfect for me…my girl, my fuckin’ pussy, right?”

“Yes, yes, it’s yours…I-I’m yours, Joel.” You choked out, nails raking across his shoulder blades and down his back, “Please don’t stop, please, just–fuck!” 

“Keep fuckin’ you baby?” He teased, your whimpery moans agreeing with his filthy words.

“Never gonna stop, sweetheart…promise. You just keep feelin’ good on my cock.” 

Your throat tore with a high-pitched squeal, Joel pulling out nearly all the way before driving back home, repeating the movement that had your legs trembling around him. The sounds were obscene, wet slaps of your skin nearly overpowering your moans, occupying the cabin. 

“Hear how wet you are?” He gritted, sucking in deeper breaths with every squeeze of your walls, “Pussys’ leaking all over me. She’s a sweet thing, alright.” 

“S-s-so good, you’re so deep,” You gasped, “M-more.” 

“Let me,” He guided one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing impossibly deeper, making you moan loudly.

“Fuck! Right there, p-please just like that,” You held him tighter, muffled words beating against his skin.“Don’t stop, please don’t–” 

“I won’t baby,” Joel assured you, maintaining the deliberately deep pace, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips, “Let me feel you, c’mon, give my cock some lovin’, let me feel you cum.” 

You crashed hard without even thinking twice, incoherent begging jumbled with your moans as stars flashed behind your pinched eyes. His movements didn’t falter, working every inch of himself within you, encouraging you to ride the wave of pleasure for as long as possible, reeling in the way your nails scratched down his back, pulling him tighter into you until your body went lax. 

Slowing his thrusts, he placed a chaste kiss to the inside of your knee, guiding your leg back down, allowing you some reprieve. He felt your motionless hands along his back, settling for weak grazes across the fresh scratches you left behind, while your chest rose and fell deeply. 

“Too much?” He rasped out, hands going to cup your cheeks, forcing your eyes to open and blink through the haze, “Need a break, baby?” 

You let out a shaky noise that told him ‘no,’ turning your head just slightly to take a deep breath in the out, repeating the action until you could bear to open your eyes, taking in the mouthwatering sight of him.

His hair was tousled all thanks to your grabby hands, sweat beading at his hairline, trailing down the sides of his face. His lips were as swollen as yours from the endless kisses you two had shared, and his eyes burned through you with fire, so strong yet delicate, needed to get close and finally feel the heat soar through you.

“K-Keep going,” you stuttered, still catching your breath, snaking your hands through his hair, gawking up at him hungrily, “I need it–I need to feel you…”

The realization washed over him, and you swore you could feel the twitch of his cock spur inside you, a restrained jerk of his hips sending his length somewhere deeper—right where you needed him to stick.

“Needa feel me extra deep, is that right?” He whispered, one hand splaying over your stomach, groaning to himself when he felt the faint brunt of himself beneath your skin. “Need me to leave my mark, remind you who you belong to?” 

You licked your lips, nodding frantically. “Yes… I-I want that…I’m all yours, please.” 

He reached for your free hand, intertwining them as he bent to kiss your shaky knuckles. 

“I’m yours too, baby…never lettin’ you go.” He began to thrust into you again, pressing his hips flushed between your thighs, grinding deep and precise. “Promise.” 

It didn’t take long to have you breathless all over again, your legs moving on their own accord to wrap around his waist, barely allowing him any escape from your heat—just simple, heavy, deep strokes, that caused tears to prickle at your eyes, the blossoming happening all over again, and this time stronger than the last two he so graciously gave you.

“Joel–shit, I’m…” You gasped, crushing his hand tightly, your entire body beginning to quiver as you tiptoed to the edge.

“Just like that… fuck, darlin’” He hissed, throwing his head, feeling your walls close in on him impossibly tighter, like they were begging as much as you were for him.

“Just keep feelin’ me… every goddamn inch baby..” 

You did more than just let yourself feel. But be all consumed by him. Giving in to a need that would never be satiated by anyone besides Joel Miller, not that there was anyone else who could suffice, anyway.

You gave yourself to him wholeheartedly, the same way he did to you. More than just a feeling. A deep-seated care that would never leave, always within you wherever you strayed because Joel proved it to you.

His hand untangled with yours and before you could whine out of protest, one escaped thoughtlessly, the feel of fingers sliding over your mound, easily finding your clit and rubbing steady circles. Y

You were dangling over the edge, just waiting to drop.

“Oh… oh,” Your jaw went slack, voice so small, “Joel, please.” 

He cooed softly, infatuated with you beneath him, ready to give you his all. “Need to feel you fall apart one more time baby, let me see it.” 

“Cum with me,” you begged, snaking your hands through his hair pull him closer, letting him swallow and steal your every breath, “Please… I need it. Fill me up, p-please.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, body seizing up into his, walls clamping greedily, taking him right over the edge with you.

“Fuckin’ hell… oh, fuck,” Joel groaned, hips stuttering, grinding and pushing deeper, spilling everything he had to give you, as he reveled in your take.

There was a saccharine smile on your face, weak but still there. Cheeks stained with a warm flush as tears remained stuck in their path, littering the wisp of your lashes with faint drops, blinking up at him starry-eyed.

It was a sight that made his heart ache—not haunting or plaguing in a sense, but chained to knowing it could only ever be you from that point forward, and there was no need to deny himself.

Quietly, the two of you came back down together. Hands lazily roaming the skin your fingertips could reach, lips resting, not kissing, just feeling each other be there, and your hearts settling into a shared thump.

You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat,

“T-thank you.” You croaked out, reaching up with shaky hands to hold his cheek in your palm, not caring about the sweat trickling over your already sweaty skin.

He turned just slightly, chapped lips pressing into your pulse point.

“You’re… you’re thanking me for…” He tilted his back at you raising his brows with a smirk, still catching his breath, meanwhile you laughed weakly and shook your head. 

“That too, but mostly for seeing me… for showing me I matter.”

“Don’t gotta thank me for any of it,” He assured you, bringing his hand to wipe the tears off your cheeks, “and I don’t think I said it earlier…but I’m sorry everythin’.” 

“I forgave you already,” you replied with a smile, welcoming the feel of his lips on yours again as he kissed you so tenderly.  

Slowly, he helped ease your legs from around his waist, swallowing up your whines as he apologized lowly, shifting his hips back to pull out of you.

The emptiness felt foreign, almost unbearable, but the faint trickle of your shared spent seeping out was a filthy yet pleasant reminder that you two were stuck together.

He reached down, picking up his discarded t-shirt, bending down to catch a better glimpse of the mess, holding himself back from wrecking you some more.

“So you’re just going to let me ruin all your clothes at this point?” You shivered with a laugh, watching as he carefully swiped the shirt between your thighs, cleaning up the mess between your thighs.

He looked up at you, kissing the inside of your knee. “Got a whole drawer at home waitin’ for you,”

He winked, making you roll your eyes as he tossed the fabric to the floor after cleaning himself up too. 

Carefully, he maneuvered you off your back, sliding his body against the cushions to take your place, before setting you inside his side—your warm naked bodies tangling snugly to brave the winter night.

“I’ll take first watch so you can rest darlin’,” Joel whispered, running his palm along your shoulder blades while you traced random shapes over his chest.  

You rocked your head against him slightly, whispering loud enough for him to hear.

“We’re safe out here…”

It was loaded, both a promise to take and a question for him to answer.

“Yeah, we’re safe, baby.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, eyes falling shut effortlessly, the sight of you still fresh behind his lids.

“I’ve got you. Always, got you.” 

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a/n: i'm horny and ovulating, im sorry!!! thank you to my love, Effie for proof-reading and unapologetically encouraging my delulu for dilfy joel 💕💕