#shoutout to the three people who get this

[jazzsprite]

Who's Lila?

[old-stoneface]

really quick redraw of an old vetvimes piece :)

[goatcheesecak3]

Fuck it, Adam fic because the world needs it

It's a long one so strap in :^)

Tw for brief mention of substance abuse

Y/n walked into the bar and ordered herself a double jack and coke, and sat down in a booth, all too enthusiastically downing the drink. She justified this action by reminding herself that she probably needed to loosen the fuck up, this was her first date since arriving at college and above that, it was a blind date. She had no idea what had come over her when she applied for the dollar valentine scheme her college was running. Maybe it was loneliness, maybe she was just curious, or maybe, and far more likely, she was high as shit when she walked past the sign up table and thought it would be a laugh.

Well either way, she was here now in her favourite black dress and subdued red lipstick, fitting the description she'd texted to her anonymous beau. As for the lucky fellow? All she knew about him was that he would be wearing a leather jacket and black jeans.

Adam dragged a comb through his overly gelled hair before giving himself one final wink in the mirror. His best friend, Charlie, had bet him 20 bucks that he wouldn't be able to get a girl in his bed from the college's dollar valentine scheme, and of course he accepted that bet without hesitation. He'd get laid AND get 20 bucks, what was the downside? He was confident that he could take any girl he was matched with home, he'd never had a problem getting girls weak at the knees before, and someone desperate enough to sign up for the dollar valentine? Like taking candy from a baby.

He trundled merrily down the road towards the bar, knowing he had an evening of drinks, meaningless sex and earning 20 bucks ahead of him. What a great way to spend a Friday night.

Upon entering the bar, his eyes scanned the room until they landed on the lone girl at the booth.

Y/n glanced up, aware that another presence had breached the perimeter of the bar. Any hope that she'd had for a good night quickly faded when she saw Adam stood there in a leather jacket and black jeans.

She'd met Adam before a few times, none of which were by choice. The first occasion was when he was quite clearly higher than Mount Everest and walked into her in the hallway, causing her to drop all her books on the floor. A classic meet cute trope, except instead of offering to help her with her books, Adam had laughed and carried on walking. The second time they'd crossed paths was in the library. At the peak of exam season the only unoccupied seat happened to be next to a sleeping Adam. Y/n had foolishly taken this seat to work on her essay, not realising that Adam had a nearly full cup of coffee next to him. In his sleep he shuffled and spilt it all over her essay, and himself. He woke abruptly and left without saying a word, other than "oh shit". The final time she'd encountered Adam was at a party. She hadn't been invited to, or wanted to go to this party, the only reason she'd found herself there was because her dealer was in attendance, and she really needed some bud to get to sleep. While picking up, one thing had lead to another and she'd ended up joining the party. Being a latecomer she was far more sober than the rest of the crowd, and was lucky enough to observe her peers drunkenly ambling around the party, one of whom was none other than Adam. She watched him flirt with girl after girl until his attention turned toward her. He managed a cocky "hey" before y/n hastily cut him off

"Not in a million years"

"Hey whatever, fuckin ugly anyways" he had mumbled before disappearing into another room.

To summarise, y/n couldn't think of a worse person to be on a date with.

Although he recognised the girl in the booth, Adam wasn't sure where from, all he knew was that she was the only one in the bar wearing a black dress and red lipstick, so she must have been his date for the night. He approached the booth confidently and said "I'm Adam, your date for tonight"

"Well that's tonight written off then," y/n rolled her eyes.

Adam stared at her, dumbfounded, before he realised what she'd said. Taking a seat opposite her, so he could make eye contact while scolding her, he replied "the fuck did I ever do to you?"

Y/n scoffed.

"Are you seriously that much of a prick that you don't know?"

"Well apparently I am. Have we met before or something?"

"Three times. None of which were pleasant" she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Oh come on, I'm sure I would have remembered if we met three fucking times" he laughed, as if he didn't believe her.

"Well let me jog your memory. The first time you knocked all my books over and laughed at me, the second time you spilled coffee all over my work, and the third time you called me ugly to my face. Ring any bells?"

Adam contemplated for a moment, puffing his cheeks out and furrowing his brow, before finally answering,

"No, yeah, that does sound like me actually. Guess I didn't exactly make the best first impression".

"Or second, or third" y/n chimed in.

"Well," he tilted his head cockily, "fourth time's the charm"

"So far that's not the case. Goodnight Adam." She said, and began to gather her belongings ready to leave.

The vision of 20 bucks being flushed down the drain flashed over Adam's mind, and he quickly realised the severity of the situation.

"Hang on, uhhhh, what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. But it's y/n, thanks for finally asking"

"Well, y/n, it's clear to me that I've been a total asshole to you, but don't I at least get a chance to make it up to you?" He extended his hand out and placed it on top of hers. For some reason, unbeknownst to y/n, she didn't pull away.

When y/n didn't answer Adam kept on trying to persuade her.

"Come on, let me buy you a drink. We can sit here and you can spend all night telling me how much of a piece of shit I am if you want, don't let me be the reason you're going home at 8:30 on valentines day".

Oh he was goooood. He knew exactly what buttons to press to get what he wanted. Y/n knew this should make her wary of him, but something about it excited her. Fuck it, free drinks and not spending valentines day alone wasn't a bad deal.

"I'll have a double jack and coke," she relented, the faintest wisp of a smile creeping onto her face.

"Atta girl" Adam winked, before heading to the bar.

He returned with the drinks a few minutes later and resumed his place sat opposite y/n.

"Go on then, lay into me, why am I the worst guy you've ever met"

"Well judging by the fact that you're still here, even though it's completely delusional of you, for some reason you still think you might get laid tonight. Am I right?" Y/n said

"Well.. a man can dream can't he?"

"You really think my self esteem's that poor that I'd sleep with you tonight?"

"I mean.." Adam trailed off. He realised there was pretty much no chance of him winning the bet anymore. Which confused him, because even though there was really nothing left to gain from staying at this date, he felt compelled to stay. Something about this girl intrigued him. Perhaps it was the fact that his moves didn't work on her, or the fact that she could read him like a book, or maybe it was the fact that she was one of the very few girls who weren't afraid to get snippy with him. Either way, he found himself captivated by her.

"Alright, I get it. Sex is completely off the table," he said, holding his hands up innocently, "and oh, would you look at that? I'm still here," he teased.

Y/n allowed herself to let out a slight chuckle, hoping that Adam hadn't noticed the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

There was no denying Adam was good looking, ever since the day he'd knocked her books over, she'd been able to admit to herself that he was a handsome guy. Now that his personality was ever so gradually becoming - dare she say - charming, she feared that she might even be feeling attracted to him.

"So," she said, "what's a guy like you doing signing up to the dollar valentines anyway? Surely hitting on drunk girls at a party is more your thing?"

"If I tell you the real reason it's not gonna make you like me any more" Adam said. His words were guilty, but the tone in which he said them seemed almost proud.

"Go on, tell me. It can't make me like you any less."

"Well, my buddy, Charlie, he bet me 20 bucks that I couldn't get laid through the dollar valentine scheme, I figured it would be easy money" he shrugged and took a gulp of his drink.

"Wow. Now look at you, out 20 bucks and sitting opposite a girl that thinks you're an asshole" y/n teased.

Adam laughed at himself before replying, "I know, serves me right. How about you? You don't exactly seem like the sort of girl who'd sign up for a blind date?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, and I mean this with no offence, you don't exactly strike me as the lonely heart romantic type".

"You're not wrong there," y/n smiled, staring at her drink as she swirled it around in her hand, before taking a sip. "In all honesty, I don't actually remember signing up. My theory is that I was baked beyond belief and thought it would be a laugh."

The pair burst into laughter at this, which was quickly followed by an exchange of knowing smiles, as if to say "I'm secretly glad we matched with eachother"

"Can I ask you something?" Y/n said, an inquisitive look on her face

"Shoot"

"How come you were such an ass all those other times I ran into you, while tonight you actually seem... decent"

For a split second a flash of remorse graced Adam's face. He broke eye contact and stared at his hands.

"I was on a lot of shit for a while there. High all the time, didn't even consider getting sober. But my buddy Charlie wanted me to come with him to these n/a meetings, you know, for moral support. What can I say? I guess they kinda spoke to me. I haven't touched blow in just over a month now."

He daren't look up from his hands, afraid that his date would be repulsed. To his surprise, her reaction was the opposite.

"Shit man, I'm sorry you had to go through that. Props though, getting clean is a real motherfucker. You should be proud that you got through it."

Her tone was warm, nurturing and slightly out of character.

"You think?" Adam said, daring to regain eye contact.

"I don't just think, I know. I used to be heavy into all that shit back in high school. I'm happy you got out of it," she smiled at him, provoking Adam to react in a way that neither of them expected. He blushed.

"And for the record," she continued, "cokeless Adam's a pretty good guy".

Adam failed to suppress a grin.

"You're not too bad yourself," he winked.

The pair continued to talk, feeling far more comfortable now that the ice was broken. It had become apparent to both of them that they actually had a lot in common, similar music tastes, they both liked the same kind of whiskey, and they both had the same dry wit, allowing them to riff with eachother perfectly. The conversation and the drinks flowed long into the night, until the bar finally closed. The duo stepped outside onto the street and both lit up cigarettes. Noticing how cold y/n was in the bitter February night, Adam took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders with an exaggerated "m'lady".

"Reel it in, casanova" she giggled, leaning against him.

Adam had arranged for the infamous Charlie to pick the two of them up, and drop them off at their respective apartments.

They stood waiting for their lift by the side of the road, making idle chitchat and the odd flirtatious comment, until y/n said something that she wasn't expecting to say that night

"Can I kiss you?"

Adam wrapped his arms round her waist and pulled her into a gentle, yet passionate, kiss. Y/n's and found their way to Adam's shoulders, and hung themselves over them in a drunken attempt at an embrace.

Alerted by car lights just down the road, Adam pulled away from the kiss, and turned to see his friend's car approaching.

"When can I see you again?" He asked, realising as he spoke that he had just asked a girl on a date - with absolutely no ulterior motive  - he genuinely wanted to spend fully clothed time with a girl.

"How about Sunday?" Y/n answered

"Perfect. I'll take you on a proper date" he smiled.

Just then the car pulled up, and the pair got in.

"Thanks for the lift Charlie," y/n said upon arrival to her place, "and Adam, i had a really nice time tonight," she added, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before exiting the vehicle.

"Man, you fucked up big time. Where's my 20 bucks?" Charlie said, watching y/n disappear up her apartment steps.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, " Adam said, forking over the money, with an out of character grin on his face.

"The fuck you so happy about? You know you lost, right?"

"I'm seeing her again on Sunday"

Charlie laughed

"Still holding out hope that you'll get to hit skins with her then?"

"Nah it's not like that..." Adam trailed off.

"Holy fucking shit. Holy Mary mother of God, no fucking way," Charlie sputtered, "are you telling me you actually have feelings for a girl?" He laughed

Adam simply shrugged.

"I didn't know you were capable of that," Charlie teased

"Cut it out, man"

"I'm not joking dude, I didn't think I'd ever see the day"

The two friends laughed all the way home, and that night, for the first night in his life, Adam went to bed excited for what the future held.

A/n requests are still open, (sfw only) so check my pinned list to see who I write for :^)

[ozzieinspacetime]

FUCK YOU!!!! (Shoots your DWEU media with The Polyamory Gun and makes all of your ships Polyamorous)

[youngpettyqueen]

theres a scenario in my head where Julian gets abducted (again) but this time Martok, Jadzia, and Worf team up and go get him because I think that would be very fun

[moongothic]

There's like a part of me that realizes that I've written so much Crocodad Meta that at this point I should probably just compile and condence it all into like a giant Propaganda Post

'Cause like. Sure it's all still on my blog, but few people are going to go digging through all the crap I've posted in the past few months for all the Crocodad Evidence, so just showing it all into a single post would make for like. IDK something I could use to make a compelling argument for why Crocodad could be real

(Also it would be more like, Crocodad evidence you might find on a more meta/narrative level, like on-going themes and Oda's story telling tropes/habits etc. Other people have already made posts that breakdown and analyze Marineford and compile all the subtle details+easter eggs etc so I wouldn't even go into any of that. I mean SURE I could regurgitate all that info too but it'd be easier to just link to someone else's post instead and save myself some time lol)

But also.

Do I really want to spend an obscene amount of time making that post. Do I really want to do that.

[byooregard]

i love coming up with aus and fanfic stories with my friends because we will open a little google doc and we will think well this au is more complex in concept than just 'soulmate au' or 'magnus archives au' so we must think of something short and sweet to call it . and then we name the google doc with the funniest thing we can think of on short notice and a year later we're stuck referring to our emotionally gut-wrenching concept as. checks notes . "quark and his three weed-smoking grandpas"

[kala-mies]

kerra pidettii kanaa vahingos vitu lujaa käsissä (Dakota piti ja se käy salilla) ja kuulu vaan poks eikä jääny mössöö tai mtn missää vaa se hävis kokonaan

[losttranslator]

throwback to my high school philosophy teacher trying to catch me with stuff like "actually Jesus never said he was God, did you know that" and smugly prove that I (kid who was read the bible from the age of 2 and got my own by like 7) didn’t know the gospels.

like my dude, what do you think "before Abraham was, I AM" was about? you don’t know and I’M clueless about the text?

[behind-the-sc3ne]

sometimes i think about trying dating apps/online dating in general but i don't think i'll be able to attach to a real person again

[magentagalaxies]

happy birthday to the incredible paul bellini!!! may this be the best bellini day ever

(picture on the left is from the first mouth congress concert i went to last december and picture on the right is from my first ever zoom with paul bellini which is going to be exactly a year ago in a few weeks. so surreal how far our friendship has come since then, he's genuinely like family now)

[irisbaggins]

Trying to trouble-shoot a customer over a phone is always an exercise in "stick to Norwegian you gremlin" for me. I so badly want to use English lingo for things, but my poor customers barely understand what I'm saying in Norwegian, let alone English! The amount of times I end up apologising because my explanations are shit are numerous, and most of the time my customers are really nice about it.

Although, I do loathe having to trouble-shoot networking over the phone. It's a pain in the ass, and it's difficult to find the problem when there are so many moving parts to a network.

At least the customer and I can joke around a little and make the process more pleasant for the both of us. Especially when the problem may have been a wonky cable, and not something much more expensive that must be replaced.

[gentlemandyke]

ohhhhh my god people are soooooo annoying there's no secret swedish conspiracy to send Loreen to trick the world into voting for her so Sweden can win and host Eurovision on waterloos 50th anniversary the Swedish people like pop and Loreen so that's what we sent and clearly other people also like Loreen and pop chill out my god

[tornadodyke]

god i am sooooo bad at responding to messages like genuinely. would love to be a good friend unfortunately the idiot that lives in my brain pushing buttons is constantly refusing to push the button that would allow me to respond to people. i try to do it and someone hits the emergency brake up there like NO WE CAN’T DO THAT!!!!!!! and i’m like girl. what the fuck

[cheemscakecat]

Fun/Interesting details in Expiration Date

Heavy knows that Pauling is calling them, and lets Scout be the one to answer. Also, road safety because he’s not distracted driving.

Medic is so hyped about tumor bread.

Hoovy smelling the sandwich and deciding it’s safe to eat [or that it doesn’t matter at this point].

Pyro standing like that. He don’t know what’s going on, but he’ll still be polite. Also, Sniper just chillin in the back with a poker face the whole time.

Medic smiles at Soldier as they walk past. Engineer’s got that Conhager death-cheating focus at the moment.

Spy’s eyes widen angrily when he realizes it’s Scout at the door and then he smirks like; “Oh hi! Twelve hours was enough time for you to get bored of my absence, then?”, not expecting a sincere apology [maybe one orchestrated by the other teammates, but not Scout].

There was some vitriol behind that “***”, look at his nose. He does not want Scout to gloat, try to prank him again, or give a fake apology. And that’s valid, since the team dying is something Scout should have taken seriously, and the last wishes handled with respect. He crossed a line that Spy doesn’t take lightly.

Dad, I threwed up. But in all seriousness, that’s the “My family is dysfunctional, and I don’t know how to be emotionally honest with people” posture.

See my bucket scene analysis for more on these two.

He didn’t say “You’re terrible with girls” in a snide or smug tone, he said it with like actual parental concern. “Scout, no you have three days! Do you want to die rejected or die before you can enjoy being together? No. Don’t do this to yourself.”

Look at that cup, he did not need a refill. This fake smirk and disinterest is Spy’s way of checking how serious Scout is about this last wish and taking his advice. And when he goes “This never leaves this room” Spy perks up.

Medic was taking a sample of bread tumor puss [or injecting it with something].

They have a whole entire wrestling ring, how did I never notice that?

This is one of those multiple choice questions where you can choose more than one answer and have it be right. But the chicken in combination with the other options looses you points, and just taking the chicken is like the token wrong answer.

Spy sighs when he realizes Scout chose just the chicken. Like chile, I gave you multiple options and you still went with your go-to that doesn’t work!

This room has a gym floor, which implies Spy took a bunch of fancy stuff from one of his rooms just for this date training. Also shoutout to the other teammates for helping with this.

Okay, so most of these decorations came from Pyro, who Scout is terrified of. Archimedes came from Medic, who Scout also doesn’t want to make angry, and the grass cutouts are potentially part of the base camouflage. But that disco ball? That belongs to Scout, he just doesn't want anyone to know he’s real into that. [The team would not judge, but his brothers would, so.]

Man when he gets his heart broken, I hope he finds the right girl for him. He deserves better than Pauling always making excuses to turn him down instead of telling him like it is.

Foreshadowing Solly being romantical towards Zhanna. Look at this content man.

Spy holding his knife like this. There’s no reason for it to be a threat, so he’s just genuinely in the habit of doing this while listening. Or while nervous, which also makes sense.

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l ten

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”