Drew

She/Her. 30s. 18+ MDNI. I'm fanfic & NSFW writer. Formerly @itsdrewharrison / @drewharrisonwriter

[beskaranddust]

Masterlist

Hello, I'm Drew! Welcome and thank you for stopping by. You may know me from my main @itsdrewharrison (formerly @drewharrisonwriter) This is my new side-blog where you’ll find all my old and new stories gathered in one place.

Some of my writing may contain explicit 18+ scenes, so please read mindfully and only engage with content you’re comfortable with. Everything here comes from my own imagination and passion for storytelling, and while I do my best, I’m still learning and growing with every post.

Your kindness and respect mean the world to me, and I’m grateful to have you here. 💜

Header & Dividers I used are from @saradika-graphics

Dieter Bravo

Friends Without Benefits - (One-Shot) Even if you don't believe it, Dieter Bravo is actually capable of having platonic friendships.

Life Well Loved - (One-Shot) Dieter Bravo’s life proves that plans are overrated—and he’s never been more right about not having one.

Lifeline - (Series, rewriting) After basically being dropped and rejected by every PR agency in Hollywood for being such a huge liability, Dieter Bravo must work on resetting his public image in the most unexpected ways.

A Better Man - (One-Shot) Dieter goes back to a place he knows so well just to get a glimpse of a life he could have had.

Friend with Benefits - (One-Shot) Dieter finally fesses up to his long-time best friend about his feelings.

Joel Miller

Softer - (One Shot) Marriage has been good to Joel—he’s happier, softer, and maybe a little pudgier.

On The Mend - (Mini Series, Finished) You were having a really, really bad day in the midst of the scorching Austin summer, and seeing your ex boyfriend, Joel Miller, is the last thing you need.

Our Little Life - (One Shot) 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.

Dave York

Overtime - (One Shot) Preparation for an investor presentation kept you and your boss Dave York working overtime.

Javi Pena

What Matters - (One Shot) A late-night errand to the convenience store forced you to confront everything you thought you'd left behind

[beskaranddust]

What Matters | Javier Peña

Javier Peña x Ex Girlfriend

Originally posted on January 18, 2025, as @drewharrisonwriter

Word Count: 3,792 words

Summary: A late-night errand to the convenience store forced you to confront everything you thought you'd left behind

Notes and Warnings: MDNI. 18+ only. This fic contains explicit content, gun violence, and themes of hidden pregnancy, inconvenient labor, and birth. Reader discretion is advised.

I'm also not a medical professional nor do I have a background in medical procedures, I only have childbirth experience twice, and those are two different experiences that I pulled inspiration from for this fic. So sorry for any unrealistic expectations or mistakes regarding pregnancy and birth in this story.

This is a fic requested by someone on Ko-Fi. I really enjoyed writing my first Javi Pena fic. But I also know the themes are pretty weird, so, if this is not your kind of fic or these things trigger you, please scroll away.

The fluorescent hum of the convenience store lights grated against her nerves, already worn thin by the rhythmic tightening in her belly. She’s so close to feeling overstimulated. She reached for the carton of juice on the shelf, her fingers trembling slightly as another wave rolled through her. I have time , she told herself. Babies don’t always come on time . But the pattern, sharp and increasingly regular, betrayed the truth she didn’t want to face.

She shouldn’t have been out here tonight, she should have driven herself to the hospital two hours ago. Yet, here she was, scanning the shelves for the electrolyte drinks and snack bars she'd forgotten to pack in her hospital bag. A ridiculous errand, in hindsight. She’d been too stubborn to ask for help. Too scared of the pitying looks, the probing questions if someone saw her. 

Too scared of seeing him .

And as if the world is playing some cruel prank on her, the bell on the store’s glass doors jingled and startled her from her thoughts, and her head shot up reflexively. The door had opened before she even registered the familiar silhouette, framed by the warm glow of the streetlights spilling through the windows and the ugly fluorescent lighting of this old convenience store. 

He says her name. 

His voice, low and rough, was unmistakable. For a moment, her heart stalled, her breath catching painfully in her throat. Javier Peña stood frozen in the doorway, his brown eyes wide as they zeroed in on her—and the obvious swell of her belly.

She hadn't seen him in six months, not since she'd sneaked out of his apartment before the sunrise and slipped away without so much as a goodbye. Not since she'd found out she’s carrying Bogota’s Cassanova’s bastard child the day before. Now, months later, here he was, Cassanova himself in the flesh but feels like a ghost pulled straight from her dreams—or nightmares.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath, gripping the juice tighter and turning sharply away from him. She started walking away but the contraction clawed its way up her abdomen, making her wince, she straightened quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed and continued walking. 

“What the—?” Javier took a cautious step forward, his brows furrowing. He caught up with her and gently grabbed her hand and said her name again, softly. She took a deep breath and turned back to face him. 

His gaze flicked to her stomach, then back to her face, and the disbelief gave way to something sharper. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Hey, Javi.” She sighed. 

“You’re pregnant.” He stated. 

“Yeah, no shit.” 

“I-it’s mine, right? It’s gotta be m–”

“Javi, I need to go.” 

“What the fuck?”

She tried to speak. She wanted to tell him that she knows a baby is not part of his plans, heck they’re not even exclusive. There were so many things she wanted to tell him at that moment, to cut him off before he could launch into the inevitable storm of questions, but the words wouldn’t come. 

He says her name again with a sigh.

“Look,” He started. “I think we need to talk.”

“I don’t have the time to talk, Javi. Besides, there’s nothing to talk about.” She tells him, tugging her hand back from his grip. 

“What the hell does that mean? You’re obviously pregnant, it’s obviously mine—”

She scoffed and shook her head. “I’m gonna stop you right there. Pena. I have shit to do. Forget you saw me tonight.” 

She turned away once again and started to walk away when another contraction rippled through her body, stronger this time, and she had to brace herself against the shelf to stay upright.

“Are you alright?” He asked. Great, he’s not budging. She could just drop these things and waddle as fast as she can to her car and drive away, far from him. But oh, this horndog’s child is pressing so low and the pressure is starting to feel too much. 

“I’m fine, just leave me alone.” She started panting and Javi trembled slightly at the scene. 

“Are you in labor?” 

“No,” she snapped, though the lie sounded thin even to her own ears. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re sweating and leaning against the goddamn shelf,” he shot back, his tone climbing. “And pregnant. What the hell are you doing here?”

Her glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. “What does it look like I’m doing, Peña? I’m picking up—”

The sharp crack of gunfire outside drowned out the rest of her sentence. The air seemed to freeze between them. 

On Instinct, Javier yelled “Down!” and tackled her and his head whipped toward the door, his body tensing as he reached for the holster on his hip.

“Get down,” he barked to the others in the store, the command sharp and immediate. The cashier let out a strangled yelp before ducking behind the counter

She didn’t have time to argue. Before she could process what was happening, Javier had closed the distance between them, his hand gripping her arm as he pulled her toward the back of the store while hunched down. Her heart hammered in her chest, every contraction now fighting for dominance against the adrenaline flooding her system.

“This can’t be fucking happening,” she muttered under her breath, clutching her belly as she stumbled along behind him.

“Yeah, well, it is,” Javier snapped, his voice taut with focus as he scanned the dim aisles for an escape route. “And you’re about five minutes away from telling me why the hell you didn’t think to call me before any of this.”

She bit back the retort on her lips, swallowing the bitter taste of fear. Her body had other plans. Another contraction hit, and this time, the flood she’d been dreading broke loose. Warm liquid pooled at her feet, the unmistakable sign that there was no more pretending.

“Javi…” Her voice trembled, quieter than she meant.

He stopped, turning just in time to see the wide-eyed panic on her face. His gaze dropped to the floor, where the sheen of amniotic fluid glistened under the harsh lights.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

She nodded, her breath hitching as she clutched her stomach. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay, just—breathe,” Javier muttered, more to himself than to her, as he scanned the store. His hand tightened on her arm, steadying her as her knees threatened to buckle. “This is not the place for this.”

“No kidding,” she ground out, teeth clenched as another contraction raked through her. “This isn’t part of my birth plan.”

The gunfire outside grew louder, punctuated by the shattering of glass as bullets tore through the storefront. 

“Move,” he ordered, his voice low but commanding as he led her toward the storeroom door at the far end corner of the store. His free hand hovered near his gun, his eyes constantly flicking to the front of the store. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

She wanted to argue, to tell him that moving felt like an impossible task when her entire lower body was on fire, but another round of gunfire stole her breath—and her choice. Javier pushed the storeroom door open with his shoulder, guiding her inside. The dimly lit space smelled of cardboard and spilled soda, and it was marginally quieter than the chaos outside.

“Got a magic escape route I don’t know about?” she bit out, clutching the edge of a nearby shelf for support.

He ignored her sarcasm, already moving toward the back wall. His fingers skimmed along the edges of stacked boxes until he found what he was looking for—a steel service door. 

“Stay here,” he barked, glancing back at her.

“Not going anywhere,” she shot back, doubling over as another contraction took hold. She let out a low groan, her nails biting into the shelf’s metal edge.

Javier paused, his jaw tightening as he watched her. For a moment, the hard edge in his expression faltered, replaced by fear, but this is not the time to let his vulnerabilities show. So he shook it off quickly, yanking the door open and peering out into the alley beyond.

“Clear,” he said, turning back to her. “Come on. We’re not waiting for the next round.”

“I—” She started to protest, but he was already at her side, one arm sliding around her waist as he guided her toward the door. Every step felt like climbing a mountain, her legs shaking under her weight. By the time they reached the alley, her vision was swimming, and the cool night air hit her like a slap.

“Javi,” she gasped, her fingers clutching his jacket as another contraction hit, this one stronger than the last. Her knees buckled, and he caught her, lowering her carefully onto the ground beside the wall.

“Shit,” he muttered, crouching beside her. His hand brushed her hair back from her sweat-dampened forehead, his other hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “How close are they? The contractions.”

She let out a shaky laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Close enough that you better start figuring out how to deliver a baby.”

His face paled, the words hitting him like a physical blow. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious,” she bit out, her voice rising with the next contraction. “This kid is coming whether we’re ready or not.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, his hand hovering uselessly in the air. Then, with a muttered curse, he pulled himself together, standing abruptly. “The jeep. We’re getting to the jeep.”

“You want to move me now?” she demanded, her voice a mixture of incredulity and panic. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“We don’t have a choice!” he snapped, glancing back toward the convenience store as another round of gunfire erupted. “It’s either the jeep half a block away or right here in the dirt.”

She hated that he was right. Hated him even more for the way he grabbed her under the arms, hoisting her to her feet with surprising gentleness. Every step to the jeep was agony, the contractions relentless and unforgiving. By the time they reached the vehicle, she was panting, tears streaming down her face.

He opened the passenger door, helping her inside before running around to the driver’s side. “Hang on,” he said, his voice tight as he started the engine. The alley blurred past as he navigated the narrow streets, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly on her thigh. She wasn’t sure if the contact was meant to steady her or him, but she clung to it like her life depended on it. 

“Oh no…” She gasped, “I can’t— It’s happening.”

His knuckles went white on the wheel, his voice a desperate growl. “Hold on. Just a little longer.”

But it wasn’t up to him. The jeep jolted over a pothole, and she let out a strangled cry, her body doubling over with the force of another contraction.

“Javi!” she screamed, her voice raw. “I can’t—oh God, I can’t hold her in!”

“Shit, shit, shit!” Javier gritted his teeth, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “We’re almost there, just—breathe or something!”

“She’s coming, holy fuck!” she cried, her voice breaking on a sob. Her legs shifted instinctively, her body bearing down whether she wanted it to or not. “Oh my God, she’s really coming!” She pulled her dress up, revealing her contracting belly. 

The jeep jolted again, and she let out a guttural scream, her back arching against the seat as her body pushed on its own. Her legs spread as far as the cramped space of the passenger seat would allow, her hands gripping the edges of the door and dashboard like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry about the seaaaatt—hgggnnhhh!” she wailed, her head snapping back as another contraction hit like a tidal wave.

Javier’s startled laugh broke the tension, echoing in the enclosed space as he risked a glance her way. “You’re apologizing for the seat right now? Jesus, we’re having a daughter, and that’s what you’re worried about?”

“We?” she managed between ragged breaths, glaring at him through the pain. “We aren’t doing anything, Peña—I’m the one—oh God!” Her words dissolved into a scream as the pressure reached an unbearable peak.

His eyes darted between her and the road, the hospital’s glowing sign barely visible in the distance. But her cries pulled his attention back to her. “Shit—okay, okay, just—keep pushing!” he said, his voice pitching higher as panic bled into his usual cool.

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” she snarled through gritted teeth, her hands trembling as they pressed against her thighs. Another guttural cry tore from her throat as the baby’s head began to crown, the unbearable stretch making her gasp.

“Holy shit,” Javier muttered, his grip on the wheel tightening as he tried to stay focused. “She’s crowning! The head—it’s—oh, God, I can see her head!”

“Good for you!” she shot back, sweat pouring down her face. “Get us to the damn hospital before—aaahhh!”

Her body bore down again, her muscles screaming as the baby’s head emerged slowly, bit by agonizing bit. Javier’s focus faltered, his gaze darting between her and the road as he tried to process the surreal scene unfolding beside him.

“We’re almost there,” he said, more to himself than to her, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and panic. “Just a little further, okay? You’re doing—uh, great.”

Her glare was sharp enough to cut through his nerves. “If you tell me I’m doing great one more time, I swear to—aaahhh!” Her scream drowned out her threat as another push brought the baby’s head fully free.

“I can see the hospital,” Javier blurted, his voice barely audible over her cries. The glowing red sign of the ER loomed closer as he turned sharply into the entrance drive. “Just hang on—we’re almost there!”

Another contraction hit, and her body took over, her legs shaking as the baby’s shoulders emerged, followed by the solid bulk of her torso. The jeep skidded to a stop in front of the emergency room entrance just as she let out a sob of relief, the baby halfway out.

Javier threw the jeep into park and jumped out, shouting for help. “We’ve got a baby—she’s having the baby! Right now!”

A team of nurses sprinted out with a stretcher, their hurried footsteps a blur as they reached the passenger side. One nurse crouched beside her, calming her with a soothing voice as she braced her hands to support the baby’s tiny body.

“Push one more time,” the nurse instructed, her voice firm but kind.

“I can’t—” she sobbed, her strength wavering as the final contraction built.

“Yes, you can!” Javier’s voice was suddenly at her side, his hands hovering near her trembling shoulders. “You’re almost there. You can do this.”

With a final, raw cry, she pushed, and the baby slid free into the nurse’s waiting hands. The tiny, squalling baby with thick black hair was placed on her chest, all surprisingly heavy, slick and warm, as her teary laughter broke free.

“She’s here,” she whispered, her voice trembling with exhaustion and joy. “Oh my God, she’s really here.”

Javier stood frozen for a moment, staring down at the scene as though he couldn’t believe it was real. Then, with a shaky laugh, he reached out to touch the baby’s head, his fingers brushing gently against the dark, damp curls. “She’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

The nurses sprang into action, guiding the stretcher toward the ER doors, but Javier lingered beside her, walking next to the stretcher, never leaving her side as they cleaned up both mother and child. 

Later that evening, she lay propped against a mound of pillows in her hospital bed, exhaustion etched into every line of her face, but her arms cradled her daughter lovingly. The baby let out a small sigh, her tiny hand curling around the edge of the swaddle.

Javier sat in the chair beside the bed, elbows resting on his knees and his fingers steepled under his chin. His eyes were fixed on the baby, his expression caught somewhere between awe and a simmering tension he hadn’t yet voiced. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His voice was low, but it carried a weight that made her chest tighten. She glanced at him, her fingers brushing over the baby’s soft, dark hair. “Javi, don’t—”

“No.” He leaned forward, his tone sharpening. “Please.” He sighed, and softly followed, “I at least deserve an answer.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she looked away, her gaze falling on the bassinet next to her bed. “What would it have changed?” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Everything,” he said, his frustration mounting. “It would’ve changed everything.”

“How?” She turned to him. “You’re not exactly a picket-fence-and-family type, Javi. I didn’t want to—”

“To what?” He sat back, his hands gesturing wide. “To let me know I have a kid? To give me a chance to step up?”

“That’s exactly it,” she hissed, looking down at the baby who stirred at her father’s rising voice and glared at him. “I didn’t want you to feel trapped and like you had to step up. I didn’t want my child to be an obligation you resented later. I know how you are. You would’ve done the right thing because deep down… deep, deep, deeeeep down… you’re a good man, but it would’ve eaten at you.”

His jaw tightened, frustration flickering across his face. “So what? You thought you’d do me a favor by deciding for me? By just disappearing?”

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had to give up everything for something you didn’t ask for.” Her voice was firmer now, but there was a tremor beneath it.

“You don’t get to decide that,” he cut in, his voice rising slightly. “You don’t get to decide who I am or what I want.”

“I’m sorry…” She whispered, casting her gaze back down to her baby. 

Javier sat back, his hands falling to his thighs as he stared at her. “You really think I’d look at my daughter—our daughter—and see her as an obligation?” He shook his head, his voice dropping softer, but no less resolute. 

“I’m not saying I’ve got it all figured out, baby. But I know what matters. And you’re wrong if you think I wouldn’t have wanted this.” She looked away, tears pooling in her eyes as her defenses began to crumble. 

“I didn’t want to mess up your life, Javi. I didn’t want to hold you back.” 

“Hold me back?” He let out a humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “You didn’t even give me a chance. You just—what? Decided I’d be better off without knowing my own kid? You thought that was fair?” 

She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think it mattered.” 

“It mattered,” he said firmly, leaning forward again. “And it still matters. I don’t care what you say, I should be on that birth certificate. She’s my daughter, and I’m not walking away from her.” 

Her tears spilled over, one hand trembling as she reached up to wipe them away. “I don’t know how to do this with you Javi. With how you live your life…”

Javier let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair as if to give her space, though his gaze never wavered. “I don’t either,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But we don’t have to figure it all out tonight. We just… start. We’ll figure it out for her.”

She looked down at the baby, her tiny fingers curling against the soft blanket. “You’re sure you want this? You’re sure you won’t regret being tied to us?”

“Stop,” he said firmly, sitting up again. “I’m already tied to you, baby. I’ve been tied to you since day one, couldn’t shake you off my head even if I tried… and boy, did I try. And now…” His voice softened, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his lips as he glanced at their daughter. “Now, there’s no question.”

Her heart ached at his words, the raw sincerity in his tone. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to believe him and reach out, to close the distance between them, to let herself believe that this could be more. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. This is Javier fucking Pena. Bogota’s Cassanova. He fucks information out of women, he fucked information out of her once, too. 

“I’ll let you put your name on the birth certificate,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the tears still clinging to her lashes. “And you can see her. As much as you want. I won’t stand in your way.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, though his brow furrowed as he studied her. “But?”

She shook her head, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “But that’s all this is, Javi. I’ll let you be her dad, and I’ll do everything I can to make that easy for you. But… we don’t go back to what we were. I can’t.”

He stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words settling over him. He nodded slowly, though his jaw tightened. “You’re still afraid I’ll mess this up.”

“No.” Her voice was firm, her eyes meeting his. “I’m afraid I’ll let myself believe in something that’s not real. That you’ll get caught up in this—in her—and think it means we should try again. And then one day, you’ll realize this isn’t the life you want, and it’ll break me.”

“Baby…” He leaned forward, his hand brushing the edge of the blanket around their daughter. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Maybe not on purpose,” she said softly, her lips trembling. “But we both know the life you live, Javi. And I love you too much to risk hating you later.”

Javi was left speechless by her confession. He didn’t even know if she meant to say that out loud…  She loves him…

The words hung between them, a truth she couldn’t take back. Javier’s expression shifted, he wanted to confirm if he heard her right, but he didn’t press her. 

Instead, he reached out, his hand covering hers where it rested on the baby. “Then we start here,” he said simply. “She’s what matters.”

She nodded, the weight in her chest easing just enough to let her breathe. “She’s what matters,” she echoed.

[beskaranddust]

Overtime | Dave York

Dave York x Female Secretary

Originally posted on January 13, 2025, as @drewharrisonwriter

Word Count: 1,009 words

Summary: Preparation for an investor presentation kept you and your boss Dave York working overtime.

Notes and Warnings: Minors DNI. 18+ only. This fic contains explicit sexual content, themes of infidelity, and unhealthy relationship dynamics/power imbalance, and employer-employee relationships. Reader discretion is advised.

The office is eerily quiet, the low hum of the central air system the only sound as you perch yourself on Dave’s lap. Your back arches slightly, your hands gripping the polished edge of his mahogany desk to keep your balance. The soft fabric of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the creamy expanse of your thighs and the black lace of your panties pushed to the side. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as you move atop him in slow, deliberate rolls of your hips.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and it’s not just from the pleasure coursing through your veins. It’s always like this. Heated. Urgent. Completely reckless. You bite your lower lip, stifling the sound bubbling up your throat, your mind warring with itself. You hate and love this in equal measure. You love how his touch makes you feel alive in a way nothing else ever has, and you hate the reality you always face when it’s over.

His thick cock stretches you perfectly, filling you in a way that makes your breath hitch with every movement. Each upward thrust of your hips meets the firm grip of his hands, steadying you as he guides you into a rhythm that is both demanding and intoxicating.

“Fuck, baby, I love this so much…” he groans, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His head rests against the back of his executive chair, his sharp features cast in the dim light of the desk lamp. “You feel so goddamn good. Always so damn good…”

Your chest tightens at the words. They aren’t new. He always says things like that when you’re in a moment like this. And the pounding in your chest isn’t from the building pleasure but from the knowledge that this will never be more than what it is… A dirt little secret from the world. 

Your internal conflict swirls in your chest, tangled with the physical ache of your body chasing the high he always brings you to. He shifts slightly, leaning forward to press a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder. His teeth graze your skin, making you clench around him involuntarily.

“Don’t stop,” he commands, his voice low and rough. One of his hands slides from your hip, skimming over your stomach before dipping lower, his fingers finding your swollen clit. He presses tight, deliberate circles there, and you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as the sensation shoots through you like a bolt of lightning.

“Dave,” you whimper, your grip on the desk tightening as your thighs tremble. You’re so close, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

“Not yet,” he growls, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You don’t cum until I tell you to.”

You whimper, biting your lip hard to stifle the moan threatening to escape. You try to focus on the desk under your hands, on the steady rhythm of your hips against his, but the sensation of his fingers rubbing your clit while his cock fills you to the hilt is too much. Your body quivers, teetering on the edge of release.

And then the phone fucking rings.

You freeze, your breath hitching in your throat. He lets out a low growl of frustration, his hand stilling on your nub as he reaches for the phone on his desk. He glances at the caller ID and sighs heavily before answering.

“York,” he says, his voice clipped, though his fingers resume their torturous circles on your clit. Your eyes widen, your body trembling as you try to stay still, to keep quiet, but it’s impossible.

“Yes, the investment presentation is on track,” he says into the phone, his tone professional despite the way his hand works you over, keeping you on the brink. He leans back in his chair, his free hand gripping your hip tightly to steady you. His voice drops slightly as he says, “I’ll call you back. My secretary is… coming .”

Your cheeks burn, your breath coming in sharp gasps as he ends the call and drops the phone back onto the desk. Before you can recover, his hands grip your hips again, and he thrusts up into you hard, his movements unrelenting.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growls, his voice rough and commanding. “Now.”

Your body obeys, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cry out, your walls clenching tightly around him as your thighs quiver. Your head falls back, your eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure wracks through you. He doesn’t stop, his pace relentless as he chases his own high, your body tightening around him only spurring him on.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head against your nape as he comes, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his release. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you tightly against him as he empties himself inside you. You swear you can feel every hot rope of his release, leaving you feeling bloated and utterly spent.

The room is silent except for your ragged breathing. You slump forward, your hands still braced on the desk as you try to catch your breath. His hands soften their grip, his fingers brushing over your skin in lazy, soothing strokes.

It’s always like this. Passionate and consuming. And yet, as you clean up, straightening clothes and fixing hair, the reality always looms. He kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours for a moment longer than usual, but it’s not enough to chase away the ache in your chest.

You watch him leave, his jacket slung over his shoulder as he walks to the elevator. He will go home to his family, to his wife, and lay in bed beside her while you lay awake in your own. And that’s the part that hurts the most. This is all you could ever be. And you hate that it isn’t enough—but you hate even more that you can’t stop wanting him anyway.

[beskaranddust]

Softer | Joel Miller

Joel Miller x Wife Reader

Originally posted on September 23, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Word Count: 1,591 words

Summary: Marriage has been good to Joel—he’s happier, softer, and maybe a little pudgier.

Notes and Warnings: As usual 18+ MDNI. There's smut in this. This fic was written for @beefrobeefcal’s Married Joel Sits on You Challenge! Am I too late for this challenge? 😅 It's my first time joining such a challenge, and I utterly enjoyed it. Thank you so much Beefro for this 💖

The prompt was: "Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline."

Joel adjusted his sunglasses, glancing at his reflection in the mirrored elevator walls. It was late afternoon, and they’d just come back up from the beach to their hotel room. He scratched his beard, tugging his shirt down over his belly, feeling the fabric cling just a little too snugly.

Tommy’s teasing echoed in his mind. "You packin’ some extra cargo these days, big brother?" The little shit had poked his side earlier as they lounged by the beach, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"Asshole," Joel muttered under his breath.

You glanced up at him, curious. "What’s that, honey?"

Joel shook his head, giving you a half-smile. "Nothin’, sweetheart. Just thinkin'." He hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you close as the elevator doors slid open. You walked out together, your hand slipping down to his lower back as you strolled through the quiet hallway.

“Tommy’s words still botherin’ you?” you asked softly, your voice coming off with gentle teasing. You gave his belly a playful squeeze. “He’s full of shit, Joel. I love you like this. Tommy don’t know what he’s talkin’ about.”

Joel grunted in response, though a small smile tugged at his lips. He didn’t say anything as you continued walking, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing under your touch.

Once you reached your suite, Joel swiped the keycard, and you both rushed inside, quickly locking the door behind you. You double-checked the lock, raising an eyebrow at him. “You sure you locked it, Joel? You know how those girls are… Wouldn’t put it past Sarah or Ellie to barge in at the wrong moment.”

Joel let out a low chuckle, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you close. “I ain’t paid this much for a vacation just to get interrupted when I’m tryin’ to make another baby with my hot wife,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Trust me, darlin’. That door ain’t budging.”

A playful grin tugged at your lips as you teased, “Baby, aren’t you a little old for a newborn?”

Joel cut his eyes at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re real funny, you know that?” He dipped his head, brushing his lips against yours. “Doesn’t matter how old I am. If it were up to me, I’d keep you pregnant all the damn time.”

Your body flushed at his words, the heat between you flaring with the roughness in his tone. “Yeah?” you whispered, your voice thick with need. “You’d keep me pregnant, huh?”

Joel’s hands slid down to your ass, squeezing as he pulled you close. “Damn right. We could start right now if you want,” he growled, kissing the side of your neck. “Or maybe after a couple more vacations like this one.” His lips traveled lower, sucking a mark just beneath your ear.

Your breath caught as you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “I don’t mind more vacations first,” you teased, your hands wandering down his back as the two of you continued to make out as you made your way toward the bed.

Joel’s large frame practically caged you in as he guided you down onto the plush mattress. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off as he hovered over you, his body solid and warm. His fingers made quick work of your bikini top, tossing it aside.

As he leaned over you, your hand ghosted over his once-firm stomach. Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline.

“You look so good…” you hummed. 

Joel’s expression softened for a moment, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he kissed you. “You mean I’ve gone fat?” He grinned before leaning in, his lips grazing your ear.

You laughed, cupping his face. “I love it,” you assured him, pulling him in for another kiss, deeper this time.

As you kissed, Joel’s hand slid between your legs, fingers dipping into the wet heat between your thighs. “Goddamn, baby,” he groaned against your mouth, his fingers teasing your entrance before sliding two thick digits inside you, curling them just right.

Your body jerked at the sensation, and you whimpered softly, “Jesus, Joel!” It’s pretty good and scary at the same time that he knows exactly where and where to curl his fingers inside you to hit that soft spot that makes you see stars. 

His fingers worked inside you, while drawing slow circles on your clit with his thumb that had your hips bucking up toward him. “So needy,” he murmured, “But you’re gonna have to wait, sweetheart. Wanna take my time with you.”

You gasped, head falling back against the bed as he worked you over, his free hand holding your hip steady. The rough pad of his thumb brushed over your clit, and the pressure was just enough to send sparks flying through your body. “Fuck, Joel…”

Joel growled, his mouth closing over your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You moaned at the sensation, your body arching into his touch as his fingers continued their slow, torturous rhythm inside you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging hard as the pleasure built deep in your core. He kissed his way back up to your lips, his beard rough against your skin as he murmured, “You’re gonna cum for me, baby. But not yet.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your body trembled beneath him as he finally pulled his fingers out, leaving you gasping for breath.

“I need you, Joel,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. “Please…”

Joel positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. “You’re gonna take every inch of me, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. “Gonna bury myself so deep inside you, I’ll be the only thing you can feel.”

With one slow, deliberate thrust, Joel buried himself to the hilt, his cock stretching you wide as his blunt tip kissed your cervix. You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders, clinging to him as he held himself still, giving you a moment to adjust.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned, his forehead pressed against yours as he began to move, each slow thrust hitting deeper than the last. “You feel so good… so fuckin’ tight around me.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he picked up the pace, his cock dragging against every nerve inside you, setting your body on fire. “Joel…” you gasped, your voice breathless.

He leaned down, his lips closing over one of your nipples again, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before sucking hard. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you moaned, your hips rolling up to meet each of his thrusts.

Joel groaned, his hand sliding between your bodies to rub slow circles on your clit. “Cum for me, baby,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. “Wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

Your body responded instantly, the tension snapping as your orgasm crashed over you. You cried out, your walls clenching tight around him, your vision going white as a wave of pleasure rippled through you.

Joel’s hips stuttered as you came, and with a deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his release. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and trembling from the intensity of it all.

After a few moments, Joel gently rolled off you, still catching his breath as he sat up on the edge of the bed. “Don’t move, darlin’,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom. He returned moments later with a warm, damp towel, gently cleaning you up with tender strokes.

“C’mere,” Joel whispered, tossing the towel aside and pulling you into his arms. You curled up against his chest, his warmth and steady heartbeat lulling you into a blissful daze. He kissed the top of your head, his large hand rubbing slow circles on your back. 

“ You okay, sweetheart?”You smiled sleepily, nuzzling into his chest and just humming your reply. 

Joel chuckled, brushing a hand through your hair. “ Good thing we locked that door. Last thing I need is Sarah or Ellie walkin’ in while we’re busy. ”

You snickered, burying your face into his chest with a soft laugh. “ We’ve done a good job avoidin’ that so far. ”

Joel sighed contentedly, running his hand along your back. “ Yeah, but I swear, if they catch us one day, Tommy’s gonna have a field day. He’s already givin’ me shit about puttin’ on a little weight. ”

You laughed harder, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him, your hand slowly sliding down to his soft belly. “ This pudge’s the proof you’re enjoyin’ yourself, Joel. ”

Joel chuckled, his chest rumbling as he pulled you closer. “ Hell, maybe you’re right, ” he admitted with a smirk. “ Can’t say I’m complainin’, though. ”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. “ I love you like this. Softer, but still strong. ”

Joel squeezed you gently, his voice quieter. “ Feels good, don’t it? Finally bein’ able to enjoy things. ” 

You could only hum in response. You let sleep take you, safe in the warmth of his arms.

[beskaranddust]

On The Mend Ch. 6 | Joel Miller

Originally posted on September 2, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Series Masterlist | << Go back to Ch. 5

Word Count: 1,369 words

Summary: What else is there to say? She's here!

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI.  Hey everyone! This is it... the last chapter of this mini-series. Hope y'all like it!

Chapter 6: She's Here!

The car swerved slightly as Joel turned onto the main road, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. He glanced over at you, sweat beading on your forehead, one hand clutching the base of your bump, the other gripping the overhead grab handle by the car door with each sharp breath you took. Every contraction seemed to tighten its grip on you, making you wince, and he hated the helplessness he felt watching you in pain.

“Hang on, darlin’. We’re almost there,” Joel said.

He reached over to squeeze your hand briefly before pulling out his phone to dial Tommy’s number. You panted through the pain, squeezing his arm back as best you could, grateful for his presence even if everything else felt like it was falling apart.

You watched him with blurry eyes as he spoke quickly into the phone. “Tommy, it’s happening—yeah, we’re on the way to the hospital now,” Joel said, his voice laced with urgency. “Just... keep an eye on Sarah, alright? I’ll call when I can, maybe you can bring her up when things settle down.” He paused, listening to Tommy’s response, and his grip tightened on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Thanks, Tommy. I’ll keep you posted.” As he hung up, you turned to him, your face flushed and tired.

“Thank you, Joel. I know this is... a lot.” Joel shook his head, glancing over at you with a soft, concerned expression.

“You don’t need to thank me, darlin'. I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to.” You nodded, though you didn’t quite believe it—not entirely.

Another contraction hit, and you groaned, your head falling back against the seat as you tried to breathe through it.

“What if... what if something happens to me?” you blurted out between breaths, your voice trembling with fear. “I’ve been thinking about it, and... if something happens, and I don’t make it, what’s going to happen to our baby? I don’t want her to grow up alone, like I did.”

Joel’s heart sank, and he reached over to squeeze your hand tighter, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles.

“Hey, none of that talk, okay? You’re gonna be fine. But even if—no, you’re fine—she’s not gonna be alone, alright? She’s got you, she’s got me, and she’s got Sarah. You’ve got family now.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the tears spilling out despite your best efforts to hold them back. “But I... I never wanted to burden you with this, Joel. You made it clear you didn’t want a future with me, and I get that. But I’m scared, and I didn’t know how to...”

“Stop,” Joel interrupted gently, his voice firm but kind. “I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here now. You and this baby—our baby—you’re not a burden. I’ve got you, darlin’.”

You nodded, but the fear didn’t fully dissipate. Still, there was comfort in his words, in the warmth of his hand holding yours. Another contraction hit, and you bit your lip, focusing on the rhythm of your breathing as you neared the hospital.

–

By the time you pulled into the emergency entrance, you were groaning with each step, your legs wide as you waddled through the doors. You could feel the baby’s head engaging, an overwhelming pressure that made your eyes water.

Joel was right beside you, guiding you with a firm but gentle grip on your arm. “Hang on, darlin’. You’re almost there.” You could barely hear him through the pain, your mind focused solely on the urgency of getting the baby out.

The nurses quickly ushered you into a room, and the doctor was there within minutes. “Let’s get you checked, sweetheart,” the doctor said, helping you onto the bed. You barely had time to register the cold of the stirrups before the doctor’s voice broke through.

“You’re fully dilated. This baby’s ready to come now.” Your breath hitched, and you glanced at Joel, who was already at your side, holding your hand as another contraction ripped through you. “Wai–wha–No meds?” you managed to gasp. The doctor shook her head. “No time, I’m afraid. But you’ve got this, okay? Just listen to your body.”

Joel leaned in, his forehead pressed gently against yours. “You can do this, darlin'. I’m right here.” You nodded, though every instinct screamed at you to panic. The pain was sharp, intense, and you clenched your teeth as you bore down, pushing with all the strength you had left.

“Oh, God, Joel!” you cried out, feeling the stretch, the burn as the baby’s head began to crown. “I swear, this kid has your big ol’ Miller head...” Joel’s chuckle was half-pained, half-amused.

“You can blame my momma for that one, darlin’. She always said we had the biggest and hardest heads in Texas.”

You let out a strangled laugh that quickly turned into another scream. “Yeah, well, this one’s ripping me apart! Goddammit, Joel, you’re never touching me again!” Joel squeezed your hand, wincing as you nearly crushed his fingers, but he couldn’t help the smile that broke through his worry.

“Let’s put a pin on that, darlin’.”

The doctor’s voice cut through the chaos. “One more big push, mama. You’re almost there.” With a final, guttural scream, you pushed with everything you had left.

The room seemed to blur, time slowing as you felt the baby slide free, the sudden release of pressure followed by the sweetest sound you’d ever heard—the wailing cry of your newborn daughter.

The doctor quickly placed the baby on your chest, and you sobbed, overwhelmed by the tiny, squirming miracle in your arms. Joel leaned over, his eyes wet with tears as he looked down at your daughter, his expression a mix of awe and pride.

“She’s here,” Joel whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

“You did it, darlin’. She’s perfect.” You looked up at him, your own tears blurring your vision as you gazed at your daughter.

The next few hours were a blur of emotions—tears, laughter, and the quiet joy of holding your newborn daughter for the first time. Joel never left your side, even as they cleaned both you and the baby up. Later, as the room quieted and the adrenaline began to wear off, you found yourselves just staring at your baby girl, trying to come up with a name.

You tossed around ideas, but nothing felt quite right. “How about Harper?” Joel suggested, running a gentle finger along the baby’s tiny hand. You scrunched your nose, shaking your head.

“I don’t know... It’s cute, but it doesn’t feel like her.” Joel nodded thoughtfully, staring down at your daughter.

“Yeah, you’re right. She’s... I don’t know. She’s something else.” Before you could debate further, the door opened, and Tommy stepped in with Sarah, who bounced excitedly on her heels.

“Hey, y’all. Someone’s been waiting to meet her little sister.” Sarah rushed over to the bed, her eyes wide with wonder as she looked at the baby.

“Is this her? Is Ellie here?” Both you and Joel froze, exchanging glances. Sarah’s question hung in the air, sweet and innocent, but it seemed to have struck you deeply.

“Ellie?” Joel repeated, his voice soft. Sarah nodded eagerly. “Yeah! That’s what I want to call her.” All three of you laughed. You looked at Joel, who was already smiling down at your baby.

“Ellie,” you murmured, testing the name on your tongue.

“I like it.” Joel nodded, brushing a tear from his cheek.

“Me too. Ellie Miller... It’s perfect.” Sarah beamed, leaning in to kiss her baby sister’s head.

“Hi, Ellie. I’m your big sister.”

You both watched the tender moment, your hearts full as you took in the sight of your girls together. Joel leaned closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you both watched Sarah and Ellie bond.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his voice a low whisper just for you.

“I don’t know what the future looks like, but... I know I want it to look like this.” You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder, “Yeah,” you agreed softly. “Me too.”

[beskaranddust]

On The Mend Ch. 5 | Joel Miller

Originally posted on September 2, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Series Masterlist | << Go back to Ch. 4 | Read Ch. 6 >>

Word Count: 3,039 words

Summary: With emotions running high, a pivotal moment forces you and Joel to confront your unresolved feelings just as your baby decides it’s time to arrive.

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI.  Hey everyone! Here is chapter 5 and boy the drama between these two is really something lol hope you enjoy this next chapter and hold on to your seats, this might be the second to the last!

Chapter 5: Expectations and Limitations

The cool gel touched your skin, sending a small shiver up your spine as you stared at the ceiling, trying to keep your mind clear.

Clear of the crystal voice on the other end of the line, of the mental image of Joel building his new life with another woman and not fulfilling his promises to you and your unborn child…

You had been holding it together since the drive to the clinic, determined to keep things cool, to keep a distance. But your heart raced as you tried to focus on the sound of the tube that the doctor was squeezing gel from.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Joel stormed in, his eyes wide with frustration. “What the hell happened? We were doing okay!” His voice echoed in the small room, making you flinch.

The doctor, caught off guard, raised her eyebrows but quickly composed herself. “I’ll give you two a moment,” she said, her tone neutral. The doctor wiped the gel off your belly and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

You sighed deeply, not wanting to look at Joel but knowing you had no choice. "And we are okay," you said, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you. "I’m just setting… expectations and limitations."

Joel crossed his arms, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Expectations and limitations? Wh-what the hell are you talkin' about? We were doing great, wh-why are you suddenly–"

You shifted uncomfortably on the examination table, feeling the gel residue cool against your skin. "Because, Joel, we need to remember what this is. We're doing this for our daughter, not for us. We need to be clear on that."

His eyes narrowed, and a mix of hurt and anger flashed across his face. "So, what? You just decide I don’t need to be here? That I don’t have to be involved in this appointment at all?"

You shook your head, feeling your emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. "No, Joel, it's not about that. It's about... about keeping things clear. We need to focus on being good co-parents, not confusing everything by trying to be something we’re not anymore."

He stepped closer, his voice lowering but still charged with emotion. "And who says we’re confusing anything? We’ve been doing just fine! I thought we were getting somewhere, and now, all of a sudden, you’re pushing me away? What changed?"

You looked away, biting your lip. You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t admit that the thought of him moving on, of him seeing someone else, made you feel like you were losing him all over again. You weren’t supposed to feel that way. You were broken up, and that was that.

But the pain of it twisted in your chest, making it hard to breathe. "Nothing’s changed, Joel. I’m just trying to do what's right for our baby. I don’t want to make things messy."

Joel ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "Messy? This is already messy, don’t you see that? But we’re in this together, or at least I thought we were. You don’t just get to decide I’m not a part of this… part of her life, out of the blue after what we’ve been through the past week…"

You finally met his gaze, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I’m not deciding anything, Joel. I’m just trying to protect myself... and protect you too. We need to move forward, but we can’t do that if we keep pretending like everything is the same as it was before."

His expression softened slightly, though the frustration was still there. "And who says it has to be like it was before? We were already figuring things out… We’ve been through worse, haven’t we?"

You shook your head again, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know, Joel…”

Joel's shoulders slumped, and for a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence. "I just... I don’t want to lose any more than I already have," he admitted quietly, his voice laced with vulnerability.

Your heart ached at his words, and you wished you could reach out, to tell him that you didn’t want that either. But you knew it wasn’t that simple. You couldn’t just go back to what you had, no matter how much you might want to. Not now that you know someone else’s life is going to be involved that is not just your baby.

Before you could respond, the door opened, and the doctor reentered, her expression careful as she glanced between you. "Ready to continue?" she asked gently.

You nodded, your gaze still locked with Joel’s. "Yes, I’m so sorry," you murmured, trying to push the tumult of emotions back down, at least for now.

But as the doctor resumed the exam, the tension in the room remained thick, the unspoken words and unresolved feelings hanging in the air between you. And though you had come to some sort of uneasy truce, you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

"Well, everything looks good," the doctor said with a reassuring smile as she wiped away the remaining gel from your belly. "But you're almost due, and I want to make sure you’re prepared for when it's 'go-time.'"

Joel, who had been quiet and brooding, suddenly snapped to attention. His eyes focused on the doctor as though he were a soldier receiving orders on a battlefield. He pushed aside the turmoil in his mind, channeling all his energy into what needed to be done as the doctor continued her instructions. You nodded along, absorbing the instructions, but could not help glancing at Joel, who was already in problem-solving mode, mentally mapping out your routine, the fastest route to the hospital, what you needed to pack, and what to do if you were caught in traffic.

The appointment wrapped up, and soon you were back in the car, the engine humming softly as you drove home. The tension that had filled the examination room followed you, hovering like a dark cloud.

Joel cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "So, about the go-time plan... I’ll keep my phone on me at all times--oh, we need to pack your go-bag--"

"It's already packed," you responded flatly. Joel’s eyes flicked to you briefly, then back to the road. "Of course. You just focus on keeping calm and letting me know as soon as you feel anything."

"Right," you murmured, your hand resting on your belly. "I’ll do that."

You both lapsed into silence, the conversation too functional, too polite. It was a stark contrast to the emotional exchange you had shared earlier, and the awkwardness lingered as you pulled up to your house and went inside.

—

The next few days passed in a strange, uneasy rhythm. Joel stayed close, making sure everything was for the impending birth.

You, on the other hand, found yourself moving around the house constantly. Your lower back ached incessantly, and you kept busy, tidying up, rearranging baby supplies, and even preparing meals to freeze for when the baby comes and you have no time to cook, literally anything to keep yourself occupied and distract from the dull pain in your back and the thoughts swirling in your head.

Joel watched you with growing concern, often gently reminding you to take it easy. But every time he tried to intervene, you brushed him off with a strained smile, insisting that you were fine.

It was clear that you were trying to keep yourself occupied, but Joel couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering you beyond the physical discomfort.

Then, one afternoon, Joel walked into the kitchen, dressed in a crisp button-down shirt and dark jeans. He hesitated in the doorway, watching you as you moved about the kitchen, preparing a simple dinner.

You looked up and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "You look nice. Going somewhere?"

Joel’s expression faltered, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I, uh, have that dinner tonight… you know..." You nodded, forcing a smile and doing your best to make it stay on your face, though your heart felt like it was being squeezed.

"Right. Well, have fun. Drive safely." you tell him softly, doing your best to sound a little chirpy. "Thanks," Joel said, still watching you carefully.

"I won’t be out too late. If you need anything, just call me." You nodded, turning back to the stove.

"Sure thing." Joel lingered for a moment longer, then turned and left the house, the door closing softly behind him.

You stood there, staring at the pot of soup you’d been stirring, your mind racing. The tightness in your chest returned, and you tried to focus on the rhythmic motion of stirring, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop.

As you stirred, you couldn’t help but think about Joel and the woman he was seeing. The hurt was sharp, piercing through you like a blade, but you understood why he was moving on. He deserved to be happy. He deserved a life that wasn’t bogged down by the complications of your past or the uncertainties of your future. And maybe this woman could give him that—a fresh start, free from the weight of your history.

But it didn’t stop the jealousy from creeping in, nor did it stop the ache that settled in your heart. You had no right to feel this way, no right to be angry or resentful. You weren’t together anymore, and you knew that. You accepted that. But accepting something didn’t make it hurt any less.

You wanted Joel to be happy, truly. But you also couldn’t shake the fear that your baby would complicate his life in ways he didn’t deserve. You remembered all too well how he had been torn between you and Sarah, how he chose to walk away rather than try to build a life with both of you. It was a choice you had understood and accepted, as much as it had hurt. You had never wanted Joel to feel like he had to choose between you, and you certainly didn’t want him to feel that way now.

You loved Sarah like she was your own, heck you practically raised her, she calls you mom and you knew that Sarah deserved a life filled with stability and love. You didn’t want to disrupt that any further, didn’t want to be the reason Joel had to make another painful choice. If your presence, if this baby, was only going to make things harder for Joel, you would let him go. You’d let him go before your baby arrived before your lives became even more entangled.

It wasn’t fair to Joel, or to Sarah, to hold on to something that might never be. You’d find a way to move forward for good, to build a life for yourself and your baby, without dragging Joel into a situation that could complicate his already complex life. You didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want to put him in a position where he had to choose again.

You would need to move far away from Austin.

You would be fine. You would find a way to make it work. But the thought of Joel being happy with someone else, of him finding peace in a life without you, twisted painfully in your chest. And yet, you knew you had to let him go. It was the right thing to do—for him, for Sarah, and for your baby.

You turned off the stove, letting the soup cool as you tried to gather yourself. You would find the strength to do what needed to be done. You had to, for everyone’s sake.

Hours passed, and as the evening wore on, you began to feel an unfamiliar tightness in your belly, more intense than the usual discomfort.

You brushed it off at first, attributing it to stress, but as the minutes ticked by, the sensation grew stronger, more insistent.

By the time Joel returned home, it was late, and you were in the kitchen, leaning against the island, swaying your hips gently to try and ease the pain.

Joel walked in, his keys jangling as he tossed them onto the counter.

"Hey, how’re you holding up?" he asked, his tone casual, though he froze when he saw your expression. You were gripping the edge of the counter, your knuckles white, your breathing labored.

Joel’s heart dropped into his stomach. "Are you… are you okay? Did your water break?" he asked, his voice edged with panic. You could only shake your head, unable to speak as another contraction gripped you.

When it finally subsided, you straightened up, picked up your mug, and moved toward the living room, one hand on your lower back for support.

Joel watched you, bewildered and alarmed. "Talk to me," he demanded, following you.

"What’s going on? Are you in labor?" You turned to face him, trying to say something harsh to push him away and shut him out but your eyes only filled with unshed tears, and you just nodded in reply, trembling a little.

Joel’s eyes widened as your nod confirmed his worst fears. He was by your side in an instant, his hand hovering near your arm, unsure if you wanted him close or not. "Okay, okay," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "We need to get you to the hospital."

But you shook your head, your body tense, your breaths coming in short, rapid bursts. "No… I-I’m not ready," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"Not ready?" Joel repeated, confused. "You’re in labor, we need to—"

"I’m not ready to do this alone," you finally admitted, your voice breaking. "But I have to… I can’t… I can’t drag you into this. It’s not fair to you… or to Sarah."

Joel’s heart twisted at your words. He could see the fear in your eyes, the overwhelming uncertainty that you were trying to hide behind a wall of forced strength. "Darlin', you’re not alone," he said gently, taking a step closer. "I’m here. I want to be here."

"But you shouldn’t be!" you cried, your voice rising in panic. "Joel, you shouldn’t have to go through this again. I know you’re trying to help, but… this isn’t your responsibility. It’s mine."

"Why are you pushing me away?" Joel asked, his voice low but intense. "I’m not going anywhere. I want to be here for you, for our baby. Please, let me help."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that were now spilling over. "I’m scared, Joel," you finally admitted, your voice cracking with emotion.

"And, and, I’m–I’m hurt. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am. You’re seeing someone else, and I get it, I do. We’re not together anymore, and you have every right to move on. But I can’t help how I feel. I can’t stand the thought of you being happy with someone else when I’m here, with your baby... dragging you down into a shit ton of new responsibility—"

Joel’s eyes widened in shock. "Darlin', I—"

"No," you interrupted, shaking your head as you wiped at your eyes. "I’m not done. I just… I don’t know how to deal with this feeling, I just know that they're not right and I shouldn't be feeling this. But I’m scared, Joel. I’m scared of doing this alone, but I’m even more scared of dragging you into something you don’t want… something that could hurt Sarah again. I don’t want to put you in a position where you have to choose again."

Joel’s expression softened, and he took your hands in his, his touch gentle but firm. "Darlin', if you're worried about that dinner... It's not what you think, trust me," he said, his voice steady and assuring. "And you’re not dragging me into anything. I’m here because I want to be. I want to help you, to be with you and our baby. This isn’t about choosing. This is about being there for the people I care about. You and Sarah are both a part of my life and so is this baby."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of fear and uncertainty. "But what if it’s too much? What if it makes everything harder?"

Joel shook his head, squeezing your hands gently. "Everything is harder with a newborn." Joel managed to joke, and you both found room to chuckle. "We’ll figure it out. Together. You don’t have to carry all of this on your own. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere."

"It's unfair to your date--"

"That wasn't a date."

"What?"

You looked at him confused now and, quite frankly, feeling a little foolish. Joel sighed deeply and rested his hands on his hips, head between his shoulders, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

"She's an ex... and we recently reconnected at a convention but it wasn’t a date. I promise you. I uh... She works at my insurance company and I'm updating my life insurance policy... I am adding the baby..."

"Oh!" you yelped and groaned really low, Joel with his cat-like reflexes was already holding you as you sank into a deep squat.

"Just breathe," he murmured, his voice soothing. "You’re doing great."

You tried to focus on his voice, on the steady rhythm of his breathing, but the pain was intense and overwhelming.

"Joel… it’s… it’s getting wooooooorrrrrrseee ohhhh..." You felt it pop inside you and fluids began to slightly stream down your legs.

"We need to get to the hospital," he said urgently, helping you to your feet. "We don’t have much time."

You nodded, finally giving in to the reality of the situation. "Okay," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Okay, let’s go."

Joel grabbed the hospital bag and guided you to the door, his mind racing as he tried to stay calm for your sake. As you headed to the car, you hesitated, turning to him one last time.

"Thank you," you said, your voice breaking. Joel sighed deeply with a slight smile, and just kissed you on the forehead.

"Let's get this baby out, mama." he whispered as he guided you inside the passenger seat. 

Series Masterlist | << Go back to Ch. 4 | Read Ch. 6 >>

[beskaranddust]

On The Mend Ch. 4 | Joel Miller

Originally posted on September 2, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Series Masterlist | << Go back to Ch. 3 | Read Ch. 5 >>

Word Count: 1,687 words

Summary: Just as you and Joel are finding and settling into a new rhythm of cohabitating in the throes of your bed rest, the phone rings, suddenly disrupting the fragile peace.

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI.  Hey everyone! Here is chapter 4 of On The Mend. Thank you for your patience, it has been a tough couple of months, but I am back and already halfway through the next part and really positive that I'll be able to post it almost right away lol Again, thank you for your DMs on Tumblr, I appreciate you all.

Chapter 4: Starting All Over Again

“Hurricane Miller”

"Hurricane Miller?" you repeat incredulously, shooting Joel a look that could melt steel.

Joel looks up from his book, his expression innocent. "What's wrong with that? It's strong, powerful, unforgettable!"

You roll your eyes, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside. "Joel, I am not naming the baby after a natural disaster."

Joel shrugs, undeterred. "But think about it! Hurricanes leave a lasting impact–"

You shake your head, cutting him off, unable to even entertain the idea any longer. "No way. This child deserves a name that won't scare people away." You place a hand on your bump.

Joel grins, setting his book aside. "Alright, alright. No Hurricane Miller then. Though, I bet Tornado Miller is a lot coo–"

You throw a pillow at him, laughing despite yourself. "You're impossible, Joel Miller."

It was pretty easy to fall back into a certain level of friendship with Joel.

You find yourself feeling more grateful for his help and his presence the past few days he’s spent at your place, more than you expected at first.

Your first evening back home after picking up Joel's things from his place post-hospital was awkward. The fear of something happening to your baby, going into labor earlier than expected and the fact that he broke your heart months ago still aches, casting a dark cloud over the week ahead.

(Flashback)

The drive back home was filled with tension, both Joel and you lost in your own thoughts. Joel's mind raced with the implications of the unexpected phone call, while you grappled with the conflicting emotions stirred by Joel's presence and his offer to stay with you.

As you pulled up to the curb outside your house, you let out a sigh, your hand instinctively resting on your swollen belly. "Thank you for driving me home, Joel," you said softly, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

Joel nodded, his expression serious with a hint of vulnerability. "I meant what I said, you know," he replied, his voice gentle. "I want to be here for you and the baby, however I can."

You met his gaze, your heart fluttering with a mixture of apprehension and longing. "I appreciate that, Joel," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I also don't want to impose on you or disrupt your life."

Joel reached out and gently squeezed your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "You're not imposing, darlin'," he said softly. "You're family. And family takes care of each other, no matter what."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you absorbed his words, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in his simple yet heartfelt declaration.

You had spent so long trying to prove your independence, to show Joel and everyone else that you could handle everything on your own.

But now, faced with Joel's unwavering support and his genuine desire to be there for you, you found yourself letting go of your stubborn pride and allowing yourself to lean on him, if only for a little while.

"Thank you, Joel," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I... I would really appreciate your help."

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Joel's lips as he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your cheek. "Anytime, darlin'," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll always be here for you."

With a gentle nod, you unbuckled your seatbelt and opened the car door, Joel following suit.

(/End of Flashback)

That was five days ago and you were able to reconnect and rekindle your friendship a little easier each day. You forgot how easy it was with him and couldn’t help but let your mind wander into the what if’s each night.

You had braced yourself for a quiet week, prepared to coexist in silence. Setting a firm expectation in your own mind that he is just helping you because he felt obligated to help you out so he could be involved in your child's life down the line, despite what he tells you time and time again. 

After all, he did say that he didn't want a life like this with you, you thought, as Joel walked into your bedroom carrying a tray of food with a small smile on his beautiful face.

A life like this…

Domestic.

One where you build a family and spend the rest of your lives together.

Joel set the tray of food down on the bed, glancing at you with a small, almost shy smile. You had fallen into a rhythm over the past few days, one that felt both familiar and strange. There was still a lot left unspoken between you, but tonight, the silence that hung between you seemed heavier.

As you ate, Joel broke the quiet first, his voice tentative. "You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us."

You look up from your plate, meeting his eyes. There was something different in his tone, something more serious than your usual light-hearted conversations. "Yeah?" you prompt, keeping your voice neutral.

He nods, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I said some things… things I shouldn’t have. And I’ve regretted every word since."

You swallow, the memories of that painful night still fresh in your mind. "Joel, we both said things. It wasn’t just you."

"But it was me who pushed you away," Joel cuts in, his voice firm yet laced with guilt. "I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. That you deserved better than what I could give you."

Your heart clenches at his words, and you set your fork down, giving him your full attention. "Joel, it's fine... we're trying to move on from it... for her..." you say, placing a hand on your swollen belly to make your point.

He looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and something deeper, something that makes your chest tighten. "I wanted to marry you," he confesses quietly. "I still do, if I’m being honest. But back then, I was scared. I didn’t think I was good enough for you. I’m just a single dad, scraping by. How could I give you the life you deserve?"

Your breath catches in your throat at his admission. You had dreamed of this moment, of hearing those words from him, but now, it feels bittersweet. "Joel," you begin softly, "I didn’t need you to give me the world. I was happy with what we had. I was happy with you... It just really hurt me to hear out loud that after everything we've been through, you still looked at me as an outsider."

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if bracing himself, then opens them again, the pain in his gaze clear. "I know I hurt you. I can’t take back what I said, but if I could, I would. In a heartbeat."

You reach out, your hand finding his, and give it a gentle squeeze. "I was hurt," you admit, your voice trembling slightly. "But I understand why you felt the way you did. I just… I really wish we could have talked about it then, you know? Soften the blow a little." You manage to chuckle.

Joel nods, his grip tightening around your hand. "I’m sorry for my insecurities. And for how I lashed out because of them. I didn’t mean any of it. You deserve to know that."

You sit in silence for a moment, both lost in your own thoughts, before you finally speak again, your voice soft. "Maybe… maybe this is just where we’re at now, you know? Maybe this truly is what was meant to happen for us... just two people trying to figure out how to be good parents, how to be friends, even if it’s hard."

Joel gives you a sad smile, nodding in agreement. "Yeah. Maybe."

The conversation leaves you both feeling raw, yet oddly at peace. It isn’t a perfect resolution, but it’s a start.

Later that afternoon, you are resting in bed when you notice a phone ringing on the nightstand. Assuming it’s yours, you pick it up and answer. "Hello?"

There’s a brief pause before a woman’s voice comes through the line. "Hi, is Joel there? I just wanted to check if we could move our dinner to Saturday instead of Friday?"

Your heart stops, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. This isn’t your phone. This is Joel’s.

Struggling to keep your voice steady, you slightly stammer in reply, "O-oh, yeah sure. I’ll let him know."

You hang up just as Joel walks into the room with another tray. He frowns at the sight of you holding his phone. "Everything okay?"

You hand him the phone, your expression carefully neutral. "You should call her back. She wants to reschedule your dinner from Friday to Saturday."

Joel’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, but he quickly masks it. "Thanks," he mumbles, pocketing his phone.

As you sit down to eat, the easy rhythm you had found is suddenly gone. You are distant, your responses to his attempts at conversation brief and unengaged. Joel notices, of course, but doesn’t push. He knows you well enough to realize that something has shifted.

The atmosphere between you remains tense through the rest of the evening and into the following morning. Even during the drive to the clinic, you keep your responses short, your mind clearly elsewhere.

When you arrive and are called into the doctor’s office, you finally turn to Joel, your voice soft yet firm. "Thank you for everything, Joel. But you don’t have to come in with me. You should go home and get ready for your dinner."

Joel stares at you, dumbfounded by your words. "What? No, I want to be here for you, for the baby."

You give him a small, sad smile, your eyes reflecting the hurt you are trying so hard to mask. "I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. Really."

Before he can protest further, you walk into the doctor’s office, leaving Joel standing there, still reeling from the sudden change.

Series Masterlist | << Go back to Ch. 3 | Read Ch. 5 >>

[beskaranddust]

On The Mend Ch. 3 | Joel Miller

Originally posted on September 2, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Series Masterlist | << Go back to Ch. 2 | Read Ch. 4 >>

Word Count: 3,326 words

Summary: Of all the things you did to erase Joel Miller in your life, there was one thing you forgot about--having him as your emergency contact.

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI.  Here's chapter 3 and it looks like reader and Joel are on their way to patching things up. IDK. LOL I'm honestly just going along with my deluluness on this one.

Chapter 3: You Don’t Have To

The days following Joel's unexpected visit were a whirlwind of emotions for you. You couldn't shake the memory of seeing him standing on your doorstep, bruised and broken, pleading for a chance to make amends. It stirred a chaotic mix of feelings within you, and you found yourself torn between your love for him and your resentment for the pain he had caused.

It didn't help that Joel had sent you texts simply asking how you are and if you could see each other again. All of which you left on read, still unsure if you still want Joel back in your life.

Days turned into a relentless march toward your impending maternity leave.

You buried yourself in work, taking on overtime to secure extra pay and ensure your coworkers wouldn't be burdened in your absence. It was a way to stay busy, to distract yourself from the storm of thoughts and emotions raging within. Between work, your doctor's appointments and the preparations for the nursery, your days were filled to the brim.

Too much so that one hot afternoon, as the sun blazed down on your car during your drive home from work, you felt an unexpected, sharp pain shoot in your lower abdomen. It caught you off guard, and you winced in discomfort, your grip on the steering wheel tightening. You tried to dismiss it as just another round of pregnancy discomfort, but the pain persisted and grew stronger with each passing moment.

With a trembling hand, you reached for your phone and dialed your doctor's number. As you explained your symptoms, the doctor advised you to head straight to the hospital, suspecting it might be preterm labor. Panic coursed through your veins as you obeyed the instructions.

Rushing through the hospital doors, you tried to remain calm despite the escalating pain. The nurses quickly took you to a room, and you were placed under observation, calling your emergency contact as they worked on you.

Joel had just picked up Sarah from her soccer practice after work, and they were heading home with Tommy in the passenger seat when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and his brows furrowed in confusion at the number he did not recognize.

"Quit bickering, you two!" Joel said, hushing the two who were arguing about something as he answered the call.

"Hello?" His blood ran cold as he listened to the nurse on the other end explain the situation.

Without a second thought, Joel made a swift U-turn, the tires screeching on the pavement.

"Jesus Christ, Joel!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Dad, what's going on?" Sarah asked worriedly.

Joel's knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel as he navigated through traffic, he says your name, his mind racing. "She's at the hospital," his voice tight. "Somethin's wrong."

The drive to the hospital and walking through the doors felt like a blur as Joel rushed through the corridors, his heart pounding with each step. When he arrived at your room, he was met with a mix of relief and surprise. You lay in the hospital bed, your face etched with pain, and when your eyes met his, you looked astonished.

"Joel? What are you doing here?" you managed to say between breaths.

Joel's worry didn't subside, but he couldn't help but smile faintly. "I'm still listed as your emergency contact," he explained, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and tenderness.

Your brow furrowed in realization, and you felt flustered. "I'm so sorry, Joel. You shouldn't have come, I meant to change that."

Joel shook his head, his eyes never leaving you. "You don't need to do that," he replied softly. "I'm here because I want to be. I want to be here for you and the baby..."

You blinked away the tears and took a deep breath. "Joel, I appreciate that you want to help, but I've managed this far on my own, and I can handle it. You don't need to feel obligated."

Joel nodded, his expression filled with understanding. "I know you're strong and capable, and I know so well that you can do it on your own. But I also know how tough it is to care for a newborn alone. I've been there, and I don't want you to go through it if I can help."

Your eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. You wanted to prove your independence, to show Joel that you could handle everything just fine on your own, that you don't need him in your life as much as he didn't want you to be a constant in his.

Before you could respond, the intern entered the room, donned in a white coat and a warm smile.

"Good evening," the intern greeted kindly, glancing between the two of you.

"I've reviewed your test results, and it appears that what you experienced was indeed a false alarm. This can sometimes happen due to stress or other factors, especially during the later stages of pregnancy."

Relief washed over you, and you nodded gratefully. "So I can go home tonight?"

"Absolutely!" The intern continued, "I also called your OB and she advised that you be on bed rest with bathroom privileges until your next routine checkup next week."

"Thank you, doc. I'll make sure she's well taken care of." Joel answered for you.

After providing some more instructions, the intern excused herself from the room. "I'll have someone process your discharge papers," she said as she closed the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone.

Joel turned his attention back to you, his determination unwavering.

"I'm comin’ home with you," he insisted, his voice soft yet firm. "Let me take care of you, even if it's just until your next doctor's appointment."

You hesitated, your desire for independence warring with the growing realization that accepting Joel's help might be the best course of action.

"I don't want to burden anyone, Joel," you confessed, worry etching lines on your face. “Besides, what about Sarah? Tommy can’t handle stuff all on his own, and you both have work.”

“You don’t worry ‘bout all that now,” he assured you. “Tommy and Sarah can manage without me for the next couple of days, in fact you can ask them yourself.” He smiled lightly.

“What?” Your eyes widened in surprise. "Tommy and Sarah are here?" you asked, your voice filled with longing.

“They’re, uh, outside.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Do-do you think Sarah would want to see me?” you asked him softly, feeling unsure and a little embarrassed about basically ghosting a 10-year-old who considered you as a mother-figure.

“Of course, darlin’,” Joel said. “I’d go get them if you want.” You nodded and Joel's smile grew wider as he walked out of the room to call in Tommy and Sarah.

When they entered the room, your heart nearly burst with joy. Sarah squealed in excitement at the sight of you, and you shared a warm hug, both happy to be reunited after too long apart.

Sarah was brimming with curiosity, words tumbling out in a rush. "Mom, how are you? Is the baby okay? Dad told me about it a little while ago, which was kind of a bummer, but he said you needed lots of rest so the baby could be safe. Is that why you’ve been gone so long?"

You smiled down at the little girl, touched by her concern. "I'm doing much better now, sweetie. And yes, I've been resting a lot so the baby can be safe, just like your dad said. That's why I haven't been around as much. But the baby's just fine." Suddenly Sarah started sniffling.

“I’m so happy to see you again.” Fat tears began to roll down her plump cheeks. “Please, mom, come home…” the little girl pleaded.

“Sarah—” Joel started but was cut off.

“It’s okay, Joel.” you assured him, clinging tightly to Sarah.

Joel stepped closer, a comforting presence beside you. "Sarah, your mom needs to rest for a little while," he explained gently, his hand resting on her shoulder. "But maybe when she's a little better, she may want to hang out..." Joel's statement came out as a question directed at you and you nodded in reply.

"That's absolutely right, sweetie," you chimed in, your voice soft and warm. "I just need to get better so that the baby can keep growing stronger before she arrives."

"She?" The three Millers asked in unison.

“Oh…” A faint blush crept onto your cheeks as you smiled. "Yes, Sarah is going to have a baby sister."

After a few more moments of heartfelt exchanges, you reluctantly said your goodbyes to Sarah and Tommy, assuring them that you would see each other soon. As the door closed behind them, you sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the emotional encounter.

Joel turned his attention back to you, his gaze soft with a hint of uncertainty.

"I'm so sorry," he began, his voice carrying a tone of regret, "I didn't mean to make plans for you and Sarah—"

"It's alright, Joel," you interjected, offering a faint smile. "I truly want to see Sarah again. I think I owe her an apology and an explanation." you admitted, and he responded with a grateful nod. "Thank you," he breathed out.

You absentmindedly stroked your swollen belly; the contractions had ceased, but you still felt uncomfortable.

"So, uh..." Joel started, his hand nervously rubbing his neck, "does that mean you're okay with me stayin' over for a couple of days?"

"Yes," you nodded, "Thank you, Joel. You really don't have to, though. I can ask—"

"No, no," Joel interrupted, his voice earnest. "Please, I want to... I want to take care of you and the baby."

A brief silence settled in the room, interrupted only when a nurse popped her head through the door with the paperwork.

Soon after, you found yourselves walking to your car, with Joel sliding behind the wheel, driving you home.

Series Masterlist | << Go back to Ch. 2 | Read Ch. 4 >>

[beskaranddust]

On The Mend Ch. 2 | Joel Miller

Originally posted on September 2, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Series Masterlist | << Go back to Ch. 1 | Read Ch. 3 >>

Word Count: 2,045 words

Summary: After seeing Joel Miller for the first time in months and revealing your little secret, Tommy Miller ran after you to the parking lot.

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI.  Not sure exactly how things will play out for these two, but I've written a part 2 and decided to call this mini-series On the Mend. LOL hope you like it.

Chapter 2: Let Me Sleep On It

You hurriedly paid for your purchases and rushed to the parking lot.

It had already been a long and arduous day in general. Seeing Joel Miller had been the last thing you needed. All you wanted was to go home and put this dreadful day behind you, and hopefully, never see Joel again.

But based on your last conversation, that wouldn't be a problem.

You just wanted to avoid having to explain anything to him if it ever came to that. You didn't owe him an explanation; he had made it clear he never planned on marrying you or having a family with you. You understood that his priority was Sarah, and you loved Sarah deeply but you had left to give yourself a fair chance in life, a chance to be a mother to your own child, and maybe one day, to find love and get married to someone that is not Joel Fucking Miller.

At the moment, you were satisfied with the life you had been living since your breakup with Joel. It had been tough, especially going through the pregnancy alone, but you were doing alright, you thought to yourself. You missed him, but you didn't allow yourself to dwell on that because it only breaks your heart, remembering that Joel had kept you for five years, only to tell you that your relationship was essentially a dead-end.

You fumbled for your car keys, your mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with Joel. The wounds from your last confrontation were still fresh, and seeing him again had sent a shockwave through your emotions, and it's not just the hormones to blame this time. But you did your best to calm yourself down. It's going to be alright, you assured yourself. You'll be home soon, and you can pretend that you never saw him. It's just one bad day.

As you slid into the driver's seat and turned the ignition, you couldn't shake the image of Joel's stunned expression when he'd spotted your unmistakable baby bump. You didn't know whether it was anger, sadness, or some mix of emotions that clouded his eyes, but you knew one thing for sure: you saved yourself from even more hurt by leaving him and not telling him about your baby.

Just as you were about to pull out of the parking space, a familiar figure darted in front of your car, causing you to slam on the brakes. It was Tommy Miller, Joel's younger brother and one of your closest friends that you had essentially ghosted along with Sarah when you left Joel. Tommy had always been the peacemaker (as much as he is a troublemaker, ironically), the one who tried to mend fences and bring people together.

You rolled down your window, and yelled, “Tommy what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry,” he laughed as he walked towards you.

You sighed, your frustration evident. "Tommy, I'm really not in the mood for catching up right now. Can we do this another time?"

"Well, it's nice to see you too, stranger," Tommy began, his tone cool, accompanied by a friendly laugh. "I spotted you in the store, and I couldn't help but notice... Well, that you're expecting."

"Yeah, I am. What's it to you?" you snapped. Tommy let out an apologetic huff, and his expression turned serious as he glanced at your belly.

"I get it, you're going through a lot," Tommy said, "but I saw Joel's face back there. He looked shocked, confused, and probably a hundred other things. You can't just leave it like that."

You clenched your fists on the steering wheel, your emotions swirling. "Tommy, I don't owe him an explanation. I don't owe anyone an explanation."

Tommy nodded, his voice gentle. "I understand, but assuming the baby is Joel's, he would surely want to be a part of their life."

You sat there for a moment, torn between your instinct to protect yourself and the undeniable truth in Tommy's words. Your gaze remained fixed on the steering wheel, your knuckles white from gripping it so tightly.

Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him. "Tommy, I know you mean well, but you don't understand how painful things have been for me. Joel and I... we were never going to work out. We wanted completely different things in life. Now, I have what I want, my baby, and Joel can focus on giving Sarah a better life without me weighing him down."

Tommy reached out and rested a hand on your shoulder, his touch comforting. "I can't pretend to know how you feel, but I do know that this baby changes things. You have a right to make the best decision for yourself and your child. But consider this, not just for Joel, but for you too. Closure, even if it's painful, might be the first step toward healing."

You blinked back tears, and tried your best to keep your emotions at bay afraid of breaking down in the parking lot of the biggest grocery store in town in front of Tommy Miller. The day had already been rough enough.

You finally smirked, cocking your head as you did. "Never thought I'd hear anything like that from you, Tommy." You joked and he laughed along with you.

"I'll think about it." you said finally after a beat of silence.

Tommy gave you a reassuring smile. "That's all I ask. Whenever you're ready, just let me know. And... I never changed my number, so if you can please unblock me from your phone that would be great." You laughed a little again, "You can always call me if you need anything especially for the baby."

You smiled at Tommy and thanked him before you drove off.

As you arrived home, you parked your car and took a moment to collect your thoughts. Despite Tommy's suggestion, you couldn't bring yourself to even think of reaching out to Joel. After all, he made it clear that he never saw you beyond being a girlfriend. You're sure that Joel wouldn't even want anything to do with you and your baby, you can just continue living your own separate lives.

But fate had other plans.

A week later, there was an unexpected knock on your door. You grunted as you struggled to get off the couch. "Just a second!" you called out as you waddled towards the front door.

"I'm so sorry it's taking a while to--" you rambled but cut yourself off when you saw Joel standing on your front porch with a black eye.

You blinked in surprise at the sight of Joel, your emotions a tangled mess of shock, confusion, and lingering anger. It had been months since you last spoke, and you hadn't expected to see him on your doorstep.

"What the actual fuck are you doing here, Miller?"

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey, darlin'," he mumbled, his tone subdued. "Can I come in for a moment?"

"I'm not really in the mood to talk to anybody, Joel," you replied. "Just... go home, or go to the ER or something."

"Please?" he pleaded, and you looked at him, unsure. Finally, and reluctantly, you stepped aside, allowing him entry. As he walked into your living room, you gestured for him to take a seat as you walked down the hall to the kitchen. He looked around as he sat on the couch and took in his surroundings. He smiled to himself as he saw the shelf of records and the countless books in your living room, and the familiar scent of santal and citrus lightly mixed with your perfume. It's all so warm and familiar.

You finally stepped back into the living room, breaking his moment of nostalgia as you handed him both a glass of water and whiskey. "I don't know what you want," you said blankly, and he took both glasses as he muttered a thanks.

"What happened to your face?"

Joel sighed, downing the glass of water before taking a sip of whiskey. "Tommy and I had a disagreement."

You raised an eyebrow, "You boys are always having a disagreement. What is it this time?" The Miller brothers, despite the fact that they'd kill for each other, can also be killing each other with petty arguments.

He hesitated for a moment, then finally met your gaze. "About you. He told me he talked to you and that I should know. I didn't take it well, and things got physical."

"Joel," you let out a sigh and buried your face in your hands. You felt a pang of guilt, realizing that Tommy had probably acted out of concern for both of you.

He nodded, his expression a mix of regret and understanding. "I know we left things on bad terms, and I've had time to think about it. I should've handled it differently, and I'm sorry."

You bit your lip, your heart aching as you looked at the man who had once been your everything. "Joel, I appreciate your apology, but we want different things in life... And now we have it. This isn't necessary."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I can't stop thinkin' 'bout you, you know. Ever since that moment at the grocery store and seein' you pregnant... I couldn't help but wonder if... well, I know it's mine. It has to be, right? I wanted so badly to go after you then, to talk to you and tell you that I want to be a part of your life again... your lives... but I was too scared to talk to you," he confessed. You listened intently, sitting across from him, nervously chewing on your bottom lip.

Tommy told him about the parking lot conversation and that you had no intentions of ever telling Joel about the baby. He was so hurt, he got mad at Tommy instead for not telling him right away. It was rash, and he was sorry, but he wondered if he could be there for you, for the baby.

"Joel," you began, your tone firm but tinged with sadness, "I appreciate your offer, but I don't want anything from you. I don't want you derailing your plans for me or my baby. It was incredibly difficult to accept that our five-year relationship had no future, and the last thing I want is for you to feel obligated or guilty. I've got this on my own, Joel. This is what I want, and I understand it's not what you want. I can't drag you back into my life; it just wouldn't work."

Joel swallowed hard, his eyes downcast as he processed your words. He knew he had hurt you deeply, and the weight of his actions over the past months was now crashing down on him even harder than when you left. He couldn't let this end here, not without trying to make amends.

"Please," he began, his voice shaky. He's on his knees now, kneeling in front of you. "I can't change the past, and I can't take back the hurtful things I said. But please, just hear me out. I've had so much time to think, and I realize how wrong I was. I was scared, and I ran away from my responsibilities, from you. I was a fool, and I'm just so sorry, darlin'."

He reached out, hesitantly placing a hand on your arm, seeking any sign of forgiveness in your eyes. "I don't expect you to welcome me back with open arms, but I want to be there for you and the baby. I'll do whatever it takes to make amends, to earn your trust again... and no it's not out of obligation. I want this baby as much as you to... I want to be a part of their life..."

You met his gaze, your expression softening as you looked into his remorseful eyes. The wounds were still fresh, but you couldn't deny that a part of you had missed him terribly.

"Joel, I need time," you replied, your voice gentler now. "I can't make any promises right now."

Joel nodded, grateful for even a sliver of hope. "Thank you. That's all I ask for."

Series Masterlist | << Go back to Ch. 1 | Read Ch. 3 >>

[beskaranddust]

On The Mend Masterlist

Joel Miller x Female Character

Status: Finished

Originally posted on September 2, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Word Count: 10,646 words

Summary: You were having a really, really bad day in the midst of the scorching Austin summer, and seeing your ex-boyfriend, Joel Miller, is the last thing you need.

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI. I originally wrote this as a one-shot on my old blog last year, and people asked for more (and honestly, I kind of want more too, lol). I’ll add specific warnings for each chapter when needed, but this was meant to be a funny one-shot. Hope y’all find it funny too!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Return to Masterlist.

[beskaranddust]

On The Mend Ch. 1 | Joel Miller

Originally posted on September 2, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Series Masterlist | Read Ch. 2 >>

Word Count: 831 words

Summary: You were having a really, really bad day in the midst of the scorching Austin summer, and seeing your ex boyfriend, Joel Miller, is the last thing you need.

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Nothing much happens here yet. Unwanted sort of confrontation maybe?

Chapter 1 - Not Today

The merciless sun bore down as you parked your car. The Austin summer had been relentless, and today, it seemed as if even the universe was conspiring against you.

It had been a thoroughly miserable day. Work had been a disaster; you'd spent hours redoing half of a project your co-worker had botched because she was still hungover from the previous night.

The Texas summer heat, relentless and unforgiving, only added to your misery. As if fate had a personal grudge against you, you realized you'd left your house keys on your office desk when you were already halfway home.

You sighed in defeat and turned your car around to retrieve them. All of this was compounded by your lingering morning sickness, a term you found deceptive as it had resurfaced with a vengeance upon entering your third trimester. You had naively believed you had bid it farewell for good when you'd crossed into the second trimester.

"Whoever called it morning sickness should be shot for lying," you grumbled, attempting to quell the rising nausea that threatened to surface.

Dressed in biker shorts and an oversized t-shirt you kept in your car for emergencies, you got out and beelined to the frozen aisle for a popsicle stick and savored the brief respite offered by the melting ice cold treat.

You sighed in relief and grabbed a pushcart. Your only mission in the store was to grab some Oreos, pickles, and frozen pizza to satisfy your cravings that were so intense, you literally cried in the car on your way over.

As you rounded a corner in the store, you were suddenly face to face with the last person you wanted to see: Joel Miller.

Great. You thought to yourself. Couldn't have been on a better day.

Ah, Joel fucking Miller.

The man who had once been the love of your life.

The same man who had taken you on the most memorable first date you'd ever experienced, and had filled the past five years of your life with the kind of joy you'd never known before.

But this was also the same man who made it clear to you months ago, after five whole years of being together and living together for three, that he has no plans of marrying you and having a family with you.

You and Joel were arguing at the time when he said it.

--

In the midst of your emotional clash, you couldn't help but speak your mind, your frustration boiling over.

"Joel," you began, your voice trembling with pent-up feelings, "if you get mad at every damn little thing, what's going to happen if we were married? That's not the life I want, and definitely not the husband I need."

Joel's eyes flashed with anger as he retorted, "Of course it’s not! And who told you I was going to marry you?" His words cut like a knife, and you felt your heart shatter into pieces.

"We never talked about it, what put the idea into your head?" he continued, his tone harsh and unyielding.

Your jaw went slack in shock, as tears welled up in your eyes as you choked back your emotions.

"But I thought we--," you whispered, your voice barely audible, you couldn't even continue your thoughts when Joel cut you off.

"No." He barked. "You knew from the start that Sarah is my priority. Always was and always will be. I'm not going through the whole marriage thing again." 'And have our hearts broken all over again, when you realize that we're not what you want', he wanted to add. But instead he allowed the silence to linger.

Silent tears slipped from your eyes but you did not respond.

Instead you stood up and went into the closet and started packing. So be it, you told yourself as you zipped the last of your bags before going into the bathroom to hastily shove your toiletries into another bag.

You stopped when you pulled one of the lower drawers open. The positive pregnancy test sticks under your box of tampons glared at you, and for a brief moment you contemplated telling Joel. But when you heard the front door slam shut, you pulled yourself together and shoved the sticks in the bag as well.

--

That was seven months ago and you haven't seen nor heard from Joel since.

Your eyes met for a moment before his gaze fell upon your very round baby bump. Acting on instinct, you hastily placed your handbag in the shopping cart, a futile attempt to hide it from him, though it didn't do much given the fact that you looked like you had tucked an entire overriped watermelon under your shirt.

You grimaced, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. When you locked eyes with him once more, you began walking backwards, your eyes not leaving him and before he could say anything, you had rounded the corner and all he heard was, “Nope. Not today!” 

Series Masterlist | Read Ch. 2 >>

[beskaranddust]

Our Little Life | Joel Miller

Originally posted on August 26, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter using the title Between the Sky & the Horizon. You can still search it using that title on AO3.

Word Count: 16,594 words

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.

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI. My ADHD brain went into overdrive and I wrote this in one sitting. No edits, not beta'd. 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.

2025 notes: I was told by a commenter on AO3 that this is like the book The Magic of Ordinary Days. Have ya'll read it? I can't seem to find a copy anywhere. I did see that it's also a movie in the mid-2000s but haven't seen it yet. (It's not on Netfliiiixxxx!!!!) If you know where to watch it PLLLEEEEASE DM me!

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…”

[beskaranddust]

Friends WITHOUT Benefits | Dieter Bravo

Originally posted on September 21, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Word Count: 10,414 words

Summary: Even if you don't believe it, Dieter Bravo is actually capable of having platonic friendships.

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Okay, I know what you're thinking… another Dieter fic? Yeah, I know—it’s like my fifth one, so clearly, the brain rot is real, and I’m trying to get it out of my system (seriously, I’m trying… sort of). I know I haven’t updated Lifeline in a hot minute, but we’ll get to that later, lol. This fic is a little different from the usual—there’s a lot more fluff and friendship stuff, but I really enjoyed playing with the dynamic of two people who could totally cross the line but decide not to (because, honestly, it’s working for them as is). Also, apologies for any typos—I tried proofreading, but doing it on my phone isn’t exactly ideal. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

It started with a rejection email.

Not the kind that offered hope for future opportunities, but the type that crushed your spirit in one curt sentence:

"We regret to inform you that your application for the Screenwriting Development Program has not been accepted."

She read it over twice, then a third time, hoping something had been missed. A reason, some constructive feedback, anything. But it was just a copy-paste response sent to dozens—maybe hundreds—of other hopefuls like her. She blinked away the sting in her eyes and put the laptop to sleep.

The screen faded to black, reflecting back an image she barely recognized anymore: tangled hair, circles under her eyes, and the lingering trace of a smile she hadn’t used in days.

“Whatever,” she muttered to herself. “I didn’t need it anyway.”

That was a lie.

The Screenwriting Development Program was her shot, her dream, the chance to step out of her day-to-day grind and into the world she’d always wanted. A world where she wrote stories that people would actually care to hear.

But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. In fifteen minutes, she had to be at the diner. She grabbed her apron off the back of a chair and stuffed it into her bag before heading out.

As usual, the shift was long. And slow. She spent most of her time refilling coffee for the regulars and plastering on a smile that barely reached her eyes. The rejection lingered like a dark cloud, reminding her how close she was to giving up completely. By the time her shift ended, she was so exhausted that she didn’t even change out of her uniform. She just grabbed her bag and headed out into the night.

The long walk up to her apartment felt heavier than usual. It wasn’t until she reached her front door that the next wave of despair hit her like a punch to the gut.

An eviction notice.

She stared at the paper taped to her door, her heart sinking.

“Great,” she whispered bitterly, ripping it off and crumpling it into a ball before shoving it into her bag.

Four weeks. She had four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street.

Later, she sat on her couch in her underwear and a camisole, trying to ignore the cold chill of the eviction notice that still hovered at the edge of her mind. The TV buzzed in the background, Dieter Bravo’s voice filling the small apartment with a familiar rasp. A half-eaten carton of ice cream sat beside her, its contents softening to a puddle as she mindlessly scooped the melting mess.

Hunger Strike was playing again. She’d lost count of how many times she’d watched it by now. Dieter’s performance was the kind that stuck with you, the kind that won awards. It wasn’t just a movie anymore; it was the movie that had put him on the map—had made him a star and earned him that Oscar. She didn’t care if everyone else had moved on to the next blockbuster; for her, Hunger Strike was it. Every look in his eyes, every rasp of desperation in his voice felt real, almost too real. It was like he wasn’t acting at all.

"We don’t need them. They need us!" His character was yelling now, his voice hoarse, raw with intensity. She could practically feel his pain, his determination radiating through the screen.

She wiped at her eyes, even though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was everything—her life, the rejection, the eviction notice looming like a ticking time bomb. Or maybe it was just Dieter. Watching him made her feel seen, like somehow, through all the chaos, someone else understood what it was like to be on the edge.

The credits rolled on Hunger Strike, but instead of turning off the TV, she did what any fan would—she went down the rabbit hole. The screen filled with suggested videos, interviews, and, of course, the latest tabloid scandals. Dieter Bravo was all over the place lately. She had seen the headlines—everyone had. It was impossible to ignore him, even if you tried.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through Twitter, where his name was trending yet again.

"Dieter Bravo's Latest Scandal: Sex Tape with Male Assistant Exposed!"

"Gender Identity Crisis or Another Stunt? Dieter Bravo Caught in Love Triangle with Married PA!"

"Oscar-Winning Actor, Homewrecker? Dieter Bravo Linked to Personal Assistant's Broken Marriage!"

She exhaled sharply, half-amused, half in disbelief. Every few months, it seemed, something like this would pop up—another scandal, another explosion in the media circus surrounding him. But this one? A sex tape? With his male personal assistant, who was married to a woman?

It was outrageous. It was chaotic. It was exactly what you'd expect from Dieter Bravo.

How does one even make this shit up? she thought, as she tapped one of the articles. The details were just as wild as the headlines. Apparently, the PA was a guy named James, and he’d been with Dieter for years—right up until last week, when everything blew up.

An article excerpt says: "Sources say that the sex tape in question was filmed during a drug-fueled party at Dieter’s mansion. It shows intimate moments between the actor and his assistant, James, who is reportedly married to a woman. James has since left Dieter’s employment amid the scandal, and insiders claim the actor is ‘unapologetic’ about the affair. This is just the latest in a long string of public meltdowns for the once-revered actor. Dieter Bravo’s chaotic lifestyle has led many to question his mental stability and even his gender identity, as he continues to defy traditional labels."

She snorted, shaking her head. “Unapologetic? That sounds about right.”

It wasn’t that she supported his reckless behavior, but there was something about Dieter that always seemed to push boundaries in every direction. He lived like a car crash happening in slow motion, and yet, people couldn’t look away. The scandals, the chaos—they were just part of his public persona. But there was more to him than that.

She clicked on an older interview from the Cliff Beasts 6 press tour. That was the movie where everything started to unravel for him. The film was supposed to be a big comeback, but instead, it had exposed the man behind the Oscar-winning actor—drugs, sex, alcohol, and a level of unpredictability that no one in Hollywood could quite handle.

Interviewer: “Dieter, after your incredible performance in Hunger Strike, people expected another award-winning role in Cliff Beasts 6, but... that’s not what happened. Can you talk about what went wrong?”

Dieter Bravo (slouching, visibly tired): “Cliff Beasts 6... yeah, man, that was a mess. But, like, it was supposed to be a mess, wasn’t it? I mean, we were trapped in that goddamn bubble for months longer than planned, and by the end, it wasn’t even a movie anymore. It was survival.” He laughed, a rough, bitter sound. “I overdosed on camera, for fuck’s sake. People thought it was part of the documentary. Maybe it should’ve been.”

Interviewer: “So, the extended shoot during the pandemic—did that affect the film’s outcome?”

Dieter (rubbing his temples, shaking his head): “Affect it? It was the outcome. By the time we got to month six, no one gave a shit about the movie anymore. It was just about getting out of there alive. People wanted me to deliver some award-winning performance? Dude, I was barely holding it together. I mean, look at the film—Cliff Beasts was never about art. By the sixth one, it was just... noise. Star-studded, CGI-filled noise. People expected something big, but I gave them a disaster. Maybe that’s what it needed to be.”

Interviewer: “The overdose incident—was that something planned for the documentary, or did things just... get out of control?”

Dieter Bravo (smirking, then shrugging): “Planned? Nah, man, nothing was planned by then. I mean, the cameras were always rolling, right? So when I went down... they just kept filming. Thought it’d make for good behind-the-scenes footage or something. But that’s Hollywood for you.” He paused, letting the weight of it sink in before adding, “People don’t care if you’re falling apart. They just want to know if it’ll sell.”

Interviewer: “That’s pretty heavy. Do you think Cliff Beasts 6 was the start of your... well, decline? It’s no secret you’ve had a rough few years since.”

Dieter Bravo (lighting a cigarette, ignoring the studio's no-smoking policy): “Decline? Maybe. I dunno. I think people were already looking for a reason to tear me apart. Cliff Beasts just made it easier. It wasn’t the overdose that got people talking, it was the fact that it happened while I was making a movie no one cared about anymore. The sixth installment, man. By that point, the franchise was running on fumes, and so was I. But people love a good downfall, right? They see someone on top, and they wait for you to crash. They’ll stick a camera in your face and call it a documentary when really, it’s just a freak show.”

She paused the video, the cigarette smoke still curling from Dieter’s lips frozen on the screen. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. It was no wonder the media loved to tear him apart; they were practically fed the narrative on a silver platter. His whole life had become the entertainment industry’s favorite sideshow.

She stared at the screen for a few more moments, Dieter’s face frozen in that half-smirk, half-exhausted expression. He was unraveling, and everyone was watching. Cliff Beasts 6 might have been the breaking point, but it wasn’t the cause. No, Dieter had been falling apart long before that.

In a different world, she imagined, she and Dieter could be friends. He’d probably laugh at the mess she just made, tell her not to sweat it. In another life, maybe they’d meet over coffee or work on some crazy indie project together. They’d both be swimming in their own chaos, but maybe that’s what would make their friendship work.

She wasn’t delusional; she knew Dieter Bravo was a celebrity—someone she would probably never meet, never know beyond the screen. But sometimes, when he said things like that, it felt like he was speaking directly to her. Like maybe, in some other life, they’d get along. They’d get each other.

Her eyes drifted down to the eviction notice sitting on the coffee table. Four weeks, it said. Four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street. It was hard to feel hopeful when every option felt like a dead end. And yet, watching Dieter talk about his own collapse, she didn’t feel so alone.

Her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her.

She ignored it at first, assuming it was just another bill reminder. But when she glanced at the screen, her breath caught.

Studio Callback - Screenwriting Internship.

Her heart stopped. A callback? After all this time?

Without thinking, she sat up too fast, the ice cream carton tipping over the edge of the couch and spilling melted chocolate onto the floor. “Shit!” she cursed, grabbing a towel and wiping at the sticky mess with quick, frustrated swipes.

It felt surreal. She had applied for that screenwriting internship months ago and had long since written it off as a missed opportunity. But here it was—another chance.

She stood there, towel in one hand, her phone in the other, staring at the message like it might disappear if she blinked. Four weeks until eviction, a job that barely covered her bills, and now, out of nowhere, this lifeline.

Her eyes flicked back to the TV, where Dieter’s face still stared back at her.

She picked up her phone and, without hesitating, replied to the message. Yes. I’ll be there.

–

The next day…

The waiting room buzzed with the same dreary energy it had since she’d arrived nearly an hour ago. Grey walls, uncomfortable chairs, and that humming fluorescent light that seemed to buzz directly into her brain. She sat on the edge of her seat, fingers tracing the spine of her portfolio, glancing at the door every time it swung open.

But this time, it wasn’t her turn.

It was him.

Dieter Bravo stormed into the room like a hurricane, sunglasses still perched on his face even though the room was dim, his hair a chaotic mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed—or maybe stumbled out of a party. His team trailed behind him, all looking frazzled and overworked. He barely acknowledged them as he flopped into a chair across from her with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“Well, this is bullshit,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “I’m a goddamn Oscar winner, and they’ve got me sitting in this dump of a waiting room like I’m some extra on a low-budget indie film.”

She bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement. She knew who Dieter Bravo was the second he’d walked in—who didn’t? His face had been plastered on every tabloid for weeks. But there was something surreal about seeing him up close, in the flesh, like he’d been plucked straight from her TV screen. Don’t freak out, she told herself. He’s just a person.

Still, the excitement bubbled up inside her, and for a moment, she just stared at him, feeling the shock wear off.

He caught her staring. “What? You think this is funny?”

She blinked, pulling herself together, giving him a deadpan look. “I think you’re acting like someone who’s forgotten what a waiting room is.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or intrigued. “And you are?”

She shrugged. “Someone who’s been sitting here for an hour. Pretty sure I’m about to merge with this chair if they don’t call me soon.”

Dieter snorted, sitting up a little straighter, like he wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. Not outside his circle, at least. “An hour, huh? That’s it? Try six months trapped in a COVID bubble filming Cliff Beasts 6. That’s real torture.”

She laughed softly. “Yeah, I saw that movie. Pretty sure it was a crime against humanity.”

He cracked a grin. “Hey, that movie’s still paying my rent.”

“Is it? Seems like you should be able to afford better waiting rooms, then.”

Dieter leaned back in his chair, adjusting his sunglasses even though they weren’t needed. “Touché.”

There was a pause, a silence between them that felt more comfortable than awkward. They were sizing each other up, like two kids sitting next to each other on a school bus, deciding if they wanted to be friends.

“So,” Dieter said, shifting his gaze toward her again. “What are you here for? You in trouble, too?”

She smirked. “I’m always in trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Yeah, well, me too.” He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking around the room as if just noticing how drab it was. “You work here or something?”

She shrugged. “Depends if they think I’m good enough to work here.”

“Good enough for what?”

“I’m a writer,” she said, half-smiling, but there was a vulnerability in her voice. “Or at least I’m trying to be.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up with genuine curiosity, which caught her off guard. “A writer, huh? You got anything out there I’ve seen?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Only if you read stuff on Medium and Tumblr.”

Dieter laughed, the sound deep and unexpected, like he wasn’t used to laughing like that. “Tumblr, huh? So you’re a real writer.” He gave her a playful look. “What do you write? Fanfiction about guys like me?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a teasing glint in her gaze. “Nope. But if I did, it’d be better than that train wreck you called Cliff Beasts 6.”

Dieter clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Right in the ego.”

She smirked. “Ego as big as yours can take it.”

For a second, he just stared at her, genuinely caught off guard. He wasn’t used to people talking to him like this—like he was normal, not some Oscar-winning disaster wrapped in a scandal. She didn’t seem to care who he was or how many headlines he’d been in. It was refreshing, and he found himself more interested in her than he had been in anyone outside his usual crowd in a long time.

“So what do you do?” she asked casually, keeping the banter going.

Dieter laughed, a full, deep sound that made him look younger than he usually did in the tabloids. “What do I do? I’m a professional disaster. You haven’t heard?”

She chuckled, nodding toward the door. “I think you’re better at it than you are at acting.”

Dieter looked at her for a beat, his mouth twitching into a smirk. “You know, I don’t get a lot of people talking to me like this. Most people, they want to kiss ass or they just want something from me.”

She shrugged, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “What can I say? I’m not most people.”

He leaned forward, intrigued. “You like books?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of books?”

“The kind that make people uncomfortable.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “I see you’ve read Camus.”

He grinned. “The Stranger. Ever read it?”

“I did. Twice. Though I’m more of a Kafka fan.” She paused for a beat, her voice deadpan. “I like my existentialism served with a side of why is everything a nightmare and also I’m a bug.”

Dieter laughed again, clearly impressed. “You’re alright, you know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, her tone casual, but inside, she couldn’t quite believe she was having this conversation. With Dieter Bravo. Of all people.

They stared at each other, neither blinking, as if trying to see who’d crack first. But before either could say anything more, the door opened again.

“Mr. Bravo?” A frazzled assistant appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they motioned for him to come in. “We’re ready for you.”

Dieter groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes as he stood up. “Finally.” He paused, turning to her with a smirk. “Don’t go anywhere, book lover. We’re not done with this conversation.”

She gave him a small smile, though inwardly she rolled her eyes. Yeah, sure. Like you'd remember me in two minutes, she thought. Dieter was famous for being distracted, for forgetting people as soon as he turned a corner. Everyone knew about his ADD—it was practically part of his public persona. He’d probably forget her name before the door even shut behind him.

Inside the meeting room…

Dieter slouched into a chair, his eyes flicking toward the group of studio executives sitting across from him, all with tight-lipped expressions. They weren’t here to chit-chat. They were here to clean up his mess. Again.

“Alright, what’s the damage?” Dieter asked, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.

One of the executives, a tall man with silver hair and an expensive-looking suit, sighed heavily. “We’ve already settled with James and his wife. They’ve agreed not to divorce, but we’re paying for damages—and couples therapy.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow. “Couples therapy? Really?”

The man didn’t blink. “Yes, Dieter. Really.”

The room was thick with tension, the kind that only came when the stakes were sky-high. Another executive chimed in. “The headlines are out of control. We need to distance you from this. Fast.”

“What do you want me to do? Apologize? I already said I was sorry.” Dieter’s voice was tired, edged with sarcasm, but underneath, there was a flicker of frustration.

The silver-haired executive leaned forward. “Dieter, this isn’t about a simple apology. You’ve gone beyond that. Your lifestyle—this hedonistic, Roman emperor routine you’ve got going on—it’s not just damaging your reputation. It’s hurting us. The studio. The people you’re supposed to be representing.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by the harshness in the man’s tone.

“We’ve invested millions in you,” the executive continued, “and right now, you’re a liability. There’s talk of ending your contract early. Cutting ties before you bring the whole house down.”

Dieter’s jaw tightened. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” the man said coldly. “I’m not.”

For a moment, Dieter just sat there, staring at the man, trying to process what he was hearing. They were serious. He was this close to losing everything.

Another voice chimed in—his publicist, trying to smooth things over. “We’re not saying it’s over, Dieter. But we need to fix this. Charities. Positive press. You need to lay low for a while.”

The executive nodded. “No public appearances, no parties. We’re going to find some charity work for you, get the public to see a new side of you. You’re going to disappear for a bit. When you come back, you’ll be better. Clean. Understood?”

Dieter clenched his fists, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.”

“And we’ll get you a new PA,” his publicist added. “Someone who can keep you grounded. Keep you out of trouble, hopefully, someone you could not fuck.”

Dieter waved them off, already bored with the conversation. His mind drifted back to the waiting room, to the girl sitting across from him, trading quips like they were old friends. At least she’s interesting, he thought.

Back in the waiting room…

She sat there, slumped in her chair, staring blankly at the wall. The interview hadn’t gone well. She hadn’t gotten the job. The casting director had been polite but distant, and she could tell by their expression that they already had someone else in mind. Her stomach twisted with disappointment.

No extra job. No extra paycheck. And no way to make rent by the end of the month.

She stared down at her portfolio, feeling the weight of her failure settle in. She’d have to start packing soon. Maybe call her mom, tell her she was coming home. She could already imagine the conversation.

“We told you so,” her mom would say. “You should’ve gone into nursing. Writing was never going to pay the bills.”

Her stepdad would nod in agreement, disappointed but unsurprised. “Creative writing? Really?” he’d say. “What did you think would happen?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to think about it. But the thoughts kept coming, relentless. She’d have to pack up, move back home, admit defeat.

God, I’m such a screw-up.

The door creaked open, and Dieter stepped out, glancing around. His entourage had already disappeared down the hall, leaving him standing alone for once. He spotted her instantly.

“Still here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She forced a small smile, shrugging. “Didn’t get the job.”

Dieter nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well... my meeting sucked too. They’ve decided I’m officially the next Caligula.”

She snorted. “That bad?”

“Worse,” he said, shaking his head. He stood there for a beat, looking around the room, then back at her. “You know what? Screw this. Let’s go grab a drink.”

She blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Dieter said, eyes glinting with that familiar mix of mischief and exhaustion. “I need a drink. You’re funny. Let’s go.”

She stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. But he wasn’t. She could see it in his eyes—he was serious.

“You buying?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter grinned. “I’m an Oscar winner. Drinks are always on me.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly stood up, tucking her portfolio under her arm. “Alright, Bravo. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

He smirked, leading the way. “Baby, you don’t know who you’re talking to.”

–

The black Audi’s engine purred as Dieter navigated the dim streets, his phone vibrating endlessly in the cupholder. Text after text, call after call—all from his team. They were probably losing their minds, wondering where he’d disappeared to. He glanced at the notifications, scoffing, and shoved the phone further out of reach.

“So,” she said, glancing at him from the passenger seat, “do you do this often?”

Dieter smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. “Do what?”

“Pick up random strangers and ask them to grab drinks with you.”

He laughed, the sound low and lazy. “No, I mean, I pick up random strangers... just not usually for drinks.”

She chuckled. “Well, you should probably get better at vetting your strangers. I could be a serial killer, you know.”

Dieter shot her a quick glance, grinning. “Even better. Might actually enjoy being murdered by you.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “You really are a disaster, aren’t you?”

“Disaster, masochist, artist... depends on the day.” He glanced over at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’ve got a hell of a sense of humor, though. I like it.”

“And here I thought you were the sadist for thinking being murdered sounds fun.”

“Nope.” Dieter grinned. “Definitely a masochist. But don’t let that scare you off.”

She smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Too late. I’m terrified now.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights flickering through the tinted windows, casting shadows on Dieter’s face. It felt surreal, sitting in the passenger seat of Dieter Bravo’s car, heading to God-knows-where. But she didn’t feel uneasy. In fact, she felt strangely comfortable. It was weird how easily they’d fallen into this rhythm, like they’d known each other for years.

“So,” she asked, breaking the silence, “where exactly are we getting these drinks?”

Dieter’s smirk grew as he pulled into a parking garage, winding his way up to the fifth floor. “Here.”

“Here?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter parked the car, and without another word, led her to the elevator. When the doors slid open, she was met with the sleek interior of his penthouse. Glass walls, dark furniture, and a view of the city that stretched on forever.

“Oh,” she said, stepping inside, taking it all in. “I thought we were going to a bar or something.”

Dieter chuckled, locking the door behind them. “Yeah, well, I’ve been told not to be seen in public too much for a while. You know... the whole ‘clean up the image’ thing.”

She turned, leaning against the counter, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Right. The scandal.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, that.”

She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “So, should I be worried now? You could be the serial killer. I didn’t tell anyone where I’m going.”

Dieter grinned, moving toward the bar in the corner of the room. “Well, if I am, at least you’ll die with a good drink in your hand.”

Dieter’s penthouse bar looked like it had been pulled straight out of a high-end hotel. Polished wood, rows of bottles perfectly lined up, and a set of cocktail tools that would make any bartender proud.

He moved behind the bar with a familiar ease, pulling out a few bottles and setting them on the counter. “What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, Negroni... surprise me.”

“You got it.” He started mixing, moving around the bar like he’d done it a thousand times. She followed suit, sliding behind the bar beside him, the space between them feeling natural.

As they worked, they fell into a rhythm, like two old friends who’d done this countless times before. It was easy, the way they passed bottles back and forth, the clink of ice in glasses punctuating their conversation.

“So,” she said, shaking her drink, “you always this smooth with your guests, or am I special?”

Dieter smirked. “You’re special. I don’t let just anyone behind the bar.” He watched her expertly pour out the drink, nodding in approval. “You’ve got skills.”

She chuckled. “I bartend. Well, I used to, now I just work at a diner, but it counts.”

He laughed. “I used to bartend, too. Before all this.” He gestured vaguely to his sprawling penthouse. “I kinda miss it.”

“Miss what? Making drinks for drunk people at 2 a.m.?”

He shook his head, grinning. “No, the simplicity of it. The quiet moments before the rush. And, I guess, the people. You get to talk to all kinds of weirdos.”

She handed him the cocktail she’d just mixed, and he took a sip, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Not bad. Actually, really good.”

She smiled, taking a sip of his creation in return. “Yours isn’t half bad either, weirdo.”

He snorted as he finished drinking, “Looks like we’ve both still got it.”

They clinked their glasses, a quiet laugh shared between them.

–

They moved to the couches near the window, drinks in hand, and the night outside stretched on in glittering silence. It was one of those rare moments when the city was alive, but they were in their own little world, insulated by glass and a few too many drinks.

She stretched out on the couch, swirling the last of her drink in the glass. “So, this is what it’s like, huh? Being Dieter Bravo. A penthouse with a killer view and a bar that puts most cocktail lounges to shame.”

Dieter leaned back, grinning. “You sound impressed.”

She tilted her head. “I mean, it’s nice. But I’m not that impressed.”

He snorted. “Figures. I’ve gotta work harder to impress you, huh?”

“You said it, not me.”

There was a beat of silence before he broke it. “So, what’s the story? Why’re you still working at a diner when you’re clearly way too smart for that?”

She shrugged, taking a sip. “You make it sound like I had a choice. You think I want to be a waitress?”

“No, but...” He trailed off, clearly thinking. “I don’t know. You strike me as someone who should be... doing more.”

She arched an eyebrow. “More, like what? Writing fanfiction for Cliff Beasts 7?”

Dieter laughed, the sound filling the space. “God, no. Please, spare me.”

She grinned. “It’s not for lack of trying. I just... haven’t found my place yet. It’s not as easy as, ‘Hey, I’m talented, someone notice me.’” She shook her head, her voice growing quieter. “It’s a lot of failing. Mostly failing.”

Dieter nodded, leaning back in his seat, his expression more serious now. “I get that.”

“Do you?” she asked, her voice softer but still edged with sarcasm. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re pretty damn successful.”

Dieter looked at her, really looked at her this time. “You think success means you stop failing?”

She didn’t answer, watching him with curiosity.

He set his drink down and ran a hand through his hair. “You fail more when you’re successful. Trust me. People are just waiting for you to screw up. And when you do... they’re there to watch you burn.”

“You’re talking about the scandal.”

He nodded, taking another sip. “It’s not just the scandal. It’s everything. There’s always someone out there with a camera, waiting for you to mess up. They don’t care about what you do right. Just the crash.”

“So you’re saying you’re a slow-motion car crash?” she asked, her tone dry.

He smirked, nodding. “Exactly. A car crash people pay to watch.”

She stared at him for a moment, her mind working through his words. “That’s... kind of tragic.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his grin fading. “It is, isn’t it?”

They both went quiet, the weight of his words settling between them. But then she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You ever think about, I don’t know... getting out of the car? Stopping the crash?”

He barked a laugh, shaking his head. “And do what? Go back to bartending? Give up the Oscar for a shaker and ice?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, her voice light but serious underneath. “Or maybe just... do something real. Something that’s not about everyone else’s expectations.”

Dieter looked at her for a long moment, something in his expression shifting, like he was seeing her in a new light. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I do. Look, I might not be some hotshot writer, but I’ve always believed that what matters is the stuff that’s real. The art you make when no one’s watching. The stuff people don’t get to tear apart.”

“Yeah, but the problem is, everyone’s watching.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “So maybe that’s their problem.”

Dieter laughed, and this time it wasn’t the careless, guarded kind of laugh he usually gave. It was genuine. “You’ve got a point.”

“Of course I do. I’m always right.”

“Okay, Camus,” he teased, rolling his eyes. “You’re officially hired as my life coach.”

She leaned back, eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t know if you could afford me.”

Dieter snorted, swirling his drink. “How expensive are you?” he asked, playful but intrigued.

She paused, pretending to consider it for a moment. “Depends… do you personally know Gérard Depardieu?”

Dieter grimaced, raising an eyebrow as he took another sip. “Gérard Depardieu?” He repeated, blinking in confusion.

She nodded, downing the rest of her drink in two big gulps, the alcohol warming her throat. “What? You don’t know him?”

“I mean, I do, but wow...” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a chuckle. “That’s a... pretty weird choice.”

“Well, what can I say? I like them like that.” She shrugged, her expression completely serious as she set her glass down.

Dieter threw his head back, laughing harder than he had all night. It was loud, unfiltered, and completely genuine, the kind of laugh that came when he wasn’t performing for anyone.

“You’re a trip, you know that?” he said, still grinning as he wiped at his eyes. “Gérard Depardieu. Damn. Haven’t thought about that guy in years.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What, are you saying you don’t have weird celebrity crushes?”

He tilted his head, considering the question for a second. “I mean... I am the weird celebrity crush.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “How humble of you.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “You should hear the shit people say about me online. I’ve been everything from someone’s ‘gay awakening’ to someone’s inappropriate uncle.”

She snorted into her drink, barely containing her laughter. “Jesus. People are wild.”

Dieter smirked, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, c’mon. Who else you got? Who’s on your weird celebrity crush list? Lay it on me.”

She took a slow sip of her drink, savoring the moment, then said with a completely straight face, “Willem Dafoe.”

Dieter almost choked on his drink, eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at her like she’d just told him she was into cryptids. “Dafoe? Willem Dafoe?”

“Yeah,” she said, completely deadpan. “What’s wrong with Dafoe?”

He blinked, still recovering from nearly spitting his drink out. “I mean, nothing’s wrong with him, but... wow, that’s... unexpected.”

She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “I already shocked you with Depardieu. What were you expecting? Besides, Dafoe... he’s got range.” She gave him a wicked grin and added, “Plus, you know he’s freaky in bed.”

Dieter let out a loud bark of laughter, nearly doubling over. “Holy shit... you’re a freak. A true freak.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh no, it’s definitely not a bad thing,” he said, still chuckling as he reached over to refill her glass. “I’ve met some freaks in my time, but this? This is different. I like it.”

She eyed the freshly poured drink, tilting her head. “Not sure if I should feel good about that comment.”

Dieter grinned, clinking his glass against hers. “You should. Trust me.”

They both chuckled, the easy, playful energy between them lightening the mood even more. But then Dieter leaned back, giving her an amused look. “You know, I actually know Willem.”

Her eyes widened, her curiosity piqued. “No way. You know him?”

Dieter nodded, taking a slow sip. “Yeah. Great guy. Not as intense as his characters would make you think. Really down to earth. Freaky in his own way, sure, but... I get it. I guess I see what you see in him.”

She smiled, leaning back. “Well, that’s comforting.”

Then she paused, glancing down at her drink before adding, “I actually met him once. Worked as an assistant on a theater production he starred in a couple of years ago.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up. “No way. Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” she said, nodding. “It was this small indie thing in New York. I wasn’t his assistant or anything, just part of the general crew, but I did get to work around him a bit. He’s... different, in a good way.”

Dieter leaned forward, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve really got my attention. You’ve done PA work before?”

She shook her head, swirling the ice in her glass. “Not really. That was more of a part-time gig while I was in school. I applied for a real PA job a few years back, but it didn’t exactly go well.”

Dieter’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

She sighed, her smirk fading as she stared down at her drink. “Well, I got all the way through the interviews, and then the celebrity—someone old-school—told me I was too chubby to work for them. Said I wouldn’t look good in photographs.”

Dieter’s face immediately twisted into a mix of shock and disgust. “Wait, what? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” she said, the bitterness in her voice barely masked by the nonchalance she was trying to project. “I didn’t even bother applying for PA jobs after that. Figured it wasn’t worth the hassle.”

Dieter shook his head, clearly appalled. “That’s... Jesus. I mean, I get that people in this industry are eccentric as hell, but that’s way too much. Who the hell cares what you look like in photos? You’re supposed to be doing a job, not starring in the damn pictures.”

She shrugged, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, well, some people care. Guess I wasn’t the image they wanted.”

Dieter looked at her, his expression softening with empathy. “That’s seriously messed up. I’m sorry you went through that.”

She waved him off, smiling more genuinely this time. “It’s fine. Honestly, it was a while ago. I just stuck to writing and waitressing after that.”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Dieter said, leaning forward, “that guy was a complete idiot. You’d make a damn good PA.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Thanks. But I think I’m done with that world.”

Dieter studied her for a moment, then raised his glass in a small toast. “Well, here’s to not being the kind of asshole who judges people by how they look in photos.”

She clinked her glass against his, smiling again. “I’ll drink to that.”

The conversation lingered in the air after their laughter died down, a comfortable silence settling over them. She leaned back against the couch, her gaze drifting to the massive windows overlooking the city, the skyline glittering like a distant dream.

“Gotta say,” she began, her voice soft but still playful, “this penthouse is... something else. It’s almost too perfect, though. Feels more like a set than a home.”

Dieter glanced around the room, smirking faintly. “Yeah, that’s because it’s not home.”

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “It’s not?”

He shook his head, swirling the last of his drink. “Nah. It’s just a place I own. I use it for... all the shit you probably hear about in the tabloids.”

She snorted, leaning in. “You mean the orgies and sex scandals?”

“Pretty much.” Dieter chuckled, but there was something more behind the laughter. His expression softened as he set the glass down on the table. “It’s not where I live. My real home is out in Sherman Oaks.”

She tilted her head, surprised. “Sherman Oaks?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s an actual house. Big, built for a family, but too large for just me. I don’t bring anyone there. Not my... conquests, not my parties. Just me. I paint there, you know? I’ve got this studio in the back, and when the world gets too loud, that’s where I go. It’s the only place I feel... I don’t know, settled.”

Her eyes softened as she listened. She hadn’t expected this level of honesty from him, but the vulnerability in his voice was unmistakable. “That sounds... nice, actually. Quiet.”

“It is,” he agreed, his gaze distant, as if he could picture the house in his mind. “But the silence can get too loud sometimes. Especially now that I’m older. That’s when I come back here. The penthouse. To drown it out.”

She frowned slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “The silence?”

Dieter nodded, exhaling softly. “Yeah. You wouldn’t think silence could be so damn loud, but it is. Especially when you’re used to everything being... chaotic.”

She didn’t respond immediately, just watched him, the weight of his words sinking in. There was a loneliness there, one that no amount of parties, conquests, or tabloid headlines could fill. It wasn’t just about being alone—it was about being seen. About finding a place where the chaos didn’t define him.

She took a breath, her tone gentle but sure. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes the noise. Not really.”

Dieter blinked, turning his gaze back to her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, people see the chaos, the headlines, the scandals. But I don’t think that’s really you.” She paused, her voice steady. “You’ve got a whole world inside you that no one bothers to look at. You’re not just the guy who parties and ends up in the tabloids. You’re more than that.”

His eyes flickered with something—surprise, maybe, or recognition. He opened his mouth to say something, but she continued before he could.

“They don’t see the parts of you that matter. The parts that create, that make something out of all this mess. The fact that you’ve got a studio and you paint—that tells me a lot. You’re more than just an actor, Dieter. You’re an artist. And not because you say so, but because you are.”

For a moment, Dieter just stared at her, as if her words had landed somewhere deeper than he’d expected. She was looking at him like no one had in years. Not like a star, not like the scandalized mess the world saw. She saw him. The real him.

His throat tightened, and suddenly, the air felt heavier. “You really think that?”

“I know it,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “You’re not just memorizing lines. You’re putting something into the world that most people don’t even take the time to understand. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real. It’s real, Dieter. And it matters.”

He blinked, the familiar burn of tears stinging behind his eyes. It was strange—he hadn’t felt this exposed in so long. The vulnerability, the rawness of being seen for more than just the surface.

A tear slipped down his cheek, slow and steady. He swiped at it quickly, but another followed. It wasn’t a sobbing mess, no dramatic breakdown. Just a quiet release, like the weight of everything he’d been carrying finally had somewhere to go.

“Damn,” he muttered, laughing softly through the tears. “You’re really messing me up here.”

She smiled, nudging him gently with her elbow. “You needed to hear it.”

He wiped his eyes, still grinning despite the tears. “Guess I did.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was comfortable, filled with an understanding that went deeper than words. In the quiet of the penthouse, with the city lights twinkling in the background, Dieter felt something he hadn’t in a long time.

Peace.

But of course, Dieter couldn’t let the moment just sit there. He leaned over slightly, raising an eyebrow as a mischievous grin spread across his face. “So... is this the part where we kiss?”

She burst out laughing, her head falling back as she clutched her sides. “Oh my God, Dieter, you’re such an ass.”

For the first time in a long time, Dieter didn’t feel even a twinge of offense at being laughed at. In fact, her reaction made him laugh, too—a deep, real laugh that didn’t feel performative. It was just them, laughing like idiots in the middle of a moment that could’ve been serious, but wasn’t.

He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, had to shoot my shot.”

She shook her head, still giggling as she nudged him. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me,” he teased.

“Debatable,” she shot back, smirking. “But that was not the move, Bravo.”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, still laughing. “Alright, alright, no kiss. Got it.”

She rolled her eyes, the amusement still lingering in her expression. “Seriously, though. You’re an ass.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Dieter said, smirking. But beneath the joking, there was a warmth in his eyes, a softness that hadn’t been there before. He liked this—being around someone who could take his nonsense and throw it right back at him, without missing a beat.

–

They had been hanging out for days—Dieter laying low like his team had asked, and her finding herself more and more wrapped up in his world. It was easy with him. The lazy mornings that bled into afternoons, the spontaneous outings, the hours spent talking about nothing and everything. It was like living in a bubble, where the real world and all its mess didn’t exist.

But it couldn’t last forever.

They were lounging in his penthouse, another aimless afternoon with the TV buzzing in the background, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

“So,” Dieter began, his tone casual, but there was an edge of hesitation in it. “I’ve been thinking...”

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. That sounds dangerous.”

He chuckled, but there was a nervousness in his smile. “No, I mean... I’ve been thinking about you. Us, I guess.”

She frowned slightly, sitting up a bit straighter. “What do you mean?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze for a moment. “I think I... I really like you. And I want to stay friends, you know? If you’re cool with it.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course he liked her—they got along too well not to. But she knew what had to happen next.

She swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I don’t think we can keep doing this.”

Dieter’s face fell, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what? Why not?”

“I can’t afford to stay in LA anymore,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’m going home. To my mom’s and stepdad’s. The diner job just doesn’t cover rent or utilities, and figuring things out in this city isn’t really feasible for me right now.”

Dieter stared at her, the words slowly sinking in. His expression shifted from confusion to something deeper—sadness, maybe even panic. “You’re... leaving?”

She nodded, trying to keep it together. “Yeah. I’ve got no choice.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at her like she’d just ripped the floor out from under him. Then, true to form, Dieter went into full dramatic mode.

“Are you serious?” he groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Like, ever.”

She laughed, despite herself. “Dieter, stop.”

“No, seriously,” he continued, flopping onto the couch like a petulant child. “You’re leaving me to fend for myself in this godforsaken city, and for what? Your mom’s house in the middle of nowhere? This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

She rolled her eyes, amused but touched by how much this seemed to affect him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Where’s your loyalty?” he muttered dramatically. “I thought we were in this together.”

She snorted. “I didn’t realize hanging out with you was a lifelong commitment.”

Dieter sat up suddenly, his eyes lighting up as if he’d just had the greatest idea of all time. “Wait a second...”

She eyed him warily. “What?”

“You still need a job, right?”

Her eyebrow arched. “...Yes?”

“I still need a PA,” he said, the excitement building in his voice. “My team hasn’t found anyone, and let’s face it—they’re probably going to stick me with some lifeless corporate robot.”

She blinked, not expecting this. “Wait, are you offering me a job?”

“Hell yes, I am,” he said, grinning like a kid with a new toy. “You’d be perfect. I mean, you know me. You get me. And you’re already here half the time anyway. Why not make it official?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. “I don’t know, Dieter. It feels like... I don’t know, like you’re just offering it because you feel bad.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “No, I’m offering it because I need you. And not in a weird way, okay? I mean, yeah, it’s a job, but it’s also more than that. I trust you. And I don’t trust a lot of people.”

She bit her lip, still uncertain. “Yeah, but it comes with a paycheck, right? That’s gonna make me feel... really dirty.”

Dieter laughed, leaning back into the couch. “Oh, come on. It’s a legit offer. And I’m paying you well, so you’ll get used to feeling dirty real quick.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone softening again. “Think about it. It’s not charity. It’s not a handout. I really need your company, and I think you need this too.”

She exhaled, staring at him for a moment. “I’ll... think about it.”

A few days later, she was back at the penthouse, this time with Dieter’s manager, his lawyer, and Dieter himself, all sitting around the sleek kitchen island. It felt surreal.

The manager went over the details of the contract, but it was hard to focus on the specifics when her mind was spinning with how fast everything was happening.

“And, of course,” the manager added sternly, “we have to include the no-fucking clause. If you two get involved, it’s not only grounds for termination but also blacklisting.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, looking slightly offended. “Seriously? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

She snorted, waving it off. “It’s fine, Bravo. I don’t think you’d want to fuck me anyway.”

He frowned, almost hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The manager chuckled, shaking his head. “He fucks anything that moves.”

She furrowed her brows briefly, her face showing a flash of disgust at the comment, but she kept her mouth shut. This wasn’t the time to start an argument with his team. Still, she couldn’t shake the sour taste the comment left in her mouth.

Dieter noticed her reaction and shot his manager a look, but the moment passed quickly as the lawyer handed her the contract to sign.

Once the papers were signed, it was official. She was now Dieter Bravo’s new assistant.

After the contract signing, they were back in the quiet of the penthouse. She stretched her arms out, feeling a mixture of excitement and disbelief at the day’s events. Dieter leaned against the counter, still processing it all too, and for a moment, the two of them just stood there in silence.

Then she clapped her hands together, breaking the moment. “Okay, Bravo, I’m treating you to dinner.”

Dieter blinked, confusion crossing his face. “Wait, what? You’re treating me?”

She grinned, nodding. “Yeah, to celebrate. You know, new job and all.”

He hesitated, raising an eyebrow. “You just signed a contract. You shouldn’t be spending money on me.”

She waved him off, rolling her eyes. “Take a chill pill. I just landed a sick new job with a really dirty paycheck. I’m excited, let me have this.”

Dieter chuckled, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “I’ve taken way too many pills in my life. Not sure I remember which one the chill pill is.”

She burst out laughing, grabbing her jacket. “Well, then this will be the antidote. C’mon, we’re getting Five Guys.”

Dieter’s grin grew wider, his eyes lighting up. “Damn, baby, you know I can’t say no to Five Guys.”

She shot him a smirk. “Then let’s go.”

They drove in Dieter’s car, windows heavily tinted, cruising through the LA streets as the sun dipped below the skyline. They grabbed their order from the drive-thru window and found an empty parking lot, parking under the dim glow of a streetlight.

Dieter reclined his seat all the way back, pushing the front seats to give them more space to lounge. She did the same, their legs stretched out as they unwrapped their burgers.

“So,” he mumbled around a mouthful of fries, “what now?”

She shrugged, her voice muffled as she stuffed more fries into her mouth. “Idunno.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the radio playing softly in the background, the quiet hum of the city far off in the distance.

Dieter glanced at her sideways, studying her face. “You seem a little... off.”

She paused mid-chew, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, biting into his burger. “I dunno. Just felt like something’s been bugging you since we left the penthouse.”

She exhaled, setting her burger down, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well... your manager pissed me off. Big time.”

Dieter stopped chewing, his eyes widening a little. “What? Why?”

“That comment he made,” she said, rolling her eyes, “about you humping everything that moves. It was gross. And unnecessary.”

Dieter’s face reddened, the blush creeping up his neck as he rubbed at it, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, uh... that’s just how he is.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

He chuckled awkwardly, setting his burger down. “I mean, he wasn’t wrong. You’ve heard the stories, read the articles, right?”

She stared at him for a beat, then sighed. She knew he wasn’t trying to defend his manager, and in a way, she found that endearing—his loyalty to people even after everything they’d said about him. All the rumors, the scandals, the affairs. But she tucked that thought away for another time.

“That’s not the point,” she said, shaking her head. “As someone who works with you, the first thing your manager should be doing is protecting you—even from your own team.”

Dieter blinked, her words hitting harder than he expected. He felt something crack open in his chest. She wasn’t wrong. And hearing her say it so plainly made him realize just how much he’d let slide because of loyalty. Because of fear.

He smiled softly, biting into his burger, his voice quiet. “Thanks for saying that.”

She shrugged, offering him a small smile in return. “It’s true.”

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned over, wiggling her eyebrows. “Besides, you haven’t tried to fuck me yet, so I don’t think what your manager said was true.”

Dieter choked on his soda, laughing and coughing at the same time. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

She grinned, leaning back into her seat. “What? Am I not fuckable enough for Dieter Bravo?”

He immediately shook his head, his voice firm. “No, baby–you’re...fuck– you’re hot. Like, really hot. And I’m an idiot for not jumping you the second I met you.”

She snorted, clearly amused. “But?”

Dieter sighed, running a hand through his hair, his voice quieter but more grounded now. “Look, if we hadn’t had that first conversation, that night in the waiting room... I probably would’ve tried to sleep with you.”

She gasped dramatically, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Excuse me? What made you think I’d even want to sleep with you?”

Dieter burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Oh, c’mon, I’ve got ways. If I really wanted to, I could have charmed you into it.”

She snorted, shoving another fry into her mouth. “Yeah, right. You can’t charm your way into everyone’s bed, Bravo.”

Dieter stared at her, deadpan, raising an eyebrow. “Uh... yes, I can.”

They both broke into laughter, the moment light but laced with a shared understanding. Once their laughter died down, he leaned back, the humor fading slightly as he spoke again, this time more serious.

“But seriously,” he continued, his voice softer now, “I didn’t want to cross that line with you. Because... you’re different.”

She glanced at him, curious now, the playful energy between them simmering down as he opened up.

“I’m a messy person,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the steering wheel, fingers idly tracing the edges. “In every sense of the word. My life, my relationships—they don’t end well. And I’ve ruined... too many things that mattered. I can’t ruin this. I won’t.”

She tilted her head, watching him closely. “Why do you think it would ruin things?”

He took a deep breath, the vulnerability flickering in his eyes as he finally met her gaze. “Because when I sleep with someone, I lose track of... what’s real and what’s not. It always starts out fine, but I mess things up. I make it complicated, and then it all falls apart. And I don’t want that to happen with you.”

She studied him for a moment, seeing the weight behind his words, the sincerity he rarely showed to anyone. This wasn’t the over-the-top, scandal-filled Dieter Bravo the world knew. This was a man who was genuinely afraid of ruining something good.

“Wow,” she muttered, trying to break the heaviness. “So you’re saying I was basically a goner if we hadn’t talked that first night?”

He chuckled, giving her a teasing grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You really are full of yourself.”

“No, I’m just honest,” he said with a playful smirk. “But really, I don’t want to just fuck this up. You get me, more than anyone has in a long time. And I don’t want to lose that because I was... impulsive.”

She looked at him for a long moment, their earlier banter giving way to something deeper. It was clear that he meant every word, and it made sense in a way she hadn’t expected. Dieter Bravo might have been a disaster in relationships, but he was choosing not to be a disaster with her. And that meant something.

“Well,” she said, her smile returning as she reached for another fry, “that’s good to know. I mean, you’re still a complete disaster, but you’re my kind of disaster.”

Dieter’s grin widened, the tension finally easing as he leaned back in his seat. “I’ll take it.”

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then added with a smirk, “Besides, now I’m legally being paid to not fuck you.”

He laughed, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. “And I’m legally paying you to not fuck me.”

She nodded sagely. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal if you ask me.”

Dieter chuckled, the heaviness of the earlier conversation replaced by their usual playful energy. “Yeah, it’s working out pretty well so far.”

They both sat there, comfortable in the aftermath of the conversation, knowing that while the chemistry between them was undeniable, the friendship was what mattered most. And neither of them was willing to risk it, even if they joked about it.

They sat in the car, the remnants of their Five Guys feast scattered on the console between them. The night had slipped into a comfortable quiet, the kind that came from hours of laughter, honest conversation, and greasy burgers. Dieter stretched, glancing over at her with a lazy grin.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, wiping his hands on a napkin. “You heading home now?”

She nodded, finishing the last of her fries. “Yeah. Gotta pack up my stuff and get ready for the big move.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Right. Moving in with me. Never thought I’d reach this point in my life where a woman’s moving in with me... and I legally can’t fuck her.”

She snorted, shaking her head as she leaned back into her seat. “Welcome to adulthood, Bravo. Full of responsibilities and boundaries.”

Dieter’s grin widened, leaning a little closer. “So, about this moving in thing—are you planning on, like, wearing layers of clothing at all times? Because I don’t need to make this harder for myself than it already is.”

She shot him a look, deadpan. “Harder for yourself?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. “Listen, I promise to be fully covered in the ugliest, most unflattering pajamas you’ve ever seen. Think, like, thermal underwear, oversized sweaters, maybe a balaclava if I’m feeling extra considerate.”

Dieter threw his head back laughing, slapping the dashboard. “Jesus Christ, I don’t know if I should be grateful or terrified.”

“Both,” she said with a smirk, grabbing the last fry from the bag and popping it into her mouth.

Dieter leaned back, sighing contentedly. “I still can’t believe it though. I’m actually gonna live with a woman. And she’s not some wild fling, but an assistant I’m paying not to fuck. Talk about a plot twist.”

She laughed, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well, you better get used to it. I’ll be back in the morning with all my crap.”

Dieter grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she said, flashing him a smile. “Bright and early. So you better get your beauty sleep.”

He chuckled, looking at her fondly. “I’ll try.”

She reached for the door handle, pausing for a moment before looking back at him, her tone soft but teasing. “Try not to miss me too much tonight, alright?”

Dieter winked. “No promises.”

She stepped out of the car, waving as she walked toward her building. “See you tomorrow, Bravo.”

He watched her go, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, leaning back into the seat. “See you tomorrow.”

[beskaranddust]

Life Well Loved | Dieter Bravo

Originally posted on September 17, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Word Count: 13,011 words

Summary: Dieter Bravo’s life proves that plans are overrated—and he’s never been more right about not having one.

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Am I having a Dieter brain rot? Why yes, yes, I am. I know I should be writing the next chapter of Lifeline, but here we are. This story contains themes of pregnancy and navigating unexpected life changes, with emotionally intense scenes that touch on topics like potential pregnancy termination, personal doubts, and fears. Though it's mostly fluff, the narrative leans toward a hopeful and supportive direction but explores the complexities of relationships and personal growth. Because hey, it's Dieter!

Dieter Bravo never thought he’d end up married, let alone to his best friend.

It wasn’t the kind of love story he had planned for himself, but then again, Dieter’s plans were usually an afterthought to his impulsive nature. He met her—his wife, the love of his life—years ago at a book signing. He’d been dragged there by a friend who swore her mystery novels were like something straight out of an Agatha Christie thriller, but with a modern, edgier twist.

“Come on, man. Just try something new,” his friend had nudged, practically shoving Dieter into the crowded bookstore. “She’s hot and her books are actually good. Not that you’d know.”

Dieter rolled his eyes but followed, pretending not to care. He didn’t read much beyond scripts, but when he saw her—standing there all wide-eyed and charming behind the signing table, chatting easily with fans—he was hooked. She had this warmth about her, a smile that reached her eyes, and a way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room.

When it was his turn in line, Dieter cleared his throat, a little unsure of what to say. “So, uh, is it true you based your killer on your ex?” he asked, flashing her his signature smirk.

She looked up, amused. “Only the charming parts. The murderous tendencies are purely fictional.”

Dieter chuckled, genuinely entertained. “Good to know. I’ll keep my charming side in check.”

She laughed, and Dieter swore he could listen to that sound all day. But the moment passed quickly, and they parted ways, the brief exchange lingering in Dieter’s mind longer than he’d like to admit.

They didn’t reconnect until months later when Dieter landed the role of a lifetime in the film adaptation of one of her books. He played the brooding lead, a role he was born to play, and she was on set every day, consulting on the story she knew better than anyone.

“Bravo!” she called out one afternoon, waving the script in the air as he finished a scene. “I think you missed a line, but you definitely nailed the smirk.”

“Missed the line? Nah, I made it better,” Dieter shot back, strutting over with that effortless confidence of his. “Besides, isn’t the lead supposed to be mysterious and broody? I’m just adding layers.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Layers of bullshit, maybe.”

Their banter was easy, and soon, late nights spent in hotel bars became their thing. They’d laugh over terrible room service and even worse dialogue changes, often rewriting entire scenes together between drinks.

“Do you think the audience is gonna buy this twist?” Dieter asked one night, his brow furrowed as he scribbled on a napkin. “It’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It’s a mystery, Bravo. It’s supposed to be dramatic,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “Besides, you’re the one bringing it to life. If anyone can sell it, it’s you.”

Over the years, their friendship grew deeper. Dieter adored her—not just for her talent, but for the way she saw right through him. She didn’t care about the Hollywood persona; she cared about the guy who struggled with his lines, laughed too loudly, and occasionally got lost in his own head. And it was clear to anyone who knew him that she was the only one who truly got him.

“Why do you even stick around?” Dieter asked one night, half-drunk and more vulnerable than he intended. They were sitting on the balcony of some hotel in Vancouver, the city lights flickering below them, empty glasses scattered between them.

She looked over at him, surprised at the question but not at the insecurity behind it. “You’re kidding, right? Who else is gonna put up with my obsessive rewriting of everything?”

Dieter smirked, but the self-deprecation was still there, hovering. “I’m serious, baby. You’ve seen me at my worst. Hell, you’ve probably seen me at my best, and let’s be real, there’s not a whole lot of difference.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was affection in the gesture. “Come on, Dee. You think I don’t know who you are? I’ve watched you screw up a million times and still pull it off somehow. You’re not as hopeless as you think.”

“Yeah, but it’s all smoke and mirrors,” he muttered, leaning back and staring at the city. “I’m just this mess pretending to be a movie star. And people buy it, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act.”

She leaned closer, her smile gentle but knowing. “You’re not acting, Dee. This is you—chaotic, brilliant, all over the place. And somehow it works. That’s why people love you. It’s why I love you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure, but it’s not exactly the stuff that makes for a stable life. I can’t even commit to a weekly gym routine, let alone… you know, anything permanent.”

“Well, it’s good you know that about yourself,” she said, her tone more serious now. “But just because you’re not ready for all that doesn’t mean you’re a failure. You’ve built this crazy, messy, amazing life, and you’ve done it on your terms.”

Dieter glanced at her, the sincerity in her eyes almost too much to bear. “But it’s still just a mess, right? Like, I don’t know how to be the guy who settles down, who has the white picket fence and the kids. It’s not in me.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make you any less,” she pointed out, nudging his knee with hers. “You’re the guy who shows up when it counts, who makes people laugh when they need it, who cares more than he lets on. And that’s enough, Dee. It really is.”

Dieter stared at her, his expression softening. “You make it sound like I’m not totally screwing everything up.”

“Because you’re not,” she said simply, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing what works for you, and that’s more than most people can say. So don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

They sat in a comfortable silence, the kind that comes from knowing each other inside and out. Dieter wasn’t sure if he could ever really change, but with her by his side, he felt like maybe he didn’t need to.

The media loved to ask when Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s lovable mess, was going to settle down. He always laughed it off, brushing it aside with jokes and his trademark self-deprecation. “Settle down?” he’d scoff to reporters, flashing that crooked grin. “Have kids? I can barely take care of myself. I mean, who’s gonna look after the baby when I’m off in Cabo or Amsterdam on a bender?”

He was always open about not wanting to be tied down, convinced that marriage and fatherhood were responsibilities he’d inevitably screw up just like everything else. Deep down, he didn’t think he was cut out for it. Not the commitment, not the kids—none of it. And yet, every time he thought about those nights spent talking with her, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his fears.

The truth was, Dieter loved being around kids, especially when visiting his favorite charities—arts programs, hospitals, anywhere that needed his presence to brighten the day. He had a soft spot for the kids who showed up at his movie premieres with homemade signs and for the shy ones who peeked out from behind their parents at hospital visits, their eyes lighting up at the sight of a real-life movie star. He’d spend hours signing autographs, posing for pictures, and handing out gifts. But wanting that momentary joy and having it every day were two entirely different things, and he didn’t think he was built for the kind of life that meant forever.

Then there was Vegas. It was one of those wild weekends that only Dieter and his friends could pull off, the kind that started with a simple plan and spiraled into chaos before anyone could catch their breath. They were there to celebrate a friend’s birthday—a milestone that felt more like a warning than a celebration to Dieter, who had spent the better part of the year dodging questions about settling down and growing up.

The night was a blur of neon lights, overpriced drinks, and the kind of reckless energy that only Vegas could inspire. Dieter and his best friend were deep into their third round of shots at some tacky but charming casino bar, laughing so hard their sides hurt. The conversation was easy, like it always was, jumping from half-remembered movie quotes to bad relationship stories that only got funnier with every shot.

“Remember when you two were drunk off margaritas and swore you’d get married if you were still single at 35?” one of their friends blurted out, pointing at Dieter and her with a tipsy grin. “Well, look at that—clock’s ticking, you two.”

“Oh please, they’d kill each other in a week,” another friend chimed in, rolling their eyes dramatically. “But hey, at least the headlines would be great.”

Dieter leaned back, smirking. “You think she’d kill me? I’m charming as hell.”

She snorted, leaning in closer to Dieter. “Charming? Sure, Dee, if charming means spilling three drinks and forgetting your lines.”

“Oh, you love it, don’t lie,” Dieter shot back, nudging her shoulder playfully.

Their friends egged them on, throwing out half-baked marriage advice between sips of whatever was in their glasses. “Just make sure you don’t pull a Ross and say the wrong name at the altar,” one joked, and they all burst into laughter, doubling over as the drinks kept flowing.

“Hey, I can pronounce her name just fine,” Dieter retorted, raising his glass to her. “What do you say, baby? You and me, Vegas style.”

“Wel…we’re way past 35 now…” she said, still smiling but now with a hint of mischief, “technically, we missed our window… so might as well make good on that old pact, right?”

Dieter stared at her, the room spinning slightly as he tried to read between the lines. They were supposed to be just friends, right? But it didn’t feel like a joke anymore, not when she looked at him like that. And for once, he didn’t want to think it through. He didn’t want to second-guess it or talk himself out of it like he usually did.

“Fuck it,” Dieter said, grinning wider than he had in months. “Let’s do it. You and me, baby. Let’s get hitched.”

Their friends erupted in cheers, half-shocked, half-encouraging, but it didn’t matter. They were drunk on cheap tequila and the reckless abandon of the Vegas Strip, where anything seemed possible. Before Dieter knew it, they were stumbling into a tacky little chapel off the main drag, the kind with neon hearts and an Elvis impersonator in the back who’d seen one too many late-night weddings.

The ceremony was a blur. Dieter remembered laughing so hard that he nearly dropped the ring—some gaudy, oversized thing they’d bought from a souvenir shop on the way over—and the way she squeezed his hand so tightly he could feel her nerves mixing with his own. There were no big speeches or dramatic declarations of love, just a lot of giggling, whispered jokes, and the kind of easy joy that felt like it belonged to them and them alone.

“Do you, Dieter Bravo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the Elvis officiant drawled, barely keeping it together.

Dieter glanced at her, still half-expecting her to back out at the last second. But she was looking at him, eyes full of that familiar mix of sarcasm and something deeper that he’d never quite put a name to. “I do,” he said, and for once, it didn’t feel like a lie.

“And do you, sweetheart, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Elvis asked, already cracking a grin.

She squeezed Dieter’s hand, barely containing her laughter. “Hell yeah, I do.”

Elvis squinted, pausing dramatically. “Are you sure? Divorces are expensive. Trust me, I’ve had three.”

Their friends howled from the pews, tossing out quips. “Yeah, blink twice if you need an escape plan!” one of them shouted, while another chimed in, “You’re stuck with him now, good luck!”

Dieter threw his arm around her, laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m the best terrible decision you’ll ever make.”

She leaned in, grinning. “Guess we’re both screwed then.”

They kissed, and it was messy and off-center, but it felt right. It was the kind of kiss that was more about the laughter and less about the perfection of the moment, which was exactly how Dieter liked it. When they pulled apart, he was breathless, and she was glowing in a way that made the whole crazy, impulsive thing feel like the best decision he’d ever made.

They walked out of that chapel with matching rings and a new reality that neither of them fully understood but were more than willing to figure out together. And in true Dieter fashion, they celebrated the only way they knew how—by grabbing greasy burgers at an all-night diner and gambling away the rest of the night like newlyweds who couldn’t care less about what tomorrow would bring.

For once in his life, Dieter didn’t feel like he was running from anything. He was running toward something—toward her—and it felt like the only thing that made sense.

–

The first few months of marriage were an unpredictable whirlwind, much like the wedding itself. There were no grand changes, no dramatic shifts—just more of the same easy companionship they’d always had, now with the added humor of “Mrs. Bravo” peppered into their banter. They spent mornings in Dieter’s cluttered kitchen, arguing over the best way to make coffee while stumbling over each other in pajamas that never quite matched. Evenings were spent curled up on the couch, watching bad movies and stealing kisses during the credits like lovesick teenagers.

Their friends couldn’t get enough of it, either. The tabloids had gone wild over the news—Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s most notorious bachelor, suddenly married to his long-time friend in a drunken Vegas escapade. Headlines like “Bravo’s Big Gamble” and “Hollywood’s Wildest Newlyweds” splashed across every gossip rag in the country. But Dieter and his wife took it in stride, shrugging off the noise and focusing on what actually mattered: them.

His family had been just as surprised but in the best way. They had welcomed her with open arms from the very first time she and Dieter had visited together. His mom had pulled her into a tight hug at the door, immediately peppering her with questions about her books and telling her how she had a shelf dedicated to them in the living room. Dieter’s siblings loved her, too—his sister often roping her into baking sessions in the kitchen, laughing over old stories about Dieter’s childhood antics that usually ended with him covered in mud or glitter or some combination of both.

It wasn’t long before she became a staple in their family gatherings, fitting in as if she’d always been there. Sunday dinners at the Bravo house turned into her favorite ritual. She’d help Dieter’s mom in the kitchen, rolling out dough for pies while swapping recipes and stories. Dieter’s nieces and nephews adored her, crowding around to hear tales of mystery and adventure, eyes wide as she brought her characters to life with every word.

“Can you tell us the one about the detective who finds the secret tunnel again?” one of his nephews had asked during Thanksgiving, tugging at her sleeve.

She smiled, glancing at Dieter, who was sitting at the head of the table, grinning like an idiot. “Only if you promise to help me figure out what’s at the end of it,” she teased, ruffling his hair.

His father, a retired fertility expert who had always been the more reserved member of the family, quickly warmed up to her, too. They’d sit on the porch during long afternoons, sipping coffee and talking about life, books, and the occasional scientific trivia that she found endlessly fascinating. He appreciated her wit, her genuine interest in everyone around her, and the way she always seemed to make his son smile.

As the year rolled by, the Bravo family embraced her more and more, and she felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t expected. She was no longer just Dieter’s wife; she was a daughter-in-law, a sister, and an aunt. She was family.

So when Christmas rolled around again, she was eager to be back at the Bravo household, despite feeling under the weather. She’d been sick for nearly two weeks, and Dieter had been worried. She barely ate, surviving mostly on pesto chicken paninis and iced coffee—the only things she could keep down. Still, she was excited to see his family, to bask in the warmth of his mother’s home-cooked meals and his sister-in-law’s desserts. She was looking forward to being surrounded by people who loved her as much as she loved them.

The moment they stepped through the front door, Dieter’s mom engulfed her in a hug, commenting on how thin she looked, and his sister immediately dragged her into the kitchen, insisting on making her favorite cookies. Dieter watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smile. She fit here—so naturally, so effortlessly—that it almost made him forget how odd it all still felt to be someone’s husband. But then she’d look at him across the room, with that same smile she’d had since the bar in Vegas, and it felt right.

But as they settled into the cozy familiarity of his childhood home, Dieter’s father began to notice something. It wasn’t just that she looked tired—there was something else. A subtle glow to her skin, the way her eyes would soften when she looked at Dieter, the quiet but unmistakable aversions to certain foods she normally loved. When she grimaced at the sight of his wife’s famous lasagna and instead picked at a simple salad, he raised an eyebrow. He had seen it before, four times with his own wife, and the theory formed in his mind almost instantly.

It was the little things: how she leaned into Dieter when she thought no one was looking, resting her head on his shoulder like she couldn’t quite keep herself upright; the way her laughter was softer, tinged with something almost nervous. She hadn’t touched a drop of wine the entire evening, claiming she wasn’t in the mood, which was unlike her—especially when Dieter’s mom brought out her favorite bottle from the cellar.

Dieter’s dad observed quietly, piecing together the signs with a mix of curiosity and growing certainty. He knew better than to jump to conclusions, but every instinct told him that there was more to her recent sickness than a simple bug.

–

Later that evening, after dinner, Dieter and his father found themselves outside on the patio. The chill in the air was biting, and Dieter’s breath formed little puffs of smoke as he lit a cigarette, the faint glow of the ember flickering in the dark. He offered one to his dad, who simply shook his head, declining as usual. They settled into an easy silence, the kind that came from years of shared moments like these, watching the yard stretch out before them, dotted with twinkling Christmas lights that cast a warm, festive glow over the familiar landscape.

Dieter took a long drag, savoring the brief buzz of nicotine, and leaned back in his chair. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that always made him think too much, but tonight he welcomed it. He glanced sideways at his dad, whose face was half-lit by the soft glow of the porch light, lost in thought as he nursed his coffee.

“You know, son,” his father said finally, breaking the silence, “I couldn’t help but notice something about her tonight.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Yeah? Like what?”

His father hesitated, his expression thoughtful as he swirled the coffee in his mug. “She’s been feeling under the weather, hasn’t she? Seems a bit off.”

Dieter nodded, taking another drag and blowing out the smoke in a slow stream. “Yeah, she’s been sick for a couple of weeks. Picky about food, which isn’t like her. She’s basically living on those pesto chicken paninis. She can’t keep much else down.”

His father chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing, like he was recalling something long ago. “Huh. That’s interesting. Reminds me of your mom back in the day.”

Dieter frowned, glancing over at him. “What do you mean?”

There was a pause, and his father’s eyes stayed fixed on the yard, lost in a memory that Dieter couldn’t quite place. Finally, he spoke, his tone careful, almost gentle. “Have you considered she might be pregnant?”

Dieter’s reaction was instant—he snorted, nearly choking on his cigarette smoke as he laughed it off, but the sound was more nervous than amused. “Pregnant? Nah, no way. She’s got an IUD. Besides, we’ve been careful.”

His father smiled, but it wasn’t condescending. It was the kind of smile that spoke of experience, of having lived through more than one surprise in his lifetime. “IUDs aren’t foolproof, son. Nothing is. And I’ve seen those signs before. Aversions, fatigue, the way she looked at food tonight… I saw it with your mother every time she was pregnant.”

Dieter’s laugh faded, replaced by an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends as his mind raced. “You’re serious?”

“Look, I’m not saying she is,” his father said, raising his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “But I’ve been around this long enough to know the signs when I see them. I’m just saying, it’s possible.”

Dieter stared out at the yard, the once comforting sight now blurred by the thoughts colliding in his mind. He tried to dismiss it, to chalk it up to his dad’s habit of overanalyzing things. But suddenly, every little moment from the past few weeks replayed in his head like a reel he couldn’t pause: the way she’d cried over soup earlier that evening, overwhelmed by finally finding something she could eat; the quiet, tired smiles; the sudden need to rest her head on his shoulder whenever she got the chance. Dieter had brushed it off as just a rough patch—nothing serious, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with rest and time.

But now, hearing his father say it out loud, it all started to click. The missed meals, the strange cravings, her emotional reactions to things that normally wouldn’t faze her. It was like putting together a puzzle he didn’t even know he was working on.

“What do I do if you’re right?” Dieter finally asked, his voice low, tinged with a mix of fear and something else he couldn’t quite name.

His father took another sip of his coffee, considering his son carefully. “You talk to her. Find out for sure. And whatever the outcome, you handle it together. That’s what this is, Dieter. Marriage, family—it's not about knowing every answer. It’s about facing it together, no matter how unexpected it is.”

Dieter nodded, though his mind was still reeling. He didn’t know if he was ready for what his father was suggesting, but one thing was clear: he needed to talk to her. His dad’s words hung heavy in the cold night air, and suddenly, the easygoing world Dieter had grown comfortable in felt a little less certain. 

–

That night, back in their room at Dieter’s parents’ house, the tension lingered like a thick fog. They were staying for the weekend, and though the familiarity of the guest room usually felt comforting, tonight it felt like the walls were closing in. Dieter sprawled out on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV without really watching. His mind was a mess of half-formed thoughts, circling back to the conversation with his father, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

She was curled up next to him, absorbed in her Kindle, but every so often, Dieter noticed her shifting slightly, like she couldn’t quite get comfortable. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out how to bring up what was weighing on him without sounding like he’d lost his mind.

“So, funny story,” Dieter started, forcing a lightness into his tone that he didn’t feel. “My dad has this theory. He thinks you might be pregnant.”

She looked up from her Kindle, her brow furrowing as she processed his words. “What? Where’d that come from?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dieter laughed, though it sounded more nervous than amused. He fidgeted with the remote, clicking through channels too fast to see what was on. “He’s been watching you tonight, noticing stuff. You know, the food aversions and all that. He said something about it reminding him of when my mom was pregnant.”

She blinked, staring at him like she wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious. “That’s… random. I mean, it’s just paninis and iced coffee. And I’ve been stressed, that’s all. I mean, I have an IUD.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told him,” Dieter said, shrugging. “I told him it’s not possible, right? But he kept going on about how those things aren’t foolproof and—”

She cut him off, her laugh sharp and a little shaky. “No, yeah, of course. It’s just… I mean, we’ve been careful. I thought…”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk crossing his lips. “Careful? Are we really?” He gave her a knowing look, recalling their many reckless moments. “I mean, I lost count of the times we said, ‘eh, what’s the worst that could happen?’”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands, but she couldn’t hide the grin peeking through. “Oh God, don’t remind me. You said it’d be fine because ‘science, baby!’”

“Yeah, classic me,” Dieter laughed, feeling the tension break just a little. “Maybe our ‘science’ needs some workshopping.”

They chuckled, genuinely amused by their own recklessness. For a moment, it felt like any other night, just the two of them joking around like they always did. But then the laughter faded, and the unspoken possibility lingered, nudging at the back of their minds.

Dieter hesitated, then set the remote down, his voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “IUDs aren’t a hundred percent, you know.”

She didn’t say anything right away, her eyes locked on him as if searching for some reassurance he couldn’t quite give. Finally, she set her Kindle aside, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Do you think… do you think he’s right?”

The question hung in the air, too big to ignore, and neither of them moved. Dieter rubbed the back of his neck, his mind racing. “I don’t know, baby. But we could… find out.”

She nodded, her breath hitching slightly, and they didn’t wait to talk themselves out of it. The drive to the pharmacy was tense and quiet, but the nervous energy turned into something almost comical when they got inside. Dieter, trying to look inconspicuous in his cap and mask, accidentally grabbed a COVID test from the shelf and tossed it in the basket without looking.

She glanced at it, biting back a laugh. “Dee, unless you’re worried I’ve got a pandemic brewing, I think you grabbed the wrong kind of test.”

“What?” He squinted at the box, his eyes widening. “Oh, shit. I just saw ‘test’ and panicked. Could you imagine? ‘Congratulations, you’re… COVID positive!’”

They both snorted, trying to suppress their laughter as they swapped it out for a pile of pregnancy tests. “At least we’re wearing masks,” she quipped, trying to hide her nerves behind the humor.

Dieter nodded, their masks pulling at their grins as they paid quickly and slipped back out into the night. Back in their room, she took the tests into Dieter’s private bathroom, thankful she didn’t have to make the awkward walk down the hallway past his nephews, who were still glued to the PlayStation. Dieter paced the room, his anxiety growing with every passing second. He could hear the faint sounds of her moving in the bathroom—running water, the crinkle of plastic, the sound of her soft sighs—and each noise sent a jolt of unease through him.

He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. What if his dad was right? What if they were really about to become parents? He didn’t know how to do this—any of it. He wasn’t cut out to be a dad. Hell, he could barely take care of himself most days. But then he thought about her, about the way she used to talk about wanting a family, back in the early days of their friendship, years before they got married. She’d share those dreams in the quiet moments when they were lying in bed, late at night, her voice soft and wistful as she painted a picture of a life she wanted someday—one with kids, a messy house full of love, and mornings that started with chaos and ended with bedtime stories.

He hadn’t heard her talk about it in a long time, not since they’d crossed the line from best friends to whatever it was they’d become now. They hadn’t really discussed it after they got married, like the possibility had just been a footnote in their drunken Vegas vows, not something real. But Dieter knew she probably still wanted it, that deep down, those dreams hadn’t gone away, just tucked themselves into a quieter part of her heart.

And now, for the first time, Dieter let himself admit what he’d been denying all along—he wanted it, too. He tried to fight it, tried to tell himself he was still the same guy who didn’t want to be tied down, but the truth was, he’d settled down the moment he said “I do.” And now… he’s sure he’s ready to dream of that life, too. The one where they weren’t just figuring things out as they went but actually working towards something together, as husband and wife, as mom and dad.

Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, and she stepped out, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly. She didn’t have to say anything; Dieter could see the truth in her eyes. Without a word, he followed her into the bathroom, and there they were, lined up on the counter: five pregnancy tests, each one showing two clear lines.

Positive. All of them.

Dieter stared at the tests, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find something, anything, to say. He could hear her breathing beside him, shallow and uneven, and he knew her heart was pounding just as hard as his. She swallowed, her eyes fixed on the tests as if they might change if she stared long enough.

She finally broke the silence, her voice small but steady. “It’s okay, Dieter. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll… I’ll take care of it.”

–

Her words snapped Dieter back to reality, his brows furrowing as he tried to grasp what she meant. He watched her walk past him out of the bathroom, her movements brisk and determined, but there was a tremble in her step that made his stomach drop. She went straight to the dresser, grabbing her phone with a familiar sense of purpose. Dieter followed, his confusion mounting as she dialed a number with shaky hands.

“What are you doing?” Dieter asked, his voice edged with growing alarm. “Who are you calling in the middle of the night?”

She glanced at him but didn’t answer directly. “It’s fine, Dee. I’m going to take care of it.”

The line clicked, and a familiar voice filled the silence—one of her friends, an OB-GYN Dieter had met several times at dinner parties and gatherings. “Hey, I’m sorry to call so late,” she said into the phone, her voice tight but controlled. “I need another favor.”

Dieter’s heart sank as he heard the gasp on the other end. The doctor’s voice wavered, filled with concern. “Are you sure? I mean… are you really sure about this?”

Dieter watched her, still trying to catch up, but he could hear the tension in the doctor’s voice and the weight of what was being asked. She glanced at him, her eyes meeting his, and in that moment, Dieter felt like the ground was slipping out from under him. “I’m sure,” she said quietly. “I’ll wait for the prescription in the morning.”

She ended the call and set the phone down, her hand trembling. Dieter felt his shock morphing into a hot, simmering anger, his chest tightening as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. “What?” he asked, his voice rising, desperate to believe he’d misheard. “What prescription? Prenatal vitamins?” He was trying to hold onto some hope, clinging to the possibility that this wasn’t what it seemed, that she wasn’t about to make a decision without him. But deep down, he knew.

She sighed, biting her lower lip, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Dieter could see her knees wobble, and before he could process it, she was leaning against the side table, her legs barely holding her up. He rushed to her, guiding her gently to the bed and kneeling before her, his anger wavering as he saw the look in her eyes.

Tears streamed down her face, silent and relentless, and Dieter realized it was the first time he’d seen her cry in years. Not since her father had passed, not even when she’d broken up with someone he knew she had loved deeply. She was always so strong, so composed, but now she was trembling, and all she could manage were soft, broken apologies. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she repeated it over and over. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Dieter’s anger melted away, replaced by a sharp pain that pierced his chest. He reached up, cupping her face gently, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “Hey, hey, calm down, okay? Just… baby, please… can you tell me what that was all about?”

She nodded, her breath hitching as she tried to collect herself. The silence between them was tense, heavy with unspoken fears and the weight of what was happening. Finally, she spoke, her voice small and wavering. “I know you don’t want kids, Dieter. I’ve known that from the start, and I respect that. I love you so much, and I know I don’t say it often, but I do. I love the life we have together. And I didn’t… I didn’t want to ruin that.”

Dieter listened, the words sinking in, but every syllable felt like a sting. “You’re not ruining anything, baby,” he said, his voice softer now but still edged with confusion and hurt. “But you didn’t even… I mean, we didn’t even talk about it.”

She looked down, her tears falling faster now. “I was afraid to. You’ve always been so clear, and I didn’t want to make you feel trapped. I know kids were never part of the plan. I didn’t want to put that on you.”

Dieter took a deep breath, his mind still reeling, but he tried to keep his voice steady. “You’re not–Jesus…I understand why you feel this way baby…” he said gently, squeezing her hands. “And I’m sorry we never talked about it before, not even once. I know I said I didn’t want kids, and I thought that was it. But… then…” He sighed deeply… “W-we should at least talk about it before you go and get that prescription in the morning.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening with tears, clearly caught between fear and guilt. “Dieter, I—”

“No, listen,” he interrupted softly, his tone calm but firm. “I want you to know that whatever you decide, I’ll support you. I’ll stand by you no matter what. But I need to know that if you go through with this, it’s because you want to, not because you think it’s what I want. I respect you, and I love you. And yeah, maybe I’ve always been afraid of having kids, but I also know you’ve wanted this. I’ve known for years, and I’m sorry we’ve never talked about it since getting married. But maybe… maybe now’s the time we should.”

She shook her head, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t want to pop our bubble, Dieter. I’ve spent so long thinking that if I brought this up, it would be too much for you. You’ve said it before—kids are overwhelming, right? And I get it. Hell, the thought of it overwhelms me, too. But it’s different for you. I didn’t want to lose you. I love you so much, Dee. I love what we have. And I was scared that… that if I bring it up, it would drive you away.”

Dieter’s heart ached as he watched her, the weight of her words sinking in. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “But you can’t just… handle this alone. Not for me.”

She took a shaky breath, the truth finally spilling out in the soft, halting words she’d kept buried. “That’s why I got the IUD. A few months after we got married… after I found out I was pregnant. You were away in London for that shoot, and I was alone. And I—” She paused, choking back a sob as she struggled to get the words out. “I panicked. I was terrified of what it would mean for us, for you, for everything. So, I… I took care of it. I didn’t want to burden you with it, and I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Dieter’s face went pale, his expression shifting from shock to something more profound—hurt, confusion, and an aching sadness that he didn’t quite know how to process. His hold on her hands went slack. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t known. While he was away, filming scenes and living the life he thought he wanted, she had been here, facing a reality that should have been theirs to share.

“You—” Dieter started, standing up, trying to say something but the words caught in his throat. “You did that… without telling me?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Dee. You were gone, and I was scared. I didn’t want you to feel trapped or forced into something you never wanted. I thought it was better that way.”

Dieter’s mind raced as he tried to grasp what she was saying. He ran a hand down his face, cupping his mouth as he took in a long drag of air. The anger he’d felt earlier had melted into something more painful, something that cut deeper than he expected. He’d never wanted this, but now, faced with the reality that they’d lost something before it had even begun, Dieter felt a profound sense of grief for what could have been—and for what he still had a chance to fight for.

He swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I wish you’d told me. I wish you hadn’t gone through all that alone. I know I’m not perfect, and I know I’ve said a lot of shit about not wanting kids, but… I want you. And if you want this—if you want us to have this—then I want it, too. But you have to be sure. This isn’t just about me. It’s us, and we can’t keep pretending it’s not.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all she saw was the man who had always been there, even when they hadn’t known what the hell they were doing. Dieter knelt before her, his hands steady on her knees, offering her the quiet reassurance she’d been afraid to ask for. They were scared, both of them, but for the first time, it felt like they were scared together.

A heavy silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. She stared down at her trembling hands, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Finally, she broke the quiet, her voice small and cracking under the strain. “I understand if you want a divorce, Dieter.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks again, and she looked up at him, and he could feel and see the pain and resignation in them. “I’d give it to you, you know. If that’s what it takes for you to live your truth. If it means you get to live the life you always wanted—not something complicated by a kid and a wife.”

Dieter’s breath caught in his throat, and he shook his head, trying to grasp the gravity of what she was saying. “What? No… what are you talking about? Divorce? That’s not—”

“I don’t want to trap you, Dee,” she interrupted, her voice quivering. “I never wanted you to feel stuck. At least if we divorce, I get to keep my baby, and you get to live your life. We both get what we want.” She said it with a heartbreaking kind of finality, her gaze dropping as though she couldn’t bear to look at him.

Hearing her say “her baby” like that shattered something inside Dieter. He could feel his chest tighten as his emotions boiled over, hot tears streaming down his face. “You think that’s what I want?” he whispered, his voice breaking as he tried to keep it down. They were still in his parents’ house, and he didn’t want anyone hearing this, but he couldn’t keep the hurt out of his words. “You think I want to live some half-assed life without you? Without… our baby?”

She flinched at his words, torn between the guilt and the love she still felt for him. “Dieter, you’ve always said—”

“I know what I’ve said!” Dieter snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He pressed a fist to his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break free. “God, I’ve been so fucked up. So caught up in what I thought I wanted, what I told everyone I didn’t want. I never… I never told you how much I love you. How much I need you. And now you’re willing to sacrifice everything because of me? Because I’m too much of a mess to communicate? That’s not fair, baby. That’s on me.”

She looked away, blinking back tears as she tried to keep her voice steady. “It’s not about blame, Dieter. I can’t live with the guilt of not giving you the chance to have the life you deserve. I’d rather… I’d rather set you free than see you stuck in something you don’t want. I love you too much for that.”

Dieter shook his head, his shoulders slumping as the enormity of her words hit him. He didn’t know how to make her understand. “But I don’t want to be free,” he said, almost pleading. “I don’t want any of this without you. I’ve spent my whole life running from everything—commitment, responsibility, you name it. But not you. Not us. You… you made me realize I could be more than that.”

She listened, her heart breaking with every word. “I don’t want to be unfair, Dee. I’ve spent so long dreaming about this—about being a mom. And I know kids were never part of your dream, and I just… I don’t want to take that from you.”

Dieter wiped his eyes, his voice hoarse and desperate. “You’re not taking anything from me. Please, don’t do this. Don’t make decisions for me. You’ve always been my partner, my equal… baby, you make me want to be a better person… whatever the hell that looks like…”

She let out a shaky laugh through her tears, reaching up to cup his face. “I just… I didn’t want to pop our bubble. It’s been so perfect, even with all the chaos. And the thought of losing that, of losing you in such a way… it scares me more than anything.”

Dieter’s sobs turned to quiet laughter, a broken sound that mirrored the bittersweetness of the moment. “You think I’m not scared? I’ve been scared of fucking everything my whole life, and you were the one person who made me think I didn’t have to be. You’re my team, baby. We’re a damn good one. And I know that if we have this kid… our kid… we’d be amazing parents, too.”

She looked at him, her tears finally slowing, replaced by a fragile smile that made Dieter’s heartache. “I just don’t want to be unfair,” she whispered, her voice soft but sincere.

“You’re not being unfair,” Dieter said, his tone tender but firm. “Please, just… reconsider. Our relationship, our marriage… our baby. Let’s figure it out together. No more guessing what the other person wants.”

She nodded, her eyes locking with his, and for the first time since the night had started, she felt a glimmer of hope. They were both terrified, still reeling from everything that had come to light, but at least now, they were facing it together, no more secrets, no more hiding. Just the two of them and the uncertain but hopeful future with a baby they were ready to build.

–

The next morning was Christmas, and despite the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded the night before, Dieter and his wife had decided to keep their news to themselves for now. It was too early—too new, too precious, and far too complicated to try to explain just yet. They put on their best smiles, exchanged gifts with his family, and managed to get through the morning without giving anything away.

As soon as they left his parents’ house, they headed straight to her OB-GYN’s office. Dieter squeezed her hand in the waiting room, both of them tense but trying to stay calm. When the doctor finally confirmed the news—they were eight weeks along—it felt both real and surreal at the same time. They were both relieved and overwhelmed, knowing it was still too early to tell anyone, too early for announcements, but their hearts were already full of the possibility.

Back at their house, Dieter immediately started making little changes, moving things around and insisting on turning one of the guest rooms into a nursery. “This room gets the best light,” he said, gesturing animatedly as they stood in the empty space, still filled with random furniture and boxes they hadn’t sorted through. “We can do a crib over here, maybe a rocking chair by the window… Oh, and I saw this thing on Pinterest—don’t laugh—about these little wall decals, like stars and moons. We could do a whole sky theme.”

She watched him, leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t even know you had a Pinterest account.”

Dieter turned, shrugging sheepishly. “What? I like my aesthetics.”

She laughed, her heart swelling at the sight of him so invested. It was like watching a kid with a new project, and she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. “You’re really into this, huh?”

He looked at her, eyes sparkling with an excitement that was infectious. “Yeah, I am. What’s so funny?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s just… I never thought I’d see the day when Dieter Bravo is this excited about becoming a dad.”

Dieter’s expression softened, and he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around her. “Well, get used to it, baby. I’m all in.”

As the days passed, they began to settle into this new phase of their life together, their once spontaneous and free-spirited existence slowly evolving without them even realizing it. They had always been people of the moment, living day to day with little thought of what came next. Before, their conversations rarely drifted beyond the present—they were about last-minute weekend trips, late-night takeout, or whatever wild idea Dieter would come up with next. The future was never really on the table, not in a serious way. They thrived on spontaneity, on the freedom of not being tied down by plans or expectations.

But now, there was a subtle but undeniable shift in the air between them. It wasn’t something they talked about directly, but rather something that quietly settled in, like a warm, comforting blanket. Their conversations began to naturally drift into what was coming, not just what was happening now. They found themselves talking about baby names over breakfast, Dieter suggesting offbeat, quirky names that made her laugh while she countered with more classic choices that she’d always dreamed of, being the writer that she is and her love for literature.

Dieter would randomly pull out his phone to show her baby gear he’d found online, everything from the practical to the absurdly adorable. “Look at this stroller, baby. It’s got all-terrain wheels! Imagine us taking the kid hiking. Okay, maybe not hiking, but, you know… walking down a slightly uneven sidewalk.”

She’d laugh, watching him with a kind of fondness that was new, soft, and overwhelming. She’d catch him in the nursery sometimes, hunched over with a tape measure, making notes and sketches of where things should go. He was planning—actually planning—and it warmed her in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

One afternoon, she found him kneeling on the floor, surrounded by paint samples and wallpaper swatches, muttering to himself about whether to go with the pale blue or the pastel purple. “I don’t know, do you think clouds are too cliché? What if we did something more abstract? Like a sky, but, like, artsy. You know, like, dreamland stuff.”

She leaned against the doorframe, a smile playing at her lips. “Dieter Bravo, debating interior design for a nursery. Who would’ve thought?”

He looked up, his grin boyish and bright. “I know, right? Next, I’ll be on HGTV. ‘Bravo’s Baby Rooms.’ It’ll be a hit.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart swelled with something deeper. They were still them, still the same pair who’d decided to get married on a whim in Vegas, who’d spent years living in the moment and rarely looking ahead. But now, the future wasn’t something scary or overwhelming. It was something they were building together, brick by brick, conversation by conversation.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments, she would find herself lying awake at night, her hand resting on the small swell of her belly, feeling the gentle flutters of life within her. Dieter would be next to her, snoring softly, and she’d just listen, soaking in the warmth of their home. She realized then how much had changed between them—how they’d gone from two people floating through life, clinging to the present, to a couple that was starting to dream together. 

It wasn’t just about the baby, though that was the catalyst. It was the way their whole world had shifted, gently guiding them toward a future that felt bright and full of possibility.

Their once spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants relationship was evolving into something richer, something that made space for plans and hopes. She’d catch Dieter browsing parenting books or obsessively researching the best baby monitors, and each time, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of love she hadn’t quite known before.

It wasn’t forced or awkward; it was the most natural thing in the world, like breathing. They were still the same Dieter and his wife, the quirky mystery novel writer—impulsive, playful, unorthodox in every way—but now, their lives together carried an undercurrent of something… warmer, softer, and a little more planned than usual. 

One evening, she was curled up on the couch, cozy under a thick, soft blanket, her Kindle in one hand and the other resting gently on the small but noticeable bump of her belly. She’d grown accustomed to the comforting weight of her growing child. Dieter strolled in from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of popcorn, and dropped onto the couch beside her with a contented sigh.

“You look way too comfortable,” she teased, nudging him playfully with her foot, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him sink into the cushions like he belonged there.

“I am,” Dieter said, settling in beside her and resting his head against her shoulder. He let out a contented sigh, his eyes drifting down to her bump, and his hand found hers, resting warmly over the swell of her belly. “I love this. I love everything about this.”

She chuckled, her fingers absentmindedly tracing soft circles on her belly, feeling the little flutters of movement beneath her skin. “You always loved kids, Dee. I know that. I just… I never thought I’d live to see the day when you’d actually be a dad.”

Dieter’s smile softened, and tears welled in his eyes as he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her chest. She could feel the quiet, vulnerable sobs shaking his shoulders, and it melted her heart. “You’re making my deepest, darkest dreams come true, baby,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her warmth, words spilling out with raw sincerity.

She laughed, tilting her head back as she ruffled his hair affectionately. “I thought your deepest, darkest dreams that I made come true involved a strap-on, Bravo.”

Dieter snorted, lifting his head just enough to flash her a cheeky grin. Without missing a beat, he buried his face into her chest, playfully motorboating her. She squealed, swatting at his head as they both dissolved into laughter, tangled together on the couch.

“God, you’re such a perv,” she giggled, half-heartedly pushing him away even though she was laughing too hard to mean it.

He finally pulled back, grinning unapologetically as he reached up and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing playfully. “Honk honk,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but unable to keep a straight face. “Dieter, you’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he said, still chuckling as he leaned in to kiss her softly. 

“I love you, mama.” He whispered against her mouth. 

–

As days turned into weeks, they found themselves back at the doctor’s office for the 20-week scan. The drive there was tense, filled with nervous silence and half-hearted attempts at small talk that did little to mask their growing anxiety. Dieter’s usually easygoing demeanor was replaced with restless energy, and she could feel it radiating off him as they sat in the waiting room, both of them on edge.

She sat nervously beside him, her leg bouncing up and down as she stared at the outdated magazines scattered on the table in front of them. Dieter glanced over, noticing the jittery movement. He nudged her lightly with his elbow, offering a crooked smile. “Babe, you’re bouncing your leg like you’re tweaking. Seriously, I’ve been around a lot of meth heads, and you’re giving me flashbacks.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as a burst of laughter escaped, her nerves momentarily easing. “I can’t help it, okay? This is… I’m freaking out.”

Dieter reached over, his fingers lacing through hers as he squeezed gently. “I get it, but you gotta chill. You’re acting like you’re on something, and trust me, I know that vibe.” He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. “You’ve gotta stop reading all those Reddit posts. They’re nothing but horror stories.”

She nodded, though she still looked pale, her eyes flicking around the room as if searching for something to distract herself. “I know, I just… I can’t help it. I’ve read too many stories about 20-week scans going wrong. What if something’s wrong, Dieter? I don’t think I can handle it.”

Dieter leaned in closer, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Hey, nothing’s wrong. Our kid’s strong. Just like you. Baby’s gonna be fine, okay? Let’s just breathe.”

They were finally called into the scan room, and the doctor greeted them with a warm smile, chatting casually as she prepared the machine. “How are we feeling today? Ready to see this little one?” she asked, her voice calm and reassuring as she applied the cool gel to her belly. Dieter stood by her side, holding her hand tightly, both of them staring at the monitor with bated breath.

The doctor moved the wand over her stomach, her brows knitting slightly as she searched the screen, waiting for a heartbeat. At first, there was nothing—just static silence, the absence of that familiar, rhythmic thump that they both so desperately wanted to hear. The doctor adjusted the wand, repositioning and angling it slightly, her expression remaining neutral but focused.

Dieter could feel his wife’s grip tighten, her fingers digging into his, and he squeezed back, his own heart pounding. “Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with fear.

The doctor glanced at them, her smile reassuring but a little strained. “Sometimes the baby’s in a tricky position so it’s hard to get the heartbeat. Let’s just give it a moment.” She moved the wand again, her eyes flicking between the screen and her belly as she pressed a bit harder, trying to get a better view.

But the silence lingered, and the tension in the room grew thicker. Dieter could feel his pulse racing, his mind going a mile a minute. He tried to keep calm, tried to joke, but his voice came out strained. 

“Kid’s already messing with us, huh? Definitely takes after me.”

It falls flat, and he frowns deeper. 

The doctor’s brows furrowed as she moved the wand slowly, deliberately, the silence stretching on until it was almost unbearable. “Come on, little one,” she murmured under her breath, adjusting the machine again.

She glanced at Dieter and his wife, reading the fear on their faces. “I know it’s nerve-wracking, but try not to panic. This happens sometimes.” The words were meant to soothe, but each passing second felt like an eternity, and Dieter felt like the walls were closing in.

Suddenly, the doctor paused, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh—hold on. I think I forgot to turn on the sound.” She reached over and pressed a button on the machine, and instantly, the room filled with the steady, reassuring thump of their baby’s heartbeat, clear and strong.

Dieter and his wife both let out a collective sigh of relief, laughing shakily as the tension broke. “Oh my god,” she breathed, her head falling back against the table as she squeezed Dieter’s hand. “You just shaved ten years off my life.”

The doctor chuckled, her face apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that. It happens more often than you’d think.” She moved the wand slightly, showing them their baby on the screen. “There we go. Heartbeat is strong, and baby looks perfect.”

Dieter let out a shaky laugh, wiping at his eyes as he glanced at his wife. “Kid’s already got us on edge. I guess that’s just payback for all the years I’ve been a handful.”

They all shared a brief, much-needed laugh, the tension slowly melting away. But the doctor’s expression turned a bit more serious as she continued to move the wand, examining the screen with careful precision. She began marking key areas on the screen, capturing images and making notes as she went. “Now, remember, this is your 20-week scan,” she said, her tone gentle but factual. “This is an important one because it’s when we check for congenital anomalies. We’ll be looking closely at your baby’s organs and development to make sure everything is on track.”

Dieter and his wife nodded, their earlier relief tempered by the weight of what the doctor was saying. This wasn’t just about hearing the heartbeat; it was about seeing if their baby was healthy, if everything was developing the way it should. The room fell quiet again, the soft whir of the machine the only sound as the doctor carefully scanned each part of their baby’s tiny body, capturing and saving images to review.

“We’re looking at the brain and skull,” the doctor explained, pointing to the image on the screen as she took a snapshot. “The structures look well-formed, and everything is measuring normally.” She moved the wand again, pausing over the baby’s chest and marking the image. “And here’s the heart. We’re checking for proper function, looking at the chambers and blood flow. So far, everything looks great.”

Dieter squeezed his wife’s hand, the feeling of both awe and anxiety filling the cavity of his chest. Every tiny movement on the screen felt monumental, every word from the doctor a lifeline. The doctor continued, showing them the spine, the kidneys, the limbs—every detail scrutinized with care and captured for documentation.

“And here’s the stomach and the diaphragm. We’re looking for normal positioning and function,” she said, moving methodically, her voice steady and calm. “All good signs here.” She took another image, marking it on the screen with a series of measurements.

Dieter’s wife squeezed his hand, her eyes locked on the screen, watching their baby’s tiny fingers flex and curl. “Is that… is that the baby’s hand?” she asked, her voice soft, filled with wonder.

“Yes, it is,” the doctor smiled, zooming in on the tiny hand and capturing the image. “Five fingers, all accounted for.”

They watched in silence, their emotions swinging from relief to fear and back again with every scan of the baby’s developing organs. The doctor’s voice was steady, reassuring them as she checked for any signs of congenital anomalies. Each confirmation that everything was normal felt like a small victory, a breath they didn’t realize they were holding.

“Everything looks normal and healthy,” the doctor finally said, pulling back and saving the last image. “Your baby is developing beautifully.”

Dieter and his wife both let out breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding, their hands still clasped tightly together. It wasn’t just relief—it was gratitude, to the doctor and the universe, for keeping their little bun healthy. 

They thanked the doctor, their voices filled with a concoction of relief, exhaustion, and overwhelming joy. As they left the office, they felt lighter, buoyed by the knowledge that their baby was safe and thriving. There’s only one thing for them to do now: start telling their family and friends. 

–

“You okay?” Dieter asked, his voice gentle as they pulled into his parents’ driveway. The house looked warm and welcoming, draped in fairy lights that twinkled against the evening sky, but she couldn’t quite shake the tightness in her chest.

She nodded, but it was automatic, her mind racing with thoughts she hadn’t fully processed, and her tears just started spilling like clockwork. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s a lot, you know? Your parents are going to be so happy, and I—I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have anyone to tell.” She tried to laugh it off, her voice catching slightly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “God, listen to me. I’m such a mess. It’s probably just hormones.”

Dieter squeezed her hand, his expression softening. He knew how much she missed her dad, how his absence lingered in moments like these. “It’s not just hormones, baby,” he said gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You’re allowed to feel this. I wish your dad was here, too. I think about it all the time—how proud he’d be, how he’d probably be spoiling you right now.”

She let out a shaky breath, “It’s stupid, but it just hit me today, you know? Like, he was the only family I had, and now… I guess I thought I was past all this. But it’s different now. This is so big, and I feel like I’m missing that piece.”

Dieter pulled her hand up, kissing her knuckles softly. “It’s not stupid. And you’re not without parents completely. My parents love you—hell, they might love you more than they love me. They text you more than they text me, anyway.”

She let out a laugh, and it felt good, a brief moment of lightness breaking through the weight in her chest. “They do, don’t they? They’re always sending me recipes, cute cat and dog vides, and asking for book recommendations. Meanwhile, you get the ‘how’s your liver?’ texts.”

Dieter grinned, happy to see her smile even through tears. “Exactly. Trust me, they’re going to be over the moon about this. You’re their family, too. And yeah, it’s big—it’s bigger than anything we’ve done—but you don’t have to carry that alone. My parents, they’re gonna be here, every annoying, loving step of the way.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling a little more grounded. “Thanks, babe. I needed that.”

Dieter nodded, his own emotions bubbling under the surface. He knew how hard this was for her, and he wanted to make sure she never felt like she was alone in this. “Hey, we’re in this together. And we’re about to make their year, so let’s go in there and give them something to celebrate.”

They stepped out of the car, hand in hand, and walked up to the front door. She adjusted her coat, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest, but Dieter squeezed her hand reassuringly. They’d been parked for a while, gathering themselves, and now it was time. Dieter knocked, and within seconds, the door swung open.

Dieter’s mother stood there, her expression a mix of concern and relief. “Oh, there you are! We were starting to get worried—you’ve been sitting out there for ages. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Everything’s fine,” Dieter assured her, giving her a quick hug. “We were just… talking.”

His mom nodded, though she kept glancing between them, still a little uncertain. “It’s so good to see you two! Come in, come in.”

Dieter’s father was in the living room, setting out coffee and cookies on the table. He looked up, grinning in his usual dry way. “Hey, you two. What’s this? I thought you’d be busy writing another bestseller or maybe dragging Dieter around to get some culture.”

Dieter laughed, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not that, but it’s something just as good.”

His wife exchanged a quick look with him, her nerves sparking up again. Dieter, sensing her hesitation, gave her an encouraging smile and gently reached up to help her with her coat. As he slipped it off her shoulders, he draped it neatly over the back of the couch, revealing the gentle curve of her growing bump.

His parents’ eyes widened, and for a second, they both just stared, taking it in. Dieter’s mom’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh my gosh… are you…?”

Dieter’s wife nodded, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and joy. “We’re having a baby. I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was only stunned silence, and then his mom let out a joyous cry, rushing forward to hug her. “Oh, sweetheart! This is the most wonderful news! Look at you—how far along are you? I can’t believe it!”

Dieter’s dad, who usually kept his emotions under wraps, pulled Dieter into a hug, his voice thick with pride. “Son, this is incredible. I can’t tell you how happy I am for you. I’m not sure if you remember this, but there was a time when I wasn’t sure you’d ever get your life together, let alone settle down.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by his dad’s words. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.” He hesitated, swallowing hard before speaking again. “I know I’ve been a mess, but… I’m really excited about this. I want to do it right.”

His father clapped him on the shoulder, his expression warm. “You’ve already done right by me. You’ve grown up, Dieter, more than I ever thought possible. And now you’re going to be a dad. I couldn’t be prouder.”

They all settled into the living room, Dieter’s mom already buzzing with plans. “Okay, so tell me everything! When’s the due date? How are you feeling? Have you thought about names yet? We have to start planning—oh, and the nursery! We’ll need to paint, get a crib—”

Dieter held up his hands, laughing. “Mom, slow down. You’re going to choke yourself on your own saliva with how fast you’re going. One thing at a time.”

She laughed, waving him off but nodding. “Okay, okay. But this is just… it’s all so exciting. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long, and now it’s finally happening.”

Dieter’s wife smiled, feeling the warmth of Dieter’s mom’s excitement wash over her. “Thank you. Really, I’m so glad we get to share this with you. It’s been a lot to take in, but having you both here means the world.”

Dieter’s mom squeezed her hand, her eyes filled with emotion. “You’re not without parents completely, you know that, right? You’ve got us now. We’re going to be right here with you, every crazy, wonderful moment.”

She nodded, fighting back tears. “I’m so grateful for that. You have no idea.”

Dieter’s dad leaned in, his voice quieter but no less heartfelt. “And I mean it, Dieter. I see the way you are with her, how much you’ve grown. You’ve got this, both of you. And I know you’re going to be amazing parents.”

As they continued to talk, laugh, and make plans, one thing stood out among them– they knew there was so much ahead—so many unknowns, so many firsts—but for now, it was enough to just be together and celebrate this beautiful news.

–

After spending a few hours basking in the joy and warmth of Dieter’s parents, they knew the next step was sharing the news with the rest of the world. It felt like another hurdle, one they were both eager and anxious to jump. They drove back home, feeling the weight of their secret beginning to lift. 

Once they were settled on their couch, they knew it was time to tell Dieter’s manager. Dieter pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, glancing over at his wife. “Ready?”

She nodded, though a nervous flutter still twisted in her stomach. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Dieter hit the call button, putting it on speaker. His manager picked up on the second ring, his voice chipper and businesslike. “Dieter, my man! What’s up? You ready to talk about the next big project? We’ve got offers coming in like crazy.”

Dieter laughed, exchanging a look with his wife. “Hey, uh, about that… we’ve got something to tell you. It’s kind of a big deal.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then his manager’s voice dropped, curious and cautious. “Oh God, are you in trouble again? Do I need to get a lawyer on the line?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Dieter said quickly, his grin wide. “Actually, it’s the opposite of trouble.”

His wife jumped in, smiling as she spoke. “We’re having a baby.”

The line went quiet for a beat, and then his manager erupted in a cheer. “What? Oh my God! Are you serious? This is amazing! Bravo’s having a baby! You two, this is incredible.”

They laughed, feeling the enthusiasm radiating through the phone. “Yeah, we’re serious,” Dieter said. “We’re excited, and we wanted to let you know before it goes public.”

His manager was still buzzing, the excitement palpable. “You’re going to break the internet with this. But listen, you’ve got to be prepared. This is going to be huge news—your fans, the media, everyone’s going to go nuts. Some good, some bad, you know how it is. But honestly, this is the best news I’ve heard all year.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, exchanging congratulations and discussing the logistics of managing the media frenzy that would inevitably follow. Once they hung up, Dieter turned to her, his eyes bright. “You ready to tell the world?”

She nodded, and together, they crafted a simple but heartfelt post for social media. They chose a candid photo taken that morning, with Dieter’s hand resting protectively over her small bump, both of them smiling with unfiltered joy. The caption read: Our greatest adventure yet. Baby Bravo coming soon.

They hit ‘share,’ and within moments, the post began to explode. Likes, comments, and shares flooded in at a speed that was almost overwhelming. Messages of congratulations poured in from friends, fans, and fellow celebrities. The overwhelming support was heartwarming, and they found themselves caught up in the happiness of it all.

But as the notifications kept coming, there were, of course, some that stung. Dieter scrolled through, his brow furrowing at the inevitable wave of negativity from the corners of his fanbase that couldn’t handle change.

“She’s probably just using him for fame. Classic.”

“Guess Dieter’s fun days are officially over.”

“He doesn’t deserve this. What about all the times he said he didn’t want kids?”

Dieter sighed, shaking his head as he turned off the screen. “I knew there’d be some backlash, but damn. People can be ruthless.”

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I mean, I expected some of it, but it still hurts. I just thought… I don’t know, that people would be happy for us.”

Dieter pulled her into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. They don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through to get here. This is our moment, not theirs.”

She nodded, leaning into his comfort. “I know, it’s just… I guess I didn’t expect people to be so… mean. I thought this would be different.”

Dieter kissed her temple, his touch gentle. “Some people will never be happy, babe. But look at all the love we’ve got here.” He pulled up the comments from their closest friends, the ones who knew them beyond the headlines. Messages of support, love, and shared joy filled the screen, reminding them of the people who truly mattered.

“Look at this one,” Dieter said, reading aloud. “‘I always knew you’d be the best parents. Baby Bravo is lucky to have you both.’” He smiled, scrolling down. “And this one—‘I’m so proud of you guys. Can’t wait to meet the little one.’”

She smiled, letting the warmth of those messages push away the sting of the negativity. “I guess we have to focus on that, huh?”

“Exactly,” Dieter said, squeezing her close. “This is our family. Our life. And no one gets to take that away from us.”

They spent the rest of the evening curled up together, ignoring the noise of the outside world and focusing on the love that poured in from those who truly understood. Their phones continued to buzz, and the news spread quickly, but for now, it was just the two of them, dreaming about their future with the baby they were already so deeply in love with.

A few weeks had passed since their announcement, and life had begun to settle into a new kind of normal. 

They were still receiving messages of congratulations, along with the occasional snarky comment, but the love outweighed the negativity by miles. 

Dieter and his wife had embraced this next phase with open hearts, pouring over baby books, setting up the nursery, and spending quiet moments together, dreaming about the future.

One night, as they sat in the nursery—still half-finished, with paint samples and swatches scattered everywhere—Dieter was busy assembling a crib, grumbling softly as he fumbled with the instructions. His wife sat cross-legged on the floor, watching him with a soft smile, one hand resting on her belly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for your dad to help with that?” she teased, noting his intense focus and the stray bolts lying around.

Dieter looked up, smirking. “Nah, I’ve got it. Besides, I’ve got to prove I can put something together that’s not going to collapse on us. I mean, it’s literally a crib. If I can do this, I can do anything.”

She laughed, watching as he finally managed to fit the pieces together, looking far too proud of himself. He stood back, admiring his handiwork before turning to her, his smile broad and genuine. “See? Told you I’d figure it out.”

She patted the spot beside her on the floor, and he sat down, pulling her into his side. They sat there quietly for a moment, both gazing at the crib—the first tangible piece of their new life together.

“Can you believe this is happening?” she murmured, her voice soft with wonder. “Sometimes it still feels like a dream.”

Dieter nodded, his hand drifting to rest over her bump. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been in a lot of weird dreams, but this… this is the best one. And it’s real.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat against her cheek. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

He turned to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “We already are, baby. And it’s only going to get better.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in the promise of what was to come—messy, beautiful, and entirely theirs.

[beskaranddust]

A Better Man | Dieter Bravo

Originally posted on September 24, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Word Count: 1,775words

Summary: Dieter goes back to a place he knows so well just to get a glimpse of a life he could have had.

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Lots of yearning, angst, and missed chances. Lots of flashbacks here. I love writing Dieter as this person full of regrets lol

I pull up to the house slowly, like I’m sneaking up on it. The engine rumbles under my grip, vibration running up through the steering wheel, and I shut it off with a sharp twist of the key. The air seems weighted in the sudden stillness, and I just sit there, eyes fixed on the place I used to know so well.

It’s funny. I don’t even know why I’m here. I’m not the sentimental type—at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for years—but somehow, I always end up right back here. Your house. The one you made a home, way back when everything felt so damn simple.

It’s been a while... The shutters are a different color now, a soft blue. You used to complain about how you never had time to take care of the garden, but it looks… alive now. Somebody’s been looking after it, after you.

It’s like the house moved on, but me? I’m still stuck.

I lean back in the seat, staring through the windshield. I remember this place, and I remember you...us.

Those days when I’d crash on your couch, no questions asked. The nights we’d laugh too loud, talk too much, and I’d forget, just for a second, about the chaos waiting outside your door. This used to be the one place that felt like it could be something real.

I close my eyes, and suddenly I’m back there, in those moments that play like an old movie I can’t turn off.

–

“You know, I could get used to this,” I said, my shoulder brushing against yours as we sat on the steps of your porch. The air was thick with the smell of your jasmine plant, heady and a little too sweet, but you loved it, so I never complained. I looked over at you, trying to hide my nerves behind a grin. “Just you, me, and this crappy little neighborhood.”

You laughed, and God, that laugh—it’s like a shot of adrenaline, better than any drug I’ve ever touched. “You say that now, but you’ll get bored. You always do.”

I wanted to argue, but I just shrugged, picking at the loose thread on my jeans. “Not with you,” I said softly. “You’re the only thing I never get tired of.”

You gave me this look...like you knew something I didn’t. “We’re not like that, Dieter. We’re... something else.”

I tried to smile, but it felt wrong. “Yeah, sure. Something else.” But I wasn’t so sure anymore. Not when everything was changing so fast. I could feel it slipping away, and I didn’t know how to hold on.

–

I showed up at your door, way past midnight. I was drunk, pissed off, and lost, but you still opened up, just like you always did. You didn’t ask why and you didn’t judge, just stood there in your pajamas, hair tousled, eyes heavy with sleep yet still warm when they found mine.

“Dieter, it’s late,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I just... I needed to be here,” I said, brushing past you into the living room like I belonged there. And for a while, I think I did. I slumped onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. “Everything’s fucked. I fucked up.”

You sat down next to me, close but not too close. You always knew how to give me just enough space to breathe. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

I looked at you, and for a second, I forgot about the headlines, the shitty reviews, the people tearing me apart for the mess I’d made of my own career. “You ever think... maybe we should’ve done this differently?”

You raised an eyebrow, half amused, half sad. “Done what differently?”

I shrugged, feeling stupid for even bringing it up. “Us. This. Everything.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “We are what we are, Dieter…”

I wanted to say something, anything, but the words got stuck somewhere between my head and my heart. So, I did what I always do—I let the moment pass, hoping it wouldn’t be the last.

–

“I met someone.”

It landed like a blow, and for a second all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears. You stood there, arms folded, not defiant but certain, like you’d rehearsed this in your head a hundred times before speaking it out loud.

“What does that mean?” My voice came out tight, the edge in it undercut by something I couldn’t quite keep steady. “After everything—”

“It means I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said, and your tone was almost gentle, which somehow made it worse. “We’ve been stuck in this thing for years, Dieter. We’re together, but we’re not. We say we’re friends, but we’re not that either. We’re just… orbiting each other. I’ve been the place you come back to when the rest of your life burns down, and I’ve let you. But I need more than to be your escape hatch.”

I wanted to tell you I understood, but the words stayed behind my teeth. Pride, fear—both choking me. “You knew what this was.”

“I did. And I don’t regret it. I love you, in ways I don’t even know how to explain. I understand you better than anyone ever will. I don’t want to change you, Dieter. But I have to change this. For me.”

I looked at you, searching for something to hold onto, but all I saw was that resolve. And somewhere under it, the ache of knowing you’d already started stepping out of my world. “So what—this guy can give you what I can’t?”

You didn’t flinch. “He can give me a life I can be in without hiding. Without waiting for a day that never comes.”

I wanted to argue, to promise things I wasn’t sure I could deliver. But the truth was sitting heavy in my chest: I couldn’t give you the quiet, anchored life you wanted. Being with me meant living in the eye of a storm. And I saw, maybe for the first time, that you were tired of weathering it.

“I’m happy for you,” I lied, the words tasting bitter. You gave me the smallest, saddest smile before turning for the door. I didn’t follow. I just let you go, feeling the weight of every year we’d spent tangled up in each other, and knowing this time I wasn’t getting you back.

–

I don’t even know why I’m here, but I can’t seem to stay away. I park a little down the street, close enough to see but far enough to not be seen, and I watch through the large windows of your house. It’s early evening, the lights are on, and I can see you moving around the kitchen, your silhouette framed against the glow.

You’re different now. Softer. Happier. And as my eyes drift lower, I see the subtle curve of your stomach, round and unmistakable. You’re pregnant. Again.

It hits me like a punch, the memory of the first time I saw you like this. I remember the way your body changed, how your skin seemed to glow, how you moved with this new grace that had me staring at you like I’d never seen anything more beautiful. You were carrying someone else’s child, but all I could think about was how much I wanted you, how much I wanted to be the one to fill you up, to make you mine in every way possible... to be the man who fathered the tiny being you were carrying... 

You shift, one hand resting on your growing belly, and I feel it all over again—the longing, the jealousy, the regret. I’d lie awake at night, thinking about you, about what it would feel like to be the one who got to hold you when you were swollen with life, about the softness of your body pressed up against mine. And now, it’s like I’m being forced to watch the life I could have had unfold right in front of me.

You laugh at something, one hand absentmindedly smoothing down your shirt, and there’s this guy—your husband—the fucking lucky bastard, walking in from another room. He leans in, kisses you on the cheek, and it’s so damn domestic that it makes me sick. I don’t even know him, but I hate him. I hate how he gets to have you in ways I never could.

I watch as he rests his hand on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles that make you smile. It’s intimate, tender, and I can’t tear my eyes away. You look so content, so fucking perfect, and all I can think is that I’m the idiot who let this slip through my fingers.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens, knuckles white as I fight the urge to storm up to that door and tell you everything I’ve been too scared to say. I want to tell you that you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, that I miss you in ways I can’t even describe. I want to tell you that I wish it was me, and that back then I’d had the will to change my life into something that could have kept you. 

But it’s too late. It’s always been too late.

I start the engine, but I don’t drive away right away. I just sit there, staring at the life that’s no longer mine, and I feel this hollow ache in my chest that I can’t ever seem to fill. I think about you, about the way you looked at me that night when you said you loved me but that you don't want to be in my chaotic life... I wish I could have expressed myself better, used my heart for once and not the stupid gears running a million miles a second in my head that tells me being with you means I stop having fun... 

As I pull away, I catch one last glimpse of you through the window, your hand resting on top of your oldest child's head while you spoke to your husband, and I feel like I’m leaving something behind all over again. Maybe one day, I’ll stop coming back here. Maybe one day, I’ll let go of this ghost that’s been haunting me.

But for now, all I can do is drive. Away from you. Away from the life I’ll never have. And I wonder, for the hundredth time, what might have been if I’d just been a better man.

[beskaranddust]

Friends with Benefits | Dieter Bravo

Dieter Bravo x Female Best Friend

Originally posted on May 28, 2023 as @drewharrisonwriter

Word Count: 781 words

Summary: Dieter finally fesses up to his long-time best friend about his feelings.

Warnings: Smoking pot, talk of cancer, thoughts of dying. Nothing heavier than those, though, carry on.

2025 A/N: This was my first fic in over a decade and my first fic in the PPCU fandom. Originally written for Pedro Pascal, but changed to Dieter Bravo because IDK... I love Dieter. LOL

He turned the keys that unlocked the door of his cozy apartment in New York.

Having flown 18 hours from filming a movie overseas, Dieter Bravo was happy to be home and looked forward to a quick shower, pizza, beer, and maybe passing out on the couch watching a random movie on Netflix after he smoked pot.

As he entered the hall leading to the rest of his apartment, his eyes widened in surprise and he dropped his bags. He muttered, “What the fuck?” under his breath.

His apartment was sparkling clean.

He was high when he left, but not high enough to forget whether he cleaned—and he most certainly hadn’t.

He closed the door behind him.

Walking slowly through his living area, he found a note on the coffee table.

On it was scribbled: “Neighbors thought there was a dead animal in here. You had four dead hamsters!!! And other non-pets. Cleaned and disinfected. Enjoy your fresh sheets. M.”

He snorted and burst out laughing as he slumped on the couch, eyes fixed on the paper.

He didn’t have a hamster, nor was there any rotting smell. This was just her way of helping him out when she had the time. ‘She’s probably stressed out,’ he thought, knowing that cleaning relaxed her.

He pulled out his phone and dialed her number.

“I’m busy,” she said, game sounds in the background.

Half smirking, he replied, “No you’re not. Come over.”

“Can’t, dumbass. I’m playing.”

Dieter chuckled.

“Should I come over then?”

After a pause, her voice sounded clearer. “It’s Saturday, don’t you have a life?”

“I just got back, baby. I missed you.”

“Whore.”

He leaned back, trying to play it cool. “Please?”

She sighed, pausing her game. “Fine. Be there in 20.”

“See you.”

He ordered food and drinks, then hopped in the shower, thinking about the woman he’d loved for years.

They’d met nearly a decade ago on the set of one of her music videos. She was already an established pop sensation at 20; he was a struggling actor at 31. Despite their differences, they clicked instantly.

They’d been best friends ever since—just… different lately.

It all started at an awards after-party three years ago. One thing led to another, and they ended up in his apartment. The next morning, they vowed never to do it again—but did, the very next night. And many nights after that.

They had an “understanding.” No commitments beyond friendship.

But when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer the year before, he came to an undeniable realization that what he felt for her had shifted far beyond the safe borders of best-friend affection, a pull that went far beyond the lines of friendship and left him restless, unable to brush it aside.

The sound of the front door opening broke his thoughts. “Welcome hoooome!” she sang.

The moment she stepped through the door, a smile broke across his face. She looked better—brighter—than when he’d last seen her, which had been far too long ago, nearly half a year, if he remembers correctly.

“Hey you,” he whispered, hugging her tightly, burying his nose into her hair and breathing her in like he could store the scent for later, taking in every bit of her he’d missed so much. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Now what’s the plan, dumbass?”

“Roll a blunt, watch a movie, eat a ton, maybe fuck later?”

She snorted. “Right up my alley.”

They bantered about the cleaning, her upcoming doctor’s appointment, and whether she could smoke pot.

On the couch, he asked quietly, “Are you scared?”

“A little,” she admitted. “I don’t want to need chemo again. Pills are fine.”

He found himself studying her in a haze of thought, barely noticing the knock at the door until it pulled him back. When he returned with the pizza and drinks, he settled beside her, Moonstruck flickering on the screen while his focus stayed on her far more than on the movie.

Eventually, he said, “I love you.”

“Of course you do.”

“No. I love you.”

She froze mid-chew. “What’s happening?”

“It’s been years, M. I want us to be together. Exclusively.”

She pointed out the demands of their careers and the miles that would keep them apart, but he told her he was done hiding how he felt and couldn’t go on acting like it was only friendship.

“I need time to think,” she said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s fair. I just needed to tell you.”

They hugged. “Let’s just enjoy tonight,” she said.

“Okay,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

“Now where’s that blunt?” she asked, making him laugh.