joelalorian

[joelalorian]

THE ART OF THE DEAL | harry castillo x you

{ part two: VALUATION ERRORS>>

wc: 6,7k | rating: 18+ for eventual smut | Harry Castillo x You | FALSE RELATIONSHIP

summary: you don’t believe in love. neither does he. that’s the only thing you agree on. after swearing off romance, you’ve built a quiet life in art preservation and avoiding anything resembling vulnerability. but when Harry Castillo, arrogant, infuriating, and stupidly rich, proposes you pretend to be his fiancée for the sake of getting his overbearing mother off his back, you’re thrown. but the money is good and with your detached views on romance and love, you make the perfect polished, commitment-free partner. It’s just a deal; cold, clean and temporary. but pretending to be in love with a man you can’t stand has a way of making you feel things you promised yourself you’d never feel again. especially when he starts looking at you like you're more than just a line item in a contract. And worst of all? You start looking back

the MC female character is YOU. she is not named and barely described physically aside from being able bodied and having hair long enough to grab.

tags/warnings: false relationship, mentions of materialists film, smut, enemies to lovers. i will add more tags as they become relevant.

THE ART OF THE DEAL | PART ONE | TERMS AND CONDITIONS

The restaurant is fairly quiet, the music playing in the back is dim. It's the kind of place that takes months to get into, but one mention of his name and his table for two is ready in an hour. It's a perfect setting for romance, for love 

Except Harry Castillo doesn't believe in love.

Not at his age. 

He couldn't, not after her.

Melissa. The girl he'd been slavishly devoted to his entire college experience. The one he overheard at a frat party months before graduation calling him pint-sized to a group of tittering girls. 

"But the sex is decent and he's loaded, so I'll put up with him." 

Put up with him. Like he was an annoying pet. He broke up with her that night, tears in his eyes, a hole in his heart and the engagement ring from his mother still in his pocket. 

When he told his younger brother the next morning over coffee at his apartment he'd just shrugged. 

"That's how it is for guys like us." 

And that was supposed to be a comfort? How? 

And as his date, a thirty year old art curator sits across from him now, rambling on about the things she'd seen recently at work, the people she'd talked to, the daily minutia of her life, Harry finds his attention drifting. 

Not to anyone in particular, that isn't his way of operating. He'd always been a one woman man his whole life. Relentlessly monogamous. But he's bored, the conversation manufactured as if she's reading from cue cards. 

His mind drifts to the kitchen with Lucy, the conversation, the admittance that he didn't think he was capable of love. 

"You will. It'll be easy," Lucy had said. 

This doesn't feel easy. But then again what did Lucy know? She didn't even know what she wanted. He shifts in his seat when he hears his name being gently cooed by the girl across from him. 

"Pardon?"

She fingers the stem of her wine glass anxiously. She's clearly worried she's doing something wrong. 

"I asked if you've been using Adore for long?" 

"I've never actually used a dating service before," Harry replies politely. "You're my first." 

Her cheeks tinge pink, eyes downcast, the very picture of demure supplication.  

"Hopefully your last," she says with a gentle smile. 

She's very soft. Everything from the fabric of her clothing to her voice is soft. 

He offers a low chuckle, a rich sound. He knows that he's a catch, a proclaimed "unicorn" from his matchmaker at Adore. He knows the looks he gets aren't just for looks, but for his sizeable bank account. 

And his mother has been very firm. She wants him to marry and he hates to disappoint her. 

"You're almost fifty, Harry. It's inappropriate to be single at this age." 

The woman across from him is traditionally beautiful, but what woman isn't at thirty? She has smooth unblemished skin, light voice. Botox at the forehead, lips plump from injections. 

It's all tastefully done but what remains is nothing of true interest, nothing that sets her apart from the millions of women he sees in New York every day. 

But she's smart, she's accomplished, she comes from money, she'd understand his world. 

"Would you like a second date?" He asks as he walks her to her front door later that night. 

His driver is idling at the curb, keeping the car warm against the New York autumn chill. 

She beams at him, eyes sparkling. 

"I would love that."

"He's perfect."

"No one is perfect, Gemma,” you remind her gently. Everything you do with Gemma is gentle because she's a gentle creature, long limbed, big dark blue eyes, auburn hair, like a doe come to life. "He's just a man." 

"A perfect man," she swoons, coming to stand opposite your desk. "Rich, six feet, amazing hair and body. Smart, kind." 

"And he's straight?"

"Ha ha." 

You smirk before going back to photographing the small miniature portrait in front of you on the desk. A new acquisition, a piece from the 1700's. A coup for the gallery. 

As the art preserver here at The Chapel Gallery you work in the back rooms of the gallery, in a part of the building the visitors never see. Back here the light is colder, whiter, and everything smells faintly of varnish, aging wood, and linen.

The floor is concrete, scuffed from decades of furniture being dragged across it. You’ve stopped noticing. There’s a tall window, but it’s been treated with a UV filter that dulls the sun to a diffused gray-blue haze. Still, it’s enough.

 You like the quiet of it. The way it catches in the dust floating over a stretched canvas. The hush. Your own breathing. The gentle hum of the fume extractor overhead.

Gemma is the exception. Bouncy, sweet, colorful. You like her in your space. Gemma showed up on her first day in heels too loud for the old gallery floors, holding a latte and a dozen questions about framing protocols, and you liked her immediately for admitting she could never do your job. There was respect in her voice when she said it. 

You'd bonded immediately over a love of Henry Ossawa Tanner and ethnical restoration. You moved quickly to lunches together, and then drinks after work and then a casual friendship that you appreciate in a city that feels cold. She loves to visit you in this space bringing coffee or baked goods, the two of you talking about everything from Rembrandt to The Real Housewives. 

And now she stands in front of you, phone in hand showing you a picture from what you can only assume is Google. 

"Isn't he handsome?" 

He looks like any other rich guy to you. They all start to blend into a mix of fancy watches and stiff hair after a while. 

"Sure." 

Your tools rest in their tray; scalpels in their tray, cotton swabs in jars, solvents labeled in your handwriting. Everything with its place. Everything under control. The paintings arrive with their wounds and histories, and you restore them with a loving hand. 

Gemma doesn’t interrupt, not exactly, but her presence changes the air. She’s lighter, glossier somehow. You hear the quick staccato of her heels before you see her. Always rehearsing the next exhibit, the next acquisition, the next donor she’ll have to charm.

 Her voice echoes through the storage corridor when she’s on a call, naming names you don’t recognize. Its collectors, old professors, gallery patrons who write checks large enough to get their opinions framed.

You prefer the paintings because they don’t perform. They don’t flatter. They don’t lie about what time has done to them.

Sometimes she asks what you think of a piece. You don’t always answer. When you do, she listens in that serious way of hers, her lips slightly parted, like she's memorizing the shape of your opinion even if she’s already decided on hers. It works, mostly. You restore. She sells and curates.

You move behind the canvas while she moves in front of it.

"What does he do?"

"Private equity." 

You hold in a groan. He's just like every other guy she's dated. All rich, all handsome, all in finance and all the most boring men on the planet. You can feel her eyes still on you and you know what she's going to say before she says it. You brace yourself. 

"When are you going to try dating again?"

"Never."

Your sweet, hopelessly optimistic co-worker leans on your work table, big eyes sad. "The divorce was six years ago. When are you going to try again?"

"When men stop being assholes so..." you put on a faux pondering look, "never?" 

She giggles, a bit nervous about her date, a bit tickled by your seriousness. "Don't you miss sex?"

You look over at her innocent face, amused. You're only a few years older than her but you feel like you've lived a lifetime in comparison. 

"I have sex, Gem. Sex isn't the issue. It's living with a man that doesn't appeal to me. And I'm not gay, though I wish I was, so romance isn't really an option anymore." 

You weren't always this way when it came to love. But it was a classic case of Boy meets girl. Girl falls for boy. Boy and girl get married. Boy cheats. Boy gets girl new pregnant. Girl moves on. 

You wish it wasn't such a fucking cliché. 

You think of you phone in your pocket. The message from earlier. You scowl. Gemma's phone beeps and she swipes to open the message, her face breaking into a beam. 

"He's here," she says, going on her tiptoes and bouncing. "He's coming down here to get me! You can see him!" 

She looks completely elated and there's a small, secret part of you that misses that. The excitement of a first date. Just then a gurgle sounds and she gets a strange look on her face, blanching before placing a palm over her stomach. 

"Oh fuck." 

Gemma has what she calls a reactive stomach. Which basically means that she has to aggressively empty her bowels when she gets anxious. 

"I'll tell him you're freshening up," you tell her, making a shooing motion. She casts you a thankful look before rushing off to the loo. 

You shake your head, mouth curled into a smile. She is ridiculous at times but you really do adore her. You go back to photographing the miniature portrait, excited to get to work on bringing the original color back from underneath all that grime.

The sound of footsteps grabs your attention. You glance up to see a tall man with dark wave hair that curls under his ears and large expressive eyes. He's dressed well and in one arm holds a large bouquet of pale yellow roses. 

"Hello." 

He smiles politely at you, plump lips curling under a perfectly manicured beard.

Harry Castillo. 

"Gemma just went to freshen up," you tell him with a motion to one of the desk chairs. "She'll be back any second."

"Great." 

He doesn't move to the chair. Instead he moves deeper into your workroom, eyes casting from one piece to the next. He places the bouquet onto one of the empty tables before surveying the exhibit you just finished restoring. 

He stops in front of a small, clay pot, clearly taken with it. Despite it being behind protected glass you wince when his face nears it.

"Do you mind stepping back from the artifacts? Everything here is incredibly delicate." 

Harry nods unbothered, hands behind his back. "Understood." 

He finds himself intrigued by what you're photographing with such focus. His legs carry him to the side of your desk. You're so invested in the task at hand you don't even hear him near. 

"Rosalba Carriera." 

You almost drop the camera. "What?"

"That's a Rosalba Carriera isn't it?" Harry looks puzzled. "I'm sure of it. My family owns several." 

You hold in a scoff of disgust. Of course his family would buy up art and keep it for themselves. You stare over your shoulder at him, your expression cold. Men like this make you want to scream. Money, looks, arrogance. He has it all in spades. 

"I love pastel painting," Harry continues, thrown off by your muted response.

He thought you'd warm to him and his art knowledge. He's been told he's charismatic, but the longer you derisively stare at him the more he's concerned he's been lied to all his life. You're like a cat; back arched, claws extended. Everything about you screams back off and so he does, eyes trained on yours. 

"Yes," you finally offer when he stands on the opposite side of your workspace. "It is a Rosalba Carriera. One of her earliest." 

Harry can see that the entire portrait is grimy with age. The edges torn in spots. He can't imagine taking something like that and making it beautiful again. 

"Restoration and preservation seems like such tedious work," Harry hums. 

He winces when he sees your jaw tic. He said the wrong thing. Fuck. Tedious wasn't the word he wanted to use. He'd meant labor intensive and exhausting with having so many hours spent over such detailed pieces. 

But he feels out of his element, trying to appear in control of the conversation. But the way your eyes dig into him has him feeling exposed. 

You don't even lower your camera when you reply. 

"No more tedious than telling rich people how to spend their money." 

That's an arrow to the gut. Despite being good at his job there is always the lingering thought that what he does is frivolous. That all the money in the world can't make him a good person. 

He can change his legs, his clothes, his home, but at the end of the day he's still that awkward boy overhearing his girlfriend saying she put up with him.

You put him back there, back to the party that smelled of stale beer and hairspray. The night his life changed, where he changed, where he saw the ugliness in perfection. 

And for that, he immediately dislikes you. 

He frowns, irritated by this serious woman behind the desk and the way she turns her attention back to the portrait, as if he's nothing, as if he's not even good enough to glance at. 

You want him gone. He wants to be gone. 

"I'm ready," Gemma announces with a flustered laugh, coming around the corner in her flouncy dress. You and Harry exhale in relief. 

"Great," Harry says extending an elbow. He can't wait to escape this suffocating space. 

He can't wait to be away from you

Your apartment is on the smaller side, but it does its job. You make decent money. Not enough for some penthouse at the top of a skyscraper but it's got a cozy vibe, something that makes you feel settled. It's a third floor walk up and by the end of the day you're usually exhausted. 

Above everything, you love that it's yours. You picked the paint, the decor, the pillows. Every part of this space is you. 

Not him.

You toss your bag onto the hook by the door and start the toaster oven. You worked late and you have a real craving for that shitty lasagna from the supermarket that you grew up on. 

You grab it from the freezer, Popping ventilation holes into the plastic and pop it into the oven. As you set the timer and heat you laugh to yourself when you realize how different your meal is from Gemma's this evening. She's probably throwing back lobster and farm to table veal. 

With Harry.

What a stupid fucking name. 

You can't help but be annoyed by his presence today, but if you're honest your bad mood started this morning at work after receiving a text from an old friend. Well, not a friend deal, more and emotional vulture. 

I hope you're doing okay. 

Huh? 

I saw the pregnancy announcement on J's timeline. I'm so sorry hun xx

You hadn't even bothered writing back. 

Harry had just been an additional irritant. Bad place bad time. Reminding you of the lifestyle Jarrod always aspired to.  

You used to own a nice place outside Manhattan with your ex-husband Jarrod. A place with quiet neighbours and tall ceilings. A place that he furnished saying that he had an eye for home design. 

He made decent money, but it was never enough. You both worked and he loved to live lavishly. When he found out about your secret account that has been the beginning of the end. 

And the irony is his new wife doesn't even work. But she's young and shiny and maybe that's what he really wanted all along, he just wasn't honest about it. 

But if you're honest you were checked out that last year of your marriage. How could you forgive him after his reaction to-

The ding of the oven catches your attention. You go to pull out the lasagna, hissing when the lip of the grill catches your wrist and the entire container goes toppling over onto the floor. 

Sauce pools over the mushed meal of cheese and pasta. You swear, throwing the pan into the sink with a frustrated cry. 

Today fucking sucks. 

Dinner is delicious. Better than the last time Harry was here with Lucy. Or the time before with Bianca. Or the time before that with Gretchen. It's his favorite steak house and he always rents the back room out when he dines here. It's quieter that way, the service more dedicated. 

Harry watches his date delicately eating her salad. But his mind is still back in that gallery basement, back on the woman who irritated him. 

What was her problem?

Harry dabs at the corner of his mouth with his napkin. He speaks lightly, eyes down as he adjusts his cuff. 

"I'm glad we could do this again." 

"Me too." 

Gemma stares at him with the practised air of a woman that was born beautiful, who went to an Ivy League, who comes from money and expects the best. 

She's a good match. And he's so tired of looking. 

"Tell me more about your job," he insists after another sip of wine. 

"It's not very glamorous," she replies sweetly. Again that picture of demure innocence that's starting to grate on him. "Not like your job." 

"I assure you private equity is pretty dull." 

"I suppose it's similar to your job in that we both act as bridges between consumer and creator. But I've taken on some curating as well. That's my real passion. I love it because it's shaping what people experience when they walk into a gallery or museum."

"That doesn't sound boring."

Gemma looks delighted by that response, her eyes sweeping across his forearm, watching the gold ring he wears tapping against the glass. 

"I guess not. Right now I’m working on curating a show on post-war artists who were overshadowed in their time, mostly women and artists of colour. It's the new piece my co-worker is photographing. She'll be busy pouring over that for the next few months." 

Harry nods, not particularly interested in hearing more about you. But Gemma is on a roll, comfortable with the topic of you since nothing else is coming to mind.

“I'm worked about the funding though,” she says, delicately spearing a piece of endive, “my co-worker says not to worry about it, but I can’t help it. I’m a worrier.”

Harry nods, smiling with practised warmth. The kind of smile reserved for clients and vaguely familiar faces at weddings. 

“Your co-worker seems…” he lets it drift, then adds almost idly, “focused.”

Gemma nods, chewing quietly. “She is. Especially when a new piece comes in. She’s been handling a lot lately. We lost funding for her assistant, so she’s doing everything herself.”

“That sounds unsustainable.”

“She doesn’t really complain,” Gemma says, smoothing her napkin. “But I think it’s been wearing on her. She hides it well.”

“She’s lucky to have you, then.”

Gemma smiles at that, pleased by the compliment, even if it’s only adjacent.

“She’d never say it, but I think she appreciates the support.”

Harry feigns a moment of thought, fingers absently trailing the stem of his wineglass. He can't agree. You seemed perfectly passionate enough to insult him the second after meeting him. 

“She was a bit aloof,” he murmurs. 

Gemma gives a small, quick laugh. “She’s not always like that. She’s very funny, very blunt. She just doesn’t warm up to people easily. Especially not people who act like...well....”

She catches herself and Harry lifts an eyebrow, amused. "Act like what?”

“Like they own the room.”

He smirks. “Guilty, I suppose.”

“No,” Gemma says quickly, almost apologetic. “Not you exactly. It's just, she’s careful with new people.”

Harry leans in slightly, voice low. “You two are close?”

Gemma lowers her eyes, just for a second. “We work well together. She’s so funny and so brilliant. And yeah, a little intense. But she makes the gallery better.”

He nods, slow and thoughtful. There’s something in the way Gemma speaks about you. Respect, yes, but also a sort of nervous admiration. He files that away.

“And she said not to worry?” he prompts gently, circling back.

“Mhm,” Gemma says, dabbing the corner of her mouth. “She always says that. About donors, pieces, my love life…” she trails off, laughing a little.

“Oh?”

“She doesn’t really believe in matchmaking,” Gemma adds. "Honestly, I don't think she believes in romance anymore full stop. But she told me that worrying will just make it worse and that I should enjoy the ride." 

That doesn't surprise Harry in the least. The scraps of information presented to him about you paint the picture of a woman invested in her work. He saw no wedding ring and judging by the late hour he came to retrieve Gemma and you working away, he can only surmise that you likely don't have a partner waiting at home. 

"But I worry about her sometimes. She hasn't dated anyone since her divorce and it's like she's given up." 

Harry lifts his glass, his voice flat. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Gemma says, gently setting hers down. “I worry that she doesn’t believe in love anymore. I mean she told me as much. Since her divorce, it’s all been very cynical.”

That catches. Just for a second. Something shifts behind Harry’s expression. It's something small, almost imperceptible. But Gemma, watching, mistakes it for amusement.

“She calls dating a mutual performance of delusion,’” she adds with a grin, hoping he’ll laugh.

He doesn’t. Not really. He smiles, but it’s distant. His fingers are lightly tapping the base of his wine glass. “She said that?”

“Mhm.”

“And what do you think?”

Gemma blinks, caught off-guard. “I think she’s been hurt. And when people get hurt badly enough, they try to feel superior to what they’ve lost.”

Harry nods, but he’s not really nodding. His mind’s moved. You’re in it again, your sharp voice, the disinterest that wasn’t just rudeness, but something colder. Something he recognizes in himself under all the pretense. 

“Interesting,” he murmurs.

Gemma brightens slightly, mistaking it for approval of her. “But I still believe in something lasting. I mean, why else go to all this trouble, right?”

He looks back at her, as though just now returning to the conversation.

“Right,” he says, softly.

As if just realizing they've devoted the last ten minutes of their date to talk about her co-worker, Gemma turns coy. 

"But enough about that. Tell me, what is your family like? You have a brother, any other siblings?"

Harry smiles again, this time slower. Something has become very clear to him and like anyone working in private equity he knows he needs to conduct a little due diligence before moving forward. 

"Everything was delicious, the most delicious steak I've ever eaten!" 

It’s three days later and Gemma is regaling you with her latest Harry saga and you're fighting to show even passive interest. The two of you are having coffee at the cafe across from the gallery, your favorite place to relax. 

"He kissed my hand. My hand! Like something out of a romance novel." 

"Cute." 

"And he was so sweet; he took me to Central Park and did the whole carriage ride thing." 

"Fun." 

"Didn't you think he was handsome?"

"Sure." 

You offer the odd word, knowing that she's barely even registered you're there. To her you're just a willing audience 

You barely registered the man if you're honest. He seemed haughty, walking around your workplace as if he owned it. 

"And he really knows his artwork," Gemma continues. "I didn't expect someone in finance to be so knowledgeable about more obscure artists."

"Mhm." 

You remember his tailored presence, the faint perfume of old money and self-assurance. The way he looked at you like not with interest, but a kind of calculation.

"He rented out the whole back of the restaurant. We had private servers, a special menu." She's practically floating. 

"So he's new money," you say acerbically. It comes out more bitter than anticipated. "Old money is quiet, new money is loud."

"For your information he is old money," she says giving you a pointed look. "His parents started the family firm."

"So he didn't even earn his money or position himself."

"Obviously there's no winning with you today. Why are you being so shitty about him?"Gemma asks, cheeks pinking in irritation. 

'I'm sorry," you answer, feeling embarrassed. "I've just never been really comfortable with people that have that kind of money. You are, you grew up like that and it's what you want in a partner."

Gemma is in a snit now. "So now I'm shallow?"

"Not at all," you insist truthfully. "If you were ugly, do you think Harry would have asked you for a second date?" 

She's quiet and blushing further. "No. I guess not." 

I nod. My point exactly. 

"You are just two people coming together who want something from the other. It's as pure and honest as any part of a functional relationship."

The two of you are quiet, fingers tracing the lip of the plate from the scone the two of you shared.

"Well, I hope we go out again," Gemma says with a bright look. "I mean, if I'm honest, I didn't feel a huge connection, but he's so good on paper. Handsome, rich, tall, charming." 

"But do you actually enjoy his company?"

Gemma looks at you as if you've sprouted a second head. "What does that have to do with anything?" 

"Gemma," you admonish, "you're always telling me about how you want to find love and be swept off your feet." 

"I do," she insists, "I just think we have a choice in who we love and my choice should take certain things like looks and money into account. I’m thirty, I want kids, and I want stability." 

You want to tell Gemma that she’s capable of having all of those things on her own if she really wants. But you know that it’s not just that. She wants the cache of a partner up the social ladder.

“Well, then I hope this works out for you,” you say sincerely. “And if not, trying to find someone who knows about art preservation.”

By the time you reach your apartment your stomach is rumbling. You skipped lunch to work on some of the finer detailing on the portrait.  You think of the all night deli across the corner and its beckoning croissant sandwiches and make your decision quickly. You throw your sketchbook into your bag. 

The night is chilly and you pull your jacket to your chin. In true New York fashion you don't smile at anyone, you keep your head down; you ignore the fact that you're still upset about the memory of Jarrod.  

You duck into the deli, cheeks and nose chilled. The place isn't busy, not at this hour. A few night owls linger at some of the tables, tapping away on their laptops, a tired man behind the counter raising a nod your way over their phone. 

"A number two and a coffee."

You take a number and a seat, bringing out your sketchbook as you wait. The music playing is rhythmic, quiet, but relaxing. You should thank the serious looking man behind the counter for his choice in tunes. 

The door opens behind you as you debate the menu. You've been curious to try the avocado turkey on rye. 

"Number two," you tell the man with confidence. "And a coke. Thanks." 

"That’ll be $8.66."

You reach into your pocket for your wallet but an arm has come around you to place a fifty on the counter. 

"I've got it." 

The man at the till takes it without question but you whip around, shocked at the random act of kindness. Familiar brown eyes swim into view and your surprise turns to irritation. 

"You."

Harry gives you a dimpled smile. "Good Evening.”

The man at the till tries to give Harry his change but he just shakes his head, a light lift of his hand and the man pockets his large tip. You know you're scowling at this pathetic display of charitable giving. It's easy to give away money when you have so much of it. 

"I can afford my own dinner."

"I know," Harry says.

You think about paying the amount you were going to, but the man at the till is heading over to another customer to answer a question. Harry continues standing there looking at you with interest. That same calculating look you've seen in him before. 

Fine. If this idiot wants to pay for your sandwich you'll let him, considering his appearance has now dampened your mood. 

"Thanks," you mutter his way, taking a table number and slinking away into a nearby booth.

You open your sketchbook, dutifully ignoring the annoying Harry still at the counter, speaking with the man behind the till.  

You're shocked when you hear the guy laugh, a low chuckle. You've been coming to this deli for months and you've never seen the guy crack a smile, let alone laugh. 

Probably hoping for another big tip. 

You hold in an eye roll and begin to sketch lightly. Your mind is driven to darkness today. Black spiky limbs reaching for the sky. 

A can of soda is placed on the table by your elbow, accompanied by a low voice.

"Forgot this."

Fuck. You sigh lightly before taking the can from him, murmuring your thanks. When he lingers, watching you pop the tab you attempt to be cordial. This is Gemma's potential boyfriend after all. 

"This doesn't really seem like your scene."

You're not looking at him when you speak. You're taking a sip of the fizzy drink, nose wrinkling a moment when the carbonation tickles your nose. 

Harry stands next to the booth like an awkward waiter, holding an espresso on a saucer. He's dressed in slacks and a charcoal sweater, a tweed jacket over top. He went to an effort, not that you’d know because you're still not looking at him. 

"I like sandwiches as much as the next guy." 

What he doesn't tell you is that his driver was pulling up to your apartment building when he saw you exit, looking agitated. When you walked into the deli he thought it was a perfect excuse. Much better than his original idea of just showing up at your home with a proposition. 

"Okay."

Harry looks amused, not offended by your cold reception. He was ready for it He watches you go back to your sketching, letting the moment stretch. You don't seem to be upset by his presence. 

The sandwiches arrive, both placed unceremoniously onto the perpetually stained tabletop. Harry motions to the chair opposite you at the table. 

"May I sit?"

You raise your head from your sketches, casting an eye around the fairly empty deli. "There are lots of open tables."

Harry looks amused, not offended by your cold reception. Almost like he was ready for it. "It's not a matter of space, more the company." 

He watches you wrestle with this before lifting one arm in a casual shrug.  

"Knock yourself out."

He suppresses a grin, sliding into the booth opposite you. He can't remember the last time - if ever - he was in a tiny eatery like this with its cheap menus and yellowed floors. 

He watches you take a bite of the sandwich in one hand, the other still furiously sketching away. He watches you for several moments and eventually you feel those big brown eyes on your face and you glance up to see his sandwich untouched. Why is he here?

Harry glances down at the greasy sandwich, hiding a sneer. He wouldn't feed this to his worst enemy. 

"Do you need something?"

You're looking at him with anticipation, as if you're scared of what he might say. 

"I wanted to know if you'd be interested in an exchange of services," he says coolly. "A barter." 

This is how he is in the boardroom; this is how he commands the people he works with. Blunt, forward, confident, charming when he needs to be, but ruthless he just as easily. 

The pencil stills on the page, your nose wrinkling. "With you?"

"Mhm."

He watches the way you blink at him, head tilting slightly. 

"I don't need financial advice and according to Gemma you could buy out the entire gallery, so I don't really get what you want from me."

You feel strangely trapped by him here in the booth. You could slide out and run but would you make it? As if sensing your unease, Harry shakes his head slowly. Fingers lifting from the table briefly.  "You don't have to say yes." 

"I probably won't."

He smothers a chuckle. Gemma was right, you are blunt and you are funny.

"My mother wants me to marry," Harry tells you. "The sooner the better."

"And you're a Mama's boy?" 

He smirks. "Maybe a little." 

"Gross." 

You lean back to take a sip of coffee, eyes peering at him over the rim. "I thought you had a matchmaker?"

He shifts in his chair. "I do." 

"So then why are you here talking to me?"

The eraser of your pencil taps on your sketchbook, tap tap tap. Harry shuffles, one arm over the back of his chair affecting casual interest. 

"Because I want to hire you. I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend for the next several months because I believe it would be mutually beneficial to us both." Harry takes a sip of his espresso now, secretly amused when you drop the pencil.

"Excuse me?" You blink rapidly, lashes fluttering. "What the fuck are you talking about? You're dating Gemma."

"I went on two dates with her."

"She likes you."

"She likes my status, not that I begrudge her for it. But after two dates it’s clear that she wants a husband who will cherish her, who’s every waking thought will be about her. That's not me."

You're quiet because you know he's right. As much as Gemma liked his money, the things she liked most about her dates with Harry was the places he took her, the romance. How he held her hand on the carriage ride, how he listened about her job. Little, beautiful moments. 

Harry takes advantage of your stunned response. "Gemma is a lovely girl, but not a good match for what I need."

"And you think I'm what you need? I don't even like you." 

You stare at this man with his expensive watch and clothes and haircut. He even smells expensive. 

"You're intelligent, confident, attractive," Harry lists these things not with the affection of a lover, but an appraiser at an auction. 

"So is Gemma."

"Yes, but she's also looking for a true relationship, for love. And I can't give that to her."

"Why not?"

"I don't think I'm capable of it." He regards you with a tilt of his head. "I'm selfish, I like my job, I enjoy my own company, I'm driven and I'm not very romantic."

"You're very honest," you say, almost impressed. Almost. 

"I find it saves time to be direct." 

He watches your eyes survey him, appraising him like you would a piece of artwork needing to be restored.  

"Gemma said you took her to dinner at Mastros. Then to central Park for a horse drawn carriage ride." 

"I did."

"And that didn't seem romantic to you?"

"I know it was romantic," he replies. 

"Then why do you say you're not romantic?"

Harry leans back in the booth, drink forgotten. He points at your open sketchbook. "You know how to draw. Are you DaVinci?"

"Obviously not. No." 

"No," Harry agrees with a nod. "But you know enough about art from study. You know proportions without thinking about it. If someone random asked you to draw them a cow you could do it."

"Sure."

"It would mean nothing to you, but it would look like a nice image of a cow at the end. The person would walk away happy with their picture. But you wouldn’t feel attached to the sketch nor the process. It’s no different than how I approach romance. I know what it looks like, I’m happy to give it.”

You fall quiet, arms crossing. You've never thought about romance like that. So route. 

"I've already spoken to Natalia at Adore," Harry continues. "She's setting Gemma up with two of my friends I talked into joining. They're younger and richer and hopeless romantics. Gemma will be just fine." 

You don't know how you feel about that, the way he speaks about it makes it feel like something akin to prostitution. 

"She wants romance and love along with status," Harry reminds you. "Both of those men fit the bill and either one of them would die to date a woman like her." 

"But not you." 

"No. Not me." 

The eraser of your pencil taps on your sketchbook, tap tap tap. "What's in it for me?" 

"You'd be paid very well." 

He sees the hesitation in you now. The way your eyes jerk to the side as you digest his offer. 

"How well?"

Harry takes a piece of paper folded from his pocket. He came prepared. He slides it across the table, biting back a grin when your eyes bulge open. 

"You're not serious." 

"I am." 

Anyone else would have used computer paper, but not Harry Castillo. He used heavy card stock; the amount written in thick black ink with what you're sure was a fountain pen.

"How long would this charade go on for?"

"Six months." 

"Six entire months?" You make a disgusted face. "No. No chance."

You go back to your sketching, the subject clearly closed for you. You toss the piece of paper towards him, forgotten so easily. Harry sucks in a sharp breath of air through his teeth. Rejection always stings. 

"I'll double it." 

Your eyes rise up to his. "What?"

"The amount on that paper. I'll double it." 

Harry watches the way your eyes round, lips parting. He can't deny he enjoys shocking you. He watches you slump into the booth, your eyes darting back and forth between the table and the amount on the page.

"There must be other women you could ask." 

"None that don't want love or commitment."' Harry takes another sip of his espresso before it clinks back into place on the small saucer. "Gemma told me your views on romance and that's when I knew this would work." 

You sit for several moments debating the exorbitant sum on the paper and the year of your life you won't get back. But this kind of money is life changing. 

You look at Harry, really looking at him. "Don't you want to find a girlfriend? A real one?"

"I thought I did," Harry shrugs. "I attempted it. But I don't think it's something I really need. And from what I gather, that isn't what you desire either." 

He's right. But still you hesitate, fingering the thick paper.This could be a lucrative venture couldn't it? A chance to erase debt and start a life you've only dreamt about? And it's only a year. A year could go by fast. 

But a year of secrecy, of false affection. 

"Are we... Are we allowed to find company outside the fake relationship?" 

He raises a brow. "Company?"

"Sex," you state flatly. "Unless you think this amount means I'll be your personal concubine?"

It's almost endearing watching his cheeks flush. "I don't need to pay for sex." 

"Just for a fake girlfriend." 

You watch the twitch at the corner of his mouth, a smirk. Touche. 

"Sex is not required, of course. I would only request that company outside our arrangement be as discreet as possible." 

"That seems fair." 

Harry raises a brow, intrigued. "So you're agreeing?"

"I'm thinking about it." 

Harry nods, standing and buttoning his dark blazer. You have a lot to think about and he doesn't want to rush you. He needs commitment not a lukewarm agreement. He slides over his business card. 

"My number is on the back. I'll wait for your decision, whatever it may be." 

He sticks his hand out like it's a business deal and you take it with a little smile, amused. You shake briefly and he stands the purpose of this meeting over. He gives you a dimpled smile.

 “I hope to hear from you soon.”

He knows he will.

[joelalorian]

A Getaway Car Masterlist

Summary: When pop sensation Zara Summers and billionaire Harry Castillo meet at the Met Gala, sparks fly in a whirlwind night neither expected. A month of silence, a chart-topping single inspired by their night together and a game of teasing texts lead to a high-stakes dance between passion and public scrutiny. With the world watching and the press closing in, can their unlikely romance survive the spotlight or will the secrets and the fame tear them apart?

*Content Warnings:* Explicit sexual content / smut, Mature language, age gap relationship (50 and 27), public scrutiny / paparazzi / media attention, Power dynamics / celebrity and private life tension, Consensual but intense scenes of passion and teasing, Emotional vulnerability and relationship drama

Inspiration of Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter and Lady Gaga. In this universe, these artists don't exist... I'm just stealing their songs. Spotify playlist.

Part I - A Getaway Car

Part II - Juno

Part III - Too Sweet

Part IV - Dreams

Part V - Lavender Haze

Part VI - Vanish Into You

Part VII - How Bad Do U Want Me?

Part VIII - Style

Part IX - Do I Wanna Know?

Part X - Material Girl

Part XI - Your Song

Part XII - Positions

Part XIII - Daddy, I Love Him

Part XIV - Hold My Girl

Part XV - Drunk in Love

[joelalorian]

The Dog Days of Starting Over - Part Four

Joel Miller x f!reader | WC: 3792 |18+ MDNI | masterlist

Summary: Joel is hit with the loneliness of an empty nest when Sarah goes overseas for college. Her solution? Adopt a dog. That may just change Joel's life.

Series Tags/Warnings: 18+ mdni. Empty nester Joel. Loneliness and sadness. Humor. Cursing. Dog park shenanigans. Awkward flirting. Socialization for dog and human.

Series Masterlist

Part Three

Part Four

The clang of hammers and whirr of a power saw echoed through the construction trailer as Joel removed his hard hat and squinted at the latest set of plans. The third set this week. This finicky client was quickly becoming a pain in his ass with the constant changes. Who cares that the guy blew the budget to pieces three weeks ago?

No one but Joel, apparently.

Flopping back with a sigh, Joel ran a thick-fingered hand through his salt and pepper hair. This job was almost more trouble than it was worth. If the money weren’t so good, his crew would have walked off the site months ago. The swing of the trailer door opening drew his attention.

“You see your dog out there?” Tommy stepped through the door, hands on his hips and grinning like an idiot. Pointing through the still-open door, he added, “Out here actin’ like he’s runnin’ payroll and noting OSHA violations.”

Like a furry sentinel, Walter sat on the porch in his construction vest, ‘Safety Officer’ scrawled on the back in black marker. His tail swept the ground in slow, satisfied arcs as he watched the crew with narrowed eyes.

Joel huffed at the sight of his four-legged buddy. “He’s got more sense than half the crew.”

Tommy led the way back outside, squatting down to scratch behind Walter’s ears, which earned him a long yawn and a judgmental blink. “Well, he’s definitely got the resting bitch face down. Must run in the family.”

Joel stepped through the doorway with a snort. “Did you hunt me down just to bust my balls?”

Shrugging with a shit eating grin, Tommy drew out the word, “Perhaps.” The brothers stalked across the job site, Walter falling into a trot behind them. “A little birdie sent me a screenshot last night. Said you might’ve met someone at the dog park.”

Freezing mid-step, Joel’s shoulders stiffened slightly. “Jesus. Sarah tattled? I barely even mentioned anything.”

“Wouldn’t call it tattlin’,” Tommy said, drawing out the word with glee. “More like celebratin’. She said, and I quote: ‘He may have flirted… or panicked. Unclear. He did survive, though.’ She was happy for you, brother.”

Joel groaned, running a hand down his face. “Remind me to block her when I get home.”

Tommy laughed and nudged his shoulder. “Come on, man. This is good. A woman. A real, breathing, adult woman. Not just a barista who smiles at you outta pity.”

Joel shot him a look. That happened one time – ONE time – and Tommy never let it go. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Tommy continued in true annoying little brother fashion, “it’s been a long damn time since you even thought about meetin’ someone. And now you’ve got this whole rugged-single-dad-who-has-his-life-together thing goin’. Women eat that shit up.”

“I don’t have my life together,” Joel scoffed.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You got a business, a house, a daughter in a fancy college, and a dog with a charming little construction vest. That’s basically a dating profile.”

Tommy’s grin was wide enough to annoy the shit out of Joel and he grumbled under his breath, bending to pick up a discarded tape measure. “Even if I wanted to see her again – which I haven’t decided, thank you very much – what the hell do I even say? ‘Hey, you seem nice. Sorry I’m awkward and might’ve stared too long.’”

Tommy crossed his arms, grinning like the smug bastard he was. “You do tend to stare.”

“I wasn’t starin’,” Joel replied with a pout. “I was observin’. Quietly.”

Walter barked once like he agreed, then flopped down on a pile of drop cloths. Joel sighed, watching the beagle settle in for what would undoubtedly be a union-mandated nap.

“Y’know what?” he muttered. “Forget it. We’re goin’ Saturday morning. If she’s there, fine. If not, I’ll throw the ball for Walter, and we’ll go home.”

“Does he even know how to play fetch?” Tommy glanced at Walter doubtfully.

“Beats me. Guess we’ll find out.”

It was nearing quitting time and Joel turned to walk away, Tommy’s boisterous voice flowing over his shoulder. “Hey! Maybe you’ll get sat on this time instead of Walter!”

Joel flipped him the bird without looking back. Fucking asshole.

The early morning sun had just started warming the dew-speckled grass when you settled onto your usual bench near the back fence, large fountain Diet Coke in hand and Penelope at your feet. She watched the open field with extreme focus, tail twitching, ready to bolt at the first sign of a squirrel or bird.

“Good morning!” said Maya, a sassy golden retriever mom with a Starbucks addiction and a collection of leggings louder than her dog’s bark. She leaned against the fence next to where you sat, eyes scanning the parking lot. “Tell us more about this hot, grumpy DILF from the other day.”

“Yes, please! I’ve been dying for the hot goss,” Denise replied. Her black lab mix was already rolling in a mud puddle leftover from the overnight sprinkle. “I heard he had that look. You know the one? All broody and rugged, yet adorably gentle when he talks to his dog. I need to see it for myself. Like, sir, please crush me emotionally and physically.”

You hid a smile by sipping at your soda. The thought of seeing that man again – fuck, how you wished you asked for his name, his number, anything – had your spirits soaring.

Maya turned to you with a raised brow. “You talked to him, right?”

You tried to play it cool, feeling bad about gossiping. “A little. He seemed… nice.”

The other women waited not so patiently for more, and when it didn’t come, they groaned. “Come on, girl! You gotta give us something juicy!”

You hesitated, unsure how deep into this hole you wanted to dig. “He’s got this voice. All gravel and warmth, like if whiskey and honey could talk. You can practically feel it sliding over your skin.”

The women swooned.

“He has a sense of humor, too. He told Ruth to see for herself if his dog was neutered.” You shrugged, cheeks warming as you thought of some of the other things you noticed about him. “He seemed sweet. A little unsure. And the way he and his dog are together? So cute. He talks to him like he’s a grumpy toddler who doesn’t listen.”

Just then, the metal gate creaked open, and a pile of dogs gathered in front of it to greet the latest arrival. You turned, trying not to be obvious as Joel stepped through. Walter followed, decked out in a ridiculous but adorable blue bandana that read Certified Good Boy.

Maya leaned in. “Oh shit, there he is! And he’s lookin’ over here!”

The brooding pinch of his brow twitched as he spotted you, the hard line of his lips melting into a shy half smile.

“Omg, girl. He’s totally staring at you. Go say hi or something!” Denise urged.

You stood, your hand moving in an awkward half wave, which he returned. He made his way over to your bench, looking like he wasn’t sure if he’d be welcomed or devoured by the gaggle of giggling women. Dressed in well-worn jeans and a flannel with the sleeves rolled up, he looked like something straight out of one of your wet dreams.

“Hey,” you greeted with a genuine smile, heart already beating its way up your throat. “You made it.”

He nodded. “Yeah, figured I’d take your advice and try the calm crowd.” Walter sniffed the ground as his dad spoke, snorting at Penelope before he dramatically sat on his foot.

“Hey, buddy. Good to see you, too.” You patted Walter’s head, scratching that perfect spot behind his floppy ears. When you looked up, Denise gave you a look that screamed, “Introduce us now!”

“Oh!” you said quickly, “I never got your name the other day. This is Maya and Denise, their four-legged chaos makers are running around over there.” The ladies preened under his gaze, and you waited until he turned that melted chocolate gaze back to you to give him your name.

“It’s nice to meet y’all,” he replied. “Name’s Joel, and this grumpy guy is Walter.”

“The pleasure’s ours, believe me,” Maya simpered with all the charm of someone already planning a life with a man she just met. You caught the faintest twitch of Joel’s mouth. Not quite a smile, but close, like he was fighting against it.

“Well,” you said, trying to ignore the way your dog park friends ogled Joel, “you picked a good day. No one’s peed on my shoes yet.”

Joel chuckled, his eyes shifting down your form, lingering for a few beats longer than necessary. God, his gaze could melt an iceberg. “Ah, well, the day is young.”

The giggles coming from the others were obnoxious, if you did say so yourself. Before you could think of anything to say, Maya pounced.

“So, Joel,” she said, drawing out his name in a too sweet voice. “Have a seat and tell us about yourself. Are you new in town?”

Despite yourself, you sat on the edge of your seat, as eager as the other women to learn more about this handsome man.

Joel’s dark eyes flashed around the group. “I’m local, actually. Been here a long time, but I’m new to the dog park scene.”

“Ahh,” Denise chimed in, leaning forward eagerly. “Where have you been hiding? Don’t tell me you’re one of those fishin’ all day, drink all night types who talks about nothing but football.”

Joel’s mouth twitched. “More of a construction site before dawn, don’t talk to me until after my third cup of coffee type. Though I don’t mind the occasional fishing trip or football on Sundays.”

You tried not to smile, but Joel’s voice had that deep, gravelly drawl that made sarcasm sound pleasant to the ear. He glanced around the circle of curious women, one brow quirked, clearly clocking the fact that he was outnumbered and under examination.

“Well, your dog’s adorable,” Maya said brightly. “You should bring him around more often. What’s his name again? Wally?”

“Walter,” Joel corrected in a rumbling voice.

“Walter,” Denise repeated as if tasting how it rolled off her tongue. She didn’t want to be outdone by Maya in the over-the-top flirting department. “Very regal. Like he should own a cigar lounge or something.”

You covered your mouth to hide your laugh, but Joel’s glance flicked to you, amused. Remaining silent, you lost yourself in those dark eyes until the shameless flirts interrupted once again.

“So, Joel, what do you do at construction sites before dawn? Besides winning the award for Deepest Voice, of course.” Denise swirled her overpriced metal water bottle, feigning nonchalance while practically salivating over every tiny morsel of detail about him. You briefly wondered if she had a mimosa hidden in there the way she sipped at it.

Your cheeks warmed. That explained why his ‘Scuse me, ma’am’ from the other day sent a chill down your spine and lived rent-free in your mind. That voice was sinfully delicious.

“I run a construction company,” he said, drawing you out of your thoughts. “Residential, mostly, but we’ve done a few smaller commercial gigs as well.”

“Oh, so you’re good with your hands?” Maya immediately interjected.

Jesus Christ, these women were shameless!

Joel offered her a flat look. “I get by.”

“Any pets besides Walter?” Denise asked, undeterred.

“Nope. Just me and him.”

Joel’s replies were becoming more clipped, terse and you could see his discomfort rising. Still, the girls continued.

“Married? Divorced? Widowed?” Maya asked with the casualness of ordering a sandwich instead of conducting an interrogation.

Your eyes went wide. “Maya!”

“What?” she questioned with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We need context about our new friend.”

Fucking vultures.

To his credit, Joel shot you a grateful glance before replying in that calm, gruff voice. “Divorced. Long time ago.”

You caught the flicker of something guarded but not raw in his burnt umber eyes. There was a story there and part of you ached to know it. Before anyone could pry any further, two figures wandered over to rescue him – Chuck and Rico, the self-appointed park dads of the weekend crew.

Chuck, a man nearly as wide as he was tall with a shaved head and Boston accent, gave a low whistle as he came to a stop next to the picnic table. “Whoa, what’s all this? Ladies got you on the interrogation mat, my guy?”

Joel huffed a short chuckle. “Feels more like a job interview, just not quite sure what the role is.”

“My next husband, obviously,” Denise muttered under her breath and you nearly choked on a sip of your soda.

Rico snorted. “Sounds about right. These ladies can be brutal, brother. Which one’s yours?” The younger man’s blue eyes roved over the dogs scattered about.

As if on cue, Walter let out a loud groan and dropped dramatically onto his side, flinging one paw over his face.

“Ahh, that’d be the one, I reckon,” Rico laughed.

“That’s Walter,” you chirped, introducing the men and their dogs. “Chuck’s golden, Boomer, is the park’s designated hugger. He’ll knock you over to get one if you’re not careful. And Rico’s dog Tango will nibble Walter’s ears if he likes them.”

“Ear nibbling? Kinky,” Joel teased with a raised brow and his eyes on you, drawing laughs from the group. You swore the ladies swooned. Who were you kidding, you totally swooned, too, with the way he gazed at you.

“Yup, it’s weirdly affectionate. My other one is the one to worry about though.” Rico pointed across the way where an over-excited ball of energy exploded toward them in a frenzy of fur and tennis ball obsession. The collie mix dropped a ball directly at Joel’s feet, staring up at him with laser focus.

“That’s Chaos and she’s fetch-obsessed,” you said helpfully.

“She’s possessed,” Chuck corrected.

Joel stared down at the ball, visibly cringing at the state of the thing. “Am I supposed to throw that?” You practically melted in your seat when he turned those warm brown eyes on you again, his brows pulled in and up in the cutest expression.

“Unless you want her to start barking at you like you owe her money,” you advised, ignoring the hint of shakiness in your voice.

Joel gave the ball a lazy toss, wiping his hand on his jean-clad thigh as Chaos shot off after it. Walter lifted his head, watched her sprint for a second, then lay back down with the dramatic energy of a man who’d seen too much.

“Smart guy,” Joel muttered to the dog.

Much to your relief, the others had begun drifting into side conversations, giving Joel a break from the unwanted interrogation and letting the two of you slip back into your own quiet bubble of banter. Joel still gave off an air of uncertainty, like he hadn’t quite decided if this place was welcoming or slightly cultish, but at least he hadn’t run screaming yet.

“Glad you came back,” you said gently, your lips naturally forming into an endearing smile when you gazed at him.

Joel met your gaze with a warm half smile gracing his lips, the scruff of his beard glinting in the morning sun. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Sorry about Maya and Denise,” you offered. “They get carried away but are generally harmless. I have a feeling they’re fighting over who gets to ask for your number.”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest, low and deep, causing a pleasant flutter in your belly. “Women like that would eat me alive. Ain’t no way I’m givin’ either of ‘em my phone number.”

“No doubt,” you laughed, unexpectedly pleased that he had no interest in the others. It gave you the courage to ask, “You want to take a lap around the park with me?”

“Sure,” Joel agreed, getting up from his seat to walk beside you. Walter and Penelope fell in step behind you both, trotting together like they were best friends.

“Been awhile since I got outta the house and talked to other people outside of work, my brother, and my daughter.” That deep, rumbling voice softened at the mention of his daughter, pulling at your heart.

“You have a daughter?” you asked, fully invested in learning more about this man.

“Yeah,” he admitted softly. “Sarah. She’s nineteen, going on thirty-five. Smart as a whip. Studyin’ abroad in England this year and I miss the shit outta that girl.”

Your eyes widened, soaking in the subtle changes in his expression as he spoke. “That’s amazing. I always wanted to visit England, London especially.”

Joel nodded, but his smile turned a little bittersweet. “Yeah, it is. I’m proud of her. But… house is too dam quiet and I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s been just the two of us for so long. That’s half the reason I got Walter. Figured he’d bark at squirrels or somethin’ and fill the silence.”

Your heart gave a small, empathetic squeeze. You understood that bone deep loneliness all too well. You glanced at Walter, who was currently squinting into the grass, sniffing at individual blades like he was solving a crime.

“He seems like a great partner in crime,” you said trying to lessen the melancholic turn to the conversation.

Joel smiled faintly, his dark eyes saying more than his words. “He is. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s got strong opinions.”

You both laughed for a moment, your steps slowing to a near stop for no reason.

“I’m sorry you’re missing her,” you offered gently.

Joel tilted his head, a little surprised at your kindness but grateful, nonetheless. “Thanks. I… wasn’t expectin’ that to hit as hard as it did.”

You nodded, your hand aching to reach for him in comfort. “I kind of get that. I lost my job last month. Whole department got restructured. I’ve been in this weird limbo ever since – like I forgot how to function without a job.”

Joel looked over at you, something in his expression shifting. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m lucky in a lot of ways, but still… I don’t know. I’ve been a little lost lately.”

Joel cleared his throat, seeming a little unsure about what to say next. You let the moment rest between you until he finally spoke again.

“I, uh… was wonderin’. Would you maybe want to grab coffee sometime? Just us. No dogs. Or, I mean, with the dogs, if you’d like. I’d just like to see you again, away from the dog park.” He brushed a hand along the back of his neck, clearly anxious as his cheeks pinkened.

Gah, the man was utterly endearing.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’d like that. A lot.”

Joel let out a quiet exhale, like he’d been holding his breath without realizing. “Cool,” he said, head bobbing in a nod as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Cool.”

Penelope barked once as if in approval and Walter gave a gruff huff of agreement.

“Well,” you said with a laugh, “looks like it’s a unanimous vote.”

That evening, Joel stretched out on the couch, bare feet propped on the coffee table, a worn blanket knitted by his grandmother when he was a child spread across his lap to take the edge off the crisp breeze blowing through the open windows. Walter was curled up next to him, his personal furry space heater, snoring with each rise and fall of his barrel chest. The house – the entire neighborhood – was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and occasional pops and snaps of the fresh cut wood in the fireplace.

He hadn’t even bothered turning on the television, instead enjoying the silence for the first time in his life.

Joel’s phone buzzed on the side table as he took a sip of the decadent amber liquid from the aged glass in his hand. The liquid burned down his throat in that old familiar way as he checked the phone.

Sarah: So… did you see her again???

He shook his head with a quiet chuckle and typed out a reply with his oversized thumbs.

Joel: Yeah. We walked a lap at the park. Talked. I met some of her dog park friends.

Sarah: Dad! DID YOU ASK HER OUT OR JUST STARE AT HER SHOES AGAIN???

Joel: Asked her out for coffee. She said yes. Smiled even.

Sarah: Fucking brilliant! I’m so proud. My dear old dad, flirting in the wild. I should have made you a Tinder profile before I left.

Joel groaned, rolling his eyes so hard it nearly gave him a headache.

Joel: Imma wash your mouth out with soap when I see you.

Sarah: You’re adorable, old man. Did you brush your hair? Wear clean jeans? Use your manners? Did Walter wear his vest?

Joel glanced down at his couch buddy who was still snoozing. Walter’s vest had been tossed on a hook by the door, slightly grass stained and dusty. He needed to wash that thing, come to think of it.

Joel: Walter was the real star, as always. No vest, but he wore a bandana. I just tried not to say anything stupid.

Sarah: Low bar. But I’m genuinely proud of you Dad. For real. You’re a good bloke and it’s time people notice.

Joel stared at the message a few seconds longer than he meant to, his heart fit to burst from his chest with all the love he held for this kid.

Joel: Thanks Babygirl. That means a lot.

Sarah: So what’s her name?? Are you gonna tell me or do I have to fly home and interrogate Walter?

Joel snorted loudly, disturbing Walter’s well-deserved snooze fest, and earned himself a death stare from the grumpy pup.

Joel: All in due time, kid. I don’t want to scare her off yet with bad juju.

Sarah: I don’t know if that makes you a coward or a very smart man. Love you to pieces, old man.

Joel: Back atcha Babygirl. Get to bed, it’s late over there.

He smiled down at the phone, chuckling at the mean-faced emoji Sarah sent before setting it facedown on the armrest. Walter snuffled and stretched, kicking Joel before allowing one paw to flop over his knee.

“You and me, bud,” Joel murmured, rubbing behind the beagle’s ears. “Guess we’ve got a date.”

Walter let out a sleepy groan and farted in response.

Joel grimaced, waving a hand in front of his face to disperse the stink. “Right. I’ll handle the conversation. You just look cute.”

tbc

Part Five

taglist: @milla-frenchy, @noisynightmarepoetry, @bunnymami13, @lillaydee, @missladym1981@therewastherewas@joelmillerpascal@baronessvonglitter @ashleyfilm @okiegal68 @mallingcalling-blog

[joelalorian]

WIP Day

I've lost track of days of the week with being laid off, so happy WIP whatever day it is! Thanks @baronessvonglitter for the tag!

I've finally gotten some writing mojo back, which is great since I have so much free time. Here's a little blip from the next chapter of The Dog Days of Starting Over, which should be coming out this weekend.

The clang of hammers and whirr of a power saw echoed through the construction trailer as Joel removed his hard hat and squinted at the latest set of plans. The third set this week. This finicky client was quickly becoming a pain in his ass with the constant changes. Who cares that the guy blew the budget to pieces three weeks ago? No one but Joel, apparently. Flopping back with a sigh, Joel ran a thick-fingered hand through his salt and pepper hair. This job was almost more trouble than it was worth. If the money weren’t so good, his crew would have walked off the site months ago. The swing of the trailer door opening drew his attention. “You see your dog out there?” Tommy stepped through the door, hands on his hips and grinning like an idiot. Pointing through the still-open door, he added, “Out here actin’ like he’s runnin’ payroll and noting OSHA violations.” Like a furry sentinel, Walter sat on the porch in his construction vest, ‘Safety Officer’ scrawled on the back in black marker. His tail swept the ground in slow, satisfied arcs as he watched the crew with narrowed eyes. Joel huffed at the sight of his four-legged buddy. “He’s got more sense than half the crew.” Tommy led the way back outside, squatting down to scratch behind Walter’s ears, which earned him a long yawn and a judgmental blink. “Well, he’s definitely got the resting bitch face down. Must run in the family.” Joel stepped through the doorway with a snort. “Did you hunt me down just to bust my balls?”

NPTs to @lillaydee @inept-the-magnificent and anyone else who'd like to play.

[joelalorian]

I was laid off on July 10th after 14 years with the same company. Still trying to wrap my head around it. Even with the sudden surge in free time, fic updates will be sporadic as I try to find a purpose again.

[joelalorian]

So It's Come To This! A Mallory Ko-fi Show

Hello lovely followers and Tumblrsphere. Listen, things over in Mallory Land have been... financially rough for quite a bit. I own a toy store and it is... not doing great at all. This American economy... lemme tell ya'. On top of some bills and some medical things, your girl's wallet has been tight (it'd be even tighter if it wasn't for the help of some family)... I have cancelled plans, vacations, future plans, etc. all for the sake of trying to keep my head above water.

I am okay mentally (ish) and physically, and I'm thankful for that. I have a roof over my head, a saint of a husband, a working car, a chipmunk in my backyard I've befriended who I lovingly call Peanut, and an air conditioner... but the bills are still going to bill and the store profits are still going sit in the lowest places I've ever seen.

So, why am I telling you this? Well, I'd like to offer my services to you. Fanfic, moodboard, weird art, playlist creating, etc.

And before you think it... yeah, I know people have it way worse off than I do. Trust me, my guilt of even posting this is enough to swallow me whole.

Listen, I'd love to do all of this for free. I love nothing more than spending my time on this site, making friends, reading fic, posting fic, screaming in comments, etc... but sometimes we gotta ask for help. And that's okay! I hope that I'll be able to help others like I have before as time goes and things hopefully get better for me.

I don't want to be Mona Lisa Saperstein and reach my hand out while shouting MONEY PLEASE, but you are welcome to donate anything just out of the goodness of your heart too, but please let me know so I can attack you with love... if love attacks aren't your thing... I can also just give you pics of Pedro or Peanut the chipmunk.

You can donate here if you'd like. Send me a DM or get at me on Discord (airtightsea) if you'd like to discuss your options.

Please reblog to spread the word if you feel so inclined to. Make me use my Canva so I can reason with myself to keep the Pro subscription I've almost cancelled multiple times.

And if you read this, or you're rolling your eyes at this... whatever you're doing... thanks for being here with me where I can attack you with ...'s

We'll all get through whatever this world is right now... one Joel Miller fic at a time.

Love, Mallory

[joelalorian]

if you have ever suffered from…

• depression

• anxiety

• eating disorder

• self-harm

• ocd

• bipolar

• feelings of guilt and hopelessness

• suicidal thoughts

can you please reblog to show support for people who also suffer.

you are not alone.

[joelalorian]

The Dog Days of Starting Over - Part Three

Joel Miller x f!reader | WC: 2295 |18+ MDNI | masterlist

Summary: Joel is hit with the loneliness of an empty nest when Sarah goes overseas for college. Her solution? Adopt a dog. That may just change Joel's life.

Series Tags/Warnings: 18+ mdni. Empty nester Joel. Loneliness and sadness. Humor. Cursing. Dog park shenanigans. Awkward flirting. Socialization for dog and human. Probably more to come. Slow burn to start.

Series Masterlist

Part Two

Part Three

Joel pulled into the gravel parking lot by the town’s dog park, Central Bark, just as the afternoon sun dipped behind the trees. Walter sat upright in the passenger seat, eyes narrowed, his tail giving a single contemplative thump. Joel leaned forward, his arms draped over the steering wheel as he eyed the fenced-in green space through the windshield.

The dog park looked deceptively peaceful at first glance. A wide expanse of greenery spread out before them, dotted with trees, benches, three canopy-covered picnic tables, and people who all looked like they belonged to some unwritten club that involved collapsible water bowls and Chuck-its.

Why did he suddenly feel like he was about to walk onto a battlefield he hadn’t trained for?

“Alright, bud,” he muttered after watching that deceptive peace turn into the true chaos unfolding inside the boundaries of that chain-link fence. “Looks like we got a golden retriever over there peeing on every surface that can’t move, a poodle in a stroller – what the fuck? – and several lab mixes doing parkour off the benches.”

Walter turned his head to meet Joel’s gaze and uttered an unimpressed huff.

“And the humans…” Joel squinted at them, brows drawing together as he observed the interesting characters he could make out near the front of the park. One woman carried a baby on one hip and yelled at any dog that tried to jump up to sniff the child. A dude in joggers and a man bun was doing fucking yoga on a shady spot of grass with his dog. A few men stood in a circle, chatting and tossing tennis balls for their dogs to fetch. And scattered along the benches and picnic tables were a few people making conversation or reading.

Was he ready for this?

Not really.

Walter didn’t look ready either.

They sat there another minute, the engine humming quietly. Joel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and his mind ran in circles. This was stupid. He didn’t belong here. Not with these dog yoga people. Not with their perfect lives and matching water bottles. What could he possibly have in common with any of them?

But Sarah told him he needed to ‘get out there’. She’d said it with that voice that he always found it hard to say no to. She usually paired it with those big puppy dog eyes. He’d do anything for that girl.

Joel killed the engine and reached for the leash with a sigh. “Let’s just walk the perimeter. In and out. Call it recon, if you will. No mingling. We don’t even have to make eye contact.”

Walter let out a dramatic huff and slowly stood, giving a full-body shake like he was preparing for combat. As Joel clipped the leash to his collar, he caught the dog giving him an encouraging side eye.

“If anyone tries to talk to me about gluten-free dog biscuits or goin’ vegan, I’m throwin’ you in the car and we’re goin’ for steak tacos.”

Walter snorted.

Together, they stepped out of the truck and made their way to the entrance. Walter trotted toward the gate with surprising enthusiasm, tail wagging with interest as they slipped through the first gate of the entryway. Before Joel could unhook the lead and open the second gate, dogs rushed toward them, barking and whining, eager to meet the fresh meat.

Walter looked up at Joel doubtfully.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Joel grumbled. “This wasn’t my idea. I was perfectly fine not being barked at by strangers.”

The beagle yawned, snapping his jaws closed impatiently.

“This is gonna suck.” Joel eased the gate open, pushing the pack of dogs back to allow Walter and him in. Walter trotted in like he owned the place, silently snarling at any dog that tried to sniff his butt without his permission. When he reached the first patch of grass, he lifted his leg and peed on one of the dog’s heads when it refused to stop its butt sniffing. The other dogs skittered off, as if they were reconsidering their life choices.

“Thatta boy,” Joel said approvingly with a low chuckle. “Keep that same energy.”

An older woman doused in too much perfume and a bedazzled visor marched over, the tiny dog tucked under one arm resembling a furry baguette. “Excuse me! Is your dog fixed? Does he have all his shots?”

Joel blinked. “Is he what now?”

“Neutered. Altered. Snipped. Vaccines. You know, things responsible dog owners do for their dogs?”

Walter picked that moment to dramatically flop onto the grass and roll onto his back, as if to show the impertinent woman his lack of balls. Joel didn’t bother hiding a chuckle.

“Yeah,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s all squared away. See for yourself.” He pointed down to Walter’s demonstration and turned to walk away.

“Good,” the woman nodded curtly. “Some of us actually care about maintaining the vibe.”

Vibe? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask questions, but judging by the woman’s outfit, Joel didn’t want any part of it. He continued walking, Walter quickly following.

“Don’t pay any mind to Ruth,” a sweet-sounding voice caught his attention as he and Walter headed toward the fence line. He turned to find a pair of pretty eyes and a kind smile focused on him. “She’s a bit of a handful, but she means well.”

“Handful is right. Not sure she should be part of the welcoming committee. Her demeanor is off puttin’’.” That earned a little burst of laughter from you.

“Yeah, probably not,” you concurred.

Joel’s eyes flicked over you, then away before he was caught. He liked your style – jeans, a tee shirt, and hiking boots. Simple, real. Pretty and kind. It caught him off guard, finding someone like that in a place with so many… interesting characters. Before he could think of anything remotely charming or witty to say, salvation came in the form of a buzz from his phone.

“’Scuse me, ma’am.” You flashed another smile as he stepped back toward the fence and answered the phone.

“Hi, Babygirl.”

“Cheers, Dad,” Sarah greeted, her voice chipper. “Are you at the dog park, or did you chicken out and take Walter to the pub instead?”

He snorted. “If I had a choice, I’d be three beers deep by now. But someone didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Oi, don’t be a numpty. Walter needs to mingle. You both do.”

“What the hell’s a numpty?”

Sarah laughed fondly. “It’s a term they use on this side of the pond, mate. It means a stupid or silly person. I learned it from my roommate.”

“Mate? Numpty? Cheers? You forget how to speak American already?” Joel teased. He loved hearing the happiness in her voice, even when she was giving her old man a hard time. “We’re mingling. Real social. We’ve already judged, and been judged by, no less than three people and six dogs, thank you very much.”

She laughed. “Sounds like you’re both thriving.”

He hesitated, then sighed. “It’s… a little weird. Everyone here’s got these weird ass routines. There’s this dog wearing booties, and another one with a bandana that says ‘Plant-Based Pup.’ What the hell does that even mean?”

“Probably that their owners are insufferable,” Sarah replied dryly. “You’ll get the hang of it, Dad. Just keep going. And maybe wear something that doesn’t scream, ‘I hate fun’.”

Joel looked down at his dark gray t-shirt, jeans, and work boots. “This is my happy outfit.”

“Sure. More like jeans and work boots are your armor.” There was such fondness in her voice that Joel’s heart melted into a puddle. “Alright, I’ve gotta go. I’ve got a lecture in postcolonial ethics, and my professor wears sweaters with elbow patches unironically. I need to prepare emotionally.”

“You are such a weirdo. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Dad. And tell Walter he’s a good boy.”

“Nah, it’ll just go straight to his head.”

When he hung up, Joel turned to find a brindle pit bull sitting on Walter, treating him like a throne. Walter wore an expression of long-suffering irritation and let out a low snarl at the violent offender.

“You okay there, buddy?” Joel called, trudging across the grass, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth.

Walter huffed, thoroughly unamused.

Joel reached for the pit bull’s collar, noting the studded bones along the aged leather. “Alright, your majesty. Time to abdicate.”

The other dog gave a lazy yawn before sauntering off without protest, leaving behind a deeply offended beagle. Joel looked down at Walter. “Think we’ve had enough socializin’ for one day?”

Walter stood, shook himself off dramatically, and headed for the gate without a backward glance. Joel followed with a hearty chuckle. “Yeah. Me, too.”

As they made their way toward the exit, weaving around abandoned tennis balls and dodging the random pile of dog shit, a rogue golden doodle barreled past, tongue lolling and paws flying in a blur. It clipped Joel at the knee, damn near sending him to the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” he cursed, stumbling sideways into the fence. The chain-link gave a metallic rattle when he caught himself.

“Sorry!” someone called from across the field. “She gets the zoomies when she sees handsome older men.”

Joel wasn’t sure how to process that sentence, so he just kept walking. This place was so strange.

At the gate, he spotted you again, crouched to reattach your dog’s leash. You looked up at the sound of Joel’s approach, offering a friendly nod and bright smile.

“Did Walter survive his first visit?”

Joel huffed, eyeing Walter’s sulky posture and dirty-dusted belly. “Barely. He got sat on like a beanbag. Decided to end on a high note.”

You laughed, standing to your full height and brushing your hands on your jeans, little blades of grass tumbled to the ground. “Could’ve been worse. Last week, a husky stole my protein bar and then peed on my shoes. Dog park diplomacy is brutal.”

“Certainly seems like it,” he chuckled. “You always come here in the late afternoon?”

Your head tilted thoughtfully, the fading sunlight catching your eyes in a way that left Joel a little speechless.

“Sometimes. I prefer the mornings, especially on the weekends. Better crowd at that time.” You led the way through the first gate, holding it open for Joel and Walter to pass through before moving to the second gate. “This late afternoon crowd is a bit pretentious for my liking.”

Joel found himself grinning with genuine ease, something he thought might have to do with you. Walter leaned into his leg with the sagging weight of a lazy toddler, glancing sideways at your petite husky mix, who sat patiently at your feet.

She had one brown eye and one blue, and a gaze that could see right through to one’s soul. The daisy-print collar around her neck popped brightly against her silver-white and brown coat.

“What’s her name?” Joel nodded toward your dog in an attempt to keep the conversation going.

“Penelope,” you said fondly. “She loves to run. And she’s real damnjudgmental – judges people who wear Crocs and drink foam lattes and a million other things.” Your laugh was as pretty as you were, and Joel tried not to visibly react to the warmth it stirred in his chest. “Seems to like you guys though.”

He looked down at Walter. “You hear that, buddy? Sounds like we found your twin.”

Walter sneezed in response, causing you to laugh again. Joel felt certain the pleasant sound would linger in his ears for hours like a song he didn’t want to forget.

“Well, I hope you two come back. Definitely try the weekend mornings, it’s usually much less chaotic.”

Joel hesitated, thumb hooking into his front pocket, then gave a small nod. The idea of seeing you again made him almost eager to return. Almost. “We just might.”

“See you around then.” You offered a small wave, leash in hand, as you and Penelope turned to find your car. Joel watched you walk away, telling himself he wasn’t checking you out, but… yeah, he totally was. He was having a hard time telling if you were being flirtatious or just friendly. He wasn’t good at this shit. Always missed the context clues.

Walter snorted, drawing his attention away from your retreating form. The dog eyed him like he knew exactly what type of thoughts rolled through Joel’s mind.

“What? Don’t look at me like that.”

The beagle turned and headed for the truck without waiting, tail wagging in slow semi-circles as he dragged Joel along with him. Once they were back in the cab, Joel buckled his seatbelt and glanced over at Walter, already halfway into his post-park coma. His head lolled against the door, lips fluttering slightly in the breeze from the open window.

Before pulling away, Joel took out his phone and shot a quick text to Sarah.

Joel: Survived. Barely. Walter got sat on. I may have been flirted with? Not sure. Outta practice and this dog park is a hellscape.

Sarah’s reply came within seconds.

Sarah: Omg a WOMAN??? Did she have teeth? Was she breathing? Did YOU remember to breathe??? How are you alive right now?

Joel rolled his eyes and sent one final text before shoving the phone into the empty cupholder.

Joel: Haha you lil shit.

Walter shifted in his seat with a soft, sleepy groan. Joel reached over and scratched behind his floppy ear. He stared out at the horizon for a beat, taking in the vibrant colors of the setting sun, and turned the key in the ignition.

“We’ll come back Saturday morning, yeah?”

Joel took Walter’s silence as a yes.

tbc

Part Four

taglist: @milla-frenchy, @noisynightmarepoetry, @bunnymami13, @lillaydee, @missladym1981 @therewastherewas @joelmillerpascal @baronessvonglitter @ashleyfilm

[joelalorian]

🤣

[joelalorian]

I'm Right Here Part 17

BFF!Joel Miller / F Reader

Sometimes the person we've been looking for has been right there all along.

@copperhalfcent, @demonsasss, @bergamote-catsandbooks, @peelieblue @liciafonseca @ultra-nina-bella @joelmillerpascal @kirsteng42 @heartpatch @capnjaket @formulafun, @avidreadee123 @missladym1981 @titlee78 @joelalorian @sunndroppp

Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed from the tag list

WARNINGS: BFF Joel Miller, Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Angst, Love Triangles, Miscommunication, Past Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel is a Clueless Idiot, Jealousy, Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced/Supposed Sexual Assault, SEXUAL ASSAULT, SELF HARM, Joel has PTSD, Murder, Child Murder.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Divider by the awesome @saradika

Part 16

Joel was numbed. He sat alone with Annie in her room, her cold hand in his, his tears flowing freely as if his eyes were a spring. She was his wife for almost 15 years. She pulled him from his low, listened to him, healed him, and of course, gave him the greatest gift he never thought he would ever be worthy enough to have – Sarah. He knew this day was coming. So did Sarah. But even prepared, he didn’t expect the pain that he was feeling. His companion, his best friend, the mother of his child, his wife, was gone.

All he could feel was guilt. His mind kept telling him how he could have been a better husband, how he could have made her happier. That he wasn’t enough. He knew this was just his grief talking, simply the unrealistic mind fuck that happens every time someone passed. The feeling of regret that haunts someone once we know that a life was gone, and there was nothing we could do to make things better, to redeem ourselves.

He’d been through it before.

When Eddie passed, he wasn’t there. He had gone out to pick up lunch, coming back to the site with everyone standing around Eddie, a siren coming from the distance. He kept wondering if things would have turned out differently if he had been there, as if him being there would have made any difference whatsoever. One of their crew members was in nursing school, and even he couldn’t do anything, despite continuously giving Eddie CPR until the paramedics got there. They worked on him for hours, at the site, in the ambulance, at the ER, but he was gone. There was nothing anyone could do. And still, Joel felt as if he had been responsible for his best friend dying from a known heart condition.

When he saw how devastated you were, all he could think of was if he had checked on you two earlier than he did that time when Eddie broke his arm, maybe he wouldn’t have developed a fever from the break, and maybe his heart wouldn’t have been weakened as a result. Maybe if he had told his parents immediately about his suspicions that day he first suspected something was wrong in your household, maybe CPS could have stepped in earlier, maybe the two of you wouldn’t have suffered like that for so long. He forgot he was six. He forgot he was a kid himself who didn’t know better. He forgot that you and Eddie kept that secret from him, so much so he didn’t really know what was happening.

But yeah, he blamed himself for Eddie’s passing, for you being left alone in this world.

And then he went ahead and chased you away.

And now Joel sat by his beloved wife’s bed, holding her hand, wondering if there was anything he could have done to keep her longer, to have made her life better, perhaps he should’ve loved her deeper, anything. Do aneurysms develop from stress? If he had loved her the way he loved you, would the aneurysm have never occurred in the first place? He should have, right? He should have made himself love her the way he loved you. That would have solved everything. He would do it if he had the chance to redo everything. He would do anything if it meant Sarah would have more time with her mother.

He couldn’t even look at you that day, even though you were around, checking in on Sarah, helping with the immediate arrangements needed. He felt as if he was being disrespectful if he did, as if talking to the woman everyone knew he was clearly in love with would diminish the love he had for Annie, as if it meant he was disrespecting her legacy. So he stayed away from you, only giving you a sad nod when you gave him your condolences.

He knew you would understand. He was not ready.

That night, the entire family turned up at his place, ready to listen to Annie’s plans for the funeral. Cousins and aunts and uncles he had barely spent time with apart from Aunt Tina, Will and Benny were there, offering their condolences and a helping hand for the funeral. He went upstairs to lay with Sarah until she fell asleep, holding her as she cried, staying with her, just watching his fourteen year old daughter who had just lost her mother sleep.

On his way downstairs, he heard his cousins talk among themselves in the kitchen. The ones who had made him play weddings when they were younger.

“Okay, I’m opening the books. How much do we want to bet that Daisy, that attention whore, would offer to warm Joel’s bed before the week is out?” Courtney, the oldest one of them asked.

“Keep your voice down. What are you talking about? They’re friends! Have you forgotten how inseparable they were? And Daisy is not an attention seeker!” Allison, her younger sister chastised.

Courtney rolled her eyes, “Remember how everyone was tiptoeing around her and Eddie back then? Ooh don’t bully them, they’re orphans. Ooh don’t hurt their feelings, they were abused… everyone had to be nice to them, God forbid anyone joked around a bit,” she said, her mouth contorting in mockery, remembering how much trouble she got into for cornering you and making fun of your clothes and shoes – donated to you by the Teacher’s Association since Esther refused to buy you or Eddie anything, disgruntled to have been made responsible for the two of you. Joel heard and told the principal, told his parents, who told her parents, who then grounded her. She couldn’t get away with anything to do with you again after that.

“It’s called common decency Courtney, being nice? Bullying is bad?” Courtney rolled her eyes again. Allison told her to stop it. “What makes you think Daisy would even do that? She left to give us all some privacy, and Joel would never! His wife just died. Have some respect!”

“Oh, come on, anyone could see he still holds a candle to Daisy. Have you ever seen him be all lovey-dovey with Annie? You remember what he was like with Daisy, even when he supposedly only saw her as a sister? I mean, Annie was nice and all, but let’s not lie to ourselves and say he loved her in any way similar to the way he loves Daisy. Just wait and see. Any day now, he will go after her.”

“Oh my God, do you hear yourself? Joel loved Annie! They were great together!”

“I’m not saying he didn’t love her. Don’t be so dramatic. But just wait and see. He will end up with Daisy long before Annie’s grave settles! And that Daisy will be more than ready to welcome him with open legs!”

“No, she won’t. She’s much classier than that, you know this. And Joel wouldn’t. He’s a gentleman. But even if he did, so what? He’s single now. He can date whoever he wants!”

Courtney scoffed. “Sure he could, and I wouldn’t blame him, but if Daisy takes him? Pfft. Shameless much? How convenient that she came back just as Annie goes. Just waiting in the wings for him to be single again, are we?”

Dana, another cousin piped up, “What is wrong with you? Why would you say that about Daisy? What has she ever done to you? She’s nice, we all love her, we’ve known her forever. But you have always found fault with her. What is it about Daze that irks you so much? Do you want to date Joel? Are you a cousin kisser now? Is that why you’re getting divorced, yet again?”

“Oh, eww… don’t be ridiculous.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Allison told her cousin, “She’s just bitter she got in trouble for bullying Daisy back in the day. Oh, and Joel rejected her best friend Tara before the whole travesty with Jen happened. Daisy was coming back to town and Joel didn’t want to date anyone but her. Tara was devastated, moped around for Joel for like years.”

Another scoff. “Well, Tara is single now, maybe…”

“Yeah, cause she couldn’t stop cheating on her husbands.” Allison sniped. She lowered her voice, “And your second husband just filed for divorce for the same reason so you are not exactly the kind of person who should be setting people up, are you?”

Courtney’s face snapped. “Tara only cheated because her husbands were useless. If Joel had given her a chance she wouldn’t have had to marry those pathetic men in the first place! And lower your voice about my marriage! What happened to keeping it all on the down low?”

Joel couldn’t hear anymore. He coughed to announce his presence, and the cousins stopped talking. He simply told them that he’s gonna get the folder Annie had prepared, and he would see them in the living room. Courtney turned chalk-white, wondering if Joel had heard her, the other two shaking their heads at her.

Joel couldn’t sleep that night. Partly due to knowing that when he wakes up the next day, Annie won’t be there. He had to wake up earlier, make sure Sarah has her breakfast. He needed to go to the funeral home, make arrangements. A lot to do when someone dies. A lot of cancellations, a lot of registrations, a lot of papers to sign. He needed to send the dress she had picked out to the dry cleaners, check if his suit still fits, Sarah’s dress too. They hadn’t been to a funeral in a while. He might need to take her shopping. Maybe Olivia could help. He needed to see the lawyer, Annie had sorted her will long ago, a short one, everything with her name on it went to Sarah, even her half of the house. But still, the footwork needed to be done.

He rubbed his face, suddenly remembering it was your birthday the next day. And your doctor’s appointment. Annie had reminded him of it a few days back, suggesting he take you to the hospital, and maybe spend some time together at the lake. He had declined, despite the longing to do just that in his heart. What would people say? So he didn’t, and Annie and Sarah concocted the movie plan instead.

He couldn’t spend the next day with you. He had too much to do, quietly apologizing to the metal box in his night stand, telling Eddie that he would have to postpone their drinking session to another time.

But who was he kidding? He wanted more than anything to spend your birthday with you. He hadn’t celebrated your birthday with you since you left for college. But he couldn’t do it now still, and the fact that his wife had just passed was only one of reasons he wouldn’t be doing that.

He couldn’t get Courtney’s venomous words out of his head.

Courtney was a different league when it came to being bitchy, she had always hated you. But, she was popular. The head cheerleader, the bully, the definition of a mean girl back then. She had a lot of friends, all of whom knew him and you from school. And Courtney loved to talk. Truth be darned. To this day, she was basically the person you talk to if you wanted something spread widely, satisfaction guaranteed. And Joel just knew what Courtney would tell others if he so much as look your way these coming few weeks.

He would be the merry widower, happily moving on after his wife of 15 years died her sudden death. And you the grave robber, the widow chaser who moved in on the grieving widower before Annie was even cold in her grave.

Of course, there would be those who won’t believe her, but Courtney’s reach and influence was far and wide, and he didn’t want you to have to face such accusations. He didn’t give a shit what people might say about him. They can say whatever the fuck they wanted to. But you? You did nothing wrong. You shouldn’t be dragged into this when you did nothing to attract such ridiculousness.

He couldn’t do that to you. He refused.

So he made excuses not to be in your presence over the next two weeks. He didn’t even wish you a happy birthday. If you were hurt, you didn’t show it, still being extremely helpful, especially with Sarah. The teenager was spending more and more time with you, helping you cook, doing her homework with you just to not overwhelm him when he got back from his litany of funeral and death related chores. He got home one day and you were on the dining table helping Sarah with her Maths homework, easily explaining fractions to the teenager in ways he and Annie had never been able to do, the teenager quickly catching up with the concept of it all, and all he could think of was how nice it would be if he could come home to this every single day. So he left, worried that his resolve would break.

You texted him every couple of days, asking if he needed help with anything. Oh, how he wanted to say yes. He wanted to cry on your good shoulder, talk to you, tell you everything he was feeling, his worries, his fears, but he knew he couldn’t do that – what if he lost control of himself and just give in to his wants and needs?

So he stayed away from you. You seemed to understand, giving him space, quietly returning to your rented place once he called to let Sarah know he was coming home. You made sure to leave groceries with Olivia or Sarah, never him. You asked the family for information on the funeral, never him. You called Sarah every day just to check in but never hovered. You were there, but respectfully, never in his face.

Joel heard from Sarah about Mike, or Agent Pike. Joel remembered how upset you were that night the cops and FBI were at Esther’s, the night Carl was arrested. Joel never asked you what went wrong, seeing as the next time he saw you was the next day after all the drama at the movies. And then Annie passed. But according to Sarah, the whole school was abuzz with gossip – Mr Parks the art teacher was an undercover FBI agent who arrested the headmaster. He was present that Monday when Annie passed. He was the one who called the paramedics. He arranged for transport and the likes, Joel a bit overwhelmed to think of all that himself. And looking back, Joel remembered how distant you seemed with the guy, but at the time, he had attributed it to shock from Annie’s death.

He wondered if you were okay, he knew you were trying to move on with your life, and even he had to admit Mike seemed like the perfect guy to move on with. But now that he turned out to be someone else, Joel couldn’t imagine what it must be like for you. He never saw Mike again, but he was too preoccupied with keeping your reputation intact to ask you about it. He felt bad. You must have felt alone. You must have needed someone to talk to. But he couldn’t do it, too worried about what people might say, and by people, he meant Courtney.

Completely by chance, he saw you powerwalk in front of his place one morning and decided to wait and make sure you got home safe. He stayed inside, watching you through the windows, leaving the lights off so you wouldn’t know. How he longed to go out and walk with you, knowing for a fact that your company would make his heart calmer than it had ever been in those couple of weeks. So he watched, like some creepy stalker, as the woman he won’t deny was the love of his life walked past, making sure you were alright, listening for your door to close in the silence of the morning to make sure you got home safe.

You sat behind the family during the funeral, quiet and reserved, not crowding the family at all. He could only watch as Sarah hugged you at the door when you dropped by for the wake, not even coming inside, your eyes catching his with a sweet smile on your lips, mouthing whether or not he was alright. He only nodded before turning away, lest he lose control and run into your arms under the scrutiny of Courtney’s eyes. Her friend Tara was there, Courtney not so subtly asking her to play hostess, even encouraging her to make her ‘world famous dip’. Joel finally snapped and told her to leave, and to take her friend with her. He had just buried his wife. He didn’t need this, not that day.

Eric had come to him later that day, telling him that you were leaving. Your business with Esther’s house was settled, you declined the inheritance and were looking for tickets to go back home to Bangkok. You were expected at work in about ten days or so, and you might want to leave earlier to rest up back home before going back to work.

Joel made a mental note to go over and thank you for your help personally in a few days, maybe explain why he had been so distant, and say a proper goodbye. But the very next day, he found out you were leaving that very night.

And he froze.

He froze.

He wanted so badly to go over and hug you, kiss you, even. Offer to help you pack. Drive you to the airport. Anything to have a few minutes alone with you.

But Sarah was right there. She had just buried her mother the day before. What would she think of him if he had gone after you? He had to think of her first. He’s the only parent she had now. He couldn’t afford to let her think that he was putting her second. She was his priority.

So he wished you a safe journey and shut the door behind him, silently crying into his knees as he sat crouched with his back to the door.

A year later, Joel woke up to breakfast waiting for him. Sarah was pounding on his door telling him breakfast was ready, that she had something to give him. He was puzzled. It was the anniversary of Annie’s passing, and they had planned to visit her grave after school. What could she possibly have to give him on the anniversary of his wife’s death? Of her mother’s death? Was this a thing young people do?

He went into the kitchen, blearily drinking his coffee as Sarah sat in front of him, her feet tapping from excitement.

She had coped with her mother’s passing exceptionally well. Perhaps knowing Annie was on a timer helped. As did Annie’s careful planning regarding the whole situation. She left a folder of recipes and instructions for the two of them to refer to, left letters and journals for Sarah to read to remember her by, not to mention a series of vlogs for her to watch for advice as she gets older. Sarah had taken to clearing her mother’s belongings herself, telling Joel Annie had left a very specific set of instructions on what to do with her stuff, and Joel would only be getting in the way. So he sat back and let her do the needful, only participating when Sarah needed help driving Annie’s stuff to donate.

She had kept in touch with you, Facetiming every weekend, texting you during the week. He even caught her getting Math lessons from you every now and again. He had not kept in touch with you himself but said hi to you every now and again whenever Sarah was on Facetime with you.

Even at a distance, Joel couldn’t stay away from you, it seemed. Someone who tagged along for Sarah’s soccer games or recitals, usually Olivia or Eric, would always Facetime you or send you a video for you to watch. He couldn’t get the way you cheered Sarah on for her soccer tournament, even did a dance along with Eric and Olivia when she scored a goal, beaming at her through the phone when a glowing, sweaty Sarah rejoined the family after the match. It must have been nearing midnight where you were, and yet, you didn’t miss her game, just because she told you how nervous she was about it.

Every single time you were online with Sarah, Joel had to do everything he could to stay away, keep himself busy and not linger, despite longing to talk to you himself. Even without contacting you directly, he couldn’t help but fall deeper and deeper in love with you.

Sarah tried and tried to subtly get him to call you during the first couple of months after you left, but he turned a deaf ear, changing the subject every single time. She got a bit huffy about it first. But then Courtney began pestering her for information about you, about whether or not you and Joel were in touch. Courtney tried hard, even going so far as taking Sarah out to meet Tara, her potential ‘new mother’. Even started badmouthing you to Sarah, calling you a grave robber. It’s obscene for a widower to move on so fast after his wife’s death, she told the teenager, telling her she should discourage Joel from getting together with you.

Ever the clever girl, Sarah innocently asked, a faux perplexed look on her face. “So, Tara is not a grave robber if she gets with Dad? But Auntie Daze would be?”

Courtney gave up trying to get Sarah on their side then, realizing this girl was far too smart to fall for her tricks.

Joel finally put his foot down when he stopped for a drink at the Bison after work with Tommy. Courtney appeared out of nowhere, sitting a very excited Tara down in front of him and pulling Tommy away to ‘give the couple some alone time’. Joel let her have it once and for all, telling her that he’s not interested, that she was crossing a line, and if she ever went to Sarah again, he would make sure everyone in the family knew the real reason she was getting divorced, the real reason she was losing custody of her kids. And no, he had zero interest in dating a serial cheater, so stop it.

That did the trick, Courtney and Tara left him alone, immediately leaving with their tails between their legs as the bar went quieter and quieter as Joel’s voice rose higher and higher. Tommy bought him the good whiskey that night, congratulating him for finally speaking up when he needed to, for finally taking a stand against annoying, persistent people.

Tommy had the sense to not name Jen as one of them.

As promised, you treated Sarah to a trip to Thailand for her birthday, Anita, Aunt Tina and Olivia tagging along for a celebration on a non-touristy beach. A girls’ trip. Sarah sent videos of her time there to him, often with you in the background, your smiling face giving him comfort as he kicked himself over and over for not having the balls to go along to see you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. But by the time he felt ready to, deemed it safe to, he didn’t know how to get back in touch with you without feeling ashamed of how he ignored you those final two weeks you were here. You must have needed a friend, especially since the whole Mike/Agent Pike business, but he failed you, didn’t even give you a proper send-off when you left.

Sarah didn’t try to push further, but he could see she was frustrated that he didn’t try to get back in touch with you himself. She settled for letting him hitch a ride on her Facetime sessions with you instead.

Those hitch-a-ride Facetimes, no matter how brief, didn’t feel awkward. You didn’t act like anything had changed, didn’t give him any attitude, sweetly saying hi and joking around with him. You even texted him a happy birthday, complete with a video of yourself singing off-key, blowing a candle on a cupcake for him. But you didn’t call him. And he didn’t call you either. He did intend to send you a proper birthday wish this year, maybe call you if the timing fit. The 12 hour time difference could make things a bit complicated. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.

So what was so important that Sarah needed to give him today?

Nothing. She was just standing there, pushing a plate full of food towards him, grinning ear to ear, telling him to eat.

“Is this the thing you wanted to give me?” He looked at the clock, it’s half an hour earlier than he would normally wake up to make her breakfast. “Why are you up so early?” It suddenly occurred to him that maybe she was having a hard time with the looming anniversary. But her grinning face didn’t fit that theory.

“It’s a year since Mom passed,” she said, still grinning.

“Okay…?”

“She asked me to give you something today. You have to eat and then wait until I get on the bus to school. Then you’ll get what I need to give you.”

“And I had to wake up an hour early because…?”

“I’m too excited!”

“About?”

“You’ll see! Eat! You need to focus on the gift later. I don’t want you eating as you see it.”

Joel frowned, confused as to what this gift was, but did not argue. He finished his breakfast, cleaned up, and walked Sarah out to the bus. The teenager hugged him tight, telling him she loved him, before taking her phone out, fiddling with it, gave him another hug and yelled out for him to check his phone and that she will see him after school.

He went inside, still perplexed, what gift? He went to his phone, saw that he had received a video from Sarah.

‘Sit comfortably and watch this,’ the accompanying text read. ‘Keep an open mind Dad, I love you so much.’

Joel sat on the couch to watch it. Ellie climbed onto the couch with him, sitting upright on his thigh to watch the video with him. He settled down and clicked play.

Annie appeared on his screen.

“Hello you,” she said, her easy, familiar smile on her lips. “Long time no see.”

Joel’s eyes filled with tears, a smile forming on his lips. He had missed that smile. Sure, he had watched old videos of them all together, but there was something about seeing her again for the first time. If he remembered correctly, this was shot the day before she passed – she was wearing the clothes she wore to the movies.

He missed the easy comfort she provided whenever she was in his vicinity. If Joel was to categorize his love for her, it was that. Comfort. He was comfortable with her. She made him feel comforted. He would do anything for her. Within reason. As he was thinking this, his heart felt heavy with guilt. What kind of a man married and lived with a wonderful woman like Annie, and not fall head over heels for her? Instead, he lived his life with her pining for a woman who lived on the other side of the world, the one he chased away, hurt so badly she put two oceans between them, just to get away from him. What the fuck was wrong with him that he couldn’t love someone like Annie the way he should have?

Annie shuffled a bit on her bed, legs crossed, getting comfortable.

“If you are watching this, husband dear, then two things have happened. One, I have passed. Sorry about that. Two, a year had passed since then, and you are still single, and not with Daisy.” She took a deep breath, narrowed her eyes at the camera, raised a pointer finger and wiggled it left and right at him, shaking her head and tutting as she did so, the way she used to chastise Sarah when she was being naughty. She leaned forward and smacked the phone she had used a little, causing her image to wobble for a bit.

Joel shrank back from the screen, any sense of nostalgia flying out of his head.

“That was me smacking you upside your head, by the way. I would smack harder, but you just got me this phone last month and I love it, so just in case I live way longer after I recorded this, I still need the phone, so, no, I’m not destroying it, but you get the gist,” she said, the faux anger on her face faltering a little, a small, cheeky smile threatening to appear.

That pulled a laugh out of him. In all their years together, Annie had hit Sarah once, at the age of five, a soft slap on her left foot for accidentally kicking her grandma in the face while throwing a tantrum, and she spent the night crying for being a bad mother who abuses her kid.

That laugh, however, quickly stopped when Annie’s face turned serious again.

“What is wrong with you Joel Christopher Miller? Has she gone back to Bangkok? You let her leave? My God Miller. The stars literally aligned for you, you got a way out without divorcing anyone, without hurting anyone, and you still let her slip through your fingers? You really are a special kind of stupid,” she yapped.

“I get why you pushed her away all those years ago, but I watched you pine for her, Joel. Anyone with eyes could see you’re still so in love with her. Even Sarah could see. And I know that even though they never said anything, maybe out of respect for me, your family knows you’re still in love with her. You had an excuse when she was still in Bangkok, she’s too far away, you two didn’t separate on the best of terms. You even have a reasonable excuse now that she’s back, you’re married, you don’t want to cheat on me, though I don’t think it’s technically cheating, I literally had to push you into spending time with her. But I’m not around anymore, and it’s one year later. Why are you not with her? No one can say she stole you from me, or that you left me for her, so what gives?”

Her expression suddenly changed from befuddlement to one of clarity.

“Ah… I see… you don’t want to be a merry widow? Did someone give you the idea that you would be one? Let me guess, Courtney still bitter you didn’t want to date that serial divorcee friend of hers? Tsk. I never liked that bitch. You know she wouldn’t stop telling me I’m too ugly, too fat to be with someone like you? Kept telling me how unfortunate you were for ending up being stuck with me. Accused me of baby-trapping you. Called me Jen the Sequel. Ugh. Ignore her, Joel. It’s not like no one knows what she’s like. Even Allison, her own sister hates her. I don’t even think her own children like her. So if she’s a reason for your hesitance, please stop.”

Her eyes narrowed once more. “Or… you are refraining because you feel guilty you never loved me the way you love her. Am I right?”

Joel looked at his own feet in shame. God, this woman knew him inside out. There’s no hiding from her, not even a year after her passing.

“Well, I can help with that. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but I have a feeling you already knew, not like we haven’t spoken about this many times before. I love you Joel, with all my heart, but I can’t say I can ever love you like that either. You are a great husband, Joel, and I hope I am a great wife to you, but Kyle was and will always be the love of my life. And Daisy is yours. And that is okay. What we have, you and I, is unique. Special. You are my best friend, the one person I could rely on. And I hope I am yours too. I know you love me. Maybe not the way you love Daisy, but you know I could not love anyone the way I loved Kyle, not even someone as wonderful as you. So please, Joel, don’t punish yourself for that. Stop, Joel. I’m not there anymore.”

She stopped speaking, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looked at her hands, taking a deep breath before looking back into the camera.

“I don’t know what awaits me on the other side, but if everything I wish to be true is true, I am now with the love of my life. Go be with yours, Joel. Be happy, go find her. Be with her.”

She closed her eyes, brought her hands to her lips, kissed the tips of her fingers, and touched the camera with them.

“I love you, Joel. I’m gonna miss you.”

She leaned into the camera and kissed it, softly saying goodbye to him, a teary smile on her face, ending the recording.

Joel didn’t move for God knows how long, only snapping back into reality when Ellie, who had fallen asleep in his lap let out a huge snore.

Huh, he suddenly felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Okay. Okay. He needed to make some calls.

Sarah got on the bus excited to see what her Dad had to say about that video. Her Mom left her three such videos for him. One was to be given to him when he got together with Auntie Daze, which consisted of Annie dramatically miming to Etta James’ ‘At Last’ with a hairbrush. The other to be given if a year had passed, and he still hadn’t made his move, which was what she had sent to her Dad that day. The final one was to be given for a special occasion that Sarah really hoped would happen one day. Soon.

Her Dad was a rigid man. Serious, stoic, his shoulders stiff. He would laugh at her jokes, her Mom’s jokes, but very rarely make one himself. She had seen him belly laugh maybe twice in her life, once when Uncle Tommy got locked out of his house naked in the middle of winter, the other time when Auntie Daze was at the house, having breakfast.

He was a different man that morning. A happy man. A man Sarah would very much like to see on the daily. But that man hadn’t made another appearance since. And it seemed that he might never return, not since Auntie Daze left for Bangkok.

She was ten when she realized that her Dad was in love with Auntie Daze.

She began noticing his responses to stories about Auntie Daze. His face got softer, a small smile appearing on his lips, his eyes looking down on his feet, as if reminiscing. He never asked about Auntie Daze, never even talked about her himself, but it was clear he remembered her well.

One day, Uncle Eric told Grandma Auntie Daze started dating some guy and that it seemed serious, that this guy could be the one, that Auntie Daze seemed really happy and content with this guy. Sarah watched as her Dad’s face morph into something she couldn’t pinpoint at that age.

And then everyone sort of started shushing Uncle Eric when they realized her Dad was there. Uncle Eric stopped talking, immediately apologizing to her Dad, while every one else started busying themselves with something else.

On their way home, her Mom asked her very quiet Dad if he was okay. He said yes, but that night, she overheard them talking. Her Mom suggested he call Auntie Daze, but he refused. He said that Auntie Daze had found happiness, and he didn’t want to disrupt that. She only heard her Mom comforting him after that, but she imagined her Dad was very sad, despite saying otherwise.

She asked her Mom about that night. Her Mom had never lied to her. She told Sarah that Auntie Daze was to him what the late Uncle Kyle was to her. But Auntie Daze had to move away, and her Dad met her Mom and got married.

Ever since that day, Sarah couldn’t help but notice his reactions to any mention of Auntie Daze. And when she finally met her, she could see how his entire attitude changed. That day at the hospital, after her surgery, she could see how happy he was to see her again, despite not talking to her. It was as if having Auntie Daze in his vicinity was enough to perk him up. She never knew he could be that relaxed, that smiley. And when Mr Parks came in, he seemed… deflated, jealous, even?

That morning, when Auntie Daze came for breakfast, she actually saw how happy he was with Auntie Daze around. Her uncles had always teased him about his grumpiness. Sarah had always wondered why they did that. Grumpy Dad was all she knew. But apparently he wasn’t always so grumpy, and now she knew what they meant. Even her Mom was happy to see him like that.

But for whatever reason, he withdrew from Auntie Daze after her Mom died. Refused to listen to her, not really getting back in touch with Auntie Daze. She had never felt so desperate as she did the day Auntie Daze left for Bangkok. He simply shut down, even though it was obvious he didn’t want her to leave.

She felt sad for him. His companion of 15 years just died, and he was shutting the woman he was in love with out. She just wanted him to be happy. So did her Mom. She knew that. But he wasn’t responding. She had tried, but he had remained stubborn. So now, she could only hope that the video her Mom had prepared would snap him out of his stupor and get him going.

Sarah walked into the living room to her Dad trying to coax a scrambling, yowling, fighting-for-her-life Ellie into her carrier, her suitcases open on the floor, her clothes neatly folded inside.

“Oh, you’re back. You’re going to stay with Grandma for a few weeks, okay? Auntie Ollie is going to drive you over. Go get whatever else you might need and pack it. Come on Ellie, work with me here,” he grumped, finally managing to hold the kitten down in the carrier, trapping his own hand inside as he tried to zip the zipper up, furiously shaking his hand away from the kitten, who had now wrapped her entire being around his wrist.

He finally got Ellie in the carrier, going into his room, leaving a confused Sarah standing in the doorway as he came back out with a suitcase big enough to fit her in it.

“Come on, let’s go. Get your stuff. We’ll go and visit your Mom first, and then I’ll drop you back here okay. Auntie Ollie will come get you after work. I have to leave before rush hour.”

“Leave to go where?” Sarah asked, although she already knew the answer, an excited smile forming on her lips.

“Bangkok. I’m getting your Auntie Daze back.”

Epilogue

[joelalorian]

Lots of goodies to check out on this list! Thank you so much for including empty nester Joel!

Recs | June 25

June readings 💚

Please, rb the fics you appreciated, that's how they live 💚🙏

Check the warnings before reading

Joel Miller

Why not? @aurorawritestoescape

When your vibe dies on you at the worst possible moment, you decide to ask your hot step brother for help

Construction corner @for-a-longlongtime

Joel jerking it to gay porn for the first time

Just to pass the time @arcane-fox

Dancing the night away, Joel Miller has his sights on you

Insatiable @aurorawritestoescape

Joel finally gives you what you want but you already crave more

What's for dinner? @bergamote-catsandbooks

A seemingly mundane list of reminders left for one another evolves into something much more heartfelt

The dog days of starting over | part 1 @joelalorian

Joel is hit with the loneliness of an empty nest when Sarah goes overseas for college. Her solution? Adopt a dog. That may just change Joel's life

Lead me not into temptation Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 @tateypots

Salty, sweet @whocaresstillthelouvre

Joel gives you even more than just a pretzel

Joel and Tommy Miller

Spectators | Concessions | Double play @toxicanonymity

Javier Miller

(Unnamed) @magpiepills

Tommy Miller

Kiss my ass, cowboy @iamasaddie

A simple rest for the night at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere turned out to be a pleasant experience

Good morning text @aurorawritestoescape

Use me @aurorawritestoescape

Tommy makes you feel good after a tiring day

Javier Peña

Don't come around here no more @baronessvonglitter

On a visit to Colombia, you're reunited with old work friends.. Javi is the only one who doesn't come to say hi...

The epilogue @javier-pena

You've been estranged from your husband for years. When you finally track him down to make him sign the divorce papers, you get what you want and what you need - but it comes at a price

Suburban sparks chapt 1 | chapt 2 | chapt 3 | @whocaresstillthelouvre

You've had a crush on Javier Peña since the first time you saw a photograph of him. Finally meeting him years later, changes everything for you... and him

Tim Rockford

Wife material @604to647

Tim wakes up in the hospital after getting shot

Nice and slow @604to647

Detective Tim Rockford is forced to convalesce after getting shot

Bringing you in hot @604to647

Why not Tim Djarin?

Harry Castillo

Masterpiece @baronessvonglitter Getting to know the wealthy man who's taken an interest in your art, you find out he has a dirty little secret

Frankie Morales

Forever @aurorawritestoescape

Frankie takes you out to a fancy restaurant and you think he’s going to propose

Lucien de Leon

Wine stained lips @schnarfer

You run into your ex-boyfriend Lucien, the loss of your life, at a funeral

Pero Tovar

Yǒng Yuǎn (forever) | Breaking chains (part2) @604to647

You and Pero find love in more than one lifetime

Dieter Bravo

Notting Hill AU @schnarfer

Dave York

Law of attraction | Chapt 9 @baronessvonglitter

Attraction isn't an easy thing to ignore. Especially when you and Dave find yourselves entangled in each other's professional and then private lives

Reed Richards

Forced move @bergamote-catsandbooks

Max Phillips

Performance review @aurorawritestoescape

Max conducts a performance review in a non-conventional way

Multi p boys

Grab a bite @guiltyasdave (Dave York x Marcus Pike)

Code blue @baronessvonglitter (Javier Peña x Tim Rockford)

On a double date, Agent Javier Peña and Detective Tim Rockford are more interested in each other than in the bubbly blonde badge bunnies they're with

Other characters

November @thedilfdiaries

Every November, Arthur Morgan is haunted by memories of a love he lost

My writing

Taste in men (Joel Miller x Javier Peña x fem reader) Your longtime friend, Javi, helps you make your ex jealous

The outpost (Jackson!Joel x reader)

You take advantage of an innocent soul to make Joel jealous during patrol

Javi, Joel, Acacius headcanons

The Ambassador can wait (Javier Peña x Steve Murphy)

The tension between the two DEA agents reaches its peak

Fics recs

Please tell me if I forgot yours in this post 🙏

[joelalorian]

What a fantastic list, A!!! Thank you for including my bebes ❤️❤️❤️

I need to get reading!

This is everything I've read this month that's made me go:

As usual, please mind the tags and read at your own discretion 💗 Give some love to the creators by commenting and reblogging -- we love that!

dividers by @kodaswrld 👑

Past fic recs

Dieter Bravo

Give to me by @sp00kymulderr ~ Dieter Bravo x afab!reader {Dieter wakes up to you.}

A New Role by @whocaresstillthelouvre ~ Dieter Bravo x Thicc Grimace Gladiator {Dieter Bravo just booked the role of his life, now he just needs to study.}

Joel Miller

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda by @lillaydee ~ Asshole/Idiotic Joel Miller / F Reader {You found the perfect man. The man of your dreams. Unfortunately, you were not the only one who thought so.}

A Dark Taste by @myownwholewildworld ~ Boston QZ!Joel x f!reader {joel talks you through your first hand job and blow job.}

The Dog Days of Starting Over by @joelalorian ~ Joel Miller x f!reader {Joel is hit with the loneliness of an empty nest when Sarah goes overseas for college. Her solution? Adopt a dog. That may just change Joel's life.}

a drink or.. by @bergamote-catsandbooks

Fresh Meat by @bitchesuntitled ~ Joel Miller x F!Reader {Finally deciding to get your first tattoo, you go to the best in the business - Joel Miller}

Give Me Tonight by @alltheirdamn ~ Joel x f!reader {Joel has to leave.}

Just to Pass the Time by @arcane-fox ~ Jackson!Joel x Female Reader {Dancing the night away, Joel Miller has his sights on you}

Lead Me Not Into Temptation by @tateypots

the moon and the stars by @deardev0teddelicate ~ jackson!joel miller x f!reader {To you he hung the moon and the stars, to him you were the moon and the stars.}

The outpost by @milla-frenchy ~ Joel Miller x fem reader {you take advantage of an innocent soul to make Joel jealous during patrol}

red dress by @suuuupernovaaa ~ {a man disrespects you, and joel handles it}

Summer camp '75 by @milla-frenchy ~ Joel Miller x fem reader (AU) {In the '75 summer, you and your friends go to a camp for a few days}

superhero & redemption: superhero by @greenwitchfromthewoods {when words hurt more than anything else}

take me to florida by @thetriumphantpanda ~ Joel Miller x F!Reader {turning up on his doorstep covered in blood was not was Joel had expected of you, and when you open your mouth, he expects it even less. There's a shitstorm in Texas you both have to escape from, but how long can it last?}

Take Me To The Stars by @joelmillerswife9

Transcendence by @nathanbatemanfucker ~ joel miller x f!reader {you patch joel up after he gets into another fight. based on this concept!}

the way you do by @sp00kymulderr ~ Joel Miller x transmasc!reader {There's nothing frantic, nothing feral about this. It's a practice in worship, in reverence. (or: Joel sucks the strap and oh boy does he love it)}

Wish by @hotgirlbedtimescenarios ~ {For the first time in years Joel acknowledges his birthday and wishes on a star. He gets pulled into the past and relives his birthday, the day that changed everything}

you aint' falling asleep again by @myownwholewildworld ~ oldman!jackson!joel miller x f!reader {joel takes viagra and can't keep it down. he decides you can help. and the glasses stay on.}

Javier Peña

Dry Run by @chronically-ghosted ~ javier peña x f!reader {you meet javi in a club and he shows you his favorite way to foreplay sex}

Ezra

Appropriate Reactions by @wannab-urs ~ {Ezra is stranded without a ship and has nothing to offer you in return for a ride off The Green... So you make a deal.}

zenith by @sp00kymulderr ~ Ezra (Prospect) x Reader

Max Phillips

sugar tits by @sizzlingcloudmentality ~ Max Phillips x f!reader {driving Max to meetings is part of your job as the assistant. providing him with snacks and your tits to busy his hands and mouth is part of your situationship}

Harry Castillo

Bullshit by @thatcorporategirlie ~ harry castillo x f! reader {You've been Harry Castillo’s driver for three years, so when Lucy dumps him, you casually invite him to your brother’s law school graduation party in Queens to get his mind off it. You never expect him to come. But then he actually shows up.}

Day Dreaming by @flawssy-227 ~ harry castillo x (bartender) f!reader {harry is your bar regular, reeling after his breakup with Lucy, you two form an unlikely bond}

"My love for you will truly become my downfall, I just know it." by @greenwitchfromthewoods

Javi Gutierrez

I Call It Walking by @pascalispretty ~ Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader {It feels like fate that you find his letters. But sometimes, fate needs a little nudge.}

Frankie Morales

epiphany by @guiltyasdave ~ Frankie Morales x f!reader {after a helicopter crash, frankie wakes up in a strange place.}

Guapo by @sawymredfox ~ frankie morales x gn!reader {You help Frankie discover something about him}

Clint Flood

Cherry Baby by @maiamore ~ Clint Flood x F!reader {A former beauty queen drowning in debt meets Clint Flood, a collector who never leaves empty handed.}

Mr. Ben

Summertime Sadness by @katiexpunk ~ Mr. Ben X fem!Reader {With your Senior year coming to a close, Mr. Ben tells you how he feels about your class behavior. Some lessons are hard to learn.}

Dave York

Strange Currencies by @magpiepills ~ Dave York x f intruder reader {Dave should have been more careful.}

This Godforsaken Mess by @agentmarcuspike ~ dave york x babysitter!f!reader {the kids you babysit have a hot dad. you want him. but he's married...}

Under False Pretenses - Epilogue by @joelalorian ~ Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader {A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and an unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.}

Tim Rockford

Gimmie a Show by @nerdieforpedro ~ Tim Rockford x plus size wife AFAB reader {Tim gets from home late from work and has something for you.}

Marcus Moreno

casual & redemption: casual by @greenwitchfromthewoods ~ {you misread his signals}

"I cannot change my feelings for you, believe me I fucking tried." by @greenwitchfromthewoods

Marcus Acacius

The Heat of the Thermae by @gothcsz ~ Marcus Acacius x Black F!Reader {You’re not alone tonight at your favorite bathhouse.}

night visit & redemption: night visit by @greenwitchfromthewoods ~ {he decided to show you your place}

Multi

boys like you by @sizzlingcloudmentality ~ Frankie Morales x Benny Miller {a movie night gets steamy, Stallone means making out, basically no plot}

don't ask, don't tell - just do by @stitch-away ~ frankie morales x dave york {frankie and dave are both in the army. dave knows what he wants and he takes it}

Inter-Agency Cooperation by @ghostofaboy ~ Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels/Javier Peña {Jack runs into another agent on a mission and figures out a new way for them both to get what they want}

Lucky You by @aurorawritestoescape ~ Joel Miller x f!reader x Clint Flood {A usual evening with your boyfriend Clint and his best friend Joel turns into a night full of lust and ecstasy - Or - Clint and Joel go down on you.}

Adriana's Noun-iversary Special Mentions

Forced move by @bergamote-catsandbooks ~ Reed Richards x gn!reader

Nice and Slow by @604to647 ~ Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader {Detective Tim Rockford is forced to convalesce after getting shot.}

Self Recs

Code Blue ~ Javier Peña x Tim Rockford {On a double date, Agent Javier Peña and Detective Tim Rockford are more interested in each other than in the bubbly blonde badge bunnies they're with.}

don't come around here no more ~ javier peña x f!reader {On a visit to Colombia, you're reunited with old work friends.. Javi is the only one who doesn't come to say hi...}

if love be rough with you, be rough with love - ch. 17 ~ Dave York x f!Reader

Law of Attraction - Ch. 9 ~ Rom Com AU - divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring club owner!Javier Peña)

Maneater - Ch. 1 ~ Max Lord x OFC

Masterpiece ~ Harry Castillo x f!reader {Getting to know the wealthy man who's taken an interest in your art, you find out he has a dirty little secret.}

[joelalorian]

Pedro character fic rec pt. 4 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Part four! Image by me! The Dins are reading rough day and taking notes btw!

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

As always its Din heavy but this one is PARTICULARLY Din heavy. That man has burrowed into my mind palace in a devious manner.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Din Djarin ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

⟡ Multi-Chapter ⟡

Holding Out For a Hero by colewhip on AO3

Mando is hired to save princess!reader from bandits...but things don't go as planned (no spoilers here). LOOVVE this one and it's still being updated. It's a slow burn and worth the wait!! (the smut is so good too).

Home by @dreadfullyssums

Protective & possessive Din saves you from a bar fight and you save him right back. Fun and smutty, Din is grumpy and I wanna chew on him!!

Brown Eyes by @cowboygenesis

Din & Grogu land on your small planet looking for a place to lie low. A great strangers to friends to lovers story with a shy standoffish Din who warms up beautifully <333

Ice Cold by @e-m-d-m

Din takes your bounty...but might change his mind. Delicious, smutty, semi-slow burn with great fight scenes!!

Five days with Din Djarin by @drawingdroid

Hot two chapter fic where you want Din to fuck your ass and he makes you wait for it 🔥🔥🔥🔥 (some surprisingly soft moments in there too).

killshot by @bogwitchwritesthings

A great traveling with Mando and taking care of the kid fic! Any time a story has Din "acts of service" Djarin I'm locked the fuck in. (Also he's needy and hot). Still being updated on AO3 but 5 great chapters out already :) (you need an AO3 account to read this one).

Never Knew I Needed You by @hapan-in-exile

Incredible 4 chapter prequel to Take the job, Mando (one of my fav fics of all time). Super angsty and gives great insight into this version of Din!!!

Outage by @aenais

Sequel to another one of my favs You're an Idiot, Darling - Starts up right after the end of that story (no spoilers). This story and the one before it is a great example of smut as true emotional intimacy (and like...its also hot).

Touch by @slimybeth69

True voyeur Din finds your NSFW sketchbook and wants to watch you. He is beautifully oblivious and hot in this one!!

⟡ One-shots ⟡

Chrysalis Heart by @kedsandtubesocks

Reader is queen of Naboo and the Mandalorian is her hired bodyguard (swoon!). Some shenanigans ensue & Din is a loyal protector.

Good Team by @drawingdroid

Lovveeee a transmasc!Din and this fic is hot and sweet. Gimme sexy honest communication always!!!

The Little Green Monster by darkknightsrevenge on AO3

Little snapshots of Mando being jealous hehehe. Love to see that man yearn.

Told Before and Told Again by @kiwisbell

Reader has to save damsel in distress Din and runs into a strange powder. You know I EAT UP a sex pollen fic and this one slaps!

Silent Genesis by @sp00kymulderr

Voyeur Din is so special to me bc like...of course he wants to watch! That man is so not used to physical touch. This fic is so hot. Need him.

Adrenaline by honestly_shite on AO3

This ones freaky y'all (of the Wookie fucking variety)! Threesome with Din and Black Krrsantan set after the end of TBOBF.

Take a Hint by @vingtetunmars

Sweet beloved miscommunication with bad-with-words Din. And I always love a shamelessly flirty reader!!! Fluffy and sweet.

‧₊˚‎ ♡ Joel Miller ‎♡ ‧₊˚

⟡ Multi-Chapter ⟡

Until the Summer Fades by cheythighs on AO3

23 chapters (so far...) of a banging slow burn DBF fic!!! The last line of the first chapter locked me in so hard I was up until 4am feverishly reading as much as possible.

Forever is the sweetest con by sistersadeyes on AO3

Sweet, fluffy, slow-ish burn set post-outbreak where reader is the daughter of a prepper and lives in a self sufficient home. You get to see Joel find a safe place to stay and it makes my heart break!!!! Let that man be soft!!!!! (He's obsessed with you in this one).

Till Death Do Us Part by @littlcdarlin

The smut in this one...changed me. Tropes galore!!! DBF!Joel!! Fake dating at a family wedding!! You just want somebody to make all of your decisions for you and I fucking get it I'm so goddamn tired.

(warning: the story does mention that Joel knew reader when she was a teenager so if that freaks you out I'd stay away from this!)

From the Ground Up by @ak-vintage

DBF!Joel x OFC. Joel's friend offers you a job in a tough time and you both yearn deliciously!! 5 amazing chapters so far and still being updated :))))

⟡ One-shots ⟡

nice and slow by @joelsknees

A sweet smutty morning hand job ❤️ good soup

Construction Corner with Joel Miller by @for-a-longlongtime

Joel straight up jorkin' it to gay porn in the early 2000s as god intended! (not x reader, some light Tess x Joel)

The Trade by @thatcorporategirlie

Jackson!Joel and Doctor!Reader who is Maria's best friend. Joel is just trying to get a guitar for Ellie's birthday and ends up smitten!!!

⋆˚✿˖° Oberyn Martell ⋆˚✿˖°

party 4 u by @almostempty

Absolutely devastating and hot modern AU based on the Charli song. Love an unreliable narrator reader down!!

Once again shout out to all the incredible fic writers for making fantastic stuff!!!!

Did my best to link & tag everyone correctly but pls let me know if I made any mistakes! Enjoy :)

[joelalorian]

🥰❣️ send this to other bloggers that you think are wonderful. keep the game going, make someone smile!!

A! My love, I fucking love you, too.

[joelalorian]

The Dog Days of Starting Over - Part Two

Joel Miller x f!reader | WC: 2818 | 18+ MDNI | masterlist

Summary: Joel is hit with the loneliness of an empty nest when Sarah goes overseas for college. Her solution? Adopt a dog. That may just change Joel's life.

Series Tags/Warnings: 18+ mdni. Empty nester Joel. Loneliness and sadness. Humor. Cursing. Dog park shenanigans. Awkward flirting. Socialization for dog and human. Probably more to come. Slow burn to start.

Series Masterlist

Part One

Part Two

The shelter smelled of antiseptic and wet dog, the scent tickling Joel’s nose as soon as he opened the door. He paused just inside the entrance, arms crossed and broad shoulders pulling at the seams of the green flannel he wore, and took in the atmosphere. It was inviting and warm despite the cloying smell in the air. The woman at the front desk greeted him with a chirpy “Welcome!”, her dark curls bouncing as she waved. Joel grunted in reply to the warm greeting. She was far too cheery for his particular level of loneliness, and he nearly turned tail right back out the door.

Only Sarah’s sweet voice, lingering in his ears, urged him to find a furry companion, keeping Joel’s boots planted. Well, that and his brother practically crashing into his back as the annoying asshat followed him inside.

“Oh, no, the hell you don’t,” Tommy snapped, shoving Joel forward into the small welcoming area. “You promised my favorite niece, and I will not let you disappoint her. Mindful of the cheerful woman in front of them, Joel kept his mouth shut and merely shot an icy glare towards his brother.

What? It could not be helped.

“How can I help you today, gentlemen?” The woman at the desk grinned at them with a too-bright smile and about a pound of makeup on her face. The nametag on her shirt read ‘Debi’.

“We’re here to adopt a dog for this grumpy guy,” Tommy chirped in response, eliciting a giggle from the effervescent Debi.

“Wait just a damn minute,” Joel snapped, grimacing internally at the way Debi’s brightness dimmed a little as she glanced from the easy-going brother to him. He continued with a slightly softer tone. “I’m just here to look”. Turning back to glare at his brother, Joel muttered, “Remind me why I let you come with me.”

Tommy flashed Debi an apologetic look before replying. “Because there’s no way you would have actually come here on your own. Sarah made me promise to help you find a dog to adopt. I’m here for quality control.”

“I ain’t adoptin’ a dog,” Joel grumbled, brows pinching ever closer together.

“Oh, of course not.” Tommy raised his eyebrows in mock agreement. “I forgot you’re just here to get a nice whiff of despair and cry into a dog bed.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy.” He scrubbed a hand over his face to settle his nerves. The woman looked like she didn’t know what to make of the Miller brothers, and Joel took pity on her. “Can we take a look at the dogs available for adoption, ma’am?”

“Of course! Just follow the paw prints on the floor to the kennels. We have cards attached to each cage with some details about each dog. Just let any of the staff know if you have any questions or would like to have some one-on-one time with any of the dogs.” Debi directed them toward a blue metal door on the other side of the room, where a set of paw prints led.

The sound of dogs barking echoed through the hall as soon as they opened the door. A concrete walkway spread before them, split into three directions, each lined with cages.

“Pick a direction,” Tommy insisted, and Joel turned left. The shelter held a variety of dogs, some prancing happily to the front of the cage to greet them, others cowering in the back corners of their area, and still others that lay on the floor and stared with solemn eyes or flat out ignored them completely.

“Christ,” Joel muttered. “This is worse than online dating.”

Tommy snorted. “How would you know? You’ve never even tried it!”

Fucking hell. Between the noise, smell, and his brother’s damn attitude, Joel’s patience was naught. Looking at all the dogs they passed – a yappy Chihuahua with razor sharp teeth, a stoic Great Dane too large for its own good, an overeager Golden Retriever singing the song of its people like it was the damn national anthem – Joel’s head started to pound.

He felt bad for all of these animals needing a home. He hoped someone adopted them, but it wasn’t gonna be him. Thank fuck Sarah wasn’t here – he’d end up adopting three or four of the mutts the moment she flashed those eyes at him and pouted.

They passed more dogs down the next row – a bunch of pit mixes, hounds, a German Shepherd, and some mutts. And then, at the end of the third row, Tommy stopped short.

“Holy shit! Joel, check out this guy.” He pointed toward a stocky, soulful-eyed beagle sitting toward the back of its kennel. His fur was a patchwork of warm chestnut brown, soft white, and inky black, with long ears and a face that had seen too many Mondays.

One eye was rimmed with a caramel-colored marking that made him look permanently skeptical, and he stared at Joel like he’d been personally offended by every life decision the man ever made. The dog didn’t bark or whine or even wag its tail. It just stared. Calm, quiet, but most of all, judgmental.

“Tell me that doesn’t look like the dog version of you, brother.”

Tommy was lucky Joel didn’t pop him right in that shit-eating grin, turning to read the dog’s kennel tag instead.

Name: Walter Age: 2 years Breed: Beagle Notes: Good with people of any age. Selective with other dogs. Likes long naps, short walks, and judging your lifestyle choices.

“Is his name really Walter?” Tommy questioned with a snort, peering at the information over Joel’s shoulder. “He looks like he pays taxes and complains about the weather.”

Joel couldn’t contain the guffaw that burst from his lips, his sour mood slowly lessening. “He really fuckin’ does. Like he’s been through a divorce and a midlife crisis on the same damn day.”

The brothers laughed until they were breathless. Walter merely blinked, unimpressed with their behavior.

Scratching at his beard, Joel stood there longer than he meant to, one hand on his hip. None of the other dogs caught his interest like this one. None of the other dogs stared at him like they knew he left half his heart behind at Terminal C a week ago, either.

“Who the hell names a dog Walter? That’s a name for someone who owns a recliner and a lifetime subscription to Field & Stream.”

Walter let out a breath so dramatic it bordered on theatrical.

“I don’t know, Joel. It really seems to fit him, though.” Tommy glanced back and forth between the dog and Joel before nodding. “I think you found your new best friend, brother.”

Joel looked down at Walter again. “Don’t suppose you talk back like the cactus or TV.”

Walter squinted back, and Joel could feel the judgment.

“Imma ask Debi if you can take him for a walk. Test him out and all that.”

“What? No—”

“Worst case, you both glare at each other in silence for fifteen minutes. Might be therapeutic.” The echo of Tommy’s laughter lingered long after the man left the kennels.

Joel and Walter both sighed heavily, narrowed gazes clashing.

“Just one walk, ya hear?”

Walter stood up slowly without breaking eye contact, gave one full body shake that ended in a dramatic flop back on the floor, and resumed his death glare. A chuckle rumbled from Joel’s chest. “Ornery little mutt, ain’t cha?”

Tommy returned a moment later, collar and leash in hand, flashing a cheeky grin at the sight of his brother and the dog still glaring at each other. “Fuckin’ soul mates, I swear,” he mumbled to himself. Thrusting the leash at his brother, he spoke above the din of barking that echoed through the concrete and metal room. “Here. Debi said to just take him out that door to the play yard for as long as ya like.”

The leash felt awkward in his hand, heavy and weightless at the same time. Walter allowed him to place the collar around his neck and trotted out of the kennel behind Joel, his tail not wagging. The dog just walked with a kind of resigned dignity. Joel could practically hear the thing say, ‘I didn’t ask for this either, pal.’

They made it through the door and halfway around the yard under Tommy’s watchful gaze before Joel finally muttered, “You don’t express much emotion.”

Walter sneezed.

Joel exhaled a breath of laughter. “Right. Not interested in talking. Got it.”

They continued the walk in silence, two grumpy and lonely souls walking side by side. When they returned to the row of kennels, Walter sat down at Joel’s feet and refused to go back into his kennel. He just stared up at him with those sharp eyes and furry frown like he’d made up his mind already.

Well, shit.

Tommy slapped Joel on the shoulder. “Told you. That’s fate right there.”

With a resigned sigh, Joel bent down and scratched behind one of Walter’s floppy ears. “You’re lucky I’m feelin’ generous today,” he rumbled. Walter let loose a low howl as if to rebut that statement.

“I’m telling you, the resemblance is uncanny!”

Tommy video-called Sarah as soon as they arrived back at the house. Just to follow through on his promise to her, he insisted. Joel groaned as Tommy flashed his phone around, showing Sarah the current state of the house – “You’re ol’ man’s a slob when you’re not around!” – and zoomed in for a closeup of Walter.

“Oh my God! You weren’t kidding!” Sarah declared gleefully when Walter glared at the phone from the spot on the couch he stubbornly refused to get off. “He looks so grumpy. They do have the same frown! I love him already!”

She began making baby talk at Walter, telling him he’s such a good boy and to take care of her grumpy old dad while she’s away. Joel couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. Damn he loved that kid. Missed her so much it hurt, but right then it felt like maybe a few pieces of his heart were mending back together.

The call went on for a few more minutes before Sarah had to run. “I’m proud of you, Dad. You picked the perfect dog for you. Now get out there and socialize with him!”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you, Babygirl.”

“Love you, Dad. You too, Walter!” The dog merely snored in response, much to both Sarah and Tommy’s delight.

When Joel and Walter were finally left alone to settle into life together, he joined the dog on the couch. Walter spread his body out as far as it would go in each direction, taking up half the damn couch, and snored like a lumberjack.

“I wish you would’ve told me you snored. I mighta gotten a different dog.”

Walter blinked one eye open to flash him a nasty side eye before slipping back into a blissful snooze. Not knowing what else to do with himself, Joel settled back into the plush cushions for a little nap of his own.

That first night, Walter slept on the couch, having claimed the corner Sarah used to sit. Whenever Joel tried to nudge him off, Walter responded with a warbled groan or low-pitched howl and turned his back on him with a weary huff. Joel gave up after the third time and went off to bed.

Around 3 a.m., Walter barked at a passing car. Joel nearly had a heart attack at the sharp boom of sound that woke him from a dead sleep. Then Walter, apparently satisfied that he’d saved his new home from whatever menace was driving a Kia Sorento in the middle of the night, spun three times on the couch and went right back to sleep. Joel was left behind to lie awake for two more hours as his heart rate settled.

By day three, Walter was sleeping at the foot of Joel’s bed. He had a basket of toys next to a new Tempurpedic dog bed, fresh dog food filling half the fridge, and a bag of gourmet treats that cost more than a fancy steak dinner. Joel hadn’t meant to spoil the dog. It just sort of happened.

The truth – which Joel would admit to no one – was that he like the damn dog more than he ever thought he would. Walter was pretty laid back, when he wasn’t busy being a stubborn ass, but he did have some quirks.

The first time Joel tried to leave for work, Walter lost it. Joel closed the front door and barely made it to his truck before a pitiful howl pierced the air, followed by the sound of utter destruction coming from within the house. He rushed back inside to find the living room in a state of chaos. The dog bed had been tossed across the room, the stack of DVDs knocked over, one of Joel’s boots was in the kitchen sink for fuck’s sake, and Walter was halfway through chewing a throw pillow to shreds.

“What the hell, dog?! I wasn’t even gone five fucking minutes!” Joel turned his back on the mess with a frustrated sigh. He’d clean it up later.

Walter had the balls to look smug when Joel ushered him out to the truck. “Guess you’re coming to work with me today, pal. Can’t risk having you destroy everything in the house while I’m gone.”

When his truck pulled up to the job site with Walter hanging out the window, ears flopping in the wind, Tommy snorted.

“Is it bring your kid to work day or somethin’?”

“You ever hear of a dog with separation anxiety?” Joel jumped out of the truck, watching as Walter followed after him wearing a blue collar with a matching bow tie.

“Aww, sounds like you’re finally someone’s favorite grumpy bastard,” Tommy shot back. They moved through the site to the construction trailer.

“Not funny, Tommy. He’s like a tiny vengeance-filled wrecking ball when I leave him alone.”

“Maybe he just misses you when you’re gone. You rescued him from the shelter, that’s gotta mean somethin’ to a dog.” Once again, Tommy left Joel stunned.

“Since when did you become the voice of reason?” Joel grumbled, rolling out the latest set of plans on his desk.

“Fuck you, man. I ain’t as dumb as I look.” Walter let out a long awoooo from his spot beneath Joel’s desk, and both men laughed. “I don’t know if he’s agreeing with me or not.”

“Knowing him, probably not.”

From then on, Joel took Walter everywhere. Work sites. Gas stations. Even into the hardware store once, where Walter earned a free biscuit and a wink from the pretty cashier that made Joel mutter something about how “the damn dog gets flirted with more than the human.” Walter responded by licking her hand like he was the damn customer.

At the job site every day, Walter trotted behind Joel like a little general, inspecting everything with solemn eyes and a long sniff, barking exactly once every hour as if to tell the crew to get back to work.

The guys on site adored him. Someone even brought in a tiny safety vest just for Walter. Joel groaned, absolutely refusing to let him wear it. Needless to say, he lost that battle. Joel turned his back for two minutes to find the damn dog fully outfitted and posing like a proud mascot. He wouldn’t get out of the truck at the site without the damn vest one. Joel felt like a fool dressing up his dog, but it apparently made the little beast happy.

Walter took to sitting in the front passenger seat of Joel’s truck like it was his throne, squinting at passersby with barely restrained judgment. He let loose occasional growls and yowls when he didn’t like the people.

“I swear, you’ve got opinions about everyone we drive past,” Joel muttered one day as they pulled out of the grocery store parking lot. Walter sneezed in response and then farted, making Joel roll down the window with a curse as he sought fresh air. “Jesus Christ, dog! You’re worse than Tommy.”

As the days turned into weeks, the pair settled into a quiet life together. Some nights, Walter would curl up beside Joel in quiet solidarity while Joel drank a beer and stared at the TV screen.

“Guess I did need somethin’ to come home to,” he admitted to Sarah, scratching the spot behind Walter’s ear that made the dog’s back leg kick while he spoke to his daughter during their weekly chat. Walter blinked slowly and rested his head on Joel’s thigh.

For the first time since Sarah left for England, Joel felt a little less lonely.

“I’m gonna take you to the dog park tomorrow. How does that sound?”

One tail thump was the only response Joel received.

tbc

Part Three

taglist: @milla-frenchy, @noisynightmarepoetry, @bunnymami13, @lillaydee, @missladym1981 @therewastherewas @joelmillerpascal @baronessvonglitter

[joelalorian]

Hello everyone, welcome to my masterlist of Pedro Pascal and his characters.

Do feel free to request anything for further fics of Pedro or his characters

Pedro Pascal

Your Valentine

Lay All Your Love On Me

Pascal Lookalike Contest

More TBA

Joel Miller

Lucky Room 22: Chapt 1 is coming

Harry Castillo

TBA

Javi Gutierrez

Daddy's Office

Other Pedro's Characters

TBA or comment any requests

Other people's fics

Light Up My Life (So Blind I Can't See) @dilf-docs

Darlin', Can I Be Your Favorite? By @dilf-docs

The boyfriend act by @capuccinodoll

Lil's Masterlist by @lillaydee

'Swept Way' & Season 2 by @punkshort

Saving What Was Lost by @mermaidgirl30

Fall Into Me by @joelalorian

UNEVEN ODDS by @theetherealbloom

[joelalorian]

❤️❤️❤️ Adriana, my love! Every single one of your comments and reblogs have brought me such joy. Thank you for loving this story from Day 1 and supporting me on this wild journey.

Under False Pretenses - Epilogue

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 1751 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and an unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope (but also not really). Unspecified (small) age gap. Soft, sexy, and intense Dave. Nicknames and terms of endearment. Cursing. Lots of love. Unprotected p in v. Marriage! Honeymoon! Forever starts today!

A/N: Just a tiny epilogue to bring this one to a close. Thank you to all who have enjoyed this story and stayed patient through some slow updates. This story holds a huge piece of my heart, and I'm sad to see it come to an end.

Series Masterlist

Frothy waves crashed along the shore, a breeze sending small whisps of sand along the quiet expanse. The beach was empty except for you, Dave, the girls, and the small circle of people who truly mattered in your lives – Ari, Resnik, Kovac, and the two girlfriends you grew close to over the past year as you settled into life in North Carolina. The men stood in the golden afternoon light, their pant legs rolled up and sunglasses perched on their heads, while the women wore sundresses and flowers in their hair. Ranger sat proudly near the driftwood arch you spent hours artfully setting up, donning a bowtie Alice and Molly insisted he wear.

You stood barefoot in the fine quartz sand, your ivory dress simple and flowing to just past your knees, the fabric fluttering like sea foam. Your hair and makeup were done up more than you normally preferred, but you felt beautiful, nonetheless. You smiled radiantly at Dave as he stood at the end of the short, seashell-lined aisle, his own smile laced with disbelief and wonder.

This… this was the wedding day of your dreams.

Instrumental music played from Ari’s phone as you moved with eager, yet exceedingly patient footsteps through the sand. When you finally came to a stop, Dave stood in front of you, sun cutting lines through his dark hair, hands steady as they took your trembling ones. His suit jacket lay abandoned on the sand, sleeves rolled to his forearms. A thin layer of sea salt clung to his calves from dipping his toes in the water to calm his nerves earlier.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get a second chance at love,” he whispered softly so only you could hear. “Especially not a love like this.”

Your throat tightened, tears stinging the back of your eyes. You swore you wouldn’t cry today, but… “I didn’t think I’d ever feel like I belonged in a family, but you showed me what a real home could be.”

Resnik took his place in front of the two of you, ready to play the officiant. Neither of you thought he was serious when he insisted he had the right certification to officiate the wedding. Now, Resnik ended up being the perfect person to marry the two of you. The vows were whispered, barely spoken over the sound of the waves crashing ashore. Alice and Molly giggled when they saw their dad tear up, and your friends dabbed their eyes with a tissue passed back and forth.

There was no wedding march. No fanfare. Just laughter and the sound of the sea, and Dave’s lips brushing yours in a kiss that sealed the deal, saying everything without words.

You were officially a York now, and you couldn’t imagine anything better.

“Is it time for cake now?” Molly called out, her sweet voice carrying over the wind and drawing your first kiss as a married couple to an end with a chuckle.

“Better feed the bottomless pit,” you teased, swiping the hint of lipstick staining Dave’s lips with your thumb.

“She has been waiting very patiently,” Dave quipped. “I saw her eyeing that cake hours ago.”

“Let’s not make her wait any longer, then.” The pair of you led the way back to the house, the girls skipping behind you, making their dresses sway in the breeze.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter until Dave dragged you away for the honeymoon getaway. The location was a surprise – he even went so far as to pack your luggage for you so you couldn’t guess based on the clothes needed. He chartered a private plane and made you wear a blindfold as the plane dipped beneath the clouds.

Dave York was very lucky that you trusted him so completely. You weren’t particularly fond of being blindfolded or restrained after being abducted last year, but you knew Dave would never hurt you. Still, your heart pounded like a drum in your chest as Dave drove, your body swaying with the curves of the road.

After an hour, the car finally came to a stop on gravel.

“Stay right there,” Dave murmured as he shut the car off and got out. A moment later, the passenger door opened, and Dave’s large hand grasped your smaller one. “Come on, sweetheart.”

He guided you out of the car and stood behind you as he gently pulled the blindfold from your eyes. A log cabin made of dark wood and a pitched roof sat before you. The rustic porch, wrapping around the structure, boasted two handmade rocking chairs and a gorgeous view of the mountains behind you.

Your breath wafted visibly as you gazed open-mouthed at the surroundings. Finally, the crispness of the air caught up with you, and you realized you weren’t anywhere you’d been before.

“Where are we?”

“Where do you think we are?” Dave shot back, a playful arch in his brow.

“Well, certainly not in Kansas anymore,” you snarked.

“Clearly.”

Taking your hand, Dave led you up the steps to the porch and into the cabin. If the outside was rugged and unassuming, the interior was downright luxurious with a soothing palette and an inviting fire roaring in the hearth. The furniture was brown and plush, cream colored throw blankets draped artfully along the arms and back. You immediately wanted to snuggle with Dave on the cloud-like cushions and make love long into the night.

“Do you like it?” There was a twinge of vulnerability in Dave’s voice, like he was afraid that he had gotten it wrong somehow.

“It’s perfect,” you breathed, turning to him with wide, round eyes as they slowly filled with tears. You pressed your lips to his, infusing the kiss with every ounce of love you held in your heart for this wonderful, complex man.

You spent the day doing just as you hoped, making love on a pile of blankets in front of the fire, sharing bottles of wine and food Dave had stocked before your arrival, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

“Are you ever going to tell me where we are?” you asked the next morning as the sun peeked through the curtains, casting shadows across the room.

“Banff,” Dave grunted as he came to wakefulness next to you.

“We’re in fucking Canada?!”

The Canadian Rockies were gorgeous. Snow covered the mountaintops, cascading down into the valley below in wintery bliss. Ski slopes were perfectly powdered, allowing your skis to slice through the snow as you and Dave weaved back and forth down the hill. The streets of the village were cleared, allowing you to explore the various shops and dine in the finest restaurants. Each meal more decadent than the last, Dave spoiled you each and every moment.

Your favorite moments, though, were the ones shared between just the two of you in the cabin. Discussing everything and nothing simultaneously, it was beautiful, intimate, and loving.

On the third night, you had a surprise for Dave.

Stretched back on the bed, he gazed at your naked form as you hid something behind your back. Dark eyes drank you in, the heat of his gaze warming your skin. Sliding up the length of him, your tongue darted across your bottom lip when his cock twitched to full hardness. He reached for you, but you merely shook your head.

“Nuh uh,” you said, holding up a finger to stall any further movement without your order. “I’m in charge tonight. Is that clear?”

Dave’s cock throbbed beneath your weight and those glacially dark eyes blazed with fiery interest. “Crystal.”

“Good,” you pulled a pair of cushioned handcuffs from behind your back. With an air of authority, you added, “Raise your hands over your head and grasp the headboard.”

His eyes narrowed, but he dutifully followed your command after a beat of hesitation. “Enjoy this while it lasts, kitten.”

Placing the cuffs around his wrists with a click, you tested the give. The headboard held strong, limiting Dave’s movements, and you winked at him cheekily. “Oh, I definitely plan to.”

Sitting back, you admired the sight before you. Dave stretched back against the pillows, hands cuffed to the headboard, dark eyes glittering with a mix of trust and heat, and maybe a bit of patient retribution hiding in the depths. You straddled his thighs with slow and deliberate movements, trailing your nails across his skin, before leaning over to lave your tongue over the same spots with little kitten licks, teasing and tasting.

With graceful movements, you plucked the vibrating cock ring from the spot you hid it in the bedside table, licking all around the rubber while staring straight into your husband’s widened eyes, and slid it over the head of his hardened cock. Once in place, you pressed the little button three times to get it to the setting you liked most and slithered further up his body until his cock begged entry into your pussy.

“Are you ready for this?” you murmured, using one hand to glide the tip of Dave’s cock through your folds, sharing the evidence of your arousal.

Dave let out a breathless laugh. “I was born ready, my little firecracker. Lay it on me.”

You sank onto his hardened length at once, both of you moaning at the sensation. You ground down on him, letting the vibrator work its magic on your clit before you began bouncing on your husband’s cock. What a lucky woman you were, to have this beautiful cock to yourself for the rest of your life.

The first orgasm came quickly, and Dave begged you to free his hands so he could touch you – oh, how he longed to touch every part of you in that moment, but you refused. Bodies moving like poetry written in sweaty skin, you took your time as you both gave every bit of yourselves over to the passion.

When the battery died and your bodies were wrung of every last orgasmic drop, the cuffs finally clicked free, and Dave wrapped you in his arms, never wanting to let go.

The rest of the honeymoon was a dream – a full week in wintery Alberta where you spent the days skiing and snowshoeing and the evenings exploring each other in every corner of the cabin. You never wanted to leave, yet you missed the girls and Ranger too much to stay. When you arrived home to that beach house in North Carolina, your life truly began.

fin

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