#september series

[wheresarizona]

Gif by the amazing @pedropascalsx

September Part 2

Firefly Hospital, 2024

summary: Twenty years ago, Joel Miller was the love of your life. On the day of the Outbreak, you’d gotten separated and never saw him again—imagine your surprise when you find out the smuggler Marlene hired to bring the immune girl to your research hospital is none other than the man you thought you’d lost forever.

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader (reader is a doctor with no physical descriptions)

rating: E (18+! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (10 years), oral sex (f receiving), face-sitting, vaginal fingering, coming untouched, dirty talk, praise kink, canon-typical violence, minor character death, slight angst, emotions, love confessions, mentions of PTSD, handwavey medical jargon (went to google medical school for this one), Ellie being a cockblock, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU finale speculation, TLOU tv spoilers, TLOU game spoilers)

word count: 16.6k+

a/n: This goes over reader and Joel’s reunion after twenty years of being apart. It is dramatic and a fun ride. I’m playing fast and loose with game canon to speculate how the show finale will go, and this chapter follows a bit of how it goes in the game, with me taking some liberties. Thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul for betaing and being by my side.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Part 1 - Part 3 - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

20 Years After the Outbreak

He can’t fucking believe it.

He’s at a loss.

Months Joel spent with this little girl, bringing her across the country, keeping her safe, protecting her with his life—fucking Tess lost hers getting Ellie to the Fireflies, and they’re just going to kill her in order to reverse-engineer a vaccine? She was a lamb to the slaughter. He’d inadvertently brought her to her death.

Anger is threading in his belly, pissed off over everything he went through, feeling like it was all for nothing, not if she’s going to die.

They’re in a hospital that’s being used by the Fireflies to try and find a cure, Ellie taken from him, Joel kneeling on a hospital room floor after an armed guard had hit him, listening to Marlene talk about how this was harder for her due to her history with the girl.

Joel rolls his eyes because if she actually gave a shit about Ellie, she wouldn’t let this happen.

There has to be another way.

He has to find Ellie.

He almost lost her getting here, and he isn’t going to just step back and let her die, the world be damned, he can’t lose another person he cares about, not if he can help it. He’ll do everything in his power to find her and get her the fuck out of here—she’s too important to him.

Marlene’s in front of him, the guard at her side.

“This isn’t about me, her, or you,” she tells him. “There is no other choice here—my hands are tied.”

He scoffs, moving to sit on his ass and resting his arms on his knees, glaring at her. “Yeah,” he sneers, “you keep tellin’ yourself that bullshit if it helps you sleep at night.”

She sighs, shaking her head.

“March him out of here,” she orders the guard. “He tries anything. Shoot him. Don’t ruin this, Joel.” She turns on her heel, opens the room door, and leaves, Joel’s mind racing with what he can do. He’s sized up the other man, knowing he can take him, the only disadvantage being that Joel didn’t have any weapons, and he did.

“Get up,” the Firefly says.

Joel doesn’t bother moving, working out in his brain his next steps. He needs to get his hands on a gun, thankful they hadn’t handcuffed him, which would give him the opportunity to disarm the guard.

Get a weapon, find Ellie

His mind chants.

It was evident that she wasn't safe as long as these people were alive, so he’d take out anyone who got in his way.

“I said get up.” The other man raises his handgun, pointing it at Joel.

He sighs, groaning as he rises, rage pulsing in his veins, his jaw clenching, hands in tight fists wanting to hit this bastard.

Marlene left the door open, the Firefly’s back to it, his attention focused on Joel, not realizing someone had slipped inside quietly behind him. Joel watches as the smaller person claps a hand over the man’s mouth, their other hand slicing open his throat with what he thought might be a scalpel. The guard gurgles as he falls forward, the gun clattering to the ground, grabbing at his neck to try and stop the bleeding, to no avail, falling to the floor in a growing pool of blood.

Joel’s confused, his eyes a little wider, taking in his unexpected savior.

From the scrubs she’s wearing and the scalpel, he thinks she’s some kind of doctor. Her hair is hidden under a surgical cap, her face obscured with a mask covering half of it as if she’d left in the middle of an operation.

She’s bending down and picking up the gun, tossing it to him when she straightens, Joel catching it easily.

“Who are you?” he asks.

There’s something familiar about her eyes, but he can’t place who she is, not sure who the fuck he knew who’d be all the way out here and willing to risk their life for him, his brain coming up with no one.

For one hopeful second, even though he knows it’s fucking impossible, he thinks it’s Tess until the woman speaks, her muffled voice dashing his hopes, “No time to chat,” she says. “We have to get Ellie—I couldn’t do it alone.”

His eyebrows are in his hairline, all of the confusion and disappointment being replaced with hope once more.

“You know where she is?” he asks.

“Yes,” she answers, nodding. “Follow me. Your stuff is down this hall.” She points behind her. She’d discarded the scalpel, pulling a handgun from the back of her pants. “Come on. We don’t have much time.”

Leaving without another word, Joel is hot on her heels. Questions could wait until Ellie was safe, keeping his guard up and on alert, fingers itching to kill these assholes. Down the hallway, she shows him where his things are on a counter, him quickly putting on his backpack, their weapons drawn as they start moving, him covering her back.

“We’re turning up here,” she whispers. “Two guards—need to get to the stairwell.”

“Copy that.”

Eerie calmness washes over him, his brain working to figure out their next moves. She stops at the corner, glancing around it. Her head turns toward him, nodding, then she steps out, two shots ringing out. Joel sees the Fireflies crumpling to the ground as he follows.

“Clear,” she says, stuffing her gun into her pants as she goes to one of the bodies to take their semi-automatic rifle. Joel does the same, impressed with the clean headshots.

“Who are you?” he asks again, taking up point behind her again with the bigger gun.

“We’ll worry about that later, Joel,” she answers, already on the move.

“How’d you know my name?”

“Ellie,” she replies. “But I’d never forget Joel Miller.”

Does she know him? Does he know her? His eyes had trailed over her body for any kind of clue, but he came up empty.

“What’s your name?”

“That’s not important,” she says. They’re approaching the stairwell. “Ellie’s on the top floor, far end. The place will be littered with guards. They won’t hesitate to kill you, so show no mercy.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” he grits out. “Would burn this fuckin’ place to the ground if I could.”

“I’ll bring the gasoline. You light the match. Deal?”

Joel huffs out an amused breath. He may not have any idea who this woman is who’s helping him, but she’s competent, knows what needs to be done, and is funny.

He kinda likes her, whoever she is.

They don’t speak as they hurry up the stairs, and once they’ve exited, she jams a chair into the door to lock it.

She was right about the place being littered with Fireflies.

They move as a unit, in sync, somehow knowing what the other would do without speaking, taking out anyone who got in their way swiftly and efficiently. Rage fueled him, and she led him, knowing where to take cover, tossing each other more ammunition divested from those they’d gunned down. The guards had no idea what hit them, hearing screams and frantically calling for reinforcements over their radios, wondering out loud who was killing them.

It’s a bloodbath, a fucking massacre. Joel and this woman are ruthless in their endeavor to get to Ellie.

Blood is spattered on their clothes and skin, sweat clinging to their bodies, breathing hard when they enter a door and see where the operating room is. Joel barricades the door they’d come through with medical equipment to buy them time, his knees aching and back sore, heart racing a mile a minute.

“There will be a nurse and a doctor,” she whispers. “I should’ve been in there, too.”

He grunts in response, taking off his backpack to strap the rifle to it, putting it back on, and grabbing the handgun from his waist.

He’s hoping and praying they’ll make it in time, not sure what he’ll do if they don’t, the trek to the room feeling like it takes forever.

She pushes through the door first, him stepping in after her training his gun on the surgeon about to operate.

“Get away from her!” Joel angrily demands, his teeth bared, ready to shoot.

“What are you doing here?” the surgeon asks, moving to stand between them and Ellie, holding up a scalpel in defense. “You brought him here?” The question was directed at the mystery woman.

“Yes,” she answers, her gun locked on him. “We’re not letting you kill her.”

“She’s our future! You can’t take her! This is the only way to save lives!”

“It’s not!” she shouts, Joel hearing her anger.

“You’ll pay for this—don’t come any closer,” the surgeon threatens, swinging the scalpel around.

There’s no hesitation when she pulls the trigger, the man falling to the ground as the nurse screams, Joel seeing her reaching on a surgical tray for something sharp, his shot stopping her.

The room is cleared, his focus moving to Ellie.

“Sweet Jesus,” he murmurs, his gun going back into his waistband, not wasting another second to get to the girl, her in a surgical gown and oxygen mask, hooked up to an IV, her eyes closed.

“Come on, baby girl,” he says, carefully removing the mask. The woman had shouldered her rifle, moving to the other side of the table to carefully take care of the IV and bandage Ellie’s hand. “I gotcha,” his voice soft as he gently picks her up, his attention moving to the woman. “How do we get outta here?”

He watches as she tears off the cap and, finally, the face mask.

Stumbling back, he feels like he’s been shot, his eyes going wide, all of the oxygen leaving his lungs and making it hard to breathe, blood pounding in his ears.

It can’t be.

Since the night of the outbreak, Joel has been plagued with nightmares, reliving the horrors over and over again, self-medicating with pills and home-brewed booze to dreamlessly sleep. There were nights when he’d dream of the woman he once loved—her eyes, her smile, usually the two of them in bed with soft light pouring in from the window, and if his brain was being particularly cruel, he’d be on top of her, watching as she came around him—something he once loved to see, and was now painful, waking up harder than a rock, and too fucking sad to do anything about it except drink until he passed out. A vicious cycle.

Staring at the woman in front of him, it’s the same face from his dreams.

He’d kissed those lips, held those cheeks, spent hours studying every detail, and thought he’d never see it again—only in memory, another person lost to him.

It feels like he’s seeing a ghost, unable to believe that this is real, that she’s standing there, thinking maybe he might be dead, and he’s having a nice hallucination before his soul leaves this earth.

He croaks out your name, it feeling rusty on his tongue.

She smiles softly, and he sucks in a breath because it is you, and you’re alive, tears beginning to burn in his eyes.

“Hi, babe,” you greet with a wiggle of your fingers in a wave.

His heart constricts, his lips slowly tipping up, replying without a second thought.

“Hi, baby.”

Hours Earlier

“She doesn’t have to die!” you shout.

For months, Marlene has been talking about a girl immune to the infection and that she hired a smuggler to deliver her to your research hospital where you worked, but after most of Marlene’s crew didn’t make the trip here, you all assumed the girl hadn’t survived.

At least you had until she’d been found unconscious nearby, the old bite mark that’d healed and scarred with no sign of infection prominent on her arm, identifying her as Ellie Williams.

Tests were done to confirm her immunity, and now you’re discussing what’s to be done with the lead surgeon at this facility and Marlene, the doctor so adamant about finding a cure he isn’t taking into account that Ellie is a child and that there are other options than doing a procedure that will outright kill her.

“We have to extract the fungus,” he replies.

“Yes, and we can biopsy,” you argue.

“Can that be done?” Marlene asks.

He’s sitting behind his desk, you and Marlene standing in front of it. She’s called you in as a second opinion because you’re second in line behind the surgeon here at the hospital.

You and he speak at the same time.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Her attention moves to him.

“Lay it out for me why a biopsy wouldn’t work.” Her arms are crossed over her chest, looking tired.

“The fungus is intertwined with the brain, and removing it would destroy the host.”

“She’s a child, not some science experiment. Why does it all have to be removed?”

He sighs.

“It’s our best chance at making the vaccine—extract the entire specimen, and we’ll save millions of lives.”

“At the cost of an innocent kid?” Marlene asks with a raised eyebrow.

He leans forward on the desk, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Do you think I’m unaware of the situation?” he asks. “How many Fireflies have died for less? How many sacrifices have been made for nothing when this one will actually have results?”

She looks at you.

“Rebuttal?”

“In order to make a vaccine, we only need some of the mutated infection. It’s possible to biopsy some of it to get what we need—extracting the entire specimen is overkill and murder.”

Marlene faces him again.

“I want to agree with her,” she says, pointing her thumb at you. “If she can do it without killing Ellie, then I’ll have her take over.”

His eyes narrow.

“She’s not even a real doctor.” “My degree would say otherwise,” you snidely reply.

He met your gaze.

“You didn’t complete your residency—you were an intern when the outbreak happened. I was a practicing physician with years under my belt, and you think you know our best course of action for this situation? I have the experience. I have been searching for a cure for years while you were off being a medic.” The disdain is evident in his tone. “You may have risen in the ranks here over the last five years, but I am the head of this hospital.” He looks at Marlene. “I’ve been working for your cause practically since its inception. Our goal is to make a vaccine. You’ve trusted me here for years to do our work, and we’ve been fighting for this moment—this is our chance to justify all of the sacrifices and horrific things we’ve been through, and we can’t let it all go to waste because our cure happens to reside in a fourteen-year-old girl—you have to trust me on this, a biopsy is not enough, we need it all to ensure the vaccine is made.”

“That’s horse shit!” you exclaimed, throwing up your hands.

Marlene holds her hand up to you, her attention on the surgeon.

“What if this was your daughter?” she asks, well aware that he has one, who’s also a Firefly.

“I wouldn’t hesitate,” he answers. “One life for millions of others? I think it’s worth the sacrifice.”

She nods.

“Do it.”

“Marlene, I can—” you start to protest.

She turns to you, cutting you off, “We have to do whatever it takes to be successful—if you don’t agree, you can leave. It’s being done with or without you, but you're not welcome back once you step outside those doors.”

Your mouth falls open, anger swirling in your gut.

This is murder. They’re going to kill this girl, and what if it doesn’t pan out to anything? This isn’t sitting right with you, not when there are other options. You’ve been with the Fireflies for years, a way to survive and try to do some good, but seeing what they’re willing to do for a cure has made you disillusioned with the group—the experimentations, infecting people to try out vaccines that failed—and now there’s a real shot at getting somewhere, and they want to kill the person who’s giving it to them.

Can you get her out?

Can you save her?

That smuggler she came with managed to get her across the country in relatively good shape, and you have to assume he fought and killed to keep her safe.

Would he help you?

Two against dozens of armed guards sounds like a suicide mission, but what will the Fireflies resort to if this all fails?

As the surgeon said, you spent years as a medic, which meant you were traveling, protecting yourself, gaining your skills as a doctor and in self-defense, not shy about guns, blood, or carnage.

If they’re going to do whatever it takes, then you will too, in order to save this girl.

“Am I understood?” Marlene asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply.

“Good.” She glances back at the man. “I’m gonna go tell Joel.”

The name has a jolt running through you, memories of a man from your past coming to the forefront of your brain—chocolate-colored eyes, brown waves of hair, a strong nose, broad shoulders—Joel Miller was a hard one to lose, and you never recovered, would never recover. He was the love of your life, and you were planning on spending the rest of your days with him and his daughter up until the world ended, and you got separated, hoping they were out there somewhere as safe as they could be in these times. You squash down the sliver of hope, knowing Marlene isn’t talking about your Joel.

“Why?” he asks, making you mad that he’s questioning her decency.

“He traveled with her for months. He has the right to know. Good luck with your surgery.” With that, she left, leaving the two of you.

“I know you don’t agree with me,” he starts, “but today will go down in history as the day we saved the world.”

Your hands clench at your sides, grinding your teeth.

“Right…”

“Get her prepped for the operation. We’ll start in two hours.”

“How many will you need on your service?”

He thinks it over for a second.

“You can scrub in—I won’t need your help. One nurse will do. It’s a pretty straightforward procedure.”

“As you wish, Doctor,” you say through your teeth. “I’ll get the operating room put together.”

With the discussion over, you leave the room, trying to figure out what you’ll do as you walk to the surgical floor, mindlessly changing into scrubs, and a surgical cap, putting on your medical mask last. In the back of your locker, you take the handgun, stuffing it into the waistband of your pants, thankful it was normal to walk around armed.

Before you go to the girl’s room, you stop at the nurse's station, having the few there decide who will help during the surgery.

You’re not going to bother putting the operating room together; that will give you extra time.

Frankly, you shouldn’t even bother seeing the girl, but something inside you wants to meet her, so you go, her sitting up in a hospital bed, legs criss crossed under her, reading some old magazine one of the nurse’s probably brought her.

Knocking on her door, you ask, “Anything good in there?”

She looks over the pages at you.

“Just two hundred and fifty-four hot new fashion, beauty, and body secrets. People really read this shit?”

Laughing, you answer, “Yes, especially girls your age.”

She makes a face that has you snorting, her setting it down.

“It’s crazy how much people cared about how they looked.”

Walking towards her, you smile, nodding your head.

“I know,” you reply. “It would take me a minimum of thirty minutes to get ready before leaving the house.”

Shock is on her face.

“Why did it take so fucking long?”

“Shower, hair, makeup, finding the perfect outfit—if I had a date, it took me an hour because I wanted to look as cute as possible.”

Sadness has your chest going tight, remembering your first date with Joel and how you stressed over what dress to wear, mentally high-fiving yourself when his eyes lit up at seeing you. He tried to be a gentleman, telling you he was old-fashioned and didn’t do sex on the first date, his mind changing by the end of the night when you’d both ended up naked on your living room couch.

“An hour?!” she exclaims, taking you from your reverie. “Why?”

“Well, when two people like each other very much—”

“Ew,” she interrupts. “Yuck, I don’t want to know. Anyways, I’m assuming you’re a doctor?”

Making a show of looking down at your body, you ask, “What gave me away?” You met her eyes again.

“Honestly, you’re not like any doctor I’ve met before—earlier with the tests, they were so…”

“Cold?” you finish for her. “Not very friendly?”

“Exactly.”

You sigh, moving to sit on the edge of her bed.

“There’s no bedside manner anymore,” you say. “It’s getting you fixed up and on your way—at least that’s how it is with newer doctors, the ones who’ve learned over time and didn’t actually go to school before the world went to shit. But I want to make sure you’re comfortable, and—” you look left and right like you’re making sure no one is around before looking at her again“ —It’s nice having someone new to talk to. People here are boring.”

She laughs.

“I can tell.”

It’s the right decision to save this girl. You know, in your gut, that it’s what you need to do.

Her spunkiness reminds you of Sarah, who also wouldn’t have been into two hundred and fifty-four hot new fashion, beauty, and body secrets. You’d bonded with Joel’s daughter over music, her loving your CD collection and always letting her choose what you listened to in the car, her tastes varying, which had a lot to do with her dad loving tunes from the seventies and eighties. She was a firecracker, always keeping her dad on his toes, and here was Ellie keeping you on yours.

“Let’s talk business, squirt,” you say.

Her face scrunches up, “Squirt?”

“Yeah, similar to ‘kiddo,’” you answer.

“You fucking sound like Joel—where is he, by the way? I woke up, and he wasn’t with me. People have been weird and will only say he’s okay.”

The worry is evident on her face, even though she’s trying to hide it.

“I haven’t personally seen him,” you reply. “He is okay, though. Marlene was actually heading to let him know how you’re doing.” And that they’re planning to kill you, you didn’t say out loud.

“That’s good. Don’t need him worrying.”

“I’m impressed he got you all the way here. What’s he like?”

You’re curious about the man.

“Tall, wide—” she held out her hands “—and a grumpy asshole.” Definitely not your Joel, then. “But he’s got his nice moments.” She gives you a conspiratorial look that makes you smile. “Don’t tell him I said this, but I know deep down he’s a fucking softy.”

“You’re secret’s safe with me,” you laugh.

Her face goes somber, her fingers fidgeting with the blanket under her.

“So, what’s gonna happen to me, Doc?”

Your stomach must drop all the way to the ground floor.

You couldn’t lie to her, but you didn’t want to scare her.

“They want to extract the infection from your brain to make a vaccine,” you answer truthfully.

“Who’s they?”

“Marlene and the head of this facility.”

“Oh.” She frowns. “You won’t be there?”

“I was asked to scrub in, but I won’t be operating.”

“Surgery, then?”

“Surgery.” You nod.

“Will it hurt?”

Smiling reassuringly, you answer, “Won’t feel a thing. You’ll be knocked out cold.”

“That’s good. Can I talk to Joel beforehand? I just want to thank him for everything.”

You frown, “That won’t be possible. I’ll happily relay a message to him for you.”

She looks downtrodden, eyes darting away from you.

“That works. Um, if I don’t make it, can you tell him I said thank you? For getting me here safe and not abandoning me? That I’m sorry for being such a fucking pain in his ass.”

You reach to touch her leg comfortingly.

“I’ll let him know,” you reply softly. “You know, I once knew a Joel before everything.” You wave your hand in explanation, her meeting your gaze to nod. “I was going to marry him,” you continue. “He hadn’t asked yet, but I knew he was the one. You never forget a dreamboat like Joel Miller,” you sigh wistfully.

Her eyes go round.

“Joel Miller?” she asks. “Your Joel’s last name was Miller?”

“It was.” You nod. “I loved him and his daughter Sarah.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You’re taken aback, “I’m sorry..?”

“Sorry, sorry.” She puts up her hands in a placating gesture. “It’s just my grumpy Joel’s last name is Miller, and he had a daughter named Sarah.”

Your heart clenches, and your throat gets tight, asking thickly, “Had?”

Clear sadness comes over her face.

“I don’t know all the details, but she didn’t make it. Early on. Really fucked him up.”

Covering your mouth, you need a second, emotions warring inside you—hope that it is your Joel and unimaginable pain about Sarah, not wanting her to be gone, and thinking of all the years he would’ve been alone, wondering if he even had Tommy. It’s a struggle to keep the tears at bay.

“Your Joel Miller, does he happen to be from Texas?” you finally ask.

“Yeah,” she answers, nodding. “Sounds funny, too. His brother Tommy and him are from, I think, Houston, no, fuck, starts with an ‘A.’”

“Austin,” you breathe, eyes wide as saucers.

“Yeah!” she exclaims. “Holy shit, is my Joel your Joel?”

She’s excited by the prospect, and you’re doing everything not to cry. You need to go to him. You both need to save this girl, and once that’s done, you can have the long overdue reunion. He won’t want her to die, especially not after losing Sarah. It’s cruel that he’s been put in this spot, your blood boiling, knowing without a doubt that if he brought her here alone, the two of you could get her out, or at least you’d both die trying, and you’re willing, especially to see Joel one last time.

“I think he might be,” you reply.

“You gotta go talk to him!”

“I do.” You nod. “Do you trust me?”

She looks confused.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going to be safe—you’re not going to die. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Okay..?”

“Good. You’re not going to see me again until after you wake up, so don’t panic, squirt. I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to go see him,” you say as you stand up.

She picks up the magazine.

“Do you need kissing tips? It says here that with these techniques, you’ll rock his world.”

You snort.

“Aren’t you a goddamn comedian—you must’ve amused the hell out of Joel.”

She looks proud as she smiles.

“I made him laugh—multiple times.”

“Way to go, kiddo. Don’t tell anyone where I’m going, and I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sounds good, Doc.”

It was your goal not to arouse any suspicions, walking briskly towards the floor you knew Joel was on, stopping to snag a scalpel, and taking the back way that was a little longer but would have you bypassing a lot of the guards since you had some time to work with, the procedure having to be delayed with nothing being ready.

Hiding in the shadows of the next room, you gasp when you hear Joel calling Marlene on her bullshit, your heart picking up in speed at the familiar Texas drawl and rasp, a stray tear falling down your cheek.

He’s here.

He’s really here and alive.

The focus needs to be on saving Ellie, so you know you can’t trip him up by revealing who you are, thankful you’d changed into your operating clothes.

When his door opens, and you hear Marlene’s footsteps heading away from you, you’re moving, scalpel held tight in your hand, knowing you need to be as quiet as possible so as not to alert the other two guards on this floor.

You don’t even look at Joel when you enter the room, focusing on your task, and executing it seamlessly, only chancing a glance once you’ve tossed him the gun.

He’s older and greyer, years of surviving making his already broad shoulders even broader, his face hardened over time, having some idea of the hell he’s been through, and still, just as he was at thirty-six, at fifty-six, he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Your fingers want to smooth the furrow between his eyes, kiss those plush lips of his, feel his arms engulf you, hold you tight, and never let you go.

Twenty years and you’re still madly in love with Joel Miller—one look, and you’re a fucking goner.

You can’t get your hopes up, not knowing anything about his current situation, assuming he’s probably moved on.

Who wouldn’t want him?

There’s no way he’s been single all these years. You’ve had your own flings, nothing long-lasting or very memorable.

Who could compare to Joel?

He’s the blueprint of what you want in a man, and no one could or would ever measure up.

Was your life lonely?

A little, but why tie yourself to someone you’d never be able to love because your heart belonged to another?

“Who are you?” he asks.

“No time to chat,” you reply. “We have to get Ellie—I couldn’t do it alone.” You ignore the excited flutters in your tummy at hearing his voice.

He asks another question, and you answer, leading him from the room, weapons raised, ready to face whatever comes your way, comforted with Joel at your back.

When you reach the top floor, you quickly understand how he managed to get Ellie here in one piece—the man was a killing machine—brutal, merciless, breathtaking.

The way he fought was a thing of beauty, and if you hadn’t had to focus on staying alive, you’d have loved to watch him—seeing his strength, his competence, not wasting a single shot.

Somehow, it made him more attractive, which you didn’t think was possible.

The two of you worked together so well as a pair, covering each other, moving as one to mow down anyone who crossed your path, making it to the operating room just as they were about to begin.

You feel no remorse for killing the surgeon. Frankly, you haven’t felt bad about killing another human in years because there’s no room for feeling guilty when you’re trying to survive—you compartmentalize, knowing that it’s either them or you; if you hesitate for even a fraction of a second, you’re dead, so you’ve got to pull the trigger first, and you will.

You and Joel are on the same page about getting Ellie out of there as soon as possible. You quickly take care of her IV and make sure her hand is bandaged, smiling softly when you see Joel tenderly lift the girl into his arms, murmuring quietly to her, seeing just how much he cares.

There’s no doubt in your mind he would’ve attempted this rescue alone, and the thing is, you’re pretty sure he would’ve succeeded from sheer will alone.

His eyes meet yours, seeing his trust in you, him relying on you now to get you all out.

“How do we get outta here?” he asks.

There’s no point in hiding anymore, honestly surprised your cap and mask even stayed on.

You’re not sure what his reaction will be, hoping for happiness.

When he gets a good look at you, he stumbles back in shock, the blood leaving his face, watching his eyes go wide, mouth agape, seeing the shock, the disbelief, the hope, many emotions coming over his features as he processes what’s going on.

His voice cracks as he breathes your name, and you gently smile, knowing this is probably a lot for him, raising your hand and wiggling your fingers in a wave.

“Hi, babe,” you say.

It’s noticeable on his face the realization that it really is you, and you’re here, his eyes getting misty, lips turning up, the blood in your veins thrumming when he answers like he had a thousand times before without missing a beat, “Hi, baby.”

“You’re alive,” Joel says in wonder, his eyes mapping out your face, seeing lines from aging but still just as beautiful as the first time he saw you all those years ago.

“I am,” you reply, nodding. You point at him. “You are, too. Imagine my surprise when Ellie started telling me about this grumpy asshole named Joel Miller, who brought her here—couldn’t believe it was my Joel Miller until we compared notes. Sorry to spring this on you; I know it’s a shock.”

He huffs out a breath.

“That’s a fuckin’ understatement.”

You giggle.

Is this real? Is he dreaming?

You’re just as lively as he remembers, your smile like a breath of fresh air in this godforsaken world.

There’s a sensation in his stomach, it not feeling right, hitting him a second later that the fluttering is fucking butterflies, as if he was a goddamn teenager again, talking to his crush.

Twenty fucking years, and he still has it bad.

“God, I missed you,” you say.

“I missed you, too.”

“We’ll catch up after we get the fuck out of here. We’re going out that door.” You point at the opposite wall from where you came in. “Pit stop to grab her things that are on the way. Then the elevator to the basement garage—we can get a truck. There’s multiple.”

“I need you to do somethin’ first,” he says.

Your head cocks to the side.

“What do you need?”

“Come ‘ere, my hands are full. I need you to pinch me.”

Your eyebrows drew together.

“You need me to pinch you…?” you ask slowly.

“Yeah,” he answers, nodding. “Gotta make sure I’m not dreamin’—need to know you’re really here with me.”

Your eyes soften, quickly moving around the table until you’re at his side, smiling at him as you pinch his arm, leaning in to kiss his cheek, his skin buzzing where you touch, wanting more of it.

“There,” you say, looking at him through your lashes, and it has him gulping. “Believe I’m here, now?”

“I missed you so fuckin’ much, baby,” his words come out rough, feeling the tears in his eyes.

“I missed you, too, Joel,” you reply, rubbing his arm, goosebumps erupting on his skin. “Let’s get out of here—I wanna catch up.”

He nods, “Lead the way.”

He watches you getting the rifle into your hands, him following you out of the room, stopping to grab Ellie’s backpack that was left on a hospital bed, and you putting it on.

It’s a fucking maze to find the elevator, you knowing exactly where to go, guards showing up halfway to it, commotion erupting as you told him where to go, covering him and Ellie as the three of you moved quickly down the corridors, gunshots ringing out.

You’re both panting by the time the elevator doors close, you taking point in front of him with your gun at the ready.

Joel can’t get over you being here with him.

There’s so much about you that hasn’t changed since all those years ago, somehow keeping your radiance, your life, not losing yourself to the darkness, but underneath all of that, he’s seen how you’ve adapted—killing with zero hesitation, not afraid to do what it takes to survive, a ruthlessness to you that only develops after going through some horrible shit. Guilt makes his chest squeeze, hating that you’ve been out here on your own, surviving. He at least has Tommy, had Tess, and with how easily you’re leaving with him, he doesn’t think you have anyone, and it breaks his heart.

“Do we need to worry about runnin’ into anybody else down there?” he asks.

You glance at him over your shoulder, “They would’ve called everyone to the top floor, and I’m pretty sure we took out at least ninety percent of their muscle. I can’t imagine anyone being stupid enough to try and stop us.”

He nods.

“Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome. I’d honestly planned on trying to get her out before I knew it was you who’d brought her. I’m thankful you were here—you’re a fucking tank. Probably wouldn’t have even needed me.”

He chuckles, his chest puffing out a little in pride.

“If I’d had to do it alone, I’d be in a helluva lot more pain, so thank you.”

“Knees?”

He nods. “And my fuckin’ back—I’ve gotten old.”

“But you still look really fucking good,” you reply with a wink, and it makes his throat go dry, his heart hammering that you’re flirting with him, that you’re still interested in him after all this time, even though he’s gone grey, and rougher around the edges. You didn’t even shy away from what he’d do to keep himself and those he cares about safe; pretty sure you even liked it.

It’s been so long, he wonders if you moved on and if he even has a chance with you.

He’s had time to mourn Tess, thankful for the years he got with her, keeping him alive and not letting him self-destruct in his grief, but even though they cared about each other to a certain extent, they’d been using one another—he was the muscle, she was the brains, and he couldn’t give her what she wanted; offer feelings that weren’t hers to have, so what they had wasn’t all that romantic, there wasn’t time for any of that shit, and Tess didn’t much care for it, anyway.

There’s history with Joel and you, memories of a time when you’d been happy together, and being here with you is making him remember all of the good times—the feelings he had for you that he’d buried deep inside after he thought you were gone, coming alive inside him, consuming him, wanting to touch you, feel your soft skin under him, and kiss you—fuck, he hasn’t kissed in so long, Tess never being very affectionate, sex always quick and a means to scratch an itch.

He clearly remembers what sex was like with you—it haunts his dreams, the time you’d spend in bed, reliving the passion, the tenderness, the love, something deep down he’s craved since the last time he was with you.

The elevator opens before he can speak, the gun raised in your hands as you exit, Joel at your back, both of you stopping in your tracks once you’re out, finding Marlene standing there with her handgun pointed towards you both.

“What’s your plan?” she asks. “You save her today, but what about tomorrow? There’s a lot of shit out there. How long before she’s killed by a pack of clickers? If she even makes it that long without being murdered first. Face it, you can’t save her.”

“We’ll sure as fuck try,” he grits out. “Stop pretendin’ like you care about her. You were happy to stand aside and let her die.”

“For the greater good, to save lives.”

“You can shove the greater good up your ass, Marlene.”

She sighs.

“You can still do the right thing.” Her attention moves to you. “Do the biopsy like you wanted. All I care about is finding the cure. I’ll put you in charge of the facility. You can lead in the vaccine’s development.”

You scoff.

“You know as well as I do,” you reply, “that I’ll be dead if I step one foot back inside there. You’re lying, Marlene. You and the rest of the Fireflies will want us killed for what happened today.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Marlene asks.

“Yours!” you exclaim. “For not listening to me. This is all your fault.”

A gun goes off, and Marlene stumbles, falling to her knees, her gun skittering across the ground when she loses her grip on it.

She’s holding her stomach, a blood stain expanding under her hands.

“Don’t,” she chokes out, looking at you with her face contorted in pain. “Don’t kill me. Let me go. Please.”

You and he both know what needs to be done.

“She ain’t safe with you alive,” he says, her attention moving to him.

“Please,” she pleads.

Another shot is fired, and Marlene’s lifeless body crumples to the ground.

“Come on,” you tell him, heading towards a nearby pickup, shouldering your rifle as you get the door open for him to set Ellie in the backseat, you disappearing for a minute and coming back to put gasoline canisters in the bed, along with a bag, telling him it had emergency rations and a first aid kit.

“Where will we go?” you ask when you get in the passenger seat, Joel already ready to drive.

“Wyoming,” he answers. “Tommy.”

Relief washes over your face.

“I’m happy to hear he’s alive,” you say softly.

A stone is in his stomach that he’ll have to tell you about Sarah.

“Yeah, that asshole’s still alive and kickin’,” he replies. “His wife scares the fuck outta me.”

“Wow, can’t believe someone married him.”

He chuckles.

“Me either—do you know how to get outta here?”

The truck’s started, Joel already driving.

“Yes!” you reply, directing him.

There’s not much talking as you make your way out of the city, both too nervous and expecting the worst. It feels like he can finally breathe once you’re on the highway heading toward Tommy’s.

Ellie’s still passed out, the pickup rumbling down the road.

“How long will she sleep for?” he asks, glancing at you.

“Oh, an hour or two,” you answer.

He nods. “We gotta do anythin’ for her?”

“Nope. Just have to wait for the drugs to wear off—she was given a cocktail that could knock out a horse.”

He frowns, nodding once.

“It’s sweet,” you reply, him seeing you with a soft smile on your lips.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“How much you care about her.”

His hands squeeze the steering wheel, the leather creaking.

“She’s a pain in the ass,” he grumbles.

That makes you laugh, and God, he’s missed that sound.

“Ellie apologizes, and I quote, ‘for being such a fucking pain in his ass,’” you giggle. “She also wanted to thank you for keeping her safe and not abandoning her.

His heart clenches up.

“She said those things?”

Your lips tip down, frowning.

“Yeah. Wanted me to tell you in case she didn’t make it.”

“Why’d you wanna save her?”

“It was the right thing to do. I fought for a way that she’d survive the operation, and I was outvoted—couldn’t let them murder her.”

After losing Sarah and thinking he lost you, too, Joel had erected walls in his mind to keep the debilitating grief he felt at bay, shoving down his emotions and not letting himself feel—couldn’t let himself feel, not if he wanted to live, which was already a struggle. This made him cold, emotionless, a husk of a man, having to keep finding something to fight for to keep going, only allowing his rage to come out in order to kill and do what was necessary to survive without a single care.

Tess would poke at the walls without meaning to, getting glimpses of his tenderness that she’d bat away and make him close back up.

Ellie made it her goal to break them down, him imagining her with a sledgehammer, laying waste to the concrete and steel, making him care, making him feel until she’d made a hole big enough to crawl inside and worm her way into his heart, the kid one of the most important people in his life now.

And then there’s you, coming out of nowhere and making the walls left standing crumble to dust simply by being here—the memories, the history, the love, igniting him, making him remember what it was like to feel again, focusing on the strongest emotion that has him feeling warmth deep down to his bones, contentedness, pure happiness, the feeling so strong he’s almost breathless.

You’re alive and with him, Ellie’s safe and sound, and he’s happy, actually happy, for the first time since everything went to hell.

And you care about Ellie, which just makes him love you even more, those butterflies in his stomach going wild.

“Thank you again for all you did,” he says.

“It’s no big deal.”

“You coulda died.”

“Would’ve been worth it.” You shrug.

He smiles.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

“Same. I have missed you every day since the last time I saw you.” Reaching your hand over, you touch his thigh, sadness on your face as you look at him. “Joel, I’m sorry about Sarah,” you say gently.

He sucks in a breath, avoiding your gaze.

“Yeah,” his voice is thick, his throat so tight it’s hard to speak, but you need to know what happened, Joel knowing how much you’d loved her, treating her as if she were your own. “It, uh, was my birthday when everything went down.”

Your hand goes to your mouth, gasping, “Joel, no.”

“Yeah.” He swallows hard. “Worst fuckin’ day of my life.” Tears were in his eyes. “Held her in my arms as she died—fuckin’ military shot her,” he spits out. “Tryin’ to contain everything they just started murderin’, took my baby girl from me,” he chokes on the words, a tear slipping down his face. “Lost her and thought I lost you, too, found your house in flames.” He wipes at the wetness in his eyes. “Fuckin’ hate remeberin’ that night—my entire world was taken from me.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whisper, moving across the bench seat to be next to him, Joel welcoming the hug you give him, wrapping your arm around his belly, and resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that, and I’m just so fucking sad about Sarah,” you sniffle.

He reaches to press a hand against the back of your head.

“I know, baby,” he replies.

“Was Tommy with you?”

“Yeah. He kept me alive.”

“What’d you do?”

He lets out a long sigh.

“A lot of fucked up shit.”

“Haven’t we all?”

“I guess if you’re livin’, you’d have to.”

“Isn’t that so assbackwards? What were you doing before Ellie?”

“Boston—smuggling.”

“Oooh, a criminal, isn’t that sexy.” His hand moves to hold the steering wheel again, gulping. “Sorry,” you say quickly, sitting up. “It’s rude of me to flirt with you while you’re explaining all these horrible things. I don’t even know if you’re still single; for all I know, you could have a wife and kids back in Boston.”

“No wife and no kids—I can’t, not again.” He can’t help the somber tone of his voice.

He can tell you understand from the look on your face.

“I get it,” you reply. “I, uh, made sure I couldn’t have children. The world’s too fucked, and I didn’t want to risk anything. So, had a fellow doctor help me out.”

He’s sad remembering how when you were together, you’d wanted kids with him, at least two, you’d told him, and he’d been excited by the prospect, seeing how much you cared about Sarah and her adoring you. It was painful to think about, but he’d asked his daughter a week before his birthday over breakfast if she’d be okay if he married you. She’d been ecstatic and wanted to help him pick out the ring.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t be,” you wave away his apology. “Better safe than sorry.”

There’s a question sitting on the tip of his tongue that he finally asks.

“Do I gotta worry about a partner huntin’ us down to get you back?”

You scoff.

“No. Painfully single. Anyone I need to worry about?”

“Not anymore,” he answers. “There was someone months ago—they didn’t make it.”

“Jesus, Joel,” you gasp. “You can’t catch a fucking break. I know life is a bitch, but my god, do I feel like it’s taking a special interest in making you miserable.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, that’s how it feels sometimes. God must be laughing at me.” He glances at you. “I think things are changin’ though after today. Finally think I’m gettin’ a goddamn break.”

You lean forward, knocking your knuckles on the dashboard.

“We don’t have wood, but I’m being safe—don’t want to jinx you.”

“Thanks for lookin’ out.” He smiles.

“Always.” You grin.

“Tell me what happened with you,” he says. “How’d I lose you?”

It’s something he’s wondered for twenty years, needing to know what happened to you.

“As you know, I was interning at the clinic to complete my residency—”

He did know that. You were fresh out of med school when you’d met, honestly surprising him that you let an old guy like him get your number.

“And I’d had your birthday off,” you continued. “When they called me in, I went, but something didn’t feel right about halfway, so I turned around to head back to your place. A tire went flat.”

“The spare was flat, too, wasn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“I told you I’d take care of it, but you wouldn’t let me.”

“I didn’t want to be a bother!”

“You weren’t no bother—you were my girlfriend, and it was my job to make sure you were safe. I shoulda just fuckin’ done it. Fuck.” He hits the steering wheel.

He felt like this was all his fault. So much could’ve been different if he’d done this one thing.

“Hey, hey.” You rub his arm. “This isn’t on you. I was the dumbass.”

He meets your eyes.

“Twenty years,” he says. “Fuckin’ lost you for twenty goddamn years because of a tire?”

He can’t fucking believe it.

You’re looking down, “Yeah,” you whisper.

He sighs loudly, squeezing your thigh.

“Sorry about gettin’ upset, it’s just, God, think of what our lives coulda been.”

“I’m sorry, Joel. I fucked up.”

“No, baby. You were busy becomin’ a doctor, already stretchin’ yourself thin datin’ me. I shoulda done more.”

“You did more than enough, and you had your own stuff to worry about—Sarah, your construction company. I’m an adult. I should’ve made sure my shit was taken care of.”

He sighs.

“You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

“I am.”

“What’d you do after gettin’ out of Austin?”

“Searched for you. Doctors were in need, so I traveled a lot in the early days offering aid and hoping I’d find you. Some years later, I got snatched up by the Fireflies, thinking maybe they had the right idea, eventually helping to try to make a vaccine. Was at the research facility for the last five years, but things were so fucked. I know I would’ve gotten out soon if I hadn't left today.”

“What do you wanna do now?”

He’s hoping you’ll say you want to stay with him, wanting you back.

“Um, well, seeing as I’m unattached, and you’re unattached, I thought I’d follow you around? Wherever you go, I’ll go,” you answer. “I’m not sure if you can tell, but I never got over you, Joel. Never. I thought I lost you, mourned what was and could’ve been, and I was never able to really be with anyone because I still loved you, and seeing you today, being with you, it’s evident I still love you. So, if you’ll have me, I wanna stay with you, I don’t want to be away from you ever again, and I know Ellie is important to you—I’ve known her less than a day, and she’s already pretty fucking important to me, too. She’s a good kid, and I’m glad you’ve got her. I’m just really fucking hoping you’d maybe want me around, too.”

His heart’s squeezing so tight it’s hard to breathe, so happy that you’d want to be with him again, but doubt rears its ugly head that this is all too good to be true, that you don’t know what you’re signing up for.

“I ain’t him,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re not who?” you ask, confused.

“I ain’t the same man you fell in love with.”

“You think I don’t know you’ve changed? We killed together today. You’ve been referred to as a ‘grumpy asshole’ by someone who’s been around you for months. I’m not expecting you to be the man you were twenty years ago—we’ve been through literal hell. I know I sure as fuck am not the same.” You grab his thigh. “We can figure it out, get to know each other again. However, I think it’s safe to say with how easily we’ve fallen back into things, there isn’t much to worry about.” You softly smile. “We’re not the same people we were before this shit, but I think the love’s still there. At least, it is on my end. You’re fine, babe,” you reassure, rubbing over his jeans. “Don’t stress. We can make this work if you’re willing.”

He met your eyes, seeing the truth shining brightly in the depths and knowing without a doubt you meant what you were saying, wanting to kiss you so badly.

“I’m so fuckin’ willin’,” he says. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Impossible.” You smile. “I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

He knows you mean it, and it has his heart swelling, thinking maybe things are changing for the better, that he’s being given a second chance at life, and he’s not gonna waste it.

“Wanna know the moment I knew you loved me?” he asks, reminiscing about the past.

It’s how he’d known you were the one for him.

A curious expression is on your face, smiling at him.

“Tell me.”

“When you didn’t even bat an eye at bein’ fired from the clinic in town for datin’ me.”

“Oh my god, I wasn’t fired. I was forcibly relocated.”

He chuckles.

“If that’s what you wanna call it. You datin’ a patient made it to where the only clinic that’d take you was an hour and a half away in the city.”

“You make it sound like I was dating you while you were still my patient—you were in my care once, and by the end of the appointment, you’d seduced me.” He snorts. “I was never your doctor again, so it wasn’t unethical. I had to be forcibly relocated for breaking a dumb clinic-specific rule that made zero sense because Janis was jealous you were dating me and not her and reported me. Fucking, Janis,” you seethe.

“If it makes you feel any better, she’s probably dead now,” he says.

You chortle before covering your mouth in shock.

“That’s fucking dark, Joel.”

“You were thinkin’ it.”

“I mean, yeah, the odds aren’t very good. You wanna know something, though, about the whole me being forcibly relocated to the city?”

He met your eyes, seeing that smile he loved.

“What’s that?”

“It was worth it—you were worth it. I’d do it all over again and happily be forcibly relocated so I can date you.”

That has him feeling soft.

“Am I still worth it?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

“Twenty years might have come and gone. I’m not that young piece of ass I once was—“

He makes a face, cutting you off, “You were never a piece of ass to me,” he says seriously. “I loved you—still love you, never fuckin’ stopped. Before everything went to fuckin’ shit, I saw us havin’ a life together—was gonna ask you to move in that night, had a key ready to give you. I wanted to marry you, have kids, and spend the rest of our lives together because you were my everything.” His voice cracks when he speaks again, “You and Sarah, you both were my entire fuckin’ world.” He clears his throat to compose himself. “I loved you so fuckin’ much I spent years tryin’ to find you. Years. When there wasn’t any sign, I figured I lost you, too, and with you gone, my last shred of humanity went, too, because I no longer had anythin’ to live for. I loved you,” he croaks. “I still love you, and I’ll never stop until the day I die.”

Tears roll down your cheeks.

“I love you, too,” you say.

His arm moves around your shoulder to pull you into him, hugging you as best he can and kissing your hair.

“I’m happy to have you back—want you with me if you can accept that I’m fucked up.”

“We’re in the same boat. It’s crazy what an apocalypse does to people.”

You stay like that, him holding you against him while you both talk, reminiscing about before, sharing your favorite stories about Sarah, comfortable with each other, and talking so easily like no time had passed at all.

An hour goes by, Joel navigating the road as you chat.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” a voice says in the backseat. Ellie sits up, rubbing her eyes. “My head feels so fucking weird.”

“Hey, take it easy,” he says. “Drugs are still wearin’ off.”

“Welcome to the land of the living,” you say.

She must notice how you’re cuddled up next to him, seeing her eyes get big in the rearview mirror.

“Woah, you really didn’t need those kissing tips, Doc.”

You snort, and Joel’s curious about what she means.

“What’s she talkin’ about?” he asks.

“She’s being a smartass.”

He huffs out an amused breath.

“She’s always a smartass,” he replies.

You move to look over the seat at her.

“Just feeling woozy? Anything hurt?” you ask.

“Brain’s all foggy. Nothing hurts.” She touches her head, looking confused. “What happened? Did they do the procedure?”

“They didn’t,” you answer, shaking your head. “We—”

He interrupts you, “They found somebody else,” he says quickly, knowing Ellie won’t take what you did well. “There was another like you, and they chose them.”

He doesn’t want to meet your eyes because he knows you’re staring him down.

Ellie’s not buying it; he can see it on her face, making him grimace, and swallow hard, knowing he fucked up, shame roiling in his gut.

“So, Joel is a fucking liar,” you say, eyes still on him. “I can’t believe you—she deserves to know.”

“She ain’t gonna like it,” he says.

“You don’t know that.”

“What won’t I like?” Ellie pipes up. “What’s going on, guys? Be straight with me, Doc.”

Your attention moves to her.

“They were going to kill you.”

“Oh,” she says quietly. “I was okay with dying if it meant saving people's lives.”

“That’s very courageous, Ellie, and I understand you want to help, but they didn’t need to kill you. What was the point if they had and a cure couldn’t be made?”

Her eyebrows furrow.

“They still would’ve had a chance to try!” she says hotly. Joel knew she’d be mad; the kid was determined to be a martyr. “It could’ve worked, and you took away my shot to help do some good!”

“They were going to murder you,” you calmly reply.

“I was willing to die!”

“Well, I ain’t willin’ to lose you!” His voice rises.

“It wasn’t your choice, Joel! It was mine!”

“You don’t know what you’re sayin’, and you ain’t listen’ to her either!” He tilts his head towards you. “They coulda gotten what they needed without murderin’ you, but they didn’t care.” He looks at you. “Baby, tell her your plan if you would’ve had the chance.”

“We could’ve gone in,” you say, “and biopsied some of the infection—it intertwines with the brain, so just a little bit somewhere that wouldn’t do you any harm.”

“Well, why don’t we go back there and do that then?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

You sigh.

“Because the Fireflies were so deadset on taking your entire brain, they were willing to kill anyone who got in their way.”

“You killed them,” she breathes, eyes wide.

“We did.” You nod.

“What do I do now? Why am I here?” She’s upset. “Why am I immune, Doc? Are there others like me?”

“We’ve never come across anyone else immune—somehow, the infection has mutated in your body. It’s a new development, something we’ve never seen.”

“And the people who could’ve figured out what the fuck is going on with me are all dead? Great.” She falls back into her seat, pressing her hands to her face. “I needed it all to mean something.” Her words are muffled, looking up at you with wet eyes. “All of the people who’ve died for me. First, my friend Riley who was there when I was bitten—the two of us planning to die together, and my turn never coming. Then Tess and Sam. It needs to mean something. Their deaths can’t have been for nothing! Why do I get to live, and they don’t? What’s the point of me being immune if I can’t do something good with it?”

“Hey, Ellie.” You reach over the seat to touch her arm. “There’s still hope. If I can get access to the right equipment, I can do the biopsy. It might take some time, but I’m capable and have spent many years working to find a cure. There’s hope, kiddo. They didn’t die for nothing, you’re still here, and we’ll have the chance to see what we find.”

“You promise?” she sniffs.

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Is there something you want to say, Joel?” You look at him pointedly.

He sighs.

“Sorry for lyin’ to you, Ellie. It wasn’t right.”

Her face lights up.

“Oh, Doc’s got you whipped!” she laughs. “This is so fucking funny.”

“Ellie,” he grumbles, glaring at her in the mirror.

“You’re fucking forgiven, Joel, but I’m still gonna give you shit about being in love,” she sing-songs.

“Christ,” he sighs.

“It’s okay, babe,” you say, rubbing his arm. “We’ll just gross her out with excessive PDA.”

That has him perking up.

“Excessive?” he asks, looking at you and seeing your mischievous smile.

“Wait,” Ellie says. “What’s PDA?”

“Public displays of affection,” you both say simultaneously.

She makes a face.

“Like kissing?” she asks.

You look at her, grinning.

“Yes,” you answer. “And inappropriate touching.”

“Ew.” Ellie mock gags. “Disgusting. I don’t need to see that shit. Keep it to yourselves.”

“Sometimes when two people love each other very much, they can’t help—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sappy bullshit,” Ellie interrupts. “I’m good. Don’t look back here. I’m putting on actual clothes.”

About forty miles from Tommy’s, the truck breaks down on a mountain highway with no way to salvage it, having to walk the rest of the way, gathering your belongings for the half-day trek.

Ellie is a delightful conversationalist, telling you about the trip she and Joel made, poking jabs at him here and there that have him looking grumpy and you laughing.

The three of you are on high alert, even while talking, Joel and you gripping your rifles tight with the young girl between you as you walk for a few hours, finding an old abandoned farmhouse to stay in for the night when the sun begins to set.

It’s just your luck that there’s a stream running through the property, and though it’s too cold to fully bathe, you and Joel take the opportunity to wash up with a bar of soap pilfered from the home to get all of the blood and grime off your skin while Ellie explores the house.

There’s tension between you and Joel, and it’s thick, palpable, fueled by the shared looks and finding his eyes on your body more times than you can count; you’re just as obvious with your interest, checking him out at every opportunity, marveling at how his flannel hugs that chest of his, and his jeans making his ass look incredible, your fingers itching to touch him, and feel his warm skin.

To add fuel to the fire, he hasn’t kissed you yet.

Hours you’ve been back together, and not one single kiss to your lips, knowing he wants to, seeing his gaze lingering on your mouth when he talks to you, wondering to yourself what’s keeping him from going for it, and it was taking everything in you not to make the first move.

It has you desperate and aching, just wanting to feel his lips on yours and his arms around you once more, knowing it will be so fucking good, but in the back of your mind, you know his hesitance is Ellie. After what she said on the drive, he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, which was sweet of him, but it’s been twenty years, and you’re jonesing for just one kiss.

Inside the house, Joel goes about barricading all of the doors on the first floor with furniture, refusing your help, which leaves you to stand off to the side, getting flustered because the man’s putting on a damn show.

He pushes up his sleeves, allowing you to see his muscles flex as he works, seeing his strength while he manhandles a china cabinet, sinfully grunting, sweat beading on his skin. It has you all hot and bothered, thanking the powers that be, Ellie was in another room going through stuff so as not to see you openly gawking, knowing the girl would give you shit about it.

With the last door secure, he turns to you, wiping at his forehead with the back of his arm, a knowing smile on his lips when he asks, “Is there somethin’ on my face? You’ve been starin’ an awfully long time.”

You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, I was staring because you were being a damn tease.”

He matches your stance, crossing his arms and looking amused.

“I was movin’ furniture. How is that me bein’ a tease?”

“You were moving the furniture suggestively. You know exactly what you were doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I was just makin’ sure we’re safe for the night.”

“Uh-huh, right. You’re a damn tease, Joel Miller.”

Three steps, and he’s in your space, your breath hitching when his big hands land on your hips, leaning his face close enough to your own that your noses almost touch.

You’d forgotten how much real estate his palms can take up, your skin tingling under their breadth, arousal burning in your belly.

“You think I was bein’ a tease?” he asks in a low rasp, his eyes moving between yours and your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Lemme show how much of a tease I can be, baby.”

Your eyes widen.

“Oh god.”

“You drippin’ for me? Thinkin’ about how it felt to have me inside? How I stretched you open? How you always felt me the next day?”

It feels like your skin is on fire, your body so hot, your heart pounding in your chest because now you are thinking about it, and it’s making you throb between your legs.

A whimper falls from your lips as he nudges your nose with his, mouths so close you can feel his breath.

“Bet your panties are drenched for me, baby. Bet you’d love me to slide my hand down them to touch your pretty little pussy, and feel just how wet you are.”

You’re pretty sure you’ll explode if he doesn’t do something, harshly whispering, “Fucking kiss me already, Joel!”

He smiles, chuckling.

“Got you all needy. Alright, I’ll kiss you.”

There’s a possibility your heart might jump out of your chest as he starts moving, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Fuck, I’m starving,” Ellie says as she enters the room. Joel steps away from you, and you cannot stop the strangled whine that comes from your throat. “You okay, Doc?”

Clearing your throat, you turn to face her, smiling.

“Just peachy.”

She seems to accept your answer, a book held in her hands.

“As I was saying,” Ellie starts. “I’m fucking starving. We got anything to eat?”

The three of you shared some jerky on the drive and nothing more, realizing you haven’t had an actual meal since that morning at the hospital, your stomach suddenly growling.

“Seems it’s dinner time,” Joel says. He looks at you, “You brought those rations, right?”

“I did,” you answer, walking to the rundown dining table that you’d plopped your bag onto, Joel’s backpack next to it. Rummaging through what you have, you say, “Looks like we’re having a variety of canned goods.”

“Got any peaches?” Ellie asks.

“Yep!” you answer, grabbing the can.

“Fuck yeah! I call dibs,” she replies, coming over to take it from you.

All of you sit at the table to eat, Joel across from you, Ellie at the head seat, everyone relatively quiet as you chow down, feeling his eyes on you and pretending like you don’t notice.

“What did you find?” you ask her.

She meets your gaze, setting down her fork to pick up the book.

“Something called ‘Jurassic Park,’” she says. “It’s got dinosaurs, which I thought was fucking cool.”

“The movies were really good,” you reply.

Her eyes get bigger.

“They made movies about this?” She holds it up.

“Yeah,” you answer. “Three. I’ve never read the book, though. Let me know how it is.”

“I’m gonna start it tonight after dinner. Did you ever see the movies, Joel?”

He doesn’t answer, too focused on you.

“Earth to Joel,” she says, leaning forward to wave her hand in front of his eyes, his head turning towards her quickly.

“Did you say somethin’?” he asks.

“Yeah.” She’s grinning, clearly amused. “You know, if you stare at her any harder, she might catch on fire.”

His eyebrows dip down.

“I wasn’t starin’,” he grumbles, his elbows on the table while he takes a bite, looking at his can.

“Jesus, Joel, I was not prepared for you being a lovesick fool. It’s honestly gross. Thank god you weren’t like this with Tess.”

His head snaps up as you tense, knowing she’s mentioned that name before.

“That’s enough, Ellie.” His tone’s severe.

You look at him, your eyebrows pinched together.

“Who’s Tess?” you ask.

Ellie’s eyes go big.

“Oh, shit,” she says. “I’m sorry, Joel. I didn’t realize she didn’t know.”

“Who’s Tess?” you ask again.

“It’s alright, Ellie,” He sighs, long and loud, running a hand through his hair. He looks at you. “Tess was my old partner in Boston. She, uh, died on the trip to bring Ellie to the Fireflies.”

“Oh,” you reply, nodding. “The one you’d mentioned. I’m sorry she didn’t make it.”

“It’s just how these things go,” he says.

“Your girlfriend died…” you say slowly. “You’re allowed to be sad about it.”

He grimaces.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Well, I’m going to finish eating upstairs,” Ellie says, the chair scraping across the floor as she gets up quickly. “You two need to be alone.”

He looks at her.

“You don’t gotta do that,” he replies.

“No, no,” she says, grabbing her can and book. “I am so happy not to be a part of this.” She briskly walks away.

He sighs, pressing his hands to his face.

“What do you mean it wasn’t like that?” you ask. “If you were partners—clearly romantic…”

Meeting your gaze, he answers, “It wasn’t romantic. We cared about each other, we kept each other alive, and occasionally fucked, but there was nothing romantic about it. I didn’t feel that way about her, and can probably count on one hand how many times we even kissed. I didn’t love her. I couldn’t love her.”

You know the answer before you even ask the question, and still, it catches you by surprise.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

“Joel,” you whisper.

“You were it for me. You were always it for me, and if I couldn’t have you, then I didn’t want anyone else.”

“It was the same for me,” you reply. “Felt cruel to try and be with someone when I could never love them, so I just didn’t.”

“Yeah. I was always upfront about what I was willin’ to give.”

“Gotta set expectations.” You nod. “Don’t want to hurt feelings.”

He lets out a long breath, looking away.

“Still got hurt anyway.”

“Honestly, if you told me not to fall in love with you, I think I’d just fall harder, so it makes sense.” You shrug. “You’re still a goddamn dreamboat of a man.”

His eyes meet yours again, crookedly smiling.

“Dreamboat?” he asks.

“God, yeah. Look at you. The grey is sexy, and my god, I think you have more muscles than when we were together.”

There’s a change in his gaze, seeing his eyes go darker.

“You wanna find out?” he asks.

“Um, yes, I would very much like to do a study and compare it to previous findings.”

He nods, pointing at your can.

“Finish eatin’.”

“But—”

“Dinner first,” he cuts you off. “Then you can check me out. Gonna need your energy.” He winks, and you gulp, rubbing your thighs together to ease the ache as you do as he says, both of you finishing your food in silence.

Ellie’s upstairs, and the two of you are alone down here, anticipation welling up inside you because you know at some point, everything between you both will finally erupt, and you can tell it’s going to be explosive.

He leans back in his chair when he finishes, resting his hands behind his head, his eyes on yours, waiting for you, and smiling when you push your can away.

His voice is deeper, drawl more pronounced when he speaks. “I was gonna stay down here and keep watch for the night,” he rasps. “You’re more than welcome to rest upstairs if you’re tired.”

He says one thing, but those darkened eyes of his say another.

“We both know I’m staying with you.”

Smiling, he replies, “I hoped you would.”

“There’s no furniture, so we’ll have to get comfortable on the floor.”

“If I remember correctly, you quite enjoyed the floor.” He smirks.

You suck in a breath, memories of the two of you being so turned on by the time you got back to your house, you didn’t make it past the entryway, him fucking you on the rug.

Your skin is burning up, clearing your throat.

“I’ll grab us some pillows from upstairs,” you say, the chair making noise as you get up.

He nods, “Okay.”

Quickly you’re moving, taking the stairs two at a time, figuring out which room Ellie’s in with the door shut, glad she chose one on the other side of the house and managing to find four pillows in the other rooms, hugging them to your chest as you return to Joel.

He’s looking out the living room window, his body tense, taking in his profile, his attention shifting to you when he hears your footsteps.

The center of the living room is bare, the lone couch against the front door, the coffee table pushed against a wall, leaving the space between you and him empty, stopping in your tracks when he faces you.

His shoulders visibly relax, the two of you stuck in place, staring at each other with looks like you cannot believe the other is there and alive. Years of thinking you’d never see one another again, and now you’re in the same room, breathing the same air, feeling so relieved and happy.

Something shifts, both of you realizing you’re alone and don’t have to fear any interruptions, the energy igniting, eyes going dark with want—all of the hours you’ve spent together building up the tension for this very moment, it snapping with the pillows falling to the floor, unable to keep away from each other any longer, closing the distance in quick steps.

His hands cup your face when he reaches you, crashing his mouth to yours, kissing you desperately, feeling his happiness, his joy, each press of his lips telling you he’s happy you’re alive and here with him. The passion has your fingers threading into his grey waves of hair for something to hold onto, gasping when he eagerly licks into your mouth, him groaning when his tongue slides along your own. Your blood is singing in your veins at how right it feels, how familiar it is, twenty years, and you still know how to kiss each other, finding your rhythm, not able to get enough, both so greedy you don’t stop until your lungs ache for oxygen, coming up for air with gasping breaths.

He’s kissing along your jaw, speaking into your skin, “I missed you so fuckin’ much, baby.”

“I missed you, too. Every goddamn day.”

Hands start wandering, needing to feel each other; he’s squeezing and touching anything he can; you’re working the buttons on his shirt and pushing it open to touch his warm skin, mapping out his muscles and the scars littered all over his torso that weren’t there before, wanting to kiss each and every one.

He’s sucking at your pulse point, palming your breast, his other hand grabbing a handful of your ass, your skin buzzing, arousal pooling in your belly.

“I love you,” he rasps as his lips meet yours again. “Never stopped lovin’ you,” he murmurs.

“I love you, too,” your words muffled, moaning when his hand finds its way between your legs, cupping your sex.

“I need you,” he says between kisses. “I’m so fuckin’ hard.” He grabs your hand to press it to his bulge, feeling him straining against his zipper, your cunt clenching at the reminder of just how big he is.

“Oh, god,” you moan. “I’ve missed your dick.”

“I’ve missed bein’ inside you. Wanna feel you again.”

As great as that sounds, your drenched panties indicating just how much you want it—there’s one small problem.

You pull back to see his eyes at half mast and glazed over in lust.

“We can’t fuck,” you say.

He frowns, eyebrows pinching together.

“Why not?” he asks.

“I love you, Joel. I love you a whole hell of a lot—would die for you, but you haven’t showered in days, you’re literally a walking UTI, and as much as I’d love to have that big dick inside me, I am not, risking an infection.” His frown goes deeper. “We can do other stuff, though!” you continue, and that gets his attention. “Hand stuff—no blow job until you’re clean,” you quickly add. He’s thinking it over, the wheels turning.

“I get it,” he finally responds. “You’re the doctor. You know what you’re talkin’ about. After a good scrub, you’d wanna?” he asks, looking hopeful.

“God, yes. I’m praying there’s someplace to wash when we get to Tommy’s.”

He smiles.

“They’ve got workin’ water in the houses—hot water. I can take a shower to get all nice and clean for you, and I’m sure he’ll set us up someplace with a bed.”

“Nobody better need us for a day or two, then,” you say, hooking your arms around his neck. “We won’t be leaving it.”

“Is that so?” He crookedly smiles.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve got time to make up for, and I want to feel you for days.”

He kisses your chin, lightly nibbling on it before trailing along your jaw to your neck.

“You gonna let me fuck you full of me? Fill you up?”

“Until I’m stuffed,” you moan, pussy pulsing at his words.

“Fuck,” Joel groans. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

“You love it, though.”

His head comes up, looking you in the eyes.

“Love you more,” he rasps, kissing you hard with his hands on your waist, thumbs playing with the waistband of your scrub pants. “When’s the last time you showered?” His question said into your lips.

“This morning.”

“Thank Christ.”

It’s disorienting how suddenly he pulls back, confusion on your face as he bends, roughly pulling your panties and pants down your legs.

“What are you doing, Joel?” you ask as the cool air hits your bare skin.

“I can’t fuck you, but you didn’t say anything about my mouth.”

He unties your shoes, sending them thudding across the floor.

“You’re gonna eat me out?” you gasp. “Right here.”

You have to hold onto his shoulders for balance as he gets your lower half undressed.

“Right fuckin’ here.”

Once you’re naked from the waist down, he’s groaning as he gets up, kissing you quickly before he moves the short distance to grab a pillow, letting it fall to the floor beside you when he returns, watching as he discards his shirt, and unbuckles his pants, getting them undone.

You can tell he has a plan, knowing exactly what he wants, and you’re happy to go along for the ride. A surprised sound leaves your mouth when he kisses you hard, all tongues and teeth, his body pressed to yours, his hand squeezing your bare ass, while the other moves down your front, moaning when blunt fingers slip through your folds.

“Fuck, you get so wet for me,” he says into your lips.

Your heart is thudding, pleasure radiating in your core as he pushes through your wetness, moaning when he circles your clit, unable to stop from canting your hips into his hand.

“Fuckin’ needy for me, baby.” He nips at your lip before kissing you hungrily, swallowing your soft sounds while your fingers grip his hair.

It’s been so long, and it feels just like you remember. Joel still knows how to play your body, gathering moisture on two fingertips to work against your bundle of nerves, applying the right pressure, circling it just how you liked, his tongue sliding along your own, heightening the arousal, building you up.

With your eyes closed, it feels like you’re back in that little house you had in Austin, him stopping by on his lunch break for a quickie, you both too horny to bother going to the bedroom.

“Wanna feel you come on my hand,” he murmurs.

You whine when he presses one thick finger into you, your hands gripping tighter in his grey waves, when the second one pushes in alongside it, stretching your walls and easing the ache of emptiness.

“Oh, fuck, Joel,” you moan. “It feels so good.”

He pumps his digits, hearing the wet suck of your pussy taking them, it sounding obscene between your legs, him working them in and out, filling you over and over again. His thumb presses into your clit, rubbing it while his fingers work; every nerve in your body lit up, fire burning in your belly, knowing this was going to be quick.

Your tongues are tangling, lost in what he’s doing to you, how he’s making you feel, memories of the past, happiness for the future now that he’s here, all of it overwhelming you, rocketing you towards your release, and he knows your close, has always been able to tell.

His mouth separates from yours to speak, “Open your eyes, baby. Wanna see you come.”

You do as he says, seeing his so dark only a sliver of brown remain, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire life. Panting breaths filling the air, hearing his fingers, Joel taking up your vision, focusing on him, and only him, the world dropping away, everything else forgotten.

He crooks his fingers, and a second later, he’s hitting nirvana, a strangled moan pulled from your throat, your legs going wobbly at the white-hot jolt of pleasure, him having to hold you against him with his other arm to keep you standing.

“There it fuckin’ is,” he rasps. “Come for me—soak my fingers, baby.”

You tumble over the edge with a cry of his name, waves of your arousal spilling around his digits as you tense up, clenching down on him hard, your body alight in ecstasy.

“So good to me,” he groans. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

His mouth is back on yours, kissing you deeply as he works you through your orgasm, every muscle in your body relaxing, brain a pleasurable haze.

God, you’ve missed him. It’s been way too long since you’ve come that hard, and now that you’ve gotten one, you want more, need more.

He breaks the kiss, removing his fingers from you, and you miss them already.

He’s crookedly grinning, eyes bright.

“Do I still got it?” he asks cheekily.

You giggle, playfully slapping at his naked chest.

“Yes, you’ve still got it,” you reply. “Played me like a goddamn fiddle. Haven’t come like that since…” Your eyes squint while you think. “Well, fuck,” you say. “Haven’t come like that since you.”

His chest puffs up in pride, and it makes you snort.

He steals a kiss.

“Fuckin’ glad I didn’t forget how you like your pussy touched.”

“Obviously, it was important to your survival—gotta know how to shoot a gun and finger pussy.”

He chuckles, moving to look you in the eyes.

“Yeah. Lemme see if I remember how to eat it,” he husks, seeing the hunger in his gaze as he lewdly sucks you off his fingers with a groan making your cunt clench. His digits leave his mouth, “Taste even better than I remember. Can I eat your pussy?”

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding your head.

Thinking about it, you’re pretty sure the last person who gave you oral was Joel. Your body is thrumming in anticipation, feeling your arousal coating your inner thighs, excited because you know it will be good.

He crookedly smiles, tenderly kissing you before he gets onto the floor, his head on the pillow while he lays on his back.

This is where you get confused because you should be the one in that position, right?

Tapping on his chest, he says, “I need you to sit right here.”

That’s when it hits what he wants, and your eyes go wide.

“Joel, we are old. I’ll break your neck.”

He makes a face.

“Stop that. You’re not gonna break my neck. Just cause we’ve aged doesn’t mean you can’t sit on my face.”

“My knees would disagree.”

“That’s what the pillow’s for,” he smirks, patting it.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say, moving to sit where he indicated.

Did you think this was a bad idea? Definitely, but the man is so damn eager that you can’t help but want to give it a go.

He’s looking up at you, his hands on your hips.

“Remember how I like it?” he asks.

“Basically suffocating between my thighs?” you ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Exactly,” he replies, slapping your ass and making you squeak.

“If you need to tap out, you better fucking do it, Joel.”

“Of course, baby. Now get up ‘ere. It’s been twenty years too long since I’ve tasted your pussy.”

“Well, aren’t you just rarin’ to go,” you tease.

“Givin’ me shit about how old I am, and now you’re makin’ fun of how I talk?” He smacks your ass again. “Bad girl. Stop hollerin’ down a well, darlin’, and ride my face—I’m rarin’ to eat your pretty little cunt.”

Your head falls back as you laugh, not at all surprised when hands grab onto your ass and start scooting you closer to his waiting mouth, Joel manhandling you into position.

“That was the most yeehaw you’ve ever sounded,” you giggle, your knees sinking into the cushiony pillow on either side of his head, appreciating that he thought to grab it.

You’re sitting up, hovering over his mouth, shivering when there’s a wet streak of lips pressing kisses along your inner thigh, savoring the scratch of his beard.

Fuck, he’s gonna have you coming quickly; you just know it with how your pussy is throbbing.

“You know I don’t fuckin’ talk like that,” he says below you, kissing your other thigh.

His hands are gripped tight on the globes of your ass, squeezing your plump flesh.

“No, you don—“ the word breaks into a moan as he pulls you down, breathing you in, the hot air ghosting over your sensitive flesh, sparks dancing in your center when he nudges your clit with his nose.

His voice is muffled, “Smell better than I remember,” he groans. “Gotta taste. Sit.”

He’s helping you lower down until you’re touching his skin, not satisfied until his face is fully buried in your sex. You scrabble for something to hold onto at the first swipe of his tongue, your fingers landing in his hair.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

One taste and he becomes ravenous, his loud groans vibrating against your heat, obscenely licking and sucking, his hands guiding you so he can slurp up every last drop of your arousal he can get, drinking down everything he can, relishing in the prickle of his facial hair.

It’s so much better than you ever could’ve imagined, the man feasting on you like a starving man, rocking your hips, his fingers digging into your ass, humming appreciatively as electricity ignites under your skin, body vibrating, Joel working you up.

You’re gasping his name, feeling your orgasm build. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, the pleasure causing your eyes to roll back in your head, moaning loudly, tightening your fingers in his grey waves.

“I’m so close,” you gasp. “Oh, fuck, Joel. It’s so good. You’re so fucking good. I’ve missed you.” You’re so drunk on what he’s doing, you’re rambling. “I’ve missed this. Don’t stop. Make me come.”

You feel him groaning, Joel doubling down and focusing on your bundle of nerves—sucking it, licking it, lips and tongue worshipping you until you’re cresting, body seizing up as euphoria floods your system with a gasp of his name.

His loud, long groan vibrates against your sex, his mouth moving to drink your release straight from the source, pushing his tongue inside of you as deep as possible, licking into you eagerly, wanting to get every little bit of you as he can.

Your body’s trembling, pussy fluttering, panting out breaths, feeling so fucking good as Joel helps you ride out your high.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve had this much pleasure, and it’s intoxicating. You’re used to getting yourself off with your hand when the need arises and have only had a few partners over the years—the sex always quick and to the point, an orgasm never guaranteed, and here was Joel making you come twice in less than an hour.

He’s spoiling you, you’re addicted, you never want him to leave.

Broad strokes of his tongue through your slippery folds has your back arching, surprised he’s still going, knowing it must be hard to breathe down there. Your body is scorching, feeling like you’re burning from the inside out as he licks every inch of you, reacquainting himself with your cunt.

He lifts you up a little, and you hear him take a big breath.

“Ride my tongue, baby.” His voice is rough, strained. “Use me to get yourself off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m damn sure.” He smacks your ass. “Be a good girl and use me.”

You suck in a breath, pussy squeezing hard around nothing. He doesn’t let you reply, sticking his tongue out and pulling you down on top of it.

Your legs are closed around his head, his beard scratching against your thighs, hanging onto his hair for balance.

Grinding yourself against the flat of his tongue, he lets out a long broken moan, his grip on your ass tightening as you do as he asks, chasing your pleasure, using him, still so sensitive from your previous orgasms that the familiar heat was already growing in the base of your spine.

His mouth is hot and wet, working yourself up, pressing your clit hard against his muscle, moaning at the sparks of electricity shooting through you as you rubbed along it over and over again.

He’s groaning loudly beneath you, and you can tell he’s enjoying this just as much as you are, going faster, eyes squeezed shut, panting out moans. You know your skin will be tender from his beard, and you don’t care—this is worth it, your pleasure heightening, muscles in your belly beginning to tighten, Joel drowning in your pussy.

The sensations overtake you, everything coming together, falling over the edge with a cry of his name. Your legs are squeezing his head so tight as the wave of pleasure rolls through you, starting in your core and spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Joel makes a strangled noise beneath you that has your eyes flying open, almost falling on your face as you quickly move off of him, ending up with your ass on his chest, looking down at him between your legs, your heart hammering in fear that you killed him—his eyes are closed, face completely lax, and glistening from your juices, his arms laying limply at his sides.

“Joel?” You pat his cheek. “I swear to god, Joel, if you die from suffocating in my pussy, I am bringing you back to life to kill you myself.”

“Not dead,” he slurs, eyes still closed.

“Thank god.” You rub your thumbs over his eyebrows and down his cheeks, sliding your fingers into the hair over his ears, him humming contentedly. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Came so fuckin’ hard.”

Your eyes widen, looking behind you to find his softened cock out of his jeans and resting on his stomach, streaks of come painting his skin.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. Looking back at him, you ask in disbelief, “You got off from eating me out?”

“Yeah.” He smiles dreamily. “Fuckin’ love your pussy. Missed it so much.”

You snort, rubbing your finger down the bridge of his nose. With him so relaxed, he looks like your Joel from twenty years ago, and it makes your heart squeeze over all of the time you missed with him.

What would’ve been different if you’d been together when the world ended? Would Sarah be alive? Would the two of you have still survived all these years?

You let the questions disappear as quickly as they came because there’s no point in pondering them. What happened, happened. You’re just thankful that by some miracle you found him again, that you both are now determined to stick together and live whatever days you have left by each other's sides.

“Aren’t you a romantic.” You trace over his wet lips, which are surprisingly soft.

His hand comes up to grasp yours gently, his practically encompassing yours. Featherlight kisses are pressed to each of your knuckles and, finally, your palm. His eyes blink open, all heavy-lidded to look at you.

“Fuckin’ love you more,” he says softly.

You feel yourself melt under his tender gaze, seeing the truth in the dark depths of his eyes.

“I love you, too.”

“Are you guys done fucking?!” Ellie yells from upstairs.

Joel’s eyes go wide, cheeks turning red, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Give us a minute!” you reply.

“Okay!”

“Don’t look so embarrassed, Joel,” you say to him, tapping the tip of his nose. “It’s not the first time we’ve been caught, and I doubt it’ll be the last.”

He groans, pressing his hands to his face.

His words are muffled, “It’s just as embarrassin’ today as it was twenty fuckin’ years ago.”

“Hey, look on the bright side, babe. Ellie didn’t see anything. Remember how scarred Sarah was that one morning you forgot to lock the door? Thank god we were under the covers, but I thought she’d need therapy.”

“Don’t remind me,” he replies, looking at you again. “Taught her to knock, though.”

“Yeah, it did.”

There’s a lot of groaning as you both get up from the floor, knees not as young as they once were, Joel and you agreeing that maybe you guys should stick to fucking on furniture. After a quick search of the downstairs, you’re able to find a relatively clean towel for Joel to clean up with; you're already dressed. He hollers at Ellie that it’s safe to come down after his shirt is put back on and pants are righted.

She stomps down the stairs like she wants to make sure the two of you know she’s on her way, you and Joel standing by the dining table, passing a bottle of water between each other.

She covers her eyes with one hand when she enters the living room.

Joel huffs out an amused breath, shaking his head as he takes a drink when he sees her.

“There’s zero nudity, Ellie,” you reassure her. “It’s safe to look.”

She uncovers her eyes, “Can’t be too safe,” she says. “Last thing I want is to have to gauge my eyes out because I saw Joel’s old ass.” She makes a disgusted face, and you laugh, Joel snorting.

“What happened to spendin’ the evenin’ readin’ your new book?” Joel asks her.

“Ran out of water,” she answers, holding up her water bottle. “I’m fucking thirsty. Please tell me, one of you has extra.”

“Yes!” you respond, turning to get into your bag and grabbing a container of water. “Here you go, kiddo.”

She’s briskly walking over to take it, unscrewing it right away to take a few big gulps, sighing happily when she finishes.

“Fuck, that’s good,” she says, wiping at her mouth. Ellie looks between you both. “Thought I was gonna be stuck up there all night. So, based on how you were all over each other in the truck and the disgusting noises that I wish I could unhear, I’ll take it, Doc, and you are back together?” she asks Joel.

His ears are bright red, clearing his throat.

“That we are,” he answers, not meeting her eyes.

“Are you fucking blushing?” she teases.

“Ellie,” he grumbles, glaring at her.

“I’m just giving you shit, Joel. Hopefully, she can help pull that stick out of your ass.”

He sighs, and she laughs.

“I’m happy for you, ya big ol’ grump. Doc’s great! I see why you like her, and Jesus, I’m not into sappy romantic bullshit, but you guys have a great fucking story.”

“We really do,” you say, looking at him and finding his eyes are already on you.

“That we do,” he agrees, a soft smile on his lips, leaning in to kiss you.

“Oh, gross.” Ellie sounds disgusted, fake gagging. “I’m going back upstairs. I don’t wanna see this, and I definitely don’t wanna hear anything, so please keep it down. Yuck.” She doesn’t wait for a response, walking away.

You pull apart, looking at Joel.

“We’ve scarred another kid,” you laugh.

“I don’t think, too bad, though,” he chuckles.

“No, not too bad. Now, if she saw your old ass, she’d definitely need therapy.”

He frowns.

“My ass ain’t old.”

“I mean…” you pause, leaning to look behind him at it. “It’s still really nice. Like my god, you could bounce a quarter off it, and the way that I wanna touch it.” You straighten, meeting his eyes. “After you shower and I can get you naked, I am absolutely getting a closer look.”

He smirks, setting the water bottle down on the table, so he can pull you into his arms.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah.”

His head moves closer, hovering his lips over yours.

“When I can get you naked,” he rasps, “I’m spreadin’ you out on a bed and spendin’ hours between your legs, usin’ all that God gave me to make you come so many times you pass out.”

“Is that a promise?”

“You know it is, baby.” His lips meet yours, kissing the air from your lungs.

Part 1 - Part 3 - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #September series #wheresarizona writes

[onebizarrekai]

bad boys but I was thinking about that video where joel started calling jimmy his pet (also afk grian)

#I have a bit of a drawing backlog. this is from september #life series #trafficblr #mcyt #smallishbeans #solidaritygaming #grian #goodtimeswithscar #limited life #art closet #smallidarity #wheat jpeg strikes back

[mp100days]

080 - what the scallop

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #reigen arataka #serizawa katsuya #serirei #mod 1 #reigen post. whatever mid september was #also. seri knows . #reigen was escorted to rhe hospital a while later. the ambulances really took their time

[hotstreak2k3]

September 30 October 1

#counting the hours until October 1st! #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #darth vader #hayden christensen #ahsoka spoilers #ahsoka series #star wars ahsoka #Ahsoka #last day of September 2023. #star wars #disney plus #disney+ #sith anakin

[silly-stings]

behold. divorce

#idk lmao #🪳 #bugbo bugbo #bugbo art #bugbo gerbo #bugbo gradient joe #bugbo fanart #bugbo series #bugbo #bugbo thomas flyswatter #my art #september 2023 #500 notes

[2tiedships2]

Next To You  10/100

#hlcreators #hledit #hltracks #hljournal #tracksintheam #trackinghome #trackinghappily #harry and louis #18.08.11 #august 2011 #26.09.12 #september 2012 #07.03.12 #march 2012 #x factor stairs #high five #next to you series #my gifs #mine

[carpe-mamilia]

AHHHHHHHHHHH

Bloomsbury has acquired a companion book to the BBC television series “Ghosts”. Katy Follain, head of Bloomsbury general, acquired UK and Commonwealth rights to Ghosts: The Button House Archives from Paul Stevens at Independent Talent. It is her first acquisition since she joined Bloomsbury. The companion book will be published on 26th October 2023. “Ghosts” was first broadcast in 2019 and has been nominated for multiple national comedy awards. It returns for the final season this September. The tie-in book is described as “a hilarious, colourful and entertaining compendium of surviving artefacts and documents relating to the ghosts of Button House’s past lives”. Ghosts: The Button House Archives will be written by Mathew Baynton, Simon Farnaby, Martha Howe-Douglas, Jim Howick, Laurence Rickard and Ben Willbond – six of the ghosts who also co-starred in the franchise Horrible Histories. They will be signing books at events around the country in the run-up to Christmas. They said: “We started kicking around the idea of a ‘Ghosts’ companion book quite early on in the life of the series and got very excited about how the characters could show up in all kinds of documents and artefacts. We’re delighted to finally be bringing this idea to life with Bloomsbury to produce something we hope fans will treasure.” Follain added: “To be working with this hugely talented group of writers on the tie-in book of such a massively popular comedy series is complete heaven. It combines everything I want the non-fiction Bloomsbury General list to be: quality and best-in-show entertainment with broad appeal. It is the perfect Christmas gift and I’m looking forward to seeing the fans dressed up in their favourite ‘Ghosts’ costumes for the events.”

#bbc ghosts #ghosts bbc #mat baynton #martha howe douglas #simon farnaby #ben willbond #larry rickard #jim howick #them there #six idiots #so series 5 is definitely september!! #potentially the middle of september counting backwards from the 26th of october #since I imagine they'll time it to come out after the series has finished airing weekly

[letoscrawls]

Happy Changbin Day!!!!!!

Part of the little bday series (1, 2)

#my art #stray kids #kpop #stray kids fanart #changbin #i had to speed run this bc i'm in literal uni HELL but i will finish this series no matter what #mentally preparing myself to produce THREE of these in the span of like ten days for the september trio

[ladyonfire28]

Never thought I would watch Evelyne Brochu and Maud Wyler dancing and making out in a french tv series and now I won’t be able to stop thinking about it

#my 18 year old self and my now 28 year old self are both freaking out #the fact that I have to wait September to see the rest of the series…… I’m fuming #and yes those pics are awful but I’m not even supposed to publish any of it so…. #hopefully their team won’t check tumblr lmao #evelyne brochu #maud wyler #dans l’ombre

[wojakgallery]

Title/Name: 9/11 Soy Boys Gif Wojak Series: Soyjak (Variant) Image by: Unknown Main Tag: Soy Boys Gif Wojak

#Wojak #Soy Boys #Soy Boys Wojak #Soy Boy #911 #Soyjak #Soyjak Wojak #Soyjak Series #Soyjak Gif #White #Gray #Blue #September 11 #USA #Gif #Soy Boys Gif Wojak #Wojak With Background

[wheresarizona]

September Part 3

Jackson, 2024

summary: After twenty years apart, you and Joel Miller have been reunited and are picking up where you left off all those years ago—still just as in love as you were. Getting to the little town Joel’s brother calls home means showers, beds, and reacquainting yourselves thoroughly. 

rating: Very Explicit (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (10 years), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), shower sex, oral sex (f & m receiving - Joel gets pussy drunk), vaginal fingering, masturbation (m), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise kink (Joel needs to know he’s a good boy), body worship (you’re kissing Joel’s scars), a lot of kissing, teasing, breeding kink mention, Joel being bossy, emotions, love confessions, slight angst, mention of pregnancy loss, dad jokes, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU tv Spoilers, TLOU game spoilers) 

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader (reader is a doctor with no physical descriptions aside from wearing Joel’s jacket)

word count: 17.5k+ (over 6k smut)

a/n: The name of this chapter in my brain was The Fuckening™ if that gives you an idea of what you’re getting into. I also have to increase the chapter count due to reasons… I’m over the moon by all the love for this series! All of the comments and asks make me so happy!! Thank you all so much! Shoutout to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing!

I reply to comments from my side blog @wheresarizona-writes

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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It may be Spring, but nights in the mountains of Wyoming are chilly. 

The abandoned farmhouse you’d taken shelter in for the evening is drafty and cold, the scrubs you’re wearing not the best attire for the conditions. Joel had put his jacket on you, but when your teeth started chattering, he’d gotten up, broken down old furniture, and started a fire in the home’s old living room fireplace, him cuddling with you on the floor in front of it. 

He’d checked on Ellie, who was hiding away on the second floor, huddled under dusty blankets and cozy enough that she didn’t want to join the two of you downstairs. 

He told you to sleep while he kept watch, and so you laid down in front of the fire with your head in his lap, his jacket on you as a blanket, and you fell asleep to him stroking his fingers through your hair. 

In twenty years, you’ve never slept better—no nightmares, no fear, just comfort. After so much time living in the apocalypse, your body had become accustomed to only sleeping a few hours at a time, so when you woke with the night sky still black outside, you told Joel to get some rest, taking over his post. 

More wood is added to the fire, your legs stretched out in front of you, a gun beside you on the floor, Joel using your lap as a pillow, on his side, facing you with an arm wrapped around your back. 

It’s embarrassing how long you stare at him, your fingers slipping through his grey strands and trailing over the shell of his ear, down his jaw, feeling the coarse hair of his beard, touching those spots where it refuses to grow, and smoothing over his eyebrow. God, he’s so handsome, Joel softly smiling as he drifts off, knowing when sleep takes him, his breaths evening out and body relaxing, him melting into you. 

At some point, his face nuzzles into your stomach, hearing him sigh contentedly. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s there with you after two decades of being apart, unable to stop yourself from touching him, needing to feel him to know he’s real, your hands rubbing his arm, or playing with his hair, pretty sure your eyes don’t move from his head on your thighs. 

Though your gaze is locked on Joel, you’re still on high alert listening for any potential danger—the house creaks, the fire crackles, a frog croaks outside, and thankfully, there’s nothing else. 

Dawn breaks in a soft glow through the windows, Joel apparently having the same internal clock as you and waking after a few hours. 

His body tenses as he comes to, seeing his eyes blink open, his eyebrows dipping down in confusion as he reorients himself with consciousness. His head turns in your lap to look up at you, seeing relief wash over his features before he smiles. 

“You’re here,” his words come out rough from sleep. 

You smile back. 

“I’m here,” you reply, sliding your fingertips over his cheek. “And I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, Joel Miller.” 

It makes you grin when he gives you a dimpled smile, Joel chuckling as he moves to sit up and turns to get on his knees. He shuffles close to you, his big hands framing your face as he tilts your head to lean in and kiss you tenderly, long presses of his lips to yours like he’s memorizing how it feels. 

His mouth leaves yours, kissing each of your cheeks, forehead, and the tip of your nose, faces close while he gazes into your eyes. 

“I‘m not stuck with you,” he says. “I want you with me. I need you. I’ll do anything to make sure I never lose you again, and plan to spend the rest of my days on this godforsaken earth by your side. ‘Til death do us part, baby, and even then, I’ll find you again wherever we go to meet our maker.” 

Your heart is thumping wildly, warmth flooding your veins at his proclamation. 

“That sounds an awful lot like a marriage proposal.” 

He smiles crookedly, his palms rubbing down your arms until he’s taking your hands in his larger ones. 

“I’ve told you you’re it for me. I planned on marryin’ you all those years ago and still want you to be my wife.” 

Sucking in a breath, there’s a nervous look on your face, because you’re not who you once were—not that naive girl who risked her job to date the hot older single dad. The world has chewed you up and spit you out, and there’s no room for risks anymore, every move needs to be calculated with your life on the line—saving Ellie worth the possibility of dying. 

“We’ve been back together less than twenty-four hours…” you say slowly. “I’m not the same girl you fell in love with—”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off, his thumbs smoothing circles on the tops of your hands. “I still see her, but I know you’ve changed, just like I have. We’re survivors. We’ve been through shit, I’d kill for you without a second thought, and I know you’d do the same for me. We aren’t the same people as before, but now we’re pretty fuckin’ similar—know what needs to be done to keep livin’, and that won’t keep me from lovin’ you. I loved you then, and I love you now, and I’d marry you if given the chance.” 

Tears are brimming in your eyes, your throat getting tight. 

“I knew I was going to marry you—was just waiting for you to pop the question.” 

His eyes soften, looking a little nervous. 

“Well, I uh—” He looks away to clear his throat. “—don’t have a ring to do it properly, but things are different these days.” Meeting your eyes again, he says, “And we can’t afford to wait, not when there’s no promise for tomorrow.” He squeezes your hands. “You’ve been the love of my life for over twenty years—gone on you the moment I saw you. You’re beautiful, smart, funny, and so carin’, everything I could ever wish for in a partner, and those things haven’t changed. I know it from how you were willin’ to risk your life for Ellie. You loved Sarah like she was your own, and here you are carin’ about Ellie, too.” You sniffle, tears rolling down your cheeks at all he’s saying, knowing what’s coming. “I’m a better man when I’m with you—you make me want to be a better man that you can be proud of because I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, baby, especially survivin’ all these years on your own. A—“ He pauses to gather his words. “—a friend once said the reason I’m here is to save and protect the people I care about; I saved Ellie, and now it’s time I keep you and her safe—I don’t want you to be alone again, and I think there’s another purpose for why I’ve survived—” His face goes so soft, eyes rounding, voice thicker when he speaks. “—and it’s to love you. It’s always been to love you, and like all those years ago when I asked you to give an old guy like me a chance to take you out, I’m now askin’ for the chance to be your husband. Will you marry me?”

He looks so hopeful, and you answer right away while nodding, “Yes, Joel.” Your cheeks are drenched in tears, wiping at them with your hands. “Of course, I’ll marry you. I wanted to be your wife in 2003, and that hasn’t changed—you’re my dream man, and I’d love for you to be my husband.” 

The smile he gives you could outshine the sun, that dimple of his appearing, chuckling happily as his broad palms cup your cheeks, and he crashes his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Your fingers thread into his hair, your toes curling when he licks into your mouth to tangle his tongue with your own, swallowing your moan. 

This is one of those breathtaking kisses where you can feel each other's emotions, able to tell how much he loves you, how happy he is, how thankful he is, telling you without saying the words of his devotion. It steals the air from your lungs and has warmth seeping into your bones, feeling so much happiness and joy—just over the goddamn moon. 

It’s a question you’ve wanted to hear since the first time he told you he loved you. 

A few months after you’d started dating, he’d canceled a date because Sarah was sick with a stomach bug. You’d shown up at his house with supplies to help her feel better—medicine, electrolyte drinks, and some broth to eat when she was up for it. You had only meant to drop it all off and spend your evening reading, but he’d invited you in, so you stayed, curling up with them on the couch to watch movies. Joel had to get up to grab something, and when he returned, Sarah’s head was resting on your shoulder, asleep. After he’d carried her to bed, the two of you were standing in the kitchen, you giving him instructions on the stuff you brought over, and he’d backed you up into the refrigerator, held your face in his hands as he said, “God, I fuckin’ love you.” From then on, you waited, the two of you making plans for your future with each other, knowing you were going to spend the rest of your lives together—there was a connection, something ingrained in you that told you he was the one, and he’d felt the same. 

Did this seem quick? Were the two of you jumping the gun? Like Joel said, you live in a time where you can’t afford to wait, and tomorrow isn’t promised. People move quickly these days, wanting whatever happiness they can get for however long they can have it—life expectancy is abysmal. Plus, being with him again, it feels like you’re picking up where you left off, your love just as strong as it was then, so the next logical step in your relationship is marriage. It feels right, and you want nothing more than to be Mrs. Joel Miller. 

You gasp in surprise when you’re suddenly being pushed to lie back on the floor, him half on top of you, still kissing you. His hand moves to palm your breast, excitement swirling in your belly, Joel encompassing all of your senses, only focusing on him and nothing else—feeling him, touching him, hearing him. 

“Oh, gross!” Ellie exclaims as she enters the room, Joel’s mouth and hand leaving you immediately. “Get a room!”

He sighs, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“We’re in a damn room,” he grumbles. 

“Yeah, one with no doors to shield my innocent eyes.”

“We’re just kissin’,” he sighs. 

“Grossly kissing. The sounds are going to haunt me for years.” 

He finally lifts his head to look at her. 

“You done?” 

“Are you done shoving your tongue down her throat? Was worried she’d choke on it.” 

“Ellie.” 

“Jesus, Joel,” she laughs. “Learn to take a fucking joke.” 

He lets out a long sigh, sitting up on his knees with a groan. 

“I’ll take it you’re hungry?” he asks. 

“Yeah. Starving. Can’t wait to get to Jackson for real food.” 

Tilting your head back, you look at her upside down. 

“Help yourself to the rations,” you say, pointing at your bag on a nearby dining room table. “Sorry, there’s nothing to sit on—we needed wood for the fire.” 

“Thanks, Doc!” Ellie replies, making her way over and hearing her rummaging through the cans. “More peaches! Fuck yeah!” After she gets the can open, she turns toward you both. “So, I want to sit on the floor, but like, which part is… safe?” 

Joel’s standing now, hands on his hips, while his eyes squint in confusion.

“The house is structurally sound…” he says slowly. “The floorboards are in decent condition. You can sit anywhere.” 

“I know the house is okay. What I mean is, what hasn’t been contaminated?” 

“Contaminated?” he asks. “We wouldn’t be stayin’ here if it wasn’t safe.” 

You wanted to laugh at how it was going over his head, you sitting up. 

“She wants to know where we fucked, Joel, so she can avoid it.” There wasn’t any actual penetration, just some amazing oral that had you ascending to another plane of existence and Joel coming without being touched. 

Fuck, he knew how to use his mouth. 

His eyes get big at what you say, flush staining his cheeks as he clears his throat. You point behind you. “In that area, Ellie,” you tell her. 

She makes a face as she replies, “Yuck. I’ll sit here.” Lowering herself onto the ground, her legs crisscrossed in front of her, immediately digging into her peaches. “How long of a walk to Tommy’s?” she asks with her mouth full.  

Joel seems to get his wits about him, answering, “From the truck to Jackson, I thought maybe twelve hours. We only managed a few yesterday before the sun started settin’, so about nine more today.”

“That’s not too bad,” she muses, swallowing her bite. “The real question—“ she holds up her fork, pointing it between the two of you “—is if you guys can keep your hands off each other for nine fucking hours. My money’s on one—maybe. Wouldn’t be surprised if you break after five minutes.” Ellie goes back to eating her food. 

You snort, and Joel scratches at the back of his neck. 

“We aren’t a couple of horny teenagers,” he grouses.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees. “You’re too fuckin’ old—no offense, Doc.”

“None taken,” you reply as you stand up, your knees protesting and going a little wobbly with a grimace on your face.

Joel is in your space immediately, his hands on your arms to steady you. 

“You okay, baby?” he asks, concerned. 

“Like the young whipper snapper said,” you reply, nodding your head towards Ellie, her repeating whipper snapper in a confused tone. “We’re fuckin’ old—achy knees. I’d kill for an Epsom salt bath.”

He caresses your cheek. 

“You need somethin’ for the pain? I got painkillers in my bag.”

“You’re sweet,” you answer, looping your arms around his neck. “But I’m fine. Just a symptom of aging.”

He pulls you into him, hugging you close. 

“We’ll relax when we get to Jackson.” He kisses your hair. 

“Fucking knew you guys wouldn’t last five minutes!” Ellie laughs. 

Joel sighs, and you laugh along with her, the sound muffled in his chest.

The air outside is crisp, biting with cold, and the sun has barely risen as he walks beside Ellie down the highway. You’re on her other side, wearing his jacket, the semi-automatic rifle hanging at your side, ready to be used at a moment's notice. 

He feels his lips curl up every time he catches a glimpse of you, something inside him loving that you’re wearing his clothes, reminding him of times you’d throw on his shirt after sex when you both padded to your kitchen for a snack and water. 

He can’t help how his eyes always drift your way as the three of you keep walking, fearing that he’ll look and you won’t be there, the last twenty-four hours just some fever dream. But you are here, you’re real; Joel listening as you and Ellie discuss Jurassic Park, the book she read the night before, the girl wanting to know everything about the movies, and he can tell how happy you are to describe them to her in detail. 

You’d always been good with kids. That was something that made him fall for you so hard. On your first date, he’d been upfront about Sarah, needing to make sure you understood they were a package deal, and she came first. This was where a lot of the few and far between first dates he went on ended because he could see on the women’s faces that they weren’t too keen on having to share him. You’d lit up, though, agreeing that Sarah was his priority, and asked him to tell you everything about her. 

After some time, his daughter became your daughter, too, and eight months into dating, Joel was positive you were it for him, and he was it for you, him seeing how much you loved Sarah, he asked if maybe she should have a sibling—you’d happily agreed she needed a couple, and didn’t bother refilling your birth control. 

It made his chest ache how he dreamed of having a house full of kids with you—how you’d been so excited and nervous, making a plan for how you’d handle completing your residency to become a doctor and the possibility of getting pregnant. 

There ended up being no point in worrying about it because six months later, the Outbreak happened, and Joel experienced the worst day of his life. 

That was years ago, and he’s finally started to heal. It is no longer excruciatingly painful to talk about Sarah, happy to remember her, happy now to have someone to remember her with and keep her memory alive. 

And just like how you’d taken a shine to his daughter, here you are with Ellie, treating her the same, understanding without him having to tell you that they’re a package deal. 

His feelings from before haven’t changed, he knew you were it then, and he knows you’re it now, you willing to die for the young girl cementing in him that you’re the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, and it was about damn time he finally asked you to marry him. 

Christ, he’s so fucking happy you said yes. 

“You’d think after the first failed attempt at a dinosaur theme park,” Ellie says, “they’d realize it’s not a good fucking idea.” 

“People are stupid when they’re greedy,” you reply. 

“People are just plain stupid,” Joel adds. 

You snort. 

“That is also true,” you say. 

He was stupid not to ask you to be his wife the moment you agreed to have his children, mentally kicking himself in the ass for wanting to wait for your internship to end. It was a dumb decision, but he’s making up for it and marrying you the first chance he has, positive Tommy will have someone to officiate. 

Things now are different than they were in 2003.

There’s no societal pressure in regards to marriage. FEDRA sure as fuck doesn’t care about the institution. There are no places to buy rings and no big wedding celebrations; it’s just not something many do anymore, not seeing the point with how fucked everything is. People still get married, of course, but it’s a personal choice to show their commitment to each other—there’s no official process, no red tape. Some say vows to one another, others just start referring to their partner as husband or wife; you can find a person to officiate, but it’ll usually cost you some ration cards for a man or woman of God to seal your commitment. 

Joel wants to do it the old-fashioned way—he’s always been old-fashioned, hoping Jackson has a minister or someone ordained to marry you both, though he’ll be fine if it’s just the two of you making your promises to each other with Ellie and Tommy as witnesses. 

It’s important to him they’re there, and he knows you’ll want them there, too. 

He focuses back on you and Ellie talking, happy she has someone else to socialize with and ask all of her questions; it makes him smile that you’re doing your damnedest to answer them. 

“I swear this is a serious question,” the teenager says. 

“I’ve thought all of your questions have been serious,” you respond, smiling at her. “Especially when you asked who’d win in a fight between a T-Rex and a triceratops, and I still say triceratops—they’d stab the hell out of the T-Rex.” 

“I accept your wrong answer.” 

“Agree to disagree. Now, what’s this serious question?” 

“Right. What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?” 

“So-fish-ticated,” Joel answers immediately. 

Her head swivels toward him. 

“You asshole!” she exclaims. “How the fuck do you know these?” 

“It’s a dad joke!” you laugh. 

“What’s a dad joke?” she asks, her attention turning to you.

“Really terrible, dumb jokes dads tell their kids to annoy them.” 

“They aren’t dumb…” Joel mumbles. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, babe,” you say. “I love them—tell Ellie the ocean and beach one. It’s my favorite.” 

“What did the ocean say to the beach?” he asks Ellie. 

She looks at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, it just waved.” 

She splutters into a laugh, making him smile.  

“That’s so fucking dumb!” 

“Dad jokes,” you say. “One time I asked him if he got a haircut, and without missing a beat, he answered, ‘No, I got them all cut.’”

“A fucking smartass,” she replies. 

“A dad,” you correct. “I love his dad humor. It’s cute.” 

You meet his eyes, smiling at him, and warmth spreads through his body. 

The conversation continues between them, Joel only offering his two cents occasionally or grumbling when Ellie makes a jabbing remark at him, the kid constantly giving him shit. 

The route you’re on, he and Ellie went down months before to get to the Firefly hospital, and at the time, it’d been clear of infected since it’s in the middle of nowhere and up in the mountains. You’re all still on alert in case of bandits or hunters, but hours pass as you walk along the asphalt, passing old abandoned cars overgrown with vegetation, with no signs of any other humans. 

Every few hours, breaks are taken, and his knees are aching by the time you make it to the ridge overlooking the town down in the valley, the place surrounded by tall log walls to keep the townspeople safe. 

Now that it’s the home stretch, Joel’s mind is replaying your words from the previous night, how you said after he’s showered, you’ll want to hole up in a bedroom and not leave for a day or two—having him fuck you over and over so you’ll feel him for days. His pants are feeling a little tight, thinking about how fucking good your pussy tasted, wanting to spread you out on a bed and eat you out until you beg him to stop. Fuck, you taste so good when you come. He could spend hours between your legs, has spent hours there, making you come so many times you were a whimpering, boneless mess by the time he was done. 

And you said he can finish inside you, the thought making him sweat. He loves filling you up and fucking his come so deep inside you, so you’re dripping with him—dreams of how your cunt clenches up at the first spurt, locking him there so he can’t move, feeling how you need him, how you want him to fill every nook and cranny with himself. 

God, when there was a chance it’d take, Joel would lose his fucking mind at the thought of you growing his baby. It made him harder than a fucking rock at the prospect of his seed taking root, coming so damn hard he’d go cross-eyed. 

That wasn���t a possibility now, but he’s changed; it making him just as hard knowing he doesn’t have to worry about knocking you up, that he can fill you over and over without there being any consequences—something he hasn’t done since the last time he was nestled deep in the tight confines of your pussy because Joel didn’t want to risk it, couldn’t risk it, not after everything he’s been through.  

He’s walking a little faster as you approach the town gate, wanting to get to whatever accommodation his brother offers as quickly as possible, getting annoyed when the men up in the guard tower won’t let you all in, Joel demanding they get Tommy. 

His hands are clenching, feeling impatient. You sidle up next to him, standing beside him. 

“I guess we didn’t make the VIP list,” you say, patting his arm. 

He sighs, turning his head to meet your eyes, sliding his hand over the small of your back to grab your hip. 

“You’d think Tommy woulda fuckin’ told them to look out for me or somethin’,” he replies, frowning. 

“Or, maybe Tommy told them his brother would be returning with a girl, and me being here is causing red flags.” 

“That could be it. My brother will fix whatever the fuck is goin’ on.” 

“I know he will. Can’t wait to see that asshole.” 

He smiles. 

“He’ll be excited to see you, too.” 

“I can’t wait to have hot food,” Ellie says, both of you looking at her. “And hopefully, Tommy and Maria will be cool and let me use their shower. I’m smelly.” Her nose crinkles. 

“Hi, smelly, I’m Joel,” he deadpans. 

“You’re so fucking lame. How have your jokes gotten worse?” 

“You mean better?” 

“No, I mean worse—your jokes are as bad as you smell. Like holy shit, dude, you need a shower more than me.”

He frowns, knowing he needs a good scrub. 

“On the bright side,” Ellie continues, “it’s pretty fucking clear that you guys are really in love since Doc doesn’t seem to mind you reek and are filthy as fuck.” She makes a face. “It’s some true love shit, like this one kid’s book I read where a girl falls in love with this ugly ass beast—” She raises her hands above her head, making them look like claws. “—but obviously Joel isn’t gonna become some handsome prince after he showers—he’ll be just as hideous but clean.” Her arms fall to her sides. 

His eyes narrow. 

“Did you just call me the fuckin’ beast from Beauty and the Beast?” 

Sarah loved those cartoon Disney movies when she was little; Joel and her watching the mermaid one so many times they wore out the VHS. 

“Oh my god, you think we’re a fairytale couple?” you ask, sounding delighted. 

He looks at you with narrowed eyes, seeing you grinning. 

“Yeah!” Ellie exclaims. “Beauty and the Beast! I don’t know why you’re mad, Joel. The beast was a grumpy asshole; you’re a grumpy asshole; the beast falls in love and gets all soft; you’re in love and disgustingly soft.” 

He sighs because she isn’t wrong, and it’s really fucking irritating. 

The doors finally push open after some minutes, the familiar figure of his brother standing on the other side as you all start making your way toward him, Joel keeping his hand on your lower back. 

Tommy’s eyes are locked on you, a furrow in his brow, clearly not expecting another person with him and Ellie. Joel smiles when recognition hits the other man, seeing the shock, followed by his face lighting up. 

“Holy shit!” Tommy shouts. “Am I fuckin’ seein’ things, or is that you, Doc?”

The first time you met his brother, Tommy was shocked to find out you were a doctor—not because you’re a woman, the Miller boys were raised to respect women, but because you were so young, and like many other Texans, he started calling you ‘Doc,’ instead of your actual name as an honor and to be a little shit to Joel, a way to remind him you were way out of his league—younger, smarter, and you’re so fucking beautiful he still can’t believe you gave him a shot. 

Joel’s sure it made you happy that Ellie decided to use it as a nickname for you, too. 

You’ve got a beaming smile on your face when you answer, “It’s me!” 

Tommy moves quick, his arms wrapping around you in a big bear hug, squeezing you so hard he lifts you from the ground, making you laugh. He sets you down, leaning back to get a good look at your face, smiling. 

“Fuck, it’s good to see you alive—you haven’t aged a bit. Can’t believe it’s been over twenty fuckin’ years.” 

“It’s crazy, but I’m sorry, Tommy, you’ve gotten old—look at those grey hairs,” you tease. 

He throws his head back as he laughs. 

Looking at you again, he says, “You’re givin’ me shit about some grey hairs and lookin’ old—how do you feel about how Joel’s aged?” Tommy nods his head toward him. 

Of course, he’s fishing for information, the nosey bastard. 

“Oh, Joel’s aged like the finest wine.” That has Joel perking up. “The sexiest man I have ever seen and looks so fucking good. Like, have you seen his ass? There’s so much more of it now, and I just wanna—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tommy cuts you off. “I don’t need to hear all that.” 

“Me either,” Ellie adds, sounding disgusted. 

“I wanna know,” Joel says, his chest puffing out a little that you still want him in his current state. 

Tommy looks at him, saying, “Of course you do, you fuckin’ horndog. So, I’m assumin’ y’all are together again?” 

“I’m marryin’ her,” Joel answers, smiling. 

“Wow,” Ellie says. “Why am I not even surprised?”

“You finally asked her?” Tommy asks, grinning. 

“I did.” Joel nods. 

“And she fuckin’ agreed to marry your grumpy ass?” 

Joel glares. 

“As I stated,” you start. “I quite like his grumpy ass, thank you very much. And I did say yes.” 

It made those damn butterflies flutter in his stomach hearing you say that. 

“How long have y'all been back together?” 

“A day,” the three of you answer simultaneously. 

Tommy’s eyes get big. 

“A day?” He whistles lowly. “Well, I’ll be damned, a day and you’re already gettin’ hitched.” He shrugs, “When you know, you know, and the world is fucked up, might as well spend whatever time you have remainin’ bein’ happy.” 

“Yeah,” Joel replies. “You got a minister or someone to officiate?” 

Tommy grins. “I happen to know just the guy. Let’s get y'all settled, though. Had a house readied for you—knew you’d be comin’ back. Expected the girl, but Doc is a welcome surprise.” He hugs you again before stepping back to lead you all inside. 

When he and Ellie were here last, they didn’t get to explore the town much—too preoccupied with finding out the location of the Fireflies, Joel originally planning to have Tommy take her but changed his mind at the last moment. 

He’s glad he took her, fucking relieved, because if it had been his brother, there’s no doubt in his mind she would’ve died, and Joel would have been left to carry it on his conscious along with all of the other fucked up choices he’s made in his life. 

All of the choices he’s made about Ellie have been right. 

Taking her from Boston. 

Getting her to the Fireflies.

Saving her life. 

Murdering the bastards to keep her safe. 

Bringing her to Jackson to give her a chance at getting to be a kid. 

He wouldn’t change a single one because she’s here with him and still living, and that’s all that fucking matters. 

The town has many residential homes, a main street containing stores, a bar, places to eat, an old church with a looming bell tower, markets, greenhouses, a school, and a farm complete with livestock, the primary mode of transportation horseback—may Callus, the horse they rode on their trip to the Fireflies, rest in peace. 

It’s truly impressive how self-sustaining the community is, not needing many outside supplies and powered by a hydroelectric dam nearby. 

As Maria tells it, she and a group established this settlement some years earlier, and they’ve done a good job rehabbing all of the buildings and making the place feel like it hasn’t been touched by all the carnage outside the walls protecting it. 

“This is the house,” his brother says, you all standing on the sidewalk in front of a two-story craftsman-style home that, if Joel had to guess, was built in the mid to late 1970s. Tommy gives him a hard stare. “We don’t have an abundance of homes to offer and make sure to match the needs of who arrives. Two bedrooms for Ellie and you, but I’m sure you’re more than willin’ to share with Doc. I chose this one ‘cause after checkin’ it out, I don’t think your eye will twitch at shoddy craftsmanship—if you hate it, I don’t care.” 

“It’s perfect, Tommy,” Joel replies. “I’m not gonna complain about you givin’ us a roof over our heads and a place to sleep. I’m fuckin’ grateful.” 

His brother smiles. 

“Damn straight you are. Let me show you inside.” 

It’s two bedrooms, like Tommy said, and three baths. The place is picked clean of decorations, but he’s impressed with the built-in bookshelves lining a wall in the living room. 

There’s nothing to complain about, and he wouldn’t if there was, truthfully he really is grateful to have a place he can call home and live with you and Ellie. 

But anywhere is home with the both of you. It’s just nice there are beds, plumbing, electricity, and heat. 

The rooms contain essential furniture to make the place livable; Tommy says the bathrooms are stocked with necessities, the kitchen with basic cookware, and the bedding on both beds are clean—he’d have someone bring groceries the following day. Ellie put her backpack on the bed of the smaller room down the hall and past a bathroom to the master bedroom. 

The tour ends in the backyard, where there’s an old garage that’s been converted into a one-bedroom studio apartment with its own kitchenette and bathroom; the place is empty. You’re standing beside Joel, Ellie on his other side. 

“We planned on givin’ this to a single person who might come through, but if Ellie doesn’t like the idea of livin’ in the house and wants her own space, she can have it. We’d just need to get her some furniture, which wouldn’t be too hard.” 

“That’d be fuckin’ awesome!” she exclaims. “I’m assuming you’ve been around these two when they’re together—” She points her thumb at you and Joel “—and you know how vomit-inducing they are? I’d like to avoid my ears bleeding or fuck, having to stab my eyes out 'cause I saw shit I didn’t want to see.” 

Tommy laughs, and Joel sighs. 

“Yeah, kid, they’re fuckin’ ridiculous! I caught them in my truck once—my fuckin’ truck! Made Joel pay to have it professionally cleaned—” It was worth the money. “I lost count of how many times I had to save…” he trails off, suddenly looking uncomfortable, his hand scratching at the back of his neck. 

Joel feels like shit that Tommy thinks he can’t mention Sarah after how he’d refused the photo of her and him the last time he was here. He knows it doesn’t help that he’s spent years actively avoiding bringing her up and shutting down when Tommy mentioned her in the past.

“Tommy would take Sarah out,” Joel finishes for his brother, the other man looking surprised. “He’d pick her up and get her out of the house. She loved it 'cause he’d take her to movies and see shit she wasn’t allowed to watch at home.” 

“‘Cause, you’re no fun. She was a big kid—always had a blast.” 

Joel looks at him pointedly. 

“Except for that one time you took her to see that damn scary movie, where she was afraid for a fuckin’ week that a girl was gonna come through the tv and kill her.” 

That whole week, Joel had to sit on her bed for her to fall asleep, stroking her hair like when she was little.

“Okay, that was on me,” Tommy says, putting up his hands in defeat. “It was PG-13. I didn’t think it’d be that bad.” 

“You slept on my couch for two nights.” 

“As I told you then, my heat was out.” 

“You’re a fuckin’ liar.” 

“Anyways,” Tommy says, changing the subject. “We can figure out furniture for Ellie this week. I’m sure we can find extra shit. Now—” His attention turns to her “—how about I give you a better look at the town, introduce you to some kids around your age, and we meet up with Maria for dinner—she’d love to catch up with you.” 

“Oh, thank god,” she replies. “Would Maria mind if I crash on your couch tonight? After what I heard last night, I’d prefer to be out of earshot for a good twenty-four hours for them to either run out of energy or, you know, Joel breaks a hip or something.”

Joel’s eyes go wide, not believing what she just said. 

He thinks he’s in pretty great shape for his age—the knees, back, and hearing issues aside—there’s no fucking way he’d break a goddamn hip. 

“Break a hip?” Joel asks. “I’m not that fuckin’ old!” 

You pat his arm as you say, “Babe, you’d qualify for a senior discount.” His head snaps toward you, seeing the amusement on your face, Joel’s mouth opening and closing like a fish, not sure what to say because he feels ganged up on and betrayed. Tommy and Ellie are laughing their asses off, but he notices the shift in your eyes, that little look you get when you’re about to say something he’s really going to like, his mouth closing. “But,” you continue. Oh, he knows that look, his heart picking up when you squeeze his bicep.”I don’t care how old you are.” You’ve dipped into that sultry tone that makes his pants get a little tighter, Joel swallowing hard. “I still wanna fuck you. Very badly.” 

He has to hold back the groan with the way you’re giving him ‘fuck me’ eyes, it evident that you do want him. 

“Well, it’s time for us to go, kid,” Tommy announces, ushering her away. “Maria won’t mind you sleepin’ on the couch. Let’s grab your stuff before they get inside, and you know…” 

“Disgusting,” she replies. 

“I’ll have food and clothes left by the front door for when y'all come up for air,” Tommy calls to you both. 

“Thanks, Tommy,” Joel replies, not bothering to look at his brother, instead, his gaze stuck on you. 

He can hear their receding footsteps, focused on staring at you, feeling the air shift, your eyes darkening. He licks his lips, his fingers itching to touch you. Turning toward you, he grabs your hips to make you face him, smiling when you suck in a breath as he pulls you into him. 

His voice goes lower, “You wanna fuck me?” he asks, seeing you visibly shiver. It makes something inside him purr that you’re so affected by him. 

“Yes.” You nod. “I do.” 

Leaning in close, he nudges his nose against yours. 

“I wanna fuck you, too,” he rasps. “Miss how your tight little pussy feels around my dick. Wanna be inside you.” His lips ghost over yours. “You want that?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, your answer making his dick twitch. He knows you’re waiting for him to kiss you, sure your heart is pounding in your chest. He pulls back, smirking as you gasp in surprise. 

“We better shower then,” he says, smacking your ass and making you squeak. 

Your eyes narrow, poking him in the chest. 

“You’re a fucking tease, Joel Miller!” 

He grabs your hand, chuckling as he kisses your knuckles. He loves when you get needy. 

“I’m your tease, baby.” He winks. “And it’s fuckin’ payback for callin’ me a goddamn senior citizen. I’m gonna show you how well my hips work when I’m fuckin’ you into the mattress.” 

“Is that a promise?” 

He smiles. 

“You know damn well it is,” he answers. “Now, let’s get in there. They should be gone by now.” 

He can’t help that he practically drags you by the hand he’s holding, too excited to get you naked and under him, as he leads you up the back porch and into your new home. 

All of your gear is discarded on the master bedroom floor, and once it’s off your bodies, the nerves kick in—worried he won’t like you naked or that after all these years, you’ll be bad at sex. He’s nervous, too; you can tell by how tense he is, refusing to look you in the eyes. 

Taking a deep breath, you break the silence, “I’ll take a shower first,” you say, pointing at the en suite. 

He finally meets your gaze, nodding, “Okay.” 

You’re just in your dirty scrubs, squeezing his arm before heading to the bathroom, the door shutting with a soft click behind you. 

Logically, you know you have no reason to be nervous—Joel loves you and everything about you, yet the doubt is still there in your brain. What if you don’t measure up to the women he’s been with since everything went to hell? What if he finds he’s no longer attracted to you now that you’re older and not as perky as you once were? The thoughts are swirling in your brain as you strip and start the shower, getting in when it heats up with a clean washcloth in hand. 

Your hair’s washed, and you know you shouldn’t, but while scrubbing your body with the soaped-up rag, you wonder what Tess looked like. Was she younger than you? Older? Prettier? He said he couldn’t love her, but he had found her attractive enough to fuck her. 

You’re rinsing the suds from your skin, lost in thought, when the shower curtain is roughly pulled open, gasping in surprise, dropping the washcloth while your hands come up, ready to fight. You only have a second to realize it’s Joel before his broad palms grab your face, stepping into the tub as he crushes his mouth against yours. 

He’s naked, your heart hammering in your chest, moaning as he eagerly presses his tongue into your mouth, backing you up into the shower wall opposite the falling water. You hiss at the coldness against your back, Joel desperately tasting every bit of you he can, his hands moving down your body to touch you, grab you, feel your skin, anything he can touch. You wrap your arms around his waist, letting him explore—palming your bare breasts, sliding along your tummy and back, his fingers taking notice of your scars, and grabbing handfuls of your ass. 

Coming up for air, his lips are on your jaw. 

“God, I’ve fuckin’ missed you,” he husks, squeezing your clean tits together, all of your earlier worries vanishing, now replaced with unbridled desire. Bending down, he pulls a nipple into his mouth, making you moan at the shock of pleasure that shoots through your core. He laves at your hardened bud, then moves to the other to give it the same attention, pushing your fingers into his wet hair. 

Your toes are curled, arousal burning in your belly, while he worships your breasts, licking and biting at them, one then the other, over and over. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan. “I love this, but can you please wash up so I can touch you.” 

He comes off your nipple with a pop, moving his head to kiss you quickly. Joel turns toward the water, shutting the shower curtain, groaning as he bends to pick up the washcloth. Your eyes are locked on his back when he straightens, seeing the muscles move as he leans to grab the soap bar to lather the towel and start scrubbing himself down, taking his time to ensure he gets every bit of skin he can reach, being thorough. 

The freckles you remember are still there on the expanse of his back, constellations scattered over his golden skin, but there are now scars littered amongst them—some faded from age, others newer, one round and about the size of a golf ball that you could tell is only a few years old. He bends at the waist to wash his legs and feet, and when he stands back up, you reach out to gently press your fingertips to it, Joel tensing. 

“What caused this one?” you ask. 

“Fell on rebar.” 

Your eyes go wide. 

“Fell on rebar…?” you ask slowly. “Did it go all the way through?” He turns to face you, his skin pink from how hard he scrubbed, your eyes immediately seeing the twin scar on his torso, touching that one, too. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you gasp. “You’re so fucking lucky it didn’t puncture anything important.” You’re thinking of the organs it narrowly missed, shocked he even survived. There's another wound on his stomach that's recent, and whoever sewed it up was inexperienced. "That new one on your stomach happened on the road," you murmur. “Did it get infected?” You meet his gaze, seeing him frowning. 

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Can you wash my back?” Handing you the washcloth that he washed and soaped back up. 

“Of course,” you reply, accepting it and smiling because he always asked you to get his back when you lived in Texas. He faces the water again, and you get to work, moving the cloth over his shoulders and spine while he washes his hair. “How’d you treat the infection?” you ask, making sure all of the golden skin in front of you is sudsy. 

“Antibiotics.” 

“Must’ve been hard to find,” you mused. 

“Very.” 

You finish up, happy to see his skin pinked up like his front. “Done,” you say. 

“Thank Christ.”

He turns quickly, his hair slicked back, rinsing the soap off his body, and shutting off the water when he’s done, turning his attention to you. Now thoroughly clean, he plucks the washcloth from your hand and lets it drop onto the floor without a single care. He’s on you, invading your space, his hand cradling your jaw as his lips descend onto yours in a devastating kiss that has you moaning when he’s licking into your mouth. It’s all tongues and teeth—biting, sucking, licking, Joel caging you in against the tiled wall, his body pressing into yours, feeling the hard line of his cock between your bodies, while his other hand explores your skin. 

“I want you so fuckin’ bad,” his words are muffled into your lips as he grabs your ass. 

Your cunt is throbbing, needing him inside you. 

“Fuck me, Joel,” you all but beg.  

“God, I love hearin’ you say that,” he groans. His hand moves between your legs, sliding his fingers through your folds, your hands digging into his shoulders for something to hold onto, the air thick from humidity and anticipation. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—need you to come.” He circles your clit with two fingers, sparks of pleasure igniting in your belly, gasping his name. 

He knows how you like it, remembers how to get you off fast, soft sounds spilling from your mouth when he presses one thick finger inside you easily, followed by another, pumping them while his thumb works your sensitive little clit. They feel so good, canting your hips into his hand, panting breaths, your fingernails imprinting half-moons into his skin. 

“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunts. “Gotta open you up.” Your arousal is dripping down your thighs as he pushes in a third finger, making you mewl at the stretch. You feel so full, Joel pushing them in and out, filling you over and over, getting you closer and closer to your release. His other hand squeezes your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his fingers, your legs squirming at all the pleasure he’s bringing you. 

He’s kissing you again, your brain buzzing, electricity thrumming under your skin, the heat building in your core, getting hotter and thicker. Joel works you up until he crooks his fingers to find that spongy spot inside you that makes you see God. He pinches at your stiff peak, his fingers inside you finally finding that sacred place, your body tensing up with a gasp.

“There it fuckin’ is,” he says. “Come on, baby lemme have it—lemme feel your little pussy soak my fingers. Come for me.”

He focuses on the spot, his fingers squelching in and out of you from your arousal spilling around them, Joel rubbing against it fast, rough, while tweaking your nipple until euphoria crashes over you, crying out his name as you come. 

“My good fuckin’ girl,” his voice is hoarse. “You get so fuckin’ wet when you come.” 

His fingers keep working for you to ride out your high, hearing the sounds get wetter between your legs, enjoying the waves of pleasure that have your limbs tingling. 

When your breaths even out and pussy stops fluttering, he removes his hand, your eyes opening to find him looking at you with a hungry gaze, seeing the want so evident in the dark pools. 

“You want me to fuck you?” he rasps. 

Heat floods your system, cunt clenching at the thought of him inside you. It’s been so fucking long, and you’re craving it, wanting it with every fiber of your being. 

“Yes,” you answer, nodding. “Please.” 

Your back is pressing into the tile, Joel not wasting another second to lean down and hook an elbow under your knee, lifting it to spread you open, balancing on the ball of your other foot, and wrapping your arms around his neck. You know he’s got you; not afraid of falling. His eyes lock on your center, seeing you glisten with slick, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. 

His cock is so hard the tip is an angry red and weeping precum. You watch as he spits on his fingers, moaning when he spreads the saliva over your sopping hole, getting his digits wet again to coat his dick. 

Your body vibrates in anticipation, sucking in a breath when he presses to your entrance. He starts pushing in, and your eyes roll back in your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat. 

Time stops. 

You’re lost in the sensations, his thick cock stretching you to your limits, savoring the slight burn, Joel crashing his lips against yours, moaning into your mouth. 

It feels like you’re burning inside, every nerve in your body lit up like the fourth of July, and you can’t breathe, feeling like you’re being split open. 

He bottoms out, his dick pushed in deep, taking up so much space that you feel unbelievably full—something coming over you at how fucking perfect it feels, how right. This is where he’s meant to be, his cock nestled inside you, joining you together, not wanting him to ever leave. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” his words come out strained against your lips, breathing hard. “I’m not gonna last. Oh shit, you feel too fuckin’ good—I missed this, I missed you. Your pussy is squeezin’ me so tight, takin’ me so fuckin’ well. Fuck.” 

Oh, he’s just as lost as you are.

You finally take a breath. 

“Use me,” you croak out. “Fuck me until you come—fill me up.” 

He whines, his cock jerking inside you, and then he’s moving, desperately rutting into you over and over, groaning as he keeps pounding to chase his bliss. 

He’s pushing you up the wall with his hard strokes, whimpering at how he’s filling you again and again. His lips attack yours in lust, pushing his tongue into your mouth to tangle with your own, Joel fucking into you hard and fast, the slap of his hips echoing in the small space.

Quickly his rhythm gets sloppy, his breaths shakey, knowing he’s close to his end, and it’s no surprise when he slams into you one last time, coming with a long, rumbling groan, feeling him gush inside you. He rolls his hips, fucking his come as deep as possible, hissing from the overstimulation until he finally stills. 

His head falls into the crook of your neck, panting hot breaths into your skin. 

The two of you stay like that for minutes, your fingers sliding into his wet hair, scratching lovingly at his scalp, Joel humming happily, your heartbeats slowing down together. 

His mouth makes a path up your neck, kissing your skin along your jaw to get to your lips to kiss you tenderly. 

Pulling back, his cheeks are flushed, looking you in the eyes with a soft smile.

He’s hoarse when he says, “Haven’t come that quick since I was a fuckin’ teenager.” 

You smile, pushing his hair back with your fingers. 

“It’s honestly very flattering you couldn’t last—makes me feel like I still got it.” 

“Oh, you still got it, baby,” he replies, kissing you. “You more than got it.” He puts your leg down, pulling out of you with a hiss. Breaking the kiss, he takes a step back, eyes on his hands as he rubs them up your belly to squeeze your breasts, pushing them together. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy—love your tits.” He can’t help himself, leaning down to suck a nipple into his mouth, leaving you gasping at the sensation. 

“I know you love my tits,” you reply. 

He comes off you with a wet pop to look you in the eyes. 

“They're gorgeous,” he says. 

His fingers ghost down your ribs, his attention going back to your body, not expecting when he crouches down, pressing his face into your tummy. 

“Love your body—so soft.” His voice is muffled in your skin. You suck in a breath when he presses his lips to a ragged scar on your lower abdomen. He kisses another at your hip and one over your ribs; with each new one he finds, he places a soft kiss, which has your eyes burning. “Love your scars.” 

“Why would you love my scars?” you ask, barely above a whisper. 

His head tilts up to look at you. 

“They mean you’ve fought like hell to survive. Evidence of how fuckin’ strong you are.” 

“That’s so fucking sweet.” 

He stands back up with a groan. 

“Hope you don’t mind mine,” he says. “I know my body isn’t what it used to be.” 

Moving closer to him, you lean in to kiss the silvery scar on his face, Joel’s eyes closing as he shivers. 

“I love your scars, too,” you reply, moving down to kiss one on his chest, then another you find, and another, Joel trembling. “I know you’ve fought like hell to survive, too.” Lowering, you press your lips to one over his belly button. “These are all just reminders that you’re alive, you’ve survived—” You kiss the newer one from his fall on rebar. “—you told death to get fucked, because you needed to live to fulfill your purpose in life.” 

He pulls you up, his hand sliding over your cheek to cradle your face. 

“To be here to love you?” he asks. 

“No.” You shake your head. “To protect the people you care about and love them when nobody else will. Ellie might be a pain in your ass, but she’s your kid now, and you’re the only person she has. Apparently, you, Joel Miller—” You poke his bare chest “—are a girl dad. Which is so cute. Sarah would be proud of all you’ve done for Ellie.” 

There are tears in his eyes. 

“I couldn’t let her die,” he says thickly. “Not after losin’ Sarah, not when I had a shot at savin’ her—woulda died tryin’, 'cause you’re right, Ellie is my kid and a big pain in my ass,” he chuckles. “But I still care about her, even if all she does is give me shit.”  

You snort. 

“That’s how teenagers are.” 

“That they are. You’re wrong about somethin’, though.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I’m not the only person she’s got—she has you, too.” 

“That’s true. She makes my maternal instincts go haywire—feel the need to protect and take care of her.” 

He strokes your cheek, smiling sweetly. 

“You would’ve been a great mom.” 

Sadness washes through you, making your throat go so tight it’s a struggle to swallow.

For twenty years, you’ve mourned the life you could’ve had, knowing just how close you’d gotten to being a mother and having it ripped away by the Outbreak happening. You lost so much, and you let your grief get the better of you, taking drastic measures to ensure you could never become pregnant… again. The only thing that kept you going was the hope you’d find Joel and Sarah, and as the years went on, it became harder and harder to believe you’d come across them, changing your reason to continue surviving with wanting to find a cure to save people. That’s the key to keeping your will to live in such a desolate fucking world—always have something that keeps you fighting, find a purpose, anything that makes you want to wake up the next day, and not give up. 

Joel would never know he lost two children in 2003, it would devastate him, and there’s no point in adding to his suffering—he’s been through enough. 

You’ve had time to grieve and heal; it’s all in the past and something you try not to dwell on, not ruminating on what could have been, only focusing on the now.

Traditional motherhood may not have been in the cards for you, but you’d gotten over a year with Sarah, who was like a daughter to you, loving her immensely, and doing your best to be a positive female role model, always there when she needed you. You want to be that for Ellie, too. She’s been in your life for a day, and you already care about her, happy to be there for her however she wants. 

You’re getting a chance to raise another teenager with Joel, and that’s enough. 

It’s more than enough. 

“You’re thinkin’ awfully hard,” he says, taking you from your thoughts. 

“Sorry.” 

His eyebrows pinch together. 

“You okay, baby?” 

Smiling reassuringly, you nod as you answer, “Yeah, I’m great.” You need to get your mind on something else, rubbing your hands up his wet chest—God, he’s so broad. “Now, I think I was telling you how much I love your body.” 

He smirks. 

“You said somethin’ about my ass earlier.” 

Your palms slide to his back and down to grab handfuls of said backside. 

“Oh, yes. I love your ass very much.” You squeeze his flesh to punctuate the sentence, making him chuckle. “Like, my god, I can’t believe how much bigger you are.” Feeling up his back, his muscles play under your palms, resting them over his shoulder blades. “And your shoulders. Fuck, babe, you’re hot and look so fucking good. You’ve still got it, too—I’m wet just looking at you,” you say with a wink.

His hands move to grab your ass, his eyes going dark. 

“You sure you’re wet, or is it my come drippin’ outta you?”  

You smile, twining your arms around his neck. 

“Both. Now, let’s wash off and take this party to the bed,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows. 

“I like how you think,” he replies, kissing you quickly. 

After a quick rinse, towels were found under the sink—not as fluffy as the ones at Bill and Frank’s, but they got the job done, drying off quickly and discarding them in a pile on the ground. He stands with his hip against the bathroom counter, his arms crossed, smiling while he watches you tend to your hair as he’d done hundreds of times before, and it makes him feel so fucking warm doing it again.

“I told you,” he says. 

You glance at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Told me what?” you ask. 

“That you didn’t need all those damn creams and serums you put all over your face and body every night—you’re still fuckin’ beautiful without ‘em.” 

“If I had my damn creams and serums, I wouldn’t look so fucking old!” you laugh. 

His eyebrows pinch together, frowning. 

“Stop that. You don’t look fuckin’ old. I’ll tell you as often as it takes to make you believe me when I say you’re fuckin’ sexy.” 

“Stop being sweet. You’ll make me fall even more in love with you,” you reply with a wink. 

He smirks. 

“Good.” 

Once you’ve finished your hair, he can’t help himself, making you giggle when he moves behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, kissing your shoulder and neck as you both walk awkwardly into the bedroom, him tackling you onto the mattress. 

It’s a queen size bed, a thick navy blue comforter on top over cream-colored sheets that had seen better days. Turning you to face him, he cups your jaw, taking in how you look with your wet hair, big smile, and those eyes he loves so much—they’re gorgeous, you’re gorgeous. Even after all these years, he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman. 

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he whispers out loud, staring in awe. 

And you’re here. 

The happiness has him kissing you hard enough to steal the air from your lungs before you can respond. He needs to feel you, tracing his palm down your side and back, your hand wandering over him like you need the same thing—physical evidence that you’re both real. 

He presses his tongue between your lips, and your fingers dig into his shoulder, moaning into his mouth as you welcome him to slide it along your own in practiced movements. He’s touching all of your warm skin, feeling the familiarity but also the changes, cherishing each scar he feels or the hardness of muscle in places that used to be soft, knowing it’s all proof of your survival and strength. 

Joel has you naked and clean, and for the moment, he just wants to lie here kissing and feeling you, take his time to just enjoy the two of you being back together—there are no threats, no time crunch, no risk of a fourteen-year-old girl interrupting, it’s just you both in the safety of your new home, finally being able to relax. 

There’s still a loaded gun on the bedside table, more nearby on the floor because old habits die hard even though it’s a relatively safe place—he’ll always be paranoid. It’s what happens when you live in an apocalypse, you have to be prepared, or you’ll die. 

He’s as relaxed as he can be, his right ear pressed to the mattress, hearing from the left your soft moans, loving how your hand feels on him, and the familiar press of your lips slotting against his so perfectly, not wanting to stop kissing you, wishing he could stay like this forever. 

Minutes pass, his hand sliding between your legs, feeling you wet and warm, shifting his hunger. 

You’re panting when his mouth kisses your jaw, hearing you suck in a breath when his teeth nibble on your chin. 

“Can I lick your pussy?” he purrs. 

“You didn’t get enough when I sat on your face last night?” 

“Nope,” he chuckles, nuzzling into your cheek. “Missed it. You taste so fuckin’ good, I could eat it for hours, and it still wouldn’t be enough.” 

Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling on his head to make him look at you, a smirk on your pretty face. 

“It’s nice to know that the world ending hasn’t curbed your addiction to eating pussy,” you tease. 

He frowns. 

“I, uh, haven’t done it since you…” he replies, swallowing hard. 

It isn’t something he’d wanted to do with anyone else, it felt far too intimate. Sex for him was always quick and a means to an end, the only foreplay being his fingers to make sure his partner was wet enough to take him. It was hard enough fucking other people, the first couple of times, he couldn’t even finish, learning that if he put them on their knees, closed his eyes, and imagined it was you, he could get there. 

Tess didn’t mind… at first because she was thinking of someone else, too, moaning her dead husband’s name the first time Joel made her come while fucking her from behind. They were using each other, they knew they were using each other to try and feel close to the people they’d lost, but something changed after many years had passed, and it felt like he’d been doused in cold water when his name fell from her lips.

There was an understanding from the beginning that there would never be anything more between them—he wasn’t over losing the love of his life, and she’d been in the same boat with the loss of her husband. After about ten years of being together, she developed feelings, and Joel didn’t, knowing he never would. Sure, he loved Tess, but it wasn’t the same way he loved you. It could never be the same way he loved you; no matter how much he tried to convince himself he needed to move on, he couldn’t. He’d tell her no when she’d ask him to be on top until he finally relented with the room pitch black and your face on his brain. 

Even after all the time she was with him, he never tasted her. He didn’t want to, knew it wouldn’t be the same, and he was already giving her more than he wanted; that would be too much, knowing it’d cause him to feel guilt and sadness, so he avoided it. 

He sees the surprise on your face at his admission, your eyes rounding. 

“Oh…” 

“Yeah… Just didn’t seem right.” 

“No, I get it. Yours is the last dick I sucked.” 

His lips turn up. 

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Between lack of personal hygiene and the fact you have the perfect dick, I wasn’t sucking anybody else off.”

“You really think it’s perfect?” 

Your hand strokes his cheek, Joel leaning into the touch. “Babe, I fantasize about your dick. The only way I can get off is if I think about it and you.” 

He cups your cunt, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. 

“You’ve got the perfect pussy,” he murmurs into your mouth. He pulls back to look you in the eyes. “For twenty fuckin’ years, I’ve only come thinkin’ about you, rememberin’ how it felt to be inside you, touchin’ you, fuck, how you taste—fucked my hand so many goddamn times thinkin’ about my head buried between your thighs.” 

“God,” you gasp. 

“It’s Joel, but close.” He smirks. 

You laugh, slapping his chest playfully, and it makes him grin. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“But you love me,” he replies, grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on each of your knuckles. 

You smile sweetly. 

“I do. Very much.” 

“I love you, too.” He gives you a quick kiss, meeting your eyes when he asks, “Now, may I please lick your pussy? Got years I gotta make up for.” 

“You’re just fuckin’ jonesing for a taste,” you giggle. “Of course, babe. You can eat me out and get your fill, but I get to suck your dick after. I just wanna choke on it, you know?”

His cock twitches, stifling a groan at remembering how good your mouth felt around him. 

He smiles, chuckling as he says, “Still hungry for my dick.” He kisses you. “You wanna choke on it, and I wanna drown in your pussy. We’re a match made in heaven.” 

You snort. 

“Yes, we are,” you reply, smoothing your fingers through his wet hair. 

His mouth trails open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He needs to get you in a better position, knowing he can’t kneel on the floor like he used to due to his knees being fucked, so he pushes you onto your back, wrapping an arm around your middle and using his strength to tug you up into the middle of the bed. 

The mattress squeaks in protest as he moves to get on his knees between your spread legs, his cock throbbing while his eyes track over you spread out naked in front of him—you’re looking at him with want, your lip tugged between your teeth, Joel wanting to touch your breasts, and kiss your belly, the light from the bedside lamp reflecting on the glistening lips of your pussy, showing just how much you wanted him. 

He licks his bottom lip, mouth watering at the thought of tasting you, stroking his hard cock a few times to ease the ache. 

Just like how it’s a fact the sky is blue and grass is green, Joel Miller is a tits man, through and through, and he’s always been obsessed with yours. 

Bending at the waist, he palms your breasts, feeling the familiar weight before leaning down to pull your stiff nipple between his lips, loving how you moan when he sucks. He laves at the bud, nibbling it with his teeth, knowing it drives you crazy. His cock is throbbing by the time he moves to the other side, giving it the same treatment, hearing you moaning unabashedly, your fingers tangled in the bedding. 

Your nipples are shiny from spit when he finishes, his beard scraping against your skin as he kisses down your belly, his lips finding that one scar below your belly button, wondering in the back of his mind what caused it. The bed jostles while he maneuvers to lay down in the space between your open legs, having to adjust his dick digging into his stomach. 

He grabs the front of your thighs to keep them open, seeing you sit on your elbows to watch as he kisses a wet streak along your inner thigh, goosebumps rising on your skin. 

“Joel,” you say his name in that breathy exhale that makes his cock twitch when he sucks hard on the tender skin. 

A smile is on his lips when he turns his head, hearing you gasp when his breath ghosts over your pussy to get to your other thigh, where he makes the same trail of kisses. 

He’s lost count of how many times you’ve accused him of being a tease over the years. There was just something he loved about getting you all needy to the point you begged—that you’re so desperate for him, that he’s the only one who can give you what you need, so when his teeth sink into your meaty thigh, and you whine, “God, Joel. Stop teasing me,” the words go straight to his dick, making him groan.

He raises his head to meet your gaze, crookedly smiling at the crease in your brow and wanting to kiss your pouting mouth. 

“You needy for me, baby?” he asks in a raspy tone. “Want me to touch that pretty little pussy? I’m just takin’ my time—wanna savor this.” 

Your pout gets more defined. 

“Well, I want you to touch me.” 

“Is that any way to ask for somethin’?” His eyebrow raises. 

“Joel,” you whine again. “Please, stop teasing me, and pretty please, with a goddamn cherry on top, touch me.” 

“That’s my good girl, askin’ so nicely,” he winks, seeing you visibly shiver. 

His attention moves to your center, his fingers spreading open the glossy lips of your sex, his other hand gripping your thigh. 

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he husks, licking his lips. 

He spits on your clit, watching the saliva drip down, and he dives in, swiping a broad stripe of his tongue from your entrance to the perky bundle of nerves, groaning at the first taste of you. You’re the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth, and he can’t get enough, hearing you loudly moan as he does another circuit. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” his words said into your pussy, the bed protesting when you fall back on it. 

He reaches to thread his fingers between yours to hold your hand while he laps at you, licking up every bit of your need from your puffy lips and between your folds, greedily wanting it all. 

There’s a wet spot where his dick is leaking precum under him, Joel in fucking heaven languidly tasting you, and in no rush, appreciative sounds rumbling in his chest. You’d asked him so nicely to touch you, but you didn’t specify where you wanted him to touch, so he’s licking everywhere except your clit, which he knows is driving you crazy, feeling you squirm, your pussy weeping for him. He eagerly licks inside your cunt, making his tongue go stiff to fuck it into you, your juices enveloping his tastebuds. 

Fuck, you taste so fucking good. 

He could live here. 

If he died right this second, he’d die a happy man. 

Your hips are moving as he swipes through your folds to try and get him where you want him, making a pitiful sound when he doesn’t oblige. 

He’s been going at this for a while and knows you’ll be at your breaking point at any second with your skin glistening in sweat and your whimpering moans. 

“Joel, I swear to fucking god if you don’t—” your sentence cuts off into a long, loud cry as his lips wrap around the little berry of your clit, and he sucks, your back arching off the bed. He has to put an arm over your waist to keep you still, your hand squeezing his tight, and with how your body seizes up, he knows you’re coming, dipping his mouth down to drink down every drop of your release as it spills from you. 

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet when you come,” he groans into your cunt, shoving his tongue inside you, feeling you flutter around his muscle. 

He doesn’t stop after getting you off once—he’s addicted, ravenous, wants more of your come on his tongue, and continues licking and sucking, devouring you like a man starved enjoying his first meal in years. And wasn’t he? Yesterday was the first time he had his mouth on you in over two decades, and drowning in your pussy wasn’t enough to curb his hunger.

It’s obscene the noises of him slurping and moaning into your cunt, enthusiastically eating you out, while soft sounds slip past your lips. 

You sit up on an elbow, and your eyes meet, Joel seeing how good he’s making you feel, and it has him twisting his lower body to rest on his hip and free his cock, continuing to hold your hand while the other moves to stroke himself to ease the throbbing ache, squeezing the base of himself to keep from coming. 

You’d been joking about his addiction to eating pussy, but he was—if there’s time, he’s getting his mouth on you, no questions asked, he wants to taste you. 

You love it. 

And it makes him so fucking hard knowing how much you love it. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan. “You’re gonna make me come again.” 

That just has him doubling down, taking his hand off his dick to push two fingers into your soaking hole, rubbing them into that spot only he can reach while he harshly sucks on your clit. 

Your head falls back, gasping his name, your cunt clenching and wetting his fingers as you come, Joel groaning, slipping them out to fuck his tongue into you and drink up your juices. 

He doesn’t want to stop, even when your thighs snap shut over his ears and you fall back onto the mattress, he just keeps going, his mouth working against you, and he knows he’s gone—he’s gotten a taste, and now he’s drunk on your pussy, the world falling away around him, losing himself to you. 

Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he jerks off while he makes you come a third time, him quickly following, raggedly moaning into your cunt while lapping up your release, his spend spurting over his hand and onto the blanket. 

Time passes, he gets you off two more times, and you finally push at his head, Joel unable to hear you saying his name with your thighs clenched against his head. He untangles his fingers and pulls your trembling legs from him, coming off you to find you up on an elbow meeting his eyes, noticing your body shaking like a leaf in the wind while he pants. 

“Too many?” he asks, voice hoarse. 

“Too many,” you croak, and he can see how blissed out you are. 

“Need a break?” 

“Please.” 

“Okay.” 

He feels your wetness coating the lower half of his face, drenching his beard, smelling you in the hair under his nose. Licking his lips, he tastes you, savoring it on his tongue. 

Crawling up your body, you lie back, his half-hard cock pressing into your belly as his face hovers over yours. 

“Sorry, baby.” He kisses you, making you moan when you taste yourself. 

You break the kiss, eyes narrowing. 

“No you’re not, you liar.” 

He huffs out an amused breath. 

“You got me. I’m gonna clean up and go grab us some water.” 

He kisses you quickly, feeling you smile into his lips. 

“This is why I love you,” you reply. Your gazes meet when he pulls back. “You always take care of me after making my legs turn to jelly.” 

He chuckles.

“Don’t need you passin’ out from bein’ dehydrated.” 

“And I love that you care. God, you’re the best. The moment I can use my limbs, I am giving you the sloppiest blow job.” 

He grins.

“A deals, a deal.” 

It made you laugh that Joel walked bare ass naked downstairs after cleaning up in the bathroom without a second thought. 

He didn’t have much choice, being as all of his clothes are dirty, and he wasn’t going to make you move for his modesty’s sake to grab a sheet, so down he went with his dick out at half-mast.

He’d returned with two glasses of water strategically held in one of those big hands of his, the other holding a large duffle bag that Tommy had apparently dropped off in the entryway while you two were otherwise occupied. 

Joel’s brother even left a sweet note inside it:

Dinners in the bag. 

I’ll be by in the morning with breakfast. 

For the love of god, don’t break your fucking hip. You’re pushing sixty. Stick to missionary. –T

“Asshole,” Joel scoffs, crumpling it and tossing it to the floor. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, the bag beside you, Joel rummaging around in it, seeing it’s stuffed with clothes for the two of you, him handing you two wrapped sandwiches, peeking inside one to see it’s steak. 

The realization you’re both hungry hits when your stomachs growl almost at the same time from the smells wafting in the air, the duffle bag getting set with the rest of your gear, and Joel taking a seat next to you, eating your sandwiches in companionable silence, before downing your cups of water. 

He crawls onto the bed to lay with his head on a pillow, pulling on your arm to get you to join him, resting your head on his chest, hearing the strong thuds of his heart beating. 

Your fingers are drawing circles over his other pec, Joel’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him. 

Kissing your hair, he murmurs, “I missed this.” 

Tilting your head up to see his face, you ask, “Eating my pussy for—” You look over him to the alarm clock on the bedside table “—almost two hours.” 

His chest rumbles under you as he laughs. 

“Well, I missed that, too, but I’m talkin’ about holdin’ you.” He squeezes you. “Always fit so perfectly in my arms.” He kisses your head again. 

“I missed this, too,” you reply, leaning your head up to kiss his chin. He moves so his lips meet yours, it starts off chaste, the familiar press of your lips to each other’s. Before you know it, there’s a shift, that need you have for one another taking over, and the kisses get more urgent, him pulling you on top of him to plunder his tongue into your mouth, his hands roaming over your back and ass, squeezing the plump flesh. 

It’s no surprise when arousal threads in your belly, his cock hardening under your pussy. 

You’re panting when he bites at your lip, moving his mouth to nibble at your jaw. 

“I wanna suck your dick,” you say through heavy breaths. 

“Don’t we gotta wait thirty minutes after eating?” 

“That’s swimming and a myth—zero scientific evidence.” You pull his head back to look you in the eyes, his so dark barely any brown remains. “It’s my turn. May I please suck your dick?” 

He audibly gulps, nodding his head. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “You can suck my dick.” 

You grin. 

“Thank you.” You kiss him quickly on the lips, then make a path over his stubbled jaw and down his neck, sucking on the taut skin hard enough to leave a mark, Joel moaning under you. 

He always loved when you marked him, proudly wearing your hickies and never hiding them, Sarah always making a face if she saw one, and Tommy giving him shit, which Joel always said was worth it for people to know he was seeing someone. 

Going lower, your mouth moves over his chest leaving kisses and marks in its wake, his hips bucking when you flick your tongue over his nipple, smiling when you suck on it, and Joel makes a choked-out sound under you. His fingers dig into the bedding as you lave at his other one, nibbling on it gently. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. 

Looking at him through your lashes, your head coming up, you reply, “Glad that hasn’t changed.” 

You continue your way down his body, scooting off of him and between his spread legs, your knees sinking into the mattress, kissing and marking his belly, scraping your nails down his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath your lips. 

“Christ,” he groans, pressing his hands to his face. “Is this payback for all my teasin’?”

“Maybe.”

His cock is resting against his stomach, leaking precum, letting him feel your hot breath along his shaft, Joel’s arms falling to his sides, rough sounds coming from his throat. 

“Baby,” he growls when you shuffle back and away, making you smirk. 

“Don’t enjoy getting a taste of your own medicine?” you tease. 

The pillow under his head has him propped up enough that he’s got a view of you between his legs, Joel glaring daggers at you. 

You laugh, giving yourself enough room to bend forward and press your cheek to his thigh. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You started it.”

“And I’m about to fuckin’ finish it,” he says seriously.

“Ooh—“ You kiss his skin “—you’re making threats.” Your head rises, eyes locked on his, smiling as sweetly as possible. “You don’t scare me,” you say, “and I know you’re gonna stay right there and let me do whatever I want to you, because even though you’re a big, gruff, scary, tough guy—that stare probably putting the fear of god into grown men—there’s something about you that’s never changed.”

“What’s that?”

“You are and will always be my good boy.”

His cock jerks, his mouth going slack, eyes closing as he moans deeply—his reaction making it feel like there’s electricity humming under your skin, a jolt of arousal shooting through your core. 

No matter how different his exterior may look, you know what’s inside and what makes him tick, and that delights you to no end. 

His voice is rough when he speaks, “You’re gonna be the death of me.” 

You snort. 

“Never,” you reply. “Now, I’m gonna make you feel good.” 

He doesn’t have a chance to reply, lowering your head to pepper kisses along his inner thighs, his breaths stuttering when you suck a mark onto one, then the other.

“Shit,” he moans when you finally take him in hand, his cock velvety smooth and hard like steel in your grasp, pumping him languidly. 

His hands are at his sides, eyes locked on what you’re doing, his lips parted. 

Nerves are swirling in your belly like the first time you were met with this man’s big dick, trying to figure out how you’d fit it in your mouth. This time around, you know your limits and won’t overdo it and gag on him again. 

He’d been very sweet at the time and honestly apologized for the size of his cock. 

It was cute. 

You gather spit on your tongue, letting it drip onto the tip, your mouth quickly following to engulf him, Joel harshly sucking in air, you tasting the salty tang of his arousal before opening your mouth wider to take him as far as you can, Joel moaning as your warmth envelops him. 

“Your mouth feels so fuckin’ good, baby,” his strained voice says.

You’re stroking what won’t fit, hand gliding wetly from your saliva and his precum, bobbing your head, his dick sliding along your tongue to hit the back of your throat. He bucks his hips a little to chase your heat on the upstrokes, not wanting to leave your mouth, and it’s like riding a bicycle—quickly, the nerves disappear as you find your rhythm, your moans vibrating around him because this is something you loved doing—still love doing, sucking his cock always an experience. 

Your eyes meet, seeing his glazed over. 

“Love havin’ your lips wrapped around my dick,” he rasps. “Such a pretty fuckin’ mouth—God, I missed it.” 

Swirling your tongue around the tip, hitting those sensitive spots, and using your free hand to fondle his sack makes him gasp, fuck, his hands clenching the bedding tightly in his fists. 

You wonder if this is how he feels when he eats your pussy—his noises, hearing how much he enjoys what you’re doing going straight to your cunt, your inner thighs coated in slick. You love his slightly salty taste and how he fills your mouth, fitting so comfortably snug like he was made for you. But then there’s how he looks at you like you hung the moon and every twinkling star in the sky—full of reverence and devotion; it makes your heart pick up in pace, and you try harder to suck his soul out through his dick. 

It’s messy, saliva and precum dripping down his length to his balls, hearing the wet slide of your hand stroking him, you humming around him. His cock glides along your palate, Joel sounding like he’s losing his mind in pleasure, praise slipping from his lips at how good you’re making him feel. 

It’s a powerful feeling to have a gruff, hard, grumpy man like Joel Miller turn into a moaning, whimpering mess beneath you. 

He’s practically writhing when you swallow around his dick and take him into your throat, a strangled noise leaving his mouth—your lips suctioned tight around him, sucking while your throat squeezes him.

He’s unashamed about the sounds he’s making, doing his best not to move, the muscles in his thighs and stomach tensed.  

“Fuck,” Joel whines. His eyes are squeezed shut, fingers gripped tight in the comforter, sweat shining on his skin, a bead sliding down the column of his neck, and he’s so beautifully flushed all over. Tears stream from your eyes at suppressing your gag reflex, something you’re glad you still remember how to do, breathing through your nose. “You’re gonna make me come,” he pants. “Don’t wanna come yet. Please.” 

It’s the last word that makes your cunt clench hard around nothing, sputtering and coming off of him with a gasp, a line of spit and precum connecting you to him. 

His eyes open, Joel’s chest heaving, reaching to rub his thumb along your bottom lip. 

“Still remember how I like my dick sucked,” he says. “That mouth of yours almost got me.” 

Smiling, you reply, “Wouldn’t have been a bad thing.” 

“If I came down your throat, it’d be a bit before I could be inside you, and I’m fuckin’ achin’ to feel your pussy squeeze me.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Get up here and sit on my dick.” 

“You’re so bossy.” 

“You know damn well you wanna.” 

Sitting up on your knees, you start moving. 

“Of course I do,” you reply, straddling his hips, rocking your pussy back and forth along his hard shaft between your bodies. “But where’s the romance?” you continue, seeing him swallow hard, his hands grabbing your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples. “Sometimes a girl wants to be wooed.” His cock is wet below you from a mixture of spit, precum, and slick, hearing your movements, seeing Joel having difficulty concentrating, moving to grip your waist. “The least you can do is ask nicely.” 

“Sorry, baby.” His eyebrows are pinched together, him swallowing again, panting. “I wanna be inside you—need to be inside you. Missed you. Wanna feel you. Please, baby, will you ride me?” 

A Cheshire cat grin pulls up on your lips, leaning forward, holding yourself up with a hand pressed into the mattress by his head, hovering your mouth over his to meet his lust-blown gaze.

Your voice goes husky, “Yes, I will, since you were such a good boy.” Your tongue flicks up his top lip, Joel moaning, his cock jumping under you as he digs his fingers into your skin.

His mouth crashes into yours, kissing you hard. 

Your lips stay connected as you raise your hips, your other hand guiding him to your entrance, sinking down on him, moaning into each other's mouths as he fills you—that first initial stretch always taking your breath away, savoring the slight pinch of him stretching you out, his cock carving out space in your depths. 

Bottoming out, you feel so full, the kissing pausing with your jaws going slack at the intensity of how fucking good it feels, breathing each other in—sharing in this moment of being joined once more, feeling that strong sense that this is where you’re meant to be, this is who you’re meant to be with, and you’re finally home. 

You feel the prickle of tears in your eyes, overwhelmed by the emotions coming over you. The shower had been quick, desperate, and not a lot of time to truly feel, and now it’s all washing over you, everything hitting you at once that you feel so complete, like you found that one piece of the puzzle you were missing, and you’re finally whole. 

“I love you,” Joel says, his words unsteady with emotion. You open your eyes to find him already looking at you and can see in his gaze that he’s feeling it, too, just as overcome as you are. “I love you so fuckin’ much it hurts.” He kisses you, continuing to speak into your mouth. “Thank you for findin’ me. Thank you for still lovin’ me. Thank you for wantin’ to marry me—I’m forever fuckin’ yours.” 

A tear rolls down your cheek.

“I love you, too,” you murmur against his lips. “I’m yours, I’ve always been yours, I’ll always be yours. Thank you for loving me, asking me to marry you, and giving me another kid to raise. I love you, Joel Miller.” 

He smiles as he kisses you, a roll of your hips making his breath stutter. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans. 

Your head comes up to meet his heated gaze. 

“I love how you feel inside me—so fucking big.” His cock twitches inside your walls. “Fuck me like you mean it, Joel. Fuck me like I’m already your wife.”

A growl rips from his throat, his big hands grabbing onto your ass, kissing you while he starts fucking you on his cock, up and down, the slick slide of him moving in and out of you making your brain go fuzzy in pleasure. 

You’re moving with him, picking up pace, rising up on your thighs, and dropping back down, spearing yourself on his dick, feeling him so deep it knocks the air from your lungs. His lips are still on yours, the kisses messy, uncoordinated, like all he cares about is feeling your mouth on his, swallowing each other's breathy sounds. 

Fingers dig into the plump flesh of your backside, gasping when Joel starts thrusting up into you, stuttering your moans at how he pounds into you, him grunting, breaking the kiss to bare his teeth, a feral look on his face as he fucks into you with abandon—the beginnings of your orgasm taking shape, starting to build. The wet slap of his hips sounds in the room, mixed with the rough sounds from Joel’s throat and the softer one’s escaping your mouth, taking everything he’s giving to you, making the arousal burn brighter inside you. 

There’s sweat beading on his forehead and down his neck, the muscles tense under his skin, and you're unable to stop yourself from licking a stripe up the salty column of his throat, being rewarded with a gasp. 

He’s kissing you again when he loses steam, pulling you down to grind on his cock, the curls at the base of him rubbing deliciously against your clit, working you up, getting closer and closer to your release. 

His mouth leaves yours, Joel suddenly groaning as he sits up in the bed, an arm around your back to bring you him, spreading his legs out in front of him, your own bracketing his waist, keeping his dick inside you while getting you comfortable in his lap. 

Looping your arms around his neck, you press your fingers into the sweat-damp hair at the back of his head, looking him in the eyes. 

You’re breathless when you say, “Hi, babe.” 

He smirks. 

“Hi, baby.”

You start rocking your hips, circling them, to try and find the best angle, your mouth falling open when his cock rubs against a spot that has your toes curling.  

Joel’s arm is wrapped around you to hold you close, his other hand on your hip helping you move, kissing you passionately, deeply, one of those ones where you can feel deep down in your bones how much he loves you—chasing his mouth when he pulls back to nuzzle his nose against yours. 

“Want you close,” he murmurs. “Wanna feel you come like this.” 

“Okay,” you breathe, focusing on what feels good, working yourself up and down to have him pressing into that pleasurable place on every downstroke. 

“That’s it, baby,” he rasps. “Fuck yourself on me—use me.” 

You’re building yourself up, Joel’s mouth wandering—a nip to your chin, pressing kisses to your jaw, each corner of your lips, along your neck, his beard scratching across your skin; his hands roam—gripping your ass, sliding over your tummy and up to your breasts, pinching and teasing your hard peaks. 

The nerves in your body are alight in pleasure, panting moans falling from your mouth. He ducks his head to lick your nipple, engulfing it in his hot mouth, the sensation shooting to your core, making your head fall back, “Oh, fuck, Joel,” you moan, gripping his hair. “Feels so fucking good.” 

He moves to the other side, bouncing yourself on him, pushing yourself closer, feeling your muscles beginning to tighten. He snakes a hand down, pressing his thumb to your clit, making you cry out from the jolt of pleasure. 

He’s close to coming. 

He’s too fucking close. 

Feeling you fluttering around him, making him almost lose it, so worked up from being inside you again—your warmth, the tight squeeze of your cunt hugging him like a warm blanket. 

He’s trying to calm himself down, but you’ve taken over all of his senses—touching you, tasting you, seeing you, hearing you, smelling you—you’re all he can think about, and it has him feeling like he’s going to blow his load at any second, which is embarrassing. His stamina has never been this bad, can’t believe he came in three minutes flat when he fucked you in the shower, knowing he lasted much longer the very first time you had sex.

What is happening to him?

He’s never had this problem before. 

Is it his age? Has it finally caught up to him? 

It’s glaringly obvious what has Joel getting close to becoming a two-pump chump, and it’s you. 

He’s at your mercy. 

You’ve got him fucked up. 

And he wouldn’t change it for the goddamn world. 

He’s trying to control his breathing, his thumb circling your clit, his other hand digging into your ass to guide you up and down, knowing you’re almost there, and if he goes with you, then so be it. 

Raising his head, his face is a hair’s breadth from yours, seeing your lips parted and eyes closed, moaning loudly as you chase your high, moving at your own pace, looking so fucking beautiful his heart skips a beat. 

“I know you’re close, baby,” he husks. “Look at me. Lemme see you come.” 

Glazed-over eyes meet his, it’s evident how good you’re feeling, and he swears his dick gets harder at the sight, the tight clutch of you squeezing him, all wet and warm. 

He’s missed this—your sounds, how you feel, how you look. He wants to stay like this forever and never leave your warmth, loving how it’s consuming him, spreading through his body to the tips of his fingers to his toes. 

He’ll never tire of this, how perfectly you fit together, like you were made for each other, your softness complementing his roughness, helping to smooth out his edges. 

He presses harder onto your bundle of nerves, your walls tightening. 

“Come for me,” he says through his teeth. 

He can see it when you come—is so familiar with that look it’s imprinted in his brain, sending a spike of pleasure down his spine. 

Your mouth opens in a silent cry, clamping down hard on him as you come undone, gripping him so tight, you’ve stilled. Joel’s hanging on by a thread, moaning your name, feeling your release dripping down his balls, your cunt wetter and pulsing around him. 

“My good girl,” he pants, rubbing his hands over your back, feeling your soft skin. 

He takes a calming breath, trying to center himself, wanting to prove to himself he can last and really fuck you like his wife. 

Getting himself under control, his arm wraps around you, and the moment you relax, he’s moving, grunting as he carries you forward to get you on your back, you gasping in surprise as you bounce gently onto the mattress, the springs squeaking beneath you. 

His hips slot into the cradle of your thighs, sheathed to the hilt inside you, getting your hands above your head and intertwining your fingers to hold them, keeping his weight up on his forearms as his hips start rocking, the velvety walls of your pussy hugging him tightly, sucking him into your wet heat. 

He catches your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your moans, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper, loving how you feel under him—your body soft, welcoming him, beckoning him, wanting more with every slick drag of his cock in and out of your greedy depths. 

It feels like there’s fire just beneath his skin, a burning knot growing in his belly, having trouble thinking with your mouth on his and the hypnotic feeling of your cunt pulsing around him. 

He’s enraptured. 

The primal being in him takes over, his pace quickening, mouths detaching to press his forehead to yours as he starts railing, the slap of his hips working into you over and over, wanting to feel the tight squeeze of you coming again. 

“Joel,” you say his name in a breathy moan that has his hips stuttering from the stinging pleasure that cuts through him. You’re quivering beneath him, your legs trembling around his middle. “Oh, fuck,” you gasp. “You’re gonna make me come.” 

That just spurs him on, grunting as he fucks you into the mattress, your moans getting louder, your hands squeezing his. His head falls into the crook of your neck, hearing the wet suck of your pussy taking him, knowing you're close with how you’re spasming around him. 

There’s no sweeter sound than you crying out his name as you come. 

You clench down on him so hard, keeping him buried inside like you want him to stay there for all eternity, and Joel has half a mind to do just that. 

Lifting his head, he’s breathing hard as he peppers kisses along your jaw. 

“So good to me,” he says between breaths into your skin, the words coming out rough. “My good fuckin’ girl.” 

You’re trying to catch your own breath, Joel rolling his hips, needing the friction for his aching cock. 

You open your eyes to meet his gaze, looking all dreamy and thoroughly fucked out of your mind, making pride swell in his chest that he made you feel that good. 

“It’s your turn,” you slur, making him smile, kissing your chin. 

“It’s my turn?” he asks. “Don’t want another? Could probably make you squirt.” 

“No more. I’ll pass out. Want you to come inside me.” 

His cock jerks, thrusting a little faster in your sopping pussy. 

He kisses you softly. 

“You want me to fill you up?” he murmurs into your lips. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

He nudges the tip of his nose to yours. 

“Then I will.” 

His cock is throbbing, knowing he isn’t going to last long with heat curling in his belly. He starts fucking into you, hearing your skin colliding and the slick sounds between your legs, Joel panting. 

You’ve got your eyes locked on his. 

“You gonna come for me?” you ask. “Fuck me full of you, baby? I wanna feel it.”

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest, feeling hot all over, his skin drenched in sweat, thrusting harder. The thought of pumping you full of him until your dripping has his breaths getting shaky and rhythm going sloppy.   

“Shit,” he hisses. “Gonna come.” 

His balls draw up, cock thickens, that burning knot in his stomach winding so tight until he’s shattering into a million pieces, pushing into you as far as possible, moaning as he comes. 

The hot flood of his spend has you clenching up tight, sighing happily at being filled, Joel unable to stop himself from rolling his hips—this urge, a need ingrained in his brain to make sure he gets his come as deep inside you as it will go, hissing through his teeth when the sensitivity becomes too much, finally collapsing on top of you. 

He lets go of your hands, his nose pressed to your neck, breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“This okay?” he mumbles, not wanting you to be uncomfortable under his weight.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper. 

He’s feeling euphoric and so relaxed that he thinks his bones have turned to liquid, pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move even if he tried. 

He can’t recall the last time he allowed himself to get this fuck drunk, usually still alert when he comes, always on edge, but right now, he doesn’t have a single care in the world except for the woman under him. 

You slide your hands into his wet hair, dragging your fingernails over his scalp, and it has tingles shivering down his spine, Joel practically purring—in heaven, he wants to stay like this until time stops, and the universe becomes no more, basking in your warmth for all eternity, being with you always. 

He lost too much time with you, and he won’t waste anymore, planning to spend each and every day with you, not entirely sure if he could stand being parted—just the thought of being away from you making his guts churn, scared he’d lose you again, and that can’t happen, not after finally getting you back. 

He’ll keep you and Ellie safe and help Tommy with whatever he needs to protect the town because this is where his family is; this is home.

He has you. 

He has Ellie. 

He has Tommy. 

He has a job to do, needs to keep the people he cares about protected, and God help any motherfuckers who stand in his way. 

“Told you my hips are fine.” His voice is muffled in your neck.

You snort, your fingers stroking through his hair. 

“Nights still young, babe.” 

“I’m not breakin’ a fuckin’ hip,” he grumbles. 

“You better not—I don’t know what the hospital situation is here and if they’d have the supplies I’d need to fix you.” 

“Have I told you that you bein’ a doctor is sexy?” 

You giggle. 

“Because I can treat your sex injuries?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Again, I don’t know what’s here, so please don’t overdo it—Tommy would never let you live it down.” 

He frowns.

He’s done more strenuous things like killing infected and running from hoards; he can handle a night or two of pure fucking—it’ll be a breeze in comparison. 

You yawn, which has him yawning, too, exhaustion seeping into his bones. 

“Tommy’s an asshole,” he replies. “Wanna take a nap?”

“Absolutely. I’m too old for all-night marathon sex.”

“Stop that. We just gotta take a break and rest. Drink some water, too—we still gotta do your favorite.” 

“What’s my favorite?” 

“Face down, ass up.”

“God,” you moan. 

“It’s Joel, but I’m flattered.” 

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Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

Tagging: @absurdthirst @littlemisspascal @iamskyereads @theorganasolo @thefictionalgemini @pinkninja200 @lol-im-done @koryianders @pointlessandfutile @flyingmushroomss @abbyhaslongshorts @savage-aespa @sofietargaryen @kpopslur @superflymaterial @virtuallia @moobaggg @shaunthesheesh @marsrox @fandomtrash5092 @whore4dilfs @majdoline @mandowhatnow @hereforkylo @okjewels7567 @autobotgirl15-blog @silhxvette @lentil-s0up @myloveistoolittle @perksofbeingamultifandomm @squirtlebob @joliettes @aonungs-tsahik @javierpenasimp @thewayiknowyou @magic-magnoliaa @casssiopeia @vanemando15 @kiricomics @eddiemunscns @gracie7209 @fan-fiction-floozy @Butterscotch-mafia @myloveistoolittle @icygurl56 @deliriousfangirl61 @khaylin27 @notyourlovemonkey @a-wild-haggis @scorpiomindfuck @fandomandotherthings  @therealcap

#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #Joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/you #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #september series

[chasing-dreams-since-1995]

DISENCHANTMENT IS BACK FOR ITS 5TH AND FINAL SEASON ON SEPTEMBER 1ST! LETS GO!

#disenchantment #final season #netflix #yeah boy #September 1 #series finale #futurama #the simpsons #matt groening

[tasogareta]

haikyuu new year's illustration by matsunaka susumu, director of the upcoming film

#haikyuu!! #happy new year #i'm actually starting the new year while in the midst of rereading haikyuu in japanese #spent my september rereading the entire series and a couple of days ago... felt the itch to do so again lmao #but doing it in japanese this time #never thought i'd reach the point where i could do that comfortably but here we are 🤗 #and while it really hasn't been long since my last reread i am so invested again #haikyuu ilysm #tried going through the haikyuu tag to see if this was posted already and man is it ever an ordeal to do so #i gotta start blocking those x reader fantasies and whatnot posts more extensively lmao #ハイキュー!!

[go-see-a-starwar]

I’m okay (no I’m not)

[GIF sources: ROTS Training | Kenobi Training]

#they were hot then and they’re hot now #Hayden’s eyes and overall intensity in that 2nd gif I’m thinking a lot of things #September 8th is gonna be a wild one #hayden christensen #ewan mcgregor #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #a jedi’s return #rots #kenobi series #behind the scenes #Kenobi bts

[silly-stings]

bonus hc: this is how i think gradient joe would cry

#hes gotta hand wash the stains in the river. also grass stains too #my art #bugbo art #bugbo gradient joe #bugbo fanart #bugbo series #bugbo #september 2023 #400 notes

[paalove]

#only friends the series #only friends #listen. im Not writing more fic until september but. but. #you guys know cringefail4cringefail compels me deeply!!!!