guess-my-next-obsession

[guess-my-next-obsession]

nothing like a full night at the ER for a neck sprain, a six-day long migraine, and mandatory bed rest to kick off christmas 🙃

i had planned on getting an update for the alchemy up before the new year (i’ve been busy working on my debut novel) and maybe a holiday edition of The Stable Girl or Elementary but it’s a task to even sit here and write this out, so all updates are going to have to wait until i’m healed (hopefully sooner rather than later)

anyways, if i don’t manage to get on here again before the new year — happy holidays to each and every one of you. thank you for being here with me, whether you’ve been here since day one or just found my little corner of this hellsite. i truly don’t know what i’d do without the community we’ve fostered here in this fandom. you’ve all brought so much light and escape to my life, so thank you. i’ll see you in the new year, beautiful bbs!! love ya tons 🫶🏼

el gato

[guess-my-next-obsession]

and the people said amen 🙌🏼

In the Winter - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Warnings: LOL this is so rated E for every single reason. Oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, cum play, you name it. Word Count: 2355 Prompt #56: Pulling your love in your lap, them straddling your hips. a/n: I watched Triple Frontier twice in a week and this happened. Happy Winter!

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

You’d grown up in the cold, but Frankie most certainly had not. 

“How the fuck does anyone live here?” Frankie asks for what you’re pretty sure is the fourth time since you started shoveling out the driveway. Snow was still falling, but you’d lived there long enough to know that shoveling a little at a time was greatly preferable to plowing your way through the higher drifts later. Your dad didn’t believe in snowblowers so shoveling was the only option, and this made it easier. It was a whole deal. 

You stop for a moment, leaning against your shovel as you wipe away a few stray strands of hair from your cheek. “You deal with it,” you shrug, although you’ll be the first to admit that living in Florida for the past few years has made dealing with it a lot harder than it used to be. 

Frankie mirrors you, his weight shifting against his own shovel as he breathes heavily. A giggle escapes you at the sight - Francisco Morales in a bright blue parka, his jeans tucked into an old pair of your father’s boots. A winter hat that replaced his standard baseball cap sits atop his head, and his cheeks are rosy red from a mixture of cold and the exertion of clearing the driveway. 

“I’m starting to regret volunteering for this,” he quips, taking a few steps toward you as he drags the shovel behind him, the metal scraping against the icy pavement. 

“But now Dad loves you,” you tease, maneuvering in his direction with a sway of your hips, “and wasn’t that your goal?” 

His eyebrows raise in disbelief, “how did you…” 

“Isn’t it?” you ask again, popping the “T” in your response as a smile plays at your lips. When your mom learned that you had some time off, she’d insisted that you come home for the holidays, and Frankie had been oddly eager to join you. It didn’t take long for you to realize that Frankie was trying hard to impress your parents, but it wasn’t until you accidentally overhead a conversation in your father’s study that you fully understood why. 

Your boyfriend is close enough now that his breath mingles with your own, fogging in-between your bodies. From where you stand, even through the layers you both wear, you can feel the heat radiating off him. You automatically lean closer, swaying in his direction, but he surprises you by pulling back, resuming the task of clearing snow with a sly smile plastered on his face. 

“What the fuck, Frankie?”

“If my purpose here is to impress your father, then I’d better finish clearing out this driveway,” he states, effortlessly working to clear the remaining snow with renewed determination. “Plus, anyone could see us out here.” 

Arousal pools deep in your belly as you watch him work, and you glance back at the house, where soft light pours out the front window. Frankie’s right, anyone could see you out here, your parents included, but it’s also late. Late enough that the street around you is quiet, and you’re fairly certain your parents have already gone to bed. 

Which is why, when you look back at Frankie, your brain short circuits. He’s grunting as he lifts another load of snow and it causes a flash of heat to course through your veins, and you curse the archaic traditions that have you sleeping in separate bedrooms. Frankie had sheepishly followed orders, bunking downstairs in the guest room while you took your childhood bedroom two stories up. You’d protested, but this trip and their impressions were important to Frankie, which meant they were important to you, but now your ability to refrain from sneaking beneath his sheets is wearing thin. 

And, then, a plan forms in your mind. 

You drop your shovel where it stands, moving with purpose down the driveway. He’s focused enough on his task that he doesn’t hear you, the sound of your footsteps muffled by his hat, and he’s obviously surprised when you grab his arm and drag him back toward the house. His shovel drops with a second loud clang, and you wince, hoping that it doesn’t wake anyone inside the house, but you keep moving, intent on getting him inside as soon as possible. 

“What are you…” he asks, but you drown out his response with your lips on his the second you have him pulled into the garage. With the door closed behind him, he winds his arms around you, still covered hands spanning the width of your back. 

Frankie’s a good kisser, you learned that on your first date, but nothing ever seems to prepare you for the way he devours you. You might be in control, pressing him firmly against the door, but he maintains a near-frantic pace, biting at your lower lip in a well-practiced effort that draws a moan out of you. 

It’s overwhelming, and you’re unsure how he’s been able to notice anything in the moments since you stepped into the garage when you already feel like you’re floating, but he leads you easily toward an old workbench that you recognize faintly from your grandparents’ farm. When he sits, he drags you down against him, urging you to straddle his hips, hands on your thighs as he leads you in grinding your core against him. Your movements are sloppy, desperate for any kind of friction, but then he finds your rhythm and fuck. 

He’s hard against your center, hips rocking ever so slightly up against you even through the layers you both still wear. It’s unclear when you lost your scarf or when he lost his hat, but Frankie’s lips are attached to your neck, worrying into your skin in a way that makes you thankful it’ll still be cold enough for a turtleneck in the morning. You make a feeble attempt to bring him closer by tangling your fingers in his curls, but it isn’t enough. None of it is. You need to be closer. 

“Why the fuck did I wear snow pants?” you whine into the dark as you stand, frantically starting to peel back your layers. Frankie is barely visible in the shadows of the room, but you hear his low laugh, and you swat at him in warning. “Stop laughing and help me out of this thing.” 

“As you wish,” he returns, making quick work of your jacket, pushing it off your shoulders to let it pool on the concrete behind you. You’re already working at your boots while he unzips his own coat, and then his hands are on you again, attempting to unfasten the suspenders on your snow pants. “And here I was thinking the most complicated thing I’d ever have to get you out of was that thing you wore for our anniversary,” he grumbles as his fingers work. 

“Just wait till you see me in a wedding dress,” you tease, and you can tell by the way Frankie stills for just a moment that you haven’t extinguished a fire, you’ve lit one. 

You’re barely aware of what happens next, of the way Frankie lifts you so your back is against the rough surface of the bench. He practically rips your snowpants from your legs, revealing the yoga pants underneath, and he makes quick work of those too. Your skin protests at the onset of the cold room, but he’s quick to distract you by trailing a line of kisses from your neck down your body, hands running up underneath the sweatshirt you’re still wearing to cup your breasts as he drifts lower. 

When he reaches your core, he blows a puff of air against your soaked panties, and you’re faintly aware of the way you’re begging him to do something, anything. He makes you wait instead, tracing your thighs with his tongue as he slowly pulls the remaining fabric down your legs, and only then does he finally give you what you want. 

You struggle to swallow a moan when his tongue traces a path through your center, his fingers already easing their way toward your entrance. He’s methodical, the same way he always is when he eats you out, carefully monitoring every sound you make, every move of your hips.  “Doing so good for me, baby,” he murmurs against you, “but you’ve gotta stay quiet for me.” 

It’s a command that’s easier for him to give than it is for you to follow, especially as your hips rut up against his mouth. It’s harder when he’s buried two fingers kuckle-deep inside you, pumping in and out slowly. Frankie knows how to play you, and when your motions become more evident, he pins your hips down with an arm, preventing you from increasing the pace. Forcing you to take what he gives you. 

“Can you take a third?” he questions, swiping at your walls while he waits for a response. You can barely nod, afraid that if you stop biting your lip you’ll alert half the neighborhood to the fact that your boyfriend is currently eating you out in your parents’ garage. He complies, adding his ring finger just as he resumes his assault on your clit. 

It’s exactly what you need, and within seconds you feel the pressure building. One of your hands finds a grip on his forearm, still pinning you to the bench, and the other holds his head against you as you let the white hot heat consume you. 

He brings you down gently, like a pilot touching a helicopter to the ground, fingers continuing to circle slowly as he crawls up to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, the kiss sloppy as you immediately start to work at his belt. “Frankie,” you whimper quietly, pushing at his jeans, “get these off.” 

“A little impatient tonight, Querida?” 

Your eyes have finally adjusted to the low light, and you glare at him, watching as he kicks off his jeans and makes quick work of his boxers, his cock springing to life. “I swear to god, Frankie, if you don’t - “ 

He cuts you off with a lengthy kiss, his body crowding you into the wooden surface, his length already rutting against your folds. “If I don’t what?” he asks when he finally allows you both to come up for air. 

“If you don’t fuck me right now you’re sleeping outside.” 

He chooses that moment to slip inside you, cock dragging against your walls as he buries himself to the hilt. You grab at his shoulders, mouth biting at the skin of his chest as you conceal your moan. Frankie’s hips are pressed against yours tightly, waiting for you to adjust to his size, and he gently grinds into you in some effort to speed up the process.

Sloppy kisses are left along your collarbone, but you can easily tell just how hard he is, how much effort it’s taking him not to spill into you then and there, so you encourage him to look at you in the dim light. “You can let go, baby. It’s okay,” you reassure him, fingers pushing unruly curls away from his sweaty forehead. 

He shakes his head. “Want you to come again too.” 

Of course he does. 

“Then fuck me, Morales.” Your statement is more of a command than anything, and it’s one that he heads without hesitation, pulling back before slamming into you with a particularly rough stroke. He repeats the process, immediately lost in the sensation, brows furrowed in concentration as he holds himself back. It’s fast and it’s needy and you’re only faintly aware of the way the old wooden bench is squeaking beneath you, legs hammering against the concrete with every snap of his hips. 

“Come on, baby. Come on,” he urges, breath hot against your skin. You know you’re close, but that he’s closer, and you wrap a leg around his hips in an attempt to push him over the edge. 

“Let go, Frankie,” you whimper again, hardly coherent yourself, but it causes the coil in him to snap. His hips stutter as he fills you, the rough pad of his thumb circling your clit in an attempt to take you with him. It works, and you follow just as he collapses against you. 

His cock is still buried within you when you come back to your senses, his head pressed into the crook of your neck. It’s only when your shoulders start to ache that you encourage him to move. 

“Wait,” he stops, and you watch with curiosity as he slowly pulls away, his cock immediately replaced with his fingers as he drops to his knees at the side of the bench, pulling you toward him. You shudder at the motion as he pushes his spend back into you, swiping his tongue along your slit once, twice, and then a third time that has you aching for more even after two orgasms. His gaze meets yours. “I want to remember what we taste like,” he states, and you have half a mind to spend the rest of the night in this garage if it means he can keep fucking you.

But then the sensor light outside turns on, illuminating you both as the light seeps in through the garage window. There’s a scramble to find your clothes, both of you giggling like teenagers as you pull on pants and coats and jackets somehow faster than you’d ripped them off, giggling the whole while. Your snow pants remain tossed on the garage floor, forgotten as you ease your way toward the door to see who’s triggered the light. 

And there, in the yard, sits a raccoon, staring at you with bright, mischievous eyes. 

Frankie’s behind you a moment later, crowding your space as he looks out over your shoulder. “Do you think he knows?” 

You elbow him lightly, “knows what? That you just fucked me into oblivion in my parents’ garage?” 

“No,” he whispers against your ear, a hand already trailing down beneath your yoga pants again to where he’s still seeping out of you. “Do you think he knows I’m about to do it again?” 

[guess-my-next-obsession]

i think i’ve chosen paul mescal as my enemy for a few reasons but mainly because we share a birthday and it just so happens to be a very unique birthday and how dare he take the joy of being born on groundhogs day away from me

also he’s an aquarius man which is enough reason to hate on him

[guess-my-next-obsession]

it is SO exciting, i can’t wait to start editing and working on art for the cover reveal!! hopefully by the end of the year 🤞🏼

i’m currently drafting my debut, and i’m at page 181 as of today, but just getting a feel for what everyone likes! i don’t want it too be too long, but i also don’t want it to be too short, either. thanks for your input, ily!!! 🤍

[guess-my-next-obsession]

i’m currently drafting my debut, and i’m at page 181 as of today, but just getting a feel for what everyone likes! i don’t want it too be too long, but i also don’t want it to be too short, either. thanks for your input, ily!!! 🤍

[guess-my-next-obsession]

and i wish every white woman who voted for trump a very FUCK YOU

[guess-my-next-obsession]

for all of my poc women and poc trans, non-binary, lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer friends out there, please know that you have a friend in me. i will never begin to understand the strife that you experience simply by existing, but i will spend the rest of my life trying. i will be here to offer a shoulder, an ear, a safe space and support. you are safe here, you are welcome here, and you are so loved here.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

To all the trans people who see this tonight, no matter what happens, we will survive. Trans people will still be here 4 years from now and 10 years from now and 100 years from now and tomorrow. We have always existed and we always will. The world cannot unlearn about us; we are too public, too loud, too beloved, too present. Ill be here tomorrow. Please stay here with me.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

so disappointed and absolutely gutted that this is the reality of the land that made me. i can feel the weight of every woman’s grief who came before me and fought and sacrificed and pled for a better future—one that meant equality and safety and peace, in a world that has never viewed us as anything more than a body to use and exploit and disregard and destroy. my heart breaks for every little girl in this country who has to grow up knowing that more than half of this country does not see her, has chosen to prioritize their own monetary gain over her right to autonomy and security, has selected a rapist and a misogynist to govern over her. my heart breaks for every gay, bisexual, queer, lesbian, trans, gender-questioning person who now has to watch their back, who feels they have to return to the shadows after finally being in the light. this is unfair. this is unforgivable. this is america—selfish, greedy, idiotic, and vile as ever. history will tell this story one day, and i hope that it will tell it true. that while so many of us gave our all, fought the good fight, and dared to hope for a better future for our sisters, friends, and children, the voice of those who choose hatred and division was louder.

to everyone who is in fear today, who’s in shock and anger and grief, you’re not alone. we’ll get through this, with gritted teeth and clenched fists and voices that cannot and will not be silenced. hang in there, keep close to those who see and value you, and we will get through this. i love you, and i’m sorry.

🤍

[guess-my-next-obsession]

what the fuck what the fuck what the actual fuck what the fuck !!!!!! how could we fail this hard ???

[guess-my-next-obsession]

anyone else shitting themselves rn ?? i really cannot believe this shit

[guess-my-next-obsession]

guys i’ve been working on my debut novel (not elementary, she’s tabled for now until i work out the plot) and i can’t believe i’ve made it to the hundred page milestone!! i’m doing a chapter a day for all of november, which means i’ll be done with the first draft by the end of the month (ahh!!!) and then i can start the editing process, working on some character art, and pinning down a release!

i’ll keep you updated on everything as it comes, but for now i just wanted to share what feels like a big achievement to my non-medicated adhd mind who struggles with consistency!! 100 pages y’all!!

[guess-my-next-obsession]

you’re my beyonce, kelli!! 🫶🏼

Do you have any good Age Gap Joel Miller Fics Recommendations?

hi anon! i’m not reading much fanfic these days, but i’ll always recommend short days long nights by @frannyzooey !! it’s an all-time favorite if you’re looking for post-outbreak joel/breeding kink joel/reluctant allies to lovers joel (my personal favorite kind of joel 😩)

other than that, there aren’t a ton of series that i can remember off the top of my head, but if anyone has any recs to add, please do so!! for me and for anon ☺️🫶🏼

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Do you have any good Age Gap Joel Miller Fics Recommendations?

hi anon! i’m not reading much fanfic these days, but i’ll always recommend short days long nights by @frannyzooey !! it’s an all-time favorite if you’re looking for post-outbreak joel/breeding kink joel/reluctant allies to lovers joel (my personal favorite kind of joel 😩)

other than that, there aren’t a ton of series that i can remember off the top of my head, but if anyone has any recs to add, please do so!! for me and for anon ☺️🫶🏼

[guess-my-next-obsession]

desperate for pedro to do some promo that doesn’t involve paul mescal because i can’t stand that yt boy of the month 😩 i feel myself become physically enraged everytime he’s on my screen and i just wanna twirl my hair and kick my legs over my sweet baby pedro

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | vi. the aftermath

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter rating: Explicit [18+ only, minors dni, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), oral (f!rec), soft dom!joel, bits of angst sprinkled in, not proofread—may contain some typos but i can’t be bothered to check]

summary: you and joel deal with the aftermath of last night. tommy and sarah are clued in.

wc: 3.1k

the masterlist

Your eyes were sore and heavy when you batted them open in the early morning light that filtered through Joel’s blinds. His arm was a comforting weight banded under your arm and across your chest, hugging you tight to his front, gently reminding you of his presence. You turned your head, finding him already watching you with lidded eyes and a soft smile that encouraged one to grow on your face despite the ache in your chest. 

“How ya feelin’?” he asked, his voice soft and low and raspy. His hand slipped lower to nestle beneath the cotton of your sleep shirt, rubbing softly against the skin of your stomach. 

“Like shit,” you replied, resting your hand over his. “But you make it feel livable.”

Joel leaned forward to press a kiss against your shoulder, nuzzling his nose there to breathe in your scent. “I’m sorry, baby. Whatever you need, whatever I can do t’make things feel better, I’m here.”

You knew exactly how he could make things feel better, even if it were only a momentary bandage over your wounded heart. 

You rolled over to face him, drawing your leg up to rest over his hips, your lips finding his in the soft morning air. “Distract me for a while.”

“It would be my honor, darlin’,” Joel said with a smile, his hand sliding down your back to palm your ass. “Can’t be at it for too long, though. Gotta pick up Sarah in half an hour.”

“Yeah, about that—“ You straddled his hips, forcing him to roll over onto his back. “What are we gonna tell her?”

Joel let out a soft sigh as he slid his hands up your sides, dragging your t-shirt up over your head. “Whatever you want to tell her.”

You melted a bit as he lifted his hips to grind against your clothed core, the fabric already damp. 

“We can tell her the truth about us, that we’re together,” he said, leaning up to press his lips against your sternum. He trailed his kisses up to your neck, nipping at that spot beneath your ear that always sent shivers down your body. “Or we can make somethin’ up. Doesn’t matter t’me.” 

You let out a sigh as his lips lowered to your breast, his warm tongue swiping across the stiff peak there while his hands palmed your ass, guiding you to rock against his clothed length. “I don’t wanna keep lying to people, especially Sarah.”

“Then we’ll tell her,” he said, expertly flipping you onto your back. You giggled at the sudden change in position and welcomed him between your open thighs as he kissed his way down your stomach. “Now if that’s all settled, I got a job to do down here.” 

You smiled lazily at him, already feeling better, and lifted your hips to allow him to peel off your underwear. 

You loved watching Joel. There was something so comforting about his face, the warmth in his eyes, the small creases on his forehead. He was truly beautiful, even doing the most mundane things. But when he looked like this—his hair messy from sleep, his eyes darkened with desire, his lips parted in awe as he stared down at your most intimate place—he was downright godly. You wanted to worship him, to kneel at his altar and simply bask in the glory of his beauty, both internal and external. 

But for right now, you settled on watching in awe as he tasted you, a sinful groan rumbling against your seam as he savored your sweetness. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, circling a finger over your swollen bud. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

You keened under his praise, canting your hips up to meet his mouth again. He smiled at your neediness, locking eyes with you across the expanse of your torso. He banded one arm across your stomach, holding you down, while his dominant hand pressed your thigh to the mattress, spreading you wider for him. 

“Shit,” you moaned, your hips twitching a bit as he focused his attention on your clit, sucking it into his mouth over and over with a vulgar slurp. “That feels so fucking good, Joel.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed against you, his tongue lapping at your entrance in-between sucks to your bud. “Hold your thighs, baby. Spread ‘em nice and wide for me.” You did as he asked, looping your arms beneath your knees and holding them to your chest to spread yourself open. “Mmhm, just like that. So fuckin’ pretty all spread open for me.”  

Your cunt clenched at his words as he pulled back to gawk at you, spread open and more vulnerable than you’d ever been. His hands were spread across your ass, gripping and palming the flesh there as he licked his lips as though he were a starving man being presented a seven-course meal. “Joel, please. Touch me. Fuck me. Anything.” 

He grinned, leaning back down and locking eyes with you as he licked a broad stripe from your tighter hole all the way up to your clit before slipping down to do it all over again. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of him tasting every inch of you, his tongue so warm and soft and skilled you felt like you might pass out from pleasure. Your thighs trembled in your arms, but you refused to let go of them, especially when Joel brought two of his beautifully thick fingers to your entrance and pressed them inside of you. 

“Fuck!” He was curling them upwards, matching the pace of his tongue and lips as they worked over your clit. “Joel, fuck! I’m gonna—fuck.”

Your release hit you hard and agonizingly slow, pouring over you like warm honey. He worked you through it with his fingers, his lips pressing against the inside of your thigh as he mumbled his praise. “Good fuckin’ girl. So goddamn pretty when you cum on my fingers.” 

You smiled at him, dopey and satisfied, and curled your finger at him to climb over you so that you could properly thank him with a kiss. Joel was grinning as he obliged, crawling on top of you and pressed his lips against yours in a slow, languid drag. “Do we have time for me to suck your dick?”

Joel moaned against your lips, pressing his clothed but achingly hard length against you as he turned his head to glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table. With a groan, he hung his head against your shoulder with a soft shake. “No, unfortunately for me and my achin’ dick, we do not.”

You frowned, combing your hands through his hair as he rested his head on your chest, melting on top of you. “Rain check for tonight, then?”

Joel kissed your chest and nodded. “Tonight, and tomorrow mornin’, and tomorrow night, and the night after that, and—“

“Yeah, I get it,” you laughed, watching him climb off you before tugging you out of bed. 

“Tryin’ to find the silver linin’ and all that bullshit,” he said, wrapping you up in his arms for a quick squeeze before he went into the bathroom to run through his morning routine. 

You decided on taking a shower while Joel was off picking Sarah up, but in the meantime, you desperately needed some coffee to help wake you up after the shitty night of sleep you’d gotten. Throwing on the baggy shirt that Joel had peeled off of you just thirty minutes prior, you padded your way downstairs to the kitchen. 

You were too busy smiling at the ground like a lovesick fool to notice that the kitchen wasn’t empty like it should have been this early in the morning, but by the time you realized, it was too late. 

There, beside the sink, stood none other than Tommy Miller with his jaw practically on the floor. 

You squealed in shock, tugging the hem of your shirt down to cover the fact that you’d refrained from putting on any underwear while Tommy quickly closed his eyes and turned around with a murmured, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” 

“Tommy,” you breathed, reaching for the throw blanket that rested over one of the chairs at the dinner table beside you. “What—why are you here?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure you were decent. More decent, at least. To his credit, he didn’t look flustered by your state. Just a little hurt and very curious. “How long’s this been goin’ on?”

“A month or so,” you said, glancing back up the stairs as Joel’s bedroom door opened. “We were waiting to tell everyone, but then last night…well, my dad found out and shit hit the fan. Now I’m homeless and disowned, I guess.”

“Y’ain’t homeless,” Joel said, pressing a kiss to your head as he casually breezed past you to start up the coffee machine, a soft smile on his face. “Disowned, maybe. But we’re gonna work on that.” 

“Well, I can’t say I saw this comin’, but I’m happy for y’all,” Tommy said, making it a point to look at Joel as he spoke. Although him and Maria seemed to be falling head over heels for one another, it was still an awkward situation for anybody to find themselves in. You couldn’t blame him for not being able to look at you. You still had a hard time looking at him. “Y’all tell Sarah yet? Is she here?”

“No and no. I need t’go pick her up at her friend’s house right about…” Joel said, checking his watch. “Shit, five minutes ago.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?” you said, eyes pointedly glancing at Tommy as he stood awkwardly drinking his glass of orange juice by the sink. Joel smiled and walked over to you, pecking your lips before leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

“Scared of bein’ left alone with your old flame?” he teased, earning a swat to his chest. He laughed, kissing your temple. “I’ll be back in half an hour. Call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Mmhm,” you said, giving him a playful glare as he left through the front door. 

“Were, uh—“ Tommy’s voice brought your attention back to him. He was chuckling softly, shaking his head. “Were you always into him like this?”

You felt your cheeks heat, still so unaccustomed to talking about your feelings for Joel to other people. But it felt nice, better than you’d imagined it would feel. 

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging. “Since I met him, really.”

He chuckled again. “I must’ve been blind or an idiot to miss the way you look at him.” 

You smiled, glancing down at your feet. “I think I hid it pretty well, so I wouldn’t go blaming myself if I were you. It…it wasn’t really ever supposed to happen, him and I. At least, I didn’t imagine it ever happening. For years, it was just my little secret crush.”

“Is that why you and I…you know, didn’t work?” He was staring into his empty cup, swirling around the few drops left in it, rather than looking at you. 

“It was a big reason, yeah,” you admitted. “But you and I are also really different. I don’t think it would’ve worked out for a lot of reasons. You need someone outgoing, someone who matches your energy. It’s why I’m glad I was able to introduce you to Maria.” 

He smiled at the mention of his girlfriend, like a teenager in love. “Yeah, she’s one of a kind, that woman.”

“Are things going well with you two?” you asked, pulling up a seat at the table. “Last time I talked to Maria, she was spitballing honeymoon ideas.”

Tommy laughed, walking over and pulling up the seat across from you. “Would it be crazy if I said I’ve already been lookin’ at rings?” 

“Three weeks in and ready to propose? Nah, that’s perfectly sane,” you joked, earning an eye roll. 

“I’m not planning on proposing anytime soon, just…window shopping,” he said, though the look in his eyes told you his idea of “anytime soon” and yours were a bit different. “I used to be so afraid to commit and settle down, but somethin’ about her just…I don’t know. I just like her, a lot.” 

“I can tell,” you said, smiling at him. “I’m glad we both found our people.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Little weird that your person is my older brother, but I’m happy for ya nonetheless. I do feel like I should warn you about a couple things, though.”

“Oh yeah?” You laughed, nudging your chin at himc urging him to go on. 

“For starters, never feed that fucker beans, unless you wanna get dutch ovened all night long,” he said, earning a laugh. “And make sure he changes his boots out a couple times a year. His feet start to fuckin’ stink like you wouldn’t believe when he doesn’t.”

By the time Tommy had got through warning you about every one of Joel’s “bad” traits, Joel and Sarah were walking through the door. Sarah carried a happy grin as she ran over to your side, hugging you tightly. Joel gave you a wink as he passed you, a box of donuts in his hands. 

“I’m so happy you and my dad are in love!” Sarah exclaimed, jumping up and down. You gave Joel a wide eyed look as you fought off a laugh while Tommy chuckled unabashedly. 

“I thought it’d be better to tell her myself,” he said, his eyes turning soft as he delivered a donut to you. No, scratch that. Not a donut, your favorite kind of donut. 

God, this man never stopped making your heart melt. 

“Was that alright?” he asked, his tone soft and careful. As if he expected you to be angry that he told his daughter in private. 

“Of course it’s alright,” you said, kissing his palm as he reached to cradle your cheek. 

“Ew, Sarah,” Tommy said, making a face as he welcomed his niece onto his lap, pointing at the two of you. “Aren’t they gross?”

“No,” she turned and gave him a stern look as she swatted his hand back down to the table. “Don’t make fun of them.”

“Good guard dog,” Joel said, earning a swat to his stomach. 

“Daddy, can I have one like that?” Sarah pointed at your donut, reminding you of its existence. Joel had a way of making your mind go blank to everything that wasn’t him, but now your stomach was growling at the sight of it in front of you. 

“Comin’ up, baby girl,” he said, grabbing one out of the box and setting it on a napkin. “Want me to cut it up for ya?”

“No,,” she said, making grabby hands for it as he walked it over to her. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Yeah. Thank you, daddy,” you echoed, making Joel arch his brow at you with interest. 

“Y’all are sick,” Tommy scoffed, lifting Sarah off his lap so that he could stand up. “I came over to steal some orange juice, and now look what I have to deal with.”

“Oh, quit bitchin’,” Joel said, shoving a bear claw towards his brother. “You mind watchin’ Sarah for a little while we get ready?”

“I have a feelin’ get ready means somethin’ nasty, but yeah, I’ll watch her,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “Just keep your gettin’ ready noise to a minimum for our sake.”  

“No promises,” you said, winking at him as you stood up with your donut, the throw blanket still wrapped around your shoulders like a cape as you led Joel upstairs to the sound of Tommy gagging. 

The second you were behind closed doors, Joel had his hands on you. He pressed you against the door, shucking the blanket off your shoulders and molding his lips to slot between yours. You giggled at his eagerness and gentle pushed him away, just enough to speak. “Can we talk about how casual Sarah was about the two of us being together before you ravish me?”

Joel chuckled, leaning in to peck your lips. “Yeah, she wasn’t all that surprised when I told her. Just said she was happy because that meant she got to spend more time with you. Thinkin’ maybe she’s been more observant than we thought.”

“Or maybe we’ve just gotten sloppy at hiding it,” you said, combing his hair back with a sad smile. “Either way, I’m glad it’s out in the open now, and that at least there’s a few people in our lives that support us.”

Joel frowned, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Your dad’s gonna come around. I know it.”

You let out a deep exhale and shrugged. “I just wish I could’ve told him in my own way. I hate that he found out like that.”

“It was my fault,” Joel said, resting his forehead against yours. “I should’ve double-checked—“

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “No, it was no one’s fault. I shouldn’t have had to sneak around behind his back to be happy. And he shouldn’t have blown up like that. I know I lied—we lied—but there was a big part of me that hoped once he found out, he’d just be happy for me. Happy that I’m happy. Happy that I’m in love for the first time in my life.”

Joel softened at that, pulling you in for a hug. He tucked your head beneath his chin and held you close, allowing your heartbeats to sync in time with one another. 

Moments like these, when it was just the two of you, made all the hard shit totally and completely worth it. 

“Love you, honey,” Joel said, kissing the top of your head. 

Those three words you never once expected to hear slip from his lips had found their way straight to your heart, carved in the deepest and most precious part of you. No matter what happened, you’d always have that—the forever mark of Joel’s love.