Summary: Seattle tearing itself apart. Every corner of the city feels moments away from bloodshed, but you have no intention of stopping before finishing what you came for — no matter how much you miss him. And somewhere inside Seattle’s darkness, Joel is trying to reach you before the city does.
Chapter W.C and Warnings: 16.8k ⚠️ Read warnings at your own risk if you want to avoid spoilers... SMUT +18, explicit sexual content, kissing, obsessive&possessive sex, obsessive/protective Joel, arguing, abandonment issues, emotional reunion, kissing, rough sex, fingering, unprotected p in v (optional fjdjd), praise, desperate sex, feelings realization, hurt/comfort, Joel being terrified of losing reader, killing, shooting, graphic violence, infected attacks, blood and gore, gun violence, stalkers & clickers & spores, near death experiences, Reader is a badass, WLF soldiers having a really bad week because of reader, panic, injury, bite wounds, morally gray everyone, PTSD, emotional trauma, heavy angst, Seattle chaos, WLF, Seraphites, rain, Taxi being the goodest boy alive
A/N: I know this update took forever and I’m really sorry about that, but I truly hope this story still has a place in your hearts after all this time, thank you so much to everyone who never lost interest in this fic while I was taking a small break from it 🥺🤍 the good news is: chapters shouldn’t take this long from now on 💋 also… god, I missed writing Joel so much!
Chapter's Song: Work Song - Hozier- "No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her."
Seattle.
Day One.
Rainwater drips steadily from the rusted skeletons of dead traffic lights overhead. Boots hammer against soaked pavement.
One pair. Then another. Fast. Panicked.
“Move, fucking move— this way!”
The voice rips through the gray Seattle afternoon between ragged breaths as two men shove past abandoned cars, shoulders slamming hard enough into dented metal to shake loose fragments of broken glass.
Another gunshot cracks across the street.
Not close. Far. Sharp enough to split the city open.
The bullet tears past the first man’s head so close he feels the heat of it scrape his ear before it punches into the rusted hood beside him—
CLANG.
Sparks burst violently off metal. “Fuck!” he gasps, stumbling sideways.
Another shot. The second man’s head snaps backward in an explosion of blood and bone.
Red sprays across the survivor’s face.
For half a second the body keeps running. Then collapses violently against the pavement with a sick crack. The remaining man chokes on a scream.
“Aah— Jesus fucking Christ!”
He runs harder.
Adrenaline floods his legs so violently they barely feel attached to him anymore. His boots slam through puddles as he forces himself forward between abandoned FEDRA trucks swallowed by vines and collapsed barricades overtaken by moss.
Another shot cuts through the rain-heavy air. This one hits. The bullet punches straight through his thigh.
“AHH— FUCK!”
He drops instantly, shoulder smashing against wet asphalt hard enough to tear skin through his jacket. Pain detonates through his leg while blood spills hot between trembling fingers clawing desperately at the wound.
He tries dragging himself toward the nearest overturned truck.
Breathing too hard. Too loud. Too terrified.
He glances back.
His friend’s body lies twisted in the middle of the flooded street twenty feet away, rainwater slowly carrying diluted ribbons of blood toward a clogged drain.
Then—
Nothing. Silence. No third shot. The man’s chest heaves violently.
Why didn’t she kill me?
Shaking hands fumble at his torn pant leg, yanking the soaked fabric high enough to reveal the bullet wound shredding through the side of his thigh.
Clean shot. Missed the artery. Deliberate.
Then—
Footsteps. Soft against wet grass nearby.
Slow. Controlled. A revolver cocks. The metallic click echoes louder than the gunfire. The man jerks for the pistol holstered at his hip instinctively—
BANG.
The bullet tears straight through his hand. He screams.
The gun flies uselessly across the pavement as he throws himself backward in panic, scrambling away on elbows slick with blood and rainwater.
“You fuckin’ psycho bitch!” he screams hysterically, clutching his ruined hand against his chest. “I told you everythin’! What the fuck else do you want?!”
The footsteps stop. A figure emerges slowly through the drifting rain. Black jacket darkened by water. Sniper rifle hanging loose against your back. Expression cold enough to freeze blood. You crouch slowly in front of him and press the revolver against the center of his forehead.
The man’s breathing turns ragged instantly.
“Listen— listen to me, okay?” Blood bubbles faintly at the corner of his mouth as panic makes him speak too fast. “I swear to God we ain’t WLF anymore! We left! We’re headin’ south, alright? Santa Barbara! We told you where the hospital is! I wasn’t lyin’!”
Your eyes narrow slightly. No sympathy. No hesitation.
“You shot my fuckin’ dog.”
BANG.
The back of his skull bursts against the pavement. Silence crashes back over the street. Rain taps softly against abandoned cars. Thunder rolls somewhere far beyond the skyline. The faint ringing left behind by gunfire hums inside your ears. Without another glance toward the corpse, you holster the revolver. At your boots lies an unfolded map stained dark with rainwater and blood.
Earlier, while you questioned them, one of the Wolves managed slipping free from the zip ties around his wrists and bolted.
Taxi lunged before you could stop him. The gunshot came immediately after. Too fast. Too close. The bullet only grazed his front leg.
Lucky.
You crouch beside the map beneath the weak glow of your flashlight and study the markings carefully.
Hospital.
A rough circle near a cluster of taller buildings farther north. Your jaw tightens slightly. “Thirty miles,” you mutter quietly.
The map folds neatly before disappearing into your back pocket. Behind you, Taxi lets out a low whine. Your head turns instantly.
“There you are.”
The shepherd limps toward you through wet grass, ears tilted back slightly in annoyance more than pain.
You kneel beside him immediately, gently lifting the injured leg into your lap. “Hey.”
Your voice softens despite yourself. “What did we talk about, huh?”
Taxi huffs.
“You don’t throw yourself in front of bullets.”
He barks once.
You snort quietly while wrapping fresh bandages around the graze wound.
“I had it handled.” Another bark. Then a softer whine. “Yeah, yeah.” You lean down and press a kiss against the top of his head. “Good boy.” Taxi leans briefly into your shoulder before you stand again, slinging the rifle back across your shoulder.
“C’mon,” you murmur. “Let’s find somewhere to sleep.”
Your eyes drift toward Seattle looming against the storm-dark horizon. Huge. Silent. Waiting. “We move again tomorrow.”
Taxi barks once. Together, you walk past the cooling corpse left behind in the rain. Your boots splash through shallow puddles. Taxi’s paws thud softly beside you. Neither of you looks back.
The café sits dark between two collapsed storefronts, half-hidden behind overgrown ivy and years of rain damage. The faded sign overhead swings lazily in the wind. You stop across the street first.
Always across the street.
Your eyes move slowly over shattered windows, rooftop lines, alley entrances. Listening before moving. Watching before breathing.
Seattle feels wrong at night. Too quiet one second. Too alive the next.
Taxi stands beside your leg, ears twitching toward the dark building. “You smell somethin’?” you murmur.
The shepherd huffs softly but doesn’t growl.
Good enough.
You cross the street carefully, boots splashing through shallow rainwater before stopping beneath the old café awning. Rain drums softly against rotten canvas overhead.
The front door doesn’t budge at first.
Swollen wood. You shove your shoulder into it harder. The hinges groan.
Then the door finally jerks inward with a burst of stale air carrying old coffee, mildew, and wet dust.
Your flashlight cuts through darkness slowly.
Tables overturned. Broken mugs. A mold-covered pastry display near the counter. Dead vines crawl across one wall where rainwater leaks through cracked ceiling tiles.
Taxi slips inside first, paws silent against warped hardwood.
You wait. Listen. Nothing.
No clicking. No breathing. No shifting somewhere deep in the dark.
Still, your hand stays close to Joel’s revolver at your hip.
You slip inside the café quietly and pull the door shut behind you before dragging a rusted metal chair beneath the handle.
Not enough to stop somebody determined. Enough to buy you a few seconds.
Habit.
Your backpack drops beside the counter with a tired thud while you crouch near the entrance, pulling thin wire and two empty cans from one of the side pouches.
Taxi watches silently from the doorway.
You glance toward him briefly while tying the wire low across the handle. “Better find more of these tomorrow,” you mutter. “We’re officially running outta food.”
Taxi blinks once. “Yeah, don’t look at me like that. You eat more than I do.”
One of his ears twitches.
The cans clink softly together while you secure them beside the wall. Crude. Fast.
Enough to wake you if infected—or worse—wander inside during the night.
Only after that do you finally move deeper into the café. The beam of your flashlight catches an old employee sign hanging crooked near the kitchen entrance.
MANAGER
The office door sits half-open beyond it. Small room. No windows except one narrow pane overlooking the rain-soaked street outside. Rain taps steadily against the cracked window overlooking the street outside, the sound muffled beneath distant thunder rolling somewhere deep over Seattle.
Taxi limps in after you, nails clicking softly against warped hardwood.
Your flashlight beam moves across the room slowly.
Peeling wallpaper curls away from damp walls. Water stains spread dark across the ceiling above. An old chandelier hangs crooked overhead, half its glass bulbs shattered, long dead electrical wires spilling downward like black vines tangled through hanging ivy creeping in from the broken corner of the ceiling.
The whole place feels abandoned in a tired sort of way. Not violent. Just forgotten.
Your eyes land on the couch against the far wall. Dark leather. Old. Still intact somehow. “Well,” you mutter under your breath. You walk over and drag your palm across the top cushion first. Dust coats your skin immediately. You grimace faintly before smacking your hands together a few times, watching gray powder drift through the flashlight beam. “Jesus.”
Taxi huffs softly behind you.
“At least somebody around here’s clean.”
The shepherd blinks at you without remorse. You drop your backpack beside the couch before finally sitting down. The leather creaks beneath your weight. Then your eyebrows lift slightly. “Hm.” You lean back deeper into the cushions. “Actually kinda comfortable.”
The room answers only with the soft groaning of old pipes somewhere inside the walls.
Your gaze drifts toward the desk near the window. A little metal plaque still sits crooked near the edge beneath layers of dust.
LEONARD MITCHELL - GENERAL MANAGER
You stare at it for a second. “Nice office, Leonard.”
Taxi circles twice before climbing carefully onto one of the smaller armchairs nearby, turning until he finds a comfortable position despite the bandaged leg. He lets out a tired grunt before finally curling into himself.
Your mouth twitches faintly at the sight.
Then silence settles over the room. Heavy.
A leather couch rests against the far wall beneath dusty shelves stacked with old paperwork and mold-swollen binders. The room smells old.
Thunder rolls softly somewhere far outside while rain streaks down the office window in silver lines. For a moment, neither of you moves. The city groans around you. Old pipes. Distant wind. Something metallic banging somewhere far down the street. Seattle never really sleeps. Neither do you.
You finish wrapping Taxi’s leg before leaning back against the couch with a tired exhale. Your rifle rests within arm’s reach. Revolver beside your thigh. Knife still strapped near your boot. Taxi stares toward the office door, ears twitching sharply. You both listen. Nothing. Just distant movement somewhere outside. Far enough away. The sound fades slowly back into the storm. Taxi lowers his head first. You follow a second later. Neither of you fully relaxes. You doubt either of you remembers how anymore.
You lean your head back against the couch and stare upward. The ceiling above is cracked open in places, tangled electrical wires hanging loose between patches of water damage and creeping ivy. Rain leaks steadily somewhere deeper inside the café.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
You close your eyes for a second. And immediately think of him.
Of course you do.
Your chest tightens before you can stop it. This office—cold, damp, rotting around the edges—is so far away from the warmth of Jackson it almost feels unreal. So far from his bed. From the heavy warmth of his body pressed against yours beneath thick blankets. From the way his arms wrapped around your waist in his sleep like some stubborn instinct he couldn’t turn off even unconscious. From the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. From the rough scrape of his beard against your shoulder. Even the occasional snoring that always dragged a laugh out of you eventually.
The corner of your mouth lifts before you can stop it. Then the smile fades just as quickly. A deep breath leaves your lungs.
You reach for your backpack beside the couch, unzipping it slowly. Metal clicks softly together inside. Ammo. Knives. Canned food. Taxi lifts his head again immediately, watching you with quiet attention like he already knows exactly what you’re looking for. Your fingers eventually find the sketchbook buried beneath everything else.
You hesitate for a second before opening it.
Joel stares back at you almost immediately.
A rough pencil sketch from Jackson. Then another. And another. The lines change slightly between pages—different expressions, different angles—but it’s always him.
Two weeks. That’s all it’s been. And somehow you already miss him enough it physically aches.
Your throat tightens. You stare at the drawings longer than you mean to. Unable to stop yourself from wondering what happened after you left. You tried not to think about it on the road. Tried not to imagine the morning after. Joel waking up. The empty side of the bed. The drugs wearing off. That look on his face when he realized.
You swallow hard.
The thought hits like a punch straight to the ribs.
You’ve never worried about people before. Except William. You’ve feared losing him before. Feared ending up alone again. But Joel... is different. Joel makes your chest hurt in ways bullets never could. Makes you understand why people in old movies ruined themselves for love.
The idea of breaking his heart somehow feels worse than breaking your own.
Your eyes burn, your heart clenching.
God.
So this is what loving someone feels like. Not the happiness part. You already knew that part. It’s him laughing quietly against your neck in bed. It’s his hand finding yours without thinking. It’s the way your body relaxes the second he walks into a room.
No—
This part. The ache. The fear. The terrifying realization that someone else now has the power to break your heart just by existing somewhere you can’t reach. Your gaze drops back toward the sketchbook. Joel’s face follows you everywhere now. You barely recognize yourself anymore because of it. You have something to lose now. Someone.
If this goes wrong… If you fail…
You may never hear his voice again. Never feel his arms around you again. Never see that tired little smile he gets when he looks at you like you’re something dangerous he decided to keep anyway.
A bark suddenly cuts through the silence.
You blink hard. Only then noticing the tear that slipped free and landed against the page. “Shit,” you mutter softly, wiping it away quickly.
Taxi climbs down from the chair immediately, limping over toward the couch.
“I know,” you whisper quietly. “I miss him too.”
Taxi rests his head against your knee. Your fingers slide automatically through the fur behind his ears.
“But I have to do this.”
The shepherd lifts one paw slowly onto your leg. You stare at him for a second. His eyes look strangely human sometimes in the dark. “You think I broke his heart?”
Taxi whines softly. Your chest tightens harder. “I couldn’t let him come with me.” Your voice turns quieter now. “Ellie needs him. Jackson needs him.” You swallow thickly. “And… maybe I just showed up and fucked that old man’s life all up.”
Taxi barks once immediately.
You let out a small breath through your nose. “Yeah. I know.” Your fingers continue stroking slowly through his fur. “He meant what he said.” Your voice nearly cracks. “But that’s not the problem.”
You stare down at Joel’s sketch again.
“Being the daughter of someone like Clouser feels like carrying rot around inside your chest.” Your jaw tightens faintly. “As long as he’s alive, I’m never gonna stop feeling it.”
Rain rattles softly against the broken windows outside.
“I can’t build a future with Joel while all this still exists.” Your eyes lower slowly. “Not while I keep lookin’ at Tommy, Maria… Dina, Jesse, Benji, Ellie…” Your throat tightens. “They deserve to feel safe around me.”
Silence stretches for a moment.
Then quieter: “I think…” You blink slowly. “I think I finally know what having a family feels like.” The words hurt to admit out loud. “And I can’t let him take that away from me.”
Taxi lifts his head and licks the side of your jaw suddenly. A weak laugh escapes you before you grab his muzzle gently. “Hey.” You rub your thumb along the bridge of his nose. “When I go back…” Your voice softens almost into a whisper. “I want my head clear.” Your fingers move slowly through his fur again. “Maybe then I’ll know how to be someone better. A better girlfriend.”
The word feels strange but warm.
“Assumin’ he forgives me.”
Taxi presses closer immediately.
You finally set the sketchbook aside before sliding down fully against the couch cushions, pulling him close against your side.
His fur still smells faintly like rainwater, old forest, dirt, and gunpowder. For years, that smell alone meant safety more than any human being ever could.
But now—
Now there’s another scent your body misses more.
Worn leather. Gun oil. Damp flannel dried near a fire. Sawdust caught in rough hands after long afternoons working wood in Jackson.
Him.
Your eyes drift slowly toward the cracked office window overhead. Beyond fractured glass and tangled ivy, the night sky barely peeks through Seattle’s storm clouds. A few weak stars flicker faintly between them.
You stare at them quietly.
And for the first time in years—
You make a wish.
Just one.
To see him again. To hear his voice again. To come back alive long enough to fall asleep in his arms one more time.
Your fingers tighten gently in Taxi’s fur.
Then slowly—
Exhaustion finally pulls you under.
Horse hooves echo hollow against cracked highway.
Slow now. Careful.
Joel keeps one hand near the reins while his eyes scan the massive quarantine wall rising through the rain ahead.
Seattle.
Even from a distance, the city feels wrong.
Too big. Too quiet.
Fog crawls low between abandoned checkpoints and collapsed military barricades swallowed whole by ivy and moss. Old FEDRA fencing stretches along the road in rusted lines, parts of it torn open long ago by something stronger than time.
Rain taps steadily against Joel’s jacket. The horse shifts uneasily beneath him the closer they get. “Easy,” Joel mutters quietly, patting its neck once.
Ahead, the massive outer gate hangs crooked on broken hinges, chains swaying softly in the wind. Faded quarantine warnings still cling to metal signs eaten away by rust. Across the center of the gate, someone has painted a message in massive white letters now streaked by rain and time:
WLF
TRESPASSERS KILLED ON SIGHT
The dripping paint almost looks like bone beneath the gray Seattle sky.
Joel squints upward toward the walls towering over him.
Dead guard towers stare down empty streets. Or at least they look empty. Seattle reminds him too much of places where people disappear. His jaw tightens.
The horse carries him slowly through the open gate. Immediately the city swallows sound whole.
No birds. No distant voices.
Just rainwater dripping from collapsed buildings and the faint creaking of old structures somewhere deeper inside the streets ahead. Joel’s eyes move constantly.
Cars. Windows. Rooflines. Habit.
Then—
Something catches his attention near the mud alongside the road. Fresh tire tracks.
Joel pulls the horse to a stop instantly.
The tracks cut sharply through rainwater and dirt before disappearing farther into the city.
Fresh. Very fresh.
Joel slides down from the saddle with a grunt, crouching low beside them. WLF vehicle. His fingers brush against wet mud before his gaze shifts farther ahead.
Then he sees it.
An abandoned pickup truck half-crashed against a storefront farther down the street. “Shit.”
Joel stands quickly and moves toward it, boots splashing through puddles. The closer he gets, the more obvious it becomes. Bullet holes shred the side panels. One tire blown out. The gas tank leaking slowly beneath the truck into rainwater mixed with oil and blood.
Joel’s eyes narrow immediately.
Not random.
Forced stop.
His hand brushes against the hood. Still faintly warm beneath cold rain. “Goddamn…”
Then he notices the steering column hanging open beneath the wheel. Wires ripped loose. Hotwired. A humorless breath escapes him through his nose. “Course she did.”
His eyes drift across the street automatically. Searching. Reading. Tracking. Then he sees blood. Not much. Drops leading toward a nearby alley.
Joel follows carefully.
One hand already resting near the revolver—your revolver—on his hip. The alley opens into another ruined street farther ahead—
And that’s where he finds the bodies.
Three WLF soldiers sprawled across wet pavement. One near an overturned patrol truck. Another collapsed against a wall. The third barely recognizable anymore.
Joel slows immediately.
His stomach tightens. Rain runs steadily down the corpses, washing blood into the gutters. Then he notices the bites. Deep tears through exposed throat. Another through the forearm. Jagged canine marks.
Taxi.
Joel exhales slowly through his nose. “Attaboy.”
He crouches beside the nearest body carefully. Then spots the spent casing laying near the corpse. Joel picks it up between rough fingers, rolling it once against his palm.
Sniper round. Your sniper round.
One clean shot. Two heads. Straight through the glass.
Precise. Efficient. Smooth. Exactly your kind of work.
“Goddamn it, Kat,” Joel mutters quietly. “You can’t take ’em all down at once.”
He rises slowly, eyes scanning the street again. Unease settles heavier in his chest with every passing second. He plants both hands briefly against his hips, jaw tightening hard.
Ten straight days riding from Jackson. Ten days barely sleeping. Ten days chasing your ghost across half the damn country—
And still he’s late.
The bodies tell him immediately. Spacing. Angles. Timing. Experience never lies.
You’re ahead of him. One day at least. Maybe more.
Joel’s back screams when he straightens fully, exhaustion dragging through every muscle in his body, but he ignores it automatically. Pain barely registers anymore. Rain continues falling steadily around him while Seattle groans somewhere deeper ahead.
Waiting. Watching.
Joel stares toward the dark streets disappearing farther into the city. “Can’t be late,” he mutters quietly. More to himself than anyone else. “Gotta find her before it’s too damn late.”
Then he turns back toward the horse. And rides deeper into Seattle.
Morning comes gray and wet.
Not bright. Not warm. Just a thin, colorless light spreading over Seattle like the city is too tired to wake up properly.
Rain still clings to everything. Broken windows. Rusted signs. The hoods of abandoned cars. The sagging awnings over dead storefronts. Every surface shines dull and cold beneath the low sky.
You move north with Taxi at your side.
The hospital doesn’t appear right away. Nothing in this city gives itself up that easy.
The map says it should be somewhere ahead, past a mess of flooded streets and half-collapsed buildings, but Seattle keeps folding in on itself. Roads blocked by wreckage. Alleys choked with vines. Military barriers left behind like broken teeth.
And people.
Too many people.
By noon, you’ve already run into more WLF deserters than you expected. Small groups. Two here. Three there. Scared. Armed. Dirty. Running from something behind them and terrified of whatever might be ahead.
The first few don’t tell you much before they die.
The next group gives you the name you're looking for.
After that, you stop killing first.
You start listening.
That is how you end up crouched on the second floor of a half-collapsed building, one hand resting against Taxi’s neck while voices drift up from below.
The ground floor beneath you is split open in places, the concrete caved inward toward a lower level thick with spores. Pale fungal growth climbs the walls down there in swollen veins, pulsing through the damp like something still alive. The air below looks yellow in the weak light, heavy and ruined.
You keep Taxi close. No way in hell you’re taking him through that.
Below, four WLF soldiers move through the street, unaware of you above them. “What the hell is goin’ on?” one of them mutters. “This is what, the sixth group?”
“Sixth if you count the ones from yesterday.”
“Jesus.”
“Isaac made an example outta the last ones. Had ’em executed in front of everybody. Thought that’d be enough.”
“Guess it wasn’t.”
“It’s that fuckin’ doctor.”
Your whole body stills.
The man beside him lowers his voice. “Clouser?”
“Yeah. People don’t wanna stay and die for Scars or for some bullshit vaccine that ain’t ever gonna work.”
“Wasn’t the whole point of taking FEDRA down to build a liberation front?”
A bitter laugh. “Does this sound like liberation to you?”
“You sound like you’re about to run too.”
“Hey. You hear what he’s been doing to pregnant women? Kids?”
The silence that follows feels heavier than the rain.
“Rumors.”
“You sure about that?”
“Fuck.” Another voice exhales shakily. “Isaac should’ve killed that old bastard when he had the chance.”
“He still sending his A-team to the hospital?”
“Yeah. The ones he trusts.”
Rain taps softly against broken concrete overhead. Then another voice lowers slightly. “Hey… you know Jordan?”
“The Firefly guy?”
“Yeah. Him.” A pause. “Heard that immune girl everyone’s looking for? Supposedly she’s Clouser’s daughter.”
Silence. “…Bullshit.”
“And apparently she was with the other immune girl for a while. Somewhere in Wyoming.”
Your stomach tightens instantly.
“Word is Isaac’s planning to send a group out there soon.” The man snorts quietly. “Abby might lead it.”
“No fuckin’ way Isaac lets Abby leave Seattle right now.”
“Why the hell would she even care?”
A longer silence follows.
Then quietly: “That smuggler from Salt Lake? The one who killed all those Fireflies in the hospital?”
Your pulse stutters.
“He’s supposedly in that town too.”
Silence crashes over the group immediately afterward. Even from above, you can feel the tension shift.
“…That’s too much coincidence for my taste.”
“Think that crazy doctor’s making half this shit up.”
“Or that Jordan guy.”
“Alright, enough gossip.” Boots scrape concrete. “Get back to your posts and keep your eyes open.”
That is enough. More than enough.
Your grip tightens around the rifle. Taxi’s ears twitch. You glance down at him and press two fingers to your lips.
Stay.
He understands. You’ve taught him this too many times to count.
Stay unless you whistle.
Stay unless you scream.
Stay unless he sees you bleeding too much.
That last part is always the problem.
Because Taxi listens until fear takes over. And fear makes him stupidly brave. You point toward a patch of tall weeds and vines growing through a broken section of wall. He lowers himself reluctantly, still watching you. “Good boy,” you mouth.
Then you move.
Silent across the cracked upper floor, stepping over broken tiles and rotted office chairs, rifle raised. The building groans softly beneath your weight.
You line up the first shot from above. The suppressor does its job, but barely. A soft, ugly pop.
One soldier drops. The others turn too late.
Second shot.
Third.
Fourth.
Each one clean.
Each one fast.
By the time the last body hits the pavement, the street is quiet again except for rainfall and Taxi’s low breathing behind you.
You stay crouched for a moment, listening.
No infected. No returning fire. No shouting.
Good.
You climb down carefully. The air grows colder near the broken ground floor. Spores drift lazily below through the collapsed opening, glowing faintly where thin daylight touches them. The fungal growth along the walls looks old and thick, spread in rootlike patterns beneath peeling paint.
You avoid the edge. You’ve seen enough basements like that. You search the bodies quickly.
Ammo. A dull knife. Nothing useful.
Your last suppressor is already ruined, and the one currently screwed onto your pistol is close to useless. The metal is hot from overuse, the sound less clean than it should be.
One left after this.
One.
You’ll need to save it for something that matters.
You’re about to move on when you find a photograph in one of their jacket pockets. Not an old one. A fresh one. Instant film.
You hold it between two fingers and wipe rain off the glossy surface with your thumb.
A group of people smile back at you. Young. Tired. Alive.
Behind them rises a massive structure, round and crowded, with stands and lights and lines of people moving in the background.
A stadium.
Not a checkpoint. Not a small base. A real settlement.
Crowded. Organized.
You don’t know any of their faces. You don’t care to.
But the place itself matters.
You unfold your map and compare it quickly, marking distance with your thumb and eye. The stadium sits too far west to be your target.
The hospital is north. Far enough away from the stadium to make sense. Far enough to hide things.
You crouch beside a cracked wall, using a rusted pipe as a flat edge while you sketch a rough route across the paper. Streets. Blocks. Waterlogged underpasses you’ll avoid. Higher ground where possible.
Ten miles, maybe. Two hours if the roads don’t fight you. They will.
A burst of static crackles from one of the dead men’s radios. Taxi lifts his head instantly. You freeze.
“Cooper, you copy?” The voice is rough, irritated. Static. “Cooper? Linda? Come in.”
You stare at the radio. Taxi gives one sharp bark. You raise your hand. “Shh.”
The radio crackles again.
“Cooper, listen up. We found a deserter group wiped out near your last checkpoint. Clean shots. Somebody hunted ’em. Doesn’t look like Scars.”
Your jaw tightens. Yesterday’s bodies.
“Answer me, Cooper. Goddamn it. We’re coming to your position.”
Taxi growls. Not the low warning he gives for people.
Different. Deeper.
Your eyes flick to him immediately. That growl means infected. But then you hear it too. Not infected. Footsteps. Multiple. Close.
You move to the broken window and look down through hanging ivy.
Five people. Armed.
WLF.
And a dog.
“Shit,” you whisper. The dog has its nose low, pulling against the leash. Taxi’s lip curls. “So that’s what you smelled.”
Your mind works fast. Two exits. One dangerous. One worse.
The patrol is already too close. The dog will catch your scent any second. You crouch in front of Taxi and grip the fur at the sides of his neck gently, forcing his eyes to yours. “You stay in the grass,” you whisper. “I’ll pull them away.”
Taxi whines.
“No.” Your voice hardens. “You can’t come with me. I don’t have a damn gas mask for you, understand?”
Below, the WLF dog barks.
“Hey, what is it, boy?” one of the soldiers calls. Too close.
You point sharply toward the weeds leading along the collapsed wall. Taxi hesitates. “Go.”
He goes, but he hates it. You can see that in every line of him.
You drop low and begin crawling along the upper ledge, aiming for the vines that spill down toward the lower level. If you can get to the other side, maybe you can circle out before—
A snarl erupts behind you.
You twist just as the WLF dog lunges out of nowhere.
Too fast.
You barely throw yourself sideways before its teeth snap where your arm was. Then Taxi hits it like a damn wolf.
The two dogs crash into the floor in a violent tangle of teeth and muscle. “Taxi!” you hiss.
Too late. The WLF dog yelps as Taxi’s jaws lock around its throat. Voices explode below.
“Trespasser here!”
“No—Jesus, that’s Lenny! He's dead!”
“There’s another dog!”
“Shoot it! Shoot it!”
Taxi shakes once. The WLF dog goes limp. “Stay there!” you snap at him. “Goddamn it, stay!”
Gunfire tears into the wall beside you.
You dive behind a broken concrete partition as bullets chew through plaster overhead. Your heart slams against your ribs. One soldier breaks off toward Taxi. Another moves to flank you from the rear. The man behind you rounds the broken wall too fast.
You move faster.
You catch his wrist, twist, slam him chest-first into the concrete, and drag him back against you with your revolver shoved beneath his jaw. The others freeze the second they see you.
“Drop it!” one of them shouts.
Your hostage spits blood. “Shoot her!”
“Shut the fuck up,” you growl against his ear. You shift backward, dragging him with you toward the collapsed edge. Behind you, the lower floor waits.
Dark. Yellow. Thick with spores.
The woman in front stiffens. “Ari—no!”
Good.
That matters. That means they won’t shoot through him. You press the barrel harder under his jaw. “Back up,” you shout. “Or I paint the floor with his head.”
“You got nowhere to go,” another soldier says, weapon trained on you.
You understand what he means.
The spores. The drop. The infected below. No mask. No escape.
For them.
Not for you.
You tighten your grip on Ari and take one more step back.
He realizes a second too late. “No—no, we’ll both die!”
“Maybe,” you say.
Then you throw your weight backward.
The fall is short but brutal.
Air rips out of your lungs as you hit broken concrete and roll hard, dragging the man down with you. Dust and spores explode upward around you in a sick yellow cloud.
Above, voices scream.
“Ari!”
“Fuck!”
“No, no, no—”
You roll behind a collapsed support beam just as bullets cut into the ground where you landed. “Leah, stop!” someone yells. “You’ll die too! We don’t have masks!”
“I’m gonna kill that bitch!”
“She’s already dead! Come on!”
“Isaac’s orders—nobody goes into spore zones. You saw what happened to Ramirez!”
“Fuck!”
Bootsteps retreat above. You stay still until the last one fades. The spores hang thick around you. You inhale once through your nose.
Damp. Earthy. Rotten.
It tickles faintly. Nothing more. Like mildew in an old basement.
Ari is somewhere in the dark, coughing violently. “God…” he chokes between ragged breaths. “Goddamn…”
You glance toward the sound instinctively.
Then freeze. The wall behind him moves.
No. Not the wall.
Cordyceps.
Pale fungal shelves bloom across concrete and brick in thick layered growths, veins spreading outward like diseased roots through the entire lower floor. Some of it is old and dry, cracked apart like dead bark.
Some of it still glistens wet beneath your flashlight. Fresh. Breathing.
Bodies cling half-swallowed inside the growth. Arms. Ribcages. Open mouths permanently fused into the fungus climbing over them.
The entire building smells damp and rotten enough to taste.
Then—
Click.
Click-click-click-click.
Your blood runs cold instantly. The sound echoes from deeper inside the dark.
Clickers.
The explosion upstairs must’ve drawn them down here.
And now Ari’s coughing is doing the rest.
Another clicking cry bursts through the building.
Closer.
Wet fungal chatter bouncing sharply through concrete halls while something shifts rapidly in the dark ahead.
Ari hears it too. “No…” His breathing turns panicked immediately. “No no no—”
CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK.
Another answers somewhere nearby. Then another. The entire lower level suddenly feels alive. Movement everywhere.
You crouch lower immediately, barely breathing while Ari drags himself backward across the floor, one ruined leg useless behind him.
“Please—” he gasps. “Please help m—”
The first clicker lunges. Fast as hell. Ari’s scream cuts violently short beneath tearing flesh and wet crunching bone.
You look away instantly. Not because you feel bad. Because he’s already dead.
More clicking erupts nearby. The feeding sounds alone are enough to turn your stomach. You lower yourself silently and begin backing away through the darkness instead, keeping low beneath hanging cords of fungus spreading across the ceiling. Slow. Controlled. One careful step after another.
Then—
CLICKCLICKCLICK.
A clicker jerks its head upward somewhere behind you. You freeze instantly while it listens, twitching sharply toward the noise. Then Ari’s dying screams echo deeper in the room and the infected bolts away from you immediately.
You exhale slowly through your nose.
Lucky. Very fucking lucky.
Keeping your flashlight lowered, you slip silently between collapsed cubicles while wet ripping sounds echo behind you. Bones snapping. Flesh tearing. You don’t look back once.
The faint glow of daylight finally appears ahead through thick hanging vines near a collapsed loading exit. Fresh air. Rain. Freedom.
You push through the overgrowth and stumble outside into the cold Seattle evening just as another horrible shriek erupts somewhere deep inside the building behind you.
The city air never smelled so good.
You suck in a breath.
The street is empty. Too empty.
“Taxi,” you call softly.
Nothing.
Your heart climbs straight into your throat. You whistle once. Sharp. Low. Still nothing. “Taxi.”
This time it comes out rougher. Panic starts crawling up the back of your neck while you scan every broken window and dark doorway around you.
No.
No, no, no—
“Taxi!”
Then a bark echoes from above.
You spin just as Taxi comes barreling down from the broken upper level through a sagging stairwell, ears back, tail low, alive.
Alive.
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe.
You drop immediately, grabbing his face between both hands while he whines and pushes into you. You check him fast. Neck. Chest. Legs. No blood. No new wounds.
You exhale so hard it almost hurts. “Okay. Okay.” You press your forehead briefly to his. “You’re okay.”
Taxi licks your chin and a broken laugh slips out of you.
“Yeah, we definitely need to make you a gas mask.”
He barks once like he agrees.
You stand slowly, wiping rain and sweat from your face. Through the gap between buildings, beyond a broken bridge and the skeletons of old towers, you finally see it.
A distant building rising above the gray. Hospital lettering barely visible through the rain.
Your chest tightens.
There. Finally.
You take a long drink from your canteen before letting Taxi drink from your cupped hand too. “You ready?” you ask quietly.
He looks toward the hospital. Then back at you.
You sling the rifle over your shoulder and fold the map away. “We’re close. Let’s go.”
Seattle, Day Two.
Dusk settles over the city in bruised shades of blue and gray by the time you reach the hospital district. The rain weakens into a thin mist drifting between buildings, but Seattle still feels soaked through to the bone. Somewhere far off, gunfire rattles across distant streets before fading back into silence again.
The hospital rises above everything else. Massive. Cold. Its upper floors disappear into fog while floodlamps burn pale through rain-streaked windows below. Even from here it dominates the skyline like something watching the entire city.
Close enough to see. Still too damn far away.
Between you and the hospital stretch blocks of ruined streets, flooded intersections, and whatever the hell WLF has waiting in between. Too many lights. Too many guards.
You crouch behind an overturned bus with Taxi pressed close beside you, eyes moving carefully across the perimeter. Watchtowers. Patrol routes. Barricades. Armed Wolves everywhere.
“Jesus,” you mutter under your breath.
Taxi’s ears twitch.
Then—
A whistle echoes somewhere nearby. Sharp. Seraphites.
Your head snaps toward the sound instantly. Another whistle answers deeper in the street before shouting erupts.
“CONTACT!”
Gunfire explodes seconds later. WLF soldiers sprint across the street ahead while arrows whistle through the rain. One Wolf jerks backward with an arrow through his throat. Another drops seconds later. Chaos spreads fast.
Exactly what you need. Not to win. To disappear.
Your eyes lock onto a WLF transport truck sitting crooked near the curb thirty feet away. Driver dead. Engine still running. Headlights cutting pale beams through the mist.
Perfect.
You glance toward Taxi. He already looks ready. “We need that truck,” you mutter. Then you’re moving. You sprint low across rain-slick pavement while bullets crack somewhere behind you. The city erupts into noise around you— Wolves shouting, whistles answering back, glass shattering somewhere farther down the block.
You wrench the truck door open and climb inside fast. Taxi launches in beside you just as you slam the gear forward. The truck lurches violently. “C’mon, c’mon—”
Tires screech across flooded streets. Then somebody notices. “HEY!”
Gunfire slams into the truck immediately. The windshield spiderwebs near your shoulder. “Shit!”
You duck instinctively while jerking the wheel sideways around abandoned cars. Taxi barks wildly beside you every time the truck fishtails through standing water.
“Taxi, get the fuck down!” you shout over the engine. “Down, boy!”
He finally ducks lower as another engine roars somewhere behind you through the rain. They’re following.
You glance into the side mirror briefly—
And your stomach drops.
It’s them. Ari’s squad. The woman from earlier leans halfway out the passenger window with a rifle in her hands.
“That’s her!”
Gunfire erupts again. Bullets punch through the truck bed beside Taxi.
“Fuck—!”
You slam the wheel hard around a collapsed ambulance while the hospital looms closer between buildings. So close. Almost there—
Then headlights catch something too late.
A collapsed barricade stretches across the flooded street ahead.
“Shit.”
You wrench the wheel sideways but the truck clips the barricade hard enough to launch metal screaming across pavement before smashing broadside into a storefront.
The world snaps sideways. Glass explodes. Pain detonates through your shoulder. For a second all you hear is ringing.
Then Taxi barks. Loud. Panicked.
“I’m okay,” you choke out immediately, forcing yourself upright. Smoke curls from beneath the crushed hood outside while voices already close in.
“MOVE!”
“THEY CRASHED!”
You kick the warped truck door open and force yourself out. Taxi jumps down beside you instantly. You grab your rifle and run toward the nearest half-open building entrance beneath a flickering neon sign drowned in vines.
You and Taxi disappear inside just as bullets rip through the doorway behind you.
Darkness swallows you whole.
The air changes immediately. Wet. Rotten. Wrong.
Your flashlight snaps on. Broken shelves and collapsed walls stretch endlessly ahead inside what used to be some kind of office building. Too quiet.
Your stomach tightens instantly.
“…shit.”
Taxi growls low beside you.
Then something moves. Fast. A shape darts between walls ahead before disappearing again.
Stalker.
Of fucking course.
One of the Wolves swings his flashlight toward the hallway just in time to catch two clickers sprinting straight at them through the dark. “FUCK THIS!”
Gunfire erupts instantly.
Muzzle flashes strobe violently across fungal walls while the infected slam into the group. One Wolf screams as a clicker tackles him sideways into broken office furniture.
Another fires wildly while backing toward the exit. “Pull back!”
A stalker explodes out of the darkness behind them. The scream that follows cuts brutally short. The remaining Wolves don’t hesitate after that. “GO GO GO!”
Boots thunder back toward the entrance while infected shrieks and wet tearing sounds swallow the lower floor behind them.
Your flashlight catches movement sprinting low across the ceiling beams overhead.
“Taxi!”
The shepherd lunges before you finish the word. A stalker crashes into him midair with a shriek. The two slam across the floor together in a snapping mess of teeth and claws.
You raise your rifle—
Another infected explodes out of the darkness straight at you. You barely get your knife up in time. The stalker slams you backward into the floor hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. Its fungal face twitches inches from yours, jaw snapping wildly while rotten saliva drips onto your sleeve.
“Get the fuck off me—!”
You jam the knife upward.
Miss.
The creature shrieks directly into your face. Somewhere deeper inside the building, gunfire mixes with screaming.
Taxi snarls viciously nearby.
The stalker pins your wrist harder against the floor—
Then suddenly—
BANG.
The infected jerks violently. Warm blood sprays across your throat. The body collapses instantly on top of you.
Dead.
For one second you can only hear your own breathing.
Then boots step into view beside your head. Worn leather darkened by rainwater steps into view beside you. Jeans soaked dark at the hems. Holster strapped low against his thigh.
One large hand gripping a revolver steady at his side—
Your revolver.
Your pulse stumbles instantly. Then you see the watch. Cracked glass. Worn leather strap.
His broken watch.
The one that never leaves his wrist.
Your breath catches so sharply it hurts. No. No fucking way. Your eyes lock onto his hand again. Calloused fingers. Faint scars across rough knuckles. You know that hand.
God, you know it.
That hand held your face like something precious. Fixed your weapons at the kitchen table late at night. Curled warm against your waist in bed. Your chest tightens so hard it almost hurts.
The man crouches immediately beside you, grabbing the dead stalker by the shoulder and hauling it off your body with a grunt.
Then flashlight beam finally cuts upward across his face.
Rough beard. Wet curls. Dark exhausted eyes already locked on yours like they’ve been searching for you for days. For a second your brain genuinely refuses to process it.
You just stare at him. Breathing hard.
Rainwater still dripping from his jacket onto the floor.
He looks tired. Older somehow. Terrified. Relieved. All at once.
Still unfairly handsome.
“…Joel?”
Your voice comes out barely above a whisper.
Another stalker scream echoes somewhere nearby.
Neither of you looks away.
Joel’s jaw tightens hard enough you see the muscle jump beneath wet stubble The stalker crashes into Joel so fast.
One second he’s crouched in front of you, rough hands hauling the dead infected off your body while rainwater drips from his curls onto your jacket—
The next—
Movement explodes out of the dark behind him. Fast. Too fast.
“Joel—!”
He twists instantly, revolver already snapping upward on instinct. Nothing. Just a hollow click.
Empty.
For the first time since you’ve known him, you actually see it—
Pure panic.
Not fear for himself.
For you.
Because the creature is already on him.
Its mouth opens wide enough you see strings of rotten saliva stretching between fungal-split teeth. Its face barely even looks human anymore beneath the blooming cordyceps splitting through skin and jawbone.
Joel shoves against it hard, but the stalker slams him backward into the wall before he can reload.
“Fuck—!”
Its teeth snap inches from his throat.
Joel’s forearm jams against its neck violently, muscles straining beneath soaked flannel while the infected screeches directly into his face.
The sound is horrible. Wet. Not human.
Taxi lunges across the room barking viciously, claws scraping across concrete as he tries to reach Joel. Your body moves before your brain does. You throw yourself into them. The impact knocks all three of you sideways.
The stalker turns instantly. Its jaws slam down around your forearm, just as you planned. Pain detonates through your entire body. “AHH— FUCK!” The scream tears itself out of your throat raw and sharp as teeth sink deep through muscle. You feel them puncture skin. Feel the pressure of its jaw locking harder the more you fight.
Warm blood floods instantly down your wrist.
Joel freezes. Actually freezes. His face drains of color so fast it terrifies you more than the bite itself.
“No—”
The word barely leaves him. The stalker thrashes violently against your arm, snarling through flesh still trapped between its teeth.
You could pull away. But you don't. Instead, you force your arm deeper.
Joel’s eyes widen in horror. “Kat, NO!”
Pain burns white-hot through your entire arm as the infected tears harder into flesh, fungal teeth sinking deeper with every violent jerk of its head. Taxi loses his mind somewhere beside you, barking viciously.
Joel lunges forward—
Too late.
You wrench the revolver upward with your free hand and jam the barrel directly against the side of the stalker’s head. Then pull the trigger.
BANG.
The gunshot explodes through the room. The bullet punches straight through fungal plates and skull with a sick wet crunch.
The creature spasms violently.
Its jaw clamps one final time around your arm before the body suddenly goes limp and collapses heavily against you.
Dead.
For half a second nobody moves. You can actually hear blood hitting the floor from your arm. Taxi keeps barking hysterically beside you. Then Joel grabs the infected and literally rips it off you hard enough the corpse slams against the wall nearby.
“Jesus Christ— Jesus fucking Christ—”
His voice sounds wrong. Shaking. Panicked.
You’ve heard Joel angry. You’ve heard him violent. You’ve heard him terrified.
But this?
This sounds like a man watching the world end all over again.
His hands grab your arm immediately. Too fast. Too rough. Then suddenly gentle the second he sees the damage. The bite already looks ugly. Deep punctures torn into flesh. Blood running between his fingers while fungal saliva mixes with rainwater across your skin.
Joel stares at it like he can somehow undo it if he looks hard enough. He’s not even looking at your face anymore.
Only the wound. Only the blood. Only the teeth marks.
He knows you’re immune.
But it doesn’t matter. Because watching something bite you still breaks something inside him instantly.
“Hey.” Your free hand catches his wrist hard enough to force his eyes back to yours. “Joel.”
His gaze snaps upward finally.
And God—
You’ve never seen him look this terrified before. Not even close.
“It’s okay,” you whisper quickly. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re fuckin’ not okay!”
The words crack out of him louder than intended. “You let it bite you,” he says, staring at you like he genuinely cannot understand what he just watched.
Your jaw tightens against another pulse of pain. “It was gonna get you.”
“So you let it tear into your goddamn arm?!”
“Yes!”
The word echoes harder than expected through the ruined building. Silence crashes down afterward except for both of your breathing.
Joel looks furious. Terrified. Completely shattered.
You swallow hard before quieter: “I knew it wouldn’t kill me.”
Joel’s expression twists instantly. “That ain’t the point. You think watchin’ that was supposed to be easier just because you can survive it?”
“I—”
More screeches erupt somewhere deeper inside the building.
Not one.
Several.
The sound bounces violently through dark hallways and collapsed floors, wet clicking mixed with the frantic shouts of WLF soldiers still trapped somewhere below. Joel’s head snaps toward the noise instantly. “Shit.”
Another scream echoes. Closer this time.
Taxi barks furiously beside you while the dead stalker’s blood continues dripping slowly from your bitten arm onto the floor. Joel grabs your wrist immediately. “We gotta move. Now.”
You stagger upright beside him, adrenaline barely drowning out the burning pulse ripping through your arm.
The building groans around all three of you.
Something crashes downstairs.
Then running. Fast running. Too many footsteps.
“Infected?” you ask breathlessly.
Joel reloads while already moving. “All of ‘em.”
That answers enough.
Taxi bolts ahead first as Joel shoves open a warped emergency door leading into another hallway thick with mold and water damage.
“Where are we going?!” you shout while running after him.
“My place ain’t far!”
You blink. “Your what?!”
“Keep runnin’!”
Another stalker bursts from a doorway ahead.
Joel fires before it fully reaches you.
BANG.
The infected folds violently against the wall. “Right!” Joel shouts. “Take the right!”
You skid around the corner hard enough your shoulder slams concrete.
The hallway opens toward a collapsed loading bay exposed to rain and fading evening light outside.
The sky has turned nearly black now.
Seattle after sunset feels less like a city and more like something alive waiting to swallow people whole. Taxi leaps through the broken opening first.
You follow immediately—
Then freeze.
A chain-link fence blocks most of the alley outside except for one narrow gap near the bottom where the metal has been bent upward. “Fuck.”
“Go!” Joel shouts behind you.
Gunfire erupts somewhere deeper inside the building. Then shrieking. Taxi squeezes through the gap first before spinning around barking wildly for you. You drop low and crawl after him just as Joel grabs the fence hard enough to yank the opening wider for you.
The metal tears loudly.
Your injured arm screams in protest while squeezing through. “Joel—!”
“I’m comin’, keep movin’!”
A runner crashes through the loading bay doorway behind him.
Then another.
Joel rips a molotov from his backpack, lights it without hesitation, and hurls it straight into the entrance.
Glass shatters. Fire erupts instantly.
The hallway behind him explodes into orange light and screaming infected. “GO!” he roars.
You don’t argue.
All three of you sprint through rain-dark alleyways while flames spread violently behind you, infected shrieks echoing through the burning building. Joel catches up fast despite the extra weight of his rifle and pack.
“Left!” he shouts over the rain. “Take the left!”
You follow him blindly through narrow streets flooded ankle-deep with rainwater. Taxi keeps pace beside you, breathing hard while distant gunfire and infected screams slowly fade farther behind.
Eventually—
Finally—
The noise dies. The city quiets again.
Joel slows near an old brick building squeezed between two collapsed storefronts. A faded neon saxophone still hangs crooked above the entrance.
JAZZ • LIVE MUSIC • COCKTAILS
Or at least that’s what’s left of the sign. Joel grabs the door handle first.
Locked.
He shoulders it once. Hard. The wood gives immediately. “Inside.”
You and Taxi slip in first while Joel slams the door shut behind all of you. Darkness swallows the room.
The beam of Joel’s flashlight cuts across overturned tables, dusty bottles behind the bar, ripped velvet booths, and a stage sitting abandoned beneath hanging lights coated in years of grime.
Then Joel immediately starts moving furniture.
Fast. Efficient. Like muscle memory.
He shoves a heavy cabinet against the door before dragging another beside it.
You bend forward, hands braced against your knees while trying to catch your breath. Rainwater drips steadily from your hair onto the floorboards below. Taxi pants nearby, ears still twitching toward distant sounds outside. You glance around the bar slowly.
“…I passed this place earlier,” you mutter between breaths. “Didn’t exactly scream safehouse.”
Joel grunts while forcing another chair beneath the door handle. “That’s ‘cause you think like a survivor.” He finally looks back at you briefly. “You gotta think like a smuggler.”
The corner of your mouth almost twitches despite everything.
Taxi finally relaxes enough to lie down beside one of the booths, though he still watches both of you carefully while licking rainwater from his fur.
Outside, thunder rolls softly over Seattle. Inside, everything suddenly feels too quiet.
You straighten slowly while pressing your palm against the bandage wrapped around your arm. The bite throbs beneath soaked fabric now. Hot. Sharp. “Joel,” you say quietly. “How did you find us?”
Taxi huffs softly at the sound of his name.
Joel completely ignores the question.
Instead, he walks straight toward you, grabs your uninjured arm gently but firmly, and guides you toward one of the old leather couches near the stage.
“Sit.”
“Joel—”
“Sit down.”
Something in his voice makes you listen.
You lower yourself onto the couch slowly while he drops his backpack onto the nearby table and kneels in front of you.
“Lemme see.”
The bite still bleeds slowly through the bandage. Joel pulls fresh gauze and alcohol from his pack with practiced hands.
Your eyes stay fixed on him while he works. The furrow between his brows deepens immediately the second he unwraps the blood-soaked cloth from your arm.
There it is. That line in his forehead. The one that only appears when he’s angry or worried enough it physically hurts him.
God.
You missed him. So fucking much. More than you allowed yourself to admit.
“This’ll hurt.” Joel pours alcohol over the wound.
“Wonderful.”
The second the liquid hits torn flesh, pain rips straight through your arm. “Ah— fuck—”
Your whole body tenses instantly while Joel grips your wrist tighter to steady you.
“Easy,” he mutters quietly.
You hiss through clenched teeth while he carefully cleans dried blood from around the bite marks. Your eyes drift across his face again. The concentration. The exhaustion beneath his eyes. The tension in his jaw. You wonder how many nights he hasn’t slept.
“You showed up at a pretty convenient time,” you breathe, still staring at him like he might disappear again. “How the hell did you even find us?”
Joel keeps wrapping the bandage.
Doesn’t answer.
There are a hundred other things you want to ask him too. How long has he been here? Did Ellie know? Was he hurt? Was he angry? Did he hate you for leaving? But after drugging him and disappearing in the middle of the night, asking those questions feels almost selfish somehow. So instead you ask the smallest one. The safest one.
“…Why are you here, Joel?”
This time he finally looks up. And the expression in his eyes makes your throat tighten instantly. Dark. Tired. Hurt.
“S’pose I’m the one oughta be askin’ questions.”
Silence stretches between you.
You glance away first. Joel doesn’t.
“How the hell do you hear every damn thing I tell you,” he says quietly, “and still leave anyway?”
Your jaw tightens. “Joel—”
“That stubbornness of yours real or you just enjoy makin’ me lose my goddamn mind?” His voice sharpens now. “You come here to kill yourself? Was that the plan?”
The words hit harder than expected. Because part of you knows he’s not completely wrong.
“I got close,” you argue quietly. “I’m almost done. Tomorrow I finish this.”
Joel lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Finish it how exactly?” He rises suddenly to his feet. “You see how many Wolves are out there? This ain’t a mission, darlin’, it’s a suicide note.”
“I’m not leaving without killing him.”
“Well you ain’t gettin’ the chance if you end up dead first!”
Taxi lifts his head immediately at the sharpness in Joel’s voice. You stand too fast. Pain flares through your arm but you ignore it. “What, you think I came all this way for nothing?!”
“Yes!” Joel explodes. “That’s exactly what I think!”
You stare at him in disbelief. Rain rattles softly against the windows behind him while the neon sign outside flickers weak blue light across his face. “You don’t understand.”
“No, YOU don’t understand!” Joel snaps back immediately. “If I hadn’t found you tonight you woulda died in there!”
“I saved you too!”
“That ain’t the damn point!”
His voice echoes through the empty jazz bar. Taxi whines softly from the couch. Joel runs one rough hand through soaked curls before pointing furiously toward your bandaged arm.
“You ain’t bulletproof, Kat! You ain’t immune to gettin’ your head blown off or blown apart or buried under some goddamn building!”
“I KNOW THAT!”
“Then why the hell are you actin’ like you got nothin’ left to lose?!”
Your breathing turns uneven instantly. “I always find a way.”
Joel stares at you for one long horrible second. Then suddenly he crosses the room and grabs both your arms hard enough to stop your pacing completely. “Goddamn it, Kat—” His voice breaks lower now. Rougher. Desperate. “Why don’t you get it?” His grip tightens. “Not everythin’ goes the way you planned.”
Your heartbeat stumbles.
“One mistake,” he whispers harshly. “One bad second and everythin’ falls apart. Why you runnin’ toward death like this, huh?” His jaw clenches hard. “You don’t think about yourself, fine. But do you ever think about what happens to me?”
Your lips part. Nothing comes out. So you look away instead.
“…Ellie needs you,” you whisper weakly. “If somethin’ happened to me, you’d still have—”
“Don’t.” His voice cuts straight through yours. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
You look back at him slowly. Joel’s eyes burn now. Actually burn.
“She ain’t you.”
The words hit like a punch. Joel breathes hard once through his nose before quieter now:
“You’re not Ellie to me.” He steps closer. So close you can feel warmth radiating from him despite the cold rain still clinging to his clothes. “You’re worse,” he mutters roughly. “So much goddamn worse.”
Your breath catches.
“Because I let myself love you.”
The confession lands heavy between both of you. Joel laughs once under his breath. Bitter. Broken.
“This stubborn old heart was finally startin’ to beat again and you just…” He shakes his head slightly. “You rip yourself outta my bed and disappear across the country like I’m supposed to survive that.”
Your throat tightens painfully. “I couldn’t let you get hurt.”
Joel stares at you like the words physically offend him.
“And what the hell you think happens to me if you die?”
Silence. Real silence this time.
Joel closes his eyes briefly before leaning forward until his forehead rests against yours. When he speaks again, his voice barely sounds steady anymore. “I told you about Sarah.” Your heart cracks quietly. “I told you exactly what losin’ somebody like that does to a man.” His nose brushes yours lightly when he exhales. “You’re there for me now.” The words melt something inside your chest instantly. “You understand?” he whispers. “Right fuckin' there.”
Your lips part softly.
Joel’s mouth hovers barely inches from yours now. Close enough that every breath mixes together. Close enough that thinking becomes impossible. You should keep arguing. You should push him away. Tell him to go back to Jackson. Tell him tomorrow changes nothing. But all you can think about is how badly you missed him. The smell of him. The warmth. The roughness in his voice. The way he says your name like it belongs to him. Your thighs tense unconsciously.
Joel notices immediately. Of course he does.
His eyes darken slightly while his hand slides from your arm to your waist slowly. Possessive. Careful.
Like he’s trying not to break under the weight of his own feelings.
“Listen to me,” he murmurs roughly. “I don’t give a damn about anybody or anything in this world the way I do you.” Your breath catches harder. “You hear me?” His fingers tighten slightly against your waist. “You got some kinda single-digit fuckin’ IQ or somethin’, huh? How many goddamn times do I gotta say it before it gets through that stubborn skull of yours?”
Your brows pull together immediately.
“Joel—”
“No.” His grip tightens when you try pulling back slightly. “No, you don’t get to pull that runaway bullshit and then stand there actin’ confused when I come after you.”
Heat flashes through your chest instantly.
“I didn’t ask you to—”
“Exactly!” Joel snaps. “That’s the damn problem!”
You turn your head away sharply, jaw tightening.
For half a second you almost step back.
Joel catches you immediately.
One rough hand locks around your waist and pulls you flush against him again before you can move an inch.
“You scare the livin’ shit outta me, Kat.”
The word comes out low. Dangerous. Desperate.
His forehead nearly touches yours now.
“You run into gunfights, infected, goddamn armies like your life don’t matter and it’s drivin’ me fuckin’ insane.”
Your pulse stumbles hard.
Joel’s jaw tightens once before he says the next part slower. Like he needs you to understand it this time. “You’re mine to lose sleep over now.”
Your breath catches sharply.
Joel’s eyes stay locked on yours.
Possessive. Furious. Completely wrecked by you. His hand slides tighter against your waist. “Mine to worry about. Mine to come look for. Mine to drag back alive if I gotta.”
Then he snaps. One hand grips your jaw. The other yanks you hard against him. And his mouth crashes into yours.
The kiss is brutal.
Desperate.
All teeth and heat and weeks of fear poured into one violent collision.
You gasp against his mouth immediately and Joel takes advantage instantly, kissing you deeper like he’s angry at you for making him miss you this badly.
Like he’s trying to punish himself and you at the same time.
His beard scrapes harsh against your skin while his fingers dig into your waist possessively enough to ache.
You clutch his soaked flannel automatically.
Joel groans low into your mouth the second you pull him closer.
The sound nearly destroys what little restraint you had left.
“Christ. Look what the hell you do to me,” he mutters against your lips before kissing you again harder somehow.
Raw. Messy. Needy.
Like neither of you fully believes the other is really here yet.
Joel kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you were gone. Like anger and relief and love have tangled together into something too big for him to hold quietly anymore.
Your back hits the edge of the old piano beside the stage with a dull thud.
Neither of you cares.
Rain fades into background noise beneath rough breathing, shifting clothes, and the scrape of calloused hands against soaked denim and flannel.
Joel’s fingers bury into your hair hard enough to tilt your head back while his mouth keeps finding yours again and again like he physically can’t stop once he starts.
You kiss him back just as desperately.
All the fear.
All the missing him.
All those nights alone in ruined buildings wishing he was there instead—
It all crashes out at once.
“Jesus…” Joel breathes against your lips, forehead pressing briefly to yours. “Missed you so goddamn much.”
The confession nearly breaks you.
Your fingers work shakily at the buttons of his flannel while he crowds closer between your legs.
“You weren’t supposed to come after me,” you whisper breathlessly, teasing despite yourself as you push the shirt from his shoulders.
Joel lets out a rough, humorless laugh against your mouth.
“Tough shit.”
His belt unfastens with a metallic clink.
Then he kisses you again before you can answer.
Harder this time.
Needier.
One large hand slides beneath your jacket, rough fingers spreading against the small of your back while the other grips your waist possessively enough to pull a soft sound from your throat.
Joel immediately catches it.
A dark smirk ghosts briefly across his face.
“Look at her now,” he mutters roughly against your mouth. “All needy.”
Heat rushes through your chest instantly.
“You keep makin’ sounds like that,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours, “I’m gonna forget we’re supposed to be arguin’.” His thumb drags once along your cheek. “Real damn loud for somebody who left me.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Before you can answer, Joel’s hands find the zipper of your jacket instead.
He yanks it down impatiently.
Then your shirt follows, leaving you in nothing but your bra beneath the dim neon glow leaking through the rain-streaked windows.
Joel’s eyes drag over you slowly.
Hungry.
Overwhelmed.
Then his gaze catches on the fresh bandage around your arm. The softness disappears immediately. Joel leans down and presses a rough almost angry kiss against your forehead. “You scare the hell outta me,” he mutters. “Don’t pull that shit again.” Your hands slide over his bare chest, palms spreading across warm skin and tense muscle beneath your fingertips.
God.
You forgot how solid he feels. How warm. How safe. It almost hurts remembering it.
Joel exhales sharply the second you touch him. Then his hands are on you again. Touching like he physically can’t help it.
Your shirt snags briefly while he pulls it over your head one-handed before tossing it somewhere behind him without even looking.
His eyes move slowly across your skin afterward. “Christ,” he whispers quietly.
The way he says it sends heat straight through you.
Joel notices instantly.
That rough little smirk flickers again before something heavier replaces it.
His fingers brush lightly along your ribs before settling against your waist, thumbs hooking into your jeans and dragging them slowly down your legs. Cold air kisses exposed skin while rain taps softly against the windows outside.
“There she is,” Joel murmurs, voice low and wrecked as his hands settle against your thighs, holding you close. His kisses trailed to your neck and you gulped back a lustful sigh. He couldn’t know how much you were enjoying it. His fingers glided in between your folds, the vibrations already making you far too excited. He chuckled to himself, cupping you so your clit was between his fingers as he rubbed your heat. “She’s so fucking pretty and always ready for me,” he purred against your neck and you loved the excited rush his breath gave your skin. You yanked his hair pulling him back into another hungry kiss. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your soft spots, groping your ass, weaving his fingers through your hair, noting the places that made you squirm when he gave them attention.
You started to retort but your knees dipped when he inserted a finger. His other hand reached around your back to hold you up and you moaned when he started to pump his fingers deep inside of you. Your hands slide up into his curls while his mouth moves against yours with enough care now to make your knees weaker than the violence of the first kiss ever could.
Taxi lifts his head from the couch nearby, ears twitching as he watches both of you pressed together beside the piano.
Joel notices immediately.
“C’mon, buddy,” he mutters roughly without taking his eyes and fingers off you. “Give us five goddamn minutes.”
Taxi huffs loudly from the couch. You grin softly against Joel’s mouth. “He’s protective,” you murmur, breathless. “Kinda reminds me of somebody.”
“Yeah? Smart dog then.”
“Smartest one around, actually. Shame he ended up with an idiot owner.”
Joel’s mouth twitches immediately. “Make that two idiots,” he murmurs.
Taxi barks once from the couch like he’s agreeing. You laugh softly. Joel points toward the dog without looking away from you. “Alright, smartass. Turn around.” Taxi lets out a dramatic huff before very pointedly turning his back to both of you and flopping back down onto the couch.
“How the hell do you just disappear on me,” he murmurs rough against your lips, his long finger curling inside you, “and take that pretty laugh with you too, huh?” You latch onto him, digging your nails into his arm, he exhales softly against your mouth. “Damn near forgot what it sounded like.” The vibrations shake through your core and curl low in your stomach, where a terrible and wonderful sensation begins to build, pulling a broken moan from your throat. “Yeah,” he mutters low against your lips. “Missed that too.”
With a grunt, he pulls his fingers out of you, still wet with your arousal, and presses them to his lips, sucking hungrily, almost angrily.
Then suddenly you’re in his arms.
Joel lifts you easily and lays you back against the old couch, one large hand settling against your waist as he leans over you. “‘M about two seconds away from losin’ what’s left of my damn self-control here.” One large hand slides up your thigh slowly before his dark eyes lock onto yours again. “So open wide for me, darlin’.”
You obey and spread your legs while he gets rid of his boxers and settles between your thighs. He leans down again and kisses you deeply. You wrap one hand around his dripping cock and squeeze softly, and simply feeling the way your grip trembles makes him weak. He can feel you smile against his mouth.
He drags his tongue across your lip and spreads your legs wider with his palm. He nibbles gently on your bottom lip, and you moan, arching against him.
He presses his swollen tip against your slick pussy and tries to still the swirling darkness inside him; he wants you, and he’s going to have you now and forever.
Even still, he feels anger clawing at the edges of his lust: anger that you left him like that, that you almost died, that you were so ready to sacrifice yourself for him and didn’t give a damn about dying so fearlessly.
Against all reason, he wants to punish you because you still don’t fully understand how much you mean to him, and because you’ve turned your immunity into an advantage, risking your life as if it were nothing. But he pushes those thoughts out of his mind.
He presses his fingers to your clit and teases you, and you moan against him, wrapping your legs around his hips, trying to urge him further. Exhaling quickly against your lips, he buries himself inside you in one smooth, severe stroke, and you cry out. You are so wet that the suddenness of it doesn’t sting, but the insistent burn and stretch inside you makes you shiver. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes. From the way he looks down at you—like you are small and helpless and beloved, all for him—the realization makes his heart beat hard against his ribs and arouses him even further.
His next thrust is even harsher, and you dig your nails into his shoulders and writhe against him, wordlessly meeting his challenge. He grins darkly at you and fucks you in earnest, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the old jazz bar. He grunts with each thrust like he is exorcising something strange and wild, and you find yourself clutching at him with a ferocity that surprises you. You move against each other like animals desperate for release, but as your orgasm approaches, you realize he has no intention of finishing yet, even though he is struggling to hold back. When you grow insistent and press firmly against him each time he withdraws, he shakes his head at you like you are an insolent child. You whine and scratch his back, and he bites your shoulder where it meets your neck.
The couch shifts hard enough to bump against the wall, drawing a long suffering sigh from Taxi somewhere nearby.
Neither of you can help laughing softly at that.
His gaze stops at your bra — the last piece still clinging to your body. He reaches with his large hand and unfastens it easily, grabbing your breasts possessively and burying his face between them.“Fuck, Joel, I’m—”
He crashes his mouth against yours before you can finish, swallowing the rest of your words as the kiss turns messy and desperate, teeth clashing briefly in the heat of it.
“I know, baby,” he murmurs roughly against your lips. “Jesus Christ… keep doin’ that and I ain’t gonna last.” He pulls back just enough to look at you before drawing you closer again, moving with a rhythm that grows rougher and more desperate the longer he kisses you. “Fuck… so goddamn tight, fuck, fuck. Feels too damn good.”
You scratch your nails down his back again as he finds that spot inside you once more. Joel sucks on your neck and uses the hand that isn’t holding yours to roughly pinch and twist your nipples.
“Right there,” you gasp softly, barely able to think anymore. “Joel… right there.”
He slams into you harder with every thrust, losing whatever control he had left the second he feels you falling apart beneath him.
Your moans break into desperate little sounds that only make him rougher, his forehead pressed against yours while he pushes his thick cock deep inside you. “That’s it,” he groans hoarsely. “Fuck, baby… just like that.” You cry out his name as pleasure crashes through you, your whole body trembling beneath him while your fingers clutch helplessly at his shoulders.
Joel watches you come apart with something almost feral in his expression, like the sight alone is enough to ruin him completely. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes shakily, gripping you tighter. “… gonna fuckin’ kill me one day.”
The way your walls squeeze him finally snaps the last thread holding him together, he grips the back of your head possessively and pulls you up into a searing kiss as he begins filling you up. His masculine groans are the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard—raw, rough, completely wrecked by you—and even if you hadn’t already been overwhelmed with pleasure, you know you’do anything just to hear them again.
By the time the both of you finally come down, exhaustion settles heavily into your bones. Your entire body still trembles from overstimulation, you feel him softening inside you, and without thinking, you cling closer to him — hooking one leg over his and wrapping an arm tightly around his waist while burying your face against his chest.
Joel lets out a tired breath and settles back against the couch with you tangled around him. One hand rests protectively over your arm while the other lazily twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, finally realizing how sweaty and completely spent both of you are. “Kat,” he murmurs quietly, fingertips tracing slow patterns against your skin. The softness in his voice makes you shiver more than anything else tonight. “Y’know I love you, right?”
Your eyes flutter half-shut as you look up at him. “I know,” you whisper back, voice rough and sleepy. Your fingers trace lazily across his chest. “Love you too, old man.”
A small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth — soft enough that most people would miss it entirely. Then, reluctantly, Joel starts untangling himself from you.
“C’mon,” he mutters gently, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. “Gotta clean you up before you pass out on me.”
Seattle, Day Three.
Joel wakes first. He doesn’t move right away. For a long moment he just lies there on the narrow couch with one arm wrapped tightly around your waist beneath the heavy wool blanket he’d found sometime during the night.
The thing had smelled like dust and old cedar when he shook it out upstairs near the storage room. Probably untouched for years. He remembers beating the hell out of it against the railing while muttering curses under his breath, trying to get enough dirt off it so you wouldn’t complain.
You still complained. Half asleep. Mumbling something about “old man nesting instincts.”
Joel almost smiles remembering it.
Now you sleep against his chest completely unaware, warm beneath the blanket, breathing slow and steady while Taxi snores softly nearby. Joel watches you quietly.
Your hair’s a mess. One cheek pressed against his shoulder. One leg tangled with his beneath the blanket. Peaceful. Too peaceful for somebody who spent the last several days fighting through Seattle like a damn one-woman apocalypse.
His fingers move carefully through your hair, brushing strands away from your face slowly enough not to wake you. Then his eyes drift downward.
And the softness in his expression changes immediately.
Bruises. Scratches. Old healing cuts layered beneath newer ones. Your shoulder carries a dark purple mark from rifle recoil, probably from firing that sniper nonstop for days. Your knuckles are split open in places. Another bruise blooms faintly along your ribs.
Joel’s jaw tightens quietly.
He’s seen bodies like this before. Survivors. People who lived too long outside walls. But seeing it on you feels different somehow. More personal. More infuriating.
His eyes stop at the bandage wrapped around your arm.
The bite.
Joel exhales slowly through his nose and looks back at your sleeping face. You were probably the strongest person he’d ever met. And that scared the hell out of him too.
He thinks about everything you survived before Jackson. Ten years outside. Fighting. Sleeping in ruins and abandoned cars and forests filled with infected. Your own father hunting you.
Your own father.
Joel still can’t wrap his mind around that part completely. His old man had been many things. Mean sometimes. Hard. But there had still been moments. A hand on the shoulder. A “good job, son.” Tiny things. Enough to know he’d been loved at least once growing up.
But you?
You learned young that love came with scalpels and cages and being hunted like an animal. And somehow you still came out capable of loving people anyway. Joel honestly doesn’t know how. Maybe he never will.
Taxi suddenly lets out a soft whine nearby. Joel glances over immediately. The shepherd lifts his head slightly from the floor, favoring his injured leg again.
“Hey,” Joel murmurs quietly. “Easy there.”
Carefully making sure not to wake you, Joel slips out from beneath the blanket and pulls his jeans back on before crouching beside Taxi.
“Lemme see it, boy.”
Taxi growls softly at first. Joel clicks his tongue.
“Shh. Relax, kiddo. Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
Taxi grumbles dramatically anyway. Joel snorts quietly.
“Yeah, yeah. You sound just like her.”
The wound isn’t terrible. Bullet graze. Angry-looking but clean. Joel pulls out antiseptic and carefully spreads ointment across the injury. Taxi flinches once.
“There ya go.” Joel scratches behind his ears afterward. “You did good lookin’ after her.”
Taxi’s tail thumps once against the floorboards.
“Hell,” Joel mutters quietly, “somebody had to.”
Taxi barks once like he fully agrees.
Joel laughs softly under his breath. “Yeah, well. That stubbornness rubbed off on you too apparently.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
Your sleepy voice makes Joel glance over immediately. You’re sitting upright now near the couch, pulling your shirt back on while watching both of them.
“Yeah?” Joel turns slightly toward you. “Dog’s almost as hardheaded as you are.” One corner of his mouth twitches faintly. “Guess crazy attracts crazy.”
You snort softly while stepping closer.
“How’s your arm?”
You notice immediately he avoids saying bite. Like the word itself pisses him off.
You flex your fingers carefully beneath the bandage. “Sore. Little throbbing. I’ll live.”
That does absolutely nothing for the look on Joel’s face.
“Lemme see.”
You hold your arm out without arguing this time. Joel unwraps the bandage slowly. His fingers shake slightly. You notice. He notices you noticing. Neither of you says anything about it.
The bite still looks ugly. Deep crescent punctures surrounded by bruising where the stalker’s jaw clamped down. But otherwise—
“No infection,” he mutters quietly, thumb brushing carefully near the wound. “No spreadin’. Nothin’.”
The awe in his voice almost sounds uncomfortable, like he’s rediscovering your immunity all over again.
You reach automatically for the knife lying nearby on the table. The second you angle it toward the bite— Joel catches your wrist hard.
“What’re you doin’?”
“If the mark’s still fresh, I can cut over it. Make it look like something else.”
Joel stares at you like you just suggested sawing your own arm off before immediately taking the knife away from you.
“You always this eager to carve yourself up?”
“It makes sense.”
He tosses the knife aside with a sharp look. “The bite’s deep enough already. Last thing you need’s an actual infection.”
You open your mouth to argue. Joel gives you a look. You close it again.
Satisfied, he starts rewrapping the bandage carefully before reaching into his bag and pulling out two cans of food.
“Eat somethin’.”
Your stomach betrays you instantly with a quiet growl. Joel hears it. Of course he does. A smug little look flashes across his face while he hands you the can.
“Knew it.”
You roll your eyes softly. “Don’t get cocky.”
Taxi suddenly perks up at the smell of food. Joel grabs another can from his bag, pops it open with his knife, and dumps the contents carefully onto a folded paper plate near the floor. “Found dog food near Seattle’s big ‘Fuck FEDRA’ gate.”
Taxi immediately starts eating.
You blink. “I checked there.”
Joel smirks slightly. “Yeah, well. Smuggler rule number one.” He settles back against the booth beside you. “There’s always another stash.”
You shake your head while eating a spoonful from your can.
“So…” you mutter thoughtfully between bites, “Joel Miller rescues us, patches us up, finds us shelter, feeds us…” Your eyes flick toward him. “Anything you can’t do?”
Joel looks at you over the rim of his coffee tin. “Convince you to come back to Jackson.”
“There it is,” you murmur.
“Damn right there it is.”
You stare down at your food for a second before quietly: “I can’t leave before this is finished.”
Joel exhales slowly through his nose. “Alright.” He nods once. “Then tell me the plan.”
You stare at him for a second like you’re waiting for the argument to come back. Joel shrugs one shoulder lightly.
“Pretty sure I could live another hundred damn years and still not win against that stubborn streak of yours.”
A faint tired smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“So I figured the next best thing is stickin’ around long enough to stop you from gettin’ yourself killed.”
His eyes meet yours then— steady and serious beneath the exhaustion.
“And help you finish this.”
You set the can aside and reach quickly for your backpack.
“Okay so—”
Joel steals the rest of your food while you’re distracted.
You whip your head toward him in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“You were done.”
“I was thinking.”
“You think better fed.”
You glare at him while he takes another completely unapologetic bite. Joel looks deeply unbothered for exactly two seconds before your expression finally cracks into genuine annoyance.
Then, with a quiet sigh like he’s dealing with the world’s grumpiest stray cat, he reaches into his backpack again.
“Relax, darlin’.”
He pulls out another can and tosses it into your lap. “Got another one.”
You look down at the label and immediately snort softly.
It’s actually your favorite.
“Wow,” you tease while turning the can in your hands, “that’s, like… suspiciously boyfriend behavior from you, Joel Miller.”
Joel immediately stops eating. Slowly lowers the spoon. “Take it back.”
You grin instantly. “What? Boyfriend?”
He exhales hard through his nose, already looking irritated in that deeply familiar way that only makes this funnier.
The second you laugh, Joel grabs your wrist and suddenly pulls you toward him hard enough that you let out a surprised noise, the can nearly slipping from your hands as you end up sprawled across his lap.
“Joel—”
“Y’know,” he mutters while leaning closer, one arm locking securely around your waist before you can even think about escaping, “I still think tying your stubborn ass to the back of my horse and draggin’ you back to Jackson’s a solid plan.”
“Wow.” You shake your head, grinning. “There’s the romance.”
Joel shakes his head under his breath before leaning closer suddenly, brushing a quick kiss against the tip of your nose.
“Romance,” he murmurs low while pulling back just slightly, “comes after we get your stubborn ass back to Jackson alive.”
“Deal,” you whisper.
Joel studies your face for another second like he’s trying to memorize it all over again before finally letting you slide reluctantly off his lap.
You settle back beside him while Joel reaches over to open your canned food for you. You lean forward and dig through your backpack before pulling out the stolen WLF radio.
“Let’s see what Seattle’s assholes are up to today.”
Joel’s entire posture sharpens instantly the second he sees it in your hands.
You twist the dial slowly. Static crackles loudly through the jazz bar.
“…patrol…” hissssss “…copy…” More static. You adjust it again. “…doctor…” You turn the dial carefully. The signal clears. “…repeat, Doctor Clouser’s requested package has been transferred to the hospital facility.”
Your stomach tightens instantly. Joel’s eyes lock onto yours.
Another voice answers through static: “Copy that, Ed. Use Route Six on your return. Scar activity’s spreadin’ east— avoid conflict if possible. And keep the lower quarantine level sealed. Doctor says nobody enters without clearance after last night’s incident.”
You and Joel stare at each other.
Hospital.
Confirmed.
The streets around the hospital feel dead in the wrong way. You move beside Joel through flooded streets littered with shell casings, broken arrows, and bodies left where they fell. WLF soldiers. Seraphites. Some so torn apart by infected it’s impossible to tell which side they belonged to anymore.
Taxi walks ahead quietly now, ears twitching at every distant sound.
The city smells like wet concrete, blood, mold, and smoke.
Joel keeps his rifle raised while both of you move through the remains of another firefight. A burned-out military truck still smolders near the curb, its doors covered in bullet holes and dried blood.
One entire wall nearby is painted black with huge dripping letters:
FEEL HER LOVE.
The words stretch across the brick wall in massive white paint, dripping down the rain-soaked surface beneath crude Seraphite symbols carved deep into the concrete.
But someone answered it.
Down near the corner of the wall, sprayed violently in black paint over dried blood splatter, another message cuts across the white letters:
FEEL THIS, BITCH.
Below it, bodies are piled carelessly against the wall.
Seraphites.
You recognize them instantly from the rough dark cloaks hanging from torn limbs and rain-soaked rope belts still tied around waists. Some still clutch hammers and crude blades in stiff dead hands.
The blood beneath them hasn’t fully washed away yet. Fresh enough that the rain still carries thin red streams slowly down the curb nearby.
Your stomach twists slightly.
“Those whistling assholes,” you mutter quietly while stepping around shattered glass and blood pooling near the curb. “Saw ’em gutting Wolves yesterday. Creepy fuckers.”
Joel studies the hanging bodies for another second, jaw tightening slightly.
“Yeah,” he mutters darkly. “Spent twenty years thinkin’ I’d already seen every kinda fucked up thing this world could turn people into.”
You glance back toward the wall covered in blood and hanging corpses. “Then Seattle said hold my beer.”
Joel actually laughs under his breath at that.
Low. Brief. Real.
Then his expression hardens again as he scans the street ahead.
“Everyone’s killin’ everybody,” he mutters. “Wolves, Scars… whole damn city’s at war.” His grip tightens slightly around the rifle. “Means we keep our heads down if we wanna make it to that hospital alive.”
You glance toward the massive building looming farther ahead between flooded streets and collapsed apartments. “Front entrance probably crawling with Wolves anyway.”
“Yeah.” Joel immediately turns away from the open street. “Too exposed.”
He gestures with the rifle toward a row of half-collapsed buildings running parallel to the hospital district.
“We circle around. Stay off the main roads. Maintenance tunnels, supply docks, rooftops… there’s always another way in.”
You nod once and pull your hood lower against the rain.
Taxi falls quietly into step beside both of you as you disappear deeper into the ruined side streets surrounding the hospital.
The hospital finally comes fully into view between buildings ahead.
Massive.
Concrete gray against the dark sky.
Floodlights glow faintly near the lower levels while fog drifts around upper floors. So close now.
Your hand automatically drops to the revolver holstered at your side.
Your thumb brushes the worn grip while you pull the cylinder open and reload quietly.
“Joel.”
“Hm?”
You hesitate.
Which already tells him this matters.
Rain drips softly from broken signs overhead while Taxi pauses ahead to sniff cautiously near abandoned cars.
You finally look at Joel. “I know leavin’ was selfish.”
Joel stills slightly but says nothing.
You swallow once. “It wasn’t just for me.” His eyes lift fully now. “It was for us.”
The words feel strange out loud. Too vulnerable. Too honest. You look back down at the revolver while continuing quietly: “You and me. Future Days and all that shit.” A weak breath escapes you. “Before Jackson I never even let myself imagine havin’ somethin’ like that. Then I met you and suddenly…”
Joel’s mouth slowly curves into the faintest smug smile. “Suddenly what, darlin’?”
You roll your eyes instantly. “Don’t--”
Joel’s grin grows slightly. “C’mon now. Wanna hear this part.”
You glare at him briefly. Then finally sigh.
“…I fell in love with you, alright?” you mutter. “There. Happy?”
Joel looks devastatingly pleased with himself. “Little bit.”
You shake your head while fighting a smile. Then your expression softens again. “I just wanted peace for once.” Your thumb traces the revolver grip absently. “Wanted somethin’ that actually belonged to me.”
Joel watches you quietly for a long moment. Then he lowers his rifle and steps closer. “C’mere.”
Before you can react, one arm hooks around your waist and pulls you firmly against him. The revolver remains loosely in your hand while Joel wraps both arms around you tightly beneath your jacket.
“I know,” he murmurs against your hair. Joel pulls back just enough to look down at you. “But Christ, baby…” His thumb brushes your cheek. “Wish you hadn’t disappeared after I told you I’d help.”
Guilt flickers sharply through your stomach. “I know. When we get back,” you whisper softly, “I’ll fix your heart.”
Joel snorts. “Baby, you got yourself one hell of a fixer-upper.”
“Maybe you can teach me."
Joel raises an eyebrow slightly. “Teach you what?”
“How to fix old things. Worked pretty well with the guitar.”
“Yeah?” he murmurs low. “Guess you’re a fast learner.”
"Fuck yeah, I am."
Your chest hurts from loving him.
And that realization terrifies you a little.
Joel squeezes your waist once before both of you continue moving again toward the hospital.
Closer now.
Too close.
The streets gradually grow quieter the farther you go.
No patrols. No distant shouting. No gunfire. Nothing.
Joel slows first. You feel it too. The wrongness.
You glance toward him. “…You feel that?”
Joel nods once slowly. “Too quiet.” His grip tightens slightly around the rifle. “Don’t like it.”
Neither do you.
According to the radio traffic earlier, the area around the hospital should’ve been crawling with Wolves.
Instead the streets feel abandoned.
“We keep goin’ straight, we’re too exposed."
His eyes move toward the buildings lining the side streets near the hospital perimeter. “We circle around back first. Figure out where they got people stationed before we get anywhere near that place.”
You nod, but Taxi suddenly growls low.
Joel immediately raises the rifle scope. “Runner.” He points slightly right. “Two of ‘em.”
You spot movement on the left side too. "There’s more over there.”
Taxi suddenly bolts forward. “No— Taxi, wait!”
The shepherd ignores you completely and charges ahead.
You immediately move after him.
Joel grabs your arm hard. “Kat— stop!”
“What—”
“Trap.”
Your eyes drop instantly. Thin wire stretches low across the street between two wrecked cars.
Shit.
A runner slams into it first.
BOOM.
The explosion detonates loud enough to shake nearby windows.
Fire and smoke erupt across the street while the infected body tears apart midair. Taxi yelps painfully as the shockwave throws him sideways onto wet pavement. “Taxi!" You rip free from Joel immediately. “NO!”
Joel curses sharply behind you.
Gunfire erupts the second you move. Not one shot.
Several.
“NOW!” someone yells from somewhere above.
Fuck.
Bullets slam into the pavement around your feet. Too close. Too precise.
Joel fires back instantly. “Kat, NO!”
But you’re already sliding across the pavement toward Taxi.
The dog whines sharply on the ground, dazed and limping. “I got you,” you breathe quickly while reaching for him.
More gunfire cracks overhead.
But then—
You realize something. They aren’t aiming at you. Every bullet hits beside you.
Near your boots. Not kill shots.
Joel notices too immediately from behind cover. “What the fuck…”
Taxi struggles weakly beneath your hands while you kneel exposed in the middle of the street.
Then a voice cuts through the chaos.
Your real name. The name almost nobody alive still knows. You freeze.
Cold spreads through your chest instantly.
Only two people ever called you that anymore.
Slowly—
You turn.
Figures emerge near the hospital barricades ahead beneath floodlights.
Armed Wolves surrounding them.
And there—
Him.
Even from this distance you’d know that face anywhere.
The same calm eyes. The same awful smile. Your stomach drops violently. “we were expecting you." he said "we" like.. pointedly…
The world narrows instantly.
Then you see another figure beside him.
Bruised. Restrained. Gun pressed against his head.
William.
Your breath leaves your lungs. “…William.”
Joel’s expression changes immediately the second he understands.
This wasn’t coincidence. This wasn’t random. They were waiting.
“Drop your weapon!” another Wolf shouts.
Clouser smiles wider.
“You came all this way for him, didn’t you?” His hand tightens against William’s shoulder possessively. “See? Here he is.”
William’s eyes meet yours from across the street.
And suddenly for one horrible second you feel like you were little girl again.
“Come now, sweetheart,” Clouser calls smoothly. “Wouldn’t want him dying before your reunion.”
Joel’s rifle rises instantly.
“Kat,” he says sharply. “Get your ass back here. I’ll cover you.”
But you barely hear him anymore. Your heartbeat pounds too loud.
William.
Alive.
Your eyes flick toward Taxi lying injured beside you.
Then toward Joel behind cover.
Then back toward Clouser.
One shot. That’s all it would take. You’ve made harder shots before. Much harder. Your hand slowly drifts toward the revolver at your back.
Joel sees it instantly. His expression changes immediately. “No.”
You barely hear him.
The world tunnels.
One target. One bullet. One chance.
You draw the revolver in one impossibly fast motion and fire.
BANG.
The bullet tears straight through Clouser’s head—
Or almost.
The shot hits the side of his skull violently, ripping through his ear and grazing along his temple instead of killing him outright.
Blood sprays.
Clouser collapses sideways screaming.
Chaos erupts instantly.
You almost laugh from the sheer rush of seeing him finally bleed—
Then another shot slams through your shoulder hard enough to spin you backward onto the pavement.
Pain explodes white-hot across your body.
Joel’s voice roars somewhere distant.
Gunfire erupts everywhere now.
Joel immediately returns fire from cover, dropping one Wolf before being forced back behind concrete barriers under heavy fire.
But even through the pain he sees you move.
Still alive. Still conscious. Thank God.
Clouser screams furiously from the ground while Wolves scramble around him.
“STOP SHOOTING, YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!” Blood pours down the side of his face while medics drag him partially upright. “WE NEED HER ALIVE!”
Your revolver skids across wet pavement out of reach.
You lunge for it—
Too slow.
Three Wolves hit you at once.
You slam one in the stomach with your elbow hard enough to fold him in half before kicking another directly off you.
But there are too many.
Hands grab your wrists.
Your legs.
One Wolf twists your injured shoulder hard enough to force a cry from your throat.
Joel immediately rises again from cover. “GET THE FUCK OFF HER!”
He drops another Wolf with a headshot before bullets force him back again.
Taxi snarls viciously from the ground, dragging himself toward you despite the pain tearing through his injured leg.
“Hold her down!”
A Wolf slams your arms painfully behind your back while another drives your knees hard into the pavement.
Zip ties cinch brutally tight around your wrists.
You fight anyway.
Thrashing. Kicking. Spitting curses through gritted teeth while they struggle to pin you properly.
One soldier catches your boot directly across the face with a sharp crack.
“Fuck—!”
“Hold her still!”
“Watch her hands!”
Too fast.
You waited too long.Should’ve moved faster.Should’ve had a better plan.
Then rough hands yank you violently upright.
Your boots drag through rainwater while Wolves force you across the flooded street toward him.
Clouser’s eyes finally shift toward you.
A faint smile twists across his mouth.
Blood runs down the side of his face while rainwater drips steadily from his ruined coat.
“…There she is.”
Your stomach turns violently.
“All those years hiding,” he murmurs.
His eyes drag slowly over your face.
“Just to walk yourself right back where you belong."
“Fuck you!” You lunge toward him instantly.
The Wolves wrench you back hard enough pain tears through your shoulders.
“Easy!”
“Hold her!”
Clouser barely reacts.
“Take her inside.”
“No!” You twist violently again, panic flashing hotter now the second you realize what that means. “Get the fuck off me!”
Then your eyes snap past them.
“Joel!”
Clouser pauses.
His expression shifts slightly at the name.
Slowly, his eyes drift past you toward the gunfire beyond the barricades.
Toward Joel.
Joel sees only you. “Kat!”
And something inside him snaps completely.
He rises from cover without hesitation and opens fire again. One Wolf drops instantly. Another barely ducks behind a barricade before bullets rip apart the concrete beside his head.
But there are too many.
Gunfire explodes from three directions at once, forcing him back behind the ruined ambulance near the curb.
Taxi barks frantically through the chaos, still trying to crawl toward you.
Joel tries again anyway.
Of course he does.
The second he breaks cover, two Wolves rush him from the side. One slams into his ribs hard enough to drive him sideways into the wall while another hooks his rifle away violently.
Joel elbows the first man directly in the throat.
The second gets his nose shattered against Joel’s forehead.
Then another Wolf grabs him from behind—
Joel throws him over his shoulder hard enough to crack concrete—
But someone finally jams a rifle against the back of his knee.
“DOWN!”
The shot doesn’t fire.
Instead the force behind it kicks Joel’s leg out from under him and drives him heavily onto one knee.
Three rifles snap toward his head instantly.
One pressed directly against his temple.
Joel’s chest heaves violently as rain pours down his face.
Still fighting.
Still trying to look past them toward you.
“Taxi!” he shouts hoarsely.
The shepherd answers with another desperate bark somewhere nearby.
One Wolf glances toward the injured dog lying near the street.
“You want me to kill it?” he asks coldly.
Clouser presses a blood-soaked cloth tighter against the ruined side of his head while staggering closer through the rain.
“Leave it,” he rasps. “Thing’s practically dead already.”
Taxi growls weakly anyway.
Joel’s entire body tenses violently at the words.
Then Clouser finally stops in front of him.
Really looks at him.
Recognition flickers slowly across his face beneath the blood.
“…Well.”
Rain drips steadily from his chin while he studies Joel almost curiously.
“You’re Joel Miller.”
Joel says nothing. His jaw clenches hard enough to twitch.
Clouser lets out a faint disbelieving laugh through the pain.
“Hm.” He shakes his head slightly. “Funny.”
His ruined ear leaves blood running down his neck.
“All this way…” His eyes darken. “Just to walk into your own execution.”
Joel barely even processes the words.
Doesn’t care.
The only thing he’s still looking for is you.
One of the Wolves glances toward Clouser questioningly.
Clouser gives a small nod.
“If you touch her, I swear to God I’ll—”
The rifle butt slams violently into the side of Joel’s head. Pain explodes white behind his eyes.
Darkness swallows the rest of the sentence whole.
please don't forget that your thoughts and feelings about this story matter deeply to me so please share them with me. Thank you for being here. 💋
summary: you’ve seen a lot during your rebellion days & now with the New Republic… but working with a mandalorian may just send you into the wildest tailspin yet
word count: 11.9k (i’m sorry)
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. MAJOR MOVIE SPOILERS ⚠️ takes place before & during the events of the film, reader has a backstory & family but no physical description, light use of gendered language, slight annoyance to friends to lovers, pining & yearning, budding romance, threats & moments of violence/threat of kidnapping, flying as a love language, reader has instances of drinking and smoking, competency kink, light voice kink, slightly jealous!reader, spicy times in the cockpit (helmet stays on), dry humping, unprotected p in v, one moment of spit, creampie, protective and soft!Din
a/n: so… hi lmao I call this my ‘let’s daydream about being in the new movie’ fic or aka my attempt at plugging us into the storyline bcs it’s what we deserve lol big thanks to my dear @babynueva for always supporting my din delulu ily bb! Also this is my first official fic of the year & knowing it’s for Din means so much - so thank you for being here ♡ [divider credit & thanks to the ever amazing @saradika-graphics]
When a mandalorian first strides into base camp on Adelphi, you think you’re seeing things.
The sun bounces off his armor drawing all eyes. It’s like his ancient armor proudly beams of its power and striking force. The mysterious Mandalorian walks with intent, a steady gait that dares anyone to cross him. You can’t help but stare at the mysterious warrior.
“Is he… imperial?” Someone whispers in the mess hall and makeshift cantina.
“Nope, he’s working with us now.” Teva answers simply.
You didn’t believe it. But apparently it’s true.
“He’s set to be an independent operative, but know he is working for and with us.” The colonel’s words then officially etch the truth in stone.
Mando comes around basecamp like a ghost. Barely staying put for you to register his presence, yet the whispers about him grow.
“I heard he took out a whole imperial squadron and a Moff too.” Dyana, your closest friend, tells you enthusiastic to catch up on all the rumors.
Then Ward calls for you, and you miss out on any other gossip Dyana and the others had.
“I’ll be heading to Coruscant this week to meet with a few higher ups and senators… I need you to do all the debriefs with Mando while I’m away.
It’s like a rancor suddenly barreled into you.
“Wait, me?” You stupidly question confused, and Ward shoots you a look, raised eyebrows and all.
“Do you think you’re not capable of handling this, ranger?”
“No, colonel.” You quickly reply, and she nods.
“Good, that’s what I thought.”
When you see her off, it must be obvious how hesitant you still are. Her sturdy hand gives your shoulder a reassuring pat.
“Don’t worry. He’s not as scary as everyone thinks he is.” Ward reassures, but it doesn’t soothe you much.
Especially when the day arrives and you find yourself waiting for him.
Just like before, the mandalorian saunters in and your focus is immediately drawn to him. But then, it gets knocked out of orbit when you find he’s not alone.
A tiny green creature waddles in beside him, childishly blinking at every sight. Why is a child with the mandalorian?
“Where’s Ward?” A rich striking voice startles you. Of course the terrifying warrior would sound this intimidating.
“Went to Coruscant for a meeting.” You reply partly stunned you’re actually talking to him.
“And you are?” But then mandalorian questions, sharp and distrustful, and it pisses you off. He’s the newcomer here, and he decides to question you?
“I’m the person you’re stuck with for your debrief and mission logs unfortunately.” Your voice whips out sharp.
He doesn’t say anything.
“What about Teva?” He counters again, and you want to scream. What’s this guy’s problem?
“Out on a mission,” your reply is sharper, bladed with annoyance.
“If you want you can personally contact Ward and explain why I’m not satisfactory enough for your debrief. I’m sure she’d love that.” Then the defiant reply escapes you faster than you can stop it.
It’s as if the whole cantina mess hall heard you because it becomes deathly silent.
The mandalorian simply stares you down with his unflinching helmet. Then the warrior turns and strides out not saying another word.
“I think you pissed him off.” Wolf snickers breaking the stillness.
A sense of dread looms as you realize you might’ve truly just gotten yourself into a mountain load of trouble.
Ward calls that night, and you knew it was coming.
“Why do you want to start a fight with the mandalorian?” She asks calmly over the comms.
“I’m not! He started it!” You can’t help but childishly counter. You even further explain how demanding and untrusting he was.
The colonel sighs.
“You have to understand… His people don’t trust easily. And for good reason. Try to be the one to play nice here.”
You want to be petty and say he needs to as well, but you can’t argue with Ward.
“Do the whole debrief drunk.” Zeb jokes about it with you the next day, and you scoff.
But by the time sunset arrives you start getting tempted to get a drink because maybe Mando isn’t showing up.
Until he does. And again he’s not alone. The strange but sweet little creature continues waddling alongside Mando.
It’s awkward as hell when he approaches your table. The tension lingers thick from yesterday prickling across your skin in the worst way.
You don’t even know if you should say anything
“Mweh?” A surprisingly soft little noise floats through the tension and you turn towards it. You blink down to find the mysterious little being staring up at you with sweet wide eyes.
With curious claws, the baby reaches for the loth cat charm dangling off your belt, the one of many trinkets your niece has given you.
Melted by the sight, you grin and scoot closer. Then you unclasp the charm for the baby to examine it more.
“You like it? It’s cute right?”
The little one agrees with a chirp sounding so endearing.
Something softly clicks. If a creature so tiny and innocent as this baby confidently travels with the mandalorian, then he couldn't be that much of an ass.
Someone sighs. Then settling back into your seat, you find the mandalorian seated across from you. The baby hops up to sit beside him. Yet his eager eyes remain happily taken with your charm.
“That imp base on Hoth had no leads.” He speaks first.
You’re stunned.
Your gut urges you to not make a big deal about this, to simply now see him as another coworker.
So you nod and casually plug in the info on your datapad.
“Hoth was a long shot, but we appreciate you going.” You even add that in.
You knew of a few pilots who served during the Hoth raid. It’s an unforgiving planet, takes a lot of guts to investigate that icy fortress.
“What’s the next order?” Mando asks firm, all business, just like Ward had told you.
You slide him a bounty chip containing info on a possible military officer who could be running a smuggling ring. The mandalorian doesn’t say anything else, simply takes the card and stands up.
“Come on, kid.” All he does is address the baby, not even sparing you a second glance.
Cute and so politely, the kid hands back your loth cat with a noise that feels like a thank you.
“You’re welcome, little cutie,” you tell him warmly.
Once the pair are out of sight, you sigh exhausted, relieved, and sprawl out on the table glad it’s over. Someone barks a laugh, and you aren’t even embarrassed about it.
You can’t wait till this is over.
It’s already been a week and a half of being grounded doing these debriefs with Mando. You miss being in the skies. But all that hope of getting back in the clouds gets squashed.
“I need to negotiate a few more issues with Senator Organa… can you continue to do the debrief?” It isn’t much of a question but more of an order from Ward.
So you meet with Mando for the rest of the week and into the next. It’s cordial, barely speaking for more than ten minutes with each other.
You try to be friendly, make a joke about the weather, but he just silently stares at you, obviously annoyed.
And it pisses you off all over again.
But you think of the adorable little baby who eagerly tags along with the terrifying hunter. The kid sweetly waves, and you wave back. You started bringing treats after his guardian chided him for eating some of yours.
The annoyed sigh Mando gave when you brought more snacks to share was worth it.
This time you decided to bring something else along with you.
It was the first charm your sister gave you when you became a pilot. A tradition her daughter, your niece, now does with you.
“Look!” You eagerly hold up the plush creature that makes the baby’s eyes go wide.
With adorable tiny grabby hands, he reaches for it and you happily hand it over.
You grin pleased seeing how pleased the kid coos.
“What’s your name?” The sudden question from Mando surprises you.
A bit stunned, you give it to him.
He nods solemnly, repeating it. Your heart does a strange flip hearing his deep voice say your name.
“This is Grogu.” He then introduces the kid who chimes in hearing his name.
“Nice to meet you, Grogu.” You excitedly greet the kid.
Then you turn to Grogu’s guardian. This solemn but striking mandalorian now has you curious to who he is. Your mind thinks about the rumors that have spread about him.
“And you? What’s your name?” You ask politely, but immediately you can almost hear Dyana screaming at you. She’s become the new expert on Mandalorian customs.
“They’re private people,” she had told you, confirming what Ward had said. “It’s probably why not a lot of people know about him, much less his name.”
“I’m sorry, forgive me.” You stammer quickly. “You don’t have to give it.”
A moment passes, and you worry you’ve unraveled this tentative truce or whatever it is.
“Din… Din Djarin.” His full name. It’s lovely.
“Din…” you repeat it.
“It’s nice to meet you too.” And you mean that.
Mando, Din, nods, and you think it’s worth the few weeks being out of the skies.
When Din and Grogu leave you realize the kid still holds onto your plush charm.
“Come on kid, give it back.” Din urges noticing too.
“No it’s okay. He can keep it. Give it back to me next time.” You grin at the baby, and Grogu giggles pleased at the answer.
“What do you say, kid?”
Grogu chirps a sweet thanks and waddles away content with the plushie in his arms.
The next day, as promised, he brings it back. But you exchange another charm with him. This time it’s a cute cloud with a sweet face. Eager for the new trinket, Grogu ditches the plushie and you laugh.
Work then follows suit. Din explains on the intel he’s slowly gaining on the imp official.
“Taking a bit longer than expected.” Din gruffly admits.
“Don’t worry. Rodents like him know how to hide. It’s not your fault. Then again that’s probably an insult to rodents.” You’ve been trying to stay professional, channel your inner composed Colonel Ward. But the old rebel pilot comes out.
Suddenly, a chuckle follows.
Din laughed.
You swear you misheard it. But the way Grogu giggles agreeing with his protector, you know you heard correctly.
“A fair statement.” Din agrees.
And you grin back at him. A golden victorious feeling bubbles in your chest.
Watching the pair leave, you find you’re excited to see them again.
The rest of the debriefs go smoother than ever. You bring new charms for Grogu to play with, and Din seems to settle in more.
“You have a lot of those.” He even comments a bit dry when you exchange another new charm with Grogu. This time it’s a fuzzy bantha.
“Managed to gather a small collection.” You explain.
“Really… couldn’t tell.” Din deadpans.
That’s when you realized he just joked with you.
“Think you might like those two,” Zeb teases the next time he drops by the mess hall.
“It’s called being civil.” You stubbornly reply while messing with the holopad, and the Lasat warrior barks a laugh.
“Civil? Yeah sure.” He teases further.
You stay stubbornly quiet.
“Don’t worry… They’re a pain in my ass too.” Zeb huffs, and it does soothe your annoyance.
Especially now that something is festered in you, a sort of curious itch to learn more about Din Djarin.
“I heard… he really did blow up an entire imperial base. That’s how Teva found him.” Dyana is happy to spill more gossip about him.
“He’s quiet, doesn’t talk much. So I doubt he’d say anything even if he did.” You mutter.
“Does he really keep a pet around?” Dyana presses for any new info.
The word ‘pet’ sounds harsh.
“He’s more like the kid’s guardian.” The word ‘parent’ instead wants to slip out especially after you’ve seen Din’s fatherly watch over the baby.
“Oh that’s even more interesting! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?!” Dyana shrieks.
“You’ve been busy.” You half lie.
You could argue that it’s because you want to protect Din’s trust and don’t want to disturb that. But the truth is, you don’t want to share this little secret bond you’ve cultivated with him.
You however rapidly kick those thoughts away.
Ward will be back sometime this week. Your brief time with the Mandalorian would be over soon.
Except that time comes sooner than expected.
The next morning Colonel Ward arrives, an early return. Disappointment arrives just as fast. You knew this was only a temporary thing.
Trying not to feel annoyed, you now work on your x-wing. Deep under the hull, you refuel trying just to keep your mind focused here.
“Didn’t know you were a mechanic.” Suddenly, the rich voice of a certain mandalorian echoes in the hanger.
You scramble out from under the ship confused if you heard right.
But standing off to the side are indeed Din and Grogu.
“What? Thought I just did paper work and worked as an assistant?” You tease.
Din chuckles, and it sinks into the glowing sunlight coating the hanger in its glory.
“You’re looking at one of the New Republic’s best pilots!” Dyana.
She perks up emerging from the other side of the ship, and you shoot a glare her way not even knowing where she came from.
“A pilot?” Din questions, curious.
His helmet tilts towards you.
“Sometimes,” you shrug.
“And I wouldn’t say best.” You weakly laugh then glower at Dyana again. She simply beams innocently back at you.
“One day you gotta tell him about Endor. Though I’m sure you have plenty of fight stories to share too, Mando!”
You want to strangle her.
“You fought at Endor?” Din asks, helmet fully facing you and voice faintly awed.
It all makes your skin feel heated and tight.
All you can do is shrug again.
Endor seems like so long ago now. You were so much younger then. Wild and ready to sacrifice it all for the sake of protecting everything you loved. A small secret corner of your heart aches for those days of when you flew with such fire.
“Well… gotta go! Nice to finally meet you both!” Dyana nods to Din and smiles at the baby before scurrying away.
A traitor in the flesh fleeing if you ever did see one.
“So…an x-wing pilot.” Din comments, still watching you. His curious and impressed tone ignites a strange sensation in your chest that threatens to consume you.
“On good days I am.” You again shrug with a half smile.
“So what was Endor like?” He inquires, and you’re surprised he’s curious about that.
“Don’t know, never went on planet… kinda was busy flying around.”
You don’t even need to see his face to know he’s giving you a silent unamused stare. He must not think your joke is as funny as you do.
A surprised giggle does come though. Both you and Din discover Grogu effortlessly climbing up onto the wing of the ship.
“Kid.” Din chides.
“How did you get up there so fast?” You laugh amused at the sight of this tiny creature waddling on top of your x-wing.
Din sighs, truly parental.
“I take it that you fly?” You ask him yet keeping your gaze on Grogu to make sure he stays safe.
“I do.” Din answers, confident.
“Must be why he’s so curious and comfortable around ships. It’s good when kids get to experience being in the air.” You think of your niece who eagerly tries to convince you to fly her around.
“My niece is the same way.” You reveal.
Din hums a noise, acknowledging he’s listening.
“Is she the reason why you have all those charms?” He asks in a tone softer than you’ve ever heard.
“Excuse you, they are medals of honor.” You jokingly try to sound offended.
“With you I wouldn’t be surprised.” He replies deadpan, and you snicker.
“But yeah… she’s the one who gives them to me.” You explain how it was your sister who first started giving you those charms to decorate your x-wing.
They were to remind you to come home safe.
“I was ordered not to come home unless I brought the charms back safe and sound.” You repeat the same words your sister told you.
A soft breeze enters the hanger bringing in a welcoming cooling touch. But it’s then you realize how close you’re now standing next to Din. You didn’t even notice when you or him moved closer to each other.
“That’s… sweet.” His voice carries a tenderness that sneaks under your ribs and sinks in deep.
You turn and find he’s already looking at you.
Under Din’s gaze, it’s like you’re caught in a tractor beam unable to speak or move.
Dangerous thoughts have already begun clouding your mind, and they all connect back to this man. Like how you’ve noticed how broad his shoulders look, and how strong he is helping move crates around the base. What’s worse is you’ve begun wondering what this mandalorian looks like under his helm.
Grogu’s little giggle finally draws your attention away. Currently he peeks inside the cockpit through the window.
“So I take it this is your ship?” Din asks.
“No, I stole it.” You quip back.
“Sure you did.” His dry reply makes you snicker.
“It’s how I got to fight at Endor.” You jest, stealing a quick glance at Din. Of course he shakes his head unamused.
“Thought you didn’t see Endor.” He uses your dry joke back at you, and you can’t help it.
You playfully elbow him.
Another little giggle comes. Glancing back to the ship, Grogu now peers over from the wing’s edge grinning at you and Din.
“Little troublemaker, are you going to be a pilot one day?” You smile at Grogu.
“Mweh!” He squeals.
“I think that’s a yes,” you tell Din proudly.
“No.” Din answers back firmly.
“It’s okay I’ll teach you one day,” you counter sweetly, and the baby giggles more.
“No.” Din repeats again firmer.
A small cluster of pilots approach. Their laughter and conversation fill the air. Guess this moment is over.
“Still need to see Ward… shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Din is smooth about making his exit.
Quickly Grogu jumps into his arms, and you bid the duo goodbye for now.
You haven’t been in the air for long, but it feels like you’re floating now.
The moments you see the pair become like scattered stars.
Months settle in, and a routine follows. You sometimes see Din in the mess hall cantina when you return from a mission. Discussing with the colonel, all you can simply do is give your boys quick smiles.
Other times Din stops by the hanger where you linger now more than ever hoping he drops by. You and him talk about work, missions, the various planets visited.
You want to ask what got him to work for the new republic, but you don’t want to disturb whatever is growing between you and him.
“It’s budding love.” Dyana sagely declares one evening at the cantina, and Zeb agrees.
“It’s not!” You screech over a drink.
“I don’t think Mando has said more than five words to me, yet I see him talking to you so much.” Another pilot chimes in.
“He talks to Zeb the most!” You argue back. The two of them are often paired up on missions now. You try not to get annoyed by it.
“Not as much as you, kid.” Zeb rebuttals.
“Don’t think we haven’t seen the way he hangs around the hanger for you.” Sash Ketter snickers, and it only ignites the discussion once again.
You dismiss all their words as attempts trying to rile you up.
Because you don’t want to face the truth. You long for your chats with Din, even just to see him for a moment and play with Grogu.
It’s just an awful infatuation. That’s it.
Your small vacation break now approaching may be more of a blessing than you realize. It’ll hopefully give you time to clear your head.
“I’m heading home to visit family. I’ll be sure to bring back something good.” You tell Din the next time you run into him outside the cantina.
“There’s no need. Just… be safe.” Din nods.
His gentle words carry you the entire flight home.
The brief week away provides peaceful moments of relaxation. While you enjoy the time spent with your sister’s family, you long to return to Adelphi.
“So, what did you get me this time?” You ask your niece the day before you’re set to head back.
“I got you… THIS!” She proudly raises up an odd creature. You can’t even tell what it is.
“She made it herself.” Your sister whispers, and your eyes go wide.
“What?! Why didn’t you tell me we have an artist in this family now?!” You cry excitedly scooping up your niece in your arms and tickle her with glee as she squeaks excitedly.
“Actually before I go… Do you think you can help me make one too?” You ask her and your niece's eyes light up.
With eager hands she gathers all her supplies to deposit them on the table ready to craft.
“So… are you going to tell me who you’re making this for?” Your sister asks slightly suspiciously as you add little puffballs to your monster creation.
“What if I just want my charm to have a friend, huh?” You deflect.
“Yeah sure.” She’s not convinced but thankfully doesn’t press any further.
As hard as it is saying goodbye to her and your niece, you’re thankful to finally be back to your routine.
And of course, the new little charm sitting in your pocket seems to hold so much weight.
Din returns a few days after you. It’s hard trying to ignore the bubbling joy that rises watching him approach your x-wing first.
“Welcome back.” He greets and Grogu squeals adorably scurrying to you.
Eagerly you welcome his jump into your arms, and you squeeze him tight.
“I miss you too,” you tell Grogu but hope his father knows you mean him as well.
“And look, I got something for you.” You shift to hold Grogu in one arm.
Then you hold up the new charm.
“What is it supposed to be?” Din sounds confused and slightly alarmed.
“It’s a little monster,” you reply lightly insulted.
“My niece and I made these, and I knew someone who might like it.” You grin towards Grogu now.
“Bweh!” He cheers and draws the charm into his small arms so enamored with the strange monstrosity already.
“See! He likes it, that's what matters.” You huff proudly at Din.
Grogu chirps like he agrees. You laugh then catch Din’s chuckle too.
“What do you say, kid?” Din says.
Grogu however doesn’t say anything. Instead he leans up and hugs you. His sweet little arms curl against your neck.
Holding this baby so tight is like holding a little newborn star. You’re grateful for this moment and hug Grogu close, closing your eyes to fully embrace this wonderful tiny soul.
“You’re welcome, little troublemaker.” You softly tell him.
The baby then settles into your arms as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Worried you might have overstepped, you quickly snap your attention to Din. His helmet stays focused on you.
You wonder what his eyes look like, what color swims within his gaze.
“Glad you’re back safe.” Din’s voice sounds low, softer and a bit thick.
“Me too,” you reply, letting yourself sink into whatever it is overtaking your entire heart.
This infatuation, or whatever it’s mutated into, grows stronger. And it terrifies you.
But you’re reminded quickly there are more terrifying things to face.
The wound isn’t looking good.
You’re more pissed at yourself for getting ambushed by damn pirates. This operation was supposed to be simple, check in on the distress signal intercepted by base. But one pirate ambush later and you’re now stranded trying to stop the bleeding.
You just hope the emergency signal you sent back to camp went through. Leaning against your ship, you take a deep breath trying to calm yourself down. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.
Until something pierces your back, and a scream of pain escapes you. Electricity courses through your body knocking you to the ground.
Everything stings. You can barely concentrate, but you hear them. Gleeful disgusting laughs swirling all around. The damn pirates…
“Think of the price we’ll get for x-wing parts!” One of them muses.
“Or even for the pilot, quite a cute one.” That comment unleashes a panicked feral terror.
Get up, you have to get up. Even though every part of your body stings, screaming to stay still, you have to move.
You slowly try to sit up through the aftershocks, but then a boot comes to slowly step on your chest, pressing you down to the dirt.
“Nah uh little pilot, where do ya think you’re going.” A voice snickers.
You clench your jaw hard. This isn’t looking good.
A sudden blaster shot fires and immediately takes out a pirate with accurate precision.
“What was that?!” One of them screams.
Then a blaster shot silenced him.
“Step away from her now.” Din.
Or someone sounding like him.
The voice is deadly, terrifying, and you wonder if it even is Din.
Then the pirate towering above you with his boot still pressing on your chest suddenly gets thrown off.
Weakly you cough sitting up. While you do, you witness Din in action and realize he’s truly here.
And the way he attacks, effortlessly slicing through the pirate captain and the lackeys that try rushing him - he’s incredible.
You’ve never seen anyone fight so fluidly and powerful. You’re witnessing one of the most powerful warriors in the galaxy…
And he’s here to save you.
A small concerned whimper comes to your side and immediately you glance down. Grogu quickly waddles to your arm and flashes his wide worried eyes up to you.
“I’m okay, I promise.” He must see the wound, and you try smiling reassuringly.
He hums a small noise at you. Then he closes his eyes, laying his little claw against your elbow. Slowly a gentle warmth suddenly crawls up your shoulder.
What is he doing?
The stinging pain vanishes instantly. Reaching up to your shoulder, you find no wound.
“Mweh.” Grogu peers up at you with a small little wave.
“You really are something else, little trouble maker… thank you.” You fondly stroke his fuzzy little head, and he beams.
Din urgently yells your name and soon rushes to kneel before you. Gloved hands reach out to steady your shoulders.
“I’m fine.” You now reassure him and move to squeeze one of his hands.
An exhale escapes Din, relieved.
“I’m sorry you both had to come all the way out here. I’m sure there are better bounties to hunt.” You half tease.
“Don’t apologize.” He immediately snaps.
Grogu makes a sad noise as if chiding his father.
“Just glad you’re safe.” So Din gently adds and steadily helps you stand.
Zeb lands moments later with a mechanic to help patch up your ship. The entire time Din stays by your side, letting you lean against him for support. His guiding hand never leaves you.
You’re given the rest of the week off to recover.
“So was Mando on a mission with you when my distress beacon went out?” You ask Zeb when he drops by to check on you.
He snorts, giving you a knowing side eye smirk.
“Is that what you think?” Zeb doesn’t elaborate even when you pester him.
It’s Dyana of course who reveals the truth.
“Mando was the first to rush out. Ward had to practically stop him before he flew off on his own.” Her words unravel something effortlessly in you.
How can you ignore these feelings for a mandalorian anymore?
“I think it’s romantic.” Dyana thankfully doesn’t judge you when you finally admit everything to her.
There was no time for romance during a rebellion, during a war. Even now you almost scoff at the idea. There are other things to do, other things to focus on than get lovesick over someone.
But Din dismantled all those old thoughts in you, leaving you exposed and almost greedy for someone now.
“It’s okay to want that you know… romance and companionship.” Dyana tells you already sensing your hesitation.
You know her and a cute mechanic have been dating off and on for a while. She’s always been urging you to get out more, maybe try to find someone. Guess you just had to wait for a mandalorian to show up.
But you have to put all those giggles and feelings aside.
Your time resting is done, and immediately you’re thrown back into the rush of work.
A mission and orders arrive a few days later on your datapad.
Raid strike this week, get ready
It’s not a full strike squadron, but you’re thankful Zeb is tagging along.
“Think your boyfriend might be joining us.” He teases, and your eyes narrow hard. Now you regret him being here.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You rapidly dismiss.
“Huh uh.” He rolls his eyes.
As if summoned to add to your pain, Din enters the command center. It feels like feral lizard birds were released in your stomach.
Immediately his helmet spots you. Grogu perched on his shoulder chirps upon seeing you. Trying to act relaxed, you give the boys a casual wave and bright grin.
Zeb chuckles, and you silently shush him again under your breath. You walk to meet Din halfway.
“Glad you’re doing better.” He says, faintly warm, and you nod grateful.
“Thanks to my two heroes,” you thank them both again. Grogu beams toothy when you tickle his chin.
Din doesn’t say anything.
“Guess we’re finally teaming up.” So you speak up first.
“Seems like it,” Din agrees.
This isn’t the first time he’s seen you in your pilot gear. Hell, he just rescued you last week. But for some reason, you feel more self aware than ever.
Thankfully Ward enters, drawing the room’s attention to her.
The mission is to ambush the warlord now barricaded up in his mansion. He’s apparently greatly armed and even hired a small air brigade. It’s why this strike squadron was called in. You’re curious why Din is here though.
“Without the mandalorian’s intel, we wouldn’t have this opportunity. So we will be following his lead.” She sends her focus to him.
Din simply and silently nods back.
Then he moves to the holo map and gives details about the estate. Hearing how commanding and surefire his voice resounds, the way he walks confidently and without any hesitation, he’s incredible.
But there’s no time to linger on this warrior.
It’s time to fly.
“Finally get to see you in action,” you tell Din as he walks out with you.
“Guess you will.” He replies with a hint of something playful, and it only speeds up your racing heart.
All you can do is laugh before parting ways.
“Don’t get lost in the clouds.” You teasingly yell to the mandalorian and he looks back at you from over his shoulder.
You can’t see Din’s eyes, but you hope they’re amused.
Him and Grogu now trail away from where you’re stationed, and you settle into your ship.
Your x-wing roars alive, and the familiar comms flicker in your ear. Then the call signals electrify the start to battle.
“Delphi squadron, lock in.” Teva announces on the main channel, the leader for this run. Everyone follows suit locking in their coordinates.
“Blue 9, standing by.” You chime in, readying the flight path.
“Starfighter, standing by.” Then a new voice floats through your helmet.
The tone resonates rich as a stormy ocean sending a shock through your system.
Hearing Din in your helmet does something to you so wild that you feel guilty at how fast your core clenched. You recollect yourself fast.
That’s when you notice the ship he joined in with.
A starfighter? There’s no way. Those ships don’t exist.
But again, you’re proven so wrong.
Among the gunfire and smoke, the sounds of battle, a new gleam of silver catches your attention. The Naboo N-1 fighter is a marvel.
A sleek whisper of a dream, one minute she’s a simple flicker of light then the next she’s firing directly in the trenches of the fight.
But as in awe of the ship as you are, it’s the mandalorian who leaves you breathless.
Din flies amazing. The fast maneuvering, the excellent read he makes of the battle, among his readiness to swoop in and out of tight spaces - you’ve never seen anyone fly this beautifully.
It inspires you, the type of flying that makes you want to soar higher to catch up.
So you do.
You embrace the rebel pilot you always might be and dive through the canyons chasing after one of the bandits the warlord hired.
Quickly you dispatch the enemy ship then swirl and maneuver your x-wing to return to the open sky.
“Target on your left.” Din’s voice suddenly thunders in your ear, chiming in on your personal channel.
“Got it.” You reply steady and twist fast enough to fire on the swing mid air.
“Got him, great shot!” Listening to Din’s deep fierce voice over your private channel, his voice colored in pride, you have to mute the channel to exhale.
Because a wave of arousal crawled up your spine so fast you had to bite your lip. Now you try settling yourself down again.
You pride yourself on being composed when you fly. There of course have been times when you’ve gotten emotional and maybe reacted.
Yet here this masked man completely disarms you.
It’s a fight you realize you won’t win.
The raid is successful, and the warlord gets taken in alive. That’s the win that matters.
“Great job,” Din suddenly voices back in your comms, still sounding so proud, and you melt all over again.
“You too, thanks for the support,” you answer back, just as fond, then rapidly switch over the channel.
“Captain,” you ask Teva on his personal comms.
“Before we leave, do you think I can test Mando on how he flies?”
Teva takes a moment then sighs.
“Make it quick.”
Giddy you quickly chime back onto Din’s channel.
“Wanna go for a run?” A part of you worries he won’t want to join you.
“Lead the way.” But Din quickly answers, and you pull back up to the clouds.
The planet is rather gorgeous, full of lush canyons and towering mountains. It’s a flight playground. Among the skies, twisting and twirling down through the natural landscape, you and Din soar around each other, with each.
Playful, yet delicately cautious, your x-wing revolves alongside his starfighter. Din keeps up with you every moment. Quietly the image of a dance among the clouds floats into your mind.
“Up for a race?” He suddenly asks.
“Oh, you know it.” You agree, excited. You settle into your seat, ready to take off.
But in a flash, he zooms past you.
“What the hell?!” You shriek over the comms.
Din’s husky laugh in your ear is a beautiful reward.
Returning back to Adelphi, you and him fly beside each other. Ward gives everyone the night off, and the cantina already seems to shine extra bright landing in.
Settling into your spot in the hanger, you notice Din lands his starfighter closer than ever.
Sliding off your helmet, for a moment you worry about how bad your hair looks, how messy and sweaty you must be.
But heading down the ladder, Din already walks towards you.
All your worries vanish. You don’t even care how fast you walk towards him. Here standing before Din under the low lights of the hanger, the world melts away.
“You were incredible.”
“You flew… amazing.”
Both you and Din speak at the same time, words jumbling up and getting tangled. It startles you, even his shoulders stiffen a bit.
Then you laugh.
“No, you were the incredible one.” You tell him first.
“Not compared to you,” he shakes his head.
“Glad I finally got to see one of the Rebellion’s and New Republic’s best pilots in action.” There’s a smirk in his voice, and heat burns through your veins.
Any words you want to say, he’s stolen them right from you. All you’re reduced to is a love struck fool caught in the orbit of this powerful mandalorian.
Din doesn’t say anything either. It’s like you and him can’t look away from the other standing this close.
“Hey! Ya two love birds gonna join us or what?” Zeb suddenly breaks the spell, and your blood instantly boils.
You hiss foul curses at Zeb, and he only cackles with laughter.
Embarrassed and trying to escape this moment you shake your head heading towards the exit.
“Come on, let’s go celebrate.” You manage to smile at Din hoping to dispel any comments about what Zeb said.
The mandalorian follows you into the mess hall cantina. The lively celebratory air glimmers with joyous laughter. It’s a welcoming atmosphere, and even Wolf along with a few other pilots ask Din to join them.
“Maybe in a bit,” He nods, instead staying by your side when you approach the bar.
“No pressure, but drinks on me if you want.” You offer.
“I’ll pass, but thanks.” He instead places down credits for your drink, and you thank him with a toast.
“Come on, let’s see how good of a sabacc player you are.” After taking a huge sip, you allow the alcohol to sting in the best way.
“Think you might be dissapointed,” Din chuckles.
Of course he’s a damn natural.
Everyone at the table cries in frustration when he wins the second round, and you even narrow your eyes at him.
“Oh, so you’re a liar.” You joke good naturedly.
“Never said I was good or bad.” He answers and it’s rather coy, lighter than what you’ve heard from him.
“Next time Mando I want you comin’ with me off planet! We could really win big.” Someone suggests and now it’s comforting seeing how much everyone has warmed up to him, how much Din has settled in here too.
Until you realize the baby is missing and immediately turn to Din. Maybe it’s the atmosphere but you lean closer to him placing your hand against his arm.
“Wait, where’s Grogu?” You ask concerned and low.
Din leans closer to you, his helmet almost grazing your face.
“Don’t worry, he’s asleep in the barracks.” Din’s answer comes low, reassuring.
Then he reaches up to lay his hand on top of yours. It’s a reassuring hold, a soft touch that brings comfort.
You exhale relieved and don’t have time to realize what he just did until someone drags Din away to play darts.
He squeezed your hand, and you now fight against a dumb smile just thinking about it.
Even after another round of getting your ass kicked at cards, you don’t care. You glance over to Din.
A cluster of pilots surround him. You’re not surprised. He’s a marvel, someone truly remarkable. But one of the prettier pilots slides up next to Din, batting her eyelashes so dreamily up at him.
Something fierce, venomous and coated in jealousy, strikes.
Reaching to Wolf, you nudge his shoulder a few times, and he knowingly looks at you. Not saying anything, he discreetly slips you a smoke stick.
You head out of the cantina into the soft warm night and light up. The smoke in your lungs settles you down for a moment and cuts through the alcohol.
Dumb Mandalorian man making you feel this way…
Taking another drag of the smoke stick, you watch the smoke you exhale mix into the air.
“Didn’t know you smoked.” Din.
His voice melts into the night like he stepped out of the shadows themselves. As he wanders towards you, you shift to lean against the rail of the patio.
“Not often,” you truthfully answer. It’s been a long time since you lit up.
A bad habit you picked up during your rebellion days, being as young as you were around seasoned veteran pilots. It became a way to calm yourself down and stop your hands from shaking from the nerves.
You even tell him that.
“What made you join?” He asks, tentative and quiet.
A loaded question but one you feel comfortable enough to answer, especially with him.
The empire took so much from you. You’re grateful you and your sister managed to keep each other safe, look out for each other. You weren’t lying when you joked about stealing ships. Learning to steal is how you survived for a while as a kid.
Then you accidentally stole from a man named Luthen Rael, and your life changed. Whatever he saw in your eyes that day when he caught you… it kept you alive.
He’s the one who helped get your wings, got you in touch with rebellion once you could fly. Once you joined, you never saw him again.
“Never looked back since.” You tell this all to Din.
You don’t regret your choices. They’re what brought you here after all, kept you safe even during the danger.
“You did what you had to… you should be proud of the life you’ve made. Of the wars you've fought and survived.” Din sincerely commends you, and his words settle deep in your heart.
You softly thank him, appreciating the sentiment.
“And you? What brought you to the New Republic?” Taking another drag of the smoke stick, you finally decide to ask.
This time he’s sighing and moves to lean against the rail beside you. He’s pressed up right beside you.
“Benn a long way to get here as well.” He’s vague, but explains how he was, and still is a bounty hunter by trade. How that path led him to the kid. How Grogu is by Mandalorian creed his son and apprentice now.
“I couldn't keep getting involved with pirates, working for gangsters. It’s not the life I wanted anymore.”
It’s admirable seeing how valiant Din’s spirit shines, yet you hear how weary his soul must be like he carries so much guilt.
“There are wars you’ve fought too, Din. You should be proud of your victories. Even the ones you don’t think you should be.” Maybe it’s the fading alcohol and slow numbness of the smoke stick, but you want more than ever to just hold him.
You go to take another drag to stop yourself from doing anything reckless, but find your smoke stick is burnt to its final end.
“I don’t.. deserve such kind words. But thank you.” Din’s voice is thick, tangled in thorny emotions.
Yet underneath it all, he sounds softer and raw, like a man trying to find comfort in your words.
So you turn and see his striking dark T visor gaze on you.
A moment passes where it’s just you and him under the night sky, staring at each other.
“No matter what path you took, I'm glad you’re here.” You earnestly tell him.
In such a short amount of time this mandalorian has reawakened something in you and takes up such a large part of your heart.
“Me too.” Din mutters, nodding.
Another x-wing lands outside steals your attention away as the engines break the quiet night air.
“Always been curious to how they fly.” Din suddenly comments sounding intrigued.
“You wanna see?”
He turns to you, helmet tilted incredulous and challenging.
“Come on,” so you challenge him back with a toothy grin.
Immediately Din follows behind you, footsteps quick yet terrifying agile.
The hanger sits in eerie stillness this time of night.
“Should we even be here?” Din asks low, a bit cautious.
“Didn’t take you as a ‘by the books’ guy, Mando.” You use the common name everyone calls him as a tease.
“Only when it comes to my employer.” He replies unamused.
“Trust me, we’ll be fine.” You wave him off and he continues following you further into the dark hanger.
He doesn’t know it, but this place, especially for pilots, is an infamous makeout spot. You try not to think about that too much.
There you arrive at your x-wing.
“Hop in,” you nudge him towards the ladder.
“What?” Din sounding so boyish and confused makes you laugh.
“Get in,” you urge.
Sighing defeated he climbs up the ladder to the cockpit and you follow. You look away trying not to stare at his cute ass.
“Can we even fit in this?”
“X-wings are capable of holding various types and sizes of pilots. We are not the empire, thank you very much,” you proudly declare.
The hatch opens, and Din jumps in. The dashboard and control panel light up as he takes a seat in your chair.
Your throat goes dry seeing him sit in the same pilot seat you fly in.
“Throttle, control stick,” he points out immediately.
As much room as you have, it is cramped standing up. So you curl to the side, closer to him, but keep your eyes on the control monitor.
“It’s got a good radar system.” Din comments admiring the monitor too.
You rattle on about how these are the upgraded models everyone got after the war. The original ones you used during the rebellion are classic, but the upgrades were warmly welcomed.
“Sorry, this all must sound boring.” You weakly laugh.
“It’s not. Tell me more.” He reassures.
You’re about to until you hear commotion around the hanger.
So, quickly you scramble up and around to slide into the seat -
Right between the V of Din’s legs.
You crouch low and drag him down too.
“Wh…what are you-”
“Shh…” you shush him. “Have to lie low just in case.”
“So we should leave.” Din urges urgent.
“We’re fine.” You reassure him now.
The commotion you thought you heard passes by, and silence returns.
You exhale a bit relieved, moving to sit up. Then you grin at him from over your shoulder.
“See… told you we’d be fine.”
He stays quiet.
It hits you. Maybe you upset him or crossed a line being this close. Though you aren’t fully pressed up against his chest, the position is still intimate. You’re literally between his legs.
You want to apologize, especially now that the courage fades away fast.
But all you can think about is how stunning Din is, how gorgeous he looks here in your ship.
“One day you should fly it.” You truthfully blurt out while staring at him.
“Don’t think Ward would let me.” He stiffly replies.
“I would.” You immediately counter.
“Plus you look good in here...” Then you realize what you just admitted.
So you try to recover fast.
“Knowing your skills, if you had been with us during the rebellion days, you would’ve fit in just fine. Probably would’ve even been half as good as me.” You add hastily, half joking, hoping he doesn’t linger on anything you said before.
You now glance away to check out the window. The hanger is thankfully still empty.
Then Din suddenly softly breathes your name.
You’ve never heard it sound so holy and raw that it rips you wide open. You completely shift around to glance at him in the lowly light cockpit.
“How inebriated are you?” He asks husky, thick.
“I could recite the entire radar flight plan chart we made for Endor.” You tell him completely wide awake now. Every part of you feels like a live wire completely focused on this man.
His low weak chuckle makes your stomach flip in the best way.
Din exhales, breathy and deep.
You don’t want to over step, don’t want to ruin this. So you patiently wait, hoping he makes the first move.
Feeling his arms slide around yours, tentative but curious, you’re galvanized.
Immediately you rise and twist around to fully stare down at him. Looking at Din for a moment, here in the cockpit of your ship, you want to burn this image into your memory. Want to consecrate this in a way you never may do with anyone else again.
You rest your legs on either side of his, caging him in then you settle down onto his lap.
The soft low noise Din makes is music to your ears.
He says your name, but it sounds more like a warning.
“I want this… I want you.” You tell him, finally admitting the words out loud.
Then, you grind down on his lap, straddling him, and immediately pleasure floods into your system.
Din groans, and it spurs you on instantly.
Frustrated that you’re still in your damn flight suit, you unzip the top, slide off the jacket, and exhale feeling the coolness reach your skin. Sliding your hands up to his shoulders you whisper his name.
Then you grind against the bulge in Din’s pants pressing into you, and your mind goes foggy.
But not foggy enough that you notice Din remains still.
Everything collides into you with a halting stop. What if he doesn’t want this?
“I’m… I’m so sorry.” You halt your movements and apologize composed as you can. Awkwardly you lift yourself off of him.
“No I-” Din starts, but then stops himself.
You settle back down on him but this time further back on his thighs.
“Do you… not want to do this?” You ask cautiously. “Because it’s okay if you don’t.”
It’s okay if you don’t want me, is what you actually want to say. But you’re not brave enough for that, no matter how many empire ships you’ve shot down.
“No.” Din noisily exhales frustrated.
His hands go to rest on your thighs. His head falls forward, crestfallen.
“I want this, want you. Just afraid I won’t be able to stop.” He admits weak.
“You don’t have to stop… I don’t want you to.” You admit, soft and greedy, deciding not to hold back now.
Here in your ship, you think maybe he’s become your prey, trapped in your spiderweb. But then his helmet ever so slightly tilts up to you. Under the watch of his unflinching visor, you now feel like a prey caught within a hunter’s gaze.
His heavy breathing grows stronger and reignites something in you.
“Din,” You mutter his name, and he lets out a strained curse.
“I think about you… too much.” Din reveals like it’s a painful truth, as if the words hurt to say.
“I think about you all the time.” The truth leaves you effortlessly now.
“Wonder about what color your eyes are,” You decide to be the brave rebellion pilot you are.
“If you and the baby are safe, eating well,” you add, and he chuckles breathily.
“I think about how brave you are and how… lucky I am to know you,” you continue feeling molten and sentimental now.
Din says your name again, this time tender, and it almost causes you to falter.
So you lean closer to his helmet.
“I think about how handsome you are… imagine your cock inside me.” You mutter and hearing the words aloud feels too much.
But then his strong hands dig into your thighs and slide you on his lap fully, dragging you across his clothed cock.
How strong he pulled you, the fast friction draws a whine from you.
“Yeah?” He growls and leans his helmet directly against your face. The cool beskar touching your skin is heavenly.
“Yeah.” You moan, and your hips begin their rhythm again.
This time it’s not just you moving. Din finally grinds up into you, and you see stars. Your underwear sticks to your sticky core, but you don’t care.
Not when you and Din rut against each other and his hands chart a path all over you. One hand slides up to your neck, anchoring you close to him. The other moves to your back, sliding up to bunch your tank top in his grasp.
It’s too hot now, and you’re wearing too many clothes.
So you weakly draw away from his hold to reach up and yank your top off.
Then you wiggle the last bit of the jump suit off, trying to let your hips and legs be free. But it’s hard.
Din even chuckles at your struggle, and you shoot him a look, annoyed. Patiently, he helps slide the material down until it pools down your legs.
Now you’re simply in your underwear, completely bare before him.
The sensation of his gloved hands running up your stomach, across your back, reverently taking in every inch of your bare soft skin, it melts you.
“Beautiful,” Din breathes in awe.
Then one of his gloved hands crawls up to knead your breast in his grasp, pinching your nipple. Your head falls back, and your hips return to seek relief. Grinding against him without the jumpsuit, the friction is so much stronger, a delicious undercurrent making you want more.
“Din,” You sob, feeling the pleasure build fast.
“Want you inside of me,” you whimper quickly getting drunk on him.
He cusses again sharp, dragging you harder against his clothed cock.
A loss comes when his hands leave your body, but wearily your eyes open once you feel him move to his pant buckle. Eagerly you join in to help.
His cock in your hand is warm. He’s thick, delicious in size. He’s already leaking, and possessed by something raw you lean down to lightly spit on his cock. Din groans so loud you think it rattles your bones.
Stroking his cock slow, you love feeling his mess mix with your spit.
He quickly hisses your name.
“Inside now,” he urges, a desperate man. Clutching at your hips hard, he practically draws you up.
Who are you to deny your mandalorian?
He helps slide off your stick underwear, now fully bare.
Before you sink down on him, you lean closer to his helmet.
You don’t have to say anything. You simply look at him, a final reassurance to see if he wants this the way you want him.
A gloved hand curls up to your face, cradling your sweaty face, stroking your cheek. His touch is fond, and it rocks you more than anything.
He nods firm, so sure.
So you sink down on him, guiding him into you. Both you and him moan and the world implodes in the most beautiful way.
When you were younger and around the veteran pilots, they used to share tales of how they’d christen their ships. Back then, you couldn’t imagine bringing anyone into this sacred space to do that.
Now you don’t want Din to leave it.
A fervid raw desperation has you clinging to him, Din touches you so protectively, keeping you close. His hands clutch you firm, like he’s worried you could fly away from him at any moment.
Needing to be closer, you curl against his neck. You ache to kiss his skin. But the smell of gunpowder, of something beautifully musky, purely Din, floods your mind and makes your mouth water.
His pace grows sloppy, and you feel it coming too.
“Where?” He slurs urgently.
“Inside, got the implant,” you mutter half dazed, but when you feel his cock twitch inside you moan embarrassingly loud.
“Inside Din please please please.” You now beg, wanting to feel him so badly.
“Not until you come first, wanna feel you.” Din demands growling back, and it pushes you over the edge.
Your climax knocks you into another realm. You’re floating. Din follows you over not long after with the deepest groan.
His warmth fills you, even feel it leaking out, causing you to whimper so content.
Exhausted you flop against his chest loving the cool press of his armor against your bare skin. Then a part of you hisses to pull away. Until Din’s helmet gently leans to rest against your head, and his gloved fingers tenderly stroke your back keeping you in place.
“So… you ever done that before in here?” Din asks, partially joking but still curious.
You shake your head no.
“You’re the only one.” You reveal.
His hand tracing across your skin suddenly stops. Then it fully draws across you to draw you closer to him in a soft like embrace.
An aching adoration for this man cements itself into you. It’s now etched into your heart and now your ship. Maybe the two are the same.
After this night, you find him everywhere now.
Anytime he or you return back from a mission, one seeks the other out.
Din and Grogu now even rest in your quarters.
The lodging here is small, but it’s become your makeshift home. Grogu snuggles up warm among the blanket pile you’ve made for him on the extra cot. And Din sleeps beside you in your bed.
You believed it was something sacred to know a mandalorian, but you realize it’s a true honor to find one seeking rest beside you.
Bathed in the moonlight leaking into your room, you and Din stare at each other lying side by side.
You wish he could relax more, maybe take off his armor.
But remaining helmeted, you understand his creed and don’t want to push. It’s just a small piece of you being selfish and wanting to see him.
“What’s wrong?” He notices your silence.
“I wish I could make this more comfortable for you.” Is the best way you can tell him.
He chuckles.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
To even prove it he settles deeper among the pillows sliding closer to you.
“Nicer than the cot that I have on Nevarro.”
You almost laugh. He’s so endearing sometimes and doesn’t even realize it.
But you’re reminded he does have a home.
“What’s your place like on Nevarro?” You ask about it.
“It’s good, simple.” Such a boring classic Din answer.
“Maybe… one day you can see it.” That addition he makes has your heart racing.
“Yeah, I’d like that” you nod, grateful for the offer.
Slowly your eyes close on their own now.
“Brown,” until suddenly he blurts out a random color.
Wearily opening your eyes blinking at him a bit confused.
“My eyes… they’re brown.” He reveals.
A soft grateful smile warms your face as you thank him.
You fall asleep beside him, wondering about his home, what it would be like to wake up and see his beautiful brown eyes.
But those daydreams get shoved away fast.
Missions begin piling up. The empire trash is getting sneakier, working faster in the shadows. It keeps everyone busy. You barely see Din. When you do the exchanges are brief, simple glances or even short catch ups.
Ward eyes you and Din suspicious but of course aware.
Approaching Din you try avoiding the colonel’s gaze as she leaves.
That’s when you spot the ship that flew in yesterday.
“You wanted… this hunk of junk?” You dubiously stare at the razor crest. This is the beloved ship Din apparently had been searching high and low for.
“She flies better than she looks.” Din defends.
Grogu excitedly waddles up the ramp eager to be inside the old ship.
You still eye the gunship worried about how good she can protect the cargo she’ll soon be carrying.
“Might not be a x-wing, but I trust this ship with my life.” Din senses your apprehension.
You give him a soft elbow nudge that barely makes his budge. But he playfully nudges you back, and a grin tugs at your lips.
“Ugh,” Zeb groans with faux disgust seeing you and Din. You roll your eyes.
“You know, I notice with all the markings… this ship looks like it could fit in with a gold squadron.” You tell Zeb nudging your chin towards the paint.
He barks a laugh.
“Wouldn’t that be a sight. This piece of junk flying with us?” Zeb muses.
“I don’t know…I think the crest would fight right in.” You shrug, fond.
“Yeah? Think we could get Mando in a uniform?” Zeb adds and Din flat out shuts that down with a hard no.
It makes you and Zeb snicker.
Now you head in to examine the ship yourself and look around. The older metal, the antique design and layout, it really doesn’t ease your apprehension, but you trust Din.
“Your beskar boy has shit taste picking a ship like this.” Zed snorts heading up to the cockpit.
“Shut up.” You practically hiss at him.
But he leaves you and Din alone.
It’s hard to navigate this strange space lingering between you and him, as if neither you or him know how to move.
So you decide to be brave. You grab his hand and squeeze it.
“Be safe,” you nod to the mandalorian.
He quietly nods back, gathering your hand in his. He squeezes back just as firm.
You head out of the razor crest and into the bright afternoon sun. From the cockpit window you spot your boys. Din nods a farewell, and Grogu spotting you waves down from the control panel. In his grasp is your silly little monster charm.
Not moving from your spot, you keep your eyes on the ship until it fades into the jump of hyperspeed.
You don’t hear from Din for half a month.
It’s nothing new. You’re had months where missions kept you both busy. And from how displeased she was with the last mission, Ward apparently has him working on something fierce.
Then another week passes, and you’re sent on a protective mission to Chandrilla.
It takes your full attention. But the entire time your mind is on Din. Are he and Grogu safe? Is everything going okay?
“You must be in love.” The Senator you’re escorting on the mission says suddenly. Embarrassment floods you fast.
“I’m sorry?” You ask slightly confused.
He smiles at you kindly.
“You’ve been sighing, seem distant. Like a heroine kept away from a lover.”
Shit.
“I apologize. I promised I’m focused.” You reassure him, and the senator laughs.
“It’s fine, my dear,” he reassures, then leans in eagerly. “So tell me about the lucky person.”
Now here you are telling this Senator about your awful admiration for the mandalorian.
“Oh, a mandalorian.” He whispers in awe. “They’re a rare kind. He must be quite a sight.”
He is. But he’s more than that.
He’s kind and unbelievingly sharp. Strikingly powerful, and unwaveringly supportive. There’s a compassion that walks hand in hand with Din’s firm courage.
“Oh you got it bad,” the Senator laughs.
It’s unfortunately true.
How fast and quickly this mandalorian has disarmed you, but what else would you have expected from a warrior like him? Maybe you were doomed from the start to fight against feelings for such a fierce conqueror.
The thoughts of him keep you going through the mission.
Arriving at base camp, you instead find there’s already commotion.
Din has returned, but he’s not alone.
Jabba’s son, Rotta the Hutt, is with him.
At least Din and the baby are safe.
Standing off overlooking the beach, Din patiently watches Grogu play among the beach waves with the young Hutt.
“So, looks like you’ve been busy.” You say moving to his side.
“Tell me about it.” He sighs.
The rundown he gives you is surface level, getting tied up among the Hutt twins while trying to search for the infamous Commander Coin.
“Things might get hairy soon. I’m heading back to Nevarro to lie low for a while.”
His somber tone says more looms.
“Din…” you mutter cautiously.
He turns to you.
“If you’re in any danger…know that I want to help.” You urge, hoping he’ll tell you more.
“I know.” He nods, yet says nothing more.
Please, your heart begs, please let me stay by your side and fight with you.
But you know fighting against this adamant man is a losing battle. So you sigh and reach down to your belt.
The charm you have on today is your favorite, and you hand it to him.
“Remember to bring it back to me.” You can’t even look at him because your eyes suddenly feel like they could spill over a river of tears.
His gloved hand cradles your face, letting you fully look at him.
“We’ll be fine.” His voice soothes you steeled with resolution.
You nod, fighting harder against tears.
Then Din leans down. He presses his helmet against your forehead. You close your eyes and lean into the cool beskar.
With a goodbye hug to Grogu, you tell the sweet little soul to keep an eye on his dad.
This time, you don’t have the strength to watch them leave.
You throw yourself into any available mission.
Ward must sense why you’re doing this and in a punishment of sorts, she instead sticks you on filing reports.
“Mando will be fine,” Teva tries to reassure you.
You hope he will be. Days pass and you try to settle into a routine.
But then a group of Anzellans arrive in a panic. You’d been working on your ship when they landed.
Currently they rapidly relay a message to Ward. She patiently tries to listen to all of their worried voices.
“What’s going on?” You ask Wolf.
“Apparently Mando and the kid are stuck on Nal Hutta… don’t think it’s looking good.” He mutters back somber.
Absolute dread is unleashed in you.
You don’t realize you’re moving until you’re standing right before the colonel.
“Let me join the rescue strike.” You urge.
Ward turns to you, then sighs, even says your name a bit heartbroken. That says enough.
“Are we really considering not going?!” Your voice raises, shocked and upset.
“It’s not that simple.” Ward, calm and composed, tries to clarify, but just hearing that line feels like an alarm goes off in your head.
“What isn’t simple?! He’s one of us. We have to rescue them.” You argue back harder.
“There are protocols. And with the intel and alliance we’ve tried establishing with the Hutts we can’t just strike in, ranger.” Ward sharply explains, putting you in your place.
Anger burns through your veins.
“She’s right, colonel…” Teva suddenly speaks up.
“Mando is one of us.” He agrees with you.
More Delphi officers stand up.
Before Ward can even say anything, you turn on your heels and head out of the hanger zipping up your flight suit.
You don’t care if this will get you in trouble, hell even dishonorably discharged. Din needs you. Grogu needs you.
Then you hear a few others arrive in the hangar.
Ward calls out your name. This is it.
Turning towards her, you ready yourself to accept whatever punishment. Yet, you instead see your commander in her flight suit as well. Your eyes can’t help but widen.
She sighs yet gives you a half grin, understanding.
“I should sit you out on this mission.”
“I know. I’ve accepted that I’ll be doing reports for the rest of the year.” You sleepily shrug.
Her smirks grows bigger.
“Try two years,” she says heading to her ship.
You’ll happily accept that too.
The twin’s palace is heavily guarded, and it’s a true dogfight on Nal Hutta.
Then Din’s voice electrifies the coms as he reports in with Colonel Ward. Absolute relief blooms in your chest, and you feel like crying. He’s alive.
Now you fly harder and faster than you ever have. It reminds you of Endor. That final battle all you thought of was the hope right before your eyes, knowing something precious was so close and needed to be defended.
That’s what this feels like.
You manage to knock out a few droid ships, but the main focus is on the palace.
Yet Din remains inside.
And Ward gives the command to light the place up.
“Get out of there. Please.” You whisper out loud or maybe to the force itself.
Then, the stronghold goes under flames.
You and the others circle around, flying out of the line of fire from the explosion. Yet your stomach stays in knots.
“Anyone got eyes on Mando?” Wolf asks before you can.
Out from the smoke, there among the water below, you spot them. Your boys are alive.
A watery relieved laugh escapes you as you blink away the tears.
“Go pick up the trash, Zeb.” Ward jokes, and you can’t even be mad.
Knowing they’re safe is all that matters.
Vibrating with so much emotion, you land besides Zeb’s ship hoping to see them.
But Ward of course arrives first.
You instead idle by your x-wing, pretending to be checking your engines. Ward tells him the truth about the Hutts that even you didn’t know. So that’s why she finally agreed to go.
“And… we don’t leave our own behind.” Her words resound within you.
Din deflects, saying how he’s not with the New Republic.
“Sure you aren’t Mando, sure you aren’t.” She says.
“If you aren't one of us… Who do you think helped convince us to come?”
Ward’s insinuating tone shoots a shock up your spine.
You keep your gaze on your ship, refusing to even look their way. Focusing on mindlessly keeping busy, you don’t notice footsteps approaching until you move out from under the wing. There Din stands waiting.
He’s here.
Grogu cries gleefully, and your attention turns to him. You eagerly accept him into your arms hugging him tight.
“I’m so proud of you. You must have been so brave, my little ranger.” You even press a kiss to his fuzzy head, addressing him as the courageous officer he is.
The baby coos back fond, embracing you with his sweet but sturdy little arms.
While he’s still in your hold, your eyes open to find Din.
He stares unwavering at you, and your eyes water again.
“Welcome back,” you croak out.
Din nods, then, he raises up your favorite charm you gave him.
“Had to bring this back.”
With a watery laugh, you shake your head.
“Your dad is so silly,” you half whisper to Grogu who giggles, agreeing.
A sigh leaves Din but, in a few steps, he walks towards you.
Then you and Grogu are gathered into his embrace. You immediately wrap one of your arms around Din.
“Thank you… for coming for us.” Din’s voice is gentle, grateful.
“Always.” You answer back with a resounding truth.
Your job is tied here, and you might fly for the sake of the New Republic. But you believe your true wings, your heart’s flight navigation, now will always include a path for and to Din Djarin.
Currently he chats with Rotta, from what you heard might be staying here too.
Once you head into the mess hall Ward calls your name. With a patient knowing grin, she holds out the datapad with the promise of the paperwork you knew would be waiting for you.
Logging in with your chain link, a new message suddenly chimes onto the monitor from an unknown contact.
It contains a coordinates location to Nevarro along with a single message attached.
Stop by whenever, we’ll be waiting
Quickly, you start the reports happily accepting your punishment.
After all, there's a flight to Nevarro calling your name.
summary: after trying to convince him for months to do a trip for your birthday, he finally agrees. and well, he fucks you till you see stars. happy birthday to you.
trigger warnings: age gap (reader in her early 20s, joel in his 40s), fluff, oral sex (m!receiving), light spanking, fingering, praise kink, breeding kink, degrading kink
words: around 2k? (didn't count them)
a/n: hey guys!! sorry for the later update. sorry if this oneshot seems rushed, but i was very busy the last couple of days. I will also be on vacation for the next three weeks, so sorry if it will be a little quiet on here. hope you still like it!
finally.
finally he agreed to this.
even if it was just a two day roadtrip, you fought for it for months, trying to convince him to do something with you. not just, sneaking behind your dad's back, spending the night. maybe a weekend.
he said it's not right. shouldn't be away for so long. could be obvious.
but, here you are.
sitting next to him in his truck, driving through texas.
you have been sneaking around with joel for about six months now. but you have already known him for way longer.
your dad moved to this neighborhood around six years ago. freshly divorced from your mom. you, just fifteen, somehow trying to cope and deal with everything. you had your troubles settling in, your dad didn't. he became friends with joel pretty quickly. and eventually turned best friends.
you've seen him around a bunch, but well, never really cared. that was until you turned nineteen. you remember the moment exactly.
you were at a party. drank a little. there was this guy. he was checking you out, you knew him from school.
you know it was stupid, but you were thinking whatever. you feel like everybody already had a boyfriend or something. so you made out with him. but it quickly turned into something you did not want.
his hands in places where you did not want them to be, while he pushed you into a corner. you quickly panicked, but thanks to your self defense classes, you kicked him into his balls and left.
you knew you couldn't call your dad because he would ground you for months, besides that you already just got into college. he would be raving mad. so, you called joel.
he didn't question it. he didn't say anything. just showed up with his truck and picked you up. muttered something about how you should try to be responsible and not do stupid things like this.
but besides the light scolding, he noticed.
noticed how your breath was still uneven. you fidgeting with your hands. you didn't need to say anything, but he understood. could figure.
that night, he hold your hand the entire time on the drive back.
and from then, well. he started to care and you did either. maybe a little too much than you should.
you started to hang out with him. randomly showing up at his doorstep when your dad wasn't home or took his afternoon nap.
it was comforting. he was comfort.
but besides that, you started to notice his hands. arms. eyes. nose. back. shoulders.
fucking everything about him made you blush. or stare. or nearly drool.
you thought it's just a stupid crush. besides, he's 36 and over 10 years older than you are. plus, he's your dad's best friend.
so. there's no way he would ever like you back.
so you thought.
another year and a half passed.
now, you were twenty. still, nothing happend. you kept that stupid crush to yourself.
but one night, you sneaked over to his place. you had a stupid argument with your dad. you a ticking bomb. and to your surprise, joel did not make it better that night. said, you couldn't come over anymore that often. should talk to your old man instead of him. sort things out.
voices were raised. things were said.
you asked him why. and he said
"because i see how you look at me. and i can not stand the fact bein' in your presence and not be able to—"
he didn't finish the sentence. didn't need to. then you kissed him. he did too. and well, kisses turned into more.
now, six months later. here you are. fucking your dad's best friend.
to you, it was more than fucking. you loved him. god, you fell for him so hard. but you weren't official or anything. never talked about it. joel didn't either.
but, now for your 21st birthday, he finally agreed to doing something with you. alone.
and now, you're on this roadtrip.
you were singing out loud to a song in the car. windows rolled down. wind blowing through your hair.
you knew joel was rolling his eyes at you. but you also knew he smirked.
"y're impossible, y'know that", he mumbles under his breath with a light chuckle.
"oh? am i now? look, sorry i am just enjoying the ride and can not sit in silence", you remark teasingly.
joel just rolls his eyes.
"ugh, you're so judgy", you mumble under your breath as you lean over to him, placing your hand on his upper thigh to support yourself on it a little before you place a soft kiss on his cheek.
yes. of course you knew what you were doing with your hand placement.
and he noticed either.
"gotta concentrate on drivin', love", he reminds you. "don't get any thoughts"
you just chuckle, roll your eyes and sit back down on your seat. for now.
you both did not really exactly knew where you were going. you didn't at least. joel said he'll just take you some places.
"you do know that today's my birthday, right?", you remind him some time later. you knew that he knew. this was just to.. well, tease him.
for him to keep in mind to maybe let you get away with your teasing either.
"i do. ya' made damn sure i do", he answers in his thick southern accent. no further reaction.
you sigh dramatically. "well, where are we goin'?"
"you'll see.", he answers simply.
you'll see??? really?
this is like the worst sentence for him to say to you. especially you. the most impatient and nosy person on earth.
you sigh dramatically again.
"fine..", you breath out under your breath.
another half an hour passes by. you were now in the back seat, laying back there, reading a book.
you got bored eventually. you sigh softly. the book resting on your chest while you watch joel.
his side profile.
and there is the tingle between your legs already.
you slowly lift up your leg, touching his head with your foot softly, running over his shoulder, then his hair. teasing.
he didn't react. just gave you a quick glance into the front mirror to look at you, then looked at the road ahead again.
it was silent now. the radio playing very silently in the background while you climbed back in front. nobody talked. you just leaned over and started to unbuckle his belt.
joel started to get uneasy. his breath hitches slightly.
"darlin'", he warns.
but you ignore it. you open his zipper, and start to rub your hand over his boxers, right over his thick cock, which was already getting half-hard by your touch.
"not now.", he warns again. but he knew you were not listening.
you pulled down his boxers, grabbed his half-hard cock in your hand and pulled it out. just enough for you to reach.
"fuckin' hell- i said not no-", you cut him off by your mouth wrapping around his tip. you take a long lick from down to up, before wrapping your already wet lips around his thick length.
he groans, cursing under his breath. his hand finds your hair, grabbing it to guide you, while he kept his eyes on the road.
"ya' never listen, do you—", he growls as you shove his length down your throat as well as the current situation allows, beginning to move your head up and down.
you already feel some pre-cum on your tounge as he guides you a little faster.
"so fuckin— desperate for my cock— my girl can not even be patient- fuck", his breaths get faster. his grip around the steering wheel harder.
your eyes start to get blurry from some tears while not able to properly gasp for air. you want to make him cum in your mouth. already soaked during that.
"there ya go— good girl- just keep going like that", he praises you while gasping after air more.
his cock starts to twitch in your mouth. so, you keep going. flicking your tounge at his tip just right, sucking at the right moment and—
you feel his warm cum fill up your mouth just right as he groans, pushing up his hip just a little.
he was out of breath as you release his dick out of your mouth with a pop-sound. proudly swallowing down his cum and wiping your mouth with the back of the hand, while smiling at him
"you are out of your mind, young lady", he just says out of breath.
it turned dark already. you took a small nap but woke up from feeling the truck stopping.
as you yawn while opening your eyes, joel gets out of the car. "come on'", he just grumbles.
you smile softly, stepping out of the truck.
as you walk towards him, rubbing your eyes, you suddenly notice where you were standing.
up on a hill, able to look down on the beautiful countryside of texas.
and then, the sky.
the starts shining down on you, looking so beautiful since the sky is so clear.
"this is—", you breath out as you turn around to face joel.
he stand behind you, holding up a small candle.
"happy birthday'— know i ain't got a cake or anythin' but-", you cut him off immediately.
this was so sweet. so fucking sweet.
you immediately wrap your arms around his neck and fall into his arms, nearly jumping on him as you hug him.
"okay okay— easy girl", he chuckles.
his chuckle. gosh, it makes your heart jump.
you just look at him. your smile so bright, before you slam your lips on his.
not for lust. at least not yet. but for gratefulness. full of love.
"this is beautiful joel..", you whisper, already threatening to tear up.
his eyes soften.
"okay- no need to cry now— blow out your candle, love", he smiles and holds up the candle.
you knew he hates to see you cry. because it does just something to him.
you smile softly, closing your eyes, making your wish and you blowing out the candle.
even if joel was convinced he is not a romantic— he fucking is.
he set up blankets and all that stuff on the back of his truck, so you could watch the stars. the weather was just perfect either.
you were laying in his arms. listening to his heartbeat while you looked up in the sky
you wish you could stay like this forever with him. not hide. just.. be together.
"ya' know, my old man used to take me here. after we went hunting, and if he was in a good mood.. we went up here and just..", he suddenly says quietly. "just hope ya' like it here as much as i do"
joel never really did talk about his childhood. you just know it wasn't easy.
you prop your head up on your elbow, as you look at him, brushing your hand over his cheek.
"thank you, joel. truly. i mean it. for taking me to such a special place. this is the best birthday ever", you say like you mean it.
and you do.
he looks at you. truly does. then smiles, before you both loose yourself in a kiss.
you love this man to death.
after joel being sentimental, what he usually is not—
he was now on top of you, kissing down your neck while peeling of that sundress you were wearing.
as you were whimpering, his hands grab your breasts, softly running his thumb over your nipple.
"my beautiful girl..-", he whispers into your ear as his hand moves down between your thighs immediately. his hand runs over your soaked panties.
"fuck— look at you hm, already that wet for me?", he growls. you blush.
his fingers wrap around your waistband and pull them down. you gasp as the cold summer air hit against the hotness between your legs.
he slides two fingers in you, immediately crooking them just right to get to that one spot.
you moan, arching your back in response.
"oh joel—", you whimper as he starts to move his fingers inside of you. you can hear his fingers pump into you through that wetness.
"god baby, you already startin' to clench around my fingers", he chuckles teasingly.
yes. you were pretty fucking horny. you could already just cum to his voice at that point.
he pumps them in and out of you a few times more, before pulling them out completely. you let out a whine in response.
"nuh-uh, none of this.", he immediately correctes.
"please joel— i need you inside of me— fuck please", you beg. your pussy was currently clenching around nothing. that needed to change.
he gets off the back of the truck, pulls you at the edge of it and flips you on your stomach.
"so fuckin' impatient— but the birthday girl will get what she wants..", he mutters in his deep voice while you heard his belt unbuckle.
you bite down on your lip. giggling quietly.
"gonna fuck you till you see your own fuckin' stars", he growls as he positions himself behind you, pressing against your entrance.
no prep. just thrusts right into you.
you yelp, arching your back in response as he grabbed your hair, keeping that back arched.
"ya' want me to go slow or—"
"fuck me joel— just please— rough— hard-", you blabber, not even letting him finish.
you were so fucking desperate. it's not even funny.
you hear his deep chuckle, before he immediately starts to thrust into you.
his thick cock stretches you perfectly. the sound of skin slapping together echoed into the quiet night, followed by your moans and his groans.
"so fucking tight—", he groans as he delivers a sharp spank onto your ass, which makes you jump.
"my beautiful little birthday girl— taking me so well—", he talks you through it. he always does.
it didn't take long until you were clenching around him. "joel— im gonna cum-", you moan loudly, and then, you just do.
your body shatters, you roll your eyes back, clenching around joel just right, which could make him cum either— but
he didn't let you catch your breath. he pulled out of you, flipped you around and thrusts into you again.
you let out a scream at this point. "joel— i can't tak-"
"you can.", he just cuts you off while he keeps you spread open. his hands wrap around your hip, keeping you still.
you were a fucking mess.
"joel—", you whimper. tears started welling up in your eyes from the pleasure and the overstimulation.
his one hand goes down between your legs, his thumb meeting your clit, rubbing it in sync to his thrusts.
"gonna make you cum again— want you to cum right fucking now", he growls as his breaths get heavier.
you felt it. clenching around him again, your body tensing up, your toes curling.
and you do.
another wave of pleasure follows right after, clenching around him just right—
he shatters. you gasp as you feel his warm cum feeling you up. his cock twitching inside of you.
you were looking up in the sky as you were catching your breath.
—TASTE BACK — PART ONE: "MR. AND MRS. MILLER" ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆‧₊˚ (ex!husband joel miller x f!reader) MDNI!!
fic masterlist | read on ao3 | capuccinodollupdates
summary: Three years after a painful divorce, destiny forces you to cross paths with Joel in the paradise of Maui; and at a wedding, of all places. Though you try your hardest to keep your distance and maintain your sanity, old habits and buried desires don't take long to set everything ablaze. wc: 13k
A/N: So, a quick heads up: this one shot somehow evolved into a multi chapter work and it also ended up being way more emotional than I originally planned. Don't get me wrong, you all know how much I love the cheesy romance and the angst. But hey, it’s a fun ride too. Also, just as a gentle content warning, this story briefly alludes to some sensitive themes, specifically pregnancy loss and fertility struggles, though they are never addressed directly. If these topics are triggering for you, please read with care. <3
If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment and reblog! I really appreciate feedback<3
Room 401. You tossed the keycards onto the king sized bed in the center of the room and let your duffel bag slide off your shoulder, thudding onto the carpet by your shoes. You let out a sigh.
Jo and Cillian had truly outdone themselves.
The Ritz-Carlton was a masterpiece of teakwood and volcanic stone nestled along the Wailea coast, and the view was absolutely breathtaking. Massive sliding glass doors revealed everything, from the Pacific stretching out like a deep blue silk shroud in the distance, to an endless line of palm trees swaying in the breeze.
It was an enviable location for anyone wishing for a dream wedding, and if this was your room, you couldn't help but wonder what the newlyweds' suite looked like. High, plush beds with comforters as soft and white as cotton, blue and earth toned accent pillows resting against fluffy inviting pillows, and a delicious clean scent permeating every corner. Opposite the bed sat a delicate console topped with a large TV, and next to it, a small sofa just as pristine white as everything else.
You smiled to yourself and kicked off your shoes; a welcome relief after a ten hour flight. Your lower back ached slightly, the back of your neck was slick with sweat, and a faint headache was beginning to brew. But you were in Maui. Finally.
It was the first time you had left Austin in a very, very long time. God knew you needed it; after so many years cooped up within the same few miles, any escape offered to you was welcome. Besides, you could consider this a reward.
When Jo and Cillian first sent the invitation, you thought they were out of their minds. There was absolutely no way you had the time or the money to jet off for an entire weekend wedding. You were buried under work and had recently taken out a loan just to keep your workshop afloat, so you didn't RSVP right away. You figured the best you could do was send a lovely gift to their address. Perhaps one of those custom armchairs you crafted, the one Jo had loved so much. No, two of them. One for her, and one for him.
Fast forward a few months, and you already had the plane tickets in hand. Business had started doing much, much better, and you had finally gotten your head above water, so you could actually afford a weekend away. Plus, the room was already paid for; how could you possibly say no to that?
You walked toward the sliding glass doors, your bare feet relaxing into the floor as the scenery unveiled itself behind the glass. The wind seemed to be blowing hard, and when you slid the door open, the rush of warm humid air brushed against your neck and cheeks.
The scent of plumeria blossoms was intense, and the sound of the ocean crashing against the black rocks made you smile. You stepped out onto the balcony, feeling the sun warmed wood beneath your feet, and pulled out your phone. It only rang for a few seconds.
"Hey, Dean… Yeah, I just walked into the room," you said, leaning against the railing and closing your eyes to block out the sheer vastness of the paradise in front of you. “It’s unreal, honestly. Jo and Cillian picked the best place on earth… I miss you too. A lot.”
You sighed, catching your breath. Dean’s voice was a bit muffled on the other end.
"Sorry… I can’t hear you very well," you said, pacing from one side of the balcony to the other. Dean asked something. “I think the signal’s terrible out here. Can you hear me?”
You pressed your other hand over your free ear, as if that would actually help. Obviously, it didn't, so you clicked your tongue and frowned.
"I think I’ll call you back in a moment, yeah?" you said, raising your voice for some reason as if that would do the trick. It didn't. "I’ll text you now. I love you."
You pulled the phone away from your face and glanced at the screen. Shit. Okay, no big deal. You’d just send him a text.
Signal is bad here, I'll call you in a bit :) <3
"You gotta head down there, closer to the palm trees, off to the right. Stand right about there, and the boy'll hear you a whole lot better."
The voice came out of nowhere, drifting over from the nearest edge of the balcony. To your right, just on the other side of the dividing wooden partition, was a voice you knew better than your own.
Your heart gave a violent shudder, but you forced yourself not to jump. You turned your head by fractions; the movement felt absurdly careful. None of this was funny.
Joel.
Joel was standing right there, leaning against the railing and peering just slightly around the edge of the wall. He held a glass of water in one hand and his phone in the other.
He turned toward you, his mouth curving into a relaxed smile. He looked exactly the same, yet so, so different. The sun had etched fresh lines around his eyes, and his beard carried more gray than you remembered. His features seemed softened somehow, though they were still just as rugged.
"Joel," you said, your tone far too polite. "I… I had no idea you were staying next door."
“Guess that’s just bad luck,” he replied, a half smile brushing his lips without ever reaching his eyes. "How you been?"
You bit your tongue and your jaw tightened. “Really good. You?”
Really good. Great. Thriving. The best you had been in years. Your business was doing well, you looked good (maybe the best you had ever looked in your life) and every single night you went home to a man who respected you and loved you, but above all, a man who was actually there. Dean.
"Doin' alright myself," he answered, shifting his gaze out toward the horizon, watching the blue ocean and the palm fronds swaying back and forth.
The hair on his forehead drifted with the breeze, and he squinted slightly against the sun. A fine sheen of sweat coated his brow, and the tips of his ears were flushed pink.
Two years. Two whole years had passed since you last laid eyes on him. You had sworn to yourself that it would be the final time, and you had kept that promise. That morning, you slipped out of his bed while he was still fast asleep, leaving absolutely no trace behind. It was the hard stop to a cycle that had once seemed endless.
But that was just how you and Joel were; it was how you had always been. Ever since you crossed paths by pure chance at a bar fifteen years ago. Your eyes had locked with his, he was the one to approach you first, and you spent the entire night tangled up in each other, talking about everything and everyone until the sun came up and he had to head off to work without a single wink of sleep.
Two years of dating, ten years of marriage, and one year of seeing each other off and on post-divorce. Walking away from him had been agonizing; after signing the papers, you ended up in his bed more than once, and he was in yours far more often than you cared to admit. Until that one morning you finally walked out; you left a brief note on his kitchen counter telling him that enough was enough, that you needed to leave this behind, and then you blocked his number and left for good.
Two years had passed since that day. You hadn't seen him since.
You offered a faint smile and nodded, dropping your gaze to the planter beside the window.
"Alright. Uh, see you around," you said, not even waiting to see if he would answer. You immediately stepped back inside the room and slid the glass door shut.
Through the glass, you watched as his hand disappeared from the balcony railing.
Your feet sank into the sand and tiny grains scattered with every step you took.
You had to do something, and fast. Talk to Jo, beg her to swap your room with someone else or pay out of pocket for a completely different one if you had to. You needed to act.
Ever since you ran into Joel two hours ago, your heart had been pounding harder than usual. Tachycardia, maybe; as if he were a massive, undiluted cup of black coffee, far too strong, messing with your anxiety and sending your blood racing through your veins.
You hadn't even called Dean back. There was no earthly way you could speak to him without the emotions tearing through you right now bleeding into the tone of your voice. He would know instantly that something was up, that you were hiding something. And the second you told him it was about Joel, that he was right here, separated by nothing more than a single wall, you knew he would catch the very first flight out to Maui. Because Dean knew everything, or at least almost everything. He knew it had been a brutal divorce, not because you had fought constantly through it, but because it had been so damn painful, like ripping a fingernail straight from the skin. The wound still throbbed.
Right in front of you, the ocean spread out pure and beautiful. The waves crashed against the shore, melting at your feet and soaking you up to your ankles. The hem of your skirt fluttered in the breeze; delicate sheer crimson fabric that draped down to your calves. And the sun blazed with the exact same brightness as your top, a cropped form fitting canary yellow.
You knew it was possible he would be here. You knew Jo and Cillian might invite him. Jo had actually given you a heads up a few months before the invitations went out.
Joel might go, are you comfortable with that?
Of course, absolutely. It's your wedding, I'd hate for you to feel bad about inviting someone just on my account. Just do it, seriously, no drama.
And now he was here, though you had at least held onto the hope that you could avoid each other a bit more. To not run into him at the ceremony, or during the dinner; to stay far enough apart that this could pass without any aftermath. What kind of aftermath, exactly? You weren't worried about arguing with him, nor were you worried about the conversation turning awkward and filled with cruel jabs. That wasn't how you and he operated; it never had been. You were worried about other things, things that were far beyond what you could handle right now.
Suddenly, a woman's voice called your name from a distance.
"Hey, hey!"
You turned around instantly, recognizing it right away and letting the pure excitement wash away every single one of your anxious thoughts.
"Hey!" You started running toward her with your arms wide open, and in your head, cheesy music started playing, like the entire world slipped into a cinematic, frame by frame cadence like those funny montages of people reuniting after a lifetime apart.
Kathani was running toward you with that exact same energy; her hair billowed in soft brown waves, dancing across her shoulders just like her light blue dress. She looked like a fairy.
"Kat!"
Your arms wrapped around her in a breathless embrace. Long months had flown by since you last saw each other, maybe even a whole year.
"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," she said against your shoulder, squeezing you even tighter. "You look so so beautiful, from a distance I honestly thought I spotted an angel!"
"Oh, stop!" You gave her a playful little shake, stepping back a bit to get a better look at her. "What are you talking about? You look absolutely gorgeous."
"We both look gorgeous."
You laughed. "I'll take that."
She offered a warm smile and rested her hands on your shoulders.
"Jesus, how are you? Last month I almost made it out to Austin, but work got in the way and I couldn't go. How is everything back home?" Suddenly, her eyebrows shot up. "Hey, Jo told me Joel might be coming—"
Your eyes went wide as saucers. "Kat, you gotta help me. His room is right next to mine."
"What?"
You nodded quickly. "I swear, please, you have to help me."
"But how? What happened? Like, right next door?"
"Yes. Right next door," you shrugged helplessly. "The second I arrived, I went out onto the balcony to call Dean, and there he was on the balcony right next to mine, which is basically attached. He must have heard the whole conversation!"
Kat smirked. "Oh my God, I bet he absolutely wanted to crawl into a hole and die!"
"Kathani!"
"What?" She shrugged. "You know it’s true. The only reason he even showed up is probably to see you. Since when does Joel take trips like this?"
"I don't know, it's been a while. Maybe he does now."
"Right, now," she rolled her eyes. She let out a breath and studied you for a quiet moment. "I'm sorry. How are you holding up? How do you feel about it?"
How did you feel about it? How did you feel about it… how did you feel about it.
Conflicted.
"I'm fine," you said, turning your gaze back toward the ocean. "I mean… I'll manage." You looked back at her, giving a firm nod. "I'm in Maui. Look at this view, it's gorgeous."
"It really is."
"I don't want Joel overshadowing this."
"Hey," Kat gently touched your arm to catch your eye. "Take a breath. I don't think he's going to try and cross any lines, not after how things ended. And if he does get in your space, I'll get rid of him for you."
You laughed. "Easy there. I just need to pay him no mind and that's it. We'll be spending most of our time out of our rooms anyway."
The sky was a striking blend of pinks and oranges when you made your way down to the beach for dinner. It was paradise; a long, long table was set up right in the center of the open air restaurant, draped in a crisp white tablecloth and adorned with centerpieces crafted from local flora. Servers drifted around, putting the final touches on everything for the rehearsal dinner.
You had headed down early to grab a drink.
Switching rooms was out of the question. Earlier, during the welcome cocktails, you had pulled Jo aside to ask if a swap was possible.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "Why? Is there something wrong with yours?"
A bit flustered, you told her, "It’s right next door to Joel's."
Jo frowned and shook her head. "No way. I specifically told Nora to put you two far apart."
Nora, one of the planners.
Well, long story short: it was a total communication breakdown. Apparently, the phrases they can't be next to each other and they have to be next to each other sound way too similar, or maybe it was bad phone reception, or ambient noise, or who even knows. Nora had purposely booked you in adjoining rooms. And when you saw the look on her face when Jo brought it up (a look of pure wedding-induced panic and stress) you simply threw in the towel.
"It's fine, don't worry about it. I don't want to cause any trouble, it's your wedding."
And it was. You weren't about to demand a new hotel room just because your ex husband happened to be on the other side of the wall. Jo was already stressed enough without having to fix your mess, which, to be completely fair, wasn't even that catastrophic.
Fortunately, Joel had kept his distance during cocktails. He stayed on the periphery, had a drink or two, and then you watched him head out before the mixer even wrapped up.
Now, you were sipping your drink, settled at the bar while smooth music filled your ears and the distant sound of the tides eased your mind.
Bing. Your phone lit up.
[Kat]: emergency meet me in the lobby NOW
[Kat]: hurry before dinner starts I have to tell you something
You frowned and instantly slid off your barstool, taking care not to let your dress tangle around your legs. It was brand new, a light blue shade that perfectly matched the dinner dress code. You had been paying close attention to details like that. You even wore a white flower tucked into your hair right above your ear.
With your drink in hand, sipping from the straw, you walked over to the lobby, and the moment the automatic doors slid open, you spotted Kat standing near the reception desk. Her eyebrows shot up the second she caught sight of you, and she approached with long hurried strides.
She grabbed your arm and pulled you off to the side. You nearly spilled some of your drink but kept the straw securely between your lips.
You knit your brows and took a sip. "Mh—hey, what's goin' on?"
Kat let out a breath. "Have you seen Joel?"
"What? No, why?"
She pressed her lips together tightly and gave a firm nod. "He didn't come alone."
"What?"
"Joel. He didn't come by himself. I just saw him go up the elevator with a woman, and she kissed him."
Your heart did a strange jerky twist that. For some reason, it actually stung.
You swallowed hard, and your eyelids suddenly felt heavy.
"But he was completely by himself during the cocktails."
"I think she arrived later."
Caught completely off guard, you took a step back.
Okay.
What could you even say? Nothing. It wasn't as if you were supposed to feel bad about it anyway; you yourself had been in a wonderful new relationship for several months now. Did you even have a single right to feel even slightly slighted just because he had a girl—
Jesus.
You knit your brows. "Are you absolutely sure it was him?"
"Yeah," she said, crossing her arms. "He didn't spot me, but I definitely saw him. They got out of a car at the entrance and then headed straight for the elevator. She had a suitcase."
"But Jo would have told me. If Joel was bringing a plus one, Jo would have let me know."
"What if it slipped her mind? Or what if she deliberately avoided mentioning it for some reason?"
"Why… why would she do something like that?"
Kat raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips slightly, right on the verge of saying something.
Before she could get a single word out, you cut her off.
"It's fine. I have a plus one too, it's just that Dean couldn't make it," you shrugged. "Joel has every right to bring someone."
"Yeah, but he's staying in the room right next to yours."
Oh. Great. Thank you, Kat.
"You're not being very helpful," you said, crossing your arms.
"I'm sorry," she sighed, tilting her head back slightly. "Look, come sleep in my room tonight, okay?"
"Jesus, Kat," you said, shaking your head, "I think… I think you're blowing this way out of proportion. Joel and I… we're divorced, alright? I have a new life. I don't care if he's with someone else, or if he's right next to my room. I freaked out earlier but," you laughed, "it's no big deal, seriously. I can handle it."
Kat nodded, though you knew it was highly unlikely she believed a single word coming out of your mouth. She knew you entirely too well; she had been right there during that first year after the divorce, watching you go back to Joel again and again, returning and leaving, back and forth. And she had been there when you walked out for good, too; she had comforted you more times than you could count.
"It’s been two years," you made clear. "I’ve moved on, and clearly, so has he."
"Clearly?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "What’s with that tone?"
You scoffed. "Nothing. I know exactly what you’re thinking, okay? But it’s over. Joel is in the past. I have Dean now."
"Okay, I know. But just think about it," she said. "About my room tonigh. My door is always open."
Going for your third glass of wine in less than an hour was definitely not a good sign. But she was loud; her voice was too high pitched and bubbly, and she wouldn't stop chiming in with remarks about every single thing anyone else said. Tiny comments, kind comments, but incredibly grating comments because they simply hammered away at your brain.
She was the polar opposite of you, and for some reason, that left you with a twisted feeling in your chest.
She was twenty five years old. You had never envisioned Joel as the type of guy who would date someone so young, someone so different. You couldn't wrap your head around how that even functioned; had he suddenly changed, turning into someone who now enjoyed things he never used to? Had he transformed into one of those divorced guys in their forties who date girls in their twenties just to feel young and revitalized? He used to make fun of those type of men.
He didn't seem like the man you knew; now he was quiet, chuckling every now and then, bringing his glass to his lips every time she told him "not to be silly" while tapping his shoulder and tilting her head.
But then again, he wasn't the man you knew. Because you didn't know him anymore. People change a lot in two years, and he certainly wasn't your Joel anymore. He had stopped being that a very long time ago.
The only saving grace was that they were seated all the way at the opposite end of the table. You could easily get out of interacting with them, or even looking their way, and that was exactly what you did for the most part.
What was the point of wasting your time on that stuff when one of your closest friends was about to get married? None at all.
So you ate and drank and caught up with your friends, actually having a wonderful time despite your miserable luck. And as the alcohol began to make you feel more loose and upbeat, you couldn't stop laughing at every single story everyone shared. Anecdotes from when she was little, a teenager, and even after heading off to college or starting to date Cillian. Some of them you remembered vividly, because you had been right there.
And the entire time, every now and then, you could feel it. His gaze, locked right onto your profile, burning your skin in a shameless way. You did everything in your power not to look over, to give no hint that you knew exactly what he was doing, and you succeeded through the whole dinner—until Jo's sister launched into that anecdote about the time Jo got locked out of the house and they tried to scramble in through the bathroom window.
While trying to squeeze through, her shorts caught on the window frame, and Jo tumbled to the floor completely bare from the waist down. Her shorts and underwear were left dangling from the window.
Oh Jesus, you remembered it so vividly. It had been so fun. She had come down to open the front door with a towel wrapped around her hips and her eyes were streaming with tears from laughing so hard. And when you went upstairs and saw her poor, sad little torn panties hanging from the frame, you burst out laughing just like you were doing right now.
A wave of pure amusement swept through you, and you threw your head back, covering your mouth as a tiny snort escaped your throat. And then, completely on instinct, your eyes sought him out.
He was watching you, of course, but his lips held a still quiet smile. You suddenly remembered those old days when he would deliberately make you laugh until your stomach ached and you made those funny noises. You used to hate it, you always had, but he would tell you they were sweet and nice, and how much he loved hearing them. You had never understood it. Now, he just smiled in silence, eight seats away from you.
You smoothed over your tight flushed cheeks and dropped your gaze as you picked up your wine glass. You just had to wait a little longer for dinner to wrap up and for the small party to migrate to the other side of the room.
You were doing just fine, weren't you?
A few seconds later, you looked back at him. He wasn't watching you anymore; his eyes were fixed on his wine glass, which he held by the stem with his fingers, tracing the clear glass with his thumb. Then, he let out a long, heavy breath through his nose and brought the glass to his lips, emptying the entire contents in a single swallow.
"We’re getting married tomorrow!"
Jo’s shout was so full of pure joy and laughter as Cillian spun her around the dance floor that your heart truly felt like it expanded and a wave of warmth washed over you.
You watched them from the bar and lifted your phone to snap a photo. Several, actually. You had no idea how many shots you had taken by now.
At some point during the night, just a few minutes ago, Joel and his girlfriend (Jen, according to a whisper from Kat half an hour earlier) had headed out. And because of that, you felt so much lighter and more comfortable in the space.
It was for the best, this whole keeping your distance thing. And honestly, the fact that Joel had brought someone was probably for the best too, since it prevented the two of you from drifting toward each other in any way. Come to think of it, what a shame Dean hadn't come along. Everything would have been so much easier to handle with him here. I mean, you had invited him, and he asked if you were sure. And I mean, at first, you weren't so sure. I mean, what were you even saying? How many drinks had you even had by now?
Dean. Dean, you needed to call him.
Shit, your feet were killing you. So you kicked off your heels as you walked toward the steps leading down to the shore. Leaning against the railing for balance, you unbuckled the delicate straps from around your ankles, dangling the shoes from your fingers a few seconds later as you descended bare footed. You dropped them somewhere there.
Oh, good heavens. The sand felt incredible beneath your bare skin.
You tilted your head back, letting out a deeply relaxed sigh. In front of you, very very far away, the ocean shifted beneath the moonlight, looking exactly like a painting. The sky was completely clear, with a massive perfectly round moon hanging at the absolute peak of the heavens.
Your cheeks were warm and your neck was flushed, but the gentle breeze brushing against your skin cooled your arms, your legs, and your bare back as you strolled toward the water. It was refreshing. The further you wandered, the more the noise of the party faded away, giving your mind a little more room to breathe and your thoughts space to wander.
You really should take advantage of this and call Dean now. But it was probably late. He was bound to be asleep by now; it had to be the middle of the night back home. No, it definitely was. You had checked.
Shit. You left your purse up there.
You turned around to look back at the celebration in the distance and a smile tugged at your lips.
From afar, everything looked so beautiful. The sky was pitch black, but the place looked like a glowing jewelry box filled with tiny people moving in every direction; jumping and laughing, their voices reaching you as soft overlapping sounds, like tiny ant voices.
Jo and Cillian looked so blissfully happy. They were dancing right in the center of the floor, and though you could barely make them out through the crowd, you could still spot them instantly. He had his hands around her waist, holding her close as they moved together. They were so deeply in love, so radiant. You remembered that exact feeling vividly, as if it had been yesterday.
No, it had been thirteen years ago, at a lovely little venue back in Texas. It hadn't been anywhere near as fancy as this, but it had its own unique charm. You remembered the flowers everywhere, the tablecloths as bright as white light, the napkins monogrammed with your initials. You actually still had one tucked away in a small pale pink box. You still held onto so many of those trinkets; entirely too many of them, which you honestly should just throw out. Why keep holding onto them?
You were young when you married Joel. He was young, too. Just two twenty somethings full of goals and dreams.
You were barely twenty one when you first met him, and from that very first moment, you knew it was something special. Something forever, you thought. And two years later, he asked you to marry him. It was a bit of a chaotic mess that ended up turning into something incredibly sweet and beautiful.
It was a rainy night. Joel had taken you out to dinner and scored movie tickets. About Time had just hit theaters and he knew you were dying to see it because you had watched the trailer on Youtube. So you had dinner and then you headed to the cinema. Of course, he hadn't anticipated the ending leaving you so sad, and he had to comfort you in the dark of the theater while you tried to get your sobbing under control. And by the time you walked out, the downpour had gotten even worse.
Huge puddles flooded the streets, and as you walked to the car, you slipped and landed right on your ass. Your clothes were caked in mud, which splashed all over Joel, and a few seconds later when he tried to pull you up, he went down himself. It was so fun; the two of you couldn't stop laughing. Every time you tried to stand up, you just kept sliding around, your outfit ruined and his right along with it. And by the time you finally made it inside the car, you were both an absolute disaster.
You knew that hadn't been his original plan, or at least, you found out later. Joel had set up a beautiful arrangement on his apartment balcony, but the rain completely ruined his plans. And when you finally got back to his place, you looked at him; soaked, dirty, covered in mud, with his hair a mess and his clothes completely unraveled, and you just kissed him.
"We're a mess," you murmured against his teeth as he guided you inside the apartment.
He laughed, and that was when you noticed it; he was incredibly nervous. The way he looked at you was different, and for a second, he almost looked physically ill.
And then, he went for it. He slid his hand into his pocket, and before pulling it back out, he confessed his love to you all over again. He dropped down on one knee.
You had never been happier in your entire life than you were right there, in that tiny apartment, with just the two of you.
Three years later, Joel bought you another ring. According to him, the first one wasn't good enough. You disagreed; you absolutely adored your ring. He had worked so hard to afford it, and it meant the world to you. But he insisted on giving you a new one, something much larger. He was doing well at work by then. So he put together another dinner, one completely uninterrupted by rain, and presented it to you on a perfectly clear night.
But time moves fast, and many years later, those are nothing more than memories.
Maybe you should go for a walk to clear your head.
You let out a breath and turned around to head in the opposite direction—
A sharp gasp caught in your chest, and you froze in your tracks. Your hands immediately flew to your chest.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," he said, holding up a hand. "Didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry."
You knit your brows, still feeling your heart hammering away.
Joel stood right in front of you, with a worried look on his face. His brows were slightly drawn, his eyes glistened, and his hair drifted in the sea breeze. He wore a white, long sleeved button-down with a few of the top buttons undone, revealing a hint of sun flushed skin at his chest. His cream colored dress pants billowed slightly in the wind.
"I thought you left," you said.
He shook his head. "No. Jen wasn't feelin' well. Just walked her back to the room."
You felt a faint throbbing behind your brows. "Is she alright?"
"Got a headache, is all."
"Oh."
It only took a split second for your eyes to lock onto his, freezing you both in place.
He swallowed hard.
"I didn't know our rooms were gonna be right next to each other," he said.
You paused for a beat.
"Neither did I."
He gave a slight, quiet nod, a heavy, downcast look lingering in his eyes.
"I can ask for a different room tomorrow morning, if you'd like."
You offered a faint smile, though your eyelids felt incredibly heavy.
"Yeah, okay," you said, taking two steps forward and brushing right past him. "Thank you."
As you moved away, Joel tracked you with his gaze. You turned as you passed him, keeping your path along the shoreline in an escape attempt that felt frustratingly drawn out. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your neck.
"I'm sorry." His voice carried clearly through the moonlight behind you.
You stopped instantly, completely unable to help yourself, and pivoted on the sand to face him.
"I shouldn't have brought her here." He took a step forward.
You gave a single shake of your head. "Joel, it’s fine."
"No, it ain't."
"It really is."
"I can tell it ain't," his brow furrowed.
"Then why did you bring her?"
"I don't know. Seemed like a good idea right up until I got here and saw you."
You huffed a breath. "Is it my fault now?"
"No, no," he rushed to shake his head. "That ain't what I meant at all."
You closed your eyes and ran a hand down your neck. Frustration bathed you as you felt the heavy weight of the alcohol in your veins.
"Joel, just… don't. Please don't," you said, taking two steps back. "It’s fine, it is. You’re with someone else, and so am I. We don't need to be having this kind of conversation, not right now."
It looked as though he was right on the verge of saying something. He parted his lips for a moment, but snapped them shut a second later. He stayed perfectly still, holding you captive under his gaze, because you couldn't bring yourself to do anything but stand there and look right back at him.
"We haven't seen each other in two whole years," he said then, like a tired accusation.
"Joel…"
"You left me a damn post it note."
Your mouth fell open, your chest beginning to rise and fall more rapidly as your breathing turned sudden and shallow. He seemed more worked up now, too.
You couldn't do this.
On pure instinct, you spun around and practically fled. You walked as fast as your feet could push through the sand, breaking away from him.
Behind you, you heard his voice calling out your name, getting closer and closer with every passing second. You only made it a few yards.
He caught you by the arm, and your name spilled from his lips like a breathless sound.
You wrenched yourself free from his grip, spinning around.
"Please, don't do this," you pleaded in a whisper, locking eyes with him. "What'd you want me to do? Just stay there? Watch us keep running in the same damn circles?"
Joel stepped back, taken aback, but his gaze never wavered. His jaw tightened, the wind blowing a stray lock of hair across his forehead.
"Could've said goodbye," he said. "Face to face. We deserved more than a goddamn note left on the table after everythin’ we were"
Your heart squeezed tight.
"You and I could never just say goodbye, Joel. We tried a hundred times. You know exactly how it ended every single time."
Joel closed his eyes for a beat, and you knew the blow had landed right where it hurt.
The silence that followed was absolute. And when he looked back at you, the vulnerability in his glistening eyes made your chest ache.
"If it was that hard..." he started, "then why'd we have to say goodbye in the first place?"
Your lower lip trembled. "Joel... don't."
Your vision blurred completely as tears flooded your eyes, spilling over before you could do anything to stop them.
It was cruel of him to ask you that now. Not when you’d spent two whole years trying to convince yourself you’d made the right choice.
You’re with Dean, you reminded yourself urgently. Dean is at home. You’re happy with him. And you couldn’t forget that Joel had moved on too; his girlfriend was upstairs at the hotel.
Joel fell quiet. He shook his head again and again, like he was trying to rid himself of a thought he couldn’t outrun. His gaze dropped to the sand, fixing on some distant spot before he spoke.
"These past few months, I’ve been lookin’ for a house…" he admitted softly. "Lease on my apartment’s almost up, and I figured maybe it was time for a real home. And every place I walk into, I catch myself lookin’ for big windows, a wide backyard, and some corner with enough light to work without havin' to turn the lamps on in the afternoon."
Then, he looked up, locking those glistening eyes straight onto yours.
"I could buy it," he said quietly. "I make enough now to get a real nice house. But what the hell’s the point of all that money if you ain’t in it? Tell me somethin’… why is your voice still in my head every time I make a decision?"
It took you several seconds just to draw breath.
You swallowed hard, absorbing the bruising impact of his words. You had to forcefully suffocate your own thoughts, the ones screaming that you were completely consumed by him, too. That sometimes, when you were in your shop holding a piece of sandpaper, his voice would appear out of nowhere, reminding you to always go with the grain so you wouldn't ruin the finish. Or that every time your car engine made a strange noise, you’d remember his advice to check the hoses before panicking. His ghost was everywhere.
But you couldn't tell him that. So instead, you said;
"Your girlfriend is upstairs."
You spun around abruptly and took off at a brisk pace, nearly breaking into a run in a desperate attempt to get away. The ocean breeze whipped against your face, but it did nothing to cool your burning cheeks.
Glancing back, you saw him: Joel was gaining on you with long strides, his white shirt billowing in the wind. Tears escaped without control, blurring everything in sight.
You whipped around to face him the moment you felt him too close.
Joel stopped short. His face was twisted with ache, and he stood completely still and quiet for a few seconds. His eyes shone brighter now, welling up with a thin glaze of tears that grew thicker by the second.
"What are we doin'?" he asked then, cracking completely. He stepped a fraction closer, repeating with desperation, "What are we doin'? It was supposed to be us!"
You swallowed hard, feeling a physical pain right in the center of your chest, as if Joel’s words had cut straight through your skin.
You looked at him through the tears that refused to stop falling.
"A lot of things happened, Joel. Did you forget that already?"
He stared at you in silence.
"I needed you!" You confessed.
"You pushed me away, every damn time," he countered.
"I was grieving," you shot back. "I know it was hard sometimes, but I was grieving."
"I was grieving too," Joel snapped. He took a step toward you, desperate to make you hear him. "That was my baby too. And every time I tried to get close to you, you... you just pushed me back, pushed me away like you couldn't stand the sight of me. Like you didn't want me there."
"Of course I wanted you there! You were my husband," you cried out, letting out a shaky, nearly choked breath. You paused, looking at him with all the frustration you’d kept locked away for years. "But where were you? You spent more time out there than you ever did at home."
Joel ran a hand over his face, completely spent, and let out a trembling sigh.
"I was scared," he confessed. "There’d never been anythin’ we couldn’t fix together before. But this... this was bigger than us. Every time I walked through that front door, I felt like I'd failed you. Like I couldn't protect the one thing we wanted most. I was terrified of sayin' the wrong thing, terrified of makin' it worse. And it felt like makin' it worse was the only damn thing I knew how to do."
"So you left," you shot back, pointing at him. "You just kept leaving. You weren’t there." Your voice trembled harder with every word. "You thought no matter how many times you walked away, I’d still be there waiting for you, and that’s not how this works." Your eyes burned as fresh tears spilled over. "I was scared too."
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said, taking a step forward. "Not a day goes by where I don't think about what I could've done to stop it, to protect us—"
"How could you have stopped it? It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't mine," you whispered. "All those years..." You shook your head. "All those years I felt like a failure for not bein' able to—I tortured myself thinkin' it was only a matter of time before you got tired of me and walked away. And then when it finally..." You shook your head again, refusing to let the memory surface. "The only thing I needed was for you to be there."
"How could I ever get tired of you?" he asked with painful disbelief. He gave a quiet shake of his head. "I told you a hundred times. You were my family. Anything else, we could've gotten through it together. I married you 'cause I wanted you, just you. Kids or no kids, I wanted you."
You stared at him in absolute silence. His words cut right through you, leaving a burning ache in your chest, yet at the same time, they felt like a warm, long overdue embrace around your heart.
Why didn't he say all this back then? Why did he have to wait all this time to lay it all out, right in the dead of night, in the middle of all this?
You froze, the weight of the years crashing down on you, and gave a shake of your head.
Taking a step back into the cool sand, you whispered, "It doesn't matter now."
"It does t—"
"No, it doesn't," you cut him off, your voice hardening. "It's too late. I'm with someone else, and you are too."
"I don't love her."
"Joel."
"What, you wanna pretend we both just moved on?"
"We're divorced," you said, the word tasting like ash in your mouth.
"I never wanted to divorce you and you know it," Joel countered.
You shook your head and then you felt it; panic starting to crowd out the ache.
You had to get out of there. You needed to leave this beach right now, before you broke, before you did something you couldn't take back.
You lunged to the side, trying to bolt past him, but Joel reacted instantly, catching you by the hands. The heat of his touch burned.
In a blind reflex, you slammed your palms against his chest and shoved him back with everything you had, breaking his grip. And you ran.
You ran with your breath clawing at your lungs, fleeing toward the small party. You knew he wouldn't follow you there; Joel would never push his way through your friends to make a scene, or to keep telling you things that shouldn't matter anymore.
When you finally hit the steps leading up from the beach, you spotted your heels tossed in the sand right where you had left them. You didn't even pause to pick them up. You took the stairs barefoot, crossed the room where the music was still thumping, and with trembling hands, snatched your purse off one of the chairs. You headed straight for your room. All around you, everyone was far too drunk to even notice.
You had spent the entire day mastering the art of looking anywhere but at him.
During the morning, it was easy. Mainly because he was nowhere to be seen. You were confined with the other bridesmaids and Jo’s family. In her hotel room, time flew by in a blur of wedding prep. Everyone talked, laughed, and rallied around Jo to soothe her nerves. Good nerves, born from being on the verge of something beautiful and life-changing. Not the bad ones that make you want to bolt out the back door of a church.
During the ceremony, everything shifted. As a bridesmaid, you stood on one side of the altar, while Joel stood on the other as a groomsman. The distance was safe, but it wasn't enough; you felt his eyes on you the entire time.
Whenever you looked toward the newlyweds, Joel caught your peripheral vision, his dark eyes fixed squarely on your face. He didn't break eye contact, not even when the crowd burst into applause. It was constant; even if he turned to smile or speak with someone else, it was only a countdown until his eyes found yours again. And then, the realization hit: you were watching him, too.
Of course you were. If you caught him staring dozens of times, it meant your own eyes were wandering toward him just as often. A simple truth that struck you just as Jo and Cillian walked down the aisle between the rows of seats, everyone celebrating the union of their beautiful love.
You kept your chin up, gripping your bouquet so tightly your knuckles turned white and pretending the heat rushing to your cheeks was just the early afternoon sun. You decided then and there that enough was enough. You couldn't keep looking at him, or he would keep looking at you. Moving forward, the best option was to ignore him entirely.
So you stuck to Kat like glue. You hadn't told her what happened the night before; you hadn't told anyone. Apparently, neither had he (which was to be expected) though you couldn't help but notice how Jen's eyes locked onto you just as much as his did.
There she was, right in the middle of the wedding guests. She wore a faint smile that seemed perfectly natural on her face, but her gaze swept up and down your body, over and over.
As a rational person, you knew exactly why she was doing it. You were her boyfriend’s ex-wife. During dinner the previous night, the two of you hadn't interacted at all. And when you felt her trying to approach you before heading to her room, you had turned on your heel and fled, pretending you hadn't seen her. She probably just wanted to introduce herself; Joel had likely told her the bare minimum. You, however, had zero interest in meeting her.
As a woman, though, you feared a deeper reason. Some energies are impossible to ignore, like the raw tension between her boyfriend and you, standing on opposite sides of that altar like a sick joke. If Jen suspected something, or if she noticed how Joel couldn't keep his eyes off you (and she only needed a functional pair of eyes to see it), you didn't blame her.
You just had to ignore them both. It was easy enough during the ceremony.
But the real trial began at the reception.
By seven in the evening, the Maui sky had transformed into a stunning canvas of coral and purple hues, fading out over the Pacific. On the open air terrace by the beach, the reception was already in full swing, with some guests already on their second drinks. Strings of warm fairy lights flickered between the palm trees, fighting against the encroaching twilight that swallowed the coastline, while the warm breeze carried the tides mixed with the sweet music from the live band.
All around you, everything was pure luxury and charm. The venue was breathtaking, and every detail was exquisite; from the decor near the beach exit to the main dancefloor, the ornaments hanging from the ceiling with tiny crystal stars and delicate ribbons, and the tables arranged with flawless glassware and matching chairs.
You stood near the outdoor bar, laughing out loud as Kat made an exaggerated toast with her champagne flute, while Gemma, Jo’s sister, swept you both into a hilarious anecdote about the morning's chaos. You laughed along despite having been there yourself, then pulled out your phone to show Eric, Gemma’s husband, a video of the whole thing.
Between the tropical cocktails, the catchy music, and the girls banter, you finally felt your shoulders drop; for a wonderful stretch of time, you managed to immerse yourself entirely in the party, genuinely enjoying the moment. And you were incredibly grateful for it.
It was only when the girls drifted toward the dance floor that you found yourself alone, waiting for your next drink. You leaned your weight against the wooden bar and, almost unconsciously, let your eyes sweep across the crowd illuminated by the hanging lights. It was a quick instinctive scan; a final defense mechanism to ensure the perimeter was clear, confirming that neither he nor his girlfriend was nearby before you could fully let your guard down.
You exhaled a quiet sigh, watching your hands against the wooden bar.
"This place ain't got nothin' on our little wedding, right?"
The voice echoed from right behind you. You whipped around.
Joel was there, leaning lazily against the counter, giving you a sidelong glance. He looked effortless cocky, completely relaxed. He looked devastatingly handsome in his suit, though his collar was already unbuttoned and his tie hung loose.
Not again.
"Joel," you warned.
He picked up on the warning right away. His stance softened slightly as he stood up straighter, throwing his hand up in peace.
"Sorry. Just jokin'. Ain't tryin' to stir up trouble again," he said, stepping a bit closer and shaking his head. "Just wanted to say I'm sorry. For last night. I crossed a line. Too many of 'em, to be honest, sayin' what I said. It wasn't right of me."
He cast his gaze downward, looking genuinely remorseful for a brief beat. Right then, under the amber lights, you finally caught the dark tired shadows bruising the skin under his eyes. He looked exhausted.
You didn't say a word, but you nodded slightly, accepting the olive branch.
He looked back up, pinning you with his gaze. "Don't you worry about me, okay? I won't be botherin' you again."
"How sure are you about that?"
Joel offered a smile that didn't make it to his eyes.
"In the last two years, did I ever bother you?"
"I blocked you."
He huffed an incredulous breath through his nose. "No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did."
Joel clicked his tongue, taking a sip of his drink. "Nah."
Your brow furrowed as a prickle of stubborn pride hit your chest. Grabbing your purse from the bar, you reached inside for your phone. Your thumb flicked across the screen as you glared up at him.
"I'm telling you, I blocked you."
He raised the glass to his lips again, and just before taking a sip, his eyes locked onto yours over the rim. "What you wanna bet?"
Anoyed and determined to shut him up, you went into your contact settings and pulled up your blocked list. Your eyes darted across the screen. There were a couple of unknown numbers, some old spam contacts you didn't even remember blocking, but you searched and searched... and the list was far too short. None of them were Joel.
You froze right there in the middle of the party. You knew it with absolute certainty because, despite two years of radio silence, you still remembered every single digit of his number by heart. None of those numbers matched his.
Had you seriously never blocked him?
You sighed, setting your phone face down on the bar.
"Alright." You glanced over in the opposite direction.
Across the room, Kat was staring at you with her eyebrows raised. She threw up a hand as if to say What the hell are you doing?. You answered her with a tight flat pout.
You turned back to Joel; he was watching Kat with a faint half amused frown.
Without moving much, his eyes dropped back down to you.
"Anyway, I'm sorry," he said, nodding gently. "For all of it. I really am."
You just nodded back.
The tension in his brow softened, and his gaze traced your face; eyes, mouth, eyes, eyes, mouth, eyes.
And then, he asked;
"Is he a good man?"
A beat.
"Yeah," you said softly.
"Does he treat you right?"
You swallowed. "Yeah. He does."
He pressed his lips together and nodded. "Good. I'm real happy for you."
The second those words left his mouth, you caught it: the tiniest twitch in his right eye, almost imperceptible. A minute tremor he couldn't hide.
Joel held your gaze for one last second, and then he gave you a small wink, just like he used to. With a faint smile, he pulled himself away from the bar and walked off, disappearing into the crowd.
Dinner passed in a rush of laughter and scattered conversations across the tables. There were emotional speeches; the best man brought Cillian to tears with a childhood story, and when it was your turn alongside the bridesmaids, you managed to keep your voice steady and bring a smile to everyone's faces.
After what had happened the night before, you didn't want to drink too much alcohol; you’d only had a couple of glasses with your meal, keeping your feet firmly on the ground.
By the time dinner wrapped up and the dance floor opened, the vibe grew much more relaxed. The semi-formal atmosphere completely dissolved under the colored lights now washing over the place. You were actually having fun; you danced for a long stretch with Kat and the girls, and later, Jo’s dad pulled you out for a few clumsy but incredibly fun spins that had you laughing out loud. In the middle of one of those upbeat songs, your eyes caught Joel in the center of the floor, dancing perfectly like a gentleman with Cillian’s mom. Your gazes locked for a split second, barely a heartbeat, before you both quickly looked away.
You kept enjoying yourself. Songs flew by, along with casual toasts and group photos. But later on, as you walked near the edge of the room, your eyes drifted toward the back.
Joel and Jen were sitting at a secluded table, away from the main lighting. You allowed yourself to watch them for a moment, hidden behind the crowd. Their faces were dead serious; her brow was furrowed and her arms were crossed, while Joel spoke in a low voice, gesturing faintly with one hand. They looked like they were arguing. Having a quiet argument, at the very least. But before either of them could look up and catch you staring, you broke eye contact and moved to another part of the room.
But the damage was already done.
Suddenly, a wave of absolute desolation hit you like a bucket of ice water. The air around you began to feel heavy, suffocating, and a sharp ache settled right beneath your ribs.
You needed to get out of your own head. Urgently, you pulled your phone from your purse and tried to call Dean. You needed to hear his voice, to remind yourself that you had a real life waiting for you back home, to cling to him like a lifeline. To remember you had something else.
The line rang.
And rang.
And rang. But Dean didn't pick up. You hung up, waited a few seconds, and tried again. Then a third time. Nothing. Just the sound of the voicemail.
You dropped your hand, slipping the phone back into your purse with a mix of frustration and anger, forcing yourself to swallow the lump in your throat.
"Hey, there you are!"
Jo’s cheerful voice snapped you right back to reality. Your friend approached you, her cheeks already flushed from the alcohol, holding her glass at a slight tilt. She was wearing a gorgeous white dress that hit just below her knees, loose and flowing perfectly against her body.
"I've been meanin' to talk to you all night but I've been so busy!" she laughed, running a hand through her hair. "Nobody warned me I’d spend my own wedding just listenin' to the guests!"
You smiled, forcing down the suffocating feeling from a second ago. "Everyone’s gonna want a piece of you today, Jo, it’s your night. But enjoy it; everything is beautiful, and you look even more stunning."
Jo offered a tender smile and threw her arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace that smelled of her expensive perfume. When she pulled back, she looked at you closely; her smile faltered slightly into a remorseful pout.
"Hey, I am so sorry... I had no idea he was bringin' someone. We gave a plus one to all our main guests and I just didn't think that—"
"Jo, it’s fine. Seriously."
Jo shook her head, frustrated. "No, it’s not fine. The nerve of him. You didn't even bring Dean. I really wish you had."
"I'm telling you, everything is completely fine," you insisted, forcing a bright smile. "I'm having fun, can't you tell?"
Jo tilted her head back a bit, narrowing her eyes to read you, but the pure bliss of her own wedding night made her give in.
"Well, yeah. I guess you are."
Right then, a collective shout erupted from the dance floor. A big group of people was forming a circle, clapping along to the beat and calling for the newlyweds.
You glanced over and gave her a gentle nudge. "I think you're needed over there."
Jo grinned mischievously. "Yeah... and you're coming with me!"
Before you could even protest, she grabbed your arm firmly and dragged you toward the center of the floor, pulling you both right into the middle of the circle. The DJ dropped an absolute classic: Abba’s Dancing Queen. And the energy of the room swept you up completely. It was one of your favorite songs.
Suddenly, there was no room left to dwell on phones that didn't ring or tables hidden in the back of the room. Jo started dancing dramatically in the center, making you genuinely laugh, and you joined right in; jumping, singing the lyrics at the top of your lungs with the rest of the guests, and clapping as others took turns showing off their best moves in the middle. For a few minutes, surrounded by your friends, the music numbed the ache in your chest. You let yourself lose control, floating in the pure fun of the night and the embrace of the people you loved most.
You couldn't tell how much time slipped by, but it had to be at least four or five songs. Standing in the middle of the circle, you ran your hands through your hair to push it away from your face. It was boiling hot inside, or maybe it was just your racing pulse making you feel like the air was running out.
Stepping away from the group, you backed up a few paces with a permanent smile straining your lips after minutes of non stop laughing.
You glanced to the side, right where the exit to the outdoor grounds opened up, and the pull of the fresh air was immediate and far too tempting to ignore. You walked in that direction, leaving the pounding thud of the music behind, and stepped out into the night, heading down the short flight of stairs to the lower level.
Resting your hand on the wooden railing, you walked down the ramp toward the right, keeping your eyes fixed on the dark infinity of the ocean, where the crests of the waves glowed faintly under the moonlight.
You stopped, letting out a long heavy sigh and running a hand over your neck to catch the cooling breeze.
Look at this place, you’d barely even enjoyed it. With all the wedding chaos and everything else, you hadn't found any free time to look around. But tomorrow you could; after brunch, the afternoon was open for everyone, and you assumed the evening would be too. Jo and Cillian would have their own activities as newlyweds, and some guests were leaving due to work; most of them, actually. But you were staying until Monday afternoon, and so was Kat. You’d be able to do all sorts of fun things. That thought actually made you excited.
You decided to turn around to watch the party from a distance, but the instant you shifted your body, the air caught in your throat.
You saw him. Joel was standing right there, less than two meters away. He was leaning his hip against the railing on the other side, staying completely still, almost camouflaged by the shadows and the branches of a large bush covered in tiny pink and white flowers. He was staring right at you.
A spike of panic shot through your body. You wanted to speak; you wanted to tell him you were sorry, that you had no idea he was down here. Because it was obvious you had crashed his alone time.
Your brain went on the defensive, screaming at you to turn around, head straight back up the ramp, and return to the party or at least find another corner of the hotel to breathe. But your feet wouldn't cooperate.
You couldn't say a word, and you couldn't move. You just stood there, locking eyes with him in absolute silence. You watched him, and he watched you. And in that second of paralysis, Jen's existence didn't even cross your mind; nothing existed outside of that suspended space in the dark.
Before you could gather enough air for another breath, the distance simply… vanished.
He was on top of you, and you were on top of him. You’d never know how it actually happened, who closed the final gap or who took the first step, but suddenly Joel’s arms were wrapping around you and his mouth was crashing onto yours.
It was a devastating kiss, charged with an intensity that shattered your whole body. His hands flew urgently to your face, cupping your cheeks with desperation, while his lips smashed against yours in a hungry claim. Your bodies pressed completely together, erasing any trace of air between you. Not that there was much left to begin with.
Without breaking the kiss, Joel spun you around in a fluid movement, pulling you right to where he’d been standing, and pressed you firmly against the railing. You felt the cold wood bite into your back, immediately followed by the overwhelming heat of his body crushing into yours. One of his hands dropped forcefully to your waist, anchoring you to him, reminding every single inch of your skin exactly who owned this memory.
Your heart was racing out of control, hammering so violently against your ribs that you could hear it in your ears, drowning out any coherent thought that dared to surface in your mind. There was no Dean, no past, no mistakes. In that dark corner beneath the flowers and facing the sea, you couldn't think about absolutely anything else but him.
Kiss him; kiss him deeply. Deeper, devouring any shred of doubt that might be left in you.
You felt a blind desperation flood your veins, a voracious hunger you didn't even know you had been harboring, suddenly demanding more, and more, and all of him; all, all at once, all began happening far too fast, as though time had accelerated with no way to force it back into its natural rhythm.
The heat of his skin and the firmness of his hands clouded your judgment entirely, pushing you right to the edge.
In a sudden move, you forced your lips to break away from his. You pulled back just a few inches, just enough to look into his eyes in the dim light, your breath ragged and your heart thumping in your ears and between your thighs.
You didn't even recognize your own voice when you said;
"Go to my room in ten minutes."
Before he could react or utter a single word, you planted your hands on his shoulders and, with a push that was sharp from urgency but soft with desire, you broke free from his grip.
You caught one last glimpse of his stunned expression and bolted back toward the stairs, fleeing at a frantic pace toward the light and noise of the party, with the taste of Joel still burning your lips and your tongue.
You reached the room with your heart beating a mile a minute, your racing pulse thumping in your ears as you walked barefoot across the soft carpet.
God, what were you doing?
This was terrible, complete madness. You’d walked in barely five minutes ago, and you’d spent the last three leaning over the sink, splashing cold water on your face and staring into the mirror, desperately searching for the strength to put on the brakes. But you found nothing. Your mind threw out a thousand reasons to stop, but not a single one could douse the fire in your belly or prevent what you were about to do.
And then, the sound came: knock, knock, knock.
A violent jolt shook your stomach, filling it with wild butterflies as if you were twenty one years old all over again, and you hated with all your soul that that was your very first thought.
You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands down the fabric of your dress, and stepped toward the entrance.
You opened the door just a crack, peeking through the narrow opening, and Joel was on the other side, staring dead at you through the small space. There was no doubt in his eyes; only a tired, exhausted, desperate, and silent hunger.
Without uttering a single word, unable to break eye contact, you threw the door wide open. Joel stepped inside immediately and kicked the wood shut behind him, closing it with a soft thud that sealed the deal. He lunged toward you with firm strides, crowding you back into the room; his right hand caught your waist and, with a yank, flushed your body right against his hard frame, while his other hand flew straight to the back of your neck, burying itself in your hair.
He kissed you, and you melted into his arms instantly.
Joel crushed you against him, devouring your mouth while his fingers raked over you in pure desperation. His hand at the back of your neck forced you deeper into the kiss, while his other palm slid firmly down your back, tracing your curves until it anchored at your thighs, squeezing the firm flesh. You put your hands all over him, starved for the physical contact you had missed for so long; your palms slid over his jacket, up his chest and broad shoulders, before wrapping around his neck to drag him even tighter against you. You let out a muffled moan against his lips.
Joel broke away for a split second just to catch his breath, panting, and his hands immediately dropped to your dress. Finding the hem near your hips, he bunched the fabric up in a frantic rush, gathering it past your navel before yanking it over your arms in a clumsy anxious motion, tossing it to the floor. You were left in just your panties and strapless bra.
You trapped his lips again in a hungry kiss while his fingers fumbled for the clasp of your bra; the lace gave way and dropped to your feet, leaving your breasts completely bare. Urgently, you brought your hands to Joel’s chest, tearing at the buttons of his shirt with fingers clumsy from the rush. In one continuous motion, you stripped the shirt and jacket off his shoulders together, leaving him bare chested, and he immediately reached down to undo his dress pants.
Everything grew overwhelmingly intense all at once; you could feel every part of your body screaming, starving and desperate for him. You crawled backward and laid down in the middle of the bed, feeling the cool air of the room hit your bare breasts and send a sudden shiver straight to your nipples. You settled onto the sheets, watching him with ragged breaths as he kicked off his pants and boxers in one quick motion.
Joel’s desperate erection, massive and rock hard, pointed straight at you, glistening faintly with pre cum under the dim glow of the lamp. He crowded over you, sliding between your thighs, while his large hands hooked into your panties and stripping them down your legs with a rough tug.
You parted your legs completely for him, exposing yourself, and Joel let out a shaky exhale, and leaned down to kiss you again. It felt like coming home.
His tongue clashed against yours in an incredibly wet, deep kiss while you instinctively arched your hips upward, feeling the heat of his shaft grazing your entrance. Joel ripped his mouth away, panting; he brought his hand to his lips, spitting a generous amount of saliva directly into his palm, and locked his eyes onto yours with animal intensity as he reached down and stroked himself a few times, lubricating his cock.
You moaned in protest at the delay, your hands raking over his tense shoulders as you shifted your pelvis desperately, begging for the contact. Joel dropped his hand and repositioned the hot, swollen head of his cock right against your soaking entrance.
He hovered over you, his arms rigid and the muscles of his back bulging from the sheer effort of holding back. Then, he began to sink into you inch by inch, the desperate restraint making him gasp out loud. He was too thick, too massive, but your pussy was so incredibly wet that it yielded, stretching to harbor him completely as he pushed deeper and deeper.
A sharp cry tore from your throat when he filled you to the brim, the delicious, scorching pressure of his hardness stretching your walls. Joel pressed his forehead against yours, cursing under his breath, completely overwhelmed by how fucking tight and wet you were.
"You have no idea how much I've missed you," he growled against your ear, losing the last shred of control he had left.
Any remaining restraint shattered into a dirty, animal need. Joel began to fuck you with wild desperation, thrusting hard and deep, burying himself completely inside you with heavy strokes that made the bed creak. Your body was burning with pleasure, and so was his; he was slick with sweat, the heat of his skin plastering against yours with every single hit.
You wrapped your legs around his hips, squeezing him tight to lock him inside you, forcing him to go even deeper. He was flush against you, his chest heaving against yours, his lips finding your neck to bite and suck the skin there while your brain remembered every single one of these familiar sensations. It was overwhelming.
The sound in the room turned completely obscene: the loud, wet friction of your bodies colliding, the echo of your unhinged moans, and Joel’s raspy grunts vibrating in the dim light. You were so fucking wet that every thrust made a slick, dirty squelch that only fueled the filthiness of it all and drove your heart rate higher. He was so fucking hard you could feel the pulse of his cock slamming against your deepest spot, tearing you apart with pleasure in an intense friction that made you lose your mind.
Joel grabbed your hands, interlocking his fingers tightly with yours against the pillows, using you as an anchor to drive the pace even faster. He was losing it right along with you, driving into you as if he were trying to brand you forever—no, he had already done that, so deeply that even now, fifteen years later, you were still a fool for him.
He squeezed your trapped hands while keeping up the frantic pace, the relentless impact of his hips against yours unyielding. He was completely surrendered to the desperation, searching for you at your very core. And you were already there, right at the bottom.
Then, Joel let go of one of your hands. That sudden freedom let you react; you whipped your arm up, tangling your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck to drag him down. You sought his mouth, trapping his lips in a desperate kiss that he met instantly, and a muffled groan vibrated in your throat. And in that exact heartbeat, something in the air shifted.
Joel’s wild, frantic thrusts began to lose their frantic speed, but none of their intensity. His movements grew heavier, deeply concentrated and profound, stripping away the raw animal haste to make way for absolute surrender. The rhythm transformed into an overwhelmingly intimate friction; each time his body sank into yours, he did so with an agonizing drag, holding himself deep inside you for an eternal second before pulling back just enough to drive right back in.
He stared dead into your eyes through the dimness of the room, his heavy breath crashing against your cheeks, searching for your gaze. His free hand came up to your face, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb while he penetrated you with a gentleness that made you arch your back, completely defenseless against him. You felt every single inch of his cock sliding inside you, hot and massive, filling not just your body, but every empty corner you had kept guarded during these two years.
And his body was so close to yours that you could feel the frantic hammering of his heart melting right into your own. Your moans shifted, turning from unhinged cries into quiet, breathless sobs of pure pleasure and relief.
The tension began to build in your belly in an unbearable way, a burning tide tightening your muscles from the inside out. Joel noticed; he felt you start to spasm and contract around his cock, trapping him in a hot soaking fist.
"That's it, baby... let it go," he murmured, licking your neck.
You couldn't hold it back any longer. Your hips lifted in one final unconscious spasm and your orgasm hit you like a lightning strike, making you shudder from head to toe as your inner walls squeezed around his shaft in violent, delicious waves. Joel let out a low, animal grunt, completely broken by the tight pressure of your climax.
Stripping away any remaining gentleness, he buried himself inside you one last few times with brutal thrusts, sinking right to the root, and froze there. His body went completely rigid, the muscles in his arms and back locking up like stone as he tore a raspy groan right against your ear.
Instantly, you felt the thick scalding jets of his come blasting inside of you, filling you to the brim and overflowing from your soaking pussy as he came with a force that left him shuddering violently on top of you.
Joel collapsed over you, letting his weight settle onto your body without crushing you, his breath ragged and his face buried deep in the crook of your neck.
Neither of you moved; he stayed buried inside you, softening but still pulsing, as the silence of the room settled back in, broken only by your exhausted gasps and the distant echo of the ocean outside the window.
Tonight I was supposed to work on an art project for work and take a deep hair washing shower before bed. ADHD/period brain told me to brain rot on TikTok and cry over pet loss videos (fuck you algorithm!) which led me to crying over pics of my fur baby who passed a few years ago and now I have a sinus migraine.
So I’m curled up in bed with my heating pad, Mandalorian playing and reading fic
Tonight is not a productive night but it’s become a self soothing night
summary: one year later... and life's better than ever.
pairing: harry castillo x fem!reader
content warning(s): fluff, one year time jump, stevie being the best big sister, no use of y/n.
word count: 2.6k
a/n: Y'ALL!!! huge thank you to everyone for reading this story. i really didn't expect so many people to love it and i truly didn't think it would have lasted this many chapters. it's so bittersweet to say goodbye to this story and this family that i created, but... who knows? maybe there might be a drabble or two in the future. we'll see! love y'all and enjoy the final part of then came you. <33
part 29. | series masterlist.
One year later…
Harry was sitting on the carpeted floor of the living room with Frankie on his lap as he leaned forward to give Frankie raspberry kisses on her cheek and neck, her giggles filtering the room. He smiled to himself and leaned back, eyes widening and lips parting playfully as she reached out to touch his face.
“Dada!” She giggled again, gently trying to push him away.
“You’re an early riser like daddy, aren't you?” He teased, pulling back to look at her as he rested her against his knees. “Stevie and mama like their sleep.”
She stared at him and smiled, her small hands touching his cheeks. “Mama?”
“Yeah, mama,” he smiled. “Can you say Stevie?”
She tilted her head. “S—Sissy!”
“Close enough,” he smiled, pulling her gently to his chest as he stood from the floor. Harry looked around and smiled, keeping Frankie against him. They moved out of the penthouse a few months after Frankie was born, finding a smaller two-story home in a much safer neighborhood.
As he walked towards the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, Harry heard the quiet patter of feet coming from down the hallway. Within a few seconds, he saw Stevie round the corner with her hair in complete disarray as she rubbed her eyes sleepily.
“Morning, Stevie girl,” Harry said, keeping Frankie propped up against him with one arm as he kneeled down to pick Stevie up with his other arm. “You look like you had a good sleep.”
“I did,” she yawned, resting against his shoulder as she opened her eyes to look across to see Frankie. She grinned immediately and reached out to touch her younger sister’s cheek. “Hi, Frankie.”
“Sissy,” she smiled.
Stevie’s eyes lit up.
Harry smiled, looking between both his girls with loving eyes. “Alright, what are we thinking for breakfast?”
“Pancakes,” Stevie answered. “Right, Frankie?”
Frankie nodded excitedly, lifting her head from Harry’s shoulder.
“Pancakes,” Stevie repeated.
“Whatever my girls want,” he smiled. “They’re gonna get.”
“Can I help, daddy?”
“Of course, Stevie girl,” Harry answered, turning his head to kiss the crown of her head. “Go and get your apron while I put Frankie in her high chair.” He continued, setting Stevie down on her feet. He set Frankie down in her high chair and positioned it so that she could watch both him and Stevie make pancakes, while Stevie jogged to the pantry to retrieve her apron and stool so that she could reach the kitchen counter.
“Okay, you comfortable, Frankie?” Harry asked, making sure she was buckled into the high chair before lowering the tray to secure her.
Frankie flashed a smile. “Ya!”
He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Cutie.”
Frankie giggled, then looked over to see Stevie putting her tangled hair into a hair tie. Harry looked over his shoulder and smiled, walking over to her. “You don’t want to brush your hair, honey?”
“No,” Stevie answered. “This is fine!”
“Hmm… you know mama’s gonna wake up and bring out a brush for you if she sees that your hair isn’t brushed,” Harry smiled, tapping the tip of her nose with his finger.
“But it’s fine,” she sighed. “Can you brush it then? While I make the pancakes?”
“Oh, you’re gonna make the pancakes, huh?” Harry chuckled.
“Duh,” she giggled. “But you can make the bacon. It splashes sometimes.”
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he smiled. “Let me go get that brush. Don’t start without me or else you’re going to make a mess.”
“I never make a mess!” Stevie giggled.
Frankie kicked her feet and giggled too.
“See, Frankie agrees.”
Harry laughed, looking between both Frankie and Stevie. “I’m outnumbered… but fine. You girls have me wrapped around your fingers.”
Stevie smiled.
Frankie grinned.
“I’ll be back,” he said. “Stevie girl, I mean it though, don’t start yet, okay?”
“Okay, daddy,” she nodded.
Harry left the kitchen briefly to walk towards Stevie’s room as he heard her start talking to Frankie, who erupted in giggles. Their laughter echoed throughout the home and down the hallway, a large grin lining his lips.
Stevie was holding onto Frankie’s hand while Harry was holding the tray of food that both he and Stevie made. The three of them were walking down the hallway to surprise you with breakfast in bed and he glanced over his shoulder to see both his girls giggling to each other.
Quietly, Harry opened the door with his foot to see you sit up with a quiet yawn, your hands coming up to rub your eyes like Stevie had done that morning too.
“Mama!” Frankie said first, squeezing Stevie’s hand as she tried to walk a bit faster, though her steps were still a bit wobbly.
You smiled instantly, eyes fluttering open to see Harry with a tray of food followed by your two girls trailing behind him.
“What’s this?”
“The girls wanted to have breakfast in bed,” Harry smiled, setting the tray down on the nightstand and leaning over to peck your lips.
“We helped with pancakes,” Stevie said, helping Frankie onto the bed carefully before she climbed onto it too. Frankie quickly crawled over to you, a quiet giggle escaping her lips once you scooped her into your arms.
“Ooh, I love when you make pancakes, baby,” you replied, using your free hand to cup her cheek gently. “Did daddy help?”
“Help? I made it,” Harry said teasingly. “Stevie helped.”
Stevie giggled and felt him pull her onto his lap as he sat down next to you on the bed. “I think we both made it,” she corrected, curling in his arms as she glanced over at the tray of food.
Harry laughed to himself and gently tickled Stevie’s sides, her laughter filtering the room and Frankie joining in now too despite not her understanding why she was laughing.
You grinned to yourself, leaning against Harry’s side. “Ah, so a team effort,” you said.
“Exactly! Team effort, daddy,” Stevie grinned. “Now, can we eat?”
“Yeah, Stevie girl,” he chuckled, reaching over to grab the tray to set it on the bed in front of the four of you. You reached for the cup of coffee first, taking a careful sip of it as you looked over at him.
“Morning,” you whispered.
“Morning, baby,” Harry smiled, leaning in to peck your lips. “Sleep okay?”
You nodded, turning your attention to the pancakes as Frankie began reaching for it. “Okay, baby,” you said. “Careful now. We don’t want syrup getting on the sheets.”
Frankie looked up at you and tilted her head. “Mama…” She was a spitting image of Harry—dark hair with slight curls and deep brown eyes too. When she grinned, there was a subtle dimple on her cheek as well.
Stevie cut up a piece of a pancake and dipped it in the syrup before she brought it Frankie’s lips. “Here, Frankie,” she said softly. When Frankie leaned forward to take the pancake from the fork, Stevie carefully cupped her chin to make sure that nothing spilled.
Then, she turned to look up at Harry. “See, I’m careful. I don’t make a mess.”
“You’re sassy today,” he teased, gently tickling her sides as she squirmed against him.
You laughed to yourself and watched Stevie and Harry, biting your lower lip. There had been a part of you that wondered how their relationship would shift now that Frankie was born, but nothing changed. If anything, they just got closer.
“I was thinking,” you began, taking a piece of bacon and lifting it to your lips. “We could go to the park today.”
Stevie’s eyes widened excitedly. “Can we?!”
Frankie was focused on the pancake as you handed her a smaller piece for her to hold. She was grinning to herself as she took careful bites, leaning back against you. You looked down at her briefly and smiled, kissing her cheek before turning your attention to Harry and Stevie who were sitting next to you.
“I think that sounds like a good plan,” Harry said. “Then maybe… we can go get ice cream at Central Park.”
You smiled to yourself. “Maybe there might be music too.”
Stevie nodded, eating carefully as well. She reached for her cup of orange juice and took a sip of it before setting it back on the tray. “And daddy will keep his eyes to himself.”
You let out a snort and looked over at Harry.
His eyes widened. “Hey! I was not watching the two of you that afternoon…”
You laughed quietly. “I think you were, baby.”
“You guys were just… there,” he reasoned. “I was listening to the busker and you guys just so happened to be there too.”
Stevie giggled, looking over at you before she turned her focus on eating.
“Best day of my life, though,” Harry continued, looking over at you and smiled to himself. He watched you look down at Frankie, the young girl lifting her small pancake to your lips to offer you a bite, which you took a small bit of it.
“It was?” Stevie asked, looking up at him.
“One of the best days of my life,” he corrected. “Because it gave me you guys, gave me all of this,” he smiled.
Stevie grinned and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I love you, daddy.”
“Love you too, Stevie girl,” he said, grabbing a napkin to wipe at the corner of her lips. “My messy girl.”
“Okay… maybe I do make a mess sometimes,” she smiled.
“Hmm, sometimes, okay,” he teased.
“Dada!” Frankie giggled, holding up the same piece of pancake over to him.
“Oh, you want to share with daddy too?” He smiled, leaning over to take a small bite. “You’re so sweet,” he said, gently kissing her forehead.
“After breakfast,” you said, “We’ll get ready for the park.”
“And daddy brushed my hair,” Stevie pointed out. “So, I don’t need to brush it again.”
“Yes, you do,” you laughed quietly.
“But why?”
“Because, baby,” you said, reaching over to cup her cheek. “How about I braid it, hm? That way, it won’t get tangled so easily when you play at the park.”
“Can daddy braid it?” Stevie asked.
Harry grinned. “Yes, I can,” he answered. “I’ve gotten better. I’ve practiced.”
“Yes, on me,” you smiled. “He is getting better.” You gently set Frankie down on the bed next to Stevie as you leaned over to peck Harry’s lips.
“I love you,” you whispered.
Harry smiled, hand coming up to your cheek as both your girls were eating amongst themselves.
“I love you too, baby,” he whispered.
Later that night, Harry had managed to get both girls to sleep rather quickly. The day at the park tiring them both out. Stevie was already fast asleep in her room after Harry had sung her to sleep and Frankie finally was asleep in her crib in her own room too.
As he walked back into the main bedroom, he noticed the bathroom door open to see you standing in front of the sink with a towel in hand after you finished washing your face. Smiling to himself, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. “What do you think of a honeymoon, baby?”
“A honeymoon?”
“Yeah, belated honeymoon at least,” he answered. “We never got the chance to take one after we got married.”
“Where were you thinking?”
“Wherever you want,” he said, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. Harry stared at you through the mirror, turning his head to kiss your cheek. “We can go to Europe. We can go to Asia. We can go anywhere.”
“Anywhere?”
He nodded.
“Hawaii,” you said. “I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii.”
He smiled. “Hawaii it is,” he said. “I was hoping you’d choose a place where you can walk around in your bikini.”
You rolled your eyes playfully before reaching for something on the counter. Then, you slowly lifted it for him to see.
“Guess we should go sometime soon then,” you said. “Before I get too big.”
Harry’s eyes widened slightly. He pulled away from you to look at the pregnancy test that you lifted to his view. “You’re pregnant?”
“Took a couple of tests,” you answered, a small smile lining your lips. “All positive.”
“You’re pregnant,” he repeated. “We’re gonna have another baby?”
“Yeah, Harry,” you laughed quietly, hands cupping his cheeks gently as you leaned in to peck his lips. “We’re gonna have another baby.”
Harry’s smile grew as he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you gently off your feet. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so fucking much.”
“Yeah,” you smiled. “I know you do… it’s why I’m pregnant again,” you teased. “But I love you too, Harry.” You felt his lips move to your neck, feeling his stubble brush against your skin, causing you to erupt in a fit of laughter. He held you closer and smiled to himself.
His house had been quiet and empty.
But since marrying you, it had not only been filled with so much love, but also with so much laughter.
He pulled back to look down at you, hand coming up to rest on your cheek lightly. Harry ran his thumb across your jawline. “So, Hawaii…”
“Hawaii,” you nodded.
“And then another baby,” he said.
“Guess Charlotte was right,” you smiled.
Harry grinned. “Yeah, guess so.”
“We’re gonna have a shit ton of kids,” you laughed quietly.
“Well, that was the plan all along anyway,” he replied, leaning down to peck your lips. “I love you,” Harry repeated. “Thank you for giving me everything I ever dreamt of,” he whispered.
“You’re unreal,” you teased, referring back to what you two would say to each other in the beginning of the relationship. You moved to wrap your arms around his neck as you leaned in to lightly peck his lips. “And thank you for giving me everything I ever wished for.”
Harry smiled, lifting you off your feet once more and taking you towards the bed. “Kids are asleep…” he said, gently setting you onto your back as he settled himself between your legs. “Thinking we can celebrate the good news.”
“Celebrating is what got us the good news,” you laughed quietly, running your hands through his hair as you felt his hands run along your legs and up towards the waistband of your shorts.
He hummed, resting his forehead against your own. “Well, guess we’re celebrating again then.”
You laughed quietly as his hands moved underneath your shirt to touch your bare skin as Harry’s lips moved to the side of your neck.
“Just can’t get enough of you,” he mumbled.
You smiled, eyes falling shut as you wrapped your arms around him. “Can never get enough of you too, Mr. Castillo.”
Harry lifted his head to look down at you. “Oh, Mrs. Castillo,” he grinned. “You know I love it when you call me that.”
You slowly rolled him over onto his back as you straddled his waist, hands moving to rest on his chest. “Oh, I know,” you chuckled.
Harry moved a hand to your tummy and smiled to himself, sitting up as his other hand wrapped around your waist. “Dream come true,” he whispered.
Then, he leaned in and pressed his lips firmly against your own.
Everything in his life made sense now.
You and Stevie were the missing pieces that he didn’t realize he needed.
And this growing family he was going to share with you really was something he always dreamt of having.
TLOU Coffee Shop AU — Joel Miller didn't think much of those fancy coffee places that sprouted up everywhere until one morning he forgot his travel mug at home and the dire outlook of a day without coffee lead him to brave the world of a coffee shop. Maybe one of his better choices!
Warnings:
+18 – mdni; smut, fluff, piv, semi-public, spit kink (if you squint), oral, reader is a brat, older!Joel, younger!reader, alternating POVs
Word count: ~7k
as found on: archiveofourown
a/n – y'all I haven't used tumblr in a hot second but wanted to come here with my fics too bc why tf not? so hi!! I'm chaos or c and hope y'all enjoy this as much as I did writing it <3 (in the meantime I'll work on rmr how to work this site lmfao)
Joel.
He’s running late. And Joel’s never running late. But today he is. Damn alarm clock gave out on him. Or maybe he’d just forgotten to check if the damn thing was set like he did every night… Either way, now he was fucking late. Had to rush through his morning and as a result—- left his travel mug on the fucking kitchen counter.
There was contemplation to go back and get it, because starting a day without his caffein hit, was evidently worse than being late. He still opted against it, already more than halfway to the construction site by the time he had made up his mind.
But then he passed the small coffee shop another five minutes later. The same one he had passed for the last two weeks and never thought twice about stopping. Because Joel didn’t believe in all this fancy shit. With artificial flavours and a hundred-and-three ways to make coffee. He just wanted plain coffee, strong preferably, the kind he could easily make at home. So he had no reason to stop at Pour Decisions — that fucking name alone; but he’d left left his mug on the fucking counter and he needed caffein. So with an irritated grunt at his own damn choices that had led him here, he pulled into the almost deserted parking lot in front of the small coffee shop.
A bell chimed overhead when he opened the door, bracing himself for an onslaught of that modern industrial architecture the whole fucking food industry seemed to be after, just to find a lack of a clear design all together.
A mix of mismatched chairs and tables, a couple of surprisingly comfortable looking couches. No brick walls, instead there were two massive bookshelves in an L-shape lining the wall, and plants fucking everywhere.
Had he set foot into a café or…?
“Good morning,” a warm voice greeted him while he still tried to find the theme of the decor. The first thing he noticed was your smile, not that fake costumer service one, no, a genuine smile. The kind that made your eyes sparkle. “What can I get for you?”
“You ain’t from around here,” he blurted out instead of an order or a greeting.
“No shit,” you laughed, “What gave it away cowboy? The lack of an accent?”
“Ain’t a cowboy,” he huffed. He’d come in here for a much needed coffee and not a round of small-talk. What the fuck was he doing? God he felt out of place here. Yesterday’s dust still clinging to his clothes—- the name definitely did fit. Pour decisions and all that.
“Sure,” you tilted your head, still flashing him a smile. “Now that we’ve that out of the way, what can I get for you?”
“Coffee.” He should have braved the day on no caffein. Coming in here was definitely the wrong decision.
“Excellent, you happen to be in luck, we sell exactly that.” He really wanted to be irritated by your smart mouth, but didn’t really managed to. You made a point of looking him up and down, wrinkled flannel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, yesterday’s dust still clinging to his jeans—- could he feel any more out of place? “Let me guess, a triple-upside-down caramel macchiato, cinnamon-dolce instead of vanilla and… with almond milk?”
“What?” Joel blinked, trying to sort the words you’d thrown at him into meaning. “I—,” he hesitated.
“Relax,” you flashed him a grin. “Coffee, drip,” you pushed off of the counter you’d been leaning against, grabbing a large paper cup and fastening a sleeve around it. “I’m going out on a limb here,” you continued, filling the mug with steaming black liquid, “Strong,” he watched you place the lid on top. Your fingers pressing the down on the rim. “No sugar, no milk,” you place the cup in front of him, watching him pull his wallet from his back pocket. “Oh no, it’s on the house. View it as first time costumer bonus.”
“That ain’t sound right? Won’t you get in trouble?”
You snorted, waving him off. “Let me worry about that. Just promise me to come back tomorrow if you liked the blend.”
“I— yeah.” he grabbed the cup, his expression betraying that he wouldn’t come back under any circumstances. “Sure.”
By the time he made it back to his truck, he still tried to comprehend what the fuck had just happened.
Except, that the coffee was good. Really, really good. Better than anything he had had before, if he was honest with himself. So when he got up the next morning, on time, thanks to a replaced alarm clock and checking twice before bed that it in fact had been set, he eyes his travel mug like it had offended him.
His coffee wouldn’t be as good and he had promised to come back if he liked the blend. And Joel Miller was a lot of things but not a man who didn’t keep his word.
At least this time around he felt less awkward when the bell above his head chimed, announcing his arrival. Probably too, because you stood behind the counter again. If anything, the smile on your lips wider, and a tad pleased. “So you liked it,” you greeted him. “Good. We just got the blend from a new, local roastery. I’d sell you a pack, but,” you pop the bubble of your gum, placing a freshly filled cup before him. Same like yesterday. “Then you wouldn’t come back, and where would be the fun in that?”
Joel left, paying for his order this time around and leaving the same amount and then some in the tipping jar, having been too bewildered yesterday to even leave tip. He has a stamp card in his wallet too.
Nine more visits and he’d get another cup on the house.
──────────
You.
He came back. Every single fucking day of the week until Friday. You half expected him to ask you out or for your number at the very least. From how he’d stared at your lips while you talked and the way he’d stammered himself through a conversation.
It took you until Thursday to find out that his name was Joel. Sometimes you wished you wrote names on the cups like Starbucks did, but that wasn’t quite on your mind when you had decided to open pour decisions. The name stemming from literally everyone telling you that it was a terrible idea to open your own coffee shop in a world of Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts and whatever else those fast-food-frenchaises were called over-saturating the market.
And yet here you were. Almost two years in, a handful of good and loyal employees, and surprisingly successful with your chaotic-none-concept. The books in the shelves were your own, or those left by guests in a trade, the plants got bought on occasion, if — and that was a big if, you managed to part with them. The caffee was from small and for the most part local roasteries and the pastries freshly baked by a bakery you had partnered with.
By no means would your café make you a millionaire, but that wasn’t what it was about. You loved what you did and you had enough to live comfortably. By your standards anyway.
Joel hadn’t exactly fit the description of your regular clientele. Looking utterly lost the first time he’d stepped inside. With the stamp card had come the confidence you expected a man like him to carry himself with.
Not arrogant or snobbish, the chunky work boots and flannel shirts didn’t fit that, just sure of himself and his footing. So it had been a little hard not to feel disappointed when he hadn’t asked for your number or a date when he’d been in on Friday. He wasn’t in Saturday, but from your Sam, your barista, you knew that he’d stopped by on Sunday.
‘Your cowboy’s in, looking like he just left Sunday lunch. He cleans up nice. Looked disappointed that you weren’t there.’
You’d only shot back a bunch of eye-roll emojis.
He came back Monday morning, bright and early, 7 AM on the dot, like he had last week. You already have his order ready by the time he stepped to the counter. Another flannel, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, salt-and-pepper hair somewhere between pushed back and and left to it’s own means but begging you to run your fingers through it regardless.
“Knew I would make a regular out of you,” you greeted him.
“Ain’t a regular,” he huffed, pushing dollar bills across the counter and dropping another set into the tipping jar.
“That stamp card begs to differ,” you counter, after adding a fourth crescent moon shaped stamp to the card.
“Just collectin’ another five of ‘em to get my free coffee,” he countered, though the hint of a smile that showed around his eyes told a different story.
“Maybe it’s about time I got you hooked on something else then,” your gum popped and his eyes dropped back to your lips. “You you indulge,” you continue, pushing off the counter and stepping towards the pastry. “Sometimes at least,” you flashed him a smile before turning towards the food display “Let’s see…” you study the layout for a beat, glancing back to Joel who only eyed you curiously. “Yeah.” You settle a moment later, pulling a cinnamon roll from the display before popping it into the small oven you kept behind it. “You know we do sandwiches too,” those you made yourself in the morning. “We even take requests, occasionally,” you pack the cinnamon roll into a small paper container before pushing it towards him too.
He’d already placed enough to cover the pastry and a tip on the counter, apparently not taking another it’s on the house. “Yeah?” He asked, thumb briefly toying with the edge of the box. “How’s that work?”
You flashed him a smile, “Come back tomorrow and tell me the cinnamon roll was spot on and maybe I will tell you.”
And sure, like clockwork, Joel came back on Tuesday. “Donno how you keep pulling’ that, but… you were right about the cinnamon roll.”
“Course I was,” your gum popped, a smug grin on your lips. His coffee already on the counter.
“Alright,” he eyed the sandwich display. An assortment of bagels and bread rolls filled with different kinds of meats, greens and cheeses. “Which one I’m getting?”
“None of those,” you offered without missing a beat and Joel almost look offended by how spot on you were again.
“Fine, what d’you got me pegged for, then?”
You glance at him for a moment, before answering, like it was the most obvious thing, “Cheddar, turkey, no mayo,” your gum popped again, “Mustard instead, not too much greenery. A slice of cucumber perhaps for the crunch, no tomatoes, too soggy. A bit of lettuce. Toasted.”
“Fucking hell.” Right on then.
“Not to brag, but, I’d be burned at the stake during the witch trails.”
“Yeah no shit,” he laughed. Actually laughed.
Come Wednesday, you had both the sandwich and his coffee ready. Only trading the sandwich for another cinnamon roll on Friday, for it being the end of the week and all.
“Looks like you’re almost at your free coffee,” you remark, after sliding the stamp card back towards him.
“What if I want your number instead?”
A grin tucked on your lips. “Get the last stamp then and see if you’ll get it.” As if you hadn’t placed a napkin in the box with the cinnamon roll with your number written on it.
Your phone buzzes some time around noon. You’d just settled into the back of house, ready to tackle shift scheduling for the next two weeks when your phone buzzes and the screen flashes with an unfamiliar number.
‘What type of witchcraft you practice again?’ followed by a simple “Joel.” Just in case, no doubt, you handed your number out to multiple times today.
’The kind that keeps you on your toes ;)’ you shot back, before you add, ‘You better still come in to collect that last stamp though.’ Since he got your number already.
‘Be a terrible regular if I didn’t’ Good, because you’d be really disappointed if he wouldn’t. ‘Gonna have to use it on somethin else now’
──────────
Joel.
The kind that keeps you on your toes.
Yeah right. You did a mighty fine job of that. Guessing his coffee order, what fucking sweet treat he liked, right down to the kind of sandwich he’d order.
And that fucking gum that you kept popping while grinning at him like you’d had him aaaaall figured out. Which apparently you had. His orders anyway. While he made a fool of himself, trying to hold a conversation. The fact that it had taken him three fucking days to ask after your name?
Embarrassing.
He’d still saved you as coffee witch into his phone. Just because.
Texting was a whole lot easier. Perhaps because you weren’t as distracting and he had time to think about his answers. So it’s no surprise you did from pretty much Friday afternoon straight up to Sunday evening.
He learned that you moved here for a relationship that no longer existed some eight years ago after dropping out of college, and stuck around because you’d already started to build yourself a life here. He learned too that you’re a good chunk younger than him. Which, in all honesty, he’d suspected but it still almost got him to stop this — whatever this was right here, right there. But then you looped him back in.
‘Thought of something to cash the card in for yet? Once you’ve collected the last stamp?’ Easy as that. Not even phased by his 52 admission, when you’d asked after his age.
You made it really fucking easy, which should have been scary but Joel couldn’t really bring himself to care. Not when stopping by the coffee shop every morning had, admittedly, become the favourite part of his day.
The only issue, they’d wrapped the site in Friday and his next gig didn’t bring him past pour decisions. He’d considered telling you or asking how long you’d be in to see if he could swing by later.
Joel did neither, naturally, in true fashion of the coffee shops name, this resulted in an early set alarm that sent him utterly deserted parking lot at the crack of dawn. And only when he spotted you inside, among chairs that were still on tables, he realised, he hadn’t checked for the opening hours.
Fuck. Way to make a fool of himself. He was set to get back into his truck, already trying to come up with a time he could come back withoutcutting slack from Tommy for running off when you opened the door. “Joel?” He winced, of course you’d seen him through the large glass windows. “You’re early.”
“Yeah,” a shrug, “I— uhm, we wrapped the site on Friday, new site’s across town…”
“I see,” you snort, which did very little to ease how ridiculous he felt, “And I take it you still wanted to collect that last stamp?” You arch an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he took the offered out.
“Alright,” you took a step back, holding the door open. “C’mon in then.”
“What? You sure?” Joel asked even as he took a step towards you. “Ain’t wanna cause any trouble?”
“Trouble with whom?” You cocked your head to the side, gum popping.
“Donno,” a shrug. “Your boss?”
Another snort, “Nah, I think she’ll understand.”
“Alright,” he decided, following you inside. “If y’say so.”
“Coffee’s not ready yet though,” you offer, locking the door again. “Won’t take long. You in a rush?”
He was, but he decided that he wasn’t. “Got time,” he heard himself say and the way you beam at him at that, made the looming ordeal of morning traffic and being late easily worth it.
Joel didn’t watch you move about the café and the morning prep for long before he offered help. First in front of the bar, taking the chairs off of the tables, wiping them down and watering the plants and then behind.
“You really do not have to help,” you argue yet again while showing him the setting the coffee beans needed to be ground on.
“’s the least I can do,” after the free food you’d slipped him over the week. No amount of tip he left could make up for the free sandwiches he’d enjoyed.
“You always this stubborn?” You challenge, before disappearing into the back to continue with the sandwiches.
“Funny, comin’ from you,” he’d called after you.
Once the coffee was ground and weighted like you’d shown him, he opted to head to the back too. Deciding that, since he was already here during closing hours, he might as well head into the back of house too. And if only to tell you he was done and what else he could do. Just in time to see you climbing up into a shelf to fish for a pack of cups. Without another thought he’s behind you, “Easy,” he breathed, voice a low rumble, hand raised and hovering inches from the small of your back.
You startled; not having seen him enter with your back turned to him, making you lose your balance and slip. But he was there to catch you, hands immediately grabbing onto your waist and hip to steady you and catch your fall.
“Fuck, sorry, I—” he stammered, trying to apologise but you only burst out laughing, not even attempting to step away from him. So maybe he forgot to loosen his hold you when he joined in too.
“The hell Joel,” you laughed, turning to face him. “You can’t just scare me like that!” You swat at his shoulder, drawing another low chuckle from him.
“Gonna make sure to catch you‘gain when I do,” he breathed into the space between you, voice rough. He hadn’t even realised he’d raised one of his hands to brush a loose curl out of your face until his palm settled against your cheek.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he couldn’t have said if you’d whispered or screamed, because he’d been busy was watching your lips move. But he was acutely aware of your breath hitching and his hand on your waist tightening a little further. He wasn’t thinking, when he closed the gap between you.
Your lips were soft when they met his, tasting finely of coffee and cherries and a hint of mint. That damned gum he’d watched you pop again and again and again.
“—shit,” he stumbled back, “No, I—-” he ran a hand over his jaw, a quiet fuck falling from his lips. He’d wanted to. God he’d wanted to since the first time he’d come in here but not like this. “I’m—- I,” he tried, fumbling for words. Wanting to apologise but also not wanting to.
Because apologising meant that he regretted and he didn’t.
His mind went blank again — running overdrive one moment and blissfully calm the next; when your fingers curled into his flannel shirt and card through the hair at the back of his neck to draw him in close again.
His hand naturally settled on your waist again, bringing your body in flush against his while your lips parted to deepen the kiss.
It was a blur after that. If asked later, he couldn’t recall how you got from kissing or well… down right making out and the next he had you pinned against a wall, your back to his front. Pants shoved down, panties tucked tucked aside and his lips moving against your neck.
He could feel you tense when his cock inched into you. “Holy fuck,” your voice was half a moan, half a whine.
“I know babygirl, I know. It’s a lot to take.” Quite literally. He couldn’t really hide the smugness from his words. Even if his voice more resembled a low groan. One of his fingers slipped lower, from where he easily held your weight. A lack of time and logistics—- if he’d have it his way you’d have already cum and if he would have been of sound mind he wouldn’t have done any of this. Not in the back of the coffee shop, not against the wall, not without protection. But as it were, his thumb rolled over your clit.
“Just like that babygirl. Look at how well you’re taking me,” his voice had turned to rough gravel, strained from both the effort it took not to just fuck you and how gloriously tight you were. “Almost there,” he encouraged you, “Fuck, baby, you feel how tight you’re squeezing me?” His resolve broke the second your hips rolled back into his. Begging him to move.
A hand braced against the wall you’re leaning against, the other arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you pressed against him, Joel started to move. Hard and fast. “Fuck baby, squeezing me so tight,” he groaned against your neck, realising he was about to cum embarrassingly fast. “Touch yourself f’me babygirl.”
And you did, moving a hand off the wall and down, down, down.
If he could think stright he would have made a note of how much more pliable you were like this. No snarky remarks, no clever comments, no smug grins. Just moans and gasps and a tight fucking grip around his cock.
He knew when your fingers rolled over your clit. Could tell by the way you were clenching around him while a moan made it past your lips. Drawing him in deeper. In the end he couldn’t even warn you, let alone try to pull out. Caught in the tidal wave of your orgasm, of your body tensing, of your walls clenching. He cums with a grunt and his teeth scraping against your neck and thick hot ribbons flooding you.
“Fuck,” he groaned against your neck, leaving a kiss where his teeth had just been.
“Yeah,” you breathed, not making a single move to get away from. “I’d say that’s what we just did, but…” you chuckled and Joel grumbled something unintelligible, while hiding his face against your neck. “Well—-” you started out but a melodic sound ringing through the air interrupted you. “And that would be delivery.”
And Joel was still balls deep inside of you.
In the end he made it to the site barely on time. After tucking clothes back into place and all but running out of the café, not even managing to look you in the eyes when you handed him his coffee while the delivery got unloaded tight where you’d just fucked. Not managing more than a “I— yeah, I gotta…” while he’d gestured towards the door. “I’ll…” he’d tried just to stop himself before dipping out the door.
Way to fucking go.
His ears were still tainted pink when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.
‘Think you forgot to collect your last stamp ;)’ relief fuelled the grin that tucked on his lips. ‘Your sandwich too!’
“The fuck are you grinning into your phone for?” Tommy gave him a side eye, trying to catch a glance of his screen. But Joel was faster, averting it. It was worse enough that he’d pointed out the frequent appearance of the pour choices to go cups. “You got a girl or what?”
“None of ya business,” he huffed.
“Right, right,” Tommy laughed “’n you’re chewing gum since when?”
──────────
You.
‘Crap. Can I pick that up later?’ his reply came a little towards lunch. When you’d retreated into the back, where he’d fucked you, to tackle the daily admin work. Already sore and with him still dripping from you.
‘Tough luck,’ you texted back, along with a picture of you and the half eaten sandwich beside you, ‘I’m taking hostages!’ A heart popped up on the edge of the picture. ‘Will negotiated about the stamp though ;)’
‘Lucky fucking me ;)’ he responded and you knew he was over whatever had him bolting from the café in the morning. He’d been down right awkward, not even managing to look at you, and not to mention the crimson shade his ears had taken on... ‘When d’you get off today?’
‘Well I did this morning’ you shoot back because you can’t help yourself.
‘Yeah walked right into that…’ he was quick to respond.
‘Maybe ;)’ You sent back ‘Three-ish, why?’
‘’You got time after or nah?’ He doesn’t tell you that he full on intends to ditch the site early — Tommy could handle handle the rest, it meant seeing you again.
‘You wanna pick me up, cowboy?’
‘Ain’t no cowboy.’ Followed up by ‘Be there at 3’
It started raining around 2 PM, not the sudden, strong summer downpour accompanied by a thunderstorm that barely brought any relief from the heat but a proper downpour. When 3 PM rolled around, and you were just wrapping up, it was still raining. Turning the coffee shop down right cozy.
Sometimes you liked to imagine what your little heaven would be like if you’d set up somewhere with actual seasons, like Boston or maybe somewhere cozy and isolated, like a small town in Wyoming.
But then you wouldn’t have met Joel, would you?
“She’s back there,” you could hear Sam over the hum of the dishwasher and radio. “’s alright, you can head on back,”
You could make out the sound of his heavy work boots on the tiles behind the bar before he was in the hallway, an expression on his face like he wasn’t sure Sam knew what the two of you had been up to here in the morning and smug about just that.
“You sure’s okay I’m back’re?” He asked, while you tossed your water bottle and wallet into your tote.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Joel looked unsure, both of a reason and how to properly greet you. All that was missing were the crimson tainted ears and you were right back where you were some eight or nine hours ago. So you rose onto your toes, to draw him into a soft kiss. Joel instantly relaxed. “Made you another one,” you pressed a sandwich into his hand. The bread still slightly warm. “Got your stamp card?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He fumbled for his wallet for a beat, before producing the card from it.
“Good,” you grinned, plucking it from his fingers and heading out front. Joel followed, looking everywhere but at Sam while you added the last crescent moon stamp to the card. “Alright,” you hand it back to him. “You got everything?” You looked over to Sam.
“Yep,” a grin. “See you tomorrow, boss.”
Joel blinked.
“Don’t forget to turn the water off,” you responded, “And make sure you locked up. I don’t wanna hear another story of you tracking here in the middle of the night to make sure the doors are locked.”
“Only happened twice,” Sam grumbled.
“Three times,” you corrected, heading for the door with Joel following you. “See you tomorrow.”
“You t’boss?” Joel asked barely that you’re outside.
“Yeah,” you grinned up at him. “I’m the boss.”
“Why you never…?” He lead you to his truck you’d seen pull into the parking lot countless times now, a hand at the small of your back.
“Because you never asked,” you countered while he opened the passenger door for you. Gum popping. His truck was beat up and clearly used for his job; he had told you he owned a construction business with his brother, but well kept. “And it was kinda funny seeing you all concerned about the potential trouble I could get in for the leeway I’d cut you.”
Joel scoffed, but looking amused when he got into the drivers seat.
“So, what you wanna cash your stamp card in for?” You asked while the engine hummed to life and he pulled into traffic.
“Was thinkin’ dinner?” He glanced at you. “At my place?” He sounded a hint unsure. “You been making me sandwiches’n,” he shrugged, “Wanna treat you. Cook for you.”
“Yeah,” you smiled, “I’d like that.” Joel relaxed, a smile settling onto his lips too.
“Good. Was thinkin’ we grab groceries together?” he asked and you nodded while the city flew past rain-slicked windows.
Getting groceries together felt oddly domestic, right in a way. That your hand easily found his, and tucked him along to the snack isle first. You hadn’t even decided yet what you’d cook but you knew you needed snacks.
“Sour skittles?” He asked, “Thought you’d taste,”
“Says the man with the plain pretzels,” you scoff, a grin tucking on your lips.
“They ain’t plain. Got salt!” He huffed, and you snorted.
“Yeah right,” you rolled your eyes, gum popping. “Plain. ’s what I said.”
“Careful now, babygirl, or’ll give your smart mouth somethin’ better to do.” Your breath hitched and a smug grin tucked at the corners of your lips. “Figured,” he hummed, hand settling on the small of his back as he guided you towards the produce aisle. Once bbq chips had made it into the cart too.
You quickly decided on steak, potatoes and green beans. A bottle of wine got added to the menu too. Before you head to the register, you excuse yourself for a beat. Wanting to grab a new pair of socks. After being on your feet pretty much all day and not really being able to change or freshen up, that was the least you could do.
You find Joel lingering in front of the condoms. “Presumptuous,” your gum popped and his ears turned pink again.
“No I didn’t—- I just,” he fumbled, looking everywhere but at you, clearly flustered.
“Relax,” you laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, “I’m kidding.”
Joel’s hand found your waist again, keeping you close. “Listen, ‘bout this mornin, I…” he tried. “Normally don’t,” his cheeks were burning too. “’s not somethin’ I do…”
“Joel, if I’d regret what we were up to, you’d know it,” you can feel him relax. “Also,” your eyes drift towards the display, “I’m on birth control and clean, if you’re good too then…” you trail off.
“Am too,” he affirmed, palm still resting on the small of your back. He glanced back to the shelves too, contemplating for a beat, before guiding you towards the registers without grabbing a pack.
“And for the record,” your gum popped again while he followed him back to the car. It was still raining, Joel carried both the groceries and an umbrella he’d had in his truck. “I haven’t invited anyone, back who doesn’t work with me.”
You could see the grin tucking on his lips when he helped you into his truck again after storing the groceries. A dash relieved and a whole lot smug. “‘m honoured,” he breathed into the disappearing space between the two of you before his lips found yours.
His house was gorgeous, he mentioned that he he built it himself when he’d pulled into the driveway. And you don’t mean to snoop, and you don’t, but you still wander through the living room after he excused himself to freshen up.
He’d build a one-story house, wrap-around porch with a swing, the living space took over most of the front of the house, a surprising amount of light and a less surprising amount of wood. The couch looked comfortable but judging from the book resting on the armrest of the recliner, it’s easier to assume that he preferred that over the couch. The space didn’t lack warmth but—- it seemed more functional than anything else.
There was a set of photographs on the mantle above the fireplace, all depicting a little girl. They’re older, dated and they seem to stop. At least there were no more after she looked about thirteen or fourteen.
“Sarah,” Joel’s voice cut through the silence. “My daughter,” he stepped closer to you. “Hit and run,” a heavy sadness carried through his voice.
“I’m sorry,” you turned towards him, he’d changed into a simple shirt and a pair of clean jeans, hair still damp. You leaned into him, arm around his back.
“Thank you,” his hand settled on your waist again, keeping you close. “Was a long time ago. She woulda liked you. Your place.” A soft, sad smile settled onto his lips. “Was too smart for her own good."
Over the course of the dinner preparations — you took over potato duty after he begrudgingly let you, you learn that he’d bought the property before. Always with the intention to build. A life for himself here, and Sarah. And how for a while, he did nothing. Swung like a pendulum between working too much and not working at all.
“Got too much. Saw her everywhere,” you got that and couldn’t fault him for deciding to leave and literally, rebuild somewhere new. She’d still come with him, in small ways. The photographs, a framed drawing of two stick-figures you spotted on top of the fridge, in the way he talked about her.
“‘m sorry. Didn’t mean to dull the evening” he’d shooed you from the stove, once the potatoes were in the boiling water, so you’d settled outside with him. Settled on one of the porch chairs while he dealt with the steaks and beans, a glass of wine beside you
“You didn’t,” you were fast to reassure, because he really hadn’t. “She’s a part of you, ’n always will be. Means something you decided to share that with me.”
“How’d you do that?” Joel shook his head. “Always knowin’ what to say?”
“Wanted to be a psychiatrist, once upon a time,” you’d never disclosed what you’d studied for when you dropped out. “Guess I might have made a good one.” You could see the question in his eyes when he glanced back at you. “Long story, life happened.” Joel didn’t press, and you were grateful for that. So the silence that followed wasn’t an uncomfortable one, while you watched the rain that had softened to a drizzle and he flipped the steaks.
“No wonder you read me to shreds,” he huffed, good humour in his voice. “Going three for three between the coffee, sandwich and cinnamon roll.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t psychoanalyse you,” you joked “Or maybe just enough to keep you on your toes.”
“Sounds ‘bout right,” he huffed, plating the steaks just as the timer he’d set for the potatoes went off.
He wasn’t too presumptuous about the condoms, that much became obvious quick when you settled on the couch with him after dinner. Because it didn’t take long for the conversation about everything and nothing to die down because you wound up in his lap instead, fingers in his hair and lips moving against his. You could feel him get hard against you.
“Babygirl, no…-” his voice was rough and he tried to stop you when your fingers moved to the fly of his jeans. “I want—” the words died in his throat when your palm pressed against him.
“Let me,” you breathed against his lips, easing the button open and gradually slipping off of his lap.
“Fuck,” Joel groaned, “You sure?” After your nod, he didn’t try to stop you again but aided you in easing his pants enough until his cock sprung free.
Holy fuck. After this morning you knew that he was bigger than anyone you’d been with before but fuck. Thick and long, pre-cum beading. Mesmerising. You liked your lips, fingers closing around his length, pumping him, once, twice, keeping your eyes on him. Joel watched you, continued to, when your tongue dragged along his tip.
His fingers found your hair, not to guide, just to hold. So he could continue to watch while your lips wrapped around him. Only when you hollowed your cheeks and moved your pumping fingers in tandem did he stop. Because his head fell back and and a moan fell from his lips. “Fuck—- babygirl,” his grip on your hair tightened, but he still didn’t force your head down. “Y’know,” his voice was breathy, when his eyes found yours again. “Been fuckin’ thinkin’bout this,” he admitted, while you kept working him. “Since— since’first time ya popped that fuckin’ gum. Smug smile’n all.”
“Oh I know,” you grinned up at him, string of saliva between your lips and his cock.
“‘course you do,” he groaned, stopping you from working him back into your mouth and before you can protest, he had you on your feet, leading you towards the bedroom. Pants still open and his cock out. “Somethin’ else I wanted t’do,” his voice was low gravel when he guided you down into the dark sheets. And fuck you know what he’s after. “Somethin’ I shoulda done this mornin,’” you lose our pants, the old band tee you’d thrown on in the morning.
You were drenched by the time he eased your panties down your legs, a quivering mess, really because you knew what he was after the second he settled between your thighs. “Gorgeous,” his breath was a hot puff of air against slick skin. “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout her all day. After how tight she squeezed me.” On cue, you clench around nothing.
“Joel,” more whine than moan. “Please?”
“Look at you,” you could hear how smug he was, “All polite,” he rewarded you, with a slow drag of his tongue along the length of your slit. “All please n’ no sass.”
“Fuck,” you cried out and that bastard chuckled, “Quit teasing!” Your fingers tucked on his salt and pepper curls, impatient.
“Goddamnit Joel!” You whined, “I swear to god if you don’t fucking touch me right I’ll spit in your fucking coffee!”
A single smack, sharp, stinging, right against your clit.
You yelped and Joel hummed. “That’s now how you say please, babygirl.”
“Joel,” you whimpered, “Please, Joel, please, please—” and he gave in, his lips closing around your clit and his index finger sinking into you. You’re wound up so tight, the coil behind your navel ready to snap that you were already teetering on the edge when he added a second finger.
“Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He murmured lips glossy with your release when he settled into the sheets beside you. While you still tried to catch your breath. “Sayin’ please, ’n bein’ a good girl.”
“Asshole,” you managed and he snorted. “Still gonna spit into your coffee.” He laughed against your neck where he was peppering kisses.
“Sure you’ll,” he sounded amused “Still gonna drink it.” As if he hadn’t chewed your fucking gum for half of the day.
“Freak,” you laughed, your thighs parting to easily accommodate him as he settled between them, after finally kicking his jeans off.
“Careful now, might need t’bend ya over the bar next time,” Joel teased, his cock dragging against your clit when he hooked one of your legs over his hip.
“That a promise?” The grin died on your lips when your mouth fell open around a moan, drawn forth by him finally sinking into you. Slow, inch by thick fucking inch, letting you feel all of him. You clung to him, fingers in his hair, nails digging into his shoulder, when he finally bottomed out inside of you.
“Look at you squeezin’ me,” he groaned when he started he started to move. “Didn’t got enough this mornin’, did’cha?” even if you would have wanted to, you couldn’t manage a reply. “Greedy girl.”
You fell just a beat before him, pulling him with you when your second orgasm ripped through you, feeling his thick release spilling deep inside of you.
──────────
Joel.
He woke you with a gentle kiss to your forehead and a rumbled “Mornin’ babygirl,” against your temple. You’d told him, before falling asleep, what time you needed to be at the store to open up and he’d set his alarm to ensure he’d have time to take you to our place before. So you could freshen up.
No need for a walk-of-shame.
You life about halfway between his place and the café, and much to his surprise he discovers that you’re quite grumpy the first twenty or so minutes after waking up. Complaining and huffing and puffing and “Gonna bump the hours to 9—8, fuck the early bird,” until he had you into the passenger seat with a handful of cotton-candy-grapes he’d bought on accident.
He pulled into the parking lot right on time, and like the day before, he joined you inside. Needing no instructions this time around to help you set up. At least up to where he’d stopped yesterday.
“I’m afraid I can’t swing three today,” he frowned, watching you pack his sandwich.
“You know where to find me whenever you can,” simple as that. He’d been to your flat now. Had caught a glimpse of the chaos of plants and books you called home. “Might even have dinner ready,” you grinned, “Not steak but, how’s pasta sound?”
“Good, real good,” he mirrored your smile.
“Alright, cowboy,” Joel wanted to roll his eyes but then he watched you pull his travel mug from your tote that you’d left on the counter. He hadn’t realised you’d taken it from the counter beside his coffee machine. Where it had sat, clean and unused, since the day he’d forgotten it for the first time. He was about to grab it, once you’d filled it, except you pulled your hand back. “Wait, almost forgot.” He watched, how you unscrewed the lid and spit into his coffee just like you’d promised you would. Before closing the lid again and handing it to him.
“You’re lucky I don’t have time to bend you over t’bar.” And just to prove a point, he took a swig of the coffee. “‘m sure’ll find a surface fit enough in your flat.”
“Promises, promises,” you sighed dramatically, gum popping and a grin on your lips.
“Fucking menace,” he laughed, drawing you into him. “Don’t spit into any other coffees though, alright?” He breathed against your lips.
15 years ago, you begged Joel Miller for a favour, receiving only silence in response. You left Boston thinking he wasn't interested in your lame bargain. You found out, too late, that Joel Miller actually did do you that favour, fulfilling his end of the bargain, leaving you indebted to him. Now, all these years later, he arrived in Jackson, and you found yourself living your life wondering - will he collect?
WARNINGS:
Non-Canon Compliant, Ellie and Joel are Good, The Hospital Thing Happened but with a Twist, Ellie is a Menace, Ex-Raider Joel Miller, Ex-Smuggler Joel Miller, Joel Miller is a Man of Not So Many Words, Joel Miller is a New Dad All Over Again, Reader has Low Self-Esteem, Reader has a Facial Scar, Reader is a Recluse, Reader is in her mid-40s, Slow Burn, Longing, Yearning, Loneliness, Miscommunication, Jealousy, Joel Needs to Learn to Speak, Bullies, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Period Blood.
Let me know if you want to be tagged or taken off the tag list!
MASTER LIST
Part 11
Disclaimer: I don't Beta my work and English is not my first language, so if there are errors, I am sorry!
Joel Miller was in hell.
Not only was this Parrot bogarting you, but he was also actually making him, Joel Miller, look like a bumbling, stuttering, idiotic baboon that had no place whatsoever in your life.
That stupid Parrot was making Joel Miller redundant. Expendable. Disposable. Sidelined.
That morning had started of badly. He had to watch as Pero woke you up with a soft coo of your name and some Spanish words he didn’t really catch. He had to watch as the two of you smile at each other, reminiscing about waiting for the school bus together and buying some breakfast burrito from the lady outside the school, talking about one particular pastry she usually slipped you with a wink.
He didn’t get it. Okay, you two knew each other back when you were kids. But you hadn’t seen each other in forever. As far as he was concerned, you didn’t know this man. People change.
Take him, for example. Back when he was eight, he used to think that girls were yucky. The memories of Beth Allans and her slobbery, forced kisses on his cheek haunted his sleeps. His stomach used to churn at the thought that she was coming over for a playdate. All she wanted to play was pretend weddings and the last thing Joel wanted was to pretend-marry her.
He also wished Tommy the annoying maggot he couldn’t get rid of would run off into the sunset and never return.
But that was back then.
Now, he had travelled on foot for months to look for his brother. Tommy was his life and he would die to protect him.
And as for girls, well.
All he could think of since he met you was how sad it was for him that he hadn’t met you sooner. He wouldn’t have minded any form of kisses from you, slobbery or otherwise. He would welcome them with open arms. And he would have courted you, dated you, proposed to you, married you, have babies with you. Sarah would have had siblings. You and he would have had a family.
What he wouldn’t do to kiss you again. To tell you everything he had been thinking of when it comes to you ever since that first time he saw you. When you saved his life. The life that, for all it was worth, was hell to live out so far since his little girl was taken away from him. But it’s a life with you in it. And even though you and him separated after mere weeks, the memory of you and those three weeks spent together kept him going. And for the past 15 years, he had hung on by whatever glimpses of you he could remember to keep him alive and motivated.
And now you were right here, and all he could do was fuck up.
Again and again and again.
So what if you had a list? So what if you thought you owed him sex? All he had to do was tell you right away that you didn’t owe him shit, kiss you again and never let go.
But no… he chose to be all hurt and insecure and then proceeded to be a stupid man who then hurt you even more. With Melissa, of all people. He may not have agreed with her plans, but he didn’t exactly do anything to stop her either, all because he needed to know if you would be jealous.
He was going to talk to you. He really was. But it was as if some magical power took a hold of his tongue and tied it into knots every single time he tried. One look, one smile from you, and he was speechless, powerless to say anything. And the other day, he had been ready, he wanted to tell you everything, wanted to apologize, profess his love for you, all of it. But you hulked out, telling him exactly what you thought of him, making him swallow his tongue altogether.
He’s ashamed to admit it, but if he thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen before, you were down right sexy right then. You speaking your mind like that was something to behold. Confident, strong, powerful.
He liked it.
But then of course, that Parrot had to interrupt.
He didn’t like that this Parrot was here. He didn’t like that you trusted him without a second doubt. The man could have changed. He might have been the sweet, moody boy next door back then, he could be a deranged psychopath now, you never know. He could be a bad guy, like, a really, really bad guy. You know, a bad guy who travels with his sick mother to keep her safe.
Damn it, even Joel could hear how stupid he was sounding in his own head.
As Joel watched Pero talk to you while having breakfast, he felt a surge of envy he couldn’t shake off. How was it that talking to you came so easily for this guy? Joel felt as if he had to fight off a battalion of butterflies in his stomach every single time he tried, and this guy, with his stupid accent, made it seem so easy. Like he wouldn’t die if you heard the thoughts in his head coming out of his mouth.
Of course, Pero was not confessing his deepest, darkest desires to you, merely reminiscing, but Joel found himself gritting his teeth every single time anyway. He wanted to reminisce too. But you might find his reminisces creepy.
You didn’t remember the three weeks you had with him, how would that go?
Hey, Elena, remember when you saved me from offing myself?
Hey Elena, remember when I watched you sleep like a fucking creep in the ambulance?
Hey Elena, remember when I gave that dude at the QZ a dirty look when he tried flirting with you?
Nope, not the same as remembering the candy his Abuela used to make for you kids.
And of course, just when Joel couldn’t think of any other way this Parrot man could be more annoying, he proved Joel wrong.
The journey back to Jackson was not a quiet one. The Parrot rode with you in front, Joel following, wary of this dude. Their horses were strapped with offerings from Jimmy in exchange for the clothing and some supplies from Jackson. The man was telling you about his life since outbreak day while you listened intently. Even Joel found himself listening, damn it, starting a commune of his own with his friends.
And then, a couple of clickers made themselves known about 50 yards ahead, your horses going straight for them. Joel got his rifle ready and aimed, so did you, but Parrot moved first, “Make sure there are none from the sides,” he calmly said, riding ahead.
Joel wanted to scream at him, he had no rifle. He was riding ahead at full speed, nothing in his hands. Then, with about 20 yards to go, he drew something from under the cloak he was wearing, and Joel Miller swore his jaw dropped to the ground.
It was a fucking broadsword.
A real, fucking broadsword. Like the ones Joel had seen in all those movies he had been crazy about. All shining and glinting in the morning light.
What?
Like, what the fuck, Parrot? Really? A fucking broadsword?
Parrot didn’t even dismount, simply rode at full speed and sliced the clickers’ head clean off before pulling some sort of stunt, turning the horse around and checking for other threats.
“Pero! There’s another one!” you had shouted, pointing to Parrot’s left.
Parrot didn’t flinch, simply sheathed the glorious sword back into its scabbard and pulled out a throwing knife and threw it at the clicker, sticking it right between the eyes, shouting at his horse and gunning towards it and taking the knife back, all before the clicker even realized what had happened, kicking it square in the chest as he did so, the creature falling back, dead.
Hey, why did you have to tell Parrot about that clicker? Why couldn’t you have told him and let him shoot that one? Give him a chance to show off too?
Joel had to give it to the man. He was practically picking his jaw off the ground. That was the coolest thing he had ever seen in his life. It was like watching some great epic movie, a warrior defending the Great Wall of China or some shit.
But as he rode silently behind you and the Parrot, listening to him regale you of his adventures on the road, Joel found himself just feeling bitter.
He could have been that cool if he had a broadsword too. He liked all those kung fu movies. And Star Wars. And Braveheart. All that. He could have had one, if he had found one. He could have sliced clickers’ heads off too.
Damn it.
He hated the damned guy. Where did he even come from?
You listened as Pero told you of his adventures since the outbreak. His Papa was gone the first day. He came home his usual self and turned right after dinner. His sister Silvia had to shoot him herself, taking their Mama to him right after.
He was at college then, he said, unaware of what was happening until Silvia drove up. He, his college roommate William and his girlfriend Lin escaped, driving to William’s family lakeside cabin, somehow making it unscathed, and had been living there since, living off the land. They had a small commune there themselves, smaller than Jackson, but they made do. The community worked together well, protecting their land from harm and threats as well as they could.
He and his people decided to rely more on traditional weaponry, he said, guns and rifles only used as a first line of defence. “You don’t run out of ammo if you go traditional,” he said. “But such weapons do require close up combat, and that doesn’t come without its own risks,” he added, pointing to his eye. But they lived a quiet, fulfilling life there, they’re happy.
Jimmy’s children went on a particularly long scavenging trip one day and got lost, accidentally wandering into their territory. Some late night talks led them to discover that they were Lauren’s children, eventually putting together that Lauren and Gloria were cousins.
They kept in touch, the boys making the three days journey back a couple of times a year, trading stuff and reconnecting, but during their visit this year, Gloria made it quite clear that she wanted to travel and see her cousin one last time.
“She has been confusing her life with her younger years these days,” Pero said, a heaviness in his voice. “It’s why she thinks you are your mother. All she talks about with Lauren are their childhood memories. It is as if she is stuck in the past, but I am glad for it, there were no clickers in the past,” he said.
So here Pero was, fulfilling his Mama’s wishes while his best friend and his wife travelled to the Tetons for a well-deserved break, Pero enjoying the change in scenery at the farm, meeting you by chance.
The town was awestruck by your arrival. The women were openly staring at Pero, the man looking around with interest. But most of all, the townsfolk were staring at you – sans hood. But you found that you didn’t care anymore, leading the horses straight to the stable. Pero unloaded the flour and bacon he had brought from Jimmy, introducing himself to Hank, who couldn’t be happier with the offerings.
“So, the hood is staying off?” Hank asked, looking proud of you.
You shrugged. “We’ll see, might put it back on if children start screaming and running away from me,” you joked.
He laughed, his eyes on Pero. “Damn, you just attract people who look like Joel Miller around don’t ya?” Hank teased, gawking at the man. “And is that a broadsword?”
“What? What are you talking about?” Joel Miller interrupted, staring at Pero.
“Look at the man, Joel, he’s your doppelganger. Except he’s more… rugged. That scar… it just makes him look dangerous,” Hank said. “And that broadsword… damn…”
“You should have seen the guy in action,” you said, unable to stop yourself.
Pero smiled, “I will teach you how to use one, Elena, if you so wish. And as for your claim that Joel Miller and I look alike, I can see the resemblance. It’s an honour to be compared to him,” Pero said, very light-hearted, very sincere.
“I don’t,” Joel grumped, turning away, busying himself with the saddles, his face practically crumpled up from his grump. How dare this Parrot make himself seem all earnest like that, when he knew for a fact that he had been treating him like he was some kind of an immoral, ungentlemanly leper?
And why would you brag about his prowess with the broadsword like that?
Shit.
You decided to ignore him, telling Pero you would very much like it if he could come with you and meet Maria.
You didn’t ask him to follow, but you and Pero found Joel Miller right behind you when you started walking, sulking as he listened to you tell Pero all about the town. You stopped at the laundromat, telling him this was where you lived.
Pero looked around with interest, his hand shaking the pole that held up your loft, his face crumpled up from worry.
“I have a plan to overhaul this place, we start in a few weeks,” Joel quickly remarked before Pero could say anything.
“Oh?” Pero said, looking interested.
“Yeah, we plan to extend the back, give her a proper room. These walls,” he pointed to the long side of the room, “Are drafty, we’re rebuilding this wall, fixing the roof, and adding a room for her. She’ll be warmer in the winters, a lot more comfortable.”
Wait, why didn’t you know about this?
He must have noticed your confusion.
“We were going to tell you, well, I was going to tell you, that night, but…” he said, trailing off.
Oh.
“That sounds like a lot of work, and a lot of resources, it’s just a laundromat, Joel,” you said, sounding worried.
“No, Elena, this is your home. I want you to be comfortable. I know you sleep in a tent on the loft during winter because it gets so cold in here. The place is suffocatingly warm during the summer because the walls cannot retain cool air. I’m building you a better place. It’s all discussed and cleared. We start in a few weeks. Your business, your life, shouldn’t be affected much, we build the room outside, cut the door once everything is done, and then fix the wall. The committee has agreed.”
“But… we have newcomers all the time, and people need those resources… There are houses to build… I’m fine. Been living here for years, I’ll be okay. I’m used to it. I’m alone anyway, there are families that need houses, Joel.”
Pero didn’t say anything, but he was eyeing you with interest, his eyes narrowed.
Okay, Pero needed to stop staring at you. Why was he staring at you? What was that expression on his face? You couldn’t read this guy, yet you trust him. You didn’t get it.
“So do you, Elena,” Joel Miller gently retorted.
“But these people, some of them have families, children, I’ll be fine…”
“My God, Elena, just because you’re single, doesn’t mean you have to be sidelined. Just let the man build you a nicer place to live in,” Tommy’s voice chimed in, the man suddenly materializing in your doorway. “Hey, Tommy Miller, you must be Pero,” he said, extending a hand to your friend.
“Pero Tovar,” Pero took his hand.
“My God,” Tommy said, looking at both Pero and Joel Miller, “You’re practically twins!” he remarked. “You look more like him than I do! You sure Mama didn’t give birth to a secret twin?” he joked, punching his brother in the arm.
“What are you talking about…” Joel Miller groaned.
Huh… you knew what Hank said. You knew what Jimmy said. But you didn’t quite understand what they were on about. But now… they do sort of look very similar…
“Come on,” Tommy said, smirking at his brother’s annoyance. “You’re invited to morning tea, Pero, my wife would very much like to meet you. She’s the mayor. We just had a baby, so you’re gonna have to go to her, I’m afraid.”
Pero looked at you, eyebrow raised.
“Small town, news travels fast.”
He laughed, “I get it. My commune is a lot smaller. I swear we all get the news the moment the wind blows,” he said.
Maria was waiting on the porch when all of you arrived. “You’re in big trouble,” she warned, looking a bit annoyed at you. “Don’t ever think you can leave the town alone like that and not get in trouble, sister or no sister,” she chastised.
She kissed Joel Miller on the cheek, thanking him for going after you. “You will still answer for that bullshit you pulled with Melissa,” she chastised. “I’m never letting you off that hook, Miller,” she warned. Joel Miller hung his head, knowing a long, unpleasant talking to was coming.
“I like you, Mrs Miller,” Pero said, smiling.
Maria smiled, looking Pero up and down, immediately liking this man.
“And this must be the new Miller,” Pero cooed, going to the bassinet, smiling at Benjy the heartbreaker.
“Yes, this is Benjy,” Maria introduced her son, that proud new mother smile on her face, picking him up, passing him to Pero.
Okay, that was a sight to behold. Pero looked so natural with a baby in his arms. Way too comfortable. He noticed you staring.
“I have many nieces and nephews. I’m everyone’s favourite grumpy uncle,” he explained.
“Hey! Benjy has a favourite grumpy uncle too!” Tommy exclaimed, eyeing Joel Miller.
Okay, was it your imagination or did Joel Miller not like being compared to Pero?
Seriously. What was wrong with everyone?
Why would everyone compare him to this Parrot?
And no… he and Parrot were nothing alike. He was sure he was a bit more relaxed than this guy. Definitely less grumpy. And more handsome, surely? At least to you? Please?
He watched as Pero passed Benjy to you.
His heart dropped.
You had never let him pass Benjy directly to you. You had never passed Benjy directly to him. You always used the bassinet. He tried to once or twice, you’d always insisted he place Benjy in the bassinet before picking him back up. You did the same every time you were passing the baby to him too. It was as if you didn’t want to accidentally touch him.
He watched as Maria and Tommy talk to Pero, the man telling them about his commune. He watched as Maria laughed at his jokes. The same Maria who didn’t want him in town in the first place, the one who hated him without knowing him. And yet, here she was, laughing hysterically at this man she had never met, heck, had never even heard of until today, as if she had known him forever.
And now the man was sharing tips on farming, Maria listening intently as if taking mental notes. Even Tommy, who usually glazed over whenever people started talking about work was listening intently.
Joel Miller’s attention was diverted by a cooing Benjy, lying contentedly in your arms, his eyes fixed on yours.
The sight of you, your hair out, your face out in the open, looking radiant, confident, so much love in your eyes as you whispered praises and loving words to your nephew, a smile on your face, everything he was seeing just took his breath away.
My God, he could not stop himself from planning a future with you.
All he had to do was talk to you. That was all.
You looked up, eyes on his, as if expecting him to say something.
“Joel!” Tommy almost barked.
“What?”
“We’re gonna go to the greenhouse, wanna come with?” Tommy asked.
Pero and Maria were already by the door, staring at him expectantly.
“Uh, no, I should get home. Shower. Get ready for the day.”
“Be right back,” Maria said to you, going over to kiss Benjy. “You okay to watch him for a while?”
“Just go, Auntie Elena wants to have a date with the heartbreaker,” you cooed, convincing yourself that Benjy was smiling and winking at you.
“Uh, the heartbreaker needs a nap, I don’t need a cranky baby when I get back,” Maria warned before leaving.
“You want to sleep sweet boy? Are you tired? Auntie Elena misses you so much,” you said, rocking him slowly with your body, “You go to sleep, I will be right here to keep you company. Nothing bad will happen to you while I’m here Baby Boy, I love you so much!” you said, slowly dancing your way around the living room to lull him to sleep.
“You’re very good with him,” Joel Miller spoke, almost making you jump out of your skin. You’d thought he left when the others did. “Sorry,” he whispered, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You should go, I’ve got him,” you told him, slowly lowering Benjy back into the bassinet, the boy yawning before settling.
“He’s so cute,” you said to yourself.
“He looks like his cousin Sarah when she was a baby,” he said.
“Maybe one day you’ll tell him all about her,” you gently said, seeing his eyes starting to glisten.
“Yeah,” he mouthed.
You sat down, taking the blanket Maria must have used before you got there to fold.
“Elena, can we talk?”
“Uh, okay,” you said, checking that Benjy was asleep.
He sat down across from you, his fingers interlaced with each other in front of him, his heart beating out of his mouth.
“I wanted to apologize… for leaving that night. I shouldn’t have. I should have stayed and talked to you.”
You didn’t answer, didn’t really react, simply kept your head down. Joel didn’t know what to do, wondering of he should keep talking or leave.
What the fuck was the matter with him? Why can’t he just have a proper conversation with you?
“Why did you leave? Did I do something wrong?” you finally asked, practically filling his lungs with much needed oxygen.
Okay, progress.
“No, of course not. It’s just… I saw the list, and I started wondering if… if maybe you were kissing me as payment, not because you wanted to. I didn’t want to continue if it’s the latter, I don’t want to force you into doing anything you don’t want to do.”
Your head was still down, your hand on Benjy’s belly.
“But… you wanted to kiss me?”
“God, yes,” he desperately whispered.
He could practically hear your mind swirling.
“Because you wanted to collect your payment?”
What?
He got up and knelt in front of you.
“No! Never! Elena, listen to me, please, look at me when I say this,” he begged.
Your eyes finally met his.
“Elena, getting that medicine for Eddie was not something I even considered a favour. He was a friend, I would have done anything for him, for you. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything back then, but I didn’t know how to tell you that no payment would be required, seeing as you don’t remember knowing me from before the QZ… I…”
Your head snapped up.
“From before the QZ? We didn’t know each other from before the QZ…”
“We did, Baby, you saved my life! You don’t remember? Up in the trails? I tried to take my own life and you saved me, look!” he sounded so desperate, turning his head, showing you the scar on his temple. “See? You pulled the gun away, you hurt your hand,” he said, taking your hand in his own, turning it, showing you a faded burn scar you had just below your pointer finger. “Please, remember, we spent three weeks together, we looked at the stars every single night, please, Baby. You have to remember. Because if you do, you’ll know, you’ll know I’ve loved you for so long, I would have done anything for you. I’m alive because of you. If anyone owes anyone anything, it’s me who owes you my life.”
You pulled your hand back from him, “No, I went straight to the QZ after outbreak day. Eddie came and saved me from Daniel, and then he took me to the base and we got transferred to the QZ. Eddie worked for the hospital. I met you for the first time at the QZ!”
“No, Elena, we spent three weeks together, we were hiding from the authorities. Me and Tommy, you and Eddie and Carl and Ethan, we were together for three weeks!”
“No, I would remember. I would have remembered. If your claims are true, why don’t I remember? Why would I lose three weeks of my life and not remember meeting you and Tommy?”
Joel stopped himself from blurting out what happened. The fact that you said Eddie saved you from Daniel, that gave him pause. That little recollection you had changed everything. Eddie’s words played in his mind. The memory of how traumatized you were back then, that empty gaze you had when you phased out. He knew it had been twenty years, but he couldn’t risk the possibility of you withdrawing again. What if you did? Would you come back? He didn’t know.
The words got stuck in his throat.
“I don’t know,” he finally said, defeated.
“Well… I know for a fact that Eddie took me straight to safety. So, you can take that story you and Tommy have in your heads elsewhere,” you said, careful not to raise your voice.
Joel felt defeated. He wanted so desperately for you to remember those three weeks. He needed you to believe that you would never owe him anything. That his intentions with you were sincere. That he had been holding a torch for you all these years. God, how could he tell you these if you won’t believe him?
“But…” you suddenly continued, bringing his hopes up, “If you wanted to kiss me, really wanted to kiss me, why did you run to Melissa? Why do that to me?”
“Because I’m dumber than a brick wall,” he sighed, “She told me she could help me get you, make you jealous enough to fight for me. I told her I didn’t want to. But she is relentless. I should have been a lot sterner, I should have stopped her, but… I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the town, didn’t want to chase her away, shout at her. I don’t even know why. But she got so brazen I couldn’t help myself anymore. I shouted at her. But then you ran off, so I went to go after you.”
You scoffed, checking on Benjy one more time and going to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea.
“Please, Elena, I’m sorry. I know I fucked up, but if you could give me another chance… please?”
You kept quiet as you went about filling the mug with hot water, placing a tea bag in it.
“Joel, I don’t know myself well enough to make any decisions. I just found out why my stepmother treated me the way she did all those years ago, and to be honest, with Gloria’s state of mind, I don’t even know if I can believe her. I can’t trust myself to decide anything right now.”
Joel found himself losing the ability to breathe.
“I lived my life being lied to, being taken advantage of, being ridiculed and put down. My behaviour, my way of living, it’s all been what my past has led me to. I’m in my mid-40s, Joel, I’m set in stone. The life I know taught me that no one is kind without cause, without expecting a payback. You and Tommy almost died getting Eddie’s medicine. I promised you I would pay you back, whatever it takes, even if it’s my own body. I know what you said. But I am finding it difficult to believe that you did that out of the goodness of your heart.”
“Elena, please, listen to me,” Joel pleaded, taking your face in his hands. “I know what you’re saying, I’m set in stone too. But if we’re going to go by your way of life, that everything requires payment, consider this. I owe you my life, Elena, if not for you, I wouldn’t be here. So as far as I’m concerned, I have to pay you back for the rest of my life! Wouldn’t you agree?”
You took his hands off your face, “I don’t remember that. And I don’t know if I can just take your words for it. Take Tommy’s words for it.”
“Why would we lie to you Elena?”
“Why would anyone lie? Why would anyone do anything? I don’t know. I don’t have the answers, and I don’t know how to deal with it. This is all so confusing to me, Joel. I’m sorry, but I don’t know who to trust and what is the truth anymore. I need time.”
He looked crestfallen, but he sighed and nodded, following you back into the living room. The two of you sat in silence, neither knowing what to say anymore.
You sat at a table with Pero, Ellie and Joel Miller having lunch. The townsfolk were looking on with interest, both at Pero, wondering who this man was, and at you, eating with the masses without your hood on.
Not that Pero noticed, he was busy answering Ellie’s questions, the teen full on curiosity about his weaponry. She told him of a knife she had, one her mother left her, now lost in transit from her travels.
Just like that, Pero took a butterfly knife he had with him and handed it to her.
Ellie gasped, “Really?”
Pero nodded, “It’s dangerous, you have to be very careful. But I can teach you how to use it well, if you want to learn,” he promised. “I have to come back to help with the garden, and your uncle has expressed interest in learning how to use the broadsword. So I can teach you while I am here next. But you need to promise me you will not use the knife without supervision and practice, yes?”
“I promise,” Ellie said, exaggerating her word, bowing and nodding at the same time, studying the knife.
“Hey, I don’t know about this,” Joel Miller tried to retaliate.
“Oh come on, you had no problem with my old one, why would you have a problem with this one? I didn’t go around stabbing people with that one, why would I do that with this one?” Ellie protested.
Joel didn’t answer. He was not going to say what was on his mind. You couldn’t pay him any amount of money to admit that the Parrot’s involvement was the sole source of his protest.
“Can you teach me how to fight with a broadsword too?” Ellie suddenly asked.
“NO!”
A chorus of three voices exclaimed, earning the three of you a torrent of protests and why nots from the teen.
“Because I said so, that’s why,” Joel Miller said.
“It’s dangerous,” you agreed.
Pero laughed, “That sword is heavier than you,” he coaxed, “When you are strong enough to lift one, then we can talk, yes?”
Oh, fuck this dude. Really? That’s just low. He got to Ellie. Damn it!
“Well, you must be very strong then, if you could lift that sword. I heard the story already,” a familiar voice cooed.
Of course Melissa had heard of a strong, good looking man gracing the town with his presence.
“Although, I’m sure Joel here can do that too, right Joel?” she simpered, pulling a chair to sit next to Joel. “I’m glad you made it home safe, I was worried,” she said, stroking his arm.
He pulled away. “Can you not? Did you not hear what I said yesterday?”
“Joel, I know you don’t mean it. You were worried about hurting Elena’s feelings, but she’s okay, right Elena? We don’t have to hide anymore. She’s got Pero now. And can I just say,” she said, turning to look at you, “You and Pero, you suit each other. Even got matching scars and everything! Although,” she said, leaning over Pero to whisper to you, “I don’t think foregoing the hood is a good idea. On Pero, a scar is sexy. On you? It’s just inconsiderate. Put that hideous thing away, why don’t you? Have you no shame?”
Joel Miller and Ellie didn’t have the time to react. Everything happened so fast. The next thing everyone in the hall knew, Melissa was pulled up and dragged out of the hall.
Pero had tossed Melissa out of the hall like a ragdoll.
“The only shameless and hideous person here is you. Get out of here and don’t bring that stench back any time soon. People are trying to eat,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice. He closed the door behind him before Melissa could take a breath. He sat back down, pushing your plate of food towards you, urging you to eat before focusing on his own meal.
“So that was Melissa?” he asked you.
You nodded.
Pero didn’t say anything, eating the rest of his meal, in silence, though his eyes were on Joel Miller throughout the meal. Ellie must have noticed, the teen holding her tongue the rest of the meal, quietly excusing herself after thanking Pero once more for the knife.
You walked Pero to the stable, thanking him for standing up for you. He merely smiled, telling you he will be back the next day, maybe you could join him for breakfast?
Jesse called your name, telling you that Maria had sent for you and Joel Miller. You gave Pero a quick hug, promising him that you will see him for breakfast before going with Jesse.
Joel made to follow you, but Pero called out his name.
“You let that woman insult Elena like that?” he asked, eyes on him.
Joel could feel his body heat up, both from the embarrassment of his lack of ability to stand up to Melissa and for keeping quiet when it comes to her insults towards you.
“You could treat her better, Joel Miller. She deserves that, no?” he said, getting on his horse and clicking his tongue before Joel could reply.
Joel cursed under his breath, internally berating himself for not being fast enough to defend you. He watched as Pero rode out of the gate, going to Tommy and Maria’s to see what it was that he was needed for.
“So, this is what we get if we had agreed to join you guys in the first place instead of being stubborn and staying at the cabin?” Tom asked, taking the basket filled with clothing and basic supplies with him as he walked out of the warehouse.
You laughed, giving Dean the basket full of baby clothes, the man taking it, eyeing you up and down.
“Almost didn’t recognize you without the hoodie,” he remarked. “Didn’t know that you… look like this,” he added, his eyes roving all over your person.
You didn’t know why, but you had never gotten a good vibe from Dean. Tom and Liz were good enough people, you had always thought, but Dean… he had this… aura… about him. Gave you the heebie-jeebies. He was a good looking man, but there was something about him that’s just… off.
The three of them were no stranger to Jackson. They lived about a day’s walk away, across the dam. They came by every now and again, trading their hunts and scavenges for basic supplies. There used to be 15 of them, but their number had since dwindled. They were invited to join the town some years ago but declined, preferring to live their lives in solitude. But Liz got pregnant, and they made a deal with Maria that they would be allowed to stay for her delivery and recuperation. They were given two rooms in Jesse’s house until Liz gets through her confinement.
“I’ll see you around, I guess. Let’s hope Liz’s baby cooperates. Maybe you and I could get to know each other better,” Dean said, almost sneered as he left the warehouse after Tom.
You had to supress a shudder, feeling all sorts of wrong. You locked the warehouse and crossed the street back to your home, eager to call it a day. But when you entered, a face you didn’t want to see was waiting for you.
It had been two weeks since that encounter at the hall. Melissa had stayed away from you since then, worried that Pero would intervene once more. Joel Miller had taken Pero’s words to heart and made it more than clear to her that he was not going to entertain her in any shape or form ever again, twice in the hall, in front of half the town. She had stuck to her group, although they seemed to be getting tired of her too, these days.
“You still owe me,” she said as you walked into the laundromat.
“What are you talking about Melissa? I’m tired. Can’t you bother me tomorrow?”
“Give me what you owe me, and I will leave you alone,” she insisted.
“I don’t owe you shit,” you said, opening the door wide, gesturing for her to leave.
“Oh, but you do. I don’t know how you do it, but Joel Miller seems to be warded from the superstition, but you are going to help me get a man if it’s the last thing you do. It’s not fair. I waited my turn. You need to get me a man.”
“Huh? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb, Elena. You got half the female population of Jackson the man of their dreams, you owe me one too.”
Your forehead must have crinkled so badly from your confusion. Her demeanour changed.
“Oh my God, are you seriously that obtuse? You really thought the men who asked you out all this while asked you out because they wanted you? Because they were genuinely interested in you?”
Um… no, but you were still confused.
She scoffed, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh my God, you poor thing,” she cooed. “Honey, men who date you will find the love of their lives. It’s practically a guarantee! Why do you think these men date you? Look at you! Why would a man voluntarily want you? You’re like the bitter medicine the men had to endure before being cured. Everyone knows this! Why do you think I was so adamant that you date Joel Miller? You think I went through all that trouble so he could end up with you?”
Part 13
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