skittlesfics

requests are: OPEN || Skittles || 25+

[skittlesfics]

a kiss, my panacea

name: a kiss, my panacea pairing: Frankie Morales x gn!Reader word count: 917 summary: frankie has a rough reaction to the flu shot, but you're there to make it all better content/warnings: sickfic, mentions of vaccinations, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, established relationship, no beta author’s note: this is for the roll-a-trope challenge by the wonderful @burntheedges. masterlist here. Somehow I've never written a sickfic, so this was new for me!

“Hurts, baby.” Frankie’s already reaching for you again, drawing you into the broad expanse of his chest as if your proximity is what can heal his ailments. You hum sympathetically, lips pressing soft against the bicep smooshed against your cheek.

“I know, Frankie, that’s why you need to rest.” Your reminder is met with another groan, equal parts pained and stubborn. His skin is burning where it touches you, too hot to be comfortable, but you don’t move away. Instead, you nuzzle closer, a soft sigh of relief falling from his lips as you settle in his arms.

It’s been mere hours since you sweet-talked Frankie down the obnoxious red and white aisles of a CVS pharmacy, promising you’d take care of him so long as he got his flu shot this year. He’d agreed for the reason he always did: He can’t say no to you. But more, he did you one better and got his other boosters too, just to make you smile. That was his downfall.

“I’m gonna get you that other Gatorade out of the fridge, baby.” You say softly, pushing gently against his pectoral to signal that he should let you up. His first response is an incoherent grumble, a tightening of his arms around you, pressing your cheek into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. “Not thirsty.” He lies, despite the sticky sheen of sweat across his brow and the dry drag of his tongue through his mouth. In truth, he feels like he can’t remember the last time he had something to drink. He’s spent days in the desert feeling more hydrated than this. More alert, too, for that matter.

You aren’t so easily convinced, those lips he so loves pulling downward into a disapproving frown. You dodge him as he leans in to kiss it away. “Francisco…” He loves the way you say his name, except for when you’re saying it with that expression. That expression means that it’s a warning, an admonishment. He releases you reluctantly, a chill wracking his sore form at the loss of your touch. The blanket you supply him in your absence is a slim comfort. He closes his eyes as you step away, resting his head back against the arm of the couch.

You’re only gone a moment, long enough to grab a bottle from the fridge, but when you return he struggles to open them again. His vision is blurry when it settles on your sympathetic pout – another expression he would like to kiss away. You don’t give him the chance, pressing the cold bottle into his hand with strict instructions.

“Drink.” Your voice is soft, caring but still you leave no room for argument.

“One kiss?” He tries anyway, already cracking the lid off his drink like he knows what your answer will be. And he does. You press your lips together to suppress a smile, shaking your head at his stubborn obsession with your mouth. “I’m not really sick.” He reminds you, in earnest, as if that’s the issue. Just in case.

“Drink.” You repeat, lifting a hand to push his sweat-slick curls back off his forehead. He obeys this time, draining the bottle in six long swallows. It’s too sweet, his body so desperate for the electrolytes that the salt doesn’t even register on his tongue. He’s still thirsty, but would never admit it. It doesn’t matter when you take the empty, leaving to put it in the recycling and returning with a glass of plain water.

This time he reaches for the drink himself, his shoulders relaxing in relief as he swallows. A coaster makes it down beneath the glass just before he sets it down, his eyes already on you again, with no regard for the nice wood of the furniture. He pulls you into his lap, settling you over the soft fabric of the blanket. He should be lying down with his body aches, you both know that, but he doesn’t care right now. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, closing his eyes as he wraps his arms around you and inhales your comforting scent.

“One kiss.” You agree finally, lips curling into a soft smile at the way his head immediately shoots up. You shift in his lap, laughing as he crowds you his forehead warm where he rests it against yours. “And then you rest.” He kisses you slowly, reverently, one hand resting heavy on your shoulder as he resists the urge to pull you in and open you up. He wonders if this ache in his bones is from illness or from the strength of wanting, from the way your presence tugs at him, makes him desperate to keep you close. You’re so gentle with him as you pull away, pressing sweet lingering kisses to his cheeks, to his nose, to his eyelids. It makes his heart squeeze painfully in his chest, the way you love him. As if he deserved it. As if he didn’t need to deserve it.

It chokes him up, keeping his protests quiet as you stand and make him lie down. It’s still lodged in his throat as you take up the space next to him, your head cradled against his chest, one hand resting softly on his stomach. He forgets the words when you pull the blanket over the both of you, stretching to make sure his feet are covered. “And then I rest.” He says instead, his arm tightening around your waist.

[iknowisoundcrazy]

The Everything Shower

pairing: javier peña x reader

rating: 18+ (mdni!)

word count: 4.5k (oops)

warnings: it’s fluff guys! we’re giving javi what he deserves! soft!javi, sub!javi if you squint, s3 javi’s stress levels come with their own warning, alcohol consumption, implied smut (the smut happens off-screen but there’s definitely smutty language), reader follows a skincare routine including the removal of make up (that can be as much or as little as you want), reader is able to shave legs on their own and has hair 'long enough to be secured away from their face' but is otherwise (i believe) a blank slate, Feelings™️, secret relationship vibes bc i’m a sucker for it, no use of y/n, all mistakes are my own.

summary: javi stops by just as you’re about to start your 'everything' shower.

a/n: AAAHHHHHH!!!!!! i’m very scared so i’m just going to say my thank yous and run! a huge thank you to @almostfoxglove for the absolutely beautiful mood board which finally kicked my arse into gear and got me posting. i must thank @jolapeno who not only put up with my thoughts on this, but encouraged me with her whole chest to turn my silly little ask that i left in her inbox into a fully-fledged thing (i still can’t believe it), and who constantly hyped me up even though she’s so busy studying just now! without her there would be no this. biiig thank you also to @macfrog who offered me so much advice and support, and was always so kind and willing to help when i asked (read: annoyed) her about literally anything to do with Being A Writer! thank you for being my cheerleader! 🩵

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You’re placing your glass of wine down on your bathroom counter when the doorbell sounds through the apartment. Frowning at your reflection, you deliberate on whether to answer it, only minutes away from finally removing your makeup and stepping into the shower to wash the long day away. The soft flicker of the candles lit around the bathroom lull you towards ignoring it, and you sigh as you raise the glass to take another sip. Just as the glass touches your lips, the chime sounds again, obnoxious, cutting through your calm, and you huff, swallowing down a large gulp before grabbing your silk robe, tossing it on over your underwear in your rush to the door.

Raising to your tiptoes to reach the peephole, you spy Javi on the other side of your door, your frown deepening. Given everything going on in the office, you hadn’t planned on seeing him tonight. In fact, he had worked solidly through the weekend, to the point where you had resigned yourself to only sharing a few glances at work in between catching up on the fallout from the most recent, miserably failed, op. You wince as you take him in; slowly beginning to slump to his side to lean on the doorframe as he brings a hand up to rub at his eyes, pinch the bridge of his nose, dig his knuckles into the spot on his forehead you know feels tighter the more stressed he gets. He looks exhausted, you note, but a small smile reaches your lips at the sight of him despite it all. He came to you. Quickly, you pull the door open and usher him inside, holding your robe closed as the colder air hits your chest.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, closing and locking the door before turning towards him. “I thought you were-”

He moves like lightning towards you, cradling your face in one hand as he leans down to latch his lips to yours. His other hand moves gently from your hip to the small of your back, slowly settling his palm there to keep you against him. You sigh into his mouth and reach up to drape your arms around his neck, melting further into him when you feel his shoulders drop a little.

“Just missed you,” he mumbles against your lips, leaving a sweet kiss there, “Needed to see you.”

You feel him relax little by little, as if the tension he holds in his very bones is seeping out through his skin the longer he’s in your presence. You preen at the thought.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask quietly against his lips, staying in his embrace as your hands rest in his hair, gently scratching against his scalp.

“Mm,” he moans quietly, in affirmation to both the question and your movement, seeming to enjoy the act. His eyes slip briefly closed at your touch, leaving you smiling softly. He pecks your lips one more time and moves away with some effort, stepping towards the kitchen. “What are you drinking?” he asks, clearing his throat and blinking away the haze as he reaches for the whisky you had bought specifically with him in mind.

“I’ve got wine in the bathroom,” you reply, pointing in the general direction and watching as he frowns, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“And,” he pauses to take a long sip, loosening the tie around his neck as he does so. Your eyes track the movement, tongue darting out to lick at your bottom lip, “Why is your wine in the bathroom?” His eyebrow quirks as he takes another sip, eyes not leaving yours.

“I was…” you trail off with a grimace, realising that although you and Javi had been doing this for a while now, and although you know he knows that a lot tends to go into the general upkeep of appearances, he still hadn’t been privy to those various routines. Of course, he wasn’t new to grooming routines in any sense (the man’s moustache alone was proof of that), but something about revealing these processes felt like another step towards vulnerable, intimate – more so than the amount of times you’d fucked in the last three or four months. “I was just about to start my everything shower.” You shrug; you don’t think he’d want to wait around for the best part of an hour for you, but maybe he’d take that time to eat or to rest if you forced him to – he would deny it until he was blue in the face, but that man fucking needed the break.

He's quiet for a moment, as if weighing his response, then you see the cogs turning and watch as he decides on his answer; “What’s an everything shower and how can I be part of it?” he begins to smirk as he refills his glass.

It’s your turn to weigh your options, but it takes you next to no time at all to decide, quickly squashing down that hesitancy of being too domestic, intimate, vulnerable. You roll your eyes with a smile as you reach for his hand, linking your fingers with his as you pull him down the hallway. Of course his mind would go straight there, but you couldn’t blame him – the shower had been one of the first places he had fucked you.

*

Javi is perched on the edge of the closed toilet seat. His suit jacket is off and abandoned over the chair in your bedroom, along with his shoes and tie. The sleeves of his white shirt are bunched up to his elbows and his top few buttons are undone. You glance at him through the mirror, and can’t help but think that he already looks so much more relaxed than he did when you spied him through the peephole almost an hour ago now. As your eyes rove over his dishevelled hair, you think that the 40-minute make-out session in your room had a lot to do with that, too. He catches your eye and winks at you through the mirror, making your cheeks heat and your eyes shift away to the counter in front of you as you grab your makeup remover.

“So, what does an everything shower involve?” he asks now that he’s probably realising he’s got no idea what he’s in for.

“You’re a smart man, Javi,” you smile gently as you begin to wipe your face clean and gesture to the counter in front of you with your other hand. You watch as his eyes track your movement, landing on the array of liquids and lotions there. “What do you think it is?”

“I think it seems like an awful lot of fuss,” he grumbles, frowning as he does so. Your eyes are drawn to the deep line between his eyes again, the one that sometimes makes it look like he’s in pain. “Surely it all does the same-”

“Please don’t offend me by finishing that sentence.” You turn to face him fully now, leaning a hip against the counter. He straightens as you face him, listening intently to your next words, as if he can sense they’re important to you. “I can see why you’d think that, and maybe you're right about at least some of it, but it’s such a good way to destress and relax a little.” You nod your head towards the several candles that are lighting the bathroom alongside the backlight from the mirror to set the relaxing atmosphere you always aimed for. “You could tell me everything on this counter was made with the same ingredients, hell, that they came out of the same batch, but you can bet your ass I’d still follow my self-care Sunday routine to a tee.”

He had started to smile tenderly at you, eyes softening around the edges, as you ranted with no real heat in your voice about your self-care. He blinked when you were silent, as if rousing himself from a trance, and quirked an eyebrow at you. “Baby, it’s Tuesday.”

“Yes,” you huff, quickly turning back to the counter and unscrewing the lid from a clay face mask. Your eyes cut to him in the mirror once more, “But someone had his department running ragged this weekend.” You watch as he winces, likely remembering the very public dressing-down he gave most of his department in the office on Saturday morning. The embassy bosses hauled almost every department in on the weekend following the botched operation, and Javi had been under so much pressure that he snapped, leading to his entire department running themselves into the ground to try and make up for the mistake. That had seemed to have had a knock-on effect for your department, and had meant you worked what felt like the equivalent of a full working week over the space of three days. Your eyes soften as he worries his lip between his teeth. “Not important. I was too tired to do it on Sunday, so tonight it is.”

He's quiet as his curious eyes trail your movements for a while, ever the observer. You can tell he’s still in his head a little about your mention of the weekend. The near miss had left him and his agents more than a little deflated, and your guilt only worsens as you watch the hand holding his glass raise to his head, thumb rubbing along that sore spot on his forehead again. Just as you take a breath to apologise for bringing it up, he speaks.

“So what is this?” He’s sitting forward, trying to get a better look at the jar in your hand, placing his whisky on the edge of the counter. You glance down as you scoop a generous amount of the clay into your fingers and start to spread it on your face, apology set aside for now.

“It’s a clay mask,” you tell him softly, quietly, keeping your voice steady and relaxed. “It helps to draw out oils and impurities, and also helps to close your pores.” When you finish explaining you turn to face him again, still with an excess of the clay in your hands. Without thinking too much about it, you stretch your fingers out and swipe some down his nose. He looks surprised and then he closes his eyes, tilting his head back a little.

Unsure, you hover close by him. Does he want you to put a face mask on him? He had mentioned joining you, but really you thought he was joking, that he just wanted to watch you. Again you’re struck by that thought from earlier; this feels infinitely more personal than anything you’ve ever done before. You’re quiet for too long, and you jump when Javi says your name quietly. Your eyes shoot to him; his head is still tilted back but he’s squinting one eye open and is looking towards you. “Thought you said I could be part of your everything shower?”

It was all the confirmation you needed. You stepped towards him and he spread his thighs further apart for you to slot yourself between them, his large hands coming round to settle on the backs of your thighs. Your breath hitches, a small quirk of his lips the only indicator that he heard you. You begin gently spreading the clay over his cheeks, nose and chin, making sure the layer is even before moving to his forehead. You slow down here, movements gentle as you massage the clay into his warm skin, soothing his stress marks as you go. You watch, almost in awe, as the creases disappear the more he relaxes into your touch. He’s so soft like this, you can’t help but admire as his breathing levels out, and eventually, regrettably, you have to finish up.

With his eyes still closed you lean down and leave a careful peck on his lips, whispering against them, “All done.”

“What now?” he murmurs after a few moments, his thumbs now rubbing small, gentle circles into your skin. He hasn’t moved his head from the position it’s been tilted back in, and his voice stays low and steady. You bite your lip, knowing that not many people will have seen this side of Javier Peña here in Colombia, if at all. It fills you with warmth, knowing that he trusts you enough to be this vulnerable, to allow you to see him in this way.

The last time he had stayed the night, he had been so exhausted that, after he had fucked you and made you come three times, he confessed in a half-asleep sort of mumble that you made him feel safe. He made no mention of it again so you stuffed it deep down, believing it was a moment meant for his dreams. But your heart hammered as you watched him relax in real time and you thought maybe it could be true for him after all. His breathing had evened out, and you’re sure that if you reached your palm towards his warm chest, slipped your fingers just beneath his shirt, you’d feel his heartbeat steady and slower.

You cleared your throat, reaching behind you for another larger jar, loathe to break the moment; “Next is this.”

Finally he opens his eyes and his gaze lands first on the jar, then you as you stand – he almost looks ten years younger. “What’s this?”

“It’s a hair mask. You put it through your hair and let it soak in before you wash it out. Leaves it in good condition and feeling really soft.”

He nods as you finish speaking, raising a hand to gently twist a strand of your hair, humming softly as he twirls the soft ends through his fingers. “I do love how soft your hair is…” His voice is so quiet that, had you not been watching his lips move, you might have missed it. Your heart hammers again at his words, and you only release the breath you were holding when he lets the strand of your hair drop, closing his eyes, gently tilting his head back – moment broken. “And if it makes my hair smell like yours, I’m all for it.”

You smile at him even though he can’t see you, and twist open the lid, gathering enough product to comb through the ends of your hair. As you worked, you became aware of Javi sneaking glances at you through the mirror when he thought you couldn’t see him and you fought a grin, letting him have the win. You finish quickly, securing your hair away from your face before turning to face him again, tapping his knees so he can bring them closer together. A thought hits you as you are about to sit down and you stop, landing a quick kiss to the crown of his head as you turn to grab the small bottle of scalp oil for this extra step, more for his stress than for his aesthetic. You straddle his knees and slowly lower yourself to sit in his lap, using his broad shoulders to steady you as his hands settle on your waist.

“Is this part of the everything shower experience?” he tilts his head forward to smirk at you and you breathe out a laugh, using the stopper to drop some oil onto his head.

“Never shared my everything shower experience with anyone before, so I couldn’t say,” you muse, placing the bottle out of reach and bringing the tips of your fingers to his head, beginning to massage the oil into his scalp. You use a firm pressure but are still gentle in your touch as you run your fingertips over the crown of his head, down the sides of his temples and around the back of his skull. He releases a groan from deep in his chest, one you’re not so sure he even wanted to emit, and his head tips forward slightly.

“So good t’me," he breathes, and you’re not sure he even realises what he’s saying. “I’ve never felt anything better than this, hermosa,” his voice cracks quietly, and he groans once again as you pass over a particularly sensitive spot.

Despite your shock at his admission, you smirk, speaking quietly so as not to disturb his new-found bliss, “I’m sure that’s not true.” Your fingers rake through the hair at his hairline, being careful to miss the mask still setting on his face. As you go, you grab handfuls of his hair and gently tug his head up to look straight at you again. “I’ll need to remind you of some things that feel way better than this.”

You finalise your whispered statement with a kiss pressed to his lips that has a whine escaping his throat. You can’t help but find yourself loving this new-found sense of elation at helping Javier Peña relax, a feat that no one on this planet has managed to master so far. Shifting to grab the hair mask and run it through the ends of his hair, you smirk as you feel his arms snake tighter around your waist and pull you towards him, grinding you down onto his hardening cock.

“Promise?” his voice is low as he mouths wet kisses against your throat and you moan into the quiet room.

*

Half an hour later, you’re perched on the side of the bathtub with your legs propped up on the opposite side, still feeling slightly wobbly following the orgasm Javi had pulled from you by grinding you into his still-clothed thigh. You had marvelled at his show of strength when, rather than allow you to tug his pants from his waist to return the favour, he had smiled softly at you, eyes crinkling at the edges, kissed you gently, and asked when you should be washing off the facemasks.

Faces freshly cleaned, Javi had lifted you onto the counter and peppered kisses on every part of your face and neck he could reach, seeming so much more energised following his scalp massage. He’d then grabbed both of your glasses, refilling your drinks and, upon return, had discovered you exfoliating your legs.

“What on earth is that?”

“An African net sponge.”

“Okay, but what does it do?”

“Exfoliates your skin.”

“…what’s that?”

That had led to him watching you use the netted material on your legs and listening as you explained the benefits of exfoliating once or twice a week. When he pieced together that this step was the reason why your skin was so soft for him, he took over scrubbing your shins for you, and helped you spread a thin layer of shaving foam over your legs. As you admired him working, the intimacy of the moment again crossed your mind, but you noted somewhere in the back of your mind that your heart wasn’t hammering quite so fast now. When you asked him to pass you your razor, he did so without hesitation and a comfortable silence filled the space as you took a sip of wine and began the careful process.

“So, if the office rumours are to be believed-” you spoke as you dragged the razor up along your shin, glancing sideways to clock his reaction, “-Agent Van Ness is sleeping with one of the girls in the records department?”

Javi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at your revelation before diving into a gossip session about some of the office politics. That particular morsel had been news to him, and he wrung you dry for all of the information you had on it. You barely raised your gaze from your task, too afraid of the dreaded sting of a razor cut, but you grinned as Javi rambled on, thinking how nice it was to see this side of him. He probably never cared for office gossip after being it for so long when he first took on the role of attaché, but catching this glimpse of him had you feeling that warm, fuzzy feeling again.

Without interrupting him, you stood in the tub when you were finished and switched the shower on before beckoning him forward to undress him. He took the hint and quickly stripped, joining you as you removed your underwear and stepped under the warm spray. He allowed you to carefully exfoliate every inch of him, working meticulously and leaving a smattering of kisses along his warm skin to ease the roughness of the material as you went. After exfoliating him to within an inch of his life, you grinned as you watched him run his fingertips over his own arms, a pang in your chest ricocheting as you caught the small, awed smile slowly spreading across his face. He insisted on exfoliating the rest of your body, followed by him choosing his favourite body wash scent and lathering both of you with it, burying his nose in your neck and inhaling deeply almost as soon as it was rinsed away.

“This is my favourite smell in the whole world,” he whispered against your neck. You both were still, sharing another moment of complete calm this evening, more intimate than anything you had shared before now, with hands and fingertips slowly roaming, softly caressing, kisses littering skin and fuelling fires behind your bellies as his fingers danced lower and lower.

“Think I have it beat,” you croak out, ignoring the flame licking through you and walking him backwards under the shower's stream again, using the hot water spraying in your hands to massage the hair mask into his scalp and rid him of the product.

“Oh yeah?” he murmurs, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as he starts to nip at the skin along your pulse point after you press down on that sensitive spot near the back of his head. “What could possibly beat the smell of your body wash?”

You smirk as you continue to wash out his hair, speaking softly into the shell of his ear; “The smell of my body wash on you.”

You feel him growl against your neck before he’s pushing you up against the shower wall, making a small, surprised yelp fall from your lips. He presses his leg between yours, using it to keep you upright as he finally lets go of the Herculean strength he’s been displaying so far, and fucks you into the shower wall, just like that first time.

*

When you eventually left the shower, both pruning but sated, you had spent time moisturising your bodies. Javi was particularly enamoured by this final step, loving how soft your skin felt under his touch. After dressing in your sleep shorts and tank top, you had left him to quickly dry your hair and fill up some glasses with water. You returned to your room some time later to find Javi already under your sheets, and took a moment to admire him there. The white sheets were pulled up against the tanned skin of his waist, chest on display as he massaged a spot on his forearm, throwing a lazy smile your way as you placed the water down.

“You okay?” You asked, climbing into bed beside him and shuffling closer into his open arms.

“I can’t believe how soft my skin feels,” he speaks quietly into your hairline as he presses a couple of kisses there. Your soft giggle has him smiling against your head. “Is this how good you feel going to sleep every Sunday?”

Snuggling deeper and laying flatter against the mattress, you sigh contentedly against his chest, softly running your fingers along his freshly exfoliated and moisturised skin. “Yeah, pretty much. Feels a whole lot nicer with you, though,” you admit quietly, stilling your hand to lie flat on his chest and listening to his heartbeat under your ear.

“Baby…” He shifts slightly, tilting your chin towards him, taking a moment to stare into your eyes. You do the same, falling deep into those beautiful doe eyes. This was not how you saw your Tuesday night going – you hadn’t anticipated the levels of intimacy or tenderness, nor the swell of emotions you were currently feeling for the agent in your bed. You had crossed a line tonight, something that left you more hopeful than nervous. You were sure you could see the same in Javi’s eyes as he slowly leant down to kiss you, leaving you breathless.

You pull away suddenly, using his chest to push yourself up to look at him properly as a thought from before flashes into your mind; “I’m sorry about earlier.”

He frowns, that line appearing again between his brows and you immediately reach up to run your fingers along it, to soften it. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, the weekend. It’s no one’s fault, certainly not yours. I saw you get into your head about it and I shouldn’t have tried to tease, I didn’t mean to make you-”

“It’s fine,” he’s quick to quiet you, pecking your lips. “Really. I’ve been doing this long enough to know not everything’s going to go right. And honestly, I’d rather you tease – I’d prefer it, actually,” he smiles. “I wasn’t in my head because of what you said. It’s just hard to remember to switch off most of the time. I’m okay, I promise. Even more so after tonight. Thank you.”

You hold his gaze for another moment, searching, and find that he’s telling you the truth. You lie back against him, pressing a kiss to his chest as you both settle down. “You shouldn’t be the one thanking me, it should be your team.” He laughs loudly at that and you smile, spurred on. “Just remember how relaxed you feel just now when you start to feel that stress creeping in tomorrow.”

“Yeah, when you hear me shouting just picture me with that face mask on,” he squeezes you tighter and you smile. You will cast your mind back to that, you think, the epitome of relaxed. “And if I manage to reign in the stress monster tomorrow, I might have to hand it to you about this everything shower experience.”

“It can take up a big part of your evening,” you close your eyes, listening to his even breaths, “And sometimes I can’t be bothered doing it. But I have to admit, I do feel calmer and more at peace after I take that bit of time for me, y’know?” His fingers crept over your skin, softly drawing circles and patterns where he can reach. You suddenly felt the tiredness deep in your bones and you sighed as you felt Javi’s other hand start to play with strands of your hair. “You should-” You hesitate, but the steady beat of his heart in his chest and the soft kiss to your temple pushes you to continue, “You should think about doing something like that every once in a while. Have your own self-care Sunday.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, but you don’t feel so scared about it. That line that you crossed? He had crossed it too, you knew that now, and without any thought, discussion or hesitation from either of you. You still feel his fingers dancing along, but his movements get slower and heavier, as if they’re lulling him to sleep. Your eyes are drooping closed by the time he replies, sounding peaceful, words slurring due to his exhaustion.

“Don’ need my own. From now on ’m crashin’ yours.”

thanks for reading!

np tags to some moots who may be interested (and if you’re not i shall remove you right away!): @burntheedges @hellishjoel @mrsmando @sugarcoated-lame @pedropeach @tonysopranosrobe @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @its-dee-lovely @msjarvis @chronically-ghosted

[skittlesfics]

This is so sweet and cozy and romantic 😭 also made me want to do a face mask and reread so see y'all later ✌🏽

[skittlesfics]

Hello, I was wondering if you still took Eddie requests. I love your fics so much. 💜

Hi! I most certainly do! Thank you so much

[patrochilles-or-bust]

Shout out to all the Black ppl that can no longer participate directly in the fandom they love because of the stresses of racism 👍🏾 you contain multitudes of value and I'm sorry that the color of your skin and the power of your voice makes people not want to acknowledge that.

[patrochilles-or-bust]

Yes, nonblack people can reblog. I'd appreciate it, in fact, if y'all took the time to vocally support your Black friends/fans in fandom.

[schnarfer]

Endurance - A Frankie Morales Story

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Rating: Explicit 18+ minors dni

Summary: In the darkest of times, there will still be music.

Series content: Frankie Morales AU, 1944 stately home in the UK, set in wartime but intentional no graphic violence or politics of the time mentioned, mention of death and PTSD, heavy on the British emotional repression, Frankie is an American pilot, Will, Benny & Santi makes appearances but no Tom (no thank you Tom) no specific ages mentioned but reader and Frankie would be early twenties, alcohol and cigarette references, cheating/infidelity, no physical descriptions of reader except she has hair and there are outfit descriptions, much swearing, angst, slow burn, will post smut content for each part, pet names (Lady, baby, cariño), some historical references but we're not going for heavy realism here, more, you know, vibes. Let me know if I missed anything.  

A/N: I have always wanted to write historical fiction and World War Two really is my era, so I hope you like this exploration of a pretty angsty love affair with Frankie. I promise there will be a (sort of) happy ending, but I might put you through it first.

Let me know if you would like to be tagged 🖤

✨Part 1:

✨Part 2

✨Epilogue

Tags: @pascalssbabyy @katareyoudrilling @morallyinept @5oh5 @secretelephanttattoo @survivingandenduring @papipascaaaal @luxurychristmaspudding @magpiepillsjunior (let me know if you'd like me to take you off/add you on!)

[skittlesfics]

Jesus Christ. I didn't know I needed this and now I don't know how I lived without it. Your Frankie is brilliant. Different timeframe but this swept me away the same way Gone With the Wind did when I first read it in middle school.

I want to go back and comment on each chapter individually later but I couldn't stop reading long enough to type anything.

[skittlesfics]

Does this mean you're taking Joel requests?!!

Yes!!! Please send requests for:

Joel Miller

Javi Peña

Frankie Morales

Marcus Pike

I desperately want to write more Pedro boys

[familyvideostevie]

it's your turn for choosing

this was born out of a prompt request from my dear, dear, @softlyspector. this is for you, becca!

getting asked out via a smudgy scribble on a coffee cup | valentine's day prompts

joel miller x reader

summary/warnings: joel stops by your coffee shack every day. it's not your fault you're a little in love with him because of it. | modern au, fluff, flirting, jesse and cat and ellie cameos, game!joel in my head. i have not been a barista so sorry to all baristas if this reads wildly off-base. | 5.6k

a/n: it's giving rom-com! happy valentine's day. a bit different from my usual fare but hopefully it makes your heart warm. love u. thank u always to @macfrog and @bageldaddy for your eyes.

___

7:32 am. It’s helpful in this line of work to know exactly when you’re fucked. 

The espresso machine has been on the fritz all week and despite how much you want your current method of fixing it to work – banging a fist on the top until it stops wheezing – all signs point to today being a very bad day indeed. 

You’ve only been open for two hours. 

Here for three, awake for four. God, you’re tired.

Anyway – you’re fucked. And there’s nothing you can do about it. 

You call the time of death on the machine and search for something you can write on.

The Zone – a stupid name, but you can’t be bothered to change the sign that came with the place – is a coffee shop that sits between towns. 

Your coffee shop. 

It's more shack than shop, not really a zone of anything, just an order window and a five-drink menu. It's the kind of place that appears like a mirage for tourists right before they get on the highway at an ungodly hour and serves as a quick stop for everyone else. You open earlier than any other place around to get the truckers and the farmers and close when you stop being able to keep your eyes open.

The faded brown clapboard building is no bigger than an RV. The paint is chipped and the roof is a too-bright shade of green and you serve your drinks and the occasional sweet treat when you can get a good deal off of the baker two towns over through a window. It’s not a fancy chain, it’s not a drive-thru. You’ve got a bathroom and a few rickety cafe tables and chairs and no fucking common sense since you like it. 

You even love it, some days.

And the craziest part is that it works. Even on mornings like this one, when your espresso machine breaks during the lull between rushes and your part-time help calls in sick and you’ve spilled coffee all over your apron twice – it works. 

You tear off the lip of a cardboard box and write in big block letters: NO ESPRESSO TODAY. Maybe Tess, the baker, knows someone who can fix it. She knows everyone.

“Fuck you, you piece of junk,” you say. You give the machine another smack for good measure. 

Someone clears their throat and you whirl around, makeshift sign in hand. 

You’ve been doing this long enough that a handsome customer doesn’t phase you, but the man standing at your order window makes your stomach swoop for just a second.

“Morning,” you say, summoning your smile. “Hold on a sec, let me just –”

You lean out the window and wedge the piece of cardboard against the napkin holder on the ledge.

The man’s gaze drops to read. You take the opportunity to look at him. 

He’s tall and broad – if you had to guess, you’d say he works on one of the farms around here. He’s tan, dark hair threaded through with grey. His arms are crossed and you wish he wasn’t wearing a jacket so you could see his forearms. His denim shirt is undone at the top and you fixate on the chorded column of his throat, on the teasing glimpse of chest hair underneath.

The guy looks tired. 

Bone-tired, the kind of exhaustion you see when you look in the mirror. It comes from hundreds of early mornings and late nights, from hours on your feet and plenty of worry. He’s got lines at the corners of his eyes and a few around his mouth and you find yourself hoping they’re from laughter. 

“No espresso,” he reads, slow and unhurried. His drawl fits in with most of the folks around here, but you’re sure you haven’t seen him before. You’d remember. 

“Hope that doesn't scare you off,” you say. “Still got everything else.”

“Everything else being…” He glances at the chalkboard that serves as your menu.

DRIP COFFEE. LATTE. CAPPUCCINO. TEA. HOT CHOCOLATE. All written in your blocky hand in white paint. 

“Three options.”

Trial and error have taught you that simple works best. You’ll make anything people ask for, so long as you know how and have the supplies, and if they’re nice about it you won’t charge too much extra.

“Can I get you one of those three options?”

You’re not trying to rush him, but the next wave of people is bound to show up any minute.

“Black coffee will do,” he says. His mouth tugs up at the corner into a smirk that makes your face feel hot. “If you have that.”

“Thank you for taking pity on me,” you say, going for teasing and missing the mark by a mile. You just sound tired and genuine. “You just made my morning.”

He looks amused and you turn from him, unable to hide your grin. You pour a steaming cup and snap the lid on.

“Pretty shit morning if this is makin’ it,” he drawls.

You hand him the cup and your fingers brush. 

“You have no idea.”

He eyes the sign again and then your stained apron. “I got some notion.” He tugs his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a $5 bill. “Keep the change,” he says.

You want to refuse, to thank him, but a few more cars pull up and Mr. Black Coffee just raises his cup to you and heads back to his truck.

Well, shit. You hope he comes back. A tipper like that, and hot? You sure wouldn’t mind if he became a regular customer. __

You call Tess that afternoon and she does know a guy, so the espresso machine gets fixed and things go back to normal. Your part-time help returns in the morning and nothing else breaks. 

Today is uncharacteristically warm for the season. The inside of The Zone is almost stifling, always at least 15 degrees warmer than outside, and you keep wiping your sweaty hands on your apron as you make espresso after espresso for the lunch crowd.

Cat, a spunky girl who likes to practice her latte art when it’s slow, takes orders at the register. You keep half of your attention on her and half on the four drinks you’re working on. 

“Black coffee, please,” someone says to her. Someone whose voice you recognize. 

“Can I get a name for that?” Cat asks. It’s busy enough that calling names is easier than calling orders, no matter how small your menu is.

“Joel,” he says. You let the milk steam on its own and pour the black coffee before Cat can do it.

“I’ve got it,” you tell her. “Can you finish up those drinks?”

She shrugs and you swap places. You know you’re sweaty and coffee-stained but you smile at him and hand over his coffee.

“Hot coffee on a day like this?” you tease. He – Joel – is sweaty, too. The collar of his work shirt is dark with sweat and his hair is a mess. He must be here on his lunch break. He takes the cup from you and slurps a long sip as a reply to your question. 

You laugh. Joel looks pleased. 

“Operatin’ a full menu, I see,” he says, pulling out another $5. “Glad you got it fixed.”

“It’s still a piece of junk,” you shrug. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

He waves off your offer of change and raises his cup at you, taking a few steps backward towards his truck.

“Thank you,” he says. He eyes the tag on your chest and tacks your name on at the end. It sounds good from his mouth.

“Bye, Joel,” you say. His lips twitch but you barely have time to think about it before you have to take the next few orders. 

The line dies down and you step away from the register to help Cat with some cappuccinos – your least favorite drink by far due to all the damn foam they require – and she eyes you.

“Dude,” Cat says. “What the hell was that?”

If it wasn’t already a billion degrees in here you know your face would feel hot. 

“What the hell was what?”

She can’t reply for a few seconds while you grind beans for some espresso.

“I didn’t even know you knew how to flirt,” she muses, tapping a frother full of milk a few times. “That was pretty bad flirting if you ask me –”

You turn the grinder on again to drown her out.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yell. She rolls her eyes at you until you turn off the machine.

You tamp down the grounds and slot them into the machine.

“I mean, not my type at all, for like, so many reasons,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Way too old for me, for one. Man, for another. But I see the appeal, I guess. Seems like he likes you. And was that a five-dollar bill? Black coffee is two bucks, last time I checked –”

“Can we get back to steaming milk, please?” you snap, more embarrassed than mad. “I am not taking flirting advice from a teenager.”

“I’m twenty!” she sputters. “Wait, so you admit that you like him?”

“Milk.”

Cat is right, though, and you know it. You just don’t see any harm in having a crush on some guy who comes to your coffee shop. Running this place means you see hundreds of people every day. You know their names, you ask them about their kids and their pets and their jobs, and you smile at them even on your bad days. It’s just part of the job. The daily interactions keep you afloat, make you feel more solid in your own life. People see you, they recognize you, they know you – even if it’s just because you make them coffee. 

Maybe Joel will keep coming back. Maybe he’ll become one of the regulars you know things about.

And if you have a crush on him? 

No harm done. He’s nice to look at.

And he tips well.

__

Joel stops by again. 

And again. 

And again.

He comes in every morning – sometimes at lunch – and orders the same thing. You learn the rumble of his truck by ear alone, the crunch of his boots on the gravel. Sometimes people in line say hi to him and a smile works its way onto your face on instinct when his voice reaches your ear. It’s never slow enough to have a proper conversation but he smiles at you, tells you he likes the flowers, your new apron. 

All of it is flirting but maybe not flirting. 

Maybe he’s just being polite.

Also, he keeps overpaying. 

One day, almost a month since you first saw him, he doesn’t come in the morning.  When you don’t see him in line at lunch, either, you’re a little disappointed. The weather is perfect – not too hot, not too cold, the sun shining – and you want to see him in the sunlight.

The day crowd is long gone and you’re only an hour or two from closing when his truck pulls up.

“I was getting worried,” you call as he walks over. Usually, he’s got some kind of dust or paint or something on them – Joel is a contractor, you’ve learned through your brief encounters, not a farmer – but today his clothes are clean and un-ripped. 

“I’m honored,” he says. 

You have his cup ready by the time he reaches the window. 

“I’m just surprised you can get through the day without a cup of coffee.”

He snorts and hands you his cash. 

“I can’t,” he says. “Had shitty home brew this morning.”

He takes a sip of your coffee and sighs. Your heart picks up and you don’t hide your grin.

“What’s with the schedule change?” you ask. 

He smirks. “Miss me?” 

You scoff and cross your arms. Heat rises in your chest and you feel almost giddy. 

“Just curious,” you say. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you’re my favorite customer.”

Joel laughs and scratches the back of his neck. 

“Reckon that’s the tip.”

“Actually, ordering a cup of black coffee is the way to any barista’s heart.”

Joel’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. 

“Ah,” he says. He takes another sip, his eyes dancing with mirth. “‘Course.”

“Nah,” you say with a teasing smile. “I’d never be so shallow.”

There’s no line behind him but you expect him to go back to his truck, anyway. But here he is. Talking to you.

You grab a rag and wipe down the counter to keep your hands busy. 

“I’m, uh. Meetin’ one of my kids here,” Joel says. The sudden shyness that accompanies his admission is a surprise. 

Your eyes dart to his hand but you see no ring, nor the pale shadow of one. 

“Both of ‘em moved to the city recently. Ellie – she’s comin’ up for the night.”

“I’ll bet you miss them,” you offer. You’re not sure why he’d want to bring his daughter to your coffee shack, but you’re not complaining.

Joel smiles at you. It’s a sad smile but still a good one. The affection in his eyes is raw. 

“Sure do,” he says. He tucks one hand in his pocket and takes another sip of his coffee. “But it’s good for them. Sarah – she’s a little older – is in school and Ellie is workin’ on her music and whatever else she’s into these days.” The pride in his voice is clear. 

“Well, I’m honored you want to bring her here.” You gesture to your slightly sad sitting area and the empty lot behind him. 

Joel looks ready to argue with you when a faded, older version of his truck pulls up. Music leaks from the open windows and the driver bops her head to the beat a few times before shutting it off and hoping out, thumbs flying on the screen of her phone. 

“That’ll be her,” he says drily. “Hey, kiddo.”

Ellie looks up from her hands, tucks her phone in her back pocket, and grins at Joel.

She doesn’t look a thing like him, but the connection is obvious. She moves like him, her shoulders set like she’s ready for a challenge at any moment. Joel sets his coffee down at the window and meets her halfway for a hug.

You look away and busy yourself with restocking whatever you can get your hands on.

“Dude, you come here every day?” Ellie asks. “Joel, this is so far from –”

Joel talks over her.

“Drive go okay? Sarah said they’re doin’ shit on the 35 –”

Ellie huffs.

“Yeah, yeah, some traffic getting out of the city ‘cause of the fucking lane closure, but otherwise fine.”

“Good.”

You turn to face them, a genuine smile firmly in place. 

“Hi,” you say. Joel picks up his coffee again, which Ellie eyes with a scowl. You introduce yourself to her. “You’re Ellie, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Ellie frowns. Behind her, Joel’s mouth twitches but he says nothing. It’s a lie, obviously, but something tells you he doesn’t mind and she believes it.

“Really?” She throws him a glare and then rolls her eyes. “You gotta stop telling strangers about me, man.”

“Someone’s gotta warn ‘em,” he says. 

She laughs. “Hey, fuck you!”

“Only good stuff,” you say. You like her. “Joel says you’re working on your music?”

Ellie’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “I’ve got an audition next week.” She turns to Joel. “I brought my guitar ‘cause I have a fuck ton of songs to play for you.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder and she settles a little.

“I bet they’re real good.”

Ellie flushes and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. You have to hear them first.”

You feel a little off-balance again, like you’re on the fringes of something you shouldn’t be seeing. The love on Joel’s face is clear as day. 

“Do you want some coffee?” you ask her.

Joel winces. Ellie gags. 

“No offense,” she starts, eyes darting between you and Joel. “I know Joel is fifty percent coffee on a good day, but it’s not my thing.” She looks at the menu and narrows her eyes. “I had a mocha the other day and didn’t hate it. Do you make those?”

“Look at that,” Joel says. “You’re convertin’.”

“Am not,” Ellie says. “It’s got chocolate in it, dude. No shit, I like it.”

“Yeah, give me a few minutes,” you laugh. “I’ll put lots of chocolate in it.”

They sit at one of your tables and you hear their laughter in the background as you make her drink.

It’s strange to see Joel like this – to build up on the man you’ve imagined him to be in your mind. Father never occurred to you. It makes sense, though, like a missing piece of him slotted into place. But it also makes the crush feel a little more real. Now that he’s more than your favorite regular customer. Now that you know a piece of him, of who he really is. 

It makes you want to know more.

You finish her drink and call Ellie’s name. They both stand and Joel digs in his wallet again.

“Don’t you dare pay me, Joel,” you say. You direct your next words at Ellie. “Really. I’m just honored you stopped by.”

She eyes Joel and he eyes her right back with the same look. She must have learned it from him.

“Yeah,” she says. “Me too.” She grins at you with all of her teeth. “Joel loves this place. Talks about it all the time.”

She takes a sip of her mocha and her eyes go wide.

“Wait, this is fucking good. Man, I see why you drive –”

Joel clears his throat.

“We’re off,” he says. “Thank you, as always.” He sounds softer than usual as if being nice to his daughter is the best thing you could do for him.

You suppose it is.

“You’re welcome, as always.” 

Ellie knocks her shoulder with Joel’s as they head back to their trucks. She must be whispering something to him because he swats her away with a groan and she cackles. 

They both wave at you as they drive away. 

__

Joel keeps coming in the mornings, and your conversations return to their fleeting cadence. Even so, it’s hard to deny that your crush on him has kicked into high gear.

You try not to let your gaze linger on his lips, on his throat. On his hands when he takes the cup from you, how your skin brushes and it makes you warm all over. You think about how he laughed, how relaxed he was around Ellie. You want to know what he’s like outside of your small daily interaction. You want to know what he eats for dinner, how he spends his weekends, what he listens to on the radio.

You want him.

Business is busy, which helps. A kid from a few towns over – Jesse, he’s called – signs on to work part-time, mostly for the second half of the day. He’s been a barista before so the training is minimal, but it still changes the flow of things. He’s a charming guy and the regulars take to him easy enough.

It’s you who is distracted. 

One morning, Joel comes in as expected. Jesse is working, too, trying to clock some extra hours this week.

Joel is on the phone in line, his attention somewhere else. He’s frowning, a deep crease between his brows as he waits in line. All it would take to smooth it away is the press of your thumb. 

You try not to stare and probably fail, but manage to take and make the orders ahead of him without making any mistakes, though your whole body feels alight.

He hangs up right as he gets to the window and sighs, giving you a tired smile.

“Howdy,” he says. You set his coffee down in front of him and he pulls out a ten-dollar bill instead of a five.

“Joel –” you say, but he interrupts you.

“My brother called and said he needs breakfast,” Joel grumbles. “Y’got any of Tess’s bear claws?”

Right, they work together, you remember. He’s mentioned Tommy in passing. 

“I think so, just hold on a sec.”

“Take your time,” Joel says. It sounds like he means it, even though there’s a line behind him and he probably needs to get to work. 

You do find a few bear claws in the box Tess gave you early this morning when you stopped by the bakery.

“You’re in luck,” you say, putting it in a paper bag. “Well, Tommy is.”

“Savin’ my ass,” he tells you when you hand it to him. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

The word sends a jolt of lightning through your whole body. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s said it but your world shifts slightly on its axis. Sweetheart.

He turns on his heel before you can give him change for his cash, his phone ringing.

“Jesus, Tommy, I said I’d –”

You let him fade into the distance and smile at your next customer.

“How can I help you?”

A few orders later you end up next to Jesse making some lattes.

“Was that Joel Miller?” Jesse asks. “Before. The guy with the black coffee and bear claw?”

You startle. “Um. It was. How do you –”

“I didn’t know he was a customer here,” Jesse says. “Does he come in a lot?”

You unpack a few more cinnamon buns that Tess gave you this morning. “Yeah, every day.”

“Damn,” he says. “He must really like your coffee.”

“Are you trying to say it’s bad coffee, Jesse?”

He huffs a laugh. “No, boss, ‘course not.” He grinds beans for a few seconds but continues once he’s done, steady hands tamping down the results. “I just know he lives like, a half-hour away. And that there are plenty of coffee shops there, too.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know him, Jesse?”

“His daughter, Ellie, is a friend of mine,” he shrugs. “Went over to their house plenty of times in high school.”

“Well. He’s a contractor, right? I bet he has a job out here.”

Jesse clips the espresso into the machine and starts on some milk. 

“I’m not saying he doesn’t,” he muses. “I am saying that it takes at least 30 minutes to get here from where he lives.”

It’s silly. You’re half-flattered, half-confused. Yeah, you like Joel, and yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve been flirting every day for over a month. But you figure it’s convenient for him. Coffee and an ego boost all in one. 

But if he’s going out of his way to come to The Zone? Well, maybe it’s not just for the coffee.

“Your coffee is good,” Jesse stresses, seeing the gears in your mind turning. It looks like he’s trying to hide a grin. You need to stop hiring young people who have keen eyes and big mouths.

“I think the ice needs a refill,” you say, snapping back into focus. 

“He might be here for something else, too -”

“Go refill the ice.”

He throws up his hands with a smirk. “I’m going!”

__

7:24 am. You’re on your own again and you’re fucked. 

The espresso machine is working perfectly and the early rush has ended. The weather is beyond shitty. Rain falls in sheets and the sky is so dark it feels like the sun didn’t bother to rise. It pounds on the roof and blows in the window every time you open it. The awning does nothing to shield customers as they shout their orders over the wind at you. Your fingers are going numb and your front is damp enough to set your teeth chattering. 

Joel’s truck pulls up and – well. You’re fucked. And he’s why.

You’re fucked because you can’t stop thinking about him. You can’t stop thinking about what Jesse said. What Joel said. Sweetheart.

A harmless crush turned into something more intense, something heavy in your stomach. You want him earnestly, fully, with every piece of you. 

And you still barely know him. But you want to. 

Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the fact that you’re damp and cold and frustrated with your own heart and brain. But you see his truck and you decide to do something about this stupid crush.

You write your phone number on a cup with steady hands and set it aside for Joel. You scrawl on it as neatly as you can: Want to get a drink somewhere else sometime? 

It’s a bit of a coward’s way out. You should just ask him, say how you feel to his face. He’d probably like that better, anyway. But, well, this just feels safer. He could ignore it, he could throw it out, he could see it and decide to never come back. 

Sweetheart.

Somehow you don’t think he’ll do any of those.

The rain lashes against the window so hard you don’t open it until you see the lonely figure approach. The morning rush has been a morning trickle, a few brave souls venturing out for something from you.

Joel, it seems, is one.

You open the window and are greeted with a spray of mist.

“Gimme a sec,” you tell him. It’s so windy he leans in close to hear you. He’s wearing a jacket that’s ill-suited for the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. Your fingers twitch with the need to brush it back. 

You quickly fill the cup you’ve set aside and pass it to him with two hands so it doesn’t blow over.

“Brave of you,” you say. He’s in the rain and you’re both getting soaked but you want to talk to him desperately. It’s a buzzing need at the front of your brain. “Thought the weather would get you, too.”

“Told you,” he all but yells over the wind with a flash of white teeth. “Shitty coffee at home.”

“Drive safe, Joel,” you tell him. He nods at you and jogs back to the truck, cup in hand. You won’t be able to see if he reads it from here, but you hope so. All you have to do is wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The rain stops.

You’re still waiting, phone silent.

Sunshine peeks through the clouds with a slightly surreal post-storm glow. A few more folks have made their way to The Zone but today has been slow. The clock ticks slowly towards 3 pm and your phone does not ring.

“Don’t be stupid,” you mutter. “He’s working.” 

You step out of the shack and into the slightly humid air, the gravel under your feet shifting wetly. The tables you’d set out this morning are, mercifully, still there, though they’re spattered with rain. You might as well close up now.

You’re bent over the last of the chairs, wiping them down with an old rag. You’re focused, so much so that you don’t pay much attention to the hum of an engine and the crunch of tires behind you.

A door slams but you don’t turn around.

“Sorry,” you call over your shoulder. “We just closed.”

“Shame,” he says. 

You whip around and find Joel, hands in his pockets. He’s in a different shirt than this morning and his jeans don’t look soaked. You’re still damp, water stains on your pants and shirt.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, Joel.”

He smirks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of that window,” he says, before jutting his chin towards the tables. “Can I help?”

You’re very aware of your whole body all at once. He’s looking at you, drinking you in like you’re his morning cup of coffee.

“Uh, sure,” you say. You want to ask why he’s here but the words won’t come. “They go in there, in the little closet on the right.” You point to the open door to the shack.

He dips his chin low just once and then crosses the distance between you in three big strides. He grabs the chair closest to you. The t-shirt he’s wearing shows his arms and you feel what he’s just said – it’s weird to be in the same space like this. You’re outside but he feels so big.

Joel’s arms flex and you swallow, following him with another chair. He stacks his in the right place and holds a hand out for yours.

“What did you write on it?” he asks, casually. 

The words don’t totally register. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. His arms are crossed, brow furrowed. Your mouth goes dry.

“On my cup. This mornin’.” He keeps his gaze on yours and for some reason, you can’t look away.

“Oh – you, you didn’t see?” 

He shakes his head. “Was rainin’, remember? Got smudged before I got in my truck.”

“Right.” 

You tear yourself away and leave him standing there. Maybe you should just lie.

But then you think about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when you make him laugh, and how he asks you how you are and how he brought his daughter here and how he tips and how he drives all this way for your – for you.

Joel waits, his footsteps the only indication he’s followed you.

You turn around.

“I wrote my phone number,” you say. “And I asked you on a date.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up and you think he’s…blushing?

He rubs a hand over his beard and you hope he’s hiding a smile. Your heart is in your throat, beating so loud you worry that he can hear it. All of your bravado sinks into the damp ground at your feet. Maybe you’ve read this totally wrong. Maybe he’s just a nice guy, maybe your coffee is just really good and your employees are fucking with you. He’s here to let you down easy, to tell you he’s not even available, not interested, not –

“Alright,” Joel says. He walks towards you and tugs his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll take that number.”

Oh.

He hands it over and you type it in, heart jackhammering in your chest. But you watch his face, see the quirk of his mouth and his blush and it makes you brave.

“And the date?” you ask, giving it back. Your fingers brush and your heart keeps pounding but your nerves take a sharp turn away from doubt and towards excitement.

“Well, you gonna ask again?”

You both seem to have found your footing with whatever this is. The flirt in him is back full force, and he’s looking at you in that way of his. You want to know all of his expressions. There is so much to learn.

“Are you going to say yes?”

“S’why I came back,” he admits. “Figured you’d be closin’. Hoped you’d be free.”

“So you could read the cup?”

Joel takes the other two chairs and heads for the door again. You trail him. God, his arms are distracting. 

“Most of it,” he says. “Couldn’t make out the last few numbers, though.”

“Well, once we’re done here, I’m free. If you wanted to go on a date with me.”

Joel turns and you’re in the small space at the same time, your chests almost pressed together. You must smell like sweat and stale coffee but you watch as Joel inhales, eyes on yours.

“I do,” he says. 

It would be so easy to kiss him, a quick, chaste press of your lips to see what he tastes like.

His pupils dilate and you sway into him for a breath before you realize what you’re doing and step back outside.

You take a deep breath of fresh air. “Great.”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and you head for the tables. 

“Y’know,” he says. “Ellie’s been on my ass about this.”

You laugh, high and bright. “Has she?”

“That girl ain’t capable of missin’ an opportunity to stick her nose in,” he grumbles, but it’s affectionate. 

“Well, I think she’s smart,” you goad. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Reckon she is.”

Joel’s brows furrow and he takes a few quick steps into your space, so close the tips of your shoes almost touch.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi.”

“Hold still,” he says. He reaches for your face slowly, slow enough that you could pull away but you don’t. He brushes something from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Grounds.” His voice is a little hoarse.

“Thanks,” you breathe. 

He smirks but the flush creeping up his neck tells you he’s not wholly unaffected. It makes you feel…it just makes you feel. 

Joel Miller likes you.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” you say.

His eyes widen slightly and he leans in just a little but you slide out of his space with a grin.

“The sooner we finish up the sooner I can buy you a drink.”

Joel laughs, loud and full. “Oh, how generous of you.”

“You’re very lucky,” you say.

“I agree,” he drawls. He taps your chin with one knuckle.

His eyes sparkle and he smiles, looking luminous in the post-storm sunshine. You see a flash of a future – watching him drink coffee in a kitchen instead of through the window of The Zone. Your hands meeting over a shared table, fingers tangling, that smile directed at you in the morning light. 

Giddiness rises in your throat and spills out of you in a delighted laugh of your own. Joel just grins.

“So,” he says. “Where’re you takin’ me?”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[skittlesfics]

Oh my God? This is literally so gorgeous I'm gonna scream

[joels-shitty-puns]

Sweetheart

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Another year without a Valentine... Until you find yourself spending the day unexpectedly with your crush, Joel Miller.

Warnings: Mostly just fluff! Some kissing, light angst.

Other notes: Hi!! This is my entry for Space Sister's secret valentine for.... *drumroll* @skittlesfics!! Hope you enjoy!!! I tried to go with your prompt mentioned, though I won't spoil it in the summary :) Happy Valentine's day Skittles! <3

It was the beginning of February and you could feel Valentine's day looming over you on the calendar. No Valentine for you this year. Pre-outbreak, Valentine's day was always flowers and chocolates lining the aisles of the stores, Valentine's cards for kids in elementary school, and large fluffy stuffed animals for kids of all ages. It wasn't the first February 14th you'd spend buried in a box of chocolates on your couch and watching cheesy romance movies, and you're sure it wouldn't be your last. One thing about the outbreak, you didn't have to worry about things like love. Survival was more important.

But since moving to Jackson, you've been able to experience a lot of the old traditions you'd once forgotten or could only reminisce over. One of which, you've learned, would be Valentine's day. You could feel it in the air without even knowing the plans for the big day. Children whispered and giggled with friends over their first crushes. Couples kissed and held hands. It wasn't long before heart shaped decorations were hung and red and pink lights were strung through the streets. They were going big it seemed.

It probably wouldn't bother you that much. It probably shouldn't bother you that much. You'd be fine just admiring couples in love. If it weren't for him. Joel Miller. Brother of Tommy and guardian of Ellie, you'd met him a couple times before striking up a friendship. Responsible for upkeep of the local library as your town job, you often saw Ellie pop in, wanting to find any comics that might have been recovered. At first Joel seemed impatient waiting on Ellie to find a book, but after the two of you began talking, he seemed to visit more frequently, and often it was Ellie persuading him to head home instead of the other way around. Somewhere in the long talks over stacks of books, you developed a crush. You looked forward to their visits, were eagerly surprised to see him on the street, and couldn't help but be hopeful when going to town for meals. But you didn't have high hopes for him feeling the same way. 

When Ellie suddenly had plans for Valentine's Day with her own crush, Joel was left alone with his thoughts. What were his plans? Sure, he'd like to take the pretty librarian out for a date, but it had been years since he'd been on a date. He had a relationship with Tess, but living in the QZ didn't leave much time or interest in romantic dates and couple activities. Maybe Valentine's day wasn't the best first date anyway. Too serious, he feared.

So on the evening of February 14th, he strolled towards the town for dinner, alone. He grabbed his food and looked for a table, noticing many already filled up with couples. Just when he was about to take his food to go, he noticed you sitting alone at a table in the back and decided to take a shot.

“Hey,” he muttered.

You looked up from your meal, taken aback to find your handsome Joel staring back at you. He wore a green flannel, your favorite, and had his hair recently combed after a shower. You could smell the fresh shampoo and soap wafting off of him, and he smelled amazing. What a difference from the years of apocalyptic bathing.

“Hi Joel,” you replied back, quieter than anticipated, feeling a bit nervous despite your best efforts.

“I was just thinking of leaving before I saw you sitting alone over here. Mind if I join ya? Or are you waiting on someone?” Joel asked, dinner tray still in hand.

“No, no, I'm alone. Please, sit down if you'd like,” you gestured to the empty seat across from you, a rose and candle placed between you, and on every table. “You look nice…” you mumbled.

Joel's cheeks flushed. “Thank ya, darlin’. So do you.” He quickly looked down at his plate, cutting his meat as a distraction.

______

After the initial awkwardness, dinner became easier, with normal conversation flowing. The two of you laughed and smiled, stealing glances when the other wasn't looking. It seemed only a blink of an eye when the rest of the dining hall had emptied out.

Not wanting the night to end just yet, the two of you walked through the town. They were playing Never Been Kissed in the community center, but both of you preferred to keep talking and being alone together. Popping into the general store, you found some Valentine's snacks, and baking supplies, which you offered to bake for Joel at your place. Rubbing his neck nervously, he obliged.

_____

Turning the key into your cabin, Joel followed close behind you. The air was buzzing with tension, and as the two of you baked cookies, sparks flew even further. As well as flour. Pausing your frosting to take the last pan of heart shaped cookies out of the oven, you turned, just in time for Joel to wipe frosting on your nose. 

“Joel!” You squealed.

He laughed, only to be quickly shut up with a spoonful of frosting that you stuck into his mouth. Both giggling, you continued decorating cookies, opting to make them look like the conversation hearts you both remember eating before the outbreak. 

Frosting your last cookie, you turned to Joel, cookie behind your back. 

“I decorated one specifically for you, Joel.”

He turned to face you, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

Handing him the cookie, he read the pink icing. “I like u, Joel.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you nervously rubbed your arm, waiting for his response.

Looking up from the cookie, he met your eyes, but didn't say anything.

“Joel…?”

Your stomach felt like lead and your blood felt cold. You must have misread the signals, and were about to turn away and start floundering for words when he threw the cookie on the counter and grabbed your face instead, planting a desperate kiss to your lips. He tasted like frosting and sugar cookie, the kiss urgent yet delicate. As you both pulled away to catch your breath, smiling, he replied while stroking his thumb over your cheek. “I like you too, Sugar. Happy Valentine's Day.”

“Happy Valentine's Day, Joel,” you grinned, leaning in to place another kiss to his lips as the two of you embraced, hearts beating faster and bodies warmed by love. Thankfully, Valentine's Day wasn't so bad this year, after all.

_____

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

[skittlesfics]

Thank you so much!!! This was so cute, I loved it. Happy Valentine's Day 💚💚💚

[skittlesfics]

something soft

name: something soft

pairing: Joel Miller x gn!Reader

word count: 1212

summary: Settling down in Jackson has given you and Joel back a lot of things.

content/warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, established relationship, Jackson!Joel, vague references to outbreak difficulties, unbetad

author's note: OMG, so I have been writing Joel fics/Pedro character fics for over a year now and have been too much of a coward to actually post anything. I decided to finally suck it up and join an event so that I was forced to post. This is a valentine for @beskarandblasters . Hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine's Day, y'all. -

Joel’s hand was warm where it wrapped around your ankle, his thumb stroking idly at the skin just below the joint as he turned to the next page of his book. It was a large-type Western that you had looted from an old library as a joke – but one that he became more appreciative of as the strain of years on alert made it harder and harder to focus on smaller script at night.

Many things were different now that you were settled into Jackson proper, but this was definitely one of your favorites.

Quiet moments out on the road meant that Joel was planning your next move or that all three of you were gathering energy for whatever horror was to come next. There was no space for leisure or relaxation in that quiet, even if there were rare moments of levity dappled into the shadows of survival. Here, though, in Jackson, you were both learning to let the quiet in.

Joel pushed his thumb into your ankle a little harder, just enough to pull you out of your reverie. Those memories were a dangerous path that you both had trodden too many times; He could see the spiral starting in your expression even before you knew it was there. When you lifted your eyes to meet his gaze, he smiled, sliding the bookmark Ellie had drawn for him as a Christmas gift into place. (Holidays were another thing that Jackson had given back to the three of you.) You let your eyes get drawn to the sketch of the astronaut floating over something that vaguely resembled the moon. I’m reading a book about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down!

“Got something to show you, if you’re amenable.” He said after setting the book down carefully on the fraying arm of the couch. His voice was rich and low, thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes seeking something in yours. If you didn’t know any better, you might have said that Joel Miller was nervous.

You couldn’t hold back your own soft smile, swinging one leg off of Joel’s lap in an attempt to sit up. He held onto your other ankle for a moment, tracing idle circles into your flesh with his thumb before realizing his error and releasing you.

You sat up and bookmarked your own novel. Well Read Mother Clucker is what yours said, with a drawing of what you supposed must be yourself as a chicken. “I suppose I’m amenable.” You answered, nudging his shoulder as you stretched to loosen your taught muscles.

He huffed, fond smile still crooked on his lips, and stood.

“You stay right here and close those pretty eyes. Give me a minute.” He commanded. He pushed himself up with an audible complaint from his knees, a soft grunt marking the effort in the motion that he had hidden from you for so long before Jackson. You bit back your giggle, letting him believe that the sound blended in with the staccato crackles from the wood in the fireplace.

With your eyes closed, you tried to map Joel’s path through the room. You could hear his footsteps leading away towards the kitchen, the board next to the dining table groaning in protest. He didn’t say it, but you could already hear his grumble. Gotta fix that come springtime. That was a new thing in Jackson as well, planning for the future in this one place. Building a home. The thought brought a warmth to your chest that distracted you from his next movements.

Firelight danced behind your eyelids, and you let yourself sink back into the couch, shifting into the pocket of warmth Joel had abandoned as you heard him open a cabinet door. It creaked only slightly – the China cabinet perhaps? You wondered if he had finally listened to your complaints about chipped plates and managed to loot something whole to eat off of. Or maybe he’d managed to find another bag of stale coffee out there somewhere to replenish your dwindling supply. Practicalities that felt like luxuries.

Joel didn’t leave you waiting long. You followed the path of his footsteps back to you, tilting your head towards him even with your eyes closed. He leaned in and pressed a soft, warm kiss against your forehead, reaching out to cup your cheek before straightening again and placing something on the coffee table in front of you with a heavy clunk. The plates then?

“You can open.” He said, sinking into the seat you had abandoned in pursuit of his warmth. “It’s not much, but…”

You weren’t sure if he trailed off or if your brain simply stopped processing sound as you opened your eyes to reveal a small red crock speckled with white and black spots. There was a clumsy ribbon tied out of strips of sun-bleached red fabric from God-knows-where around it, but inside. Delicate, carefully crafted roses were arranged in an explosion of natural wood tones. If it weren’t for the colors, they would have appeared lifelike, almost. You reached out, carefully stroking one of the petals. It was nearly translucent, but undoubtably wood. He had made them.

When you looked over at him it was through watery eyes. He was watching you, expression impassive, betrayed only by the slightest quirk at the edge of his mouth.

“You made these?” You asked, breathless.

“’s hard to get fresh flowers in February up here.” He explained with a shrug, like that explained it. Like it hadn’t taken hours of painstaking labor to shave each individual petal out of wood that he had cut down and prepared with his own hands. Like he hadn’t filled your heart to bursting.

He opened his arms and you slid into his lap, throwing your arms around his shoulders and squeezing tight, like he might try to get away. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as you rained kisses across his face, one large hand finding your hip and resting there, the other finding your chin to pull you in and kiss you properly. It was a slow kiss, soft and reverent, like he wanted to memorize the press of your lips against his, the soft sigh you let out against his mouth, the way your body relaxed into the warmth of him.

“They’re beautiful, Joel, they’re everything.” You whispered finally, dropping your head down to rest against his strong shoulder.

“They’re alright.” He deflected, cradling you against his chest, “Next Valentine’s Day, I’ll get you something nicer.”

It struck you then, the date. Another thing that Jackson had given back to you was a calendar to go by. You hadn’t gotten used to tracking the days as the passed yet, more focused on the weather than a number. But of course Joel would notice, especially after he saw what Christmas had done for you and for Ellie. Valentine’s Day here, after the end of the world.

You burrowed your face into the warm cotton of his shirt, knowing that he would feel the wetness of your happy tears against his chest and not caring. He held you there, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head. Something simple, something soft, something yours.

[burntheedges]

skittles!!! I love this so much! 🥰

I love the domesticity and the easy intimacy. I love how well they know each other and how much you showed us that even in small glances and touches. It’s so warm and comfortable and loving. And that’s so Joel to be like nah, it’s actually no good, but here’s something I spent HOURS on. Perfect, no notes. (Also Joel learn to take a compliment, man.)

this is so good you HAVE to post more fics. 😡 I love the way you write Joel. please?? 🫶🏻

[skittlesfics]

LITERALLY CRYING, stop 😭 You're the sweetest!

Honestly my WIP folder has some cobwebs by now, maybe I'll dust that out and see if there's any Joel ideas lurking in there

[skittlesfics]

something soft

name: something soft

pairing: Joel Miller x gn!Reader

word count: 1212

summary: Settling down in Jackson has given you and Joel back a lot of things.

content/warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, established relationship, Jackson!Joel, vague references to outbreak difficulties, unbetad

author's note: OMG, so I have been writing Joel fics/Pedro character fics for over a year now and have been too much of a coward to actually post anything. I decided to finally suck it up and join an event so that I was forced to post. This is a valentine for @beskarandblasters . Hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine's Day, y'all. -

Joel’s hand was warm where it wrapped around your ankle, his thumb stroking idly at the skin just below the joint as he turned to the next page of his book. It was a large-type Western that you had looted from an old library as a joke – but one that he became more appreciative of as the strain of years on alert made it harder and harder to focus on smaller script at night.

Many things were different now that you were settled into Jackson proper, but this was definitely one of your favorites.

Quiet moments out on the road meant that Joel was planning your next move or that all three of you were gathering energy for whatever horror was to come next. There was no space for leisure or relaxation in that quiet, even if there were rare moments of levity dappled into the shadows of survival. Here, though, in Jackson, you were both learning to let the quiet in.

Joel pushed his thumb into your ankle a little harder, just enough to pull you out of your reverie. Those memories were a dangerous path that you both had trodden too many times; He could see the spiral starting in your expression even before you knew it was there. When you lifted your eyes to meet his gaze, he smiled, sliding the bookmark Ellie had drawn for him as a Christmas gift into place. (Holidays were another thing that Jackson had given back to the three of you.) You let your eyes get drawn to the sketch of the astronaut floating over something that vaguely resembled the moon. I’m reading a book about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down!

“Got something to show you, if you’re amenable.” He said after setting the book down carefully on the fraying arm of the couch. His voice was rich and low, thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes seeking something in yours. If you didn’t know any better, you might have said that Joel Miller was nervous.

You couldn’t hold back your own soft smile, swinging one leg off of Joel’s lap in an attempt to sit up. He held onto your other ankle for a moment, tracing idle circles into your flesh with his thumb before realizing his error and releasing you.

You sat up and bookmarked your own novel. Well Read Mother Clucker is what yours said, with a drawing of what you supposed must be yourself as a chicken. “I suppose I’m amenable.” You answered, nudging his shoulder as you stretched to loosen your taught muscles.

He huffed, fond smile still crooked on his lips, and stood.

“You stay right here and close those pretty eyes. Give me a minute.” He commanded. He pushed himself up with an audible complaint from his knees, a soft grunt marking the effort in the motion that he had hidden from you for so long before Jackson. You bit back your giggle, letting him believe that the sound blended in with the staccato crackles from the wood in the fireplace.

With your eyes closed, you tried to map Joel’s path through the room. You could hear his footsteps leading away towards the kitchen, the board next to the dining table groaning in protest. He didn’t say it, but you could already hear his grumble. Gotta fix that come springtime. That was a new thing in Jackson as well, planning for the future in this one place. Building a home. The thought brought a warmth to your chest that distracted you from his next movements.

Firelight danced behind your eyelids, and you let yourself sink back into the couch, shifting into the pocket of warmth Joel had abandoned as you heard him open a cabinet door. It creaked only slightly – the China cabinet perhaps? You wondered if he had finally listened to your complaints about chipped plates and managed to loot something whole to eat off of. Or maybe he’d managed to find another bag of stale coffee out there somewhere to replenish your dwindling supply. Practicalities that felt like luxuries.

Joel didn’t leave you waiting long. You followed the path of his footsteps back to you, tilting your head towards him even with your eyes closed. He leaned in and pressed a soft, warm kiss against your forehead, reaching out to cup your cheek before straightening again and placing something on the coffee table in front of you with a heavy clunk. The plates then?

“You can open.” He said, sinking into the seat you had abandoned in pursuit of his warmth. “It’s not much, but…”

You weren’t sure if he trailed off or if your brain simply stopped processing sound as you opened your eyes to reveal a small red crock speckled with white and black spots. There was a clumsy ribbon tied out of strips of sun-bleached red fabric from God-knows-where around it, but inside. Delicate, carefully crafted roses were arranged in an explosion of natural wood tones. If it weren’t for the colors, they would have appeared lifelike, almost. You reached out, carefully stroking one of the petals. It was nearly translucent, but undoubtably wood. He had made them.

When you looked over at him it was through watery eyes. He was watching you, expression impassive, betrayed only by the slightest quirk at the edge of his mouth.

“You made these?” You asked, breathless.

“’s hard to get fresh flowers in February up here.” He explained with a shrug, like that explained it. Like it hadn’t taken hours of painstaking labor to shave each individual petal out of wood that he had cut down and prepared with his own hands. Like he hadn’t filled your heart to bursting.

He opened his arms and you slid into his lap, throwing your arms around his shoulders and squeezing tight, like he might try to get away. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as you rained kisses across his face, one large hand finding your hip and resting there, the other finding your chin to pull you in and kiss you properly. It was a slow kiss, soft and reverent, like he wanted to memorize the press of your lips against his, the soft sigh you let out against his mouth, the way your body relaxed into the warmth of him.

“They’re beautiful, Joel, they’re everything.” You whispered finally, dropping your head down to rest against his strong shoulder.

“They’re alright.” He deflected, cradling you against his chest, “Next Valentine’s Day, I’ll get you something nicer.”

It struck you then, the date. Another thing that Jackson had given back to you was a calendar to go by. You hadn’t gotten used to tracking the days as the passed yet, more focused on the weather than a number. But of course Joel would notice, especially after he saw what Christmas had done for you and for Ellie. Valentine’s Day here, after the end of the world.

You burrowed your face into the warm cotton of his shirt, knowing that he would feel the wetness of your happy tears against his chest and not caring. He held you there, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head. Something simple, something soft, something yours.

[skittlesfics]

fanatictypist -> skittlesfics just wanna unify the Brand(tm) or whatever

[skittlesfics]

something soft

name: something soft

pairing: Joel Miller x gn!Reader

word count: 1212

summary: Settling down in Jackson has given you and Joel back a lot of things.

content/warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, established relationship, Jackson!Joel, vague references to outbreak difficulties, unbetad

author's note: OMG, so I have been writing Joel fics/Pedro character fics for over a year now and have been too much of a coward to actually post anything. I decided to finally suck it up and join an event so that I was forced to post. This is a valentine for @beskarandblasters . Hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine's Day, y'all. -

Joel’s hand was warm where it wrapped around your ankle, his thumb stroking idly at the skin just below the joint as he turned to the next page of his book. It was a large-type Western that you had looted from an old library as a joke – but one that he became more appreciative of as the strain of years on alert made it harder and harder to focus on smaller script at night.

Many things were different now that you were settled into Jackson proper, but this was definitely one of your favorites.

Quiet moments out on the road meant that Joel was planning your next move or that all three of you were gathering energy for whatever horror was to come next. There was no space for leisure or relaxation in that quiet, even if there were rare moments of levity dappled into the shadows of survival. Here, though, in Jackson, you were both learning to let the quiet in.

Joel pushed his thumb into your ankle a little harder, just enough to pull you out of your reverie. Those memories were a dangerous path that you both had trodden too many times; He could see the spiral starting in your expression even before you knew it was there. When you lifted your eyes to meet his gaze, he smiled, sliding the bookmark Ellie had drawn for him as a Christmas gift into place. (Holidays were another thing that Jackson had given back to the three of you.) You let your eyes get drawn to the sketch of the astronaut floating over something that vaguely resembled the moon. I’m reading a book about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down!

“Got something to show you, if you’re amenable.” He said after setting the book down carefully on the fraying arm of the couch. His voice was rich and low, thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes seeking something in yours. If you didn’t know any better, you might have said that Joel Miller was nervous.

You couldn’t hold back your own soft smile, swinging one leg off of Joel’s lap in an attempt to sit up. He held onto your other ankle for a moment, tracing idle circles into your flesh with his thumb before realizing his error and releasing you.

You sat up and bookmarked your own novel. Well Read Mother Clucker is what yours said, with a drawing of what you supposed must be yourself as a chicken. “I suppose I’m amenable.” You answered, nudging his shoulder as you stretched to loosen your taught muscles.

He huffed, fond smile still crooked on his lips, and stood.

“You stay right here and close those pretty eyes. Give me a minute.” He commanded. He pushed himself up with an audible complaint from his knees, a soft grunt marking the effort in the motion that he had hidden from you for so long before Jackson. You bit back your giggle, letting him believe that the sound blended in with the staccato crackles from the wood in the fireplace.

With your eyes closed, you tried to map Joel’s path through the room. You could hear his footsteps leading away towards the kitchen, the board next to the dining table groaning in protest. He didn’t say it, but you could already hear his grumble. Gotta fix that come springtime. That was a new thing in Jackson as well, planning for the future in this one place. Building a home. The thought brought a warmth to your chest that distracted you from his next movements.

Firelight danced behind your eyelids, and you let yourself sink back into the couch, shifting into the pocket of warmth Joel had abandoned as you heard him open a cabinet door. It creaked only slightly – the China cabinet perhaps? You wondered if he had finally listened to your complaints about chipped plates and managed to loot something whole to eat off of. Or maybe he’d managed to find another bag of stale coffee out there somewhere to replenish your dwindling supply. Practicalities that felt like luxuries.

Joel didn’t leave you waiting long. You followed the path of his footsteps back to you, tilting your head towards him even with your eyes closed. He leaned in and pressed a soft, warm kiss against your forehead, reaching out to cup your cheek before straightening again and placing something on the coffee table in front of you with a heavy clunk. The plates then?

“You can open.” He said, sinking into the seat you had abandoned in pursuit of his warmth. “It’s not much, but…”

You weren’t sure if he trailed off or if your brain simply stopped processing sound as you opened your eyes to reveal a small red crock speckled with white and black spots. There was a clumsy ribbon tied out of strips of sun-bleached red fabric from God-knows-where around it, but inside. Delicate, carefully crafted roses were arranged in an explosion of natural wood tones. If it weren’t for the colors, they would have appeared lifelike, almost. You reached out, carefully stroking one of the petals. It was nearly translucent, but undoubtably wood. He had made them.

When you looked over at him it was through watery eyes. He was watching you, expression impassive, betrayed only by the slightest quirk at the edge of his mouth.

“You made these?” You asked, breathless.

“’s hard to get fresh flowers in February up here.” He explained with a shrug, like that explained it. Like it hadn’t taken hours of painstaking labor to shave each individual petal out of wood that he had cut down and prepared with his own hands. Like he hadn’t filled your heart to bursting.

He opened his arms and you slid into his lap, throwing your arms around his shoulders and squeezing tight, like he might try to get away. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as you rained kisses across his face, one large hand finding your hip and resting there, the other finding your chin to pull you in and kiss you properly. It was a slow kiss, soft and reverent, like he wanted to memorize the press of your lips against his, the soft sigh you let out against his mouth, the way your body relaxed into the warmth of him.

“They’re beautiful, Joel, they’re everything.” You whispered finally, dropping your head down to rest against his strong shoulder.

“They’re alright.” He deflected, cradling you against his chest, “Next Valentine’s Day, I’ll get you something nicer.”

It struck you then, the date. Another thing that Jackson had given back to you was a calendar to go by. You hadn’t gotten used to tracking the days as the passed yet, more focused on the weather than a number. But of course Joel would notice, especially after he saw what Christmas had done for you and for Ellie. Valentine’s Day here, after the end of the world.

You burrowed your face into the warm cotton of his shirt, knowing that he would feel the wetness of your happy tears against his chest and not caring. He held you there, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head. Something simple, something soft, something yours.

[burntheedges]

Maintenance Request: Chapter 1

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday (fic is complete!) 18+ (minors DNI) | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 2.4k

summary: Hot Construction Guy is the bane of your existence - he seems to only pop up at the worst possible moment for you, every time you see him. 

There’s no way there could be something more there.

Right?

a/n: here we go, folks. this was my 2023 NaNo project. I’ll post a new chapter every Friday. there are 23 chapters and an epilogue. there is eventually quite a bit of smut, but it’s going to take us a little while to get there. see the main post for more info and/or the bottom of this post for a note about the reader. chapter tags/warnings: banter, drink mention (coffee), misunderstandings, romcom vibes, academia AU, modern AU, no outbreak AU, no use of y/n

Chapter 1

Wednesday, September 4 Second week of the semester

The day you saw him for the first time, you were running late.

It was almost one of those mornings, when everything that could go wrong did. But it hadn’t quite hit the tipping point just yet. Sure, your coffee maker had sputtered, smoked and heaved its last gasp before dying ignominiously on your counter rather than providing you with any coffee. And yeah, stopping for coffee had almost made you late enough to hit the bad traffic on the bridge. And of course, you were arriving just in time to have to park in one of the annoying spots on the ramp in your parking garage. 

But none of that was a real dealbreaker. The day was still salvageable. 

You took a deep breath as you turned on your blinker and finally turned onto the street with your garage. This was the homestretch — just a couple of minutes and you’d be parked and walking towards your office, not so late that you wouldn’t have time to finish prepping for your first class. The morning was still salvageable. 

To your surprise, though, you turned the corner and saw nothing but red taillights. The entire block leading up to your garage was packed with traffic. You sighed as you joined the long line of cars, all completely stopped in front of you. You strained your neck to see why no one was moving forward and the hint of orange cones you saw near the garage was not encouraging. Even less so was the slow realization that all of the cars in front of you were being directed to pull a U-turn, one-by-one, and head back down the block away from the garage. The drivers of the redirected cars coming towards you looked frustrated, to put it mildly.

As you slowly crept towards the front of the line, you realized the problem was bigger than you thought — it wasn’t just the crowd of people in hard hats, or the cones blocking off the entrance. There was a spout of water reaching into the sky, 30 or 40 feet high, coming from the hydrant right in front of your garage entrance, hidden by the trees lining the sidewalk to either side. You sighed and closed your eyes. It was pretty clear you weren’t getting in there today. 

You were definitely going to be late.

The driver in front of you began to pull their U-turn, and you finally saw the man directing this mess. In your mind he slotted right into the stereotype of a construction worker: dark jeans, flannel shirt, and orange reflective vest, topped off with a hard-hat and sunglasses. You barely noticed any of his features otherwise. You took another deep breath as you rolled down your passenger-side window. He didn’t step closer, so you leaned into the passenger seat and tried to make eye contact. He started to motion for you to turn around before you could even open your mouth but you pressed onwards.

“Any chance of getting into the parking garage?” You knew it wasn’t likely, but you had to ask. Leaned uncomfortably over the middle console, your voice came out a little more strained than you intended, so you tried to smile to lighten your tone. It felt more like a grimace. He was already shaking his head before you finished talking. 

“S-” his voice came out raspy, and he cleared his throat. You figured he’d probably told at least a hundred people to turn around already this morning.  “Sorry, ma’am. There’s an issue with the water line, no one’ll be able to drive through here for the rest of the day, most likely.” His explanation sounded rote, like he’d come to expect a bad reaction. You couldn’t tell if he was even looking at you at all behind his sunglasses.

You closed your eyes and took a long, slow breath. “Do you know where we might be allowed to park, since we can’t get in?” You tried to ease the frustration from your tone — the unexpected geyser wasn’t this guy’s fault, after all.

He nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. “They’re redirectin’ everyone to the South Garage.” He gestured and opened his mouth to say something else, but one of the cars behind you honked before he could.

“Sorry,” you said, leaning back into your seat and starting to turn. “Let me get out of the way.” You didn’t even glance back as you drove away, putting him out of your mind. Of course, it had to be the South Garage, you thought as you somewhat viciously turned on your right blinker at the end of the block. The South Garage was the farthest from your office and would take you about 20 minutes to walk from. Getting sweaty in your work clothes was always terrible, and the idea of it was threatening to turn your already mediocre-at-best morning into one of those mornings after all. And now you were definitely not going to have time to do any work before you had to rush off to teach your first class.

Ugh. You were going to be so late.

…

By the time you parked, gathered your bag and your coffee, and hiked all the way back to your building, you were a mess. Sweat was dripping down the small of your back and you knew your hair did not look like it had when you left the house this morning. You tried to remember if you’d replaced your office deodorant when you ran out last month — maybe? Shit. You hoped so. 

You crossed the final path on the quad in front of your building, looking left down the sidewalk as you turned right to head towards the steps. You had no excuse, later, for not looking where you were going — just the relief of finally reaching your office clouding your mind and blocking out your surroundings.

At first you could only register two feelings: the sudden impact of running into something firm, and the unpleasant sensation of lukewarm liquid splashing down the front of your body. Without thinking you reached forward and grasped whatever you’d run into to hold yourself steady. You blinked. Looking down, you realized that yes, your coffee, which you had gone out of your way to get after your coffee maker broke despite how late you were, was no longer in the cup. It was all over you, splashed down the front of your white blouse. You blinked again. 

Looking up, your eyes traveled across the torso of a very tall man whose (miraculously dry, coffee-free) shirtfront you held bunched in your fist. You took in his dark jeans, flannel shirt, broad shoulders, and scruffy beard, briefly glanced at his tousled brown hair, and finally, met his warm brown eyes. Somewhere distant in the back of your mind you registered that this guy was hot. Like, mind-blowing, turn-your-spine-to-liquid hot. Exactly your type hot. 

You opened your mouth to say something but he beat you to it.

“You alright there, darlin’?” As he asked, he steadied you with a hand on the arm holding your now useless coffee cup. You might have been distracted by the endearment, or even the accent, if you hadn’t recognized his voice. That voice. 

In your defense, spilling your coffee all over yourself was the final straw that tipped your morning from mediocre to actually awful. You could feel the heat climb up your spine and rise in your cheeks. 

“You!” The word ripped itself from your throat before you consciously thought it. The volume almost made you wince. “Parking garage guy!”

He looked taken aback for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, suppose that’s me.”

Your fist clenched more tightly around his shirt without you consciously noticing. “This is your fault!” If possible, he looked even more taken aback. “Do you know how far away the South Garage is from this building? Do you see the state of my shirt?” Your voice was reaching a pitch that your best friend Beth sometimes referred to as “channeling your mother” and you tried to take a deep breath to rein it in. 

The man tilted his head at you and squinted a bit. “I am sorry about your shirt, darlin’. Didn’t mean to run into you, but you came around that corner like a rocket.” On another day you might have found this charming, but today it just added to your ever-growing mountain of small annoyances. It set you off again.

“Oh, so it’s my fault? You’re the one that made me so late I had to basically run to get here!” You took a breath. Ok, you needed to get inside. You really were channeling your mother if you were starting to blame people for things that didn’t even make sense. “Wait. I mean—” You started, planning to try and regain some footing in this conversation, maybe walk that back or even apologize, but he interrupted you.

“Nothing I can do about the water line.” He looked at you, and then looked down at where your hand was still fisted in his shirt. When he met your eyes again he had what could have been a smile but looked to you like a smirk hinting around his mouth. “Can I buy you a new coffee, at least? To make up for it?”

You forced your hand to let go and stepped back from him. Your shirt shifted unpleasantly as it clung to your chest where it was still soaked with coffee. “Um, no. That’s, that’s ok,” you muttered, not sure why he’d want to buy you coffee after you’d just yelled at him on the street. You cleared your throat and opened your mouth again, to say what, you didn’t know, but once more he beat you to it.

“Um,” he started, clearly trying to bite down on a smile and looking very intently into your eyes. Like he was trying not to look elsewhere. “You’ll probably want to change before class, I guess.” You looked down, taking in the damage now that you had put some space in between your bodies, and realized that your white blouse had become absolutely sheer. Right over your bra. Your lace-covered bra. 

The noise that came out of you at the realization could have charitably been called a squawk. 

Sweaty, coffee-covered, thoroughly done with a day that had barely started, and now flustered because you had basically flashed this man you didn’t know after yelling at him for no reason, you scrambled to cross your arms in front of you. The last, sad bit of your coffee sloshed out of the cup and landed on the sidewalk with a wet slap. 

“Well, I— you— ugh. I have to go.” You closed your eyes and sighed before starting to turn away from him. Out of the corner of your eye you saw his eyes widen as you turned away, and you thought he might have started to say something, taking a step towards you.

Embarrassed, you didn’t wait around for him to find out what it might have been. You started walking briskly towards the door to your building, already trying to remember if you had a random t-shirt somewhere in your office from some campus event or other. Anything you could wear. Maybe from that Creative Writing Club event last month? As you opened the door, you glanced back at where he’d been, unable to keep yourself from glancing at him one more time. He was standing right where you’d left him, now facing you, clearly watching you go. You took in the shape of him and struggled against the knowledge that this was the hottest man you’d seen in months, maybe years, and you’d just made an utter fool of yourself in front of him. 

You met his eyes once more and this time, he did smile at you. You felt your cheeks start to heat again and you tore your gaze away from his. If you were lucky, you’d never see him again, anyway — it didn’t matter how hot he was. He was probably just a contractor. What are the odds he’d even be on campus again, after the water line issue was fixed? You shook it off and started down the hall towards your office. Never mind whatever he was doing outside of your building.

You had a t-shirt to find. And a class to teach.

…

you: [picture of a coffee covered white blouse, flopped on the carpeted floor of your office]

bestie: shit

bestie: wtf happened to you

you: I ran into, and I mean LITERALLY ran into, the hottest man I’ve ever seen and spilled my coffee EVERYWHERE

bestie: 😭💀

bestie: did you get a pic

you: of the guy???

you: no I did not ask the random hot man who witnessed me pour coffee on my shirt if I could take his picture

bestie: ok but how hot was he for real

you: 😵‍💫 he was exactly my type, Beth

you: like, could not have imagined him better myself

you: he had a BEARD and an ACCENT and SHOULDERS

bestie: shit

bestie: I mean how bad could it have been, really

you: my shirt was completely TRANSPARENT

you: he could see my BRA

you: and I yelled at him that it was his fault in that tone, you know the one

bestie: 😬 you didn’t

you: I did 😫

bestie: ok well what did he do

you: he offered to replace my coffee and I ran away

bestie: 🤦🏽‍♀️

you: shut up ok I know

you: he pointed out my shirt ~issue~ and I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life ok

bestie: well if you see him again don’t yell at him next time

you: I don’t think I will I think he’s just some construction guy. I don’t know if he works here 

you: and anyway if I see him again I’m running the other way and hiding

bestie: sure    

bestie: I totally believe that next time you see Hot Construction Guy you’ll run away

bestie: absolutely

you: shut up

…

You sent the same picture of your sad blouse to Ellie and she just replied with a laughing emoji, five skull emojis, a coffee emoji, and a thumbs down. You smiled and headed out the door to your class.

...

a/n: see you next Friday for chapter 2!

note about reader: in this fic you’re a college professor, vaguely of English literature and poetry. You like live music, you like to read, and Ellie is your niece. You have a best friend named Beth, a sister who is having a rough time, and a difficult mother. I’ve avoided physical descriptions and most clothing descriptions, except when plot-relevant. You are vaguely shorter than Joel. No age is specified, but I imagined 36-year-old Joel here (and 14-year-old Sarah), and most English PhDs wouldn’t get to this type of position until they were 28 or 29 at the earliest, even if they went to grad school right out of undergrad. So you can imagine reader any age from there to mid-30s, or whatever you want, really. 

hope you're ready for a long fic! we're at 80k and i'm finishing the edits on the rest.

tag list: @jupiter-soups

[chestharrington]

Are you a writer who can’t commit to 31 straight days of smutty fanfic?

Do you still want to contribute to the kinktober spirit and share your writing with your communities?

Then Lazy Ghouls’ Kinktober is for you!

FAQs below the cut :)

What is it?

Lazy Ghouls’ Kinktober is an abridged version of the traditional Kinktober prompt list. I made this prompt list because I love to write, but get afflicted by burnout and writers block easily, so I wanted to make something more accessible. Rather than committing to 31 separate fanfics, you’ll chose at least one prompt a week.

This list was specifically made to start tame and work up to more intense topics as the month progresses, while also avoiding major triggers such as noncon, CNC, and dubcon.

What if I want to write more than one fic a week?

Go for it! This prompt list was made to work for you! If you want to write all four prompts, or none at all, that’s A-OK.

How do I participate?

Just write! You could also repost this prompt list to spread the word, but that’s not required :) if you want, tag all of your works with #LazyGhoulsKinktober2023 so we can check out each others’ works!

I’m so excited to get writing and see what you guys can create! Please reach out with any questions or concerns!

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | generous

joel x f!reader one shot collection

part three of pretty little wife — can be read independently series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 summary: 10.5k words — tommy stops by to see you and joel in the evening, and the night takes a turn that you never could have expected | no apocalypse au, no use of y/n warnings: 18+ MDNI! joel x f!reader x tommy for this chapter, unprotected piv, rough sex, free use kink, sub/dom relationship, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, overstimulation, cum play, dirty talk, pet names for reader, this shit is messy, generally extremely submissive reader so if you're into that this is for you! a/n: nobody look at me i don't even know what happened here i blacked out and wrote this..........

i've decided to start a kofi in case anyone wants to consider a small donation to support my work! ♡

“Oh honey, I know, I’m almost finished here, just a few more things t’take care of, mkay?” Joel responds calmly to your restless movements from his lap. He’d promised to watch a movie with you tonight, but instead he’s gotten caught up with some after hours work in his home office. The only downside to Joel owning his own very successful contracting business is the fact that you have to share him with it so often. 

“Better be,” you tease him, “I bought all the best snacks for us.”

“Did you now? Got my Reese’s?” Joel asks, attempting to type something on the computer with his arms extended around either side of your body. 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Of course I did. And your M&M’s for the popcorn, you weirdo.”

“You’re the weirdo for not likin’ it, honey,” Joel quips back.

You grumble mockingly into his chest where your head is neatly tucked. “I just like my popcorn and chocolate separate,” you say with conviction. 

Joel chuckles at the silly argument you’ve had countless times over the years and rubs your back as he tries to focus his attention on the computer again.

You both perk up a moment later, hearing movement from within the house, the familiar noise of the front door closing, far in the distance from where Joel’s office is at the end of the hallway on the second floor.

“Joel?” a deep, male voice calls out.

“S’just Tommy, droppin’ off some work stuff,” Joel assures you. You shouldn’t be surprised - Tommy is one of the only people who has a key to your house besides you and Joel. The younger Miller brother is often over at your place, either for work related reasons with his and Joel’s business, to borrow something from you two, or to just share a beer with his brother. Tommy Miller is far from an unfamiliar site in your household, and he’s welcomed you to his life so openly that you don’t mind one bit that he has such easy access to the house.

“Up here!” Joel calls back. You stir on Joel’s lap, starting to scoot off of him to stand up, but Joel shakes his head with a tut and wraps his arms around you in a flash, as if he anticipated the move from you. “Uh-uh. You stay right here,” he commands, in the tone of voice you tend not to question. “We’ll be real fast. ‘Sides, lemme show off my pretty wife, huh?”

You let out a giggle as Joel squeezes you encouragingly. “Okay…” you say more shyly now, still feeling a bit introverted at times like this when other people get to see even a portion of Joel’s dynamic with you. But with how electric it is, how much you’re drawn to each other, it’s no doubt that people notice whether you want them to or not. You’ve lost count of the number of times around friends or family that you’ve ended up nearly on Joel’s lap, his arms wrapped tightly around you, or a strong hand enveloping your back or ass as he rubs and squeezes you secretly, like he can’t help but touch you. Life with Joel is a constant game of teasing and working each other up, and he doesn’t seem to care who gets involved in the show.

“Good girl,” Joel murmurs in your ear as you hear heavy footfall approaching the office. Tommy pauses in the open doorway, and you swear he pales a bit at the sight of you curled up delicately in Joel’s lap, one of his hands planted firmly on your ass cheek as you rest your head on his chest. You immediately glance away, your face already burning from the way he’d looked at the two of you.

He greets both you and Joel, an awkward stutter to his words, and you flash your eyes to him again, giving him a smile that feels more like a grimace. You notice that now Tommy’s cheeks are turning a steadier shade of pink the longer he stands there. 

“Got those contracts, Joel, uh, right here,” Tommy says, still paused awkwardly in the doorway, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he holds onto a manila folder like his life depends on it.

“You’re a lifesaver, brother. Needed that stuff done for tomorrow mornin’,” Joel says, absently turning his gaze to and from what he’d been working on on his computer. He finally stops, his eyes lingering on where Tommy continues to stand firm, looking unsure of what to do next.

“Can just set that right here, ‘f that’s alright,” Joel says, and Tommy approaches, looking somewhat nervously between you and Joel as he gets next to the two of you and sets the folder on Joel’s desk before stepping back. While it’s true that Tommy has borne witness to some of yours and Joel’s flirtations and touching, you recognIze this might be another level for him. You don’t know how much Joel shares with Tommy about you either, and it’s making you nervous now, the way he’s looking at you. 

“Somethin’ wrong?” Joel asks his brother, his hand absentmindedly trailing along your back, fingertips rubbing against the fabric of your shirt, and you fight the urge to shudder, refusing to show Tommy what a pathetic mess you are for his brother.

Tommy chuckles, then sits himself on the small loveseat on the opposite wall of Joel’s desk, cocking his head a little bit as Joel swivels the chair, bringing you along with him to face Tommy. 

“Just you two, admirin’ the love birds. Wasn’t expectin’ all this when I walked in, sorry,” Tommy replies, seeming to loosen up a bit as he speaks. He leans back, placing his hands behind his head and sighs. 

“Sorry, brother, my little wife here just couldn’t wait for me to be done with work, that’s all. Supposed to be spendin’ time w’her tonight, so next best thing right here, isn’t that right darlin’?”

You blink up at Joel and smile, nodding your head. “Sorry, Tommy, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” you say, turning your attention in his direction now.

“Blame me, I told her not to move when we heard you comin’,” Joel says with a chuckle, and Tommy’s brows knit together amusedly as he looks at you two.

“Always showin’ her off any chance you get, ain’t ya, Joel?” Tommy prods jokingly with a shake of his head. You feel a stirring in your gut at the words, the chance to be something worthy of Joel to show off always seems to affect you more than you’d like to admit. In fact, you fucking love it. You crave it desperately, the need for him to tell you what to wear and dress you up like his own little toy, ready to show off to the world. It’s become a sick addiction, one you aren’t intent on giving up on. 

“Y’all just make a nice couple, that’s all,” Tommy adds on quickly. “I’ve always said that…” his voice goes quiet, and you nearly don’t make the words out.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous, brother,” Joel says, not as a challenge or an accusation, but almost teasing his little brother over the fact. 

‘’Course I am. Look what you got,” Tommy gestures around him to allude to the general concept of Joel’s house, his life, his wife.

“Oh, Tommy, you’ll find someone. I know things were hard when it didn’t work out with Theresa,” you say, gentle and sympathetic, recalling his breakup from five months ago. Tommy’s large, warm brown eyes, so much like Joel’s, find yours. He nods, the pain still apparent on his face.

Tommy has sworn up and down that he’s moved on. In fact, he has moved on from Theresa. He just wants to find someone to share his life with. When he sees Joel having seemingly everything that he's asking for too, it punches Tommy in the gut a little bit. Not that he’d ever hold it against his brother, he knows Joel worked hard to get to where he is and does so much to keep you happy. He realizes that his time will come to settle down too, but it doesn’t make the lonely nights he spends by himself at home or drinking at the bar any less hard.

Tommy also lingers on the fact that he’s always thought his brother’s wife is fucking beautiful. Radiantly, tauntingly, mind bogglingly - a full-on head turning type of beautiful. You’re so soft, so sweet, and your gentle manner of speaking always tickles him in a way where he feels a flutter in his chest to have such a pretty young thing be so kind to him of all people. It makes him feel like he’s lucky that you’ve even chosen to acknowledge him when you’re so clearly enamored with the prize you have in front of you. 

He’d never think of you that way, he won’t allow it, but he’d be damned if it doesn’t haunt his thoughts sometimes when he happens to catch you in a moment of being particularly dulcet and submissive to his brother - letting him touch you anywhere no matter who’s looking, always whispering sweet things to each other that nobody else can hear, the way he sees your eyes glaze over unintentionally the second Joel’s hand even dares to touch you. It doesn’t help that Joel hasn’t been exactly the most closed book regarding his sex life with you - a few times when too many drinks were involved, he’d started going on about how good you were to him, how fucking perfect your body felt, how talented you were with your mouth. After that night, Joel seemed to be more open to off handed comments like that, and Tommy had mostly stopped minding, other than the fact it made him all the more intrigued by you. 

He’d be lying if he said all of these things haven't made his cock twitch late at night sometimes when he’s trying to sleep. He’s mostly been able to ignore the urge and replace the image with something else, not wanting to pay you the disrespect of palming his cock to memories of you. He’d almost been too ashamed to face you again after the only time he’d ever given in, the night following a particularly warm summer day when you and Joel had Tommy and some coworkers over for a barbecue. You’d been wearing the most stunning, tiny little sundress, and the peek of a white lace bra accidentally poked above the neckline a few times. Tommy had tried to avert his eyes, but found them grazing back that way, anyways. It was like a magnetic pull, that day - the hem of the dress rode up as you’d bent down to get drinks out of the cooler, and Tommy did his best not to make it obvious when he nearly split the inside of his lip when he bit down too hard on it.

Sitting here in Joel’s office, seeing the way you’re sitting on his lap like you’re waiting for a command from him at any second sends Tommy’s thoughts reeling. He is fucking jealous, and Joel knows it. In fact, Joel’s practically dangling it right in front of him. 

“Thank ya, sweetheart,” Tommy finally replies to you. “Know I will… it’s just…” he trails off, not sure if he should admit the next part for fear of how you two will perceive him. Hell, he is with family after all.

“We’re here for ya,” Joel murmurs, giving his brother a half smile to encourage him to share if he feels comfortable.

“Just… I’m so damn lonely,” Tommy spits out, letting a sigh escape with the words. You fight an urge to reach out to Tommy - he looks so dejected and sad, admitting such a hard truth right there in front of you and Joel. He’s a great guy, though, and you have no doubt he’ll find the right girl if he has a little patience, something you’ve told him several times over. 

“Want what you have, y’know?” he adds on, making eye contact with Joel for a brief moment.

You feel Joel sit back on the chair slightly, the mesh backing pressing softly with both of your weights. He lets out a contemplative noise, never stopping his absentminded strokes along your skin. It’s so calming, you’re nearly feeling like a tamed cat, especially with the way you’re comfortably tucked onto his lap right now. When you glance up at Joel after he makes another sound, there’s a glint in his eye that you recognize, and your eyebrows fly together in quick confusion. A small, sly grin pulls at his lips before he opens his mouth again.

“You want my wife, Tommy?” he drawls, the words slow and thick off his tongue, and Tommy’s head shoots up from where he was looking at his feet, his head cocking to the side again.

“Wh- what’re you talkin’ about? N-no, that’s not to say, she isn’t… uh…” Tommy stutters out, blinking rapidly, facial features twitching as his mouth pops open and closed. 

“Think she’s beautiful though, don’t ya?” Joel asks, cupping your cheek in one of his hands, turning your head to look him in the eye. Your own go wide, trying to avoid darting them out of Joel’s heavy stare as your breathing picks up. You decide not to say anything, you’re nearly too stunned to speak anyways with the turn this conversation has taken.

“Well… uh, ‘course I do, Joel. She’s a beauty. Told you that the day I met her, and on your wedding day. You’re a lucky man… of course…” Tommy continues to choke on his own words, unsure of what the hell has gotten into Joel. He glances uncomfortably between you and Joel, desperately hoping one of you starts explaining things. 

“So we wanna help you out, don’t we, doll?” Joel nudges you softly. “Help Tommy feel a little less lonely?”

When you finally understand exactly what Joel is suggesting, you blink as your head jerks back in surprise, eyes wide and uncertain. You look to Joel for confirmation and he gives you a curt nod before bringing a hand up to nuzzle against your cheek another time. You find yourself instantly calming down, melting into the touch and able to think straight for a moment to process his proposition.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Twice the cock in one night?” Joel brings his thumb to your mouth, swiping it across your bottom lip, an invitation for your lips to part for him. You loosen your jaw and his thumb hooks inside, pulling your lip down even further. Your tongue juts out to it, desperate to taste him, and you start nodding dumbly as an answer to his question, feeling mesmerized by his eyes on you. It’s a heady gaze - soft but demanding - and you buckle under it each and every time. 

The more the idea sits with you, settles deep in your gut, the more you like it. You’ve always thought Tommy is handsome, with equally blessed Miller genes gracing him, and you can’t help but wonder if that extends to what’s between his legs as well. The thought of the both of them fucking you, being used for their pleasure sends a pulse of desire straight to your clit, and you try not to squirm too obviously in Joel’s lap.

“Christ…” Tommy murmurs, eyes glistening and wide, intrigued but fearful, a witness to the scene before him, so intimate and nearly graphic, the way Joel toys with your lip on his thumb.

“What’dya say?” Joel asks, turning back to Tommy, but leaving his thumb hooked in your mouth for a few moments before pulling it out and returning his hand to your back. You lick your lips at the loss, trying to get any lingering taste of him that might be left there. “She seems more’n willing, brother.”

“Joel… you - you’re sure? Wh-” Tommy starts stuttering again, but you can see it on his face as it darkens and hardens right in front of your very eyes - he’s fucking turned on right now, instantly warming up to the idea of burying himself inside of you. You can practically see the fantasies already running through his mind, the ideas he’s conjuring up in these few brief seconds. 

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure,” Joel says with an air of finality. “C’mon, up we go,” he adds to you, and you stand up on slightly stiff, shaky legs as Joel gets up behind you. Tommy stands quickly from the couch, clearly anxious as he wrings his hands in front of his stomach. 

Joel ushers you out of the room, a hand on the small of your back as he leads you out and into your bedroom with Tommy walking closely behind. Anxiety, desire, anticipation, and something entirely new and unnamed twist inside of you, making you feel nearly jittery as you enter yours and Joel’s sanctuary. Of all the things you and Joel had explored in here, bringing another person into the mix was a completely new one. It didn’t suit Joel well to share you normally, so you had to wonder what he had in mind, what benefit he gained from this tonight.

Joel turns you around to face him and grasps at your hands, holding them tightly. “Why don’t ya go put on somethin’ pretty for us. How ‘bout that robe I got ya a few months back, know Tommy’d love to see it on ya.”

Your heart flutters a bit but you nod confidently. “Sure, be right back,” you coo with a little smirk, sliding out of Joel’s grasp and going into the walk-in closet, rifling through the hangers until you find the robe Joel had picked for you - a sheer black material, not completely see through, but enough that there’s a clear view of your nipples and all of your curves as it lays wrapped around you. 

You can hear hushed tones of the two brothers speaking outside the door, making out bits of Joel and Tommy’s conversation.

“Er, you pick out this stuff often?” Tommy asks, clearly intrigued.

You can only assume Joel is nodding with a smug look on his face, knowing him. “Most times, I let her know what I wanna see on her.”

“Damn,” Tommy murmurs quietly in amazement. “Been a while since we done this, huh?” 

You furrow your brow as you tie the robe loosely around your now naked body. Did this mean that Joel and Tommy had experience with having the same partner at once? Your head starts to spin a little with the new information, so you open the closet door and step out, ready to get answers from them. They both swing their heads to take you in - a vision in the sheer material with hair falling gently and slightly messy from the way you’d torn your top over your head. They’re both perched on the edge of the bed, facing the closet, expecting you.

“You’ve done this before?” you ask before you can stop yourself, before either of them can get a word in.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Joel says, patting his lap. You cross your arms for a moment, pursing your lips to the side, just wishing he’d answer the simple question you’d presented him. Instead, unable to help yourself when he asks anything of you, you unfold your arms and pad over to him, settling over one of his knees.

“Long time ago, nothin’ for you to be concerned about. Couple’a times in our early twenties, ain’t that right, Tommy?” Joel says, a hand spreading his thick, long fingers over your thigh and squeezing.

“Right. Not often, just a few crazy nights we had out at the bars. N-nothin’ like this…” Tommy says, adding the last part on quickly, as if it made up for some fear you had. 

“This is different. So generous of you, honey.” Tommy’s hand covers your other thigh, giving it a squeeze as well, and you start to feel a bit overwhelmed at the prospect laying before you. Your body fighting between desire and fear, the unknown of this door you were opening right now. You knew how you felt after Joel fucked you to the point you’d feel used, nothing but a plaything for him, and not much gave you more satisfaction than that. But how would you feel with Tommy? Would it feel degrading, or just as sinfully delicious as it does with Joel?

“Happy to help out, handsome” you say, looking between the two men seated so close to you. You offer Tommy a sweet smile, bowing your head slightly as a response and his grip on your thigh tightens with need as he blushes. Your own skin starts to burn where the two Miller brothers’ hands hold you, their fingers pressing hard into your plush flesh. 

Joel nuzzles your neck, sending goosebumps along your entire body and Tommy reaches forward with his other hand, touching the fabric of your robe on the end of the sleeve. 

“Y’look so pretty in this, sweetie. See why Joel picked it out. You’d look pretty in anything though, wouldn’t ya?” Tommy rambles, eyes darting all over your body, seeing past the sheer material to your skin. You can hear he’s still slightly nervous, but gaining confidence by the second as his finger trails up the sleeve of your robe now. 

“She does,” Joel answers as you look down, cheeks warming at their dual compliments. “Wanna start by showin’ off a bit for him, huh, little doll?” Joel says quietly against your ear, still loud enough for Tommy to hear, but private enough that it still feels like your own conversation with your husband. 

You nod, breath hitching somewhere in your throat with the nerves. “Y-yes, let him see how good you are to me,” you whisper quietly, and you catch Tommy’s eyes going a little wide. 

Joel starts to scoot on the bed until he’s leaning his back against the headboard, and you follow his lead, letting him position you between his legs as they stretch out in front of him. You settle in between them, facing outwards and resting yourself against Joel’s solid torso, relaxing back with an over dramatic sigh. 

“Open those legs, we gotta show Tommy how pretty you are now,” Joel says, quiet and calm. You silently obey, letting your legs fall open, becoming relaxed and pliable for him. Joel picks each one of your legs up and spreads them even further, fully crossing each one over his own thighs. You’re grateful your robe is still covering enough that you’re not entirely exposed to Tommy yet, wanting Joel to ease you into it. Your nervous excitement is growing, but the way Tommy is looking at you hungrily, and Joel’s already slightly erratic breathing right above your head are making your head spin. This is really happening.

You’ve started shaking slightly without even realizing it, not enough that Tommy could see, but Joel has picked up on it from his proximity to you. He starts rubbing your thigh soothingly with one hand, the other cupping around your chin and cheek, pulling your head back against his chest, tilting it up for you to look him in the eyes.

“You get nervous, you just look right at me, right here, mkay?” he whispers quietly, a gentle stroke on your cheek with his thumb and that was all you needed - this one look, this one reassurance from him that it was all going to be okay. You know Joel, you trust him with everything you’ve got, and he would never let this be anything but an incredible experience for you. You suddenly grin with determination, and Joel returns it with a devious smile of his own, seeing that you’re ready.

“Think I wanna show Tommy how gorgeous you are under here, hm?” Joel coos, now projecting his voice for Tommy to hear at the end of the bed where he’s perched, anxiously waiting. Joel’s fingers tease the belt of your robe, and you can practically feel the bated breath in the room as he tugs it slowly, starting to drive you mad with anticipation for his touch. 

Joel gently pulls the two sides of the robe apart on top, revealing your breasts, nipples erect and begging to be touched. 

“Fuck…” you hear Tommy murmur, and he shifts in his spot, clearly impatient with Joel’s antics. 

“Ain’t she so beautiful like this?” Joel asks, rolling one of your nipples between his calloused fingers, and you moan quietly, back arching and ass rutting back into his crotch. He starts tweaking both nipples now, the aching buds sending pulses of desire straight to your clit.

Your eyes flutter a little and you writhe under his touch, ass grinding into the mattress, your cunt already reaching desperate levels of need for him as he continues pinching and tugging on your sensitive buds. 

“She’s so fuckin’…” Tommy breathes, “Gorgeous. Needy thing…”

Joel chuckles, the sound rumbling behind you and pulling you back to reality for a moment. You blink heavily, catching your heady gaze on Tommy’s. 

“Just you wait, y’aint seen nothing yet,” Joel answers, hands leaving your breasts and you whimper a little at the loss. Instead, he starts to pull the robe further apart, pulling it all the way to your shoulders before working his way down, slowly spreading it open to reveal you fully to Tommy - aching, glistening cunt on display. You hear both Tommy and Joel suck in air between their teeth at the sight of you, Joel looking down over your shoulder to see in between your legs. 

“Get to touch this whenever I damn well please, ain’t that somethin’, brother?” Joel muses as he brings two fingers down and slips them in between your legs, dragging them up your slit. You immediately shudder, hips lurching forward into the touch and your eyes threaten to roll back already. 

“Mmm,” you whine, a little whimpering sound escaping you as Joel works his fingers between your legs, using his index and middle finger to rub tight circles on your clit. You breathe out in relief at Joel soothing the painful ache that had been throbbing between your legs. 

“She was so needy, wasn’t she?” Joel murmurs near your ear, and you nod desperately. 

“Need you inside,” you cry, jutting your hips forward onto his fingers, begging for more. 

“Bet you do, sweet little thing,” Tommy says from down the bed, and you glance at him to see him palming the outside of his jeans. You’d already started getting so caught up in your own pleasure you’d nearly forgotten to make sure Tommy was enjoying it too. 

You lock eyes with Tommy, not letting your gaze drop from his as Joel’s two fingers slide inside of you, pressing deep. You let your lips part and jaw hang open slightly with the sensation of Joel starting to fuck you with his fingers, and Tommy is enraptured by your expression, his eyelids dropping as he frantically grasps himself through his pants. 

“What d’ya think, she been good enough to deserve a nice finger fuckin’?” Joel asks with a devious little huff of a laugh that Tommy returns. You’re left writhing, taking what you can get from Joel as his brother contemplates. 

“Looks like a fuckin’ angel to me,” he replies, eyes dipping between your legs again to watch as Joel’s fingers speed up, fucking you faster now. It’s all panting breaths and rusting fabric and the obscene wetness of your cunt ringing through the room for several moments until Joel pushes his fingers in deeper and curls them, sending your hips lifting off the bed with a wild moan as your eyes squeeze shut.

“She’s close, ain’t you little doll?” Joel says, able to read your signs like the back of his hand, seeing your expression, feeling the way you’re fluttering and tightening around his fingers.

“Yeah, make her come,” Tommy breathes out, cock straining and begging to be inside of you, or at least in his fist. “She feel good?” he asks desperately, scooting slightly closer, his eyes trained right where you’re pouring out desire for Joel, wetness coating down around his hand now.

“So good and tight, she’ll be more’n ready for you, brother,” Joel replies with a heady grunt as he shoves his fingers deep, scissoring them inside of you. You cry out, trying to peek your eyes open to see the scene around you - see the way the two of them are adoring and praising you, but you can barely think or speak when Joel pushes against your g-spot, knowing the exact way to do it to devastate you the most. You’re writhing around, slipping down his chest, unable to control the way your body chases more and more from him.

“J-joel… baby…” you cry out, whimpering and whining loudly. “Gonna c-” you say, cut off by the way you start moaning, Joel’s name falling from your lips as you come around his fingers, squeezing them as deep as you can. You tense every muscle and shake in his grasp, and Tommy watches in awe as you fall apart, convulsing pornographically in Joel’s arms, his fingers pumping in and out of you as they get covered in your creamy arousal. Tommy can hardly stand what he’s seeing, and you think you hear a distant sound of his jeans rustling, the noise of his zipper coming undone as he pulls his cock out and starts fisting it.

“Showin’ Tommy how good y’are when you come for me, aren’t ya doll?” Joel speaks low, praising you several more times as you ride out your high. 

When you come back down, slumped against Joel’s chest, he kisses your forehead and pulls his fingers out, sitting you up further. You blink heavily, seeing Tommy with his cock in his hand, pumping wildly as he takes in your fucked out eyes, heavy lidded and dazed as you stare at him, eyes traveling down his body to the length of him jutting out into his hand.

“C-can I taste…her?” Tommy asks apprehensively, his voice quiet and slightly shaky. “H-how’s she taste?”

“Like fuckin’ heaven,” Joel tells him, “Go on ahead.” Joel urges you to lay down and you obey mindlessly, still reeling from his fingers making you come as hard as they did. Something about having an audience had elevated it, made you feel even crazier for Joel, to show someone the way he makes you feel.

“Okay if I taste you, sweetheart?” Tommy asks, and you nod lazily, settling yourself down onto the mattress. “Good girl,” he adds at your response, scooting closer and rubbing a hand on your bare thigh. You twitch a little at the foreign touch but find Tommy’s fingers feel nice, calloused and a little rough like Joel’s, but there’s more apprehension in the way he moves his hand up your thigh. 

Joel sits behind your head, putting it in his lap and stroking the sides of your hair as Tommy positions himself between your spread thighs, laying flat as he scoots himself close to your warm heat. Tommy’s hands falter a little, unsure of what to do with them.

“Grab under her thighs and ass, she likes that,” Joel comments casually, and seconds later you feel the warmth of Tommy’s hands wrapping under your thighs, pushing them up slightly and grasping the soft skin there. He makes a little groan deep in his throat and dips his eyes between your legs before diving in. You feel his tongue tentatively lick up your slit and you squirm a little, still sensitive and overstimulated from Joel’s touch. 

“Fuck…” Tommy murmurs into your cunt, “Mmm, just so sweet, honey,” Tommy rambles on in between running the flat of his tongue up your slit several more times. He presses his tongue onto your clit and flicks hesitantly, gauging your reaction. You let out a small whimper, acutely aware of your husband right above you, still stroking the sides of your head. 

Tommy increases the speed of his tongue flitting along your clit and you bite back a moan, hips wriggling in his grip as your face contorts in pleasure, mouth popping open with held back noises of pleasure.

“Bein’ awful quiet, doll,” Joel says, cupping your cheek in his hand. You open your eyes wide to look up at him with concern. “S’okay, baby, want y’to enjoy what Tommy is doin’ to ya, can see you wantin’ to be loud like y’do.”

Tommy nips at your clit and you yelp a little, eliciting a smirk from Joel. “That’s right. let him hear how pretty you sound. You’d like to hear it, wouldn’t you Tommy?”

“God, yes, lemme hear her tell me how good I feel,” Tommy blurts out, his tongue darting back out and pressing into your entrance eagerly. 

“So good, Tommy,” you murmur as his tongue pushes deeper to taste you and you moan for him, mouth hanging open as repeated noises slip out of you. He’s starting to become ravenous, lapping at your cunt feverishly now and groaning excitedly. Tommy’s hips buck against the mattress, starting a steady grind against it as his cock throbs and begs him for friction.

“Think she needs some cock in her mouth though, look at it just hangin’ open,” Tommy says as he peers up from between your legs. Joel’s chuckle rings through the room and he lets out a little grunt as he readjusts behind you.

“Think y’might be right,” Joel replies arrogantly, and you tilt your head backwards to see Joel reaching for his jeans, undoing his buckle and unzipping them. When his cock springs free, you find yourself torn between the sudden pleasure between your legs as Tommy sucks your clit into his mouth and Joel’s cock slapping against your cheek. Joel moves you without pause, turning your shoulders as he positions himself to one side of your head, wrapping his hand around it to hold it up.

The head of his cock presses against your lips and you immediately grant him entry, letting it slip into your mouth to taste the saltiness and drop of precum as you swirl your tongue to gather it up. You let out a satisfied moan against his length as he pushes it in further, Joel sighing when your warm mouth envelops him. He starts thrusting rapidly, quickly filling your mouth fully and pressing far back in your throat, knowing just how far you can take him from your experience together, knowing your body so well. You gag a little, just enough that the sound sends Joel’s cock hardening even more in your mouth as he watches your eyes tear up and saliva drooling out of the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah, that’s it, you dirty little doll. Takin’ cock in that pretty mouth while gettin’ your pussy eaten, bet you love gettin’ all this attention, cock drunk little thing,” Joel huffs and you nod mindlessly as he continues to stuff your mouth full of him. Tommy is anything but forgotten, the constant feel of his tongue and facial hair starting to build the steady, familiar feeling of a climax inside of you. Your core twists and coils tightly and you begin to thrust your hips earnestly into his face, moaning around Joel’s cock as Tommy slips a finger inside of you, testing the waters.

“Hell, honey, y’feel good in there,” Tommy groans out, twisting and pumping his finger a few times. You can only make an affirmative noise with your mouth so full, urging him to continue the movements. “So eager even with that mouth all stuffed, ain’t she, tryin’ to tell me to keep goin,” Tommy muses before bringing his mouth back to your clit. 

You lose yourself completely - the steady pump of Joel’s cock in your mouth, Tommy’s fingers working inside your aching pussy, and his mouth lavishing your clit with attention, you’re a complete goner. You can only moan and writhe and let it all happen to you, relishing in every ounce of pleasure it’s giving you.

“Oh look at that, she’s close, she’s gonna come so pretty f’ya any second now,” Joel says, and you just babble around his cock in confirmation, little whimpers and moans as your skin prickles with the coming climax. Tommy takes the initiative to go even harder, his own hips still grinding into the mattress over and over as he strains to hold in his own climax before he’s had a chance to fuck you properly. Joel, sensing your oncoming orgasm, pulls out of your mouth and lets your head down onto the bed, leaving you to fully enjoy it and scream out as he knows you tend to do.

“Oh, fuck,” Tommy breathes out as he feels you start to twitch, bearing down onto his face while you shatter, your orgasm feeling like it’s bursting through you. Your blood is coursing through you quick and hot, legs trembling as Tommy grips them tightly while he lets you fuck his face to ride out your high.

“Ohhhh- my god, Tommy, fuck….” you whimper, low, forlorn moans slipping past your lips while your hips twist and buck over and over, your waves of pleasure seeming never ending just as Tommy surprises you by pushing his fingers right against the spongy part inside of you.

“Oh god, oh my god,” you yell out as Joel quickly moves to press on your lower belly, seeing that Tommy is going in for the kill, wanting to make it extra special for the both of you. You’ve started crying before you can even realize it, your hips lifted fully off the bed as you feel your cunt squeezing Tommy’s fingers, pulsing around them as the extra pressure from Joel’s hand sends you reeling. You moan out one final time, feeling your climax starting to subside but a gush escapes you, and you breathe heavily as you feel the wet mess you’ve made under your ass when it collapses back onto the bed.

Tommy catches his breath for a brief second, brushing a hand down over his mouth and chin, marveling at everything that had just happened. 

“She always such a messy girl?” he asks, and your eyes roll back in your head as you try to open them and peer at Joel as he chuckles. 

“Ain’t it jus’ beautiful?” Joel answers with amazement in his tone, never done being surprised at just how easily you can lose yourself to pleasure.

Tommy shifts from between your legs to sit next to you on the bed. “You’re so gorgeous, honey, that was perfect,” he assures you, running a hand up your arm, gentle fingers tracing the skin up to your shoulder.

“Hope so,” you murmur tiredly with a smile in his direction. You blink your eyes heavily and stretch out your arm, reaching for Joel, clawing a little at his hand and forearm, wanting him close, too.

“Joel…” you murmur, your eyes wide and pleading for him. He scoots a little closer and runs his hand up your other arm the same way Tommy is doing, and you’re practically melting, goosebumps covering your body, nipples hardening obviously for both of them to see. Tommy spies your neck and chest closer now, seeing the faded marks Joel had left on you earlier this week, and starts to go in for your neck, kissing the skin there as Joel’s hand drifts to your breasts, groping and starting to brush against your nipple. 

“Don’t fuckin’ mark her, though, hear me? Y’want her to do it to you, fine, but if you so much as leave a mark on her we’ll have trouble,” Joel snips quickly, seeing the intensity with which Tommy’s lips are attaching to the spot right under your jaw.

Tommy starts at Joel’s tone, pulling his mouth off of you and looking at him with wide eyes. “‘Course, Joel. Just let me know, don’t wanna overstep here,” he says, a ridiculous concept considering he’d just had his entire face between your legs, but you know Joel has his things that just drive him absolutely crazy, that are all for him. You grasp at Joel’s hand again, wanting his attention focused back on you again, and he looks down at you with a soft smile.

“Oh, missin’ me, sweet girl? Let’s have Tommy watch how you like to get fucked then, how about that?” he asks, and you nod excitedly, desperate for him to fill you. “How d’ya think, Tommy? Hands and knees? Fuck her good from behind?” Joel muses, eyes drifting to his brother's face for confirmation.

“She like that? Lettin’ you fuck her like that, hm, pretty girl, d’you like that?” Tommy asks, gripping your chin and turning your head towards him, flashing his eyes between you and Joel.

“Mhm,” you manage to get out, “However Joel likes it.”

“Fuck,” Tommy blurts out, shaking his head. “However Joel fuckin’ likes it, huh? Got her wrapped around your goddamn finger, brother.”

“That so?” Joel taunts you, already knowing the answer is an astounding yes for the both of you, both equally obsessed with the other. You smile shyly and nod for Tommy to see, and you catch Tommy’s hand slip back down to his cock and start gently playing with himself again.

“Hands and knees, baby,” Joel reminds you, rolling your restless body onto your belly. You arch your back and stick your ass in the air for him, balancing on your forearms. 

You whine as you feel your cunt clench around nothing, anticipating Joel’s girth fucking you until you can barely move. “Please…” you say quietly into the mattress, wriggling your ass for him. Joel’s hand grips one of the globes firmly and you feel the bed sink behind you where he positions himself on his knees.

“C’mere, if you’re so impatient then,” Joel says, roughly handling your hips with a tight squeeze on either side and yanking you towards him at the foot of the bed. He moves off the bed to stand at the edge and pulls you even closer, sliding his cock between your legs. You shudder as it slips back and forth through your slick folds a few times, gently touching your clit each time. He rubs your ass as he moves, hand roughly moving over the cheeks and gripping every so often as you squirm at his cock teasing you. His head notches at your entrance and starts to slide in, and you suck in a breath, relief flooding you at how perfectly your husband fits inside of you.

“Yeah, that’s it, take it so good, sweetheart,” Tommy comments, watching your face screw up in pleasure as Joel starts to thrust his hips, pushing more of his length in each time, grunting with the bliss of your warmth around him. 

“W-why don’t ya show Tommy your pretty mouth on his cock, now,” Joel says, stunted slightly by the way he’s starting to pound into you, hips snapping more rapidly.

You gaze up at Tommy from your low position on the mattress, pushing yourself up a little more to get level with his hips, and the smirk on his face grows at your eagerness to please him, to do what Joel says without a word. Tommy stands in front of you, his hard, aching cock tauntingly close to your lips. This is the first time you’re getting a real look at it, and Tommy certainly was also very lucky in that department, his cock long and thick just like his brother’s, only slightly smaller.  It’d be intimidating if you weren’t so used to Joel after the years you’ve been together. 

Tommy starts stroking your hair, gentle and warm with his movements as he presses himself closer to you.

“Look at you, know how to take cock like a good girl, don’t you?” Tommy coos, watching your body jolting forward with every thrust Joel makes. “Why don’t you show me how y’take two at once.”

Your tongue lolls out, encouraging Tommy forward. He slaps his cock onto your tongue a few times, heavy and dripping precum that lands there. You slide it underneath, licking along a prominent vein with the flat of your tongue before sucking the head into your mouth and Tommy groans loudly, his gentle strokes on your head quickly turning into him grabbing a handful of your hair. 

“She’s so good, Joel, already. Fuck, you lucky bastard,” Tommy breathes out, head tilting back and eyes closing in ecstasy. 

Joel grunts his agreement while he watches you sucking Tommy’s cock so obediently that it makes him feel even harder, cock throbbing for more despite already repeatedly being buried as deep as he can inside of you. 

It’s all becoming a blur to you, the way the both of them are moving inside of you, your used, overstimulated cunt taking Joel over and over, and Tommy grasping at your head now to fuck your face with more zeal. You whimper and cry as he gags you, the feeling sending your cunt clenching around Joel and you hear him hiss in pleasure from behind you.

“S-shit, n-not gonna last in your mouth like this, sweetheart,” Tommy announces suddenly, pulling out of you with a relieved sigh, clutching his sloppy, wet cock and trying to regain his composure. He moves off the bed, standing behind you with his hands against the mattress and breathing heavily. You hear shuffling of bodies and clothing, unable to see much even when you turn your head. 

Joel’s cock suddenly pulls out and you yelp desperately, your hips thrusting back into nothing when you’d expected to meet one of his movements.

“J-joel, baby wh-“ you start, completely cut off when you feel yourself being filled again, inch by inch. Warm hands grasp at your hips again but you’d know Joel’s touch anywhere, and these fingers don’t belong to him. 

“Ohhh,” you hear from behind you, a breathy grunt of satisfaction from Tommy. “Jesus, she’s perfect.”

Tommy’s cock gives you a nice stretch as he starts to move in you, slower than Joel had been. You give him a few affirmative noises, letting him know how good he feels, to urge him to keep going. 

“God, your cock feels nice,” you say, low and suggestive to him. “Faster, Tommy,” you whimper, wanting to feel him take more from you. Use you. He takes your cue and starts to move faster, starting to absolutely shatter you as you bounce with his thrusts and drop your head fully onto the mattress.

“So close already sweetie, that’s how fuckin’ good you are for me,” Tommy grunts out, rapidly chasing his high as his cock presses up to the hilt each time. “Yeah, just like that…” he whimpers, tossing his head back. 

“Damn it, if y’aint gonna make her come I’ll have to show you how,” Joel snips, clapping Tommy on the shoulder and pulling, urging him to step back from you. Tommy complies reluctantly, but he knows better than to protest what Joel is saying.

“Shit… sorry,” Tommy says, panting. “G-got caught up.”

“Can’t blame ya, know it’s been a while. She ain’t happy till I blow my fuckin’ load anyways,” Joel replies casually, as if he’s talking about something as simple as the weather. “I’ll take care of that, then she’s all yours.”

“How we doin’, doll?” Joel asks you, leaning forward on the bed to come face to face with you.

“So good, baby,” you answer with a little smile. “I need someone to put their cock back inside me, though,” you add on teasingly, and the proud smirk Joel gives you alone makes this entire night worth it. 

Joel presses his lips to yours, quickly grasping at the back of your head as he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip in a few passionate kisses. “Want my cum inside you, my pretty girl? That it? Getting impatient?”

You nod enthusiastically and flutter your eyelashes at him. “Please,” you whine, shaking your ass in invitation to him again. 

Joel slides back off the bed to position himself behind you again, putting one hand on your back and another one curling his fingers around your hip. “Y’wanna have her jus’...” Joel says to Tommy, pressing your back down and tilting your hips up slightly. “Like this,” he finishes, driving himself back into you, filling you until he knows he’s about to hit you right where you want him to and then jerking himself in harder. You gasp, legs immediately starting a gentle tremble as you feel the head of his cock hitting the spongy part inside of you and retreating just to go in again harder and harder each time he thrusts his hips back into you.

“Look at that…” you hear Tommy mumble from behind you, watching your face crumple and mouth open to cry out in pleasure as you start to feel yourself tumbling towards your climax already, Joel having known exactly what to do to get you there.

Your body melts, becoming completely compliant and yielding to Joel’s cock as you practically collapse onto the bed. Your legs give out, shaking uncontrollably from the complete stimulation on your g-spot over and over, and when Joel reaches his hand around and starts to rub your clit, you fold completely, crying out as tears start to pool in the corners of your eyes, squeezed shut, and slide down your cheeks.

Joel’s name rolls off your tongue in hurried, moaning cries as he buries his fingers deep into the plushness of your hips and ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise while his own motions start to stutter. You pulse around him, your body trying to pull his own climax out of him, wanting to feel him claim you in front of Tommy with one thing you know Joel will deny him.

“Yeah, little doll, keep squeezin’ and see what happens,” he mumbles, lost in the moment as he erratically shoves his cock into you, panting heavily. You keep convulsing back into him, hips rocking with your waves of pleasure and Joel gives you the growling, grunting combination that means he’s about to fill you any moment.

“Give you all this come, that what you want?”

“Y-yes, please, Joel, gimme what I want,” you beg, starting to come down from your climax with a few stray flutters of your cunt that finally send Joel reeling, his hips stalling as his cock pushes fully into you, deep as he can go. 

“Fuckin’ mine, my pretty wife,” Joel grunts out breathlessly as he comes hard, his head thrown back and eyes struggling to stay open and trained on the way your cunt is stretched open for him, taking everything he’s spilling out for you. You sigh and relax slightly, feeling the contentment you always do whenever Joel fills you like this. 

You don’t have long to breathe before Joel is pulling out of you and glancing at an eager Tommy. 

“Tommy’s been very patient, doll, so you’re gonna be so good for him, ain’t ya? Come nice and pretty f’him, mkay?” Joel says, giving your ass an encouraging little slap and quick squeeze. 

“‘Course I will, baby,” you respond to Joel. You turn your head to look at Tommy, who’s started moving to where Joel had just been standing behind you. “Been dying to feel more of you, handsome,” you say to him, and Tommy’s face hardens, cheeks flushing and eyes blown out with desire for you. You catch a glimpse of his cock, looking painfully hard, red and dripping precum before it disappears out of your view as he steps behind you.  

“Fuck, lemme get in that messy little hole then, sweetheart,” Tommy grits out desperately. “Like this, wanna see you when I fill you up,” he says, pushing you down onto the bed and rolling you onto your back. You can feel his hands shaking slightly as they go to grab onto you and position himself in frantic movements, sliding his cock and practically missing your entrance before he shoves himself in.

“No comin’ inside her, you hear me?” Joel says abruptly, still out of breath. “She likes it anywhere, so pick a spot y’like.”

Tommy nods, seeming to half hear Joel as he immediately gets lost in the feeling of thrusting into you. You can feel the obscene wetness of everything - your own cum and Joel’s being pushed back into you by Tommy’s cock over and over, feeling it squelching out around his girth as it stretches you again. 

“Mmm,” you moan out quietly, turned on by the thought of how messy things are right now, just how wrong this whole situation has been. 

“Feel good, beautiful? Gonna make you come all over this cock,” Tommy says, his dark eyes piercing into yours with determination. He hoists both of your legs up to his shoulders so that you’re starting to fold in on yourself when he bends forward slightly. The change in angle makes your breath hitch as he hits deep inside of you.  

He leans far enough down for his mouth to start kissing the skin along your chest, pepping kisses all the way to one of your nipples. You’re completely folded in half at this point as Tommy starts to suck on your hardened nipple, and you try to arch your back to no avail with the way he has you pinned. You throw your head back, neck elongated as your eyes roll back and you moan loudly for him. 

“Yeah, Tommy,” you whimper, which seems to set him off even more to hear his name on your tongue as he groans and pounds into you harder, his breath panting against your chest and he tries to swirl his tongue around your nipple. 

“Want me to touch your pretty little clit? Make you come all over me like the nasty little girl you are?” Tommy says into your tits and you nod eagerly. 

“Be polite now, doll,” you hear Joel say from next to you as he clambers onto the bed and settles himself behind your head. “Say please.”

“P-please,” you say. “Make me come, Tommy.” Joel strokes your head in response to your obedience, smoothing the hair on the sides of your head before moving his hands to your cheeks, stroking them lovingly. 

“So obedient and sweet, aren’t you?” Tommy replies, starting to roll his hips a little more with each thrust. With the way your bodies are crammed together, the curls at the base of his cock are starting to brush against you and you shudder at the rolling movements stimulating your clit.

Tommy seems to lose himself, his mouth falling off your tits as he focuses on the way he’s moving his hips into you, intent on chasing the pleasure you’re getting from it. Joel quickly replaces Tommy’s mouth with his hands, reaching over your shoulders to start tweaking your nipples with his fingers, rolling and pinching them rapidly. Your body wants to writhe and lift and fucking move with all the stimulation you’re receiving, but you’re stuck, pressed down and can only take what the two men are giving to you. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you start to moan, bouncing your hips up rapidly into Tommy’s thrusts.

“That’s it,” he coos, his eyes locked on your face, watching the way your cheeks are flushing and glowing with arousal. You feel your insides want to pull taught again, almost painfully after already coming three times now. Your body wants to give up and keep going at the same time, and you feel an almost straining sensation when you chase this orgasm. It makes you feel mad, insane, as your insides warm up and tense, tingling starting from where Tommy is brushing against your clit and spreading to where Joel’s fingers grope at you and pull on the hardened buds on your tits.

“P-please, it’s too much,” you whimper as Joel pulls harder on your nipples, sending you yelping. “I wanna…,” you say quietly, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “I need…” You don’t know what you’re trying to express, all you can feel is this insatiable clawing inside of you, begging to be released.

“S-such a good girl, always thought you’d be beautiful just like this with a cock inside of you,” Tommy spits out, caught up in the moment. You open your eyes back up and lock them on his, seeing how desperate he looks, how fucked out he is on your cunt and it sends you reeling, completely drunk on the feeling. 

Your body responds with a final snap of the tension that had been twisting inside of you, letting go completely. Your eyes squeeze shut and you let out moaning sobs, your body overworked and overstimulated but still finding so much pleasure that you’re shaking hard underneath Tommy. You clutch at his forearms, grasping on tightly and digging your nails in as you let this complete bliss take over you once more tonight. Joel pulls his hands off of your chest, wrapping them around your face again and holding you there, his thumb popping into your open mouth and toying with your lower lip.

“Oh, that’s it, fuck,” Tommy says, riding you through your climax. “Tight, pretty little thing squeezing me.” You moan for him again, finally feeling yourself coming back down, unable to move or open your eyes yet as you relax back a bit.

Tommy breathes heavily, panting as his hips start to move erratically, stuttering. “I-I’m close,” he announces, suddenly fucking into you the hardest he has all night, using your spent cunt to finish getting himself off. “Oh, f-fuck, her face, her face,” he says desperately. “Open up,” he says to you before he pulls out and throws your shaking legs off of his shoulders and grasps you by the torso, pulling you as close as he can to the edge of the bed. He quickly straddles you and you peek your eyes open to see him jerking on his shiny cock, slick with your creaminess before he releases. You open your mouth quickly and catch what lands there, salty and thick, half of it spreading across your face as he shakes his cock with a few more quick jerks, groaning loudly for you.

“F-fuuuuck,” Tommy cries out, throwing his head back as he finishes his spill. He takes a few beats with his eyes heavy and closed before swinging his leg over you, collapsing onto the bed and tucking himself back into his pants.

Joel disappears for a moment, coming back and holding a damp washcloth that he hands to  Tommy. He rolls onto his side, laying next to you and dabbing the warm cloth onto your face to clean you up. You feel your lips curl up a little at the gesture, peering at Tommy and finding you feel oddly at ease.

“All clean now, sweetheart,” Tommy says before getting off the bed. You slink yourself back towards the headboard, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers and get comfortable.

“Give us a minute, then I’ll see ya out, okay?” Joel says to his brother, standing with his hands on his hips.

“‘Course,” Tommy says before approaching where you lay again. He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, cupping your cheek in the process. “Thank you, darling. You’re perfect, thank you,” he gushes quietly, thumb brushing against your cheek a few times before he pulls away. 

“B-bye, Tommy,” you stutter, unsure of how else to respond now that it’s all said and done. You start to realize that a time will come when you have to see the younger Miller brother in the light of day again and your stomach twists. Will it be uncomfortable now? Awkward? Will he be able to make eye contact with you ever again now that he’s felt what it’s like to be buried so deep in your cunt that you see stars?

You don’t want anything to change - you love having Tommy around, and love how much Joel loves his baby brother. You also realize you feel like an appropriate reaction here would be shame, but you can’t find even a scrap of it inside of yourself. You feel satisfied, thrilled, even, by the events of the evening. You roll over a little as Joel sits down next to you on the bed once Tommy leaves the room.

“How’s my pretty little wife, hm? You okay?” your husband asks, voice deep and honeyed, and you nod, letting a lighthearted grin pull at your lips.

“Really good,” you tell him. “I’m happy.”

Joel seems to breathe out a small sigh of relief. “Knew you would like that,” he says teasingly, giving you a wink. “Bet you’re all worn out though.”

You nod again, letting your smile drop a little. “Yeah, just sleepy now,” you say with a little shrug.

“I’m gonna see Tommy out, then let me grab some things f’ya. You don’t move a muscle, just lay here and rest. Got it?” Joel says seriously, and you tell him he doesn’t have to ask you twice, which gets a smile out of him.

You feel yourself start to doze a bit, unsure of how much time has gone by when Joel re-enters the room with his hands and arms full, rustling noises from everything he’s carrying prompting you to open your eyes back up.

He sets a cup of steaming chamomile tea, your favorite, on the nightstand next to where you’re curled up, offloading his hand so he can dump his spoils onto the bed. You look to see all of the candy and snacks you’d gotten for the two of you for the movie watching that had become long forgotten in everything that happened tonight.

“Thought we should still put on a movie, even if y’fall asleep,” Joel says, planting a kiss on your lips before climbing back onto the bed and grabbing the remote for the TV that sits on the dresser across from the bed.

“That sounds nice, baby,” you tell him, sitting yourself up a little, wrapping the sheet around your still naked body and snuggling closer to him. 

“Before we start, I talked to Tommy, and I’m thinkin’... if you want to too, we might do that once and a while, hm? Just here and there. while he’s feelin’ a bit lonely - help him have fun, get a lil’ more confident again,” Joel explains.

“Oh,” you say bluntly, thinking for a moment. You really hadn’t even thought that far, if this would be more than one night for the three of you. “Okay. I mean, yeah, I think I’d like that. He was…” you trail off shyly, and Joel nudges you.

“S’okay, you can say. I know you had a good time, and ‘sides, you’ll never want any other cock like y’want mine, already know that,” he says lightly, and you chuckle.

“Of course not, I’d never let anyone be with me the way you do,” you say, “But Tommy was… nice, really good. And I want to help him.”

Joel turns to kiss you deeply, lips melting into yours with gratitude and love. “Just say the word, and we’ll stop it. But ‘till then…” He gives you a slightly sinister smile that you return with a more shy smirk of your own. “How’s next month sound?”

“Perfect.”

taglist: @aphterthoughtt @bbyanarchist @amy172 @hazzaismyreligion @ohheypedrito

[skittlesfics]

in case you're wondering why I haven't posted in a while, it's because I'm dead and the Miller brothers killed me. Coming out of hiatus to say that this is absolutely filthy and gorgeous and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

[skittlesfics]

‘no strings’ is a breathtaking fic, do you plan on continuing it?

First of all thank you so much, I love you anon. <3 I so desperately want to finish the second part, but nothing has been living up to my expectations. There's a sort of build-up that I know requires satisfaction and nothing is quite getting there.

I need to take another stab at it ASAP tbh

[skittlesfics]

Sorry to ask, but did you already publish part 2 of "No strings" ( the lucius malfoy and snape fic) ?

I could't find it anywhere and i'd love to read a part 2.😊

Have a great day!!🌞

Hi! I actually still haven't published it, I'm sorry. I'm not really happy with the direction it went and I'm struggling to come up with new ideas to fix it. Happy to hear people's ideas and thank you so much for reading <3