Still learning how to write creatively | Comments and reblogs are very welcome | Welsh gal | 39 + 1 years young 😉 | Obsessed with Joel Miller, Din Djarin and Marcus Acacius| Love Slow burn, angst, enimies to lovers, friends to lovers, repressed feelings, protective men, happy endings.
Welcome to my Pedro Pascal masterlist. I'm still fairly new to fan fiction and have never attempted creative writing until 2023, so please go easy on me, people lol. I currently write for Din Djarin, Joel Miller, Marcus Acacius and Pedro Pascal himself. Comments and reblogs mean the world to me. It lets us know if we're doing a good job or not. I hope you all enjoy. I've also added a superman fic rec list...
💔= Angst 💘=Fluff 🔥=Smut 🗡= Violence
A03 Link Fic Recommendations Fic Recommendations no.2 Superman Fic Recomendations
Din Djarin Masterlist
Remember Cyar'ika Masterlist 💔 💘 🗡
You and Din hunt bounties together, but you get injured and have Amnesia. Will his love help you regain your memory?
Priceless Masterlist 💔 💘 🗡
You and Din miss Grogu terribly after he leaves with Luke Skywalker. After confessing your feelings to each other Din leaves to track down a quarry. While waiting for Din's return you are abducted by slavers. Din saves the day!
We don't talk anymore 💔 💘
You are afraid Din doesn't want you around anymore since Grogu has been returned to his people. After an argument yours and Dins' true feelings come out.
Warm or cold 💔 💘 🔥 🗡
You and Din track bounties together. During one hunt the quarry gets the upper hand and tries to kill you in order to escape. Din makes him pay. No one hurts his Cyare!
Catch Me If You Can 🔥 💘
You'd better run. The Mandalorian is hot on your heels....
That Time Again 💘
You've bled through but Din panics, thinking you're injured...
Broken Masterlist 💔 💘 🗡
Din is on the brink of death. The only way to save him is to remove his helmet. Surely he'll understand and forgive you... right?
A Beskar Dress for Dins Cyare 💘 🔥
Just a little scene I've conjured, inspired by a chainmail dress.
Falling Hard 💘
Sometimes, two idiots in love just need a push in the right direction...
Somewhere Only We Know 💔💘
It's the third anniversary of the "death" of your Mandalorian. Every year you come to a place that was special for the both of you to remember him...
Across an Ocean of Stars Masterlist 💘💔🔥🗡 (Ongoing)
Nothing much happens in your small town of Eureka Springs, Arkansas, USA. All of that changed one morning when strolling in the woods, you encounter a strange metallic man and his even stranger green child.
Din Djarin Head-canons
Din Djarin Imagine
Joel Miller Masterlist
Am I Too Late to Love You? Masterlist 💔 💘 🗡
Joel breaks you heart when you confess your love for him. You get into trouble whilst on patrol, causing Joel to accept his feelings and leave in a desperate search for you.
Reckless 💔 💘 🗡
You are a bit too headstrong and impulsive for Joel's liking. After purposely putting yourself in danger he let's you know just how much you mean to him.
When I wake up I've lost something A 💔 🗡
Joel is finally happy and in love but when he wakes up.....
The swimming lesson 🔥 💘
You are close friends with Joel and Ellie. You can't swim, so Ellie gets Joel to teach you at a secluded lake. All the sexual tension and pining for each other becomes too much....
Twelve days of Christmas 💔 💘
For twenty years Joel never had to think about Christmas. Painful memories of past Christmases with his daughter were easier to bury in the depths of his mind. But now Jackson's festivities are in full swing and an unexpected meeting might just give Joel a reason to embrace the holiday once again.
Every Last One of Them 💔 🗡
Abby is about to kill the man you love. You can't let that happen so you make the ultimate sacrifice....
I'll Come Back For You 💔
Letting go is hard to do for both of you. But as they say, if you love someone, you have to let them go.
Not My Man 💔💘
You are furious when you learn that Joel is suspected of hurting you.
Unexpected Masterlist 💘💔🗡
An unplanned pregnancy opens old wounds and new fears for Joel. Can your love survive this turn of events...?
Baby Love 💘
A little drabble about you and Joel settling in with a newborn...
Happy Grumpy Halloween 💘
You dress up as Joel for Halloween...
Friendly Confessions 💘
You sustain a minor injury and while high on painkillers you ask Tommy to bring you to Joel. Who knew that being this off your face would bring out the truth you've been keeping from your best friend...
Joel Miller head-cannons
Joel Miller Imagine
General Marcus Acacius Masterlist
The Lesser of Two Evils 💔💘🔥🗡
Series Masterlist
Rome is the enemy but so are the people you've spent your whole life with. When faced with a desperate choice of life or death which enemy should you choose?
Marcus Acacius headcanons
Marcus Acacius Imagine
Harry Castillo - coming soon
Maid for Him - coming soon
Pedro Pascal Masterlist
Oh Baby Masterlist 💔 💘
A baby is the last thing you and Pedro expected but life has a way of surprising you for the better...
Forever a Winner 💘
It's the night of the Golden Globes awards and you're there to support the love of your life, Pedro Pascal.
The Plus one 💔💘
You and Pedro have been in a relationship for a while but for some reason he'd stopped inviting you to social events. Has he grown tired of you...?
Stay tuned for many more stories to come. I've made a physical note of every story I want to create and there are so many it's always so hard to chose the next one, especially when new ideas pop up all the time! 😆😜 I'm looking forward to one day having them all written and posted for my and your enjoyment 🤗😘
Summary: You've been travelling with Joel for a few months now. The man acts like he can't stand your presence half of the time, and yet a question lingers on your mind like a swaying pendulum. You ask Joel if he'll kiss you.
Pairing: Joel Miller (The Last Of Us) x reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: not much, except for joel being his usual grumpy self. fluff, softness, feelings that joel pretends doesn’t exist, small bit of angst, confessions, first kiss, joel teaching reader how to play guitar. just overall sweetness. unedited (sorry), no description of reader (gn)
A/N: here's just a little something that was meant to be shorter and sweeter than usual. been going through a patch of writers block so just wanted to write something whilst i try to work on my wips. also starting a tag list, just ask to join! thanks to anyone who reads <33 dividers by @/saradika-graphics
Masterlist
You’re not sure where the question came from, how the words mangled in your throat managed to bubble past your dried lips.
You had been staring up towards the canopy of twisting vines and tangled branches for far too long, barely illuminated by the sheen of the casting moonlight draping the forest floor in gentle hues of blue. The sleeping bag felt too thin and yet too tight, clinging to each limb like a second skin.
You’re not even sure if he’s awake or not.
“Joel?”
“Hm?”
“If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”
There’s silence for a beat too long, his own confusion stringing through the air like a dubious cloud.
“What?” He gruffs, his voice low and serrated at the edges. Far away. And not just from the consequences of his sleeping bag being nearly five feet away from yours.
“If I asked you to kiss me, would you kiss me?” You repeat, not giving your tongue a moment to tangle and unravel with apprehension. It’s just a question, a curiosity that’s embraced you like a coiled hug from barbed wire.
Your head tilts slightly to the side with the smallest movement in your peripherals, watching as Joel’s hands clench and unclench by his sides where they’re poked out of his own navy blue sleeping bag. He’s not looking at you, keeping his gaze firmly planted above, like he’s scolding the trees for obscuring the view to a clear sky shrouded in blurring stars- like that’d give him some reprieve.
He hesitates, “You want me to kiss you?”
Your heart thuds once in a frantic pace in your eardrums, heat rising rapidly through your veins before you forcibly chill them, not wishing to lose your voracity already. Telling yourself it’s innocent; a place born from curiosity and not direct interest, or a contrast of vulnerability.
“I want to know if you would kiss me,” you rephrase slightly, weariness traced through your tone at his immediate stiff response.
You swear you can hear the grind of his jaw as he attempts to map a way to answer.
“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” he eventually says slowly. If it weren’t for the gruffness of his Southern drawl singing through the chilled zephyr like the swimming current of a river, you might not have heard him.
“The truth,” you reply easily.
“Stop fuckin’ arou-”
“Joel. Stop avoiding the question. Would you kiss me?” You huff, determined despite his callousness. He freezes again. His head still doesn’t turn towards you.
For a few leaden, strenuous moments, the only sounds you can hear is that of your own breath casting in small plumes of cold air by your cracked lips and the gentle chitter of wildlife within the forest, the air blowing in gentle streams through brackets of green in the undergrowth.
“If you asked?”
“Yeah,” you concur, gaze blinking back towards him, head straining just to spy a glimpse of his twitching cheekbone as his molars clench.
“No.”
You frown deeply. And despite yourself- despite knowing having travelled with Joel for months now, knowing he’s a cantankerous, malcontent, grumpy old man- something pinches in your chest.
You know he’s an irascible man. And you mean that in the politest sense of the meaning. Because as he loves to remind you so continuously, he could drop you off in the middle of the woods at any time and not look back to make sure you haven’t stumbled over your own feet yet.
You don’t wish to call what you feel now hurt, but it burns the same. Stings like a prick of a splinter in your side.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he starts, his bottom lip pursing, his broad shoulders set in a terse line where he's laying on his back. He scoffs, peevish. “Just ‘cause. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
You can’t help the way your eyes roll in a sardonic manner.
“That sounds like deflection,” you mumble back in a quip.
“It sounds like you’re being a pain in my ass,” he retorts sharply.
“Why can’t you just say why you wouldn’t kiss me?” You insist, shuffling yourself up suddenly onto your side, slotting your elbow beneath yourself to prop up and stare across the shrivel of dirt and sticks between you.
“Because I don’t care enough to amuse this conversation,” he hisses back emphatically. He doesn’t look at you once, instead throwing himself onto his shoulder, the broad expanse of his back facing you. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”
It’s firm. Final.
You stare at the stretch of his dark flannel in the dim lighting for a strangled beat, weighing your options, wondering if you should push this question that’s been curled over the edge of your tongue like dripping molasses for months now, or if you should acquiesce. If you should forget the unsaid words tied between stolen glances murmuring promises to your consciousness you told yourself you shouldn’t listen to. The panicked flash within the depths of his glare when a root tangles over your ankle or a close-call becomes too stark of a depiction to dread. The flutter of your stomach each time he’d do something as simple as making two coffees in the morning instead of one. The trip of your heart in those few, serene moments where he has begun to teach you guitar, the calloused firmness of his fingertips suddenly gentle and reverent as they guide yours over plucking strings.
But maybe you made it all up in your head just to survive this trip with him. Just to tolerate him. God knows you’d need some ridiculous fantasy such as attraction to deal with Joel Miller.
Because even if you did push, and you did insist, there’s no promise he’d capitulate any of his emotions. Because Joel always insists on being both the welded, serrated knife and the one wielding it.
So you surrender, laying back down and snagging your sleeping bag up to your chin, stubbornly turning away from him like that’d change anything.
You eventually fall into a restless sleep. Joel doesn’t rest at all that night.
You stir to the habitual smell of burning coffee beans wafting through the gradually warming morning. Winter was settling down over the surface, turning the frayed edges of leaves frigid, but to your relief- some of fall still hung throughout the air, the light oscillating whisk of sunlight peering through the windows of the branches overhead.
It settles over your shoulders like a blanket, the waft of the coffee stirring in the boiling pot with a bubbling background noise, the crickets insistent chirping from the night prior replaced with the scuttle of squirrels over the dried bark of trees and the distant crack of twigs from a deer.
Then, mingled within it, is the low strum of strings.
Gentle, slow, and tranquil. Like the first wash of a sun-bleached tide against the heel of your foot when you’re standing on the shoreline.
Rousing, you pull yourself up to a sitting position on your hands, your eyes trailing over to where Joel is set on the edge of the truck’s tray. A light blue Chevvy you had both managed to secure about a month prior. You guess you’ll have to abandon it in a few short days, the gas stations surrounding becoming further and few apart.
In his lap, curled in his arms, is a guitar. You had found it buried in the backseat inside the Chevvy, still locked away in its casing. Miraculously surviving in a condition well enough to use. Since then, Joel had grudgingly given you two lessons after you had practically gawked and pleaded when you heard him playing softly in the room opposite when you had been stashed away in an abandoned safehouse.
His fingers work over the strings now. Ruthless hands reduced down to a benign touch as he plucks a fingerpad against the tuned steel. The rhythm is familiar, something you’ve heard before, in a distant life. One forgotten and faded away into ash. Hank Williams, if you had to guess. Joel had once said how much he used to enjoy him when he was younger. The thought is so Southern it nearly hurts.
Strenuously slowly, you curl your legs beneath you and shift yourself out of the sleeping bag, maneuvering up to your feet. Joel’s facing to the side of you, not yet noticing you waking, his eyebrows slightly pinched with a more intent focus on the unveiling song, his one deaf ear only allowing him to lay that much attention on one prominent sound at a time.
Carefully, you pad up towards him. You keep your footsteps light, not wishing to startle or snip off the short-tempered man. And you’re not sure what his thoughts are of you currently after the previous night's debacle.
He doesn’t notice you until you’re nearly standing beside him. His hands pause, his forearms flexing with a stiffness, dark eyes drawing up towards you sharply. He blinks once, like he’s examining you and your sleep-mussed features. You swear you see his gaze soften, even for just a passing flutter of a moment.
Then he nods to the space on the open metal tray beside him.
“C’mere,” he gruffs.
You perch up next to him without a second question, relieved that he’s not instantaneously brash or impudent this morning. He clears his throat hoarsely, his hands sliding to the neck of the guitar with a soft screech of protest from the steel as he lifts the base from his lap and passes it towards you wordlessly.
You take it, settling the bulky object into your lap like how it was in his just beats ago. Curling your arms over and under, one at the base, the other at the neck.
“Show me a G chord,” Joel instructs, tipping his chin down towards your hands intently.
You inhale shortly, drawing your own attention down towards your hands, mind flicking through invisible folders of information for the correct direction of your fingers. Then, you tilt your digits, and press them down against the steel, and use your other hand to strum downwards once.
It rings out in something adjacent to a cord. Shaky and awkward, slightly stiff- but progress none the less. And Joel doesn’t immediately call you out on any mistakes.
He nods once, murmuring, “Better than last time.”
He directs you on a second chord, then a third, your gaze settled locked steadfastly on your task, determined to get each one right. He rewards you with rare, but solemn praises;
“Starting to get it,” he'll say.
“Getting there,” he’ll mutter.
It’s not exactly gentle or awe-inspiring, but it’s far more encouragement than you’re accustomed to with him.
“Now an E major,” he says eventually. You pause, fingers stilling on the guitar’s strings. They thrum a short beat over the wood as if that’ll bring the answer to the forefront of your mind.
“You forget,” Joel states. You exhale sharply, disappointed, but nod once. Joel doesn’t reprimand you for it like you expect- instead just saddles himself slightly closer, his thick thigh pressing against yours. Then, his hands reach across to yours.
Large palms encompassing yours, rough fingers meeting more frangible skin. Violence melded down into something simple, benevolent. That indulgence of softness spoken- sung- with the curve of his fingers over yours, directing them into the correct placement. He’s precise, careful. His eyes set on the meticulous act.
But your gaze draws up to his face instead. His face that’s suddenly so close to yours, his skin that’s suddenly touching yours; brushing and grazing. You can hear the vague thud of your heartbeat skip a calamitous beat in your eardrums. The calloused pads of his fingertips prod over your knuckles. His head tilts, his cheek nearly colliding with yours. From this distance, you can properly make out each pluck of silver in his stubbled beard, the streaks of the same grey shrouded through the dark curls atop his head, still tangled with sleep, or a restless night.
He pulls his hands away with an affirmative nod to himself, then his gaze flicks up to you.
You both pause as your eyes meet. Stares connecting in some unsaid tangle of frayed rope that’s been tying itself in bewildering loops for months now.
You look away. Instead focusing back on the placement he angled your fingers in. But you can feel it; his eyes never tear away from your face. They remain there, steady and present, searching for something you’re too perturbed to name.
You strum downwards. The notes ring jagged, shaky, your fingers bent awkwardly.
Your bottom lip purses with a deeper frown in irritation. His eyes track the movement beside you unconsciously.
You huff, and go to retry, hand flexing at the base of the guitar.
“I lied.”
You blink at the sudden sound of his voice, head upturning to face him again. He’s still gazing at you, that same firm clench of his jaw set in place like it always is, his brows still furrowed to crease that line in his forehead you always want to smooth out- but there’s something more. His eyes; they’ve darkened, the usual mahogany of them wavered down into something lower, his pupils wider.
“What?” You breathe.
“Last night. I said I didn’t care. I lied,” he says. It’s stiff, like the words don’t really know how to smoothly tip from his tongue. His eyebrows saddle together even further, and you even more desperately want to press your thumb between them. “I care. Always have.”
Then, with more certainty, or maybe it’s a force of nature, his eyes drop. Down to your lips, tracing the line of them as they instinctively part under his gaze.
Looking at your mouth as he adds lower, “Maybe too much.”
You feel your throat tighten, your breath stumbling through your windpipe with your sudden incredulity. You don’t have a moment to collect your thoughts before his eyes snap back up to yours, piercing and trying to discern.
“Do you still want to ask me?” He questions urgently.
“If..” you start, weary.
“If I’ll kiss you.”
Oh- oh.
You stare bemusedly at him. Wondering if you’ve misheard him. If he’s chiding you. Mocking you for getting the E major chord wrong. You don’t know how to read this situation, all of it feeling so starkly dissimilar to how you’ve known Joel to be for so many months now.
“Would you want to?” You ask back breathlessly. Your eyes search, and his soften. That coffee brown melting away, juxtaposed to the short space of quiet right before dawn breaks- where everything in the world stands still, waiting for anything to be the first to shatter that solitude.
A moment of warmth weighed in the uncertainty.
“Every part of me has wanted to since I met you,” he murmurs lowly, his attention never breaking away from you. “There isn’t one part of me that doesn’t want every part of you.”
This time, you know your breath ceases entirely. Your pupils rounding, jaw slackening. Because how is it now, after so many months, Joel is suddenly saying all of this to you? That he’s bruised with his words for so long, dug and chided until you felt bitter, just to turn and admit that he's wanted you this entire time. That everything you’ve felt hasn’t been some sick imagination your mind conjured up.
Sure, he bruised, but it was always like those blooming purple and blue marks on your skin you couldn’t help but amuse; poking and nudging at it until it ached like something tender. Maybe you just hadn’t noticed how he had never aimed to cause those bruises in the first place before.
“Yes,” you breathe quickly before your throat can forcefully swallow the words, “I still want to ask you.”
Joel’s face slackens with surprise, then hesitance, then something darker. Firmer, but not unkind. More like certainty.
Like he’s been searching for too long for a base to ground him, and now that’s he’s confessed his exploration for something more than just hopeless reaching, and he’s been gifted kindness, agreement- he realises that each time he’s taught you guitar now, it’s been about more than the pluck of string under your fingertips. It’s been about the song you sing without words, without a tune- like the very hymn of your veins calls out to him instead, winding through him, pulling him forward.
And now, after far too long of biting it back, snapping off the rope- he finally lets it tug him forth. And you don’t stop him, your hand and heart tied just the same around the same rope.
His large hand lifts to frame your face, cupping your cheek. Eyes searching yours for another moment, before darting down to your lips. He leans forward, your breaths mingling in the space between like the slow reverberation of a fleeting chord.
Then he closes the distance, and presses his mouth to yours.
The kiss is slow at first. Tentative, seeking. Searching for more in the unsaid, reassuring you both to the ground, soothed, eyelids slipping closed.
Then your head tilts, and it deepens. His hand tightens slightly against your burning cheek, and his tongue swipes out to trace the seam of your lips like he already has them memorised. You part them, allowing him entry, and it’s like a burst of skittering fireflies in your belly as his tongue meets yours. Melding gently, tasting and experimenting.
He kisses like everything else he does in life. Steady, unyielding. But there’s a softness to it; like he can finally allow himself to relax, let the furrow between his brows slacken. This base he’s found tethering him down, making him groan into your mouth with a hushed relief.
He kisses like he’s worshipping.
You exhale a small moan into his mouth, breathless, senses consumed by him. You kiss him just as fervently. Deep, slow. Neither of you rush it, taking your time to explore each other. His scent smoothing over you in a rush, a bergamot and sandalwood you’ve never noticed so piquantly before. The pour of hot water over coffee beans, the rough press of his hardened palm against your cheek in contrast with his soft lips, slightly chapped from the cold.
Your lips work in tandem, tongues tangling a dance from the chords that aren’t being strung, the guitar hanging limp in your lap. Only when your grip loosens from it and the guitar nearly goes tumbling from your thighs do you both break apart from the kiss, reeling and dazed.
Your eyes still closed, he lulls his head forward and presses his forehead to yours. For a while, all there is the gentle sound of your panting breaths as you both gather your bearings again. If there’s any song you wish you could memorise and play on cue; it’s the sound of his gentle, shallow breaths intertwining with yours, the way it casts over your lips.
His thumb brushes over your cheekbone once. Soft, reverent, your eyes fluttering open, melded against him on the truck bed. The corner of his mouth ticks in just the smallest smile. You know it’s from content.
“Come on. Show me an E major again,” he murmurs, letting his hand reluctantly drop away from your face and nodding back to the guitar in your lap. You grin back, lopsided and pleased, nearly surging back just to steal his lips with yours once again, but instead you settle back, arms tightening around the instrument again.
His thigh pressed to yours, his shoulder brushing yours. His breath tender and tone guiding, hands reaching out to direct yours when needed. The moment now softer than it was, than it ever has been.
That rope pulled taught between you. But it didn’t snap or shred when you got too close. Instead, it entwined. Looped and weaved in harmony to hum a synonymous hymn. And you both settle and sway into it.
With Joel, you realised it was the little things.
Maybe it always has been. The way his gaze would narrow with alarm when a shimmer of a wound appeared on your skin, how his hands would grab for you to shield you with his own body the moment any apprehension stirred in an unknown moment. The way that he would wordlessly offer you a flannel to place over your sleeping bag at night just for extra warmth. The two coffees brewed in the morning even if you were running out. The way he would slow his steps down to a reverent, knowing pace after you rolled your ankle, even after he insisted that you could just walk it off. The way he would always take the first shift at night, and go far into the night until he finally woke you. How his eyes would soften sometimes at the most mundane things; like you being elated over a find of an old, worn chocolate package in a rundown supermarket, or the bliss on your face when you’d get to dip your feet into the cold, comforting embrace of a river.
These guitar lessons. The two coffees made and ready to be poured from the pot ahead of you.
It had always been the little things with Joel. And the culmination of them was far less daunting than you could’ve imagined- it wasn’t rugged and hardened, sharpened like razors at the edges prepared to strike. Instead it was like the first sweep of the comforting breeze when Winter finally broke into Spring, offering nothing but serenity; soft, unhurried, and forgiving.
"Whether you come as a lover or an executioner, I am ready to receive you." - The Carnivorous Lamb, Agustín Gómez-Arcos, tr. William Rodarmor
I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry - Hank Williams
Comments, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know.
Summary: Joel breaks you heart when you confess your love for him. You get into trouble whilst on patrol, causing Joel to accept his feelings and leave in a desperate search for you.
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.
Summary: Nothing much happens in your small town of Eureka Springs, Arkansas, USA. All of that changed one morning when strolling in the woods, you encounter a strange metallic man and his even stranger green child...
Summary: Nothing much happens in your small town of Eureka Springs, Arkansas, USA. All of that changed one morning when strolling in the woods, you encounter a strange metallic man and his even stranger green child.
Warnings: Swearing, injury, toxic mother/daughter relationship (mother is a bitch!), smut, angst, violence, fluff, protective Din, hurt/comfort, found family, no use of Y/N. Reader has a nickname.
Word count: 4,201
A/N: This has been on my mind for a looong time now. I'm not sure if there's much call for a Din x Earthling reader but nonetheless, I've been longing to write this. I hope you enjoy...
Chapter 1 A Whole New World
Life moves slowly here, the same boring, monotonous scene stuck on replay. Work, home, eat, sleep. But that's just the norm for this small, town in the middle of Arkansas. With a population of 2,245, everybody knows each other and it's pretty easy for word to get around. Gossip and rumours spread like the plague here, and right now the gossip is unfortunately centred around you, pitying looks and whispers of 'that poor girl' and 'can't believe they did that to her' accompanying your days now. For the most part, you just ignore it -or try to- but in the quiet moments, when the world is still, your mind is racing. In recent weeks it has become too much to bare and the only way to drown out the inner voice that tells you you're a failure and not worth loving is to keep busy.
So that's what you've been doing. Working day and night, just so you'll be able to sleep at night and have some relief from your inner turmoil just for a little while... unless of course said turmoil finds you in your dreams as it often does. A small part of you wishes you could pack up your old life and have a fresh start, anywhere but here. Of course, it's not that simple. The thought of 'going out on your own' is terrifying. Even though the ranch you own (left to you by your grandparents) would sell for a decent price, that option is unthinkable. This place holds too many memories of better times for you to just up and sell it, your entire life engrained into the very walls.
Like it or not you can't bring yourself to leave, so you're stuck here, where you have to constantly face the two people who betrayed and destroyed you. It would have been bad enough to walk in on your fiance fucking another woman, but when said woman turns out to be your best friend... How do you even begin to move on from that?
Two Months Ago
A series of unstoppable yawns slip out as you wave off your guests. Your tipsy brain is running on empty and ready to crash. Walking into the living room you raise your hand to cover yet another yawn. Relaxing on the setee are your fiance Cole and your best friend Amber. They look just as exhausted as you, slouching with their heads lolling against the back of the settee. You clumsily plonk yourself down between them, resting your hands on their knees and throw your head back to join them.
"I'm beat," you exhale sleepily. Cole tucks you under his arm and kisses your forehead. "Did you have a good time?" he asks groggily, his blue eyes heavy. "I had the best time." You turn to look at Amber. "Thank you both for the surprise party. You guys are the best." "We couldn't let your 30th birthday pass without a big celebration," Amber smiles, resting her hand over yours. You squeeze her hand and return the smile. "Well, I'd better get going," Amber began to rise but you pull her back down. "You're not going anywhere this late alone. You'll stay here tonight."
"Are you sure?" she asks with a yawn. "It's fine," Cole insists. "I'll make up the spare room for you." While Cole prepared the spare room, you and your best friend giggled drunkenly about anything and everything, and maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's just you, but you suddenly feel so lucky to have such wonderful people in your life. You hadn't realised you'd nodded off until Cole woke you up by tapping your cheek and grinning. "Hey, time for bed sleeping beauty." A lazy giggle escapes you as he scoops you up bridal style and carries you to your shared bedroom.
Looking over his shoulder you see Amber opening the door to her room. "Gooodniiiight," you slur, waving your hand. You barely hear her reply as it's muffled by her yawn. A while later, you wake up with the driest mouth you've ever had. You wish you could ignore it and stay in your soft bed but that's not going to happen. Begrudgingly, you throw the quilt off and sit up, the room spinning slightly. The alarm clock reads 3:15am. No wonder you still feel a little drunk; you've only been out a few hours.
You drag yourself to the en-suite for a glass of water, gulping it down as you walk back into your bedroom. The light from the bathroom shines across your bed and it's then you notice that Cole's side of the bed is empty. That's odd, you think to yourself as you walk to the bedroom door and open it. The landing is dark but a hazy light is shining from downstairs. Your head is still slightly woozy as you make your way downstairs and into the kitchen, where the light is coming from.
You frown in confusion, but that confusion is quickly replaced with dread as the unmistakable sounds of moaning and panting emanate from the laundry room adjoining the kitchen. Suddenly you're as sober as a priest on sunday, knowing what you can hear but hoping to god you're wrong. A cold sweat breaks out across your skin. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly open the door. Your heart lurches and plummets to the ground! You want to scream and turn away, but right now, you have no control over your body, your frozen muscles forcing you to stay and watch wide eyed as your fiance pummels himself balls deep inside your best friend, your 'Sister', her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he brutally fucks her against the wall.
Their shared moans and her pleasured expression causes bile to rise up your throat, you whole body shaking with increasing anger. "Oh shit!" Amber gasps as she locks eyes with you. Cole's head spins over his shoulder and he drops Amber to her feet, his flushed colour draining in shock as he tucks himself back into his boxer shorts. "It's not what you think!" "I can explain!" they both blurt at the same time. "Really?! It's not what I think!" You explode as tears begin to run down your face. The fucking audacity of them to deny it when they've just been caught red handed! In a fit of rage you hurl the glass in your hand at them, narrowly missing their heads, the glass smashing against the wall. Damn it! You always were shit at aiming.
Clenching your fists, you turn and storm across the kitchen, unable to bare witness to this disgusting scene a moment longer. Cole and Amber rush to follow you, like pathetic lost puppies! "Wait! We need to talk about this!" Cole pleads, desperately. You spin to face them, wishing that at this moment you could burn them to ashes with the fury burning inside you. "Sure, let's 'talk' about it," you say sarcastically. "Let's talk about how I just caught my fiance and my best friend," you throw a hateful stare at Amber, "Fucking under my roof!"
You're met with silence and guilty expressions. You shoot them a look thats says 'I dare you to try and talk your way out of this'. They know they can't. The damage is done. "I'm sorry," Amber croakes with tears in her eyes. "No you're not," you spit the words. "You're sorry you got caught!" "Please, just listen," Cole began and gripped your shoulders. Nausea rises up your throat. Just the feel of his flesh on yours now makes your skin crawl. The fact that he has the nerve to put his hands on you after they were just pawing at your 'Sister's'' ass ignites a new wave of anger deep within. Now you understand the saying, 'A red mist descended' as you completely lose control.
It's as if an entity constructed from pure hate and rage has possessed you. Without even thinking about it, your knee connects with Coles' worthless balls, sending him whimpering to his knees. A gasp from Amber draws your attention to her and a sharp slap echoe's through the kitchen. You shake your hand out, palm stinging furiously, as she holds her reddend cheek in shock, her long dark hair spiliing across her face. "Get out! Get the fuck out of my house, both of you! Get out! Get out!" You scream over and over again. Amber helps Cole to his feet, his legs still shaking from the pain inflicted upon his manhood. With heads lowered, they scurry out of your house like the filthy little rats they are.
The silence that falls is unbearable. Now that you're alone, you have time to absorb everything that just happened. Fury still trembles under your skin, along with shock and the overwhelming with the gut wrenching grief that comes with such a betrayal. All of a sudden, your legs can no longer support your weight and you fall to your knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
Present Day
Drunken voices boom across the bar, amplified by the speaker onstage. It's karaoke night at the Whiskey Business and the spectacle that drunk people make of themselves in the name of good fun always brings a smile to your face. Karaoke night is by far your favourite night to work. "Oh my god, they sound like a bunch of banshee's," grumbles the stocky, grey haired man at the bar, shutting his eyes in exaggerated pain. "Good thing my hearing isn't what it use to be or my eardrums would explode."
Your face crinkles in laughter at his unashamed insult. "Okay Gene..." You shake your head affectionately at the man who is not only your closest neighbour, but also a lifelong friend of your late Grampa, and the closest thing you have left to family. "I think you've probably had enough for tonight." "I think you're probably right," he half chuckles through a yawn. "I'm gonna call it a night kid. You be safe getting home after work, okay?" His tone is more serious now, his facial expression matching his voice and you roll your eyes, playfully. "I always am."
That seems to placate him, his eyes softening. "G'night Rae." "Night Gene," you call after him as he makes his way to the door. You just know he'll be waiting on his front porch later as always, waiting for you to pass. It brings a warmth to your heart, knowing you still have one person in your life that cares for you. The next two hours pass by quickly- too quickly for your liking. The busier you keep yourself, the better you feel. Which is why you are dreading the coming weekend. Despite your objections, your boss has demanded you take a few days off.
Apparently, working day and night with only one day off in the past fortnight isn't good for you. You want to tell him that the extra shifts are all that's keeping you together right now, but at the same time you don't want to come across as desperate, lonely, pathetic, so you'll just have to face the dark thoughts and emptiness that relentlessly plague you when you have nothing but time to think. Grin and bare it as they say.
*****
The late summer air is cooler at night, a sign that change is on the way. Walking down the quiet country road, hands in your pockets, kicking up stones in front of you, your mind begins to drift to places you'd rather not go. Must it always come back to those two? It's been almost 4 months, for god sake. You really need to move on now, you try to reason with yourself. Of course it doesn't help that you live in a small town where gossip is the number one source of entertainment. You've heard from friends that Amber and Cole are now living together.
A bitter pill to swallow, but nevertheless you must try to move on with your own life. Not wanting to dwell on this another second, you raise your eyes to the night sky. The infinite black canvas, dazzling with an endless smattering of twinkling beauty never ceases to amaze you. For a brief moment you lose yourself in the vastness of all that exists beyond this world. "Hey, Rae..." your silent observation is interrupted by Gene, calling to you from his front porch.
"Hey," you throw a wave and ask, "Seen anything yet?" "Nope, but they're out there, believe me," Gene replies while studying the heavens. You shake your head and laugh to yourself. For as long as you've known him, Gene has always been a UFO enthusiast, but more than that, the man seemed to know a lot about space, often prattling on about Physics and the intricate details of astronomy that usually leave you dumbfounded, but you'd nod along and engage with the topic for his sake. He may be a bit of an eccentric, but he's a fountain of scientific knowledge. "Well, if you find E.T. I want to meet him," you tease. "You'll be the first one I introduce him too, Goodnight darling." "Night Gene." Your attention returns to the stars as you continue the walk to your house.
In a galaxy far, far away...
"Hold on kid!" Din shouts as he desperately fights for control of the Razor Crest. Being a slightly older model than his previous ship, it has been a bit temperamental lately. "Ehhh..." Grogu mumbles nervously from his seat, gripping tightly to the seat belt holding him in place. Flashing warnings lights and alarms bounce around the cockpit. "Dank Farrick ...urgh ... come on!" Dins' efforts to stabilize the ship are futile. The scanners indicate a pocket of immense energy nearby, unlike anything Din has ever seen before. The readings are off the chart.
"Don't worry... we'll urgh... we'll be okay." Right now that's more a prayer, than a certainty. This is the first and last time he'll track a bounty this far out. There's a reason hardly anyone comes to this mostly unknown region of the galaxy. Containing only a handful of habitable worlds and a lot of Dark Matter and cosmic storms, this 'No Man's Land' is not for the faint hearted. On the other hand, it's the perfect hideout for those on the run. The muscles in Dins' arms stretch and burn as he wrestles with the control panel, heart beating wildly, sweat running down the back of his neck and into his cowl.
Grogu whimpers from behind and Din suddenly feels very angry with himself for putting his son in perilous danger. He has to get him out of here; has to get him to safety. That's all that matters right now. All at once the entire ship groans and rattles, causing every loose item onboard to fall and clang against the steel walls. More alarms join the chaos as the ship begins to somersault and pick up speed. Din doesn't have the time to gather his thoughts before ropes of bright lights streak past the cockpit windows and the intense weight of gravity twists his stomach in all directions.
Then, just like that, it's over. The ship resumes it's normal speed, the alarms cease and the warnings lights turn off (except for a couple of lights, indicating some minor damage) and the white streaks become distant stars once more. "Buir..." Grogu squeaks and Din turns just in time to see him vomit on his clothes. "Oh boy," Din grumbles, reaching for the edge of his cape to clean him up. "You okay, pal?" Grogu's little smile and nod puts Din somewhat at ease. At least they've come out of this in one piece. The only problem now is, where the kriffing hell are they?
Din swivels the chair back to the control panel, engaging the mapping system. After a few tense moments, the words 'System Unknown' flash across the screen. "Shit," curses Din under his breath, hoping the vocoder in his helmet muted his tone enough to not alarm Grogu. Thankfully, he's already distracted himself with his soft toy froggy, floating it in front of himself, as he often does to the frogs in his pond back home on Nevarro. While Grogu seems largely unaffected by the whole ordeal, Din is barely holding it together on the inside, rising panic, and hopelessness washing over him. How the hell do we get out of here? Where even is here?!
In desperation he tries the mapping system again, with fingers crossed. 'System Unknown' flashes again. Dins' shoulders slump in defeat. He let's out a tired huff and looks out the cockpit windows into nothing but inky blackness and far off stars. With no obvious signs of planets close by, there's only one thing left to do. If he can pick up a radio signal from a distant world, he could hone in on it and follow it. Turning on his built in radio dish, all he can do now is sit and wait - no, hope. "Buir?..." Din had be so lost in thought he didn't realise that Grogu had climbed up into his lap, reaching his little hand out to rest on top of Din's, large curious eyes holding a look of concern for his father.
"It's okay. I'm okay," Din gently strokes the back of Grogus' head. "Just..." he sighs, "Try'na figure out what to do now." If he doesn't pick up a signal soon... well he doesn't even wan to think about what that would mean. Grogu snuggles further into Dins' lap, hugging his froggy tight. Dins' stomach sinks as he takes in the image of his founding, thoughts of he trusted me, this is my fault, I did this consuming him. 'I'm sorry, kid. I got us into this and I'll get us out." I hope. "Mmm," Grogus' ears droop and he sounds as uncertain as Din feels. Din sighs and looks out into the desolate void, praying for a miracle.
*****
Crackle crackle crackle! Din shoots forward in his chair, holding tight to Grogu so he doesn't fall. "Mar'e!" Din exclaims as the much hoped for salvation hisses through the speakers. A few moments later, he manages to pinpoint where the signal is coming from. The longer the signal continues, the more obvious it becomes that this signal isn't natural, as one would expect from magnetic fields. It seems this signal has been artificially generated, which can only mean there's a planet in that direction with intelligent life. "I need you to go strap in, pal," Din instructs Grogu as he sets him down on the floor. Without complaint Grogu returns to his seat. "We're gonna follow where this signal is coming from. It'll be okay." Grogu nods and hugs his froggy for comfort.
Several hours have passed - Nevarro hours, which Din always goes by now - when multiple signals are picked up. In amongst them all, the same artificial one stands out. There are other worlds nearby, all letting off their own signals, but they all sound natural unlike this seemingly intelligent one. Another hour later and a brownish blob faintly emerges in the distance. The closer the Crest Gets, the clearer it becomes. It now appears to be a tan and reddish brown... planet? Moon?
Din turns on his mapping system once more, and, even though it still says 'System Unknown', the powerful sonar composes a clear map, consisting of eight planets and well over one hundred moons. Out of all the planets, the signal seems to be coming from the sixth planet away; a blue and green world. With renewed hope, Din sets a course for this mysterious celestial body.
A gentle breeze filters through your curtain, blowing a few strands of hair across your face, waking you from yet another broken sleep. Sunlight spills onto your bed, warming the quilt with its early morning rays. Checking your phone, you're surprised to see the clock showing 10:45am. Another night of tossing and turning has left you feeling more exhausted than refreshed, hence the reason for the late lay in. You're usually an early riser, but lately your sleep pattern is all over the place. Your foggy head is begging for "five more minutes" but if you don't get up now, you never will. With a stretch and a groan you pull yourself out and bed and head for the bathroom.
A few minutes later you make you way to the kitchen to make breakfast. The cloudless baby blue sky outside the kitchen window, beckons you outside. Grabbing your toast and cup of tea, you step out into the summer air and settle on the swing seat on the decking, silently observing the world go by. The wood land just beyond your garden seems more vibrant and inviting in the golden gleam raining down from above. Maybe it's just the beautiful weather, accompanied by birdsong and a warm breeze, but for the first time in... god knows how long, you feel a sense of ease ebbing over you. After months of dwelling at what feels like rock bottom, you feel somewhat... lighter, like you can breathe again.
An ember of hope flickers within; maybe I will be okay... in time. That ember of hope turns into a small smile as you bring your cup to your lips and gently blow the steaming contents. Then, just like that, as if the universe itself realised you've had enough of a good thing already, it pulls the rug from under your feet, bringing you back down on your ass. The name flashing on your mobile phones' screen wraps you in a sense of foreboding. Fuck sake! What does she want now? Reluctantly, you swipe to answer.
"Hi, Evelyn," you try to sound casual but your voice betrays you. If she notices, she doesn't say. "Hey, sweetie..." you cringe at the pet name and roll your eyes. "How are you? It's been a long time," she says as though there wasn't this huge emotional distance between you both. "Um... I'm good, thanks." Right now you're anything but. "How've you been doing?" You honestly can't bring yourself to actually care, but ask out of politeness " Much better now. I left rehab a few weeks ago and things are going well." "I'm glad..." is all you can offer.
An awkward silence lingers for a few moments before she continues, "I'm going to be in town for a bit and was hoping... that uh... maybe we could catch up...?" Oh god, no! You begin scrambling around inside your brain, looking for reasons as to why you can't. "Um... look Ev, I'm actually really busy with work most days-" She gently interrupts your obvious excuse. "I know it can't be easy to hear from me after so long, and I know I don't deserve your time but..." she sighs, "Please?... I have so much I want to tell you." The earnest lilt of her voice sows a little seed of guilt inside you and, against your better judgement, you find yourself agreeing.
"Oh that's wonderful. Thank you, sweetie. I'll be in town next week. Maybe I can call you then?" she asks hopefully. "Sure," you reply flatly. "Okay," she let out an audible breath of relief, "I'll see you soon. I love you." "Yeah, see you soon," you repeat before hanging up, unable to bring yourself to say those words in return. Your phone drops into your lap and you place your head in your hands. This is not what you need, and today of all days, just when you felt like there could be light at the end of the tunnel. The good mood you'd woken up in is slipping further and further away, anxiety rising in it's wake. Why would she contact you now after so long? And what could possibly be different this time?
Your thoughts gravitate to your grandparents. At times like this they were your rock, your comfort. How you wish they were here with you now. Taking a deep, soothing breath, you sit up and stare at the scenery around you. Nature has always helped you to de-stress. Maybe a hike would clear your head. Rising to your feet, you head into the kitchen, placing your cup and plate in the sink. You reach to turn the tap on but before you can even touch it, the whole kitchen starts to vibrate and you jolt on the spot. Your hands fly to your ears, as a heavy rumble builds all around you, shaking the dishes and cups in your cupboards, and then a rumble that almost burst your eardrums sounds directly above you.
What the hell? It sounds like engines. The sheer intensity of it all causes you to instinctively duck and cover your head. A few seconds later, the roar begins to fade and the shaking stops. You look around, wide eyed before bolting out the back door, eager to see what could have caused such a ruckus. Outside, the blue sky remains undisturbed. You'd expected to maybe see a smoky trail or something, but all that remains of the disturbance is a distant rumble in the forest beyond.
Series Masterlist Ch 2- coming soon Ch3- coming soon
Summary: Seattle tearing itself apart. Every corner of the city feels moments away from bloodshed, but you have no intention of stopping before finishing what you came for — no matter how much you miss him. And somewhere inside Seattle’s darkness, Joel is trying to reach you before the city does.
Chapter W.C and Warnings: 16.8k ⚠️ Read warnings at your own risk if you want to avoid spoilers... SMUT +18, explicit sexual content, kissing, obsessive&possessive sex, obsessive/protective Joel, arguing, abandonment issues, emotional reunion, kissing, rough sex, fingering, unprotected p in v (optional fjdjd), praise, desperate sex, feelings realization, hurt/comfort, Joel being terrified of losing reader, killing, shooting, graphic violence, infected attacks, blood and gore, gun violence, stalkers & clickers & spores, near death experiences, Reader is a badass, WLF soldiers having a really bad week because of reader, panic, injury, bite wounds, morally gray everyone, PTSD, emotional trauma, heavy angst, Seattle chaos, WLF, Seraphites, rain, Taxi being the goodest boy alive
A/N: I know this update took forever and I’m really sorry about that, but I truly hope this story still has a place in your hearts after all this time, thank you so much to everyone who never lost interest in this fic while I was taking a small break from it 🥺🤍 the good news is: chapters shouldn’t take this long from now on 💋 also… god, I missed writing Joel so much!
Chapter's Song: Work Song - Hozier- "No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her."
Seattle.
Day One.
Rainwater drips steadily from the rusted skeletons of dead traffic lights overhead. Boots hammer against soaked pavement.
One pair. Then another. Fast. Panicked.
“Move, fucking move— this way!”
The voice rips through the gray Seattle afternoon between ragged breaths as two men shove past abandoned cars, shoulders slamming hard enough into dented metal to shake loose fragments of broken glass.
Another gunshot cracks across the street.
Not close. Far. Sharp enough to split the city open.
The bullet tears past the first man’s head so close he feels the heat of it scrape his ear before it punches into the rusted hood beside him—
CLANG.
Sparks burst violently off metal. “Fuck!” he gasps, stumbling sideways.
Another shot. The second man’s head snaps backward in an explosion of blood and bone.
Red sprays across the survivor’s face.
For half a second the body keeps running. Then collapses violently against the pavement with a sick crack. The remaining man chokes on a scream.
“Aah— Jesus fucking Christ!”
He runs harder.
Adrenaline floods his legs so violently they barely feel attached to him anymore. His boots slam through puddles as he forces himself forward between abandoned FEDRA trucks swallowed by vines and collapsed barricades overtaken by moss.
Another shot cuts through the rain-heavy air. This one hits. The bullet punches straight through his thigh.
“AHH— FUCK!”
He drops instantly, shoulder smashing against wet asphalt hard enough to tear skin through his jacket. Pain detonates through his leg while blood spills hot between trembling fingers clawing desperately at the wound.
He tries dragging himself toward the nearest overturned truck.
Breathing too hard. Too loud. Too terrified.
He glances back.
His friend’s body lies twisted in the middle of the flooded street twenty feet away, rainwater slowly carrying diluted ribbons of blood toward a clogged drain.
Then—
Nothing. Silence. No third shot. The man’s chest heaves violently.
Why didn’t she kill me?
Shaking hands fumble at his torn pant leg, yanking the soaked fabric high enough to reveal the bullet wound shredding through the side of his thigh.
Clean shot. Missed the artery. Deliberate.
Then—
Footsteps. Soft against wet grass nearby.
Slow. Controlled. A revolver cocks. The metallic click echoes louder than the gunfire. The man jerks for the pistol holstered at his hip instinctively—
BANG.
The bullet tears straight through his hand. He screams.
The gun flies uselessly across the pavement as he throws himself backward in panic, scrambling away on elbows slick with blood and rainwater.
“You fuckin’ psycho bitch!” he screams hysterically, clutching his ruined hand against his chest. “I told you everythin’! What the fuck else do you want?!”
The footsteps stop. A figure emerges slowly through the drifting rain. Black jacket darkened by water. Sniper rifle hanging loose against your back. Expression cold enough to freeze blood. You crouch slowly in front of him and press the revolver against the center of his forehead.
The man’s breathing turns ragged instantly.
“Listen— listen to me, okay?” Blood bubbles faintly at the corner of his mouth as panic makes him speak too fast. “I swear to God we ain’t WLF anymore! We left! We’re headin’ south, alright? Santa Barbara! We told you where the hospital is! I wasn’t lyin’!”
Your eyes narrow slightly. No sympathy. No hesitation.
“You shot my fuckin’ dog.”
BANG.
The back of his skull bursts against the pavement. Silence crashes back over the street. Rain taps softly against abandoned cars. Thunder rolls somewhere far beyond the skyline. The faint ringing left behind by gunfire hums inside your ears. Without another glance toward the corpse, you holster the revolver. At your boots lies an unfolded map stained dark with rainwater and blood.
Earlier, while you questioned them, one of the Wolves managed slipping free from the zip ties around his wrists and bolted.
Taxi lunged before you could stop him. The gunshot came immediately after. Too fast. Too close. The bullet only grazed his front leg.
Lucky.
You crouch beside the map beneath the weak glow of your flashlight and study the markings carefully.
Hospital.
A rough circle near a cluster of taller buildings farther north. Your jaw tightens slightly. “Thirty miles,” you mutter quietly.
The map folds neatly before disappearing into your back pocket. Behind you, Taxi lets out a low whine. Your head turns instantly.
“There you are.”
The shepherd limps toward you through wet grass, ears tilted back slightly in annoyance more than pain.
You kneel beside him immediately, gently lifting the injured leg into your lap. “Hey.”
Your voice softens despite yourself. “What did we talk about, huh?”
Taxi huffs.
“You don’t throw yourself in front of bullets.”
He barks once.
You snort quietly while wrapping fresh bandages around the graze wound.
“I had it handled.” Another bark. Then a softer whine. “Yeah, yeah.” You lean down and press a kiss against the top of his head. “Good boy.” Taxi leans briefly into your shoulder before you stand again, slinging the rifle back across your shoulder.
“C’mon,” you murmur. “Let’s find somewhere to sleep.”
Your eyes drift toward Seattle looming against the storm-dark horizon. Huge. Silent. Waiting. “We move again tomorrow.”
Taxi barks once. Together, you walk past the cooling corpse left behind in the rain. Your boots splash through shallow puddles. Taxi’s paws thud softly beside you. Neither of you looks back.
The café sits dark between two collapsed storefronts, half-hidden behind overgrown ivy and years of rain damage. The faded sign overhead swings lazily in the wind. You stop across the street first.
Always across the street.
Your eyes move slowly over shattered windows, rooftop lines, alley entrances. Listening before moving. Watching before breathing.
Seattle feels wrong at night. Too quiet one second. Too alive the next.
Taxi stands beside your leg, ears twitching toward the dark building. “You smell somethin’?” you murmur.
The shepherd huffs softly but doesn’t growl.
Good enough.
You cross the street carefully, boots splashing through shallow rainwater before stopping beneath the old café awning. Rain drums softly against rotten canvas overhead.
The front door doesn’t budge at first.
Swollen wood. You shove your shoulder into it harder. The hinges groan.
Then the door finally jerks inward with a burst of stale air carrying old coffee, mildew, and wet dust.
Your flashlight cuts through darkness slowly.
Tables overturned. Broken mugs. A mold-covered pastry display near the counter. Dead vines crawl across one wall where rainwater leaks through cracked ceiling tiles.
Taxi slips inside first, paws silent against warped hardwood.
You wait. Listen. Nothing.
No clicking. No breathing. No shifting somewhere deep in the dark.
Still, your hand stays close to Joel’s revolver at your hip.
You slip inside the café quietly and pull the door shut behind you before dragging a rusted metal chair beneath the handle.
Not enough to stop somebody determined. Enough to buy you a few seconds.
Habit.
Your backpack drops beside the counter with a tired thud while you crouch near the entrance, pulling thin wire and two empty cans from one of the side pouches.
Taxi watches silently from the doorway.
You glance toward him briefly while tying the wire low across the handle. “Better find more of these tomorrow,” you mutter. “We’re officially running outta food.”
Taxi blinks once. “Yeah, don’t look at me like that. You eat more than I do.”
One of his ears twitches.
The cans clink softly together while you secure them beside the wall. Crude. Fast.
Enough to wake you if infected—or worse—wander inside during the night.
Only after that do you finally move deeper into the café. The beam of your flashlight catches an old employee sign hanging crooked near the kitchen entrance.
MANAGER
The office door sits half-open beyond it. Small room. No windows except one narrow pane overlooking the rain-soaked street outside. Rain taps steadily against the cracked window overlooking the street outside, the sound muffled beneath distant thunder rolling somewhere deep over Seattle.
Taxi limps in after you, nails clicking softly against warped hardwood.
Your flashlight beam moves across the room slowly.
Peeling wallpaper curls away from damp walls. Water stains spread dark across the ceiling above. An old chandelier hangs crooked overhead, half its glass bulbs shattered, long dead electrical wires spilling downward like black vines tangled through hanging ivy creeping in from the broken corner of the ceiling.
The whole place feels abandoned in a tired sort of way. Not violent. Just forgotten.
Your eyes land on the couch against the far wall. Dark leather. Old. Still intact somehow. “Well,” you mutter under your breath. You walk over and drag your palm across the top cushion first. Dust coats your skin immediately. You grimace faintly before smacking your hands together a few times, watching gray powder drift through the flashlight beam. “Jesus.”
Taxi huffs softly behind you.
“At least somebody around here’s clean.”
The shepherd blinks at you without remorse. You drop your backpack beside the couch before finally sitting down. The leather creaks beneath your weight. Then your eyebrows lift slightly. “Hm.” You lean back deeper into the cushions. “Actually kinda comfortable.”
The room answers only with the soft groaning of old pipes somewhere inside the walls.
Your gaze drifts toward the desk near the window. A little metal plaque still sits crooked near the edge beneath layers of dust.
LEONARD MITCHELL - GENERAL MANAGER
You stare at it for a second. “Nice office, Leonard.”
Taxi circles twice before climbing carefully onto one of the smaller armchairs nearby, turning until he finds a comfortable position despite the bandaged leg. He lets out a tired grunt before finally curling into himself.
Your mouth twitches faintly at the sight.
Then silence settles over the room. Heavy.
A leather couch rests against the far wall beneath dusty shelves stacked with old paperwork and mold-swollen binders. The room smells old.
Thunder rolls softly somewhere far outside while rain streaks down the office window in silver lines. For a moment, neither of you moves. The city groans around you. Old pipes. Distant wind. Something metallic banging somewhere far down the street. Seattle never really sleeps. Neither do you.
You finish wrapping Taxi’s leg before leaning back against the couch with a tired exhale. Your rifle rests within arm’s reach. Revolver beside your thigh. Knife still strapped near your boot. Taxi stares toward the office door, ears twitching sharply. You both listen. Nothing. Just distant movement somewhere outside. Far enough away. The sound fades slowly back into the storm. Taxi lowers his head first. You follow a second later. Neither of you fully relaxes. You doubt either of you remembers how anymore.
You lean your head back against the couch and stare upward. The ceiling above is cracked open in places, tangled electrical wires hanging loose between patches of water damage and creeping ivy. Rain leaks steadily somewhere deeper inside the café.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
You close your eyes for a second. And immediately think of him.
Of course you do.
Your chest tightens before you can stop it. This office—cold, damp, rotting around the edges—is so far away from the warmth of Jackson it almost feels unreal. So far from his bed. From the heavy warmth of his body pressed against yours beneath thick blankets. From the way his arms wrapped around your waist in his sleep like some stubborn instinct he couldn’t turn off even unconscious. From the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. From the rough scrape of his beard against your shoulder. Even the occasional snoring that always dragged a laugh out of you eventually.
The corner of your mouth lifts before you can stop it. Then the smile fades just as quickly. A deep breath leaves your lungs.
You reach for your backpack beside the couch, unzipping it slowly. Metal clicks softly together inside. Ammo. Knives. Canned food. Taxi lifts his head again immediately, watching you with quiet attention like he already knows exactly what you’re looking for. Your fingers eventually find the sketchbook buried beneath everything else.
You hesitate for a second before opening it.
Joel stares back at you almost immediately.
A rough pencil sketch from Jackson. Then another. And another. The lines change slightly between pages—different expressions, different angles—but it’s always him.
Two weeks. That’s all it’s been. And somehow you already miss him enough it physically aches.
Your throat tightens. You stare at the drawings longer than you mean to. Unable to stop yourself from wondering what happened after you left. You tried not to think about it on the road. Tried not to imagine the morning after. Joel waking up. The empty side of the bed. The drugs wearing off. That look on his face when he realized.
You swallow hard.
The thought hits like a punch straight to the ribs.
You’ve never worried about people before. Except William. You’ve feared losing him before. Feared ending up alone again. But Joel... is different. Joel makes your chest hurt in ways bullets never could. Makes you understand why people in old movies ruined themselves for love.
The idea of breaking his heart somehow feels worse than breaking your own.
Your eyes burn, your heart clenching.
God.
So this is what loving someone feels like. Not the happiness part. You already knew that part. It’s him laughing quietly against your neck in bed. It’s his hand finding yours without thinking. It’s the way your body relaxes the second he walks into a room.
No—
This part. The ache. The fear. The terrifying realization that someone else now has the power to break your heart just by existing somewhere you can’t reach. Your gaze drops back toward the sketchbook. Joel’s face follows you everywhere now. You barely recognize yourself anymore because of it. You have something to lose now. Someone.
If this goes wrong… If you fail…
You may never hear his voice again. Never feel his arms around you again. Never see that tired little smile he gets when he looks at you like you’re something dangerous he decided to keep anyway.
A bark suddenly cuts through the silence.
You blink hard. Only then noticing the tear that slipped free and landed against the page. “Shit,” you mutter softly, wiping it away quickly.
Taxi climbs down from the chair immediately, limping over toward the couch.
“I know,” you whisper quietly. “I miss him too.”
Taxi rests his head against your knee. Your fingers slide automatically through the fur behind his ears.
“But I have to do this.”
The shepherd lifts one paw slowly onto your leg. You stare at him for a second. His eyes look strangely human sometimes in the dark. “You think I broke his heart?”
Taxi whines softly. Your chest tightens harder. “I couldn’t let him come with me.” Your voice turns quieter now. “Ellie needs him. Jackson needs him.” You swallow thickly. “And… maybe I just showed up and fucked that old man’s life all up.”
Taxi barks once immediately.
You let out a small breath through your nose. “Yeah. I know.” Your fingers continue stroking slowly through his fur. “He meant what he said.” Your voice nearly cracks. “But that’s not the problem.”
You stare down at Joel’s sketch again.
“Being the daughter of someone like Clouser feels like carrying rot around inside your chest.” Your jaw tightens faintly. “As long as he’s alive, I’m never gonna stop feeling it.”
Rain rattles softly against the broken windows outside.
“I can’t build a future with Joel while all this still exists.” Your eyes lower slowly. “Not while I keep lookin’ at Tommy, Maria… Dina, Jesse, Benji, Ellie…” Your throat tightens. “They deserve to feel safe around me.”
Silence stretches for a moment.
Then quieter: “I think…” You blink slowly. “I think I finally know what having a family feels like.” The words hurt to admit out loud. “And I can’t let him take that away from me.”
Taxi lifts his head and licks the side of your jaw suddenly. A weak laugh escapes you before you grab his muzzle gently. “Hey.” You rub your thumb along the bridge of his nose. “When I go back…” Your voice softens almost into a whisper. “I want my head clear.” Your fingers move slowly through his fur again. “Maybe then I’ll know how to be someone better. A better girlfriend.”
The word feels strange but warm.
“Assumin’ he forgives me.”
Taxi presses closer immediately.
You finally set the sketchbook aside before sliding down fully against the couch cushions, pulling him close against your side.
His fur still smells faintly like rainwater, old forest, dirt, and gunpowder. For years, that smell alone meant safety more than any human being ever could.
But now—
Now there’s another scent your body misses more.
Worn leather. Gun oil. Damp flannel dried near a fire. Sawdust caught in rough hands after long afternoons working wood in Jackson.
Him.
Your eyes drift slowly toward the cracked office window overhead. Beyond fractured glass and tangled ivy, the night sky barely peeks through Seattle’s storm clouds. A few weak stars flicker faintly between them.
You stare at them quietly.
And for the first time in years—
You make a wish.
Just one.
To see him again. To hear his voice again. To come back alive long enough to fall asleep in his arms one more time.
Your fingers tighten gently in Taxi’s fur.
Then slowly—
Exhaustion finally pulls you under.
Horse hooves echo hollow against cracked highway.
Slow now. Careful.
Joel keeps one hand near the reins while his eyes scan the massive quarantine wall rising through the rain ahead.
Seattle.
Even from a distance, the city feels wrong.
Too big. Too quiet.
Fog crawls low between abandoned checkpoints and collapsed military barricades swallowed whole by ivy and moss. Old FEDRA fencing stretches along the road in rusted lines, parts of it torn open long ago by something stronger than time.
Rain taps steadily against Joel’s jacket. The horse shifts uneasily beneath him the closer they get. “Easy,” Joel mutters quietly, patting its neck once.
Ahead, the massive outer gate hangs crooked on broken hinges, chains swaying softly in the wind. Faded quarantine warnings still cling to metal signs eaten away by rust. Across the center of the gate, someone has painted a message in massive white letters now streaked by rain and time:
WLF
TRESPASSERS KILLED ON SIGHT
The dripping paint almost looks like bone beneath the gray Seattle sky.
Joel squints upward toward the walls towering over him.
Dead guard towers stare down empty streets. Or at least they look empty. Seattle reminds him too much of places where people disappear. His jaw tightens.
The horse carries him slowly through the open gate. Immediately the city swallows sound whole.
No birds. No distant voices.
Just rainwater dripping from collapsed buildings and the faint creaking of old structures somewhere deeper inside the streets ahead. Joel’s eyes move constantly.
Cars. Windows. Rooflines. Habit.
Then—
Something catches his attention near the mud alongside the road. Fresh tire tracks.
Joel pulls the horse to a stop instantly.
The tracks cut sharply through rainwater and dirt before disappearing farther into the city.
Fresh. Very fresh.
Joel slides down from the saddle with a grunt, crouching low beside them. WLF vehicle. His fingers brush against wet mud before his gaze shifts farther ahead.
Then he sees it.
An abandoned pickup truck half-crashed against a storefront farther down the street. “Shit.”
Joel stands quickly and moves toward it, boots splashing through puddles. The closer he gets, the more obvious it becomes. Bullet holes shred the side panels. One tire blown out. The gas tank leaking slowly beneath the truck into rainwater mixed with oil and blood.
Joel’s eyes narrow immediately.
Not random.
Forced stop.
His hand brushes against the hood. Still faintly warm beneath cold rain. “Goddamn…”
Then he notices the steering column hanging open beneath the wheel. Wires ripped loose. Hotwired. A humorless breath escapes him through his nose. “Course she did.”
His eyes drift across the street automatically. Searching. Reading. Tracking. Then he sees blood. Not much. Drops leading toward a nearby alley.
Joel follows carefully.
One hand already resting near the revolver—your revolver—on his hip. The alley opens into another ruined street farther ahead—
And that’s where he finds the bodies.
Three WLF soldiers sprawled across wet pavement. One near an overturned patrol truck. Another collapsed against a wall. The third barely recognizable anymore.
Joel slows immediately.
His stomach tightens. Rain runs steadily down the corpses, washing blood into the gutters. Then he notices the bites. Deep tears through exposed throat. Another through the forearm. Jagged canine marks.
Taxi.
Joel exhales slowly through his nose. “Attaboy.”
He crouches beside the nearest body carefully. Then spots the spent casing laying near the corpse. Joel picks it up between rough fingers, rolling it once against his palm.
Sniper round. Your sniper round.
One clean shot. Two heads. Straight through the glass.
Precise. Efficient. Smooth. Exactly your kind of work.
“Goddamn it, Kat,” Joel mutters quietly. “You can’t take ’em all down at once.”
He rises slowly, eyes scanning the street again. Unease settles heavier in his chest with every passing second. He plants both hands briefly against his hips, jaw tightening hard.
Ten straight days riding from Jackson. Ten days barely sleeping. Ten days chasing your ghost across half the damn country—
And still he’s late.
The bodies tell him immediately. Spacing. Angles. Timing. Experience never lies.
You’re ahead of him. One day at least. Maybe more.
Joel’s back screams when he straightens fully, exhaustion dragging through every muscle in his body, but he ignores it automatically. Pain barely registers anymore. Rain continues falling steadily around him while Seattle groans somewhere deeper ahead.
Waiting. Watching.
Joel stares toward the dark streets disappearing farther into the city. “Can’t be late,” he mutters quietly. More to himself than anyone else. “Gotta find her before it’s too damn late.”
Then he turns back toward the horse. And rides deeper into Seattle.
Morning comes gray and wet.
Not bright. Not warm. Just a thin, colorless light spreading over Seattle like the city is too tired to wake up properly.
Rain still clings to everything. Broken windows. Rusted signs. The hoods of abandoned cars. The sagging awnings over dead storefronts. Every surface shines dull and cold beneath the low sky.
You move north with Taxi at your side.
The hospital doesn’t appear right away. Nothing in this city gives itself up that easy.
The map says it should be somewhere ahead, past a mess of flooded streets and half-collapsed buildings, but Seattle keeps folding in on itself. Roads blocked by wreckage. Alleys choked with vines. Military barriers left behind like broken teeth.
And people.
Too many people.
By noon, you’ve already run into more WLF deserters than you expected. Small groups. Two here. Three there. Scared. Armed. Dirty. Running from something behind them and terrified of whatever might be ahead.
The first few don’t tell you much before they die.
The next group gives you the name you're looking for.
After that, you stop killing first.
You start listening.
That is how you end up crouched on the second floor of a half-collapsed building, one hand resting against Taxi’s neck while voices drift up from below.
The ground floor beneath you is split open in places, the concrete caved inward toward a lower level thick with spores. Pale fungal growth climbs the walls down there in swollen veins, pulsing through the damp like something still alive. The air below looks yellow in the weak light, heavy and ruined.
You keep Taxi close. No way in hell you’re taking him through that.
Below, four WLF soldiers move through the street, unaware of you above them. “What the hell is goin’ on?” one of them mutters. “This is what, the sixth group?”
“Sixth if you count the ones from yesterday.”
“Jesus.”
“Isaac made an example outta the last ones. Had ’em executed in front of everybody. Thought that’d be enough.”
“Guess it wasn’t.”
“It’s that fuckin’ doctor.”
Your whole body stills.
The man beside him lowers his voice. “Clouser?”
“Yeah. People don’t wanna stay and die for Scars or for some bullshit vaccine that ain’t ever gonna work.”
“Wasn’t the whole point of taking FEDRA down to build a liberation front?”
A bitter laugh. “Does this sound like liberation to you?”
“You sound like you’re about to run too.”
“Hey. You hear what he’s been doing to pregnant women? Kids?”
The silence that follows feels heavier than the rain.
“Rumors.”
“You sure about that?”
“Fuck.” Another voice exhales shakily. “Isaac should’ve killed that old bastard when he had the chance.”
“He still sending his A-team to the hospital?”
“Yeah. The ones he trusts.”
Rain taps softly against broken concrete overhead. Then another voice lowers slightly. “Hey… you know Jordan?”
“The Firefly guy?”
“Yeah. Him.” A pause. “Heard that immune girl everyone’s looking for? Supposedly she’s Clouser’s daughter.”
Silence. “…Bullshit.”
“And apparently she was with the other immune girl for a while. Somewhere in Wyoming.”
Your stomach tightens instantly.
“Word is Isaac’s planning to send a group out there soon.” The man snorts quietly. “Abby might lead it.”
“No fuckin’ way Isaac lets Abby leave Seattle right now.”
“Why the hell would she even care?”
A longer silence follows.
Then quietly: “That smuggler from Salt Lake? The one who killed all those Fireflies in the hospital?”
Your pulse stutters.
“He’s supposedly in that town too.”
Silence crashes over the group immediately afterward. Even from above, you can feel the tension shift.
“…That’s too much coincidence for my taste.”
“Think that crazy doctor’s making half this shit up.”
“Or that Jordan guy.”
“Alright, enough gossip.” Boots scrape concrete. “Get back to your posts and keep your eyes open.”
That is enough. More than enough.
Your grip tightens around the rifle. Taxi’s ears twitch. You glance down at him and press two fingers to your lips.
Stay.
He understands. You’ve taught him this too many times to count.
Stay unless you whistle.
Stay unless you scream.
Stay unless he sees you bleeding too much.
That last part is always the problem.
Because Taxi listens until fear takes over. And fear makes him stupidly brave. You point toward a patch of tall weeds and vines growing through a broken section of wall. He lowers himself reluctantly, still watching you. “Good boy,” you mouth.
Then you move.
Silent across the cracked upper floor, stepping over broken tiles and rotted office chairs, rifle raised. The building groans softly beneath your weight.
You line up the first shot from above. The suppressor does its job, but barely. A soft, ugly pop.
One soldier drops. The others turn too late.
Second shot.
Third.
Fourth.
Each one clean.
Each one fast.
By the time the last body hits the pavement, the street is quiet again except for rainfall and Taxi’s low breathing behind you.
You stay crouched for a moment, listening.
No infected. No returning fire. No shouting.
Good.
You climb down carefully. The air grows colder near the broken ground floor. Spores drift lazily below through the collapsed opening, glowing faintly where thin daylight touches them. The fungal growth along the walls looks old and thick, spread in rootlike patterns beneath peeling paint.
You avoid the edge. You’ve seen enough basements like that. You search the bodies quickly.
Ammo. A dull knife. Nothing useful.
Your last suppressor is already ruined, and the one currently screwed onto your pistol is close to useless. The metal is hot from overuse, the sound less clean than it should be.
One left after this.
One.
You’ll need to save it for something that matters.
You’re about to move on when you find a photograph in one of their jacket pockets. Not an old one. A fresh one. Instant film.
You hold it between two fingers and wipe rain off the glossy surface with your thumb.
A group of people smile back at you. Young. Tired. Alive.
Behind them rises a massive structure, round and crowded, with stands and lights and lines of people moving in the background.
A stadium.
Not a checkpoint. Not a small base. A real settlement.
Crowded. Organized.
You don’t know any of their faces. You don’t care to.
But the place itself matters.
You unfold your map and compare it quickly, marking distance with your thumb and eye. The stadium sits too far west to be your target.
The hospital is north. Far enough away from the stadium to make sense. Far enough to hide things.
You crouch beside a cracked wall, using a rusted pipe as a flat edge while you sketch a rough route across the paper. Streets. Blocks. Waterlogged underpasses you’ll avoid. Higher ground where possible.
Ten miles, maybe. Two hours if the roads don’t fight you. They will.
A burst of static crackles from one of the dead men’s radios. Taxi lifts his head instantly. You freeze.
“Cooper, you copy?” The voice is rough, irritated. Static. “Cooper? Linda? Come in.”
You stare at the radio. Taxi gives one sharp bark. You raise your hand. “Shh.”
The radio crackles again.
“Cooper, listen up. We found a deserter group wiped out near your last checkpoint. Clean shots. Somebody hunted ’em. Doesn’t look like Scars.”
Your jaw tightens. Yesterday’s bodies.
“Answer me, Cooper. Goddamn it. We’re coming to your position.”
Taxi growls. Not the low warning he gives for people.
Different. Deeper.
Your eyes flick to him immediately. That growl means infected. But then you hear it too. Not infected. Footsteps. Multiple. Close.
You move to the broken window and look down through hanging ivy.
Five people. Armed.
WLF.
And a dog.
“Shit,” you whisper. The dog has its nose low, pulling against the leash. Taxi’s lip curls. “So that’s what you smelled.”
Your mind works fast. Two exits. One dangerous. One worse.
The patrol is already too close. The dog will catch your scent any second. You crouch in front of Taxi and grip the fur at the sides of his neck gently, forcing his eyes to yours. “You stay in the grass,” you whisper. “I’ll pull them away.”
Taxi whines.
“No.” Your voice hardens. “You can’t come with me. I don’t have a damn gas mask for you, understand?”
Below, the WLF dog barks.
“Hey, what is it, boy?” one of the soldiers calls. Too close.
You point sharply toward the weeds leading along the collapsed wall. Taxi hesitates. “Go.”
He goes, but he hates it. You can see that in every line of him.
You drop low and begin crawling along the upper ledge, aiming for the vines that spill down toward the lower level. If you can get to the other side, maybe you can circle out before—
A snarl erupts behind you.
You twist just as the WLF dog lunges out of nowhere.
Too fast.
You barely throw yourself sideways before its teeth snap where your arm was. Then Taxi hits it like a damn wolf.
The two dogs crash into the floor in a violent tangle of teeth and muscle. “Taxi!” you hiss.
Too late. The WLF dog yelps as Taxi’s jaws lock around its throat. Voices explode below.
“Trespasser here!”
“No—Jesus, that’s Lenny! He's dead!”
“There’s another dog!”
“Shoot it! Shoot it!”
Taxi shakes once. The WLF dog goes limp. “Stay there!” you snap at him. “Goddamn it, stay!”
Gunfire tears into the wall beside you.
You dive behind a broken concrete partition as bullets chew through plaster overhead. Your heart slams against your ribs. One soldier breaks off toward Taxi. Another moves to flank you from the rear. The man behind you rounds the broken wall too fast.
You move faster.
You catch his wrist, twist, slam him chest-first into the concrete, and drag him back against you with your revolver shoved beneath his jaw. The others freeze the second they see you.
“Drop it!” one of them shouts.
Your hostage spits blood. “Shoot her!”
“Shut the fuck up,” you growl against his ear. You shift backward, dragging him with you toward the collapsed edge. Behind you, the lower floor waits.
Dark. Yellow. Thick with spores.
The woman in front stiffens. “Ari—no!”
Good.
That matters. That means they won’t shoot through him. You press the barrel harder under his jaw. “Back up,” you shout. “Or I paint the floor with his head.”
“You got nowhere to go,” another soldier says, weapon trained on you.
You understand what he means.
The spores. The drop. The infected below. No mask. No escape.
For them.
Not for you.
You tighten your grip on Ari and take one more step back.
He realizes a second too late. “No—no, we’ll both die!”
“Maybe,” you say.
Then you throw your weight backward.
The fall is short but brutal.
Air rips out of your lungs as you hit broken concrete and roll hard, dragging the man down with you. Dust and spores explode upward around you in a sick yellow cloud.
Above, voices scream.
“Ari!”
“Fuck!”
“No, no, no—”
You roll behind a collapsed support beam just as bullets cut into the ground where you landed. “Leah, stop!” someone yells. “You’ll die too! We don’t have masks!”
“I’m gonna kill that bitch!”
“She’s already dead! Come on!”
“Isaac’s orders—nobody goes into spore zones. You saw what happened to Ramirez!”
“Fuck!”
Bootsteps retreat above. You stay still until the last one fades. The spores hang thick around you. You inhale once through your nose.
Damp. Earthy. Rotten.
It tickles faintly. Nothing more. Like mildew in an old basement.
Ari is somewhere in the dark, coughing violently. “God…” he chokes between ragged breaths. “Goddamn…”
You glance toward the sound instinctively.
Then freeze. The wall behind him moves.
No. Not the wall.
Cordyceps.
Pale fungal shelves bloom across concrete and brick in thick layered growths, veins spreading outward like diseased roots through the entire lower floor. Some of it is old and dry, cracked apart like dead bark.
Some of it still glistens wet beneath your flashlight. Fresh. Breathing.
Bodies cling half-swallowed inside the growth. Arms. Ribcages. Open mouths permanently fused into the fungus climbing over them.
The entire building smells damp and rotten enough to taste.
Then—
Click.
Click-click-click-click.
Your blood runs cold instantly. The sound echoes from deeper inside the dark.
Clickers.
The explosion upstairs must’ve drawn them down here.
And now Ari’s coughing is doing the rest.
Another clicking cry bursts through the building.
Closer.
Wet fungal chatter bouncing sharply through concrete halls while something shifts rapidly in the dark ahead.
Ari hears it too. “No…” His breathing turns panicked immediately. “No no no—”
CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK.
Another answers somewhere nearby. Then another. The entire lower level suddenly feels alive. Movement everywhere.
You crouch lower immediately, barely breathing while Ari drags himself backward across the floor, one ruined leg useless behind him.
“Please—” he gasps. “Please help m—”
The first clicker lunges. Fast as hell. Ari’s scream cuts violently short beneath tearing flesh and wet crunching bone.
You look away instantly. Not because you feel bad. Because he’s already dead.
More clicking erupts nearby. The feeding sounds alone are enough to turn your stomach. You lower yourself silently and begin backing away through the darkness instead, keeping low beneath hanging cords of fungus spreading across the ceiling. Slow. Controlled. One careful step after another.
Then—
CLICKCLICKCLICK.
A clicker jerks its head upward somewhere behind you. You freeze instantly while it listens, twitching sharply toward the noise. Then Ari’s dying screams echo deeper in the room and the infected bolts away from you immediately.
You exhale slowly through your nose.
Lucky. Very fucking lucky.
Keeping your flashlight lowered, you slip silently between collapsed cubicles while wet ripping sounds echo behind you. Bones snapping. Flesh tearing. You don’t look back once.
The faint glow of daylight finally appears ahead through thick hanging vines near a collapsed loading exit. Fresh air. Rain. Freedom.
You push through the overgrowth and stumble outside into the cold Seattle evening just as another horrible shriek erupts somewhere deep inside the building behind you.
The city air never smelled so good.
You suck in a breath.
The street is empty. Too empty.
“Taxi,” you call softly.
Nothing.
Your heart climbs straight into your throat. You whistle once. Sharp. Low. Still nothing. “Taxi.”
This time it comes out rougher. Panic starts crawling up the back of your neck while you scan every broken window and dark doorway around you.
No.
No, no, no—
“Taxi!”
Then a bark echoes from above.
You spin just as Taxi comes barreling down from the broken upper level through a sagging stairwell, ears back, tail low, alive.
Alive.
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe.
You drop immediately, grabbing his face between both hands while he whines and pushes into you. You check him fast. Neck. Chest. Legs. No blood. No new wounds.
You exhale so hard it almost hurts. “Okay. Okay.” You press your forehead briefly to his. “You’re okay.”
Taxi licks your chin and a broken laugh slips out of you.
“Yeah, we definitely need to make you a gas mask.”
He barks once like he agrees.
You stand slowly, wiping rain and sweat from your face. Through the gap between buildings, beyond a broken bridge and the skeletons of old towers, you finally see it.
A distant building rising above the gray. Hospital lettering barely visible through the rain.
Your chest tightens.
There. Finally.
You take a long drink from your canteen before letting Taxi drink from your cupped hand too. “You ready?” you ask quietly.
He looks toward the hospital. Then back at you.
You sling the rifle over your shoulder and fold the map away. “We’re close. Let’s go.”
Seattle, Day Two.
Dusk settles over the city in bruised shades of blue and gray by the time you reach the hospital district. The rain weakens into a thin mist drifting between buildings, but Seattle still feels soaked through to the bone. Somewhere far off, gunfire rattles across distant streets before fading back into silence again.
The hospital rises above everything else. Massive. Cold. Its upper floors disappear into fog while floodlamps burn pale through rain-streaked windows below. Even from here it dominates the skyline like something watching the entire city.
Close enough to see. Still too damn far away.
Between you and the hospital stretch blocks of ruined streets, flooded intersections, and whatever the hell WLF has waiting in between. Too many lights. Too many guards.
You crouch behind an overturned bus with Taxi pressed close beside you, eyes moving carefully across the perimeter. Watchtowers. Patrol routes. Barricades. Armed Wolves everywhere.
“Jesus,” you mutter under your breath.
Taxi’s ears twitch.
Then—
A whistle echoes somewhere nearby. Sharp. Seraphites.
Your head snaps toward the sound instantly. Another whistle answers deeper in the street before shouting erupts.
“CONTACT!”
Gunfire explodes seconds later. WLF soldiers sprint across the street ahead while arrows whistle through the rain. One Wolf jerks backward with an arrow through his throat. Another drops seconds later. Chaos spreads fast.
Exactly what you need. Not to win. To disappear.
Your eyes lock onto a WLF transport truck sitting crooked near the curb thirty feet away. Driver dead. Engine still running. Headlights cutting pale beams through the mist.
Perfect.
You glance toward Taxi. He already looks ready. “We need that truck,” you mutter. Then you’re moving. You sprint low across rain-slick pavement while bullets crack somewhere behind you. The city erupts into noise around you— Wolves shouting, whistles answering back, glass shattering somewhere farther down the block.
You wrench the truck door open and climb inside fast. Taxi launches in beside you just as you slam the gear forward. The truck lurches violently. “C’mon, c’mon—”
Tires screech across flooded streets. Then somebody notices. “HEY!”
Gunfire slams into the truck immediately. The windshield spiderwebs near your shoulder. “Shit!”
You duck instinctively while jerking the wheel sideways around abandoned cars. Taxi barks wildly beside you every time the truck fishtails through standing water.
“Taxi, get the fuck down!” you shout over the engine. “Down, boy!”
He finally ducks lower as another engine roars somewhere behind you through the rain. They’re following.
You glance into the side mirror briefly—
And your stomach drops.
It’s them. Ari’s squad. The woman from earlier leans halfway out the passenger window with a rifle in her hands.
“That’s her!”
Gunfire erupts again. Bullets punch through the truck bed beside Taxi.
“Fuck—!”
You slam the wheel hard around a collapsed ambulance while the hospital looms closer between buildings. So close. Almost there—
Then headlights catch something too late.
A collapsed barricade stretches across the flooded street ahead.
“Shit.”
You wrench the wheel sideways but the truck clips the barricade hard enough to launch metal screaming across pavement before smashing broadside into a storefront.
The world snaps sideways. Glass explodes. Pain detonates through your shoulder. For a second all you hear is ringing.
Then Taxi barks. Loud. Panicked.
“I’m okay,” you choke out immediately, forcing yourself upright. Smoke curls from beneath the crushed hood outside while voices already close in.
“MOVE!”
“THEY CRASHED!”
You kick the warped truck door open and force yourself out. Taxi jumps down beside you instantly. You grab your rifle and run toward the nearest half-open building entrance beneath a flickering neon sign drowned in vines.
You and Taxi disappear inside just as bullets rip through the doorway behind you.
Darkness swallows you whole.
The air changes immediately. Wet. Rotten. Wrong.
Your flashlight snaps on. Broken shelves and collapsed walls stretch endlessly ahead inside what used to be some kind of office building. Too quiet.
Your stomach tightens instantly.
“…shit.”
Taxi growls low beside you.
Then something moves. Fast. A shape darts between walls ahead before disappearing again.
Stalker.
Of fucking course.
One of the Wolves swings his flashlight toward the hallway just in time to catch two clickers sprinting straight at them through the dark. “FUCK THIS!”
Gunfire erupts instantly.
Muzzle flashes strobe violently across fungal walls while the infected slam into the group. One Wolf screams as a clicker tackles him sideways into broken office furniture.
Another fires wildly while backing toward the exit. “Pull back!”
A stalker explodes out of the darkness behind them. The scream that follows cuts brutally short. The remaining Wolves don’t hesitate after that. “GO GO GO!”
Boots thunder back toward the entrance while infected shrieks and wet tearing sounds swallow the lower floor behind them.
Your flashlight catches movement sprinting low across the ceiling beams overhead.
“Taxi!”
The shepherd lunges before you finish the word. A stalker crashes into him midair with a shriek. The two slam across the floor together in a snapping mess of teeth and claws.
You raise your rifle—
Another infected explodes out of the darkness straight at you. You barely get your knife up in time. The stalker slams you backward into the floor hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. Its fungal face twitches inches from yours, jaw snapping wildly while rotten saliva drips onto your sleeve.
“Get the fuck off me—!”
You jam the knife upward.
Miss.
The creature shrieks directly into your face. Somewhere deeper inside the building, gunfire mixes with screaming.
Taxi snarls viciously nearby.
The stalker pins your wrist harder against the floor—
Then suddenly—
BANG.
The infected jerks violently. Warm blood sprays across your throat. The body collapses instantly on top of you.
Dead.
For one second you can only hear your own breathing.
Then boots step into view beside your head. Worn leather darkened by rainwater steps into view beside you. Jeans soaked dark at the hems. Holster strapped low against his thigh.
One large hand gripping a revolver steady at his side—
Your revolver.
Your pulse stumbles instantly. Then you see the watch. Cracked glass. Worn leather strap.
His broken watch.
The one that never leaves his wrist.
Your breath catches so sharply it hurts. No. No fucking way. Your eyes lock onto his hand again. Calloused fingers. Faint scars across rough knuckles. You know that hand.
God, you know it.
That hand held your face like something precious. Fixed your weapons at the kitchen table late at night. Curled warm against your waist in bed. Your chest tightens so hard it almost hurts.
The man crouches immediately beside you, grabbing the dead stalker by the shoulder and hauling it off your body with a grunt.
Then flashlight beam finally cuts upward across his face.
Rough beard. Wet curls. Dark exhausted eyes already locked on yours like they’ve been searching for you for days. For a second your brain genuinely refuses to process it.
You just stare at him. Breathing hard.
Rainwater still dripping from his jacket onto the floor.
He looks tired. Older somehow. Terrified. Relieved. All at once.
Still unfairly handsome.
“…Joel?”
Your voice comes out barely above a whisper.
Another stalker scream echoes somewhere nearby.
Neither of you looks away.
Joel’s jaw tightens hard enough you see the muscle jump beneath wet stubble The stalker crashes into Joel so fast.
One second he’s crouched in front of you, rough hands hauling the dead infected off your body while rainwater drips from his curls onto your jacket—
The next—
Movement explodes out of the dark behind him. Fast. Too fast.
“Joel—!”
He twists instantly, revolver already snapping upward on instinct. Nothing. Just a hollow click.
Empty.
For the first time since you’ve known him, you actually see it—
Pure panic.
Not fear for himself.
For you.
Because the creature is already on him.
Its mouth opens wide enough you see strings of rotten saliva stretching between fungal-split teeth. Its face barely even looks human anymore beneath the blooming cordyceps splitting through skin and jawbone.
Joel shoves against it hard, but the stalker slams him backward into the wall before he can reload.
“Fuck—!”
Its teeth snap inches from his throat.
Joel’s forearm jams against its neck violently, muscles straining beneath soaked flannel while the infected screeches directly into his face.
The sound is horrible. Wet. Not human.
Taxi lunges across the room barking viciously, claws scraping across concrete as he tries to reach Joel. Your body moves before your brain does. You throw yourself into them. The impact knocks all three of you sideways.
The stalker turns instantly. Its jaws slam down around your forearm, just as you planned. Pain detonates through your entire body. “AHH— FUCK!” The scream tears itself out of your throat raw and sharp as teeth sink deep through muscle. You feel them puncture skin. Feel the pressure of its jaw locking harder the more you fight.
Warm blood floods instantly down your wrist.
Joel freezes. Actually freezes. His face drains of color so fast it terrifies you more than the bite itself.
“No—”
The word barely leaves him. The stalker thrashes violently against your arm, snarling through flesh still trapped between its teeth.
You could pull away. But you don't. Instead, you force your arm deeper.
Joel’s eyes widen in horror. “Kat, NO!”
Pain burns white-hot through your entire arm as the infected tears harder into flesh, fungal teeth sinking deeper with every violent jerk of its head. Taxi loses his mind somewhere beside you, barking viciously.
Joel lunges forward—
Too late.
You wrench the revolver upward with your free hand and jam the barrel directly against the side of the stalker’s head. Then pull the trigger.
BANG.
The gunshot explodes through the room. The bullet punches straight through fungal plates and skull with a sick wet crunch.
The creature spasms violently.
Its jaw clamps one final time around your arm before the body suddenly goes limp and collapses heavily against you.
Dead.
For half a second nobody moves. You can actually hear blood hitting the floor from your arm. Taxi keeps barking hysterically beside you. Then Joel grabs the infected and literally rips it off you hard enough the corpse slams against the wall nearby.
“Jesus Christ— Jesus fucking Christ—”
His voice sounds wrong. Shaking. Panicked.
You’ve heard Joel angry. You’ve heard him violent. You’ve heard him terrified.
But this?
This sounds like a man watching the world end all over again.
His hands grab your arm immediately. Too fast. Too rough. Then suddenly gentle the second he sees the damage. The bite already looks ugly. Deep punctures torn into flesh. Blood running between his fingers while fungal saliva mixes with rainwater across your skin.
Joel stares at it like he can somehow undo it if he looks hard enough. He’s not even looking at your face anymore.
Only the wound. Only the blood. Only the teeth marks.
He knows you’re immune.
But it doesn’t matter. Because watching something bite you still breaks something inside him instantly.
“Hey.” Your free hand catches his wrist hard enough to force his eyes back to yours. “Joel.”
His gaze snaps upward finally.
And God—
You’ve never seen him look this terrified before. Not even close.
“It’s okay,” you whisper quickly. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re fuckin’ not okay!”
The words crack out of him louder than intended. “You let it bite you,” he says, staring at you like he genuinely cannot understand what he just watched.
Your jaw tightens against another pulse of pain. “It was gonna get you.”
“So you let it tear into your goddamn arm?!”
“Yes!”
The word echoes harder than expected through the ruined building. Silence crashes down afterward except for both of your breathing.
Joel looks furious. Terrified. Completely shattered.
You swallow hard before quieter: “I knew it wouldn’t kill me.”
Joel’s expression twists instantly. “That ain’t the point. You think watchin’ that was supposed to be easier just because you can survive it?”
“I—”
More screeches erupt somewhere deeper inside the building.
Not one.
Several.
The sound bounces violently through dark hallways and collapsed floors, wet clicking mixed with the frantic shouts of WLF soldiers still trapped somewhere below. Joel’s head snaps toward the noise instantly. “Shit.”
Another scream echoes. Closer this time.
Taxi barks furiously beside you while the dead stalker’s blood continues dripping slowly from your bitten arm onto the floor. Joel grabs your wrist immediately. “We gotta move. Now.”
You stagger upright beside him, adrenaline barely drowning out the burning pulse ripping through your arm.
The building groans around all three of you.
Something crashes downstairs.
Then running. Fast running. Too many footsteps.
“Infected?” you ask breathlessly.
Joel reloads while already moving. “All of ‘em.”
That answers enough.
Taxi bolts ahead first as Joel shoves open a warped emergency door leading into another hallway thick with mold and water damage.
“Where are we going?!” you shout while running after him.
“My place ain’t far!”
You blink. “Your what?!”
“Keep runnin’!”
Another stalker bursts from a doorway ahead.
Joel fires before it fully reaches you.
BANG.
The infected folds violently against the wall. “Right!” Joel shouts. “Take the right!”
You skid around the corner hard enough your shoulder slams concrete.
The hallway opens toward a collapsed loading bay exposed to rain and fading evening light outside.
The sky has turned nearly black now.
Seattle after sunset feels less like a city and more like something alive waiting to swallow people whole. Taxi leaps through the broken opening first.
You follow immediately—
Then freeze.
A chain-link fence blocks most of the alley outside except for one narrow gap near the bottom where the metal has been bent upward. “Fuck.”
“Go!” Joel shouts behind you.
Gunfire erupts somewhere deeper inside the building. Then shrieking. Taxi squeezes through the gap first before spinning around barking wildly for you. You drop low and crawl after him just as Joel grabs the fence hard enough to yank the opening wider for you.
The metal tears loudly.
Your injured arm screams in protest while squeezing through. “Joel—!”
“I’m comin’, keep movin’!”
A runner crashes through the loading bay doorway behind him.
Then another.
Joel rips a molotov from his backpack, lights it without hesitation, and hurls it straight into the entrance.
Glass shatters. Fire erupts instantly.
The hallway behind him explodes into orange light and screaming infected. “GO!” he roars.
You don’t argue.
All three of you sprint through rain-dark alleyways while flames spread violently behind you, infected shrieks echoing through the burning building. Joel catches up fast despite the extra weight of his rifle and pack.
“Left!” he shouts over the rain. “Take the left!”
You follow him blindly through narrow streets flooded ankle-deep with rainwater. Taxi keeps pace beside you, breathing hard while distant gunfire and infected screams slowly fade farther behind.
Eventually—
Finally—
The noise dies. The city quiets again.
Joel slows near an old brick building squeezed between two collapsed storefronts. A faded neon saxophone still hangs crooked above the entrance.
JAZZ • LIVE MUSIC • COCKTAILS
Or at least that’s what’s left of the sign. Joel grabs the door handle first.
Locked.
He shoulders it once. Hard. The wood gives immediately. “Inside.”
You and Taxi slip in first while Joel slams the door shut behind all of you. Darkness swallows the room.
The beam of Joel’s flashlight cuts across overturned tables, dusty bottles behind the bar, ripped velvet booths, and a stage sitting abandoned beneath hanging lights coated in years of grime.
Then Joel immediately starts moving furniture.
Fast. Efficient. Like muscle memory.
He shoves a heavy cabinet against the door before dragging another beside it.
You bend forward, hands braced against your knees while trying to catch your breath. Rainwater drips steadily from your hair onto the floorboards below. Taxi pants nearby, ears still twitching toward distant sounds outside. You glance around the bar slowly.
“…I passed this place earlier,” you mutter between breaths. “Didn’t exactly scream safehouse.”
Joel grunts while forcing another chair beneath the door handle. “That’s ‘cause you think like a survivor.” He finally looks back at you briefly. “You gotta think like a smuggler.”
The corner of your mouth almost twitches despite everything.
Taxi finally relaxes enough to lie down beside one of the booths, though he still watches both of you carefully while licking rainwater from his fur.
Outside, thunder rolls softly over Seattle. Inside, everything suddenly feels too quiet.
You straighten slowly while pressing your palm against the bandage wrapped around your arm. The bite throbs beneath soaked fabric now. Hot. Sharp. “Joel,” you say quietly. “How did you find us?”
Taxi huffs softly at the sound of his name.
Joel completely ignores the question.
Instead, he walks straight toward you, grabs your uninjured arm gently but firmly, and guides you toward one of the old leather couches near the stage.
“Sit.”
“Joel—”
“Sit down.”
Something in his voice makes you listen.
You lower yourself onto the couch slowly while he drops his backpack onto the nearby table and kneels in front of you.
“Lemme see.”
The bite still bleeds slowly through the bandage. Joel pulls fresh gauze and alcohol from his pack with practiced hands.
Your eyes stay fixed on him while he works. The furrow between his brows deepens immediately the second he unwraps the blood-soaked cloth from your arm.
There it is. That line in his forehead. The one that only appears when he’s angry or worried enough it physically hurts him.
God.
You missed him. So fucking much. More than you allowed yourself to admit.
“This’ll hurt.” Joel pours alcohol over the wound.
“Wonderful.”
The second the liquid hits torn flesh, pain rips straight through your arm. “Ah— fuck—”
Your whole body tenses instantly while Joel grips your wrist tighter to steady you.
“Easy,” he mutters quietly.
You hiss through clenched teeth while he carefully cleans dried blood from around the bite marks. Your eyes drift across his face again. The concentration. The exhaustion beneath his eyes. The tension in his jaw. You wonder how many nights he hasn’t slept.
“You showed up at a pretty convenient time,” you breathe, still staring at him like he might disappear again. “How the hell did you even find us?”
Joel keeps wrapping the bandage.
Doesn’t answer.
There are a hundred other things you want to ask him too. How long has he been here? Did Ellie know? Was he hurt? Was he angry? Did he hate you for leaving? But after drugging him and disappearing in the middle of the night, asking those questions feels almost selfish somehow. So instead you ask the smallest one. The safest one.
“…Why are you here, Joel?”
This time he finally looks up. And the expression in his eyes makes your throat tighten instantly. Dark. Tired. Hurt.
“S’pose I’m the one oughta be askin’ questions.”
Silence stretches between you.
You glance away first. Joel doesn’t.
“How the hell do you hear every damn thing I tell you,” he says quietly, “and still leave anyway?”
Your jaw tightens. “Joel—”
“That stubbornness of yours real or you just enjoy makin’ me lose my goddamn mind?” His voice sharpens now. “You come here to kill yourself? Was that the plan?”
The words hit harder than expected. Because part of you knows he’s not completely wrong.
“I got close,” you argue quietly. “I’m almost done. Tomorrow I finish this.”
Joel lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Finish it how exactly?” He rises suddenly to his feet. “You see how many Wolves are out there? This ain’t a mission, darlin’, it’s a suicide note.”
“I’m not leaving without killing him.”
“Well you ain’t gettin’ the chance if you end up dead first!”
Taxi lifts his head immediately at the sharpness in Joel’s voice. You stand too fast. Pain flares through your arm but you ignore it. “What, you think I came all this way for nothing?!”
“Yes!” Joel explodes. “That’s exactly what I think!”
You stare at him in disbelief. Rain rattles softly against the windows behind him while the neon sign outside flickers weak blue light across his face. “You don’t understand.”
“No, YOU don’t understand!” Joel snaps back immediately. “If I hadn’t found you tonight you woulda died in there!”
“I saved you too!”
“That ain’t the damn point!”
His voice echoes through the empty jazz bar. Taxi whines softly from the couch. Joel runs one rough hand through soaked curls before pointing furiously toward your bandaged arm.
“You ain’t bulletproof, Kat! You ain’t immune to gettin’ your head blown off or blown apart or buried under some goddamn building!”
“I KNOW THAT!”
“Then why the hell are you actin’ like you got nothin’ left to lose?!”
Your breathing turns uneven instantly. “I always find a way.”
Joel stares at you for one long horrible second. Then suddenly he crosses the room and grabs both your arms hard enough to stop your pacing completely. “Goddamn it, Kat—” His voice breaks lower now. Rougher. Desperate. “Why don’t you get it?” His grip tightens. “Not everythin’ goes the way you planned.”
Your heartbeat stumbles.
“One mistake,” he whispers harshly. “One bad second and everythin’ falls apart. Why you runnin’ toward death like this, huh?” His jaw clenches hard. “You don’t think about yourself, fine. But do you ever think about what happens to me?”
Your lips part. Nothing comes out. So you look away instead.
“…Ellie needs you,” you whisper weakly. “If somethin’ happened to me, you’d still have—”
“Don’t.” His voice cuts straight through yours. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
You look back at him slowly. Joel’s eyes burn now. Actually burn.
“She ain’t you.”
The words hit like a punch. Joel breathes hard once through his nose before quieter now:
“You’re not Ellie to me.” He steps closer. So close you can feel warmth radiating from him despite the cold rain still clinging to his clothes. “You’re worse,” he mutters roughly. “So much goddamn worse.”
Your breath catches.
“Because I let myself love you.”
The confession lands heavy between both of you. Joel laughs once under his breath. Bitter. Broken.
“This stubborn old heart was finally startin’ to beat again and you just…” He shakes his head slightly. “You rip yourself outta my bed and disappear across the country like I’m supposed to survive that.”
Your throat tightens painfully. “I couldn’t let you get hurt.”
Joel stares at you like the words physically offend him.
“And what the hell you think happens to me if you die?”
Silence. Real silence this time.
Joel closes his eyes briefly before leaning forward until his forehead rests against yours. When he speaks again, his voice barely sounds steady anymore. “I told you about Sarah.” Your heart cracks quietly. “I told you exactly what losin’ somebody like that does to a man.” His nose brushes yours lightly when he exhales. “You’re there for me now.” The words melt something inside your chest instantly. “You understand?” he whispers. “Right fuckin' there.”
Your lips part softly.
Joel’s mouth hovers barely inches from yours now. Close enough that every breath mixes together. Close enough that thinking becomes impossible. You should keep arguing. You should push him away. Tell him to go back to Jackson. Tell him tomorrow changes nothing. But all you can think about is how badly you missed him. The smell of him. The warmth. The roughness in his voice. The way he says your name like it belongs to him. Your thighs tense unconsciously.
Joel notices immediately. Of course he does.
His eyes darken slightly while his hand slides from your arm to your waist slowly. Possessive. Careful.
Like he’s trying not to break under the weight of his own feelings.
“Listen to me,” he murmurs roughly. “I don’t give a damn about anybody or anything in this world the way I do you.” Your breath catches harder. “You hear me?” His fingers tighten slightly against your waist. “You got some kinda single-digit fuckin’ IQ or somethin’, huh? How many goddamn times do I gotta say it before it gets through that stubborn skull of yours?”
Your brows pull together immediately.
“Joel—”
“No.” His grip tightens when you try pulling back slightly. “No, you don’t get to pull that runaway bullshit and then stand there actin’ confused when I come after you.”
Heat flashes through your chest instantly.
“I didn’t ask you to—”
“Exactly!” Joel snaps. “That’s the damn problem!”
You turn your head away sharply, jaw tightening.
For half a second you almost step back.
Joel catches you immediately.
One rough hand locks around your waist and pulls you flush against him again before you can move an inch.
“You scare the livin’ shit outta me, Kat.”
The word comes out low. Dangerous. Desperate.
His forehead nearly touches yours now.
“You run into gunfights, infected, goddamn armies like your life don’t matter and it’s drivin’ me fuckin’ insane.”
Your pulse stumbles hard.
Joel’s jaw tightens once before he says the next part slower. Like he needs you to understand it this time. “You’re mine to lose sleep over now.”
Your breath catches sharply.
Joel’s eyes stay locked on yours.
Possessive. Furious. Completely wrecked by you. His hand slides tighter against your waist. “Mine to worry about. Mine to come look for. Mine to drag back alive if I gotta.”
Then he snaps. One hand grips your jaw. The other yanks you hard against him. And his mouth crashes into yours.
The kiss is brutal.
Desperate.
All teeth and heat and weeks of fear poured into one violent collision.
You gasp against his mouth immediately and Joel takes advantage instantly, kissing you deeper like he’s angry at you for making him miss you this badly.
Like he’s trying to punish himself and you at the same time.
His beard scrapes harsh against your skin while his fingers dig into your waist possessively enough to ache.
You clutch his soaked flannel automatically.
Joel groans low into your mouth the second you pull him closer.
The sound nearly destroys what little restraint you had left.
“Christ. Look what the hell you do to me,” he mutters against your lips before kissing you again harder somehow.
Raw. Messy. Needy.
Like neither of you fully believes the other is really here yet.
Joel kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you were gone. Like anger and relief and love have tangled together into something too big for him to hold quietly anymore.
Your back hits the edge of the old piano beside the stage with a dull thud.
Neither of you cares.
Rain fades into background noise beneath rough breathing, shifting clothes, and the scrape of calloused hands against soaked denim and flannel.
Joel’s fingers bury into your hair hard enough to tilt your head back while his mouth keeps finding yours again and again like he physically can’t stop once he starts.
You kiss him back just as desperately.
All the fear.
All the missing him.
All those nights alone in ruined buildings wishing he was there instead—
It all crashes out at once.
“Jesus…” Joel breathes against your lips, forehead pressing briefly to yours. “Missed you so goddamn much.”
The confession nearly breaks you.
Your fingers work shakily at the buttons of his flannel while he crowds closer between your legs.
“You weren’t supposed to come after me,” you whisper breathlessly, teasing despite yourself as you push the shirt from his shoulders.
Joel lets out a rough, humorless laugh against your mouth.
“Tough shit.”
His belt unfastens with a metallic clink.
Then he kisses you again before you can answer.
Harder this time.
Needier.
One large hand slides beneath your jacket, rough fingers spreading against the small of your back while the other grips your waist possessively enough to pull a soft sound from your throat.
Joel immediately catches it.
A dark smirk ghosts briefly across his face.
“Look at her now,” he mutters roughly against your mouth. “All needy.”
Heat rushes through your chest instantly.
“You keep makin’ sounds like that,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours, “I’m gonna forget we’re supposed to be arguin’.” His thumb drags once along your cheek. “Real damn loud for somebody who left me.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Before you can answer, Joel’s hands find the zipper of your jacket instead.
He yanks it down impatiently.
Then your shirt follows, leaving you in nothing but your bra beneath the dim neon glow leaking through the rain-streaked windows.
Joel’s eyes drag over you slowly.
Hungry.
Overwhelmed.
Then his gaze catches on the fresh bandage around your arm. The softness disappears immediately. Joel leans down and presses a rough almost angry kiss against your forehead. “You scare the hell outta me,” he mutters. “Don’t pull that shit again.” Your hands slide over his bare chest, palms spreading across warm skin and tense muscle beneath your fingertips.
God.
You forgot how solid he feels. How warm. How safe. It almost hurts remembering it.
Joel exhales sharply the second you touch him. Then his hands are on you again. Touching like he physically can’t help it.
Your shirt snags briefly while he pulls it over your head one-handed before tossing it somewhere behind him without even looking.
His eyes move slowly across your skin afterward. “Christ,” he whispers quietly.
The way he says it sends heat straight through you.
Joel notices instantly.
That rough little smirk flickers again before something heavier replaces it.
His fingers brush lightly along your ribs before settling against your waist, thumbs hooking into your jeans and dragging them slowly down your legs. Cold air kisses exposed skin while rain taps softly against the windows outside.
“There she is,” Joel murmurs, voice low and wrecked as his hands settle against your thighs, holding you close. His kisses trailed to your neck and you gulped back a lustful sigh. He couldn’t know how much you were enjoying it. His fingers glided in between your folds, the vibrations already making you far too excited. He chuckled to himself, cupping you so your clit was between his fingers as he rubbed your heat. “She’s so fucking pretty and always ready for me,” he purred against your neck and you loved the excited rush his breath gave your skin. You yanked his hair pulling him back into another hungry kiss. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your soft spots, groping your ass, weaving his fingers through your hair, noting the places that made you squirm when he gave them attention.
You started to retort but your knees dipped when he inserted a finger. His other hand reached around your back to hold you up and you moaned when he started to pump his fingers deep inside of you. Your hands slide up into his curls while his mouth moves against yours with enough care now to make your knees weaker than the violence of the first kiss ever could.
Taxi lifts his head from the couch nearby, ears twitching as he watches both of you pressed together beside the piano.
Joel notices immediately.
“C’mon, buddy,” he mutters roughly without taking his eyes and fingers off you. “Give us five goddamn minutes.”
Taxi huffs loudly from the couch. You grin softly against Joel’s mouth. “He’s protective,” you murmur, breathless. “Kinda reminds me of somebody.”
“Yeah? Smart dog then.”
“Smartest one around, actually. Shame he ended up with an idiot owner.”
Joel’s mouth twitches immediately. “Make that two idiots,” he murmurs.
Taxi barks once from the couch like he’s agreeing. You laugh softly. Joel points toward the dog without looking away from you. “Alright, smartass. Turn around.” Taxi lets out a dramatic huff before very pointedly turning his back to both of you and flopping back down onto the couch.
“How the hell do you just disappear on me,” he murmurs rough against your lips, his long finger curling inside you, “and take that pretty laugh with you too, huh?” You latch onto him, digging your nails into his arm, he exhales softly against your mouth. “Damn near forgot what it sounded like.” The vibrations shake through your core and curl low in your stomach, where a terrible and wonderful sensation begins to build, pulling a broken moan from your throat. “Yeah,” he mutters low against your lips. “Missed that too.”
With a grunt, he pulls his fingers out of you, still wet with your arousal, and presses them to his lips, sucking hungrily, almost angrily.
Then suddenly you’re in his arms.
Joel lifts you easily and lays you back against the old couch, one large hand settling against your waist as he leans over you. “‘M about two seconds away from losin’ what’s left of my damn self-control here.” One large hand slides up your thigh slowly before his dark eyes lock onto yours again. “So open wide for me, darlin’.”
You obey and spread your legs while he gets rid of his boxers and settles between your thighs. He leans down again and kisses you deeply. You wrap one hand around his dripping cock and squeeze softly, and simply feeling the way your grip trembles makes him weak. He can feel you smile against his mouth.
He drags his tongue across your lip and spreads your legs wider with his palm. He nibbles gently on your bottom lip, and you moan, arching against him.
He presses his swollen tip against your slick pussy and tries to still the swirling darkness inside him; he wants you, and he’s going to have you now and forever.
Even still, he feels anger clawing at the edges of his lust: anger that you left him like that, that you almost died, that you were so ready to sacrifice yourself for him and didn’t give a damn about dying so fearlessly.
Against all reason, he wants to punish you because you still don’t fully understand how much you mean to him, and because you’ve turned your immunity into an advantage, risking your life as if it were nothing. But he pushes those thoughts out of his mind.
He presses his fingers to your clit and teases you, and you moan against him, wrapping your legs around his hips, trying to urge him further. Exhaling quickly against your lips, he buries himself inside you in one smooth, severe stroke, and you cry out. You are so wet that the suddenness of it doesn’t sting, but the insistent burn and stretch inside you makes you shiver. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes. From the way he looks down at you—like you are small and helpless and beloved, all for him—the realization makes his heart beat hard against his ribs and arouses him even further.
His next thrust is even harsher, and you dig your nails into his shoulders and writhe against him, wordlessly meeting his challenge. He grins darkly at you and fucks you in earnest, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the old jazz bar. He grunts with each thrust like he is exorcising something strange and wild, and you find yourself clutching at him with a ferocity that surprises you. You move against each other like animals desperate for release, but as your orgasm approaches, you realize he has no intention of finishing yet, even though he is struggling to hold back. When you grow insistent and press firmly against him each time he withdraws, he shakes his head at you like you are an insolent child. You whine and scratch his back, and he bites your shoulder where it meets your neck.
The couch shifts hard enough to bump against the wall, drawing a long suffering sigh from Taxi somewhere nearby.
Neither of you can help laughing softly at that.
His gaze stops at your bra — the last piece still clinging to your body. He reaches with his large hand and unfastens it easily, grabbing your breasts possessively and burying his face between them.“Fuck, Joel, I’m—”
He crashes his mouth against yours before you can finish, swallowing the rest of your words as the kiss turns messy and desperate, teeth clashing briefly in the heat of it.
“I know, baby,” he murmurs roughly against your lips. “Jesus Christ… keep doin’ that and I ain’t gonna last.” He pulls back just enough to look at you before drawing you closer again, moving with a rhythm that grows rougher and more desperate the longer he kisses you. “Fuck… so goddamn tight, fuck, fuck. Feels too damn good.”
You scratch your nails down his back again as he finds that spot inside you once more. Joel sucks on your neck and uses the hand that isn’t holding yours to roughly pinch and twist your nipples.
“Right there,” you gasp softly, barely able to think anymore. “Joel… right there.”
He slams into you harder with every thrust, losing whatever control he had left the second he feels you falling apart beneath him.
Your moans break into desperate little sounds that only make him rougher, his forehead pressed against yours while he pushes his thick cock deep inside you. “That’s it,” he groans hoarsely. “Fuck, baby… just like that.” You cry out his name as pleasure crashes through you, your whole body trembling beneath him while your fingers clutch helplessly at his shoulders.
Joel watches you come apart with something almost feral in his expression, like the sight alone is enough to ruin him completely. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes shakily, gripping you tighter. “… gonna fuckin’ kill me one day.”
The way your walls squeeze him finally snaps the last thread holding him together, he grips the back of your head possessively and pulls you up into a searing kiss as he begins filling you up. His masculine groans are the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard—raw, rough, completely wrecked by you—and even if you hadn’t already been overwhelmed with pleasure, you know you’do anything just to hear them again.
By the time the both of you finally come down, exhaustion settles heavily into your bones. Your entire body still trembles from overstimulation, you feel him softening inside you, and without thinking, you cling closer to him — hooking one leg over his and wrapping an arm tightly around his waist while burying your face against his chest.
Joel lets out a tired breath and settles back against the couch with you tangled around him. One hand rests protectively over your arm while the other lazily twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, finally realizing how sweaty and completely spent both of you are. “Kat,” he murmurs quietly, fingertips tracing slow patterns against your skin. The softness in his voice makes you shiver more than anything else tonight. “Y’know I love you, right?”
Your eyes flutter half-shut as you look up at him. “I know,” you whisper back, voice rough and sleepy. Your fingers trace lazily across his chest. “Love you too, old man.”
A small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth — soft enough that most people would miss it entirely. Then, reluctantly, Joel starts untangling himself from you.
“C’mon,” he mutters gently, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. “Gotta clean you up before you pass out on me.”
Seattle, Day Three.
Joel wakes first. He doesn’t move right away. For a long moment he just lies there on the narrow couch with one arm wrapped tightly around your waist beneath the heavy wool blanket he’d found sometime during the night.
The thing had smelled like dust and old cedar when he shook it out upstairs near the storage room. Probably untouched for years. He remembers beating the hell out of it against the railing while muttering curses under his breath, trying to get enough dirt off it so you wouldn’t complain.
You still complained. Half asleep. Mumbling something about “old man nesting instincts.”
Joel almost smiles remembering it.
Now you sleep against his chest completely unaware, warm beneath the blanket, breathing slow and steady while Taxi snores softly nearby. Joel watches you quietly.
Your hair’s a mess. One cheek pressed against his shoulder. One leg tangled with his beneath the blanket. Peaceful. Too peaceful for somebody who spent the last several days fighting through Seattle like a damn one-woman apocalypse.
His fingers move carefully through your hair, brushing strands away from your face slowly enough not to wake you. Then his eyes drift downward.
And the softness in his expression changes immediately.
Bruises. Scratches. Old healing cuts layered beneath newer ones. Your shoulder carries a dark purple mark from rifle recoil, probably from firing that sniper nonstop for days. Your knuckles are split open in places. Another bruise blooms faintly along your ribs.
Joel’s jaw tightens quietly.
He’s seen bodies like this before. Survivors. People who lived too long outside walls. But seeing it on you feels different somehow. More personal. More infuriating.
His eyes stop at the bandage wrapped around your arm.
The bite.
Joel exhales slowly through his nose and looks back at your sleeping face. You were probably the strongest person he’d ever met. And that scared the hell out of him too.
He thinks about everything you survived before Jackson. Ten years outside. Fighting. Sleeping in ruins and abandoned cars and forests filled with infected. Your own father hunting you.
Your own father.
Joel still can’t wrap his mind around that part completely. His old man had been many things. Mean sometimes. Hard. But there had still been moments. A hand on the shoulder. A “good job, son.” Tiny things. Enough to know he’d been loved at least once growing up.
But you?
You learned young that love came with scalpels and cages and being hunted like an animal. And somehow you still came out capable of loving people anyway. Joel honestly doesn’t know how. Maybe he never will.
Taxi suddenly lets out a soft whine nearby. Joel glances over immediately. The shepherd lifts his head slightly from the floor, favoring his injured leg again.
“Hey,” Joel murmurs quietly. “Easy there.”
Carefully making sure not to wake you, Joel slips out from beneath the blanket and pulls his jeans back on before crouching beside Taxi.
“Lemme see it, boy.”
Taxi growls softly at first. Joel clicks his tongue.
“Shh. Relax, kiddo. Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
Taxi grumbles dramatically anyway. Joel snorts quietly.
“Yeah, yeah. You sound just like her.”
The wound isn’t terrible. Bullet graze. Angry-looking but clean. Joel pulls out antiseptic and carefully spreads ointment across the injury. Taxi flinches once.
“There ya go.” Joel scratches behind his ears afterward. “You did good lookin’ after her.”
Taxi’s tail thumps once against the floorboards.
“Hell,” Joel mutters quietly, “somebody had to.”
Taxi barks once like he fully agrees.
Joel laughs softly under his breath. “Yeah, well. That stubbornness rubbed off on you too apparently.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
Your sleepy voice makes Joel glance over immediately. You’re sitting upright now near the couch, pulling your shirt back on while watching both of them.
“Yeah?” Joel turns slightly toward you. “Dog’s almost as hardheaded as you are.” One corner of his mouth twitches faintly. “Guess crazy attracts crazy.”
You snort softly while stepping closer.
“How’s your arm?”
You notice immediately he avoids saying bite. Like the word itself pisses him off.
You flex your fingers carefully beneath the bandage. “Sore. Little throbbing. I’ll live.”
That does absolutely nothing for the look on Joel’s face.
“Lemme see.”
You hold your arm out without arguing this time. Joel unwraps the bandage slowly. His fingers shake slightly. You notice. He notices you noticing. Neither of you says anything about it.
The bite still looks ugly. Deep crescent punctures surrounded by bruising where the stalker’s jaw clamped down. But otherwise—
“No infection,” he mutters quietly, thumb brushing carefully near the wound. “No spreadin’. Nothin’.”
The awe in his voice almost sounds uncomfortable, like he’s rediscovering your immunity all over again.
You reach automatically for the knife lying nearby on the table. The second you angle it toward the bite— Joel catches your wrist hard.
“What’re you doin’?”
“If the mark’s still fresh, I can cut over it. Make it look like something else.”
Joel stares at you like you just suggested sawing your own arm off before immediately taking the knife away from you.
“You always this eager to carve yourself up?”
“It makes sense.”
He tosses the knife aside with a sharp look. “The bite’s deep enough already. Last thing you need’s an actual infection.”
You open your mouth to argue. Joel gives you a look. You close it again.
Satisfied, he starts rewrapping the bandage carefully before reaching into his bag and pulling out two cans of food.
“Eat somethin’.”
Your stomach betrays you instantly with a quiet growl. Joel hears it. Of course he does. A smug little look flashes across his face while he hands you the can.
“Knew it.”
You roll your eyes softly. “Don’t get cocky.”
Taxi suddenly perks up at the smell of food. Joel grabs another can from his bag, pops it open with his knife, and dumps the contents carefully onto a folded paper plate near the floor. “Found dog food near Seattle’s big ‘Fuck FEDRA’ gate.”
Taxi immediately starts eating.
You blink. “I checked there.”
Joel smirks slightly. “Yeah, well. Smuggler rule number one.” He settles back against the booth beside you. “There’s always another stash.”
You shake your head while eating a spoonful from your can.
“So…” you mutter thoughtfully between bites, “Joel Miller rescues us, patches us up, finds us shelter, feeds us…” Your eyes flick toward him. “Anything you can’t do?”
Joel looks at you over the rim of his coffee tin. “Convince you to come back to Jackson.”
“There it is,” you murmur.
“Damn right there it is.”
You stare down at your food for a second before quietly: “I can’t leave before this is finished.”
Joel exhales slowly through his nose. “Alright.” He nods once. “Then tell me the plan.”
You stare at him for a second like you’re waiting for the argument to come back. Joel shrugs one shoulder lightly.
“Pretty sure I could live another hundred damn years and still not win against that stubborn streak of yours.”
A faint tired smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“So I figured the next best thing is stickin’ around long enough to stop you from gettin’ yourself killed.”
His eyes meet yours then— steady and serious beneath the exhaustion.
“And help you finish this.”
You set the can aside and reach quickly for your backpack.
“Okay so—”
Joel steals the rest of your food while you’re distracted.
You whip your head toward him in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“You were done.”
“I was thinking.”
“You think better fed.”
You glare at him while he takes another completely unapologetic bite. Joel looks deeply unbothered for exactly two seconds before your expression finally cracks into genuine annoyance.
Then, with a quiet sigh like he’s dealing with the world’s grumpiest stray cat, he reaches into his backpack again.
“Relax, darlin’.”
He pulls out another can and tosses it into your lap. “Got another one.”
You look down at the label and immediately snort softly.
It’s actually your favorite.
“Wow,” you tease while turning the can in your hands, “that’s, like… suspiciously boyfriend behavior from you, Joel Miller.”
Joel immediately stops eating. Slowly lowers the spoon. “Take it back.”
You grin instantly. “What? Boyfriend?”
He exhales hard through his nose, already looking irritated in that deeply familiar way that only makes this funnier.
The second you laugh, Joel grabs your wrist and suddenly pulls you toward him hard enough that you let out a surprised noise, the can nearly slipping from your hands as you end up sprawled across his lap.
“Joel—”
“Y’know,” he mutters while leaning closer, one arm locking securely around your waist before you can even think about escaping, “I still think tying your stubborn ass to the back of my horse and draggin’ you back to Jackson’s a solid plan.”
“Wow.” You shake your head, grinning. “There’s the romance.”
Joel shakes his head under his breath before leaning closer suddenly, brushing a quick kiss against the tip of your nose.
“Romance,” he murmurs low while pulling back just slightly, “comes after we get your stubborn ass back to Jackson alive.”
“Deal,” you whisper.
Joel studies your face for another second like he’s trying to memorize it all over again before finally letting you slide reluctantly off his lap.
You settle back beside him while Joel reaches over to open your canned food for you. You lean forward and dig through your backpack before pulling out the stolen WLF radio.
“Let’s see what Seattle’s assholes are up to today.”
Joel’s entire posture sharpens instantly the second he sees it in your hands.
You twist the dial slowly. Static crackles loudly through the jazz bar.
“…patrol…” hissssss “…copy…” More static. You adjust it again. “…doctor…” You turn the dial carefully. The signal clears. “…repeat, Doctor Clouser’s requested package has been transferred to the hospital facility.”
Your stomach tightens instantly. Joel’s eyes lock onto yours.
Another voice answers through static: “Copy that, Ed. Use Route Six on your return. Scar activity’s spreadin’ east— avoid conflict if possible. And keep the lower quarantine level sealed. Doctor says nobody enters without clearance after last night’s incident.”
You and Joel stare at each other.
Hospital.
Confirmed.
The streets around the hospital feel dead in the wrong way. You move beside Joel through flooded streets littered with shell casings, broken arrows, and bodies left where they fell. WLF soldiers. Seraphites. Some so torn apart by infected it’s impossible to tell which side they belonged to anymore.
Taxi walks ahead quietly now, ears twitching at every distant sound.
The city smells like wet concrete, blood, mold, and smoke.
Joel keeps his rifle raised while both of you move through the remains of another firefight. A burned-out military truck still smolders near the curb, its doors covered in bullet holes and dried blood.
One entire wall nearby is painted black with huge dripping letters:
FEEL HER LOVE.
The words stretch across the brick wall in massive white paint, dripping down the rain-soaked surface beneath crude Seraphite symbols carved deep into the concrete.
But someone answered it.
Down near the corner of the wall, sprayed violently in black paint over dried blood splatter, another message cuts across the white letters:
FEEL THIS, BITCH.
Below it, bodies are piled carelessly against the wall.
Seraphites.
You recognize them instantly from the rough dark cloaks hanging from torn limbs and rain-soaked rope belts still tied around waists. Some still clutch hammers and crude blades in stiff dead hands.
The blood beneath them hasn’t fully washed away yet. Fresh enough that the rain still carries thin red streams slowly down the curb nearby.
Your stomach twists slightly.
“Those whistling assholes,” you mutter quietly while stepping around shattered glass and blood pooling near the curb. “Saw ’em gutting Wolves yesterday. Creepy fuckers.”
Joel studies the hanging bodies for another second, jaw tightening slightly.
“Yeah,” he mutters darkly. “Spent twenty years thinkin’ I’d already seen every kinda fucked up thing this world could turn people into.”
You glance back toward the wall covered in blood and hanging corpses. “Then Seattle said hold my beer.”
Joel actually laughs under his breath at that.
Low. Brief. Real.
Then his expression hardens again as he scans the street ahead.
“Everyone’s killin’ everybody,” he mutters. “Wolves, Scars… whole damn city’s at war.” His grip tightens slightly around the rifle. “Means we keep our heads down if we wanna make it to that hospital alive.”
You glance toward the massive building looming farther ahead between flooded streets and collapsed apartments. “Front entrance probably crawling with Wolves anyway.”
“Yeah.” Joel immediately turns away from the open street. “Too exposed.”
He gestures with the rifle toward a row of half-collapsed buildings running parallel to the hospital district.
“We circle around. Stay off the main roads. Maintenance tunnels, supply docks, rooftops… there’s always another way in.”
You nod once and pull your hood lower against the rain.
Taxi falls quietly into step beside both of you as you disappear deeper into the ruined side streets surrounding the hospital.
The hospital finally comes fully into view between buildings ahead.
Massive.
Concrete gray against the dark sky.
Floodlights glow faintly near the lower levels while fog drifts around upper floors. So close now.
Your hand automatically drops to the revolver holstered at your side.
Your thumb brushes the worn grip while you pull the cylinder open and reload quietly.
“Joel.”
“Hm?”
You hesitate.
Which already tells him this matters.
Rain drips softly from broken signs overhead while Taxi pauses ahead to sniff cautiously near abandoned cars.
You finally look at Joel. “I know leavin’ was selfish.”
Joel stills slightly but says nothing.
You swallow once. “It wasn’t just for me.” His eyes lift fully now. “It was for us.”
The words feel strange out loud. Too vulnerable. Too honest. You look back down at the revolver while continuing quietly: “You and me. Future Days and all that shit.” A weak breath escapes you. “Before Jackson I never even let myself imagine havin’ somethin’ like that. Then I met you and suddenly…”
Joel’s mouth slowly curves into the faintest smug smile. “Suddenly what, darlin’?”
You roll your eyes instantly. “Don’t--”
Joel’s grin grows slightly. “C’mon now. Wanna hear this part.”
You glare at him briefly. Then finally sigh.
“…I fell in love with you, alright?” you mutter. “There. Happy?”
Joel looks devastatingly pleased with himself. “Little bit.”
You shake your head while fighting a smile. Then your expression softens again. “I just wanted peace for once.” Your thumb traces the revolver grip absently. “Wanted somethin’ that actually belonged to me.”
Joel watches you quietly for a long moment. Then he lowers his rifle and steps closer. “C’mere.”
Before you can react, one arm hooks around your waist and pulls you firmly against him. The revolver remains loosely in your hand while Joel wraps both arms around you tightly beneath your jacket.
“I know,” he murmurs against your hair. Joel pulls back just enough to look down at you. “But Christ, baby…” His thumb brushes your cheek. “Wish you hadn’t disappeared after I told you I’d help.”
Guilt flickers sharply through your stomach. “I know. When we get back,” you whisper softly, “I’ll fix your heart.”
Joel snorts. “Baby, you got yourself one hell of a fixer-upper.”
“Maybe you can teach me."
Joel raises an eyebrow slightly. “Teach you what?”
“How to fix old things. Worked pretty well with the guitar.”
“Yeah?” he murmurs low. “Guess you’re a fast learner.”
"Fuck yeah, I am."
Your chest hurts from loving him.
And that realization terrifies you a little.
Joel squeezes your waist once before both of you continue moving again toward the hospital.
Closer now.
Too close.
The streets gradually grow quieter the farther you go.
No patrols. No distant shouting. No gunfire. Nothing.
Joel slows first. You feel it too. The wrongness.
You glance toward him. “…You feel that?”
Joel nods once slowly. “Too quiet.” His grip tightens slightly around the rifle. “Don’t like it.”
Neither do you.
According to the radio traffic earlier, the area around the hospital should’ve been crawling with Wolves.
Instead the streets feel abandoned.
“We keep goin’ straight, we’re too exposed."
His eyes move toward the buildings lining the side streets near the hospital perimeter. “We circle around back first. Figure out where they got people stationed before we get anywhere near that place.”
You nod, but Taxi suddenly growls low.
Joel immediately raises the rifle scope. “Runner.” He points slightly right. “Two of ‘em.”
You spot movement on the left side too. "There’s more over there.”
Taxi suddenly bolts forward. “No— Taxi, wait!”
The shepherd ignores you completely and charges ahead.
You immediately move after him.
Joel grabs your arm hard. “Kat— stop!”
“What—”
“Trap.”
Your eyes drop instantly. Thin wire stretches low across the street between two wrecked cars.
Shit.
A runner slams into it first.
BOOM.
The explosion detonates loud enough to shake nearby windows.
Fire and smoke erupt across the street while the infected body tears apart midair. Taxi yelps painfully as the shockwave throws him sideways onto wet pavement. “Taxi!" You rip free from Joel immediately. “NO!”
Joel curses sharply behind you.
Gunfire erupts the second you move. Not one shot.
Several.
“NOW!” someone yells from somewhere above.
Fuck.
Bullets slam into the pavement around your feet. Too close. Too precise.
Joel fires back instantly. “Kat, NO!”
But you’re already sliding across the pavement toward Taxi.
The dog whines sharply on the ground, dazed and limping. “I got you,” you breathe quickly while reaching for him.
More gunfire cracks overhead.
But then—
You realize something. They aren’t aiming at you. Every bullet hits beside you.
Near your boots. Not kill shots.
Joel notices too immediately from behind cover. “What the fuck…”
Taxi struggles weakly beneath your hands while you kneel exposed in the middle of the street.
Then a voice cuts through the chaos.
Your real name. The name almost nobody alive still knows. You freeze.
Cold spreads through your chest instantly.
Only two people ever called you that anymore.
Slowly—
You turn.
Figures emerge near the hospital barricades ahead beneath floodlights.
Armed Wolves surrounding them.
And there—
Him.
Even from this distance you’d know that face anywhere.
The same calm eyes. The same awful smile. Your stomach drops violently. “we were expecting you." he said "we" like.. pointedly…
The world narrows instantly.
Then you see another figure beside him.
Bruised. Restrained. Gun pressed against his head.
William.
Your breath leaves your lungs. “…William.”
Joel’s expression changes immediately the second he understands.
This wasn’t coincidence. This wasn’t random. They were waiting.
“Drop your weapon!” another Wolf shouts.
Clouser smiles wider.
“You came all this way for him, didn’t you?” His hand tightens against William’s shoulder possessively. “See? Here he is.”
William’s eyes meet yours from across the street.
And suddenly for one horrible second you feel like you were little girl again.
“Come now, sweetheart,” Clouser calls smoothly. “Wouldn’t want him dying before your reunion.”
Joel’s rifle rises instantly.
“Kat,” he says sharply. “Get your ass back here. I’ll cover you.”
But you barely hear him anymore. Your heartbeat pounds too loud.
William.
Alive.
Your eyes flick toward Taxi lying injured beside you.
Then toward Joel behind cover.
Then back toward Clouser.
One shot. That’s all it would take. You’ve made harder shots before. Much harder. Your hand slowly drifts toward the revolver at your back.
Joel sees it instantly. His expression changes immediately. “No.”
You barely hear him.
The world tunnels.
One target. One bullet. One chance.
You draw the revolver in one impossibly fast motion and fire.
BANG.
The bullet tears straight through Clouser’s head—
Or almost.
The shot hits the side of his skull violently, ripping through his ear and grazing along his temple instead of killing him outright.
Blood sprays.
Clouser collapses sideways screaming.
Chaos erupts instantly.
You almost laugh from the sheer rush of seeing him finally bleed—
Then another shot slams through your shoulder hard enough to spin you backward onto the pavement.
Pain explodes white-hot across your body.
Joel’s voice roars somewhere distant.
Gunfire erupts everywhere now.
Joel immediately returns fire from cover, dropping one Wolf before being forced back behind concrete barriers under heavy fire.
But even through the pain he sees you move.
Still alive. Still conscious. Thank God.
Clouser screams furiously from the ground while Wolves scramble around him.
“STOP SHOOTING, YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!” Blood pours down the side of his face while medics drag him partially upright. “WE NEED HER ALIVE!”
Your revolver skids across wet pavement out of reach.
You lunge for it—
Too slow.
Three Wolves hit you at once.
You slam one in the stomach with your elbow hard enough to fold him in half before kicking another directly off you.
But there are too many.
Hands grab your wrists.
Your legs.
One Wolf twists your injured shoulder hard enough to force a cry from your throat.
Joel immediately rises again from cover. “GET THE FUCK OFF HER!”
He drops another Wolf with a headshot before bullets force him back again.
Taxi snarls viciously from the ground, dragging himself toward you despite the pain tearing through his injured leg.
“Hold her down!”
A Wolf slams your arms painfully behind your back while another drives your knees hard into the pavement.
Zip ties cinch brutally tight around your wrists.
You fight anyway.
Thrashing. Kicking. Spitting curses through gritted teeth while they struggle to pin you properly.
One soldier catches your boot directly across the face with a sharp crack.
“Fuck—!”
“Hold her still!”
“Watch her hands!”
Too fast.
You waited too long.Should’ve moved faster.Should’ve had a better plan.
Then rough hands yank you violently upright.
Your boots drag through rainwater while Wolves force you across the flooded street toward him.
Clouser’s eyes finally shift toward you.
A faint smile twists across his mouth.
Blood runs down the side of his face while rainwater drips steadily from his ruined coat.
“…There she is.”
Your stomach turns violently.
“All those years hiding,” he murmurs.
His eyes drag slowly over your face.
“Just to walk yourself right back where you belong."
“Fuck you!” You lunge toward him instantly.
The Wolves wrench you back hard enough pain tears through your shoulders.
“Easy!”
“Hold her!”
Clouser barely reacts.
“Take her inside.”
“No!” You twist violently again, panic flashing hotter now the second you realize what that means. “Get the fuck off me!”
Then your eyes snap past them.
“Joel!”
Clouser pauses.
His expression shifts slightly at the name.
Slowly, his eyes drift past you toward the gunfire beyond the barricades.
Toward Joel.
Joel sees only you. “Kat!”
And something inside him snaps completely.
He rises from cover without hesitation and opens fire again. One Wolf drops instantly. Another barely ducks behind a barricade before bullets rip apart the concrete beside his head.
But there are too many.
Gunfire explodes from three directions at once, forcing him back behind the ruined ambulance near the curb.
Taxi barks frantically through the chaos, still trying to crawl toward you.
Joel tries again anyway.
Of course he does.
The second he breaks cover, two Wolves rush him from the side. One slams into his ribs hard enough to drive him sideways into the wall while another hooks his rifle away violently.
Joel elbows the first man directly in the throat.
The second gets his nose shattered against Joel’s forehead.
Then another Wolf grabs him from behind—
Joel throws him over his shoulder hard enough to crack concrete—
But someone finally jams a rifle against the back of his knee.
“DOWN!”
The shot doesn’t fire.
Instead the force behind it kicks Joel’s leg out from under him and drives him heavily onto one knee.
Three rifles snap toward his head instantly.
One pressed directly against his temple.
Joel’s chest heaves violently as rain pours down his face.
Still fighting.
Still trying to look past them toward you.
“Taxi!” he shouts hoarsely.
The shepherd answers with another desperate bark somewhere nearby.
One Wolf glances toward the injured dog lying near the street.
“You want me to kill it?” he asks coldly.
Clouser presses a blood-soaked cloth tighter against the ruined side of his head while staggering closer through the rain.
“Leave it,” he rasps. “Thing’s practically dead already.”
Taxi growls weakly anyway.
Joel’s entire body tenses violently at the words.
Then Clouser finally stops in front of him.
Really looks at him.
Recognition flickers slowly across his face beneath the blood.
“…Well.”
Rain drips steadily from his chin while he studies Joel almost curiously.
“You’re Joel Miller.”
Joel says nothing. His jaw clenches hard enough to twitch.
Clouser lets out a faint disbelieving laugh through the pain.
“Hm.” He shakes his head slightly. “Funny.”
His ruined ear leaves blood running down his neck.
“All this way…” His eyes darken. “Just to walk into your own execution.”
Joel barely even processes the words.
Doesn’t care.
The only thing he’s still looking for is you.
One of the Wolves glances toward Clouser questioningly.
Clouser gives a small nod.
“If you touch her, I swear to God I’ll—”
The rifle butt slams violently into the side of Joel’s head. Pain explodes white behind his eyes.
Darkness swallows the rest of the sentence whole.
please don't forget that your thoughts and feelings about this story matter deeply to me so please share them with me. Thank you for being here. 💋
Jackson! Joel Miller (43) x Patrol Partner Female Reader (23)
warnings: 18+ smut: big age gap, role playing, p in v, unprotected sex, spanking, gagging, blow job, throat fucking, hair pulling, cream pie, riding, dirty talk, praise kink, and size kink.
summary: you and joel are on patrol together when you are assigned to check out a college campus. you decide to tease him by calling him professor.
wc: 2.1k
A/N: was playing tlou and thought of this idea when they went through the college sooooo here’s this!! enjoy!!!
You and Joel had been patrol partners for about a year now.
What the people of Jackson didn’t know was that you guys were doing way more than just killing clickers and catching smugglers.
You guys were having mind-blowing sex.
Sometimes it was against a tree.
“Fuck baby girl, you’re gripping me so tight.” He moaned out.
Sometimes he had you bent over the hood of an abandoned car.
“Shit, Joel, right there! Fuck-!” You cried while he was pounding you from behind.
Today was different.
Tommy had gotten a call that some clickers were seen down at a college campus just North of the usual route, and you two were the lucky ones assigned to check it out.
“Stay close, baby. We don’t know what’s out there.” Joel had told you.
You were walking a little behind him, fantasizing about what it would’ve been like to go to college. Everything you knew about it had come from movies.
“Joel?” You called out to him. “Did you ever go to college?”
He stops for a second and continues walking. “For about year.”
“Why only a year?” You asked.
“Well, that’s when my girlfriend at the time got pregnant, so I put all my time into working to be able to support my family. There wasn’t much time for school anymore.”
Joel had told you about Sarah. How right after her mother had given birth, she handed her off to Joel and was never seen again. He became a single father who put his whole heart into making sure his child had a good life. Then the night the outbreak hit, a soldier had shot her. He doesn’t talk about her much and you never pry.
There was a short beat of silence until you spoke up.
“What did you study?”
“I was studyin’ to become an english professor.”
Hot, you thought to yourself. You could see Joel as a professor, all the girls taking his class just to stare at him and hear that deep voice of his. You get a little jealous just thinking about it.
You both walk up the steps and into one of the buildings. Joel looks back at you with his pointer finger over his lips in a “shh” motion.
A clicker was just down the hall. He crouches down and walks forward with a shiv in hand. He sneaks up behind it and stabs it right in the neck, dropping it to the floor.
He stands there for a second before whispering over to you.
“I’m going to clear out the building. I want you to stay here, you hear me?” You look up at him with worried eyes.
“But, Joel,” You try to argue with him.
“There’s no buts, baby, I’ll be fine. You have your gun, right?” You nod. “Use it if needed. I’ll come back down here to get you. Don't wander off.” He plants a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.” And with that, he walks up the stairs, leaving you by yourself.
You hear a few gunshots, and although you’re nervous, you know Joel can take care of himself.
Around 15 minutes later, Joel comes walking down the stairs and over to you.
“I told you I’d be back.” He says before he pulls you into a kiss. You stop before you get too carried away.
“I want to see a real-life college classroom. Will you take me to one?” You ask with your hands on his chest, while his rest on your lower back.
“There are plenty of them in here. Follow me.”
He leads you up the stairs and through one of the doors. You walk in and notice all the seats. There have to be over 200 of them.
“Whoa, this is huge.” You guys walk down towards the front of the room, where the professor taught. “I can’t believe professors would teach this many students at a time.”
Joel walks over to the professor's desk and takes a seat on the rolling chair.
“Professor Miller, that has a nice ring to it.” You say while observing the materials on the desk.
He laughs at that. “Can’t believe this could’ve been my future. Teaching a class this big. Now that I’m sitting up here, I’m not sure I would have liked all those eyes on me.”
You look at him from the other side of the desk.
“If I had you as a professor, I would sit right up front. Maybe wear a super short skirt and spread my legs a little so you could see what was between them.” You smile and walk to stand in front of him.
“Is that so?” He looks you up and down, his eyes dark.
You drop to your knees, suddenly feeling super horny from seeing him sitting in the professor's chair. “Yeah, I would probably get to your class early and sneak under here.” You start to crawl under neath the desk. He rolls his chair back to face the front. “Just so I could tease you while you taught.”
“Hmm.” He looks down at your face between his legs, resting against his thigh. “What exactly would ya’ be doing?”
“Well, first, I would rub you over your pants just like this.” He inhales quick. “And then I would pull your cock out of your pants and suck you off while students started coming in. They wouldn’t know I was down here: you’d have to just take it.”
“Show me, baby.”
Your hands go up to the button of his jeans to release him. His cock is already hard and ready for you from hearing all the dirty things you were telling him.
One of your favorite things about him was how big and thick his cock was. You could never seem to fit the entire thing in your mouth. You had to use both your hands and mouth at the same time to pleasure him, and when he was inside you, it felt like you were being split in half.
While never breaking eye contact, you lean forward to place a soft kiss right on the tip, pre-come smearing across your lips.
He jerks in his seat. “Fuck, doll, keep goin’.”
“You want me to suck you off, professor?” Blood rushes straight to his cock, you feel it twitch against your hand. You giggle, “You like it when I call you professor?”
You don’t let him respond because you take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks out.
“Shit, baby, so perfect.” He breaks eye contact by throwing his head back.
You swirl your tongue around him before popping your lips off. You lick a long strip from the base to the tip, then take him back into your mouth. You feel him thrust his hips a little, making you gag.
“Fuck, sorry, baby. It just feels so good.” He looks at your watery eyes.
You’re so turned on from the role-playing that you decide to try something new. Something you know Joel has been wanting to try out, but you’ve been too scared of.
“Fuck my throat.” His eyes look like they are going to budge out of his head. He sends you a look of ‘are you sure’ so you nod with a smile.
He wastes no time in shoving his cock into your mouth. “Mmm, my baby wants her professor to fuck her throat for the whole class to see.” He thrusts quickly, your hands gripping his thighs to stabilize yourself. “My good little student.”
You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter just from his praise and dirty talk. It’s starting to get uncomfortable, so you take off your jeans, leaving you in your white cotton panties.
You snake your hand down the front of your panties and start rubbing your clit while he fucks your throat. Drool is spilling out from the sides of your lips, and your eyes are hooded from the relief of your fingers playing with your pussy.
You moan on his cock, sending vibrations to his tip. He notices you playing with yourself, which makes him thrust faster into your mouth.
“Fuck, baby. Keep doing that. Play with your pussy for me.” You feel him starting to twitch, his release coming soon. Your cries get louder as you’re close to reaching your end, too. “I’m gonna come down this tight little throat of yours, baby. You’re gonna take every last drop I give ya’. Come with me.” He says as warm spurts coat the back of your throat and you're coming on your fingers.
The sounds coming from this room are erotic. You both moan as loud as you want, not having to worry about anyone hearing you.
Your lips are glossy and swollen, face covered in drool as you swallow his come. “You taste so good, professor.” You say as you wipe your face with your hand.
Joel’s cock is already halfway hard again just from the view in front of him. “C’mere.” He pats his thighs. “I want my dirty little student to ride me.”
You push the chair back and get up from under the desk. You put your knees on each side of his thighs and sink down slowly on his cock.
You both look into each other's eyes, crying out at the sensitive feeling of being connected to one another after just having orgasms.
“You’re so big, professor. I don’t know if I can take it.” You nuzzle your face into his neck, overwhelmed by how full you feel from being on top.
“I know ya’ can, baby.” he rubs his rough hands over your back, trying to soothe you. You finally bottom out, sitting on him for a few moments to adjust. He grips your hips and guides you to start moving up and down his length. “I want ya’ to bounce on my cock.”
You start to move on your own. “Like this, professor?”
“Yes, there ya’ go, that’s my good girl.”
He moves his hands to cup your breasts over your shirt as you quicken your pace. You pussy pulses on Joel’s cock, he knows you're close again. He spits on his fingers before putting them down between your bodies. His finger circles your throbbing clit.
“Oh my god! That feels so good! I’m gonna-,” Your vision fades to black as your pussy grips onto him. He gives you a second before he slowly slips out of you and brings you to stand.
“You did so good for me.” He kicks the rolling chair out of the way and bends you over the desk. You feel his hard length hit your backside. “Will my slut of a student let me take her from behind?” He drags his tip through your folds.
All you can do is whimper in response, tired from the two orgasms you had back to back. But he doesn’t like that.
You feel a hard smack against your ass. “Answer me.”
“Yes, professor! I want you to fuck me from behind.” He shoves his cock into your pussy once more, while your face is against the desk. “Fuck!”
This angle allows him to hit your G-spot over and over again. You feel his hand wrap around your pony tail, pulling you to arch against his chest.
“You’re so fucking tight, just milking my cock.” He pounds into your wet pussy. “I’m not going to last long. I want you to come with me, baby.”
You nod and start playing with your clit again. It’s overly sensitive, but it feels too good to stop. His hand releases your hair, making you drop back onto the desk.
You feel that bubble about to pop when you scream out, “I’m coming, Joel, Fuck!”
He slams his hips harder than he has before and spills into you. “Shit, baby. Take every last drop.” He says as he slows down his pace.
Your guy's pants fill the quiet room.
Joel takes his flannel off and wipes his cock off before buttoning up his jeans. He sets you on the desk and looks at your pussy. “Prettiest sight I’ve ever seen.” He says while he watches his come drip down your slit. You blush as he cleans you up.
“Joel Miller, come in.” You both look at the walkie-talkie that he has clipped onto his jeans. He grabs it.
“I’m here, what do ya’ need Tommy.”
“Fuck, Joel. Where are you guys? It’s been hours, almost sent out Ellie and Dina to check on you two.” You giggle up at him while he rolls his eyes.
“We’re good Tommy, no need for that. Just finished up at the campus. No more infected. We are on our way back now.” He tells him as you are putting your pants back on.
“Alright, well, hurry back, dinner is soon. Maria will be pissed if you miss. Again.”
“Will do,” Joel says and clips the walkie-talkie back on his jeans.
You step up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss.
This is a new Din Djarin x Earthling OFC/reader multi chapter I'd started working on a couple of years ago and am returning to now. I'm currently two chapters in so far but I thought I'd share a little preview. If you want to be tagged when it's ready, please let me know.
All at once the entire ship rumbles, the vibrations causing every loose item onboard to fall and clang against the steel walls. More alarms join the chaos as the ship begins to somersault and pick up speed. Din doesn't have the time to gather his thoughts before ropes of bright lights streak past the cockpit windows and the intense weight of gravity twists his stomach in all directions.
Then, just like that, it's over. The ship resumes it's normal speed, the alarms cease and the warnings lights turn off (except for a couple of lights, indicating damage to the ramp hydraulics and a few other minor problems) and the white streaks become distant stars once more. "Eh..." Grogu squeaks and Din turns just in time to see him vomit on his clothes. "Oh boy," Din grumbles, reaching for the edge of his cape to clean him up. "You okay, pal?" Grogu's little smile and nod puts Din somewhat at ease. At least they've come out of this in one piece. The only problem now is, where the kriffing hell are they?
*****
A few hours have passed - Nevarro hours, which Din always goes by now - when multiple signals are picked up. In amongst them all, the same artificial one stands out. There are other worlds nearby, all letting off their own signals, but they all sound natural unlike this seemingly intelligent one. Another hour later and a brownish blob faintly emerges in the distance. The closer the Crest Gets, the clearer it becomes. It now appears to be a tan and reddish brown... planet? Moon?
Din turns on his mapping system once more, and, even though it still says 'System Unknown', the powerful sonar composes a clear map, consisting of eight planets and well over one hundred moons. Out of all the planets, the signal seems to be coming from the sixth planet away; a blue and green world. With renewed hope, Din sets a course for this mysterious celestial body.
*****
Taking a deep, soothing breath, you sit up and stare at the scenery around you. Nature has always helped you to de-stress. Maybe a hike would clear your head. Rising to your feet, your head into the kitchen, placing your cup and plate in the sink. You reach to turn the tap on, but before you can even touch it, the whole kitchen starts to vibrate. Your hands fly to your ears, as a heavy rumble builds in intensity all around you, shaking the dishes and cups in your cupboards and then a rumble that almost burst your eardrums sounded directly above you.
What the hell? It sounds like engines. The sheer intensity of it all causes you to instinctively duck and cover your head. A few seconds later, the roar begins to fade somewhat and the shaking stops. You look around cautiously before bolting out the back door, eager to see what could cause such a ruckus. Outside, the blue sky remains undisturbed. You'd expected to maybe see a smoky trail or something, but all that remains of the disturbance is a distant rumble in the forest beyond your property.
Summary: You sustain a minor injury and while high on painkillers you ask Tommy to bring you to Joel. Who knew that being this off your face would bring out the truth you've been keeping from your best friend...
Warnings: Fluff, swearing, injury, established friendship, friends to lovers, protective Joel, idiots in love, no use of Y/N.
Word Count: 4, 252
"Son of a...!" The sharp, hot pain erupting through your shoulder steals your words and brings tears to your eyes. "Shit! You okay?!" You barely hear the voice over the pain. Tommy is crouching before you, his eyes searching you with worry. The horse you'd been tending to is shuffling nervously in the corner at the opposite end of the stall. "Oh fuck!" he exclaims, gawping at your arm. Following his gaze, you're horrified to see your arm dangling uselessly, your shoulder jutting out at an unnatural angle. "What...?" "I think it's dislocated," Tommy says grimly. You attempt to get up but the slightest jostle is agonising, and with a sharp gasp, you slump back down on your ass. "You need to get it reset. I"m gonna help you up and take you to the hospital, okay?"
You can't speak, you just grit your teeth and nod through the pain as Tommy eases you off the stable floor and walks you to the hospital. The doctor confirmed what Tommy had suspected and had set it back in place, but not without a barrage of unsavoury words from you. Now, as you're being lead through the streets by Tommy, your head is starting to float- or maybe it's your entire body. Whatever pain relief they'd given you, it's fucking great! Your steps feel a little out of sync with the rest of your body and you stagger a couple of times. "Whoa, steady," cautions Tommy, his voice sounding kind of distant as he guides you onto your street.
You begin to giggle but you don't know why. "What's so funny?" Tommy asks in amusement. "I have n- no idea," you say in a dreamy voice that doesn't quite sound like your own. Tommy lets out a small chuckle. "Whatever they've dosed you up with, I wouldn't mind some of that." He continues to steer you towards your house, which just so happens to be next door his brother's. "Are we there yet?" you moan. "What are you...? A five year old in the back of a car." Tommy jests. "I wish we s-still had cars," you sigh wistfully. "I love a road trip." "The only trip you'll be taking is over your own damn feet if you don't watch where you're stepping," Tommy mock scolds as he steadies you again. "I'm not sure it's a good idea to leave you alone like this," he says thoughtfully.
You glance at Joel's house and you smile when you see his lights are on. "I know... Take me t- to Joel. He'll... look after me." "Uh... I don't know about that?" Tommy answers hesitantly. Your head rolls to look at Tommy. "Why not?" You can't help but pout. "Because the second he sees you like this, he's gonna loose his shit." "But I like Joel," you smile around your pleading tone. "Yeah, I know ya do, hunny," he pauses, then adds quietly, "I think we all do." "Wa...?" Tommy shakes his head. "Nothing," he quips, suppressing a smile. You give him your best doe eyes and Tommy groans, "Fine, but... get ready for the shit storm."
*****
Joel sat on the bench on his back porch, guitar in his lap and a steaming mug of coffee on the table beside him. Strumming away, he allowed the slow melody to take his mind elsewhere... but not for long. Turning his head, he checks your house for the tenth time in several minutes. It's still dark; no sign of life. Strange, she's usually home by now, he thinks to himself. "Joel." Tommy's muffled call comes from within the house. "Joel!" Joel jumped up at the sudden urgency in his brother's voice. Leaving the guitar on the bench, he rushed into the house and stopped abruptly, his whole body going rigid at the sight of Tommy holding you up and, is that... a fucking sling?! "Heyyy..." You look up and give Joel a half dopey smile.
"What the fuck?!" burst Joel, his legs clearing the distance between you in a nanosecond. "Darling, what happened?!" He promptly took you from Tommy and ushered you into the living room, holding you carefully while you sat down on the settee. Joel whirled on his brother, fear and adrenaline making him sound harsher than he should be. "What the fuck happened to her, Tommy?!" "Dislocated her shoulder," Tommy replied factually. Joel blinked, stunned. "How the hell did that happen?!" "Don't yell at him," you slur slightly. "It was my fault. I wa- walked around the back of the- the horse and she spooked..." Your words trail off into quiet laughter and the brother's give each other quizzical looks. "The last thing I remember before hitting the st- stall was a giant horse's ass coming my way!"
The laughter then burst from you but with the force of it, so did the ache in your shoulder. "Ow! ow! ow!" Sucking in a sharp breath, you hold your throbbing arm. "Easy, easy darling," soothed Jeol, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his broad frame. "You're okay, I've got you." He tucked your head under his chin and rocked you slowly. "Why's she talkin' funny?" He looked up at Tommy with concern. "Pain killers. They've done a real number on her," Tommy answered with a sympathetic smile. "I was untacking my horse when I heard a big thump in the stall and when I got there she was on the floor." "Shiiit..." Joel dragged the word out. "What am I gonna with you, huh?" His tone was low, intimate bedside your ear.
"I'm sorry," you mumble. "I should have b- been more careful-" "Shhh, it's okay," Joel hummed, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, then he instantly froze. Shit! Did he really just do that? He didn't even think it through; all he saw was you in pain, sounding so fragile, and it was just a natural reflex. Tommy cleared his throat and when Joel looked up at him he saw a smirk hiding in the corner of Tommy's mouth. "She asked for you, Joel. Said you'd uh... 'look after her'". Joel shot a withering look at Tommy. "If you're busy I- I can go home. It's okay, Joel," you say, sitting up straight. "Absolutely not!" Joel replied. "You're not going anywhere. You did the right thing coming to me." Joel fixed you with a stern look, his protective instincts flaring. "Remember what I told you...? You get into trouble, you come to me."
The smile you gave him made his heart lurch; a smile that says, 'I trust you", and that... that is everything to Joel. You tuck yourself back into his neck and he relishes the feel of you where you belong- right here in his arms. "Well... I got a wife and son who are probably wondering where the hell I am, so I'll just see myself out," Tommy piped up and turned to walk away. "Tommy..." Joel called after him. He stopped and turned to Joel. "Thank you for taking care of her." His tone was laden with gratitude. Tommy nodded and smiled at Joel. "Thank you, Tommy," you echo. "It's no trouble, hunny. You feel better, okay." And with that, Tommy left, closing the front door behind him. Still snuggled into Joel's body, you let out a contented sigh. "You okay, darling?" Joel whispered.
"Hmm... yeah Just a- a little tired," you mumble into Joel's shirt. "It's probably a side affect of the medication. Why don't you take a nap?" suggested Joel, but that's not what you want right now; not when Joel's arm is around your waist and his warmth and scent are enveloping your senses. "No, no," you mumble sleepily. "I want to stay like this, please. This feels... nice." You hear an amused huff from Joel. "Okay, just hold on a minute..." You open your eyes to see him reach across the setee for a blanket, all the while never letting you go. When you both settle back into the cushions he drapes the blanket over you and brings his other arm across your body. "Comfy?" he hums. "Mmm... very," you sigh and lay your uninjured arm on his forearm, smoothing him in circles.
Countless times you've fantasized about being held by Joel like this and, even if you weren't woozy from the drugs, you're certain you'd still be light headed right now. "This is nice," you say again. "I like this... I- I like your arms..." Did you just say that? Huh, yeah you did and for some reason you're not mortified to admit it, so you continue, "Actually I looove your arms. They're big and- and strong..." Did you imagine it or did Joel just tense beside you? "... and I feel sooo s-safe in them." "Umm... okay, that's... good to know." Weird, his voice seems to have risen in pitch. "I love how you take c- care of me and how good you are to me." You bring your hand to rest on Joel's chest, right beside your head and tap. "I love your heart, and..." Oh, what the hell, "I love you, Joel."
Joel let out an awkward laugh. "Aw, love you too, darling." You can tell by his casual tone that he completely misunderstood your meaning. "No," You sit up, your face so close to his you can smell the coffee on his breath and you fix your eyes on his. "I mean I love you, Joel... more than a friend should." Whoa, what the hell is in these drugs? All this time you've lived with the feelings you have for your best friend, never having the guts to come clean and now it's like you have no filter. Joel's eyebrows shoot up and he looks completely astonished. After a moment, his eyes soften and he opens his mouth like he wants to say something and it's then you realise you've been holding your breath. His eyes drop to your lips and when they travel back to yours, you're sure you saw... something there. Longing? Desire?
Emboldened by Joel's reaction and the sudden sexual tension in the air, you lean in and, even though you're a little out of it, you see him lean in just a fraction. And that's when it happens. The atmosphere shifts and Joel jerks away, his eyes now anywhere but on you. Your heart plummets, right through your stomach and down to your feet. "Um- I uh... I'll go make us something to eat," Joel rushes, rising to his feet. "Joel...?" Your voice is a timid whisper and you hate the sound. He doesn't allow you to finish. "You must be hungry by now," he continues, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down. Oh, that's not a good sign! You've learned by now that's what he does when he's anxious. "You just take it easy in here, okay?" He doesn't wait for an answer, leaving the living room in just a few hurried strides.
Your breath leaves your lungs as if you've been punched, humiliation a rising tide. What have you just done?! Had you read the signs wrong the entire time? For a while now, there was a part of you that suspected Joel might feel something more for you beyond a platonic friendship, but reality is a brutal bitch. With a sickening feeling, you realise it was nothing more than wishful thinking. Tears burn your eyes but you blink them back. You've already shamed yourself enough for one day. You slump against the back of the settee, head lolled over the back of it and stare at the ceiling, which appears to be wobbling in your drug induced state. "What the fuck have I done?!" you whisper harshly to yourself. You want to cry, you want to die, you want a sink hole to swallow you whole. Hell, even being tossed into a pit of infected would be less painful than the hollow feeling where your heart once was.
Have you just ruined the best friendship you've ever had? You don't want to know the answer to that. Maybe you should leave quietly while Joel's distracted in the kitchen. No, he'd only come knocking on your door. You could go after him and talk this though like a mature adult... or you could just blame it on the medication and when he comes back in, you could just pretend it never happened. Indecision and frustration are having a tug of war in your mind. You close your eyes and take a deep breath to centre yourself, the fatigue you'd felt earlier only growing stronger. You have no choice; you'll just have to face the consequences of what you've done...
*****
In the kitchen, Joel is barely holding himself together as he absentmindedly heats up some leftover beef stew. He'd almost kissed you! You'd said all the right things, all the things he'd been dreaming to hear from you, looked at him with such sincerity, put your trust in him while you were vulnerable and he'd almost kissed you. Did you even mean it or was it the drugs talking? For a moment he'd believed it was all you and he wanted nothing more than show you how he feels about you, to claim your mouth with his own. But in the last moments before his lips met yours, realisation that you're in no fit state hit him like a sledgehammer, dousing the heat beneath his skin. He had to get out of there- for both of your sakes. He knows he did the right thing, so why does he feel like utter shit for it?
The worst part was the devastation written all over your face and he hates himself for it. It's taking all of his willpower to not walk back in there and finish what had almost started. He stirs the stew with a little more force than necessary, trying to channel his frustration into the motion. What the hell is he going to say to you when he goes back in there? It's not like you both can just ignore what happened. His worries were short lived though, when he walked back into the living room with two steaming bowls to find you asleep on the setee with your head tilted back, a soft snore filling the otherwise silent room. He placed the bowls on the coffee table and just observed you for a moment. He smiled softly as he sat down beside you.
"Hey..." he shook your knee gently, "Wake up, darling." "Mmm..." Your head slumped to the side and your eyes cracked open slightly before closing again. Removing the blanket form you, Joel slipped one arm behind your back and the other under your legs and carefully scooped you into his arms. His chest tightened with a rush of affection when you nuzzled you face deeper into his chest. What he wouldn't give to have you like this forever- just without the injury. He took the stairs carefully, bringing you into his bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed then took your boots off, leaving them beside the bed. Pulling the quilt over you, he tucked it up to your chin and swiped a few loose strands of hair off your face. Taking a moment to look over you, Joel smiled and whispered, "Sweet dreams, darling," then left the room with the door ajar.
You wake with a groan, fighting against the pull of your eyelids. When you finally manage to peel them open, it's to a room you've never seen before. Your adrenaline spikes and your eyes shoot wide open. What the hell...? In your disoriented state you, you attempt to bolt upright, only to be reminded of your fragile condition by the deep throb along your shoulder. Sucking in a pained breath, you lay back down and glance around the room, searching for any clues as to where you are. It only takes a moment to for you to notice Joel's jacket hanging over the back of a wooden chair and a guitar propped against the wall beside it. On the bedside table are a pair of reading glasses and a book on woodwork. This must be Joel's bedroom, but what the hell are you doing in here?
The last thing thing you remember is lazing on the settee and... Oh fuck! It hits you like a bucket of freezing water: Joel's arms around you, your mouth running away with you, the almost kiss... Your stomach twists into a knot and if you had the energy, you think you might just throw up. "Oh no, no, no!" You're voice comes out as a choked whisper, one hand covering your face in absolute motification. What the fuck were you thinking last night?! The memory of Joel's flustered face and quick departure bursts behind your eyelids. You couldn't have been more wrong about him, so what now? Have you ruined what you already have because you couldn't keep your damn mouth shut? How are you supposed to face him now? You drag yourself up- your head still a little heavy with sleep- and slide your legs over the side of the bed.
From the weak light spilling in through the thin curtains, you guess it must be pretty early. Maybe you could sneak out of here without alerting Joel... or maybe a black hole could open up and suck you in; that would be the preferred option right now. Alas, the universe is never that kind. Leaning forward, you grab your boots and after a few moments of one handed struggle, you manage to slip your feet in and stuff the laces in the sides. Being careful to make as little noise as possible, you creep across the bedroom floor and crack the door open, listening for any movement in the house; nothing. You breath a sigh of relief and step out onto the landing, taking extra care to step lightly as you make your way down the stairs.
Passing the living room, you see a pillow and a rumpled blanket on the settee. Shit, he's awake. Okay, get to the front door, your inner voice is screaming. You only make it half way before you hear a deep voice say "Good morning," from behind you. A high pitched gasp escapes you and you spin around to find Joel leaning against the kitchen door frame in loose, grey sweatpants and a creased white t-shirt, holding a mug of coffee in one hand. "Holy shit, Joel, you scared the hell out of me!" "Sorry," Joel says with a teasing tilt to his lips. "How's the shoulder?" "A little sore, but much better than yesterday," you reply. Joel smiled, looking relieved. "Good... I made coffee if you want some." You shift uncomfortably and you hate it. You've never felt uncomfortable around Joel the whole time you've known him.
"No thanks," you say, trying to sound casual. A lingering silence falls between you both and Joel looks at you is if he's unsure what to say next. God, the tension is stifling; you can barely look him in the eye. "How'd you sleep?" he finally says. "Okay... Uh, about that..." You grasp a hand with the other one, fingers fiddling with each other. "How did I end up in your..." Your cheeks flush at the thought of saying bed. That feels too intimate. "...um, room?" Joel walked towards you, setting his mug down on a low unit in the passage. "You fell asleep on the setee, so I took you up." Your mind flooded with thoughts of Joel carrying you upstairs and your stomach gave a little flip. You try your best to ignore it but you can feel your cheeks heating up again. "You should have woken me up, I would have gone home." Joel shook his head. "Not in that state. You were safer here where I could keep an eye on you."
"Well... thanks," you smile. Another silence falls and you can't take it anymore. "I should, uh... get... going," you splutter and Joel steps even closer. "What's the rush? Stay for breakfast," he urges, sounding hopeful. "Um, I can't. I-I need to go!" Inwardly, you cringe at the stammer in your voice and turn to leave. But before you can even take a step, you feel Joel's hand wrap around your wrist. "Wait," he says softly, and that one word alone has you freezing on the spot, your heart beginning a marathon. You turn to face him with what you hope is a neutral expression. "We need to talk," he insists, giving you the most intense look you've ever seen and you're not sure you're ready for this. "About what?" you ask casually- too casually.
Joel gives you a flat look. "You know what." You close your eyes for a moment and shake your head as if that alone could erase what you'd said last night. "Honestly, Joel, I'd rather forget it happened," you groan. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I- I wasn't thinking straight and I was high on painkillers-" "So, you didn't mean any of it?" Joel jumped in, his brows pinching together as he studied you. He looks disappointed. No that can't be right. Your mouth opens and closes again, your brain clearly lagging this morning. "Uh... it's not- that's not what I meant..." Joel's frown eased into a soft, almost smile. Your cheeks are a furnace now and you lower your gaze to his chest and begin to ramble, "I don't want to ruin our friendship, Joel. You're like my best friend and it's okay that you don't feel the same -" "You think I don't feel the same?" Joel's question catches you off guard, just as much as his sudden proximity.
He's dangerously close, his big chocolate eyes searing into yours. "Um, no..." you answer, but it sounds more like a question. "You made that clear last night." Joel huffed, smiling gently at you. "Darling, how long have we known each other?" Okaaay... Where's he going with this? "Uh... about a year," you reply, hesitantly. "And I have loved you. Every. Single. Day," he punctuated the last words. Jaw slack, you just stare at Joel as his words sink in. "But- but last night, you couldn't get away from me fast enough!" Joel sighed, pained. "I had to get away from you... or I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from doing this..." Before your brain could even compute, you were in Joel's strong arms, his lips crashing to yours with a hunger that rendered your legs useless and made your head swim.
Holy freaking shit! Joel Miller is kissing you. So all this time, you haven't been alone in your longing. He's wanted you too! Your trail your hand up his shoulder, along his neck and into his hair, gripping the curls and you can't stop the moan that comes out. In response, Joel's hold on you tightens and he slides his tongue inside your mouth, desperate for as much of you as he can get. He'd tossed and turned all night, torturing himself over wether you'd meant what you'd said. A part of him feared to hope; after all, what would a beautiful woman like you see in his old ass? But now tha you've laid all his doubts to rest, he couldn't be happier. All these months of loving you from a distance, of wanting you, of wanting to take care of you, had been chipping away at him. He's an idiot. Why didn't he say something to you sooner?
When you both pull apart, breathless and giddy, Joel says, "Now do you see how you make me feel and why I had to put some space between us? It was almost impossible for me to walk away but I wasn't bout to take advantage of you while you were high as a kite." You give him a teary smile and Joel's heart melts at the sight. "You're a good man, Joel Miller..." You place your hand on his chest, "With a good heart." Joel settles his hand over yours and smiles. "It's all yours, darling. For however long you want it." "Is forever okay?" you purr and Joel sighs happily, all the love, affection and tenderness he has for you welling up inside. He brings his hand to your cheek. "I love you, so much," he declares. "I love you too, Joel. God, we're idiots," you chuckle. "We wasted so much time dancing around our feelings for each other."
Joel's arms tightens around your waist in a possessive gesture that has your boobs pressed against his chest and it causes your pulse to race. "Well, we won't waste any more," he says, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your chest. "Agreed," you breathe and you kiss each other again, slow and deep. Oh, you're definitely not going to be able to get enough of that. After a few moments, Joel breaks the kiss and slides his hand into yours, fingers threading, and he begins to lead you to the kitchen. "Now, come on. You're still under my care and I'm making you breakfast." "Bossy," you laugh while snuggling against his arm. He turns his head, giving you a blinding smile. "But I like it," you grin. He replies with a wink that makes your insides go all gooey and you smile to yourself, knowing this is the start of something long awaited and beautiful.
Summary: Coming home after Lucy rejected his proposal might be one of the most embarrassing things Harry has to experience. But what if… Everything happens for a reason? What if something brand new surprises him on a terrace in his parents’ holiday house? What if it’s you, not Lucy, he’s been waiting for?
Rating: 18+
Warnings: alcohol consumption, angst, language, only one use of y/n, reader is younger than Harry but it’s not specified
Words: 2.1k
Notes: Welcome to my Harry Castillo one shot! I apologize for any mistakes, English is not my first language. Please do not copy my work, thanks!
Dividers by: @strangergraphics thank you!
masterlist
The night train is silent. Most would say it’s peaceful. People caught in a slumber, no loud conversations, no laughter.
Harry slowly regrets he didn’t pick the one in the afternoon.
He wonders if it would be easier in the bustling crowd. If the truth would be easier to handle.
No. No, it wouldn’t.
Because either way, he’s still alone here. Sitting in the corner in his compartment, staring out the window at the train station shrouded in quietness and absence of the usual jam.
She was supposed to be here with him.
Visit his family in Darien for his parents’ annual New Year’s Eve party. Smile politely and charm them with her witty responses.
He was supposed to finally show his family that he is capable of settling down, that he found the woman who fits perfectly into their family picture. Lucy was all that.
Instead he sits here like a failure, an idiot.
His mother’s ring weighing in his pocket.
The train departs, heading his destination. He could’ve just asked his driver to take him to Darien. Or drive there himself. Or even hire a helicopter. But he didn’t.
He remembered all these times when as a student he took trains to Darien and tonight, Harry felt it could save him. Sitting alone in his compartment, but at the same time being aware there are some people near. Having a moment of quietness to figure out what to do next. How to tell his family Lucy didn’t accept the proposal… How to save face.
He reaches to his pocket and grasps the red, velvet box. He opens it and stares at the beautiful, shiny Cartier ring. It’s vintage, his dad bought it when he was proposing to Harry’s mom. Did Harry really want Lucy to wear it?
Now, that he’s thinking about it… He is not sure.
This ring holds history. Holds a story about true love, something beautiful that later created him and his brother. Something real that lasts almost fifty years.
Would Lucy really be it?
With a sigh he snaps the box closed, which seems loud in the silent compartment. Over an hour left to get to the holiday home.
The moment Harry steps into the house, he’s hit with the warm scent of gingerbread and his mother’s famous roast. He hangs his wool coat on a hanger next to many other jackets. He can hear the echos of voices and laughs, clinking of the champagne glasses. All people here tonight are here to celebrate.
It makes a knot in his stomach tighten.
He came back with nothing. All the family friends, all his mom’s business associates… all his childhood friends will see he still didn’t bring a girl home. Despite all he said. Despite the fact he already told his mom he’s gonna propose.
He didn’t have it in him to call earlier and admit he failed.
And now, wearing an armor which his black turtleneck and slacks, holding a wine bottle… He steps into the big, elegant living room, where the party swings.
Guests notice him, his parents beam when he enters.
„Harry! You made it!” His mom is fast, already by his side with a grin, wearing a fancy emerald dress. She always likes to impress with her clothes and the parties she hosts.
„Hello, mother.” Harry hands her the bottle and kisses her cheek.
But the moment she notices there is no one at his side… Her smile fades.
„Son… Where is Lucy? She in the bathroom?” She glances around searching for his fiancée. At least that’s what she thinks.
His dad approaches just perfectly to hear his wife’s question. The raised eyebrow of an oldest Castillo makes a drop of sweat trail down Harry’s neck, beneath the fabric of his turtleneck.
„N-no. I came by myself.”
„Oh, she couldn’t make it?”
„No, we… split up. She rejected the proposal.” He finally says, trying to keep his voice steady, like he wasn’t facing the biggest embarrassment in the new year.
His parents’ faces are expressing pure shock. That’s definitely not what they expected.
„What do you mean she rejected?” His dad frowns.
„I mean, she saw the ring, told me she doesn’t want it and left. What’s there to understand?”
„But… You must have done something wrong! I can’t believe she would just…” his mom tries, but he cuts her off. „God, we’re two adult people who realized they don’t love each other the right way. I’m here alone, I brought wine. The end of story.” He sighs.
His parents stare at him. But under the layer of disbelief he can see the disappointment.
Once again Harry Castillo proved he’s not capable of relationships.
Some guests standing near also heard the conversation. Harry can feel the lingering, pitying eyes on him. He fucking hates being here.
„It’s a wonderful party, mother. You outdo yourself every year.” He steps to pass his parents. „Happy New Year.” He pats his father’s arm and goes straight to the table with Dom Pérignon glasses. He grabs one and huffs under his breath. It seems ironic. Everyone’s here drinking champagne to celebrate, while Harry feels like it’s the last thing he wants to do.
He just has nothing to celebrate. Just another lonely year.
Some people approach him, talking, wishing Happy New Year. He keeps the polite smile glued to his face. It’s what he’s supposed to do.
Harry tries to not wonder how it would look if Lucy was here, but… He would stand in the middle, with an arm wrapped around her waist. Say proudly she’s his fiancée. She would show off the ring which is the family heritage. Everyone would gasp delighted. Everyone would see he has finally found the one…
Yeah, he tries to not wonder what if.
He stands by the window. The beautiful garden, always blooming in the summer, now covered in snow. The lights gently illuminating it, making the white, cold blanket shimmering.
Despite what others might think… Harry feels kind of relieved. Once Lucy told him it’s over… He couldn’t help, but take a deeper breath. Because deep down… he knew she was right. They didn’t love each other. He just wanted to have a wife, so his mom would let him be and Lucy just wanted his money.
It’s just the feeling of loneliness that got him so thoughtful.
Is he really this horrible, arrogant person that is too afraid to love someone?
Or he just hasn’t met the right one yet?
He tears his gaze away from the window just to see some woman steal one of the champagne bottles and quickly sneaking out towards the hallway. He chuckles and decides to check what she’s up to. He is not sure if he ever saw her…
Harry sees her leaving through the backdoor to a terrace. He hesitates for a moment, standing alone in the hallway. He can go back to the party and deal with all the pitying eyes, or… Go outside where there’s no one, but this stranger. Her idea is better.
So without even grabbing his coat, he slides the door open and instantly shivers at the cold temperature. The mysterious woman is sitting in one of the chairs left there. The terrace is under the roof, so at least there is no snow here.
She looks up at him, surprised and a bit disappointed she’s no longer alone.
„This seat taken?” He nods at the second chair next to her. For a longer moment their eyes just linger, but finally she speaks. „No.”
Harry sits down, glancing at the windows and the guests too busy to notice someone is freezing their asses off outside. The woman uses the corkscrew and soon the Dom Pérignon opens with a pop. She takes a swig from the bottle and he just watches from the side.
„Sorry, I didn’t bring any glasses.” She says.
„That’s okay.” He cracks a smile. „I see you’re celebrating big time.”
„Oh, yeah.” She chuckles from above the rim. He notices her eyes crinkle beautifully in the dim light of the night. They reflect the snow covering the grass.
She bites her lip, like she’s hesitating, but then hands him the bottle. Harry accepts it and also takes a swig of champagne. Yeah… Celebrating.
„So… Is there any particular occasion besides the New Year?”
The woman huffs, half amused, half… sad. Like the weight is too much, but she still tries to say it’s okay.
„Yeah, ugh, let’s see… I lost my job a week ago.” She has a big smile on her face. „And my boyfriend broke up with me the same fucking week! That means I had to move out, so now I also don’t have a place to stay.”
„Oh, fuck.” Harry breathes surprised.
„So many reasons to celebrate over the champagne.” She says and grabs the bottle to have another sip. „And you? You seemed pretty occupied there.”
„Ugh… I asked a girl to marry me. She said no.”
He stares ahead at the glimmering snow, at the way it’s still slowly falling. The woman observes his profile. She admires the curve of his nose and the stoic expression on his face. They both stopped shivering already, the alcohol doing its magic.
„You don’t seem very concerned.” She notices and that makes him chuckle.
He has no idea who she is, but, God, she actually makes this party bearable.
„Yeah… I don’t think I ever really loved her. But still… Being forty eight and not having a family already is a failure, isn’t it?”
„Nah, didn’t you hear my story? That is a failure.” She laughs quietly and he joins her.
„So.” She hands him the bottle again. „Let’s just drink and celebrate our miserable lives.”
Harry lays his eyes on the Dom Pérignon, then shifts his gaze to the stranger. He has no idea who she is and how the hell she got to his holiday house… But he’s glad she did. It’s the first time since Lucy left him that he feels better about himself.
Without a word, he accepts the bottle.
„To our miserable lives.” He raises it and takes a swig.
They sit there for a while, just talking. They laugh at aunt Mildred stucking the appetizers to her Gucci bag. Or try to stay silent and don’t move when Harry’s dad is looking out the window. He probably searches for his son. But Harry is comfortable just where he is now.
„So… What are you doing here actually?” He whispers after a moment and she glances at him. „My mom is a caretaker of this house, when your parents are not here. I’m currently living with her.”
„Wait, you’re Catherine’s daughter? You’re y/n?”
He stares shocked, because now he remembers you. You’re not a stranger woman. You’re you. The one he spent some time with when he was younger. There was Harry, his brother, their cousins and sometimes you. You were the youngest, always following them, until they were done with your presence.
„Yep. We played pool together, remember?”
„Yes. You were pretty good for a six-years-old.” He chuckles. „I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you earlier.”
„Oh, come on. I wouldn’t recognize myself either. We were kids then. Especially me.” You say smiling. „You’re right… A lot changed in you.” He says and then coughs. „For better, I mean.”
You smirk to yourself and let your eyes linger. You always had a little crush on him. And now that you’re both grown… This hasn’t changed. He’s an attractive man.
But for now… it doesn’t mean anything. You’re just drinking outside in the middle of the winter. Two people who feel like failures, like there is something wrong with them… Finding solace in this. Whatever this is.
After a moment of silence, a smile grows wider on your face, like you just came up with an idea.
„Do you want to go to the beach?”
„The beach?” He huffs surprised.
He came to Darien feeling like a complete idiot. He was standing on that party while others just stared at him. Harry Castillo is always an attraction, especially when his yet another relationship ends. He felt awful until he saw you sneaking out. Until he saw this smile on your face you kept despite your own problems.
Now, even his mother’s ring stopped weighing him so much in his pocket.
„Unless you want to go back inside?” You raise an eyebrow and that’s when he knows.
„Let me grab our coats.”
A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, I always look forward to your comments. Cheers🩷
Here's a little sneak peak of a fluffy short story I'm currently working on. It's inspired by the scene from season 2 where Ellie burns her arm, but instead of Ellie, it's you who's been hurt and while you're high on pain medication, you go a little loopy and end up confessing your hidden feelings to Joel.
"What am I gonna do with you, huh?" said Joel, his tone low and intimate. "Sorry," you mumble. "I should have b- been more careful." "Shhh... It's okay," he hummed, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. Joel froze. Shit! Did he really just do that?!" He didn't even think it through. All he saw was you in pain, sounding so fragile and it was a natural reflex. Tommy cleared his throat, the corner of his mouth quirking. "She asked for you Joel. Said you'd uh... look after her." Joel shot a glare at Tommy's smug face. "If you're busy I- I can go home, it's okay, Joel," you say, beginning to stand. "Absolutely not!" Joel gently pulled you back down on to the settee. "You're not going anywhere. You did the right thing, coming to me," his tone turned soft. "Remember what I told you? You get into trouble... you come to me."
Summary: In the aftermath of recent events, you and Joel realise what's important...
Warnings: Swearing, injury, mention of blood, fluff
Word Count: 4,826
Amongst the cacophony of shrieks and clicks comes the unmistakable sound of barking, growing louder and closer as the seconds pass, which is then joined by the heavy pounding of horse hoofs and the sudden explosion of gun fire. Dogs burst through the trees, launching themselves into the Clicker's and Runner's at ground level, tearing at their throats with brutal force. Horses- probably about twenty of them- spill into the fray, your fellow towns-men and women atop them slaying any infected charging their way. Your breath catches, heart leaping in your chest at the sight of Joel amidst the carnage, dispatching the monsters with expertise. He's here! He came! A strangled sob- both of relief and disbelief- bursts from your chest as you both lock eyes at the same time, his dark and intense expression silently saying, 'I've got your back' before he shifts his focus back to the rabid horde, storing his rifle in the saddle bag and pulling out his Revolver.
A Clicker scutters it's way towards Joel's horse, limbs flailing and swiping at the air, it's vocals piercing. Joel aims his Revolver and squeezes the trigger, landing one right where it's eyes used to be and the deformed creature drops instantly. Two Runners hurtle towards him and the man mounted next to him and both men make short work of them. Joel then switches back to his rifle and aims for the watchtower. Dread licks up his spine, seeing how close they are to you while you have no way to defend yourself. He fires but misses, cursing under his heavy breathing. He realises he's rushing and forces himself to still. Releasing a slow, controlled breath, he squeezes the trigger and the infected falls. A handful of people help Joel in picking of the rest of the climbers one by one, the tight cord of anxiety in his chest loosening with every hit. That's one less threat to you and his baby.
Around him, man and dog work together, executing monster after monster until, at last, everything stilled. "Is everyone okay up there?" Tommy yelled, dismounting his horse. "We're fine," Jesse answered. "Y/N?" Joel called up, needing to hear it from you instead of Jesse. "I'm okay, Joel." You raise your hand and give him a small smile. Joel exhaled, his eyes momentarily closing in overwhelming relief. You're alive, you're safe. He didn't lose you today. "We're coming down," you tell him. Joel leaped down from his horse and rushed to the bottom of the ladder. "Careful now. Watch your footing," he cautioned as you began to climb down. You dont' think you've ever felt this elated in your life. Only minutes ago you'd accepted the heartbreaking realisation that you'd never see Joel again, that your baby would never see this world or meet it's father and now here he is.
In the midst of unspeakable danger he came for both of you. It suddenly dawns on you with startling clarity; that this is what real love looks like. It's been right before you the whole time. As you reach the last couple of rungs you feel Joel's hands on your hips, steadying you as you step down. "Sweetheart, are- oof!" You didn't give Joel a chance to finish. Your body moved of it's own accord, spinning in his hands, and you fling your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to meet you in a crushing hug. He feels warm and familiar and safe. He feels like home. His arms loop around you, one over your back, the other on the back of your head and he buries his face in your neck for a long moment. Nothing else exists right now; it's just you and Joel. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Joel," you sniffle. "Shhh..." comforted Joel, standing to his full height and cradling your head against his chest. "It's okay, you're safe," Joel says repeatedly, and you get the feeling he's saying it for himself as much as he is for you.
His hands come up to cup your cheeks, gently tilting your tear streaked face up to look him in the eyes. There's a hint of fear and uncertainty in them. "Are you hurt? Is the baby alright," he asks, his voice wrought with emotion. Placing your hand over your small bump you reassure him. "We're alright... thanks to you." Relief washes over Joel's features and his eyes linger on your face for a beat, as if he can't believe you're real. "Never scare me like that, again... ever!" he demanded, but there was no anger in his tone, just raw fear. It makes your heart clamp in your chest. "I'm sorry, Joel. I should have list-" The ground was suddnenly before you instead of Joel, your hands and knees taking the impact, luckily. A ragged scream pierced your ears and when you turned around, the world slowed down as you helplessly watch Joel being tackled by an injured infected. The sound of Joel's skull hitting the tree directly behind him made your stomach churn.
"Joooel!" His name tore through your chest, scratching your throat raw. You shoot to your feet but before you can take a step, an air splitting boom reverberates all around you and the raging infected drops dead. "Joel! Are you okay?! Are you bit?!" Grabbing him by the shoulders, you help him slide down the tree until he's sitting on his backside, all the while firing frantic questions at him. He just blinks rapidly instead of answering. "Holy shit, Joel!" Tommy exclaims, lowering his rifle and dropping to his knees in front of him. "Joel, answer me. Are you bit?!" you repeat. "I- I don't- think so," he stammers. "No, no he's okay..." Tommy breathes out in relief. "If he was the dogs would be tearing him apart." "That's comforting," Joel quipped. He tried to stand but his legs were like jelly and the sudden movement sent a jolt of pain form the back of his head to his forhead.
He groaned, clutching the back of his head. When he pulled his hand away, his fingers were red and sticky and the smell of iron was overwhelming. "Oh fuck! He's bleeding!" Your voice rose in panic. "He needs help." "No, I'm fine," he mumbled, head still a little fuzzy. "You're not fine!" you cried. "Can you stand?" asked Tommy, shouldering his gun and reaching his hand out to Joel. Joel clasped his wrist and with Tommy's and your help, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, swaying slightly. His head finally cleared enough to think and that's when the panic hit him like a freight train. The baby! Joel whirled to face you, ignoring the stabbing pain behind his eyes. "Fuck! Are you hurt? I'm sorry, I had no choice. If I hadn't acted fast-" "Joel..." you took his face in your hands, the motion silencing him.
"I'm not hurt. I didn't land on my stomach, okay... But you're bleeding. We have to get you to the hospital, now"! "You need to get checked, too," Joel stressed. "You both do," Tommy cut in, his voice carrying finality. "Let's go." Joel lead you over to Old Beardy and helped you up before hauling himself up behind you, his arms caging you in as he took the reins. The jostle made his head swim and his stomach turn over. "Joel?" You look over your shoulder, worry dipping your brow. "I'm fine," he smiled, and he is. As long as you are in his arms, safe, breathing, he's okay.
*****
"Mr Miller, I need you keep still, please," exasperated one of Jackson's newest doctors- a young man, probably no older than 30- while he turned Joel's head forward for the umpteenth time. You lay on the examination table next to Joel, answering Beth's questions as she pokes and prods gently around your belly. At 63, she's one of the most experienced midwives in the town and Joel insisted she be the one to check you and the baby. When you'd both arrived, Joel refused to be separated from you to be seen in another room, no matter how much you'd insisted he needed immediate attention. The only way you'd gotten him to agree to treatment was if you were in the same room. "OKay, all done with the stitches," said the doctor, applying a gauze to the back of Joel's head. "The wound isn't too deep. You'll need to avoid getting the area wet while you're healing. You've got a mild concussion so you'll need to take it easy for the next couple of days."
Thank you," Joel replied, almost robotically. His mind was solely focused on you and what the midwife was saying. "Everything feels fine," she smiles with a kind of motherly warmth. "I'm just going to take your blood pressure then we'll listen to baby's heartbeat." You blink at Beth in surprise. "You can do that here?" "We recently traded for a Sonicaid," she said proudly. "You're lucky; you're the first to use it." Joel was by your side in an instant. "Joel, you shouldn't be on your feet," you tell him as Beth wraps a pressure cuff around your arm. "I'm fine..." he smiles down at you, resting his hand on your shoulder. "I'm not going to miss this." You smile back at him and it hits you; how lucky you both are to be here to witness this. Today could have ended so differently.
"One twenty over eighty, that's good," Beth states then turns to a trolly to pick up the Sonicaid. "You ready to hear your baby?" she grins at you both. Together you nod, anticipation stealing your words. Joel's hand finds yours and he grips it firmly as if he needs you to anchor him in this moment. You squeeze him back as the midwife places the doppler on your stomach and presses the button on the device. White noise fills the silence and there, in the midst of it is a strong rhythmic thumping. You gasp and you hear Joel take a sharp intake of breath. "There it is..." Beth beams. "A beautiful, strong heartbeat." Tears tingle your eyes and for a moment, you're speechless. Your eyes travel to Joel's, who looks just as awed as you feel, his eyes also glassy. "That's our baby, Joel," you say, voice thick with emotion. Now you can her the heartbeat, it makes it all the more real.
Joel exhaled with a big smile, obviously trying- and failing to keep his emotions under control. "I never-" He cleared his throat. "I never thought this would happen to me again, especially at this time in my life..." he paused and you waited to see where he was going with this. "But I'm so glad it did." It was as if a switch had just been flipped and you burst into tears, one hand coming up to cover your mouth, the other still in Joel's warm grip. You can no longer doubt him. He wants the baby, really wants it! "Hey, hey... it's okay," Joel soothed helping you to sit up. "I'll leave you two alone," Beth said as she packed away the device, then left the room. "Sweetheart...? Why are you crying?" Joel tucked you into his broad chest, his scent of leather and woodshavings comforting you. "All this time, I wasn't sure you really wanted this. I thought you felt... obligated," you sniffle against his shirt, "But now I know, I know you want the baby... and me. You came for me, Joel. You came!"
Joel held you tighter, his lips pressed to your head. "Of course I came for you!" Now his voice shook with emotion. "How could I do anything else?! You're my everything, you and the baby. It was never about not wanting it." He paused, then in a softer tone he said, "I was scared... of what could happen to you, to the baby. I'm not trying to make excuses," he quickly added. "I allowed that fear to control me and I'll always regret that." "I d- did that, too. I let m- my own fear push you away and I'm sorry," you say, pulling away to meet his gaze. The smile he gave you was so soft that your heart actually ached. His thumb came up to wipe away a tear and suddenly the air between you both shifted, longing and desire entwining. Joel's eyes dropped to your lips for a brief moment, but you caught it. Your heart picked up the pace and the need to have Joel's lips on yours superseded everything else in this moment. With your eyes on each other's, Joel dipped his head and you tilted yours up in response. You could practically taste the kiss that was coming; a taste you know all too well and have missed immensely.
"Where are they?!" Ellie's high pitched voice carried through the corridor outside your room, breaking you both from the spell that had settled over you. Disappointment washed over you and you could tell Joel felt the same way. "We'll talk later," he promised, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead then stood back just enough not appear suspicious. The door flung open, a breathless Ellie charging over to you both, followed by Tommy and Maria. "What the fuck you two...!" she exclaimed, her wide hazel eyes darting between you and Joel. "It's all over town you were attacked by infected and..." she looked to Joel, "that one of them got the jump on you." Joel raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Calm down, kiddo. We're okay." "You sure?" she pressed. "What about the baby?" "Baby's fine, Ellie. I promise," you assure her. Ellie released a long breath, her rigid posture easing. "Thank god everyone's okay," said Maria, coming over to give you a quick hug.
"What'd the doctor say?" Tommy asked Joel, pointing to his head. "Just a mild concussion," Joel shrugged. "Nothing to worry about." "You two scared the shit outta me," Ellie huffed. "Come here." Joel stepped towards her, taking her under his arm. She gave him a quick hug then straightened up. Joel swayed a little as he let go, his balance a little off. "You need to sit down, Joel," you insist and are surprised when for once, Joel does as he's told and doesn't reply with his usual 'I'm fine'. "Knock Knock," the doctor enters with a professional smile. "You're both cleared to go. These are for any headaches you may get..." he said, handing Joel a packet of paracetamol. "If you experience any severe pain or start to feel worse, come here immediately." "Thank you," Joel replied, pocketing the medicine. "You'll also need someone to keep an eye on you for the next forty eight hours, just to be on the safe side."
"I'll do it," you say quickly, causing all heads to turn your way. A pleased grin spread over Ellie's face, which you choose to ignore. Joel gives you an appreciative smile. "Good idea," chirped Ellie, "You can sleep in my old room... or not," she added with a wink. Tommy stepped beside her, his head dipped to her ear. "You really need to learn the art of subtlety, Ellie," he remarked, but couldn't hide the amusement in his voice. "Well," Tommy smiled at you both, "Let's get you two home."
*****
Joel was restless, just sitting around while you and Ellie prepared dinner. Despite a couple of attempts to help out, youe both sent him back to the living room under strict orders to relax. HIs head still aches and he still gets a little dizzy with fast or sudden movement, but it's a small price to pay to have you here. Laying his head against the back of his chair, a smile lifts the corner of his lips at the sounds of you and Ellie chatting and laughing just like old times. The house has been nothing but a cold, barren shell without you here these last couple of months, and Joel knows it now more than ever, that you are his home, not these four walls. You all settle into dinner with surprising comfort, with Ellie doing most of the talking- wether it be some of those terrible puns or the latest gossip around town- and shared, soft glances between you and Joel. The conversation you didn't get to finish earlier lingers in your mind. You still have so much you want to say.
After dinner Ellie helped you with the dishes, then conviniently remembered she has an art project she needs to complete for class tomorrow and excused herself to her garage, giving you a wink as she headed for the back door. It's just you and Joel now and your stomach gives a nervous flip, just like it used to whenever he'd speak to you before you got together. You give yourself a minute to calm your nerves by making you both a cup of tea, then take the mugs to the living room where Joel is sitting on the settee. He moves over- a silent invitation for you to join him- and thanks you when you place his mug down on the coffee table. "How are you feeling now?" you ask, blowing over the rim of your mug. "A little tired and achy, but I'm fine," Joel answers, picking up his mug. You both take a long sip. Maybe you both need to steady yourselves for what's going to be an emotional conversation.
"Joel, I'm-" "Can we-" you both start at the same time, then stop, sheepish smiles on your faces. "You go ahead," Joel offered. Your smile fades as the seriousness of the matter falls over you both. "I'm so sorry, Joel, for everything. For pushing you away, for not trusting you, for going out there when you asked me not to." The words come tumbling out, along with the anguish you'd been bottling up for so long. "I put our baby in danger today and you could have died because of me!" Joel took your hand in his. "You're not responsible for what happened today. No one could have seen this coming. Hell, even yesterday's patrol found no evidence of such a large group, so I don't want you blaming yourself, okay?" You shake your head, knowing he's just trying to ease you guilt. "Okay?" Joel repeated firmer this time, looking at you from under his brows. You sigh, "Okay."
"And I'm sorry too," he went on. "For everything I put you through. For not being there when you needed me the most..." He lowered his head, shame weighing down his words. "For making you do this alone." "But I wasn't alone... was I?" you smile softly at him when his eyes meet yours. "Not really. You were always there. Even when I kept pushing you away, you were there for me. You never gave up, and today..." you exhale slowly, gratitude flooding your heart, "You risked everything to come for me. I don't know what else to say other than... thank you!" Joel smiled and pulled you into his chest, his hands stroking up and down your arms. "You don't ever have to thank me for doing what I'd do again in a heartbeat. I'll always protect you, Y/N." "I love you, Joel," you say, voice shaking with emotion. "I never stopped. I couldn't if I tried." "I love you too, baby. So damn much!" he hummed and hugged you tighter.
Sitting up, you look into the deep caramel of Joel's eyes. "I promise, I won't go out there again any time soon." Instant relief painted Joel features. "Good. I was ready to tie you to your bed before letting you go out there again," he smirked. You couldn't help but laugh at that. Joel brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb smoothing over your bottom lip. When his eyes return to yours he notices your pupils have widened and he can't hold himself back any longer. He brushes his lips against yours, slow at first, before sliding his tongue along your lower lip. When you immediately open for him, he delves in, his tongue caressing yours, one hand on your waist, the other holding the back of your head. You are now chest to chest, hands roving as if you're both mapping each other's bodies all over again. You moan into his mouth and Joel thinks he could die a happy man right now.
He was so afraid he'd broken what you two had, but with time and patience, and your forgiveness he's been granted a second chance- and he'll never fail you again. When you both break the kiss, breathless and flushed, he presses his forehead to yours. "I missed you so much, baby," he whispers. "I missed too," you reply, giving him one more peck on the lips. Joel's eyes crinkle in the corners as he smiles and looks down at your belly. With everything that had happened, he is yet to feel the life growing inside you. "Can I feel?" he asks hesitantly. "You never have to ask, Joel. This is your baby, too," you smile. Joel places a hand over the curve of your stomach and all the tension in his shoulders evaporates. His heart feels so full and so light at the same time. "Hey there, Peanut," he gushes. "I'm your dad and I'm gonna take good care of you and your mom."
You smooth your hand over his. "So you still want me then?" you ask with a teasing lilt. Joe chuckled, "What do you think?" He kisses you again, savouring the feel of you in his arms where you belong. After a few moments he pulls away. "Come with me. I want to show you something." He leads you upstairs and you both stop outside the door to his woodwork studio. He suddenly looks a little nervous as he opens the door and gestures for you to go first. The familiar smell of wood shavings greets you as you step inside and that's when you see it; a cream coloured cot in pristine condition, tucked away in the corner of the room. In an almost trance like state, you approach it. "Joel..." the air leaves your lungs in a rush of emotion as you run your fingers along the bars. "Was in a hell of a state when I found it," he explained. "I managed to restore it and gave it a fresh lick of paint. I'm also working on a rocking chair..." he points to to a couple of curved pieces of wood on his work bench.
"I thought it would make night feeds a little more comfortable for you." You turn to look at Joel and take in the man before you with such love and adoration you can feel it like a physical force inside you, dying to burst out. Never in your life have you known a more selfless and caring man! You pull him into you in a bone crushing hug and you can feel the chuckle rumble through his chest. "I can't beleive you did all of this," you say with a choked voice. "Our baby is the luckiest baby in the world, having you as a father." "I'll try to be the best father and partner I can be," Joel whispered. Pulling back, you meet Joel's teary gaze. "You already are," you gush, and kiss him again.
The rest of the evening passed by with hopeful conversations about the future, a discussion of baby names and Joel even shared with you some of his most cherished memories of Sarah as a baby, and how she would have doated on her new baby brother or sister. Before you knew it, a few hours had passed and after your third yawn in ten minutes, Joel stood and offered you his hand. "Let's get you to bed, sweetheart. You look exhausted." "Hey..." you mock scold him while taking his hand to get up. "I'm supposed to be looking after you, remember?" Joel smiled and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. "We'll take care of each other." As he leads you to what is once again your shared bedroom, you feel what you haven't in months: Safe, loved and back where you belong.
Eighteen months later:
You stand in the living room window, little Chloe Miller bouncing with excitement in your arms as you both watch Joel walking up the garden path. "Da da, da da, da da!!" she squeals and you laugh as she tries to wriggle form your hold. Joel's face lights up when he hears his daughter's excitement and he jogs the last few paces to the steps of the front porch "Okay, okay, wriggler!" you giggle as you place her down on her chubby, unsteady legs in the hallway opposite the front door. Last week she'd taken her first steps and since then you've brought her to the door so she can walk to her daddy after every shift. Joel opens the door, a big adoring smile on his handsome face as he crouches down into a squat with open arms. "There's my baby girl," he cooed. "Come on, then. Come give Da da a kiss." You let go of her hands and she wobbles her way over to Joel, her enthusiasm getting the better of her and she falls into his waiting arms on the last step.
"Clever girl, you did it!" burst Joel, giving her kisses all over. He squeals of pure delight are heavenly in a hellish world. "Hi baby," Joel purrs, shuffling Chloe into one arm and wrapping the other around you. He gives you a deep kiss, which is disturbed by a little mouth pressing against your cheek. Laughing, you break your kiss with Joel. "Oh, I've still got plenty of kisses for you too, angel," you say and sink your lips into her plump, pink cheek. She giggles and turns away, burying her face in her father's neck. "How have my girls been today?" Joel asks, looking between you both. It still hits him out of the blue every now and then, how fortunate he is to have this little piece of domesticity with a loving family that is his very heartbeat. "We're good, but we missed you... Didn't we?" you grin, squishing Chloe's cheek. "I missed you both too," Joel smiled, then groaned as he stretched his back.
He's definitely feeling the strain of physical labour these days, but he wouldn't have it any other way. His family is worth every ache. "Dinner's almost ready. You go and relax with Chloe while I dish up," you tell him and head for the kitchen. Eliie joined you for dinner, drawing peals of laughter from Chloe as she plays 'Here comes the aeroplane' with her spoon but let's it 'crash' onto her high chair tray before it reaches her mouth. It's moments like this that you know you'll revisit when you're old and grey. Ellie stays for a little while after dinner, then as is expected from a teenager, she retreats to her "Sanctuary' as she's began to call it. Chloe lets out a long yawn form where she's playing with her plush toys and wooden blocks (carved by Joel) on the living room rug. "Okay, baby girl. Bedtime," Joel hums softly, scooping her up from the floor. "Give mommy a kiss."
He brings her over to you and she plants a soggy one right on your cheek." "Mwah!" you exaggerate the sound as you kiss her on her cheek too. "Goodnight, sweetheart." Joel takes her upstairs while you tidy the tornado sight that is your living room. Who'd have thought one tiny person could create such destruction, you laugh to yourself. A few minutes later the strum of Joel's guitar floats down the stairs and you can't help but smile. This man was born to be a father. The shock of the pregnancy had forced the both of you to confront your darkest fears and in the end it had brought you closer together. He took to new born parenting like he'd never truly forgotten it and he's never seemed more content. He'd even joked on a few occasions, that if you end up pregnant again, it had better be a boy so that- quote- "You three girls can gang up on him instead". And that's why you're not afraid of what you have to share with him now.
Ten minutes later, Joel comes down the stairs and slumps onto the settee with a huff. You place two mugs of tea on the coffee table and settle in beside him. "Thank you, baby," Joel smiles, taking a sip. "Joel..." you say while he sets the mug down, unable to keep the smile off your face as he looks at you expectantly. "I have something to tell you."
