Welcome to the ever-growing list of works I'm creating!
Please remember everything is 18+ MDNI !!! Everything will contain SMUT, so be advised and read all warnings!! Also, be sure to follow and turn on notifications for fic updates with @lonely-ey3s-updates !!
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***COMPLETE***
pairing: joel miller (no outbreak) x f!reader
summary: To escape your abusive ex-boyfriend, you enlist in the Army and eventually deploy as a medic. What begins as a pen-pal program you join at your bunkmate’s urging. leads you to Joel Miller, a single father in Texas. Through months of letters, the two of you become each other’s source of comfort and strength, and before long, simple sign-offs like “warm regards” grow into “with all my love.”
Masterlist
***COMPLETE***
pairing: reed richards (no sue) x f!reader
series summary: After taking two of Reed’s classes at the university, you enroll in his physics course and learn that the school is pressuring him to take on a student aide. To your surprise, he chooses you for the position.
Masterlist
***COMPLETE***
pairing: joelmiller!rodeocowboy (no outbreak) x f!reader
series summary: While visiting your family back home, you attend the county fair to watch your younger brother compete in the annual rodeo. What you don’t expect is to catch the attention of Joel Miller, a rugged bull rider determined to win your attention.
Masterlist
***COMPLETE***
pairing: harry castillo(the materialists) x f!reader
series summary: After a long day, you meet Harry for a sushi date, but the lingering tension from your last night together hangs between you. When he invites you back to his place to keep the evening going, you find yourself unable to say no.
Part One | Part Two
***COMPLETE***
pairing: harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader
series summary: After meeting Harry Castillo at your sister’s wedding, he changes the way you see love—showing you not only what it means to be in love, but what it feels like to be truly loved in return.
Masterlist
***COMPLETE***
A one-shot, each day, for the month of October 2025! Some will lead to stories in the future, or some might just be little ideas I've had brewing in my drafts!
main pedrotober masterlist
***ONGOING***
pairing: jackson!joel miller (tlou) x f!reader
this was the winner of the poll with the troupe of: Enemies to lovers, but only one of them thinks they're enemies. The other has been entirely obsessed since the beginning and has the hardest way of showing it.
series summary: He lost his daughter. You lost your family. Survival hardened you both, but in Jackson, you’re asked to be more than survivors. You and Joel clash at every turn—until the possibility of losing each other forces feelings neither of you can ignore into the open.
MAIN MASTERLIST
***ONGOING***
pairing: younger!harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader
series summary: Harry Castillo has spent years building a life in the city, where everything comes at a cost. When his mother’s memory begins to fade, he returns home and hides the truth about who he is, longing for something real. At a familiar diner, he meets you—a resilient single mother raising a son with quiet strength—and finds himself drawn to the life he never knew he wanted. What starts as quiet companionship over cheeseburgers and milkshakes turns into something deeper—Harry faces a choice: reveal the truth and risk losing the only person who sees him for who he truly is—or keep hiding behind the simplicity of being “just Harry.”
MAIN MASTERLIST
***ONGOING***
pairing: harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader
series summary: After being left at the altar, you decide to take your would-be honeymoon alone—an escape to Scotland for Christmas and a much-needed reset. But when a snowstorm and a booking error leave you sharing a suite with Harry Castillo—a wealthy, handsome businessman also seeking solitude after a recent break-up—your quiet getaway turns into something unexpected. Between crackling fires, shared meals, the Christmas spirit, and soft laughter, two strangers learn that sometimes love finds you when everything else falls apart.
MAIN MASTERLIST
***COMING SOON***
pairing: jackson!joel miller (tlou) x f!reader
series summary: It starts with a basket delivery to Seth and a familiar voice that Joel thought he’d never hear again. Years after the world ended, the two of you find each other in Jackson—older, changed, but still tethered by the ghost of what almost was back in Texas.
After all this time, it feels like nothing's changed—including your feelings for each other.
MAIN MASTERLIST
***COMING SOON***
pairing: jackson!joelmiller x f!reader
series summary: You were supposed to be just patrol partners. No one knows about the late-night visits, the quiet breakfasts, or the way he looks at you like you're the last good thing left in this world.
MAIN MASTERLIST
ONE SHOTS
joel miller!knight x f!reader (princess)
joel miller!neighbor x f!reader (snow shoveling neighbor fluff)
Be Mine (Valentine's Day) joelmiller x f!reader
Second Chances jackson!joel x f!reader (PPCU writing challange)
Between the Beats (Valentine's Day) early jackon!joel miller x f!reader
first, i've updated my main masterlist so go check that out!
next, i don't know quite how to say this, so i'm just going to say it.
i need help.
last night, my partner was unfortunately laid off without any notice. it was a job that doesn't have a severance package, so basically, we're fucked. now, i work full-time and will pick up overtime when i can, but its not enough, even with unemployment... and i'm genuinely freaking out.
we already are living paycheck to paycheck, we are in a mountain of debt from a number of unfortunate events. bottom line is i'm just scared. scared because i don't know how fast they'll find a job in the current job market... scared because everything costs so fucking much. and without a second income, i don't know what i'm going to do.
so, here's what i'm offering. i was going to postpone this until maybe the end of summer, but the universe has a funny way of lighting a fire under my ass lately soo why not do it with this.
i'm going to start doing commissions through Ko-Fi ✨ i will also be offering a couple of tiers of memberships, which you can find more information here.
if you'd like to just donate a dollar or two, if you like one of my stories, you can do that too. anything helps 🖤
if you aren't able to do anything, please share, comment, and give a like to my stories! i love hearing feedback from all of you.
i appreciate all your love and support you've given me over this past year of being on this platform and especially these last few months where i've been in and out. you are all so amazing, and i can't put into words how much you all mean ✨
pairing: jacksonjoel! x f!reader
word count: 5.7k
warnings: established relationship, angst, mentions of an injury, betrayal-ish, mentions of depression themes, intoxication (reader is at one point a little tipsy), arguing, without giving spoilers away: SMUT (18+ MDNI).
a/n: this is part of @pedroscurls's PPCU challenge. i'm a couple of days late in posting, but I still wanted to participate as it got me out of a writing funk.
my one line of dialogue is "You don't give a shit about me."
i am glad to have been able to write something for this challenge, as it's been so damn hard for me lately. so thank you jamie, for helping me get somewhat back on the horse! i'm hoping this is the start of getting back into the swing of things.
please check out the other stories that were written for this challenge - i'm sure they are all so amazing - i'm still working my way through them 🖤 anyways, as always, enjoy!! xx
Joel stirred awake at the sound of the front door creaking open.
It only took his brain a moment before an immediate wave of relief washed over him—especially hearing it click shut. That simple sound brought him nothing but relief after the evening you two had just had hours earlier.
Earlier that day - 6:21 PM
Joel sighed as he sat down on the bench near the front door to begin taking off his boots, watching you hang up your jacket a few feet from him. “I'm sorry, I just... I don’t understand why you’re so upset…”
Yeah, that’s not the right thing to say to someone who had been a swirling storm ever since you'd left Maria’s office. Meaning, the walk home had been completely silent. You gave him the cold shoulder, walked two paces in front of him—steam rolling off you in a fiery fit of anger.
“So upset?” You echoed, scoffing as you let your foot go—your disbelief for such a diabolical question completely stopping the motion of taking your boots off. “Why wouldn’t I be upset? You stood there and told everyone I wasn’t ready to go back out—”
“Because you aren’t!” He looked up at you from where he sat, voice laced with a painful type of honesty.
You stood there for a moment, silent, shocked by his bluntness.
Joel sighed as he set his boot down beside his leg before continuing, softening his voice a touch. “Baby, you… You can’t act like you aren’t wakin’ up every mornin’ in pain. That going back out would smart with how bad your knee has been treatin' you..”
You swallowed the sour words you had cocked and loaded to spit back if he’d said anything else, but this? He was right about this. And god damnit, he knew you knew he was right.
You hated how you couldn’t lie to yourself. Not when you did wake up every damn morning stiff and aching. You hated it—getting older, but also you couldn’t deny that your knee hadn’t been the same since the accident less than a season ago. No matter how hard you tried to push yourself or ignore it—you couldn’t pretend it was ever going to be like it was. You were forever going to be feeling the ramifications of that day.
But on a more important note—you couldn’t stand to wake up and live another day in this.
You needed to get back to the swing of things. You needed some sense of normalcy; you needed to get back to your routine.
And somehow you thought Joel of all people would understand that. But now? Now you felt that maybe he didn't know you at all.
God, you hated that.
You shook your head and looked down at the ground, trying to keep yourself from boiling over again. “You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”
When he didn't answer, you looked up just as he shook his head and slightly rolled his eyes—getting ready to cut in. Big mistake.
“No, you don't get to roll your eyes. You don't get to do that… God, you don’t get to stand there like you speak for me and—”
“And what? Tell the truth?” He scoffed as he stood, cutting you off again—shedding his jacket from his shoulders, moving past to hang it up on the coat rack. “You were there... You heard them ask me what I thought and I—”
You turned your body to follow him, your voice starting to rise like the fire in your chest as you interrupted now, “You told them that I’d be a fucking liability, Joel!”
You rarely ever called him by his name in moments like this—but he wasn't stupid. He knew when you did, it was more serious than he was treating it. And especially now, with the way you were looking at him? He knew you were more than just hurt.
“No, I…I didn’t say that—” He started to try and reason, taking a step toward you, reaching out for your hand or to try and ease you.
But you stepped back.
You stepped back and kept your hand away, putting it behind you, your voice having a fraction of restraint, “No... no, you don’t get to do... that.”
“Do what?” He asked, trying not to show how much that singular motion wounded him.
“You can’t do that." You took a shaky breath and shook your head as you looked down at your half-unlaced boot. “You can't act like you did nothing wrong, Joel.”
“But I didn’t—I just…” He sighed, feeling like no matter what he said, you weren’t in the place to hear him, you were too upset. “What did you want me to say? What would you have me do? Lie?…”
“I just... I just feel it wasn’t your place to say anything…”
He furrowed his brow, confused by the things you were saying. “Wasn’t my place?”
You hesitated, but then you went to shake your head only for your body to betray you into a shrug, like you were unsure. Your heart's silent way of telling you deep down it was his place—just like it was yours with him.
“I don't understand." He scoffed—now his anger was starting to simmer at how cold you were being. "Then tell me, what is my place?”
The way he firmly planted himself made you clench your jaw in frustration at his stubbornness. He wasn't going to let this go.
“I’m not doing this… You know what I meant.” You muttered as you knelt to lace your boot. You needed to cool off, and he wasn't going to let you do that here. Not now that things were misinterpreted and tempers were sure to boil over.
Joel looked down at you and shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, “Apparently, I don’t. Apparently, you and I are on two different pages of what is and isn’t our place. So enlighten me, please. What is my place?”
The more he kept pushing, the more he kept pressing on a button that was going to make you react in a way you hadn't around him yet.
“Joel, stop.” You warned, your hands starting to shake in anger or frustration... but it was only making it worse as you had to retie the lace again.
“No, tell me.” He pressed again, his tone losing that softness it started with.
Your head was swimming with nothing but anger. Enough that you knew if you fed into this, you’d say things out of that ugly place it always took you to. Things you’d regret.
“I’m not doing this right now. I can’t…” You muttered as you pulled the laces in a sloppy, half-assed bow out of frustration and rose to your feet, moving past him to grab your jacket you’d just hung up. “I... I can’t do this with you.”
“Can’t do this? What? You can’t talk things through?” He followed you, his heart now pounding in his ears—his anger taking over faster than he could control. “Look, I know we’re new to this… this…” He scoffed a small cold chuckle before continuing, “...God, whatever this is.”
You pulled your jacket on and kept your gaze down, biting the side of your cheek to keep yourself silent.
But silence didn’t bring him comfort. But would it to anyone else? With all the things you were saying? All the things you weren't?
For Joel, it just fed into his insecurities about not being good enough—not being enough to fight for. It cracked the very fragile part of himself that he had only opened for you.
He watched you for a moment, watched you struggle to line up the zipper to your jacket. Something in him didn't understand that you weren’t stepping away—you were stepping back.
You needed to pause.
You needed to find your head and pull it out of your ass.
But he just saw someone leaving—someone hurting him.
So he did what every insecure man does when they feel small…
He kept fucking talking until he would regret it.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and painfully chuckled. “Right, because I guess the only place you see me being is the one between your—”
But then he stopped the moment his brain caught up with his ass was about to say.
Something that wouldn’t be easy to take back.
You finally lined up the zipper and pulled it up in a sharp and quick motion, your eyes finding his—filled with hurt at the words he left lingering on the tip of his tongue.
“What? Between my legs?...” You paused for a moment and looked at him—really looked at him before finishing off with, “You really think that’s all we are?...” Not able to help the way your voice broke on that last word—your eyes suddenly started to burn as they filled with tears.
His face fell in that sad puppy sort of way that only he could achieve, especially in moments like these—in moments where he knew he massively fucked up.
“N-No, fuck, I didn’t mean that… I–” He took a step toward you, instinct making him reach out for you.
You felt a heat crawl up your neck, and tears suddenly started to cloud your vision. But before he could see any of that, you brushed past him and headed for the front door.
“Fuck… I was so stupid." You mumbled, wiping a tear that fell down your cheek.
Your voice broke as you felt yourself start to spiral. "You... You don’t give a shit about me if that’s what you think that is all we are...”
"No, whoa, hey... no." He started to scramble, not knowing what to say, what to do. How to fix this. "Sweetheart, you know that you mean more to me than anythin' in this world."
You didn't need to hear this. You weren't going to believe it, no matter how sad or desperate he sounded.
You needed air. You needed to get out of this damn hallway. You needed a fucking drink.
You reached for the doorknob and twisted it. “I need to go. I... I need to leave.” You said a bit louder, your voice still unsteady.
“No, No… baby—fuck, you know I didn’t mean that.” Joel quickly followed after you, putting his hand on the door from behind you—in an attempt to keep it shut just as you were about to pull it open. “Baby, I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t mean that. Please. Please don’t leave.”
You stayed facing the door, your hand clenched around the handle, voice small and eerily even. “Joel... let me go.”
Joel stayed there for a second, contemplating his options before he slowly let his hand off the door with a soft, defeated sigh.
His voice softened to a gentle plea as he stayed where he was, standing behind you, “Please don’t go. Please—”
You could feel the warmth radiating off of him as he stood behind you. You could smell the comforting scent of his citrus and pine soap with each inhale.
The urge every atom in your being was fighting against? Not to take a single step back? It was painful.
Because in any other scenario, you would fold. You would take that step back and lean into him. You’d surrender in the name of your love for him and let all this anger go.
You’d let him wrap you in his arms and hold you close. You’d melt against him, and he'd lean over your shoulder and kiss your neck—in that soft, sweet way he'd begin to apologize.
You’d stop being so damn stubborn and let the man love you in the way you never felt you deserved—even though he insisted every day he’d never stop trying to show you how much you do.
But this time, it felt different. This wasn’t any other fight you two had come across in the past.
This struck something deep that you didn’t know how to navigate. It was something you hadn't ever felt.
It was something that only came from the world ending and finding yourself with someone. It was unfamiliar territory, and that was terrifying.
However, the longer you stood there, the more Joel could feel you fighting back every instinct. He could feel the energy pulsing off of you.
So he did what he always did: he moved in to offer comfort.
He moved a few inches closer, closing the space even more so that you would be able to feel his breath against your neck as he continued to softly plead, “All I meant… all I was tryin’ to do was protect you by what I said with Maria. I need..." He sighed softly, his hand hovering the side of your hip. "I need you safe…”
Your eyelids betrayed you as they slowly closed—only for a few seconds—but it was enough that you felt yourself lean back and touch his chest before you snapped forward and shook your head, shaking yourself out of his spell. “Joel, please…”
You opened the door to leave when his voice came one last time from behind you, completely broken. “You know that I’d never hurt you. You know how much I need you... how much I love you…”
You held onto the doorknob—your knuckles now turning white as you allowed a few tears to run down your cheeks before you nodded and swallowed the lump sitting high in the back of your throat.
“Of course I do.”
Then you looked back at him, and there he saw it: the utter heartbreak you’d been hiding under all that anger since leaving Maria’s office.
“But that makes what you did hurt even worse…” You choked out before turning around and walking out—softly shutting the door behind you.
Joel stood there and just stared at the door. He didn't move from that spot for an hour before he moved to sit at the bench—where he sat for a few more hours.
Waiting for you.
Waiting to make things right. To be there when you get back.
If you came back.
He’d just drifted to sleep when he heard the front door creak open. He didn’t waste a moment before he moved to sit up in bed—his racing.
He turned the nightstand’s lamp on and saw the time on the clock next to it:
12:11 AM
He realized he'd been asleep for no more than 20 minutes, and that in some way felt like he’d betrayed you. By not being down there when you came home.
“Baby?” He called from the bed before rushing to his feet and slowly stepping towards the door—slightly hesitating in case he'd dreamt the sound.
He heard you stumble and crash into what he could only assume was the coat rack before you called out, “Jesus, you’re still awake?” Your voice filled with a small level of disbelief, like you didn't expect him to wait up.
He rushed out of the bedroom and stopped at the top of the stairs to see you at the bottom, already looking up for him.
You looked lighter than before—not so angry or upset. Needless to say, however much relief that brought him, he couldn’t assume and risk a repeat of earlier.
“Well... yeah, I...” He said softly as he stepped down a few steps before sitting on the top stair, keeping his voice gentle. “I wanted to be awake when you got home. You know, in case you wanted to talk or—”
“Mm, I was angry... and real fuckin' stupid earlier...” You hiccupped as you cut him off, holding tightly onto the railing, keeping yourself steady as it was clear now that you were a bit tipsy.
“Whoa, hey... no… I said some really—” Joel tried to start, only for you to cut him off again.
You hiccupped louder, and you waved your hand out in front of you to stop him, “Mm, stop talking and let me get this out, m'kay?”
Joel couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his lips before he exhaled in mock defeat and nodded towards you, “Okay…”
You took a deep breath and stumbled up a few steps, slightly tripping on the third one, but caught yourself and looked up at him again. “I... I was angry for several reasons...” You sighed and shrugged as you saw him soften somehow even more as he waited for you to carry on. “I felt angry for feeling overwhelmed at the way I literally can’t do the one thing I’ve been doing since I got to Jackson.”
You looked away for a moment, trying to find the words—before looking down.
“For… For feeling like a burden to you and Ellie while I've been recovering.” Your voice changed, like there was shame woven into it.
You heard him inhale, like he was going to speak up, so you quickly continued, needing to get it all on the table.
“I felt—no, I feel like I’m losing my sense of routine. I just—I was or am… feeling a lot.” You looked up at him to only see him give you the softest nod—like he was giving you the small nudge to keep going.
You swallowed and took another step up towards him—this one more solid—opening up more. “But… what I was mostly upset about is… because I tried lying to myself and everyone else today. But you?” You helplessly chuckled as you pinched the bridge of your nose, slightly annoyed that you didn’t understand this before.
“You held me accountable."
Joel hummed in agreement before he tilted his head slightly, watching you—like he was reading all the unspoken things you were holding back.
“Tell me more…” He plead.
Your cheeks warmed at the soft patience of his voice before putting your hand back on the rail, thinking of how to put what you wanted to say into words, before looking up at him.
But then you realized who was looking down at you with those soft brown eyes, and suddenly, the need for perfect words and for it all to make sense left.
"I uhm, I talked to Gail... at the bar tonight, and she said a lot of things that just… fuck—they obnoxiously made sense..." You started to chuckle.
Joel grinned as he leaned in to listen.
"She said that I uhm..." You sighed as you shut your eyes tightly, trying to remember Gail's exact words. “That I didn't communicate my feelings and anxieties before going to Maria's… and so, when it didn’t go my way—she said that ‘I put an unfair amount of blame on you’..."
You slowly opened your eyes and shrugged as you looked down at the step in front of you. Focusing on the small line of finish that had worn off the wood. "I guess… what I need to come to terms with is, I'm a bit rusty and should probably retire from patrol with how bad my knee is..."
Joel simply hummed again, not in agreement or anything—just to let you know he’d been listening.
But this time, when you looked up at him, the weight of everything that had been said and happened earlier caught in the back of your throat. Your lip quivered before you whispered, “And I’m sorry. I—I’m so sorry for leaving. I know that—” The shakiness in your voice instantly made Joel move to come racing down the stairs toward you.
“Hey, hey no… c’mere—” He whispered tenderly before collapsing back down on the stairs in front of you, reaching to put his hands on your cheeks.
“Can I say somethin’ now?” He asked as his thumb brushed a tear away.
You let out a sad chuckle and nodded, stepping closer to lean into his warm hold.
His eyes danced across your face as he studied you for a few seconds before softly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“You mean more to me than I will ever be able to… say or show you.” His thumb wiped another of your tears away. “But if tonight taught me anything? It showed me a real ugly taste of what my life would be without you.”
You leaned into his hand and couldn’t help but smile, “That bad, huh?”
“Mm, horribly miserable darlin’…” Joel murmured as his lips matched your smile and his thumb began gently stroking back and forth over your cheek. “I never want to go up to that cold bed alone, mm?”
Your cheeks warmed a soft blush, and you closed your eyes as you hummed in agreement, “Can’t say I wanted my evening to be spent nursing a bottle of vodka… getting therapized by Gail of all people…”
That made Joel chuckle—but the noise only came through his nostrils and through his chest.
The sound was so small and simple… but it was that familiar vibration that always warmed your soul.
It was the warmth that welcomed you every morning when he kissed you awake. The sound that he couldn’t help but let out when he pulled you close and begged for five more minutes with you—which always made you smile and giggle—as you’d never dare deny yourself of that level of absolute bliss, especially with him.
But tonight, it was the trigger that you needed. It was the spark needed to feel that same wave of relief that washed over Joel after hearing the door click—this was your wave.
You opened your eyes to find him already soaking you in, in a way only poets could describe. In a way that no matter how deep you looked, you couldn’t find a single ounce of anger or betrayal that was there before.
Nothing ill harbored towards you.
Instead, there was nothing but love and respect and compassion and absolute commitment.
But then again, Joel could never hold anything against you after a fight for long. If there was one weakness that man had, it was his devotion to you.
He was utterly and helplessly in love with you and could never stay upset for too long—even when you were the one who massively fucked up.
Instead, he forgave you—every single time.
He moved on.
He gave you a second chance more times than you felt you deserved.
He was the one good and fair thing this world had given you after taking so much away. And you were the same to him.
You were his second chance at being happy—being truly, stupidly, blindly, and endlessly happy.
“Well, in that case, how about we finish out the night… the right way…and head upstairs?” He murmured as he pulled down to his lips—adding before his lips touched yours, "Let me make it up to you..."
You leaned into him as you kissed him slowly the first time, lingering on his lips long enough to taste the peppermint from his toothpaste. You then moved your hand off the railing to land on his chest before gripping the soft fabric of his t-shirt and kissing him again, deeper this time.
He inhaled at what that did to him and moved one of his hands through your hair to cradle the back of your neck—while the other moved down to your waist to pull you up to straddle his lap, muttering, “Mm, c’mere…”
You blindly stumbled up the few stairs needed to meet him, giggling against his lips before straddling his lap and kissing him deeper. Your free arm easily wrapped around his shoulder—bringing yourself close enough that your chest pressed against his.
His hand stayed cradled at your neck as his lips moved against yours in a slow and deep passionate fit of kisses. Your hand slowly moved to thread through the soft curls at the back of his neck, softly panting between each pass.
Eventually, you slid your tongue gradually more and more between his lips—a silent plea for more—until his began dancing with yours.
Joel groaned before his hands moved down to grip your ass, moving your hips to grind against the thin fabric of his pajama pants—sending a clear message he also wanted more.
You moaned quietly at the growing bulge grinding slowly against the seam of your jeans. You pulled back only for his lips to move to your jawline, then your neck, sucking soft marks into your skin.
“Joel…” You breathed, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers curled around his hair, holding him right where you wanted him.
There. That was the version of his name he loved to hear roll off your tongue.
He groaned, the rumble coming up from deep in his chest—bouncing off the soft skin he had between his lips as he began making his mark.
His hands stayed on your ass, grinding you back and forth against his lap until you eventually began doing it yourself.
Your breathing became heavier before small whimpers bubbled their way out—making him smirk against your skin. “Mm, I love when you make those sounds.” He muttered before slowly gliding his lips across your skin, back up to yours, before kissing you passionately.
You kissed him back, continuing your rhythm against his growing erection that was now stimulating something for you with each pass it rubbed against your clit. You could feel his hands move up your body and then underneath your shirt to eventually tug your bra down before he cupped your tit—making your breath hitch in between a kiss.
You kissed him harder, a touch sloppier, as you both were too hot and hungry for each other. So when you pulled back, he chased after you—his eyes lidded and grinning wide.
"Where do you think you're going?" He murmured leaning in for you, palming your breast with one hand and gripping your waist with the other.
You moaned again, your breath hot against his lips before you kissed him once more—this time slowly pulling back and leaning your forehead against his.
"Ellie... she's down the hall..." You whispered as you combed your fingers through his curls, your hips slowing down their rhythm.
"Mhm, and she's one of the heaviest sleepers we know..." He grinned as his thumb teased your nipple, making you gasp, and your hips roll once more against him.
"Come on... think about it..." He almost sounded like he was begging.
Your cheeks flushed red at how hot that made you feel. How wet you could feel yourself getting, imagining the thrill of it all—the thought of what could be done on these stairs.
But then you realized two pretty important points:
You were still somewhat drunk. Additionally to that point, you were in no way, shape, or form going to have the coordination to fuck him on these stairs.
You both were not as young as you'd like to believe. Because if you were to put it back in your pants for a second? You'd both agree that the outcome would most likely end in one or the both of you getting hurt, rather than having any fun.
Joel took your silence as a way to further his cause—so he leaned in and kissed your chin, then jawline, humming along with each kiss.
"You could ride me, right here... give me a show with those pretty little tits of yours." He purred before lightly pinching the bud of your nipple.
Your grip tightened on his shoulder—the instant sensation shooting a heat down to your core. You bit your lip to hold in a moan that would be loud enough to stir the house.
"Or I could bend you over... get you on your hands and knees..." Another small pinch and kiss to the soft spot just under your jawline. "Watch that perfect pussy of yours take me so well from behind..."
Your eyes fluttered shut, and you swallowed down another moan. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't help the way your hips began to grind slowly against him—helplessly weak to feel his cock move against your cunt.
His teeth gently grazed your jawline before he groaned, feeling your hips press further onto him—your passive way of teasing him back.
"You and I both know we don't have the back or knees for these damn stairs..." You breathed before a moan slipped out, as he lightly pinched and tugged at your nipple—easily driving you mad with lust.
"Fuck, well if that’s the case… you gotta stop makin' those little noises you know I like, baby..." He teased before tugging lightly again at your nipple. "You're going to make me weak in the knees...” He kissed down your neck to the hem of your shirt before kissing back up. “…then I’ll really be unable to make it up to the bedroom."
Your head was swimming and everything in you screamed to stay where you were. But, when the perfect moment came, for that small pause of when his lips reached up for yours—you put your hand on his chest and gently pushed him away, putting his back against the stairs.
Something similar to a growl escaped from his chest and rumbled against your palm as he looked at you with that devilish smirk. “What are you up to?"
You kept your hand on his chest as you maneuvered up and off his lap to stand in front of him—his hands sliding off your body.
He looked up at you from where he sat—drinking you in—his chest lightly heaving, lips pink and swollen.
You began to undo your belt, keeping eye contact, trying—and failing—not to grin too wide as you whispered, “Giving you some motivation to get upstairs…”
Joel watched as your pants slid down and off your body before you kicked them down the few stairs behind you.
He bit his bottom lip as his eyes locked in on you standing there—wearing his favorite lacy black panties. “Mm darlin’, you could be wearing a fuckin’ parka, and I’d want you on your hands and knees.”
You crossed your arms over your torso to grab the hem of your shirt before you slowly pulled it up over your head—revealing a matching lace black bra, one that left little to the imagination.
You tilted your head to the side and bit your lip as you noticed his hand had moved into his lap. He had starting to stroking himself slowly—needing relief.
"You're favorite, right?" You teased as your thumb slid just barely, underneath the elastic around your hip.
He groaned as he watched—nodding once at you. "You're being a tease, baby..."
You smirked and tossed your hair to one side, another one of his favorite sights before innocently asking, "Am I?"
He groaned, the sound animalistic as he tightened his grip and nodded. "You know what you're doing."
"Do I?" You cooed, knowing you were getting him pent up.
He watched you slowly draw the elastic down your hip bone—exposing that soft skin between your hip and mound. His jaw clenched, and his eyes fluttered shut as he let out a small whimper. “F-Fuck…”
You smirked as you stepped up a stair to stand more so over him than eye level. You put your hands on his knees and leaned forward—your cleavage was on full display—another one of his favorites.
“Tell me how you want me waiting for you…” You purred, slowly moving in—inches from his lips—making his eyes open immediately.
You now fully had his attention. And as you expected, his eyes dipped down to your tits like the man couldn’t help himself.
"Mm, eyes up here, handsome..." You taunted.
His gaze darkened as it snapped up to meet yours, his smirk widening as he moved to lean forward—wanting to catch your lips—only for you to tease him and pull back.
"Tell me..." You whispered as you began sliding your hands slowly up his thighs.
His breath hitched the further your hands crawled. He swallowed before lightly nudging his nose against yours, "Fuck... we should fight more often if it gets you like this..."
"Joel..." You whispered, like a soft warning for him to focus.
"On your back." He nudged your nose again, his eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his head to the side to kiss you—needing your lips on his. "Legs spread wide, like the good girl you are."
You bit your bottom lip and muttered as you leaned in to meet his lips with yours, "Yes, sir..."
He groaned as your lips collided in a deep and passionate kiss. He waited only moments before he couldn't resist but reach up and cup your cheeks as he continued to kiss you—getting slowly sloppier and heated with each kiss.
You moaned softly, the sound not able to be held back when he kissed you like this.
You felt his tongue begin to dance with yours and for a small moment, you were tempted to say 'Fuck it' and crawl back into his lap.
You could easily pull your panties to one side and pull him out through that buttoned up opening—one that you were no stranger to.
It took everything in you not to give in.
So before you did something you'd both regret in the morning, you ran one of your hands up his abdomen to his chest before gently pushing him back against the stairs again—your lips reluctant to separate as your foreheads stayed together .
"Mm, wait—" He mumbled, out of breath, slightly dazed.
You murmured as you nudged his nose playfully, "Don’t keep me waiting.”
Then you maneuvered past him and began rushing up the stairs, tossing your bra behind you at him.
He snapped out of whatever spell he was in at the feeling of it hitting the back of his head—only to spin around and find you at the top of the stairs with your panties around your ankle—giggling as you kicked them down the stairs at him—swiftly flicking your index finger, beckoning him to join you.
pairing: younger!harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader
series summary: Harry Castillo has spent years building a life in the city where everything has a price—except honesty. When his mother’s memory begins to fade, he returns home and hides the truth about who he is for the sake of being seen—craving something ordinary, something real. When he finds himself at a familiar diner he used to visit as a kid, he meets you—a single mother with a son who carries a thousand quiet burdens, and a resilience he can’t look away from.
But what starts as quiet companionship over cheeseburgers and milkshakes turns into something deeper—Harry faces a choice: reveal the truth and risk losing the only person who sees him for who he truly is—or keep hiding behind the simplicity of being “just Harry.”
series warning(s): fluff, slow burn, hidden identity, mutual pining, Harry speaks Spanish (translations will be there), fighting/arguments, SMUT 18+ MDNI (each chapter will have their own warnings), reader is a single mother, absent/abusive baby daddy, protective Harry, Harry's mom has Alzheimer's, betrayal, "you're not just a waitress to me" energy, angst, dishonesty, switched POV, more warnings with each chapter.
a/n: also, requests are open until the end of the year
pairing: harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader
word count: 11k
chapter summary: You and Harry attend Alan's Christmas party together after he surprises you.
chapter warning(s): strangers to lovers (finally), accidental roommates troupe, forced proximity setup, double booking troupe, Christmas romance, Harry is smitten over you, fluff, slow burn, mutual pining, pet names in spanish and english, gaelic speaking, reader was recently left at the altar, Harry and Lucy just broke up, 'Christmas hallmark movie' energy, sexual tension, tooth rotting fluff, flirting.
a/n: i really appreciate your patience as this is soo overdue for an update. <33 i'm pretty sure the last chapter won't be done for a few weeks as i'm trying to cycle through each story i currently have out to wrap them up.
as always, enjoy <333
main masterlist
“Well, I had a lot of fun today!” you said as you slid the key into the lock, the lock clicking softly before the door began to open.
“Mhm, so did I!” Rachelle giggled behind you. “I’m absolutely blaming you, just so you know, when Tim sees the credit card statement.”
You chuckled as you cracked the door open. “Good thing I’ll be in Jersey then, won’t it?”
She wagged her finger at you, smirking. “Or New York… if ya know what I mean.”
You blushed immediately and bit your bottom lip, glancing down at the bags in your hands shyly as warmth crept into your cheeks. “Right, well, I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Dinner?”
“Absolutely—We’ll see you tomorrow.” She nodded toward the door as she took a few steps down the hall towards her room.
“You go have a good night with Harry, yeah?” She said with a grin.
“You and Tim do the same,” you said warmly and utterly oblivious, before stepping inside.
The door closed softly behind you, and you were instantly greeted by the low, familiar hum of the record player drifting through the suite—the soft hum of Christmas music filing the space.
The lights were on low, nothing but the lamps and Christmas tree on—the atmosphere was nothing short of cozy and warm—but, there was no sign of Harry in the living room or kitchen.
You glanced around once, then noticed the glow of light coming from the bedroom down the hall.
A smile tugged at your lips as you called out, locking the door behind you, “Harry? You here?”
“Hey, baby! Yeah, I’m just in the bedroom,” he called back easily. “How was your day with Rachelle?”
You set the bags down near the door and started taking off your coat, scarf, and boots. “It was fun! We were lucky and got a lot of stuff on sale.” You picked up the grocery bags and headed toward the kitchen to set them down on the counter, excited to show Harry what you’d found. “How was your day with Tim?”
“It was good!” he answered, his voice a little closer. “We got exactly what we needed…”
“I’m glad to hear that.” You softly said as you began unpacking what you’d bought from a small market that was open—setting out some cheese, grapes, crackers, and little chocolates—arranging them neatly on the counter.
“Hey, I picked up a few things from the market… I was thinking we could maybe start that puzzle of yours and snack on a few things…”
You heard his footsteps behind you, slow and deliberate, and you smiled to yourself as you continued unpacking, “… maybe have a glass of wine before we head down for the MacGregors’ dinner?”
There was only a moment before you heard him murmur from behind you, “I actually have something else planned for us tonight…”
Before you could turn, his hands settled at your waist, always so warm and sure as he began pulling you slowly back against him.
“Oh, really?”
You couldn’t help but giggle as you felt him move your hair off your shoulder and lean in to kiss the side of your neck.
“Mmhm.” He hummed, his lips lingering there, his breath warm against your skin. His hands slid slowly up your arms to your shoulders, then drifting up and forward—before gently and carefully covering your eyes.
You laughed, startled and amused, bringing your hands up to rest over his as you teased. “Oh god. This is it. I’m finally becoming your ninth victim…”
He couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out of him. “Jesus. You think I have that many victims?”
You shrugged playfully. “You have the charm and the looks… so maybe more than nine now that I think about it.”
“Oh, Dios, ayúdame,” (Oh God, help me) he muttered with a soft shake of his head, grinning to himself before asking more quietly, “Well, in that case… do you trust me?”
You giggled another moment before trying to peek through his fingers. “Harry… what are you doing?”
He smiled against your skin and kissed your neck again before repeating, softer, “Do you trust me?”
You bit your bottom lip, the teasing fading into something gentler as you nodded and slowly dropped your hands to your sides. “Of course I do.”
He started to gently guide you out of the kitchen before saying, “We aren’t going to the MacGregors’ tonight…”
You stepped carefully, trusting him completely, realizing you were walking toward the bedroom and blushed thinking this was going a completely different way. “We aren’t…?”
“We aren’t.” He said, your feet feeling the transition from the hard tile flooring to the soft carpet of the bedroom.
When he stopped you, you smiled wider, excitement building. “Then what are we doing tonight?”
“Well…” He positioned you exactly where he wanted you before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Before I tell you… can you keep your eyes closed for me if I take my hands away, querida?”
You nodded and brought your hands up to over his, ready to replace them.
He slowly pulled his hands back, and you replaced them with yours, covering your eyes. You rocked back slightly on your heels, smiling. “What are you up to?”
He didn’t answer and instead you heard him move away from you which only made it so you couldn’t help but giggle. “Harry…?”
“Just—one more second, mi vida.” He said smiling so wide you could hear it in his voice.
You waited, listening, heart thudding with anticipation.
“Okay,” he said softly, placing his hands over your wrists. “You can open your eyes.”
You dropped your hands to see Harry as he stood in front of you—in a crisp white button-down tucked neatly into black dress pants, an unfinished bowtie loose around his collar. His hair was combed back, beard neatly groomed, jaw sharp in the warm light—he looked unfairly good, like something straight out of a James Bond movie.
You were silent for a beat—more so stunned than anything… then huffed a soft laugh and stepped forward, reaching for his hand to pull him closer, a heat between your legs reawakening. “Well well, don’t you look good in a suit?”
He grinned, his hands immediately finding your waist. “You haven’t even seen it fully put together...”
“What if I want…” You started to slide your hands across his chest, your eyes drinking him in as you continued, “...to already take it all apart?” you teased, stepping another step closer, your hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders, leaning in for his lips—only for him to pull back with a smirk just as you nudged his nose gently.
He chuckled low. “Mm, we don’t have time for funny business tonight, baby.”
You tilted your head to the side, curious. “What does that mean?”
He gave your temple a quick peck, then stepped aside, and you saw the bed.
The red dress he’d bought was laid out neatly—the heels were placed beside it. Two small felt jewelry boxes tied with little red bows, like tiny presents waiting.
He seemed a bit shy, as he explained. “I didn’t have time to wrap the dress and shoes, but…” He smiled as he turned back to you, watching your reaction. “Will you accompany me to a dinner party tonight?”
You blinked, stunned and almost speechless—as you began walking toward the bed—your fingers brushed over the soft buttery fabric of the dress. “Harry…I—”
He shifted, nerves flickering across his face. His hands slipped into his pockets as he took a step closer—but before he could say anything, you turned back to him and smiled.
“How much time do I have to get ready?”
He let out a breath he clearly hadn’t realized he was holding and pulled his hand out of his pocket before he glanced at the watch on his wrist—the one you’d given him earlier. “Could you be ready in an hour?”
You nodded and stepped closer to him before wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling up at him. “Is this what you and Tim were doing all day?”
His cheeks turned pink and he had a boyish grin on his lips.
“Perhaps…” He murmured as he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you close, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek—his eyes tracing over your face slowly, adoring every little thing about you.
You hummed before asking, watching his eyes dance across your features. “Hm, have I told you yet how lucky I am to have found you?”
His grin softened as he found your gaze. “Mm, and what have I told you when you do?”
You leaned into his hand that was cupping your cheek. “That you’re the lucky one…”
He chuckled and nodded, slowly leaning in for your lips, his voice low and warm as he murmured, “Exactly. Now c’mere…”
You giggled before pulling back just a tad, teasing him. “Mm, now what happened to no funny business two minutes ago?”
He nudged your nose, his grin growing into something sinful. “Solo bésame, mi amor.” (Just kiss me, my love)
My love.
God, that made your chest ache—so much so that you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you leaned back in and kissed him gently—then again—each one slower, softer, sweeter, like neither of you was in any hurry to go anywhere at all.
After about a half hour, you came out of the bathroom, after working on your makeup and hair. The dress fit you like a glove, hugging you in all the right places. The soft fabric skimmed your waist and hips perfectly—the red was rich and deep under the warm lighting, elegant without trying too hard.
Harry had just slipped on his dress jacket and was standing near the mirror, adjusting his cufflinks—the ones you’d given him—when he looked up and saw you.
And in that instant, whatever he’d been about to say vanished. For once, the ability to form words completely deserted him.
His throat went slightly dry and his mind buffered as he saw every curve was on display—the dress hugging your waist and hips, your bust accentuating in a way not to appear intentional.
Your hair was lightly curled, loose and soft as it flowed down your back, catching the light. Your skin somehow glowed beneath the warm wash of the bedside lamp, smooth and radiant in a way that had nothing to do with makeup and everything to do with how comfortable you were with yourself.
Your makeup was light, tasteful, and timeless—nothing heavy or overdone. You hadn’t tried to transform yourself into something or someone else—letting your features speak for themselves. You didn’t hide the lines near your eyes or soften what life had already written across your face—there was no harsh contour or dramatic lashes—none of that polished, manufactured beauty he was so used to back home in New York.
And God, he didn’t realize how refreshing something like that was until it struck him all at once—at how different it was from the world he felt trapped in.
At first, you didn’t notice him standing there, frozen at first—distracted, as you lifted your hands up to fasten an earring. You hummed softly along to the record playing low from in the other room. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you caught him staring and immediately smiled.
“You were right…” you said lightly as you secured the earring.
He blinked, as if remembering how to breathe, then shyly brushed his hands down the front of his jacket, suddenly feeling underdressed despite the expensive suit, the cufflinks—the polish.
“Right?” he chuckled softly, fingers moving to his bowtie to straighten it—more out of nerves than necessity. “About what?”
You crossed the room and reached up, gently fixing the bowtie for him—your touch was careful and intimate in its simplicity. “I needed to wait to see you all put together.”
His breath stuttered. “I feel I spoke a bit prematurely…” he murmured, tilting his chin up slightly to give you better access, his hands coming to rest at your hips instinctually.
“How so?”
“Have you seen yourself?” he said quietly, eyes dropping to yours. “How—how beautiful you look?” His grin widened despite himself, awe softening every word.
You giggled shyly, warmth rushing to your cheeks as you slid your hands from his bowtie down his lapels, smoothing them out more for something to do than because they needed it.
He followed every movement of your hands with his gaze—the moment they left his collar, “I feel I may be underdressed next to you…” he murmured as his thumbs began tracing slow, unconscious arcs at your hips.
You scoffed softly, blushing more deeply as you adjusted his pocket square, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, stop it. You? Underdressed compared to me?”
He could see it—the way you wouldn’t quite look at him now, the way your shoulders shifted just slightly. You were just as nervous—just as undone.
His right hand lifted, fingers gentle as he tilted your chin up until your eyes met his—but before either of you could think better of it, he leaned in. He kissed you softly at first, his lips lingering and unhurried—like he was grounding himself in the reality of you standing there.
Just as you thought he was going to pull away, he deepened it just a little more, his lips moving across yours carefully, full of everything he hadn’t found the words to say.
You smiled once he pulled back and nudged your nose gently with his before he murmured, his voice smooth and warm. “Me has dejado completamente sin aliento con lo hermosa que estás esta noche, mi cielo.” (You have completely taken my breath away with how beautiful you look, my sky.)
You smiled up at him as you tilted your head just slightly, your voice slightly teasing. “Do you always say such romantic things in Spanish?”
His grin widened, and his thumb ran slowly along your lower lip as his gaze darkened slightly, his hand on your waist pulled you closer against his waist. “Mm, puedo decir otras cosas en español, si quieres…” (Mm, I can say other things in Spanish, if you'd like…)
Your cheeks turned a darker shade of red as your lips parted under his touch before you breathlessly murmured. “Like what?…”
“Como…” (Like) He muttered as his thumb went back across your bottom lip before he lifted your chin up slightly again, his lips a breath away from yours.
“No puedo dejar de pensar en lo hermosa que vas a estar fuera de este vestido...” (I can't stop thinking about how beautiful you are going to be out of this dress…)
Then he pecked your lips lightly, teasingly, before murmuring as he moved to your cheek, “Y qué dulce vas a saber…” (And how sweet you’re going to taste...)
He kissed your cheek as his hand that was on your waist started to slowly move back to cup your ass, all while his lips trailed across your skin to the soft spot near your pulse point, his voice getting lower. “Mientras gimes con mi lengua entre tus muslos…” (While you moan with my tongue between your thighs...)
Your breath hitched as you felt him grip your ass, and your hand that had been on his lapel suddenly found its way into his hair.
“Harry—” You gasped.
You felt his lips smirk against your skin as he nudged your jaw to tilt to the side with his nose while he continued kissing along the warm curve of your neck.
“Would you like that?” He asked as a slow kiss brushed your jawline.
“...Tonight?” He whispered just before pressing his lips below your ear, his voice staying low and warm.
Your heart raced hard against your ribs. A deep warmth curled low in your belly at the very thought of him smirking up at you like that. Thinking about watching him devour you slowly—that image alone was enough to make your knees feel weak.
The answer was already forming on your tongue—but before the words could leave your mouth, a few light knocks sounded at the front door.
You blinked at the sound, thinking you were imagining it.
“Mm…” Harry murmured, kissing your jawline again before trailing one last kiss to your chin.
He pecked your lips softly as his hand slid back to your waist, gently pulling you flush against him—where you could very clearly feel just how much he wanted you.
"Harry..." You whispered, gazing down at his lips.
He watched how much this had you completely entranced already. He couldn't help but like the idea of leaving you wanting for more all night—having the upper hand.
He smirked as he slowly pulled back, "That must be Declan…”
“Declan?” you mumbled breathlessly, your mind still floating somewhere between the moment you’d almost had and the one that had interrupted it. "Who's Declan?"
Harry’s thumbs traced slow arcs across your waist before he stepped away, leaving you slightly dazed as he crossed toward his side of the bed, where his long wool coat was laid neatly across the chair.
“He’s been my driver while I’ve been here,” he said casually as he slipped his arms into the sleeves.
You blinked, your heart still racing as you watched him pull the coat around his shoulders, your brow furrowing slightly as you came back down to earth.
“You uhm..." You felt the haze start to clear. "You have a driver everywhere you go?”
He chuckled as you were slightly flustered, adjusting the collar, smoothing the lapels down with practiced ease.
“Randy’s the one I’ve got back home.”
He walked past you then, leaning down just enough to press a quick kiss to your cheek as he headed for the living room.
“You’ll meet him when he greets us at the airport,” he added over his shoulder as he reached the front door.
“Greet us at the airport?” you repeated innocently, grabbing your clutch from the dresser as you followed after him.
Harry glanced back at you, hand resting on the door handle, and smiled softly—something warm and certain in his expression.
“Us.”
The word landed in your chest before your brain could fully catch up.
You stood there for a beat in the middle of the kitchen, cheeks warming as you processed it.
Then the door opened.
Standing outside was an older gentleman in a dark suit and a black eight-quarter newsboy cap lightly dusted with snow. The winter air curled in around him, bringing with it the crisp scent of cold and pine.
He stood with his hands folded politely in front of him, posture straight despite the chill. But the moment his eyes landed on you, he quickly removed his cap and dipped his head respectfully.
“Evenin’, leannan.” (sweetheart)
Harry smiled easily and stepped aside, opening the door wider. “It’s good to see you again, Declan.”
Declan nodded once. “Aye, good tae see ye as well, sir—”
He paused mid-sentence and cleared his throat.
“Beggin’ yer pardon… Harry.”
Harry grinned at the correction before glancing toward you. He reached for your hand and gently pulled you forward.
“Mi vida, this is Declan. He’ll be our driver to the event tonight.”
You draped your coat over your arm and stepped forward, extending your hand warmly.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Declan.”
He took your hand carefully in both of his, shaking it gently before giving you a playful wink.
“Aye, the pleasure’s mine, lass. Finally meetin’ ye after hearin’ so much aboot ye from Harry ‘ere.”
You raised a brow and turned to Harry with a grin before leaning closer to Declan and whispering conspiratorially.
“All good things, right?”
Declan chuckled warmly and gave your hand two soft taps before letting it go.
“Aye,” he said with a knowing smile. “Nothin’ short o’ that, I promise ye.”
Behind you, Harry leaned down and pressed a light kiss to your shoulder before taking your coat from your arm.
“Arms up,” he murmured.
You obliged, smiling to yourself as he slid the coat carefully over your shoulders and smoothed it down before stepping back beside you.
“How long of a drive is it to the venue?” Harry asked.
Declan stepped back toward the stairwell, folding his hands again.
“Well now, if the weather’s feelin’ generous the night,” he said thoughtfully, glancing out toward the snow, “I’d wager nae more than ten minutes, sir.”
Harry nodded.
You felt his hand slide into yours, his fingers threading easily through yours as he gently guided you toward the door. He paused only long enough to reach back and lock it behind you.
“Well then,” he said lightly, glancing down at you with a grin, “let’s get a move on before this town decides to snow any more than it already has, yes?”
Declan adjusted his cap back onto his head as he started down the stairs ahead of you both.
“Aye,” he said with a satisfied nod. “Couldnae agree more.”
The drive was a little longer than ten minutes as the snow began to pick up halfway there, the flakes growing thicker and heavier as they drifted down through the glow of the streetlamps. The quiet hum of the engine and the soft swish of tires over fresh powder filled the car as Declan navigated the winding roads carefully.
However, when you finally arrived, your jaw dropped the moment the car slowed in front of the house.
“Holy…” you breathed, peering up through the window at the towering home in front of you. The entire front of it was dressed for Christmas—lush garlands draped across the railings, big red bows fastened above every window, and a massive wreath hanging proudly over the main entrance. Warm golden lights glowed from every corner, reflecting off the fresh snow blanketing the grounds.
“Whose dinner party is this again?” you asked, still staring out the window before slowly turning back toward Harry, who was watching you with an amused grin. “The Royal Family?” you joked, eyes wide.
Harry chuckled softly at that.
“He’s just a good client of mine,” he said as he lifted your hand and pressed a warm kiss to your knuckles. “An old friend.”
Declan’s eyes flicked toward you both in the rear-view mirror as the car rolled to a gentle stop along the drive—thick snowflakes started to gather on the windshield as he shifted the car into park.
He stepped out a moment later, moving around the vehicle before opening your door and offering you his hand politely to help you out if needed.
“If I’m no mistaken,” Declan said, his voice warm and thick, “this would be Mister an’ Missus Fraser’s home, aye?” He glanced toward Harry as you stepped out of the car and pulled your coat tighter around your waist, the cold hitting you immediately.
Harry adjusted his jacket as he stepped out behind you, rebuttoning the front where it had loosened during the ride before nodding.
“Alan’s been a long-time client at my firm,” he explained to Declan before he glanced at you. “He’s actually the main reason for my travels this year.”
“Ah,” you said softly, turning back to him with a small smile as you reached up and re-straightened his bowtie. “So that’s who I need to thank…”
Harry’s eyes softened as he looked down at you.
“We have a couple people to thank for our paths crossing,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower as his hand settled on your waist. “But yes, mi vida… he’s definitely one of them.”
You leaned up and pecked his lips lightly before taking his hand away from your waist and lacing it with yours before turning toward Declan, smiling warmly.
“Thank you for the ride, Declan.”
Declan tipped his cap politely as he closed the door of the car behind you both.
“Aye, nae trouble at all,” he said with a friendly nod. “I’ll come fetch ye both whenever ye give the word that yer ready.”
Harry gave him a quick wink before guiding you forward, one hand resting at the small of your back while the other held yours to help you through the fresh layer of snow toward the front entrance.
Before you could even reach the door, it swung open and a young man dressed neatly in a formal uniform greeted you, a polite smile warming his features.
“Good evening, may I take your coats?”
You and Harry stepped inside, warmth immediately wrapping around you. His hand slipped from yours for a moment—though you didn’t notice at first—too busy taking in the space that surrounded you, in complete awe.
Harry quietly stepped behind you and began gently helping you out of your coat as your eyes widened looking at the detail around you—the foyer being breathtaking.
A beautiful crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room, casting soft, golden light across the room. The grand staircase curved elegantly upward, its banister wrapped in garland and tiny glowing lights. At the base of the stairs stood a magnificent Christmas tree that stretched nearly to the second floor, decorated with deep red and gold ornaments that shimmered under the lights.
You stood there, completely still, your gaze moving slowly from one beautiful detail to the next. Taking in the warmth and glow—the quiet hum of voices that echoed from somewhere deeper in the house.
Your eyes sparkled as you took it all in and whispered, “Wow…”
Harry smiled to himself, noticing how you stop to notice all the small details—how you were just in complete awe of everything’s beauty.
“All of it is almost as beautiful as you, mi vida…” Harry murmured softly behind you.
His lips brushed your shoulder gently as he finished sliding your coat off and handed it to the young attendant waiting nearby.
You blushed immediately and glanced over your shoulder as you watched Harry remove his own coat before handing it to another man, this one slightly older, waiting to take it somewhere else to be stored.
The man accepted it with a polite nod before gesturing with his arm toward the staircase.
“The party is upstairs,” he said with a thick posh British accent. “In the main hall.”
Just then, the front door opened again and another group of guests stepped inside behind you, their laughter and conversation briefly filling the foyer along with a gust of cold air that made your skin prickle with goosebumps.
Harry instinctively stepped forward, placing a warm hand at the small of your back.
“Shall we?” he asked softly.
You nodded, still smiling as you turned toward the staircase and began walking toward it together.
“I’m sure you’ve been to a handful of events of this caliber over the years?” you asked, halfway up the stairs, your voice soft with curiosity as your eyes flickered over the grandeur the more it surrounded you as you went further up the stairs.
Harry smiled, his tone easy and modest. “I’ve been to a few…”
“It’ll be interesting being on the other side of a party like this,” you said as you reached the top of the stairs, reaching back instinctively for his hand.
“How so?” he asked, lacing his fingers with yours without hesitation.
“Well, I’m usually the one in the back…” You smiled, glancing up at him. “You know, making the food, running around behind the scenes—or back when I was a teenager, serving the appetizers to guests.”
Harry’s grin softened as you stepped into the main hall, the space opening up around you in a way words can’t even begin to describe.
Golden candlelit chandeliers hung from the ceiling—their glow reflecting off polished surfaces and glasses of champagne in guests’ hands. A tall, slender Christmas tree stood in the corner, dressed in white and gold ornaments, its tiny lights twinkling softly.
“Well,” he said gently, leaning a bit closer to you as the room filled with low chatter and music, “I’m happy to be the one accompanying you for this first-time experience.”
You smiled and gave his hand a squeeze but found yourself tongue tied as your eyes danced across the room as you took everything in—the movement, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—completely caught in awe once again.
Harry reached out as a waiter passed by and picked up two glasses of champagne, handing one to you, bringing you back down to him. “What should we toast to?”
You blinked as you took the glass from him before looking down at the golden bubbles swirling—your mind briefly reflecting on everything the past week had shifted into place—how quickly life had changed.
Then you looked back up at him and saw the way he was looking at you—how no one had ever seen you the way he did. How refreshing that felt.
You raised your glass a touch and smiled, “To whatever fate brought us together.”
Harry’s grin widened, something warm and certain settling in his expression as he lifted his glass to meet yours. “To fate.”
The soft clink echoed between you as you both took a sip—the champagne crisp and light on your tongue—before his hand slipped naturally to the small of your back.
“Shall we?” he asked.
You nodded, and together you moved further into the room.
Harry began spotting familiar faces almost immediately and they spotted him as well. Before you knew it, friendly greetings were being exchanged, hands were firmly shaken, and names shared.
He introduced you easily, proudly, his hand either resting at your back or holding yours as if it always belonged there.
You stayed close with each interaction, tucked into his side if standing or sitting close if sitting—offering warm smiles and small contributions where you could slip in.
The conversations floated between business and personal, most of it easy enough to follow—until one man approached and made your head completely spin.
“Castillo!” the gentleman exclaimed, his voice booming just enough to draw attention from you and others around that were startled by the sound.
He was one of the older men that greeted Harry throughout the night—old school you could say, as he was sharply dressed, met Harry with a firm handshake and had the kind of energy that suggested once he started talking, he wouldn’t stop easily.
Harry straightened slightly and gave your hand a gentle squeeze as if to silently send you a message of ‘brace yourself’.
“Good to see you again, John.” He said with a charming smile and hand already out and ready to shake.
“And you! And you!” the man said, already launching in. “I’ve been meaning to follow up with you about that projection model you discussed with Alan—brilliant, by the way. Absolutely brilliant. The way you accounted for the margin compression in Q3—now that’s the kind of thinking we’ve been needing at—”
You smiled politely, nodding as if you were following along, though the words quickly turned into a blur of terms and figures that floated over your head.
“And of course,” he continued, gesturing with his glass, “if we were to rework the cost allocation, hypothetically, of course—we could see at least a 12% increase in operational efficiency, which would be fantastic for the…”
Harry nodded along and eventually moved his hand to your lower back. He responded where he needed to, clearly engaged over everything being discussed.
However much you tried, you felt yourself drifting just slightly as he droned on.
But just as you were about to space out, you couldn’t help the small smile that curved up on your lips when you felt Harry’s thumb gently brushing slow, reassuring arcs against your lower back—his quiet way of telling you he knew you were doing your best to keep up.
You cleared your throat gently and blinked a few times, recalibrating to try harder at engaging.
“…and that’s why I said to him, I said—well, if Castillo’s involved, then we’re in good hands, aren’t we?” the man finished with a proud nod toward Harry.
Harry smiled politely, patting the man’s arm like an old friend. “Well, I appreciate that.”
“Well!” The man clapped his hand back lightly against Harry’s arm. “We’ll have to set something up when you’re back in the city. Proper sit-down. Go over everything in detail—maybe go out for a round of golf like last time.”
“Of course,” Harry said smoothly.
The gentleman finally seemed to wind down, turning to you with a polite smile. “Ah, I beg your pardon, Harry, who is this gorgeous woman you somehow convinced to be your date?” He teased with a wink.
Harry chuckled gestured to you, saying your name proudly before teasing back, “She is too beautiful to be my date, isn’t she?”
You chuckled and lightly nudged his side which only made him lean down and peck your cheek.
You could help the smile and blush of pink on your cheeks as you held out your hand to the man, “Seems we have a bit of a disagreement on that topic as I feel the exact way about him…”
You took the gentleman’s hand when he met yours and gently shook it as you continued, lightly adding to the tease, “Guess I’ll just chalk it up and add it to the very long list of why I’m the luckiest girl in the world to be his, hm?”
John chuckled and gave your hand a gentle squeeze back before glancing over at Harry, “I like her. She’s quick.”
You felt him give your waist a supportive squeeze before John glanced back at you and tilted his head, now engaging with you, “So tell me, what do you do? How did you come to meet my good friend, Harry?”
You leaned back against Harry’s hand on your back as you explained the crazy story that was this week, after briefly explaining what you do for a living.
John was about to say something more when he heard his wife call him from across the room.
He exhaled and forced a smile before nodding toward you, "Well, it was lovely meeting you, my dear.”
“You as well,” you said warmly.
"Castillo, always good to see you," he said as he winked at Harry after touching his arm, before stepping away, already scanning the room for his next conversation to avoid his wife.
The moment he was out of earshot, Harry leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.
“God, I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath. “I thought he’d never stop talking…”
You let out a small laugh, leaning into his side. “Is that how he always is?”
Harry hummed and turned to face you more fully, his arms sliding around you as if to reclaim you and the moment. “He’s been known to be quite the chatterbox at social events.” He tilted his head, studying your expression as you listened to him with intent. “I know he was a lot though, querida…”
“Hm, I’ve had to suffer through worse…” You shrugged nonchalantly as you brought your hands to rest lightly against his chest before teasing, “I mean, you have met my dad, right?”
Harry laughed, the sound warm and easy as he nodded. “Right, right.”
His hands tightened just slightly around you, his eyes softening as he looked down at you—like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.
You smiled up at him and moved your arms to wrap around his neck as the moment softened around you—the soft music from the band drifting through the room, wrapping around you both, blending with the low hum of conversation and the gentle clink of glasses nearby. For a second, it felt like the rest of the party faded into the background—like it was just the two of you standing there in the middle of it all.
“Do you have more parties like this to attend this year? Back home?” you murmured, your voice softer now, more curious than teasing as his nose nudged yours playfully.
His smile deepened, something fond settling into it. “...We will have a few more throughout the year—yes.”
You pressed your lips together, trying—and failing—to suppress the smile that one simple word sparked in your chest.
“We?”
“Mhm.” His voice dropped slightly, warmer. “And for the record, I like the sound of that as much as you do...” He murmured, leaning in slowly, his arms tightening around your waist, pulling you just a little closer.
His lips were just about to meet yours when a rich and strong Scottish accent came through the crowd—
“And at what point o’ the evenin’ were ye plannin’ on comin’ tae find me, ye wee bastard?”
Harry pulled back with a quiet laugh—already recognizing the voice as he turned his head toward where it was bellowing from.
"Well, excuse me if we couldn't find the host amongst the literal sea of people... viejo obstinado." (stubborn old man)
You couldn't help but snort down a giggle at the small teasing insult, but then give Harry a light slap on the chest, whispering, "Baby..."
"Whit did ye caa me, ye numpty?" Alan pressed after hearing the end of Harry's sentence.
Harry's grin grew, and he chuckled, winking his way.
You followed his gaze to see an older man in a dark green traditional Scottish kilt and jacket headed your way through the crowd. His posture was confident, his hair neatly brushed back, beard trimmed to perfection. Beside him was a woman with long silver hair—elegant and poised—her deep green dress was timeless in a way that felt effortless rather than showy. Her hand resting lightly around his arm, her smile was filled with warmth—but her eyes were sharp with quiet amusement.
“Mo chridhe,” she said gently in a light British accent, “do try and behave—for Harry’s sake…”
Alan glanced down at her, placing his hand over hers with fondness, before looking back to you and Harry. “Forgive me, my love,” he said under his breath, though there was still a cheeky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as they came closer.
“I’m just a wee bit excited tae see ye both—” He sheepishly as he came to stand in front of you and Harry, his voice lowering playfully as he leaned forward, “I have been waitin’ all evenin’ for ye, truth be told.”
You stepped forward with an easy smile, holding out your hand. “You must be Mister Fraser…" You glanced back at Harry, feeling a bit nervous before looking back at them, "Harry’s told me so much about—”
He took your hand before you could finish, lifting it to press a warm kiss to the back of it. “Oh, m’eudail, none o’ that formal gibberish—you must call me Alan,” he insisted warmly before pulling you into a gentle hug.
You gasped and giggled as you hugged Alan gently.
“Oh, Harry, it’s so good to see you!” Mrs. Fraser, Violet, said as she stepped away from her husband with arms stretched out wide to greet him.
You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see Harry pull her into a warm hug, smiling in a way that made it clear this wasn’t just business for him with them.
But then, before you knew it, Alan had your attention again as he somehow managed to smoothly loop your arm through his and guide you away from the crowd you were in—toward a nearby cocktail table as if you’d known each other for years and required a quick catch-up.
“Now then,” he said, grabbing two flutes of champagne as a waitress walked past, handing one to you. “Where d’ye come from, lass? Where’s home for ye?”
“Oh, well, I’m from Jersey,” you said with a small smile as you took the flute. “Just across the river from Harry.” You chuckled at the irony.
“Aye,” he nodded thoughtfully with a small chuckle before taking a sip. “Close enough tae keep him on his toes den.”
You laughed softly and nodded, glancing over at Harry for a split moment, thinking of what life might look like once you get back home—before looking back to Alan. “So… how long have you known Harry?” you asked, curiosity slipping in naturally now. “He mentioned nearly a decade?”
“Aye,” He said, taking another sip before settling into the story he was about to share.
“Met him when he was still tryin’ tae prove himself te his parents….” His eyes went distant, like he was recounting the memory before continuing, “He came wit his dad one year... he put him in a sharp suit, but he had an even sharper tongue… thought he had the 'ole world figured out.” He chuckled before glancing over at Harry, who was deep in conversation with his wife. “Dinnae trust a soul, mind ye.”
“Hm…” You raised a brow slightly, intrigued as you followed his gaze toward Harry. “That doesn’t sound like the Harry I’ve come to know...”
“Exactly,” Alan said, turning his gaze back as he pointed lightly at you with his glass. “That’s how I ken things are different now.”
You smiled at that, then leaned in just slightly, lowering your voice as if sharing something conspiratorial. “So… he wasn't always like this? All the…charm and confidence?”
Alan barked out a quiet laugh, clearly delighted. “Oh, no. He took time te be the man he is today...” he took another sip. “D’ye know the first time I invited him tae one o’ these?”
You shook your head, already smiling at the little bits of Harry’s history you were getting out of Alan.
“He refused tae come in,” Alan continued, shaking his head fondly. “Stood outside in the cold like a stubborn wee mule because he said he didnae ‘do’ parties—the wee gowk said it was ‘all performative nonsense’...”
You chuckled. “No way...”
“Aye, way. He had some silent protest against his dad at te time.” Alan nodded as he took another sip—a small chuckle bubbled up as he swallowed, nodding towards his wife. “Took Vi draggin’ him in by the arm and a glass o’ whisky practically forced into his hand before he’d even cross the threshold o’ te front door…”
You chuckled as you took another small sip, clearly filing that away to use later. “Is that so…”
“Oh, 'n it gets better,” Alan added, leaning in slightly. “He spent the 'ole night standin’ in te corner... scowlin’ at anyone who tried tae talk te him—looked like he’d rather be anywhere else in te world.”
You chuckled and looked down at your drink, lightly swirling the sparkling gold liquid, “I can’t imagine Harry like that.”
“Aye, well…” Alan nodded toward Harry, who was now smiling easily, relaxed, engaged in whatever he and Violet were talking about. “Look at him now...”
You looked up and followed his gaze to see Harry standing there laughing again—everything about him was open, warm, and completely at ease.
“And tae difference, aye?” Alan said softly. “That’s all you.”
Your breath caught slightly at that, and then something close to pride swelled in your chest. There was something about knowing you brought the best out in someone.
You couldn't help but feel proud.
Alan let you feel that for a few moments before he gently cleared his throat and asked, “So, tell me, are ye enjoyin’ yer Christmas?” he continued more gently—like he was an acting father figure, making sure his son wasn’t being a fool. “He treatin’ ye well, aye?”
Your smile widened, and you shook your head slightly at how easily he asked such personal things—but also how good it felt not to feel like you had to lie about the answers—like you did with Sam.
No, because with Harry, you didn’t want to hide things he did or didn’t do—instead, you wanted everyone to know how lucky you felt to be his.
“We’ve been... enjoying our time together, yes. And he is treating me very well. He’s—” You paused, glancing over at Harry again—only to find him this time already looking at you.
His eyes were soft and warm—filled with something you felt too shy to claim to be yours, at least this soon.
You felt your cheeks heat up as he gave you that private pull of his lips—that smile that was meant for only you.
You felt like you might melt right then and there, so you glanced back at Alan and cleared your throat softly—trying to regain your thoughts.
You smiled as you looked back down to your drink, “All I can think about is how God must have some kind of sense of humor…” You paused and chuckled to yourself before taking a small sip to calm your now racing heart, before continuing, “...having him sitting there all this time—just across the river…"
You scoffed as you looked up and raised your eyebrows. "I mean, come on—he’s even met my parents!”
Alan chuckled, clearly pleased at how you clearly felt the same for Harry as he knew Harry did for you, if not more.
Something he’d not seen before with Harry.
“Y’ken, I’ve known that lad for near on a decade now,” he said, placing his hand over yours. “And if I can be frank wi’ ye…”
You tilted your head, smiling a bit more as you looked up at him. “Go on.”
“I dinnae recall the last time I saw him smile like that,” Alan said quietly. “But more than that… I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been wi’ ye.”
You looked down bashfully, smiling like a fool—before glancing back over at Harry again—right as he laughed, that same crinkle at his nose and crow's feet at his eyes.
“Yeah…” you said quietly. “I think people back home will be saying the same about me soon enough.”
Harry’s POV
Harry hadn’t meant to drift from your side more than a few moments if he could have helped it tonight—but one moment he was laughing softly at something Violet had whispered in his ear mid-hug to find the next, standing there with you across the room.
You stood with Alan near one of the cocktail tables, your hand wrapped around a champagne flute, your posture relaxed but attentive as you listened to him speak. Harry noticed that within a few moments, Alan already had you laughing—that one that was soft and genuine—enough to make Harry's heart skip.
He didn’t even realize he’d gone quiet until Violet’s voice cut in gently as she handed him a flute of champagne. “You are staring...”
Harry blinked, then huffed a quiet breath of a laugh, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, almost sheepishly, as he dragged his attention back to her. “Am I…?”
“Relentlessly,” she replied, entirely amused by how flustered he was. “I’ve never seen you like this...”
Harry smiled faintly as he looked down at his drink before taking a small sip. “I’m afraid I can’t help it lately,” he admitted.
“No,” she said lightly, studying him with a gentleness to her gaze. “I don’t imagine you can, my dear.”
There was a beat of silence as they stood there—comfortable, but charged before she tilted her head, her expression softening just slightly, though her tone remained precise. “So,” she began, “tell me... what exactly is going on here? What is… this?”
Harry glanced back toward you again, instinctively defensive, “What do you mean, Vi?”
Violet followed his gaze briefly before looking back at him. “I mean… is this something real?” she asked plainly. “Or is this a rather charming holiday romance that will conveniently fade the moment you return to New York?”
Harry knew she meant nothing harsh by asking—she meant it plainly with curiosity and care for him.
But it still made something in him straighten.
He looked at her and shook his head once, small but certain. “No,” he said quietly. “It’s nothing like that.”
Violet watched him closely, noting the warmth in him, the way he held himself differently this time.
“She’s not…” he exhaled softly as he continued, searching for the right words before settling into them. “She’s not a fling—not even close. She’s more than that to me… She’s—.”
Her brows lifted slightly, now intrigued, but she didn’t interrupt as Harry shifted his weight, his tone steadying as he spoke. “Vi, she’s… everything I’ve been searching for,” he said simply.
That earned him a longer look as Violet studied him, something thoughtful moving behind her eyes. “That’s quite a statement, Harry....” she said carefully before she took his hands in hers and squeezed them gently. “Especially considering the last time we saw you...”
Harry didn’t even need to mention Lucy’s name to know what she meant by that.
His jaw shifted slightly, and his gaze dropped to his glass for a moment before he nodded and gave a small shrug. “That’s a fair point...”
Violet’s voice softened, though her words didn’t lose their edge. “You were very serious about her, Harry. I mean, your father told us you were planning a life—planning on proposing, right?” A pause made the air shift slightly. “And now you’re here… looking at someone else like… like she hung the moon and stars.”
Although her words were sharp and, for some, hard to hear, Harry knew where they came from a place of love and concern with Violet.
“Forgive me,” she added gently, “but you know me not to be as… blindly optimistic as my sweet Alan, yes?”
He nodded and chewed the side of his cheek, listening as she continued.
“But I can’t help but need to say that I would be remiss not to wonder if perhaps you’re moving on a bit too quickly, sweetheart...” She said as she found his gaze.
Harry let out a slow breath through his nose, as a small smile curled up the corners of his lips—and to Violet’s slight surprise, he didn’t look defensive or uncertain. If anything, he looked clearer than he had in years.
“When I was with Lucy…” he started, voice low, thoughtful. “I thought I knew what love was.”
Violet tilted her head as she listened.
“I thought I knew what it felt like to want to be with someone for the rest of my life,” he continued. “I was so convinced that what I felt for her was... love. I thought that we were building something real… so much that I didn’t even question it.”
His grip tightened around his flute slightly, and his warm smile grew. “It took meeting her…” he said quietly, eyes flicking toward you again without even thinking. “Being seen by her, being with her… to realize that I don’t even think I was ever in love with Lucy…”
Violet’s expression shifted as she followed his gaze before she glanced back to watch him as he watched you.
“She was right,” he added, almost to himself. “I didn’t love her.”
A pause before he admitted, “I was in love with the idea of being with anyone... to avoid being alone.”
Silence settled between them for a moment, now that truth was now out in the open.
Violet tilted her head slightly the other way, studying him again—but this time more carefully. “But… you feel that way with her—genuine love?” she asked softly.
Harry didn’t need to answer right away. Not with the way he was looking at you.
Like he saw was everything he ever wanted.
He saw you fully at that moment. You looked at ease, happy, and completely unaware of the way he was watching you as you were laughing at something Alan had just said. Your head tipping slightly back, your eyes bright, nose scrunched in that way he adored.
But to him, most importantly, you were being yourself—and just like that, everything in him settled. Enough so that Violet saw his shoulders ease and his expression soften more than it was.
He nodded, more to himself than to her. “Yeah,” he said gently. “I do.”
Violet followed his gaze, watching you for a moment as you smiled and nodded at something her husband said to you before looking back at Harry with a soft smile.
“Good,” she said simply before with a small, satisfied nod, lifted her glass to Harry’s, adding lightly, her tone returning to something more playful, “It’s about damn time.”
Harry huffed a quiet laugh as he looked back at her, shaking his head as he lightly tapped his glass to hers and echoed before taking a sip, “It’s about damn time.”
However, within a few moments, he found himself looking back to you, helplessly—only for you to look at him moments later.
He gave you that small private smile—one that was only meant for you. One that he knew sent your heart racing and would make your cheeks bloom a shade of pink.
And it did just that.
Violet let him have a moment to stand there with a smile on his face before he chuckled to herself and nudged him with her elbow, bringing him back to land. “Do you remember the first time Alan invited you to one of these?” she asked.
Harry groaned immediately, dragging a hand down his face but grinning nonetheless as he turned to face her. “Oh, no, not this cruel memory again—”
“Oh, come on,” she continued, already smiling wider and squeezing his bicep gently. “You stood outside for—what was it? Twenty minutes? Thirty?”
“Closer to fifteen,” he muttered as he chewed the side of his cheek at the memory.
“It was long enough that you were out there freezing—your nose and cheeks pink!” she corrected. “And you refused to come in because—what was it you said?” She tapped her chin as if recalling the exact words. “It was… ‘all performative nonsense’... and how you, ‘didn’t want to turn into one of them’...?’”
Harry couldn’t help but huff out a real laugh at that—the memory a painful yet, humbling reminder of how far he’s come.
“God, that sounds about right,” he admitted as he took another swig of the champagne.
“I remember you looked like you’d rather bolt than step a foot inside,” Violet went on, clearly enjoying making Harry squirm a bit now. “Alan thought you were being terribly dramatic...”
“Mm, I was being dramatic,” Harry said, still smiling. “But I did mean it.”
She hummed at him and nodded, agreeing to his point. “You did, didn’t you?”
He nodded, shoulders easing—always feeling so comfortable around her, “I grew up watching men like that,” he said, gesturing subtly around the men around the room. “Back home in the city… There was this way they spoke, the way they carried themselves… like everything was a transaction. Like the people and their interactions were just…” he exhaled, searching for the right words, “…hollow.”
Violet’s expression softened as she nodded—understanding exactly what he meant.
“I didn’t want to become that,” he continued. “Didn’t want to lose… the parts of myself that felt real. The softer parts that I knew I still had.” He gave a small shrug and smile as he looked back down at his drink. “So I figured the easiest way to avoid it was to stay as far away from rooms like this as long as possible.”
“And yet, you haven’t lost those parts of yourself,” she said gently, patting his forearm as she looped her arm around his. “Even after all these years, hm?”
There was a pause before he added, a little more sheepishly, but still, a quiet smile returned. “It didn’t help that I was a pretty shy back then.”
Violet blinked at that as she turned her head to look at him, grinning playfully as she teased sarcastically. “You? Shy?”
Harry laughed again—lighter this time, but just as genuine as he placed his hand over hers, looking at the crowd. “Rooms like this used to terrify me back then… too many people, too many…expectations. It felt like everyone knew exactly who they were supposed to be and I…” He shook his head, shrugging. “I didn’t.”
“And now?” she asked almost immediately.
Harry didn’t answer right away—instead, his eyes drifted back to you—where you were still standing with Alan, laughing at something he was pointing at in the crowd, your whole face lighting up in a way that made something in Harry’s chest loosen completely.
He smiled as he murmured, “I do now.”
“Well then,” she said, tightening her arm lightly through his, her tone returning to something more playful, “shall we go and rescue that poor girl before my husband talks her ear off for the rest of the night?”
Harry watched as you nodded along to whatever Alan was talking about—smiling politely, engaged… but definitely trapped.
He smirked as he put his empty glass on a waiter's tray as they passed by.
“Yeah,” he said. “Based on the look on her face, Alan has gone from small talk to business talk...”
“Oh, dear…” Violet gave his arm a small pat along with a nod. “Go on then—lead the way.”
Harry chuckled but didn’t hesitate as he moved across the room with quiet purpose, weaving between guests until he reached you—his hand finding the small of your back as naturally as breathing.
“My dear,” Violet cut in gently yet quickly that it almost felt surgical—taking Alan’s hand as he stopped mid-sentence.
“Oh, mo ghràdh, I was just telling the lass about…”
“There you are,” Harry murmured as he leaned in and kissed your temple.
You turned at the sound of his voice, and just like that—everything in your expression softened.
Your smile widened instantly as you felt him pull you closer. “There you are.”
“I’m going to steal her for a moment,” Harry said, glancing at Alan and Violet with an easy grin.
Alan went to say something but then Violet gave you both a small smile before she started to pull her husband away, gasping softly, like she knew what would get his attention. “You know who I think I saw? Sean Hastings and his wife over by the bar…”
Alan gasped and lit up before he shouted across the room, locking onto someone else shouting his name.
Harry’s thumb brushed lightly against your waist as he moved to stand in front of you and asked softly. “Dance with me?”
You didn’t hesitate as you smiled at him before taking his hand and slowly pulling him towards the dance floor. “Always.”
The band had shifted into something slower by the time you’d made it onto the dance floor—the soft sounds from the piano and gentle strings wrapped around you, playing gentle Christmas tunes.
“Come ‘ere…” Harry murmured as his hand slid to your waist, while his other guided yours up to lace your fingers with his. You stepped in closer, settling your free hand against his shoulder, gazing up at him.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just… took each other in.
Then your smile softened and you asked softly, “How was Violet?”
Harry huffed a quiet laugh as he began to guide you into a slow sway. “Observant… as always.”
“She seemed like she would be able to read my entire life story by one glance,” you teased.
“She probably could,” he admitted. “Did Alan interrogate you on her behalf?”
You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Mm… maybe just a little.”
He chuckled and hummed before asking, “And what about Alan?”
You hummed, dragging it out just enough to make him narrow his eyes playfully.
“And what about Alan?” you echoed sweetly.
“How much did Alan tell you?” he asked, suspicion laced with amusement. “Because he tends to… overshare.”
A grin tugged at your lips as you knew what he was trying to get at.
“Mm…” you mused, leaning in just slightly closer as his hand adjusted at your waist. “That’s for me to know…”
Your eyes dropped to his lips before cooing. “…and you to find out.”
He let out a soft laugh at that, shaking his head as he pulled you a fraction closer, his thumb brushing absent-minded arcs into your side.
“God help me,” he murmured. “¿Qué voy a hacer contigo?” (What am I going to do with you?)
You giggled softly as you watched him helplessly grin as she looked down at you before murmuring, “Enjoy the ride?”
Harry settled his forehead against yours and hummed softly, letting the moment soften before murmuring, “That’ll be easy, mi amor.”
There it was again—mi amor.
My love.
And he said it with a softness that you couldn’t help but hang onto the three syllables.
For a few moments, you let yourselves settle into the moment—the rhythm of the music, the closeness, the quiet hum of the room fading into something distant and unimportant now that you were in his arms.
The music picked up and started playing something slightly up beat.
The room’s energy shifted and became more lively.
Harry kept you close but swayed with you a little faster—guiding you into a gentle turn when you least expected it.
You giggled as your hand lifting as he spun you slowly beneath his arm before pulling you back in, smoothly enough to have your back against his chest, his head over your shoulder.
He kissed up your shoulder to the inside of your neck—slowly and lingering his lips with every press—as you swayed with him for a few beats.
You softly bit your bottom lip and leaned back into him, enjoying the way he made you feel with each lingering kiss of his lips.
He kissed your pulse point before gently maneuvering you to spin outwards again—before pulling you back in to face him—closer this time.
Your breath hitched just a little as his hand landed more firmly at your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze to steady you, his gaze lingered in a way poets only could articulate—taking in the way you looked, the way you felt in his arms.
“Hi,” was the only thing you could think of to say—your voice soft, almost shy.
His lips twitched. “Hi.”
The music softened then—something unmistakably Christmas now, the rhythm shifting back to be tender and slow—the kind of song that made everything feel more intimate.
Your fingers curled slightly into his shoulder.
“Did you see everyone you wanted to tonight?” you asked after a beat, your voice quieter now, more thoughtful.
Harry hummed, pretending to consider it as he gently guided you in another small sway.
“I think so,” he said, glancing down at you with a hint of a smirk. “Why? Are you wanting to get out of here?”
Your lips curved slowly as you tilted your head a fraction, playfully.
“Maybe,” you admitted.
His brows lifted, interest now piqued.
“Oh yeah?” he murmured, leaning in just enough for his voice to stay between you. “And why’s that, hermosa?”
You swallowed, your gaze flicking briefly to his lips before meeting his eyes again.
“I believe…” you said softly, your voice dropping just enough to make his grip tighten slightly at your waist, “you said some things in Spanish earlier…”
His expression changed instantly—darkening and focused completely on the next words that came out of your mouth as you purred up at him.
“…that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.”
For a second, the world seemed to still as Harry’s thumb stilled against your side—but his gaze didn’t leave yours.
“Is that so?” he murmured.
You nodded slowly, your breath just a little uneven now with the way you saw his gaze darken. “Mhm.”
He seemed to be enjoying this, as he leaned in—closer, but not quite touching—more so teasing as his nose brushing lightly against yours as he spoke again, voice low and warm.
“And which part,” he asked, “has been on your mind, mi cielo?”
Your fingers tightened slightly against his shoulder and you swallowed—your throat suddenly feeling dry.
“All of it,” you confessed, barely above a whisper as you gazed down at his lips, hungry.
That did something to him—enough that you felt it in the way his hand shifted on your waist, just slightly firmer, just a touch more possessive.
He adjusted his grip as he pulled you closer, enough that his lips ghosted near your ear as he spoke again, voice dipped low enough that it sent a shiver down your spine and a warmth between your thighs.
“Careful now,” he murmured. “You keep lookin’ at me like that…”
Your eyes fluttered shut and your breath hitched as you listened to every syllable.
“…and we won’t make it through the next song.”
You let out the smallest, breathless laugh as your cheeks flooded with heat, moving your forehead to brush his as you tried—and failed—to steady yourself.
“Then maybe we shouldn’t stay for the next one,” you whispered, your heart pounding against your chest.
His hand slid slightly higher along your back, pulling you in just a fraction closer—close enough that you could feel the warmth of him through every layer between you.
“Yeah?” he asked, voice rougher now.
You nodded.
He bit his lower lip, contemplating for only a moment before he grinned as he held onto yours more firmly and took a step back, keeping his gaze on you as he tugged you gently.
“Follow me…”
You giggled as you took a step towards him, nodding to agree.
He chucked and laced his fingers with yours before he turned around—only to find himself bumping into someone who had been dancing behind him.
“Aye, watch it man!” A gentleman said through gritted teeth as he glanced back at Harry—pulling his date closer as they continued to sway.
You put your hand over your mouth as you giggled louder.
Harry couldn’t help the chuckle the bubbled out as he apologized profusely as he began to walk away—continuing to tug on your hand.
Within moments, the two of you made your way off of the dance floor and through the crowd to rush out of the ballroom.
However, instead of rushing down the stairs towards the car—Harry turned and began leading you down a hallway—your heart thudding in your chest.
a/n: this was the winner of the poll with the troupe of: Enemies to lovers, but only one of them thinks they're enemies. The other has been entirely obsessed since the beginning and has the hardest way of showing it.
series summary: He lost his daughter. You lost your family. Survival turned you both into steel—until Jackson asks you to be people again. You and Joel fight like it’s the only language you share… right up until the night one of you might not come home, and then the truth of how you two truly feel refuses to stay quiet.
series warnings: enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, found family, partners to something more, age gap (joel is late 50s, reader is late 30s), slow burn, arguing, stubborn idiots in love, emotional constipation, near death scare, mentions of loss, angst, SMUT (18 MDNI), violence, switched POVs, yearning, suppressed feelings, more specific filters will come with each chapter.
pairing: jackson!joel miller (tlou) x f!reader
word count: 10.8k
chapter summary: You and Joel have a night together after he shows up unexpectedly.
chapter warnings: enemies to lovers troupe, age gap (joel is late 50s, reader is late 30s), slowest of slow burn, mutual pining (defrosting), emotional constipation, angst, swearing, tension, sexual tension, soft!joel, fluff, flashbacks/a nightmare from the past, mentions of child loss, blood, violence, PTSD, old trauma coming to the surface, anxiety, panic attack, shared grief.
a/n: gosh this is so late, but it took so many rewrites in order to properly tell the reader's backstory a bit ahhh ! but then again life SUCKS ass and i've had horrible writer's block... so rewriting and editing took five-everrrr. but this is starting to line up with these last few chapters perfectlyyy so as always !! enjoy <33
MAIN MASTERLIST
You remember waking up to the first gunshot. You remember you felt it inside your skull. It wasn’t out in the distance like they had been in the past; it wasn’t muffled like it was as a misfire—it was close enough that you felt the thrum of it in your chest.
The second one came before you could even sit up and realize it wasn’t a dream.
Then came the shouting, followed by the crunching of boots on the leaves before you heard canvas ripping and then a woman screaming somewhere to your right.
You shot upright and felt your heart slamming so violently against your chest that it made your vision blur when you recognized the voice crying out for help.
For half a second, you just sat there, frozen but shaking in fear or adrenaline, you weren't sure—but then the third shot rang out, and everything snapped into focus.
You moved out of your sleeping bag and grabbed the pistol that you had nearby—the darkness of the night making you move blindly. Your fingers fumbled with the magazine as your body moved faster than your thoughts over to where your husband left the extra ammo.
“Noah,” you hissed after grabbing a handful of shells, crawling toward the small lump that was lying beside you. “Noah, wake up, baby.”
Your four-year-old son stirred, confused and completely out of it, rubbing his eyes with tiny fists. “Mama?”
Another gunshot cracked through the air, this one closer than the last, and then a man’s voice outside shouted, “Get them out! Check every tent!”
Your blood went cold, realizing what was happening—what this meant. But then you realized your husband was the one on watch that night... and your stomach sank.
“Honey, I need you to sit up for me.” You whispered as you shoved the rest of the shells into the chamber with shaking hands. One slipped out of your grasp, then another onto the dirt between where you crouched.
“Shit—” you breathed, your eyes starting to burn with tears.
Outside, someone was crying as another voice shouted for them to shut up. “Please, man! Please, take anything you want—”
BOOM.
You flinched, holding your breath as you realized what had just happened. Every muscle locked as tears began to cloud your vision, and eventually, a shaky breath came out before you blinked and looked at your surroundings. “I need—” Your mind scattered. “God, what do we need?”
You quickly grabbed the go backpack from behind you and began stuffing things into it blindly: clothes, water, a knife, a few cans of food, anything you could touch if you were being honest—you couldn’t think straight, and the air felt too thin that you felt like you couldn't breathe a full breath.
“Mommy, I’m scared,” Noah whispered as he sat up, looking towards the tent's opening, seeing the shadows moving against the firelight—the tremble in his voice cut through you deeper than the gunshots.
You zipped up the backpack and then swung it onto your back before you crawled to him, pulling him up into your arms and into your chest. “Shh. It's ok. Hold onto me, baby. I got you.”
His arms wrapped tight around your neck, and he buried his face in your neck. You could feel his little heart pounding against your chest as he whispered. “What’s happening?”
“We’re... We're just gonna go for a walk,” you lied softly, stroking his hair down to soothe him and even yourself. “Just like we practiced, right? You stay quiet and just hold on to me...” You wrapped the blanket around him, hiding him from the world that was collapsing around him. You mentally went over a checklist in your head before you edged toward the tent flap, and then you peeled it back just enough to see the world outside—seeing that it had turned into something unrecognizable from what you'd just seen hours before.
From what you could see, there were at least four men with rifles—their faces shadowed against the night as they stayed close to the shadows. Firelight flickered over overturned crates and torn tents—over several bodies scattered in the dirt and grass.
You were just about to move when you saw your husband, Phillip, on his knees near the front of camp, his hands raised above his head in surrender—blood running down his forehead.
A man stood behind him and shouted as he aggressively shoved the barrel of his rifle into Phillip's temple, “Where is it?!”
"P-Please... I have a family. Please—Please, I don't know what you're talking about... I-I have a family! A son!" Phillip whimpered, trying to reason with the man.
"Daddy?" Noah said softly as his head turned at the sound of his father's voice—but you put your hand on the back of his head and pulled his gaze back into your neck, hiding him away from what you knew was about to happen. "Shh, remember we have to stay quiet, baby..."
Noah whimpered, scared into your chest and gripped onto your clothing, his heart pounding as he tried to stay quiet and hidden.
You watched in horror as the man continued to yell at him, asking the same question, becoming more and more upset and impatient with Phillip's uncooperative behavior. “Please, don’t… God, please don't—” You whispered with your hand on Noah's head, praying to whoever could hear you.
Your husband shook his head and looked down at the ground, stuttering, “I—I... P—Please, my wife, my son... I swear on their lives, I don’t know what you’re talking about… plea—”
A shot rang out, and his body fell to the ground, limp and lifeless.
The moment Phillip's body hit the ground, your father, out of nowhere, lunged from behind a tree, and your mother screamed from where she had been hiding.
Your father grabbed the man by the back of his collar and tried to throw him to the ground, yelling, "You son of a bitch! What have you done!? You fucking—"
Another shot rang, and his body dropped, then another as your mother ran towards his body—and before you could process what you were seeing, they were all three dead on the ground.
Your brain tried to hold onto the image, but it slipped through your fingers like water, and sound began to feel stretched and warped the longer you stood there. You could feel your chest rising and falling quickly, panic settling in, but then you felt Noah start to cry, and the last thing you remember doing was reaching back and putting your gun in the back of your pants before you held Noah close and ducked out the tent and into the shadows before you ran for the field, aiming to hide in the trees you knew were nearby.
You still to this day don’t know how long you had been running, but it was enough for your lungs to burn and your legs to feel like they were made of jello.
You finally made it to the edge of the field before you stopped and glanced over your shoulder—the camp that you once knew was nothing but dust.
Your breath came in heavy and fast, your heart pounding so fast you felt it in your fingertips—but as you focused your hearing, holding Noah closer, you realized there was no more shouting, barely any firelight coming from the camp—just darkness and an open field silvered by full moonlight.
Your head snapped back forward when you heard a branch break in the trees in front of you, your hand quickly grabbing your gun from behind you and lifting it—it shaking in your grasp.
“W-Who’s there?” Your voice was hoarse and dry from running.
You could barely see anything in front of you because it was so dark, which only made your stomach sink deeper.
You swallowed and took a step forward, looking around as best you could—the tall grass around you blew against you, making you even more on edge with each little gust of wind.
You waited a moment before you heard another snap of a branch, so you quickly kissed Noah’s head and crouched to set him down. He whimpered and held onto you tightly. You kept your voice as calm as you could, whispering, “Shh, it's ok. Ok? But Mommy needs you to hide right here while I go make sure the trees are safe for us, ok?”
He reached for you again and whined, clearly as scared as you were, if not more, tears falling down his cheeks, “Mommy, I want to come with you…”
You kissed his forehead and pulled the blanket over his shoulders before sitting him on his bottom. “Shh, we need to be brave. We need to hide and be brave, remember?”
He nodded and sniffled before he moved to lie down in the grass, curling himself into a ball, echoing your words. “Be brave.”
You combed his hair back and gave him one last kiss, “Mommy needs you to be quiet and stay still, ok? Can you do that for me?”
He nodded and closed his eyes, holding his arms to his chest. You whispered as you put the blanket tightly around him, "I'll be right back." Then you stood and turned back to the tree line, reaching into the side pocket of the backpack for a flashlight before you held up the pistol and walked slowly through the grass.
You didn’t make it more than two steps into the trees before you heard a branch snap to turn and see a flicker of a face before something hit you in the side of the head, knocking you hard to the ground.
You don’t know how much time had passed before you woke up, the moon was still high in the sky—but your head was pounding, your vision blurred and spotty as you lifted your head, only to wince when a sharp pain shot down your neck.
“Ah, fuck—” You hissed as you reached up to find blood coming from where you had been hit—that’s when your blood ran cold and your stomach dropped—you lifted your head higher from the ground, groaning in pain before calling out, “Noah?”
No answer.
Panic shot through your veins like ice, and you pulled yourself up to stand, stumbling and falling against a nearby tree. You looked to see that the dim firelight that was there just before was now gone—there was nothing but the sounds of crickets chirping and the wind moving against the leaves above.
“Noah? Baby, it’s mommy! You can answer!” You shouted, stumbling over to where you remembered vaguely leaving him, only to find he wasn’t there, just the blanket and some blood that trailed away and into the grass.
You picked up the blanket and held it against your chest before screaming, “Noah?!”
You turned and scanned the area around you before seeing an area nearby that looked to be disturbed.
You gasped and moved quickly through the grass before you found him lying there, with his eyes at the sky—blood staining his clothes and the dirt around him.
You fell to your knees and pulled him to your chest, your breathing fast and shaky, “Noah? Baby, can you hear me?”
He was too still, too heavy in your arms; his body feeling slightly stiff.
You looked down slowly, heavy tears clouding your vision, and saw his big brown eyes were open—but they weren’t looking at you, they were looking out into the distance where his head hung back in your hold. His mouth hung slightly open, lips light blue.
“Noah?” Your voice barely worked as you combed your fingers through his soft hair. You shook him gently at first as you whispered, “Baby, wake up.”
You pressed your ear to his chest as you held him, but what greeted your ear was silence. There was no heartbeat, no breath in his lungs—nothing but the wind moving through the grass around you.
The world felt impossibly wide, empty, and endless in that moment as you began rocking back and forth with him in your arms, your body refusing to accept what your mind already knew was true. “Noah… please.” Your voice broke completely, choking out a broken cry, "Baby, don't leave me..."
When he didn't move, and you finally allowed yourself to comprehend your reality—you screamed out into the distance. The sound coming from the depths of you—deep and guttural—tearing out of you like someone was being ripped open.
Judy’s bedroom door slammed shut upstairs—the sound jolting you fully out of sleep. You shot up from where you were just asleep on the couch, gasping rapidly. Your chest felt tight, and your skin was damp with sweat. You blinked rapidly, looking around in a panic as you began putting together where you were.
The dim late afternoon light filtered in through the curtains and was warm against your skin, the couch was soft under your hands, and the smell of the candle that you lit before shutting your eyes came from the end table nearby.
You slowly blinked, and your breathing started to slow down as it all started to click into place.
“It was just a nightmare.” You whispered to yourself. It was real, but it wasn’t now—it wasn’t happening again.
You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to slow your breathing more as you sat there, trying to reel yourself back in.
“I have a casserole ready in the fridge for you—” Judy called as she came down the stairs and then moved through the kitchen. Her voice sounded distant and muffled as you sat there.
After a moment, you pushed yourself up from the couch and followed the sound automatically, your feet carrying you even though your mind was still lagging behind.
“—Cooking instructions are on the foil, and remember… you have to heat the casserole for at least thirty-five minutes before broiling it,” she continued, bustling past you toward the entryway to grab her shoes and jacket.
You didn’t answer and instead moved around the island to the sink, turning the cold water on full blast. You shoved your hands beneath it—the shock of the cold burned enough to start to clear the haze you were stuck in. You lifted your wet hands to your cheeks, pressing the chill into your skin, grounding yourself to something beside what was running through your head.
‘It’s not happening again... It's not happening again... It's not happening again...’ Kept running on a loop, like a mantra, like you needed to tell yourself that to keep from spiraling.
Judy turned toward you, straightening her jacket collar, still unaware of the war that was playing out behind your eyes.
“You sure you don’t want to come along? We’re going to drinks and dessert at the Bison after…” She asked, voice light and soft.
You stared down at the running water, your heart still racing, voices echoing as memories flashed —completely missing what she had just said.
“Honey?”
You blinked hard, refocusing, and forced yourself to stand more upright. You glanced over your shoulder, pasting on a smile. “Sorry. I uh, needed to wake up from my nap a bit more… what did you ask?”
She studied you for a beat, then gently repeated herself, “You sure you don’t want to come? We're going for some drinks afterwards...”
You turned the water off and nodded as you turned around with a kitchen towel in your hands, drying your hands off. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
She didn’t look convinced by the way you were holding yourself. “And you’re doing okay?” Her eyes flicked toward your torso. “Everything… healing well?”
You felt the subtle weight of her question—the one beneath the one she actually asked. You gave a soft chuckle, trying to redirect her concerns. “I’m fine. I just…” You shrugged lightly. “You know me... I’m just not one for these types of social… events.”
She watched you carefully, searching for something—for some crack in the wall you were actively building right in front of her. But then she knew... that if you needed to talk, if something was bothering you, you’d come to her, in time.
So she softly sighed, letting it go, and gave you a warm smile. “Well, alright. Just... don’t wait up for me.”
“Will do.” You set the towel onto the counter before you came over, and walked her to the front door, pulling it open. “And you don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you teased, trying to appear like you didn't have the image of your dead son replaying in your mind.
She squeezed your arm before stepping out the door. “Have a good night, sweetheart.”
You nodded, and your voice came out quieter than you meant it to, “Yeah. You too.”
You watched her walk down the steps to meet your neighbor, Sue, who was waiting for her at the edge of the sidewalk. They both gave you a smile and a quick wave.
All you could muster was a nod and a polite smile before slowly closing the door—your smile disappearing the second the door clicked shut.
You locked the deadbolt, and the house settled into an uncomfortable silence.
You stood there with your back pressed against the door after Judy left for what felt like hours—feeling how much bigger, colder, and quieter the house seemed the second it was just you inside it.
The sudden quiet of it being the worst part. It pressed in around you, heavy and suffocating—leaving too much space for your thoughts to wander where they shouldn’t.
You took a slow breath and pushed yourself off the door before you moved through the house—turning off the lights downstairs one by one.
There was a cruel weight that reminded you of the past, reminded you as it clung to you the longer you were awake—like it hadn’t fully released its agonizing grip. You could still hear the gunshots, still see the field, still feel the weight of his body in your arms.
You pushed into the living room, just wanting to shut yourself upstairs and crawl into bed for the rest of the night—your previous plans soured.
However, when you moved around the couch to blow out the candle on the far end table, your shin walked straight into the corner of the couch. The impact sent a bright, electric spike straight through your leg.
“Ah—fuck!” you whimpered through clenched teeth, immediately pulling your leg up to grab it.
You hopped once on your good foot before the pain exploded again—enough that it stole the breath from your lungs. That was all it took to feel it all rising up to boil over—everything you’d been holding down, packing tight... pouring cement over for months—it was all about to explode.
You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to bury it again, tried to breathe through it—but the second you sucked in a shaky breath, the sound that came out of you wasn’t steady... it was broken.
A sob ripped from your chest before you could stop it, and your knee gave out beneath you. You melted down onto the middle of the living room floor—one hand clutching your shin, the other pressing hard against your chest—like you could possibly try to physically hold yourself together.
You cried silently at first. Shoulders shaking with each breath you took in, teeth clenched at the attempt to stay quiet, even though no one was there.
But then the sound came that you had buried deep—and it was just as raw as the first time.
As you sat there, you could smell the field like it was right there. You could see the life gone in Noah’s eyes. You could feel again the way his body had gone heavy as you held him that last time.
You rocked slightly where you sat, then before you knew it, you melted down to lie against the rug—your forehead pressing into the fibers as your tears soaked them from beneath you.
You didn’t know how long you were there, but it was long enough for your breathing to turn uneven—long enough for the house to feel unbearably empty and dark even though the sun was still setting.
But then, when a knock sounded at the front door, you froze.
Once it registered, you sniffled hard, and lifted your head before looking toward the door, completely disoriented. “Who the hell—” You muttered to yourself before you heard another knock, softer this time.
You wiped your face with the back of your hand and forced yourself to your feet. “J-Just… Just a moment!” you called out, your voice sounding rough.
You quickly limped to the sink, your shin still aching—before you quickly splashed cold water onto your face. It was shocking enough to bring you halfway back to yourself, but then you saw your reflection in the window above the sink and saw that your eyes were red and swollen.
“Shit.” You muttered before quickly thought of what to do before you quickly ducked your head under the tap and ran water into your hair, dragging your fingers through it to make it look damp.
“I got shampoo in my eyes...” You told yourself, like you were trying out the lie, see if you even believed it.
You didn’t.
You grabbed the tea towel setting near the counter and rubbed it through your hair before combing your fingers back through it, trying to look somewhat composed to whoever was on the other side of the door.
Another knock came—even more gentle than the last.
“Christ, Judy—” You mumbled as you walked down the hall and pulled the door open. “Did you forget your keys again—”
You stopped mid-sentence to see Joel standing there. His hair was combed back and he was wearing a nice olive green button-down under his usual brown jacket—whiskey bottle in hand. He was looking down at it like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do or say now that you were standing there.
“Joel?” You straightened without meaning to, putting the mask back on. “What are you—” You looked at the street and then around the porch like something had to be wrong for him to show up like this, “Is everything ok?”
He looked up, and the second his eyes landed on your face, his expression shifted—concern softened his features immediately.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine but, are you okay?” he asked quietly, taking a step forward and reaching out but then as soon as realized, his hand shot back down to his side.
“Oh—” You held up the towel like it was some kind of proof. “Yeah… just got some shampoo in my eyes.” But your voice pitched up slightly—a tell you couldn’t control and one you unfortunately knew, he knew well.
You could see it in the way his eyes lingered for a moment more, but noticed that he didn’t push—instead, he lifted the bottle slightly.
“Sorry if I’m interruptin’ your night… I know you mentioned finishing your book,” he said, a small nervous chuckle slipping out. “I just… Well, I don’t exactly know what I’m doin’ here...” He looked down shyly and rubbed the back of his neck, his voice softer as he admitted, “But if I’m bein’ honest… I uh, well… I wanted to see you.”
Your breath hitched, and a warmth started to bloom through the cold and empty hold that was sitting in your chest.
You swallowed down what you could from earlier and took a step back, opening the door wider. “Judy left a casserole in the fridge for me to heat up. You wanna… come in and join me?”
He hesitated only a second. “You sure?”
You leaned your head against the doorframe, the ache in your chest feeling just a little less crushing with the way he was looking at you. “If I’m being honest… I could use the company.”
He gave you a small smile before he stepped inside, quietly kicking off his boots near the bench while taking his jacket off and hanging it up above. You shut the door softly before making your way to the kitchen, turning the lights back on as you moved through the house.
Joel followed behind you. “You need help with anything?” He asked as he stood at the island that separated you, watching you set the stove to preheat.
“Just need to preheat, then put it in.” You said as you shook your head and then reached for two glasses in the cupboard above the stove and slid them towards him. “However, you want to pour us a glass?”
He nodded as he cracked open the whiskey, pouring carefully before sliding one toward you.
You took a sip, and the burn hit immediately—grounding and sharp. You let it settle in your chest before muttering, “God, that’s good,” and downing the rest in one go.
Joel watched you with slight concern, then took a slower drink of his own before asking. “How long’s it been?”
You hummed, confused by what he meant.
“Since you had whiskey,” he clarified, adding a chuckle to ease the tension, already reaching over the counter to refill your glass.
You shrugged lightly. “Jeez, I don’t know… a while.” You let out a small, dry chuckle. “What about you?” You asked as you took your glass and nodded toward the living room, starting to walk towards the loveseat.
He followed you and sat on one end while you settled on the other. “I had a glass when Tommy and I first came to Jackson and then a few after that…” he said, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Before that? Been a while, too.”
You leaned back and took another drink, slower this time—letting the silence settle around you.
Joel’s gaze drifted to you more than once. He noticed the faint puffiness around your eyes that didn’t come with a shampoo accident, and the way you kept your shoulders tight like you did when you were holding onto something.
“You don’t have to tell me what’s goin’ on,” he said carefully after a moment. “But… if somethin’ is… you know you can talk to me.”
You stared at the liquid swirling in your glass for a second, jaw tightening as you tried to find the words. “Some days are just worse than others, you know?” you said quietly.
He nodded, knowing exactly what you meant by how quiet you were. “Yeah. They are.”
Your eyes found his and the air shifted in a way that felt familiar and safe. Of course there was still that unfinished thing between you—that yearning that hadn’t left you since the hospital room—since the almost. The longing that had been buzzing underneath your skin from the way he’d said your name that day, the way you’d almost leaned in… but then there something softer. An understanding of grief and deep pain that you hadn’t shown each other until now that connected you even deeper than before.
He was already looking at you—with something warm flickering across his face, something you knew he didn’t give to many people.
“I’m glad you came by,” you said softly before looking away to your glass.
“Me too.”
The oven clicked in the kitchen, signaling it was ready to go. But before you could even move to get up, Joel stood, setting his drink down on the coffee table.
“You stay right there… I got it.” He said in a way so gently that you looked up and caught a small smile that tugged at his lips before he disappeared into the kitchen.
You took another slow sip of whiskey, watching him move around like he’d been in that kitchen a hundred times before. He was comfortable enough that it almost felt domestic—enough that it made your chest ache.
“So,” you called out, your voice steadier than before, “what was your drink of choice before… everything?”
Joel slid the casserole into the oven and set the timer that sat on top of the stove. “Whiskey or a beer,” he answered easily. “You?”
You shrugged, thinking for a second. “Now that ai think of it, I wasn’t much of a drinker… especially before…” You looked down at your glass “everything…”
You finished the glass again without meaning to as your mind started to drift again.
Joel noticed enough so that when he came back and sat down—he sat closer. It wasn’t close enough that you were touching—but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off from him. He noticed the way your eyes went distant and made an effort to face you more head on, like he was letting you know he was there.
“But after…?” you started, your voice thin and almost fragile. Everything in you felt like it was fighting to hold you back, to just push it all down but then there was a part of you that wanted to open up, to give Joel the parts of you you wanted him to know.
“After I lost my son…” You shook your head and scoffed. “God, I drank whatever I could get my hands on.”
Joel didn’t look away. He knew that look. The thousand-yard stare that wasn’t about being far away—it was about being too close to something you didn’t want to see.
“When I…” he hesitated at first, like the words got caught in his throat for a second. “When I lost my daughter, Sarah… I couldn’t remember what day it was… for months.”
Your head snapped up slightly at his admission, at the mention of Sarah—but also because you remembered that haze.
You remembered the days blurring together, the way your body wanted to give up, the mornings you would wake up and not know what month it was, the days you held a gun to your head and begged yourself to pull the trigger. The depression and ache when you gave into living. The one that made you forget to eat, to care—even to breathe at times. But worse than all that had been the guilt that you have never seemed to let go of.
The never ending questions you asked yourself:
Why him? Why you? Why your son? Why didn’t you protect him better? Why did you leave him alone?
The questions that had no answers and never would no matter how many times you begged the universe to answer them to you.
Your grip tightened on the glass as memories flashed in your mind—
You blinked hard, trying to push it all out of your mind, but the tears slipped out anyway, and Joel saw it. But he didn’t rush you, he didn’t panic to wrap you in his arms—he just shifted slightly, angling himself toward you more fully before he asked gently. “Your son. What was... his name?”
God, now that you thought about it, you hadn’t said his name out loud in months. It almost felt wrong, like you didn’t deserve to utter it—not with how you felt you failed to keep him safe.
But then you looked up and saw how Joel was looking at you? How his eyes were soft and warm and patient—something inside you felt like it started to mend.
Your lips trembled despite the small smile that formed when you muttered. “His name was Noah.”
Joel let his name sit there for a moment, let it bring warmth to the space between you, let it breathe life for a moment before he said, his voice softening further than it already was, “Tell me about him.”
You looked at him and for once you weren’t guarded, you didn’t deflect or become defensive—for once, you let someone see it.
“He was four when—” You stopped, your throat tightening before you sucked in a shaky breath and tried again. “He was four... and he had softest brown curls and the prettiest brown eyes... and he—” you sadly chuckled, looking down, unable to finish as you teared up.
Joel reached forward, carefully taking the empty glass from your hand so you didn’t have to keep gripping it, and replaced it with his hand.
“What was his favorite thing?” he asked. “What’d he love about life?”
You let your eyes drift to the cushion between you as they went somewhere softer—somewhere before the gunshots.
“He loved those little toy cars you could sometimes find in gas stations?” you murmured before a small, watery laugh escaped you. “His dad… found this yellow Nascar one, for his fourth birthday. It was still bright as hell. I think… God, I think he carried it everywhere for weeks...”
You wiped at your cheeks, not bothering to hide it anymore. “I uhm, I had to explain what a race car was… you know, because in the middle of the end of the world—” You shook your head softly and smiled as you remembered the memory. “I remember I tried to describe what a speedway was to him. The big crowds, the loud noises…bright lights...” You chuckled and looked down at your hand in his. “I'm sure it sounded ridiculous, like I was telling him a bedtime story about dragons.” But then your lips trembled, and your voice cracked. “But he thought it was the coolest thing he’d ever heard.”
“Hm, he would’ve loved Texas..." Joel smiled gently, eyes glossy as his thumb gently rubbed a few arches into your knuckles. "Jesus, I think I saw those cars gettin’ hauled up to Fort Worth at least once a week, all up in ‘em big ol' trailers—shiny as hell.”
You watched his thumb before you looked up at him, and really looked at him. “That’s right. You were from Texas…” You tilted your head just slightly. “Your family was from Austin, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It was just me, Tommy, and Sarah when it all started...” His voice lowered and he looked down at your hands. “Sarah... she didn’t make it out of Texas… she uhm—she didn’t make it past that first night.”
The air shifted again and you saw it then—the version of him that had once tucked a little girl into bed. The version of him that would have done anything for his little girl—the father he was before the world hardened him.
“Tell me about her,” you said, just like he did.
His gaze lifted to yours, and for a second, you swore you saw sunlight in it—a memory of warmth.
“She was funny,” he said, voice rough but fond. “Always crackin’ jokes. She had this habit of rollin’ her eyes at me and grinnin’... it was cute enough when she was little, that I could never get mad at her... and even when she was fourteen...” He chuckled through the thickness in his throat. “God, and she was smart—too smart… always tryin’ to fix things for me. Like she was more of the parent.”
You smiled through your tears, your voice gentle. “Sounds more like she loved you enough to want to make sure you were taken care of, too.”
“She did,” he admitted quietly. “More than I deserved most days.”
“I’m sure you did the best you could,” you said gently.
He shrugged. “Tommy constantly told that.”
You huffed softly and a small grin curled up on your lips. “I know we hate to admit it, but sometimes he’s right...”
Joel’s mouth twitched as well. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
You both chuckled and sat there together—trading small memories with each other.
Noah’s obsession with frogs and anything wildlife you ran into.
Joel’s memory of Sarah baking him a lopsided birthday cake one year.
How both of them hated vegetables.
The way both of them laughed with their whole bodies and smiled so bright it could be mistaken for the sun.
It was strange at first—knowing you’d both carried these stories alone for so long. You had always felt like if you said these things out loud, it would make the loss of Noah somehow feel sharper. But instead, the more that things came out, the more you shared, it felt… freeing—like breathing fresh air into a room that had been sealed shut for so long.
Joel had just finished telling you a story about Sarah’s fascination with bugs when she was little: how she used to crouch in their backyard for hours if he’d let her—completely content, watching ants carry crumbs twice their size or cradling a ladybug in her palm ever so gently. He got lost in describing to you how she once tried to keep a jar of beetles in her room until he finally put his foot down when a few got out.
You found yourself smiling at the image of her, and you admired the way he talked about her—how gently and proudly he sounded with each story or detail he shared.
It stirred something warm in your chest—something that had been quietly buzzing ever since the hospital weeks ago. It was enough that you hadn’t noticed how close you’d both moved at first—but somewhere between stories and shared silences, your shoulders had angled toward each other, your knees were only inches apart, and your hands were resting near each other enough that your fingers brushed occasionally when one of you shifted just enough.
As the moment settled down, you wondered if Joel had also realized that how you were now sitting was the exact way you’d sat in that hospital room weeks ago.
Before the moment that everything had almost happened.
But when you looked up at him, he was already looking at you—and not in the guarded way he used to, not with irritation or distance. It was with a softness that made your stomach flip, especially lately. It made you feel exposed and, at the same time, wanted in a way that no one had before.
You thought about how the evening started, though. On a lie... and that wasn't what you wanted, not with him.
So you swallowed down your pride and stubbornness before you spoke. “I uhm, I need to tell you something…”
Joel's pinkie wrapped around yours before he fully enveloped it. "Ok..."
You looked down at where your hands touched before softly confessing, “...I lied to you.”
His lips curved upwards slightly—not in amusement and not like he was upset... it was almost like he was curious as his brows pulled together.
“What?” he asked quietly. “When?”
You hesitated only for a moment, suddenly feeling shy or nervous—you couldn't tell which.
“Earlier…” You lifted your free hand and gestured vaguely toward your hair, now dry and falling loosely around your shoulders. “I wasn’t in the shower before you showed up… I didn't get shampoo in my eyes... I was—”
“I know.” He cut you off gently, like he didn’t need you to explain yourself—as if to say he knew you better than that.
The words stopped you, and you blinked, looking up at him. “You know?”
His expression didn’t change. If anything, it softened further, his thumb now tracing slow, absent patterns against your skin. “You think I don’t know you enough to tell when you’ve been cryin’?” he asked, his head tilting just slightly.
The question knocked the breath from your lungs, and you stared at him, speechless, your heart pounding in your chest.
A small, almost nervous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he asked, “But... why’d you feel like you needed to tell me the truth?”
You dropped your gaze again, suddenly overwhelmed by how vulnerable this all felt. “I don’t know…” You admitted quietly before you paused as you searched for the right words, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “Maybe…” You shrugged, smiling to yourself. “Maybe I don’t want to hide those parts of myself anymore...” Your voice grew softer when you admitted, “...especially from you.”
The admission hung between you, and you felt his hand still against yours—the way his thumb stopped moving, like he was now stunned into silence.
When you finally looked back up, worried you'd said something wrong or had crossed a line, you caught how his eyes flicked, just for a second, to your lips.
Your breath hitched slightly because you found that yours had done the same—and that’s when the air finally shifted.
When it made that warmth in your chest spread, blooming outward, curling into your stomach, your throat, your fingertips, even to the tip of your nose.
It’s when you felt that magnetic pull you’d felt in the hospital return—except now with a vengeance. It was stronger now that there were no interruptions. Now that it was just him… just you.
You thought you heard him say your name—his voice now soft and uncertain. But just as you started to lean in, letting that pull take you closer like it had before—
The oven timer blared from the kitchen, and you blinked as reality rushed back into the space between you like cold air.
You cleared your throat quickly, your cheeks burning red as you pulled your hand from his and stood. You tucked your hair behind your ear in a nervous gesture and your voice slightly cracked as you said, “I’ll—uh—I’ll go dish us up…”
Joel sat there for a moment, frozen where he sat, but then he leaned back against the couch as you made your way out of the living room and into the kitchen—his arm stretching along the backrest as he watched you retreat.
He didn’t miss the way your shoulders were now slightly tense. Didn’t miss the way your movements were careful, deliberate, like you were trying not to think about what had almost happened… again.
As you opened the oven, heat spilled out into the kitchen as you reached for the casserole dish. However hard you tried not to notice, you could feel his eyes on you.
And it made your pulse race.
Even made your fingers clumsier than usual as you reached up to grab two plates from the cabinet—the ceramic lightly clattering against one another as you fumbled for two.
“Fuck—” You muttered, your ears now burning.
Behind you, Joel watched every movement. And he could feel it too—that same pull, the tension.
He knew you felt it by the way you avoided turning around or speaking any further. He read it in the way your shoulders lifted and fell with deeper breaths than necessary as you stood at the stove, trying to steady yourself.
He chewed the inside of his cheek, his knee bouncing slightly as he tried to steady himself as well. But as soon as he allowed his mind to wander... his thoughts betrayed him.
He imagined what it would feel like to finally close that distance… to touch you, to cup your face and feel your skin beneath his hands—God, to finally kiss you.
He flexed his fingers in his lap, imagining them in your hair, at your waist, holding you close. He felt his heart start to pound faster as he imagined the way your arms would wrap around his neck or how your fingers would thread through his hair to pull him closer.
Jesus, he’d spent weeks thinking about it, he couldn't count how many nights he dreamt of it—yearning for it, needing it, wanting for it—wanting nothing more than the way he wanted you.
“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed himself up before he could talk himself out of it. He crossed the living room and stepped into the kitchen, rounding the island toward you.
You were too focused on scooping the casserole onto the plates, completely unaware of how close he’d gotten until he’d said your name. His voice was quiet and careful, almost breathless.
“Yeah?” you answered, turning your head slightly to follow his voice.
He didn’t stop until he closed the distance in two slow steps. But before you could react or process what was happening, he gently took the plate from your hand and set it aside, his other hand moving to your waist—gently guiding you to face him more head-on.
You heard your heart beat in your ears and your breath catch as you saw his eyes flicker to your lips again before going back up to your eyes. His other hand rose slowly but deliberately, until his palm rested against your cheek—his thumb brushed softly along your skin.
He swallowed before he murmured, “Just say the word…” His voice was rough and vulnerable in a way you’d never heard before. “...and I’ll stop.”
Your heart thundered against your chest as you felt his hand on your cheek—warm, steady, and safe. You let yourself lean into it, letting yourself melt into him as you looked up and into his eyes.
You saw there was hesitation, but not of wanting to pull back or stop—it was the fear of what this meant and then the hope of what he wanted it to be.
The more you stood there, you realized you felt the same.
You were terrified to open yourself up, but you were terrified of losing someone else... of losing him. You couldn't stand the thought of one more person in your life being lost to the constant horrors this world consistently offered.
But with all that, you were more terrified of never allowing yourself to be happy—to feel something close to... love or peace again.
With that realization, your body leaned toward him before your mind could catch up. You licked your lips before you whispered, “Please don’t stop,” the words settling between you, fragile and electric all at once.
Joel’s thumb shifted slightly against your cheek, rough and warm—his other hand tightening just a fraction at your waist as if he was testing whether you might pull away. But you didn’t, and that was all he needed.
He leaned in slowly, so slowly you felt every second of it—the warmth of his breath brushing your lips, the faint smell of whiskey on it, the way his nose barely grazed yours as he tilted his head. He paused just before touching you, his eyes flicking up to yours one last time, giving you the chance to stop him.
Instead, you closed your eyes as you leaned the rest of the way in—your lips meeting his in the softest kiss you’d ever felt. Your lips barely moved at first, just resting against his, feeling the shape and warmth of something you hadn’t allowed yourself think about having in so long.
His hand on your cheek slightly trembled, his thumb brushing just beneath your eye, his nose brushing yours as he pulled back and turned his head.
Your hands moved to his chest and instinctively curled your fingers into the sides of his shirt, gripping it gently, needing something solid to anchor yourself to the moment.
"Joel..." You said breathlessly, but before you could say anything more, he leaned back in—deepening it just slightly, pressing a little closer, his hand at your waist drawing you in closer.
You answered without thinking, your lips parting against his as the kiss grew warmer and deeper, your lips curling into a smile between the pauses.
After a few passes of your lips, your hand slid up his chest slowly, feeling the steady, racing beat of his heart beneath your palm, before moving higher—resting at the side of his neck, your thumb brushing just below his ear to pull him closer.
He hummed against your lips at the touch, almost like a small groan, and that small sound? Good God—that sound made something awaken inside of you that had been thought to be burnt out long ago.
His hand left your cheek only to cradle the back of your neck and head, fingers threading gently into your hair as he pulled you closer, the kiss deepening further.
You melted into him completely, rising slightly onto your toes without realizing it, your body instinctively seeking more of his warmth—more of him.
His lips grinned as they moved against yours with growing confidence, slower but fuller now, like he was savoring every second they were on yours.
Eventually, neither of you could ignore the need for air. You both pulled back slowly—not too far, but just enough that your foreheads hovered close, your breaths mingled, and your eyes opened, half-lidded as you looked at each other.
Joel’s nose nudged yours gently, affectionately, and intimately as his voice came out low and rough. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that...”
You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips, but you didn’t have time to answer before he leaned in again. This time the kiss was softer, slower—and he lingered. He kissed you once, then again… and again. Each one unhurried and intentional—like he was making up for lost time.
You felt his other hand slide around your back, warm and steady, fingers splaying against you like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on. He guided you with him as he took a couple of slow steps backward, the back of his hips bumping into the edge of the kitchen island. The movement pulled you closer, your bodies aligning in a way that made your head swim—it felt like gravity shifted.
Like the world had narrowed down to just this.
Just him.
You pulled back just barely for some air, your lips hovering near his, your breath mingling with his, only for his to follow yours instinctively, chasing you—his voice low and slightly dazed as if he hadn’t meant to say out loud, “Mm, wait…”
You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from you, breathless and disbelieving, your forehead brushing his as his lips found yours again. The sound seemed to undo him entirely. Before you knew it, the kisses deepened more than they already were. Your breath grew heavier with each brush of his lips against yours.
His hand moved from your waist, sliding upward, then down again as if he didn’t know where to settle. His hands moved up your arms before his fingers settled at your shoulders, trembling slightly as they gently started to push your cardigan off your shoulders.
But then he hesitated—like he was giving you time to stop him—only you didn’t.
You let your arms fall to your sides to let the cardigan slip down your arms, letting it fall to the floor.
Your hands moved up and found the buttons of his shirt, your fingers clumsy and shaking in a way that made you both laugh softly under your breath between slow but deep kisses. The nervousness under everything was undeniable—but it only made the moment sweeter and feel more real.
“Is this ok?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper between a kiss.
Joel nodded immediately, his grin breaking through like he couldn’t help it, his lips swollen and flushed as he looked down at you like you were something he didn’t quite deserve but wasn’t about to refuse.
“Yeah,” he murmured, then another kiss, lighter than the last. “Yeah, it’s ok.”
He lifted his arms slightly to help you as you unbuttoned his shirt, "Here, let me help you..." He murmured moments before you pushed the shirt from his shoulders—making it fall to the floor beside yours.
His hands fell to your waist and he looked down at you, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
You watched for a few moments, your cheeks flushed, your lips swollen and parted. You reached up and set your hand against his bare chest. You could feel the heat of him beneath your palm, the steady rhythm of his heart, the rise and fall of his breathing—it starting to slow down as he gazed down at you.
His lips pressed softly against your temple, then a slow moment later, your forehead—each kiss slower than the last—each one more reverent and filled with need.
His hands tightened at your waist, pulling your hips flush against his—enough to feel that growing need beneath his belt.
The contact sent heat spiraling through you, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes lifted to meet his again.
Your gaze dropped to his lips, and your gaze darkened for a moment—and Joel saw it—and felt the exact same way.
He swallowed hard, his hands hesitating slightly as they slid beneath the hem of your shirt. He paused there, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it.
“Is this ok?” He asked like he was worried he might be crossing a line—like he wasn't standing there shirtless and two seconds away from devouring you where you stood.
You nodded, but instead of answering with words, you rose onto your toes and kissed him again, your arms moving back up to thread your fingers in the back of his curls and rest around his broad shoulders.
That was all he needed.
He grinned against your lips and kissed you a few times before he barely pulled back—enough to pull your shirt up and over your head quickly but carefully, like he was afraid of hurting you, of breaking the fragile trust now between you. But then his lips were back on yours seconds later—hungrier now, deeper than before, tossing the shirt aside, his hands returning to your now bare waist, anchoring you to him.
You melted into him with each kiss, each time his fingers gripped you just a little tighter.
After a few minutes of that, your hands moved instinctively downward—trailing down his chest, memorizing the feel of him beneath your fingertips before settling at his belt.
You felt him press himself against your touch and he groaned softly. The sound sent heat rushing through you like wildfire—straight between your legs.
His hand moved up to slide into your hair again, this time cradling the back of your neck as he tilted your head up—his lips leaving yours only to trace along your jaw, then lower, brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.
Your vision dizzied before your eyes fluttered shut and your breath caught in a soft gasp.
Your fingers fumbled at his belt, undoing it slowly, slightly nervous if you were being honest—your hands betraying how long you’d wanted this too.
He groaned again, deeper this time, his breath hot against your skin.
It made your knees weak, it made your mind spin—made every damn nerve in your body come alive.
You finally loosened the buckle, your breath stuttering as he pressed closer to you. You could feel the shift in him, the need he’d held back for so long finally breaking through like water against a cracking damn.
You let out a small gasp as his lips found your pulse point and began to lightly suck at it.
You knew where this was going and you didn’t even protest with yourself how much you wanted it.
God, you wanted it, you needed it—needed him.
You tugged lightly at the button of his jeans to undo it, your voice shaking slightly as you started to ask, “Would you… God—” You gasped and let out a soft moan as he moved up to lightly suck at your earlobe.
His grip on your hip tightened at the sweet sound and then moved behind to grab a handful of your ass, humming as he teased, “Would I like what?”
You grinned as you felt him kiss your jawline, knowing he was coming back to your lips.
“Would you like to take this—” You started only for footsteps pounding up front the porch to cut you off—making you both freeze.
Judy’s voice carried clearly through the front door as she said goodbye to someone outside, “Thanks for walking me home! I’ll see you tomorrow—”
Reality crashed down and Joel pulled his lips back instantly, only for you to step out of his hold and whisper loudly as you looked at the scene around you, “For fuck sakes Judy!”
“Shit—” Joel whispered, running his hands through his hair, already looking around wildly for his shirt.
Your heart raced as you did the same.
“What do we do?” you whispered urgently, grabbing your shirt from the floor and pulling it over your head with fumbling hands.
He turned around as he pulled his shirt up and around his shoulders and looked at you. And then—he smiled. It wasn’t anything near calm or composed—it was boyish and filled with thrill. Like a teenager sneaking around behind his girlfriend’s parents back.
“I’ll sneak out the back,” he whispered, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the back door with him.
You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you despite feeling disappointed this had to end just as it began.
You opened the door quickly and he took one step out only to freeze where he stood.
“Shit,” he muttered, both of you looking down at his socked feet. “My boots.”
You both heard the front door creak open and Judy call out your name.
You shoved him gently onto the porch, laughing under your breath, your heart racing from more than just panic now.
He stood there in his socks, shirt half undone, hair a mess from your fingers, belt undone, pants unbuttoned, lips swollen and flushed.
God he looked ridiculous, and beautiful, and happier than you’d ever seen him.
You leaned in close enough so he could hear, whispering quickly before closing the door. “Meet me at the front door in two minutes.” Then you shut the door before he could respond.
Leaving him standing there, breathless and grinning like a fool—like he hadn’t just been almost caught. But also like he’d just found that something he never thought he’d deserve to have as his.
“Hun? You still awake?”
Your heart leapt straight into your throat the second the door closed—and for a split second, you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
You stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen, your lips still tingling, your skin still warm everywhere he’d touched you. You could still feel the ghost of his hands on your waist. Still taste him on your lips. Still hear the way he’d whispered your name enough to shoot butterflies through every fiber of your being.
“Yeah—yeah…” you called back, your voice betraying you slightly before you cleared your throat and steadied it. “I’m just in the kitchen dishing up.”
You quickly grabbed the serving spoon again and began scooping the casserole onto the plate from earlier—even though your hands trembled slightly from what had just happened.
“Breathe, you got this. Just breathe,” You whispered to yourself, trying to force yourself to breathe normally, to somehow act normally. To some way ignore the way your heart still raced like it hadn’t gotten the message that the moment was over.
“Hey, you’re back early?” you added, hoping the casualness in your tone would help sell it. “You want something to eat?”
“Yeah, that actually sounds nice.”
You heard her footsteps moving through the living room, slower and heavier than usual.
You risked a glance over your shoulder and saw her pinching the bridge of her nose, her expression tight with discomfort.
“I uh… I think I’m getting a migraine,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “So some food before I take something would be nice…”
“Oh—that’s too bad,” you said quickly, spotting the two glasses abandoned on the coffee table before stepping away from the kitchen island and intercepting her path just before she could round the corner to lay or sit on the couch.
Before she could see the evidence of him.
You smiled warmly and gently placed your hand on her arm, guiding her back in the opposite direction.
“Here,” you said gently, turning her toward the staircase. “Why don’t you head upstairs and lie down... and I’ll bring you something to eat and a nice cold rag for your head, yeah?”
She looked at you with surprise but smiled warmly nonetheless.
“Oh, you’re too kind,” she murmured. “You sure it’s not too much? I know you were looking forward to a night by yourself…”
“Jesus, the irony…” You muttered to yourself as you thought about how, if only she knew how you wanted the night to go less than 3 minutes ago.
You forced yourself to keep your smile steady, even as your pulse throbbed beneath your skin and there was a thrumming need between your thighs—one that wouldn’t get settled until the universe stops sending you all these god damn cock blocks.
“I promise,” you said softly. “It’s no trouble at all.”
She studied your face for a moment, like she was trying to read something there—but whatever she thought she saw, she let it go.
She nodded.
“You’re a dear,” she said warmly. “Thank you.”
You hummed and walked with her to the stairs, your hand lightly supporting her arm as she climbed the first few steps.
“Give me five minutes,” you called up after her. “I’ll bring it up.”
She lifted a hand in acknowledgment as she reached the top of the stairs before casually saying, “Oh by the way, sweetheart—your shirt is on backwards.” She paused and looked down at you for a moment, “You know, incase you didn’t know…”
Then you heard her bedroom door open and then close and you stood there with one foot on the bottom stair, hand in the rail and smiled to yourself, chuckling through clenched teeth, your ears and face burned bright red before muttering, mocking her voice, “Oh and by the way—your shirt is on backwards…”
You listened to be certain she wasn’t coming back out or down then you sprang into action.
You grabbed the whiskey bottle from the counter before you grabbed a Tupperware container and quickly filled it with a portion of the casserole, your movements quick but careful.
Your heart still was fluttering uncontrollably and your body still buzzing from his touch.
You grabbed his boots from beside the front door and hesitated for only a moment before opening it.
He was already there, leaning casually against the doorframe—his hair was smoothed back again, shirt was buttoned properly, belt secured. But his lips were still swollen and his cheeks still flushed. His eyes still carried that same warmth and hunger—that same tenderness that yearned for you.
“Hey…” he said softly.
You smiled immediately, unable to stop it. “Hey.”
You held out the Tupperware and his boots, your fingers brushing his as he took them.
“Sorry our night got cut short,” you said quietly. “Figured I’d make up for it by sending you home with something to eat.”
He chuckled softly, pulling on his boots before straightening—only for his hand found your waist without hesitation.
“It seems,” he murmured, taking a slow step closer, his voice drawled in a way that sent chills down your spine. “we’ve got ourselves a bit of a curse.”
You laughed quietly as your hand came to rest over his chest, feeling the steady strength of his heartbeat beneath your palm.
“We keep getting… interrupted,” he added.
Your heart squeezed at the way he clearly was just as excited and eager as you felt.
“Well, what are we going to do about it?” you asked softly.
His eyes searched yours, his thumbs rubbing gently into your hips only to lean slowly forward and nudged his nose gently against yours.
“We’ll figure it out.” The certainty in his voice made your chest ache.
You nodded, smiling softly before you couldn’t help but lean up and kissed him again. You took your time with this one—making it slow, deep, and certain—telling him everything that you needed him to know that words had failed to convey all this time.
He went in for one more as you went to pull back, his hands holding onto you like he didn’t want to let go—like he didn’t want this night to end.
When he did pull back though, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he tried to think of what to say to just a little bit longer.
“We still on for tomorrow’s date?” you whispered, your thumb tracing absentminded patterns against his chest.
His lips curved into that soft smile you were starting to realize was meant just for you—that was yours. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Butterflies erupted in your stomach as your smile matched his and leaned back in until Judy called your name faintly from upstairs—your lips barely touching.
You both exhaled softly as you parted, frustrated being an understatement.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said gently, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his hands gently squeezing your hips, offering reassurance.
You nodded as you echoed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You stepped back slowly ever though neither of you wanted to move right away.
But eventually, Joel’s hands left your waist and all you could do was smile at him as you reluctantly closed the door.
The second it clicked shut, you leaned your back against it and your fingers rose to your lips. They were still warm and tingling, your heart still racing.
As you looked down the hall and around the rest of the house, comparing to how you felt just a couple hours before—
Everything… started to seem just a little bit brighter.
ya girl is all about dialogue - sometimes, i'll hear a line from a movie or tv show and then inspiration will strike to write a story surrounding that one singular line.
so... i wanted to host a writing challenge (it's my first one so bear with me!), which was also a way for me to read more stories from so many amazing writers out there! the list of pedro boys are short, but depending how well this goes... i might host more in the future!
OBJECTIVE: Write a story about a character (in the ppcu fandom) that revolves around one specific line of dialogue (i'll be using a random dialogue generator).
HOW TO JOIN:
OPTION 1: Send me an ask where you select the Pedro character you'd like to write for from my list + a number from 1-5 (this will tell me how many times to click the random dialogue generate).
OPTION 2: Send me an ask where I randomly select the Pedro character for you + a number from 1-5 (this will tell me how many times to click the random dialogue generate).
RULES:
➢ Challenge will end on May 31st.
➢ Minimum of 300 words.
➢ If writing NSFW, add appropriate tags. I'm open to reading any and everything - as long as it's tagged appropriately!
➢ @ me directly in your story and tag the fic #2026PPCUWC.
a/n: there will only be 5 spots for each ppcu character. you can find the list of our pedro boys under the cut below.
so so excited to read all of your stories - send me an ask to get started! 💛
PPCU CHARACTERS:
DIN DJARIN
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
CLINT FLOOD
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
FRANKIE MORALES
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
HARRY CASTILLO
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
JAVIER PEÑA
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
JOEL MILLER
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
MARCUS ACACIUS
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
OBERYN MARTELL
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
NPT (for those who I think would either like to participate or get the word out there): @cozymochaa @thatcorporategirlie @lonely-ey3s @sawymredfox @greenwitchfromthewoods @the-sophverse @rosharanfiction @kokoluwie @mayukicrystalqueen @millerillusions @gothcsz @arcane-fox @berryispunk @capuccinodoll @punkshort @myownwholewildworld @cuppajoel @almostempty @beardedjoel @bergamote-catsandbooks
Summary: After your recent divorce you decide to come back home to your old town. Valentine's has always been your favorite holiday but no one has gone out and made you feel worthwhile. When you get a secret Valentine's surprise, you don't know who it is or what to think. Little do you know it's Joel Miller who's had the biggest crush on you since you were in middle school together.
Warnings: mutual pining, mentions of divorce and a shitty partner, fluff, established friendship between Joel and reader, no use of Y/N.
A/N: just a little last minute valentine's day one shot to feed ya'll until the next chapter gets posted a little later than scheduled❣️✨
Dividers by: @saradika-graphics
After moving back home to live with your dad after your messy divorce the last thing you wanted was to have Valentine's Day come around with no plans.
You openly loved the holiday and ever since you were younger went all out for it. So much so that you’d build your own box for the class to put their cards in, and even made your own cards, never settling for the store-bought, premade option.
Later in life when “Be Mine” cards and candy grams went out, the same care and attention was given to your partners, you always went above and beyond for them, however, it was rare whenever something was done for you in return of at all.
Your ex-husband, who you had dated since high school never did more than a last-minute card and flowers he picked up on his way home from work the same day, which were always the picked over ones. After all you had done for him, you felt deflated and defeated each year, so much so that on the last year you were married, you did and said nothing to see if he’d remember.
He remembered it for his assistant, but not for you you’d come to find out.
You were helping in your dad’s diner set up Valentine’s Day decor on the 13th when Joel Miller, who you had known since middle school, a good friend of yours, came in and sat down at the bar, smiling softly, “Mornin’ cupid…” he teased.
You chuckled, “Hilarious Miller…”
You took some tape and started putting it onto hearts and lips you had kissed on paper with lip stick and then you had cut out in different designs and shapes to place around the diner.
“Still a big fan of the big ol’ Valentine's Day?” his eyes followed you as you walked around hanging up those decorations.
You nodded, “You betcha…”
Ever since you came back home after being gone for almost 10 years, Joel had wanted to ask you out. However, every time he had the moment or courage to do so, something came up to pull him or your attention away from the question edging on his tongue.
He’s had a crush on you since middle school but was never lucky enough to have your heart.
Years ago, Jesse, your ex, was an old friend of Joel’s but after he started dating you, Joel stopped coming around and you always wondered why.
What Joel never told anyone is he confided in Jesse that he had liked you, was asking him for advice on how to ask you out. He has always been on the shy side, and so big questions like this were a lot for him, he thought he could trust his friend with that information.
However, as a joke and also Jesse being an ass, asked you out.
Unfortunately, it turned out to be more than a date, he ended up liking you and one thing turned into another. In the end, you ended up getting married right out of high school and moving to New York for his job.
Joel will always regret not asking you out when he had the chance. Now that you were here, single and was also sure in need of a real man to take care of you- which he wanted so desperately to do- he wasn’t going to let that opportunity slip from him.
Joel smiled and chuckled, “You got any plans tomorrow?” he took a sip of his coffee trying to act as nonchalant as he could.
You shrugged, “Nope, just stayin’ home, might order in, rent a movie or something.” you smiled and looked back at him, “You? You takin’ Sarah out for dinner or something?”
He shook his head, “Sarah has a school dance she’ll be goin’ to, but I’ve got a date, or I hope I will… gon’ ask her later today, surprise her.” he lied as he peeked up from his mug, winking.
You smiled brightly, “Ooh that sounds lovely! Do I know this lucky gal?” you walked past and nudged his arm softly, trying to be supportive.
Deep down, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed he was going out with some other girl. A part of you kept wanting to ask him out, or at least for a cup of coffee outside of the diner, but every time you got the courage to ask or say something you got in your head, thinking you weren’t good enough for a man like Joel. He’s too good for you, too kind, too handsome, you weren’t his type, plus you married an old friend of his- you felt tainted by that.
He shook his head, “I don’t think so, she’s from out of town…” he sighed softly, biting the inside of his cheek.
You nodded and hung a few more hearts around the diner, “Well, I hope you have a lovely time Joel, you deserve a good night out.” you smiled kindly and then walked behind the counter and gathered a few things, “Excuse me, I need to run all this to the office…” you tucked your hair behind your ear and disappeared to your dad’s office.
The next morning you woke up to a knock on your front door, you got out of bed and rubbed your eyes, opening your door to see an older delivery man holding a dozen red roses and a gift bag that was neatly wrapped.
You smiled and blushed, “Yes?”
He smiled brightly, “Special delivery miss!” he handed you the items and winked, “He said to tell you Happy Valentine’s Day.” he walked down your front porch and toward his truck.
“He? Who’s he?” you shouted, confused.
“Not at liberty to say!” he chuckled and got into his truck, driving off.
You closed your door and went to your kitchen table, putting the gift bag and flowers down, seeing there was a small card attached to the flowers.
You opened the envelope and sighed, “Oh Dad…” you said thinking he did this to make you feel better about being back here.
To your surprise, it wasn’t your dad’s handwriting, but you had no idea whose it was.
‘Happy Valentine’s Day beautiful!
Please join me on the rooftop of Jasper’s for a candlelight dinner at 7 pm tonight.
-Your Valentine’
You opened the gift bag to find a nice red dress and a bag of candy hearts, however, they all said ‘Be Mine’.
You blushed and looked at the flowers and items, no one had ever made a fraction of this effort, you had no idea who sent this or who you’d be meeting but you hadn’t felt this excited in a very long time.
You had promised your dad you’d help him during the lunch rush as he had a Valentine’s special going so you went and just as you were about to wrap up and go home to start to get ready Joel strolled in smiling, “Hey Cupid…” he sat in front of you at the bar.
You smiled and leaned against the counter, “Hey there!” you beamed.
He chuckled, “What’s got you in this…” he waved his hand up and down, “... giddy mood?”
You started to wipe down the bar and blushed, “Oh nothin’...” you smiled to yourself.
He smiled, knowing exactly what had you in a good mood and was thriving knowing he was the cause of this. He came in for this specific reason, just so he could see the joy radiating off of you.
“Nothin’? Or nothin’ you wanna share?” he teased.
You chuckled, “Ok fine…” you came back to where he was and leaned in close to him, “You wouldn’t believe what happened this morning…”
He leaned in and looked into your eyes, biting the inside of his cheek, “Please… I’m on the edge of my seat…” he joked.
You giggled and told him everything, blushing and smiling as you explained how excited you were but how a part of you was nervous because you had no idea who it was.
Joel smiled and shrugged, “I’m sure there’s no need to be nervous, this guy seems pretty serious about you…”
You blushed and looked down shyly, “You think so?”
He nodded, thinking ‘You have no idea how crazy I am for you.’, but then softly said, “I know it Cupid.”
You looked up at him and smiled, “Thanks for easin’ my nerves Joel… but uh… I need to go, gotta go get all primped up for Mr. Valentine…” you smirked before throwing the towel you had in the laundry bucket and then grabbing your purse and walking towards the door before turning back, “Oh, good luck on your date tonight!” you smiled softly before leaving and walking home.
You spent the next 3 hours getting ready. Shaving every inch of your body you thought needed to be shaved. You tweezed your eyebrows and even waxed your upper lip which you hadn’t done in months.
You were given a red silk dress that made you feel so fucking sexy that whoever was doing this already made you feel like a million bucks.
You lightly curled your hair but for the most part kept it untouched, feeling the dress did enough to leave your hair pretty much alone. You did a light amount of makeup but by the time you were finished and looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt amazing.
You gathered your things in a small purse you had and brushed your teeth for the 5th time before leaving the house to drive to Jasper’s.
You got there right at 7 and before you could even get to the hostess table a young man cleared his throat and smiled, “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the roof…”
He blushed and nodded, following him as he led you up to the roof.
There was a small table with heart balloons anchored down and a small intimate candlelight lit with rose petals littering the table and ground around you.
You lightly giggled and saw someone with their back turned to you as they were looking at the cityscape from this view, from where you were, nervously practicing what to say.
You cleared your throat, “Happy Valentine’s Day…”
You watched as the man turned around to reveal Joel, with a bouquet in his hand.
You blushed and instantly smiled brightly, “Joel?!”
He chuckled, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Cupid…” the slowly walked up to you, “These are for you…”
You looked at the flowers and shyly took them, brushing your fingers against his, “Thank you… they’re beautiful…”
He was mesmerized by you, caught up in your beauty. You looked better than he could have ever dreamt in the dress you had on, “Not as beautiful as you…” he said before he could catch himself.
You looked down shyly and blushed, smiling like an idiot, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “You uhm… you look very handsome yourself.” you looked up at him and bit your bottom lip, catching his eyes.
He grinned and leaned down to kiss your cheek softly, “Thank you sweet girl…” he swallowed and took a breath in, feeling the nerves melt and something else seep in, something more tender and loving.
You closed your eyes when his lips touched your cheek and inhaled slowly, taking in the moment.
He cleared his throat and nodded shyly towards the table, “Please…”
You started to walk over to the table, he instinctively put his hand on the small of your back as you walked, the small gesture sending bolts of electricity through your body.
He pulled out your chair and as you sat down he pushed it in for you before he sat down across from you.
—
The two of you sat and flirted, caught up more about each other's lives over the last 10 years. Eventually, Joel put his hand on the table mid-conversation and you took it, wanting to have some type of physical connection to him after feeling his fingers earlier.
The restaurant brought out a delicious meal, one that Joel had picked for the two of you before tonight, knowing what things you liked and focusing on that. At the end of the meal, you both were sharing a bowl of mint ice cream, which he knew was your favorite when you took a bite and looked towards him.
You smiled and blushed at him, “You’re so far away…” you teased.
He bit his lip and chuckled, “You’re right, this simply won’t do any longer darlin’...” he reached and grabbed the leg of your chair, pulling you towards him.
You giggled and held on before blushing and looking up at him as he was now less than a few inches from your face with how close he pulled you.
“Better?” he asked, looking down at your lips before looking back into your eyes.
You hummed and tilted your head, blushing, “There’s… still missing something…” You pretended to think, “Oh that’s it… this…” you leaned in a tad to hover over his lips, “In the spirit of those candy hearts, ‘Kiss Me’...”
He grinned and nodded a tad before reaching his hand up to cup your cheek and pull you close, connecting your lips with his, softly kissing you a couple of times before he pulled back just a tad and chuckled, “I’ve dreamin’ about your lips on mine for a lifetime. I’m never lettin’ you go…” he kept his eyes closed as he rubbed your nose against his.
You smiled widely and licked your bottom lip, tasting him, “Never let me go then… I’m yours.” you whispered, leaning against his hand.
He smiled and reconnected your lips with his, kissing you passionately and deeply, after whispering, “... and I’m yours…”
pairing: early jackon!joel miller x f!reader
word count: 3.7k
warning(s): secret lovers troupe, fluff, flirting, slow burn, mutual pining, stolen glances, pent-up tension, Joel being a menace, slight sexual tension, but mostly all the warm and fluffy feelings.
a/n: happy (late) valentines day to you all. hope you all had a lovely day filled with so much love and warmth! i am running a bit behind in my posting, so to hopefully make up for it and give you something while you wait—here's a little one-shot i've been non-stop thinking about.
as always, enjoy! <33
Be Mine (last year's Valentine's Day one shot)
dividers by: @saradika-graphics
The morning started with you opening the front door on your way to work, only to freeze at the sight waiting for you on your front doorstep.
A bundle of wildflowers, tied together with simple twine. Not the neat, store-bought kind you once knew years ago. No, these were gathered by hand—winter-hardy and a little rough around the edges. Sprigs of pine and fir made up the base, their scent clean and sharp, with juniper berries tucked between the needles like tiny blue beads. Red-twig dogwood cut through the green in bold streaks of crimson, and here and there a few dried rose hips clung stubbornly to their stems, bright against the cold.
It wasn’t delicate, but it wasn’t showy—it was the forest in February—alive despite the snow, stubborn despite the harsh winter’s frost.
You didn’t even need to know who they were from to imagine how he’d picked them—probably at first light when no one was watching. Gloves shoved in his back pocket, jaw set like it was the most important task he’d do this week. He’d snapped the dogwood clean with careful hands, brushed snow from the pine—he would double tie the twine to make sure it would hold. And tucked carefully between the stems was a folded piece of paper.
You crouched, heart already thudding as you opened it.
“You looked real pretty last night in that little green dress at the town hall meeting. Couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Let me cook dinner for you tonight? – Your Valentine.”
Your breath caught before you could stop it as you remembered the glimpses of him you stole last night: him leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, pretending to listen while his gaze had kept drifting to you. Every time you’d looked up from the book you’d brought to read to catch a moment of him, he’d already been looking—his eyes soft, just for you.
You pressed the note to your lips for half a second, a reflex at this point—before glancing up and down the empty street, as if someone might’ve witnessed the softness on your face before you tucked the note into your jacket pocket. You closed the front door behind you, locking its deadbolt before you gathered the bouquet into your arms, hugging it to your chest as you made your way to work. You tried to wipe the smile from your face before you passed anyone knowing on the street, but it clung there stubbornly and defiantly, letting everyone know just how happy you were.
Later that morning, the bell above the library door chimed, and you didn’t need to look up to know it was him.
There was a certain way the air shifted when Joel Miller stepped into a room—his boots heavy against the wood floor, presence solid and quiet, impossible to ignore.
But you looked anyway, just for a flicker of a moment. Just long enough to see him step inside with his hands shoved into his coat pockets, his jaw shadowed with a light stubble, his curls combed back neatly, you noted he was more cleaned up than he usually is—but that his eyes were already scanning the room. Scanning for you.
Your pulse skipped, and you turned quickly, focusing on the cart of books beside you, aligning their spines with exaggerated care as you lightly shouted between the shelves to avoid raising suspicion, “Welcome in! Let me know if you have any questions…”
But you could feel your cheeks warming as you heard him start to walk through the aisles at the sound of your voice.
You did everything you could to will them to cool down—the last thing you needed was Miss Clemons or Redwood noticing you blush like a schoolgirl from the other aisle over.
You tried humming softly along with the record player that lightly played from the back, trying to keep your mind off of anything other than the sound of his boots and the way they made your heart race.
But then you heard him move across the floorboards closer, his pace slow and unhurried—like he had all the time in the world.
You told yourself not to look, that you weren’t that strong, not today.
You lasted all of three seconds as he passed by the end of your aisle, close enough that the scent of his cologne drifted toward you—pine and citrus and something distinctly him. The scent is still in your bedsheets from the many late-night arrivals and early morning departures. The scent curled around you, warm and grounding and entirely too distracting. You felt your stomach flutter, and a heat slipped down your spine the more you took it in.
You glanced up after putting another book on the shelf to find him pretending to study the non-fiction shelf, one hand braced casually against it, but the corner of his mouth was tipped up in a knowing smirk–catching you looking.
Your breath hitched, and you snapped your gaze back to the book in your hands, trying not to smile as you knew he was enjoying this.
You stood there for a moment, acting like you were double-checking your inventory sheet—debating walking over. Thanking him for the flowers or maybe teasing him about the green dress you wore. Perhaps telling him he’d looked unfairly handsome in that flannel he was in today.
But before you could make up your mind, the bell at the front desk rang, and you mumbled to yourself, “Duty calls.”
You set the books back onto your cart and made your way toward the counter, smoothing your hands down the front of your cardigan as if that might steady you.
You came to the front to realize that a small line had formed—three customers, maybe four—but enough to remind you that this wasn’t some private moment. This was one of the busiest places in town, especially on a weekend.
“Sorry for the wait, everyone…” You said as you stepped behind the counter and offered your warmest professional smile to the first lady waiting. “Good morning, Miss Clemons. How’s your Valentine’s Day going?”
She beamed at you as she slid her books across the counter for you. “It’s been good! My sweet Arthur made me breakfast in bed…”
“Well, isn’t he a gem? What’d he make you?” you asked, pen poised over the ledger.
She leaned her hands on the counter, cheeks pink. “Blueberry pancakes. My favorite.”
You hummed appreciatively, writing down the titles of the books she was checking out. “That sounds like a man who knows what he’s doing.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Joel shift his weight at a shelf a little as he was now at a shelf closer to the register—clearly listening.
You slid the books back to her. “I expect a full report next Saturday on how the rest of your day goes, yes?”
She laughed and nodded, wishing you a happy Valentine’s before stepping aside.
The line dwindled until only Louis remained, a favorite regular of yours. He set his books down carefully and gave you a slow, deliberate wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Now you must tell me,” he said, voice low and conspiratorial, “who’s the special man?”
Your heart jumped at his prying. “Pardon?” you replied lightly, though you already knew what he meant.
He pointed to the vase behind the counter, where you’d proudly arranged the arrangement, looking beautiful against the polished wood.
You glanced back at them—and then, despite yourself, your eyes drifted past Louis’s shoulder to where Joel was standing a few feet away, a book open in his hands, gaze lowered… but not before you caught the faintest curve of his mouth.
You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, feeling suddenly a bit shy. “Um, he’s… well.” You slipped the checkout card from Louis’s first book and kept your eyes on your work. “Let’s just say we’re keeping things between us at the moment.”
“Mm,” Louis mused. “Enjoying the thrill of being a secret?”
Your lips curved despite your best efforts as you nodded. “A little bit of that, yeah.”
You saw his eyebrow arch and a small grin curl upwards before he asked, “What’s the other part?”
You hesitated, then allowed yourself one brief glance toward the shelf again—where you saw Joel’s eyes flick up this time—meeting yours for the barest second before he looked back down at the page.
Your voice softened as you looked back at Louis. “We both like to keep things to ourselves.” You shrugged gently. “You know how everyone has to know everyone’s business here in Jackson…”
Louis huffed and tsked, teasing, “What? You sayin’ I’m bein’ nosey?”
“Not at all,” you grinned, finishing the last entry in the ledger. “Just saying, everyone else in town is.” You looked up at him through your lashes and winked.
He chuckled, leaning against the counter. “Well, if you can’t tell me who he is… can you at least tell me he’s doin’ more for a girl like you than just a bouquet of flowers?”
Over Louis’s shoulder, Joel’s head tilted slightly, as if waiting for your answer.
You smiled as you closed the book after putting the slip back into the back and leaned forward onto the counter, lowering your voice as if sharing state secrets.
“He left me a note with the bouquet,” you whispered. “Says he’s making me dinner tonight.”
Louis’s brows shot up and tilted his head down, slightly wanting to judge a man for wanting to cook. “Mm, and is he a good cook?”
A quiet laugh escaped you before you could stop it, your voice soft as you responded loud enough for Joel to hear. “I think he is a pretty good one.”
Memories flickered through you—his kitchen warm and dimly lit, the way he’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows when he’d help you cook, the way he’d brushed flour off your cheek with his thumb, taking every moment you two had alone to show you how much he yearned to be near. You thought about the many early mornings that you’d wake up before Ellie to share a cup of coffee and make a light breakfast—his arms around your waist as you cooked eggs on the stove.
Louis studied your face for a moment, the knowing smile deepening. “Well, I expect a full report on Monday, you hear?”
You straightened, pulling yourself from your thoughts, and stepped around the counter to head back to retrieve your cart. “Wouldn’t expect anything less, Louis.”
He gathered his books, then paused as he turned toward the shelves. His gaze landed squarely on Joel, still standing nearby. “Any ideas who this secret man is, Miller?”
Joel looked up slowly from the book in his hands, acting like he hadn’t been listening, so his brows raised in innocent confusion. “What was that, Louis?”
“She’s got herself a secret Valentine,” Louis said, nodding in your direction.
Joel’s eyes flicked to you as you were pretending to reorganize the same three books for the third time, distracted by the way you could feel the weight of his gaze on you—warm, steady, and comfortably familiar.
He shrugged casually, sliding the book back into its place on the shelf. “Whoever it is,” he drawled, voice even, “is one lucky son of a gun.”
Louis tutted and clapped Joel on the shoulder. “You can say that again.” Then he headed for the door, the bell chiming as he stepped out into the cold February air.
Silence settled between the shelves, and Joel looked around the library—realizing he was one of the last people lingering between the shelves. With that, he moved to another aisle nearby, stood there for nearly ten minutes, pretending to read the back of some old history book, watching you move up and down the long aisle with that quiet focus you always wore at work, talking to a couple of customers who walked by with questions.
When he came in at first, he told himself he’d just stop by, just see you, just hear your voice. But then he caught the soft pink clinging to your cheeks when you talked about his bouquet. That was before he’d heard you tell Louis about dinner, and the smile he saw you wear as you thought about it. That was before he’d remembered what it felt like to not be able to wake up on Valentine’s morning, with you tucked against his side.
His jaw tightened slightly, and he put the book back in its place on the shelf—he wasn’t leaving without touching you. He wouldn’t be able to wait until tonight.
He stepped slowly around the end of the shelf and positioned himself on the other side of the aisle you were working in. From where he stood, he could see you through the thin gaps between the books—little slivers of you. The curve of your cheek, the line of your throat, the way your fingers slid books carefully into place.
You smiled faintly to yourself, feeling him peek through the other side.
“Thank you for my flowers…” You murmured softly, just loud enough for the words to drift through the shelves to him.
His chest warmed instantly at the words meant for him. “Found ’em on patrol after we got back this mornin’…” he replied, equally quiet, pulling a book from the shelf so he could see you more clearly. He leaned his shoulder against the wood, casual, but his eyes gave him away—dark, hungry, fixed on you. “Couldn’t resist after knowin’ I couldn’t be there to kiss you good mornin’ on a day like today.” His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before meeting your eyes again. “Had to make it up to you.”
You opened a book and turned to a page in your hand, just to give yourself something to do other than find his gaze, knowing how weak you’d be for him. “Hm, well, I think it’s going to take more than a bouquet to make up for missing this morning, handsome…”
The corner of his mouth tugged upward before he chewed the inside of his cheek, glancing down the aisle to make sure no one had wandered close—then his voice dropped lower, rougher.
“Oh, trust me,” he said slowly, eyes dragging over you in a way that always made your breath hitch. “That’ll be what dessert’s for tonight.”
Heat bloomed instantly in your stomach, your heart slamming into your ribs excitedly, and your cheeks bloomed a deeper shade of pink at the very thought of what he might have in mind.
You bit your bottom lip and nudged your cart further down the aisle, slow and deliberate, knowing he’d follow you from the other side of the shelves, your voice remaining soft and private. “Oh, so now you’re just assuming I’m coming to dinner?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, but there was nothing uncertain about the way his eyes stayed on you through the gaps. “You were tellin’ Louis how good a cook I am…”
You stopped to slide a book into place, peeking through the shelf at him, grinning in a way you did when you meant to tease him. “Ah, so you were eavesdropping.” You clicked your tongue quietly and shook your head, lightly shaming him. “And you say you don’t like gossip…”
His expression darkened just slightly—not angry, just filled with intent as he placed both hands on the shelf, leaning closer to the gap you’d created when you pulled two books out to set aside for someone on the waitlist.
“Don’t make me come over there,” he warned quietly—the tone of his voice made goosebumps ripple up your arms.
You met his gaze through the narrow opening and let your eyes drift, deliberately, down to his mouth before returning to his eyes.
“Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” you whispered before you slid two books into the space between you like a temporary barricade and moved further down the aisle, turning sharply into the next one—knowing that got him going.
Joel stood there for half a second, his heart thundering against his chest and into his ears, his stomach doing that silly little flip it did only with you.
God, you were going to be the death of him.
He lightly pushed off the shelf and rounded the corner quickly, a grin breaking across his face—only to find the aisle empty.
His smile faltered, just slightly. “—Hey,” he whispered under his breath, barely audible. “Where’d you—”
“Psst.”
He turned toward the sound to see you peeking from the end of the next aisle, eyes bright, mischief dancing in them.
The relief that flooded him was immediate and ridiculous—his smile immediately returning at the sight of you.
He looked over his shoulder to ensure no one was watching—he saw the front desk was quiet, and heard no footsteps nearby—just the soft hum of the record player and the faint creak of wood settling.
He turned back to you, and you curled your finger at him, smiling at the same realization he had: you were alone enough to risk a moment together.
His feet moved before his brain told them to, and the second he stepped close enough, you grabbed the lapel of his coat and tugged him into the narrow aisle between shelves.
He barely had time to grin before your hands were on him and his were on you—his palms landed firmly on your hips, guiding you back until your spine brushed the shelf. The sound of books shifting slightly behind you was swallowed by the rush of blood in your ears—and then his mouth was on yours.
The first few kisses weren’t tentative or hesitant—they were filled with how starved you were of each other. Your hands slipped inside his open coat, gripping the fabric of his flannel, fingers curling to keep him close. One hand slid up his chest and into his curls, tugging him closer as his lips moved over yours, now slowing down—then getting deeper, more insistent.
The kiss was everything you hadn’t had that morning, everything you’d swallowed down last night at the town hall meeting.
His hands tightened at your hips, pulling you flush against him before one arm wrapped around your back to keep you there like he was afraid you’d slip away. His other hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin as he broke the kiss just enough to breathe.
“God,” he muttered against your lips, forehead pressing to yours. “I missed you…”
You smiled, breathless, brushing your nose against his before stealing another kiss. “You’re never going to miss another Valentine’s Day morning, are you?”
He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head before leaning back in to kiss you again, softer this time but just as hungry. “Mm, no. Never again, baby.”
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that—hidden between shelves, suspended in a pocket of stolen time. The world outside didn’t exist, Jackson didn’t exist. There was no town gossip, no secrets, no climbing fences in the dark of night or leaving before the sun rose. It was just his mouth, his hands, and the way he held you like something precious and forbidden all at once.
And something last that? There was the thrill to it, but also a torture in every second. The need and want to drag him into the open and say he’s mine—but instead, having to steal kisses in the shadows like teenagers.
The front door’s bell chimed, and reality crashed back in.
Joel pulled away reluctantly, slowly, as if separating from you cost him something. His forehead rested against yours, thumb still tracing your cheek. “So,” he murmured softly, voice thick, “is that a yes to dinner?”
You nudged your nose against his and pecked his lips once more, savoring it. “I’ll be there at eight.”
“Come over after you get off,” he said quickly, stealing another kiss before you could ask why.
Your brow arched, and you tilted your head slightly as you combed your fingers through his curls, setting them back to the way you found them.
“I convinced Ellie to go to some—” he squinted slightly, thinking, “—‘Galentine’s’ thing with her friend?” He brushed his mouth over your cheek, then down toward your jaw. “And since it’s a sleepover…” His hand slid to cradle the back of your neck, thumb tipping your chin up as his lips ghosted along your jawline. “I want you as long as I possibly can.”
Your eyes fluttered shut despite yourself, chest lifting against him as a quiet sound escaped you. “Joel…”
He grinned faintly against your skin, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you. He traced his mouth back to yours and kissed you again—slow, unhurried, deep enough to promise exactly what tonight would bring.
When he finally pulled back, you felt like you were floating—your mind dizzy, heart fluttering wildly in your chest, butterflies swarming in your belly.
He stepped away slowly, eyes drinking you in like he was memorizing you like this before he softened his gaze, “I’m serious,” he said, voice low and steady now. “Missed havin’ you this mornin’. I don’t like it.”
You nodded, agreeing without needing to say a word.
“I want tonight to be just us,” he continued, softer. “No rushin’. No hidin’.” His gaze searched yours. “I’ll see you after work?”
You nodded again and went to step forward, needing one more kiss, but then the bell chimed again at the front, and you stopped.
You exhaled through your nose and straightened yourself, smoothing your hair and stepping back into your librarian composure. “Welcome in!” you called out, voice steady though your pulse was still racing. “Let me know if you need help finding anything.”
Joel chuckled quietly under his breath, keeping his gaze on you as he was about to round the corner, adjusting his coat as if nothing had happened.
“I’ll see you later, darlin’,” he whispered just for you before disappearing around the corner and back down the aisle toward the front.
And just like that, you were left standing there—cheeks flushed, lips tingling, heart pounding—trying desperately to remember how to alphabetize books when all you could think about was how tonight can’t come fast enough.
pairing: younger!harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader
word count: 10.8k
chapter summary: With Thomas showing up unexpectedly, he aims to put a damper on your plans with Harry.
chapter warning(s): strangers to lovers troupe, found family, fluff, flirting, slow burn, hidden identity, mutual pining, reader is a single mother, absent/abusive baby daddy, physical abuse, anxiety, "you're not just a waitress to me" energy, angst, Harry being adorable with Jace (as always), somewhat switched POVs, Harry being protective, set up for future chapters.
MAIN MASTERLIST
a/n: god, i'm so sorry this has taken so long to post. thank you for being patient with me and checked in - i've gotten all of your messages and it has meant the world to know i'm that loved <33
~ this one is a big one, as it plays a big part in the next 3 chapters - which is why it took me so damn long to write and edit, but, as always, enjoy <33 ~
✨NEW CHAPTER EVERY OTHER WEEK✨
“Dad?”
Your brow furrowed at that simple word—and for a moment, you didn’t register what Jace had said. The word didn’t even make sense in this space—not here, in the bright, noisy arcade with flashing lights and laughter—where there was so much warmth and happiness just moments before. It didn’t belong here.
“Wait, what?” you asked, now confused, still half smiling from the candy and the laughter, before slowly turning around where his gaze was locked onto.
What you didn’t expect to see was Thomas standing just inside the front doors, framed by the neon lights and sunlight from the outside. His silhouette coming in and out of view with the constant rush of people swarming nearby, coming and going. His fingers wiggled in an exaggerated little wave towards you, as if this was some kind of cute coincidence. His grin was wide—far too wide for your liking—the kind that never reached his eyes. The kind he used when he thought he was being charming—when really, he was being nothing but deceitful and slimy.
The way he stood there—all casual and smug, like he’d timed this perfectly—was nothing short of manipulative. Like he knew this would rattle you.
“What is... Mom—what is he doing here?” Jace asked, his voice small and slightly shaky now. The excitement that was just bubbling out from him seconds ago was completely gone—the energy suddenly gone, the light in his eyes dimmed.
“Hey buddy!” Thomas shouted, putting on that fake fatherly smile, the one he always used around Jace. The one that made promises he never intended to keep, as he started walking your way, as if he were welcome here.
Like he hadn’t missed the last three visits with Jace. Like he hadn’t yelled at him over the phone and broken his heart less than a few days ago.
You turned back around quickly, and your stomach dropped when you saw that Jace already had tears in his eyes, and his chest was rising quicker with each breath he took.
He was stepping backwards like his dad was something dangerous instead of someone safe, like he wanted nothing to do with him.
“He doesn’t get to do this—I don’t… Mom, I don’t want to see him…” His voice cracked at that last part, his small hands clutching the dinosaur tighter to his chest like he was making it armor.
Your heart shattered as you watched him back away. “Jace, baby, come here…” You stepped toward him gently, reaching out to comfort him—but he sucked in a shaky breath and turned and ran straight toward the jungle gym behind you.
“Jace, wait—” you pleaded, panic spiking through your chest as you knew this was another mess you’d have to clean up.
Before you could even take another step to follow, Harry had already moved forward with two long strides. Like it was pure instinct, like there was no hesitation—he was already going after him. He glanced back at you mid-step, and the moment your eyes met, he saw it—that look.
The one you tried so hard to hide. It was doused in dread, embarrassment, and fear. One that had the quiet shame of someone you cared about seeing the ugliest part of your life—unable to stop it from spilling out into the open. The despair that this perfect day you’d built—ticket by ticket, laugh by laugh—had just been ripped apart in seconds.
“I’ll go get him,” Harry said softly—his voice steady and certain.
He could see the panic starting to build up the longer you stood there—so he came back long enough to take your hand in his, and brush his thumb across your knuckles in an attempt to ground you—giving you something solid to hold onto.
You gave his hand a small squeeze before mumbling, “Yeah—right. Ok, yes.” Then nodded quickly, forcing a soft smile even though your brain felt like static. “Thank you.”
He leaned in and kissed your cheek gently, his touch was everything you needed at a moment like this—his gesture purely warm and reassuring.
“I’ll be right back…” he murmured as his lips left your skin before he released your hand slowly and began to walk backwards the way Jace had run off to.
As he took his gaze off you, his eyes found Thomas, and their eyes locked.
Harry’s jaw clenched, and his shoulders squared the way Thomas tilted his head and grinned his way.
Harry’s eyes narrowed just enough to give him a silent warning—don’t start anything.
Then he put on a tight, polite smile and glanced at you once more before he turned and jogged after Jace.
As soon as Harry’s back turned, the grin from Thomas’s lips fell away as he watched him go with obvious irritation.
“So,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, the closer he got, “is that your ‘friend’ you were telling me about?”
You watched Harry make his way into the jungle gym's gate before you turned back to Thomas with your arms folded over your chest, your whole stance coming off as defensive without even thinking about it.
“We aren’t doing this today, Thomas. What are you doing here?”
He grinned like this was all funny—like this was a game to him.
“Well, when you said our son had been looking forward to coming here all week… I thought I might make a surprise appearance... You know, since I haven’t been able to see him in a while.”
“God, give me strength…” You muttered halfway through his sentence, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and keep yourself calm. But then a humorless chuckle slipped out the moment he finished and you asked, “I think what you mean to say is you haven’t been able to see him because of your choice not to, right?”
“Oh, don’t do that,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy…”
“But you are the bad guy, Thomas.” Your voice was steadier now—tired and done with this same song and dance constantly playing on a loop.
“You yelled at our son for calling you no more two days ago. But not only that—you haven’t even called to apologize to him… haven’t done anything to make anything right. No…" Another chuckle left you, one in disbelief as this whole scene of events started coming out of your mouth. "No, see, instead, you show up… unannounced and uninvited… and scare him so badly he runs away from you.” You raised your voice at the last part as you pointed toward the jungle gym.
“Scare him? Haven’t apologized?” His posture changed, and his anger started to flare as he stepped toward you.
Instinctively, you stepped back and put your hand up between you. “Stop.”
“I don’t have anything to apologize for!” he snapped and pointed toward the direction Harry and Jace ran. “And who the fuck is that? Who’s running after my son, acting like he’s his dad?”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for? Are you fucking—” You glanced around like there had to be cameras, like you were being punked—like this had to be a joke. “God, you’re so blind to what you do to him.”
Your fingers pinched your nose again, and you turned away from him, taking a moment to calm down before your gaze lifted.
You watched Harry take his shoes off, put his and Jace’s away, together, in the shoe storage—before he crawled into that small opening that his broad frame barely fit into. Then saw him start to crawl as he started making his way up and through the ginormous playset—not a single ounce of hesitation in the way he moved.
As you stood there, with your blood boiling, an incoming migraine, and stomach in knots—despite everything you were feeling in that moment—a small, proud smile tugged at your lips.
“You want to know who that is?” you said, pointing, turning to look back at him. “That’s the man who’s been stepping up in every single way you’ve been failing and falling short.”
Thomas followed your finger, and you could see his jaw clench so hard you thought he might chip a tooth when he saw where Harry was headed.
You didn’t stop, instead you found his gaze and really made sure this next part would stick:
“He’s been a more positive figure in your son’s life in the small amount of time we’ve known him—than you have in the whole six years you’ve been his father.”
Thomas's anger seeped from him like smoke as he looked at you, rage in his gaze, fists clenched to his side. You knew that if you weren't in public or if this were a few years ago, he would have hit you or done something to make you regret what you said. But there was power now, power knowing you were protected and that he couldn't touch you, that you had that little bit of leverage.
Instead, he scoffed as he shoved past you. “Yeah, well, he’s not Jace’s father, so he needs to butt the fuck out, or I'll be happy to make him.”
You exhaled heavily and followed after him, your heart pounding because you knew exactly what kind of fire he was about to start.
Harry’s POV
Harry made it through the gate of the indoor playground just as he saw Jace quickly kick his shoes off and climb up into the main entrance, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffling as he crawled further in.
He sighed as his feet slowed down a bit, feeling slightly defeated that he couldn't catch up before he disappeared up and inside.
He walked closer to the entrance and called out his name, “Jace?”
He heard from further inside the tunnel, “Just—leave me alone, Harry!”
Harry stopped and stood there, looking up at the tunnels, bridges, and swarm of kids as they giggled and squealed throughout the park—mentally weighing his options, thinking about what would be best, what wouldn’t cross any of Jace's boundaries.
But then he thought about how alone Jace always felt when it came to his dad—and that was all he needed to move his feet forward.
He stepped up to the entrance and lifted his knee to crawl inside when a small voice shouted at him from behind.
“Excuse me? Mister?”
Harry glanced over his shoulder to see a little girl, no more than Jace’s age, pointing to a sign that listed a bunch of rules and then in big red letters said: ‘NO SHOES ALLOWED’.
“It saaays no shoes.” She said with a little bit of an attitude and a cute little lisp.
“Right—thanks for the reminder, sweetheart.” Harry chuckled to himself as he immediately took a step back before taking his shoes off as well as grabbing Jace’s, which he left scattered in a rush by the entrance. He put them in the bright green shoe storage compartment next to the sign before he went back and crawled through the entrance after Jace.
The plastic tunnel led you to a plastic staircase, which took you up to an open bridge before leading you through another series of tunnels, leading you higher and higher.
The air around him was warm and stuffy from the many dozens of kids running through it all morning and afternoon. The air smelled faintly like sweat, rubber mats, and sugary soda. He moved through each level carefully, his shoulders a little too wide as he crawled—trying not to bump his head on the low ceiling.
“Jace?” he called over and over again, softer each time—gentler.
No answer—just the muffled sound of kids laughing somewhere above or around him—the squeak of bare feet on plastic.
Then, just as he was stuck at an intersection, debating which way to turn—he heard a sound that pulled his attention towards it—that small, unmistakable sound that didn't belong in a place like this.
A shaky inhale that was too sharp, too quick, and too tight.
Harry froze where he crouched, trying to listen more carefully—even closing his eyes to focus.
Another breath came from his right—short and strained—like someone was trying to breathe through a straw.
His chest tightened instantly—he knew that sound and panic instantly flooded his veins.
“Shit—” He muttered as his eyes opened and he began to crawl faster towards the sound. “Jace? Buddy, where are you?”
He followed the noise through another tunnel that glowed blue and green as the lights from outside shone through it. He continued into a bend until it opened into one of those little dome lookout bubbles that overlooked the arcade floor—and there he was, curled up tight into the corner. He had his knees to his chest, the dinosaur stuffed under one arm, and his other hand fisted at the bottom of his shirt as he watched you and Thomas below through the lookout.
Tears streaked down his cheeks, and his shoulders shook with every breath coming in thin and wheezy—immediately making Harry’s heart drop straight to his stomach at the sight.
“Oh ok—hey, hey, hey—” Harry’s voice immediately softened, nothing short of urgency wrapped in calm. “Hey, bud, it’s just me.”
Jace turned to look at him and shook his head—like he was embarrassed to be seen like this before his little hand clutched his shirt tighter towards his chest. “I—I can’t—” He tried to inhale, but it hitched halfway. “I can’t breathe—”
Harry’s brain snapped into place like it was pure instinct—there was no fear in his voice, just focus as he cooed. “You’re okay. I got you. You’re okay.”
He crawled the rest of the way in and slid down to sit cross-legged in front of him. “Where’s your bag, huh? Did you bring your backpack in here?”
Jace nodded shakily and pointed behind him.
Harry reached around and grabbed it immediately, fingers moving fast to find the front pocket where he knew he could find what he needed—his hands calm, no panic in his movements. Because he knew if he panicked, Jace would, and it would just make things worse.
“Good job bringing it with you, buddy. You're so smart. So smart.” He unzipped it and dug around inside. “You did everything right.” He warmly praised just before his fingers found the inhaler at the bottom of his bag.
“Okay,” Harry said gently, scooting closer, holding out his arms. “Come here. Come sit with me.”
Jace hesitated, just for half a second—his pride, a bit of embarrassment, and the big feelings from the last ten minutes were all tangled up before he collapsed forward into Harry’s arms, curling against him.
Harry pulled him straight onto his lap, wrapping one arm snugly around him while the other held the inhaler out and ready for him. He could feel how fast Jace’s heart was beating through his shirt as his palm moved to lay flat against his back to support and ground him.
“Alright. Slow breaths with me, okay? We’re gonna do this together.” His voice stayed low and even.
Jace nodded as he leaned against him, still crying quietly, his breath becoming increasingly short.
Harry shook the inhaler and then held it close to his lips. “Big breath out first… good… now seal your lips… and breathe in when I say, yeah?”
Jace let out a shaky breath, his little hands shook as he reached up to hold Harry’s arm as he wrapped his lips around the inhaler.
Harry started rubbing his back in slow circles with his other hand, trying to do anything to soothe him. “Ready? One… two… breathe in.”
Click—and then Jace inhaled and held it, his hands clenching around Harry’s wrist just a bit, his eyes closed shut.
Harry counted softly as he leaned in against his hair. “Five… four… three… two… one… good. Good job, bud. That’s perfect.”
He continued to rub slow circles up and down his back as Jace let the breath go and took a few shaky breaths, sniffling as his cries began to slow down.
“One more time, yeah?” Harry asked after pressing a kiss into his hair without thinking, more to calm himself.
Jace nodded and took another breath in, his hands loosening a touch around Harry’s arm.
Click—and then Jace took in another deep breath, this one coming easier—still a bit tight but much better.
“You’re doing so good,” Harry murmured. “I’m so proud of you right now. You’re being really brave.”
Jace held his breath and moved his lips off before letting it go. He immediately moved to turn in Harry's lap—curling up against his chest, his fingers grabbing fistfuls of Harry’s shirt like he was anchoring himself.
“I didn’t wanna see him…” he choked out between breaths. “I didn’t—I didn’t want to—”
“I know,” Harry said immediately, holding him closer. “I know… and you don’t have to. Nobody’s gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do, ok? I’ve got you.”
Jace nodded and breathed in again, this time there was less of a wheeze.
Harry kept counting to keep his breath steady as he rubbed his back—his voice remaining steady. “You’re safe, okay? You’re safe with me.”
Jace moved his head to tuck his face into Harry’s neck and let out a soft cry quietly, his arms coming around to wrap around his shoulders—his breath wasn’t panicked anymore—but he was just hurt. He was hurt in a way that no one his age should feel—the kind that broke Harry’s heart more than the asthma attack did.
He tightened his hold just a fraction as he thought to himself, ‘God. How could anyone make a kid feel like this?’
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Harry whispered into his hair after a few minutes of letting him get it out. “None of this is your fault.” He paused, trying to think of the right words—ones that weren’t so heavy. “Grown-up stuff is messy sometimes. But you? You’re perfect. You hear me?”
All Harry could feel against the crook of his neck was a tiny nod, and his breathing started to become steadier, his grip loosening on his shirt. However, despite that, he took the chance to hold him like that, to give Jace a glimpse of what love he's prepared to give him.
He held him like that—with the inhaler resting in his lap, his hand rubbing slow circles into his back as the two of them sat in that little corner—while laughter and the scuffing of hands and feet of children playing echoed off the colorful plastic around them.
Harry stayed like that—long after the wheezing stopped, after the last tear fell. He didn’t rush him, he didn’t move—he just held him like that, let him feel safe and seen.
After a few minutes, he kissed the top of Jace’s head and pulled himself back enough to look at him. He brought his hand up to his cheek and wiped the remaining tears gently away.
“So, what’s the plan, kiddo? Think we can sneak out the back?” He asked, his voice light on purpose—becoming playful, like they were conspiring over something silly instead of trying to escape a situation that had both their hearts racing. Like, somehow this was a silly little game of hide and seek—like nothing was wrong.
That made Jace giggle a little and look up at Harry, a watery smile breaking through the last of his tears. “You’d really do that?”
Harry nodded without hesitation—not even wasting a second of thought before he smiled and gently pinched his cheek affectionately. “I’d do anything to keep you safe.” He meant it so plainly that hearing it almost startled himself—now that it was out in the open—instead of it echoing in his chest.
“But... what about mom?” Jace said as he peeked out of the bubble that overlooked the arcade below—one that had a perfect view of the scene unfolding below:
You and Thomas had started to head toward the play area—a look of determination and anger in Thomas’s eyes as he shook his head and seemed to be saying something back to you as you chased after him.
Harry scooted closer and watched. His heart started thrumming in his chest with the anger building stronger and stronger by every minute he was still here. He instinctively held Jace closer as they watched together, one arm wrapped securely around his middle like a seatbelt.
The more he watched, the faster Thomas walked this way—the more certain he knew that Thomas was going to try to come up and find Jace.
And if he could help it, that wasn’t something he was going allow to happen.
Harry’s eyes began to scan the surrounding area and caught a big slide a little further down. He guessed that it must be one of the few exits from this plastic hellscape as he saw kids coming out of it with their parents waiting at the bottom—shoes and jackets in tow, ready to go home.
He nodded and pointed to show Jace where he was looking as he leaned in to still speak softly to him.
“What if we wait til your dad is inside and then you and I sneak down that slide? Make a quick escape with your mom?” He kept his voice quiet and calm—like they were spies planning a secret escape mission.
Jace’s eyes went back down to his dad below, angrily taking off his boots near the entrance—the irritation and rage seeping off him like smoke.
“You think that will work?” Jace asked, his heart starting to pound again.
Harry could feel it against his palm—that tiny rabbit-fast heartbeat—fast enough that all Harry could think about was 'What has Thomas done' to make Jace react this way.
And that made him even angrier.
Harry followed where Jace was now looking. Both of them watched the two of you near the entrance, barely able to hear as you tried to reason with him, begging him to give Jace more time and some extra space—to not to bombard him when he clearly doesn’t want to see him just yet.
Harry watched you put your hand on his arm, gently pulling his attention back onto you—like you were trying one last attempt to hold him back or plead with him. He could see your motherly instinct to protect Jace glowing straight through—the need to tame a growing wildfire.
Only that didn't work this time.
Thomas turned around before you could put space between you and grabbed you by the arm before leaning in and murmuring something inches from your face, enough to make you tear up and freeze where you stood.
Harry felt Jace tense up and even jerk slightly in his arms the second Thomas laid a hand on you, as if he'd seen it happen before.
That reaction? It told Harry everything he needed to know—that everything he'd heard or been hinted about Thomas and your history—there was some truth to it. There was a pattern of… abusive behavior. A disturbingly obvious, deep-seated fear between you two when it came to that man.
Something in Harry snapped as he watched—not loudly, not explosively—not with Jace in his arms. But now he was thrumming with rage, now that he’d put hands on you and shown a clear disrespect for Jace’s boundaries—it was buzzing through every pore, flowing through his veins, and burning down his spine. And if Jace wasn’t in his arms, if it wouldn’t scare him, he’d be down there before Thomas could climb his ass through that first tunnel and throw him against the damn wall.
And truthfully? Harry wasn’t a violent man, but he was protective. There was a drive in him to keep the people that he loved and cared for safe—and that made him dangerous in moments like these.
Harry let out a slow breath, calculating his next ten moves before his thumb gently rubbed arches into Jace’s chest as he watched Thomas let go of you and make his way inside the entrance.
“We need to move fast if we’re going to do this. Can you do that for me?” Harry asked, his tone steady as he reached behind for Jace’s backpack to hand to him.
Jace nodded and began putting his inhaler back where it belonged before Harry pulled his phone out of his back pocket and texted you:
Harry: Look up, querida—yellow bubble window.
You snapped out of whatever trauma response you were in at the buzzing you felt in your pocket and pulled out your phone to read the message. It took you a moment before you looked up and saw the two of them above you—safe and together.
Harry lifted his free hand and waved down to you, offering a soft smile to calm what he knew would be your unsteady nerves.
“Wave to Mom, let her know you’re safe,” Harry said as he held Jace in his lap.
Jace beamed as he excitedly waved at you from below, both arms flapping like he was trying to signal a plane.
"Hi, Mom!" he tried to shout down at you.
Your body’s anxiety visibly melted the second you saw the two of them looking down at you, Jace in better spirits than what he’d been in when he ran away. You lifted your hand to wave at them both, smiling softly.
Harry texted another message:
Harry: We’re going to get Jace out of here without contact. Can you meet us by the big slide?
He watched you look back down at your phone, then back up and look around to figure out where he exactly meant—there were at least 4 ‘big’ slides that you could count before you looked back up in slight confusion and shrugged, mouthing, "Which one?"
Harry huffed a tiny laugh through his nose. “Right. Of course, there are more than one.” He muttered to himself as he looked back down at his phone and texted back:
Harry: Blue spiral, east side.
You looked down and read the message before looking back up at him, where you saw he and Jace pointing together to their right. You followed where they were pointing to see a dark blue spiral slide.
You nodded before giving them a thumbs up and then wasted no time as you headed for the shoe storage rack to look for their shoes.
Harry smiled at how quickly you moved, how instinctively you trusted him, how the three of you were already moving like a team—like a family. That very thought hit him hard in the chest and made him smile to himself—and before he even realized he was doing it, he leaned down and protectively pecked the top of Jace’s head again, the gesture to him was fatherly, something his dad did to him, and almost completely subconscious.
“Ok,” he whispered, turning them around. “You’re going to lead me to the slide. I want you in front of me so I can keep my eyes on you, ok?”
Jace nodded as he got off of Harry’s lap and put his backpack on before he got on all fours to start crawling to where they needed to go. He stopped after a few seconds and looked at Harry over his shoulder, smiling, feeling a little braver now.
“We need to go this way.”
Harry smiled as he followed right behind him—close enough that if Jace slipped, stumbled, or even hesitated, he’d be there.
Harry stayed close behind Jace as they crawled, the plastic tunnel narrowing and widening with each new tunnel around them. The walls were scuffed from a thousand little palms and knees, the air inside getting warmer the further they went, smelling faintly of rubber and kid-sweat and whatever sanitizer the staff used that never fully got every inch of a place like this.
Jace kept moving, but Harry could feel the way his energy had shifted the further they got—there was less bounce and more urgency. He'd look over his shoulder every few minutes, past Harry, like he was nervously looking out for danger—conscious it could be around the corner.
Harry hated that feeling with a heat that sat behind his ribs with each time he looked back, knowing he was making sure that Thomas wasn't close behind.
“Keep goin’,” Harry murmured after a couple of times of not saying anything, not rushing him, but guiding him. “I’m right here, bud.”
Jace looked back at him and actually looked at him, not past him like he'd been doing, and nodded before beginning to crawl faster.
They passed a fork in the tunnels at one point. One route led toward a netted climbing wall, the other toward a long tunnel that had that type of plastic window—like the one that looked out over the arcade floor earlier.
Harry hesitated for a moment, wanting to look down again, wanting to check if you were still okay, wanting to lock eyes with you and reassure you the way he could with a hand squeeze, or a kiss to your temple, letting you know: We're on our way.
But he didn’t dare risk slowing down now—not when Thomas was inside and when time was the only thing they had against him.
“Blue spiral,” Harry whispered, mostly, as a gentle reminder for the both of them. “We’re headed for the blue spiral.”
Jace nodded again without looking back. “It’s just past the ball pit,” he said, his voice staying somewhat quiet.
Harry’s brows lifted as he looked up towards Jace. “Ball pit?”
Jace’s shoulders hunched. “Yeah. There’s a big one in the middle.”
Harry didn’t love that. Ball pits were chaos by design—kids appearing and disappearing in waves, bodies half-buried, noise swallowing everything.
“Okay,” Harry said quietly. “Want me to carry you through it, or you got it?”
That got the smallest flicker of something in Jace’s face—like the idea of being important, being in control, and having a choice gave him back a crumb of confidence. He glanced back at Harry. “I think I got it.”
"I'll be right there if you change your mind," Harry said as he smiled before they continued to crawl through another tunnel that dipped downward. The plastic creaked under Harry’s weight, and he had to angle his shoulders, careful not to bump his head as this last one was narrower than the others.
"Remind me next time, I'm too old for this, kiddo."
Jace giggled at that and continued forward, humming along with the arcade music that thumped around them.
Jace reached the end of the tunnel and paused at a mesh opening. Beyond it, Harry could see the ball pit—hundreds of plastic balls in bright colors, wobbling as kids moved through them.
Jace turned around and looked up at Harry before reaching for his hand. "So we don't lose each other."
Harry nodded and gave his hand a small squeeze. "I'll be right behind you."
Jace nodded and then slid off the edge and into the pit of plastic balls, which came up to his chest once his feet hit the bottom.
Harry slid in after him and held his hand tightly as the two of them maneuvered their way through the sea of kids giggling and popping up and down, tossing balls around them.
A few hit Harry in the back and chest, kids purposely aiming for him—like he was some kind of target practice.
Harry couldn't help but chuckle, the kids clearly enjoying themselves, and hearing Jace giggle when one of them hit him square in the back of the head—making it all worth it as they continued to move through the pit—Jace keeping a strong hold on Harry's hand.
They reached the far side of the ball pit, where a padded ledge rose up. Jace hauled himself onto it with a grunt, then turned and nodded upwards behind them as Harry began hauling himself up.
“Bridge is up there,” Jace whispered, slightly out of breath.
Harry followed his gaze. The bridge was made of flexible planks and side netting, connecting to a higher platform with the slide's entrance. The netting swayed with every kid that crossed it.
He looked back at Jace and pointed to his chest, "Do you need your inhaler before we keep going?"
Jace shook his head and took a few deep breaths, "No, I'm good. Just a little stuffy in here."
Harry nodded and then looked back up towards the bridge. “Alright,” Harry started. “Ready to get out of here?”
Jace nodded, then started climbing the padded steps toward the platform, hands gripping the netting. Harry stayed right behind him, one hand hovering at Jace’s back, not touching unless he had to—giving him space to do it himself while still being there.
They reached the platform and ducked through a low opening.
The moment they did, Harry heard something from deeper in the structure, through the hard plastic below them—adult footsteps, heavier than a kid’s, and a voice that made Jace turn around and freeze.
"Jace?" Thomas called out.
Harry froze for half a second, every muscle going tense, then forced himself to move again. He leaned down close to Jace’s ear. “Come on, we need to keep going buddy.”
Jace’s eyes widened, hearing his dad's voice so close, but he didn’t ask questions. He just moved, stepping up onto the bridge.
The bridge flexed under him, the planks shifting slightly. Jace’s hands tightened around the netting to both sides of him.
Harry followed, slower, careful not to shake it more than necessary. He could hear Thomas’s voice again—muffled, angry, somewhere again below them.
“Jace!” Thomas barked. The name ricocheted through the plastic structure, bouncing off walls. “Jace, where are you?”
Jace flinched so hard that the bridge wobbled beneath him as he took a quick step forward.
Harry’s hand shot out and caught one of his hands gently. “Hey,” he whispered. “You got this.”
Jace turned his head just enough to see Harry, to see that steady gaze, to see that he wasn’t alone. His breathing hitched, but he nodded.
“Good,” Harry murmured as he took a few steps forward, careful and slow. “That's it. Keep going. You’re doing perfect.”
They made it across the bridge, stepping onto the next platform where the entrance to the blue spiral slide waited—its dark mouth of plastic welcoming them.
Jace looked down the hole and hesitated, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
Harry crouched beside him, voice still low. “You first and then I’m right behind you.”
“What if—” Jace started, then stopped, lips trembling as they heard Thomas again in the distance.
"Jace! Answer me, son!" Thomas called out.
Harry lifted a hand and gently pressed his palm to Jace’s chest, feeling his heart hammering. “Hey, eyes on me..."
Jace found his gaze and let out a heavy breath before Harry continued. "You’re safe,” he said, slow and certain. “Your mom is at the bottom and I'm right here, ok?"
Harry waited for his heart rate to slow down a little before he nodded towards the opening and smiled softly, encouragingly. "Go. I’m here.”
Jace nodded, then sat at the entrance and scooted forward.
“Ready?” Harry whispered.
Jace’s hands gripped the edges. “Ready.”
He pushed off and disappeared into the slide, his small squeal echoing down the spiral. Harry didn’t wait longer than a few seconds, wanting to be there for him in case you weren't yet. He sat and shoved himself in after him.
The slide whipped him around in tight circles. The plastic was smooth and fast as Harry kept his arms tucked to his chest so he wouldn’t scrape them against the sides. Before he knew it, he was spat out at the bottom—out onto his feet, landing hard on the padded mat.
You were there no more than a moment later, dropping to your knees the second Jace was in front of you.
“Honey, are you ok?” you whispered, voice shaking. “Oh my God—come here.”
Jace immediately lunged into you, shaking his head before you wrapped him up, arms tight around him as you held his head into your neck, your cheek pressed to his hair as you whispered to him. "Shh, it's ok. You're ok. I'm ok."
Harry stayed close, just behind, watching the way you held him, the way your eyes squeezed shut like you’d been holding your breath for ten minutes straight.
You pulled back just enough to look at Jace’s face, and your eyes scanned him. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you—”
“I’m okay,” Jace said, voice a little wobbly, overcome with emotion. Then he looked back at Harry. “Harry came and helped me.”
Harry’s chest tightened, and he moved to crouch beside you both, keeping his voice steady still. “He did great,” Harry said, nodding at Jace. “He listened. He moved fast. He's been so brave.”
You exhaled, shaky, smiling and nodding, touching Jace's cheeks, "I'm so proud of you."
He smiled, and then you all heard Thomas's voice come from somewhere nearby making you all refocus.
You moved to grab Jace’s shoes that you'd put next to you. Your hands were trembling as you tried to slide one shoe onto his foot.
“Okay,” you whispered to yourself more than anyone. “Okay. Shoes. We got this—”
Harry slipped his on quickly—not bothering to tie them perfectly—just enough to move without tripping.
You finally shoved Jace’s foot into a shoe and started tying the laces. Jace held onto your shoulders for balance, his eyes scanning the area as you worked.
Harry’s eyes flicked to your arm after catching a light red spot on your bicep when your cardigan slipped down your arm in the rush of tying Jace's shoes.
Despite what he was feeling, the anger, the frustration—he forced himself to breathe, to stay present, to not let the simmering rage just underneath his skin take the wheel. Because Jace was right there, because you were right there—and the last thing either of you needed right now was anger to take hold.
Harry’s voice came low and careful as he crouched next to you, helping with Jace's other shoe. “Hey.” He nodded toward your arm, subtly—just enough that Jace wouldn’t clock it unless he already knew. “Are you okay?”
Your fingers faltered on the lace for half a second, and then your head snapped up, and your eyes met his.
You hadn’t realized there was a mark, not until he saw it and brought your attention to it. That's when the embarrassment hit you first—sharp and hot—like it always did. Like being seen in a way you didn’t want. Like someone had ripped open a door you’d tried so hard to keep closed.
You swallowed, throat tight, and forced a small nod as you quickly pulled the cardigan over your shoulder, hoping to hide it from Jace—putting it away, letting it go. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m fine.”
But your eyes didn’t look fine, not as you looked back at the shoe lace you'd had to tie three times already.
Harry certainly didn’t let it go. Not with the way his gaze stayed on you, steady and serious—trying to memorize every detail so he could protect you better next time.
Jace shifted, still holding onto your shoulders as you finally tied the shoe. His voice piped up, small but too honest. “He’s done that before.”
You froze and kept your gaze down on your hands as they stayed still on the lace.
For a second, you felt like the world went quiet, like the arcade sound dropped out, and it was just the three of you sitting in this... awful truth.
Jace looked down at you, eyes wide, searching for reassurance like he was afraid he’d said something wrong. “But you’ll be okay, right Mom?” he asked, trying to keep his voice strong.
Your chest tightened as you looked at him, his eyes showing you how strong you both can be in these situations. You nodded and touched his cheek softly.
“Yeah,” you said quickly, too quickly for Harry's comfort. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll be okay.”
You blinked fast, trying to keep your eyes from spilling over as you looked back down at the ground, fixing his sock absentmindedly.
Harry’s fingers moved quickly, tying the shoe with practiced ease, giving Jace's toes a little tap to let him know he was done.
He didn’t immediately stand—he stayed there on one knee, his gaze moving to you. His voice dropped lower, meant only for you. “I’ll never let that happen to you again, querida.”
Your breath caught and your eyes went misty, and you hated that you couldn’t stop it—hated that vulnerability was spilling out in front of Jace, hated that Thomas had done this to you, hated that Harry had to see it.
Harry's expression broke when he saw your eyes fill with tears. And he couldn't help himself because he knew you didn’t have time, he knew Jace was watching, knew that Thomas could come around the corner or out of that same slide at any second, but he still leaned forward and kissed your temple.
And to your surprise, it wasn’t a quick peck; it lingered as he pulled you close, his hand cupping your cheek. His lips stayed there like he was anchoring you in place, grounding you, reminding you that you weren’t alone in this anymore.
When he pulled back, his forehead hovered close to your temple, and he whispered, barely audible as his thumb gently rubbed across your cheek, “Just breathe.”
You put your hand over his and took a shaky inhale before letting it out slowly, nodding and then whispering, your voice thick with emotion, “Okay.” You turned your head slightly to look at him and let him know you were ok. “I'm okay.”
Harry nodded and pecked your forehead before he stood, gently pulling you up with him before he scooped Jace up—wanting him close and easier to get out of the ever-growing chaos that seemed to continue to get busier the longer you were there.
Jace clung to him immediately, his arms wrapping around his neck, his face turning to look over Harry’s shoulder.
Harry’s free hand reached down without looking, finding yours like it was second nature—lacing his fingers with yours, squeezing once before he guided you through the crowd, leading you like he’d already mapped the safest route out of the arcade in his head.
“Alright,” Harry said, voice calm but edged with urgency as you made it out of the gate of the playground area and onto the arcade's floor.
Jace’s voice came muffled from Harry’s shoulder as he kept his gaze fixed on what was behind them. “Where's Dad—”
“He’s in there somewhere,” Harry said, looking over his shoulder quickly, his voice staying even before looking back forward. “But he’s not going to get to you because we'll be gone by then, ok?”
Jace nodded and leaned his chin on Harry's shoulder, still watching as you all continued to walk.
As you all moved through the arcade, you weaved past machines and people. Harry would subtly angle himself so he was always between you and the deeper parts of the bigger crowds.
When you finally reached the front doors, the warm daylight of the afternoon spilled in like relief.
Harry pushed the door open with his shoulder, Jace still on his hip, and guided you out into the open air.
Harry didn’t stop until you were fully outside, away from the entrance, away from the noise, away from where Thomas could easily spot you before he started to slow down his pace.
His voice softened, low for you alone. “You still with me?”
You nodded, voice becoming stronger now that you were outside. “Yeah. I’m with you.”
When his car came into view—relief hit you so hard that your knees nearly buckled.
“Oh, thank god,” you breathed, more to yourself than anyone else.
Harry rounded to the back driver's side while you opened the door, just as Jace slid down from Harry’s arms and immediately climbed into his booster.
You leaned in to help him.
“Okay, scoot back for me, sweetheart.”
Your fingers worked automatically—pulling the seatbelt across him, clicking it in, tightening the strap. You smoothed his hair back, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Behind you, Harry stood guard, literally. His back was straight, and his eyes scanned the lot. He rested one hand on the top of the doorframe like he was shielding you from the outside world.
But what you didn't see was that while you focused on buckling Jace in, Harry’s mind drifted somewhere darker than he'd admit.
Back inside.
Back to Thomas.
His jaw tightened as he thought of that smug grin he gave him earlier. In the way he knew, Thomas thought of this as a game. His whole 'showing up when it suited him, disappearing when it didn’t, scaring the hell out of his own kid, grabbing you like you were still something he still owned'—no, that wasn’t happening anymore.
None of it was. Either be a dad or don’t—but this halfway bullshit? He'd seen enough tears pour down Jace's cheeks due to Thomas's mistakes to last him a lifetime.
A small gasp pulled him back to reality before he heard Jace's voice wobble from the backseat. "Mom..."
You immediately leaned closer as you were just about to close the door. “Yeah?”
A small sniffle came before his voice cracked. “My dinosaur…”
Your heart sank as you realized he didn't come down the slide with it.
“I left him…” His lip trembled. “I left him inside.”
You froze as your mind raced. 'Of course. In the rush of all of it, the panic... he forgot the one thing he'd worked all day for.'
“I must have forgotten him up in the playset,” he whispered, completely devastated.
Harry didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think twice, as it was the most perfect excuse he’d ever been handed at a moment like this.
He turned toward you and his hand slid gently to your waist.
You turned to look at him, not understanding yet what he was about to do.
He pressed his car keys into your palm. “I’ll be no more than five minutes,” he said softly—his voice calm and casual—like this wasn’t about to be something else entirely. “I’ll go grab it. You start the car, get the air running for you two. I’ll be right back.”
There was something in your chest you couldn’t name as you looked at him—fear, maybe.
“Harry—” your voice caught. “What about Thomas?”
He was already stepping backward, already putting distance between you and him before he shook his head and gave you that soft, easy smile that always made your heart skip a beat.
“Five minutes, baby,” he called across the lot. “I promise it’ll be okay." Then blew you a kiss before he jogged back inside.
The arcade doors whooshed open, and the noise hit him like a wall again—loud music, laughter, machines... complete chaos.
Harry didn't waste time before he started to moved through a small crowd that was socializing near the door.
He kept his eyes peeled and it didn't take long before he saw him— standing near the prize counter, leaning against it like he owned the place.
And in his hand—the exact thing he was here for:
Jace’s dinosaur.
Thomas was talking to the same teenage worker from earlier, gesturing vaguely to the floor around them.
“Yeah, they would have just left the play area—my son and his mom—have you seen which way they went?”
The teen looked at him like he couldn't give more than two shits before shrugging and telling Thomas, "Hold on. I'll go ask my manager." Before he strolled back behind a locked door.
Harry didn’t break stride and walked right up—completely casual, like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t about to rearrange this man’s entire understanding of his place in your lives.
He reached out, hand landing on the stuffed dinosaur, and slid it cleanly off the counter.
“Oh, thank god... You saved me a trip of crawling back up there to find this little guy,” Harry said easily.
Thomas blinked, completely thrown off.
“Oh—well, I wanted to give it back to Jace. Is he with—”
Harry offered his hand, the gesture smooth and professional. “I don’t think we properly introduced ourselves. I’m Harry. Harry Castillo.”
Thomas leaned off the counter to size him up before he took his hand—grabbing onto it a little too roughly and tightly—only for Harry to match his energy perfectly, his smile not wavering.
“Right, yeah,” Thomas said. “I’m Thomas. Jace’s dad—”
Harry cut him off smoothly as his hand came up to wrap around Thomas’s shoulder—the gesture outwardly looking casual and friendly—as he steered him away from the counter as the teen started to come back their way.
To anyone watching? They were just two guys talking, nothing more. Even if the gradual squeeze of Harry’s fingers around his shoulder said otherwise.
Harry leaned in close, still smiling like they were sharing a joke. “Oh, you don’t need to tell me who you are,” he said quietly. “I know everything I need to know about you.”
Thomas chuckled, for once feeling slightly uneasy. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Harry let go once they were in the middle of the floor, people moving around them before he slipped one hand into his pocket, dinosaur tucked under his arm furthest from Thomas.
“Well,” he said lightly, “I know what you’ve done to Jace. And I saw what you did to her earlier.”
Thomas stiffened, and Harry saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.
He kept his eyes focused on him. “I also saw how she reacted when you grabbed her arm… felt how Jace reacted when he saw—how his heart started pounding, how he froze like it was some trauma response.”
His voice dropped but he remained deadly claim as he asked, “Which only means one thing, right?”
Thomas shifted uncomfortably as he looked away, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thomas muttered.
Harry chuckled lightyly as he looked around like he was still keeping it light to others before he stepped closer—crowding Thomas's space. “Oh, but you do.”
His voice went lower and sharper before he continued. “And if I ever see or hear of you touching, talking, or treating either of them less than cordially?”
His smile disappeared as he met his gaze again. “I’ll be the one to hold you accountable, yeah?”
Thomas laughed nervously, stepping back, putting space between them, smirking as he waved a finger towards Harry. “Now see, you can’t touch me, amigo.”
Harry didn’t miss it, that little racial dig—but he didn't react—he just grinned. His energy shifted to something more cocky and controlled. “Who said I’d need to touch you to do so?”
Thomas’s smirk immediately faltered.
“And another thing,” Harry added. “You need to decide if you’re in your son’s life or not... fully or not at all. No more of this pathetic ‘show up when it’s convenient to manipulate his mom’ bullshit, you and I know you're playing.”
Thomas scoffed. “You don’t know anything about—”
“I know exactly what I’m talking about,” Harry cut in, his voice remaining sharp. “Especially after how he reacted when he saw you today.”
For once, Thomas had nothing—he just stood there as he simmered, glaring at Harry.
Harry stepped back toward the door. “Well, I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, but it was nice to finally put a face to the name, Thomas." he nodded once and took another step. "Have a good rest of your evening, and thanks again for this.” He held up the dinosaur, taunting him slightly, before turning and walking out—leaving Thomas standing there.
Small and completely, utterly powerless.
The world outside felt quieter as the doors closed behind him.
He took a few slow breaths as he stepped onto the sidewalk, the dinosaur tucked securely under his arm, his pulse finally beginning to settle.
The confrontation replayed in his head for half a second—Thomas’s faltering smirk, the way his shoulders had tightened, the silence when there wasn't any room left for excuses.
"Bien. Dejemos que se siente con eso." (Good. Let's have him sit with that) He muttered to himself before his gaze started to scan the lot as he began walking towards his car.
But instead of seeing you inside like he’d asked, he saw you leaning against the trunk—your arms folded tight across your chest, like you were bracing for impact.
Even from a distance, he could see it—the anxiety humming through you, the way your foot tapped the pavement, your eyes darting every few seconds back toward the arcade doors before scanning the lot.
“Oh, baby…” he muttered under his breath, soft and fond and aching all at once—then he started walking faster toward you.
And the second you saw him, the moment your eyes locked—everything in your posture changed. He watched it happen in real time, from the way your shoulders relaxed, your arms loosened, to how your face softened. All that tight, nervous energy just… melted.
Harry couldn’t stop the small smile that pulled at his mouth when he saw you push off the trunk to wait for him.
“Hey,” he called gently.
You couldn't help but smile at the way he was looking at you. "Hey, you."
“I thought I told you to get some air in the car, querida…” he teased softly.
You shook your head, smile already growing, sheepish and relieved. “Couldn’t.”
Harry set the dinosaur carefully on the trunk behind you without breaking eye contact, then stepped close—close enough that your knees almost brushed.
His hands came up automatically and cupped your cheeks—his palms warm and thumbs gentle as they stroked side to side.
Your hands slid up to rest on his wrists. “Did you run into him?” you asked quietly.
Harry nodded once, but before you could spiral or concern yourself with the what-ifs, he pulled you straight into his chest while one arm wrapped tight around your waist. The other stayed, cradling your cheek, fingers threading lightly into your hair.
You melted into him instantly—like it was the most natural place in the world to be.
“I introduced myself,” he murmured into your hair. “And just made him aware of my role in your lives. Made it clear I’m not going anywhere.”
You let out a soft, breathy chuckle against his chest.
“And there wasn’t any... fighting? He didn’t try to… be Thomas?”
Harry huffed a quiet laugh and pulled back just enough to see your face—his fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“Mm, he tried,” he admitted, shrugging. “But I think I shook him up a bit.”
You tilted your head, grin slowly spreading. “What do you mean?”
Harry leaned in, nudging your nose with his—being soft and playful.
“He got a taste of what it’ll be like for you to have someone in your corner,” he muttered. “To see what it’s like for you to have a man there protect and respect you.”
Your breath slightly caught, and then you were smiling so wide it almost hurt.
Before he could react or say more, you gently grabbed the front of his shirt collar and pulled him down to kiss him. Three slow, soft presses that tasted like relief and gratitude and something dangerously close to what you could only describe as love.
He smiled against your lips and went to say something until the back window rolled down with a mechanical whir.
“Not to interrupt the smooch fest,” Jace’s voice called out dramatically, “but did you get my dinosaur?”
You both froze, your noses barely touching, and broke into soft laughter.
Harry glanced over your shoulder and held up the stuffie for him to see.
“I got it, bud!” he called back. “How about you let me give your mom two… maybe three more smooches and I’ll bring it to you?”
Jace gagged and began rolling the window back up, muttering. “Yuck!”
You and Harry dissolved into quiet giggles as you found each other's gaze again, as Harry set the dinosaur back down and pulled you in by your waist, leaning back in.
But before your lips touched, you whispered, barely brushing his mouth, “How about we make it an even ten?”
Harry’s eyes darkened playfully, and then he pinched your chin gently between his thumb and finger. “I can happily make that happen,” he murmured before he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.
By the time Harry slid back into the driver’s seat, the tension that had followed you all out of the arcade had softened into something lighter and warmer.
Jace was already buckled in the back in after excitement took over when he was given back his dinosaur and now sat there with it—clutched tightly to his chest, looking out the car window.
For a few minutes after Harry pulled out of the parking lot, none of you spoke. You all just let the quiet comfort of being together hum in the air as long as it’d let you.
You all were relieved to have gotten away from Thomas—hell, even away from Cindy now that you thought about it.
As Harry started to drive down Main Street, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the center console with your hand in his—his browing kept furrowing as he kept looking at the mirrors, watching—like he was debating the odds of something.
Then he glanced at you when he stopped at a red light, his brow softening.
“Hey,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze to pull your attention to him.
You turned toward him. “Yeah?”
He hesitated just long enough to make your heart skip.
“How about you guys come to my place for a few hours?” he asked. “Avoid another… potential surprise visit?” He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles gently as he continued. “We can take Jace to the park that’s just down the street from my place… then I’ll make us some dinner.”
Before you could answer, a voice from the backseat chimed in—
“You have a park by your house?!” Jace blurted from where he sat, feet kicking excitedly against the seat.
You laughed and twisted around to look at him. “You really do have the hearing of a hawk, don’t you?”
He squeezed the dinosaur overly excited as he grinned and countered. “You always tell me to listen to adults!”
Harry snorted a laugh as the light turned green and began driving again. “You sure he’s only six with how smart he is?” he teased, glancing at you for a moment.
“Unfortunately,” you said dryly. “He uses it against me daily.”
“No I do nooot!” Jace protested, giggling.
Harry reached back blindly and reached to tickle Jaces legs that were behind him, earning an indignant squeal as he teased, “Why you giggling then?”
You watched as the two of them filled the space with laughter and love, the last hour of tension, nerves and tears had completely melted away to the point you wouldn’t have known it had been just there.
The park near Harry’s place was small but sweet, it felt domestic and nostalgic with old trees with wide branches all around, a swing set that creaked in the breeze, even had bright blue spiral slide that had definitely seen better days.
There was also this floating laughter that echoed off the trees and off the monkey bars as kids ran around with each other—weaving through their parents chatting with each other on the outskirts while they watched from a distance.
Harry had only put the car into park before Jace barreled out—the engine not even fully off before his door shut.
Within minutes, he’d made friends with another little boy and was already chasing him across the mulch while the other kid’s dad watched from a few yards away.
You and Harry settled onto a bench beneath a big oak tree that had a perfect view of the whole playground.
Harry nodded toward a guy on the other end of the field as he moved to rest his arm behind you, leaning in to peck a kiss at your temple gently. “That’s my neighbor, Mark and his son, Frankie playing with Jace.” He smiled as Mark gave him a short, friendly wave. “He’s a good guy. Fixes my garbage disposal every time I break it.”
“You break it that often?” you teased, chuckling.
“Mm, more than I’d like to admit to you, mi vida.” He muttered as he kissed your temple again, this time lingering for a moment longer.
You laughed softly and leaned into him and then after a moment, you felt his hand come from behind you to rest on your thigh, his touch warm and grounding.
Your fingers slid into his without needing to think or say a word—interlocking your hands together so easily it now felt like second nature.
For a while, you just watched Jace play and listened as his laugh carried across the park—the sound light, bright and carefree—the kind of sound that made everything on a day like to today feel worth it.
Your head tipped onto Harry’s shoulder after a few minutes of quietly sitting together, tracing your thumb over his knuckles, thinking of how you wanted to say what you needed to say.
“…Did you mean what you said?” you asked softly.
He kissed the top of your head without looking away from the playground. “Mean what?”
You hesitated only for a moment before you continued, “What you said with Cindy… about moving upstate.”
That got his attention.
He immediately turned his head to study you as you were already looking up at him.
After a moment and a soft smile, he gently lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.
“I did,” he said. “I mean… I wanted to talk to you first but…” His mouth twitched. “I kinda wanted to wipe that smirk off Cindy’s face if I’m being completely honest...”
You laughed under your breath. “I agree. It was nice seeing you shake her up a bit.”
He grinned at that and then the smile softened—fading into something quieter.
“I just…” He exhaled, thinking of the right words. “I feel like I should’ve moved back months ago with my mom’s condition. But something always held me back, you know?”
You nodded, watching him, your gaze softening as you listened. “What’s changed?”
He looked out at the playground and found Jace. He watched the way he was pretending to be a dinosaur with the other kid, both roaring dramatically.
Harry’s whole face softened and a warmth filled his chest. “I used to go back to the city to escape,” he admitted. “From my mom… from watching her slowly forget herself and everything around her—forget me.” He looked down at your hand in his as he continued. “I’d drown myself in work. Exhaust myself so I didn’t have to feel anything.”
Your heart ached and your eyes saddened a bit at that tragic admission.
He kissed your knuckles again, murmuring against your skin. “But now?” he continued quietly, “I go back and I’m counting down the hours until I can come back here… to you… to him.”
Your throat tightened and you watched him look back at Jace, a smile warming his features again.
“I don’t want to be a few hours away anymore,” he said. “I want to be a few minutes. I want to help take Jace to school. Visit you at work for a lunch date during the week. Help him with homework. Take you on dates throughout the week, rather than try to fit one in on the weekend…”
He looked down at your hands, shy and still smiling.
“And eventually… I want to wake up next to you every morning. In your place or mine or somewhere we pick together. I just…” He met your eyes. “I want to be here to take care of you both, to be in this—fully and completely like you both deserve.”
You were already smiling before he even finished—only now, tearing up a little.
He wasted no time before he cupped your cheek and leaned in, nudging your nose gently before, kissing you slowly and sweetly a few times.
“Would that be something you’d like too?” he whispered, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours, his thumb caressing your cheek.
You rolled your eyes fondly, a soft laughter bubbling up before you grabbed his shirt started to gently pull him back in, “Why don’t you kiss me and tell me what you think my answer is…”
He chuckled as he moved to hover against your lips, “I don’t think I need a kiss to tell me,” he murmured, hand sliding to cradle your neck, “but I’ll take it.”
Then he kissed you—deeply and slowly and unhurried. Like it had made the world stop spinning just long enough for the two of you to just… be.
Somewhere nearby, Jace’s laughter rang out again and for the first time in a long time—life started to finally feel steady for the both of you, like it was finally falling into place…
a/n: this was the winner of the poll with the troupe of: Enemies to lovers, but only one of them thinks they're enemies. The other has been entirely obsessed since the beginning and has the hardest way of showing it.
series summary: He lost his daughter. You lost your family. Survival turned you both into steel—until Jackson asks you to be people again. You and Joel fight like it’s the only language you share… right up until the night one of you might not come home, and then the truth of how you two truly feel refuses to stay quiet.
series warnings: enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, found family, partners to something more, age gap (joel is late 50s, reader is late 30s), slow burn, arguing, stubborn idiots in love, emotional constipation, near death scare, mentions of loss, angst, SMUT (18 MDNI), violence, switched POVs, yearning, suppressed feelings, more specific filters will come with each chapter.
pairing: younger!harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader
series summary: Harry Castillo has spent years building a life in the city where everything has a price—except honesty. When his mother’s memory begins to fade, he returns home and hides the truth about who he is for the sake of being seen—craving something ordinary, something real. When he finds himself at a familiar diner he used to visit as a kid, he meets you—a single mother with a son who carries a thousand quiet burdens, and a resilience he can’t look away from.
But what starts as quiet companionship over cheeseburgers and milkshakes turns into something deeper—Harry faces a choice: reveal the truth and risk losing the only person who sees him for who he truly is—or keep hiding behind the simplicity of being “just Harry.”
series warning(s): fluff, slow burn, hidden identity, mutual pining, Harry speaks Spanish (translations will be there), fighting/arguments, SMUT 18+ MDNI (each chapter will have their own warnings), reader is a single mother, absent/abusive baby daddy, protective Harry, Harry's mom has Alzheimer's, betrayal, "you're not just a waitress to me" energy, angst, dishonesty, switched POV, more warnings with each chapter.
a/n: also, requests are open until the end of the year
pairing: jackson!joel miller (tlou) x f!reader
word count: 7.1k
chapter summary: The tension between you and Joel continues to grow as life during recovery doesn't leave much space for you two revisit what almost started.
chapter warnings: enemies to lovers (eventually), age gap (joel is late 50s, reader is late 30s), slowest of slow burn, mutual pining (starting to defrost), emotional constipation, angst, swearing, fainting, tension, soft!joel, the feels are starting to thaw.
a/n: this is so late, and i have a feeling the rest will be late too. if i'm being completely honest, i'm so overwhelmed by so much right now, work, family, my health, but then also everything going on in the world/our country. i'm drained. i am still writing but at a much slower pace. i know you guys don't care when things are posted on a timeline—but i feel like i'm setting expectations that i'm not meeting. i guess i just feel like i'm letting you down, even though i know i'm not.
anyways, please enjoy as things are starting to build up and i'm excited for whats to come <33
MAIN MASTERLIST
Joel exhaled slowly through his nose, his jaw tightening in clear frustration before he muttered under his breath, “God damn it.”
He dragged a hand over his face, then dropped both hands to his hips as he turned toward the door, his voice tight with a mix of annoyance and frustration. “Yeah? Come on in…”
The door opened slowly and ever so cautiously, before Judy’s head peeked around the frame. Her expression was soft and worried, her first instinct was clearly to be quiet—thinking you were still asleep.
But the second her eyes landed on you, sitting up in the bed, awake, some color back in your face?
“Oh—” she gasped, and then the door swung fully open as she hurried inside, setting her bag and coat down in a clumsy pile near the wall. “Oh, thank god. You’re awake!”
Relief washed over her features so openly that it made something in your chest feel all warm and fuzzy.
However you saw the eagerness and excitment and immediately knew what was about to come.
You offered her a small, tight smile, already bracing yourself as you squared your shoulders as best you could against the pillows, preparing for what force you knew was coming.
Sure enough, she barely made it two steps closer before she started shrugging out of her coat, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “How long have you been up? How are you feeling, honey?” she asked, and then didn’t even wait for an answer before leaning in and wrapping her arms around you.
The hug was warm and immediate, but tight—way too tight.
You couldn’t stop the sharp inhale that escaped you as pain flared through your ribs, your fingers curling into the thin hospital blanket and against her sweater—your eyes shutting tightly.
Across the room, Joel stiffened the moment he saw you prepare yourself. Every muscle in his body went taut as he watched you wince in her arms, watched the way your face pinched for half a second before you forced it smooth. His hands flexed at his sides, instinct screaming at him to intervene, to tell her to ease up, to be careful with you—but he stayed where he was, jaw clenched, teeth grinding softly.
You let out a small grunt before answering, the strain obvious in your voice. “Mm… sore.”
Judy immediately pulled back, hands still on your arms as if she needed to physically reassure herself you were real, that you were here and awake. Her brows knit together when she saw your expression more clearly, the color of your face, the way you held yourself.
Then her face fell, and her brows furrowed as she pointed a stern finger at you, her voice lowering to a frequency you hated hearing. "What in the hell were you thinking, sneaking out of the house and going back on patrol a day before you were supposed to?!"
You couldn't help but grin as you looked like a guilty child as you looked away, "I had a plan..." You shrugged and looked at her, eyes asking for forgiveness and apologizing all at once. "...was planning on being back home before you even woke up for your morning tea."
She couldn't help but soften with the way you looked at her. “Oh, sweetheart…” she murmured, rubbing your arms gently, her thumbs brushing comfortingly over your sleeves. "I'm just happy you're ok."
Your smile softened and you glanced at Joel for a moment before looking back at her. "Yeah, me too."
She tilted her head and nodded at you, her fingers tightening slightly around your arms. “Have you eaten yet? I brought something if you’re feeling up to it.”
You offered her another polite smile and nodded, though you couldn't help but notice out of the corner of your eye, Joel, just a few feet away, shoulders rigid, clearly trying to hold himself together—trying very hard not to hover.
You reached out and touched Judy’s hand, bringing it down into your lap—your fingers warm over hers, a soft, grounding gesture.
You cleared your throat quietly. “You know what I could use first, though?”
She straightened immediately, like she’d been waiting for an assignment. “What is it, honey?”
You drew in a careful breath, hoping—really hoping—this would work the way you needed it to. You gave her a gentle smile, one you knew she had a hard time refusing.
“I, uh… I could really use a cup of tea. Or coffee. Something warm for my throat,” you said lightly. “Think you could go see if the nurses have something or the cafe?”
She brightened and nodded. “Of course,” she said, already getting up and turning slightly toward the door, but then she glanced at Joel and smiled all too sweetly at him. “Actually—Joel, could you check on that for her while I get her food ready? We can knock out two birds with one stone?”
Swing and a miss.
Your lips parted, ready to correct her—ready to say no, that you meant her, specifically, but Joel had already nodded and smiled politely back at her.
“Of course, ma'am,” he said quietly, stepping forward. “I’ll be right back.”
He looked at you then, really looked at you. There was something apologetic in his expression—almost like he knew exactly what you’d been trying to do, like he knew you were aiming for a moment alone together—and that he was accidentally ruining it by leaving instead of Judy.
But there was also something steady there.
'I’ll wait,' the look seemed to say. 'Whenever you’re ready.'
He turned and gave Judy a tight, polite smile, then turned and headed for the door, boots quiet against the floor as he reached for the handle and stepped out into the hall.
The moment the door closed behind Joel, and he lifted his head to scan the hallway for the nurses’ station and nearly walked straight into Maria and Tommy if he hadn't looked up.
They were coming down the hall together toward your room.
Joel slowed instantly—Tommy catching his gaze first.
Joel gave him a look that only brothers ever really mastered—something wordless and loaded.
'Is everything okay?'
Tommy’s mouth pressed into a thin line before he gave the smallest, quickest shake of his head.
'No. Not really.'
“Damn it,” Joel muttered under his breath, already changing the direction he was going and started heading toward them before they could reach the end of the hallway.
Maria looked relieved to see him—but there was conflict there too, something tight in her posture, she was holding something that made her appear unsettled. She nodded once toward your room when he was only a few feet away.
“The doctor said she’s awake,” she said immediately, straight to the point. “How is she doing?”
Joel shrugged, but it was a stiff, controlled motion. “Sore. Tired. What you'd expect, you know?" He glanced over his shoulder toward your room before looking back at her. "Judy’s in there with her now.”
Then he glanced at Tommy and gave a clipped nod toward the direction from which they came. “What’s goin’ on?”
Tommy hesitated, looking to Maria first—like he was asking for silent permission.
She barely had to nod before she turned and lowered herself into one of the chairs that sat along the wall, fingers interlacing in her lap, knee already starting to bounce.
Tommy exhaled. “Wilkins isn’t doin’ too well. He took a turn last night… coded.”
Joel’s jaw tightened. He dragged his tongue along the inside of his lip, processing. “What’d they say after surgery? I thought...” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I mean—what happened?”
Maria looked up at him from the chair, the rapid movement of her leg betraying her as she tried to hide the tension she was clearly feeling. “They said he lost a lot of blood... they said that the bullet hit an artery." She sighed and shrugged. "By the time they got him back to the OR, it had created a mess internally with how long he was out there without immediate attention.”
Tommy rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “They basically said it’s just a matter of his body fighting to stay alive.”
“Jesus…” Joel exhaled, low and heavy as his eyes drifted, unconsciously, back to the door of your room—to you.
His chest felt tight, crowded with too many things at once—fear, guilt, relief, and something fiercely protective of keeping you from blaming yourself.
He stared at the door like he could already see your face if you were to hear the news—could already imagine the way your expression would change the second you heard. How that was something he couldn't put you through.
“She’s gonna think it was her fault,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
“It wasn’t—” Maria started.
“You can’t tell her,” Joel cut in, sharper than he meant, turning back to her. “You can’t tell her he might die.”
Maria’s brows drew together as she processed what he said. “Joel, she has every right to know. You know she’s going to ask.”
He shook his head then nodded, reasoning with himself. “She—She doesn’t have to know everything,” he suggested, his voice tightening the moment it came out of his mouth, knowing how it sounded—knowing it would risk your trust if you ever found out.
Maria sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. “What are you proposing? That we lie to her?”
Joel didn’t answer—because he couldn’t. He didn’t want to lie to you. God, the idea alone sat wrong in his chest.
But he knew you.
He knew that if you believed, even for a second, that what happened out there was your fault—that your choices, your instincts, your shot had put Wilkins’ life on the line—you would carry it. You would tear yourself apart with it. You would never forgive yourself—and that alone, he knew, would drown you.
Tommy shifted his weight and put a hand on his hip. “I mean… we could tell her he’s in a coma? That he’s stable but needs time to recover...”
Neither Joel nor Maria responded, both looking at each other. Tommy glanced between them. “It ain’t a lie. Just not the full truth.”
Joel’s jaw flexed as he narrowed his gaze at Maria. “I can’t lie to her... I won't,” he muttered. Then, quieter, softer, “But I also can’t tell her he might die.”
Maria was silent for a moment, then she pushed herself up from the chair and nodded once toward your door. “Alright. Fine. But if she asks me straight out—I’m not lying. Got it?”
Joel met her gaze, his jaw tight, weighing the options like he had more than the two, but finally, he nodded.
“I uhm, I told her I’d get her somethin’ warm to drink,” he added, gesturing vaguely down the hall he was headed down before. “Can you wait for me before you both go in?”
Maria planted her hands on her hips, clearly impatient to talk to you now that you were awake, to hear from you herself what had happened out there, how quickly they needed to investigate what you'd said to Tommy after you got into the gates—but after a slow breath, she nodded.
“Go,” she said. “We’ll wait.”
Joel turned toward the nurses’ station the moment she said 'go'— every step heavy and his mind racing with what was going to come next.
The second Joel stepped out of the room, and the door closed behind him, Judy turned toward you with a knowing little grin after she'd seen the way you looked at each other.
“So... you two gettin’ along a lot better lately, hm?”
You tore your gaze away from the door and shifted in the bed, sitting up a little more—tugging the sheets closer around yourself, suddenly very interested in the blanket instead of looking her way. “We’re… not bickering as much,” you said with a shrug. “Sure.”
She tutted softly and moved around the side of the bed. “You sure that’s all that’s goin’ on?”
You tracked her as she crossed the room to the small table where she had a bag and pulled out a thermos she'd brought. She picked it up along with a spoon and turned back toward you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, brow furrowing as you tilted your head slightly, feeling slightly under the microscope with how she was looking at you.
Judy paused halfway back, clearly trying not to pry—but you’d lived with her long enough to recognize the way curiosity would light up her eyes in moments like this.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said lightly, easing herself back down beside you. “I just thought… well.” She shrugged and held out the thermos and spoon for you to take, trying not to grin. “I guess... I thought maybe there was a moment or somethin’ I might’ve walked in on...”
You hesitated before taking it, fingers curling around the warm metal. You dipped the spoon in and stirred slowly into the thick brown broth, deliberately looking down and watching the surface of the soup instead of her face, using it as an excuse not to look up—afraid she’d see the heat in your cheeks, or that moment flicker in your eyes of how close Joel had just been.
“Nah, just—” You cleared your throat, forcing down the small smile threatening your mouth the more you thought about what had just happened. “I uh, I think you just startled us, is all. I was, uh…”
You nodded subtly toward the tray near the bed—the gauze, the cotton swabs, the little metal bowl. “I was mending his lip.”
Judy followed your gaze. She took in the tray, the used supplies, the faint stains of dried blood. Then she looked back at you—slowly, carefully, calculating.
You could almost sense the pieces rearranging in her head just by the way her eyes moved back and forth between you and the tray.
You… mending Joel up?
The last time she’d heard you say Joel Miller’s name, it was followed by something sharp, sarcastic, or not particularly kind. Hell, you “couldn’t stand the man.”—that’s what you’d said more times than she could count. And now here you were in the last few days—letting him bring you in, sitting alone in a room together, small stolen glances... cleaning his face? Caring for him?
Yeah, something was different.
“I’m sorry,” she said, gently now, but clearly unconvinced. “You were… what?”
You took a bite of the soup and chewed, buying yourself a second before you looked up again, shrugging like it meant nothing. “He said he slipped on some ice the other day,” you said a little too fast. “His lip was looking a little—”
Her mouth twitched before she cleared her throat. “Joel Miller slipped on some... ice?”
You scoffed softly at her disbelief, though your voice cracked just enough to betray you. “That’s what he said—”
“And you… fixed him up?” she pressed, slow and careful but clearly entertained by all this.
You swallowed, then took another bite, gaze dropping back to the thermos. Your shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug. “I was just... tryin’ to return the favor...”
She hummed, lips pursed, clearly filing that away as she stood and began gathering the tray of supplies to dispose of everything. “Right, well, have you heard anything about your partner?”
The words hit you like a slap so much that you froze mid-chew. Then, softly, almost to yourself, you muttered, “Fuck…”
She glanced back as she opened the hazardous waste bin and dropped the used supplies inside. “What?”
You set the spoon down, then the thermos, hands suddenly restless as you pushed the sheets off your legs and swung them over the side of the bed. “God, I’m such a fucking asshole.”
Judy was at your side instantly, hands coming to your arms to steady you to sit still. “Whoa, wait, honey—what are you doing? Where are you going?”
You braced yourself as you stood, one hand instinctively flying to your ribs as pain flared hot and sharp—but you pushed through it.
"I forgot—fuck. I forgot to ask about Wilkins..."
You had to see him—you had to know if he survived—as the last time you saw him, he was barely alive, slumped against you as you rode in.
“I need to see him,” you muttered, teeth clenched, stepping past her toward the door.
She followed closely, fingers closing gently around your arm to walk with you. “Sweetheart, you need to take it easy. I’m sure he’s okay...”
But that was nothing but blind hope and kindness—which was useless to you.
She hadn’t seen the blood—hadn’t felt the heat of it soaking in her hands as she tried to make it stop pouring out of him. Hadn’t listened to him joke about his damn tea while his breathing went thin and wet. Hadn’t dragged his dead weight through the snow and prayed he’d stay with you long enough to make it back alive.
She didn’t know the weight sitting on your chest that he could be dead because of you.
“He was barely breathing the last time I saw him—” you said as you pulled the door open—only for pain to immediately feel like a stabbing in your side.
“Ah—fuck—”
Your knees buckled slightly, and you fell forward only for you to catch yourself on the doorframe, fingers digging into the wood as your vision blurred with a searing pain.
“Honey... I think you need to get back into bed,” Judy said urgently.
You shook your head, breath shaking, and blinked before gathering yourself. “I’m fine,” you lied.
You lifted your head and saw Maria and Tommy at the far end of the hallway.
Bingo.
You forced yourself forward, lifting your hand weakly at them. “Maria… hey, uh, where are they keepin’ Wilkins?”
Maria turned at the sound of your voice, and her face immediately dropped.
“Oh, for hell’s sake,” she muttered, already moving toward you. “What the hell are you doin’ outta bed?”
You tried to laugh, but it came out more like a groan, and your hand went to your side as the pain worsened. “Ah, don’t—don’t make me laugh.”
Down the hall, Tommy turned to the sound of footsteps coming further down the hall from where Joel had left down.
Joel appeared several feet behind him, a cup of tea in his hand. However, the second his eyes landed on you, his entire posture changed, and his focus narrowed.
He said your name gently, almost like he was trying to refocus you as he started toward you.
Everything else fell away around him the moment your gaze found his.
You stopped walking and suddenly noticed how fast your breathing was, how tight your chest felt as you reached for the wall nearby.
“Shit…” you whispered, your heartbeat now hammering in your ears.
Judy was there in a mere moment, her hand on your cheek. “Hey—look at me. What hurts?”
Maria was at your other side, cradling your arm to hold you up. “Hey. You okay?”
You heard Maria, but it was muffled—you couldn't quite tell what she said. Then spots began to dance in your vision, and the hallway blurred as the blood in your lips disappeared, and you felt lightheaded.
Maria looked up sharply and found Tommy standing in the middle of the hallway, concern in his features. “Tommy—go get help!”
You didn’t know how long it was before a set of arms was around you—strong, careful, comforting, and familiar—his arms.
The last thing you felt was Joel lifting you, holding you like you were something fragile, something precious to him.
“I got you,” he murmured, his thumb gently rubbing arches into your back.
And then everything went dark and quiet.
After you passed out, you didn’t wake again for a couple more days.
The doctor said your body had finally given in to the exhaustion it had been running from for far too long.
But thankfully, by the time you did wake, Wilkins had as well. Which—unbeknownst to you—was the timing that had been a quiet mercy for everyone around you.
The fact that you were unconscious for those extra days, and that Wilkins had woken first, it had been a breath of relief for Joel—but also Tommy and Maria as deep down no one wanted to be deceitful.
There had been no need for half-truths, no careful wording, no weighing whether to protect you from the possibility of loss and hurt or be upfront and risk you losing yourself to blame.
With Wilkins being awake, it also meant answers for Maria. It meant clarity for the town after what happened to you spread like wildfire—their concerns for safety, eased. It meant you wouldn’t have to carry the fear of the unknown on top of the guilt you were already sure to shoulder.
When you finally woke early on the third day— groggy, sore and disoriented—the first thing you expected to see was Joel, where he was before.
But he wasn’t there.
Judy saw the quick second that your face dropped in disappointment before you realized she was in the room and acted like that wasn’t what it was.
She explained gently that after Wilkins had woken last night, and told them what had happened—where the ambush had been, what the infected had been like, how they’d moved—Maria hadn’t hesitated. She’d insisted Tommy and Joel take a few men and head out immediately to investigate. Whatever was out there, whatever kind of infected you’d run into, she wanted eyes on it sooner rather than later.
You spent a few more hours in the hospital before you were released to go back home—where you spent a full week resting and recovering.
Actually resting—no pacing, no sneaking out—you didn’t even bother arguing your way back to work.
You allowed yourself some real rest. Your body demanded it whether you liked it or not, and for once, you listened.
Judy kept you gently busy—doing small things here and there when you weren’t passed out from pain meds. It started out with folding laundry while seated, drying dishes, watering the few stubborn plants she kept alive in the window. After a few days, she took short walks with you around the block, slow and careful, letting you breathe fresh air and feel sunlight without pushing you too much.
Joel came by once—worried about overstepping boundaries, unsure where the two of you stood.
But when he came by, it happened to be the late afternoon. Exactly around the time that you’d taken your pain meds for the night, and between the warmth of the couch and Judy’s steady voice, you couldn’t of lasted more than five minutes.
You’d passed out halfway through her rambling about the upcoming town hall meeting and which issues she thought would be important to bring up.
She hadn’t taken the hint to leave the goddamn room with the tension that was buzzing between the two of you.
If Joel was being honest with himself, though, he hadn’t cared.
He hadn’t minded the rambling that kept him in the same room as you. Hadn’t minded sitting in a chair across from you, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, knowing you were actually resting. Knowing the peace and quiet comfort that you were home—safe and healing.
He couldn’t help the warmth that his chest filled with when his heart had done that annoying little flutter when he’d stepped far enough into the living room for you to register he was there—your face softening in that half-asleep way realizing it probably wasn’t another nosey neighbor—your eyes lighting up just a little before you’d smiled and mumbled his name.
It had been small, quiet and they only thing you said to him that whole visit—but it had stayed with him.
Since then, the two of you hadn’t managed to find a quiet moment alone to really talk.
Not about what happened. Not about what almost happened.
But the energy between you hadn’t gone anywhere—if anything it just kept growing. It lived just under the surface now—low and persistent. A hum instead of a spark.
Every shared glance across the Tipsy Bison during the few times you went with Judy for dinner. Every small smile when you passed each other on the street—acting like the other didn’t notice how the other one’s cheeks flushed when you caught the other smiling. Every time you were out on one of your short walks and he was heading home from work and caught each others gaze for a more than a moment.
It all kept everything simmering as the weeks passed.
When you were finally cleared to do light work while the rest of your patrol leave would stretch at least another few weeks—Maria didn’t hesitate to put you somewhere useful.
She had you tending the town’s dog kennels while their usual technician was out on sick leave.
At first, when she proposed it, you hadn’t been thrilled. But the more you showed up and actually took care in it, it surprised you how much you enjoyed it.
It was challenging in a way that didn’t push your body too far. Physical enough to make you feel like yourself again. Simple enough that your ribs didn’t scream at you for it after a days work. And the dogs—loud, messy, affectionate, half-feral things—gave you something uncomplicated to care for. They gave you something to tend to.
They were one of the first things in years that didn’t look at you like you were breakable.
After a few weeks of cleaning, feeding, repairing some fencing around the dog run, and proving you could follow the limits set for you, Maria relented a little more.
She let you take some of the dogs just outside the gates in the mornings for some training and exposure.
You didn’t go too far and not deep enough that the gate keepers couldn’t see you. It wasn’t anything close to what you went on for patrol but it was far enough to smell the earth again. To feel the stretch of space. To remind yourself what open air felt like without the threat of danger.
The snow had nearly melted away now, retreating in dirty patches beneath the edges of buildings and trees as spring was starting to creep in. The soft green breaking through brown, small stubborn flowers started pushing up where nothing should have survived.
It felt… new—and was something you needed after a winter that felt so dark and cold.
It was halfway through your shift on a Thursday—you were busy cleaning out a few of the kennels, humming quietly to yourself while the dogs ate their breakfast, when you heard a soft knock behind you.
You turned thinking it was one of the kids that came to visit the dogs once in a while—only to see Joel stood just outside the doorway beyond the inner gate, hands resting loosely at his sides.
And immediately—instinctively—you felt it. Your shoulders loosened… your breath settled.
The tension you carried around most people slipped away without you having to think about it. And you saw it in him too.
The way his stance softened. The way the guard he wore like a second skin eased when it was you standing nearby.
Whatever warmth he kept tucked away from most of the world—it always seemed to find its way back out around you.
“Hey, stranger…” you said lightly as you reached for a broom, beginning to sweep the scattered bits of straw and dirt from the floor.
“Hey…” His lips curved into a soft, almost hesitant smile. “Is uhm… is now a good time to pop by?”
You nodded toward the dogs, who were still working on their breakfast with snorts and the soft clatter of their metal bowls. “You good with dogs?”
Joel shifted his weight and slid his backpack off one shoulder, leaning it and his rifle carefully against the outside wall before stepping closer to the gate carefully. “As long as they’re good with me…”
You chuckled, sweeping a wider arc as you joked. “They’ll only go after you if I give ’em the secret word.”
A quiet laugh rumbled out of him as he lifted his other leg over the gate with practiced ease. “Good to know.”
He took a few steps inside, boots crunching softly against the scattered grit. “So, uh…” He reached up, rubbing at the scruff along his jaw, suddenly aware of how quiet it was—how alone you both were.
You glanced up at him and grinned before moving a few paces away to sweep the rest of the room, giving him an easy out. “How lively was patrol today? Anything exciting happen?”
He let out a small breath of relief and followed your movement with his eyes. “Nothin’ too excitin’. You know how things are once the snow melts. Quiet before it gets… not so quiet.”
You hummed and squatted down, sliding dirt into the dustpan. “Yeah. You’re just waitin’ for those things to come out of their hibernation…”
“Unfortunately,” he muttered.
One of the dogs padded over and nudged his hand insistently before plopping down in front of him, tail thudding against the floor. Joel blinked, then smiled despite himself and slowly lowered his hand. “Well, hey there…”
The dog sniffed him, then leaned forward, licking his knuckles.
Joel chuckled softly. “Who’s this?”
You stood and walked toward the trash bin to dump the dustpan. “What shape’s on his tag?”
He knelt more fully this time, letting the dog come to him, eyes dropping to the stamped piece of metal that hung from the leather collar. “Uh… looks like a circle?”
“That’s Kobalt.”
His smile widened as he scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Kobalt? Like the hardware company?”
You snorted as you passed them to grab cleaner and some loose towels. “Take it up with your brother. He named them.”
Joel glanced over his shoulder as a few more dogs started wandering his way, curious. “What, you got one named DeWalt too?”
You nodded toward a lighter-colored German shepherd approaching with careful interest. “Exactly.”
Then, one by one, you pointed as you listed them off, moving around the space. “Then we’ve got Makita, Milwaukee, Yamaha, Stanley, and Grizzly—”
You gestured toward two massive black Cane Corso–looking dogs lumbering closer. “And those two are Black and Decker.”
Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head as several of them began crowding him, sniffing and pressing against his legs, one licking his cheek. “Got it, so you really weren’t kiddin’.”
“Dead serious.” You shook your head, smiling as you gathered up empty food dishes and carried them to the sink. “Tommy insisted we kept a theme. Or at least, that’s what Maria told me.”
Joel murmured something low to the dogs that made a few tails wag harder, and you found yourself smiling to yourself as you scrubbed out the bowls.
After a minute, the dogs drifted your way. You glanced over your shoulder—and caught Joel watching you from where he crouched.
Not staring.
Just… watching.
There was a softness in his expression you hadn’t seen often before. Something unguarded in the way his gaze seemed to not be able to get enough of you when you were now around him.
“How’re your lip and hands doing?” you asked, glancing quickly back at the sink, heat creeping into your cheeks.
He stood and walked toward you. “They’ve healed nicely. Thanks to you.”
You shrugged, stacking bowls to dry. “Wasn’t anything fancy. Just soap and water.”
He stopped only a few feet behind you, voice lowering without him meaning to. “It made enough of a difference they didn’t get infected… didn’t heal wrong.”
You hummed quietly. “I’m sure you would’ve been fine.”
“Maybe.” He paused. “But still. Thank you.”
You looked over your shoulder and met his eyes, and gave him a small nod before turning back, now aware how close he was.
He glanced around, suddenly unsure of what to do or say. “How, uh… how are you feelin’?”
You shut off the sink and dried your hands. “Still sore when I lift heavy stuff. But I’m doin’ a lot better. Especially now that the air doesn’t feel like it’s tryin’ to stab my lungs every time I take a breath in.”
He smiled faintly, eyes dropping shyly. “That’s… fair.”
You leaned back against the counter, studying him for a moment, then pushed off and walked to the wall where several leads hung. “Well. I don’t mean to tell you to leave… but I’ve got a few things I need to get done before the next shift—”
“Well, actually—” he cut in, looking up, voice steadier now as he took a step forward. “I came by to ask if you were goin’ to the town hall meetin’ tonight.”
You fiddled with one of the leashes, gaze dropping briefly. “I don’t really do town meetings. That’s more Judy’s thing.”
“Yeah, right...” He rubbed the back of his neck as he shrugged. “Neither do I.”
You both spoke at the same time.
“Would you like to—” He began.
“What’re you doing—” You started.
You broke off, laughter slipping out before you could stop it. He huffed one out too, both of you glancing away, suddenly shy.
The air between you felt charged now more than before—warm and crackling—like something had come alive.
Neither of you moved right away—and to be honest, neither of you really wanted to.
Joel was the first to look up, breaking the quiet—but you followed a heartbeat later, fingers still fiddling at the leashes stitching when you asked, almost casually, “Is Ellie going?”
Joel’s mouth twitched before spreading into a bright grin. “Is Ellie going to a meetin’ where people specifically gather to gossip about everyone else and air out their dirty laundry?”
You laughed softly and nodded. “Touché, touché.” You grinned. “She’ll probably sit in the back like Judy does.”
“Mm,” he hummed, amused. “Makin’ little comments just loud enough to stir the pot.”
“Our little troublemakers, aren’t they?” you teased, winking as you stepped past him to guide a few of the dogs back toward their kennels.
Joel turned and followed you without thinking, keeping close—closer than he needed to but couldn’t help himself.
After weeks of glances across rooms and almost-conversations, there was something grounding about simply being near you. About hearing your footsteps—about sharing the same space.
“What’re you up to then,” he asked quietly, hands slipping to lace behind his back as he trailed a few paces behind, “if you aren’t goin’?”
You lifted two fingers to your lips and whistled. At once, the dogs responded, trotting obediently into their kennels. You closed a few of the gates as you answered, “I’m not sure. I think I might try to finish a book I started that week I was home.”
You glanced over your shoulder. “You?”
He stopped just behind you, watching as you drew two of the dogs back out and clipped their leads on.
“I, uh…” he started.
And then there it was… the words lined up easily in his head.
‘I was thinkin’ of stoppin’ by. Bringing a drink. I was hopin’ we could actually talk—without people around. I was hopin’ maybe we could pick up where we left off…’
But hesitation crept in and then the nerves—the familiar instinct to pull back instead of risking being too much.
So he swallowed the words and let out a slow breath.
“I think I might just enjoy the night with an empty house,” he said instead, tone casual. “Might crack open a bottle of whiskey I traded for a few weeks ago.”
You looked up at him once the dogs were secured, leash in hand. “Well,” you smiled, softer now, “let me know how that whiskey is. Maybe pop by again tomorrow?”
His chest lifted with a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”
He nodded and cleared his throat, taking a step back toward the entrance. “Same time?”
You clicked your tongue and tugged gently on the leads, starting toward the side door that led out back.
And then, without thinking—without overanalyzing—it slipped out before you could catch it:
“Call it a date.”
The words seemed to hang there enough that when Joel had just lifted his leg over the gate when he froze, turning back toward you.
Your gaze met his at the exact same second you realized what you’d said.
And instead of retreating, or teasing, or pretending—he just smiled.
It wasn’t crooked or guarded—it was just soft.
“Call it a date.”
He reached for his pack and rifle, settling them on his shoulder, then patted the doorframe lightly as if grounding himself before adding gently, “Have a good night.”
Your cheeks warmed, color blooming there before you could stop it. You opened the back door, stepping out with the dogs—but not before watching him turn and walk away, a quiet smile stretching across both of your lips.
Later that evening, Joel stood in his closet after he’d taken a shower that he took to clear his head.
He couldn’t stop going back and forth of what his mind versus his heart wanted.
“Should I go by? She’ll be home alone, it would be a great time to figure things out, to lay it all out...” He muttered to himself as the water ran down his back as he leaned his arm against the tile.
But then as he dried himself off he reasoned back against himself, “You can’t just drop by. That’s not what she’d like… that’s rude, right?”
He paced around his bed more times than he could count, thinking of what to do, what he would say, what he wanted to say that he’d been holding back for so long—muttering like a madman to himself as he began aggressively putting his jeans and an undershirt on.
Once he’d decided he wasn’t going to stop by, that he was going to keep to his word—he was going to stay and have a night at home, alone, he stood like he was stuck in the closet.
His hair was still slightly damp, combed back from his face, a faint trace of soap and his cologne lingering in the air. He stood there with his hands resting on his hips as he stared at the small row of shirts hanging in front of him as the intrusive thoughts came slowly back.
‘Shit, but what if she pops by? What if she thought you meant ‘cracking open a bottle of whiskey’ was a subtle way of asking her over? God damn it, fuck me—’
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes moving back and forth between two flannels—a dark green one he wore often, familiar and safe, and a blue one he hadn’t touched in a while but felt you might like.
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear Ellie knock before she pushed the bedroom door open.
She caught him mid-stare as his gaze flicked between the two shirts, as if the choice between them was a life-or-death decision.
Ellie’s mouth curled instantly. She leaned against the doorframe, arms folding. “Jeez. It’s just the town hall meeting,” she teased. “Not like you’re going on a date or interviewing for a job...”
Joel startled slightly and turned, scowling. “Jesus Christ, Ellie—”
She giggled, clearly pleased with herself, and pushed off the doorframe, walking backward toward his bedroom door. “Come on, ya slowpoke—you’re gonna make us late.”
Joel cleared his throat, instinctively defensive as he tightened his jaw and rubbed his thumbs against the side of his pointer fingers—something he did when he was nervous. “Tommy’s comin’ to pick you up. I’m not goin’… thought I'd take the night to myself.”
She froze mid-step—then, slowly, she turned back toward him. Her eyebrows lifted, and her grin spread wide and all knowing.
“Oh,” she said, her voice going up an octave. “So the shirt dilemma is a dilemma.”
Joel clenched his jaw harder than it already was and exhaled through his nose.
“Ellie…” he warned.
She brushed right past him, fingers immediately flipping through the hangers like she knew where everything was. “I’m not gonna point out the obvious,” she said, in a sing-song lit, “but if you’re gonna do what I think you wanna do…”
She hummed thoughtfully as she searched, then gasped softly as she tugged out an olive green button-down he rarely wore. One he saved for special occasions.
“Go with this one,” she suggested, still slightly smirking, even if her intentions were pure.
Joel looked at the shirt in her hands, and for a moment, he almost shut down—he almost defaulted into telling her to mind her damn business, to get out, to stop reading into things that didn’t exist.
But he didn’t, and instead, something in his chest softened.
Ellie held the shirt up a little more for him to take, her teasing expression easing just a little. “You wore this on my birthday last year,” she added more quietly. “It looked good on ya.”
He took the shirt from her, fingers brushing the fabric, and gave a small nod as he muttered. "Thanks..."
She took a few steps back, satisfied, then pointed a finger at him and wagged it. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said, dead serious for half a second—then smirked. “And be home before ten.”
A surprised chuckle escaped him as he looked down at the shirt in his hands. “God—just go, for hell’s sake…”
Ellie laughed and slipped out into the hallway, softly pulling the door shut behind her. Her voice floated back as she headed for the stairs.
“What's the saying? Wrap it before you tap it?!”
Joel’s head snapped up, face flushing instantly. “Ellie!”
He moved toward the door, ready to shout something—anything—back at her, but before he could open it, he heard the front door slam downstairs.
Joel stood there for a moment, in the silence that followed—shaking his head—before he glanced back down at the shirt in his hands, and despite himself, he smiled.
pairing: younger!harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader
word count: 7.5k
chapter summary: The three of you spend the day having a blast at the arcade together.
chapter warning(s): strangers to lovers troupe, found family, fluff, flirting, slow burn, hidden identity, mutual pining, reader is a single mother, absent/abusive baby daddy, "you're not just a waitress to me" energy, angst, Harry being adorable with Jace (as always), somewhat switched POVs.
MAIN MASTERLIST
a/n: things are about to take a bit of a spin...
as always, enjoy <33
✨NEW CHAPTER EVERY OTHER WEEK✨
When you got out to the drive way to get into Harry’s car, you were about to unlock yours that was parked next to his to grab Jace’s booster seat. It was complete muscle memory that had taken over as your keys were halfway lifted, body already turning to the backdoor—when something in your peripheral vision made you pause and refocus your attention.
You glanced into Harry’s back seat and froze when you saw what was back there.
Sitting there, perfectly centered behind the drivers seat, looking brand new, was a booster seat—already installed and waiting for Jace.
For a second, your mind didn’t catch up with what your eyes were seeing.
It was such a small thing, such a simple thing that had never been considered in past relationship as you never expected anyone to do a thing like this. But now that it was happening, it landed so heavily in your chest that you had to physically deeply inhale to ground yourself before the emotion could spill too fast.
Harry saw the change in your expression almost immediately as he glanced at you from the other side of the car.
The way you stopped mid-motion. The way your shoulders stilled—the way your hand tightened just slightly around your keys.
He cleared his throat softly as he opened the back door for Jace as he climbed in.
“Is this the right type of seat for him?” he asked over the top of the car, his tone careful—but casual on the surface, threaded with something gentler underneath. Like he was hoping he got it right, like that meant everything to him.
You blinked, refocusing yourself, pulling your gaze from the seat to him and a small smile broke.
You nodded automatically at first, then tilted your head a little, brows knitting as the question you hadn’t meant to voice slipped out, your voice hesitant.
“Wait, when did you—”
“Harry? I need help buckling…” Jace cut in from the back seat as he climbed into the booster, already settling in and pulling the seat belt across his chest, trying and failing to line the buckle into the slot—his legs kicked lightly against the seat, restless with excitement.
“Yeah, of course. I got you, bud,” Harry smiled instantly, rounding the car door without hesitation to help him.
He leaned in, guiding Jace’s hands gently, and then glanced up at you briefly—almost shyly—as you moved around to get in the passenger seat. “I saw what he used yesterday and just thought it’d be easier to get my own for,” he said quietly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You know… for days like these.”
For days like these.
Not someday, not just in case, not hypothetically. No, he said days like these—like he was planning on there being more—enough to buy a booster seat.
He clicked the buckle into place, giving it a gentle tug to make sure it was secure before smiling at Jace. “All set?”
Jace giggled and kicked his feet more excitedly, the sound light and bright in the warm afternoon air. “All set!”
Harry grinned and gently shut his door before coming around to the front.
You were already buckled into the passenger seat, hands folded in your lap, your heart doing somersaults in your chest, those silly little butterflies fluttering in your stomach the more you sat with your happiness.
He slid into the driver’s seat beside you easily, the door closing with a soft thud, before he buckled himself in—still smiling to himself as he pulled the belt over his shoulder.
You turned your head toward him, emotion sitting high in your throat as you mouthed a quiet, heartfelt, “Thank you.”
All he did was look back at you and smile—slow, proud, and a little bashful—before putting the car into reverse and carefully pulling out of your driveway.
The drive to the arcade was filled with Jace singing in the backseat to the classic rock station Harry had tuned to. His little voice was loud and fearless, bouncing between off-key and surprisingly accurate depending on the song.
Halfway there, while Jace was belting out Rocket Man by Elton John at a stoplight—Harry glanced up at him in the rearview mirror.
Jace was staring out the window now, his palm drumming to the rhythm against the door, clearly lost in his own world and not paying attention to either of you.
Harry’s gaze drifted from the mirror to you.
You were humming along under your breath, smiling to yourself softly, your elbow propped against the door as you gazed out the passenger window. The warm afternoon sun streamed through the glass and washed over your face, catching in your lashes, lighting up the curve of your cheek. You looked peaceful and open—real in a way that made something in his chest ease and tighten all at once.
You caught his gaze in the side mirror and turned your head to look at him.
His smile softened more than it already was, instantly, something quieter and more vulnerable taking its place.
After a second, he looked down at his hand as he shifted it off the wheel and held it out, palm up, between the center console. He kept low and out of Jace’s view. The gesture wasn’t demanding or rushing anything—it was just… gently offering.
Your heart gave a small flutter, and your cheeks flushed a light pink—the butterflies in your stomach went crazy.
You smiled as you slid your hand into his, your fingers lacing naturally with his like they already knew where to go. He looked back up at you, his eyes warm, and squeezed your hand once before turning his attention back to the light as it turned green.
As he drove, you felt his thumb gently rub slow, absent arches over your thumb’s knuckle. You felt him glance at you every once in a while, quick and soft, like he couldn’t quite help checking that you were still there—or that this was actually happening.
You even caught yourself doing the same—making sure that something this good was actually happening.
It took less than ten minutes before Harry pulled into the town’s arcade—the same one that had been there as long as you could honestly remember. The same bright sign that had been there since Harry was little was now slightly faded, but the building was still buzzing with life.
Jace squealed the second the car came to a stop and leaned forward to unbuckle himself, nearly vibrating in his seat.
You slowly let go of Harry’s hand and turned in your seat to face Jace. “Alright, before we go in, let's go over a few things...”
Jace froze, hands still on the belt, and looked at you, already nodding as he went through your typical rundown lecture, his voice quick and rehearsed like this was something he went through with you often. “I know, I know. I have to stay near you at all times. I need to listen and be respectful to all adults. And if another kid wants to play with me, I must use kind words and hands.”
Harry chuckled and turned too, mirroring how you sat as he looked back at Jace. “Well, I don’t know about your mom, but—I think you’re forgetting one very important thing, kiddo…”
Jace unbuckled and leaned forward, grabbing Harry's headrest, his brows knitting as he hummed thoughtfully. “Don’t forget to say please and thank you?”
Harry looked at you and smiled. “Is that it?”
You grinned and shook your head, playing along as you looked back at Jace. “I mean, that’s a pretty good one, but I don’t think that’s what we were looking for…”
“Hmm…” Jace squeezed the headrest harder. “Oh! I know! I can’t talk to strangers!” he said excitedly, like he’d cracked the code.
Harry chuckled and nodded. “Yes, we can’t forget about that. But what else can we not forget to do?”
Jace tilted his head and shrugged, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t knowww!”
You smiled and reached back to pinch his side lightly, tickling him as you leaned closer. “Yes, you do…”
Jace burst into giggles just as Harry leaned in a little and whispered conspiratorially, “Have fun…”
Jace gasped, gripping the headrest again. “Have fun! Have fun!”
You and Harry exchanged a look, both of you smiling, before he nodded toward the front door of the arcade. “Shall we get this party started?”
You nodded and reached for the handle to open your door, only for Harry to touch your hand gently and murmur, just as Jace opened his door and climbed out, “Sit tight and allow us…”
You felt your cheeks warm immediately, and you nodded, taking your hand off the handle.
You watched Harry get out and take Jace’s hand after taking his backpack from him.
He swung it over his shoulder before the two of them walked around the front of the car together. You noticed Harry advising Jace of what to do before stopping near your door.
They both reached for the handle before opening your door together.
You laughed softly as you stepped out. “Thank you, gentlemen.”
Jace beamed and looked up at Harry. “Did I do it right?”
Harry nodded solemnly and smiled down at him. “Perfect execution.”
You closed the door and started to reach for Jace’s hand when he instead took yours and placed it in Harry’s, then grabbed Harry’s other hand himself.
“There,” he said proudly. “Now we all have someone’s hand to hold while crossing the street.”
Your chest tightened, warmth blooming there as Harry’s fingers curled around yours and gave it the smallest squeeze.
Before either of you could respond, Jace was already tugging you both forward, dragging you toward the glowing doors of the arcade, his excitement emitting onto both of you the closer you got.
Walking into the arcade, it was more updated than you remembered from the last birthday party you'd taken Jace to a few years back.
The machines had been replaced with newer ones, their bright LED lights flashing and pulsing in every color imaginable. The floors were cleaner, the walls freshly painted, the old carpet swapped out for something darker that reflected the glow of the screens. The place buzzed with sound—electronic jingles, the clatter of tickets being spat out, kids laughing, teenagers shouting over one another, the constant undercurrent of classic arcade noise.
There was even a whole wall of prizes toward the front that instantly made Jace’s face light up.
Harry watched him from the second you all walked in, enjoying the way his entire body seemed to come alive—the way he smiled so wide it almost overtook his face. He found some level of comfort in the way he shouted over the loud music to point things out to you both, the way he loved seeing him bouncing on his toes as he tugged on Harry’s hand, talking a mile a minute as he debated with himself about what he wanted to play first.
But then, when he saw the giant dinosaur stuffie at the prize counter?
That was it—all his attention zeroed in on that.
He gasped and took off toward it without thinking, letting go of Harry’s hand in his excitement.
You went to call his name, but Harry was faster, letting go of your hand and taking two long steps before he scooped him up with a laugh. “Where do you think you’re going, mister?”
Jace squealed and giggled, pointing wildly towards the counter where the stuffie hung from the ceiling. “Look! I wanna win that!”
Harry adjusted him easily, flipping him so he sat comfortably on his hip as he walked toward the counter. “Well, let’s go see how many tickets we need to get ’em, eh?”
Jace’s arm wrapped around the back of Harry’s shoulders, and his other hand curled into the collar of his shirt, holding on just like he did with you.
As you stood back, seeing him like that—so effortlessly comfortable, so trusting, so secure with Harry—it was more than you could ever want or wish for.
It settled that constant anxiety you always fought with when bringing someone new into your lives. It settled that knot that you didn't know was so tight until moments like this.
And to make it even more it even more touching—Harry was so nonchalant about it.
He wasn’t flashy or boastful about the way Jace clung to him, didn’t draw attention to it or make a show of it.
Was he proud? Absolutely.
Anyone could see that by the way he held himself with Jace. But there was something else there too—something careful. Like he understood how fragile moments like this were. How easily they could be broken—how badly they needed to be protected.
He walked up to the counter and smiled at the teenage attendant, who was on their phone, completely distracted until Harry spoke up and asked. “Excuse me? How many tickets do we need to earn for that dinosaur stuffed animal up there?”
He and Jace pointed up to it together.
The kid behind the counter chewed his oversized piece of gum he had in his mouth before rolling it to one cheek as he followed their fingers.
He glanced down at a laminated chart, scanning it lazily before answering. “Uhh, two thousand five hundred for the T. rex… three thousand for the triceratops.”
Harry nodded, unfazed; however, Jace’s smile immediately wilted.
“Oh man…” he muttered. “I’ll never earn that many tickets…”
Harry shifted him closer as he turned around and carried him back toward you. “Never say never, bud.”
Jace rested his head against Harry’s shoulder, disappointment heavy in his voice. “But I’ve only ever earned two hundred and sixteen tickets all by myself.”
You heard that and instantly knew what was going on. You stepped closer, brushing his hair back gently before looking at Harry with a small smile. “What if we combine our tickets?” Then you looked back at Jace and tilted your head playfully, “I don’t know about Harry, but I don’t think I want anything like you want one of those stuffies…”
Harry glanced down at him and instinctively brought his hand up to rub slow, comforting circles over Jace’s back. “I agree with your mom, kiddo. I think that’s a good idea—what do you think?”
Jace lifted his head, and a smile started to grow again. “Really? Can we do that?”
Harry nodded, smiling. “Heck yeah.” He carefully set him back down on his feet. “Why don’t you guys go find what we want to do first, while I go get us some tokens?”
Jace immediately grabbed your hand and tugged you away from Harry. “Come on, Mom!”
Harry smiled to himself as he watched you two disappear into the rows of glowing machines.
Jace led you straight to a skee-ball lane, eyes bright. “I wanna try this one first!”
“Sounds like a plan.” You crouched to his level to check in on him, holding his hands. “You having fun so far, honey?”
He nodded quickly. “Are you?”
Your chest warmed as you nodded. “I’m just happy you’re having such a good time.”
His attention was already everywhere else—the lights, sounds, all of the movement—until he spotted Harry returning, and his whole face lit up again.
“All right,” Harry said, grinning. “Who’s ready to start earnin’ some tickets?”
Jace’s jaw dropped when he saw the two giant cups of coins in his hands. “Are those all for us?”
“All for us.” Harry said as he handed one to him.
The cup nearly swallowed Jace’s hands which made Harry laugh softly. “Careful there, you got it?”
Jace stuck his tongue out as he held it close to his chest, “Uh, I think so…”
You glanced at Harry as you stood, and he smiled warmly before asking you both. “Are we doing skee-ball first?”
Jace's voice was strained as he answered excitedly, "Yes!"
You turned to Jace, seeing him struggling a little to hold the heavy cup, and smiled with a small chuckle escaping. “Want me to hold the cup while you play, sweetheart?”
He lifted it as much as he could, arms straining a little before nodding frantically. “Yes, please.”
You took it from him and smiled as he took a handful of tokens and skipped over to the machine before putting several inside.
Harry put his hand on the small of your back as you two followed him to the machine—quickly kissing your temple while Jace’s back was still turned.
He saw Jace hesitate while he waited for balls to drop down, so he crouched down next to Jace and handed him a ball as it rolled down. “All right. Show me what you’ve got.”
Jace climbed up on his toes and pushed the ball with both hands. It rolled slowly… then dropped neatly into the twenty-point ring.
He gasped when the machine showed how many tickets he earned. “Did you see that?!”
“I saw that,” Harry said immediately, with his eyes already proudly smiling at him. “That was solid form.”
Jace straightened, puffing his chest a little before tossing another ball, this time a little harder.
The next ball went flying completely off course.
Harry winced dramatically. “Ooh—almost! Let's try again?”
You laughed, and Jace giggled as he kept going, each roll met with encouragement, playful commentary, and exaggerated reactions from both of you.
When his turn was done, Jace grabbed Harry’s hand and tugged him forward. “You try!”
Harry stepped up, setting the cup of tokens aside before he loosened his shoulders as he took a ball in his hand.
He aimed while rolling the ball in his palm before flicking it effortlessly—shooting it straight into the top hundred-point ring.
Jace’s mouth fell open, and his hands shot up as she started jumping. “You got one hundred, Harry!”
Harry chuckled and shrugged modestly. “Eh, beginner’s luck.”
You snorted and gently nudged him playfully. “Mhm... with that form?"
He glanced back at you, grin crooked. “All right then. Your turn.”
You shook your head and took a small step back. “No—I…I’m not very good at this.”
“Doubtful,” he said easily, holding out a ball in his hand. “Come on, give it a go, hermosa.”
"Yeah, mom! Give it a go!" Jace pushed on your hip.
You hesitated but caved when Jace couldn’t stop bouncing on his toes as he looked at you. You took the ball from Harry and stepped up to take your first shot—which bounced out and onto the floor.
Harry was quick to grab it and hand it back to you, “You got this…try again.”
You smiled at his words and then did as he said—tried again.
This one landed you a fifty—the next one made it into the hundred—and Harry actually cheered, loud enough to turn a few heads nearby.
Jace knelt beside the machine as it started to whir before it began spitting out tickets into a steady stream. “Mom, you’re winning lots of tickets!”
You laughed and crossed your arms over your chest shyly. “That’s from all of us playing, bud...”
Jace squealed and scrambled to catch them before they touched the floor.
Harry crouched down beside him to help gather them, their shoulders bumping as they worked together—scooping up long strips of tickets and stacking them carefully into Harry’s arms while you watched from behind—your heart continuing to fill with more and more with each passing moment.
From there, it was chaos in the best way as Jace ran off with Harry down the aisle to what he wanted to do next.
You found them as they sat side by side and raced motorcycles. After a few rounds, Harry let Jace “win” by dramatically swerving at the last second.
They played a few rounds of a basketball shooting game. After one round, Harry lifted Jace onto his shoulders and handed him the balls so he could make each shot with ease—the two of them giggling with each slam dunk.
You played a game of air hockey together—you and Jace against Harry. You two shared a paddle, giggling as you moved it back and forth to block Harry’s every move.
How the two of you won? No one knows—but it won you at least 200 tickets, which Jace was thrilled with. Enough that he made you and Harry play another game against each other to make more tickets. That game was filled with a little more trash talk and competitive play.
Next, the boys battled aliens on a UFO shooting game, Jace shouting directions while Harry obediently followed every single one.
You joined in too for the second round—laughing as you started out missing a few targets, but then by the end of it, high-fiving them both when you hit enough to earn some tickets.
After that, you all went to other machines to play what you'd only describe as 'casino' machines—games that were either spinning wheels that ran on luck or hitting random buttons while hoping for the best.
However, you still walked away with more tickets than you could hold neatly after one of you had a few strokes of luck and hit a jackpot.
By the time you made it back toward the front of the arcade, all three of you were carrying long, tangled chains of tickets. They looped around Jace’s wrists, draped over your forearm, and trailed from Harry’s hand onto the floor.
Jace held onto Harry’s free hand, swinging it slightly between them as the two of them made dramatic estimates back and forth on how many tickets they think you all had.
“Mm, I think we have at least a million,” Jace proclaimed all too confidently.
Harry laughed. “At least.”
You smiled and glanced between them, loving how their relationship had been growing throughout the day.
You went to say your prediction, but stopped when you heard Jace’s name being called across the arcade from an oddly familiar voice.
“Jaaace!”
Jace’s head snapped up immediately, following the sound. His eyes widened when he saw who it was.
“Remington!” He gasped, and before you could stop him, he dropped his tickets on the floor and took off toward a boy running toward him from the jungle gym section of the arcade that you hadn't braved to go into yet.
You saw other small children running around with party favors and party hats, some you recognized, some you didn’t—and that’s when you realized, it was clearly a birthday party—balloons tied to chairs, pizza boxes stacked high, a big Happy Birthday sign towards the entrance.
And then you unfortunately saw the one person you didn't want to see today.
Cindy freaking Bradford.
She was standing just behind the birthday sign with a small group of other moms—arms folded, and the second her eyes met yours, her smirk said it all.
“Shit—” you muttered as the tickets hit the floor and you looked down at them, internally panicking. “God damn it, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Harry chuckled softly, already squatting down to grab Jace’s abandoned tickets. You followed him, both of you gathering the scattered strands before other kids could step on them or steal them as they ran past.
“Let me guess?” he murmured, grinning slightly as he glanced over his shoulder in Cindy’s direction, watching as she zeroed in and began walking your way. “President of the PTA?”
You shot him a look but couldn’t help the small smile that broke through despite yourself, seeing him trying to settle you. "Very funny."
You glanced up and could already see her starting to walk over, her heels clicking across the tile, posture straight, clearly far too eager to insert herself into your afternoon—especially if it meant meeting Harry.
You exhaled slowly and rolled your eyes as you looked back down to gather the last of the tickets. “My arch nemesis is a better title for her.”
Harry’s hand slid over yours where you were picking up tickets, his fingers brushing yours before he gave them a gentle squeeze. “Then that’s all I need to know.”
“Well, well—isn’t it such fun running into you here?” Cindy’s voice cut in, sweetened with just enough venom to make your shoulders tense.
You stood, arms now full of tickets. You shifted them to one side and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you lifted your chin and offered her a polite smile. “Ah, Cindy. You took the words… right out of my mouth.”
She let out a rich, performative chuckle before her gaze landed on Harry. Her eyes dragged over him, head tilting with open curiosity. “Now, you must be the famous Harry I heard about at pickup.” She held out her hand and slightly popped out her hip. “Cindy Bradford.”
Harry straightened slightly, putting his portion of tickets he held into one arm and slipped into a charm you hadn’t yet seen in him—the Big Apple part of himself he slipped into on weekdays at the office. It was the kind that was smooth without being slimy, confident without being loud.
He took her hand firmly and shook it lightly, his head slightly tilting. “Bradford?” he repeated pleasantly. “As in Henry Bradford’s… daughter?”
Her brows twitched, and she almost didn’t find the words as she hadn’t expected that quick connection. “Yeah… how do you—”
He released her hand and slid it casually into his pocket, stepping back just enough to be closer to you that your shoulders brushed. “I believe that our dads used to work together back in the nineties.”
She opened her mouth again, clearly recalibrating—when Jace and Remington came barreling back between all of you.
Jace tugged on Harry’s arm. “Harry! Can I have a few tokens to go play a game of air hockey with Remington?”
Harry immediately looked down, his smile easy. “Of course, bud.” He handed him the cup that still held a few handfuls of coins left in it. “Knock yourselves out.”
Jace grabbed it and took off with Remington, the two boys disappearing down an aisle of glowing machines.
You and Harry both instinctively tracked them with your eyes, making sure you could still see where they were.
Cindy cleared her throat. “So, Harry… I haven’t seen you around town much. Where do you live?”
Harry didn’t take his eyes off the boys as he answered. “I have a small place off Main Street that I stay in when I’m up here for some personal business, but I actually live in the city.”
You felt an irrational little spark of pride at how effortlessly he answered—no overexplaining, no posturing—just enough truth to answer the question without being rude.
You added lightly, “You haven’t seen him around because he’s only been here on weekends—”
“For now,” he added easily.
You turned toward him at the same time he glanced at you, warmth in his expression. Then he looked back toward the boys. “I’m considering moving things back up here.”
Your heart stuttered, and a warmth spread all over your body at that possibility.
“You know, be closer to those that matter to me.” He said with a softness that made something crack open in your chest.
You felt the grin spread across your face before you could stop it. And you saw, with quiet satisfaction, Cindy’s smug little smirk finally falter.
“Right… of course,” she said, slowly folding her arms over her chest, taking a moment to recalibrate before she shifted her weight and said your name, forcing your attention back to her.
“So, I’m assuming you two are, well y’know…” She gestured vaguely between you and Harry. “I guess I’m a little curious to know if Thomas knows about—”
She paused and moved to touch your arm, the motion falsely friendly, invasive all the same. “I mean, it’s none of my business, but we all know how he was—or is—with… well...y'know—”
The shift in you was immediate as your shoulders tightened, your jaw clenched, and a burning heat crept up your neck.
Harry felt it before he even looked at you, the shift in the air. But he also knew that Thomas’s name could be used as a dagger against you. So when he did, when he saw it—the deep embarrassment, the raging anger, even saw the familiar sting of someone else poking at old wounds.
Without drawing attention to it, his hand slid behind you and settled at the small of your back, his thumb moving in a slow, grounding stroke. It said everything you needed to hear: ‘I’m here. I’ve got you.’
Harry turned his attention to Cindy and was about to say something that he knew would bring just as much embarrassment to her as she just brought to you, but when he heard Jace's soft voice, he put that dagger away for another time.
“Mom! Harry! Guess what? I won more tickets!” He shouted as he and Remington both held out new strands proudly.
You dropped into a crouch immediately to meet him, Harry following you down—but instead of looking at Jace, he kept his gaze lifted, steady on Cindy—sending a silent warning.
You gasped and added Jace’s new tickets to the bundle in your arms and brushed his hair back off his face. “That’s awesome, bud!”
You glanced over your shoulder at the prize wall before looking back at Jace’s bright smile. “Should we go see how many we’ve got and let Remington and his mom get back to their birthday party? We’ll see him tomorrow at school, right?”
Jace nodded, bouncing in place before turning back to his friend and pointed to the prize counter. “I’m gonna get that dinosaur stuffie!”
Remington followed his finger and gasped. “Whoa—cool! I want one too!” He spun to Cindy. “Mom? Can I get one too?”
Cindy blinked, focusing her gaze on her son instead of Harry’s gaze and stuttered slightly. “Of—Of course, honey.” She forced a smile and held his chin affectionately in her hand. “After all, we’re going to play games after they do pizza, right?”
Remington nodded and then stuck his hand out to Jace for a high five. Then he looked at Harry. “Jace said you have a really cool dinosaur book you showed him from where you live. Could he bring it to school tomorrow and show it to me?”
Cindy’s hand fell to his shoulder. “Oh, Remington, we don’t—”
Harry smiled and cut her off smoothly. “Of course, bud. I’ll pack it in Jace’s backpack when we get back home tonight.”
Both boys squealed and celebrated by rambling about how they couldn’t wait for school tomorrow.
Cindy sighed tightly after a moment and started guiding him away. “Come on, sweetheart. We should really get back.”
Remington darted forward for a quick side hug with Jace before taking her hand to follow her, only to turn back and wave at you. “Bye, Ms. Jace’s mom! Bye, Mr. Harry!”
You stood and waved, smiling. “See you tomorrow, honey.”
Harry smiled and waved too. “It was nice meeting you, Remington.”
Cindy only nodded before pulling him away, her posture stiff, clearly displeased with how that interaction went—displeased how she wasn't able to get under Harry’s skin the way she wanted to.
Jace continued to wave at his friend as they walked back. Giving Harry enough time for his hand to return to the small of your back as he leaned in and kissed the top of your head quickly but ever so affectionately—before Jace turned back toward you both, eyes bright and excited but clueless to what had just happened.
“Can we go count our tickets now?”
Harry and Jace knelt together in front of the ticket-counting machine as you worked on keeping the long, tangled strand untangled—your fingers carefully separating loops and knots while they fed it into the glowing mouth of the machine.
The arcade lights reflected off the plastic casing, neon colors dancing across their faces as the machine began to whir and beep, swallowing ticket after ticket.
“What number does it need to be again?” Jace asked, eyes wide as the number began to climb higher and higher on the display screen.
Harry grinned as he answered, continuing to feed the strand into the machine with practiced patience. “Well, that depends. Do you want the T. Rex or Triceratops?”
“The T. Rex! Duh…” Jace said it was like the answer was obvious, as if there had never been another option.
You chuckled and nudged Harry gently as you teased, brushing your knee against his shoulder from where you stood beside him. “Yeah, Harry. Duh…”
“Ok, I get it. I shouldn’t have asked such a silly question...” Harry chuckled, then nodded toward the ticket counter that Jace was watching like a hawk, “Ok, then we need the counter to say twenty five hundred."
Jace looked back at him with a confused look, his eyebrows pinched and lips pinched as he echoed back. "Twenty five hundred?"
Harry gave a tight nod and a shy smile, realizing that he didn't understand how that number looked with his age. "Right—sorry. It will look like... two, five, zero, zero on the machine.”
Jace looked back to the counter and repeated the number under his breath, like a spell. “Two-five-zero-zero… two-five-zero-zero…” watching the numbers climb, his little hands clenched around the edge of the machine.
“What number is it at?” you asked as Jace’s tickets were now accounted for, the machine clicking a final number after counting the last few tickets.
“It says seven, three, two!”
Harry started to feed his stack through the machine, which was the largest. The paper chain spilled from his hands like a loose thread on a knitted scarf. “Alright, so we’re a little over one fourth the way there." He smiled at Jace. "We got this…”
You both watched as the machine ate Harry’s tickets, the number ticking upward, while Jace hovered close to the counter, whispering the number needed over and over again like he could will it higher.
Once Harry’s stack was taken, he glanced at the counter. “What did that portion bring us to, bud?”
Jace pointed to each glowing number as he read them off carefully. “One… seven… eight… two!”
“So that means your mom’s stack needs to be at least… what? Eight hundred?” he asked, glancing up at you for reassurance.
You nodded, gathering your remaining tickets closer to your chest before handing Harry the start of them. “To be safe, that’d be a good number. You think we can do it?” You asked, looking to Jace.
Jace nodded, already giggling, nerves and excitement tangling together in his chest as he stayed focused on the ticket counter.
Harry took the beginning part of your ticket stack and started feeding it into the machine.
The tickets from your arms slowly disappeared with each careful push, the counter chirping happily as it worked.
Once your arms were empty, Harry stood and put his hand on Jace’s shoulder, grounding and warm as he peeked over his shoulder to see the final number on the counter. “So? What’s the final tally?”
Jace waited for the little receipt to print out before he gently took it out of the machine and held it in his hands as if it were something precious.
He squinted at it before reading aloud, slow and careful. “We have… two, six, three, one.” He looked up at you both, uncertain, breath caught between hope and disappointment.
Harry nodded and smiled. “And what did we need?”
“Two, five, zero, zero…?” He said, unsure.
“Hmm, now remind me—is six more than five?” Harry asked, grin already forming.
Jace froze for half a second as he thought before realization slammed into him. He squealed and jumped up and down, grabbing both of your hands. “We did it! We did it!”
Harry tugged gently on your hands, already steering you all towards the prize counter. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go get your prize!”
Jace turned and ran ahead, nearly tripping over his feet in his own excitement. With Jace's back turned, it allowed Harry to bring your hand up and kiss your knuckles before you both trailed behind Jace—hand in hand, chuckling at his excitement.
Jace slammed into the glass case and handed the teen you’d seen earlier the receipt and then pointed up eagerly. “I’d like that one, please!” his finger jabbed toward the massive T. Rex stuffie hanging up high.
You and Harry joined him at the counter just as the teen grabbed a special long hook tool to reach up and unlatch one from the wall.
Jace looked up at Harry and lifted his arms. “Can you hold me? So I can reach it?”
Harry didn’t waste a second before picking Jace up, but to both yours and Jace’s surprise, he lifted him over his head and onto his shoulders—making Jace squeal, giggle, and wiggle his feet against Harry’s chest.
You glanced at Harry and smiled, which he returned before you both turned to face the counter.
The teen used the pole to unlatch one of the stuffies before holding it out for Jace to take. “One stuffed T. Rex toy.”
Jace reached out and wrapped his arms around it, holding it to his chest, as if he might never let go.
The teen put the tool back and sighed as he advised, his voice monotone. “That leaves you with one hundred and thirty-one tickets.”
Harry glanced up at Jace. “Anything else you want, bud?”
Jace hugged the stuffie tightly and shook his head, joy written all over his face. “I have everything I want.”
Harry grinned, his chest tightening in the best way possible, before he rested his hand on the small of your back. “Why don’t you pick somethin’ out, querida?”
You stepped closer to him instinctively and looked at the prizes on the wall, then down to the case, before you looked back at the teen. “What should I narrow my sights to?”
He tapped the glass case below that had candy and small trinkets shining under a bright fluorescent light. “Anything in here is under 150 tickets.”
You hummed and tapped your lips with your fingers as you scanned the case before you pointed at a two-halves of a heart keychain for 125 tickets. “I’ll take that keychain and then with the remaining tickets I’ll have 3 sour candies, please.”
Harry heard Jace groan from above him at the mention of the sour candies. He lightly chuckled thinking of what you had in mind.
The teen handed what you’d requested over before saying the company line with practiced boredom. “Thanks for coming to Ernie’s Arcade… where fun is our high score.”
You giggled and thanked him before turning to Harry and holding out your hand, smiling up at him before asking sweetly. “May I see your keys?”
He smiled at you before he reached into his pocket and handed them over, watching you slip one half of the heart onto his key ring.
“Hey Jace?”
“Yeah?” Jace said, leaning lightly against Harry’s head to hear you better.
“Remember our talk in the car on Friday?”
He nodded and smiled, remembering. “About Ms. Cindy? And her knowing about you like liking Harry?”
Harry chuckled as his gaze met yours, his hand sliding naturally to your hip to anchor himself to you in this moment.
You nodded and looked up at Jace for a moment before looking back to Harry, your cheeks now pink. “Well, how would it make you feel if I did the kinda scary thing we talked about?”
Jace gasped. “Really?”
Your smile grew warmer as you nodded up at him. “Really.”
Harry’s grin was helpless as you lifted his keys and set them into his hands, as you said softly. “Now you have something to remind you of us during the week, right, Jace?”
“Right!” He giggled excitedly, hugging Harry’s head softly.
Harry felt something settle deep and steady in his chest, and he couldn’t help but smile as it all felt like it was coming together—everything he had ever wanted.
“I don’t need anything to remind me of you two…” he muttered, smiling. “I can’t stop thinking about you already.”
“Well, now you have an extra special reminder!” Jace said as he leaned down more and peeked at Harry from the side.
Harry chuckled, then softened as he looked down at you. “Hey, Jace?”
Jace wiggled his feet against his chest. “Yeah, Harry?”
Harry put his other hand on your waist and began pulling you closer, slowly, “You good if I give your mom a kiss?”
“Ew!” Jace gagged and giggled as he leaned back up and put his hands over his eyes dramatically.
You giggled and put your hands on Harry’s chest, next to Jace’s feet, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palms as you went up on your tiptoes to meet his lips in a soft and gentle kiss. It was meant to be quick—sweet, innocent—but it melted almost immediately into another, and then another, slower and deeper this time, like neither of you could quite help yourselves.
Harry hummed quietly against your mouth, his hands tightening just slightly at your waist as if to ground himself, before he finally pulled back slowly, his forehead resting against yours.
“Thank God I can do that whenever I want to now,” he murmured, just loud enough for only you to hear, his voice warm.
Your smile softened into something quieter, something fuller as you stood there for a moment before you nudged your nose gently against his before giving him another quick peck.
When you pulled back and glanced down at your hands, you finally remembered the three small, brightly wrapped balls of sour candy resting in your palm.
“Oh, that’s right—” you chuckled softly, before you looked up and offered one to each of them.
Jace wiggled on Harry’s shoulders, his excitement from earlier immediately shifting into dramatic preparation. “Ugh, can I get down now? I need to be ready to run to the trash can.”
Harry laughed, the sound easy and fond, as he carefully slid his hands under Jace’s arms from above. “That bad?” he asked, already lifting him down, lowering him gently until his sneakers touched the floor softly.
Jace held up the candy with one hand, his new stuffed dinosaur tucked tightly under his other arm like he was protecting it, and shot both of you a look of disapproval for the activity he was about to be roped into. “These things are disgusting.”
You scoffed lightly and crouched a bit to be closer to him, smiling. “Hey now, I think you liked these?”
“I like how silly your face looks when we do these,” he corrected with a hint of attitude in his tone, chin lifting just a little. “But the candy is nasty, Mom...”
Harry chuckled and examined the little neon-colored ball between his fingers like it was a science experiment, unsure how something so small could be that bad.
“Shall we do it together?” he asked, glancing between you both.
You nodded excitedly and lifted yours near your mouth. “Ready? On three?”
Jace sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, already bracing himself as he muttered. “If I don’t have a choice…”
You tickled his side to make him giggle before you smiled, then counted down from three, and together you all popped them into your mouths—only for it to be instant regret.
Your faces twisted in perfect unison—eyes squinting, noses wrinkling, lips pulling back as the sour hit all at once. There was a split second of stunned silence before all three of you broke into a snickering laughter, coughing and sputtering, shaking your heads as you instinctively started moving toward the nearest trash can.
Jace was the first to bolt, sprinting the last few steps before spitting his out dramatically, gagging and coughing, and leaning over the bin. “Yuck! That is SO gross,” he choked, wiping his tongue on his sleeve for extra dramatic effect.
Harry held on just long enough to let you go next, pressing his lips together as the candy sat stubbornly on his tongue.
You giggled as you spit yours out too, laughing breathlessly as you watched him finally follow suit, bending to the trash can and shaking his head once before straightening.
He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as he looked at you with an incredulous grin. “Please tell me that isn’t some tradition we have to do every time we come to the arcade, hermosa?”
You laughed and shook your head, warmth still buzzing under your skin. “Only sometimes…” You teased.
Jace giggled and went to say something when his laughter slowly died down, and his shoulders stiffened.
You noticed it instantly and took a step closer. “Sweetheart? What is it?”
His brow furrowed, and he leaned just slightly to the side, peering past you before lifting his arm and pointing at something behind you.
