Always keep fighting

You can call me Niffi, Tv series, movies, addicted to reading, she/her, 20's

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Chapter 35: Beautiful

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Doctor Female Reader Chapter Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Chapter Summary: Joel now knows the universe did the right thing when it let him live again. He wasn’t being punished for surviving, no, he was given a second chance to do it all over again. Chapter Warnings: time jump, love, smut, sick child mention, joel miller #1 husband award winner, chapter made writer cry multiple times, happily ever after Words: 6,650

A/N: What started as an offhanded idea I had while making dinner has now turned into a full 200,000 word story about love, redemption, family, and healing (ofc). I hope I've done the character of Joel justice. I could never have done this without my beloveds @schnarfer and @mothandpidgeon and their unwavering support and links to my Google Docs. Feels crazy that we're here now, exactly 15 months after the first chapter. Thank you for being with me at the finish line. I listened to a lot of "Sidelines" by Phoebe Bridgers while writing this chapter. 💞

Healed Masterlist | Healed Playlist | Healed, The Video Edit | AO3

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

—-

Spring, 2035

The bed is empty when you wake. Joel is already up and in his workshop. Your robe hanging on the hook is more frayed and faded than it once was, and you grab it, cinch the tie around your waist, and cross the hall to what was once Ellie’s room.

Behind the closed door, you can hear progress: a tool setting down, a drawer opening, the whir of the Dremel. When you step in, you see your husband, hunched in concentration over the worktable, his broad back to you, the white of his shirt stretching across his shoulders.

You wait for the Dremel to stop working before you greet him. “Happy anniversary.”

Joel turns, the dimple-deepening, eye-crinkling smile that makes you melt even after all these years lighting his face. “Hey, baby, happy anniversary,” he greets.

You look past him, at the progress laid across the worktable. “How’s it going?”

“Good, just have to finish some of the detailing on the lid.” He holds up a piece of wood, turning it to show the grooves of what he’s been carving. “See, I’ve got the beveling mostly done, but the chamfer edges need a finer grit, and I can’t rush that part.”

You still don’t know what chamfer means. You’ve heard him say it a dozen times, and each time it sounds more like a type of wine than some sort of woodworking term. But the way his voice sounds, all low and assured when he talks about the wood, like he truly understands it, makes you want to listen to him forever.

“Then I gotta double-check the rabbet joints. If I don’t get the fit right, the whole thing’ll warp once any type ‘a humidity hits it. And then JJ’s gonna be without a toybox.

JJ.

Patrollers had found him three springs ago, left in the car off an old, abandoned highway. Barely even walking at the age of around two years old. You had been called into the clinic on that day, your and Joel’s second anniversary, to assess him. He was so small and helpless then, feverish, weak, and malnourished. Dina had been tasked with taking care of him at the clinic, bonding with him in that maternal way as she nursed him back to health, and she just couldn’t imagine her life without him. Now, the almost-five-year-old is the light of her and Ellie’s life, as well as yours and Joel’s.

You walk over to your handsome husband, brushing the more-gray hair from his forehead, pressing your lips against his warm skin. The memory shows only for a second: Joel’s battered and bloodied body dying in the street. A stranger then, just a patient you had to save. And now his hands are covered in sawdust, and he’s building a toybox for a boy who calls him Grampa. It’s a miracle. “He’s going to love it,” you say softly. “It’s perfect.”

He tilts his head, looks at you with those big, brown eyes of his. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” you assure. “You made it for him… and we all know Grampa Joel can do no wrong.”

Joel’s face softens, those furrowed eyebrows of his loosening. He sets the toybox lid down, runs a calloused thumb over the edge he just smoothed. “Still not sure if I like the dinosaurs on the front.”

“What’s wrong with them?” you ask, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, resting your head on one.

“Look a bit foolish, don’t they?” “They don’t. JJ’s gonna lose his mind. He’ll probably try to sleep in the thing.”

The rumble of Joel’s chuckle travels through your arms draped around him. “Gonna be breakin’ all the rules just like his mama.”

“And he’s going to be just as stubborn as his grampa,” you say, kissing his cheek. “Now, come on, we have a party to set up.”

—-

Joel’s yard is alive with the happy shouts of children, the casual conversations of adults, and the cheerful chaos of a five-year-old’s birthday party. Today is your fifth anniversary, a day that once would have been shared only by you two. But this is the life you’ve built, and JJ’s birthday happily takes precedence.

Ellie’s over by the wooden playhouse Joel built for JJ, hands on her hips, smiling as she watches her little boy and Benji play monkey-in-the-middle with Benji’s little sister, Stevie. They’re all shrieking with laughter, and Joel takes all of it in.

When Ellie watches JJ, he knows the look. It’s one he recognizes from somewhere he’ll never return to. He’s had that same look. The kind of look that only shows up when you’re watching something you’d die for. She laughs at something Maria tells her, and she looks so goddamn young and so goddamn old all at once.

He remembers the night Ellie and Dina told him. Him and you, sitting across from them at the dining table. The way Ellie’s voice wavered, like she knew she was handing him something fragile.

“We want to keep him,” she’d said. “We talked about it. We want—we want to be his parents.”

Joel sat wide-eyed, watching the way Dina had squeezed Ellie’s hand. His heart had cracked open, but it wasn’t painful. It was something else. Something that felt like a beautiful, hopeful new beginning that feels rare in this world.

“You sure?” he’d asked. It’s what you ask when someone tells you they’re about to love something that could be taken away.

Ellie had nodded the way she always does when her mind is made up.

“We’re sure,” Dina had said.

And that had been that. The next day, Joel started on the toddler bed, and you began knitting a blanket with his initials, JJ, in bright blue.

He never once thought he’d be standing in his own yard on a spring afternoon, watching Ellie’s son chase a ball across the grass. He’d taught her how to shoot a rifle, how to clean it, how to hold it steady when her hands were shaking. Saved her from a man in a hospital who wanted to cut her open for the sake of a cure that never came. He heard her screams and pleas to get up, to survive. He’d made it halfway across the country with her, carried her through snow and fire and blood and confessions, and he’d done it all with little thought to it, because he loved her.

It was all worth it.

You walk over, in one of your light, spring dresses, a pale green, flower-filled soft fabric that falls just below your knees. You’re smiling at him, and when he grins back, he knows he looks like a goofy fool still head-over-heels for his wife, even after all of these years.

“I think we throw a good party,” you say, finding that perfect crook of yours as he wraps his arm around you. “The kids are having fun.”

“Mm, it is,” he agrees, kissing the crown of your head, breathing in the sweet smell of you, happiness, and spring.

JJ runs across the grass, Benji and Stevie hot on his heels, they’re both covered in grass stains and dirt. JJ trips over his own feet, flies and falls into the dirt. Joel’s heart lurches for a second before the kid pops back up, laughs, and keeps running.

“Tough guy,” you say. “Just like his Grampa.”

Presents are before the cake, and Joel watches, your arm wrapped around him. Ellie sits cross-legged with JJ in her lap. The boy oohs and ahhs at every gift he gets, even if it’s a half-filled box of crayons someone was lucky enough to scavenge. The toy box sits in the corner of the porch, wrapped in an old quilt. He got it done right before the party, needing it to be perfect as he sanded the edges one more time. Both the T. rex and Triceratops on the front are carved, complete with horns and tiny arms. Dina pushes the quilt-wrapped chest forward, saving his gift for last. Joel doesn’t know why he’s nervous about it… there are dinosaurs on it, of course the kid’s going to love it.

JJ tears at the quilt, and Dina and Ellie help him with soft directions. The toybox shows itself, honeyed wood shimmering in the sunlight. JJ stops in his tracks, palms flat against the top of it as he assesses the carvings of his two favorite dinosaurs. He claps and starts giggling, bouncing in Ellie’s lap.

Joel feels the relief flow through his whole body. He double-checked every pivot and edge, sanded it down uncountable times… he would’ve thrown the whole thing out and started again if he didn’t think it was perfect.

Ellie lifts her head, and Joel thinks he sees tears brimming in her eyes before she blinks them away. She sends him a silent thanks in the way she looks at him, then looks down at JJ. Joel nods back, with something that feels like pride and a wish that he could’ve done a thousand more things for her, for all the years of her childhood lost to FEDRA.

The kids are back to playing in the yard with all of JJ’s new presents as you and Dina walk out on the porch, a large, lopsided cake in Dina’s hands, homemade by you and her. It’s not nearly as well done as what Seth would make, but there’s love in every sweet ingredient. It’s perfect.

Dina gets a small smudge of frosting on her wrist, and she doesn’t notice. Joel watches you reach over and wipe it off for her, casual like it’s something you’ve done a hundred times.

Family. That’s what that is.

He’s loved seeing your bond with Dina strengthen and turn into something just as unbreakable as his and Ellie’s bond. You took her under your wing, showed her the ways of the clinic, and now she’s a full-fledged doctor, in whatever sense the apocalypse can make of the title.

JJ’s family surrounds him as he blows out his five candles, and when he closes his eyes to make a wish, Joel’s sure the boy’s wishing for something as simple as a new toy truck or maybe a different episode of Bob the Builder on VHS. The luck of the kid, growing up behind these walls and knowing nothing else now besides a warm home, two loving parents, and a comfortable bed.

—-

You collapse on the couch next to Joel once all the dishes are put away, and the madness of the birthday celebration has quieted down to just some leftover handmade streamers and the birthday banner you’re too tired to take down.

“Well, I think this was a pretty good party,” you say, sinking into the cushions, head finding the familiar groove of his shoulder.

Joel hums a low, happy sound, his arm coming around you. You can almost feel the sunbaked warmth of today still on him. “And a good anniversary.”

You sit together in the beautiful shared silence for a while, letting the hush of the night take over, the only sound present is the tick of the clock and the swish of Jefferson’s tail hanging off of his cat tree. The whole house smells like frosting and cherry blossoms that have started to drop their petals in the yard.

“You know what,” Joel rumbles against your ear. “This wasn’t how I planned to spend our fifth anniversary, but—”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “It was perfect.”

He smiles, and the golden lamplight catches the silver that threads through his dark hair, the lines at the corners of his eyes, the softness in his dark brown eyes that now lives there permanently. “Every day with you is perfect, every single day,” he says, looking at you like you’re the one who made it all happen.

The feeling Joel Miller has always been able to give you- that immediate race of your heart, the butterflies that swarm in your stomach- explodes. You turn to him fully, your hand coming up to cup the raspy side of his face, thumb tracing the heart patch at his jaw.

You lean in, kiss him, slow at first, the way you’ve kissed him a thousand times before, and yet it never gets old, never loses that spark. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, and he deepens the kiss. Your mouth opens for him, and your body answers him like it always does, like it’s the only thing in the world that will ever make sense, because it does. Because he’s Joel Miller, and you’re his.

His fingers curl into the soft skin at the nape of your neck, pushing your lips firmer against his, his tongue seeking into your mouth. A soft, wanting moan escapes you, and he swallows it down, like he’s starving for you. He’s always starving for you.

You’re starving too. You move, swing your leg over his lap, and drape yourself over him.

“Baby,” he groans against your mouth, his hands finding your hips, gripping you through the thin fabric of your dress.

You straddle, then press down, just so you can feel him through the layers. Hard, thick, straining against his jeans already, even after a long day like today.

“Five years,” you whisper, rocking your hips down, earning you a hiss against your lips and thick fingertips digging into you.

“Five years,” he echoes.

You kiss him again, tasting the cup of coffee he just had, and the remnants of the small slice of leftover birthday cake you split in the kitchen. Your hands push under the hem of his shirt, palms sliding up.

Joel pulls away, eyes gone inky with desire, staring into yours. “Wanna do this in our bed, not on the couch.”

You nod, already sliding off his lap and helping him up. He stands with a grunt, and you lead him up the stairs, shucking your dress off at the landing, your bra in the hallway just in front of your office filled with medical journals and herbs, and your panties just outside the bedroom you share with Joel.

The bed is warm when you lie atop it, bare and ready for whatever pleasure your husband wants to gift you. Joel’s eyes sear your already heated body; he stands at the foot of the bed, fingers flicking open his belt and the fastening of his jeans. He’s studying you like he still can’t quite believe it, that you’re real. “You’re mine,” he gruffs.

You’ve never doubted that. Watching his hands move through each button of his shirt, you assure him, “I’ve always been yours.”

Clothes fall to the floor, flannel and denim pooling in a heap; the bright moonlight gilds Joel in a silver brilliance, the scars of his body glowing in the light as he makes his way towards you. He leans over the bed, hand running along your body. “Pretty thing,” he says, all rough and full of awe. “Always so pretty.”

His fingers trail higher, sliding between your thighs. “Joel,” you moan, shameless in the way your legs spread wide open for him, and it makes his eyes flash even darker. There’s no bashfulness in you anymore, not when the man you love knows every inch of your body, not after all you’ve lived through together.

There’s no rush in the way he moves. It’s an almost lazy exploration of pulling pleasure out of you. He’s so, so gentle with you, in the way he spreads you, two fingers parted, pressing them through your folds, feeling, feeling how slick and ready you are. You’re already clenching around nothing, needy for him, hungry for the fullness only he can give you.

“Joel,” you beg, desperation dripping in the way you moan his name.

His fingers start to circle you, and your hips tilt up automatically, greedy and impatient, always needing more from the man you love. He hovers over you, folding his body down across the bed, one palm pressed into the mattress beside your hip, the other between your legs, lazily stroking, almost teasing in the slow way the pads of his fingers drag through your wet, needy cunt. You open even wider for him, letting him see all of you in the moonlight, your limbs restless, almost shivering. Dark eyes drink all of you in, and you stare right back, mouth parted, eyes open wide, unable to look away even as the heat starts to pour through your body.

He watches you writhe and quiver for him, cocky grin glinting across his lips. “That’s it,” he husks, ragged and growled, “such a good girl for me.” His thumb drags across your clit, slow and greedy and circling, and you can’t help the way you grind against his hand, begging for more. “M’pretty wife,” he adds, and you melt and ache and arch.

The urge to feel him is too much, you reach for his cock, wrap your palm around the solid heft of him, thick and hard and heavy in your grip. He thrusts into your fist, can’t help himself, matching the roll of his fingers deep inside your cunt, back and forth, slick and slow as you stroke him. You give it to him the way you know he likes it the best, twisting your wrist, gripping his head tight just the way he loves. Joel’s head tilts back, neck strained, and an almost feral rip of your name leaves him before he snaps his head back down to look at you.

You clench around his thick fingers, and he leans over, mouthing at your throat, licking across your neck, before he bites the sensitive skin there, not sharp, but firm enough that you gasp and your hand tightens around his thick cock. You jerk him slow and steady, loving how he’s already trembling, loving that you can still make him like this. Each time your hand moves, he’s pulsing, throbbing, and when he angles his fingers in you and hits that gushy spot that makes you lose your breath, your hips lift off the mattress as you keen his name.

Tight, firm circles are pressed against your clit, and your world turns into just Joel Miller and the shattering pleasure of his hand inside you, the warmth of his body hovering over yours, and the always present grinding, hungry need shared between you.

He looks down at you, his lips parted, sweat shining on his brow. “You gonna cum for me, baby?” His voice hums through you, that low vibration that can only make you nod as your breath stutters.

“Atta girl,” he croons, thumb swirling your clit while his fingers fuck you open and wetter. You’re nothing but a frantic heartbeat, tight fist, and wet pussy when you crash into your orgasm hard. You collapse and rise over and over again, staring right into Joel’s eyes as he lets you ride your pleasure, thumb stilling against your clit, as he slowly slides his fingers in and out of your cunt.

When you finally settle down, gasping his name, heart racing, Joel pulls his fingers free and drags your slick along the heavy length of his cock. You watch, barely able to keep still, body trembling and gasping.

He grips his cock and sets the leaking tip against your lips. You open right up for him, tongue flat to take in the taste of you and him and the shared years of wanting. The hot weight of him pools heavily on your tongue when you wrap your lips around him and take him into your mouth. He fucks shallow, keeping searing eye contact as you moan around his dick. “Jesus Christ,” he grits, head tilting to the ceiling as you take him deeper and deeper, his thighs tensing under your palms. You swirl and lick, let him bob out of your mouth until you suck him back in.

There’s a grunt, Joel’s hips stutter, and he pulls free. “Baby,” he huffs. “My back is killin’ me after today.” He laughs, a little ruined, a little low.

You scoot, then coax him down till he’s flat and settled in the bed. His back is barely against the mattress before you crawl up his big, tired body and straddle him. “Comfortable?” you ask, bending down to kiss him, and he grunts an affirmative against your lips.

His tongue seeks into your mouth, hands spreading on your ass to pull you down even closer against him. You rock against him, sliding your cunt along his cock, letting the wet tease of you slip along his length. You angle yourself and can’t help the smile when the wide tip of him catches and sinks into you.

“C’mon baby,” he urges, all doe-eyed and in awe of you even after all these years. You slink yourself all the way down, gasping at how good Joel Miller always makes you feel. You rise and fall languid and savoring as he kisses you, letting the high-pitched, needy growls of his escape into your mouth. You swallow each one, answering it with a moan against his plush lips.

You move together like it’s what you’ve only ever known, your body meeting his, the shared intimacy and peace of knowing your forever in this way. When you sit up, hands bracing on his chest, nails digging into the golden warmth of Joel, you feel the beat of his heart hammering against your palm and the way it always answers to you.

He drinks you down, tracking every way your body moves for him. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans. “Most beautiful thing I ever seen.”

You’re lit by his praise and love, moving faster, grinding down, writhing and shaking, clutching his broad chest as you cum so hard you fall forward, nails digging into his skin. Joel catches your cries of his name with his mouth when he kisses you, swallowing every moan and keen he pulls from you.

The bed groans when Joel starts to fuck up into you with the power an old man like him still miraculously holds. You lean your head back, just so you can watch him fall apart for you. He’s heavy-lidded, plush lips parted as they groan your name over and over; blissed-out Joel Miller is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. He lets go of your ass only to clamp his hands on your hips, anchoring you so he can pull you down hard again and again, to take every last inch of him.

He cums with a long, guttural “fuuuuck,” fists balled tight at your hips, cock pumping and twitching inside your heat, as he loses himself in sweet, desperate pulses you can feel all the way through you.

You burrow your cheek into the warmth of his chest, listening to the hammer of his heart as his heavy hand slowly strokes your back. “Holy shit,” you gasp, and Joel chuckles a satisfied sound against your hair.

You roll off him and curl into the crook of his sweaty and sated arm, and he tucks you closer. It’s always so perfect, how easy it is to love your handsome, gruff Joel Miller. You could stay here forever, breathing in the smell of him, your home, and the fresh flowers beginning to bloom in the garden outside.

—-

The clinic is busy today. Joel steps in amongst the almost-full waiting room, nods at a few familiar faces, and turns left to take the familiar path down the hall to your office. He sits in his customary chair in front of your desk, and he waits and waits… a little too long than usual.

He peeks out of your office and catches Blake, the new nurse’s, attention. “She’s in surgery,” Blake tells him. “Complications with Mr. Lassiter’s appendix. She said it might be a while.”

Joel nods and returns back to your office, now settling into your chair, facing the door, the better to see you when you come in. Your desk is cluttered. Not messy, just lived and worked in. He picks up your notebook, leather-bound and soft, a rare find he was able to barter a couple of carvings for this past Christmas. Your name’s on the front, and he runs his thumb over the imprint of Miller.

The pages are already full of your handwriting, and he can hardly decipher it. There are whole sentences reduced to fragments he can’t parse. Perfusion adequate. Lateral incision. Diagrams are drawn, a torso with arrows, a hand with tendons mapped. There are plant names and measurements in the margins, long, complicated Latin words he couldn’t spell if it’d save his life. Each page is full of wisdom, and healing, care and dedication. He closes the notebook carefully, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. Jackson is lucky it has you. He’s lucky.

Time stretches, and Joel rests his eyes, but a busy clinic is no place for rest. He gets up, toes around your office, looking through the shelves full of books and journals. He finds a book on something called histology, flipping through it, his brain understanding not even 5% of what he’s seeing.

People pass the door, all with a place to go or things to do. Patients to exam rooms. Doctors and nurses to their next sick or injured case. But Joel doesn’t see you.

Until, finally, he hears the familiar soft, efficient cadence of your footsteps across the tile. You appear in the doorway. Sleeves shoved past your elbows, eyes a little sunken and hollow. The tired smile only comes when you see him.

"You're still here,” you say, surprise lining your tired words.

"Course I am.”

You close the door and lean against it, head tipping against the wood. "I'm sorry.”

"S’okay. Don’t apologize, baby."

“There were complications. But he’s stable now." You take a deep sigh. “His wife was crying when I updated her. It’s so hard when they cry.”

Joel stands and strides towards you, wrapping his arms around you, and you fall into him, forehead pressing against his collarbone. He smells the sweat and antiseptic on you, but underneath it there’s still the ever-present and sweet sage and vanilla.

"It’s been a long day," you whisper.

He kisses the top of your head, already feeling the way you let yourself unwind with him. He pulls back enough to look at you and meets your eyes. “You’re amazing.”

You blink. "I nearly lost him."

"But you didn't."

You softly nod, like you’re letting his words settle you.

Joel leads you to your chair, sits, and pulls you down into his lap. You fall into him willingly, melting against him.

He unwraps the zucchini bread Maria baked first. "Dessert first," he says. "You earned it."

You hum happily as he breaks off a piece and holds it to your lips. He feeds you another, and another, feeling the way you come back to life with each bite.

By the time you're both splitting the chicken sandwich, your voice already sounds peppier, and you’re yourself again, no longer the exhausted surgeon that walked through the door earlier.

When all the food is gone, Joel holds you, and you turn in his arms, head angling to kiss him. “I needed this. Thank you,” you whisper.

“Anytime, baby.”

You give him a final kiss before standing. “As much as I hate to leave, I should get back out there, it’s busy.” Your shoulders are already straightening, preparing to return to being a doctor.

He rises, and you leave him with a kiss before telling him you’ll see him later.

He grabs the empty tote and steps out of your office. Steven nods at him as he passes him in the hall with a patient. Wendy smiles and waves from the reception desk as she updates a chart. The clinic is still alive, people needing things, finding help, and you’re running all of it. He thinks of the nursery, the late tulips Sadie might have in the greenhouse. Something nice to surprise you, no occasion but this: you survived the morning, and he got to witness it.

He heads for the door and takes a left instead of a right to head to the nursery.

—-

You fight a yawn as you make your way out of the clinic. Joel’s in his customary spot, against the post with his arms folded. You’ve lost count of how many times the sight of him there has instantly soothed you after impossibly long days like today.

“Hey baby,” he greets, hand finding the small of your back like it always does as he leads you home.

The walk home is quiet. You’re out of work later than you wanted to be, but the sight of the sun setting behind the mountains and Jackson doing what it does every evening, winding itself down around you, helps remind your tired and weary self why hard days like this matter.

Your husband leads you to your big, white home, the sight of it is always a balm on days like these. Your pair of rocking chairs on the porch move in the gentle breeze, a blanket you knitted still draped over the back of Joel’s chair for the chilly spring evenings you share outside.

Joel helps you with your jacket as you kick your boots off. Jefferson jumps off the back of the couch and pads over to you. His soft meow beckons you to bend over and give him a couple of pets before you make your way to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

You pause at the doorway when you see them.

On the kitchen table in a chipped blue pitcher are tulips. Their petals half-open, red and yellow. You stare at them and grin wide.

“Nursery had a few of them left,” Joel says from behind you, like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t plan it. “Figured you needed something pretty today.”

You turn, press your face into the broad, familiar warmth of his chest, and he holds you, chin against your hair.

“Thank you,” you say, muffled against his shirt.

Joel squeezes you tight against him. There’s something about the beautiful simplicity of his gift. A man buying his wife flowers, just because she had a bad day. The world ended, and yet moments like this remain.

Dinner is just what you needed, comforting, hearty, and warm. Stew and leftover biscuits eaten at the kitchen table, with the vase of tulips in the center. Joel lifts your feet into his lap, massaging them with one hand while he eats with the other.

When you’re done, you sit at the table for a while, both of Joel’s hands now tasked with massaging your tired feet. When you get up and reach for his bowl, he tells you to leave the dishes in the sink, that he’ll take care of them tomorrow.

You move to the couch, plopping onto it and sinking into the cushions. Jefferson’s instantly in your lap, lying across it, rumbling purrs as you pet him. Joel’s arm is around you, and you burrow even closer against him as Lonesome Dove plays on the TV. Gus and Call are somewhere in Texas, bickering the way they always do. You’ve both seen it enough times now to mouth the lines.

You used to fall asleep to the rustle of infected in the treeline, the sounds of FEDRA’s brutal control in the QZ, but now you fall asleep to Robert Duvall, a cat on your lap, and the steady thud of Joel’s heart against your ear.

—-

This spring has been high on the sweltering scale, the mountains do little to shield Jackson from the hot rays of the almost-summer sun during the day. Joel passes the construction yard, lifting his hand in greeting to some of his old workers who all look hot and miserable. Honestly, Joel’s a little happy you, and the rest of the family convinced him to retire last year. At first, he wasn’t sure how he’d manage with all of his newfound time, but his grandchild has certainly helped fill his days.

JJ’s hand is tiny in Joel’s, and the boy doesn’t stop yapping. “Grampa, have you ever driven a bulldozer?” Joel chuckles. “Reckon I have.” “Did it have a big scoop? Was it yellow? Could it pick up a whole tree?” JJ’s voice pitches higher with each question, his fingers tightening around Joel’s. “Yes, yes, and yes,” Joel says, remembering the old world with housing projects and cul-de-sacs—that old world that now just exists in stories for the boy who holds his hand.

JJ tugs him toward the fence, drops his hand, and bolts. Joel knows exactly where he’s headed. You’re on your knees in the dirt, tending Sarah’s garden, and the boy is shouting your name before he’s even halfway across the yard.

You turn, a big smile on your face, and goddamn, you still take his breath away. You wipe at your forehead with the back of your wrist, leaving a smudge of soil across your brow. Your eyes squint up at them both with that smile of yours… the one that still, after all these years, makes him forget whatever he was just thinking about. He doesn’t know how it keeps happening, how every single day you find some new way to make him feel like the luckiest goddamn man on earth.

JJ drops to his knees beside you, his little body pressing against yours. Your arm wraps around him in that loving, doting way you’re so natural at, and you kiss the crown of his head in greeting.

“Grampa drove tractors!” he excitedly tells you.

“I know,” you answer, glancing up at Joel with a smile. “He was a contractor, meaning he’d always drive construction vehicles and build really big buildings.”

“Contractor?” JJ asks.

Joel’s knees pop twice when he crouches down beside you two, and he lets out a short grunt at the second one. The boy’s eyes are wide and waiting, wanting to know as much as he can. “Contractor’s what they called somebody who built things. Houses, schools, sheds. Anything folks needed. You’d get a call, show up with your crew and tools, and you’d build somethin’ from nothin’. Just dirt and plans. Couple months later, there’s a whole house standing where nothin’ was before.”

JJ’s mouth hangs open. “You built a whole house?”

“Built a lot of ‘em,” Joel answers. “Everybody loved contractors.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “They sure did,” you say.

JJ reaches out, runs his hand along the blooms of lavender in Sarah’s garden.

“You want to pick some flowers for your mamas?” you ask.

JJ nods, reaching towards a bright purple flower. “Can I pick this one?” he asks.

“The aster? Of course, sweetheart,” you say.

JJ reaches for the purple bloom, but stops. A small, orange butterfly has landed in the center of it, orange and white wings fanned open. JJ goes still, and you put a gentle hand on his arm. Joel watches the butterfly and feels something inside his heart flow before he can name it. Sarah’s voice through the years echoes in his head from the first wails of her tiny lungs as a baby, to her sweet, little voice questioning everything, all the way to her smart, teenage pondering.

“It’s so pretty,” JJ whispers.

Joel’s caught in a memory from many years ago. His Sarah, around JJ’s age now, picking flowers out of the Adlers’ garden, a butterfly just like the one in front of him now, landing on a flower. Her bright, proud smile as she stayed perfectly still and watched.

You lean closer to JJ and whisper, “Don’t scare it, hun.”

The butterfly flutters its wings before it lifts off from the aster. Joel watches it leave. It’s her, but it’s not her. Just a memory of his little girl.

He wishes his Sarah could see him now. What would she think of him now?

He’s asked himself variations of it a thousand times over the years, but never while kneeling in the dirt of a garden dedicated to her with his grandson and his wife, the lavender in full bloom, the sun warm as it shines down.

He thinks about the man he was when she knew him. A father with an okay-paying job, a mortgage, a pickup truck, and a future.

He thinks of the man he became after. The one who traversed the world with a gun in his belt and blood on his hands. The man who couldn’t look at a kid without seeing his own dead daughter, who lost himself completely in that.

Until Ellie broke him open, and you saved him.

He doesn’t know what Sarah would think of the man he is now. But he thinks she’d finally see the man she knew. The man that loved her, that held her when she cried, that taught her how to ride a bike and spool a reel onto a fishing line. The man that now knows to love is to be vulnerable and honest.

Joel now knows the universe did the right thing when it let him live again. He wasn’t being punished for surviving, no, he was given a second chance to do it all over again. Every day, and every moment, he’s reminded of what you’ve given him… this beautiful life.

—-

You don’t really think about the future when you’re safe inside it like you are now. Years will pass, days will blend, and time will be marked not by disasters and survival, but by increments of joy and growth. By the changing height of JJ as he grows, the way the fence behind the house sags a little more each spring after the long winters, and by the amount of white in Joel’s hair and beard.

You and Joel will live and love and heal one another in the same quiet and unthinking ways you do now. Every morning, there is coffee and his scratchy voice, and every night, there is his palm against the small of your back as you head to bed and a goodnight kiss before he turns off the lamp.

You’ll spend the rest of your days behind the walls of Jackson, healing your neighbors and friends. You’ll come home to the large, white house with the cherry blossom tree that now has your and Joel’s initials carved in it. You’ll watch your family and friends grow older. Sarah’s garden will bloom, and the memory of her will thrive with each seed you plant for her.

JJ will start to talk in full sentences, then full-blown stories. At six, he’ll break his arm falling off the treehouse ladder, and it’ll be you who fixes him up, while Joel fusses and busies himself building a better, safer way up the tree. At seven, he’ll ask you to help him make Grampa Joel’s birthday card, complete with WORLD’S BEST GRAMPA written across the top. At eight, he’ll carve his first wooden dinosaur with Joel, and it’ll sit on the mantle next to the copy of Lonesome Dove and the picture Ellie drew of you and Joel for your first wedding anniversary present.

You and Joel will get older with each season, the rain will make your bones ache, and on some days, you’ll both stay in bed just a little longer. Sometimes the days will be hard, or exhausting, or consumed by loss—patients you can’t save, loved ones you lose, whether from something as lucky as old age or the erosion of the world outside your safe walls. But no matter what, you’ll always have the beautiful miracle of being loved by Joel Miller. All thanks to you, he will live on, happy and healed.

[cupofzo]

He made it!

[thewaythisis]

Pedro Pascal - Avengers Doomsday at SDCC

[nicolethered]

Important!

[a7estrellas]

PEDRO PASCAL at the Marvel Studios panel in San Diego Comic Con

[a7estrellas]

“Will Reed and Doom have a history together in Doomsday?”

Pedro: “Besties!”

[a7estrellas]

PEDRO PASCAL & ROBERT DOWNEY JR. Avengers: Doomsday - Marvel Studios panel for San Diego Comic Con

[stay-nerdyy]

So where does he fit in the gosling verse?

[bergamote-catsandbooks]

Over the Andes | Frankie Morales x ofc/f!reader | 4,4 k

Summary: It's fight night!

Content warning: mention of alcoholism, yelling, anger, some swearing, mention of blood and the fight happening on the ring. Reader here is more of an ofc, written as a reader insert. She will have some description and a backstory but has no name.

A/N: Here we finally are! The moment we have been waiting for! I don't have much to add except: I'm sorry 🤭😈

I'm always happy for comments and/or reblogs, so please don't be shy !

Main masterlist | Series masterlist | Read on AO3

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"What do you wear to a fight?" You asked Di on the phone when she called to give you the information about the fight.

"I don't know? Very short shorts and a bathing suit top?"

"I don't plan on stealing the ring girl's job!"

"Shame, I think you would be a hit. Just wear something comfortable. And something you won't mind having beer spilled on."

"Damn, I wanted to wear my red cocktail dress and the stilettos I never use."

"The backless one that shows your boobs? I think every man in the room would love it if you dressed like that." Di laughs, and you join in, imagining the incongruity of such a scene.

"It's all the way down Clearwater, I'll pick you up at 6, just in case we hit traffic on our way there."

"Aren't you going to ride with Benny?" You are surprised by the arrangement; you thought you would drive there by yourself.

"No, he'll be there earlier and probably leave after us. Doing his trainer job. He'll meet me at my place later. That way we'll have time to debrief on our way back."

"Sounds like a plan! "

The day Di comes and picks you up, you are ready in your most comfortable outfit, including a black t-shirt that says, Feminist is My Second Favorite F word. You figure it'll be a great conversation starter. Or a way to see how Benny and his friends react.

While waiting for her, you smile, remembering the last time you saw Frankie, on Thursday evening. You stood on the tarmac to wait for him, and you had watched him land his helicopter after his sunset ride. You were here to give him the next day's weather report, since you weren't working that day, and you decided to wait for him outside, to make sure you wouldn't miss him. Not because you wanted to see him fly again. Not because you loved watching him from afar, as he maneuvered the tricky vehicle. Watch his face as he concentrates, his serious look and the headset that makes him look so competent. No, not at all.

After he said farewell to the passenger on his flight, he spotted you, and your heart jumped at the smile that spread on his face. This had to mean something, right? You felt like a shift as you both walked toward each other, and while you both talked about work. It felt like both your minds were elsewhere, not in the words you were saying. You felt it in the way he seemed to lose track of his words, on the way you both smiled at each other, at the way you both lingered instead of saying goodbye. The evening wind was blowing the curls out of your bun in every direction, sometimes coming on your face. And for a moment, it seemed like he was going to tuck a wild curl behind your ear. You saw his hand move toward your face, the finger twitch. But instead, Colin interrupted whatever was about to happen by calling out for Frankie, and you had no choice but to leave. But turning back to look at Frankie, you saw he was still looking, with a small smile on his face. You've been replaying the scene in your head ever since, wondering what might have happened if he had tucked that curl. You think you might have kissed him.

You're going to ask him out. You are done wondering, you've had fun with the flirting, but now you want more. Maybe you could ask him to that movie you talked about earlier. Something innocent enough, should he not want to date you, which you are doubting more and more. Yes, that's what you are going to do. You'll text him something tomorrow. By the time you are in Di's care, you are composing the text in your head.

"¡Carajo! [Damn it!] Why can't this thing stay in place?" He's been trying to fix Mia's hair into the same complicated harido she had when he picked her up last week. But he can't seem to follow the YouTube tutorial he found. His clumsy fingers are too big for his daughter's fine curls. And the fact that she keeps fidgeting on her chair doesn't help.

"Daddy!" Mia giggles and turns to put her hand on Frankie's mouth, totally unravelling the part that he had managed to secure on her hair. "You said a bad word!"

"Ooooh, Daddy is in trouble!" Santi, who has been sitting at the kitchen table, doing whatever on his phone, pipes up with a look that can only mean one thing: make Frankie's life harder. "Well done, mi princesa [my princess], for understanding the word, your Spanish is getting better and better!"

Frankie is torn between embarrassment at having cursed in front of his daughter, and wanting to kill Santi for not helping at all.

Mia is in stitches. Her shyness with Santi is now totally forgotten. They are like thick and thieves, and despite all the mischief that happened in the past week and the time he wanted to kick his friend out of the house, Frankie is trying very hard not to smile, especially when he can sense Mia is almost ready to repeat the word. He can see it in her face, the cute grin she wears and the way she squints her eyes in concentration. He cuts her off before she can say anything with a stern, "Mija," [honey] She giggles again and jumps from the chair when the doorbell rings.

"Your hair!" Frankie yells after her but to no avail. He follows her to the door, watching the last strand of hair fall off from the pin that was vialantly holding it on top of her head. He sighs and opens the doors as Mia yells, "Mama!" Selena picks her up and smothers her in kisses. She gives Frankie a look after taking a look at Mia's hair when she puts her down. He just shrugs, and Selena smirks before hugging Santi.

"Muñequita [Sweetie], ready to go to mom's house?"

"Yes!" Mia runs to get her small backpack that contains her most precious treasures: trinkets and toys she carries with her everywhere.

Frankie picks up Mia's other bag and hands it to Elena, apologizing, "I was trying to do a French braid, but I just can't get it right."

"That one's hard, especially because this little one moves around all the time." She tickles Mia, who is back in her arms and squirming as she laughs.

"Say goodbye to Daddy and Uncle Santi!"

Frankie goes to kiss Mia after Santi, patting her hair to try and make it less wild. "Goodbye muñeca [sweetie], have a fun week with mommy and Jorge, I'll see you next week."

"Bye Daddy!"

The door closes, and like always, Frankie feels some little relief in the quiet that settles in the house and huge sadness to see his daughter go.

"Shit, you were right, the place looks like a tornado went through it." Santi is standing in the middle of the living room. Toys are scattered all around, and Frankie knows the kitchen isn't any better. He is relieved his friend is here to help with the loneliness he feels every time Mia leaves.

"We'll have to take care of it tomorrow. We should leave now if we don't want to be late for Benny's fight."

"Yeah, right, let me grab my things."

Driving over the causeway, Frankie thinks back on last Thursday, when he could have sworn you wanted to kiss him. You had been waiting for him as he landed the helicopter, looking prettier than ever, loose curls flying around your head. Your pretty smile as you gave him a report that could definitely have waited for him to come back to the office, or could even have been left on his desk. Your eyes were sparkling as you laughed at a bad joke he made, he doesn't even remember what it was. And the way your eyes dropped to his mouth when he almost reached out for your hair. He could have killed Colin for interrupting the moment.

He keeps replaying this in his head, and the more he thinks about it, the more he knows he wants to take you on a date. He's been denying it, but he really likes you, and he is pretty much certain you like him too. Wh? He can't understand, he was such an ass the first time you met, but he isn't going to throw away his second chance. He'll text you tomorrow, there is a movie showing you mentioned wanting to see, and he hopes you haven't yet.

When you arrive, the place is already packed. The fight is supposed to start in less than 30 minutes, and people already have drinks in hand, and some are already seated. You are nervous. Not because you're about to meet your friend's boyfriend, even if she refuses to use that word, "we aren't in high school". It's because you are going to have to meet other people in a setting you are definitely not used to.

"I texted Benny, he's in the locker room with Jim, the guy he's training. He'll come out and say hi before going back there."

As you order your drinks, you watch as a tall blond guy comes up to Di; she squeals in delight, kisses him, and then introduces you to each other. You see what she meant, he is tall, muscular, very hot, and also the exact opposite of every guy Diana has dated. He looks like the type she sleeps with but never dates. And with the look of utter love he gives her, that she gives back, the smile they both have on their face while they chat as you wait for your drinks, you can tell this is serious. More than any other guy she had introduced to you. Benny is nice, he includes you in the conversation and even gets a kick out of your t-shirt. All in all, you feel at ease, until he says, "Let's go meet the guys. You can sit with them, and I'll join you when the fight starts."

You sense Diana tensing next to you, so you try to ease your own nerves. It doesn't matter if no one likes you. You have to be there for her.

You walk toward a group of 4 men; you immediately recognize Benny's brother, another tall, hot, blond guy who smiles at both you and Di when he sees you arrive. The guy standing next to him has brown hair, and when his gaze follows his friend's, he seems a little annoyed at the interruption. The two other guys have their backs turned to you. One is a little shorter, he has black and grey hair, and next to him, a silhouette that makes your heart stop. The shoulders, the hat- that can't be him? And then he turns around, and you exclaim, "Frankie?"

Upon arriving, the first thing Frankie notices is the beer Tom has in his hand. Unless the bar sells non alcoholic beer, which he doubts, it means he was right in doubting Tom's commitment, and he hates the feeling of being right. He doesn't have time to linger on the feeling, because Benny greets them with a big hug and a slap on the shoulder, showing his excitement at having everyone for his protégé's first fight. It's hard to stay fixated on his uneasiness when he sees his friend so happy, even more when he tells them, "Diana is coming with a friend."

Tom rolls his eyes and is probably ready to make a snarky comment, which leads Frankie to think this is not his first beer. Fortunately, Santi jokes about Benny's new relationship status, and after Benny leaves them to go check on Jim, the group of friends talks and laughs like old times. It feels like a moment coming around, like everything is folding back into place. The irony is not lost on Frankie that the last time they were all in this place was just before they left for Colombia and before everything fell to pieces.

Suddenly, Will, who was telling them about the latest project, stops talking, his eyes focusing on a point in their group. It only takes a second for Frankie to understand that Benny is here with his girlfriend, and when he turns around, ready to greet her, he hears, "Frankie?"

He sees you, standing in front of him, a bewildered look on your face.

"You two know each other?" Benny asks.

"We work together!" You say, turning to Benny.

"You must be Frankie's new colleague." Santi chimes in, extending his hand to shake yours, making Frankie want to hit him when he sees you confused as you nod.

Luckily, there is no time to linger on this, as Will greets Diana, Benny's girl, a very pretty tall brunette, who seems nervous but also very much smitten, which makes Frankie happy. They all barely have to introduce each other, as Benny leaves, asking them to play nice, kissing Diana and going back for the last pep talk.

"What are the odds?" Diana turns to Frankie, a grin on her face, one that clearly means trouble as she adds, "I've heard so much about you."

Frankie mirrors her smirk, "Have you? Not too much bad stuff, I hope?"

"You mean apart from your first impression? What was it? 'pretty face and no brain', something like that?" Frankie can't help his wince. You elbow Diana, hissing "Di!" and she laughs.

Soon after, the MC announces the arrivals of the fighters and everyone's attention is centered on the fighters and the ring. And you shuffle closer to him while Diana is drawn to Benny, who has just joined them.

"I can't believe you're here! I'm here to meet Di's elusive boyfriend, and you've been his friend all this time. She's been so secretive about him." She adds like an afterthought.

"I didn't even know Benny's was going to introduce us to Diana tonight. He barely talked about her, even we knew something was up. So yeah, not only was I surprised when he announced she was coming, but knowing you are her friend, that's inconceivable."

"Look at these two being so discreet when they evidently like each other so much." They both look at Diana and Benny. He has his arm over her shoulder and is whispering something in her ear. She tilts her head back as she laughs, still clapping for the fighters. You and Frankie look at each other and smile at the scene.

The fight starts, and he notices your wince when the first blow hits, and then your head turns away when another blow brings blood from a cut on one of the opponent's faces.

"First fight?" He leans in to ask, making sure you hear him over the loud cheers.

"That obvious? Yeah. Not my scene, but I was curious." You turn your face to him, eyes still showing your uneasiness.

"It does take a while to get used to it."

"You are?" You look at him intently, like you are trying to read him, search deep inside him. He turns his face to the ground. He isn't ready for you to see all the ugly parts he hides.

"Unfortunately, yes. But you don't have to watch, we can go sit in the back."

"I don't want to take you away from your friends. And I want to be here for Diana, it's also her first fight." Your eyes are drawn to your friend. "Promise you won't tell anyone, but she's so nervous to meet everyone. I know she's faking the ease she is showing right now to fit in."

"I don't think she needs to fake anything. If she makes Benny happy, which is definitely the case, we are going to love her."

For the rest of the fight, he makes sure to talk to you and bring your attention to something else when he senses it gets too much for you.

The fight is thankfully over soon, and Benny leaves them again to debrief the fight. The guys are actually a great group, not that you would have doubted it, but you might have had your own prejudice. But with Frankie there, it's fairly easy to feel included. And you can tell Will does everything to make Di comfortable in Benny's absence.

They are all a tight group of friends, joking around, rough and nice to each other. Santi uses his charm on both Diana and you, and you understand very quickly that it's just a facade when soon he launches into a talk about his own girl who is coming to join him in a few weeks, his eyes betraying the love he feels for her. The only one you have a hard time talking to is Tom. The more the evening goes on, the more aloof he seems to get, and you can't help but count the number of beers he drinks. It's hard not to notice his eyes going out of focus and his speech getting slurred, even if he still seems pretty held together.

When you return from a brief stop at the bathroom, you find yourself a little alone. Benny and Di are a little further away, in a corner, talking like two people in love, as if the world didn't exist despite the noise and crowd. You don't want to interrupt them, they seem so sweet together. But you feel a little nervous to go join the group of men, not because they won't welcome you, but just because you don't want to interrupt the heated conversation they seem to have. You grab a drink, and since you see that Frankie doesn't have anything, on a whim you get him the same drink he's had all night. You arrive with both drinks in hand, and Frankie, seeing you, smiles, which eases your nerves. But once you join the group, Tom turns to you and, with unconcealed annoyance, snaps, "Can't you see you are interrupting us?"

You feel shame and embarrassment, but also anger all at once, and you let anger take the lead because even if you were afraid of bothering, the exact reason you hesitated to join them, you won't let anyone talk to you like this.

"Fuck you!" That's all that comes out of your mouth. You barely see your surroundings, you have tunnel vision, and everything is red. "You don't get to talk to me like this."

"Excuse me?" You can see the rage radiate from him as he moves to tower over you. He is taller than Frankie, and he is using all his height to intimidate you, taking another step toward you. But you don't care; your fury is making you take a reckless decision, as you take your own step forward and look him straight in the eyes. You barely listen to the guys around starting to talk; you don't know, care, what they are saying, instead flare.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your chat, and I would gladly have left if you had had manners. And yeah, I'll leave, but fuck you for talking to me like this." And before you leave, you pour both drinks down his crotch, you don't care that it also soaks part of your shoes. You just look at his face as it goes red, and veins threaten to pop from anger on his forehead. You see hands restrain Tom on his arms and torso, and with a smile and one last look, you leave. As you walk away, you feel all the anger leave your body, and the adrenaline leaves room for anxiety and fear. You quickly leave the building, not daring to look back. You hope the guys will hold him because he definitely seems like the guy who could punch you, especially since he is drunk and probably not in his right mind.

Frankie is too shocked when Tom yells at you that he barely reacts, Santi being the first to hold Tom's arms, and Will putting a hand on his chest when he takes a step toward you. He does manage to warn Tom by calling out his name, getting closer to intervene. But he is still so stunned, he didn't expect your reaction and could almost have laughed when you poured the drink on Tom. And it's only when you leave that his temper flies. He is torn between wanting to punch Tom and run to you. He manages to contain himself, stepping in front of Tom, once you leave and look at him straight in the eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What the fuck? Have you seen what she's done?" Tom is ready to fight, Frankie can tell, but he holds still, pushing hard on Tom's chest to make him back off.

"Fuck off, Tom, you don't talk to people like this. I'm going to see if she is ok, but this right here, what just happened? We are going to talk about it. Get a grip on yourself and stop the fucking booze." He doesn't care if he angers Tom, if he embarrasses him in front of their friends, calling out his drunkness, he just wants to get to you and check that you are ok.

He needs to temper his anger, because he is furious. Before you arrived, Tom was back on his usual shit, talking to them all excited, booze running through his veins, rejoicing in Santi coming home, and starting to plan a very dangerous trip to get the money back. The disappointment he felt when he saw Tom drinking again was only heightened when he realised neither Will nor Benny seemed to notice. Only Santi sent a look his way to see how he fared. And as the evening went on and Tom got drunker, Frankie got angrier until this moment where he might have punched Tom and started a fight, instead of doing what was important, which was coming to see you.

You are out, a phone in your hand, when he gets to you. Calling your name, you turn around, and you seem relieved when you see him, but still a little apprehensive.

"I'm sorry about Tom; he should never have talked to you this way." Frankie wants to put you at ease.

"You don't have to apologize for your friend. He's a grown man and needs to own up to his shit."

"You're right, but I don't think he's in the right state of mind to realize that right now. And I don't want you to leave like that, thinking we are like that, that's not how–" He doesn't even know how to finish this sentence.

"He needs to stop drinking, that guy had some serious issues." He can see you are still angry, and the hand not holding your phone is trembling. He takes a step toward you and holds your hand. "I know, he does. I've been trying to talk to him. I'm really sorry."

You take a deep breath and leave your hand in his, letting him squeeze it.

"I'm sorry about my reaction, I might have gone a little too far."

"You didn't. I'm sorry I was so slow at reacting, I didn't expect this to happen. But I can tell you he didn't either, and he deserved it. You ok?"

You take another deep breath and take your hand away from his. You look at your phone and sigh. "Yeah, I just want to leave, but I don't think there are any cars around."

"Why don't I take you home?" Frankie doesn't want to see you go, but he understands your need to be alone.

"No, I don't want to bother you, you have to go back to your friends."

"Believe me, I don't want to go back there and face Tom after what I told him. What about Diana?"

"She'll be fine, she's with Benny now, and I don't want to bother her."

"Let me take you, I'm ready to go home too." He wants to make sure you get back home safe and that you are alright.

"Ok," you relent after another look at your phone.

As he takes you to his truck, he quickly texts Santi, letting him know his driving you home and seeing if he can get a ride with Will. He quickly gets an answer: "Don't worry, I have my key in case you don't come home ;)."

The drive is mostly quiet, he tries to talk a little but senses you need quiet. He can feel you relax, and that eases him. When you get closer to your place, you direct him, and soon they are in front of your house. He gets out before you can turn to him to thank him. He wants to walk you to your door. He wants to apologize again, wants to make sure you are ok, and maybe if he can muster the courage, ask you out. He doesn't get in time to open your car door, but you let him walk you to your door.

Once you get there, before you turn to thank him and take your leave, he speaks. "I'm really sorry about how the evening ended, but I want you to know the guys really enjoyed their evening, and that Diana was a hit."

You smile at that, and Frankie rejoices that he managed to make you feel lighter.

"I'm really happy. She hasn't had a relationship in a while, and I was surprised when she told me about Benny. I really hope this works out."

"Me too. Benny has been through some shit, and he had a hard time settling. Seeing him with her makes me happy. They look good."

"Yeah, I think they bring a lot to each other. I hope I didn't ruin anything with my reaction."

Frankie grabs both your hands, he wants to make sure you listen, and you look at him in surprise when he pulls you toward him.

"You did nothing wrong. Frankly, I've got enough of Tom's bullshit, and I think everyone has. This has to be his wake-up call. And nothing you do will ruin anything for Benny and Di." You look at him with such openness, like you are drinking his every word, that he almost bends his head to kiss you. But he doesn't want to do this now after what happened, so instead he adds, "And I promise, if the guys don't like you, they won't hold it against Di."

That makes you laugh, and he smiles watching the last bit of tension leave your body. For a moment you just look at each other, letting the moment fill you with warmth.

Until you say, "Frankie. Kiss me."

Spanish translation: muñeca/muñequita: literally doll, sweetie carajo: literally dick, cock, used to say damn it, hell, fuck

taglist - Please let me know if you want to be removed it's not a problem, or if you want to be added: @iknowisoundcrazyreads @lillaydee @littlemisspascal @harriedandharassed @sunnytuliptime @picketniffler @sawymredfox @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @half-moon16 @sin-djarin @hanahleah @missadangel @simpingforjoel @aurorawritestoescape @kirsteng42 @annwrites24 @vodkaandpizza @quinnnfabrgay @littlepedrito @petalsinblood @savedyounine @isabellaboo2025 @copperhalfcent @the-blind-assassin-12 @madpanda75 @anoverwhelmingdin @inept-the-magnificent @perpetualharpyresonance @ashleyfilm

[pascalispunkczechia]

The spider emergency

When a terrified scream sends Javi running to the bathroom, he expects the worst. What he finds turns into an unexpected team effort involving his wife, Tito, and one very unwelcome guest.

If you need context, check the journal masterlist, new entries will keep showing up there. Also available on my javi peña ig

w/c: 952 • javi fic masterlist • taglist form

The apartment door clicked shut behind me, and I tossed my keys onto the table. For once, everything was quiet. After the day I’d had, I wasn’t about to complain.

Tito came trotting out of the hallway to greet me, his tail wagging hard enough to move his whole body. I bent down to scratch behind his ears. “Hey, buddy. Miss me?” He licked my hand. I decided that meant yes.

Then a scream tore through the apartment. “JAVIEEEEEER!” Not cute. Not playful. Terror.

My heart dropped straight to the floor. “What happened?” I shouted, already running toward the hallway.

“BATHROOM!”

Tito took off with me right behind him. My mind went straight to the worst possibilities. Blood. Broken pipe. Someone inside the apartment. By the time I reached the bathroom, I was prepared for anything. Or at least I thought I was. I shoved the door open.

There she was. My wife. Inside the shower. Fully clothed. The glass door was shut, both hands were pressed over her mouth, and her eyes were huge.

“What happened?” I demanded, searching the room for whatever had scared her.

She slowly lowered one hand and pointed toward the wall.

I followed her finger. And yeah. There it was. A spider. Big. Ugly. Too many legs. Sitting there like it paid rent. I looked at the spider. Then at my wife. “That’s it?”

Her head whipped toward me. “THAT’S IT?”

“It’s a spider.”

“It’s huge!”

“It’s normal size.”

The look she gave me through the glass suggested I had just betrayed our marriage. “That is not a normal-sized spider, Javier.”

Before I could argue, Tito walked toward the wall and tilted his head. “See?” I pointed at him. “Tito’s not scared.” The spider moved. Tito backed up so fast he nearly ran into my legs. I looked down at him. “Seriously?” He stared up at me like he had no idea what I was talking about.

My wife pointed at him from inside the shower. “Even Tito knows that thing is dangerous.”

“It moved,” I admitted.

“Exactly.” She pointed toward the wall again. “Now kill it.” She said it like the decision had already been made. Apparently, it had.

“Alright.” I grabbed a towel and wrapped part of it around my hand. Why a towel? No idea. It was there. I took one careful step toward the wall. The spider moved one leg. I stepped back. Barely.

Behind me, the shower door slid open a few inches. “Why did you move backward?”

“I didn’t.” I kept my eyes on the spider. “I adjusted my position.”

“By moving away from it.”

“It was tactical.”

She stared at me. Then she slowly shook her head. “You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared. I’m trying to figure out how to kill it without getting spider guts all over the wall.” The spider twitched again. The next thing I knew, I was standing inside the shower beside her with the glass door closed behind me.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she slowly turned toward me. “Did you just hide in the shower?”

“No.”

“Javier.”

“I’m assessing the situation.”

“From in here?”

Before I could defend myself, Tito crept toward the spider again. At least somebody was willing to investigate. Then it moved. Tito immediately turned around, hurried back to us, and sat directly outside the shower.

My wife looked down at him. Then at me. “Oh my God. You’re both hiding.”

“We’re not hiding.” I pointed at Tito. He leaned his entire body against the glass. I looked through the glass again. One of my shoes was lying near the bathroom door. Better. “Stay here.”

“Where else would I go?”

I stepped out of the shower. I picked up the shoe and slowly moved toward the wall.

Behind me, the bathroom went quiet. Then my wife spoke. “Don’t miss.”

“I won’t.” I glanced back.

She was peeking around the shower door with Tito sitting beside her. Neither of them looked helpful.

I turned back to the spider and moved closer. One step. Then another. It stayed still. I raised the shoe. Smacked the wall. Once. Done. Dead. Silence. I slowly lowered the shoe and turned around. “There.”

My wife peeked farther out of the shower. “You did it!” she gasped.

“Of course I did.”

She threw the shower door open and ran toward me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “My hero.”

I tried not to smile. Didn’t work. I wrapped one arm around her waist. “Told you I had it under control.”

Tito started jumping around our legs like he had personally killed the thing.

She pulled back and looked at me. “You still hid in the shower.”

“That was strategic.”

She started laughing so hard she had to hold on to my shoulders. “I love you,” she said when she finally caught her breath. “But wow.”

“Next time you scream like that, I’m bringing the gun.”

“Over a spider?”

“You made it sound like a homicide.”

“It was a homicide.” She pointed toward the wall. “For the spider.”

I tossed the shoe onto the floor. Tito immediately grabbed it and ran into the hallway. “Hey. That’s not yours.” He kept going.

My wife poked me in the chest. “You’re not scared of narcos, but a spider made you run.”

“I didn’t run from the spider.”

“You ran into the shower.”

“I came running because you screamed.”

That shut her up. Her expression softened. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “You did.”

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Always will.”

She smiled and leaned against my side.

And honestly? If this was the kind of chaos I came home to, I’d take spiders over silence any day.

thank you for reading!

💌 @idknananchimaybe @pascalispunktexas @mothmanuwu @pascalispunkbr @reasonablyluminousquill @justmasblack @indiegirlunited @saralovesjoelmiller @picketniffler @canonisoptional @katyispunk @daltoncharm @kirsteng42 @borinquenasoy @cuteanimalmama @senoratess @ningaispunk @misstokyo7love @suestormnotcheatingversion @lizette50 @grxnde-dwt @harriedandharassed @somedayheaven @ladyofmidlo72 @bardot49 @scarlettval2 @goonersquad101 @loveoverpride @fckyeahsaltandpeppercurls @shadowqueen2024

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[pedroscurls]

now comes us (pt. 2)

summary: harry's mother pays him a visit and later that night, you both have a serious conversation.

pairing: harry castillo x fem!reader content warning(s): harry insecurities, mentions of having trouble getting pregnant, work/home-life balance issues, implied smut, no use of y/n. word count: 5.3k a/n: hey y'all! it's a bit of a slow start for this one, but don't worry. angst is just right around the corner... hope y'all enjoy <3 part 1. - part 3. || series masterlist. || read on ao3.

Harry let the shower run over him, one hand pressed against the tile with his head hung low. He shut his eyes—it was another early morning. He usually was always the first one to wake up, since taking over the company, he’d been waking up earlier than normal. 

It wasn’t even light out when he woke up that morning. He didn’t even want to get up either—you had been lying on your side facing him, blanket pulled to your chin. He had been having trouble with balancing his work with his home life, especially now that Charlotte was pregnant too. He didn’t want to put too much stress on Peter, not if he could help it. 

But there were moments where he wished he could go back in time—when things were much simpler and easier. 

He was about to reach for his shampoo when he heard the bathroom door open. Harry looked up and watched your figure come into view. It was steaming inside the shower, fogging up the glass so while he couldn’t see you clearly, he could see your shape just fine. 

He bit his lower lip. Yesterday had been an amazing day, despite the stress he felt at work. And he promised you he’d try to balance work and his relationship with his family. 

A minute or two passed before he heard the door to the shower open. Harry turned around to face you, lips parting at the sight of your bare frame. 

“Morning,” you whispered quietly, letting out a yawn. “I figure maybe I should join you in these early mornings.” 

Harry reached out for you instantly. His hands darted out to grab a hold of your hips, gently and carefully pulling you flush against him. “You spoil me,” he said quietly. 

“Just want to spend as much time as I can with you,” you answered. Harry knew what you meant and he leaned down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. 

“I wouldn’t mind… having you join me in here every morning,” he whispered against your lips. 

“We wouldn’t be showering though, would we?” You smiled, your own arms now looping around his neck as you felt the water cascade down the top of your head and down your body. 

“No, I don’t think we would be,” he chuckled, moving his lips to your cheek lightly. “Did you sleep okay?” 

You nodded, tilting your head to expose more of your neck when you felt his lips brush past your cheek to the shell of your ear and down the side of your neck. “I just don’t like waking up to an empty bed.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, pulling away just slightly to look down at you. Harry reached up to and gently stroked your wet hair back and away from your face. “You know I’ve been getting up earlier than normal.” 

“I know,” you sighed. “But do you need to? I mean, you don’t even head into the office until after we drop the kids off at school.” 

“I do some work before I go in,” Harry reasoned. 

“So, you’re working at home.” 

He nodded. 

“But you’re still coming home late.” 

Harry sighed.

He knew what you were getting at. 

“Baby…” 

Almost like you realized what you were saying, you shook your head and looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I just—I miss you.” 

“I’m right here,” he said quietly. 

“Not all the time,” you sighed. 

“I promised you last night that I’d try,” he whispered, moving his hand from your hair to the side of your neck. “I mean that.” 

“I know,” you nodded. 

“And besides, my mom will be coming by the office today,” Harry reassured you. “I’ll talk to her about everything, okay?” 

“And we’ll still have our scheduled morning walk?” 

Harry smiled. He leaned in and lightly pecked your lips. “We’ll still have our scheduled morning walk,” he confirmed. “Everything will be okay,” he nodded. “I promise. It’s just… hard right now, but it won’t always be.” 

“Okay,” you answered. “I trust you.” 

“Good.” Harry pulled away from you only to retrieve your body wash. “Now, let me take care of you, yeah?” 

You bit your lower lip in anticipation. “I didn’t come in here for you to take care of me. I came in here so that I can take care of you.” 

He chuckled. “Return the favor tonight. Deal?” While one hand held your body wash, the other moved between your legs. Harry watched you gasp in surprise. He smiled and leaned in closer. “I love you, baby,” he said huskily. 

Your eyes fluttered when you felt the pads of his fingers brush against you. Answering with a shaky breath, you replied, “I love you too.” 

Harry watched with a quiet chuckle and a permanent smile on his lips as both Frankie and Sammy were talking amongst one another at the kitchen table. You were helping Stevie get ready for school, having promised last night that you’d curl her hair. 

“Sammy, don’t make a mess, buddy.” He pointed out, grabbing the roll of paper towel to set on the table for him. 

“I won’t, daddy,” he answered. 

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Frankie giggled. 

“But you make a mess too,” Harry smiled. 

“No, I don’t! I’m cleaner than he is.” 

Sammy widened his eyes. “Nuh uh!” 

“Uh huh!” 

“No!”

“Yes!” 

“Okay,” Harry said, stepping in between the both of them. “How about we all agree that the both of you are messy? Even Stevie.” 

“Lies,” Frankie said, shaking her head.

Sammy agreed. “Yeah, exactly. Lies.” 

Harry let out a quiet snort and leaned down to wipe both their lips from the syrup that also drilled down their chin. “See, messy.”

Frankie and Sammy looked at each other, quietly giggling amongst one another. They finished their plates of pancakes quickly and stood from the table to set their dishes into the sink. Harry watched the with loving eyes and followed them closely, reaching over to run the water over the dirty dishes. 

“Go and get ready for school, okay?” He told them.

Frankie nodded.

Sammy did the same and then hugged his leg as the other girl ran down the hallway and into her room.

“What’s up, buddy?” 

“Nothing,” he said, looking up at Harry. 

Harry set down his cup of coffee on the counter and leaned down to pick Sammy up. “You’re still hungry, aren’t you?” 

Sammy giggled. “Can I just have some fruit?” 

He smiled and walked to the fridge, grabbing the bowl of grapes as he kept Sammy against his hip. “You can have a bit, bud, but you still gotta get ready for school.”

They younger boy nodded. “Okay, daddy. Did you eat too?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll have some toast before we leave.”

“You don’t eat in the morning? But you’re always awake before everyone.” Sammy scrambled to his feet and walked towards the dining table again, hoisting himself back onto the chair as he reached for a couple of grapes. 

Harry bit his lower lip and sat down next to Sammy, reaching for some grapes too. “How do you know I wake up before everyone, hm?” 

Sammy shrugged, swinging his feet off the edge of the chair. “Well, you’re already dressed by the time we wake up, so…”

“So observant,” he chuckled.

“I just want to make sure you have some yummy breakfast too, daddy. Tomorrow, I’ll try to wake up before you and make you some waffles too!”

Harry looked at him and smiled, leaning forward to kiss his temple. “You’re the sweetest, buddy, but you don’t need to. I’ll make sure to eat beforehand, how’s that?”

Sammy narrowed his eyes up at his father. Harry couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh because it was the same look you’d give him. “Promise?”

“I promise, Sammy.”

“Pinky promise?” Sammy lifted his hand in the air, extending his pinky out for him.

Harry nodded and curled his own pinky with his. “I pinky promise, buddy. You all done eating?”

Sammy took a couple of more grapes before he climbed off the chair. “All done. I’ll go get ready for school now.”

“Love you, Sammy.”

He smiled and wrapped his tiny arms around Harry, kissing his cheek. “Love you too, daddy.” 

Harry watched the younger boy disappear down the hallway and into his room as he stood from the dining table. He went to retrieve his cup of coffee before making his way to Stevie’s room. He could hear the quiet chatter between the both of you, so when he slowly opened the door even further, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him.

“Dad!” Stevie said, turning her head to look at him. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled. “You look beautiful, Stevie girl.”

She was wearing a white and black striped long sleeve tucked into a denim skirt. Her hair was curly and framed her face and she looked up at Harry with soft eyes—almost like she was looking for his approval too. 

“Y—You think so?” She asked.

You smiled and stood from the edge of her bed to wrap your arms around Stevie from behind. “Look at him,” you teased. “He’s got tears in his eyes.”

“I do not,” Harry said, blinking back the tears that filled his eyes. “I just—Your mom did a great job on your hair.”

Stevie grinned and leaned back against you. “I’m still wearing my converse though,” she said. 

“Ah, can’t forget about your converse,” he chuckled, walking further into the room and looking down at Stevie. “How are you no longer my little girl?” Harry asked with a sigh. 

“I’m always your little girl,” Stevie answered. “Just… I’m older.”

“I know,” Harry said with a nod. “I look at you and all I see is that same five year old little girl,” he continued. “But now… she’s got a crush that she’s trying to impress and—”

Stevie sighed loudly. “Dad, he’s just a friend.”

“Uh huh,” he replied. “How come you don’t dress up for your other friends then, hm?”

Stevie felt the warmth in her cheeks. “He’s a new friend.” 

You looked up at Harry and smiled, shaking your head as you pulled away from Stevie. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. Make sure to eat breakfast, okay, Stevie?” 

“Yeah, mom,” she nodded. “Thanks for doing my hair. I love it.”

“Taylor better love it too,” Harry muttered under his breath.

Both you and Stevie looked at him, gave him a look that said seriously without saying the words. 

He widened his eyes just slightly and lifted his hand in the air. “Okay, okay, I’ll knock it off.” Then, Harry leaned in and kissed the crown of Stevie’s head. “You do look real pretty, Stevie girl.”

“Thanks, dad,” she smiled, looking up at him. “Still got pancakes?”

Harry nodded. “You know there’s enough left for you, baby.”

“Oh good,” she said, leaving her room to go into the kitchen, leaving both you and Harry standing in the middle of her bedroom.

“She’s—She’s getting so big,” Harry sighed.

You nodded, walking up to him and gently running your hands up and down his chest. “I know, baby, but hey… we’ve got two other babies still.”

“What about… a fourth?” Harry asked.

Your eyes lit up. “Yeah?” 

He smiled. “Yeah.”

“Talk about it tonight?” You asked, hopefully.

Harry nodded and leaned in to lightly peck your lips. “Tonight, baby.” 

Later that morning when both you and Harry parked at the school, Stevie kissed both your cheeks before joining her friends. Sammy held onto your hand and wanted you to walk him to his class, which left Harry and Frankie. 

“Daddy, I think I know what I want to do,” she said, keeping a tight hold on his hand as she led him to his classroom. 

“What’s that, babygirl?” He asked, looking down at her. “Soccer? Gymnastics? Basketball?” 

“Martial arts,” she grinned, looking up at Harry. 

“Martial arts?” Harry repeated, tilting his head. 

Frankie nodded excitedly. “I want to learn how to punch and kick, daddy.”

“You don’t want to do any other sport? What if you get hurt, honey?” 

“Well, I won’t,” Frankie smiled, the dimple on her cheek appearing. 

“You can’t guarantee that, Frankie.”

“No, but I know that I’ll be good at it,” she said with confidence. “Can I at least try it out first?” 

“I’ll talk to mama,” he reasoned, scooping her into his arms and kissing her cheek. “How’s that?”

Frankie smiled, wrapping her arms around him. “Okay, daddy, but I really want to do it.”

“We’ll try it out first, see how you really like it, yeah?” 

“What if mama says no?” She asked quietly. “I think she might say no.”

Harry looked down at her, his lower lip pulled between his teeth. He never realized how much of a soft spot he had for his children. “I’ll—I’ll try to convince her for you to give it a try. I’m not saying that we’ll sign you up—”

Frankie nodded quickly. “Really, daddy? You promise?”

“I’ll do my best, babygirl.” Harry said, kissing her forehead. “But if you can’t do martial arts, what else would you wanna do?” 

“Hmm,” she shrugged. “I haven’t thought that far.” 

“Oh? You think we’ll agree and say yes to you doing martial arts?”

Frankie grinned. “Yes.”

“Confident, aren’t you?”

She giggled. “Yup.”

Harry chuckled and tickled her side, feeling her arms tighten around him as her giggles filtered his ears. He loved that sound—loved hearing every single child of his laugh because of him. “I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you too, daddy,” she smiled, pulling away from him and scrambling to her feet once they got to the door of her classroom. “Don’t work too hard, okay?” 

Harry bit his lower lip. Stevie had said something first, then Sammy, and now Frankie. Guilt filled his chest, so he leaned down and ran his hands down her arms and to her tiny hands to hold in his own. “I won’t, babygirl. Have a great day, okay?” 

Frankie nodded, kissing his cheek. “You too, daddy. See you after school!” 

Harry smiled to himself and watched her walk into her classroom, feeling someone’s arm wrap around him from behind. He turned slightly and noticed you instantly, his smile just growing bigger at the sight of you. 

“Kiddos are all in their classrooms,” you said. 

Harry nodded, turning in your arms and wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you both began walking away from Frankie’s classroom and back towards the car. 

“So… hear me out,” Harry said quietly. 

“What?” You asked, brow arching. 

He bit his lip. “Frankie wants to do martial arts.” 

Your brows lifted upward. “What?” 

“Her words, not mine. She said, I want to learn how to punch and kick, daddy,” he repeated. 

“She could get hurt.” 

“Yes, I told her that.” 

“Harry—”

“I didn’t say yes,” he interjected. “I said… I’d talk to you.” 

“You just can’t say no to our kids, can you?” You teased. 

He chuckled quietly. “I didn’t say yes,” he repeated. 

“But you didn’t say no either.” 

He rolled his eyes playfully and held you closer to his side, turning his head to kiss your temple. “I told her I’d talk to you,” he said again. 

“What if I say no?” 

“Then I’d push back and ask you to reconsider,” he answered. “Let’s just have her try a few lessons. See if she really wants to do it before we commit.” 

You looked up at him, leaning into him. “No sparring.” 

“Baby, she’s six.” 

“No sparring,” you repeated. “Or any physical contact with any other kid.” 

Harry nodded. “Just the foundations,” he agreed. “The basics.” 

“The basics,” you said. “Okay, we can let her know that we can check out some places.”

He smiled. “She’s gonna be so happy.”

Harry got into the office about an hour later. Peter was already there, walking towards his office with a large grin on his face. He always was envious of how easygoing his younger brother was. Harry, on the other hand, was always in his head, always overthinking and worrying. When things were out of his control, it only stressed him out further. 

But Peter was the complete opposite. 

He didn’t mind going with the flow, didn’t spend too much time worrying about one single thing, and he was able to separate his home life with his work. 

“Morning,” Peter said, hands in his pockets. 

“Hey,” Harry answered, holding the door to his office open. “We got a busy day today.”

“Nothing we can’t handle.”

“How’s Charlotte?”

“Good,” Peter answered. “Yours?”

“She’s good too,” Harry said with a nod, his mind drifting to you as he was already counting down the minutes until you got to the office. “Frankie wants to do martial arts.”

Peter chuckled. “You’re gonna have your hands full with that one,” he teased. “I wonder who she got her athleticism from.”

“Me,” Harry answered quickly. “Obviously me.”

“Uh huh,” Peter smiled. “Sure.”

“And Stevie’s got a crush,” Harry added. “Dressed up today. Had her mom curl her hair and everything.”

“Oh,” Peter said softly. “You’ve got a pre-teen on your hands. Good luck.”

Harry laughed quietly. “I know, it’s crazy, isn’t it? How am I gonna survive her teenage years?”

“Well, it’s good thing you won’t be doing it alone,” he answered with a smile.

Harry nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

“You both still trying to get pregnant?” Peter asked.

“We—we haven’t talked about it since we were having a tough time about a year ago,” Harry answered. “But yeah, I think we want to try again.”

“Could’ve been stress,” Peter suggested. “It’s been a year since we both took over for mom and dad, and… well, you almost overworked yourself until you collapsed last year.”

Harry sighed. “I know. Don’t remind me.”

“But… you’re still kind of doing the same thing, Harry. Maybe not to the same extent, but—”

“I’ve got it handled,” Harry interrupted. 

“Is that why mom’s coming today?”

He looked over at him. “How’d you know she was coming today?”

“Well, she called me. Asked me if everything was okay.”

He sighed. “I just—just wanted to talk to her, that’s all.”

Peter walked over to him and reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “I hope you know that you can lean on me, Harry. I know Char’s pregnant and everything, but I’m here for you too. We’re both co-CEOs for a reason.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I know.”

“I’ll take the morning meetings, you take the afternoon. Sound good?”

“Peter—”

“Great,” he grinned. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Peter,” Harry repeated. 

“I am capable of doing this job too.”

“I’m not saying you can’t.”

“But you’re not letting me do anything.”

Harry sighed and nodded. He reached up to run a hand over his face. “Okay, fine. You get the morning. I’ll get the afternoon.” 

“Good,” Peter smiled. “I’ll see you later. You know where to find me.”

“Uh huh,” he said, watching his younger brother leave his office with a large grin on his lips. The door shut behind him and he sighed, walking towards his desk and sitting at his desk. Maybe splitting the meetings equally like this would work, but he couldn’t help the lack of control he was feeling. 

Harry felt his phone buzz. He pulled it from his pocket and looked down to see his mother text him that she was on her way. He replied with a thumbs up before turning his laptop on to at least get started on some work before she got here. 

Harry had been walking back to his office after refilling his cup of coffee when he spotted his mother at the end of the hallway, stepping off the elevators. His eyes lit up and he walked over to her, seeing her gaze find him instantly. When he got closer, she pulled him in for a hug and he relaxed instantly, kissing her temple. “Hey, morning.”

“Hey, honey,” she said. 

“Want a cup?” Harry asked.

His mother shook her head. “Already had my fix this morning,” she smiled. “And you? What number cup is this?”

“Two.”

“It’s not even ten in the morning, Harry,” she said.

“Exactly.”

She rolled her eyes and hooked her arm with his, following him towards his office. It didn’t take long for them to get there, so Harry held the door open for her before shutting it behind the both of them once they were inside. 

“How’s dad?” He asked, walking towards his desk to set his mug down. 

“Good,” she answered. “He’s good. Meeting up with Jay, actually.” 

“Oh?” Harry smiled, arms crossing over his chest at the mention of your dad. When your parents moved back to the city to be closer to you, both of them spent a lot of their time with his parents too. It was like they were long lost best friends now finally catching up. 

“At the gym, apparently,” she laughed quietly. “Which is fine. Considering how often they try to sneak in some sweets, it’s nice that they’re out there working out.”

“Good for them,” Harry said with a nod. “Maybe we should have you guys come over this weekend or something.”

Her eyes lit up. “I think we’d love that, honey. How are the kiddos?”

“Good,” he smiled. “Sammy made a new friend yesterday. Frankie wants to do martial arts. And Stevie—she’s got a crush and I don’t know what to do with that,” Harry answered honestly.

His mother laughed quietly and walked towards the couch, taking a seat on it with ease. “Oh, the joy of growing up.”

Harry followed her and sat down next to his mother, biting his lower lip as he looked over at her. 

“What, honey?” She asked, turning to face him. “You texted me for a reason last night. What’s going on? Are you—you having trouble with—”

Harry shook his head and interjected immediately. “No,” he answered. “We’re not having trouble.” 

“Then, what is it?” 

He sighed and looked down at his hands, his thumb grazing over his wedding ring. “Remember how it was like last year? When you and dad retired and me and Peter took over?”

She nodded. “You wouldn’t stop working… and didn’t let Peter do any of the work.”

“I did let him work.”

“Barely.” 

Harry sighed again. “I’m—I’m having trouble with that again,” he admitted. “I’m working a lot and I don’t know how I did it before, how I fixed it. I don’t know how you or dad even did it.”

“You’re not letting Peter help you,” she answered like it was the most simplest answer there was. 

“Char’s pregnant, mom,” he said. “And you know the challenges both she and Peter had just to get pregnant this time around.”

“Harry,” she sighed, taking his hand once she started noticing that he was fidgeting uncomfortably. “I know you want to take care of them, make sure that there isn’t any other added stress, but you can’t do this by yourself. Why else did you think we named both of you as co-CEOs?”

“I just—I know I can handle it myself. I just need to be better at separating my work life with my home life.” 

His mother said your name, causing his gaze to look up at her. “How does she feel about all of this?”

“Well, that’s the thing… it’s starting to affect us. Our kids are also taking notice.”

“That’s a problem, honey.”

“I know,” Harry whispered, guilt slowly crawling up his chest. “I’m trying.”

“What are you doing to try to make things better?” She asked. “If you’re trying… what exactly does that look like?”

Harry tore his gaze away from her. He couldn’t answer that. “Mom—”

“Your father and I didn’t name you both co-CEOs just for the hell of it,” she interjected. “We knew you both were ready, but if it’s causing you this much stress—”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” she sighed. “Why do you think you need to try and control everything, baby?” She said softly, reaching up with one hand to cup his cheek so that he could look at her. “The company’s thriving, Harry. Nothing’s going to happen.”

His eyes softened. “I just don’t want to do a bad job. You and dad worked so hard for it and I don’t—I’m scared that if I don’t keep up with it that it’ll just go under, that I’ll end up disappointing the both of you,” he answered honestly. 

His mother’s eyes softened too. She leaned forward to kiss his forehead and he sighed, leaning into her like he was that same, sensitive little boy who worried about the smallest of things. 

“Nothing you or Peter could ever do would disappoint us,” she reassured. “And this company—it’s just that. Your health matters more to me, Harry. Same with Peter. If it goes under, it goes under. This company isn’t our legacy,” she continued. “You and Peter are, do you hear me, Harry?”

He looked at her and felt tears sting his eyes. He blinked them back, tried to keep his composure. 

“I said, do you hear me, Harry?”

He nodded slowly, biting his lower lip as he looked into her eyes. “Y—yeah, I hear you.”

“Lean on your brother,” she added. “You aren’t the only one running this company.”

“But Charlotte—”

“Harry, it’s not your job to make sure that they are taken care of. You have your own family to think about too. If it’s affecting your marriage, if your kids are seeing it too, then how can you expect to take care of them if your cup is already empty?”

He sighed. “How did you do it? How’d you work when you had me and Peter?”

“I had help,” she smiled. “I didn’t do it alone. I knew I couldn’t do it alone.”

“Dad,” he said. 

“Exactly. I had your father.”

Harry nodded. “Okay, I’ll—I’ll let Peter take on more. Or at least an equal amount of work.”

“Good, that’s a start,” she said. “And make sure to keep your boundaries. Work should only start when you get to the office and when you step foot out of this building. At home, your priority is to be a father—a husband. Once you take work home with you, honey, it’s hard to separate work and home life after that.”

“Okay,” he repeated. “And waking up early?” 

She shrugged. “You can wake up early, sure, but don’t wake up early because you feel like you need to work.”

“Work when I’m at the office,” he said. “Boundaries—okay, I’ll work on that.”

“Won’t be easy,” she said. “But I know you love being a father and husband more than being a CEO, Harry. This company—it’s not everything.”

He nodded again and leaned against her. Harry shut his eyes and didn’t feel like the weight on his shoulders were dragging him down. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For talking to me. For coming here.”

“Of course, honey,” she smiled, arm wrapping around his shoulders as Harry rested his cheek against her. “I’m proud of you, both you and Peter. So, your homework today is?”

“Once I leave the office, work’s done,” Harry answered.

“Good,” she said softly. “Good.”

You were already in bed by the time he finished in the bathroom. Harry smiled to himself, feeling lighter once he left work once he left the office. It wasn’t easy, especially when he wanted to stay a bit longer after work, but this was the first step. 

“Kids went to sleep pretty quickly tonight,” you said, arms coming up to wrap around him once he laid down next to you. 

“Must’ve been because we let them watch a movie during dinner,” he chuckled.

“They do like their movie nights,” you smiled. “Did you see Stevie? She was grinning the entire ride home.”

Harry nodded, arm snaking around your shoulders. “Guess we’ll have to ask her about it tomorrow. See if she’s willing to let us know what happened.” 

“Wanna bet that she won’t tell us?” You teased.

Harry laughed quietly. “I think she’ll give us some details, but not all.” 

“You might be right,” you smiled. “She asked me if I could show her how to curl her hair.”

“Yeah? What’d you say?”

“I didn’t want to say yes,” you admitted. “Guess I’m also feeling like she won’t need me anymore either.” 

Harry nodded in understanding and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “She’s growing up.”

“I know,” you sighed. “Makes me sad too.”

“She’s still our Stevie girl though,” Harry said. 

“Yeah, she is,” you nodded. “How was your talk with your mom today?”

“It was—it was good,” he answered. “It was what I needed actually. Gave me some good advice.”

You smiled. “Yeah?” 

Harry nodded, turning to lie on his side to face you. His arm draped over your midsection, pulling you close to him as he felt your nose gently graze his own. “Did you know your dad and my dad work out together?” 

“My mom did mention something about it,” you laughed quietly. “I’m sure they get some sweet snack afterwards.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” he smiled. 

You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his dark curls. “So… what’d your mom say?” 

“I need boundaries,” he answered. “Said that I should only focus on work when I’m in the office.”

“Good advice,” you said with a nod. “And how was that? Today after work?”

“Difficult,” he said honestly. “But felt good.”

You smiled and leaned in to peck his lips. “I’m proud of you,” you whispered. “I know it couldn’t have been easy but I—I’m glad that you’re trying, even if it’s hard for you.”

“I’m doing this for—for us, for our family,” Harry said softly. 

“I know, baby.”

“And I want to try again,” he continued. 

You bit your lower lip and sat up slowly, reaching over to turn the light on on your nightstand. Harry sat up as well, looking over at you with soft eyes. 

“If that’s what you want too,” Harry added.

“It is,” you nodded. “I do want to try again too.”

He smiled, reaching out for you and pulling you onto his lap. “And I know last year was a tough time for us. I know we tried and we didn’t have any luck, but I think it was because of stress,” he said, thinking back to what Peter had suggested earlier that day. “I think I was so focused on work that we just—we couldn’t get pregnant.”

You ran your hands down his chest and back up until they rested on his shoulders. “What about this time around?”

“This time around, I’m gonna be better. I’m gonna establish boundaries wth work,” he repeated. “I want another child with you.”

“A shit ton of kids, right?” You smiled, leaning in to brush your lips with his own. 

Harry chuckled, squeezing your hips tightly. “A shit ton of kids, indeed.”

“And maybe we don’t put a lot of pressure around it this time around?” You suggested.

Harry nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. While we wanted to get pregnant when Frankie and Sammy were born, we didn’t really put a lot of focus on it either. We just—weren’t careful.”

“So… we start trying,” you said.

“We start trying,” he repeated. 

“Can we start trying now?” 

Harry’s eyes lit up. He nodded and slowly rolled you onto your back, settling himself between your legs as his hands moved from your hips to slowly pull your shirt over your head. “Hell yeah we can start trying now.”

taglist: @picketniffler @kellyxo1 @arianmock13-blog @sunnytuliptime @orcasoul @brastrangled @callmebyyournick-name @copperhalfcent @inept-the-magnificent @ultimatewolverine @toxicwasteee @sesdeuxyeux @jothenurse91 @katw474 @kakiki3 @peelieblue @notyourlovemonkey @thatcorporategirlie @artsymaddie @lucillered66 @pascalispunktexas @noisynightmarepoetry @stylesispunk @vickie5446 @just-mj-or-not @pascalgold

[ppaattrriizziiaa1]

My Love, My Life | Harry Castillo

This is a one shot to my finished series The Winner Takes It All but it can be read without knowing it.

Pairing: Harry Castillo x f!reader

Summary: Your mommy-daughter date has an unexpected turn. Harry is there to reassure you.

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, Gracie is adopted and she’s the cutest, some angst

Words: 2.5k

Notes: Hi! God, I missed them so much, I had to write something! It feels really good to be back in The Winner Takes It All universe. I hope you waited for it, too! And also let me know in the asks or comments if you have some specific one shot for them in mind. I apologize for any mistakes, English isn’t my first language. Please, do not copy my work. Thanks!

| my masterlist |

„Gracie, don’t go too far!” You call as your daughter rushes happily towards the playground.

„Okay, mommy!”

With a quiet sigh you sit on a free bench, setting your bag aside. Today is just for you and her. You already ate breakfast at your favorite waffle place and now you’re in a Central Park. Gracie begged to come here for almost a week. She loves it here and you love watching her having fun.

Pulling out your phone, you record a short video of her playing in the sandbox. She especially asked you to grab her bucket and spade today. Other kids are also around, but it’s quite peaceful at this hour. You didn’t send her to the kindergarten yet, because you wanted to take in the motherhood. You longed for it for so many years that now it would feel wrong to just hand over your daughter to other people. You’re working from home anyways.

„Gracie, wave to daddy!” You say from your place and she looks up at the camera. Harry’s working right now and you send him videos and photos like this every day. He can’t wait for any insight into Gracie’s life when he’s gone. After your four-years-old waves happily and comes back to her play, you stop recording and send him this.

The answer comes immediately.

Harry: God, she’s so adorable.

Harry: Hope you don’t have too much fun without me.

You smile to yourself, imagining him in a stiff suit and signing documents in his boring office. He’s devoted to his work, but he much rather be here in a linen shirt, playing with your daughter. Harry’s priorities changed over the years and as he became a father he sees nothing else, but you and Gracie.

You: Never. But we might go to the toy store later…

Harry: You’re cruel.

A chuckle escapes you as you read the message. Shopping with Grace is one of his favourite activities.

But then another text appears.

Harry: Buy her something nice from me.

You put your phone in your bag and look up at your daughter. She seems already bored of the sandbox, because she stands up and brushes off sand from her leggings. „Mommy.” She approaches you.

„Yes, honey? Come on, let me help.” You go down on your knees to be at her level and get rid of the rest of the sand. „You want some juice?” You ask and she nods.

Gracie crawls onto the bench and patiently waits till you grab the small apple juice box with a straw. You always carry them in your bags. It’s striking that in the past you used to have different types of lipglosses there and now you exchanged them for juice boxes and My Little Pony plasters.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

„Here, baby.” You give her the juice and brush her golden locks from her face. Grace holds it with both of her hands, clearly thirsty. Today it’s quite warm, Spring greeting you with sun and delicate clouds above. A perfect weather for a mommy-daughter date.

„Mommy, I don’t want anymore.” She hands you the box.

„It’s fine, you’ll finish later.” You lay a kiss on her head.

„Excuse me?” Hearing a female voice, you look sideways to find a woman and a little boy standing a bit behind her, clinging shyly to her leg. „Hi. I don’t want to interrupt, but my son, Otis, wonders if your daughter would like to play?”

She looks a bit older than you. Very pretty and seems kind. You can see she tries to help her boy find some friends. And how lucky she is, because you were trying to get Gracie more around people, too.

You turn to your daughter with a soft smile, encouraging her with your calmness. „Huh, Gracie? What do you say? Do you want to play with Otis? He seems nice.”

Grace hesitates, clinging to your side as well. Ever since you adopted her, you try with Harry to deal with her fear of strangers. Your daughter is a very sweet, but shy girl. She opens up slowly. Her time in foster homes did that. And now that she has you, you want her to also have friends her age. And it’s been hard to do.

„I’ll be right here. You can go play.” You add squeezing her small frame gently. Her eyes land on Otis who is also hesitating. His olive skin and brown hair reflect the sun. He seems like a nice boy. You’d like Gracie to befriend him and maybe you could also befriend his mother? It would be so cool having a girlfriend who is also a mom. You didn’t meet anyone yet.

„Okay.” Gracie whispers and hops off the bench.

Your heart swells with pride and love for your little girl. She’s being so brave.

Soon, you watch her play with Otis, while engaging in a conversation with his mom. You discovered her name is Gianna and that they moved in to New York a month ago. You told each other some stories about how the motherhood treats you, you smiled together when Gracie and Otis hugged. You even exchanged numbers and scheduled a playdate, because your kids seemed to have so much fun together. That’s what you wanted for your daughter. You’re so happy she made a friend.

When Grace gets tired, you say goodbye to Otis and Gianna and head outside the park. You still have a toy store to visit. So now you hold her small hand, walking down the lane. She looks so joyful despite the tiredness. You never saw her like that before.

„You had fun with Otis?”

„Yes! Can we see him again? He likes cars like me!” Your daughter can’t help the little jump as you walk. It makes you grin.

„Sure, we can, honey. I bet he can’t wait to see you again.”

You are so focused on Gracie and her infectious happiness that you don’t notice the person that stopped on the way before you. Only her voice finally catches your attention.

„Sweetheart?”

You freeze, looking up.

„Mother?”

All of a sudden your grip on Gracie’s hand tightens. Little girl looks between you and her with curiosity. She doesn’t know her grandma, you made sure of that. To her, the older woman is a complete stranger.

To you? Some could say she’s a stranger to you as well. You haven’t seen Eliza for about… two years? But you had no plan to change it. And seeing her at Central Park by accident is definitely the last thing you expected today.

„Mommy, who is it?” Gracie asks you and finally the weight of what’s happening settles on you. Grace never saw her. And now she’s here…

„Just mommy’s friend, you know?” You fake a smile, saying that in a hidden panic.

„Friend? Are you serious?” Eliza steps closer, clearly disturbed with your words. But you don’t want your daughter to have anything to do with her. Your mother was never a mom to you. You still remember how neglected you felt in your childhood home and you swore to yourself Gracie will have it better.

„Yes. I don’t want you near her. And I don’t think I have to explain why.”

Your mother huffs, but she acts like she didn’t hear what you just said. Like good old times. Eliza takes a better look at Gracie and all you wish for is to pick her up and run away. Your mother never cared enough to check on you, you’re not sure if she was even aware that you became a mom, too.

„When did you have her? She looks like she’s five.”

You want to roll your eyes. Some silly part of you, the little girl that craved attention years ago, still hoped that maybe she at least asked your siblings about your life. But now you have proof it’s not true.

„She’s four and we adopted her.”

„Adopted?” Eliza’s eyes widen.

„Mommy.” Gracie tugs at your hand, because she’s bored. Not even minding the tensed conversation. Just childishly oblivious. And honestly, you’re thankful for that. With a quiet sigh you pick her up into your arms. Your daughter clings to you as always when a stranger is near.

„Listen, I am so much happier when you’re no longer in my life. And I want it to stay that way. Don’t ever get near me, or my daughter.” You say, internally stunned that you found strength to speak the truth that’s been waiting in the back of your mind for so long. Eliza though, stares in shock at you. You wonder is it because she realized she made a mistake, or if, like usually, she can’t accept the tone you’re using against her.

„I have to go.” You say already passing her. „I have a day to spend with my child.”

And just like that, you leave your mother for the last time in your life. No looking back. Just forward. At the future with Gracie and Harry. They are all that matters. And through last couple of years you learnt a lot about your worth. She no longer has any power over you.

„Ready to buy some new toy?” You coo, bouncing Grace in your arms.

For the rest of the day you hid your shaken state the conversation with your mother has left you in. You didn’t want to worry Gracie, she’s too young and you wanted her to have an amazing time. At home you faked, too. When your husband came home, he instantly noticed something is off with you, but he decided to not comment on that. Yet.

Now? Harry enters your bedroom after putting Gracie to sleep. You’re already in bed, with a book in your lap, but you read the same page for the tenth time.

„She’s finally down. You really got her excited with that new Barbie.” He smiles widely, but it softens with every step he takes towards the bed. You’re both in your comfy clothes, basically ready to curl up and fall asleep as well. But not yet… Not until he knows what’s up with his wife.

„Good.” You hum absent-mindedly. That’s when he’s sure something is eating you up.

Without a word, Harry sits next to you. Back against the headboard, but he angles in your direction. His hand rests gently on your thigh.

„Hey… Are you alright?”

His gentle voice and attentive eyes make you soften. At this point of marriage, you’re perfectly aware there is no sense in hiding your feelings, because Harry knows you inside and out. One look at you and he knows.

So, you put your book aside and sigh.

„Today, at the park… We bumped into someone.”

„Someone? Who?” His hand now delicately rubbing your arm.

Your eyes find his. „My mother.”

You tell Harry the whole story. All this while he holds you and listens carefully. He sees how it took its toll on you. He hates that he wasn’t there, but also he’s proud when he hears you stood up for yourself.

„I just… It was the first time I saw her and Gracie in one place together and I just couldn’t let her get closer. I actually never saw clearer. I swore to myself Gracie will never feel the way I did as a child. And I swore to myself I will never beg for her attention ever again. You know how good it felt to say that to her face?”

Harry sees it in your eyes. You seem wired, but also… relieved. Like something cleaned up the mess that remained for years in your head. You’re finally free.

„I’m proud of you, baby.” He says, kissing your forehead. „So proud of you.”

His words mean a lot. Because it’s your husband who first showed you that you deserve more. That you deserve full attention. He showed you you’re lovable and wanted. Since then, with every day you gained more of that confidence. He was with you through it all, even if your relationship was difficult to maintain sometimes. You made it with him.

„I’m finally happy. No remorse, or longing… I am exactly where I want to be. And it’s here with you, guys.”

Then, he pulls you into a warm hug. The one that speaks louder than any words could. The solid form of his body is your anchor, you slip your hand beneath his t-shirt to feel his skin. Your breathing instantly slows, your mind doesn’t swirl with unwanted thoughts. It’s just you and your husband in the comfort of your shared bedroom.

„You belong here. You always did.” He whispers against your head. „I love you.”

You squeeze him tighter. „I love you, too, baby. So much.”

For a while you just remain like that. No awful mothers, or guilt. Harry holds you, making sure you feel comfortable and seen. The emotions settle slowly and you’re able to breathe without the weight on your chest. You glance at him with a soft smile.

„And what do you think about Otis? Gracie couldn’t stop talking about him at dinner.”

Harry huffs with quiet amusement, but he’s glad you feel okay enough to talk about something else. „Well, I’m so happy she made a friend. I just wish he was a girl.”

„Oh, come on, they are kids.”

„I know, I know… But he’s still a boy. I don’t want him to hurt my little girl.”

„Harry, they are four.” You sit up with a giggle. „The worst thing he can do to her is stealing her truck.”

„Exactly. I better not see her crying, because he took it.” The way his face turns into that serious expression makes you almost laugh out loud. Since becoming a father, a new side of his protectiveness awoken in him. You can’t lie… It suits him. But still, it’s adorable to watch him care like that.

„God, you’re such a dad right now.” You grin.

„I’m taking it as a compliment, baby. I’m not taking any chances with our child.”

„As you should. It was very much a compliment.” You scoot closer and press your lips to his. „Being a daddy really suits you.”

„Oh, yeah?” He hums pulling you closer, so you basically straddle his lap. „Am I hot?”

„As hell.” You grin kissing him again.

You love your life. You love how Harry can make your thoughts go quiet and remind you what’s really important. Your mother is no longer on your mind, you don’t think she ever will be again.

All that matters you have here. A husband who makes you feel seen. An adorable daughter who is your whole world.

It feels great.

***************************

A/N: I love it and I hope you guys do, too. I missed this family!

Taglist: @palomavs @negrita2345 @jothenurse91 @chewie-bars @ivoryandflame @perpetualharpyresonance @alyloops @mamustreads @misstokyo7love @picketniffler @inept-the-magnificent @jasminedragoon @callmebyyournick-name @victoriaholland @oh-thats-cute @sophx58 @lilacs97 @mrsjosephmazzello @orcasoul @vickie5446 @callittrueblue @maryfanson @dendulinka6 @sunnytuliptime @pascalgf @cuteanimalmama @yourfavouritecrime

[petalsinblood]

I'm sorry

Pairing: Alex Serian x f!reader

Summary: Leaving something at Alex's house after your break up results in you having to go back. And going back might not just mean going back to his home.

Warnings: you're Alex's ex (or are you?), talk about cheating, arguing, crying and yelling, things turning heated, heavy make-out session, alussions to smut, but nothing happens, Alex losing it completely, Alex having a breakdown (kind of), showing emotions through music, Alex playing the cello, not proofread

Word count: 5k

You hate all of this.

The whole craziness around moving out and settling in to a different place. The hustle that followed with unpacking every box. And the fact that it all happened because of one man. A man you never want to see ever again.

Alex Serian.

The man you once loved with your whole heart. Who you trusted like no one before. And all that so he could go out one night and cheat on you with a stranger. A woman whose name he couldn’t even recall.

You never asked him why he did it. And if his cellist buddy wouldn’t have told you, then Alex probably would have never admitted the truth to you. The moment you found out you did what your heart dictated, packing up a bag and leaving your house as fast as you could because you couldn’t bear the thought of breathing the same oxygen as him any more.

It is technically his house, but early in your relationship he declared it yours too. A shelter where you could go any time, his open arms waiting behind the thick wooden door.

The second you stepped out that door for the last time, you promised yourself you won’t ever come back, and still….

You’re here in front of that same white house now.

It has been weeks since you left, but nothing changed. The small flowers are still blooming beautifully in the front yard, the small lamp hanging on the wall painting the porch in dim light as you climb the steps to his door.

In the first week at your new apartment you realized that you left your necklace here. And while you can easily get your hands on another one, memories are attached to the older one, providing an emotional comfort when you need it the most.

You stop in front of the door, paying down your next actions in your mind. You knock, he opens the door, you greet him, go in for your jewelry and you are out of here. You won’t waste your time for small talk when it isn’t necessary. You nervously shift your weight from one leg to the other, taking a deep breath as you lift your hand to knock, but before your knuckles can make contact with the sturdy wood, the door flies open.

You taka a step back when you see Alex in the doorway, and he is seemingly surprised too to find you here.

He didn’t change a bit either. Maybe he looks a bit more exhausted, but it’s the same man standing in front of you who lied about his feelings and love. Hair combed back, one unruly curl falling into his forehead. The creases between his eyebrows that hold hundreds of your kisses. His dark eyes now looking sadder than ever. Plush lips that you once whispered against all of your secrets in the middle of the night, the softness of them against your mouth still lingering. Beard trimmed neatly, going gray at the sides, memories of you running your hand through it flashing in your mind.

You can tell he didn’t expected any visitors from his casual look. The black T-shirt is pulling tight over his body, matching black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a pair of slippers on his feet. A garbage bag is hanging in his hand, clearly destined to be thrown into the trash can in front of his house.

You clear your throat as your gaze travels back up to his face, and your mind suddenly goes completely blank. All you can manage is a weak greeting, your plan completely useless at this point. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, and you close your eyes for a second at the effect his voice still has on you. “Can I help you?”

He tries to sound composed, but you see through his act, his eyes telling a different story. Before you can get lost in them again you speak up. “I left something here. I only came for that,” you explain, crossing your arms in front of you, feeling more vulnerable than ever under his intense gaze.

You follow him as he steps out and stops beside you. He looks down into your eyes with a sad expression, tilting his head slightly towards the house. “You know the way around.”

You take that as his invitation, stepping away from him and into the house.

The familiar smell hits you immediately, memories flooding your mind, but you try to focus on the task at hand, waking through the living room. Before you turn on the corner, you back, and your heart does a leap when you see Alex still standing where you left him, now staring at you.

When he realizes that you are looking at him, he quickly turns around, walking to throw away the trash in his hand.

With that you walk to the bedroom, at this point already knowing the house’s layout better than the back of your hand. When you step into the bedroom, you immediately make your path towards the small nightstand next to his bed, but when you open the drawer, you only see his stuff, your necklace nowhere in sight.

You move around the room more determined now, looking into every small space, lifting a heavy stack of music sheets from his desk, even going as far as looking into his wardrobe in hopes of noticing the golden jewelry.

In your feverish hunt, you don’t even notice Alex leaning against the doorway, watching you. You only realize he is there when he clears his throat.

You walk up to him, and deep down you know you look like an absolute mess with your hair sticking in every direction and your face flushed from both your previous actions and the fact that he caught you in such a vulnerable moment.

You stop in your tracks when he reaches into his sweats’ pocket, pulling out your necklace and holding it up in the air so you can see it. At the sight of it you let out a relieved sigh, and you are already reaching for it when he pulls his hand back. You look at him with confusion and anger mixing in your eyes, but in this moment the anger is stronger than any of your other feelings.

“I swear to all the gods living above, Alex, if you don’t give it back—”

“I will,” he promises. You narrow your eyes at him, not quite believing his words. With him there is always a but, and it is not different this time either. “After we talk.”

“I don’t have anything to talk about with you. I came for my necklace, not to chat with you,” you spit back, anger filling every part of your body. You make another attempt to take the jewelry from his hold, but with his free hand he gently grips your wrist, pulling you close to him, and you can feel his breath hitting your face, his head just inches away from yours.

“Then I will do the talking and you’ll listen. I just want you to hear what I want to say,” he explains, voice dropping low like he is telling you a secret, and your heart does a leap for the second time this evening.

This close his woody smell fills your nostrils, and it instantly reminds you of those times when he held you close after a hard day, or after you made love in the middle of the night.

You blush at the images filling your mind, scolding yourself for allowing your imagination to wander. “Alright,” you answer, and he finally lets go of your wrist. But you don’t miss the way his eyes dropped to your mouth, lingering there for a second.

Neither of you say anything as he leads you back out into the dining room, nodding towards one of the chairs around the table.

You wordlessly take a seat, getting comfortable as he sits down on the other side of the table, opposite to you. He places the necklace between you on the desk, and you can easily reach for it, but you don’t make any move for it, now getting too interested in what he wants to say.

He leans back in his chair, pursing his lips as he is studying you. “I missed you,” he finally says, and you close your eyes at his sad tone.

“Alex, don’t,” you warn him, shaking your head as you open your eyes again.

“That’s the truth. I fucking missed you,” he lets it out. You watch as he rests his elbows on the table, intertwining his fingers. “I know I fucked up. I did, but I want to make it right,” he pleads, desperation mixing in his voice.

“I don’t need your apology, and I definitely don’t want to hear your explanation, Alex,” you raise your voice, suddenly standing from the table and picking up your necklace, shoving it into your jeans’ back pocket.

His chair scrapes on the floor as he straightens out too, watching how you walk towards the front door. “You’re acting childish right now, you know? Running away because the situation got too uncomfortable for you, right?” he calls after you, and his words make you stop in your tracks.

Something snaps inside you, a cage opening and letting out a behemoth to come and play. You turn on your heels with an impossible quickness, looking him straight in the eye.

“After everything you did you still have the audacity to call me childish?” you snap back, raising your voice further.

“At least I’m not running away from the consequences of my actions,” he answers, his tone becoming angrier too as he gets closer to you. “I was drunk and I fucked that woman, yeah. And I regretted it the second it all sank in. Is that what you want to hear?”

“You are a fucking big asshole, Alex Serian,” you tell him with a disbelieving look on your face, feeling the familiar sting of tears in your eyes.

“Maybe I am, yeah,” he agrees. “But would an asshole want to make things right, huh?”

You ignore his question, your own pain that you carried for weeks, now pouring out of you. “I trusted you. I trusted you with my whole heart, and you broke it,” you start, emphasizing your words with a strong push against his chest. “You promised me honesty,” you remind him with another shove, now letting the tears fall freely down your face. “There were times when I loved you, Alex, but now I don’t feel anything for you beside despise.”

You are hitting his chest over and over again, hoping that with your attacks you would break his heart at least as much as he broke yours. You are sobbing loudly, the taste of your tears on your lips all too familiar at this point.

He stands motionless despite your shoves against his chest, his face completely unreadable as he watches you.

You raise your hand for another hard launch, but his fingers grab your wrist, stopping you, and the next thing you know is that he pulls your body close, wrapping his arm around you like it is the most normal and understandable thing in the world.

You shouldn’t enjoy his sudden proximity. You should push him away, slap him, leave him standing there in the hallway and never look back. But you can’t.

A loud sob tears from your throat, and you bury your face into his chest, breathing in his smell. Your hands that were trapped between your bodies now sneaks around his middle, holding onto him like he is the last thing keeping you afloat, keeping you from drowning in your own pain and anger. Your fingers grip the soft cotton of his shirt tightly, but he doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“It’s okay,” he finally speaks, his own voice strained like he was fighting back his tears too.”You’re okay. I’m sorry,” he apologizes, and you shake your head against his chest. “Hey, look at me.”

When you don’t make a move to raise your head, he places one big palm on you cheek, lifting it gently for you. You purse your lips, trying to keep your tears in, but the moment you see his eyes soften at the sight of you, you break again.

“I was an idiot for doing what I did. For breaking your trust. For being a coward and not telling the truth. For making you hope. I’m sorry for all of these,” he says gently, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, wiping away your tears. “But I want to make it right. Just,” his voice breaks, and he blinks away the tears that are gathered in the corner of his eyes before he continues. “Give me another chance. Please,” he begs, and that’s when reality settles heavy on your body.

You never heard him beg before.

And that is when you know that this man in front of you — this usually tough and cocky man, now turned into a vulnerable mess — means every word from the bottom of his heart.

With one hand you let go his shirt, bringing it forward to wipe your face and then place it over his hand on your cheek. You watch his face — the way his mouth falls open slightly, how his eyebrows furrow, and the way he tries to blink away his tears — and you realize that you can’t let go of this man.

You can’t just walk away like nothing happened. You can’t pretend you hate him, that you don’t feel anything for him anymore. Because you still love him.

Your love is broken, it is true, but maybe…

Maybe together you could fix it and put the pieces back together.

It won’t ever be the same as before his mistake, but maybe it will be close to alright again, and that thought somehow calms your racing heart, chasing away every doubt that you still have.

You pull away your hand from his lifting it to place it on his jaw, fingers playing softly with his beard there. He looks taken aback, but he doesn’t pull away. You get on your toes, your face getting dangerously close to his, but you stop just inches away. You feel his hand tighten around you, and a bittersweet smile stretches across your lips.

It is like a magnet is pulling him closer, but the moment his nose touches yours, he suddenly stops, sighing loudly as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I want to do it right this time. I don’t want to rush anything,” he whispers, seemingly fighting a battle in his mind that you can’t see.

“You won’t,” you reassure him, sneaking your hand to the back of his head, letting your fingers pay with his soft curls at the nape of his neck. You can see the hesitation in his eyes, from the way he inches his mouth closer to yours before stopping out of fear again. But your next words break every wall around him. “I give you another chance, Alex. And you better use it right this time.”

You feel the way his body relaxes under your touch as he finally closes the distance between you, lips connecting timidly. You melt under his hand when he tilts your head back to have a better angle.

You lose track of time, just standing there in the hallway, kissing each other, but the moment your vision starts to blur at the lack of oxygen, you have to pull away. Looking at his face you notice his pupils blown wide, plush lips now having a tint of pinkness to them. You missed seeing him this way.

He is taking in the sight of you too, still not quite believing that you are here in front of him.

You open your mouth to say something, but only a soft gasp leave you as he kisses you again. In this kiss there isn’t any timidness anymore. His lips move against your ones hungrily, practically devouring you. His tongue pushes past your teeth, starting a journey in your mouth like he is kissing you for the first time and wants to explore as much as he can.

You don’t even notice that you are moving until your back hits the wall, his hands moving down your body. He kneads one side of your ass shamefully, and you let out a soft gasp, breaking the kiss and leaning your head back. He moves his mouth down along your jaw, placing soft kisses against your skin until he reaches your neck.

You move your hands to the hem of his T-shirt, tugging on it impatiently. Alex understands what you want immediately, and he pulls away just so he can tug it over his shoulder, letting it fall to the floor.

You also reach to take your shirt off, but he stops you, taking the fabric from your hand, and pulling it off himself.

The moment it hits the floor just like his did, he is on you again, kissing and biting on your lips. You feel his hands travel down your body, stopping at the back of your thighs, and without warning he picks you up, pushing you further against the wall.

You circle your legs around his waist, and in this new position you can feel him hardening against your center. He grinds slowly into you, and he breaks the kiss just so he can look at your face.

“I missed this. Missed you this close to me,” he admits. He sneaks one hand to your front, cupping one of your breasts through your bra, and you moan softly at the sudden shock of desire that the action sends between your thighs.

“Alex,” you murmur. At your voice he looks at you with a puzzled expression, but it quickly fades away. “Bedroom.”

He nods, capturing your lips with his again. He puts his hand that was playing with your breast to the back of your thigh again, holding you securely as he pulls you away from the wall, and carries you across his house into his bedroom.

When he steps through the threshold he paces you on down, your feet hitting the ground again. He pulls back just for a second to take a deep breath before he leans in to kiss you again.

This time he starts walking you both towards his bed, his hands running across your whole body — the rough callouses on his fingertips a strong contrast to his gentle touch.

When the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, you let yourself fall back, breaking the passionate kiss. You finally have time to look at him properly still standing at the end of the bed, his frame towering over you. You see how messy his usually neat curls are, how his eyes trace your body, how flushed his skin are, taking in deep breaths.

You push yourself to your elbows with a soft smile, reaching out to hook one finger in the front of his sweatpants’ waistband, pulling him down to you. He places one knee on the bed between your legs, steadying himself with his hands placed on the mattress on both of your sides, but when you move to kiss him, he turns his head away with a heavy sigh, and your lips only meet his cheek.

You lean back, looking at him confused and worried. “Alex.”

“I can’t,” he whispers, voice strained like it hurts him physically to say out these words. His head falls on your shoulder, and he shakes it slightly. “I want this so much now, but I can’t.”

With that he pushes himself away and stands back up, leaving you there as he starts pacing up and down in his bedroom, not even looking at you once.

You don’t understand anything.

Moments earlier he wanted this just as much as you. You felt it. He was ready to devour you there in the hallway.

And now the same man is pacing in front of you, fingers running through his hair over and over again, murmuring things over and over under his breath like a person who is on the verge of going completely mad. Or they already did and don’t know how to come back to reality.

“Alex, look at me,” you say gently, trying to catch his attention. For a moment his eyes meet yours, but he quickly averts them. shaking his head.

“Don’t do that look.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, now sitting on the edge of the bed.

“That sad and confused and disappointed one,” he explains, gesturing towards you with his hand without actually looking in your direction.

“Alex, I’m not disappointed. I just want to understand what’s going on,” you try to explain gently.

“No, no,” he shakes his head, stopping beside his desk and finally looking up at you. In his eyes you can see pain and sadness mixing together, and your heart falls to your stomach at the sight. “I made you disappointed again. You wanted this, and I stopped. And you’re going to be mad at me again because I messed up.”

You open your mouth to reassure him that he did nothing wrong, but he turns his back to you, his hand slicing across the air and knocking over the stack of music sheets on his table, the papers flying to the ground slowly. His hands grip the edge of the desk so hard that his knuckles turn white, but he looks unbothered except his heavy breathing.

That is when you know that you need to act. He wouldn’t just do something like that to something so sacred to him as music. Not even when you had bad fights.

You push yourself to stand, waking towards him carefully, tiptoeing across the maze of music sheets on the ground. When you are close enough, you place one hand on his shoulder, and his whole body tenses under your touch.

“Alex, I’m not mad and I’m not disappointed. But I’m scared for you and for what’s playing down in your head now,” you say gently, letting your hand run over his shoulders and back, trying to cam him down.

“I’m fine,” he tries to convince you.

You purse your lips at his lie. With your free hand you reach around his middle, turning him towards you, and when he is finally facing you, you place both of your hands on his face. “I don’t believe that, Alex. And whether you like it or not, I’m going to talk with you now, okay?”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything, and you take it as your cue. You lead him to the edge of the bed, pushing him to sit down, and you step between his legs so you can be as close to him as possible. Your thumb traces the line of his jaw, and at the feeling of your touch he closes his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.

He suddenly leans his head forward against your sternum, and his arms circle your middle, pulling you closer to him. His actions take you by surprise, but you don’t mind it. Instead, you bury one of your hands between his curls while you place your other one on his his back, caressing the exposed skin there. You lean down to place a soft kiss on the top of his head, and he lets out a content hum.

Moments pass like this with him hugging you before he finally looks up at you with a remorseful expression. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I understand why you stopped, and I respect your decision, alright?” you reassure him, sending him a soft smile. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see how his eyes move behind you, and onto the mess on the floor. “Yeah, I guess we’ll need to gather those before your next concert with the orchestra,” you try to ease the mood.

“There is no next concert,” he murmurs, and your head snaps back to him, your brows furrowing at his words. “I quit two weeks ago. So I won’t need to use those music sheets anymore.”

Your mouth opens in shock, eyes widening like he just told you the most impossible thing in the whole world.

Two weeks.

Two weeks since he gave up the only thing he considered sacred in his life. Two weeks of him not touching his cello. Two weeks in his life without music.

And exactly two weeks since you broke up with him.

“You stopped because I left you,” you give voice to your thoughts, and he nods. “But it was your dream ever since your childhood, Alex,” you exclaim, your hands cradling his face.

“I guess dreams aren’t always achievable,” he laughs bitterly.

The thoughts are running around in your head, and you can’t help, but say something that has been bugging your mind since the moment he told you he quit. “You felt like you needed to punish yourself with something because I left you. You gave up your life. You gave up music and stayed at home, so this way you tortured yourself with feeling more of my absence.”

“It seemed like my best option,” he says bitterly.

You shake your head in disbelief, pulling him close again and holding him tighter than before. “Tell me what are you thinking. Please,” you beg him, stroking his back.

“You know I can’t. I’m bad with—”

“Then show me,” you cut into his words, and he angles his head so he can look at you with confusion behind his lashes. “Show me through your language. Through music.”

“I just told you that I quit,” he shakes his head.

“You quit because I left. But I’m here now, Alex. I’m back,” you reassure him. You lean down to place a kiss on the top of his head before you step away from him. Your eyes scan the room as you turn around, and your gaze soon falls on his cello case that is leant against the wall in the corner. You look back at him for his permission, and when he nods, you swiftly move across the room, carefully picking up the case and bringing it to him.

When you arrive in front of him, he takes it from your hands with an appreciative nod. As he starts to open the case, you sit down beside him scooting further up on the bed as you watch him work. He sets up the fragile instrument, tuning the strings. He then picks up the bow, applying rosin over the hair before he tests it out. The single note he creates echoes across the room, and you let yourself relax.

You see the way his muscles tense in his back before they relax again and in the next moment the room is filled with music.

The soft notes are flying around in the air, and they fill the deepest parts of your body. With every pull of the bow Alex creates notes from his feelings. It is almost like the strings are dripping with sadness and pain. The music doesn’t even register in your brain anymore, replaced by the sound of this beautiful instrument weeping under his touch as he tries to provide you an entrance to his mind.

You immediately connect the melancholic melody to the way he must mave felt while you were gone.

When he hits a point of anger and confusion, you see the way his muscles tense, and without thinking you start scooting closer to him carefully, making sure you don’t disturb him. As gentle as possible, you sit behind him, placing your legs on either side of his ones, and your hands slowly sneak around him, staying low at his stomach so you wouldn’t knock the cello out of his hands.

He tenses for a second, but he quickly realxes again, the music turning into the same melody like in the beginning, but this time louder. It is almost like it helps you show that he finally lets go, showing his sadness and how he is crying inside, transferring it to you through the strings.

Your vision suddenly blurs, and you have to bury your face into the place between his shoulder blades, trying to soothe yourself somehow as he hits the last notes.

When the music finally gets to an end, the room feels suddenly too quiet. After a few seconds you can feel him lower his hand with the bow, placing it on the bed next to you, leaning forward to lay the cello onto its side carefully on the ground too. He straightens again, leaning back into you and placing one hand over yours while his other one falls on your knee next to him.

“You’re crying,” he speaks into the room.

“How do you know?” you ask, your voice faltering as you murmur against his skin.

He brings up one of your hands to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of it as he answers. “Your tear. It’s running down my back.”

You lean back to examine his back, and your eyes immediately focus in on one sigle stray tear running down the line of his spine. You let out a soft, but bittersweet chuckle, pulling your free hand back to wipe it off.

“I’m sorry. For everything,” he apologizes again. “I’ll make it right. I swear I’ll do,” he promises you, sealing it with another kiss to your hand. You lean forward, hugging him close again as you place a kiss on his back in return. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, his smell filling your nostrils and calming you down.

“Alright.”

You can listen to what Alex is playing here.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from it): @picketniffler, @speaktothehandpeasants, @harriedandharassed, @bergamote-catsandbooks, @misstokyo7love, @shadowqueen2024, @missadangel, @annwrites24, @eviispunk, @baronessvonglitter, @johnssherlock221, @goonersquad101, @my-tearsricochet, @nutbutterjellie, @kokoluwie, @cozymochaa

[coolgirlmonolog]

stay away (chapter 3) joel miller x reader

pairing: no-outbreak! joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 7.1 k previous chapter

author’s note: this chapter has more of joel's pov, hope you enjoyed it

thanks to @stylesispunk for the love

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Time flies when you work in a big city non-stop, but even with your busy schedule, you never forgot about your invitation for Joel to visit you. 

You called him sometimes—maybe a little bit more than you used to—simply because you really wanted him to come out to New York and enjoy the city. You just knew he would love those massive buildings and some of the local museums, but he always seemed to have something to do related to work. 

For him, whenever your name popped up on his phone, it felt like both a blessing and a curse. He tried his absolute best to keep things strictly friendly, but every single time you called him and asked, "How are you doing, hun?" in that soft voice, he melted a little bit more. At the same time, the distance felt so crushing that he eventually started ignoring your calls, constantly excusing himself with endless things to do. It hurt him deeply—he didn't want to shut you out—but he honestly didn’t know what else to do to protect his own heart. 

By March, he met Lilly, a nice girl who worked at some bank downtown. You never knew much about her, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. When they first met, you were completely stressed out by work; a massive brand wanted you to lead their new marketing project, and everyone in the corporate office had their eyes on you. You were so consumed by your own life that you didn't even flinch when Joel posted a picture with Lilly on Instagram, her arms wrapped around him, captioned with a simple: "My girl."

Joel was really into Lilly at first; she was sweet, kind, and incredibly easygoing. But sometimes, when she got all dressed up for a night out, he would look at her and instantly see you in that little black dress you had worn to the Christmas party. Sometimes, when she sat on his lap, his brain would glitch and he would feel the ghost of your bare legs resting on him instead. Because of that, he started to resent you little by little. He knew it wasn’t your fault—in fact, he knew it was entirely his for being so damn weak. You weren’t even close anymore; you had stopped calling, you had stopped inviting him, and you had completely moved on with your life. He thought he had done the same, yet he was stuck in a vicious loop where he could only see you. 

In his daily life, he usually managed to forget about his quiet resentment because life wasn’t exactly being easy on him either. Between his promotion at work and trying to maintain his new relationship, he had too many things going on in his own life to keep dwelling on you. But every single time he met up with Tommy, he somehow ended up talking about you. And every single time your name popped up on his Instagram feed, his fingers would betray him and check your account once again. 

At first, Lilly didn’t care. She had met the friend group and learned fast how important you were to everyone. But the more she got to know Joel, the more she began to understand his subtle behaviors. And that’s exactly when the real problems started. 

"She got a Ferrari!" Tommy said, his voice loud and excited as he shoved his phone into Joel's face, showing him a picture you had sent of you sitting inside a sleek, red sports car. 

"Wait, she bought it?" Joel asked, his eyes widening in a mix of surprise and genuine excitement. 

"Nah, but the brand invited her to this huge party and told her she could borrow one anytime she wants," Tommy beamed. 

"No way," Joel said, a massive, proud smile spreading across his face. 

"Borrow one?" Lilly asked from the couch, her tone sounding a little annoyed. 

"Yeah. She worked for their marketing team on a major campaign, and they did a spectacular job," Tommy explained, scrolling through the other pictures you had sent him, completely unaware of Lilly’s growing annoyance. 

"Lucky her. Bet she's happy," Lilly muttered, crossing her arms. 

"Nah," Tommy shook his head, chuckling. "She doesn't care about that kind of flashy stuff." 

"Then why is she bragging about it to you?" she asked sharply. 

"Because I love Ferraris. It's for me." 

Lilly let out a dry, humorless scoff. "So she’s just tryin' to make you jealous." 

Joel went completely rigid, his knuckles turning white around his beer bottle. "No, she ain't," he corrected her, his texan drawl dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "She ain't like that at all. It's just an inside joke between us." 

The words hung heavily in the room. In that exact second, Lilly felt the suffocating, undeniable tension stretching between her and her boyfriend.

Tommy kept checking his phone, looking at the pictures you were sending him in real-time from the party. 

"OMG, she looks so beautiful," Tommy said, his voice dripping with affection like a proud mom. 

"Let me see," Joel said, the words flying out of his mouth a little too fast, a little too excited. 

Tommy turned the screen toward him, showing him the picture. You were wearing a chic, all-black outfit, your hair styled in perfect, soft waves, and your lips painted with a bold red lipstick. Joel's breath caught in his throat. You looked stunning. You looked exactly like the New York world he was so terrified of. 

"I'm gonna frame this one," Tommy said, smiling down at his screen. 

"Oh, so you have a crush on her," Lilly said suddenly, her tone sharp, acting as if she had finally uncovered some big, hidden secret. 

"What?" Tommy gagged, looking genuinely disgusted by the mere suggestion. "Gross, no. That's my daughter you're talkin' about." 

Joel didn’t look at Lilly. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn around and face her. He felt her comment was so completely out of place, so dangerously close to the actual truth of the room, that he just stayed frozen in a heavy silence for a moment. 

"They've been best friends since high school. You already know that," Joel finally said, turning around slightly to look at her as he forced himself to calm down, his texan drawl tight and low. 

"Okay, but he can still have a crush," Lilly argued, defending her point, completely missing the underlying tension. 

"No," Tommy said, making a thoroughly disgusted face. "I was there when that woman got her first period, Lilly. She is literally blood to me." ----------------------------------------------------------------

The restaurant was a fancy place, a new spot in town Lilly had been dying to try, so Joel booked a table and took her as soon as he could. 

He was waiting for her on her front porch when his phone started buzzing, and your name popped up on the screen. He looked at your name twice, a bittersweet smile touching his lips as he thought about how incredibly good you always were at timing. 

"Hey, stranger," you said from the other end of the line, your voice instantly cutting through the warm Texas evening. 

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat and trying his absolute best to play it cool. 

"So... I wanted to tell you something." 

"I'm all ears, darlin'," he murmured, leaning his heavy frame against the porch railing. 

"Ready?" 

He smiled, letting out a soft, low laugh. "Spill it." 

"I’m moving back to Austin." 

Joel froze. The air in his lungs completely vanished, and his entire body went rigid as he stood on that porch, completely at a loss for words. 

"Joel?" you asked after a few seconds of dead silence, thinking you had somehow lost the connection. 

"You... you said you're movin' back?" he finally managed to ask, his texan drawl tight, rough, and trembling slightly. "Like... permanently?" 

"Yes!" You sounded so incredibly excited, your voice bright and full of life. "They need someone to head the new office here in Austin, and they wanted a local. Me!" 

"And... when is this happenin'?" 

"Who knows? They are still workin' on the building," you said, chuckling. "Aren’t you excited, Joel?" 

"Yeah," he lied, his chest tightening with a violent wave of panic and hope all at once. "I am. Of course I am, sweetie." 

"Well, I just wanted to tell you that if you still want to come out and visit me in New York, it’s pretty much now or never." 

Joel swallowed hard, the knot in his throat feeling like sandpaper. Right in that exact second, the front door opened, and Lilly stepped out onto the porch, wearing a beautiful violet floral dress. 

"Okay... we’ll have to talk about that later," he rushed out, desperately trying to end the phone call before his face could betray the utter chaos in his mind. 

"Okay, I’m counting on that," you said, still sounding completely thrilled, before hanging up the phone.

"Ready?" Lilly asked Joel, a bright smile on her face as she smoothed down her floral dress. 

Joel nodded once, his movement stiff as he walked toward his truck mechanically. During the entire ride to the restaurant, Lilly kept talking about some juicy work gossip from her bank, but Joel was definitely not listening to a single word. His mind was miles away, trapped in a dizzying loop of your excited voice telling him you were comin' home. 

"Where are you right now?" she asked kindly, reaching over to touch his arm when she noticed he was completely zoned out. 

"Mmh... sorry. Just kept thinking about that client," he lied with a half-truth, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. 

"Just tell him yes." 

Joel glanced at her fast, his dark eyes flashing with sudden offense before snapping back to the road. "Yes? I can’t just do that."

"Why not? If you say no, you're gonna lose the deal," she shrugged, dismissing his concern entirely. 

"If I say yes, I can lose my job, Lilly." 

"Oh, don’t be so dramatic."

"Lilly, this ain't the bank," he muttered, his texan drawl turning sharp, cold, and defensive. "We work with our lives on the line out there. If we don't follow protocol, someone can have a serious accident. I could have it."

"You'll be fine," she said, rolling her eyes as she looked out the window. 

Joel stayed quiet, a heavy lump forming in his throat. In that exact second, his brain instantly drifted back to you. He thought about how you would never, ever tell him how to handle his crew or his clients. He thought about how you actually respected his craft, and how you would never tell him to sell his soul or risk his neck just for a little extra money. 

He was about to bite his tongue when his phone lit up on the dashboard again—your name blaring across the screen for the second time. Since he was driving, picking up wasn't an option, but Lilly saw your name from where she was sitting.

"Why is she callin' you?" she asked, staring at his phone with a sudden sharpness in her eyes. 

"No idea," he said flatly, looking straight ahead at the road. 

"Are you two close?" she finally asked, her voice tight. 

"Kinda," Joel muttered, talking more to himself than to her. "I mean... I've known her for almost a decade."

"Is she nice?" she asked, her curiosity turning into something more dangerous. 

"Yeah," Joel murmured, and despite the thick tension suffocating the truck, he couldn’t help but give a small, soft smile at the thought of you. 

Lilly nodded slowly, teeth clenching. "Isn't she some money expert or somethin' like that?"

"Money expert? Dunno where you heard that. She works in marketing."

"I bet she would tell you to say yes to your client," Lilly argued, her tone dripping with passive-aggression. 

"No," Joel answered quickly, his texan drawl instantly dropping into a firm, defensive register. "She would never do that."

"Oh, really? She says no to her clients?"

"It's different," Joel muttered, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. "But yeah... she ain't afraid to decline good offers if they don't sit right with her."

Joel saw Lilly’s intention to keep pushing, so he reached over and held her hand softly, trying to kill the conversation before it ruined the whole night. 

"Can we stop talkin' about this?" he said, his voice calmer now, gentler. "Let’s just enjoy our date."

Lilly let out a slow breath and nodded. "Yeah. Let’s do that," she agreed, squeezin' his hand back. 

The dinner started out tense, but after a while, they both loosened up a bit and actually started enjoying the date. The problem was, the more wine Joel drank, the more his traitorous brain kept drifting back to your phone call. He couldn't stop thinking about you inviting him over again after months of dead silence. He couldn't stop thinking about how you would soon be back home. So close. So freaking close. He looked across the candlelit table at his girlfriend—a nice, sweet woman that he kinda loved, not passionately, but tenderly. And then, his mind completely abandoned the restaurant, sliding back into the cab of his truck, picturing an entirely different conversation with you sitting in the passenger seat.

"Just kept thinkin' about that client," his fantasy version of himself said, sounding genuinely worried as he stared at the road. 

"Why?" you asked in his mind, turnin' your body toward him. "What is there to even think about, Joel?"

"He keeps pushin' about doin' it his way."

"Fuck him," you said, looking completely annoyed on his behalf. "Don’t you dare do it."

"But what if I lose the deal?" 

"Then you lose it. What if you fall and break a leg out there?" you challenged him. 

"I won’t be able to work till I get better."

"And what if someone else on your crew breaks a leg?"

"Oh, no," Joel muttered, a wave of protectiveness washing over him. "I can’t be responsible for somethin' like that."

"Then you got your answer. Fuck that guy and his money," you said firmly, a confident, proud smile touching your lips. "You’ll get more deals anyways. No one is better than you in this town, Miller." 

He could practically feel the heavy warmth of your hand on his bicep, and the intoxicating scent of your fancy perfume lingering in his nose. He looked up, blinking hard to snap out of the trance, and stared at Lilly. She was eating her steak completely carefree, smiling to herself, utterly unaware of the absolute chaos crashing through Joel’s chest. 

Unable to take it for another second, he excused himself from the table and went straight to the restroom. His heart was hammering against his ribs. Standing in front of the mirror, his fingers moved entirely on impulse as he pulled out his phone and opened your chat. 

Joel: When? 

He pressed send before his brain could stop him. Your answer came back almost instantly, the notification lighting up his rough palm. 

You: I don’t know. 

Joel: Soon? 

You: Eager much? 

Joel stared at your teasing words, a heavy wave of desperate longing washing over him. His thumb hovered over the keyboard as he typed out the honest truth: i miss you. He looked at the words on the screen for a long, agonizing second, his chest tightening with intense guilt. With a rough sigh, he aggressively hit delete, wiping the confession away. Instead, he forced his walls back up, typing a cold lie. 

Joel: Just wondering… 

He pressed send, his jaw tight. 

You: Want to call? 

Joel swallowed hard, staring at the screen. He closed his eyes, thinking of Lilly waiting for him out at the candlelit table. 

Joel: Can’t now. Tomorrow.

He put his phone back in his pocket, washed his face with cold water and came back to the table.

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Joel became incredibly careless about you, as if some internal filter had completely broken inside him. He just couldn’t stop thinking or talking about you. It wasn’t obvious to Tommy or the rest of the friend group—they had always talked about you anyways—but it was entirely new, and highly alarming, to Lilly. And the absolute worst part was that you weren’t even there for Lilly to visually point at or feel insecure about. It wasn’t like you were physically around, getting in the middle of her relationship. No, it was much worse: her boyfriend was not-so-secretly obsessed with you, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him. Eventually, she got tired. They had only been dating for four months, and she wasn't ready to waste any more of her time like this. 

"You're obsessed with her," Lilly said flatly, her voice dropping as she caught Joel staring blankly at your newest Instagram post. 

"What? No, I ain't. It just popped up on my feed," Joel muttered, trying to shove his phone into his pocket. 

"Don’t lie to me, Joel. Have some decency. You honestly think I haven't noticed it?" 

"You're talkin' nonsense, Lilly," he said, his texan drawl turning tight and defensive. "I only have eyes for you." 

"Yeah... 'cause she ain't here." 

"That’s ain't fair. She's only my friend." 

"Is she?" Lilly challenged, stepping right into his perimeter. "'Cause I can feel her standin' right in the middle of us all the time." 

"That’s crazy." 

"Don’t you dare call me crazy, Joel Miller!" 

"I didn't!" Joel snapped back, his hands flying up. "I'm sayin' the idea is crazy, not you!" 

"Well, that 'idea' is our actual reality. Keep lyin' to yourself if you want, but I’m done." 

Joel froze, his chest heaving under his flannel shirt. "Are you seriously breakin' up with me out of nowhere?" 

"Out of nowhere? Joel, you're cheatin' on me." 

"What? No, I ain't! Here—check my messages," he said desperately, shoving his phone toward her face. "Go ahead." 

"No! I’m not talkin' about that," she cried, shaking her head as a tear escaped. "It’s your heart, Joel. You are completely in love with her, and I will refuse to be anyone's backup plan." 

Joel's heart violently dropped into his stomach. "Lilly... don't say that." 

"I’m so sorry, Joel. I really liked you," she whispered. She grabbed her purse from the counter, spun on her heel, and walked straight out of Joel’s house. 

Joel didn’t even try to stop her. He just stood there, completely frozen in the middle of his empty living room, his phone still tightly gripped in his rough hand. Lilly was right, and he knew it. He fucking knew it. He was completely, utterly obsessed with you—obsessed with the mere memory of you. 

But you weren’t there. Weeks had already passed since you had called him to tell him you were moving back to Austin, and still, absolutely nothing had happened. You hadn't arrived yet. So, in that quiet, suffocating house, he hated you. He hated you for completely ruining his relationship... but mostly, he hated you for ruining him without even trying.

It was early in the morning when he saw the pictures you had posted the night before. It was a carousel of photos from your friend's birthday party at some incredibly expensive New York restaurant. Looking at you looking so stunning and out of reach, Joel could feel his blood boiling inside every single vein of his body. He paced like a caged animal around his living room, desperate, trying to control the suffocating pressure tightening in his chest. 

He felt played by you. And worse, he felt played by himself. 

He sat on the edge of the couch, only to stand up a second later, moving aggressively toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He drank it fast, downing it in one go. The freezing water hit his system too quickly, sending a sharp wave of physical pain straight to his brain. 

He cursed under his breath, slammed the glass onto the counter, and without a single second thought, marched back into the living room, grabbing his phone. 

The phone rang once, twice… his heart beating faster with each heavy ring against his ear. 

"Joel?" you said, your voice thick and raspy, clearly waking up. 

"Wanted to ask you somethin'," he said, his texan drawl tight, rough, and completely stripped of its usual warmth. 

"At 8 AM?" You sat up in your bed and rubbed your eyes carefully, the phone pressed to your ear. 

"Are you really comin' back?" he asked fast, cutting straight to the point. 

"Yeah, for the summer." 

"That ain't what I'm askin', and you know it," he corrected you, his tone turning sharp. 

You sigh "The new building there had some structural problems, Joel. I don’t know when they're gonna be finished with it," you explained, trying to handle his sudden intensity. 

Joel nodded to himself in the empty room, a bitter, hollow feeling settling in his stomach. "So you ain't comin' back anytime soon." 

"I'll be there in less than three weeks," you tried to calm the thick tension you could easily feel radiating over the phone. 

"But you’ll leave again right after, won't you?" 

"Yeah... I'm only going for a week. I was thinkin' we could go—"

"Okay, then. Great. Just a week," he interrupted, his voice dropping into a cold, flat register. 

"Is everything okay, Joel?" you asked, completely worried now by his behavior. 

"Yeah. Everything's fine," he lied, his jaw clenching so hard it ached. 

He threw his phone onto the couch the exact second the call ended. He felt so incredibly embarrassed for hoping—for allowing himself to dream about you, about your perfect smile, about how you easily shifted his entire world with just one laugh, and about having your arms wrapped tight around him. And for what? He had just lost his relationship, and you weren’t even coming home for good. The absolute worst part was that you didn’t know a single thing about it. You were completely oblivious to what was happening to him, to his life, or to his ragged feelings, locked away in your fancy New York apartment. 

He hadn't wanted to change around you, but he couldn't stop himself from doing it. His stubborn pride and his messed-up mind were far stronger than anything else. When you finally came down for that short summer week, he did absolutely everything he could to avoid you. And when you two inevitably ended up alone together, he did everything in his power to ignore your presence—even if his heart was beating so violently against his ribs it felt like he was about to have a heart attack, and even if his rough hands only wanted to reach out and pull you close. 

He was fully aware of how bad you were feeling about his coldness. He saw the sharp, burning disappointment in your eyes when you went to hug him and he stepped back, or how he looked away when you were desperately trying to talk to him. He knew he was hurting you, but he was just so damn pissed about the whole situation. And every passing hour only meant you were closer to leaving once again. Again. She’s leaving again. That’s the only thought that kept echoing in his head. 

So, when you didn’t go back to Austin for that next Christmas, he hated you even more. You broke the holiday tradition because your parents were going to visit you up there instead, and you didn't come to see him. Deep down, he knew you probably didn't want to see him after how horribly he had treated you, and he knew it was entirely fair—but you hadn't fought him. You, who were always so brave, honest, and fierce, had just let him be a complete asshole to you, and then you didn't come back to hug him, to flirt, to sit on his lap, or to ask him to visit you anymore. He felt like you only saw him as some convenient backup plan, and he had stuck to that bitter, toxic thought for almost a year.

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"Joel," you said, your voice cracking, completely hurt by his words. "I... I had no idea."

The dim backyard lights made Joel’s rugged features look even more intense than usual. You two were still sitting across from each other, your knees almost touching. He looked down at his own rough hands, completely at a loss for what to do with so much sudden vulnerability. 

"I know," he muttered, his texan drawl low and rough. "It’s embarrassin'."

"I don't think that, Joel."

"Then what do you think? 'Cause right now... I feel too damn ashamed," Joel confessed, his voice heavy with a profound sadness. 

"You should have talked to me."

"How? You were so far away."

"And? Is that your excuse?"

"It ain't an excuse. It’s the truth."

"Joel, you had my number. I was just a ring away."

"You were so much further than that," he whispered, finally looking up to meet your gaze. 

You bit the inner side of your cheek, the silence stretching tightly between you under the stars. "So... you blame me for what happened to Lilly?" you finally asked, the question hurting your throat. 

"No," he said, aggressively shaking his head. "I was a complete asshole for implyin' that earlier. I was just... confused." He took a deep, shaky breath, his chest heaving "How can I even explain it? I had all these damn feelings for you and you weren’t here. So, I kept goin' on with my life, or tryin' to. You weren’t here, but damn... I didn't stop carin'. Lilly was a mistake."

"Don’t say that, Joel."

"I don’t mean it like that," he corrected himself quickly, his grip tightening on your knee as he held onto you like a lifeline. "I mean it was wrong of me to date her when all I really wanted... all I was prayin' for... was for you to come back." Joel squeezed your knee, his dark eyes desperate. "Don’t hate me." 

"I don’t hate you, Joel," you said softly, your heart breaking at the mere implication. "But I just wished you had been honest with me from the start."

He covers his face with both hands “I ruined it, right?”

“Our friendship?” you didn’t want to think too far ahead.

He nodded slowly and then looked up at you, his dark eyes vulnerable. "I was miserable to you," he confessed, his texan drawl thick and heavy with regret. "I couldn’t control what I was feelin'. You must think I’m such a weak man."

"I don't think that," you said softly. A brief pause stretched between you under the porch lights before you added, "But it hurts me that you didn’t think I would care about you."

"You were livin' your best life out there."

"Bullshit. All I do is work and deal with fake people."

"What about the rich men?" 

You scoffed, letting out a genuine laugh. "Don’t tell me you're still thinkin' about Tommy’s stupid joke."

"I’m just a contractor, sweetie," he said softly, looking down at his own calloused palms. 

"Joel, you have a great job. You do truly amazing things with your hands," you corrected him firmly, reaching out to tilt his chin up. "Yes, I make more money, but you are not some homeless guy I have to take care of."

"I can’t get you a Ferrari," he tried to joke, a faint, nervous smirk touching his lips. 

"I hate Ferraris," you laughed, your eyes crinkling. "I like your truck better." 

A soft, breathless smile touched Joel's face. He gently held your hand and guided you forward, pulling you right onto his lap. You sat down on his left leg, his large palm sliding naturally onto your hip, his thumb caressing your skin through your dress. "I could get a better truck."

"For what?" 

"I dunno... I just want you to feel happy."

"A truck won’t make me happy, Joel," you murmured, looking down at his handsome face. "You stoppin' bein' so damn stupid and closed-off... that would make me happy."

He let out a low, rough chuckle, his chest vibrating against yours. "I have to work on that, yeah." He squeezed your hand tightly. "I’m so sorry."

"For what exactly?" 

"For everything. For not bein' honest with you, for projectin' my own stupid insecurities on you, for bein' mean... and for yesterday."

"You regret yesterday?" you asked carefully, your heart skipping a beat as you waited for his answer. 

"No," he whispered, his grip on your hip tightening as he pulled you a fraction closer. "No, I don't regret it. But I should've acted differently. That was our first time together, and I went and acted like a complete bastard."

"Would you keep actin' like a bastard to me?" you asked softly, tilting your head. 

"No," he said firmly, looking straight into your eyes. "It was a huge mistake to act like that. I'm better than that, sweetie. I really am." He spoke with total conviction, his posture relaxing for the first time all night. 

"I believe you." 

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, slowly letting go of your hand only to slide his large, warm palm up to gently cup your jaw. "You deserve so much better than what I gave you." 

"Would you visit me this time?" you tested him, looking up through your eyelashes. 

He nodded surely, his thumb smoothing over your cheekbone. "Yeah. In a heartbeat." 

"Would you wait for me?" you asked, testing him just one last time to be completely sure. 

"What do you mean?" he asked, his dark eyes filling with genuine curiosity. 

"I’m movin' back in the winter," you informed him, a soft smile finally breaking on your face. 

"You mean... for good?" 

You nodded once, holding his gaze. "I just need to finish the semester at the office to move back permanently." 

Joel’s eyes instantly lit up with the news, a sudden, blinding hope washing over his face. "Are you serious?" 

"If everything keeps goin' like it has so far, then yes," you said. After a brief pause, you added, "It could have another delay, though. You know how this goes." 

"I don’t care. I'll wait," he said roughly, his voice thick with emotion as he held your face with both hands, staring at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the entire universe. "God, sweetie... for you, I'd wait forever." 

Your heart beat fast and heavy against your ribs. Your hand moved instinctively to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his soft hair. "Joel," you murmured against his lips. 

"Tell me, sweetie," he whispered back, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. 

You didn’t answer; you couldn’t. You simply leaned forward, closing the final inch between you to press your lips against his. The kiss was soft, tender, and completely full of all the raw honesty you had just shared under the stars. You slide your tongue to his mouth seeking for more closeness. The feeling of his warm soft tongue sending waves of pleasure to your brain.

He held you tightly with both hands, one locked firmly onto your hip and the other gently cupping your jaw, anchoring you to him like you were the only solid thing left in his world. He was hyper aware of every inch of your body and him, and never felt so right about something.

"Sorry," he muttered against your lips, his deep voice thick with emotion. 

"Make me forgive you," you teased him in a breathless whisper, your hands tightening in the short hair of his nape as you kept kissing him with a sudden, rapidly growing intensity.

You couldn’t stop kissing. You made out for minutes, your lips refusing to break apart from each other as the heat between you flared up again. You didn’t need air, you just needed each other.

"I need you," you moaned against his lips, your hands pulling at his shoulders. 

He looked up at you, taking in how completely flustered you were for him. All his heavy walls were finally down, and you were finally his—maybe not officially just yet, but he knew you wouldn’t play with him like that. Not when every single thing between you felt this damn right. 

He guided you up from his lap, making you stand, and led you by the hand toward the darker, shadowed sideyard of the cabin. "Wished I had a private room for us right about now," he muttered, his texan drawl low and thick with hunger. 

You laughed softly, your skin tingling in the cool night air. "I like it a little risky too." You reached out, grabbing his collar to pull him closer for another deep kiss. You could feel how he was devouring you, tilting his head and angling yours to deep the kiss even more. His hand moving all over your body, exploring and demanding.

"You want me to fuck you right here?" he asked, a rough, teasing edge to his voice as his large hands gripped your waist. 

You nodded needily, completely consumed by him. "Badly." 

He smirked mischievously, his eyes flashing with a sudden, wild possessiveness under the moonlight. He pushed you softly back against the wooden wall of the cabin, crowding your space, and leaned down to kiss you shamelessly. His hand room your thighs and ass, and back to your waist.

His large hands kept moving over your body with a desperate, curious exploration. His intention was crystal clear: he wanted to feel you everywhere. Joel was a deeply passionate man, and right now, he wanted to show you exactly how much passion he had been burying for you all these years. 

He lifted you slightly off the wooden floorboards with his big, powerful arms, pulling you closer. So much closer. The kiss became beautifully messy, wet, and so incredibly needy that you felt like melting was only the beginning. You wanted him so bad. So freaking badly. You nipped his lip and kiss him again. He smirked at the nip, loving the boldness of you.

Your heart was racing so fast you were absolutely sure he could feel it pounding violently against his own chest. And he could—he could feel the frantic rush of your heart, the intoxicating heat of your body, and the slick feeling of your sweat against his bare skin. Every single time he kissed you, every time his rough palms grazed your skin, your brain couldn’t stop playing a loop of old memories in the back of your head. 

And each one of them dragged you straight to this exact moment: the quiet memory of when he had held your hand tightly at your grandma’s funeral; the way he had gently kissed your cheek after that guy from college had broken your heart into pieces; the fierce, unyielding way he had held you whenever you felt like living so far away in the city was just too damn hard to bear. And finally, the haunting, soft way he always looked at you whenever you were sitting right there in his passenger seat. 

Joel fucking Miller, you thought, your mind spinning. Joel with his broad chest and his rare, kind smile. Those lovely dark eyes that could turn so intense and hard when he wanted. His deep, low laugh whenever you made some dumb joke. The intoxicating smell of him—the heavy scent of his cologne and his warm sweat on you. 

He slid his hands down, lifting the fabric of your summer dress up your thighs, and gently but firmly guided you to face the cabin wall. "Let me see you," he said. His voice wasn't harsh, but it was thick with a heavy, unyielding determination. 

You did exactly what he told you to do; you would have done absolutely anything he wanted right now. 

He looked you up and down under the silver moonlight, his breathing ragged. His lips moved down to press a hot, lingering kiss into the crook of your shoulder while his hands explored the smooth curve of your back, your waist, and finally locked onto your ass. His fingers dug into your flesh, spreading you slightly. "You really want me to fuck you right here, sweetie?" 

"Do you really have to ask?" you whispered back over your shoulder, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

He smirked at your defiance, the sound of his low chuckle vibrating against your back as he reached down to unbuckle his belt. You rested both of your palms flat against the wooden wall, just listening to the sharp, metal clinking of his movement, feeling completely dizzy with want.

You felt both of his hands slide onto your hips, and when you looked over your shoulder to meet his eyes, you saw him lowering himself behind you.

"What are you doin'?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"Want to taste you," he murmured, his deep voice thick with hunger.

He pulled your panties down slowly, enjoying the raw exposure of your bare ass to the moonlight. With one firm palm, he guided your hips to bend a little more, exposing the wet folds of your pussy right in front of his face. He didn’t say anything at first; he was completely, lustfully speechless. He couldn’t believe for a fraction of a second that he actually had you like this, completely surrendered to him. He breathed in your intoxicating scent and moved his rough fingers to explore you with care, his sudden touch making you gasp out loud against the wall.

"Such a pretty pussy," he muttered to himself, his thumb rubbing over your swollen folds. "Look at you."

"You like the view?" you teased him through a breathless moan.

"I’ll be dreamin' about this view from now on," he smiled against your skin.

He leaned in and teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, tasting your sweetness for the very first time. The taste was completely intoxicating in the best way possible, and he could feel the hunger growing like a wild animal inside his chest.

"God, you taste so damn good," he growled, before diving deeper, his tongue lapping at your wet entrance.

He held your hips in a vice-like grip so you couldn't move away from the intense pleasure. He was completely lost in your taste, and the view of you bent like that, with your ass right in his face, was everything he didn’t know he desperately needed. His tongue moved over and over against your wet core as he slid a finger deep inside you to add even more pleasure. And it worked—you had to bite your lower lip raw just to contain the loud, undone moans you felt like letting out. He closed his eyes, entirely focused on the heavy friction of your clit against his tongue and the addictive sounds filling his ears: his own wet licks and your breathless, desperate moans. He sucked on your sweet spot with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hands had to grip the wooden wall firmly so you wouldn't lose your balance, but you were absolutely certain you wouldn't fall because Joel’s heavy grip on your hips was unyielding. 

You could hear everything in the quiet night air: the soft, guttural hums he let out against your pussy, the slick sound of his finger moving in and out of you. With your eyes closed, every single sound felt amplified, echoing straight to your core. You finally looked over your shoulder and were met with the most lustful view you had ever seen: Joel, kneeled right behind you, with his face completely buried in your ass. In that exact second, you were absolutely certain you would never, ever be able to forget this.

Before you could reach your peak, he stood back up, his breathing ragged as he settled his heavy body right between your thighs. The thick tip of his cock was already slick and glistening with warm precum. You were so incredibly wet and ready for him that he didn’t even have to push hard to get inside. And when he finally hit deep, buried to the absolute hilt inside you, a loud, undone cry ripped from your throat, echoing into the quiet night. 

He immediately clamped his large palm over your mouth, keeping your cries quiet so no one inside the cabin would hear you, and that raw restriction just turned you on even more. He fucked you hard and deep, a relentless, punishing rhythm against the wooden wall. His free hand moved down, his rough fingers rubbing aggressively against your clit to drive you over the edge. This had to be fast, and he wanted you both to hit the climax together. 

His breath was hot against your neck, and every now and then, he would slide just the tip of his tongue along your skin to taste you. 

"Salty," he praised, his deep voice growling against your skin before he pressed another rough kiss into your shoulder. 

Your skin was completely glistening with sweat. The stifling Texas weather, the intense physical exertion, and Joel’s own suffocating heat pressed against your back were making you feel like a walking oven. The thin straps of your summer dress finally slipped down your arms, exposing your bare breasts to the night air. When Joel saw your nipples fully exposed under the moonlight, the massive arm that was locked across your waist moved up, his large palm aggressively cupping and squeezing your bouncing tit. He was completely lost in the rhythm of fucking you. Each heavy thrust was deep, hard, and agonizingly perfect, feeling like both a punishment and a reward all at once. 

Those last heavy thrusts were lethal; you felt the air completely leave your lungs with every single hit. Just as you were about to shatter and hit your climax, he pulled your head back by your hair to kiss you deeply, swallowing your undone moans—which completely broke his own restraint, making him come right along with you, spilling his heavy, warm seed deep inside your tight core.

Your face rested against the wooden wall as you desperately tried to recover your breath. With a heavy, ragged sigh, he finally pushed himself out of you. You slowly turned around, leaning your back against the logs to meet his dark, blown-out eyes. 

"Fucking animal," you said, a breathless, satisfied smirk tugging at your lips. 

"You fucking love it, don't ya'?" he defended himself, a smug grin flashing beneath his stubble as he zipped up his jeans and buckled his belt. 

"Gonna make you eat my pussy more often," you teased, your eyes locked onto his as you reached down to fix the hem of your summer dress. 

"Is that a promise, darlin'?" He stepped right back into your space, his large hands finding your waist once more as he leaned down to steal one last deep, lingering kiss.

taglist: @ifall4dilfs

[berryispunk]

Cowboy!Frankie anyone ? 🤠

[petalsinblood]

Narcos S1 E2

[cupofzo]

Oh alright.