#Widows Row

[thatonebipotato]

ouihaw moment:

spending over 4 minutes trying to fucking kill each other

it was like a 5 minute round. genuinely took too long

[widowshill]

Oh, Vicki, I can scarcely believe it. All of the trials and tribulations and pressures that we have been living with are finally at an end. And one by one we will toss them into the sea. 75.

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Romanogers | Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff (MCU)

Requested by @blairwaldcrf

The meeting is probably about to start. No one has tried to call in the last ten minutes or so which makes a nice change from the twenty texts and voicemails waiting on both phones. It's a good thing Natasha silenced them after the first three, but she's still surprised that Steve, as a light sleep as he tends to be, hasn't stirred at all.

She's more relieved by that, actually. It's been so many restless nights of him getting out of bed after an hour of trying to drift off. So many three am cups of coffee. Too many crack-of-dawn runs around the streets of New York. She's been toying with suggesting he see a doctor for some kind of help for the last week or so.

Her phone buzzes somewhere on the floor. She ignores it once again. Something she severely hopes is not going to come back and bite her when she does finally get around to checking it; knowing her luck, there's some kind of world-ending event occurring and she's closing her eyes to it for the sake of letting Steve get in a few extra hours. It's worth it.

Steve's phone buzzes this time and she groans quietly into her pillow. Now that she's thought it, there's a pit in her stomach, growing concerned that something might actually be wrong and it's not just Tony lecturing them for not being "responsible."

She carefully unwraps herself from Steve and goes to roll onto her side to find her own phone. She's stopped mid-search, dangling over the edge of the bed as Steve's arm curls around her with a gentle tug to bring her fully back.

"Leave it," he murmurs into her shoulder. "I checked mine when you went to the bathroom. Nothing's wrong. They cancelled the meeting."

"Why?"

"Well, we weren't answering and nothing of importance has really happened to update on recently. All of the texts and calls are from that group chat Thor added us to. It's him and Darcy and... Korg, I think his name is, arguing about some video game."

"I forgot to leave that chat," Natasha says, silently scolding herself for not doing so when this is the result. At the very least, she needs to mute it.

Steve chuckles quietly, but it fades out as he kisses her shoulder, then buries his face into the back of her neck. It's only just occurring to her that she has no idea how long he's actually been awake, potentially just lying there with her arms wrapped around him, pretending to be asleep.

She turns herself around in his arms now to get a good look at his face, having been staring at the back of his head for the better part of the morning. There are dark circles under his eyes but they never really go away. His eyes themselves look a bit brighter than they do most days, even with the half-lidded, sleepy look to them.

Sighing softly, she strokes his cheek. He smiles and lets his eyes flutter closed again, enjoying her gentle touch. It's almost a shock to her system. Someone embracing her touch, trusting it implicitly, so much so that he lowers every single guard and makes himself vulnerable to her.

She swallows hard. Then she kisses him, startling him momentarily. He quickly melts into it and kisses her back, curling his arm a little more securely around her.

"Did you sleep okay?" she asks in between, peering at him as he opens his eyes again. "You seemed peaceful. For a little while, at least."

That pretty smile crosses his face again. It somehow still manages to make him look like some innocent boy despite his full beard.

"I'm always peaceful when I'm with you," he replies, but when she raises an eyebrow, he drops the evasive tactics. "Yeah, I slept okay. I've not been awake that long. Drifting in and out since you got up."

Natasha finally smiles back. "We could just... go back to sleep now that we don't have anything important to do. Not that I planned on actually getting up for that anyway, but you know."

"Sounds good to me."

[termagax]

ive given up on counterpicking on ovw if a dps is bugging me i will simply kill them. idgaf. if i want to fly around like a little angel you purple cunts will not stop me.

[patronsaintofgirls]

ok what was the deal with the clear mask outfits i have to know what fucked up character that was

[confinesofmy]

kerry brought two plus-ones to her sugar daddy's funeral after being kicked out of his wake 😭 girl you're DELUSIONAL

[shayziekai]

Posing for a picture, Bradford Periwinkle makes the medieval era look so calm and peaceful. To further make himself part of the time period, he puts on a natural coloured prosthetic.

[yeoldenews]

A selection of looks from the 18th Century equivalent of the MET Gala (aka The Queen's Drawing Room) in March 1789.

(To help with your mental images - this would have been roughly the court silhouette at the time.)

Queen Charlotte - "Was dressed in purple, silver and orange body and train; the petticoat likewise of purple and silver, richly embroidered upon crape. Her Majesty’s head-dress was the most superb and beautiful that ever appeared at Court. A bandeau of purple sattin was fastened around the cap, with a motto in diamonds of “GOD SAVE THE KING.

Round the Queen’s neck was a medallion, tied with a double row of gold chain, and across her shoulders was another chain of three rows of pearls, and five rows of diamonds fastened low behind, with a fine miniature portrait of the KING, studded with diamonds, hanging in front. The tippet was of fine lace, and fastened with the letter G. in diamonds."

The Duchess of Gordon - "White sattin, superbly spangled in gold, and drawn up with a bandeau of the most costly embroidery, imitating the sun [in] the fullness of its glory. The petticoat was festooned in a beautiful manner with branches of oak."

The Duchess of Devonshire - "A white sattin petticoat most superbly embroidered with wreaths of foil, flowers and stones, the gown of dark green sattin, richly embroidered with spangles; and a most beautiful diamond stomacher."

Lady Lloyd - "A crape petticoat, over one of white sattin, with stripes of purple velvet, ornamented with gold and stones, representing peacock feathers. The train purple, trimmed with crape.

Her Ladyship's cap had a painting, describing Britannia kneeling and offering praises to heaven for the recovery of the King, very richly ornamented with diamonds, blond, flowers, and feathers. In the front, "Dieu nous le rend," (God restores him to us,) embroidered in gold letters."

Mr. Pitt - "A green and rose striped velvet, richly embroidered with gold and silver stones; the waistcoat of white satin, embroidered as the coat."

The Hon. Mr. Edgecumbe - "A blue and brown shaded velvet, most superbly embroidered with diamonds and point lace, with beautiful bouquets of flowers; the waistcoat of white satin, embroidered the same"

Sir John Marriott - "Sea green striped velvet, with gold tissue embroidered waistcoat."

and my personal best dressed -

The Duchess of Rutland (who was making her first appearance at court since the death of her husband) - "The time allotted by the decree of fashion for customary suits of solemn black, and all the trappings of widowed woe, being expired, her Grace, lovely in her person, and attractive in her manners, came forward in all the fullness of splendor, and in imitation of the Heavens when they declare, by a rainbow, that the tears of the sky have stopped, wore a dress of embroidered crape, fashioned in such a manner as to resemble that variegated sign of an unclouded atmosphere. But we are at a loss to find out what was meant by the gold-spangled darts of lightning that appeared through this rainbow, unless that her Grace meant them as emblematical of what her eyes can do, now that the day of weeping’s over. To write, however, in more plain terms, we shall state exactly what her Grace had on. It was an embroidered crape, something in imitation of a rainbow, having variety in its colours, and being ornamented with gold spangles which really appeared like darts of lightning through the crape, and gave it a most superb appearance. Her head-dress of white crape, with a towering branch of ostrich feathers, and the motto of God save the King,  in white and gold."

(source: The Times, March 27, 1789.)

[drewharrisonwriter]

Between the Sky & the Horizon

Status: Complete.

Pairings: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Set in a small Texas town during the 1940s, Joel Miller, a grieving widower, and father, is thrust into a marriage of convenience with the Reverend's pregnant daughter, Dorothy.

Word Count: 16.5k words

A/N: My ADHD brain went into overdrive and I wrote this in one sitting. No edits, not beta'd. Warnings: Main OC has an assigned gender and name. Timeline inaccuracies, this was set in the 1940s but I may have included inaccuracies in technology etc., marriage of convenience, angst and fluff, emotional hurt/comfort a bit of drama, SMUT so yes, a little explicit sexual content, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, graphic depictions of childbirth.

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

The air was thick with the scent of freshly turned earth as Joel Miller stepped off his tractor, wiping the sweat from his brow. His fields stretched endlessly in all directions, a patchwork of gold and green under the late afternoon sun. It was the kind of quiet that had grown comfortable to him, the kind that came with long days and longer nights alone. He’d gotten used to it, even preferred it, in the years since Sarah had passed. Noise felt like an intrusion now.

He crouched down to check the soil near the newly planted rows, letting his fingers dig into the cool, damp earth. The rhythmic clucking of the chickens behind him and the distant barking of his old dog, Scout, were the only things breaking the silence. It was peaceful, or as close to it as Joel allowed himself to feel these days.

That was until the sound of a truck pulling up the long, gravel driveway caught his attention. Joel glanced over his shoulder, frowning as a black Ford truck came into view. Not many people came out here uninvited. He stood, dusting off his hands on his worn jeans, and waited as the truck rolled to a stop in front of his house.

The door creaked open, and out stepped Reverend William Hargrove. Joel’s frown deepened. He hadn’t seen the reverend since Sarah’s funeral. The man had changed since then—his once well-groomed hair had gone gray, and there were deeper lines etched into his face. But his eyes still held that same fire, a flame that had burned even hotter since he’d found God and sworn off the drink. Hargrove shut the door and walked towards him, his steps heavy with purpose.

“Joel,” the reverend greeted, tipping his hat. His voice was rough, but there was an undercurrent of something that made Joel’s gut twist.

“Reverend,” Joel replied, keeping his tone neutral. “Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

Hargrove nodded, looking around the farm before turning his gaze back to Joel. “Got a proposition for you. Something… out of the ordinary.”

Joel crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the tractor. “Go on.”

The reverend hesitated, then sighed deeply. “It’s about my daughter, Dorothy.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t seen Dot in years, not since she’d left town to chase a life beyond this small, dusty place. “What about her?”

“She’s come back home,” Hargrove said, his voice dropping. “And she’s pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like a curse. Joel didn’t say anything, just stared at the man in front of him, waiting for the rest of it.

“The father… he’s gone,” Hargrove continued, clearing his throat. “Naval officer. She won’t say much about him, but it doesn’t matter. She’s alone, Joel. And this town… well, you know how folks talk.”

Joel did know. This place thrived on whispers and judgment. A woman like Dot, unmarried and pregnant, would be torn apart by the gossip. But that wasn’t his problem.

“What’s this got to do with me?” Joel asked, though he already had a sinking feeling he knew the answer.

Hargrove shifted on his feet, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting Joel’s eyes again. “I need a man to marry her. To give her and that baby a name, protection. And you need someone to take care of your home while you work this land.”

Joel pushed off the tractor, pacing a few steps away. He didn’t need this. Didn’t need someone coming into his life, stirring things up. But the reverend’s words echoed in his mind—protection. He knew what it was like to be alone, to feel like the world had turned its back on you. He’d been living that reality every day since Sarah died.

“She doesn’t know you’re here, does she?” Joel asked, turning back to face Hargrove.

The reverend shook his head. “No. But she’s desperate, Joel. I know it’s a lot to ask, but she needs help. And maybe… maybe you do too.”

Joel clenched his jaw. It wasn’t that simple, nothing ever was. But there was a part of him, buried deep under the weight of grief and loneliness, that considered it. He could offer her a place to stay, a way to survive this town’s judgment. Maybe, in return, she could offer him something too—someone to come home to, even if it was just a formality.

“How soon are you talking?” Joel asked, his voice low.

“Soon,” Hargrove replied. “Before anyone can start asking too many questions.”

Joel nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what possessed him to agree, but before he could stop himself, he said, “Alright. I’ll do it.”

The reverend let out a breath of relief, stepping forward to shake Joel’s hand. “Thank you, Joel. You’ve done a good thing today. We’ll make the arrangements quickly.”

Joel nodded again, feeling the weight of his decision settle over him like a heavy coat. As he watched the reverend get back into his truck and drive away, he couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.

-

Dot stood in the kitchen of her childhood home, staring out the window at the garden where her mother once grew flowers. The familiar scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air, a remnant of her father’s attempt to make things feel normal. But nothing about this moment was normal. She absently traced a finger along the edge of the counter, lost in thought.

When she heard the front door creak open, she turned, her heart skipping a beat. Her father had said Joel Miller was coming by, but she hadn’t expected him so soon. And she hadn’t expected the nerves that twisted in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again after all these years.

The heavy footsteps that followed were unmistakable. Joel had always had a presence—quiet, but solid, like the earth beneath her feet. When he walked into the kitchen, she almost forgot to breathe.

He was more handsome than she remembered. The years had etched deeper lines into his face, and his hair had more silver in it now, but there was something about him that made her pulse quicken. Maybe it was the way he filled the space with that same quiet strength, or the way his eyes—still that deep brown she remembered—looked at her with a mix of surprise and something she couldn’t quite name.

“Dot,” Joel said, his voice low and rough.

“Joel,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. She forced herself to smile, though it felt strained. “It’s been a long time.”

He nodded, stepping further into the room. “It has.”

Her father, Reverend Hargrove, appeared in the doorway a moment later, his expression unreadable. Dot’s gaze flicked between the two men, unease settling in her chest.

“What’s this all about, Dad?” Dot asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

Hargrove cleared his throat, glancing at Joel before speaking. “I’ve spoken with Joel about… your situation. He’s agreed to marry you.”

Dot blinked, the words hitting her like a punch to the gut. “He… what?”

“I thought it’d be best for everyone,” Hargrove continued, his tone cautious. “You’d have protection, and Joel… well, he could use someone to take care of the home while he’s out working.”

Dot’s eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, anger surged through her. “You can’t just—” She stopped herself, forcing the words back down. She took a deep breath, trying to regain control. Turning to Joel, she asked quietly, “Did he force you into this?”

Joel’s gaze met hers, steady and calm. “No, Dot. He didn’t force me.”

She shook her head, her voice softening. “You don’t have to do this, Joel. You don’t owe him—or anyone—a favor. This… this isn’t your problem.”

For a long moment, there was silence. Then, Hargrove cleared his throat again, sensing the tension, and murmured, “I’ll leave you two to talk,” before slipping out of the room, leaving them alone.

Dot stared after him for a moment before turning back to Joel. “You don’t have to do this,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can handle the gossip. It’s nobody’s business if I’m pregnant.”

Joel studied her, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak right away, and for a moment, Dot wondered if he would just walk out and leave her standing there with her unanswered questions. But then, he took a step closer, his gaze never leaving hers.

“It might not be anyone’s business,” Joel said quietly, “but that won’t stop them from talking. You know how this town is, Dot. They’ll tear you apart, whether it’s their business or not.”

Dot swallowed hard, knowing he was right. The town had always thrived on gossip, and a pregnant, unmarried woman was the kind of scandal they’d feast on for months.

Joel continued, his voice steady and calm, “I’m not doin’ this because I owe anyone. I’m doin’ it because… I know what it’s like to lose everything. And I know you don’t deserve to go through this alone. We can make it work—on our terms.”

Dot searched his face, looking for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. She knew Joel wasn’t the kind of man to say something he didn’t mean. He was offering her a way out, a chance to protect herself and her baby from the town’s judgment. And in a strange way, she realized he was offering himself a chance too—a chance to have someone by his side again, even if it was just for convenience.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside her. “What if it doesn’t work?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of something—maybe understanding, maybe hope—in his eyes. “Then we’ll figure it out. But at least we’ll be in it together.”

Dot held his gaze for a long moment before finally nodding. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, Joel. Let’s do this.”

Joel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and gave her a small nod in return. It wasn’t a grand declaration of love or anything close to it. But it was an agreement—one born out of necessity, maybe even mutual respect.

And in this town, that was enough.

- 

The sun was setting when they stood in the small living room of her father’s house, the last rays of daylight filtering through the lace curtains. Reverend Hargrove stood before them with his Bible in hand, his expression somber but steady. Tommy Miller and his wife, Maria, stood off to the side, witnesses to the union.

Hargrove cleared his throat and began, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Marriage is a sacred bond, one that requires trust, faith, and love.”

He turned to Dot first. “Dorothy Hargrove, do you take this man, Joel Miller, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?”

Dot swallowed hard, her pulse racing, but she nodded. “I do.”

Hargrove then turned to Joel. “Joel Miller, do you take this woman, Dorothy Hargrove, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?”

Joel’s voice was calm as he responded, “I do.”

Hargrove nodded, and after a pause, he opened his Bible to a passage and began to read: “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.”*

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Dot kept her eyes on Joel, feeling the weight of what they had just promised, even if love wasn’t the reason they stood here today.

“And now,” Hargrove said, closing the Bible, “by the power vested in me by the state of Texas, I pronounce you man and wife.”

Dot and Joel exchanged a brief, awkward glance. There was no call to kiss the bride, no fanfare. Instead, they simply nodded at each other, silently acknowledging the moment.

Tommy stepped forward with a grin, breaking the tension. “Well, looks like it’s official now,” he said, his voice warm. Maria joined him, smiling gently at Dot and Joel.

“We’re happy for you both,” Maria added, sincerity clear in her eyes. “Congratulations.”

The reverend handed them the marriage contract, and Dot signed her name with a steady hand. Joel followed suit, his signature finalizing their union. Tommy and Maria added their signatures as witnesses, making it all official.

As Dot looked up at Joel again, her heart still pounding, she realized that they had crossed a line they couldn’t step back from now. But maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to make this work.

Together.

-

The sky was painted in shades of twilight as Joel and Dot loaded the last of her belongings into the bed of Joel’s old truck. A single suitcase held all of her clothes, while a couple of boxes were filled with books, paper, and a well-worn typewriter that she had carried from place to place over the years.

Joel secured the boxes with a practiced hand, tying down the items to ensure nothing would shift on the hour-long drive to his farm.

Maria handed Dot a carefully wrapped cake, a warm smile on her face. "Here, take this with you. And there’s a casserole, too—figured you might not want to cook your first night there."

"Thank you, Maria," Dot said softly, accepting the food.

Tommy stepped forward, his grin infectious. "You two take care now, y’hear? And don’t be strangers."

Dot managed a small smile. "We’ll try not to."

Her father, Reverend Hargrove, approached, placing a gentle hand on Dot’s shoulder before leaning in to kiss her forehead. “You’ve done the right thing, Dorothy. Remember that.”

She nodded, fighting back the wave of emotions that threatened to surface. “I will, Dad.”

Joel stepped forward, offering his hand to the reverend. “Thank you, Reverend Hargrove. I’ll take care of her.”

Hargrove shook Joel’s hand firmly, his eyes carrying a mixture of gratitude and something unspoken. “I know you will, Joel.”

With everything packed, Joel opened the passenger door for Dot. She hesitated for just a moment before climbing in, and settling into the worn seat. Joel circled around to the driver’s side, sliding in behind the wheel.

As they drove out of town, the houses grew sparse, replaced by open fields that stretched endlessly into the horizon. The silence in the truck was thick, but Dot finally broke it, her voice soft.

"You’ve got quite the setup at the farm, haven’t you? My dad says you’ve got a whole team of workers."

Joel nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. "Yeah, I’ve got a few hands helping out. We grow a bit of everything—corn, wheat, some vegetables. There’s always work to be done."

Dot glanced out the window, watching the landscape blur past. "Sounds like you don’t really need me around, then, if you’ve got that many people."

Joel shook his head slightly. "They tend the fields, keep the crops goin’. But the house… it’s just me out there. Haven’t really kept up with it the way I should’ve. That’s where I could use some help."

Dot chuckled softly, more to herself than to him. "So I’m more of a housekeeper than a wife, huh?"

Joel glanced at her, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I wouldn’t put it that way. But it’s somethin’ I figured we could work out together."

The truck rumbled down the dirt road, the only sound between them the steady hum of the engine and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. Joel glanced over at Dot occasionally, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t come out awkward or forced. It was easier when they were working, but conversation was another matter.

After a few minutes of silence, Joel cleared his throat. “You ever think about comin’ back here before all this?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

Dot shook her head slightly. “Not really. I mean, I’ve visited a few times over the years, but I never thought I’d be back for good. Too many memories, I guess.”

Joel nodded, understanding more than he let on. “It’s not the easiest place to come back to. But sometimes… sometimes it’s the only place that makes sense.”

Dot turned her gaze out the window, watching the fields pass by. “Yeah, I suppose. Guess I thought I’d be somewhere else by now, doing something different.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Joel asked, genuinely curious.

Dot hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know… something more than this. I wanted to see the world, write stories, maybe even publish a book someday. But life has a funny way of getting in the way of dreams, doesn’t it?”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “Writing, huh? Never knew that about you.”

Dot gave a small, wistful smile. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Stories, poems… anything that came to mind. But it’s hard to find the time or the inspiration to actually finish anything. I guess I just kept waiting for the right moment, but it never really came.”

Joel considered her words, understanding that feeling all too well. “Farm life might not give you much in the way of excitement, but it’ll give you time. Quiet, too. Maybe that’s what you need.”

Dot looked over at him, surprised by the insight. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll have to see how it goes.”

Joel nodded, letting a comfortable silence fall between them. After a moment, he spoke again, changing the subject slightly. “Farm’s big, but it’s not as busy as it used to be. We got the crops to tend, and the workers handle most of that. It’s the house that’s a different story. Never been much good at keepin’ it in order.”

Dot chuckled softly, the tension easing just a bit. “So, I am a housekeeper after all, then?” She joked.

“No--Jesus, that's not what I meant." Joel chuckled, shaking his head. "Just think of it as… a partnership. You help with what I can’t manage alone, and I’ll do the same.”

Dot nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose that makes sense. And who knows, maybe I’ll find some of that inspiration out there after all.”

As the truck bumped along the dirt road leading to the farmhouse, the building came into view—a large, two-story structure with a wraparound porch and a few outbuildings scattered around. The place had seen better days, but it was sturdy, built to last.

Joel parked the truck near the porch and got out, moving to help Dot with her belongings. They carried everything inside, placing the boxes and suitcase in the foyer.

"This is it," Joel said, almost to himself. "Let me show you around."

The inside of the house was simple, with wooden floors and white walls. It had a lived-in feel, though it was clear Joel wasn’t much for decorating. He led Dot through the rooms on the first floor—a cozy living room with a fireplace, a dining room that looked rarely used, and a spacious kitchen that was surprisingly well-stocked.

"There’s a room down here," Joel said, opening a door to reveal a small bedroom with its own bathroom. "Figured it might come in handy if you ever have any guests in or too old to get up and down the stairs."

They both laughed a little at that. 

Upstairs, Joel showed her the four bedrooms. "This one’s yours," he said, stopping at a large room at the end of the hall. It had its own bathroom and a view of the fields stretching out behind the house.

Dot set her suitcase down near the bed, glancing around the room. "It’s lovely, Joel. Thank you."

He nodded, somewhat awkwardly, before motioning to the room across the hall. "I’m just over there, if you need anything. Right here is another guest room." He said, pointing to another door down the hall. 

Dot noticed one door at the end of the hallway that remained closed. Joel’s eyes flicked toward it for a brief second before looking away. She didn’t need to ask; she understood.

"That’s Sarah’s room," he said quietly, almost as if the words slipped out before he could stop them. "Built this house hopin’ to fill it with kids…"

He trailed off, clearing his throat and turning away. Dot, sensing his discomfort, smiled gently and placed a hand on his arm. "It’s a beautiful home, Joel. You did a wonderful job. How about we see what Maria packed for dinner?"

Joel looked at her, grateful for the change of subject. "Yeah… yeah, that sounds good."

Back downstairs, they unpacked the casserole and cake, setting the table in the kitchen. They ate in relative silence, the weight of the day hanging over them. When they did talk, it was mostly about other people—Tommy and Maria, Dot’s father, the workers on Joel’s farm. Neither seemed ready to delve deeper into their own stories just yet.

After dinner, they worked together to clean up, each movement deliberate and careful, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace that had settled between them. Dot washed the dishes, and Joel dried them, the clinking of plates and cutlery the only sound in the kitchen.

When the last dish was put away, they both paused, looking at each other with a mixture of uncertainty and something close to understanding.

"Well," Joel said, breaking the silence. "Guess we should call it a night."

Dot nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Good night, Joel."

"Good night, Dot."

They lingered for a moment longer before turning to head upstairs, each retreating into their separate rooms. As Dot closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath, feeling the enormity of the day finally settling in.

She was in a new place, with a new life ahead of her—one that she hadn’t planned for, but one she was determined to make the best of.

And somewhere across the hall, Joel was likely thinking the same thing.

–

The sun rose early on the farm, the first light of dawn spilling over the horizon and casting long shadows across the fields. Joel Miller had always been an early riser, finding solace in the quiet hours of the morning before the day’s work began. But lately, those peaceful moments were tinged with a restlessness he couldn’t quite shake.

He’d lie awake in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, his mind wandering through a landscape of memories he’d long tried to bury. Memories of Sarah, her green eyes so full of life, and of her mother, who had passed too soon, leaving him to raise their daughter alone. The pain of those losses had never really left him; it had just settled into a dull ache that flared up in the quiet moments.

And now, there was Dot.

Dot, with her gentle way of moving through his house, her soft humming as she went about her chores, her growing belly that served as a constant reminder of the new life she carried. It was hard to ignore the way she had changed things. The house that had once been silent and still now held a new energy, one that Joel hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

He found himself watching her more often than he liked to admit, noticing the little things she did—how she’d pause in the middle of a task to catch her breath, or the way she’d carefully arrange flowers in a vase, as if trying to bring a bit of beauty into a space that had known too much sorrow. Joel wasn’t sure what to make of these feelings, the way his chest tightened whenever he saw her, or the way he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave the house without checking on her first.

The days were long, filled with the endless tasks that came with running a farm, but it was the evenings he looked forward to most. He’d come in from the fields, the sun dipping low in the sky, and find Dot in the kitchen, a meal waiting on the table. They didn’t talk much at first, the silence between them thick with unspoken words, but over time, the quiet had become something comfortable, almost companionable.

Joel couldn’t deny that she had a way of making the house feel like a home again. He wasn’t sure how it had happened—how they’d gone from being two strangers thrown together by circumstance to something more. But as the days turned into weeks, he began to realize that he looked forward to those small moments of connection, those fleeting touches, and shared glances that hinted at something deeper.

-

It had been a few weeks since Joel and Dot had settled into their new routine on the farm, but something felt different this morning. As they prepared to head into town for Dot’s check-up, Joel noticed the way she seemed more withdrawn than usual. She moved through the house with an absentminded air, her hand frequently resting on her growing bump, gently caressing it as if to soothe the child within. Joel couldn’t help but think it was just the pregnancy making her moody and uncomfortable, the summer heat weighing on her like it did on everyone else.

“Ready, darlin’?” Joel asked as he opened the truck door for her, his tone gentle. Dot nodded, but there was a distant look in her eyes that made him pause. She climbed into the truck, her movements slow and careful, and Joel couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more on her mind.

They drove in silence for a while, the only sound the rumble of the engine and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. Joel glanced over at Dot from time to time, noticing the way she kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead, her hand never leaving her belly. He figured she was just tired, the weight of the baby and the strain of the heat getting to her. But as they got closer to town, the tension in the air seemed to thicken, and Joel knew something was off.

When they arrived at the doctor’s office, a hush fell over the waiting area as they stepped inside. Joel moved to Dot’s side, taking her small hand in his, their fingers interlocking as they walked to their seats. Joel noticed the curious glances from the other patients, the way conversations dropped to a murmur as they sat down. Dot’s grip on his hand tightened slightly, her fingers trembling against his skin. Joel gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, offering silent support.

The doctor called them in after a few minutes, and they followed him into the small examination room. The check-up was routine, the doctor’s hands gentle as he examined Dot’s belly and listened to the baby’s heartbeat. “You’re about five months along now,” the doctor said with a reassuring smile. “Everything looks good. You and the baby are both healthy.”

Dot nodded, a small smile of relief crossing her face, but Joel could tell she was still troubled. As the doctor finished up, Joel opened the door for her, and they stepped back into the waiting area. Dot barely gave Joel a chance to catch up before she hurried toward the exit, practically dragging him behind her. Her hand cradled her bump protectively, her steps hurried and anxious.

“Dot, what’s wrong?” Joel asked as they stepped outside, the door closing behind them with a soft thud.

Dot didn’t answer at first, her eyes darting around as if she were searching for an escape. Finally, she stopped, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she turned to face him. “It’s the way they look at us,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “The way they’re already gossiping, speculating about us… about this baby. They’re judging, Joel. They’re thinking… all sorts of things.”

Joel’s expression softened as he stepped closer, his hand finding her shoulder in a comforting grip. “Darlin’, this town’s been talkin’ since the day it was built. Let ‘em talk. Ain’t nobody’s business but ours.”

Dot’s hand instinctively moved to her belly, caressing it in slow, soothing circles. “But it’s not just that… It’s the way they look at us, like they know everything about us. I hate it.”

Joel gently cupped her cheek, tilting her face up so she had to look at him. “They don’t know anything, darlin’. All they got is gossip, and that doesn’t change a thing between us. This baby is ours, and we’re gonna raise it together, no matter what they think.”

Dot searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, but all she saw was the quiet determination that had drawn her to him in the first place. She nodded slowly, her fears beginning to ease in the face of his steady reassurance.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Okay, Joel. I’ll try.”

He gave her a small, comforting smile, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down her cheek. “That’s my girl.”

They stood there for a moment, the weight of their conversation settling between them, before Joel glanced at the truck, then back at Dot. “You ever learn how to drive?”

Dot blinked, surprised by the sudden change in topic. “Not really,” she admitted. “My dad tried to teach me, but I never got the hang of it.”

Joel nodded, his smile widening just a bit. “Well, I reckon it’s time you learned. Come on, let’s get in the truck.”

Joel led Dot back to the truck, the tension from their earlier conversation slowly dissipating as they moved into the next task at hand. He opened the driver’s side door and gestured for her to get in, his smile widening as she hesitated.

“Come on, darlin’. You can’t learn if you don’t get behind the wheel,” Joel encouraged, his tone light, trying to ease her nerves.

Dot glanced at the truck, then back at Joel, a mixture of apprehension and determination in her eyes. “Alright,” she said, more to herself than to him, and she climbed into the driver’s seat, her hand instinctively resting on her bump as she adjusted herself in the seat.

Joel circled around to the passenger side and got in, closing the door with a reassuring thud. He looked over at Dot, who was gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“Relax, Dot. You’re not gonna break it,” he said, his voice gentle as he reached over to adjust her hands on the wheel. “Just take it easy, and listen to what I say.”

Dot nodded, exhaling a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Okay. I can do this.”

Joel pointed to the key in the ignition. “Go ahead and start her up.”

The engine roared to life, and Dot jumped slightly at the sound. Joel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re doin’ fine. Now, put your foot on the brake, and shift into drive.”

Dot followed his instructions, her movements cautious but deliberate. The truck rolled forward, and she felt a small surge of confidence as she navigated the empty stretch of road. Joel kept his eyes on the road ahead, but every now and then, he’d glance at her, noting the determined set of her jaw, the way she bit her lip in concentration.

“Now, ease off the brake and give it a little gas,” Joel instructed. “Not too much, just enough to get us moving.”

The truck picked up speed, and Dot’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “It feels… different,” she admitted her voice a mix of nerves and excitement. “I’ve never driven something this big before.”

Joel smiled, his voice filled with quiet pride. “You’re doin’ good, Dot. Just keep it steady.”

They drove for a while in companionable silence, the countryside rolling by in a blur of green and gold. Joel guided her through the basics, his instructions clear and patient. As they drove, Dot’s tension began to ease, and she found herself relaxing into the rhythm of the drive.

“You’re a natural,” Joel said, breaking the silence. “Once you get the hang of it, you’ll be able to drive anywhere.”

Dot glanced over at him, a shy smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, Joel. I never thought I’d be learning to drive out here… like this.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Figured it was about time. Besides, it’s a useful skill to have, especially out here. You never know when you’ll need to get somewhere in a hurry.”

Dot nodded, understanding the practicality of his words. But there was something more to this moment, something that felt like progress. She was doing something she never thought she’d be able to do, and Joel was right there beside her, guiding her, encouraging her.

As they neared the farm, Joel directed her to a quieter path that led around the back of the property. The road was narrower here, flanked by trees that cast dappled shadows across the ground. It felt like a different world, a peaceful escape from the worries that had weighed on her earlier.

“Let’s take it slow here,” Joel advised, his tone easy. “This part’s a bit trickier, but you’ve got it.”

Dot navigated the winding path with careful precision, her confidence growing with each turn. The truck bumped along the dirt road, and she couldn’t help but smile at the feeling of accomplishment that welled up inside her.

When they finally pulled back up to the farmhouse, Dot turned off the engine and sat back in the seat, letting out a breath of relief. Joel watched her, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You did good, darlin’,” he said, his voice full of pride. “You’re a quick learner.”

Dot’s cheeks flushed with a mixture of pride and bashfulness. “Thanks, it was a little scary though...”

Joel nodded, the moment of connection between them settling into something comfortable, something real. “Anytime, darlin’.” He whispered and leaned in hesitantly until there was only a breadth of distance between them. Joel contemplated giving her a peck on the lips, but instead, he brushed his lips on her forehead. 

“You did well.” 

They lingered in the truck for a moment longer, the weight of their earlier worries forgotten in the wake of this small victory. They shared a brief laughter of relief… It was a simple thing, learning to drive, but it felt like a step forward, a sign that they were finding their way through this new life together.

Finally, Joel opened the door and stepped out, offering Dot a hand as she carefully climbed down from the truck. “Let’s get inside. I reckon we’ve earned ourselves a break.”

Dot smiled, taking his hand as they walked toward the house, the warmth of the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the yard. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—a moment of progress, a sign that they were building something that just might last.

-

After their driving lesson, Dot and Joel fell into a routine that began to feel almost natural. The farm was vast, and the work was endless, but they found comfort in the rhythm of their days. Mornings were quiet, the only sounds the soft clucking of chickens and the distant lowing of cattle as the sun rose over the horizon. Joel was always up first, slipping out of bed before dawn to tend to the animals and check the fields. He’d return to the house as the first light of day filtered through the kitchen windows, finding Dot already awake, her hands busy with some small task.

Dot had taken to waking early as well, her body adjusting to the demands of farm life. She’d start the day by tidying up the kitchen, her hands moving in gentle, deliberate motions as she wiped down the counters and set the table for breakfast. Her belly was growing larger with each passing week, and she found herself moving more slowly, her hand often resting on her bump as she worked.

One morning, as Joel entered the kitchen, he found Dot standing at the stove, carefully stirring a pot of oatmeal. The smell of cinnamon filled the air, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, so focused on the task at hand.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Joel greeted her, his voice soft as he crossed the room to stand beside her.

Dot looked up, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Morning, Joel. Breakfast is almost ready.”

He nodded, reaching out to take the spoon from her hand. “Let me finish that up. You should sit down and rest.”

Dot hesitated, her hand instinctively moving to her belly as she glanced at the pot. “I’m fine, Joel. I can manage.”

Joel shook his head, his expression gentle but firm. “I know you can, but you don’t have to do it all yourself. Go on, sit down. I’ll bring it over.”

Dot finally relented, taking a seat at the table and watching as Joel finished preparing breakfast. It was a simple meal, but it felt like a shared effort, something they had both contributed to. As Joel brought the bowls to the table and set one in front of her, Dot couldn’t help but feel a warmth in her chest, a sense of belonging that she hadn’t expected.

They ate in comfortable silence, the early morning light casting a golden glow across the kitchen. Dot found herself glancing at Joel now and then, noticing the way he moved with an ease that came from years of hard work. He was a man of few words, but she had come to appreciate the way he showed his care through actions rather than speech.

After breakfast, Joel rose from the table and grabbed his hat from the hook by the door. “I’ll be out in the fields if you need me,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Dot nodded, her hand resting on her bump as she watched him go. “I might come out later, see if there’s anything I can help with.”

Joel paused, his hand on the door handle as he turned back to her. “You’re always welcome, Dot. Just don’t overdo it, alright?”

A small smile crossed her face, and she nodded again. “I won’t.”

As Joel left the house, Dot finished tidying up the kitchen, her thoughts lingering on the man who had just walked out the door. There was something comforting about the routine they had settled into, something that made her feel less alone in the world. It wasn’t what she had expected when she had agreed to this arrangement, but it was beginning to feel like something she could build on.

Later that morning, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, Dot decided to join Joel in the fields. The air was warm, and the sky was a clear, endless blue as she made her way out to where he was working. Joel was by the fence, mending a section that had come loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he worked.

Dot approached slowly, her hand resting on her belly as she took in the sight of him. He looked up as she neared, his expression softening as he saw her.

“Didn’t expect you out here so soon,” Joel said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

Dot smiled, her hand still resting on her bump. “Thought I’d see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Joel straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “There’s always somethin’ to do, but I don’t want you pushin’ yourself too hard.”

“I’m not made of glass, Joel,” Dot replied, a touch of humor in her voice. “Besides, I need to keep busy. Sitting around all day isn’t good for me.”

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at her. “Alright, darlin’. How about you hand me those nails over there?”

Dot nodded and moved to retrieve the small box of nails from where they sat on a nearby post. As she handed them to him, their fingers brushed briefly, and she felt a small jolt of electricity at the contact. It was a fleeting moment, but it left her feeling oddly warm inside.

They worked together in companionable silence, with Joel giving her small tasks that wouldn’t tire her out. As they fell into a rhythm, Dot found herself enjoying the work, the sense of purpose it gave her. She asked questions about the farm, about the crops and the animals, and Joel answered them with a patience that surprised her.

“You’ve been doing this for a long time,” Dot remarked as she watched Joel hammer a nail into place. “I can tell by the way you move, like you’re part of the land.”

Joel paused, glancing over at her with a thoughtful expression. “Guess you could say that. This farm’s been in my family for generations. It’s in my blood, I suppose.”

Dot nodded, her hand absently caressing her belly as she considered his words. “Must be nice, having that kind of connection to something.”

“It is,” Joel agreed, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. “But it’s hard work too. Takes a lot to keep it goin’. Can’t do it alone.”

There was a weight to his words that Dot didn’t miss, and she looked at him with a newfound understanding. “You’re not alone, Joel,” she said softly. “I’m here now. I want to help.”

Joel looked at her, his brown eyes searching her face as if trying to gauge the sincerity of her words. After a moment, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I appreciate that, Dot.”

They continued working, the conversation flowing easily between them. It was as if the barriers that had once stood between them were slowly crumbling, replaced by a growing sense of trust and partnership. Joel found himself enjoying these moments with her, the quiet camaraderie that had begun to take root.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the fields, Joel suggested they head back to the house. Dot agreed, her body feeling the fatigue that came with a day spent in the sun. They walked back together, their pace slow and unhurried, with Dot’s hand resting on her bump as they talked about the day’s work.

When they reached the porch, Joel held the door open for her, and they stepped inside. The house was cool and dim, a welcome respite from the heat outside. Dot made her way to the kitchen, intending to start dinner, but Joel stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

“Why don’t you sit down for a bit, darlin’? I’ll take care of dinner tonight.”

Dot looked up at him, surprised. “Are you sure? I don’t mind cooking.”

Joel nodded, his expression firm. “I’m sure. You’ve done enough today. Let me handle this.”

Dot hesitated for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “Alright, but I’ll be your assistant if you need one.”

Joel chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dot settled into a chair at the table, watching as Joel moved around the kitchen with a practiced ease. It was clear that he knew his way around a stove, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for him. He was a man who took care of what needed to be done, no matter how big or small the task.

As Joel worked, he glanced over at Dot now and then, noting the way she seemed more relaxed, more at ease. He found himself wanting to make her feel comfortable, to take some of the burden off her shoulders. It was a new feeling for him, this desire to care for someone else, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Joel,” Dot said after a few minutes of quiet, her voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Do you ever think about… what it’ll be like when the baby’s here?”

Joel paused in his work, his back to her as he considered her question. “I think about it, yeah,” he admitted, his voice steady. “A lot, actually.”

Dot looked down at her hands, which were resting on her belly, gently caressing the growing bump. “It’s hard to imagine sometimes. Everything’s going to change.”

Joel turned to face her, leaning against the counter as he met her gaze. “It will, but change isn’t always a bad thing. And darlin’, a child… our child… that’s a good change. It’s a challenge, sure. Caring for a newborn is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. There’ll be sleepless nights, lots of crying, and plenty of moments when you’ll wonder if you’re doing it all wrong.”

As he spoke, Joel crossed the room and knelt down beside her, his presence warm and comforting. He reached out and gently placed his hand on top of hers, which was resting on her bump. The touch was tender, reassuring, and Dot felt a shiver of surprise at the intimacy of the gesture. But as Joel’s hand began to caress her belly, she found herself welcoming it, loving the feeling of his large, warm hands on her skin, grounding her in the moment.

“But,” Joel continued, his voice softening as he looked up at her, “it’s also one of the most beautiful things you’ll ever experience. You’ll discover a kind of love you didn’t even know your heart was capable of. It’s a love that grows with every smile, every tiny hand that grips your finger, every moment you hold our baby close and feel them breathe.”

Dot’s eyes softened, but there was a hint of sadness that lingered in them, a shadow that Joel could see all too clearly. She looked down at their joined hands, gently caressing her belly together. “I’m scared, Joel,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared I won’t be enough. That I’ll let this baby down.”

Joel’s heart ached at her words, and he squeezed her hand gently, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “You won’t, darlin’. You’ve got a heart bigger than you know. You’re gonna be a great mother, and our baby… our baby’s lucky to have you.”

Dot looked at him, her eyes searching his for reassurance. “You really think so?”

Joel nodded, his voice steady and comforting. “I know so. And you’re not alone in this, darlin’. We’re in it together, every step of the way.”

She offered him a small, grateful smile, though the sadness in her eyes remained, a reminder of the losses she had endured, the dreams that had been left behind.

Sensing her need for something lighter, Joel cleared his throat and let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “You know,” he began, a hint of playfulness in his tone, “there are other changes about having a baby too. Like the first time you realize that diapers don’t just get dirty—they get downright explosive.”

Dot’s eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a small, unexpected laugh. “Explosive?”

“Oh yeah,” Joel replied, chuckling along with her. “You’ll be amazed at what a little baby can do. One minute, you’re holding this sweet, peaceful bundle of joy, and the next… well, let’s just say you’ll never look at mustard the same way again.”

Dot’s laughter grew, the sound light and genuine, easing some of the tension that had been building inside her. Joel grinned, pleased to see her smiling, and continued with his lighthearted tales.

“And then there’s the time when they start talking,” Joel said, still kneeling beside her, his hands resting warmly on her belly. “You think you’re ready for it, but when that first word comes out, it’ll knock the wind right out of you. And don’t get me started on when they start walking. You’ll be chasing them all over the place, and you’ll swear they’ve got rocket fuel in those little legs.”

Dot was laughing now, her earlier sadness momentarily forgotten as she listened to Joel’s stories. There was a warmth between them, something that felt like the beginnings of a new chapter, one filled with hope and possibility.

“And then, of course, there’s the first time they spit up on you right after you’ve finally gotten them to sleep,” Joel added with a mock grimace. “You’ll think it’s the worst thing in the world, but looking back, you’ll laugh about it.”

Dot shook her head, still smiling as she wiped a tear from her eye. “It sounds like it’s going to be a wild ride.”

“It will be,” Joel agreed, his voice softening as he looked at her. “But it’s worth every second. And when you hold our baby in your arms for the first time… well, that’s a feeling you’ll never forget.”

Dot’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of wistfulness as she gazed at him. “You must miss it… being a father.”

Joel’s expression grew somber for a moment, the memories of Sarah flickering behind his eyes. He cleared his throat, pushing the sadness aside as he forced a smile. “I do,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “But I’m grateful for the time I had with her. And I’m looking forward to what’s ahead.”

Dot nodded, her heart heavy with empathy for the man kneeling beside her. She could see the strength in him, the resilience that had carried him through so much loss. And in that moment, she felt a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in her life, for the way he had taken her in and given her a place to belong.

Joel reached out and gently squeezed her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “We’re gonna make this work, darlin’. You and me, and our baby. We’re gonna be just fine.”

Dot squeezed his hand back, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thank you, Joel. For everything.”

They stood there for a moment, the silence between them filled with unspoken understanding. It wasn’t just about the baby anymore—it was about the life they were starting to build together, the partnership that was slowly taking shape.

Finally, Joel cleared his throat and stood up, breaking the moment with a lighthearted grin. “Now, how about I finish this dinner before we burn the house down?”

Dot laughed, the sound a welcome release from the emotions that had been swirling inside her. “I think that’s a good idea.”

They spent the rest of the evening in a comfortable rhythm, moving around the kitchen together as they prepared and shared their meal. The conversation was light, filled with stories and laughter, and it felt like a small victory, a sign that they were finding their way through the challenges and toward something stronger.

As they cleaned up after dinner, Dot handed Joel a dish just as he reached for it, their movements synchronized in a way that spoke of growing familiarity. It was a small thing, but it felt significant—a sign that they were beginning to understand each other in ways that went beyond words.

When the dishes were done, they lingered in the kitchen for a moment, the warmth of the evening wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. Dot felt a sense of peace, a quiet contentment that she hadn’t felt in a long time. And as she looked at Joel, she realized that this, whatever it was they were building together, was worth holding on to.

“Goodnight, Joel,” she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” Joel replied, his smile gentle as he watched her head toward the stairs that led to their rooms. “Sleep well.”

Dot gave him one last smile before heading up the stairs, leaving Joel standing in the quiet of the kitchen, his thoughts lingering on the woman who had come into his life and changed it in ways he hadn’t expected. He knew there were challenges ahead, but for the first time in a long time, he felt ready to face them.

–

The days had grown shorter, the crispness of fall settling over the farm as October gave way to November. Dot found herself adjusting more to life on the farm, her routines becoming familiar, comforting even. But with the baby’s due date approaching, Joel had become more insistent that she take it easy.

One morning, as the sun filtered through the kitchen windows, Dot entered the living room to find Joel standing beside a large oak desk that hadn’t been there the night before. Her books were stacked neatly on a newly installed shelf, the typewriter Joel had seen her use once or twice placed prominently on the desk. He turned to her with a small, proud smile, clearly pleased with his work.

“Morning, darlin’,” Joel greeted her, a warmth in his voice that made Dot’s heart flutter. “Thought it was about time you had a proper space for your writing.”

Dot’s eyes widened as she took in the setup, her hand instinctively resting on her bump. “Joel, this is… you did all this?”

He nodded, wiping his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder. “Made the desk myself. Thought you’d appreciate somethin’ sturdy. And I know you’ve been itchin’ to get back to your writing, so I figured now’s as good a time as any.”

Dot walked over to the desk, running her fingers over the smooth surface. The wood was polished to a rich sheen, the craftsmanship solid and precise. She couldn’t help but smile, touched by the effort Joel had put into creating this space for her.

“It’s beautiful, Joel,” she said softly, looking up at him. “Thank you.”

Joel’s smile widened, and he reached out to gently touch her arm. “You’re welcome, darlin’. I just want you to take it easy. You’ve been workin’ hard around here, and I thought maybe it’s time you did somethin’ for yourself. Read a bit, write if you feel like it.”

Dot felt a warmth spread through her chest, a mixture of gratitude and something else, something that made her heart race a little faster when Joel was near. She had noticed it more and more lately—the way her eyes would linger on him when he worked around the farm, the way her pulse quickened whenever he smiled at her. Joel was older, yes, but he was strong, his body still fit and toned from years of hard work. And despite the gruff exterior, there was a kindness in him, a gentleness that drew her in.

As she sat down at the desk, Dot looked up at Joel, her gaze lingering on the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” she said, her voice soft.

“I wanted to,” Joel replied simply, his eyes meeting hers. “You’ve brought a lot of life back into this house, Dot. Just tryin’ to return the favor.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow warmer, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Dot felt her cheeks flush, and she quickly looked down at the typewriter, her fingers brushing over the keys.

“I’ll try to get back to writing,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “It’s been a while, but I miss it.”

Joel nodded, his hand resting on the back of her chair. “No rush, darlin’. Just take your time. The desk’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

Dot smiled up at him, her heart swelling with affection. “Thank you, Joel. Really.”

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping back, a quiet, thoughtful look in his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

As the days passed, Dot found herself spending more time in her new office space, occasionally writing but mostly just enjoying the comfort of the room Joel had created for her. It felt like a small sanctuary, a place where she could relax and let her mind wander. But as her belly grew, so did the aches and pains that came with carrying a child. Joel noticed it too, the way she winced when she stood up too quickly or how she shifted in her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position.

One evening, after dinner, Joel found Dot in the living room, her hand pressed to the small of her back as she stretched, trying to relieve the tension that had settled there. He watched her for a moment, concern etched in his features, before stepping forward.

“Back botherin’ you again?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Dot nodded, sighing softly as she tried to ease the pain. “Yeah, it’s been aching all day. I can’t seem to get comfortable no matter what I do.”

Without a word, Joel moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently guiding her to sit down on the edge of the couch. Dot looked up at him in surprise, but he just offered her a small, reassuring smile.

“Let me see if I can help,” he said, his voice low and soothing.

Dot hesitated for a moment, then nodded, letting herself relax as Joel’s hands moved to her back. His touch was firm but careful, his fingers kneading the muscles that had tightened from carrying the weight of the baby. Dot closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her lips as the tension began to melt away under his skilled hands.

“That feel better?” Joel asked, his voice close to her ear.

Dot nodded, her eyes still closed. “Much better. Thank you, Joel.”

“Anytime, darlin’,” he replied, his voice warm.

As Joel continued to massage her back, Dot couldn’t help but notice how close they were, how his breath tickled the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She felt her heart begin to race again, a flutter of nervous excitement in her chest. When had she started to feel this way about him? And did he feel the same?

Joel’s hands moved lower, working out the knots that had formed along her spine, and Dot bit her lip to keep from letting out a contented sigh. She didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want to lose the warmth of his touch. But as his hands stilled, she felt a pang of disappointment.

“All done,” Joel said softly, his hands resting gently on her lower back.

Dot opened her eyes, feeling a flush of warmth in her cheeks as she turned to look at him. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice catching slightly.

Joel’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, close enough to feel each other’s breath. Dot’s gaze flickered to his lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel that closeness she had been craving. But before she could act on the impulse, Joel pulled back slightly, clearing his throat as he stepped away.

“Glad I could help,” he said, his voice a little rough.

Dot smiled, trying to shake off the lingering tension. “You did. I feel much better.”

Joel nodded, the warmth in his eyes still there, but tempered by something else, something cautious. “You should get some rest, darlin’. It’s been a long day.”

Dot nodded, standing up slowly, her hand resting on her bump. “I will. Goodnight, Joel.”

“Goodnight, darlin’,” Joel replied, his voice soft as he watched her head toward the stairs.

As Dot climbed the stairs to her room, she couldn’t help but wonder if Joel had felt the same pull she had, that magnetic attraction that had been growing between them. And as she lay in bed that night, her thoughts were filled with the memory of his touch, the way his hands had felt on her back, so warm and strong. She didn’t know where this was leading, but she knew one thing for certain—she was no longer afraid of it.

-

The next few days passed in a blur of routine and quiet moments, but the tension between Joel and Dot continued to build. It was in the way their hands brushed when they passed each other a tool, the way Joel’s gaze lingered on her a little too long when he thought she wasn’t looking. And Dot, for her part, found herself stealing glances at him whenever she could, admiring the way his muscles moved under his shirt as he worked, the strength and solidity of him.

One afternoon, as the sun was beginning to set, Joel found Dot sitting on the porch, her feet propped up on the railing as she watched the colors of the sky shift from blue to pink to orange. He approached quietly, his hands in his pockets, and sat down beside her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dot said softly, not taking her eyes off the horizon.

“Sure is,” Joel agreed, though his gaze was fixed on her. “How’re you feelin’, darlin’?”

Dot turned to him, her heart fluttering at the concern in his eyes. “I’m alright. Tired, but alright.”

Joel nodded, his hand reaching out to rest on hers. “You’ve been doin’ a lot. You should take it easy.”

Dot looked down at their joined hands, her heart skipping a beat. “I know. I just… I don’t like sitting still for too long.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “I can tell. But you need to rest up, especially with our baby coming soon. You’ve been workin’ hard, and I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

Dot smiled at his concern, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I promise I’ll try to take it easy. It’s just… I like being busy. It helps keep my mind off things.”

Joel’s gaze softened, and he shifted closer to her, their shoulders almost touching. “I get that, darlin’. But you don’t have to carry everything on your own. I’m here, remember?”

Dot looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat at the closeness of his face, the sincerity in his eyes. “I know, Joel. And I’m grateful for that. More than you know.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Dot’s heart raced as she looked at him, her thoughts a jumble of emotions she wasn’t sure how to express. She knew she was attracted to him, drawn to his strength, his kindness, the way he made her feel safe and cared for. But there was more to it than that—something deeper, something that scared and excited her in equal measure.

Joel’s hand tightened slightly on hers, and she saw the same uncertainty in his eyes, the same hesitance. But then, as if some unspoken agreement passed between them, he leaned in, closing the small distance between them.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, as if they were both testing the waters. Dot’s heart pounded in her chest, her lips tingling with the warmth of his. She felt a rush of emotions—relief, excitement, and something that felt a lot like hope. She let herself lean into the kiss, her free hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

Joel responded by deepening the kiss, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over her skin. There was a tenderness in his touch, a carefulness that made her feel cherished, wanted. Dot sighed softly against his lips, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she let herself get lost in the moment.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to steady their racing hearts. Joel’s hand remained on her cheek, his thumb still caressing her skin, as if he couldn’t bear to break the contact.

“Dot…” Joel began, his voice husky, full of emotion he couldn’t quite put into words.

Dot opened her eyes, looking up at him with a mixture of affection and longing. “Joel, I…”

He smiled softly, his thumb brushing over her lips, silencing her. “You don’t have to say anything, darlin’. I just… I wanted you to know how I feel. How much you mean to me.”

Dot felt a tear slip down her cheek, but it wasn’t one of sadness—it was one of relief, of joy at knowing that the feelings she had been wrestling with were shared. “I care about you too, Joel. More than I ever thought I could.”

Joel’s smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss her again, this time with more confidence, more certainty. The kiss was sweeter, filled with the promise of something new, something neither of them had expected but both of them wanted.

As the kiss deepened, Dot felt a warmth spread through her, pooling in her belly and radiating out to every part of her body. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted this, needed this, until now. She let herself sink into the sensation, into the safety of Joel’s arms, feeling a sense of rightness that had been missing for so long.

When they finally pulled apart again, Joel rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming in soft, warm puffs against her skin. “Dot, I don’t want to rush you, but… I want you to know that I’m here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Dot smiled, her heart full as she looked into his eyes. “I know, Joel. And I’m not going anywhere either.”

They sat there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the world outside the porch fading away. It was just them, and it felt like the beginning of something they both needed.

“Maybe we should head inside,” Joel suggested softly, his hand still cradling her cheek.

Dot nodded, her breath catching as she saw the unspoken question in his eyes. She knew what he was asking, what he was hoping for, and she found herself wanting it too, more than anything.

Joel stood up first, offering her his hand, and she took it without hesitation, letting him pull her to her feet. They walked into the house together, the warmth of the living room wrapping around them as they crossed the threshold.

Joel hesitated for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, glancing at her as if to make sure she was still with him. Dot smiled reassuringly, squeezing his hand, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

They climbed the stairs slowly, the anticipation building with each step, until they reached the landing where their bedrooms were. Joel paused outside her door, his hand still holding hers as he turned to face her.

“Dot… are you sure?” he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

Dot nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m sure, Joel.”

That was all he needed to hear. Joel opened the door to her room and led her inside, closing it softly behind them. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn, casting a warm, intimate glow over the space. Joel turned to her, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and desire, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat.

He stepped closer, his hands coming up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing gently over her cheeks. “I want this to be right for you, darlin’. I want you to feel safe, loved.”

Dot smiled, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I do, Joel. I’ve never felt safer.”

With that, Joel leaned in and kissed her again, his lips warm and inviting. This time, the kiss was more urgent, more passionate, and Dot found herself responding with equal fervor. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him against her.

Joel’s hands moved down her sides, gently caressing every curve of her body, lingering over the gentle swell of her belly. Dot shivered under his touch, a mixture of anticipation and desire coursing through her. The tension that had been building between them for weeks was finally coming to a head, and she could feel the heat rising between them.

Joel leaned in, pressing soft kisses along her neck, his breath warm against her skin. As his lips moved lower, he began to undo the buttons of her dress, taking his time with each one, revealing more of her skin with every soft press of his lips. Dot’s breath hitched as he bared her shoulders, the cool air contrasting with the warmth of his touch. She reached up, running her fingers through his hair, encouraging him to continue.

As her dress fell to the floor, Joel’s hands traced the curve of her belly, his touch reverent, as if he were worshiping the life growing inside her. He dropped to his knees, his lips following the path his hands had taken, pressing gentle kisses to the swell of her abdomen. Dot’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him, the sight of him on his knees before her, his hands and lips so tender, filling her with a deep, overwhelming emotion.

Joel looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re so beautiful, Dot,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Dot’s heart fluttered at his words, and she tugged at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against hers. Joel stood, quickly shedding his clothes, his eyes never leaving hers. As he stepped out of his breeches, his cock sprang free, thick and ready, and Dot felt a rush of heat flood her body at the sight of him.

Joel reached for her again, his hands sliding down her back to undo the last fastenings of her undergarments, letting them drop to the floor. He pulled her close, his hands running up and down her back, feeling the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body against his. Dot leaned into him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she felt his hardness against her belly.

He guided her gently to the bed, laying her down on the soft sheets, his eyes drinking in the sight of her laid out before him. Dot’s heart raced as she watched him, her anticipation building with every second. Joel knelt beside her, his hands running along her thighs, gently spreading her legs as he settled between them. His eyes were fixed on hers as he leaned down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin just above her knee, kissing a slow path up her thigh.

Dot gasped as his lips moved higher, his breath warm against her skin, sending shivers of pleasure through her. When he finally reached the apex of her thighs, he paused, his hands gently holding her hips as he looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire.

“Joel…” Dot whispered, her voice trembling with need.

“I got you, darlin’.” 

Without another word, Joel lowered his head between her thighs, his tongue slipping between her folds, finding the sensitive bud at her center. Dot cried out, her hips jerking at the sudden surge of pleasure, but Joel held her steady, his hands firm on her hips as he continued his ministrations. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, exploring her with a skill and tenderness that left her breathless.

Dot’s hands clenched the sheets as her big belly wouldn’t let her hold on to the thick of Joel’s salt & pepper hair, her back arching as the pleasure built inside her, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Joel’s mouth was relentless, his tongue working her with a steady rhythm that drove her closer and closer to the edge. And when he added his fingers, sliding them inside her with a gentle but insistent pressure, pressing on her back wall over and over again, Dot’s control shattered. She came with a cry, her body shaking with the intensity of it, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Joel didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his mouth and fingers working her through her climax, until she was left panting and spent, her body melting into the bed. When he finally lifted his head, his lips glistening with her arousal, Dot could only look at him in dazed wonder, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Joel… that was…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I know… so good, darlin’... you taste so good.”

He smiled at her, a satisfied, almost smug look in his eyes as he moved up her body, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Dot moaned into his mouth, tasting herself on his lips, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel all of him against her.

As Joel positioned himself between her legs, he paused, his hand resting on her belly, his eyes searching hers. “Are you okay, darlin’? Is this okay?”

Dot nodded, her hand covering his on her belly. “Yes, Joel. I need you. Please.”

With a groan of desire, Joel pushed into her, filling her slowly, letting her adjust to the size of him. Dot gasped at the sensation, the fullness, the heat of him inside her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. Joel’s grip on her hips tightened as he began to move, his strokes slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers.

Dot’s breath hitched as he filled her again and again, her body responding to his with a need she hadn’t realized she had. The weight of him, the strength in his arms as he held her close, the way his hips moved against hers—it was all too much, and yet not enough. She needed more, needed him to take her higher, to push her over the edge again.

“Joel… please,” she begged, her voice trembling with need.

Joel’s eyes darkened with desire, and he shifted, pulling her hips up slightly so he could go deeper, his movements becoming more urgent, more insistent. Dot cried out, her hands gripping his shoulders as she felt herself being pushed closer and closer to the edge.

When she came again, it was with a cry of his name, her body tightening around him, pulling him deeper as she shattered beneath him. Joel groaned, his hips bucking as he found his own release, his cock pulsing inside her as he spilled into her, his hands holding her hips in a bruising grip.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies still joined, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Joel’s hand moved to her belly again, caressing the curve of it, his eyes filled with a tender, almost possessive emotion.

“Our baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

She smiled up at him, her hand coming to rest over his on her belly. “I love you, Joel.”

“I love you too, darlin’,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “More than I ever thought possible.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling back slightly, his eyes still fixed on hers. “You’re everything to me, Dot. Everything.”

Dot’s heart swelled with love for the man above her, the man who had become her partner, her lover, the father of her child. No questions asked. As they lay together, their bodies still entwined, she knew that this was where she belonged, with Joel, with their baby, in this home they had built together.

They fell asleep like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten for a little while. 

- 

The weeks that followed their first night together were some of the happiest Dot had ever known. The intimacy they had discovered that night became a regular part of their lives, a natural extension of the deepening bond between them. Joel was attentive, always careful with her, mindful of her growing belly and the changes her body was going through as her pregnancy progressed.

They quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm, their days filled with the familiar routines of farm life, and their nights spent wrapped up in each other. The physical connection they had discovered only grew stronger, and it wasn’t long before they found themselves stealing moments together whenever they could—whether it was a slow morning in bed, a quick encounter in the barn, or a quiet evening in the living room after dinner.

One lazy Sunday morning, Dot woke to the feel of Joel’s hand resting on her belly, his thumb gently brushing over the swell of it. She smiled, still half-asleep, and snuggled closer to him, her back pressing against his chest.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Joel murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he nuzzled the back of her neck.

“Morning,” Dot replied, her voice soft and content.

They had started sharing a bed shortly after their first time together, the master bedroom becoming their shared sanctuary. It was a decision that had felt natural, as if it was always meant to be this way. Joel had taken to sleeping with his hand on her belly, his touch a constant reassurance that he was there, that they were in this together.

Dot turned in his arms, facing him, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Sleep well?”

Joel grinned, his hand sliding down to rest on her hip. “Always do when I’m with you.”

Their kisses deepened, a slow burn igniting between them as their bodies pressed closer together. Despite the growing weight of her pregnancy, Dot found herself craving Joel more and more, and he was always eager to oblige. He was careful, always mindful of her condition, but there was no mistaking the hunger in his touch, the desire that flared between them whenever they were close.

They made love slowly, lazily, taking their time to savor each other, the morning light filtering through the curtains and casting a warm glow over their entwined bodies. Joel was gentle, his hands and lips worshiping her, his every movement careful and deliberate. Dot arched into him, her breath hitching as he filled her, the familiar sensation sending a shiver of pleasure through her.

“Joel…” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

He responded with a low groan, his hands gripping her hips as he rocked into her, his gaze never leaving hers. Dot felt the tension building inside her, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, sending her tumbling over the edge. She cried out his name, her hands clutching at his shoulders as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Joel followed soon after, his own release crashing through him as he buried his face in her neck, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. They stayed like that for a long moment, their bodies still joined, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

Finally, Joel pulled back slightly, his hand gently caressing her belly as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You okay, darlin’?”

Dot smiled up at him, her heart swelling with love for the man above her. “I’m perfect,” she whispered, her voice filled with contentment.

They spent the rest of the morning in bed, talking quietly, sharing soft kisses, and basking in the warmth of each other’s presence. It was a morning like so many others they had shared since they had decided to fully commit to each other, a morning that felt like the calm before the storm.

It was later that afternoon when the storm finally hit.

Joel was outside, repairing a fence near the barn, when he noticed the familiar truck of his father-in-law, Reverend Hargrove pulling up the long gravel driveway. Straightening up, Joel wiped the sweat from his brow and set his tools aside, watching as the reverend stepped out of the truck, holding something in his hand. There was a certain tension in the older man’s posture that immediately put Joel on edge.

“Afternoon, Reverend,” Joel greeted as he approached, his tone polite but guarded.

“Afternoon, Joel,” the reverend replied, offering a tight smile. He hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the house. “Is Dot around? I’ve got something here for her.”

Joel frowned slightly but nodded. “She’s inside. You wanna come in? Have a cup of coffee with us?”

The reverend shook his head, a look of regret passing over his face. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to take a rain check. I just wanted to drop this off. I’ll see you both this weekend for Thanksgiving.”

He handed Joel a letter, and Joel’s heart sank as he read the sender’s name on the envelope. Carson. The knot of anxiety that had been building in his chest tightened, and he felt a wave of anger begin to rise. He nodded curtly, his jaw clenched as he accepted the letter.

“Thanks for bringing this by,” Joel said, his voice strained.

The reverend gave him a concerned look, sensing the tension. “Everything alright, Joel?”

Joel forced a tight smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, everything’s fine. We’ll see you this weekend.”

The reverend nodded, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. He gave Joel a final pat on the shoulder before turning to head back to his truck. Joel watched him go, his grip on the letter tightening as the sound of the truck’s engine faded into the distance. The moment the reverend was out of sight, Joel turned and stalked back to the house, the anger simmering just below the surface.

When he stepped into the living room, he found Dot standing by her desk, arching her back and rubbing the base of her spine with one hand under her almost due belly. She looked around when she heard him enter, her expression brightening when she saw him.

“Hey, Joel,” she said, smiling softly.

“Dot,” Joel replied, his voice tight as he held up the envelope. “This came for you.”

Dot’s smile faltered as she saw the envelope, confusion knitting her brows together. “Who’s it from?”

“Carson,” Joel said, his tone clipped, barely containing his frustration.

Dot’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the name on the envelope, her heart skipping a beat. Carson. She hadn’t thought about him in months, not since she had agreed to marry Joel and start a new life on the farm. But seeing his name now, written out in neat, familiar handwriting, brought back a flood of memories she had long since buried.

She reached out to take the envelope, her hands trembling slightly. Joel watched her closely, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and something else—something more vulnerable, more afraid.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Joel spat out, his voice rising as the emotions he had been trying to suppress began to spill over. “After all this time? After everything we’ve built together, now he decides to write?”

Dot flinched at the intensity of his tone, her heart aching as she saw the pain and anger in his eyes. “Joel, I—”

“He’s the father, Dot,” Joel interrupted, his voice laced with bitterness. “He’s the real father of this baby. Maybe this is what you’ve been waiting for, huh? A way out. Maybe now you can finally go back to the big city, to the life you really wanted.”

Dot’s eyes widened in shock, tears welling up as she realized just how deeply Joel’s fear of abandonment ran. “Joel, no, that’s not—”

“Isn’t it?” Joel cut her off, his voice growing louder, more frantic. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Your typewriter’s been gathering dust, you haven’t written a damn thing since you got here. Maybe you miss the city, maybe you miss that life. Hell, maybe you miss him.”

Dot’s hand tightened on the letter, her heart breaking as she saw the hurt and anger in Joel’s eyes, ignoring the growing pressure at the base of her belly. But she didn’t sob, didn’t let the tears fall or the pain show. Instead, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she scanned the contents of the letter. As she read the words, a bitter chuckle escaped her lips, and she tossed the letter aside, shaking her head.

“Joel,” she called quietly to him, her voice trembling with both anger and sadness. 

But Joel wasn’t listening. He was too far gone, his anger and fear clouding his judgment, making it impossible for him to hear the reassurance in her words.

“Maybe you miss him…” Joel snapped, his voice harsh as he paced the room, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment to swoop in and take you away, take everything we’ve built together.”

Dot shook her head, tears spilling over but still refusing to sob, refusing to let herself fall apart. “Joel, listen to me. I’m not going anywhere. I chose this life. Carson is in the past.”

But Joel was too deep in his own pain to hear her, his voice rising in desperation. “How can I believe that? How do I know you won’t just leave the moment things get tough? How do I know this isn’t what you’ve wanted all along?”

Dot’s heart ached at his words, the accusations cutting deeper than she had ever thought possible. “Because I chose you–I keep on choosing you every day, I–” But before she could say anything more, a sharp pain shot through her abdomen, doubling her over with a gasp.

“Dot?” Joel’s voice immediately shifted from anger to concern, his eyes widening as he saw the pain on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Dot’s eyes went wide as she felt a sudden rush of fluid between her legs, her heart pounding with realization. “Joel… my water just broke.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the gravity of the situation crashing down on them both. Then, in unison, they both cursed.

“Shit!”

Joel sprang into action, his anger forgotten as he rushed to Dot’s side, wrapping his arms around her to support her as she tried to steady herself.

“Alright, darlin’, it’s okay,” Joel said, his voice calm but urgent as he guided her toward the door but she wouldn’t move. “We’re gonna get you to the clinic. Just breathe, okay?”

Dot shook her head, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the pain intensified. “Joel… there’s no time. I can feel the head.”

Joel’s eyes widened in panic, but he quickly masked it, his focus shifting entirely to Dot and their baby. “Shit… okay, okay, we’ll do this here. We’ll do this right here.”

Dot nodded again, her body trembling as another contraction hit, stronger than the last. He glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the sturdy oak table he had made for her, where her typewriter now sat. Joel guided her back to her oak desk, her grip on his arm tight as she struggled to breathe through the pain. 

“Here, darlin’, hold onto the table,” Joel instructed, helping her to lean against it. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

Dot did as he said, gripping the edge of the table with one hand while the other clung to his arm. She could feel the pressure building, the baby moving lower with each contraction, and she knew there was no turning back now.

“How long?” He asked her.

“Two days,” She gasped out and he cursed out.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked her.

“I thought it was just normal… just the discomfort… but…” Dot admitted through gritted teeth, her voice strained with the effort of speaking.

Joel’s heart ached with guilt as he realized she had been in pain all this time, trying to bear it alone. “I’m sorry, Dot,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry…” 

Dot nodded, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps as she felt another contraction rip through her. She braced herself against the table, her knees buckling as the pain intensified, her body urging her to push.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” Dot cried, her voice breaking as the fear and pain overwhelmed her.

“Yes, you can,” Joel said firmly, his voice filled with determination as he positioned himself behind her, his hands gently supporting her hips. “You’re the strongest woman I know, Dot. You can do this. You’re not alone. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Dot’s breath hitched at his words, and she nodded, “Joel I think I can feel the head.” 

Joel wasted no time, getting on his knees, hiking up her skirt and pulling down her underwear. She was bulging, the head heavily sat behind her folds. She could feel the baby beginning to emerge into a crow, the intense pressure and pain making it almost impossible to think, but she focused on Joel’s voice, on his steady, reassuring presence beside her.

“Alright, darlin’, you need to push,” Joel instructed, his voice calm but urgent. “You can do this. I’ve got you.”

Dot took a deep breath, bracing herself against the table as she bore down, pushing with all her might. The pain was intense, a searing, tearing sensation that left her gasping for breath, but she kept going, kept pushing, Joel’s voice in her ear, his hands steadying her as she fought to bring their baby into the world.

“That’s it, Dot,” Joel encouraged, his voice filled with awe and pride as he watched their child begin to emerge. “You’re doing so good. Just a little more, darlin’, you’re almost there. Breathe, darlin’, breathe…”

Dot’s breathing grew more erratic, her body trembling as another powerful contraction ripped through her. She clung to the edge of the table, her knuckles white, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Hoo… hoo… haa… haa…” Dot panted, trying to focus on her breathing, trying to stay calm even as the pain intensified. “Joel… it’s too big… I can’t… I can’t do this…”

“Yes, you can, darlin’,” Joel reassured her, his voice strong and steady as he supported her, his hands firm on her hips. “You’re doing so good. Just keep breathing, keep pushing. You’ve got this.”

Dot moaned, the pain overwhelming her as she felt the baby moving lower, the pressure almost unbearable. “It hurts… it hurts so much…”

“I know, I know, darlin’,” Joel whispered, his heart aching as he watched her struggle. “But you’re almost there. Just a little more, and our baby will be here. You’re so strong, Dot. You can do this.”

Dot nodded, tears streaming down her face as she took another deep breath, her voice trembling as she whimpered, “Hoo… hoo… Jooooeeeel!”

With a deep, primal groan, Dot bore down again, pushing with all her might, the pain searing through her like fire. “It’s too big… oh God, it’s too big…”

Joel’s hands tightened on her hips, his voice filled with awe as he saw the baby’s head emerging. “You’re doing it, Dot. I can see the head. Just one more big push, darlin’. You’re almost there.”

Dot cried out, her body shaking with the effort as she pushed again, harder this time, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The pain was excruciating, the pressure almost too much to bear, but she kept going, kept pushing, determined to bring their child into the world.

“Haa… haa… haa…” Dot panted, her voice a mix of desperation and determination as she felt the baby’s head begin to fully crown. She gritted her teeth, her entire body trembling as she bore down once more, the intensity of the pain nearly blinding her.

Finally, with one last, agonizing push, Dot felt the baby’s head slip-free, the sudden relief mingling with the lingering pain. She gasped for breath, her body shaking with exhaustion, but she didn’t stop, didn’t let herself rest.

“You’re almost there, darlin’,” Joel encouraged, his voice filled with emotion as he supported her. “Just one more push, and the shoulders will be out. You’re so close, Dot. You’re so close.”

Dot nodded, tears streaming down her face as she gathered all her strength for one final push. She bore down with everything she had, a primal scream tearing from her throat as she felt the baby’s shoulders slip free, followed by the rest of the tiny body. The overwhelming relief and release left her trembling and gasping for breath.

Joel’s hands were there, steady and sure, catching their child as the baby entered the world. He let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding with a mix of relief and awe as he cradled the tiny, squirming body in his hands. The baby let out a loud, feisty cry, its voice filling the room, a sound that brought tears to Joel’s eyes.

“You did it, Dot,” Joel whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he looked up at her, his eyes shining with love and pride. “You did it, darlin’. Our baby… our beautiful baby.”

Dot collapsed against the table, her body trembling with exhaustion, but a soft, tired smile crossed her lips as she heard the baby’s cries. She turned to look at Joel, her heart swelling with love and relief as she saw him cradling their child, his eyes filled with tears of joy.

“Hi, baby,” Dot whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she held out her arms for the baby. “Hi there, little one. You’re finally here.”

Joel carefully wrapped the baby in the throw blanket from the couch, gently placing the tiny bundle in Dot’s arms. She looked down at their child, tears streaming down her face as she traced a finger over the baby’s soft cheek, marveling at the tiny, perfect features.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Dot cooed, her voice filled with love as she held the baby close, feeling the warmth and weight of their child in her arms. “You’re so beautiful… so perfect…”

Joel’s heart swelled with love and pride as he watched Dot cradle their baby, the sight of them together filling him with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and awe. He pressed a soft kiss to Dot’s temple, his voice thick with emotion as he whispered, “I love you, Dot. I love you so much.”

Dot smiled up at him, her eyes shining with tears as she whispered back, “I love you too, Joel. So much.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, in the new life they had created together. The argument, the fear, and the pain of the past few hours melted away, leaving only love, only the overwhelming joy of holding their child in their arms.

As the baby continued to cry, Dot felt another wave of contractions rip through her, the pain sharp and sudden. She gasped, her body tensing as she realized what was happening. “Joel… the after birth… it’s coming…”

Joel’s eyes widened in realization, and he quickly moved to support her, his hands steadying her as she pushed once more, the placenta slipping free with a rush of fluid. Dot let out a shaky breath, her body trembling with exhaustion as she finally collapsed against the table, spent and drained.

“You did it, darlin’,” Joel whispered, his voice filled with awe as he gently cleaned her up, his hands tender as he worked. “You did so good… you’re amazing, Dot.”

Joel carried his wife into the guest bedroom next to the kitchen, laying down several blankets for Dot to lay out on as he cleaned her and the baby up. He took the scissors from the kitchen and, with trembling hands, cut the umbilical cord, severing the final connection between Dot and the baby. He couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes as he looked down at their child, a feeling of overwhelming love washing over him.

“Welcome to the world, little one,” Joel whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he gently kissed the baby’s forehead. “You’re so loved… so, so loved…”

Dot watched him, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for the man who had been by her side through everything. She reached out and touched his arm, her voice soft and filled with emotion as she said, “Joel… thank you… for everything…”

Joel turned to her, his eyes filled with tears as he knelt beside her, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “Don’t thank me, darlin’. I’m the one who’s grateful… for you… for this beautiful life we’ve created together.”

Dot smiled, tears streaming down her face as she looked down at their baby, the love she felt for both of them overwhelming her. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Joel leaned in and kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers as he whispered, “I’m so lucky to have you, Dot. So damn lucky… Please, don’t ever leave me. Don’t take our son away from me. I can’t lose you… either of you…”

Dot’s heart broke at the vulnerability in his voice, and she shook her head, her voice filled with love and reassurance as she whispered back, “I’m not going anywhere, Joel. This is where I belong. With you… with our son… with our family…”

“But Carson…”

“Carson wrote to congratulate me. Congratulate us and our baby...”

Joel let out a shaky breath, his tears mingling with hers as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close as he whispered, “Thank you, Dot… thank you for giving me this… for giving me everything I never thought I could have again…”

Dot smiled through her tears, her heart overflowing with love for the man who had become her partner, her lover, the father of her child. “I love you, Joel… more than I can ever say…”

Joel kissed her again, his lips tender and filled with all the love he felt for her. “I love you too, Dot… so damn much… And I want more of this… more babies… more life with you…”

Dot let out a soft chuckle, her tears mingling with her laughter as she looked up at him, her eyes shining with love and joy. “More babies, huh?”

Joel grinned, his own tears spilling over as he nodded, his voice filled with hope and longing as he whispered, “Yeah… more babies… a whole house full of them…”

Dot laughed softly, her heart bursting with happiness as she leaned into him, her voice filled with love as she whispered, “I’d like that, Joel… I’d like that a lot…”

They stayed like that, holding each other, holding their son, the future stretching out before them, filled with love, hope, and the promise of more life to come.

[imyourbratzdoll]

I have a request you are up for it. I kind of had this idea where Steve Rogers really screwed the Reader over in their past relationship and cheated on her with Sharon and dumped the reader for her. Even the avengers don't talk to her anymore and made her look like the toxic one in the relationship. two years later it's his and Sharon's wedding day and it was a beautiful and wonderful, however reader returns and decides to kill seek her revenge on Steve and Sharon and the rest of the team. Let's just say she gets it and Steve suffers. (Reader is a witch by the way)😈

hello honey, I hope you like what I've done.

summary - steve cheats on you, causing the team to turn against you to save the world from hating him. years later, you finally seek your revenge.

warning - angst, torture, cheating, dark content, badass female

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

It had been two years since Steve Rogers broke your heart, you thought that would be the worst of it, but the fact the team turned on you and screwed you over by making it seem like you cheated on Captain America, causing the world to hate you, treating you like shit until the point you snapped. If they wanted a bad guy, they’ll get one. 

You sat in a dark room as the tv played, your ex was getting married to the tramp he cheated on you with. Your golden eyes sharpen as you glare at the screen, causing it to explode in sparks. You grin, the whole team would be in that church, making this so much easier for you. 

Your hands glow as you begin to hover, your long black dress falling gracefully around your legs. “Oh, the day that the Avengers fall and all by my hands.” Your laugh echoes throughout the room and you disappear, reappearing in front of the god-awful building. “Oh god, could their taste be any worse?” Your hands face down, levitating toward the church doors and flinging them open with your magic. The whole room falls quiet. “Well, well. Where was my invitation?” 

Your head tilts as Sharon huffs. “You aren’t welcome here!” Your eyes move around the room, connecting with each person. “Hello? Get the fuck out! Didn’t you realise you weren’t welcomed when Steve left you for me?!” 

You smile, your gaze moves back over to hers and you stare. Watching as she shivers under it. “Sharon, Sharon, Sharon. You should know not to mess with a witch, especially a pissed off one.” Your hand flies up, stopping a bullet midair, you slowly tilt your head, looking at the small metal object before your gaze follows where it came from. A grin forms on your face as you connect with Natasha’s. It appears you found something that made the big Black Widow shudder with fear. 

“Y/n, stop this. You are only hurting yourself.” You blink, once, twice, thrice before your laughter fills the room, sending chills up everyone’s spines. “Why are you laughing?! Do you not realise how insane you look right now?!” 

“Sweet, sweet Natasha.” The bullet melts as you direct your hand toward her, lifting her in the air, watching her dangle as she struggles. “I’m not hurting myself, I’ve finally healed from the pain you all put me through. Because, sure I loved Steve and it felt like my heart had been ripped out when he constantly cheated on me with some wannabe tramp. But I could’ve lived through that, what I wasn’t expecting was the heartbreak from the people I considered family.” A growl rumbles within your throat, eyes glowing brighter with each word and emotion. “I can no longer hurt myself when you did a wonderful job of it for me.” You twitch, you can feel the stupid witch trying to enter your mind, her magic feels like something irritating, like a jumper that continues to itch because someone made it out of that horrible fabric.

You continue your hold on Natasha, turning your head, gold meets red. “What are you doing, Little Witch?” You blink, sending her flying across the room, crashing into a row of ugly flowers, causing you to scrunch your nose. “Ew, who chooses weeds for their special day?” You huff, feeling a body slam into you and your other hand reaches out, strangling Vision as he tries to charge again. “What is with you people, don’t you know it’s rude to just attack a person.”

“Y/n stop. That’s enough.” Two years ago, your heart would’ve pounded inside your chest from hearing his voice. But now, your heart lies cold within your body. The rest of the team that you don’t have a hold on, stand, readying for a fight. It felt comedic. “If you don’t leave, we will make you leave.” 

You throw your head back, letting out another chilling laugh before your head falls forward and you glare at your ex. “You make me leave? Do you think you’re stronger than me? You may be Captain America, but deep down you’re just that weak little boy back in the 40s.” You float over to him, black and gold magic building beneath you in a cloud and the anger builds in your veins. Your hands fly back, throwing those you had in your hold against the church walls before you reach in front, releasing all your magic onto the one man, watching him fall to his knees. “You and your team are no match for me, Steve Rogers. You will never be, you will all fall before you even manage to take me with you.” You lower to the ground, standing over him, leaning over, moving your face close enough that it looks as though you are about to kiss. “You will beg me for your life. It may not be today or a year from now, but you will.” You grip his chin between your fingers, forcing him to look into your eyes as you smile. 

Your eyes flash, stopping Tony from approaching, his Iron Man suit begins to slowly enclose on him, squashing him from the inside. “Not so fast, Mr Stark.” Your magic wraps around Steve’s body, keeping him in his position as you turn and face the rest of the Avengers. You look at each and everyone of them, letting your magic explode around you and the room, wrapping around them. “Soon you will all fall, no longer loved, no longer remembered. The world will move on without you and in your demise, you will beg me for help, falling deeper and onto your knees. Sacrificing your beliefs and pride.” You begin to descend from the steps, smirking. “Hm, why don’t I continue to torture you guys some more.” 

With a wave of your hand, all their nightmares come to life. Every single person or thing that they don’t want to face appear in front of them, torturing them, allowing you to sit back and watch with a smile, a glass of wine appears in your hand as you watch them all suffer. A few hours pass and you grow bored, making everything disappear along with yourself. 

While your magic circulated around them, it allowed you to see their future and it gave you many ideas to how you could continue to ruin their lives. Starting with the man who destroyed you. You close your eyes, feeling your spirit escape you and travel back in time, appearing in front of a woman that many looked up to. 

“Peggy Carter.” She spins, looking around for the voice. Your eyes glow and your magic surrounds her. “The love you feel for Steve Rogers will turn into hate, he will appear soon and will want to stay. You will fill his head with every hurtful thing you’ve thought of. You will see who he really is and how much he has changed when he was the smaller version of himself. You will destroy him, rip out his heart and squash it in front of his eyes. He will finally know how it is to feel his heart being broken.” She blinks, walking over to the photo of Steve, staring at it, and wondering why she has it before Peggy grabs the photo and drops it into the bin. 

You smirk, disappearing back into your time and body. Your eyes open with an evil glint, staring right at the readers.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[burningvelvet]

being a romantic era poet: a quick how-to guide

walk around in nature contemplating Things. start hiking, swimming, sailing, rowing, shooting, riding, etc. for inspiration

be obsessed with the french revolution and related enlightenment-era figures like rousseau, voltaire, mary wollstonecraft, and madame de staël. be more disappointed by napoleon bonaparte than you are by your own father. 

speaking of fathers, your parents and most of your other relatives are all either dying or dead or emotionally abusive. if you have any siblings (full, half, step, or adopted) who DIDN'T die tragically already, then you may choose to be close to them. you also may end up being much TOO close to them. various circumstances may also ban you from seeing them. 

be at least slightly touched by madness and/or some other severe illness(es) including but not limited to: consumption, horrors, syphilis, deformities, lameness, terrors, piles, boils, pox, allergies, coughing, sleep abnormalities, gonorrhea, etc. — for which you must take frequent bed rest and copious amounts of Laudanum (opium derivation)

consider foregoing meat and adopting a vegetable diet instead to purify the spirits. you may also abstain from alcohol for the same reasons. alternatively, you may attempt the veggie diet, end up rejecting it, and becoming a rampant alcoholic instead. in romanticism there is no healthy medium between abstinence and excess.

reject, or at least heavily criticize, christianity. refuse to get married in a church and consider becoming a fervent champion of atheism. alternatively, you may embrace catholicism, but only on an aesthetic basis. eastern religions and minority religions are also acceptable, only because they piss off the christians. 

if you’re not a self-hating member of the aristocracy and instead have to work for a living, do something that allows you to benefit society, be creative, and/or contemplate life. viable options include, but are not limited to: apothecarist, doctor, teacher, preacher, lawyer, farmer, printmaker, publisher, editor. there is also the possibility of earning a few coins from your art. if you were cursed to be born a She, no worries. we believe in equality. you may choose from these occupations: wife, nanny, housekeeper, spinster, amanuensis (copy writer for a man), lady’s companion, divorced wife, singer/actress/escort, widow, regular escort, tutor, or housewife. 

speaking of sexist institutions, try rejecting marriage entirely. Declare your eternal devotion to your lover by having sex with them on your mother’s grave instead.

if you do get married — elope, and only let it be for necessary financial reasons, or to try and save a teenage girl from her controlling family, or out of true love with someone you view as your intellectual equal, or because your life is so racked with scandals and debt that you can only clear your name by matrimony to a wealthy religious woman as your last resort before fleeing the country.

After marriage, quickly assert your belief in the powers of free love and bisexuality by taking extramarital lovers and suggesting your spouse follow suit. If they cannot keep up with your intellectual escapades then consider leaving them. Later on, propose a platonic friendship with them following the separation, or beg them for reconciliation.

If your marriage is happy, try moving in with another bohemian couple to shake things up. Alternatively, you may die before the wedding for dramatic effect.

If you beget children (whether in or out of marriage, makes no matter), do society a favor by choosing to raise them with your beliefs. Consider adopting orphan children, or even non-orphan children. If their parents are poor enough they probably won’t mind. Try kidnapp— I mean adopting — children off the side of the road if you can. 

DIE but do it creatively. ideally young. ideas: prophecy your own death, lead an army into war and then die right before your first battle and on your deathbed curse everyone and demand to see a witch, write a will leaving money to your mistresses or some random young man you have an unrequited romantic obsession with, carry a copy of your dead friend's poetry and read it right before you drown so that your washed up corpse can only be identified by his book in your pocket, die while staring at your lover's shriveled up heart that you keep wrapped up in a copy of his own poetry and then be buried with it, die of the poet's illness (consumption) while your artist friend draws you and then be buried with your lover's writing, get mysteriously poisoned (by yourself) after a series of scandals and accidents and then have your family announce that you were killed by god, die from romanticizing poverty or receiving bad reviews from literary critics, die from walking or horseback riding in the cold and the rain while poeticizing, etc.

[wandafiction]

Just Us - Series List

Y/n is a multimillionaire. Wanda Maximoff is a divorced mum of two twin boys who is trying her best. What happens when their paths cross at a club and Y/n takes Wanda home for the night?

Warnings: This story is an 18+ read, Minors DNI, contains talks and description of Death, Accidents, Injury, Child Loss, Abuse (Physical and Emotional), Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Suggestive themes, Smut (Each Chapter With Themes Explained), Angst (Lots of It), And Some Fluff Thrown in because I felt bad. Top Reader, Bottom Wanda

Each chapter will come with their own warnings.

This is a story that I have put up on my Wattpad and my Ao3 and thought I would share it here for more of you wonderful people. I do hope you enjoy this read. There will be mistakes here and there and maybe some incorrect translations.

So this is an AU story with the MCU characters. So the ages and story lines with be changed and different from that in the movies. 

I will right some history for each character as the story progresses just so ages and other things make sense. 

All the Character's in this are played by their respective actors and certain aspects of the MCU have been added in. But once again its not going to be an alternative marvel story it is a completely different universe. 

I don't own any if the MCU characters.

Master List

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Yours or Mine

Chapter 2 18+ - First Time

Chapter 3 - How Much

Chapter 4 18+ - Beautiful

Chapter 5 - Accent

Chapter 6 - The Twins

Chapter 7 - Just Add 8

Chapter 8 - Panic Attack

Chapter 9 - Sounds Like A date

Chapter 10 - Happy Tears

Chapter 11 - Twenty Percent

Chapter 12 - Favourite Colour

Chapter 13 - Ex-husbands Clothes

Chapter 14 18+ - Trust is Not Like Candy

Chapter 15 - Morning Bliss

Chapter 16 - Sisterly Advice

Chapter 17 - Lunch Date

Chapter 18 - Not By Blood, By Choice

Chapter 19 18+ - Frozen Peas

Chapter 20 - Scarlet Witch

Chapter 21 - Iron Man

Chapter 22 18+ - Love Language

Chapter 23 - The Friends

Chapter 24 - Hela's Kitchen

Chapter 25 - The Question

Chapter 26 - From Second To First

Chapter 27 - Mr Blue Sky

Chapter 28 - Protective Friend

Chapter 29 - It's Real To Me

Chapter 30 - Pile On

Chapter 31 18+ - Water Fight

Chapter 32 - Head Scratches

Chapter 33 - Billy's Discovery

Chapter 34 - Superhero Trio

Chapter 35 - Pancakes and L Bombs.

Chapter 36 - 10 Out Of 10 Dive

Chapter 37 - Tickle Monster

Chapter 38 - Sarah Stark

Chapter 39 - Love Persevering

Chapter 40 - First Meeting

Chapter 41 - Hear, Listen, Take It In

Chapter 42 - Touch

Chapter 43 - Mockingbird

Chapter 44 - Family

Chapter 45 - Search Party

Chapter 46 - Bowl Of Popcorn

Chapter 47 - Pet Names

Chapter 48 18+ - Trying Something New

Chapter 49 - French Braids

Chapter 50 - Not Taking Advantage

Chapter 51 - To Understand Someone

Chapter 52 - The Row

Chapter 53 18+ - I Need You

Chapter 54 - Your Flaws Are Your Strengths

Chapter 55 18+ - Jealousy

Chapter 56 - I Can't Be Here

Chapter 57 - Stephanie Grace Turner

Chapter 58 - Zak The Waiter

Chapter 59 18+ - Declarations

Chapter 60 - Clingy

Chapter 61 - Triple Chocolate Brownies

Chapter 62 - Watch Me

Chapter 63 - Grown-Up Conversations

Chapter 64 - A+

Chapter 65 18+ - Dynamic

Chapter 66 - You Don't Get It

Chapter 67 - Conditioned

Chapter 68 - Selachimorpha

Chapter 69 - Beed Stroganoff

Chapter 70 - Ruby-Throated Hummingbird

Chapter 71 - Realisations

Chapter 72 - Princess

Chapter 73 - The Talk

Chapter 74 - Black Widow

Chapter 75 - Can I Join You

Chapter 76 - Люли, люли, люленьки

Chapter 77 - Moose

Chapter 78 - Aurora Borealis

Chapter 79 - Calgary

Chapter 80 18+ - Mirror

Chapter 81 - Massage and Important Conversations

Chapter 82 - Banff

Chapter 83 - Strawberries

Chapter 84 - Bayushki Bayu

Chapter 85 - Cookies

Chapter 86 18+ - Control

Chapter 87 - Hyper Puppy

Chapter 88 - Treehouse

Chapter 89 - 312

Chapter 90 - Forgiveness

Chapter 91 18+ - Always Feel Good

Chapter 92 - Your Third Love

Chapter 93 18+ - Daddy

Chapter 94 - Home

Chapter 95 - Stalker

Chapter 96 - Can't Catch A Break

Chapter 97 18+ - Mile High Club

Chapter 98 - Happy

Chapter 99 - Halloween

Chapter 100 - What's In The Box?

Chapter 101 - Hired

Chapter 102 - I've Got You

Chapter 103 - Missed Morning Message

Chapter 104 - Someone I Would Like You To Meet

Chapter 105 - Sis

Chapter 106 - Soulmates

Chapter 107 - Eleos

Chapter 108 - I Called Her Mom

Chapter 109 - Suka

Chapter 110 - How Have I Made It Worse?

Chapter 111 - What Scares You?

Chapter 112 - I Thought I Was Helping

Chapter 113 - What If They Leave?

Chapter 114 - Yelena!

Chapter 115 - Puppy In Training

Chapter 116 - Your Wish Is My Command

Chapter 117 - Morning Sex

Chapter 118 - Safe

Chapter 119 - Work On Yourself

Chapter 120 - Happy Thanksgiving

Chapter 121 - I Hate This

Chapter 122 - To Be A Deer

Chapter 123 - Is Love Enough?

Chapter 124 - Let's Go Out Out

Chapter 125 - Feeling Of Rejection

Chapter 126 - You Should Hate Me

Chapter 127 - You Ready?

Chapter 128 - Pietro

Chapter 129 - Questions And Opinions

Chapter 130 - What Are You Up To?

Chapter 131 - When Pigs Fly

Chapter 132 - Science Lesson

[spacebarbarianweird]

Widower Astarion Headcanons

Ok, we wanted pain - I bring you pain. @astarionsbeloved @wickedwitchofthewilds @sleepykitty21 @starlight-ipomoea

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion isn't an idiot; he knows you are mortal, a topic you've discussed before.

Jokingly, he suggested you find a vampire lord, but even if one were found, Astarion would never allow you to turn into a vampire.

"It hurts, it's painful. The existence of a vampire is miserable. I will never do this to you."

The price of mortality is death.

You made him promise not to step into the sunlight and to keep living, carrying memories of you into the future.

You die as you always wanted: in a glorious battle, or safe and comfy in your bed, or brought home by Astarion to a place you grew up in.

You die with no regrets, sorrows, or complaints.

Astarion is numb; all the feelings he learned how to express are gone with your last breath.

He dissociates; it's not him, not now, not real—he is somewhere else.

He hides in the shadows, safe in the darkness and lonely.

Unfortunately, Astarion has never learned how to be alone; you never left him on his own for a long time.

He realizes he can't meditate; there is a mental block preventing him from doing so in your absence.

It's even worse since he can't give himself a break.

Eventually, some friends of yours give him a Potion of Angelic Slumber. He sleeps for a few days in a row, without dreams and nightmares.

When he wakes up, the first thing he does is look for you, and then he realizes you're gone.

In this moment, Astarion breaks down, crying and cursing in Elven and Common.

His back hurts as if there are flesh wounds; the cold grip of darkness holds his undead heart. The tears burn the crimson eyes.

He mourns, grieves, wishes to be dead, but the given promise and the innate desire to survive prevent him from going into the sun.

For the first few years, he lives as a hermit in your shared house, starving himself by not hunting and spending months on your side of the bed without moving at all.

It's not life; it's an existence, miserable and hopeless when he imagines you alive.

A wake-up call is sudden but almost divine.

Deep in his thoughts, he finds himself in his own grave in Baldur's Gate, seeing you six feet above him as young as you were back during the tadpole adventure.

"I didn't get you out of this grave to let you bury yourself. Come on, you promised to me to live! Then, live! This is my last gift."

He wakes up, starving and cold, goes up and leaves for hunting. He hunts for a few days, satiating himself with animal and sentient beings' blood.

As his mind returns to him, Astarion washes and repairs his clothes, brushes his hair, makes himself look decent.

He ravages through your things, collecting them carefully in one place. You wouldn't want a shrine, so he sells the things he won't be able to use anymore.

He puts on your wedding ring (now he has two identical rings) and also a necklace you always liked.

He re-sews one of your gowns into a shirt; now, it feels like you are still with him.

Astarion leaves his first forever home and starts his own journey, taking the role of a sole adventurer - a monster hunter, a protector of the weak. He has always had this heroic side in him, just never admitted.

The most difficult thing is to stay alone; people praise him for saving someone from a monster, but they fear mingling with a vampire.

Sometimes, Astarion cries in his tent, cursing the evil gods for taking the only good thing he ever had.

He constantly talks to himself, imagining you standing beside him.

He actually enjoys these one-sided monologues because he can pretend you are still here.

Years pass, memories of the happy life fade. Astarion joins groups of adventurers here and there but always feels off.

Eventually, he finds the strength to live up to his promise, to enjoy what he has.

He explores places he has never been to, does things he has never done, and hears stories he has never heard.

He makes friends, mostly among long-living creatures. "Oh, my young vampire friend! It's been a while!" A wizard elf greets him with open arms. "I am 400 years older than you, idiot," Astarion chuckles and returns a hug.

Most importantly, he preserves the memory about you, paying bards and storytellers, talking about you at campfires, and putting you as an example of kindness and bravery.

Once, Astarion hears a song, "The One Who Saved Baldur's Gate." The motive and words are nice, but the more he listens to it, the more in shock he is.

This song known to every decent bard in Swords Coast is about you, a distant memory, a long-forgotten story.

He has fulfilled your promise, made sure you live in people's hearts. This day is bittersweet; he cries his eyes out, listening to that song over and over again.

But he feels happy, the first time in years.

With decades to pass, Astarion creates the Blood Guild - a union of vampires and dhampirs who prefer to hunt monsters rather than be ones. They also keep an eye on other vampires who are a danger to mortals, especially those who make spawns and thralls out of innocent victims.

Having immortal undead friends feels nice; having friends who understand his issues, too.

He finds himself in the position of a mentor; vampires come to him for advice and emotional support.

Then he meets a person, a runaway spawn, angry with what happened to them, determined to do whatever it takes to break their chains. Astarion agrees to help; they constantly bicker about every single thing—views on life, personal experiences, shared interests.

This new person is annoying, obnoxious, brave, and lovable. Suddenly Astarion realizes he doesn't want to stay in his tent alone; he doesn't want to speak to himself anymore.

The long-forgotten feeling of loving someone aches in his undead heart, but now it's not his turn to confess.

"You know, I've been manipulating you into helping me. I am sorry. if you want, I will go away."

"You are a good person, Astarion. No one is like you. But you deserve honesty and something real."

Astarion smiles back and hugs this person.

This relationship is different; the runaway spawn is nothing like you, different in every way possible—personality, appearance, behavior, views on life, everything.

At first, there is profound guilt, as if he betrays your memory by having another romantic relationship.

They talk, sharing the darkest and saddest parts of their immortal lives—crimes they had to commit, lives they lost.

Eventually, Astarion tells them about you—how wonderful you were, how kind, how brave, how much you meant to him. His new love smiles and takes away a strand curl from his face.

"So, this is the person I must thank for you?".

He helps his new love to break the chains by killing the vampire lord.

Returning back, Astarion starts talking about the future.

Adventures? Of course! His partner is also a spawn, they need healing and freedom the same way he needed many years ago.

And then - who knows? Life is full of cruel wonders. Especially, for immortals.

--

Tag list

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire @marcynomercy

[natashaslesbian]

For You

Summary: You’ve been going through a rough patch with your moms for a while, after a big argument you finally tell them how you feel.

Word Count: 1.2k

Parings: (Wandanat x Daughter!Reader)

Warnings: none I believe :)

————

The walls shook as you slammed your bedroom door shut, the tell tale sign of another fight with your moms. Most teenagers have arguments with their parents, who usually have high expectations of them. But being the daughter of the Black Widow and the Scarlett Witch meant that your expectations were set much higher. Growing up your moms were your best friends, you spent every second with them, it was the three of you against the world. You had a magical childhood and all your school friends were jealous of your home life, however after your 13th birthday Natasha and Wanda decided that it was time for you to start training alongside Peter. It was nothing extreme, a few hours a week in the gym and some basic self defence. As Peter progressed you soon fell behind, not only disappointing your teammates but also your mothers.

You let out a sigh as you slumped down onto your bed, rolling over to face the wall incase of any unwelcome visitors. You replayed the row in your head, Natasha’s words loud and clear in your mind. “Why can’t you be more like Peter, he’s doing so well, he puts so much work into his training, he’s not lazy like you!” She had shouted across the room. That was your final straw. If only they knew the effort you held within you, they just didn’t care about it as it had nothing to do with being an avenger. As a kid you loved to draw and paint, and as you got older it became a favourite hobby. At first your moms would take your cute little drawings and put them around the compound to be admired but as they transitioned back into work and long missions they didn’t really have the time to appreciate your art anymore and very quickly they forgot about your favourite activity.

A knock at the door arrived as another tear slipped down your cheek. “Go away” you huffed. Shortly after came a gentle click of your door. “Who said you could come in?” You asked. Your mom didn’t say anything just yet, she simply walked over to your bed and took a seat next to you. “Y/n” Wanda said “I- I’m sorry. I hate when we fight kiddo” she said as she reached for your hair. “Mama started it” you replied as you pushed away her touch. “Baby mama didn’t mean what she said. We had words after you left and she knows she was wrong, she’s gone for a walk to calm down” your mom said as she shuffled closer. “And I know that I was wrong too” she said, causing you to look up at her. “I shouldn’t have shouted like I did” Wanda said with a hint of guilt in her eyes. Your mom never usually shouted at you, she was normally the calm one although still echoing everything your mama was saying.

Wanda’s vulnerability made you think for a moment. You had always hidden how you truly felt, putting on a tough act so you didn’t disappoint your moms even further. When Wanda had come to see you, you were prepared for round two with her. But the delicacy she had entered the room with caused something in you to shift. “Why am I not good enough for you and mama?” You cried out, the sight breaking Wanda’s heart. “Baby don’t say that!” Your mom cooed as she pulled you up into her embrace “you are good enough for us darling” she said. “You just want me to be like Peter” you sobbed “you’d rather him be your kid” you tried to push away from Wanda’s hold, but she tightened her grip around you, “we don’t think that y/n” she said. “I know I’m not as good as him at combat and weapons and stuff but I am good at other things! Why can’t you see that? I’m trying so hard to make you proud of me but nothing I ever do is good enough!” You cried.

Without realising, a second pair of arms had been wrapped around you, a steady hand was trailing through your hair. “Mama?” You mumbled as you looked up to see her green eyes. “I’m never gonna be good enough for you am I?” You said as you melted into her arms. Natasha had been stood outside your room for a few minuets listing to yours and Wanda’s conversation. She felt so guilty when she heard what you said and came running to your side, crying along with you. “Oh my little spider, look at me” Nat said as she cupped your cheeks, bringing your gaze towards her. “I promise you’re enough baby girl, I’m so sorry I made you feel like you weren’t. Your mom and I are so proud of you but we’ve been blinded by our own want for you to become an agent. But it’s not what you want is it?” She asked. You looked at her confused for a moment, finally starting to calm down again. “Your artwork” Natasha whispered.

“Mama you remembered?” You asked. “Of course we did sweetie” Natasha said “baby you’re a fantastic little artist we loved when you used to bring us all your drawings” Wanda said as she brushed your hair back from your face. “But I thought you didn’t care anymore, you just wanted me to focus on being an avenger” you cried “you never had any time for me” you mumbled as you laid in your moms arms. “You’re right baby girl and mama and I are so sorry” Wanda said as she kissed your forehead. “Y/n being an agent and an anger is all your mom and I have ever known” Natasha said “we’ve not put being mothers first and we know that now. We thought we were putting you first by pushing you into training but we weren’t and we are so sorry” she finished. You sat up so both your moms could see you, you took a deep breath as you prepared to tell them the truth “mom, mama” you whispered “I don’t wanna be an avenger” you cried out “I’m sorry” your moms both scooped you up immediately, both now crying with you.

“We know that now sweetie” Wanda calmly said “you don’t have to be sorry” she said. “I don’t wanna disappoint you” you mumbled as you wiped your nose “dekta you could never disappoint us” Natasha said “this is your life and you’re old enough now to decide how you want to live it, all we want is for you to be happy” your mama said. It was like a breath of fresh air had hit your bedroom, everything you had wanted to say was finally out in the open. “I think I know what I wanna do” you said looking up at your moms “what is it darling?” Wanda asked “after I finish school, I wanna go to college, to study art. Is that ok?” You sheepishly asked. “Oh y/n of course it is” Natasha said “it might be expensive though” you frowned “well that’s what uncle Tony is for” Your mama giggled “and besides we’ve got some money put away from you, it’s plenty enough to get you where you need to be” Wanda said “really?” You asked, trying hard to hide your excitement. “Really baby” Natasha said “whatever you need, we’ll sort, we’re your moms and that’s our job” Wanda said as she ran her hand under your chin. “I love you mom” you said to Wanda “I love you mama” you said to Natasha.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

[randomshyperson]

Five Times You Go Through Wanda Maximoff's Window - [HS Challenge]

Summary: A clumsy spider and a grumpy witch are roommates in Avengers Tower. And it takes you five missed windows to finally get things right. [Prompt]

Warning: None, fluff and funny, spider!reader and emo!wanda, avengers being a family, happy ending | Words: 2.937k

A/N-> This was such a funny one to write because I always wanted to try the Five Times Prompt! I hope you guys liked it.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Holiday Season Masterlist

-&-

The first time you missed a window in Avengers Tower, you still didn't know the place properly. 

You had just come out of a fight and your costume was still smoldering. You stumbled between one window and another and thought you had counted the floors correctly when you balanced yourself inside, and almost fell out again when something pushed you.

Your spidey sense acted immediately, of course. It was a disastrous situation, to be honest. You jumped like a frightened animal away from the magical energy of the witch, the true owner of that room and window, while instinctively hitting her right in the face with your webs.

Wanda yelled angrily, and you, hanging from the wall, only had time to fall straight to the floor before she hit you in the chest this time.

Of course, the confusion attracted the attention of the other Avengers - Vision, and Steve appeared just before Nat, the men confused by the whole thing, but the widow, as soon as she saw the younger witch trying to untangle the webs from her face, burst into laughter.

You were blushing a lot when you went to apologize.

"I'm really sorry Wanda, I thought it was my room."

"It's fine." She retorted between her teeth, and it didn't look like it was fine at all. You rubbed your shoulder, the magical blow left your skin sore and Wanda sighed. "Sorry about the hit. I thought it was an intruder."

Natasha interrupted the whole thing with another chuckle, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes that threatened to return every time she looked at Wanda's grumpy expression over the webs. "You two are clearly an example of attention. You've just earned some extra training."

You and Wanda grumbled in unison. Of course, Natasha was just tormenting you and the training was going to happen anyway, because Wanda escaped as many of them as she could and was already getting sloppy, and you well, in the routine of neighborhood friend and university, it was difficult to attend all the Avenger commitments.

Wanda had no trouble hitting you in training, and you almost thought she was doing it with a certain satisfaction. You couldn't blame her, she would certainly have got away with it if it hadn't been for your disastrous encounter earlier.

You just hoped that future interactions between you would be friendlier from then on.

-&-

The second time you missed a window in the Tower, your intention was not to be late.

This was because Natasha had asked - or politely threatened - you to organize your spider routine, if that was possible, and be present at the introduction of the New Avengers.

Well, that was rather unfair. In addition to your full-time job as a New York superhero, you also had college and your job as a Daily Bugle Photographer, so it should be understandable that delays would occur. But maybe that was your fault, for missing three birthdays in a row, and not even making it to Captain America's shield ceremony last month after Steve retired and assigned the job to Sam Wilson.

In any case, you tried to get to the tower for Kate Bishop's introduction to the team and ended up in the wrong room again. 

Only this time it was worse, as you ended up bumping into the owner of the bedroom who certainly wasn't expecting to see anyone.

Wanda didn't fall to the floor with the impact only because you acted quickly and held her by the waist, turning your bodies so that the entire collision was on your back. Half the items in your backpack made a cracking sound behind you, but you didn't have a chance to check.

You were still grunting in pain when she pushed you away, and the action caused her towel to fall to the floor.

"I-I..."

"Don't look, you pervert!" She demanded infuriatedly, her face as red as yours. You turned away immediately, but the bedroom mirror allowed you to see her bending down to pick up the towel and you thought it best to close your eyes tightly.

"I swear to God I didn't mean to-"

"Zip it." She cut in, holding the towel tight against her body. "Out." She ordered, and you didn't need to be told twice.

You stumbled out with your eyes closed until you found the door, and Wanda had to look away and bite her lip to hide her smile for all the times you hit your head on something before leaving.

You didn't find her again until half an hour later when you had already met Kate Bishop and discovered that she would probably be a friend. She was a very funny girl, and your close age made it easy to get friendly with her. 

She had just commented that it was amazing to have another Avenger going to NYU, and how you could go to classes together and have coffee when Wanda reappeared in the room and dropped something in your lap.

You stared wide-eyed at the red spider's underwear, clutching the item as if you expected it to disappear.

"You forgot it in my room." Said the witch with an indecipherable expression, but with eyes sparkling with mischief. Of course, she left out the part about the item falling out of your backpack during the disastrous encounter earlier, and that was enough for Sam to chuckle knowingly with Clint and Natasha from the kitchen counter when they whistled at the comment.

You turned as red as the colored garment. "I dropped it in her room." You tried to clarify in embarrassment, but Clint added.

"Oh, yes, that happens." He taunted, and you huffed in embarrassment as you got up to find your backpack and remove that outfit from their sight. 

You only missed Wanda's satisfied look when Kate didn't invite you to take her to university again and the subject was forgotten.

-&-

The third time was intentional.

The Avengers were going through a very difficult time since the whole Winter Soldier thing became public, and even with Steve retired, Mr. Stark still wanted closure on the murder of his parents with Mr. Barnes. 

It wasn't your business, but at the same time, it was because the Avengers were one big family and anything that happened to one had an impact on the whole team.

The atmosphere was rather miserable because it seemed that everyone was going through heartbreaking situations at the moment. Natasha and the Red Room, Bucky, Tony and Steve's drama, and Kate with her mother's arrest. Then there was Vision and the Space Stone that had been giving him nightmares, and well, Wanda, who was celebrating her first birthday alone since the death of her twin brother.

So the third time was intentional, because you had cupcakes in your backpack that were a bit of a mess, and you only came in after knocking.

Wanda still had to get used to the image of you hanging at that height.

"Hi." She greeted, not hiding her own discontent about that day. You continued to sit on the edge.

"Hey." You said with a small smile, twirling your bag in front of you. " I won't be bothering you, I just came to bring you something."

She grimaced, biting her lip. She wanted to say that you're rarely a nuisance, but instead, she remained silent.

You take out a closed box from your backpack, a little crumpled, but the contents are safe. There are several colorful, well-filled cupcakes from your favorite place in the center. All with little birthday decorations.

"I didn't know your favorite flavor, so I brought you one of each. If you're allergic to anything, we can throw it away." 

Wanda doesn't take the box held out to her. "Hm, I don't... celebrate today." She says clumsily, looking away. You swallow dry, nodding.

"I didn't think so, but I wanted to... I don't even know what I wanted. I'm sorry, that was stupid of me. I'll take these away and leave you alone."

But Wanda grabbed you before you could leave the room, and instead of pulling away, she hugged you. Quickly, as a thank you, but it warmed your cheeks.

"That was sweet of you, okay? Thank you." She murmured just as embarrassed, busying herself with grabbing the box of cupcakes because she didn't know what to do with her hands.

You smiled. "No problem, Wanda." You say, and before you lose your nerve, you add. "To be honest, the cupcakes are just an excuse. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to tell you that I'm here if you need a friend. I know how hard days like these are, and being alone is sometimes not a choice, it's the only option. I wanted you to know that there are people with whom you can share this pain. Or if you don't want to talk about it, these cupcakes."

The next hug is longer and makes you wish you'd missed the window more often, even if this time it was on purpose. Maybe when all the drama has passed, and Wanda trusts you to become friends, the window will stay open for you.

For now, she lets you stay to watch sitcoms with her and grimaces when you stumble out the window to answer a spider's call. 

It's stupidly dangerous, she texts you that afternoon.

You respond with spider and web emojis.

-&-

The fourth time, you were bleeding.

Almost unconscious, and struggling to crawl through the windows. Fearing that the exhaustion and injuries would be enough for your powers to fail, and inevitably cause you to fall from the tower. 

Perhaps it would have been better to take the front door.

You felt yourself losing consciousness, and your right hand detached from the glass. Before gravity could do its job, a familiar prickling sensation covered your entire body and you were pulled into Wanda Maximoff's room.

"What happened?"

She looked worried, almost desperate to be honest. Your appearance was probably not the best. Well, who could blame you? You've just guaranteed New York's safety for a while longer after one of the most intense fights in months. Why do villains dressed as animals always land such hard punches?

You try to smile at Wanda, to make a "You should have seen the other guy" joke, even though Rhino wasn't badly hurt and the victory was more thanks to your new electric friend and his tricks that knocked the big guy out, than to you. Maybe you're losing your grip.

Wanda didn't laugh, her powers put you against the soft cushions and the next thing that left your mouth was a grunt of pain when she touched your ribs.

"I'm gonna call Bruce-"

"No, I'm fine." You tried to move, but your body hated the idea. So did Wanda, because her magic became harder to ignore. "Please, Wands, I shouldn't be out there."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

And you have to ignore the pain to keep talking and try to look casual about it with a shrug that makes you wince. "I was still recovering from the last fight. I thought I could handle it."

"You're unbelievable." She grumbles, seeming to remember beyond her own busy routine, the image of your bandaged arm after the last villain you encountered. Clearly, it had been against the advice of the rest of the team that you had joined another fight, and obviously, the consequence of your stubbornness was swinging yourself utterly wrecked into her window at dawn. "You need an x-ray."

You groan but are unable to resist her magical efforts that force you to your feet and drag you into Bruce's lab.

The whole thing becomes a blur in your injured head. But you know that you've been given a hard time by at least half the team, until the medication kicks in and you feel better enough to realize that you're already lying on a bed, with Wanda Maximoff beside you.

"Sorry about the scare." You mumble, and you don't need to clarify any further for her to understand exactly what you mean. You know you'll probably have to work harder than that to remove your nearly dead figure from her memory, but that's a start.

Wanda doesn't take her eyes off the book but sighs. "It's okay." 

You know that's not true. So you try to be honest with her.

"Today is one year since Aunt May died." You say quietly, just loud enough for the two of you in the Avengers' infirmary room to hear. Wanda immediately raises uncertain eyes. It's your turn to sigh and look away. "I just... couldn't keep myself from doing anything. When Miles' suit warned me about Rhino, it was the perfect distraction."

Wanda absorbs your words for a few seconds until she puts the book aside. She leaves the armchair and approaches the bed to sit down next to you. 

"Next time, ask me to distract you." She says, one of her hands going up to your face and caressing some of your bandages. "We could watch a movie, or go out to eat. Or even..."

But she doesn't finish, her cheeks suddenly reddening. You give her a lopsided smile. "What?"

"I don't know, anything you want." Says the witch, turning her face away. 

Mentally thanking Bruce for the painkillers that allow you to move, you sit up properly to lean toward her. "All right, I have a suggestion." You whisper, and it's the first kiss between you as you break the distance.

Wanda's lips are soft against yours, shy as she never is. Only with this kind of thing, of course. The goth girl who won't let anyone give her a bad look and has a punk attitude all the time, but can't keep her gaze if you wink at her from across the room. And always blushes when you text her that she looks pretty when she's concentrating on the Avengers meetings.

She's the one who separates, although just as breathlessly, she warns: "I'm still mad at you."

You bite back a smile, absorbing for a second the image of her swollen lips and flushed face. "Well, I suppose I should distract you from your anger then." 

She snorts good-naturedly at the statement, but you kiss her before she can comment. The two of you keep smiling throughout.

-&-

The fifth time, it's a new window.

Well, actually it's a whole new place because Wanda Maximoff has left Avengers Tower and moved to suburban New Jersey. And you were late.

The whole team had already helped with the move and left after an afternoon snack at Wanda's new house. For the first time in a long time, New York had no villain after Spidey, and you were stuck in university bureaucracy.

You apologized dozens of times by text message for not being able to help with the move, and in fact, the whole team laughed at the situation. It was just bad luck that you missed such a fun afternoon.

It was late evening when you arrived on the dark balcony. Through the windows, the lower floor was empty and perhaps you had strange habits because you didn't even consider just ringing the bell. One tug of the webs and you were at the second-floor window, tapping on the glass for Wanda to let you in.

"We have a door, you know." It was the first thing she said. And you smiled, slightly distracted by the figure fresh out of the shower, still with damp hair.

"We?"

She scrunched her nose, her hands working to remove your backpack and jacket. "It's just semantics." She retorts, but you keep smiling. You let the jacket fall into the backpack on the floor before sliding your hands around her waist. 

"Oh, of course. For a second I thought you had found a roommate." 

She rolls her eyes bemusedly. "You know the invitation still stands."

You smile, your anxious fingers drawing patterns across the exposed skin at her waist. "Well, Captain Rogers' influence is making me a bit old-fashioned but before I move I'd like to do a few things first."

"Hm, is that right? Like what?"

Shrugging as if your heart wasn't racing in your chest, you retort. "Like... marrying you, for example."

Wanda hesitates, surprised more than anything. She looks at you as if she's trying to decide if it was a joke, but you don't feel her magic in your mind. 

"Do you really mean that?" She asks almost unsurely, and you sigh before letting go. You duck down to pick up your backpack again and reveal the real reason for the extra half hour of your journey from the university.

A little velvet box hidden in the front pocket. 

"I was saving it for our anniversary, but I don't think there's such a thing as the right moment. Every day I'm ready to marry you, and I don't need a dinner party for that." You declare nervously and swallow dryly when you meet your girlfriend's watery eyes. "B-but I can totally ask you next week-"

She breaks into a tearful laugh, pulling you close again. "Shut up, you fool."  She says practically against your lips before kissing you hard.

It's only later in the evening, after you've laughed and kissed and lost yourselves in hours of pleasure exploring each other's bodies, for the first time holding hands with golden rings on your fingers, that you, still breathless with Wanda almost asleep against your chest, ask:

"That means yes, right?"

She uses magic to throw a pillow in your face.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 10

"𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦,"

summary: joel need to take you away

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 10

masterlist of the series!

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next | chapter 11

The church was filled with the low hum of whispered conversations, the soft rustling of fabric, and the faint creak of wooden pews as everyone settled into their seats. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and the distant, lingering notes of the organ that had played earlier in the evening. The Millers had arrived early, securing their usual spot near the back. Tommy sat at the edge of the row, closest to the aisle, with Maria beside him, cradling little Luke in her arms. Ellie sat next, her gaze darting nervously between the people around her and the silent figure of Joel at the far end.

Joel’s eyes were fixed ahead, but they saw nothing. He was lost in the labyrinth of his own mind, where the echoes of the past few days reverberated endlessly. The shower had done little to wash away the stain of his actions, the memory of the blood, the bodies buried deep in the place that only Joel who knows. He had done it all for you—to protect you, to keep you safe—but now the weight of it pressed down on him, suffocating, as if the very walls of the church were closing in.

Ellie, sensing the tension radiating from him, leaned closer. “Are you alright, Joel?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s reply was curt, clipped. “Yes,” he muttered, though his tone was distant, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Ellie hesitated, then ventured another question, her concern for you evident. “How is uh...how is she?”

Joel nodded stiffly, his gaze still locked forward. “She’s getting better,” he said, though the words felt hollow, as if he were trying to convince himself more than Ellie.

"Is she going to perform?" Ellie ask again.

Joel nodded, Ellie frowned, her brow furrowing in worry. “And you’re gonna let her? She’s…”

Before she could finish, Joel cut her off, his voice a low growl. “Ellie, that’s what she wants.”

Ellie fell silent, her lips pressing into a thin line. She nodded, but the unease lingered in her eyes. She knew something was wrong, something beyond what Joel was willing to admit.

Meanwhile, Tommy and Maria exchanged puzzled glances. The opening prayers were supposed to have started by now, yet the pulpit remained empty, the service delayed. Tommy craned his neck, scanning the room, before catching sight of Joe, one of the church officials, passing by.

“Joe, what’s going on?” Tommy asked in a hushed tone. “Why hasn’t the prayer started?”

Joe leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. “The prayer was supposed to be led by Pastor Ben, but no one’s seen him since last night.”

At the mention of Ben’s name, Joel’s heart skipped a beat. The blood drained from his face as a cold dread washed over him, the weight of his deeds crashing down on him anew.

Tommy frowned. “So who’s going to lead?”

“Reverend Gibson,” Joe replied. “He’s on his way.”

Tommy nodded, then turned back to Joel, his expression curious. But Joel was already lost in his thoughts, his mind racing. He should have known better than to kill Pastor Ben. He should have known that Ben’s absence wouldn’t go unnoticed, that people would start asking questions, that suspicion would inevitably follow. But what choice did he have? If he hadn’t silenced Ben, you would have been taken from him. They would have torn you away, locked him up, or worse. The thought was unbearable, a dark void that threatened to swallow him whole.

His mind spiraled, chaotic thoughts twisting and turning, each more desperate than the last. The church felt like a cage, the air thick and suffocating. The walls seemed to close in, the eyes of the congregation boring into him, as if they knew, as if they could see the blood on his hands, the bodies buried in the floor, hidden beneath layers of cement. Every creak of the pew, every whisper felt like an accusation, a judgment passed down by the very God he no longer believed would forgive him.

A sudden movement broke through his thoughts. Your father emerged from the shadows behind the pulpit, his presence commanding the room. Joel watched him with a cold detachment. As Joel scanned the room, searching for you, his eyes fell on your mother instead. She sat across the aisle, her head bowed low, a wide-brimmed flowered hat obscuring her face, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders in a way that seemed… off. It was as if she were hiding, trying to shield herself from prying eyes. But you were nowhere to be seen.

Something's wrong...

A knot of unease tightened in Joel’s chest. As your father began to speak, calling the congregation to rise for the opening prayer, Joel’s gaze flicked back to your mother. She seemed fragile, almost broken, her posture slumped, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. And still, you were not there. The absence of your presence gnawed at him, fueling the growing fear that something was very, very wrong.

The congregation rose, a sea of bodies moving in unison as your father’s voice echoed through the church, strong and commanding. But beneath the surface of his words, there was something else—a venomous undercurrent, a cold, sharp edge that sent a shiver down Joel’s spine.

As your father began the prayer, his eyes locked onto Joel’s, a dark, knowing gaze that chilled him to the bone. The words of the prayer dripped with sanctimony, each phrase a thinly veiled condemnation, as if the prayer was a weapon aimed directly at him.

“Lord,” your father began, his voice resonating through the sacred space, “we ask for Your divine mercy on this day, for those who have strayed from Your path. For those who have allowed sin to corrupt their hearts, who have tainted the innocent with their filth.”

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, each word a blow that landed squarely on his conscience. He felt the weight of your father’s gaze, the burning intensity of it, as if your father knew, as if he could see right through him, into the dark, hidden places where Joel’s secrets festered.

“Grant us the strength, O Lord,” your father continued, his voice rising, “to cleanse ourselves of the impurity that has seeped into our lives. To protect the pure from those who seek to defile them, who seek to drag them down into the mire of sin.”

Joel’s breath caught in his throat. His mind raced, a whirlwind of fear and guilt. The congregation around him bowed their heads, their voices murmuring in unison, lost in prayer. But Joel couldn’t focus on the words, couldn’t find any solace in them. All he could do was scan the room, searching for you, his eyes darting from face to face, desperately trying to find you. But you weren’t there. Where were you?

As the gospel music swelled, your father’s voice grew louder, more forceful, the words taking on an almost sinister tone. “Lord, forgive those who have fallen into darkness,” he chanted, his eyes never leaving Joel’s. “Forgive those who have allowed the Devil to take hold of their hearts, who have corrupted the pure souls entrusted to their care.”

The words cut deep, slicing through Joel’s defenses, each one a dagger of guilt and shame. He felt trapped, as if the very walls of the church were closing in on him, as if the pews themselves were rising up to choke him.

“Lord,” your father’s voice was a roar now, a righteous fury that echoed through the sanctuary, “cleanse us of this filth! Burn away the sin that has corrupted the pure! Purge us of those who would defile Your children, who would drag them down into Hell!”

Joel’s head spun, a cacophony of voices swirling around him, all merging into one oppressive sound.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Something was wrong.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

You were not there. And the fear that gripped him was unlike anything he had ever known.

He looked up, his eyes finding your mother across the aisle. She sat with her head bowed, her blonde hair spilling out from beneath a wide-brimmed hat, her shoulders trembling. Something was different about her, something was off.

And then Joel saw it—the bruise on her hand, the way she seemed to be hiding, shrinking into herself, as if trying to disappear.

It hit him like a freight train.

He knew

Your father knew about him and you.

Without a doubt, that your father knew. He knew about you and Joel, about the darkness that had crept into your lives. And he was using this moment, this prayer, to condemn Joel for it, to cast him out, to damn him in the eyes of God and man.

And he realize your father must had done something to you.

He must had discovered the truth and taken his rage out on you. The thought of you, hurt, suffering, because of him, because of what he had done, was too much to bear.

Joel’s blood ran cold as he realized why you weren’t there, why your mother looked so broken. He should have known. He should have never let it come to this. He should have protected you from this.

Suddenly, the world seemed to slow, your father’s voice droning on, filled with fire and brimstone. “GOD WILL BURN YOU IN HELL FOR YOUR SINS!” he thundered, his eyes piercing through the crowd, locking onto Joel’s.

The truth was clear now—your father knew everything. And he was punishing you for it.

Panic surged through him, and he bolted from the pew, his heart pounding in his ears.

He had to get to you. He had to save you.

As he moved, a ripple of shock spread through the congregation, heads turning, whispers rising. Tommy called after him, “Joel, wait!”

But Joel didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He was almost to the doors when your father’s voice rang out, echoing off the stone walls with a terrible finality.

“JOEL MILLER, YOU WILL BURN IN HELL AND WILL NEVER SEE THAT PATHETIC LITTLE GIRL AGAIN!”

The words hit Joel like a physical blow, stopping him dead in his tracks. He turned slowly, his eyes locking onto your father, who stood at the pulpit, his face twisted with righteous fury.

“What did you do to her?” Joel’s voice was low, dangerous, as he took a step toward your father, his fists clenched at his sides.

Your father sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “She’s been corrupted by the likes of you. But no more. You’ll never see her again.”

Joel’s vision blurred with rage, his body trembling with barely controlled fury. “What did you do to her?” he demanded, louder this time, his voice reverberating through the church.

The room was deathly silent now, all eyes on Joel and your father. Tommy stood frozen, while Maria held Ellie close, shielding her from the escalating confrontation. Ellie’s eyes were wide with fear, her hands shaking as she gripped Maria’s arm.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!" Joel's voice thundered and echoed through the church, sending a wave of fear rippling through everyone inside.

Your father, undeterred, raised his Bible high, his voice booming through the sacred space as he pointed at Joel. "This man is a predator! He has corrupted my daughter’s soul, defiled her innocence! He is the Devil’s servant, sent to drag her down into the depths of Hell!"

The words sliced through the air like a blade, each one a sharp, stinging cut. Joel’s heart raced, his mind a storm of fear and fury. He had to find you. He had to get to you before it was too late.

“Where is she?” Joel’s voice was cold now, deadly, as he took another step forward, his eyes never leaving your father’s.

Your father’s expression was one of righteous satisfaction, a sickening smirk curling his lips. “You’ll never see her again,” he repeated, his voice a cruel taunt.

Joel snapped. With a growl of pure rage, he turned and bolted for the doors, shoving his way through the shocked congregation. He had to get to you. He had to save you.

“Don’t you dare, Joel!” your father’s voice thundered after him, but Joel was already gone, bursting through the church doors and into the day.

The truck was parked a few yards away, and Joel sprinted to it, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He yanked the door open, jumped in, and slammed it shut, the engine roaring to life as he floored the gas pedal. The tires screeched as the truck tore down the road, heading straight for your house.

His mind was a maelstrom of fear and rage. He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t lose you. The thought of what your father might have done to you was unbearable, a black hole of terror that threatened to swallow him whole. He couldn’t let it happen. He wouldn’t let it happen.

The truck careened around the corner, the tires skidding on the pavement as Joel pushed it to its limits. The house came into view, and Joel’s heart leaped into his throat. The lights were off, the windows dark, but there was no time to hesitate.

Joel slammed the truck into park and jumped out, sprinting to the front door. His fist pounded against the wood, the sound echoing through the empty street. As he shouted your name, his voice raw with desperation.

There was no answer. The silence was deafening, the fear clawing at his insides. He had to find you. He had to get to you.

With a growl, Joel threw his shoulder against the door, the wood splintering under the force. The door burst open, and Joel stormed inside, his eyes scanning the darkened rooms. He called your name again, his voice breaking with fear as he kept calling your name.

He moved through the house, tearing open doors, searching every room, every corner. But you were nowhere to be found. Panic gripped him, a cold, suffocating terror that made it hard to breathe. What had your father done? Where are you?

He shouted your name again, his voice echoing off the walls. And then, faintly, he heard it—a weak, broken whisper, calling his name.

“J-joel…”

The sound was coming from above. Joel’s heart leaped into his throat as he looked up, his eyes landing on the attic door. It was slightly ajar, a faint light spilling out from the crack.

Without a second thought, Joel grabbed a broom and slammed it against the attic hatch. The door creaked open, and the stairs unfolded, descending slowly to the floor. Joel was up them in an instant, his heart pounding in his ears as he reached the top.

And there you are.

You are huddled in a corner, your body battered and bruised, your clothes torn and soaked. You were shivering, your arms wrapped around yourself, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Joel…” your voice was a broken whisper, filled with so much pain and fear that it nearly brought Joel to his knees.

He crossed the room in three strides, falling to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. “… oh God, baby…”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as a sob shook your fragile frame. “J-joel, h-he knew...h-he knew,"

Joel’s heart shattered into a million pieces as he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he dared. “It's okay, it's okay, babygirl,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry… I’m here now, I’ve got you… I’ve got you…”

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shirt as if you were afraid he might disappear. “Please… please don’t leave me…”

“Never,” Joel swore, his voice rough with determination. “I’m never leaving you."

“We’re getting out of here, right now,” Joel said as he cupped your face, "We're getting out of here," he said again with his voice a low growl, laced with urgency. He knew he couldn’t leave you in this hell any longer. The sight of you, broken and trembling, ignited a primal need to protect you, to keep you safe at any cost. This was it—the moment you both had been waiting for. Now or never. If he didn’t take you away now, they would take you from him forever.

Joel lifted you gently, cradling you in his arms, but even the smallest movement made you cry out in pain. The agony shot through your body, sharp and unforgiving, as fresh blood began to seep from your stomach. The memory of your father’s sharp rings flashed in your mind, the brutal force with which he had punched you, leaving you gasping for breath, your vision blurring from the pain.

As Joel carried you down from the attic, your mind drifted back to how it all began. Your father had found out, and his rage was beyond anything you had ever known.

"Father, what's going on?"

You remembered his cold, calculating eyes as he cornered you, the terrifying calm in his voice when he asked if it was true. You had tried to deny it, to protect Joel, but your father saw through your lies. His fist came down on you like a hammer, relentless and punishing, driving the air from your lungs with every blow. You had screamed, begged for mercy, but it only fueled his fury.

He grabbed your hair, yanking you to the ground, dragging you across the floor as you kicked and pleaded. The fear was suffocating, every nerve in your body screaming in terror. Then, with a cruel twist of his hand, he forced your head into the toilet, pressing down as the cold, filthy water filled your mouth and nose. You thrashed, struggling to breathe, panic consuming you as you felt yourself slipping away.

Your mother had been there, witnessing the horror unfold. For the first time, she stepped in, her voice trembling as she pleaded with him, "NO! NO! STOP IT! LEAVE HER ALONE!" Her voice was desperate, raw with the anguish of a mother watching her child being destroyed.

She lunged at your father, punching him, clawing at him to get him away from you. For a moment, you felt a glimmer of hope as her hands pulled him back, as if she might actually save you. But your father's rage was all-consuming. His eyes turned to her, dark and menacing, and he sneered at her audacity.

"You dare to defy me?" he spat, his voice low and venomous. Without hesitation, he lashed out, his fist connecting with your mother's face in a sickening thud. She cried out, stumbling backward, her hands flying to her face as she tried to shield herself from his wrath.

"MAMA!" you screamed, your voice hoarse and broken, as you watched her crumble to the floor. The sight of her, fragile and bleeding, filled you with a new kind of terror, one that twisted your insides into knots. The man who people had known for the good saint preacher, always been the pillar of the community, the preacher who stood in front of the congregation and preached love and righteousness, was now a monster, capable of such cruelty.

Your father turned back to you, his face twisted in a grotesque mask of anger, and you knew then that there was no escape. The beating resumed, more savage than before, as he sought to punish you for both your sins and your mother’s rebellion. Each blow was a declaration of his power, a reminder that you were nothing but a wayward daughter who had to be corrected.

The pain was relentless, each hit driving you deeper into a state of numbness. You were barely aware of anything anymore, your world reduced to the searing agony that radiated from every inch of your body. The only thing that kept you from slipping into unconsciousness was the thought of Joel, the hope that he might somehow save you from this nightmare.

Your father locked you up in the attic as he forced your mother also to attend the sermons.

Now, as Joel carried you down from the attic, the memories of that clung to you like a shroud. The pain, the fear, the helplessness—it was all still there, just beneath the surface, waiting to consume you. But with Joel, there was a glimmer of hope, a promise that maybe, just maybe, you could escape the hell that had become your life.

Joel's grip on you tightened as he moved through the house, his mind racing with a singular focus: to get you out, to keep you safe. There was no time to think about anything else—your belongings, or even the consequences. All that mattered was getting you away from here, away from the nightmare that had become your life.

As he carried you on his shoulder, your fragile body resting against him, Joel moved with determination. But as Joel reached the front yard, a few neighbors emerged from their homes, their faces etched with concern and confusion.

"Joel? What's going on?" one of them asked, their voice hesitant, unsure of the scene unfolding before them.

Joel didn’t answer. His focus was unwavering as he placed you gently in the back seat of his truck, his hands trembling slightly as he ensured you were secure. But just as he turned to get in the driver’s seat, the sound of tires screeching to a halt cut through the day.

Your father’s car pulled up abruptly, and both your parents emerged, your father’s face a mask of fury, your mother’s a picture of desperate panic.

"JOEL! DON’T YOU DARE TAKE HER AWAY!" your father roared, his voice thick with rage. He stormed towards Joel, grabbing him by the shirt and yanking him back, the force of his anger almost palpable.

But Joel was ready. He had been holding back for too long. The hatred, the disgust he felt for this man who had caused you so much pain boiled over. Without hesitation, Joel swung his fist, landing a solid punch on your father's jaw. The impact sent your father stumbling back, his eyes wide with shock.

"You make me sick," Joel snarled, his voice low and filled with venom. "You disgust me. You beat your fucking daughter, terrorized her, and for what? To prove you’re some righteous man of God? You're a hypocrite, a fucking monster hiding behind a collar!"

The two men squared off, anger radiating from both of them. You could hear the scuffle from inside the truck, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to process what was happening. The sounds of fists connecting, grunts of pain, and harsh, angry words filled the air.

Meanwhile, your mother was at the window of the truck, banging on the glass, her face wet with tears. "Please, please don’t leave, don't leave me!" she cried, her voice cracking with desperation. "Please, sweetheart, don’t leave me alone!"

Your mother’s pleas tore at your heart. You love her—of course you do—but you knew deep down that staying with her meant staying in a place where you would never be truly safe. She had let this happen. She had watched as your father hurt you, and even now, when she tried to intervene, it felt like too little, too late.

Through the glass, your mother’s eyes locked with yours, her hand pressed against the window as if she could reach through and pull you back to her. "Please, baby, come back to us. We can fix this. We can make it right."

"Mama, I can't," Tears blurred your vision as you looked at her, the woman who had given you life but had been unable to protect you. You could see the regret in her eyes, the guilt that she had let it come to this. But as much as it hurt, you knew you couldn’t go back home. Not now. Not ever.

Joel, still grappling with your father, caught sight of your mother trying to coax you out of the truck. "Stay away from her, Evelyn!" he shouted, his voice laced with a protective fury. He couldn’t let your mother take you back into that house, back into the arms of a man who would destroy you.

Your father spat blood from the corner of his mouth, glaring at Joel with a hatred that could have burned through steel. "You can’t take her from me! She’s my daughter! You think you can just steal her away, like some kind of hero? I’ll call the cops, you bastard! This is kidnapping!"

Joel didn’t flinch. "She’s not safe with you," he growled, his voice cold as ice. "You don’t deserve to call yourself her father. You’re just a coward who uses God to justify your own cruelty."

Your father lunged at Joel again, but this time Joel was ready. He dodged the attack, shoving your father back with all the strength he had left. "You're torturing her all this time!" Joel screamed, his voice shaking with barely contained rage.

But your father only sneered, wiping the blood from his lip. "She’s my daughter. I did what had to be done. And you—" he pointed a trembling finger at Joel, "—you will never see her again. Not after what you've done."

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, the realization hitting him like a freight train. He turned to you, your pale, tear-streaked face visible through the window, and knew he had to act fast. He couldn’t let your father take you away, couldn’t let him continue to hurt you.

As the chaos of the confrontation swirled around you, you clung to the small shred of hope that Joel represented. You couldn’t go back to your parents, couldn’t return to the hell you had endured for so long.

Joel turned back to your father, his voice low and dangerous. "You’re never going to touch her again. I’m taking her away from here, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me."

With that, Joel broke away from the fight, rushing back to the truck. He threw open the door, and with one last glance at your parents—your mother sobbing, your father still seething—he climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.

Your father lunged forward, pounding on the hood of the truck as Joel started the engine. "Don’t you dare take her away from me!" he roared, his voice cracking with rage and desperation.

"JOEL!" Your father screamed. and then your mother scream your name.

But Joel didn’t look back. He floored the gas pedal, the tires screeching as the truck sped away, leaving your father’s furious shouts fading into the distance.

Joel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he sped away from your house, his knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. The echoes of your father’s enraged shouts and your mother’s desperate cries still rang in his ears, but he couldn’t afford to think about them now. He glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing you curled up in the backseat, tears streaming down your face as you clutched your aching body. His heart broke for you, the pain in your eyes more than he could bear.

He reached back with one hand, his fingers brushing against your trembling shoulder. "It's okay, baby, I’m here," he murmured, trying to soothe you even as his own heart raced with fear and anger. "We’re getting away from here, I promise. No one’s going to hurt you ever again."

Joel’s mind was racing, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of plans and possibilities. He knew he had to get you out of town, away from the danger that lingered in every shadow of your parents’ home. But he couldn’t just run, not without Ellie. She was his daughter, his reason for living, and he couldn’t leave her behind. Not now, not ever.

"We're going to Tommy’s first," he said, his voice firm, as if saying it out loud would make it all the more real. "Ellie and Tommy will be there."

When he finally pulled up in front of Tommy’s house, Joel took a deep breath, his mind already calculating the next steps. He turned to you, his gaze softening. "I’ll be quick, baby. You stay here, okay? I’ll lock the doors. I won’t be long."

You nodded weakly, trusting him despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. Joel leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before locking the truck doors and rushing towards the house.

Inside, chaos had already erupted. Tommy and Maria were in the living room, both of them looking bewildered and concerned. Ellie was there too, sitting on the couch with wide, anxious eyes, clearly sensing that something was terribly wrong.

"What the fuck happened, Ellie?" Tommy said to Ellie then suddenly Joel's there making everyone's head turned.

"Joel?!" Tommy exclaimed as his brother burst into the room, his voice a mix of shock and confusion. "What the hell is going on?!"

But Joel didn’t answer. His focus was solely on Ellie, his heart aching with the weight of what he was about to ask her. He crossed the room in quick strides, taking her hands in his, his eyes filled with desperation.

"Ellie," he began, his voice trembling slightly, "we’re leaving. We have to go. Right now."

Ellie’s eyes widened in shock. "What?!" she gasped, looking up at him as if he had just said the most impossible thing in the world. Tommy and Maria were just as stunned, exchanging worried glances.

"Joel, what the fuck are you talking about?" Tommy demanded, stepping closer to his brother. "What happened?!"

But Joel barely heard him. His grip on Ellie’s hands tightened, his voice urgent. "Ellie, listen to me. I can’t go without you. I need you to come with me. Please, we need to go now." He could feel time slipping away, the danger drawing closer with every passing second.

Ellie looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes. "Joel, this is crazy," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Behind them, Tommy’s voice grew louder, more insistent. "Joel! Explain to me what’s going on! What the hell have you done?"

But Joel’s attention was locked on Ellie, the girl who had become his world. For the first time, Ellie saw something in Joel she had never seen before—tears, brimming in his eyes, threatening to spill over. His voice broke as he spoke, the weight of his emotions finally crashing down on him.

"I can’t leave without you, Ellie," he pleaded, his voice raw. "Please, come with me. I can’t lose you too." His voice breaking.

The room fell into a stunned silence. Tommy and Maria stared at Joel in disbelief, the realization of what was happening slowly dawning on them. Tommy’s voice, once filled with confusion, now carried a note of horror. "Joel… what are you going to do with her?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as Tommy saw you in the back of Joel's truck. "What have you done to her, Joel?!"

"You can’t just take her away from her family…" Tommy said to Joel about you...

Joel finally tore his gaze away from Ellie, his eyes filled with a fierce, unyielding determination. "You don’t understand, Tommy," he snapped, his voice laced with bitterness. "Her father’s been beating her, torturing her for years. I’m not taking her away from her family—I’m saving her from them."

Tommy stared at him, the shock evident in his face. "Joel… why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because I’m fucking in love with her!" Joel finally admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of the truth. The room went silent again, the confession hanging in the air like a dark cloud. Even Maria, who had been silent until now, gasped softly, her hand covering her mouth in disbelief.

Tommy’s eyes widened, his gaze shifting from Joel to the truck where you sat, tears streaming down your face. The realization hit him like a freight train, and his expression softened with a mixture of shock and sorrow. "Jesus Christ, Joel," 

Joel’s grip on Ellie’s hands tightened as he turned back to her, his eyes pleading. "Ellie, please. I can’t do this without you. I need you to come with me. I can’t lose you too, i can't,"

Ellie’s heart ached at the sight of Joel like this—so desperate, so vulnerable. She knew how much he loved you and how much you loved him, how much he had sacrificed for you, but she also knew that this was a line she couldn’t cross. Going with him would only complicate things further, would make an already impossible situation even worse.

Tears welled up in Ellie’s eyes as she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "No, Joel. You have to go… without me."

Joel’s eyes widened in disbelief, his heart shattering at her words. "No, no" he whispered, shaking his head. "No, I can’t leave you behind. I can’t."

Ellie reached up, cupping Joel’s face in her hands, her own tears spilling over. "You have to," she said softly, her voice filled with both love and sorrow. "You’ve done so much for me, Joel. But now, you need to do this for her. She needs you."

Joel’s breath caught in his throat, his emotions a tangled mess of love, fear, and despair. He knew she was right, knew that he couldn’t drag Ellie into this any further. But the thought of leaving her behind, of saying goodbye, was almost too much to bear.

"I’m so sorry, Ellie," Joel choked out, his voice breaking as tears finally spilled over. "I’ve failed you…"

Ellie shook her head, her heart breaking at the sight of Joel so torn. "No, Joel," she whispered, pulling him into a tight embrace. "You’ve never failed me. You’re the best father I could’ve asked for. And if you’re happy with her, then I’m happy too."

They held each other for what felt like an eternity, the weight of the moment pressing down on them both. Finally, Joel pulled back, his eyes red and swollen from the tears. He looked at Tommy, his voice hoarse. "Take care of her, Tommy. Please. I’ll come back… I promise."

Tommy nodded, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Just… be careful."

Joel turned to Ellie one last time, his heart breaking as he forced himself to let go. "I love you, kiddo," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too, Joel, Please, be safe." Ellie replied, her voice trembling.

With one last, lingering look, Joel turned and walked out of the house, each step heavier than the last. As he climbed back into the truck, his hands shaking, he glanced over at you, his heart aching for the pain you were going through.

He started the engine, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, but one thing was clear—he had to protect you, had to get you somewhere safe. Ellie would be okay. She was strong, resilient. But you… you needed him now more than ever.

As the truck pulled away, Ellie watched from the window, her heart breaking with every passing second. She knew she had done the right thing, but that didn’t make it any easier.

And as Joel drove away and he look back to see you now fell asleep, his mind filled with a mix of sorrow and determination, he knew that this was only the beginning of a long, uncertain journey.

***

You slowly drifted back to consciousness, your body heavy with exhaustion as you lay in the backseat. The world outside the window blurred past in streaks of darkness, illuminated only by the occasional flash of headlights. You blinked, trying to orient yourself, the events of the morning slipping in and out of focus.

Your eyes found Joel at the wheel, his broad shoulders hunched forward, the lines of his face etched deep with a blend of determination and fatigue. The soft glow of the dashboard lights cast a warm, almost ethereal hue over him, and for a moment, he looked like a guardian angel—battle-worn but unwavering, carrying you away from the life that had suffocated you for so long.

You noticed the blood on his forehead, a stark reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded. But even with the traces of violence on him, there was something steady, almost serene, about the way he drove. The road ahead was uncertain, but with Joel, you felt a fragile sense of safety, a new kind of freedom that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

In that moment, you realized how much he meant to you. He had pulled you out of the abyss, saving you from the dark clutches of your father's wrath. He was your protector, your sanctuary, the one who had finally put an end to your suffering. You were free now—free from the oppressive walls of that house, from the constant fear and pain. Joel had given you that, and you were forever grateful.

"Joel…" you called out, your voice weak and trembling as you tried to sit up. The word barely escaped your lips, but it was enough to make him turn his head, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror.

He slowed the truck and pulled over to the side of the road, the tires crunching against the gravel. The world outside was still and quiet, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had just passed.

Joel quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the truck, his footsteps echoing as he hurried to your side. He opened the back door and knelt beside you, his eyes filled with concern.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice a mixture of relief and worry. "How are you feeling?"

You tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. "Better…"

He reached out, gently touching your bandaged stomach, his hands warm and careful. "You’re safe now," he whispered, more to himself than to you. "I’m not gonna let anything happen to you."

You nodded, the weight of everything hitting you all at once. Tears welled up in your eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming sense of freedom. For the first time in as long as you could remember, you felt like you could breathe, like the world outside that small town was finally opening up to you.

Joel looked at you, his expression softening as he brushed a tear from your cheek. "We’re gonna be okay," he assured you. "I'm here to protect you, I won't let anything happened to you,"

You believed him. You didn’t know where the road would lead, but with Joel by your side, you felt ready to face whatever came next. He had saved you from a life of misery, and as you stared into the darkened horizon, you knew that you were never going back. The past was behind you, and a new future awaited, one where you could finally be free.

As you tenderly wiped the blood from Joel’s forehead, your fingertips brushed against his skin, feeling the warmth of his touch and the resilience that lay beneath. His brown eyes, deep and weary, met yours with a mixture of exhaustion and unwavering resolve. In that moment, you saw not just the man who had rescued you but the protector who would guide you through this new chapter of your life.

The road stretched out before you, an endless ribbon of possibilities unfurling in the fading light. With every mile that passed, you felt a sense of liberation that was both exhilarating and profound. The past was receding like shadows in the rearview mirror, and the future, though uncertain, was bathed in the golden glow of hope.

As you leaned in and kissed Joel, the touch of your lips against his was like a silent promise, a moment of shared solace and longing fulfilled. It was the kiss you had needed—a gentle, lingering connection that spoke of gratitude and the deep bond that had formed between you. When you pulled away, the world felt a little lighter, and the road ahead seemed a bit less daunting.

“What are we going to do now?” you asked softly, your voice carrying the weight of your newfound freedom and the uncertainty that lay ahead.

Joel’s gaze shifted to you, his expression thoughtful. "We'll figuring it out, but for now we’re heading to Bill and Frank’s place,” he said.

“They’re old friends of mine. They might be able to help us. The town’s probably a mess right now, and your dad might’ve called the cops. We’ll stay with them for a few days, get cleaned up, and figure out our next move.”

You nodded, accepting his plan with a quiet resolve. The idea of moving forward, of having a temporary sanctuary, gave you a sense of security. “I want to sit up front with you,” you said, determination in your voice. “I’ll be by your side.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, concerned. “Are you sure? It’s a long drive to Bill and Frank’s—about five or six hours. You could rest in the back.”

“No,” you insisted. “I want to be right here, with you.” you said. Joel gave a reluctant nod, acknowledging your request.

***

The road unfurled before you like an endless ribbon of possibility, stretching into the darkening sky, where twilight wove a tapestry of deep blues and fiery oranges. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving a trail of molten gold that shimmered across the landscape, as if painting the world in hues of promise and potential. The truck's engine hummed steadily beneath you, a comforting rhythm that matched the steady beat of your heart, now full of a mix of relief, fear, and hope.

As Dolly Parton's Wildflowers played softly on the radio, its melodies seemed to resonate with the very essence of your soul, each lyric a reflection of your journey. The song spoke of wild, untamed beauty, of a spirit that refused to wither in the face of adversity. It was as if the music was a kindred spirit, understanding the depth of your longing for freedom, for a life unbound by the suffocating constraints of your past.

The breeze that streamed through the open window carried with it a whisper of the freedom you had yearned for, rustling your hair and cooling your flushed cheeks. You felt the wind as a living thing, a gentle reminder of the fresh start you had just begun. It tangled in your hair, a wild, carefree dance that matched the liberation swelling inside you.

Joel sat beside you, his presence a steady beacon amidst the chaos of your emotions. The lines etched into his face told stories of hardship and sacrifice, but in the dim light of the truck's cab, his eyes held a fierce protectiveness and a glimmer of something softer—a promise of safety and a new beginning. His brown jacket, speckled with the day's dust and traces of blood, seemed to mark the end of a grueling battle and the dawn of a new journey.

As the lyrics floated through the cab, they spoke of a life spent in the shadows of others, yearning to break free and bloom in a space of its own. “The hills were alive with wildflowers and I, was as wild, even wilder than they…” The words seemed to echo the very essence of your heart. You were that wildflower, once confined by the oppressive garden of your past, now blooming freely in the open expanse of the world. Your past life, with its stifling expectations and cruel constraints, had faded into the distance, replaced by the exhilarating unknown of the road ahead.

The sunset's final light painted the world in a breathtaking array of colors—crimson and gold blending into a soft violet haze. The sky was a canvas of possibilities, stretching infinitely above you, as if inviting you to write your own story against its vast backdrop. The landscape outside the truck was a blur of darkening silhouettes and shadows, but the interior was bathed in a warm, golden glow, a sanctuary of hope and new beginnings.

Joel’s rugged hands gripped the steering wheel with a steady determination, his profile etched in the soft light. You could see the strain and exhaustion in his features, but also the unwavering resolve. His sacrifice was monumental, his risk immense, yet his focus was solely on the road and on you, a testament to his commitment to your safety and future.

The lyrics of the song spoke to your very soul: “I had no room for growth, and I wanted so much to branch out…” The words mirrored your own desire to escape, to find a place where you could thrive, where you could grow without being smothered. The journey was not just a physical escape but an emotional and spiritual liberation. With each mile that ticked by, the weight of your past seemed to lift, carried away on the wind like the echoes of a distant storm.

Joel’s gaze occasionally flicked toward you, his eyes softening with a tenderness that spoke volumes. In those brief moments, you saw the depth of his commitment, the profound love he held for you. His sacrifices were etched into the lines of his face, and the determination in his eyes was a promise—a promise to protect you, to build a future together, no matter how uncertain it might be.

The sun continued its descent, casting long shadows across the road and creating a dramatic interplay of light and dark. It was a visual metaphor for your journey—a transition from the harsh light of your past to the hopeful glow of the future. The world outside the truck seemed to fade away, replaced by a dreamlike quality as you embraced the freedom you had longed for.

As the song reached its poignant chorus—“No regret for the path that I chose…”—the words resonated deeply within you. There was no room for regret in this new chapter of your life. The past was behind you, a closed chapter that had brought you to this moment of liberation. You felt a profound sense of relief, of having chosen a path that, while fraught with challenges, was yours to navigate with Joel by your side.

You reached out, your fingers gently brushing against Joel’s arm. The touch was tender, a silent gesture of gratitude and love. He looked at you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the dashboard lights, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The road ahead was uncertain, but with Joel beside you and the freedom of the open road stretching before you, the future seemed filled with infinite possibilities.

You leaned against the seat, letting the wind play with your hair and the music wash over you. The world outside was a blur of colors and shadows, but inside the truck, with Joel and the song as your companions, you felt a deep, abiding peace.

In the fading light of a southern sunset, you and Joel embark on a journey of liberation. The road was a symbol of your new beginning, a path that would lead you to a future of your own making.

With Joel by your side, you knew that you were ready to face whatever came next, together, as wild and free as the wind that carried you toward the horizon.