#the last of us fluff

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: And Then There Were Four...

notes: I had a request a long time ago asking about the fam going to a water park. This took me so long because Its actually quite a big chapter! strong recommend reading! This takes place when Sarah is around 4 but Ellie is not quite born yet. Some Tommy and Maria development here as well!

Warnings: pregnancy announcement, some post pregnant body insecurity, unprotected sex, silght breeding kink, pool sex, mentions of unplanned pregnancies, not proofread

18+ ONLY

- - - -

There’s never been such a hot, sunny, cloudless, beautiful summer day. 

At least, according to Sarah. Who conveniently saw a TV commercial about the local water park, SplashTown, and now is raving about when you’ll be taking her. Calling up the weather forecast each day like the local advertisement “the PERFECT day for a water park!” She exclaims like a salesperson.

Honestly? It was a good call by your almost 4-year-old. It’s been a long time since your family took a day trip to do something fun. She’s starting to get the age that she’s going to remember these things, so making family fun is now a top priority for you. 

Joel agreed, though he wasn’t all that excited about spending an entire day with sun burn and bleached chorine and back bruises on those hot ass plastic slides.

So here you are, all piled in the truck with Joel at the helm, and you in the passenger seat rubbing his thigh; your giddy little girl in the back pointing towards the approaching parking lot signs. and—

“Wow I haven't been to a water park in decades!” Tommy shouts from the other back seat. “Joel, remember we used to go by ourselves when I was like 14?”

Joel just sighs loudly, ignoring his jumpy overgrown brother reverting to his child like stasis.

"Remind me again why we had to bring Tommy?” He asks you grumpily.

"The tickets were cheaper if we bought it as a set of 4 rather than 3 individual.”

Your husband shakes his head with tight lips. “Yet another reason 4 is the perfect number for a family,” he says, recalling that day on the beach where he revealed his not so subtle opinion on just how many children the two of you would ideally have. 

You raise your brows amused.

Tommy shouts from the back, “What are doin’ for dinner, by the way?”

Joel rolls his eyes. He’s focused on the road head while wiggling four of his chunky fingers in your face, mouthing ‘F-O-U-R’ in an I-told-you-so kind of way. You ruffle his soft curls affectionately.  

Your stomach churned uneasily since you woke up at 8 this morning. It’s been a minute since you were out and about in public wearing nothing but a bathing suit. Going to the beach with a 8 month pregnant body is one thing. Going to a water park with a post pregnancy one is another. One you were never really worried about until this very day.

You take a deep breath. 

You know that, no matter where you are or what shape you take, Joel’s always gonna look at you like Mr Owl with the tootsie pop — and you’re the tootsie pop— so the worry on that note settles a bit inside.

There’s other things, very recent things, to be anxious about for sure.

Once parked, walked (and skipped) towards the front entrance, tickets scanned at the gate, the four of you make your way to the cabana’s to get situated.

“Show me your backs, people,” you announce to your little huddle. Sarah, all decked out in her brand new pink and sparkle bathing suit complete with mesh tutu skirt, shuffles over first as you squirt a generous slob of sunscreen onto your palm and begin slathering it all over her body. Rubbing a little too aggressively, she squints and scrunches her face, but she doesn’t protest. You cake her face until her skin is a shade lighter than before.

“You’re gonna give her reverse cancer with all that,” Joel chuckles. You brush him off and smudge the excess on her little cheeks, squishing her cheeks as takes the abuse.

Now she’s whiter than cocaine on Christmas morning. 

You smile.

“You next, big boy.” 

Joel grumbles but sits between your legs and you begin rubbing it all over his face. 

While you don’t notice, he can’t help but grin at how you tilt your head and stick your tongue out like an artist working to preserve her masterpiece—protecting her family from the wretched sun.

“Back please!”

Joel yanks his top one handedly over his head, revealing his pasty skin. 

You hum and bite your lip. Yeah, Joel’s let  the role of ‘Dad’ take over his every demeanor. Body included. and FUck, if that soft tummy and broad shouldered man isn’t a sight for sore eyes…

It gets enough middle aged woman’s heads turning, so you quickly frown, slap his skin up and then usher his shirt back on. That sexy ass shit is for your eyes only.

“Thomas!” You scream, making Joel and Sarah curl inward.

The younger brother holds his hands up and back away. “I’m workin’ on my tan so uh—no I’m good.”

“You’re white as f—heck,” you correct yourself while sideways glancing at Sarah. “You’re gonna burn.”

“He’s too cool to be fearful of sunburn, babe,” Joel says, hoping you’ll forfeit the losing battle.

You all find a nice empty area with a few lawn chairs to set up base outside the tidal pool.

And of course, the child who only passed her toddler swimming lessons a few months ago is dying to get in the giant tub of crashing waves and cascading people.

“Please!pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” she whines, swinging on your arm and shouting it into the air.

You grumble. While you would much prefer she be in a body of water that is no deeper than a foot and is the width of a bathtub, you lessen your worry as seeing the waves aren’t on and there aren’t many people in there. “Can you at least wear your floaties?” You suggest, wagging the two arm holding balloons suggestively.

“Nah, we don’t need those, right bubba?” Joel rubs her hair. “I got her, babe. I’ll carry her the whole time.”

“Nooo!” Sarah protests, but Joel’s already kissing your forehead reassuringly (winning some Daddy points along the way) and scooping her into his arms.

“Stay in the shallow!”

Joel waves you off dismissively as they skip into the chlorine filled open sea.

Once gone, you notice Tommy checking his phone anxiously every few seconds but closing it disappointingly. A few women along the way eye him excitedly, but he just keeps to his phone the entire time.

“You doing okay?”

He shakes his head out of his trance. “Yeah. Just … haven’t heard from Maria today.”

Oh—shit. 

The last you heard, the two of them had a pretty nasty fight and Tommy had been crashing at your place for the last couple weeks. He had supposedly gone back to have a talk with her yesterday. He didn’t come back till morning, and didn’t really update you nor Joel on the situation. If anything, he looked perplexed, pale, and shaken. You feared maybe that was the final straw in their on and off relationship. Unfortunately, you are completely left in the dark as to what really happened.

You rub his shoulder calmly. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tommy takes a deep breath, channeling as much zen into his chest as possible before exhaling and nodding. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s… its actually—“

Squishing steps in her pool sandals while holding Daddy’s hand with a death grip, a completely drenched and shocked Sarah is walks back towards you. Her expression is just blank, dripping with water like she was baptized 12 times in a row and forgot whether she breathed air or water for a living.

“Sarah? Sarah honey are you okay?” You get to your knees and try to comfort her with warm hands along her arms. She just nods quickly, feinting something of a half smile, half frown all at once. She looks more confused than anything else.

Joel, who’s suspiciously quiet and equally drenched, is shaking. Though not from cold, but from sheer effort of trying to hide his laughs. “She got damn near waterboarded.” His face is so red, wheezing in a high pitched, barely audible tone while recalling the image.

He had taken her way deeper than “shallow”, and made Sarah promise not to tell mommy. The two snickered, and Joel hoisted her on his shoulders and waded into the deeper end, where the water came up to his mid section. The waves came on, and Joel was honestly expecting to be able to jump with him and give her a little ride. She was super excited, smiling giddily while Joel held both her hands in his next to his ears. The first wave came up to Joel’s cheek, and he quickly squirted it out with a smile. She laughed with excitement, ready for the second one—

Instead, the second wave completely kicked his ass and knocked both them off his feet, falling backwards before regaining ground. All he saw were a pair of flimsy pink sandals attached to a little pair of feet wipe past his vision before being dunked underwater. He stood quickly, shook off the water from his head and eyes. Only to realize he was a whole 3-year-old lighter.

 “Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he frantically looks around, already imagining the horror you’re going to have at the fact he just drowned his babygirl before—

He catches a glimpse of her tutu flailing under water with a foot within grasp as she waved her arms to get back up to the surface on her own. He snatched that ankle, yanks her in the air, and sets her upright. 

“Baby, are you okay?”

Sarah nods, blowing water out of nose. She seemed totally fine, really, just a little confused as to which way was up. Joel protectively wraps her body with his, blocks the next wave from knocking her out of his sight with his feet firmly planted and prepared this time.

“Shallow,” she says plainly, pointing back towards the shore, and Joel has nothing more to add but complete agreement. He grabs her arms securely and wades back, never once letting he go.

Now though, the thought of it is a lot funnier than when it was happening. 

“Almost lost her for a sec. Did you know those waves were like 10 feet high?"

"That's so not funny,” you scowl, although you could imagine you two little idiots getting wiped out by a controlled wave like a human sized super soaker, before retiring in defeat.

“Sarah, how about we stick to the toddler pool, okay?”

She gives two enthusiastic thumbs up in extra agreement. 

“Hey wait, I ain’t a toddler. what about me?” Tommy interjects.

Joel tuts. “You’re actin’ like one.” 

“Slides? Anyone?” The younger brother points behind him towards the water slide heaven.

Or as you view it, the bloodied noses, brush burn, cold shock lagoon.

“Can we do floaty one? Please mommy pleasepleaseplease—“ Sarah tugs at your arm incessantly. 

You grumble, but even Tommy is doing his best puppy eyed beg at you.

-

“Why are all these stairs—ugh��made of wood? Falling apart, termite ridden, not up to Miller Contracting Code—“

“They’re just fine, sweetie,” Joel reassures you. Although he too side eyes the state of the construction and wonders if this will be the first and last Miller family trip together.

The two of you finally catch up to the rest of the line, bending backwards to stretch your backs and sucking air.

You glance up at the perky fit ass that’s connected to Tommy above you, who’s just vibrating with excitement. He literally jogged up these stairs, two at a time, not even huffing, and he carried both sets of floats. This particular slide can do a two seater rider.

“I wanna slide with Mommy!” Sarah shouts. 

The four of you then look at the remaining buddies who need to reverse cowgirl floaty.

“I aint little spoonin’ you,” Joel says after they size each other up.

The worker who is helping you and Sarah get saddled up in the slide chimes in on Joel and Tommy conversation. “Smaller rider in the front.”

“That’s you,” they both say to each other in unison.

“I’m taller—“

“I’m older—“

“I’m not bottoming for you—“

“Why would you say it like that?”

“Get in the front, pops!”

“You first, kid, since ya got all that youthful energy—“

“JUST GET IN THE BOAT,” you shout over them, causing everyone to go quiet and look your way.

The light flashes green and you and Sarah are pushed off into the dark tunnel with an echoing “Wooooo!!!!” 

Tommy sticks his tongue out and gets in the front, Joel in the rear, the two of them fighting over foot placement and elbows squishing balls before the worker just kicks them down and hopes for the best.

You and Sarah gracefully emerge, skidding across the water gently before coming to a stop to disembark.

Your back is certainly killing you but you fake only smiles for your excited kid who thought that was a roller coaster.

A second later, Joel and Tommy’s floaty comes barreling down the slide next to yours—with no bodies in it—

OH sorry, one body, Tommy, coming down on his belly face first and—oh there’s Joel a moment later shooting out feet first and slamming into his brother as the two are catapulted way further into the pool than should be possible with the minimal flow of water coming.

Both disoriented Millers jump up from the water, shaking their heads vigorously. Tommy spits water from his mouth, just as Joel grasps his head and dunks him back under.

“I’m riding with your wife next time,” Tommy growls, rubbing his shoulder with a wince. 

Joel spits a stream of water on his face. “Over my dead body.”

“Your husband sucker kicked me in the back!”

“Oh yeah, not before he bit my damn ankles!”

“Maybe don’t shove your feet in my face?”

You sigh heavily. You’re kinda glad you didn’t have boys.

“Me n you next, right?” Tommy says your way, ignoring Joel’s death glare.

“No,” Joel interrupts once again to Tommy’s annoyance. “Because then Sarah would have to ride with me, and she doesn’t wanna, she wants to ride for her momma. Honestly babe, you’d be doin’ a dissatisfaction to your own daughter who’s only wish is to stick with her favorite person in the whole world,” he gleams as if he’d just presented the winning argument for a Nobel Peace award.

You shrug. “Okay, then you can ride with Tommy again.”

Joel’s eyes go wide. “Ya know sometimes kids need to learn hard lessons about not getting what they want and this is a perfect opportunity for Sarah. Sorry kid, you’re with uncle Tommy.”

After the second slide down, you and Joel’s backs are absolutely whipped.

The two of you don’t even need to communicate the envy you have of Tommy’s youthful body, springing back into action when he gestures towards another torture device:

“Let’s do the big one.”

“No. Hell no. I’m not a teen anymore. Body won’t survive it.”

“Yeah Tommy, you go ahead. That’s…Joel nor I would be able to get up from that.”

The younger Miller scoffs. “A slide? Seriously? You guys really are getting old.”

You and Joel look at one another. “Baby are we…getting old?” You ask incredulously.

Neither one of you are upset about it. Instead, you grin warmly at one another.

Getting old with the love of my life sounds like the best thing in the world. 

-

You make your way to the much safer, happier, safer, splashy, safer kiddie pool that is much safer for kids your daughter’s age.

As Sarah wades in the water up to her belly, Joel and Tommy huddle under the jellyfish water canopy of shade, sighing contently under the cool flow of water splashing their heads.

“I’m gonna go use the bathroom,” you announce, and Joel waves you off.

He never realized how fucking exhausting just walking and getting wet was. (He wonders if that’s what your life is like) 

“DADDY!” Sarah shouts, jumping in the water for the giant bucket overhead that she’s too short to reach.

Joel slaps his knees and gets to his feet, entertaining her as she gets absolutely pommeled by a few gallons of water.

They splash around together, him hoisting her in the air by her arms then dipping in again with smiles and laughter. It’s all fun, until he gets the odd itch there’s something off with you genuinely not being here.

 A seemingly single, girl dad all wet and shirtless, playing with his kid in the kiddie pool, the ONLY dad playing in the kiddie pool amongst all mothers… He looks up and sees every single woman in here eying him like a piece of meat, and he knows he's in deep shark territory.

Frantically looking around, he picks Sarah up like a football and waddles helplessly through the crowd of predators, desperately needing his wife back. 

As if sensing his trouble, he sighs relief when he sees you pumping your arms, steam billowing from your nose like a ranging bull and wading in like splitting the Red Sea, dead set on his rescue. His one and only great white shark here snap them all away with your snarls, growls, and hinged jaw. 

Joel immediately wraps his arm around you and never leaves your touch.

Eventually you all sit in the sand pit while Sarah sits between the three adults, making castles.

Joel clears his throat. “So how’s Maria doin’? Ain’t heard much lately.”

Your eyes go wide as you slap Joel’s shoulder.

“Ow—what!”

“They’re” you lower your voice, though sheepish Tommy can hear perfectly well. “They’re taking a break.”

“Oh—oh! Oh I’m—okay no that’s … good. Some times some space—“

“Actually,” Tommy says, but the way he brushes his elbow makes you snap back at Joel. 

“Stop it! You’re making this worse—“

“Nobody tells me anything!” Your husband whispers.

“Yeah and this is why!”

“Maria and me—“ Tommy starts again.

Joel winces when you bring your hand down on his bicep again. “Stop slapping me! You’re gonna give me slap AND sun burn!”

“Joel, seriously!”

“Woman, I swear!—“

“We’re pregnant.”

You both go silent, minus the clank of your sunglasses siding off and falling on poor Sarah’s noggin.

The younger Miller brother is radiating more anxiety than the sun UV rays right now. 

Joel quietly raises his hand up for a calm high five. You bare your teeth and quickly slap it down.

Tommy rubs his shoulder tensely. “I’m just…I don’t know. Nervous.” 

“Are you two…?”

“We’re …together. I think it was a cold shock but it—kinda put shit into perspective, ya know? I think even she admitted breaking things off was probably because of the pregnancy—before she even knew it. Was off hormonally but didn’t realize why until the test.”

“What did you two even fight about?”

“Tommy chuckles, suddenly realizing how stupid their argument was. “She got mad cause I left the toothpaste cap open on the sink.”

“Oh man, even I could have told you she was pregnant. Better get out now. They don’t get any better,” Joel teases sarcastically, bumping your shoulder in jest.

You smile warm bright and with an underlying venomous sting that even he can’t detect. “Hey Joel sweetie? Can I see your tongue?”

“Mmhm why?” He says, already sticking the whole thing out on display, wide and ready and trusting as always.

You toss a fistful of sand in his mouth. Joel doubles back and chokes, taking a moment to hack up the grains sticking to everything. As he coughs and spits and sputters, you rub Tommy’s shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay. How are you feeling about it?”

He shrugs with a nervous laugh. “I don’t know what comes next. You guys did it after you were married. Feel like I’m all out of step now,” he laughs nervously. 

“Honey, it really doesn’t make a difference. Joel and I…we didn’t—“ you look down at Sarah who’s busy making bridges for her smudged up castle, before covering her ears with both palms slapped together like a head sandwich. “We didn’t plan her either. It just happened to be after we were married.”

Joel returns to the conversation with a hoarse choke. “Earned that one,” he croaks. After clearing his throat a bit, he finally slaps Tommy’s back. “Congrats, man. It’s really…it’s really the best thing…” he glances back over at you and Sarah, glowing in more ways than just the hot sun. He almost forgets time hasn’t stopped, that he’s not just oogling at his wife and baby like the greatest sight in the world (minus the fact he’s still got grains of sand under his tongue). He shakes his mind from your hypnotic glory before reassuring Tommy that everything is one day at a time.

Tommy agrees. “I just needed a minute to process it. I think—I’m actually—well… I’m excited…?”

You chuckle. “Is that a question?”

“I mean… I don’t know. I never gave it a thought. Never thought family life was for me. Maria is all for me, but I didn’t… I never really thought about having a family with her till …uh.”

“Till you saw how freaking awesome we are,” you boast proudly with your hands on your hips. Sarah has no idea what’s going on, but one look at you, your head held high with a dignified glint in your eye and sun radiating off you like the queen you are, and the little one mimics your posture to the tee like a mini me.

Tommy giggles and shakes his head. “Yeah. Something like that.”

You kiss Sarah’s head with a big smooch before she goes back to making holes in the sand. 

“So you’re happy.”

He smiles. It’s soft, sincere, and so easy to overlook unless you knew what a genuine human being Tommy Miller can be once you strip back the ego and playful charisma. “I’m happy. But still … anxious.”

You can’t contain your inner excitement, shaking and then launching into a Tommy with the biggest, tightest hug you can muster as you swing him side to side. “Listen its gonna be rough sometimes but its gonna be magical, and I know you two are going to do great. You’re gonna be such a great dad Tommy, I know it.”

He’s relieved to hear it from someone for the first line. As if it was the one thing he needed to know.

“I love you, and I say this respectfully, but you better get your ass back over to her as soon as we get home.” You put your hand on his shoulder. 

“Yeah yeah I know.”

Your smile wains for a moment, quiet yet almost threatening. He can feel the tightening of your finger tips digging into his muscles.

Tommy picks up on your thoughts real quick.

 “You can’t get all angry at Maria just cuz she didn’t tell you first.”

“I guess I’m just CHOPPED LIVER to her, her BEST FRIEND and she doesn’t even—!” you start stammering, getting louder and more agitated before Joel puts his hand on your head like an off button. “I need to calm down.” You pinch your fingers to your thumbs and take a deep breath, channeling inner zen. It suddenly dawns on you, the convenient timing of this all. “Oh my god, I can’t wait!”

“For what?” Joel asks curiously.

“Um—to be an aunty! Sarah with a cousin!” You quickly reply. “Uncle Joel!”

Shit. 

Joel gives you a confused look. It definitely wasn’t what you were gonna say. He knows that.

“Are you—?”

“Hot dogs!” Sarah shouts, pointing towards the cart that is sizzling up some fresh wieners and whose scent is wafting into your baby’s bloodhound-like nose. Thank goodness for it, as Joel and Tommy are seemingly distracted now with their equally hungry bellies.

Joel stands and dusts off his creaky knees from the sand. “You want one, babe?” He offers a hand out to help.

You rub your belly with a frown. “I’m good, I’m just gonna sit here for a bit. You go get her two.”

He winks at you before rushing off to Sarah, who’s already dragging Tommy to the cart about to con him in getting her some ice cream too.

-

By the End of day, everyone has warm skin, dried hair, droopy eyes. Sarah and Tommy and passed out on each other in the back. Tommy’s skin is tender to the touch, already starting to flake since he didn't want sun screen. 

Joel drives silently. He looks at you, who's slowly succumbing to sleep on the passenger as you stare out the window peacefully. 

At home, you rinse Sarah’s hair in bath and she's barely able to sit up. You pat her dry before she collapses in bed. 

Joel asks Tommy to watch after Sarah. The younger Miller nods, crashing on the couch with the fan on high.

“Psst!” Joel taps your shoulder. You were about to get undressed yourself when he nodded his head to follow. 

“What?” You ask curiously, closing the front door behind you as he sneaks you off to the community pool that’s closed after 6. Joel had maintenance keys to do any service stuff for the neighborhood, which included access 24 hours.

“Are you breaking into the pool?” You scoff.

“Me? No. I got clearance to work here. You? Yeah. Sneaky bad girl—“

The gate clicks open and Joel ropes you inside quickly.

You giggle as he latches the gate shut, his arm still around your waist. “What are we doing here, Miller?”

“What? It’s adult swim hour.” He draws you in close, his body pressed against yours. “Don’t ya wanna go skinny dipping’ with me?”

“I’m gonna keep my suit on this time.” You strip off your shirt and soaked shorts, and Joel does the same, making sure to watch you fully before he blinds himself with his own shirt.

You slip into the pool, sighing. It’s calm and quiet, cool to your sun-warmed skin. You were looking forward to just floating and unwinding until—

Joel rushes to you, wading in the water. You let out a shriek as he grabs your ass under water and wraps your legs around him. Cupping your face and kissing you, he backs you up against the wall. 

“I wanted to do this all day,” he rasps, sucking your neck with passionate kisses. “You look so fuckin’ amazing.”

Despite the arousal, the needy whimpers you let out as he ruts his hard on against the seam of your crotch, you gulp. Your mind had been distracted all day, but now seemed like a good a time as ever.

"I had that appointment,” you tell him softly.

He continues to pepper you with hot kisses, taking your bathing suit strap down your shoulders. Mmm? Which one?" He bites into your shoulder blade teasingly.

"Ya know. With Spoon being protective around me..."

"Yeah, she loves ya,” he hums. He pulls your body flush against his, feeling the hard and soft outline of his torso and chest. 

“…And… all the Pepsi, I’ve been drinking.”

He chuckles softly. "That ain't a medical emergency baby.” He continues to kiss down your neck. “Besides, ya only get like that when you're...." 

He stops kissing, pulling away with realization in his eyes. H parts his lips, as if he’s let out a breath but hasn’t sucked another in. Looking to you, really, genuinely, as if it’s the first time today he’s actually put all his attention to you. Consciously knowing he should have known the whole damn time.

And you confirm it all with casual smile:

“I’m pregnant.” 

There’s a frog that croaks from the grass next to you. The water filter plugging every so often in the distance.

"You’re....pregnant,” he repeats.

"Um yeah. What do you … think about that?”

He tries to find the correct words. Its like a bunch of lines of code are rambling through his brain, visibly on his face, but he can't help the first honest thought that tumbles out his mouth: “My dick is hard.”

You both combust into laughter.

He rubs his forehead on your collar embarrassingly. “I’m sorry shit that’s… that was my first thought. Oh my god, are you serious? Like really???"

You nod biting your lip.

"Holy shit, oh my god thats--! Wait are you… are you okay, are you excited? I mean, shit, I know we talked about it, kinda, but—but you don't have to be, we don’t have to--"

You can’t hide the gleeful smile bursting through your teeth. “I’m excited.”

He hugs and kisses you. “Me too!” He lets out a breath before gyrating his hips deeper against you, grinding the excitement directly against your cunt. “M’sorry, I cant help it. Fuck oh my god."

“Me too—Joel—please—I want to—“

He slips himself out of his trousers while rubbing your clit through your bottoms. "I knew you were glowing today. Thought it was just me. Fuck. Gonna make me a Daddy again. Wife's got such a fertile pussy. Shit. When do ya think it was?"

"That night--in the car. We went onna date"

"Shit really did breed ya on some back road. Fuck—“ he squeezes his eyes tight. “M’ not gonna last.”

“Should we be—doing this? In the pool? Thought no bodily fluids…”

“Its fine—I’ll clean it—“ he hastily rubs himself against your entrance

You chuckle. “The whole pool? That’s too much. We can get out and—“

“No—baby fuck I gotta have you now. Can’t wait another—“he slips his tip inside, and the two of you groan, frozen and clinging to one another. “ahhhhhh—second.”

You wrap your arms around his broach shoulders tightly, your noses rubbing against one another. You both huff, mouths gaping. You begin to ride him slowly. 

“That’s my girl—that’s my momma,” he groans. One meaty hand is planted firmly under your ass, assisting your bounces, the other flat against the pool edge, holding you up so you don’t bruise your back. His biceps flex deliciously in the water. 

You feel dizzy and alive all at once. Panting against one another, neither of you can contain your excited smirks. The thrill of your pregnancy, of doing it in a pool, of being sneaky and yet being the age you are now…it felt surreal. 

Or maybe that was just the pregnancy hormones all over again…

It’s as if he read your mind. “Holy fuck I can’t wait—I can’t wait—“ he mumbles again and again. He’s thinking about your body, your belly, breasts, milk, 2am cravings and baby shoes and a new crib he can make, strollers and car seats and you and his whole family in his arms—

“I love you so much,” you keen. He fills you just right. He always had. A damn professional at making you sing every time. 

“I love you.” He thrusts a little more incessantly, as best he can through the water. Your bodies ripple waves outwards from your motions, disturbing the pool’s serenity. 

“We’re gonna have a baby,” you jeer.

“F-fuck—say it again—“ he growls.

“Gonna—gonna be a mommy—make you a Daddy again—!“

“More—Fuck—gimme more—“

neither of you have more to give at the moment. Seizing up, fingers clawing into one another’s skin, you both gasp, stilling with his cock rammed deep into you until you could feel his balls twitch against your bottom. He lets out an animalistic grunt with the first squirt of his cream into you, and your walls soon follow with perfect flutters that has him stuttering.

“I’m —so in love—“ he gasps, teeth grinding as he ruts his seed deep into you. He can barely see straight. 

“Me—me too,” you moan. You feel like you’re on fire despite the cool water surrounding you. Everything hot and tense and heavenly as you ride out that high. 

It takes a moment for you two to relax, still wrapped in each other’s embrace. It feels like home.

As he’s huffing into your shoulder, he starts laughing. Big and hearty and full of love. “You know what this means?”

You shake your head.

“I can finally kick Tommy out of family gatherings!”

You roll your eyes, unable to hide your own smirk.

“FOUR!” He shouts. “I’M GONNA HAVE ANOTHER BABY! That Makes FOUR OF US! Fantastic F—!”

You slap your palm over his lips. “Have you forgotten we’re not supposed to be here??”

He shrugs, kissing your hand instead.

You get yourselves as decent as possible before sneaking back out and over to your house. What was a very exhausting day just reinvigorated both your spirits for the rest of the night.

Tommy is still drooling into the couch when you tip toe back inside with shushed giggles.

“Oh my god—“ you gasp. Your earlier thought dawning on you.

Joel cups your belly, holding you close. “What is it?”

You smash his cheeks with both hands. “Maria and I are both going to have babies—together!”

Joel’s face frowns despite your obvious excitement. He glances at Tommy—the poor bastard having no idea what storm is about to hit.

You stomp your feet happily, smiling like a clown. But it quickly fades, and suddenly you’re breathing heavily, eyes shining with tears that begin to spill.

“What—what’s wrong baby?”

“I— I don’t—“ you hiccup and sniffle, unable to hide your emotional turmoil. “I want—I want—“

He’s desperately wiping your sudden tears with his thumbs, terrified of what’s going on right now.

“I WANT A MILKSHAAAAAKKKEEEE!” You bawl, finally tilting your head back and crying loudly into the air.

Tommy stirs awake, confused. “What’s wrong? What the hell did you do?”

Joel stares off at him. Jesus. it’s absolutely insane how quickly it all was happening again.

Sarah walks into the living room, awakened by your raucous crying. She rubs her eyeballs. “W-what’s wrong with—mommy?” She asks, concern dripping from her voice. 

“Nothing baby, mommy is just—“

But the sounds of your loud, child-like sobs triggers Sarah’s worry, making her eyes water and tears spilling too.

Now both of you were crying.

Tommy covers his ears, looking between the two of you. “What is happening!”

The older, very older, Miller just puts his hands on his hips. He’s certain by the end of this pregnancy, he’ll lose full hearing in his left ear.

“We’ve got a rough year ahead of us, brother.”

Tommy tilts his head. “We?”

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld @urlivingdeadgirl @yourmommycallsmemommy @kellielovesmovies @whoaitspascal87 @yournameyn @jeewrites

[luvvyouforever]

random domestic and modern-ish joel miller headcanons (because he's in my head)

: ̗̀➛ joel is the type to poke fun at your reality tv shows and say "aw, no, baby, why are you watching this?" and then he stands just feet away from the tv, watching the hot new bombshell enter the villa. and then, before he can catch himself, he turns to you like "can you believe this shit?" so then you give him context and explanations for everyone. he'll deny it the next day

: ̗̀➛ joel loves playing with your hair and he's so gentle with it. it doesn't matter if you have shorter hair he can just barely run his fingertips through or curls he can very softly detangle or long hair he can get lost in. also, a little note, because of sarah, he's not bad at doing your hair either. he can do simple braids and ponytails and would help you with his glasses on, tongue stuck between his teeth.

: ̗̀➛ joel never really sleeps in. on his days off, he's waking up a little after sunrise. he slowly peels himself from your warmth and tucks you back into the blankets, ensuring you don't miss an ounce of warmth. he'll make himself a cup of coffee and relax on the front porch, watching everyone slowly start their own day. when it gets closer to your wake up time, he'll make a quick breakfast, nothing fancy, but enough to give his love some sustenance.

: ̗̀➛ joel is like the neighborhood handyman and he loves it. you'll get a call from an older lady down the street whose dryer stopped working and he'll walk down with his toolbox, not leaving till it's fixed. the family across the street are struggling to get their hose set up so the kids can use their new pool and he rushes over with some pipe attachment he had in the back of his truck. such a gentleman <3

: ̗̀➛ his preferred date is cooking a nice dinner inside, setting up candles and flowers and all. the house is quiet, save for an old radio playing music on the kitchen counter, and he gets to sit right next to you, talking about your week. his hand sits like a firm weight on your thigh, not pushing for anything, just there as a comfort.

: ̗̀➛ joel would swear up and down that he doesn't want a dog, that he can't take care of it well with his blue collar work schedule. but then you come home with some big puppy with big paws and wide eyes and he's in love. he takes it out on walks whenever he can, buys it the fancy, unbreakable toys, and lets it sleep at the foot of the bed while you cuddle.

: ̗̀➛ joel lets you decorate the house to yours content. he recognizes that he doesn't have much of an eye for decor and only inputs the odd comment here and there about cabinet color or couch quality. he loves coming home to the warm environment you made, the cozy quilts strung over the back of the couch, and the pictures you have hung up on the walls.

: ̗̀➛ joel is so fiercely protective of you and sarah. if there's a sound at night, he's up in his pajama pants checking on everything. he tells sarah to go in the room with you and he encourages you to lock the door behind you. when everything's all clear, he's coming back to bed, placating your worries with a kiss and a soft, sleepy smile. he doesn't like strangers coming up to the front door and gets to know his neighbors really well, always having backup for you.

: ̗̀➛ he loves a lake day with you. you'll pack up a whole days worth of food, sandwiches and meat to grill and drinks. he'll carry down fishing rods and cast his lines on the opposite side of the shore while you swim around. he gets distracted from fishing by watching you smile in the water and misses his rod getting pulled, but he doesn't mind.

: ̗̀➛ joel's ideal wedding with you is small, intimate, cozy. to him, it's not so much about the decorum, more so about marrying you. he'd like to have the ceremony in a small church, or maybe in the backyard of your house, or at some small lodge way up in the mountains. the reception would just be family around, eating and catching up and laughing and smiling. he wouldn't be able to stay away from you and would rather follow you around the whole night than spend a minute apart.

: ̗̀➛ he didn't plan to have another kid, sarah already filling his heart plenty. but when you handed him a gift box, wrapped with a pink bow and he opened it to find a positive pregnancy test, he realized having a kid with you would truly make him happy. he's as helpful as he can be during the pregnancy, offering to take up more household chores and uses all of his banked up sick days to come with you to appointments.

: ̗̀➛ he nests hardcore. tears apart the old guest bedroom to make for your dream nursery. your house is a flurry of construction for at least a week as he executes your dream to an exact match. he baby proofs the entire house. he builds the baby's crib (this makes me sob).

: ̗̀➛ joel's so happy to be growing old with his family. when he retires sometime later in life, he'll want to use his pension to move out somewhere nice and cozy for the two of you, both kids having been moved out at this point in his life. you watch sunsets together on a porch, his gray hairs having taken over most of his head and beard. he plays the guitar softly for you and he swears he's never been happier.

[eufezco]

NEW OLD JOEL 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

old man!joel x younger!fem!reader

synopsis – after years on the road, you and joel finally settle in jackson and there's nothing you love more than coming back from work to your old man wearing those glasses.

smut. fluff

the last of us masterlist

after traveling what felt like the entire world following joel, you both finally decided to settle down in jackson. it was peaceful, a not so small community anymore where you could breathe again, where you could do more than just survive. eat three meals a day. sleep through the night without one eye open. and with all that peace came space, to feel, to think, to finally let yourself consider what had been quietly building between you and joel all this time.

he was reluctant at first. the age gap weighed on him more than it ever did on you. you’d never brought it up, never even seemed to notice it in the ways he did. but you two had lived too much together since you first started traveling with ellie. that kind of bond didn’t come easily. yet joel didn’t think he had the right to want something as soft, as tender, as the love you showed him. and jackson helped him with that. the town gave him the kind of peace he never thought he’d earn. and slowly, as the years passed, joel softened and started to accept the life he deserved and appreciate the little things.

the way you massaged his shoulders after a long day of work, the way he always made sure you were warm in the mornings when he had to leave early, how you'd wake up tucked beneath an extra blanket. you built a life together made up of shared breakfasts and quiet evenings walking through the snow-covered streets of jackson, of fixing things around the house side by side, of laughter in the kitchen when something burned, and the way he'd kiss your temple like it didn’t matter.

—hi, —you said coming into the house. joel looked up from where he was sitting at the table, glasses low on his nose, hands busy with something that needed to be fixed. his eyes softened the second he saw you.

—hey, darlin’, —he said, —you’re back early.

—yeah, the snow is getting worst, there wasn't much we could do in the garden, —you replied, shrugging off your coat and hanging it up by the door.

joel gave a small nod, eyes following your every move, —i figured, —he said, —how’s the ground looking? any chance we can save anything before the winter really sets in?

you sighed, taking a moment to pull off your gloves and slide them into your pocket. —a few plants are holding up, but it’s mostly the cold that’s making it tough. i’m thinking of giving it another shot in the spring, once everything starts to warm up.

joel hummed. you approached him and hugged him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. his hand, still holding the small tool, paused for a second before he gently placed it down, he took one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

—how was your day? —you asked.

—good, busy. dina told me the cracked main lines are full of roots. should've checked them but i forgot, —he rubbed his hands over his face, clearly annoyed with himself. you could see how much he cared about getting things right, about showing that he was still capable, still useful. he picked the piece again and fidgeted with it.

—it's okay, you can get it done tomorrow. the main lines aren't going to move, —you reassured him, your voice gentle, as you smoothed your hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm.

—yeah, you’re right. tomorrow’s another day, —the therapy sessions were working, somehow, because never in your life would you have imagined the joel you first met would learn to take things slow.

you kissed his cheek, his beard tickling your lips, as your hand slid slowly over his chest. you couldn't help but smile at how lost he was in the task, not even seeming to notice the way you were touching him. you pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his neck, letting your lips pressed there for just a second before pulling back.

—joel, —you murmured. your fingers brushed against his before you gently took the small tool from him and set it on the table. you moved closer, slipping one knee over his lap, easing yourself down until you were straddling him. —are you planning on working all night?

joel's hands instinctively found your hips, steadying you, surprised but not willing to stop you. —was just about done here, —he said, —then i was gonna give you every bit of my attention. but i see you've got other plans for me.

you loved how he looked with the glasses low on his nose, made him look more domestic, but you gently slid them off, folding them and setting them on the table. his eyes followed the movement, then back up to yours, darker now but entirely focused.

—thought you liked those, —he murmured.

—i do, —you whispered, —but i'm afraid they might get in the way.

he hummed, his eyes fixed on your lips.

you unbuttoned the flannel he wore beneath his jacket. he watched you, barely breathing, his hands still resting on your hips but his thumbs began to trace soft circles through the fabric of your jeans. you sighed softly as the last button came undone, revealing his body. your hand moved over his chest, tracing the old, pale scars that marked his skin. your eyes moved lower, taking in the softness of his belly, the way he relaxed under your gaze instead of tensing. you bit your lower lip, what if you said this was the sexiest he has ever looked?

—i couldn't wait to get back home to you, —you brushed your nose against his, you hips started rolling against his own. joel swallowed, his hands flexed where they held you, fingers tightening just a little.

—yeah? —he asked, his voice low, a little gruff.

you nodded, and your lips finally met his in a kiss that felt like it had been waiting to happen all day. it was desperate, needy, but slow and passionate. your fingers sank into the soft, graying hair at the back of joel’s head, tugging gently, needing him closer. he groaned low in his throat, his hands working hungrily on the zipper of your jeans.

you lifted your hips from his so he could slid your jeans down your legs and immediately after, you straddled him again. as your fingers worked on the buckle of his belt and then unzipped his pants, joel's big hands cupped your ass, pushing you forward and encouraging you to grind against his crotch.

you whined, feeling the rough fabric of his jeans through the thin one of your panties. you pulled down his underwear, just enough for his cock to sprung free. you connected your lips with his again, his hands now on your cheeks as you lowered yourself just enough for his tip to go in. he let out a deep grunt straight from his chest, you let out all the air you had in your lungs in a moan.

you took all of him. joel let his head rest on your shoulder as his hands traveled down your body to your hips. he helped you move, at first just rocking your body back and forth against his. your lips, half parted pressed together, made it easier for your breaths to mingle. then, you lifted your body and then dropped back onto him. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips while you repeated that same move again and again.

—fuck, yeah, just like that, —joel groaned in your ear.

you tried not to be so loud, you didn't want to attract anyone's attention or cause a scandal. but your cries and his moans eventually echoed on the walls of your living room every time you lifted yourself a bit more and then sucked his cock completely inside you again.

joel rose from the chair in one fluid motion, his strong hands holding your weight. with a sweep of his arm, tools and scraps went to the floor, forgotten. he laid you down on the now-cleared table, the wood cool against your back, contrast to the heat building between you as his cock never left your body.

—did so good for me, now let me take care of you, hm?

he grabbed your thighs with firm hands and guided your legs around his waist so he could go deeper. your heels pressed into his lower back as he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. the table cracked with each one of his thrusts and you feared it might break, it wouldn't be the first time joel would need to ask his brother for help in repairing a piece of furniture that you had broken since your arrival in jackson.

one of his hands sneaked in between your bodies and found your clit, his fingers moving fast and with urgency as he felt how you were getting tighter and tighter. you closed your eyes shut, feeling a little dizzy from all the panting as your body jerked and squeezed his own between your legs as you came. after that, he didn't last much longer and released himself inside you.

you both stayed there for a few minute. joel rested on top of you and with your legs still around him, you welcomed the weight of his body pressing you down onto the table. you played with his hair as he finally looked at you. you showed him a little smile and he gave a quick kiss to your lips.

—my body's gonna hurt so much tomorrow from this.

you giggled, —i'll make sure to give you the best massage ever.

you showed him a little smile, and he gave you a quick kiss to your lips. but as you pulled away, both of you noticed the mess of tools and pieces scattered across the floor, the work joel had been focused on before everything had shifted between you.

—i'm afraid you're gonna have to start all over again.

—with that or with you?

[cinnasite]

what NOT to do with your brother's best friend

by: someone who absolutely did all of these things

꩜ pairing: modern!au abby anderson x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 700 (ish)

꩜ synopsis:  a cheeky, steamy confessional from a girl who’s broken every rule in the book. 

(i) Don’t flirt with Abby Anderson.

Even if she could probably bench-press your car. Even if she’s got that annoyingly sexy jawline and calls you "pretty" in a voice that makes your brain short-circuit. Especially not if she’s stretching in front of you after sparring with your brother and lifts her stupidly tight Henley to wipe sweat off her face.

That was the first time you imagined her between your legs. Certainly not the last.

(ii) Don’t let her stay the night.

Her apartment’s getting fumigated. You don’t question why she asked you instead of your brother. She offers to sleep on the couch. You’re not an idiot—her legs don’t even fit on that sad excuse for a sofa.

So yeah, she ends up in your bed.

No. 

No, it’s not like that. Except... you’re still panting from when she rolled on top of you at 2 a.m. and asked if you were dreaming about her. And then her thigh had slotted between yours.

You don’t remember how it started, just how it felt when her hand slipped under your shirt as her teeth found your neck.

She made you come with two fingers and her lips over yours. You clawed the sheets and came again five minutes later when she pushed your knees back and murmured, “Wanna see how loud you really get.”

(iii) Don’t let her teach you how to fight.

“You’ll feel safer walking alone at night,” she says. What she really means is: “I want an excuse to pin you to the mat.”

You’re on lesson #3 when her legs bracket your sides. She leans close, smirking, “Giving up already, pretty?”

You buck your hips and somehow manage to flip her, but make the mistake of getting too cocky. She flips you right back.

When your brother unexpectedly walks in, you’re red-faced, trying not to look like you’re seconds away from jumping his best friend.

Later, after he’s gone, she keeps you under her, eyes twinkling mischievously. “You like being tossed around, huh?”

Lord give you strength.

(iv) Don’t drink with her alone.

You pour one glass of wine. Then another. You're laughing too much, sitting too close, your fingers brushing hers. She traces your collarbone with her thumb, "You always get this flirty when you're drunk?"

You answer by climbing into her lap. She drinks you in like it’s the only thing that’ll actually get her intoxicated. Your fingers tangle in her hair. Her hand slips under your skirt, and she hisses when she finds you soaked through. She eats you out on your balcony. Your climax hits you with your back arching to the stars and her mouth still on you.

She doesn’t let you go down on her until you beg.

You do. Twice.

(v) Don’t go with her to that weekend cabin trip.

You think: Separate rooms, separate boundaries. She thinks: One bed. No clothes.

By the time Sunday rolls around, you’ve had sex on the porch, in the shower, and bent over a countertop while she whispered, “When I'm done with you, you’re not gonna be able to sit right for a week, baby.”

You thank her by dragging your tongue down her abs until she forgets her own name.

(vi) Don’t fall for her.

This. This is the most important.

Because it's not part of the plan. You were supposed to just have fun and sneak around. 

But, it’s her bringing you your favourite snacks without asking. Her hand drawing circles on your lower back when you’re anxious. Her grin when you make her laugh so hard, she snorts.

She tells you that you look good in her hoodie and you almost black out.

It’s the way she kisses you like she’s trying to remember every inch of your skin. The way she touches you like she’s memorising every bit.

It’s you realising she’s the safest place you’ve ever been in a long time.

It happens slowly. Then, all at once.

You fall. Good thing she catches you.

(vii) Definitely don’t tell your brother.

You do.

He only blinks, much too smugly informing you that "the way you two look at each other" made it plenty obvious from the get-go.

“Just don’t make me walk in on you guys dry-humping or something gross,” he groans, then goes back to his video game.

Abby kisses you breathless later in your apartment that evening and says, “Told you he’d be cool with it.” You punch her arm with a glare, embarrassed. She kisses you harder and happily lets you drag her to your room.

[meganegatari]

Okay.. but like, loser ellie but she’s also a stoner and explains the entire lore of spider man to you while you’re trying to have seggs and she’s like stoned out of her mind and yapping about literally spider man 😭

before you read!!

☆: THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY IM CRYING LMFAO had me dying for like 10 mins straight. this is longer than intended bc im a yapper as we know, and i kinda don't know much of the spiderman lore (and you can def tell oops)…BUT I LOVE THE WAY YOUR MIND WORKS NONNIE.

◇: sfw but suggestive themes. warning: FAR from my best work, just wanted to keep momentum going ig. basically just fluff, lots of buildup as usual SORRY i have to establish a plot before we get to the good stuff…they're of age obviously, their relationship is left vague/up for interpretation so fill in the blanks w/ your own thoughts! “babe” pet name usage, consumption of weed, duh. ok i suppose that's all. OH AND SBWM REFERENCE HAHAHA (shameless self plug :3) + 1.0k wc.

One nice, regular night, chilling at Ellie’s humble abode, getting high, the usual Friday evening activities. You both were laying down in her bed, wrapped up in her dinosaur bedsheets of course, you were resting your head on her chest, occasionally coughing and swatting away the residual smoke that lingered in the air.

The weed had made your head fuzzy and your mouth drier than the Sahara desert, but despite all the not-so-great things, you loved to get high with Ellie.

Sometimes you'd fuck, sometimes you'd talk about life and reminisce about the good, the bad, and the ugly, and sometimes you'd just lay there to enjoy each other's company.

She was so warm and comfortable, you simply wished to merge bodies and become one with her, to make a home inside her ribcage even. You'd be perfectly fine just napping there on her cushiony chest, listening to her steady heartbeat and slow intakes of breath, if it wasn't for the familiar ache of need between your legs.

Shifting to look up at her, she was so incredibly zooted out of her mind, you found it hilarious. Chunky glasses covered in fingerprint smudges and sitting crooked atop her nose, eyes blood-red and so heavy lidded, you'd have thought she was asleep had you not taken a closer look.

You lifted yourself up and pressed your lips to the side of her pink cheek, repeatedly kissing her soft, smooth skin. She let out a husky giggle, her voice all hoarse and crackly from the substance. “Hiiii.”

She dragged out the vowel, grinning widely at you. Her smile was infectious, and you laughed at her state. Burying your face again in the crook of her neck, you mumbled, “Hi Ellie…you're so cute.”

Tangled up together, you kissed her some more on her neck, wanting to be as close as possible to her. She sighed, and angled her head to give you better access to more surface area. “That feels nice.” She'd slur, and you were pretty turned on at this point, to say the least.

It was worth asking. “Ellie…do you wanna fuckkk?” You whisper against her ear, and watch in delight as the bright-red blush spreads across her entire face like a wildfire, even reaching her collar, and spreading underneathyour shirt. “Um, yeah, duh. C’mere.”

You pressed a sloppy kiss to her lips, tangling your hands in her auburn locks and parting your puffy lips to invite her tongue in, not noticing the spit dribble down your chin where your faces met. Her breathing quickened immediately, and she whined into your mouth, the kisses getting even messier to the point where your teeth were clinking together, so you backed away for a breather.

The two of you shifted positions so she was now on top of you, resting her hand on your hip, thumb rubbing small circles. She moved in to initiate more lip-locking, but pulled away abruptly.

“Babe I forgot to tell you, so y’know Peter Parker, right?” And there she goes.

“Yeah, yeah I know him, can you just-” You try to rush past the beginnings of her rambling, because you knew once she got started, there was no end in sight. At least for a while.

You tried pulling her in to meet your lips again by the back of her head, but were met with lots of resistance. She seemed to look more alert now, a miracle. The power of superheroes!

She shuffled off of you and sat upright, assuming a cross-legged position, clearly not noticing your exasperated huffs and purposely obnoxious eye rolling, and the fact that there was a whole-ass human, half undressed, horny girl on her bed right there in front of her, who was slowly losing patience.

Ellie just went to her own world. Her eyes sparkled with passionate wonder as she thought about the series so dear to her heart. “Okay I rewatched all the movies a few days ago and I noticed something new…”

You were ready to give up what you originally had in mind, she was too far gone. She talked and talked endlessly, and you had to feign interest, nodding along and murmuring, “Mhm, yeah Els. Wow that's cool. Huh, never knew.” As enthusiastically as you could, so she didn't feel like she wasn't being listened to.

It was worth noting too though, when she started info-dumping about her interests she really was adorable, an excitement in her grassy eyes you never see otherwise, gesturing wildly with her hands and mapping out ideas to make it easy for someone who's never seen any of it to digest all this new information.

“...And then, in the movies Into the Spiderverse and Across the Spiderverse, there's this character called Gwen Stacy.”

She stops to cough and clear her throat, now seemingly appearing to completely forget that you were even there.

“And- oh yeah! She's also in the comics and ugh she's awesome, I really love her suit. It's got a hood on it…if I were to have a spider suit, it would be her style. Hm, it would also be mostly like, green…with red accents, ah I'm gonna show you all the sketches I made of it. But anyway…”

To be completely honest, you've been out of the mood for enough time now, and you've come to the realization that it actually didn't bother you.

This was Ellie, and you loved her for her! There was always next time you two met for a smoke session, you just loved spending time with someone so treasured such as her, and you'd be lying to say the Spiderman world wasn't a little interesting.

"That's so cool, wait. Okay can you explain the timeline of it all, oh and also how do all these different movies interact, is it the same universe, or something like the multiverse I think you mentioned?”

[wchswift]

── 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

pairing! joel miller x f!reader

→ summary! after Ellie makes it clear, again, that she wants nothing to do with Joel, you follow him out of the barn and try to comfort him. → contents! post-winter dance scene, hurt/comfort, softness, emotional intimacy, established relationship. → word count! 764

Joel’s boots hit the snow hard and fast, like he could stomp out the ache in his chest if he tried hard enough. He hadn’t meant for things to go sideways. Hadn’t meant to snap. But he couldn't just stay there after Seth treated her like that. Saying that to them, thinking he was within his rights. Protect first, explain later.

Only Ellie didn’t want protection anymore. Not from him.

You watched it all. Ellie and Dina, hugging and kissing each other like the world was finally something light again. Then Seth happened—the way he looked at them, the way he treated them with poison.

The awkward shuffle of the crowd after Joel shoved the old man hard, words sharp and biting. Ellie’s face tight with that tangled mess of hurt and pride. Her words still hung in the air even now, heavy and biting—“What is wrong with you?”

You saw Joel flinch like she’d slapped him.

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

You let him walk off at first. Gave him space. But when he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, just kept disappearing into the dark like he meant to walk clear out of Jackson—you followed.

He didn’t hear you at first. Not over the wind. Not over whatever storm was raging in his head. But when you called his name, soft and sure, he paused.

“Joel.”

He didn’t turn around; he just let out a shaky breath, white in the cold air.

“Not a great party,” you offered gently, stepping closer.

He huffed, a joyless thing. “Didn’t come for the party.”

“No. I figured that.”

Silence stretched between you. Just the crunch of snow beneath your boots as you joined him, close enough to share the cold.

“She’s angry,” he said finally, voice low. “At me. Can’t blame her.”

“She’s a teenage girl,” you said quietly. “They stay angry at the people they love, Joel. It’s part of the job.”

“She don’t want me anymore.”

The words hit you hard. Not just because of the sadness in them, but because of how sure he sounded. Like it was a fact. Like he was already packing up that little piece of his heart and tucking it somewhere deep, where it wouldn’t hurt as bad.

You reached out, touched his arm, gentle.

“She does want you. She just doesn’t know how to say it when she’s mad.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to you finally. They were red-rimmed, jaw clenched so tight you could hear it grind. And beneath all that anger and shame was something raw—something splintered.

“You ever think maybe I’m just… bad at this?” he asked. “At all of it. Being here. Being with people. Keep screwin’ it up.”

You moved closer, your hand still on his arm. “Joel, if you were bad at it, you wouldn’t care this much.”

He looked down. His shoulders sank under the weight of whatever guilt he’d carried into that barn and out of it.

You reached up, brushing your fingers lightly along his jaw. He didn’t flinch—just closed his eyes like he needed that contact to breathe again.

“She needs time. But she’s not gonna stop loving you overnight. And neither am I.”

That last part slipped out like a secret, quiet but certain.

His eyes snapped open. He looked at you like you were some kind of miracle he didn’t know how to believe in.

“You love me?” he asked, like he’d never heard those words said to him like that before.

You smiled softly, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I do.”

Joel swallowed hard. His hand came up, covering yours, rough fingers trembling just a little.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” he admitted. “Don’t wanna lose her. Don’t wanna lose you either.”

“You won’t,” you whispered. “You’re not gonna lose either of us.”

And right there in the dark, surrounded by snow and silence and the distant echo of laughter from the barn, Joel leaned forward, rested his forehead against yours. No kiss. No words. Just two people holding on in the quiet.

You stayed like that for a long moment, until his breathing calmed. Until some of the weight lifted.

Then you took his hand, laced your fingers through his.

“C’mon,” you said. “Let’s go home.”

And for the first time that night, Joel let himself follow.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

⛥ main masterlist.

lina's notes: After watching the first episode of season 2 and already knowing what awaits us in the next chapters I had to write this!! This is my first time writing for Joel or any of Pedro's characters. I don't know if I'll write for him again but I love him so much and I just wanted to give him a little comfort :((

[wintfleur]

HERE COMES THE SUN !

“you’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off you”

jackson’s sunshine .ᐟᅟ romance books. polaroid pictures. paint stains on jeans. vinyl records. sowing. trading in things for more art supplies. animal whisper. affectionate. handwritten letters. warmth personified.

⠀﹙ 🌻 ﹚

sunshine!reader who’s presence is almost magnetic, she brings a comforting warmth and sweet smile wherever she goes—that makes you just immediately drawn to her. she treats everyone with kindness, helpful as ever. literally the embodiment of sunshine, warm, bright and kind.

sunshine!reader who likes to keep busy. volunteering at the school, daycare, shops, farm/stables, etc. she just wants to help everyone and she loves being social. She prefers helping inside of the community instead of going out on patrols. She only likes going on patrols with Joel, Tommy, and Jesse. feeling the safest with them.

sunshine!reader who appears to be weak and naive from her personality and lack of intimidation, but is far from it. She knows how to defend and protect herself, knowing her way around a gun and knife. She just prefers when others (jesse) takes care of her, not liking to get her hands dirty.

sunshine!reader who likes to trade things for more art supplies, art is like her escape. From painting, drawing, pressing flowers, sowing, and taking pictures with her polaroid camera that her uncle got her. she loves collecting things as well, all of it organized perfectly in her room. Buttons, records/cds, post cards, vintage jewelry, and more.

sunshine!reader who loves to make sure she looks and smells good always. In the hotter weather she loves wearing her short sundresses, shorts/skirts and her pretty tops, in the colder weather she loves wearing her favorite jeans and sweaters. She smells like a mixture of vanilla and sweet flowers, it’s addictive. She loves wearing jewelry, specifically bracelets, some vintage and some homemade that she made with the kids of Jackson.

sunshine!reader who is very expressive with her eyes. many has described her as having ‘doe eyes’

sunshine!reader who has a fear of being alone, so she’s always attached to someone’s hip.

sunshine!reader who is a hopeless romantic. She has read tons of romance books that just made her fall in love with the idea of being in love. And then when she got to Jackson she got to see her first romance movie, she tries to go to as many movies as she can. She cried when she was gifted a tv with a bunch of old movies.

sunshine!reader who loves to go outside the walls with jesse, to pick flowers and fruit. Or to just relax in the field and watch the wild horses. she always brings her pretty basket with her, the two of them having picnics. Or the two of them sneaking off to go take swims in the nearby rivers. Jesse loves watching her press flowers in her journals as they rest on a blanket in the field, or weaving them into her hair.

sunshine!reader who would love to be a mother, whether it’s from her own body or adopting a child. she loves helping take care of the kids, always so attentive to them. Everyone can see it. She would be an amazing mother.

“My gift is my song and this one’s for you”

˗ˏˋ SERIES MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

𝓻oro’s note. OH OUR DARLING GIRL ᐢᗜᐢ please tell me what you think of her ☺️

𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗕𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗢𝗡 @carmysdoll

ᆼᆽᆼ 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 & 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ！

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send an ask or comment on this post to be added to the taglist!

©️WINTFLEUR ; you can't copy, translate, reproduce, repost my fic, use my plot or layout.

[carelesslycrafted]

domestic lover!ellie

cw: smut/fluff

The Jackson evening was still and warm, moonlight spilling through the open windows of your cabin. You’d both skipped dinner at the mess hall, claiming patrol fatigue—but really, neither of you had wanted to be around other people. Not tonight.

You were stretched across your bed, flipping lazily through an old guitar magazine Ellie had brought by earlier, wearing nothing but an oversized band tee and underwear. The smell of pine and smoke still lingered on your skin from the day’s ride, and the way Ellie was looking at you from across the room was doing things to you.

She was sitting on the edge of the chair, strumming her guitar aimlessly, watching you over the body of it. Her eyes flicked down your legs, slowly—lingering at the way the shirt rode up your thighs. You smirked.

“You gonna keep staring or play me something?”

Ellie set the guitar aside without a word.

“I’d rather do something else.”

Your pulse skipped. She crossed the room in three strides and hovered over you, her knee pressing into the mattress as her hand found your thigh.

You sat up a little, grinning. “What’s gotten into you?”

Her mouth brushed your jaw, then your neck, voice low and gravelly.

“You’ve been teasing me all week. Thought it was my turn.”

You shivered as her fingers toyed with the edge of your underwear. You could smell her—leather, sweat, the faint scent of her soap. Everything about her made your body ache.

“Ellie…”

You didn’t even finish saying her name before she kissed you—deep and slow and confident, her body pressing you back into the mattress. Her hands slid under your shirt, palms hot against your waist as her mouth moved to your throat.

Every touch was deliberate. A slow build. She knew exactly what she was doing.

You moaned softly as her hand dipped lower, slipping between your thighs. She smirked against your skin.

“You’re already wet?” she whispered. “Damn, baby.”

You gasped as her fingers found your sweet spot, her mouth moving down to your chest, teeth grazing over your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt.

You reached down, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer. “Ellie, please…”

That snapped something in her. The shirt came off. Hers too. You tangled together like you’d done a hundred times before, but it always felt new—hot and breathless and full of fire.

The cabin was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, your breathy moans, her rough whispers in your ear—how good you were, how beautiful you looked, how she loved the way you said her name when you came undone.

She didn’t stop until your thighs were trembling, until you were whining her name like a prayer.

When you finally collapsed against her chest, sticky and breathless, she kissed the top of your head and pulled the blanket over both of you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

You smiled into her skin. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not done with you either.”

And the night wasn’t over.

You weren’t sure what woke you first—the warm sunlight pouring in through the curtains, or the steady, slow circles Ellie was tracing on your bare back with her fingertips.

She was lying on her side, tangled in the sheets with you, one leg draped over yours, her face buried partly in your hair. Her touch was lazy, absentminded, but grounding. You hummed, sleep-heavy and aching in the best way.

“Good morning,” you mumbled against her chest.

She chuckled softly, voice husky. “It is now.”

You tilted your head to look at her. Her hair was a mess, eyes still half-lidded, freckles standing out in the soft light. She looked beautiful—wild and spent and smug.

“Your hands are cold,” you murmured.

“Liar.” Her hand slid a little lower, dangerously close to starting something all over again. “You just want an excuse to press up against me.”

“Do I need one?” You shifted deliberately, straddling her thigh under the covers. Ellie groaned, head tipping back.

“Shit, babe. You’re gonna kill me.”

“You survived last night,” you whispered, lips brushing hers. “Barely.”

She kissed you again, slower this time—sleepy and warm and filled with that quiet thing that had bloomed between you over time. That thing you were both afraid to name.

Eventually, the hunger in your stomach was louder than the heat curling between your legs again, and you reluctantly rolled off her.

Ellie tugged you back playfully. “Where you goin’?”

“Shower. Then breakfast. We both smell like sex and sweat.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she said with a smirk, but she sat up anyway, rubbing the back of her neck. The morning sun spilled across her bare back, catching in her tattoo.

You watched her stretch, heart full. “You staying after breakfast?”

“I was thinking I’d cook it.” She stood, butt-naked and completely unbothered, sauntering to the kitchen to raid your pantry.

“You don’t even know where anything is!” you called.

“Then come show me,” she shouted back.

So you did—wrapped in just a towel, still dazed from the night before, watching her fumble through cabinets and pretend she had it under control.

Ellie in your kitchen was something different. She looked domestic, barefoot and still flushed from sleep, cooking eggs while humming under her breath. She wore one of your shirts, her own nowhere to be seen, and it swallowed her shoulders in a way that made your stomach twist.

You slid your arms around her from behind, resting your chin on her shoulder. “You’re kinda hot when you’re pretending to be useful.”

“Excuse you, I am incredibly useful,” she said, flipping a lopsided pancake like it was proof. “I made you come three times last night. That buys me at least a week of no chores.”

You laughed into her neck. “Okay, fair.”

She turned in your arms, hands on your hips, and kissed you again—soft, slow, and real. Her eyes searched yours for something unspoken.

“You know,” she murmured, “you could ask me to stay more often.”

You bit your lip, voice suddenly smaller. “Would you say yes?”

Ellie tucked your hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Every time.”

You kissed her, then again, and didn’t stop until the eggs were cold, and the pancakes were burnt, and it was well past noon.

[asoftsighh]

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ joel miller x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

joel handcrafts you a gift

1.3k words

You’d like to pride yourself with the fact that you know Joel Miller pretty well. You’d hope, after years of fighting and bleeding side by side. 

So you immediately notice his change in mood, how he’s quieter than usual. Where dry jokes would’ve been made, or compliments whispered, he’s silent. You don’t say anything though; Joel is like a stray dog, in this sense. One who’s been hurt, over and over, and it’s best when they come to you first. So you don’t say anything. Don’t push him, waiting and hoping that he’ll come to you if there’s something seriously wrong. 

It’s early afternoon now, a cold and rainy day. One of those days where you don’t feel like leaving the house, staying wrapped up in a blanket and in the arms of the man you love. That’s where you were right now, actually; the dimmed lights of your living room casting an orange hue to the room.

Joel’s heartbeat is slow and steady beneath your ear, where you’re half dozing on his chest. It had started with reading your separate books (yours a fantasy, his about space,) until his hand started rubbing your calf in the way you like. And now, here you are, half asleep and completely in love. 

“You tired?” He murmurs, his breath against your ear. His fingers rest on top of your head; not necessarily petting, but rather holding. Like he wants to keep you all to himself. 

You shake your head against his chest, listening to the fire crack across the room. You run your hand up his arm to his bicep, feeling the muscle flex beneath your touch involuntarily. 

His laugh is warm and low, and rustles the little hairs across your forehead. He pushes them back with a warm palm. “Are you lyin’ to me, baby?” 

You smile against his flannel before you can help yourself. You stretch out, legs straightening where they lay atop his. “No.”

He doesn’t believe you, this you know. You bet that he can feel your muscles relaxing, your body sinking into his and the couch at the same time. His hand slides down the slope of your back, squeezing your hip. “I have something to show you.”

You perk up slightly. Joel has never been the biggest gift giver, something you never really minded. Occasionally, he’d come back from patrol with a book that had survived or wildflowers that he picked. Whenever you asked why, he’d simply say “was thinking of you” and kiss your cheek. 

Now, you put it together, this might be the reason for his quietness. Who knew that this man, who has seen and experienced true horrors in the past couple of decades, could get this shy?

“What is it?” Your voice is groggy from your dozing as you pick your head up to look at him. There’s a softness in his eyes, the one that he saves for you, like the rest of the world doesn’t deserve to see him this open. His hand slides down from your head to your cheek, his thumb brushing against the highest part of your cheekbone, giving it a loving pinch. 

He hesitates now, eyes flickering between you and the stairs that lead upstairs. He shifts under you, giving your butt a squeeze through your jeans, ushering you up. When you move off him, he’s off and up the stairs before you can say anything. Less than a minute later, he’s back, holding something behind him. 

You smile, somewhat flustered and confused. “What are you hiding, Miller?”

His grin is even more flustered. If you look closely, beneath the scruff, you’d be able to see more hints of his rosy face. He stands in front of the couch now, shifting from foot to foot. You’ve seen him blood and bruised, enraged and dejected. But this, the shyness, is more vulnerable than any other emotion you’ve seen him express. 

“Was gonna wait, but I ain’t good at that.” He takes a seat on the coffee table, which groans under his weight, his knees knocking yours. 

You hold your hand out, less demanding and more impatient. “What is it?”

What he places in your hand is not at all what you expect. It’s a jewelry box, one that opens to show a small compartment. The inside is even squared off into sections, like he knows that you keep your earrings and necklaces separate. The outside is a dark, polished wood. Right before you’re about to look up, you notice something engraved on the top. Your initials. 

“Joel,” you breathe out through a sigh. Meeting his eyes, he looks like he’s bracing himself for the worst. As if you would hate his gift. “Did you make this?”

He shrugs but the tips of his ears are red. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, a little uneven in places like it’s been carved and sanded by hand. His hands. The same hands that hold you every night, that make you breakfast and pinch your cheeks. And now they’ve made something for you. 

“The top corner is chipped,” He says suddenly, running his hand over his too-long beard. “And the polish is too dark on the bottom. It was-”

You cut him off when you reach over to hold both of his hands in yours, the jewelry box on the couch cushion beside you. “Can’t believe you,” you say against his knuckles, pressing kisses to the tops of his hands. “It’s perfect, Joel. Thank you.”

He huffs out a laugh, just a gust of air. “I’m glad you like it.” He’s quiet for a few moments, watching you with that same look he always has when it’s just you two. “I've never been.. good at talkin. Figure I do something else for you.” 

“It’s perfect,” you repeat, tugging at his hands until he sits on your other side. You curl into him like you are magnets, coming together with a pull neither of you could resist. Not that you would ever want to. Your legs drape over his thighs, his arm coming around your shoulders to pull you against him. You both sit like that for a few soft moments, listening to the light drizzle outside and the crackling of the fire. 

“Was scared you weren’t gonna like it,” he murmurs. His lips brush against your temple in an almost kiss. “That you’d think it was dumb.”

You tilt your head to look at him. From this close, you can see the light gray hairs spattering his temples, his beard. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from smiling. 

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you say, your voice thick with adoration for this grumpy but kind man that you somehow ended up with. “I love you.”

Joel’s eyes flicker over your face; your eyes, your mouth, your eyes again. He looks like he's searching your face for something, a lie maybe; not that he’ll ever find one. He deserves to be loved like this, to be appreciated. 

He swallows, jaw twitching like there’s a dozen things that he wants to say. He threads your fingers together on top of his lap, his thumb slowly brushing over your knuckles, like he’s trying to memorize you. “I love you,” he finally whispers back, his voice low but earnest. 

You’re both quiet for the next couple minutes, soaking up everything around. His arm around you, his hand in yours, his breath by your ear. Joel shifts eventually, kissing the crown of your head because he can. 

“You hungry?” he mumbles. “Can make you somethin.”

You smile into his shoulder, his soft flannel tickling your cheek. “Only if  you make those weird egg things.”

“They ain’t weird. Anway, you seem to like them just fine.”

You kiss his scruffy jaw. “I like you just fine,” you tease, in the way you know drives him crazy.

He huffs, flustered; but he’s smiling. And that’s enough. That’s all you need. 

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆˙

[leo-in-the-pitt]

Updated Masterlist 💌

Last updated: 5/30/25

Total Works: 10 (and counting)

The Pitt

Dr. Jack Abbot

First Day In The Pitt

Just Talk To Me

Beginning to End Series

Look Out For Her

The Aftermath

Until The End

What's Next

Turning Point

Stay Or Don't

Fix This

Michael Robinavitch

Trouble's my middle name

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

New To Town

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Wife: How I met your Mother

notes: i've had a few requests for how Joel and wifey met and must say I have been working on this for quite some time.

Warnings: protected sex (ikr what a shocker from me!!!), oral f!receiving, anxious reader during sex, multiple orgasms, reader has hair, brief descriptions of body change post pregnancy

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel forgot to make the reservation to Tommy’s number one favorite steakhouse for his birthday. The damn idiot. He had been so busy this year, what with launching their own company, and Joel taking the lead, he’d been swamped with workworkwork. And of course, the place he was meaning to dine at was no longer taking reservations or walkups.

Which left Joel to scrounge for a high-top bar-area table in Tommy’s third favorite steakhouse, some ritzy fancy place that wasn’t in either Miller’s ball park. What should have been an evening indulging in one 70 year old man throwing down on the grill in a family run steakhouse that had massive 27 oz steaks for $32, they were instead having to settle for a corporate run, posh place that had abstract art on the walls on sale for thousands of dollars, a menu with foreign sounding wines, and tiny steaks on big plates, topped with random greens for decoration, and pulling a whopping, ridiculous price tag for some pinky sized meat.

That being said, even after Joel had forwarded the correct address, it’s been 15 minutes, and no Tommy. He anxiously glances at the wall clock. Joel wasn’t looking forward to sitting here, what with his scrounged hair and unkept beard. The best wardrobe he could put together included a lesser-stained pair of boots and a flannel shirt tucked in his jeans, with a belt he had forgotten about, collecting dust in the closet until tonight. 

He didn’t belong. He just wanted to eat, clink a beer or two with Tommy, and call it a night.

 He swears, if Tommy doesn’t show up in the next 5, 4, 3, 2,—

“Oh my god this place is a maze.” you say, shaking your head and setting down at Tommy’s vacant chair. 

Right in front of Joel.

He blinks a few times. Who the hell is this chick? 

This chick, evidently oblivious, hadn’t even glanced up to his presence, proceeding to dig through your purse you just tossed to the ground as you go on…

 “And then…wait where did I leave off— Oh fuck, so then Kelly asked him if he was going to get her flowers, and he said ‘oh only if you want’ and then I was like ‘Kel, you shouldn’t have to ask on your birthday to get flowers from your fiancee.’”

And you still haven’t looked up, busy now applying some honey vanilla scented, nice smelling lip balm. Even as Joel opens his mouth to say something, you close your eyes and shake your head again with a chuckle, proceeding: “…like that’s shit you argue with your teenage boyfriend over, not the guy you’re gonna be having kids with! And then she said this was the third time she brought it up, plus—“

Joel puts his hands down softly on the table, frowning. Holy shit, does this woman ever stop yapping?

“—oh didn’t she have to drop hints like an atom bomb that she wanted to get married? After what, 4 years? I swear, this is why I’m staying single even if the hottest, sexiest, sweatiest fucker were right in front of—“

You finally look up, to see…some guy?

Instead of fear, or embarrassment, or… any reasonable expression, your face instead sours to that of a confused defensiveness.

“Who the hell are you?” You ask offensively.

Joel is taken aback. “Wh—I’m … Joel?”

“Okay ‘Joel’ but I meant what are you doing sitting here?”

Joel tilts his head, too astounded. “This is my table,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Uh— no it’s not,” you almost cackle, like what an idiot he is. “And I need you to get out of that chair, because my friend Maria will be back any—“

You glance around, only to see your very friend Maria, waving wildly at you from across the room, sitting at a table that very much was the one you were at prior to leaving for the rest room. 

“Oh!—that’s odd…”

Ok finally, she’s gonna —

“Why the hell is Maria sitting at the wrong table??”

He lets out an incredulous sight. “Lady, I think you’re at the wrong table.”

You turn back to him, tilting your head like a curious dog. He feels like he’s hanging on the edge of his chair, just trying to piece together what could possibly be going through your too-busy mind.

You take a look over to her again, then to the current table. Then again to her.

Which leaves you… sitting here…. With....

“Oh fuck… I’m so sorry!” You whisper, and now you’re full of embarrassment, face flush warm. 

You tumble out of the chair and rush over to Maria, who’s giggling and looking back at Joel while you slam your face into your hands onto the correct table.

Joel just watches you for a moment, still stunned. A little flustered. Strangely… entertained?  

You kept peeking your eye through your fingers, before trying to burry yourself into the menu. All while your friend Maria howled at your utter mis-founded confidence.

Joel grins slightly to himself, not really sure why he’s also finding it a bit funny. You were kinda—

“Why’d you pick this place again?”

Joel jumps a little, his glass of water nearly tumbling over as Tommy slinks down into the seat in front of him.

“What?”

“Was Jackie’s full again? You forgot to make a reservation there, didn’t you?” He asks nonchalantly, tucking his napkin into his lap with a casual slouched posture. None the wiser that Joel’s mind is completely sidetracked by his strange encounter with this peculiar woman just moments earlier. 

Joel tries to keep his focus on Tommy for the night, but he keeps stealing glances your way. Unfortunately, a whole host of bodies had been sat at the tables between you, leaving it impossible to see whether you were still over there or not. 

By the end of the night, when Joel stood up, he lets out a disappointed grunt: Your table had already been cleared, and you were gone.

Joel grasped his jacket, letting Tommy out to his truck first. “Sorry it wasn’t Jackie’s,” he groans, closing the door for his little brother, all buckled in and hanging his arm out the window.

“S’alright. Was a good night to pretend to be rich bitches.” He nods with his cap and a honk honk. “Drive safe, brother.”

“Happy birthday, fucker,” Joel retorts just as Tommy pulls out and disappears into the night.

The place is about to close up, only few stragglers at the bar left. He jingles his keys in his hands, pausing at his the junction between the restaurant entrance and his truck.

He looks back at the window table that you were seated in.

“S’cuse me,” he interrupts the host, who’s wiping down menus.

“Is it possible to make another reservation?”

“Sure. How far in advance?”

“1 year from now, exactly this date and time?”

She peers up to him with a raised brow.

-

1 year later

“What the fuck do you mean you forgot to Make a reservation to Jackie’s… again?” Tommy asks, walking in fancy rich bitch restaurant with Joel.

“I kinda liked our meal here last time…” he starts, trying to reason that he didn’t … intentionally forgoe his own little brother’s birthday for his own means. Tommy hasn’t even noticed that Joel’s attention is entirely on scanning the restaurant  

“That’s great… but save this shit for your birthday.”

As the two wait for the hostess to seat them, Tommy leans closer to Joel’s shoulder, giving a slight inhale.

“Did you … shower before you came here?”

“Yeah?”

Tommy raises his brow. Joel’s the type to usually grunt the entire day in one go before showering to bed. “And your hairs combed.”

“So? That a crime?” Joel brushes him off, looking around the restaurant again as casual as he can fake it.

Tommy sways on his heels, glancing down from his side eyes. “Shirt’s ironed in too.”

“Tommy, we gotta look the part here…”

“No we don’t. We eat. We pay. We leave. Who you tryin’ to impress other than my stomach?”

Joel shakes his head with a hearty laugh.

Was Joel staking his brother’s birthday on the hope that you would be here again? Cmon, that’s ridicul—

Maybe. 

But as the two of them are escorted to their table, Joel did another lap of eye scan around the room before sitting down, all the doubts flooded.

You weren’t here.

What if you were just here randomly that one day? What if you were just visiting from out of town? What if you came once and never came again? He bet this entire night on an assumption that you were celebrating something on this specific date, but there was absolutely no indication that you were doing anything but having a night out with a friend.

Oh shit, what if that was your girlfriend??? Oh shitshitshit.

Wait, no, you said that M chick (he doesn’t even remember her name) was your friend.

Oh--what if you had a boyfriend by now?

What if you did walk in that door right now, but you were  holding hands with some rich pompous skinny ass college educated schmuck, all smiling and clinging to him like he’s the world, and Joel’s here desperately searching for you when you don’t even know him—

—“Who the fuck are you looking at?” Tommy asks, waving his hand in front of Joel after trying to look around the room in vain for whatever’s got his big brother’s attention.

— and then there’s the fact that Joel hasn’t been on a date in six… seven? Years? His last serious relationship ended because he wanted to settle down and she wanted to keep exploring options. I mean, he got it. They were really young at the time. He didn’t really know anything else. Instead, he spent all this time buried in trainings and apprenticeships and certification courses to be able to get to where he is now…and that left no room for even looking at women.

So why the fuck is he here trying to look for you ??

“Joel!” Tommy shouts, kicking him under the table.

“Shit, sorry.” He shakes his head and takes a long swig of beer.

“Sorry. Just—feeling off today.”

“I bet.” Tommy leans forward, putting his hand on Joel’s shoulder.

“You sure you’re alright?”

He nods. Fuck. He’s here for Tommy’s birthday. A birthday he wasted on this shitty place, banking on a girl he doesn’t even know the name of, and pretending to be a brother. God. He’s terrible. Joel downs the rest of his alcohol in one go, clearing his mind of you once and for all. 

“I’m good Tommy. Let’s celebrate tonight.”

Tommy holds up his beer bottle. “To one year of Millers Co.”

“Fuckin cheers to that.” They clinks bottles with a grin.

Joel looks to his right, by chance, and his entire body freezes, blood draining and then revitalizing itself over his veins in a nanosecond.

You’re putting your hair up in a pony tail, smiling and chatting enthusiastically at the same table you were at exactly a year ago. It’s like not a day has passed. You have that same confident aura, like the world is circling you, without really trying. Maybe its just Joel, because aside from your friend you’re seated with, he’s the only one who’s entire world is focused on you.

He should stop staring. Fuck this is weird. Is it weird? But he can’t. He’s worried he’s dreaming, and if he takes his eyes off you again, you’ll disappear for another year. Wait, he’s imagining this right? He didn’t wish you into existence again? There’s no way you’re seated at the exact same table again. But your outfit is different. So maybe this is real?

Joel could feel Tommy trying to talk to him again, but his brain was utter mush. Instead of scanning the room, his focus was directed in a single spot this time, and Tommy could finally make contact with what exact has got his big brother so distracted.

He didn’t really get it, but Joel wasn’t giving any answers in this state.

Joel shakes himself from his trance, worried Tommy is gonna finally pinpoint and—where’s Tommy?

His seat is completely empty, and Joel panics momentarily that Tommy just straight up left him after being ignored for ten minutes.

Worse than that, Joel finally spots Tommy—heading over to talk to you and your friend.

“Heeeeyyy, ladies, I’m Tommy.” He smiles warmly.

“Um, Hi,” you nod with a polite smile. 

“’m sorry to bother your dinner, but my brother, god bless him, has been starin’ at ya from across the room—“ he points to Joel’s direction momentarily—“ and you either cut him off in traffic this mornin’, or he thinks you’re cute and is too shy to come over here to tell ya.”

SHITSHITSHIT SHUTthefuckupTOMMYOHMYFUCKINGGOD.

Joel’s feet kick straight down on their own accord, knocking the table hard as he stands and causing people around him to stare.

He speed walks over there, not sure what his next move is: kiss you or strangle Tommy or some weird dance combination of both. 

He doesn’t have time to think it over because now he’s here, standing there, like a baboon, as you, Tommy, and your friend blink directly at him, awaiting him to say something. 

 He needs to say something.

Something…

Anything…

Why isn’t he speaking

Your smile falters a little, eyes narrowed in. He feels himself shrink inside.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, pointing at him. “You’re that guy—“

Oh fuck she does remember me—!

“—that sat at my table last year!”

She doesn’t remember jack shit.

“I—lady, you sat at my table,” he argues defensively. Holy shit wait why is he getting defensive? Maybe because, holy fuck, how could you get that mixed up… Again???

You purse your lips and let out a little laugh. “Um. No. You came and sat at my table. I’m pretty sure I would remember something like that.”

You’re just as cocksure as yourself as you were last time.

He could get used to that.

“What was it—“ you tap your lower lip with your fingers, eyes drifting in though. “Oh! Joel!”

Oh … the way you say his name… he could definitely get used to that.

There’s a brief pause before you begin:

“So… you’re here again?”

“I take my brother here every year… for his birthday,” Joel blurts out.

“More like accidentally take me here—“ Tommy falls short, looking back at you… now realizing this time maybe wasn’t an accident on Joel’s part. 

He’ll remember to kick Joel in the nuts later. But right now, his brother’s cartoonishly obvious heart shaped eyes are still locked on you, so he rolls with it.

“Yeah we’re celebrating… our own thing too,” Maria muses, nodding towards you. You roll your eyes playfully, knowing she’s too bashful to admit it.

“She graduated law a couple years ago,” you gloat, beaming at your impressive friend, who’s shrinking under the weight of her embarrassment. “So we’ve made it our little tradition.”

Joel opens his mouth and wishes he used his brain: “We can make it all our tradition from now on.”

The four of you go awkwardly silent, and it almost feels like the whole restaurant went quiet too and is staring at Joel.

Oh God, he should just tuck his tail and walk right out the door right now and leave town and—

You’re the first to let out a giggle, covering your mouth and scrunching your eyes and nose as you try to hide your cute laugh.

Oh fuck. He can definitely get used to that.

Tommy’s gonna give himself a massive pat on the back for this next move.

“Maria, was it?” He asks your friend. “Would you like to join me to get a drink?” He motions towards the bar.

Maria glances at you, now seeing you and Joel are staring at one another, uninterrupted, completely enamored. Shits not on pause. You two are just fuckin’…frozen at each other like little smiling elf statues.

“Yes I would. Tommy, right?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

She links arms with him and the two of them begin: “so you come to this dump to celebrate?” “It’s my favorite?” “Oh mine too!” Leaving you and Joel alone.

“Uhh…” 

“Do you want—sit?” You ask awkwardly.

Joel takes Maria’s seat. 

“Looks like you’re coming to sit at my table instead,” you snicker.

“So you admit it then: you sat at mine last year.”

You smile, readjusting your napkin on your lap. “I have a hard time admitting when I’m wrong. It’s a stubborn thing.”

“Mmm. Picked up on that.”

You both laugh. You bite your lip before smoothing the tablecloth. 

“Joel,” you whisper, and god it feels really good all over his spine when you say his name.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing. I just… like saying your name. It fits you really well. Joel.”

He grins broadly, licking his lower lip and staring at you again with those big, gorgeous brown orbs. Even his voice feels…right. You have no idea how or why. He just feels so…right. 

You tilt your head to the side, studying him. “You look … a little different.”

Joel clears his throat, unsure if that is a good thing or bad thing.

“Wait let me just—“ 

But you don’t wait, instead you’re already reaching your delicate fingers over the table and sifting them through his hair, ruffling his curls out of their perfectly combed place, watching as they tumble messily over one another until they’re bouncing all brown and natural under the low light.

“That’s better. Yeah, I remember that for sure.” You nod to yourself with a little grin that has him blushing harder than Santa on Christmas.

It’s radiant, it’s contagious, it’s sincere.

You offer him your name, and he repeats it with that low timbre that gives you goosebumps.

Oh, you could get used to him for sure.

-

Four Dates Later...

The puss puss is screaming his name already.

You had always told yourself you would never surrender the flower to man in no less than 6 dates first. But fuck… Joel’s… really something.

You’re seated at his bar stool in his house, swaying your feet with your arms crossed, watching him work like a wizard. He’s making something really really good, and as far as you can tell, something really close to home. you had both shared half a bottle of wine on his couch while he talked about his brother, how he plays guitar sometimes, his company. He listened intently as you shared your movie taste, how oh so different you are from your mom he’d yet to meet, and the best food spots in town.

You also promised you wouldn’t spend an evening like this at a guy’s house so quickly either but… Joel’s really something. 

He makes you feel warm and fuzzy, in that gooey icky way you used to make fun of your friends for. He makes you feel safe and protected, and you almost want to start shit with him just to get him to tackle you down and put a baby in you right here—oh my god what is happening to you??

“Remember that time you sat at my table—“

He pauses to face you, eyes peering from his brows with a growl. “Don’t start with me, girl.”

Mmmmm girl. The way he says it is like hot sugar and sprinkles. Yes. Yes you wanted to get used to this ASAP.

Three homemade empanadas later, and you were sold.

-

As you tumble onto his bed, Joel and your lips can’t break up enough for you to get through a sentence before he’s sucking you back in. The alcohol swims in your system just as hot as the lust that had been dampening your legs all night—or the last few weeks for that matter.

“Just—just so you know… I know first time sex isn’t always great—scratch that. Its never great—“

He stops, his shirt halfway up his head. “You’ve never had sex before?” He asks softly, almost fearfully, like he’s done a horrible thing and not taken you to a hotel and bought you a car and—

“No! I meant first time with a new partner,” you clarify, helping him hoist the rest of that shirt over because you couldn’t be tortured to wait any longer for this view.

My oh my… what a view.

His chest is smooth, clearly undisturbed by any hair, and his belly is soft. But with each movement, you can see the flex of muscle ripping underneath. He has a worker’s body, true to his craft, not some jacked up gymbro bod that gloats his benchpress PR but couldn’t carry a bag of sand on one shoulder. His belly ends in a gorgeously light trail of hair, leading down like the Hairy Brick Road to disappear underneath his belt line, right to your long awaited prize…

He’s staring down at you as you lick your lips greedily, seemingly unaware that you had paused your conversation.

“You hungry for something?” He asks sincerely under a chuckle. “Can make ya more empanadas right now if ya too distracted—“

“Shut up and take these off.” you start undoing his button and zipper of his jeans.

He grins, leaning over to capture your lips as you do work to shimmy his pants off. You feel him push you down gently on your back, expecting him to crawl up and grasp you as he positions his dick between your legs.

 Instead, he hooks the bend of your back knee over his shoulders, crawling down—

You freeze, holding his arm so he doesn’t slip any further. “Woah—don’t think I expect you to go down on me.”

“But I—“

“Because I know … all the guys before don’t do that the first time with a new partner, or even second or third, and like… Listen I…” you start rambling, eyes searching everywhere but his own. “I already like you…so I don’t want you…pretending for me… going out of your way for…if its not a given—especially on the first—“ 

He pulls up, grasps your face in his clutch and kisses you, drawing out all of your thoughts. 

“You talk a lot when ya nervous,” he hums against your nose before pressing another kiss there. You both stare at one another. he could see your eyes were vulnerable, like it’s the first time your guard is being torn down by someone without your permission. Like you’re genuinely caught naked in your underwear.

He slithers closer to you, making you lie further back on the bed again until your bodies glide together. His breath ghosts over your lips, and you can feel your heart already palpitating from the sheer sense of control he’s grasped from you naturally. “S’okay. I like listening to you. Keep going.”

He descends lower, lips trailing kisses, hooded eyes never leaving yours.

What happened to that shy, awkward lump of a cutie who was too afraid to approach your table to say hi? He’s certainly not the strong, capable, confident wolf in front of you about to devour you whole…

“R-really,” you mumble, wanting to bring your mind back to why you’re nervous—shit are you nervous here? “You don’t… have to do it…to impress me. I’m already impressed—“

 He huffs into your mound. “I ain’t doin it to impress ya, I’m doinnit because I wanna eat your pussy. Been dyin’ to for weeks now. Do men not normally go down on you on the first chance they get?” He asks, genuinely curious. As if it’s a shock to him that you don’t get your pussy ate every single waking minute of the day.

You stare at him slack jawed. He says it as if… as if… he does this every time….because he actually does it every time….

You feel a gush of slick ooze out of your cunt. “Get your fucking head down there and start eating,” you command.

He smirks, “There she is—that’s the one I like—“ before biting your thighs gently and nuzzling his nose between your folds. 

Okay, shit, it’s happening. At the very least, even if he’s had practice, it may not even be good. He can’t tick all boxes, right? Yeah, this one thing, he’s probably terrible at. Shit, bet he’s just bluffing just to—

“Do me this once, baby.” His teeth softly sink into the fat of your inner thigh.

You’re already jittery and hazy, anxious and aroused, heavy lidded as your ears perk enough to try to listen.

“Let yourself have this one,” he whispers, eyes trained on you as he kisses the bite mark he left.

“Oh? You…seem cocksure of yourself…” you tease. Even if he’s good, he’d make a fine boyfriend for sure—

Your bravado quickly disappears as he flattens his hot tongue through your slit, sliding the tip against your entrance before pursing his lips, sucking in your sensitive clit with a kiss—

Holy fucking shit he wasn’t bluffing.

He pulls away with a suckle, and you just barely can focus your eyesight on him: the audacity of his baby brown eyes staring up at you with raised, curious, innocent gleam as his lips and nose shine with your arousal.

“S’that okay with you?”

You open your mouth, unable to form words. in fact, it’s the first time in your life that you have effectively been shut up, let alone by a man. He turned your brain into mush, your body floating between space and heaven, but your soul plated right here, underneath his gaze, his hands, his lips, his tongue—

He waits for your answer, warm steady air blowing from his nose to your quivering cunt.

You only gulp, mouth closing in submission.

A wide smirk creeps over his face. Now that’s what she’s like when she’s quiet. He seems to like that he’s shut you up; especially the way your brows knit close together as he drags his tongue through your petals again, over and over like a giddy boy enjoying his melting ice cream. 

When he disappears again between your legs, you grasp your mouth with your hand, eyeballs rolling back as you already feel your core shake.

I’m gonna marry him I’m gonna marry him I’m gonna marry him, you chant like a mantra in your head.

And for 40 more minutes, Joel Miller ate you out like a fucking Goddess.

You were spasming randomly, letting out desperate chokes and groans. After the first orgasm, you gave up on the silent treatment. Letting him hear your praises as you came again, and then again, and three more times.

You had never had so many orgasms in a 40 minute span like that in your life.

He’d inhale deeply through his nostrils, burying himself in your mound before increasing the pace of his tongue. Flicking your clit then diving inside, thrusting and twisting. Suckling out your juices and then coaxing you with his fingers deep inside when you started to quiver. He’d lock eyes on you every so often, making sure you were comfortable for the ride. 

He knew he would be addicted when he first watched you cum. It only got more insatiable with each one after that.

“Holy f-fuck—“you whine as he sucks your folds in one final time before releasing with a loud smack. “I—I could get used to that.”

He grins, falling down next to you. He takes deep breaths with you, as if having swam across the ocean alongside your marathon run. 

The two of you just sat there. Calming your breaths. Your eyes to the ceiling. 

His on you.

He strokes your arm with his fingertips. Up and down, soothingly and gentle. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, and it kinda scares him. Maybe you were done. Maybe you had that post orgasmic bliss, and were ready to kick him out. Maybe—

“So … how do you want me?” You ask, biting your lips. Your hand is already on his chest, itching for more.

His eye dart to your lips one last time, his tongue swiping out. He leans forward and begins kissing you again. The two of you roll over, with him above you. You can feel the press of his hard length against your inner thigh, making you squeak. 

He pulls out, his nose nudging yours. “Where I can see you,” he pants.

Joel shreds his last remaining article of clothing.

Yeah, this is it, you think. He makes up for bad sex by eating you out five times. There’s no way. Not that dick size matters of course. You weren’t gonna mention anything by it. That’s just…. Rude. No, it really matters how you use it. So even if he’s moderately big, which you’re sure he isn’t—

His throbbing, girthy member slaps wetly against his belly button.

“Fucking Christ, Joel Miller,” you gasp, eyes a little too wide. It pulses deliciously, veiny and mushroomed. “What the fuck do you feed that thing?”

Oh shit, what was that about not saying anything?

“I mean, its’ like—you look—it’s--“ you shut your trap and just give him two thumbs up.

He pauses, blinking at you before chuckling.

Oh my god, please kill me.

“Okay. That’s — I’ll take that.” He tears open the condom and spread it over his head. 

There’s a tiny bit of you that feels a bit of disappointment as he rolls it down his length; the part of you that wants to take a massive leap with this man right now and do it raw. 

Hell no. fuck, that’s definitely not a 4th date move. Though, coming to his house and having sex right after dinner was also not a date 4 move either… 

He crawls back over you, his forearms planted by your head. Joel reaches down to grasp his cock. At the same time, you instinctively lift your legs, your thighs resting over his hips.

“We fit so beautifully together, huh?” He whispers, kissing your cheek.

You nod. 

“You tell me if anything feels off, okay? Even if ya—“

You had snatched the base of his length, causing him to gasp and swallow his words. Effortlessly, you drag his head through your folds, slicking it up with your arousal before notching it at your entrance.

Joel grasps your face with both hands and seals his lips over you as the two of you work his cock inside your hole. 

Even with his tongue tracing over yours, he doesn’t let you go. You moan deliciously into his mouth as he forces himself inside, inch by inch, slowly. Your pussy had been stretched and worn perfectly from his eating moments ago, making the stretch to accomodate his girth only pleasurable. 

There’s no words. No snarky remark. Just the shared breath between you two. The blurred background except the vision of one another so close. The sounds of your synced, pounding hearts bursting through your chests. 

He was so quiet. Tense. Still.

He looked so deep in concentration, like something was hurting him, like he was straining himself. He was so chatty a minute ago...had you done something wrong?

You open your mouth to speak, but Joel beats you to it.

“I’m —I’m gonna cum already—fuck—gimme a minute,” he finally rasps, closing his eyes tightly. His ears are flushed red as he remains completely still inside, the vein in his neck ready to burst from concentration. The poor man was so embarrassed that he might cum immediately, totally ruining any chance to impress you—

“I’m already cumming,” you whine, shifting your hips to get him to gently tap that spot inside that has you clenching around him. “With me?”

The motion sets him over the edge.

Both your jaws drop open in o’s as you orgasm together, pulsing, a mere 3 seconds into motionless sex. 

His sweaty forehead falls to your chest. “Shit—shit—I—I’ve—I swear—“

“That—was so hot,” you whisper with a big smile on your face. Joel looks up at you: your eyes dark, biting your lips with a wicked grin as you look over his face, your hand playing with his ear. “More?” You ask softly with big curious eyes.

He fell a little more in love with you, if it were even possible. 

You had sex again, this time a little more paced out. Joel was determined to focus on you this time, though you doubted he had considered his even once at this point. All he knew was that he wanted to feel you squeeze around his cock forever.

“You’re so beautiful,” he hums. “So beautiful when you cum.”

You moan desperately, coming back down from your umpteenth climax of the night. he sucked his thumb clean after having rubbed your swollen numb to get you there. You had one ankle hooked around his lower back, pulling him back in with each thrust.

“You—you’re right,” you swallow. “We do fit so well together.” 

The both of you laugh, eyes crinkled. 

You sigh, winding your arms around his neck. “I can’t wait to do this without a condom.”

He grips your thighs tightly, stuttering for a moment. “Fuck—don’t say that—don’t get me thinking’ bout how good you’re gonna feel raw—shit no can’t—can’t think—no fuck now Im thinkin it—its too good—“

“Yeah? You think about filling me up already? On our first time?”

“I’m warnin’ you, lady. Don’t get me started.”

You let out a loud moan as he started pounding you harder, your skin slapping one another. 

“Fuck—thank you Tommy—“ you start.

“Don’t moan my brother’s name when I’m inside you.”

You tighten your lips and nod.

“Want ya spread out on my pillow like this every night.” He sifts his fingers through your hair, watching the way it parts for him. “Want you sayin’ my name like a prayer. Need your cum on my tongue and my fingers and cock to keep me warm. I don’t think I can go back to—fuck—I need more of you--“

He keeps thrusting into your sopping heat with such precision. Neither too fast nor slow. Enough that the two of you could enjoy, savor, explore. 

“I want it,” you whisper softly, only for him to hear. You wrap yourself around him closer as he fucks you slow, deep, calculated, passionately.

Maybe both of you were thinking it then: You knew you would have the rest of your lives for it all.

By the time you had finished, and third condom wrapped and tossed in the bin, you were exhausted. You couldn’t even raise your head for the first few minutes. Joel too was whipped. He laid in bed with your head spread atop his chest, leg hooked over his stomach. Your sweaty body sticking to one another with the  fan blasting down on your back. You could feel him tracing patterns on your naked back. Like he was telling your body to accept his touch because it wouldn’t be leaving you any time soon.

You were so close to drifting to sleep. Letting out little hums here and there as he rubbed your head with occasional kisses. 

“Mbesr empapamda,” you mumbled into the pillow.

“What?”

You sat up slightly, hair messy already from his ministrations. Your eyes were half asleep already as you mumbled with a smirk: “Would you make me more empanadas some day again, Joel?’

He chuckled. “I’d make em everyday if you asked.”

You nuzzled your nose into his neck before finally closing your eyes.

-

You both slept the best night of your lives. 

Joel initially woke up around 6am. When his vision settled, the low light of the morning sun just barely filtering in, his eyes settled on your sleeping form. Your hand rested on the pillow in front of you.

He knew it then. The sight of you right here, warming his bed, his soul, his kitchen, his heart, his body… Joel Miller knew he was going to marry you. 

Obviously not something he’ll be mentioning for a while, but something that morning clicked. He was already tracing the empty space on your ring finger. How nice a ring would look there. How nice it would be to wake up like this every morning. To see you. The first thing to greet him each day just like this.

In that moment, Joel felt like he had to give you something of his. It was an urge he’d never experienced before, and he couldn’t quite place exactly why or what it is. But it forced him out of the bed silently and away to his work bench without a second thought.

-

“Hey, you,” he whispers.

“Nmmmm,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes again. You wipe your face with both palms. your voice sounds like gravel stuck in your throat as you mutter a very unsexy, “Heyyy.”

“I uh—“ he clears his throat. “This is for you.”

You eyes flutter open as he presents a tiny wooden carving of a butterfly. The details were rough but smoothed and you could immediately tell it was hand crafted. Upon closer inspection, you could see it had your initials carved into the body.

You sat up, blinking rapidly. “Did...did you just… make that?”

“Yeah.” the tips of his cheeks instantly reddened. “Woke up a couple hours ago and thought…well you looked…it seemed…It’s not super good I’m still—anyway, wanted to gift ya something…”

“Just now?”

“An hour ago. I came back to bed. But saw your hair falling a bit when you were resting so—“ He had just started getting the knack of crafting wood so it really looked amateurish. He felt stupid now, after spending two hours on it hunched at his desk while you slept upstairs in his bed. 

He takes it gently into his hand and flips it, revealing a metal hairclip that had been glued on. 

“May I?”

You nod, eyes sparkling with joy. Maybe you didn’t know any better, but it definitely looked like you thought it was the most beautifully carved piece of art you’d ever seen.

Joel gently fastens it into your hair before cupping along your cheek.

“Does it look good?” You ask.

“Amazin’.”

You smile again. Fuck, he wanted to see that smile every day from now on. He was officially smitten. “I can make ya all kinds of things. Well, eventually. I’m still workin’ on it, just started getting into carving so they’re not perfect yet but--“

“Can you show me?”

It was his turn to blink at you.

“Now?”

“Yeah! Unless you had something else you needed to do this morning…I can totally get out of your hair if—“

“Nope, you stay right here, I’m gonna—“

He stumbles out of bed and quickly closes the door behind him.

His workbench was a fucking mess and definitely not date-show ready. You could hear him banging things, scraping counters of knickknacks and bolts into drawers and doing his best to clean.

Biting your lip, you whip out your phone and called Maria on face time.

She answered, eye mask pulled up her face. “What? Oh bitch, I know you ain’t already sleep at J—“

“LOOK AT WHAT MY JOEL MADE ME!!” You squeal, showing off the hair pendant. You kicked your feet in the air excitedly, all the calm bravado you had kept at bay finally spewing over to show off what a man he was.

Joel sat on the other side of the door, listening. He had almost collapsed against from internally swooning so hard at your ‘my Joel’ comment.

He was going to make you so much shit if it meant you could call him “mine” again.

And he did. After a hot cup of tea and some avocado toast, you sat at his stool next to his work bench as he quietly did his work. You were wearing one of his t shirts, hair still a little messy, but ever so cute. Sometimes he’d tell you a little bit about the wood, the technique he’s testing, how many times he’s cut a finger. He’d worry he was boring you, but when he’d look up, all he saw were your shining, eager, attentive eyes on him, and it made his heart flutter faster than the mind blowing sex from last night.

He didn’t know he was doing it but the embarrassment on his face when he realized he had carved an o—a fucking wooden ring—and was holding it out to you.

You quickly pulled your necklace and strung it on the metal chain, clasping it back around your neck. “I love it,” you beam, holding it in your palm as you inspected it on your chest.

You were both thinking it:

I could get used to this.

-

Ten Years Later…

Something stinks.

So heinous, it forces him awake rather abruptly. His eyes adjust, the dull pain in his back reminding him he’s still alive. The blankets are hot and heavy over his body. 

Joel blinks, rubbing his tired, baggy eyes. 

The first thing that comes into focus are two fat pudgy baby feet stuck right up his nose. He looks down to see its connected to his little Ellie, who had somehow managed to fall asleep upside down, her bum up in the air like a downward dog.  Next to her was Sarah, this one rightside up, and face smashed into the pillow. Her crazy hair is scattered everywhere. Below her was the new pup, Rutabaga, snoring on his back and kicking his paws in the air as if chasing through the clouds. His tail occasionally smacked Ellie in the head, though it didn’t stir her at all. Joel followed down the bed: Spoon sat with her head perched agains a set of legs. Her eyelids twitched as she utters a sleepy sigh.

Those lets went all the way back up the bed, on the far end, connected to the one who made all this extra space on the bed go to good use. Joel’s lips stretch into a wide grin when he finally falls on you. 

You were sleeping so peacefully. It was like no time had changed. 

The bed may be different. The room, the covers and sheets. His body was thicker, more worn. Hands more calloused. Eyes heavier, voice deeper. And you. Your hair was different now. So was your own body, in so many ways that continued to amaze him. You had grown some bags too under those pretty eyes, new muscle in new places, and some pudge in others. 

But you were still you. The girl he fell in love with so many years ago.

He still hadn’t gotten used to any of it at all. And he’s happy. 

“Hey you,” you whisper, smiling at him across the bed. You sputter out Sarah’s hair that had been tickling your nose, patting it down to get a good look at your husband.

“Busy night?” He teases, gesturing to the very crowded bed that wasn’t there before he shut his eyes.

You giggle, tossing an arm over all of them and hugging them tight. “I love it.”

The wooden butterfly clip would sometimes be the pendant on your suit. Sometimes the clip to hold your hair, other times to hold Sarah’s or Ellies. Shit, you’d even put it in Joel’s whenever you would give him a curled blow out during his forced spa days with you.

Right now, it sat on your bedside table, right on the lamp’s base. 

The wooden ring? 

He kept taking it back. Tinkering. Adding a design for each year you’d spent together. What started as a crude, plain, smooth band now had the tinniest etches of details, including hearts, the initials of each family member, butterflies and flowers, even a dog paw. It had become the one thing as old as the relationship itself, and the most sacred of items.

Joel had eventually built you a chair, desk, table, shit even the headboard was custom made. He built your house, the girls’ cribs, rocking horses, duck barn, dog hammocks, kitchen stools, you name it. If it was wood, it was Joel’s. And each and every one crafted with love, for you, for always.

Yeah. This was it. This was his life. And that made his heart warm brighter and swell bigger every day for the last ten years.

The two of you stared at one another with faint smiles. The rest of your family was heavily sleeping between you. But even now, He could see it in your eyes. Always so pensive, always so expressive. He’s gotten quite good at understanding you through them. 

This morning, they say, “Thank you for giving me this gift.”

Our Family.

- - - -

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[luvvyouforever]

sweet girl - joel miller x reader

synopsis: things are getting hot and heavy with joel, your older boyfriend, but in a moment of nervousness, you stop him. content: mentions of smut/sex, angst, panicking, fluff and comfort, joel is a gentleman as always, older bf younger gf, 1k ish words author's note: i tried to find the gif of joel standing in a bedroom with the christmas lights around bc thats what inspired this but alas i had to go with a generic pinterest pic :(

joel knows he shouldn't have gotten so excited to see your name come across his phone with a message that read "i'm home alone, can you come over?" joel knows he shouldn't be putting on his shoes with urgency and throwing on a jacket to walk 3/10ths of a mile to your house in jackson. but when he's fallen for the sweet 20-something that hasn't got to move out of her parents house yet, his inhibitions lower significantly.

he can do this walk blindfolded, having been around several times before then, some under innocent circumstances, others with a rushed visit to kiss you goodnight. he sees your bedroom light on with the rest of the house dark and heads to the back porch where he kicks his boots off. before he can even knock on the door, it swings open, revealing your smiling face dressed in a matching set of pajamas.

"hey," you say and the sugar lacing your tone could give him a cavity. "you came over quick."

he smirks, leaning against the doorframe. "any chance to see my girl," he responds, the deepness of his voice echoing deep in your chest. your cheeks flare as the name rolled simply off his tongue. my girl. you could've turned into a puddle then and there.

rather than forming a response, you move to the side so he can slip through the door into the dark kitchen. as you shut the door behind him, his hand finds the small of your back as he pulls you closer. bending down, he plants the softest kiss on your lips.

"did you have a good day?" he asked, as if he had just come home from work to you in a normal setting. you nodded, walking up to your bedroom with him in tow.

"i did," you answered. "mom and dad left with the rest of that group to cheyenne. i just...i wanted to see you. actually have a night with you."

he smiled, taking a seat on the edge of your bed as you entered the bedroom. you stand before him awkwardly, having never been put into this position before. sure, there's been some make out sessions against the outside walls of the bar and touches against thighs at dinner, but in the few months you'd been dating, there was never this. the promise of going further.

joel noticed the nervousness in the way your hands fidgeted with your shirt and your eyes glanced over his frame. he reached out his warm hands, wrapping them around your own.

"you okay?" he asked.

you looked down at him, meeting his dark brown eyes that seemed to be incredibly gentle. it was still strange to see him this way after so long of knowing him as one of the more brutal, strong men of the town, succeeded only by his own brother.

"yeah," you said, through your voice was entirely unconvincing. you decided to sit next to him on the bed, playing with his fingers that were warm and strong. hesitantly, you looked up at him once more and he turned to face you more. one of his hands left yours and found your jaw.

he was intoxicating as he came in closer and even more so as his lips intertwined with yours. it was slow and sweet, unlike the rushed makeouts you've had before. very gently, he pushes you down on the bed, hovering over you, his lips never leaving your own.

your hands rest at your sides, unsure of what to do with them. it was as if you didn't know him. something about the aloneness of the house, about the night you were bound to have with joel, it made you panicked. your lips paused against his own and he pulled back with concern.

"what's going on?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

you tried to stammer out words, but found nothing. instead, your chest rose and fell at a quicker rate than normal. "i don't...i don't know," you answered. "i'm sorry. i'm fine, joel."

his hand caressed your skin softly, unconvinced that you were actually fine. when you wrapped your hands around his neck and drew him in closer, he believed you a little more. his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck where the hollow between your shoulder and throat felt warm against him.

his kisses were slow, but needy. at first, your body responded to him, chest arching into his own. but then, that panicked feeling came back in your chest. like what was to come after was a nightmare.

feeling too much of the fear, your hands met joel's chest and you gave him a slight push. it was too much, all at once. you needed time. you needed to ease into it.

"talk to me, sweet girl," joel said, looking down at you with concern lacing his expression.

"i'm sorry," you responded quickly. "just moving too fast. i...i'm not used to this. it's not you, i promise." apologies spilled out of your lips until joel shushed you with a quick tut of his mouth.

"it's okay," he said, scooting up to the headboard where he sat against it. you looked at him sideways, out of breath. "we haven't been alone, yet. i get it. i'm not offended or nothing, darlin'. just worried 'bout you."

joel miller, ever the gentleman. you were admittedly shocked by his sweet understanding and could've cried on the spot. you scooted next to him and threw your legs over his, half sitting in his lap. he easily swept you up into his arms, holding you against his stable, firm chest.

"how 'bout we just lay here for now, yeah?" he asked, his voice settling you instantly. joel had a way of doing that. just calming you down with a look or a whisper. you nodded at his suggestion, leaning your head against him comfortably. "besides, that cheyenne group won't be back for another night or two. we have time."

you smiled at his words. "i'm sorry, joel. sorry if i got you all the way over here for nothing."

he shook his head immediately. "no, no. not for nothing. i was gonna turn in and be lonely the rest of the night. this is better than that."

you let his words marinate, enjoying the way they sunk into your heart and bloom. "i like you a lot, joel," you whispered, shutting your eyes. soon, you'd be able to say the next words, but for now, you felt they conveyed your feelings enough.

"i like you too, sweetheart," he answered. "i like you a lot."

[abbyshands]

MASTERLIST MASTERLIST

⋆𐙚₊˚ GUIDE: ✄ is angst, ✫ is smut, and ♡ is fluff.

⋆𐙚₊˚ READ THIS FIRST. | LINKS FOR PALESTINE | DAILY CLICK

⋆𐙚₊˚ NAVIGATION. REQUEST RULES.

⋆𐙚₊˚ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

✫ hers only (jealous!abby)

✫ teach me (tutor!abby)

✄ ♡ for you (catalina island!abby)

✫ best girl (sub!wife!abby)

⋆𐙚₊˚ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒

✫ finger sucking w nerdy!gf abby

✫ aggressive, nerdy dom!abby + cunnilingus

✫ innocent!abby x you

✫ innocent!abby x you part 2

✫ jackson abby (& cockwarming)

✫ random drabbles for vday

✫ sub!cam girl!abby x you

✄ coldplay’s fix you, applied to ex gf!abby anderson

✄ am’s do me a favour, applied to loser!abby anderson

✫ mean!dom!abby x bratty!reader

✫ dom!abby x softball!reader

✫ high!abby x high!reader ramble

✫ therapist!abby ramble

♡ cowgirl!reader x southern!abby

✫ soft!dom!abby x sub!masc!reader

✄ GOOD LUCK, BABE! chappell roan’s good luck, babe, applied to abby anderson

⋆𐙚₊˚ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

✫ jealous!abby

✫♡ nerdy!gf abby

⋆𐙚₊˚ 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐒

abby’s arms and hands

✫ ellabs twitter links

✫ ellabs twitter links pt. 2

✫ ellabs twitter links pt.3

hot!abby edit (sl*t him out by baby tate

hot!abby edit (haunted by beyonce)

abby nsfw audio

⋆𐙚₊˚ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

✫ welcomed (sub!ellie & a breeding kink)

⋆𐙚₊˚ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒

✫ sub!ellie x dom!gamer!reader

✫ ellie williams with a lip piercing

✫ ellie working at spencer’s

✫ GUESS! GUESS! charli xcx and billie eilish’s guess applied to ellie williams

✫♡ gf!ellie with body hair <3

⋆𐙚₊˚ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

♡ ellie williams when you have a bad day

⋆𐙚₊˚ 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐀���𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐒

✫ ellabs twitter links

✫ ellabs twitter links pt. 2

✫ ellabs twitter links pt.3

✫ ellie nsfw audio

farm!ellie photomodes

[eufezco]

WHAT WE DID 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

synopsis – after arriving to salt lake with ellie and joel, the fireflies take her away from you and you did what it took to get her back.

a/n – because since the last episode aired the only thing i can think about is destroying everyone ( ;) ) in that fucking hospital with joel. we're all in this together as they say in high school musical 😭 also this is my first time writing something with so many action and english isn't my first language so i hope you can understand everything

c/w – blood, violence, guns, shooting

angst. fluff

the last of us and pedro pascal masterlist

joel's eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, his expression unreadable. your arm rested against the window, hand holding your head up as you watched the trees blur past. your ears still rang from the shots, you could still feel the trigger in your fingers, the way the recoil bit into your shoulder, the smell of the blood staining your hands.

neither of you said a word. the windows of the car were closed shut, holding in the silence inside. the only sound that mattered was ellie's steady breathing from the back seats.

she let out a soft hum in her sleep, barely more than a breath, but enough for joel’s eyes to snap to the rear view mirror like a reflex. he had it angled just for her, didn’t care much for what was behind them anymore. you turned to look at her. ellie hadn’t moved. still curled up in the backseat, still in that hospital gown, though your jacket was wrapped around her like a shield. her face was calm, just sleep.

—she okay? —joel asked, voice low.

—yeah, —you said. —she's good.

it didn’t matter that joel tried to act like a human shield for ellie and you when that thing exploded, he still went down, and you still ended up in a hospital bed right beside him, with a strong headache, your body hurting. but none of that mattered the second your eyes landed on the red firefly symbol stamped across the wall. you pushed the sheets back, swung your legs over the side of the bed. you tried to stand, but the dizziness hit hard, your knees buckled, vision blurred, the taste of iron thick in your mouth.

—joel, —you swallowed and had to sit on the edge of your bed. his eyes opened slowly, he let out a low groan from his chest as he blinked against the harsh lights, —joel, are you okay? where's ellie?

and then marlene appeared, telling you how grateful she was to both of you for escorting ellie safe to the fireflies, yet joel and you cared only about one thing: where was she? marlene kept talking, trying to distract both of you, about purpose, about how special ellie was.

—just take us to her, —joel rubbed a hand over his face as he sat up straighter on the bed, the pain still into every movement.

—i can't, —that was all it took. your body went still, alert. she couldn’t? —she's being prepped for surgery.

joel’s head snapped toward her. your stomach dropped. —what kind of surgery? —he asked, looking around the room, confused. your eyes wouldn't left marlene. she took a few seconds before answering.

—our doctor thinks that the cordyceps in ellie has grown with her since brith.

—why is she in surgery? —you asked, sharp and clear. you wanted the truth, no more bluffing.

—he's gonna remove it from her, multiply the cells in a lab and then we can give it to everyone. he thinks it could be a cure.

—cordyceps grows inside the brain, —joel said immediately after.

marlene pressed her lips together, —it does.

you felt the breath catch in your chest, like your lungs had forgotten how to work. your hands trembled, but you curled them into fists. you looked at joel. his eyes were locked on marlene, but you could see it in his face. the way his shoulders had gone rigid, the way his fingers were holding onto the edge of the bed.

—we didn't tell her, we didn't cause her any fear, there won't be pain.

—no, no, no, no... —you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself up from the bed. your legs trembled, barely holding your weight, but you didn’t care. you needed to get to the door and you needed to get to her. one of the two guards flanking the exit moved and with no warning, the back of his rifle cracked against your legs.

your knees gave out, hitting the floor hard. —hey! —joel shouted. he was on his feet in an instant but the second guard was faster. the butt of his rifle slammed into joel’s side, and he dropped too, falling to his knees next to you.

marlene looked down to both of you. she pressed her lips together and just mumbled an i'm sorry, i have no other choice.

—we do, —joel said. his whole body tensed, ready to snap. you didn’t have to look at him to feel it, you had the same expression. fury. grief. betrayal. you looked up at marlene through teary eyes. yours were filled with disbelief, desperation, joel's eyes were pure wrath.

marlene shook her head looking at you two, —walk them out to the highway, leave them there. if they try anything, shoot them.

one of the guards grabbed joel by the arm, dragging him roughly to his feet. you tried to get up but the second guard didn’t wait. he shoved the barrel of his rifle against your back, hard, making you fall back to your knees. joel clenched his jaw, approaching the second guard but before he could reach him, the first guard grabbed him by his shoulder and yanked him back.

—don’t ever touch her again, —joel growled, eyes locked on the one who pushed you.

in that moment, you still on your knees and joel standing in front of you, you shared a glance, like two ends of a loaded wire. the same thought crossed your minds: we get out of here dead or with ellie. joel’s eyes darkened just enough for you to know he’d already chosen. you felt the same burning in your chest. you'd chosen too.

you left marlene behind and the guards got you through the hospital. you two walked between them. joel ahead of you, his hand behind him, stretched just enough so his fingers could find yours. you reached out, not hesitating, lacing your fingers with his in the space between you.

joel stopped halfway down the stairs, the guards barked a move! and pushed you forward. you both stumbled down a few steps. his hand held yours tighter and you understood that it was time. he slammed his elbow into the first guard’s face, bone meeting bone with a crack. the man stumbled back, you ducked and moved aside, slipping out of the way just in time as joel grabbed the first guard’s rifle before it hit the ground, and without even looking, aimed it toward the second guard.

bang.

you grabbed the dead man's rifle from the floor, and in one fluid motion, aimed it at the first guard still conscious. he was against the wall, one hand pressed over his bloodied nose. joel raised his rifle beside you. —where is she? —you asked.

—fuck you, —he said. and before he was done, you pulled the trigger.

joel and you looked at each other. there was no going back, whatever waited for you above, you were going to face it. together. you gave him a small nod. joel turned and started up the stairs, rifle raised, steps quiet. you followed close behind, watching his back like he watched yours.

you made your way to the top floor. every hallway was fire, every corner, another shadow with a gun. but you didn’t slow down. joel was just ahead, or just behind, depending on who needed cover. you moved like you'd done this a thousand times together. each time you pulled the trigger, each time a firefly dropped to the ground dead, it wasn’t hate in your chest. it was fear, desperation.

it was family.

you didn’t see enemies, you saw obstacles between you and her. between the three of you, between what the world wanted to take and what you refused to give up. your feet moved faster than your thoughts which is why you didn’t see him. he came out of nowhere, rushing from a side hall. his knife drove down into your arm, really close to your shoulder. the man pushed forward, trying to pin you, but before he could finish what he started

bang.

a single shot, clean, perfect, straight through the head, and his body hit the floor. joel was already there, eyes sharp, his focus was all on you. —shit, —joel lowered his rifle after the shot as he muttered with anger at the world, at the fireflies, at the fact that you were bleeding in front of him. —hold on. i got you.

your breath came in short gasps, the pain was sharp, the blood was hot, soaking through your shirt, running fast down your arm but the adrenaline was stronger. you shook your head, —we keep going.

he didn’t argue, he saw the determination on your face. he thought about it before he nodded once, jaw tight. you had to get to ellie.

the flickering light at the end of the hallway caught your attention. joel and you had cleared it, bodies left behind in silence and blood, rifles low now but ready. the echo of the last shot still seemed to ring in your ears, the pain in your arm ran through your whole body. joel stepped closer to the door, breath measured, eyes locked on it. he raised the barrel of his rifle and pressed it gently to the metal, pushing it open inch by inch.

joel lowered his rifle when he saw her. you straightened your back despite the weight of pain pulling you down and you lowered your rifle too. what did they do to her? what were they planning on doing to her? how could you have put it directly into the wolf's mouth? she was unconscious on the operating table. pale. still. surrounded by blue gowns and gloved hands.

—unhook her.

one of the doctors turned, startled. without a second thought, his hand grabbed the scalpel on the table beside him and also without a second thought, joel shot him. he didn't flinch, neither did you because if joel hadn’t made that shot, you would’ve.

—unhook her! —you repeated what joel said.

the nurses moved fast, trying to avoid the same fate as the doctor. the monitors stopped beeping and they pulled the needle free from her arm, and you saw the small, shallow prick of blood that followed.

—turn around, —joel ordered to the nurse, aiming his gun at them.

you approached ellie quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. you gently caressed her hair and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, —we're here, you're safe, —you mumbled to her in case she could hear you.

joel was completely numb, his eyes were distant, as if he was still processing how you almost lost her. he moved quickly, almost mechanically, to the small supply closet in the corner of the room. he grabbed bandages, alcohol, thread and needles, anything that could be used to treat you and put it inside his pack. then he reached you and ellie, his focus shifted completely. his hand gently passed down ellie’s neck and with the same careful movement, he slid his other hand behind her knees, lifting her just a little more securely in his arms, his grip solid but not too tight.

the nurses stood frozen, their backs to you, hands raised in silent surrender. they didn’t dare move, barely breathed. they’d seen your faces. they’d seen what you and joel were willing to do. it wasn’t personal, but they were witnesses now and you couldn’t leave anyone who might come back for ellie. or for you. or for joel.

your shot echoed in the sterile, tense air, a sound so sharp it almost didn’t seem real, and the nurses fell to the floor.

you stepped out of the operating room first, your rifle at the ready. behind you, joel moved with ellie in his arms. you reached the elevator, your eyes scanning the empty hallway, but the quiet was short. the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor, drew your attention. you tensed, instinctively raising your rifle.

—you go with ellie, i'll take care of that.

joel's voice came softer, almost pleading. —don't make me leave you.

you turned your head just enough to meet his eyes. you stepped in close, your free hand rising to cradle the back of his neck, forehead to forehead. —i'll meet you in the parking lot, i swear. get her safe.

joel stepped into the elevator as the footsteps rounded a corner far down the hall, still unseen but coming fast. the doors began to close and you gave him a small nod of reassure. you stayed back against the edge of the elevator shaft, just out of sight, waiting for the person to get to where you were hiding.

her braid hung low and her hand trembled around the grip of her gun. she stood in front of the door like she wasn’t ready to go in, like some part of her still didn’t want to believe what might be waiting for her inside. and you shot her. quick. right in the back of her head and she fell to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. she was young, probably a few years older than ellie but you had no choice, it was you or her.

you took the elevator, feeling the dizziness of your wound finally hit you. your hand moved to your arm and you hissed when you pressed to stop it from bleeding anymore. when you got to the parking lot, you heard a voice.

—it's not too late. even now, even after what you two have done. we can still find a way.

marlene.

you walked slowly, trying to go unnoticed, until you realized there was a gun in her hand aimed directly at joel and ellie, her finger already on the trigger. you didn’t think. you didn’t wait. you couldn’t lift your rifle with both hands, your injured arm hung useless by your side, so you raised it with one. it shook under the weight, your hold unsteady, vision narrowing. but your aim? your aim was clear. the bullet hit her low in the back and she fell to the ground.

joel moved fast, cradling ellie tighter. he opened the back door of the car and eased ellie inside, laying her across the seats as gently as he could, brushing her forehead before pulling your jacket tighter around her. then he turned in a hurry, eyes scanning until they landed on you. you were leaning against the wall now, rifle still in one hand, the other gripping your bleeding side, your knees looked ready to give out.

—got you, —he muttered, breath hot against your temple. you nodded, swallowing a groan as you moved. every step felt like fire, but he kept one arm firmly around your hips, guiding you to the car.

you stopped. joel felt it and he turned with you, both of you staring down at marlene where she lay on the floor, blood pooling slowly beneath her. her hand was raised, shaking, reaching toward you.

—wait, wait, wait, no. please. let me go.

your rifle was still in your hand, but lowered now. joel looked at you, not pressuring, just watching. the choice was yours.

—you’d never stop. —your voice quiet. —you’d come for her again.

and you shot one last time into her head. no hesitation. you leaned into joel without a word, your weight folding into the side of his body as his arm around your hips tightened, steadying you. he helped you to get to the car, his grip never leaving you.

you fell into the passenger seat with a grunt, the door slamming shut beside you as joel slid in behind the wheel. he didn’t waste a second. the engine roared, tires squealing, —press your arm, —he said, eyes moving from the road to you and back. you needed to get as far as possible from the fireflies before even thinking about stop and focus on the pain at your arm. and you did as he said, your hand to your wound, wincing hard, your fingers slick with blood.

a couple of miles passed like a blur. he drove in silence. ellie lay unconscious in the backseat, small and pale under your jacket. you were in the passenger seat, blood soaking through your shirt and running down your arm. his heart beating so hard against his ribs he swore you could hear it. he pulled off the road without warning, parking behind a cluster of rusted-out cars lining an overgrown roadside. joel rubbed his forehead. he slammed the driver’s door shut and came around to your side of the car.

he crouched down, eyes scanning your face before dropping to the blood still soaking your side. —shit, —he muttered. joel's hand careful pinched your chin. —hey. look at me. you still with me? —you gave a small nod. —alright, i'm gonna get you out of the car. you need fresh air and i'll patch you up. —he helped you to get out, his hands holding your hips as he closed the door behind you and sat you on the ground, letting you rest your back against the car. joel grabbed the pack from the back seat, dropping to his knees by your side. he started digging through the supplies he had grabbed from the or.

you swallowed hard as you watched joel rip the sleeve of your shirt with the knife. the alcohol from your flask hitting your wound was the worst, the sting was almost unbearable. then he reached for the needle, his hands trembling more than you’d ever seen before which made it very hard for him pass the threat through the needle's eye. his hands were still unsteady as he began to stitch the wound, the needle going through your skin, pulling the edges together. you closed your eyes shut and held your breath, your fingers dug into the dirt beside you.

—breathe. please. you're scaring the hell outta me.

you opened your eyes, met his, and let out the breath you didn’t realize you were still holding.

—hurts like hell, —you whispered, the corners of your mouth twitching, like you were trying to make it a joke but didn’t quite have the strength.

—i know, `m sorry. i'm almost done.

you looked down at your stitched-up wound, the edges of your torn skin now held together in a rough but solid line. blood still stained the surrounding skin and joel's hands but it wasn’t pouring out anymore. he carefully wrapped a clean bandage around your arm, putting a little pressure on the wound to make sure it stayed in place. —you did great, joel. thank you.

you closed your eyes and let your head rest against the metal of the car. joel sat next to you, his arms hung loosely on his knees. you hadn’t had time to process what you just did. the violence, the blood, the choices.

—we did what we had to do.

you nodded slowly, —we couldn't lose her, joel. she's like our-

you stopped before the word left your lips. daughter. but it hung there anyway—unspoken but clear. ellie was more than just a kid. she was more than just a cargo. joel didn’t need to hear the word to understand.

—yeah, she is.

you sat there together for a moment, enjoying the silence as your head rested on his shoulder. he didn’t speak, but his arm around you told you he was just as lost in his thoughts. then, without a word, before getting into the car again, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. and joel drove, as fast as he could, to jackson.

ellie rubbed her eyes in the backseat. joel's hands on the steering wheel tightened, your back tensed. she tried to sit but the effects of the anesthesia were still there, —it's alright, you're with us. take it slow, the drugs are still wearing off.

—i was with the fireflies and the... what drugs?

joel swallowed and you decided to talk for him. you told her they had run tests, that it turned out she wasn’t the only one and there were others like her, people who were immune. you said the doctors tried everything, but none of it worked. that all their research for a cure had led nowhere. and that they’d stopped trying.

she took a second before answering. then, she asked for her clothes, after noticing that she was wearing an hospital gown. joel told her there had been raiders. that things got messy. he said you barely made it out. you stayed quiet beside him, the lie sat on top of the others, fragile but necessary.

—were people hurt?

joel nodded. she noticed joel's hands on the steering wheel with dried blood and the way you held your arm close to your body, the dark patch of blood that had seeped through the edge of the bandage.

—is marlene okay?

you swallowed but said nothing. joel didn’t answer either. ellie waited but that silence told her more than any words could. she turned her back, curling into herself. joel took your hand, the one resting on your leg. his thumb brushed lightly over your skin, comforting, like a reminder of the words he said before,

we did what we had to do.

[cinnasite]

with great power comes great lesbianism

꩜ pairing: spiderman!ellie williams x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 5.5k

꩜ synopsis: your campus crush is awkward, brilliant, and possibly allergic to eye contact. your city’s superhero is bold, brawny, and keeps saving your life. it takes a few close calls and some questionable physics to realise they’re the same girl—and she’s falling for you, too.

The first time Spider-Girl saves you, it's from a mugger in an alley behind the campus coffee shop. You're fumbling through your backpack for your pepper spray when she drops down like some extremely agile angel, all wisecracks and impossibly fluid movements.

"Hey there, citizen," she quips with her trademark enthusiasm, expertly knocking out the guy with a single punch. God, she’s always so extra on television. You didn’t think she’d be a hundred times worse in real life. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that walking alone at night is, like, really bad for your web of safety?"

You stare at her, dumbfounded, heart hammering from more than just the adrenaline. "Did you seriously just make a spider pun?"

"Maybe." Even through the mask, you can hear her intolerable grin. "You okay? No injuries? Emotional trauma? Sudden urge to take up martial arts?"

"I'm fine," you manage, though you're definitely not. She's hanging upside down now, her auburn hair falling in waves around her masked face, and something indescribable about her voice is making your stomach flip. You clutch your pepper spray tighter.

"Good. Great. Awesome," her extremely endearing stuttering doesn’t distract you from how delicious her biceps look in that top-notch suit of hers. "Um, you should probably get home. Soon. Don’t want to miss dinner. Most important meal of the day."

She swings away before you can thank her (or correct her on how the phrase is actually about breakfast), leaving you alone with your breathing irregular and a very inconvenient crush on a masked vigilante.

The second time is five days later, when a chunk of building facade decides to almost make friends with your head during the villain of the week’s rampage downtown. Spider-Girl appears out of nowhere, scooping you up in arms that are surprisingly stronger than anticipated (not that you’ve been thinking about her arms, haha, no way) and swinging you to protection on a nearby rooftop.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," she pants, setting you down gently. "People are gonna talk."

"Are you following me?" you gape at her, brushing dust from your jacket.

"What? No! That's—that's crazy talk. I'm a hero. Heroes don’t follow. They heroically arrive. At coincidental moments."

You purse your lips, evidently skeptical, "Right. Coincidental."

"Very coincidental. Cosmically coincidental, even. The universe is just really invested in us meeting, apparently."

While she goes off on a tangent about something too philosophical for your understanding, you’re more focused on scrutinising her mannerisms. There's something eerily familiar about the way she gestures, all animated hands and panicky grace, but you can't seem to place it. You table your suspicions for another time. That is, if there is another time.

And, oh boy, there is. 

You're walking home from a last-minute convenience store visit when a car runs a red light, heading straight for you. It’s downright ridiculous. At this point, you’re convinced that you’re undeniably cursed. Before you can ponder over the pros and cons of becoming roadkill versus finally escaping the group project from hell, a blur of red and blue tackles you to the pavement, and suddenly you're staring up at the sky wondering if you've died.

For a moment, you're pressed chest to chest with Spider-Girl, her masked face inches from yours. You can feel her heaving, quick and shallow.

"Okay," you whisper. "Now I’m certain you're following me."

"I—" she scrambles backward, nearly tripping over her own feet. "It's not what it looks like!"

You shake your head, trying to gain sense of your surroundings, "It looks like you're stalking me."

"I prefer 'keeping tabs on.' For very legitimate reasons."

You let out a disbelieving laugh, studying her, "What's your name?"

"Girl, do you have a concussion?” 

"Your real name, smartass."

She freezes, her frantic spiraling reaching an abrupt halt, "Come on, gorgeous It’s not so simple. That's classified information."

"Of course," you stand with a defeated sigh, running a hand through your hair and trying not to fixate on how she chose to refer to you (gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous). "Well, thanks for the save. Maybe next time you could text me when there's danger instead of lurking like a weirdo?"

You're halfway down the block when you hear her call out: "I don't have your number!" You turn back, grinning, "I guess you'll have to ask for it like a normal person!"

The girl in your Advanced Calculus class is strange.

Not bad strange—sort of a cute strange, truly. She showed up six weeks into the semester, all quiet and nervous twitching, taking the only empty seat right next to you. She has freckles scattered across her nose and the greenest eyes you've ever seen, and she fidgets constantly, like she's got too much energy for her own skin.

"Ellie," she'd introduced herself on her first day, awkwardly extending a hand that was covered in small scars and calluses. "Williams."

"Nice to meet you," you'd replied, and something about her crooked smile made your chest tight.

She's brilliant in class—when she shows up, of course. Professor Martinez assigns a problem set on differential equations and Ellie solves them with an elegance that makes everyone lean forward to so much as catch a glimpse of her work. But she has her quirks like not making eye contact while explaining her solutions, and doodling in the margins of her notebooks—intricate patterns that look too similar to webs, you suppose. 

Also, she stares at you. A lot.

"Earth to Ellie," you mutter during a particularly boring lecture on integration techniques. She's been gazing at you for the past five minutes, completely obvious about it.

She startles, knocking over her water bottle. "Shit, sorry. I wasn't—"

You stifle a laugh, "Staring at me?" Her face goes pink, about ready to burst if she could, "I was thinking about derivatives. Pretty intensely."

"Uh-huh, here," you hand her some napkins from your bag, helping salvage her soaked notes. "What's your take on the fundamental theorem of calculus, then?"

"It's... fundamental," she says, then grimaces when she seems to realise how that sounds. "I mean, it's inherently elegant. The way it connects differentiation and integration like two sides of the same coin."

You're impressed despite yourself, "Not many would choose to explain it that way, but it’s a fitting analogy."

"Thanks." She plays around with her pen and you wonder how someone’s fingers could be so long and slender and—

Oh my fucking god, please stop.

You snap out of your thoughts to come face-to-face with Ellie rambling, too engrossed in what she’s saying to notice how your neck is embarrassingly flushed. "I'm good with connections. How things relate to each other."

As if summoned by her words, her phone vibrates with what sounds like a notification. She glances at it offhandedly and her whole body goes tense.

"I-I have to—bathroom—emergency—" she's already gathering her things, moving with surprising dexterity despite her apparent alarm. At first, you can only blink at the sudden shift, thinking it's some kind of elaborate excuse or a joke you’re not in on. But she's already weaving through chairs, clutching her bag like a lifeline.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah! Fine! Totally fine! Just, erm, digestive issues!"

By the time you lurch to your feet, she's vanished around the corner, leaving behind only the ghost of her perfume and a rapidly cooling seat. Twenty minutes later, news alerts start buzzing about Spider-Girl stopping a large-scale robbery across town.

You start paying attention after that. Really paying attention.

From your elaborate observations, you’ve concluded the following: Ellie disappears from class every time there's a Spider-Girl sighting. She shows up the next day with new bruises she claims are from "aggressive skateboarding" or "really competitive rock climbing." Who does she think she’s trying to fool? Moreover, she knows too much about physics and momentum for someone who supposedly just likes math.

"Want to study together?" you nonchalantly ask one Thursday under the guise of Professor Kim sending out a particularly brutal assignment. In actuality, you were on the prowl for some hardcore evidence to back your hypothesis. "The library has those group study rooms."

Ellie's eyes light up, caught off guard by the offer, "Yeah, yes! Absolutely. I mean, if you want. I'm probably not that helpful, but—"

A pointed stare from you shuts Ellie up, "You're literally the smartest person in our class."

A sheepish smile is all you get in response. The study session is a disaster and the best three hours of your week simultaneously.

Ellie is smart, walking you through complex equations with a patience that makes you genuinely grateful to have her by your side, but she's also the most distractible person you've ever met. Her phone buzzes constantly—emergency alerts, news notifications, text messages that make her face go pale.

"Popular girl," you can’t stop yourself from teasing after the seventh interruption.

"Not really. Uh, I volunteer with this community safety thing. Neighborhood watch type deal."

"Neighborhood watch?"

"Mhm, very active neighborhood watch."

She's helping you with a particularly tricky problem, leaning close enough that you can smell her shampoo, when her phone starts borderline shrieking with alerts.

"Shit," she mutters, grabbing it, looking beyond apologetic. "I have to—"

"Go," you say, even though you're disappointed. "Your neighborhood watch thing?"

"Yeah. Last-minute emergency... watching."

She's halfway to the door when she turns back. "Can we do this again? The studying, I mean. Not the emergency part."

You try to bite back a more than pleased smile. You’re not successful. "I'd like that."

After she leaves, you sit in the empty study room for a while, thinking about the way she explained vector calculus like it was poetry, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about complex theorems, the way she looked at you like you were the most interesting equation she'd ever encountered.

Until reality punches all of the air out of your lungs: "Spider-Girl Saves Civilians Trapped in Terrible Industrial Fire."

The realisation hits you during the next class.

Professor Kim is explaining the mechanism behind projectile motion, and Ellie is taking notes with the intensity of someone who needs to understand exactly how objects move through three-dimensional space. Which is apt, you guess. 

"The trajectory of any projectile can be calculated using these equations," Professor Kim drawls, writing on the board. "Accounting for initial velocity, angle of projection, and gravitational acceleration..."

Ellie's pen moves across her notebook, but she's not just copying the equations, you notice. She's modifying them, adding variables, and sketching what looks like trajectory paths between buildings.

Huh, that’s interesting.

"Miss Williams," Professor Kim’s voice booms throughout the hall, "could you share your perspective regarding the topic at hand?"

Ellie looks up, startled. "Oh. I-I was just thinking about how you'd need to account for air resistance in real-world applications. And wind patterns. And if you were, I don’t know, swinging between buildings, you'd need to calculate the optimal release point to maintain momentum while accounting for the pendulum effect of the swing itself."

It’s dead silent. You raise an eyebrow. The class stares at her.

Professor Kim clears her throat, "That's a good question. Yet very specific, Miss Williams."

"I just think about practicality," Ellie mutters weakly.

After class, you corner her in the hallway, determination oozing from the way you stride over to her. "Swinging between buildings?" you ask.

Ellie can barely hold it together, itching with the need to be anywhere but in front of you. "Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically," you echo, studying her face. "You know, I've been thinking about patterns lately, since our conversation. Like how Spider-Girl always seems to show up right after you disappear from class."

Ellie goes very still. "That's... cool."

"Is it? Because I've been doing some math of my own. The timing, the locations, the way you know exactly how web-swinging would work from a physics perspective."

"Funny story, I’m… ah… writing a research paper on Spider-Girl’s abilities—"

"You have the same voice as a certain superhero who's saved my life three times."

Her face goes pale. She opens and closes her mouth, unable to devise an escape plan. And she has tons of experience in those. "I can explain."

You lean closer, lowering your voice, "Can you? Because I'm starting to think my study partner is also the girl who's been stalking me from rooftops."

"I haven't been stalking you!" she protests, then catches herself. "I mean, I don't know what you're talking about."

You tilt your head, close enough to see the panic in her green eyes. "Prove it."

"How?"

"Kiss me."

"What?"

"If you're not Spider-Girl, then kissing me shouldn't be a problem. But if you are..." you let the sentence hang, your own pulse skyrocketing.

Ellie stares at you, bewilderment painting her features. "That's not—that doesn't prove anything."

"Doesn't it? Because I'm pretty sure Spider-Girl has been wanting to kiss me for weeks. The question is whether Ellie Williams wants to kiss me too."

The words tumble out before you can second-guess them—bold, reckless, and so unlike you. But for once, you don’t care. The hallway is empty, most students having fled to their next classes. Ellie looks around desperately, like she still believes that she can scheme her way out of this.

"I—" she starts, then ultimately stops. Her shoulders slump. "Fuck."

"Is that a confession?"

"It's an acknowledgment that I'm terrible at this secret identity thing."

You grin, pleased with yourself, "So you are Spider-Girl."

"Yeah." She runs a hand through her hair. "And I've been going crazy trying to keep away from you while also making sure you're safe, and I think I'm falling for you but I can't tell if it's because I'm Spider-Girl or because I'm Ellie, and—"

You kiss her.

It’s soft, at first, almost hesitant, but it lands with the quiet certainty of something long overdue. Her words die against your lips, a half-formed thought swallowed by the warmth of your mouth on hers. She lets out a soft, taken aback sound, something between a gasp and a sigh, and then she’s kissing you back like it’s instinct, like she’s been waiting for this as long as you have.

Her hands rise to cradle your face, fingers trembling just slightly as they settle against your cheeks. She leans into you, melts, and the world narrows down to the press of her body against yours and the wild, thunderous beat of your heart.

When you finally pull back—breathless and stunned—she doesn’t say anything. Just stares at you with wide, shining eyes like she’s seeing something brand new.

Like she’s never wanted anything more.

"Both," you whisper. "You asked if you're falling for me as Spider-Girl or as Ellie. For me, it's both. I'm falling for both of you."

Her smile, the brightest you’ve ever seen, could power the entire campus. "Really?"

"Really. Though I have to say, your secret identity skills need work."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm getting that." She ducks her head, but not before you catch the rising blush, equal parts pride and bashfulness. You’re not sure if it’s the jab, the kiss, or just you that’s got her blushing like that, but whatever it is, you want to see it again. 

"We should probably talk about this somewhere more private," you say, glancing around the empty hallway.

"My apartment?" Ellie suggests, then immediately looks panicked. "If you want. For talking. Just talking. Very innocent talking."

You laugh, carefree, watching the panic bloom across her face like she’s just proposed something scandalous instead of, quite frankly, simply suggesting. It’s cute—dangerously cute—and a spark of amusement curls in your chest. "Ellie."

"Yeah?"

"It’s alright. I'm not going anywhere."

Her apartment is small and cluttered, textbooks scattered across every surface, equations scrawled on sticky notes stuck to the walls. Such a nerd, you think to yourself with barely controlled lust. There's a familiar suit hanging in the closet, and you stare in awe.

"So," you begin, settling on her couch. "How long?"

"About a year. There was this lab accident—" she sits beside you, close enough that your knees touch. "Radioactive spider. Very original, I know."

"And you've been doing the superhero thing since then?"

"Someone has to. The city's not exactly overflowing with good-natured people."

You drink in her face, taking in the small scar on her cheekbone, the way her eyes are alight with something unfamiliar. "Are you okay with this? Me knowing?"

"Terrified," her eyes widen a little, like she hadn’t expected you to ask. Like the idea that someone would care enough to check in hadn’t fully occurred to her. The tension in her shoulders eases, just barely, and when she speaks, her voice is softer. "But also... relieved? I've been wanting to tell you for weeks."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because people I care about get hurt. It's like a rule or something," her nails scratch at her skin anxiously. "And I care about you. A lot."

It slams into you—her honesty, raw and unguarded—and you have to swallow the rush of feeling that follows. You’ve waited so long for this, for her. Now, she’s here, and you don’t trust yourself to breathe too loudly in case the moment shatters. "How much?"

She looks at you then and the intensity in her gaze makes you forget how to function. "Enough that I've been taking patrol routes past your apartment building to make sure you get home safe. Enough that I nearly blew my cover multiple times because I couldn't stand the thought of you getting hurt. Enough that I've been falling asleep thinking about you and waking up wishing I could tell you everything."

Your lips quiver, "Ellie..."

"I know it's crazy. I know I've been lying to you, and that dating me comes with risks you never signed up for. I know you think I'm some kind of stalker. Fuck, I am—"

You kiss her again, slower this time, like you're trying to commit the way she tastes, the way she feels under your hands to memory. Her fingers tighten at your waist, tentative at first, then surer, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. You can clearly tell that she’s been waiting for some semblance of permission to want this as much as she does. She tilts her head, deepening the kiss with a quiet groan that makes your knees go a little weak.

It’s not a confession. It’s a surrender. A promise that neither of you quite knows how to verbalise so soon.

"I don't think you're a stalker," you mumble against her lips. "I think you're extremely awesome. And hot. And selfless."

Ellie chuckles, "And?"

"And I think I'm completely gone for you."

She pulls back to meet your eyes. "Both versions of me?"

"All versions of you. The hero, the student, the girl who makes terrible spider puns and gets flustered when I catch her staring."

"I do not get flustered."

"You look like a tomato right now."

"That's unrelated."

You throw your head back, and she grins, that same, crooked smile that's been driving you crazy for weeks. "I love your laugh," she appreciates softly.

"I love your brain. The way you see patterns in everything, the way you explained all of those formulae like they were beautiful instead of impossible."

"They are beautiful. Math is, like, the language the world uses to describe itself."

"See? That. That's what I'm talking about."

She shifts closer, her forehead resting against yours. "What happens now?"

"Now you stop trying to protect me from a distance and let me be part of your life. The real part."

"It's dangerous."

"So is crossing the street. So is falling in love with someone," you trace the line of her jaw with your fingertip. "I'm not asking you to stop being Spider-Girl. I'm asking you to trust me enough to let me choose to be with you anyway."

She's quiet for a moment, and you can see her calculating probabilities, a deep furrow set in her brows. Finally, she utters, "I've never had anyone who knew. About me, I mean. All of me."

You nod in understanding, "How does it feel?"

"Scary. Amazing. Like I can finally relax."

"Good,” you smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Because I plan on knowing you for a very long time."

"Show me," you say later, when you're curled up together on her couch, her arms around you and her chin resting on your shoulder.

"Show you what?"

"The Spider-Girl stuff. I want to see how it works."

She tenses slightly. "Are you sure? It's kind of intense."

"Ellie. I've been dreaming about this for weeks."

She's deeply amused for a moment, then she gently untangles herself from you and stands. "Okay. But if it freaks you out—"

"It won't."

She moves to the window, and you watch as she seems to almost, in a way, transform. Her posture changes, becomes more fluid, more confident. She presses her palm against the glass, and you see her fingers stick to the surface without any effort.

"Holy shit," you gawk.

"That's not even the cool part." She grins, extending her wrist. There's a soft thwip sound, and you jump back as a strand of webbing shoots out, sticking to the opposite wall. "Web-shooters. My own design."

"Can I...?"

"Touch them? Sure," she comes back to the couch, holding out her wrist. The device is sleek and mechanical, clearly homemade but extraordinarily sophisticated.

You run your fingers over the metal, marveling at the craftsmanship, "You built this?"

"Built, tested, redesigned about fifty times. Turns out web-slinging is more complicated than it looks."

"This is incredible. You're incredible."

She rubs the back of her neck, "It's just engineering."

"It's genius-level engineering that you did in your spare time while maintaining an impeccable GPA."

"My GPA is not impeccable—"

"Ellie," you look at her seriously. "You're amazing. Not just as Spider-Girl, but as you. The fact that you use your intelligence to help people, that you built all this to make the world safer... it's the most attractive thing I've ever seen."

She stares at you for a moment, then she's pressing her lips to yours, urgent and hungry. You respond immediately, your hands fisting in her flannel shirt as she guides you back against the couch cushions.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," she barely contains her whimper. "Every time I saved you, every time you smiled at me in class, every time you caught me staring..."

"I was hoping you'd stare," you admit, biting your lower lip. "I've been trying to get your attention for weeks."

"You always had my attention," her fingers trace the skin just above your waistband, and you shiver. "From the first day you sat next to me in class, I couldn't think about anything else."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

"Because girls like you don't usually go for awkward nerds."

You giggle, bringing her face back to yours for another kiss. "This girl does."

"Yeah?"

"Hell, yeah," you tug at her shirt, suddenly desperate to feel more of her.

She helps you pull her flannel off, revealing a simple black tank top underneath. There are more scars here, small ones scattered across her arms and shoulders—evidence of her other life.

"Do they hurt?" you ask, tracing one with your fingertip.

"Not anymore. I heal fast now."

You lean up to kiss the scar on her collarbone. "I don't like the idea of you being hurt."

"I'm careful."

"You throw yourself off buildings for a living."

"I'm strategically careful."

You're about to respond when she kisses your neck, and whatever you were going to say dissolves into a soft moan. She's good at this, all careful attention and gentle pressure, like she's been thinking about exactly how to touch you.

"Ellie," you whisper, and she responds by trailing kisses down your neck.

"I love the way you say my name," she whispers against your skin. "Both when you're annoyed with me in class and when you're like this."

"Like what?"

"Desperate. Wanting me."

"I do want you," you thread your fingers through her hair, tugging gently until she looks at you. "I want all of you."

Something shifts in her expression, heat darkening her eyes. "All of me?"

Instead of answering, you flip your positions, pushing her back against the couch and settling yourself astride her lap. Her hands immediately find your waist, fingers digging in like she's afraid you'll disappear.

"Hi," you say softly.

"Hi yourself," her voice is rougher now, her breathing uneven. "This is... this is really happening?"

"Unless you want to stop."

"Fuck no," she sits up, bringing your faces level. "I just... I've imagined this so many times, but I never thought..."

"What?"

"I never thought you'd want me back."

You cup her face in your hands, thumb brushing over her cheek. "Ellie Williams, I've been hopelessly crushing on you since the first time you rambled about one of your silly interests. Finding out you're also the badass superhero who's been saving my life is just a sexy bonus."

She laughs, light and surprised. "Sexy?"

"Very sexy. The competence, the confidence, the way you move like you know exactly what your body can do," you roll your hips cheekily, and her grip on your waist tightens frenziedly. "It's incredibly hot."

"Oh."

"Tongue-tied?"

"Shut up," she says, but she's grinning as she pulls you down.

This time when your lips meet, it's different. Needy. Her hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing just under your ribs, and you arch into the touch with a sound that makes her eyelashes flutter.

"Is this okay?" she asks, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

"More than okay."

She helps you pull it off, and for a moment she just stares, dumbfounded. "You're so beautiful," she licks her lips, and the reverence in her voice astounds you.

"So are you,” you drag her into another makeout, rougher this time. She meets you halfway as you both start to move—slow, desperate grinding that leaves no room for doubt. Her thigh slots between yours, and the friction pulls a breathy curse from your lips.

Ellie’s hands are everywhere, the curve of your back, your shoulders, the line of your throat. She mouths at your chest through your bra, tongue dragging over the fabric until your head tips back and a shaky moan escapes you. She hums against you like she’s proud of your reaction and you’re already giving in, her name slipping like a prayer.

You pull back to meet her eyes. "I need you, Ellie."

Something in her expression shatters—restraint, maybe, or whatever thread of self-control she was still clinging to. Her jaw tightens like she’s trying to hold herself back and failing spectacularly. She exhales sharply through her nose, then grabs your hips with both hands, grinding up against you like she can’t stand even an inch of space.

“Fuck,” she mutters, like the word is forcibly ripped out of her. “Say that again.”

“O-oh,” you gasp at the delicious movement, clutching onto her helplessly. “N-need you, Els. Please.”

She stands without warning, lifting you with her, and you wrap your legs around her waist. The casual display of strength makes heat pool in your stomach.

"Show off," you tease.

"You like it."

"Wrong. I love it."

Her bedroom is small and messy like the rest of her apartment, but you don’t mind. She sets you down gently beside the bed, her hands immediately finding your waist again.

"Are you sure about this?" she asks, and there's a fond vulnerability in her voice.

"Ellie," you step closer, pecking the tip of her nose. "I'm sure about you.”

"I’m sure about you too," she smiles, and then she's walking you backward until your legs hit the mattress.

You fall together, a jumble of limbs and fast kisses and hands that can't stop touching. She's careful with you, gentle despite the strength you know she possesses, and something about that contrast—the deadly superhero being so tender with you—makes you feel cherished in a way you've never experienced.

"I want to make you feel good," she moans against your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine. "Will you let me make you feel good, baby?"

"E-Ellie," you can only manage to stammer, and she smirks deviously against your neck.

"Just like that."

Ellie doesn’t hesitate. Her hand slips beneath your waistband, knuckles brushing your skin as she works her way into your pants and under your panties. The first drag of her fingers through your slick makes both of you gasp—you at the contact, her at the way you’re already soaking for her.

“Jesus,” she remarks, almost in devotion, before slipping two fingers inside you, slow but unrelenting. Your hands dig into her shoulders, hips rolling up to meet each thrust, and she finds a rhythm that makes your head spin. Her palm presses snug against your clit, every movement measured and devastating.

"You're so responsive," she murmurs, pressing kisses down your throat. "So perfect."

"Not perfect," your reply is strained, hard to think with her touching you like this.

"Perfect for me."

When her lips follow the path her hands have traced, you're already trembling. She takes her time, building you up carefully, until you're writhing beneath her.

"Please," you beg for the second time that day, and she looks up at you with her insatiable, lidded gaze.

"Please what?"

"Please don't stop."

"Never," she swears, and then she's making good on it, using her mouth and hands to take you apart piece by piece.

She sinks to her knees like it's second nature, tugging your pants down completely with an urgency that makes you shy away. Her mouth is on you almost instantly, tongue parting you with aching precision, and the first slow lick is both torture and life-changing. Her hands grip your thighs firmly, anchoring you in place, as if daring you to pull away.

Not that you would, not when her mouth is right there, focused solely on your dripping cunt.

She moans against you like she’s the one being eaten out, the sound sending vibrations straight through your core, and you choke out a gasp. One hand trails from your thigh to slip two fingers inside you, easy from how wet you already are, and the combination of her mouth and the rhythmic movement of her fingers is devastating. She fucks you with purpose, stroking that perfect spot over and over as her lips wrap around your clit and suck.

Your hands find her hair, threading through it with desperation as you grind helplessly against her face, barely coherent. 

“Mmm, yeah, good girl. There you go. Use me however you want.”

Your eyes roll back at her words.

The tension coils tighter and tighter, until it snaps all at once—a blinding rush of pleasure that leaves your vision white at the edges as your body bucks against her, undone completely.

She doesn’t stop until you’re gasping, overstimulated and twitching. Until you're crying out her name and seeing stars. Afterward, she holds you close, pressing soft kisses to your temple while you catch your breath.

"Okay?" she asks quietly.

"More than okay," you move in her arms, meeting her eyes. "Your turn."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to," you reassure her softly. "I want to make you fall apart the way you just did to me."

Her face contorts into something akin to burning desire and you grin as you begin to return the favour, taking your time to explore every inch of her skin, to learn what makes her gasp and moan and whisper.

She's beautiful like this, her usual composure completely gone. When she finally climaxes, it's with your name on her tongue and her hands tangled in your hair.

You collapse together afterward, sweaty and satisfied and completely content. She pulls a blanket over both of you, and you snuggle into her side, your head on her chest.

"Hmm," you sigh eventually, tracing lazy patterns on her skin. "This is nice."

"Nice?" she laughs, the sound vibrating through her chest. "I pour my heart out, reveal my secret identity, and give you the best orgasm of your life, and you call it 'nice'?"

"Best orgasm of my life? Someone’s cocky."

"Was it not?"

You grin, leaning up to kiss her chin. "It was incredible. You're incredible."

She tightens her hold around you. "I plan on doing that a lot more, just so you know."

"I’m counting on it."

You lie there in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the feeling of being close to her. Eventually, though, a bunch of doubts and concerns start to creep in like phantoms in the night.

"What happens now?" you ask timidly.

"Now we figure it out as we go," she presses her face into your hair, inhaling deeply. "Together."

"Together," you agree after a few beats of silence, and you can't think of anything that sounds more meant to be.

Outside the window, the city hums with its usual evening hustle and bustle. Somewhere out there, people are going to need Spider-Girl's help. But for now, she's exactly where she belongs—in bed with you, planning a future that includes both sides of who she is.

And you can't wait to see what comes next.

[meganegatari]

have the teensiest blurb ever i wrote as a writing warm-up ♡ fluffy nonsense! i know we're all in an arcane mood, but i can't forget about my girl. (i promise real writing is coming LMAOO im workin on it)

a cozy night in with ellie williams is more healing than the most researched of therapies. full of love, care, fun, relaxation, they were your favorite nights of the week.

at the end of a long, hard week, ellie knows just what you need. she starts of by preparing you a soulful dinner in advance before you get back—a warm and hearty stew. she sets the table, lights a handful of candles, and makes the atmosphere soothing.

when she hears you trudge inside with a groan of exhaustion, she's by your side within milliseconds, removing your coat and taking your heavy bag off your shoulders, finishing off with a heart-to-heart embrace and a kiss on your forehead.

she's intuitive enough to register your energy levels too, without you having to tell her how you're feeling. the smallest markers on your face set off alarms in her head, and she knows that today is a quiet kind of day. she lowers her tone of voice to a whisper, does not inquire excessively about your day, but just leads you to the dining room where you're greeted by the steaming bowl and elegantly set table.

when you sit down you beam at her, internally pinching yourself at her generosity and wondering what you could have done to deserve her, she was sweeter than honey, truly. your smile is infectious, and her familiar toothy grin plays upon her delicate features. she keeps you company while you both have your meal, then she follows you to the living room, already calculating what she can do for you next.

you slump into the silken cushions of the couch, your voice crackling, “els, could you play something for me?”

you nod at the guitar in the corner of the room, covered in wear and tear but housing a sound that felt like home.

she grabs it and plops down next to you, clearing her throat.

slender fingers creating magic on the steel strings, downy voice caressing your ears, you were enveloped in a momentary calmness.

her husky voice, and the lyrics and melody of a-ha's take on me never fail to woo you, she plays it perfectly. you curl up with a blanket, and close your eyes to intensify the experience.

now in darkness, her music caused shapes and colors to form in your minds eye, you could even hear her love-filled smile.

a lullaby in your favorite place, with your favorite person playing it just for you, you were at ease. your heart felt as if it was about to burst with adoration for the girl on the couch next to you, and you were lulled into a restful state, her music painting a mural in your shallow dreams.

rest up, you deserve it.

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