#jesse fell a little more in love with him

[lukesse]

karaoke night (inspired by the original jumpscare lukas design and me and my friend's headcanons)

[spnintheyearofourlord]

I know in my heart Sam and Jess bullied each other so hard

[devilishcupid]

CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara

☆ premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.

☆ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader

☆ warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing

☆ a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."

"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.

"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."

"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.

"Miguel!"

And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called him—only to find that it was you.

His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.

Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.

He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.

"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.

Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.

You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.

"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"

Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.

"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."

You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."

Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."

"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.

"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."

He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.

"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."

Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."

With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.

But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.

[luveline]

omg i love ur pregnant reader x hotch esp the flangsty ones…

maybe him and reader get into a little argument and the fighting plus the hormones plus the constant discomfort makes her leave to stay at a friend’s house for “space” (maybe someone in the bau hehe) then he shows up and grovels and they kiss and make up <333

ty for requesting! —hotch and pregnant!reader make up after a fight (neither being quite as mad as they’d claimed).

“Your boyfriend’s outside.” 

You raise your tired head from the couch cushion. “Who?” 

Morgan grins at you. “Hotch, mama. He’s at the door.” 

Hotch is your husband, not your boyfriend. You’ve got the ring to prove it. 

“You didn’t let him in?” 

“He said you might not want to see him.” 

You want to see Hotch more than you’ve ever wanted to see another person. It is absolute torture to be so heavily pregnant with someone’s baby and to worry they don’t want you anymore. If he’s here at such a late hour, he must’ve forgiven you for being grumpy. Right? 

You sit up and let Morgan help you into a standing position. He pulls your blanket tight around your shoulders. “Should I let him in?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You drop your voice to a whisper, “But don’t let him know I’m eager.” 

He gives you a knowing smirk. “Course not. Stay here, okay? I’ll bring him in.” 

Morgan starts back down the hall. You stand in his living room wondering what Hotch is gonna say, if he’s still mad, if you’re still mad, and if he’s strong enough to carry you back to the car. You don’t wanna sleep in Morgan’s bed, as much as you love him. You want your bed, your Hotch, his baby boy snoring in the room across the hall. You love your life (most of the time, when you aren’t carrying the weight of a bowling ball on your abdomen and the hormones aren’t making you sick). 

“Hello,” Hotch says, still in the suit he’d been wearing when he got home that evening, strangely and obviously nervous where he stops in the doorway. 

“Hi. Where’s Jack?” 

“He went with Jess. I needed to talk to you.” 

“Could’ve brought Jack.” 

“I didn’t want to upset him if you stayed here.” 

You nod. Hotch —who’d cringe if he knew you still called him that in your head, though it’s the name he went by when you fell in love, so what are you supposed to do?— gestures for you to sit, not demanding, only concerned. “It’s late,” he says. 

You can’t be bothered to lower yourself awkwardly into the cushion nest you’d made. “Morgan offered me his bed. He has a California king.” 

“But you stayed on the couch.” 

You glare at him half-heartedly. “Maybe I was watching TV.” You’d been waiting for him to call, but it’s not his business.

He doesn’t seem perturbed by your reaction. He's about to apologise anyways. “I’m sorry for getting mad. I know how stressed you are, and I should’ve done better.” 

Your glare softens. 

“I’m sorry I upset you,” he furthers, the ever present pinch of his brows particularly severe. His eyes are dark like clouds full to bursting with rain. 

You don’t want to say it’s okay. You want him to cross the room and cuddle you up like you’re fragile, the way he does, his nose pressed to your temple as his hands grasp up your achy shoulders. 

“I’ll be better,” he says. 

“You really wound me up, you know? I already feel like I have cabin fever.” 

His eyes cast over you, sympathetic and sorry down to your stomach and up again. He’s pleading without speaking. 

You’re not mad anymore, anyhow. “Can you do that thing for me, please?” you ask quietly. 

Hotch crosses the distance between you and encourages you into his side and under his arm. Careful, he bends into your back, pressing his hand under the round bottom of your bump and pulling up. It takes some of the weight from your hips and spine, alleviating a certain heavy pain and discomfort, while also closing the sour gap between you both. 

“Aaron,” you say, a little shy, mostly relieved, “you should’ve brought Jack. You know I’ll come home if you ask me to. I wasn’t even that mad by the time we got back here.” 

His breath is a shudder by your ear. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You look out toward the hall. “Where’s Morgan?” 

“He said he’d go for a walk.” 

“He's a good friend.” 

“He’s a great friend,” Hotch agrees, rubbing the side of you with his other hand before he pulls away completely. “He told me you can always sleep over when I’m acting like your drill sergeant.” 

You laugh under your breath, leaning in with arms held up to slide over his shoulder. He lets out a sigh as your chests touch, your bump smushed, like he’s finally been cut from a trap. To think he’d be so clearly relieved at having your forgiveness has you emotional all over again, but not with the same red passion you’d been angry with before. “I’m your drill sergeant,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

“You’re my sweetheart,” he says, so quiet you’re sure it wasn’t him, so out of character to admit something like that on a random day. There’s a hint of joking under it, but enough sincerity simultaneously that you melt in his hold. “You are, and I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t sleep in your own bed.” 

“It’s not like I’d have been put out. Morgan’s got a California–”

“So you’ve told me.” His palm stays flat to your back, his fingers patting you gently. His voice mellows into that silken gentleness to match, the tone that drew you in and has you in such a terribly emotional position to begin with. “I couldn’t leave you here. I know you’d be more than comfortable, but I couldn’t sleep the night without you.” 

“Imagine how I feel when you’re away.” 

“I know. I know.” He kisses the skin shy of your eye. “Should we go and get Jack before bedtime?” 

“Can we get something to eat, too?” 

His answering smile is a curve on your cheek. “Mm-hm,” he hums. “Let me just say thanks to Morgan. Then we can go wherever you want.”

[baptismbaby]

† GOD, FORGIVE ME PT. 3

mean! ellie x innocent! reader a/n: will post to ao3 baptismsbaby. sorry if this is a little rushed. smoked a blunt and brain is still fuzzy. unsure how i feel about the ending hope yall like it anyways warnings: toxic! ellie, degrading, praise, pup used as a petname, oral (ellie! receiving), strap usage (r! receiving), slight edging, possessive! ellie, reader is gagged at some point if anyone hates that creds to elliesgalaxy for ellie pic wc: 3.4k<3 part one part two

Six months had passed since you first hooked up with Ellie.

Looking back, you had changed drastically since that night. You used to be so strict with religion and refused to have any fun. It took a month of hooking up with Ellie to finally get over it and realize you could be a Christian and still have fun. I mean, it was the apocalypse. Rules haven’t existed in over twenty five years.

In the beginning, you were constantly telling Ellie “this is the last time.” She’d look at you with a teasing smile and that glint in her eye. She’d laugh it off, always saying the same shit. “You need me.” You’d go back, giving more and more of yourself up to her. Whatever she wanted, you gave to her. The more sex the two of you had, the better the friendship outside of the hookups got. Dina was extremely happy to finally hang out with both of you without the bickering. You loved Ellie outside of the sex. She had her moments still but she was the funniest person you’ve ever met. You wished she could be that way with you alone sometimes. You knew you had to hide your feelings if it meant getting to sleep with Ellie but it was difficult. Whether there was a party at Jesse’s or her place, she’d tell everyone in the smoke circle how bad she would want to fuck some random girl at the party. Ellie didn’t, of course. She’d just say that to get a rise out of you so she could tease you about it later. It hurt but you refused to let it show if it meant risking not being able to see Ellie anymore.

It was another night of partying for everyone and the girls were at your place getting ready. Ellie sat on your bed, wearing a brown flannel and some jeans. Since the weather had gotten warmer, she had trimmed her hair a bit. The way the choppy layers fell in her face sometimes made you blush. She looked so good.

“I’m thinking about wearing something super revealing,” said Dina, going through the dresses she’d find on patrol. “I need Jesse to be jealous.”

“I give it a week,” mumbled Ellie.

“I am not getting back with him!”

“You said that the last time,” you pointed out.

“And the time before that.”

“The time before that time too.”

Dina hit you and Ellie with the dress she was holding. “Stop it you two, I get it! I mean it this time.”

You looked back at Ellie who was already staring at you with a smirk. Dina groaned and continued to look for clothes while you laughed.

“The little being silent but talking with the eyes thing gets on my nerves,” complained Dina. She handed you a dress to wear and you held it up to your body. It was white and silky with a little lace trim at the bottom.

“That’s a little short,” said Ellie.

“Yeah, which is perfect. She needs to get some finally.”

Ellie shot a glare at the back of Dina’s head but neither of you noticed.

“I’ll try it on and see.”

You began to undress, turned away from Ellie. You could see her watching you through the mirror. You weren’t wearing a bra but was wearing a see through pink thong.

“Woah, where’d you find that? It’s so cute,” complimented Dina.

“I found it on one of my patrols a couple months ago.”

Actually, Ellie had found it for you.

You slipped into the dress and turned around, seeing your ass hanging out at the back. “Okay, maybe this is a bit much but it’s super cute.”

“Damn, I would so fuck you,” Dina remarked. “Please wear that to the party. At least five girls are gonna throw themselves at you.”

“Eh, that’s probably too much, Dina. We see the same people every time anyways. No one new to impress. Do you have something else for her?” asked Ellie. You raised an eyebrow at her, wondering why she was being like this.

“I have some more but-”

“I want to wear this, it’s fine,” you interrupted. 

“Okay cool, we ready to go?”

Everyone nodded and started to head out. Dina made it down the stairs first, leaving you and Ellie at the top. Dina was grabbing stuff to put in her bag so she didn’t see Ellie grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards her. She wrapped an arm around you and used her other hand to hold your hair. Her lips brushed against your ear. “I fucking told you it was too short. Are you trying to piss me off?”

You sighed, tilting your head to the side further as she ran her fingers down your neck to your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t care if you wore that for me but in front of everybody? Are you fucking kidding me? You get a taste of my cock and now you’re a slut? Don’t even think about coming by tonight.”

She shoved you forward roughly. You stumbled but quickly stood up straight, spinning around to give Ellie a dirty look. “Stop it,” you whispered harshly. “You’ll be over it by the time the party's over.”

“I mean it,” Ellie hissed. “Don’t speak to me for the rest of the night. Whores don’t get rewarded when they don’t listen. Fucking brat, you know better.”

Ellie walked past you down the stairs, leaving you dumbfounded and angry. You stomped down and grabbed one of the bottles from the table to drink on the way there.

“Woah, pregaming?” questioned Dina.

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a long night.”

-

You were miserable at the party. It had been ten minutes since the three of you arrived and Ellie was acting like such a bitch. You sat by her on the couch while everyone passed around a blunt. She kept skipping you, telling the others you weren’t participating.

“Dina, give me the fucking blunt,” you demanded once it reached her for the third time.

“You’re not smoking.”

“Yes I am, Ellie. Even if it means I have to roll my own.”

Dina squinted at the both of you in confusion. If she was an outsider, she would’ve thought the two of you were a couple in an argument. But it was just you and Ellie. No way there was something going on.

“You can’t even fucking roll,” Ellie insulted. You leaned forward to see another smoke circle across the living room. 

“I’ll just join Jesse’s smoke circle. Sorry, Dina.”

You got up, pulling your dress down before walking over to Jesse’s group. You made sure to swing your hips a bit in case Ellie was watching.

“Why are you two arguing again?” Dina asked Ellie once you left.

“It’s nothing.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the two of you were fucking.”

Ellie took the blunt from Dina and puffed on it. “No way,” she declined. “You couldn’t pay me to fuck church girl.”

“I’d do it for free,” Ellie’s friend said next to her. When she passed the blunt to him, she made sure to elbow him hard in the side. “Ow! The fuck, Ellie?!”

“She’s gay.”

He frowned in disappointment. “Aw man, all the hot chicks are.”

Dina couldn’t stop eyeing Ellie. She was acting strange. Back at yours, she kept telling you to put something different on. Now she’s watching you intently from across the room as you do the thing she told you not to do. At that moment, everything clicked for Dina. Ellie liked you.

“So, what’s the deal between you and Dina?” you asked Jesse as you passed him the joint.

“Shit, I don’t know. Pretty sure we’re over for good.”

“That sounded convincing,” you said sarcastically.

Jesse made a face at you while he crossed his arms. “Oh yeah? What about you and Ellie? You follow her around like a lost puppy.”

“We’re friends now.”

“The way you look at her is not how you look at Dina. It’s how I look at Dina.”

As he spoke, his eyes landed on her from across the room. “Look at her. Talking up some other guy to piss me off. Ellie is staring at you. She looks jealous. I’d know.”

You glanced back but Ellie quickly averted her gaze. You sighed and looked down at your hands in your lap. You wanted to say something so badly but knew that Ellie would end it with you if you told anyone. A girl came and sat next to you, placing a hand on your thigh. “Hey,” she slurred. “Wanna dance with me?”

You looked up at Ellie who’s brows were furrowed in anger. You grinned and stood up, grabbing the girl’s hand. You led her to an open spot on the floor and pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around you as you started grinding against her with the beat of the music.

“I’m Grace,” she introduced herself. “You hang with Ellie and Dina, right?”

You nodded, too busy watching Ellie as her face grew red.

“You’re super pretty. You do a lot of that church stuff, right?”

“Yeah,” you responded dryly. You turned around so your back was pressed against her chest. Her hands rushed up and down your body until she grabbed your tits. You shoved them off and looked back at her. “Don’t,” you demanded. 

Grace saw movement out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see Ellie speedwalking towards you. Grace let go of you and ran off. You were perplexed, wondering if maybe you came off as rude. You felt hands grab you and start shoving you towards a door.

“Hey, what the hell?”

You were pushed into a bathroom. The door slammed and you spun around to see Ellie locking the door. “Ellie!”

Ellie shot daggers at you with her eyes, which meant you needed to be quiet. She pushed you against the wall and held you there with a knee between your thighs. Her hands went over your mouth to stifle any sounds you were making.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She started to unbuckle her jeans, still covering your mouth. They dropped around her ankles to reveal the strap she was wearing over her boxers.

“You’re mine and mine only. This pussy,” she growled as she grabbed your clothed cunt tightly, “belongs to me.”

She kneeled down to yank your panties off. 

“E-Ellie, I’m s-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

She balled your panties up and held them up to your face. “Open.”

“What?”

“Open your fucking mouth!”

You obeyed and parted your lips slightly. She sighed in frustration and reached out to pull it open further, shoving the panties into your mouth.

“This will keep you quiet,” she muttered. “You’re really dumb, you know that? Good girls don’t try to make their girlfriends jealous.”

Before you could even react, she bent you over the sink and shoved her cock inside of you. You let out a muffled groan, the feeling of her filling you up taking you by surprise. She fucked you hard but painfully slow. She’d thrust in, wait a couple seconds then do it again. 

“I want you to watch,” she commanded. She grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked your head up so you could look in the mirror. You could see Ellie behind you with an angry expression on her face. “Stupid girl, you will never find better than me. Get that through your fucking skull.”

She sped up, making you squeal even louder. She placed both of her hands over your mouth as she pounded into you harder.

“Fuck,” Ellie whimpered. “Fuck, you look so good like this.”

Ellie noticed your legs started to shake as you felt your climax getting closer.

“You wanna cum baby?”

You whined, pushing yourself back against her so you could finish. Ellie pulled out of you and turned you around. She lifted you up onto the sink and started kissing up and down your neck. Ellie took your panties out of your mouth, shoving her tongue down your throat.

You tried to pull away to speak but Ellie grabbed your head to keep you still. Her strap would brush against your cunt, eliciting a moan from you.

“Do you think you deserve to cum?" Ellie asked when she pulled away. You shook your head no. “That’s right, baby. You’ve been so mean to me tonight. You’re lucky I’m even fucking you right now.”

“I’m sorry, Ellie,” you murmured. “I shouldn’t have danced with that girl. I belong to you.”

“You say you’re sorry but you have to prove it to me… get on your knees.”

You obliged and kneeled down, opening your mouth expecting her to fuck it with the strap. Instead, she slid out of the harness and her boxers simultaneously and set them down on her pants.

“I want you to make me cum.”

You were shocked. Ellie never let you touch her and she was going to let you eat her out? You didn’t know if you could do it since she never taught you. You didn’t want to disappoint Ellie.

“I’ll guide you through it, pup. It’s okay,” she assured you as if she read your mind.

Ellie leaned back against the wall as your face went towards her pussy. You stuck your tongue out and swiped it up her slit. Ellie shook a little, reaching down and grabbing your hair. “Move your tongue in circles,” she said.

You slowly moved your tongue in a circle on her clit, savoring the taste of her. You looked up at Ellie who was biting her lip to stay quiet.

“T-That’s it,” she praised. “My g-good girl.”

You sped it up a bit once you got used to it, Ellie’s legs trembling against you.

“Fuck!” she panted. “Just like t-that, pup. You’re doing s’ well.”

You decided to stick a finger inside her to watch her reaction. She grabbed the end of her shirt and bit the fabric, trying hard to not make a sound. You picked up the pace, curling your finger as she struggled to stay standing.

“I’m right there baby, don’t stop.”

She gripped your hair and yanked you away once her orgasm hit. She trembled as she started to come down, your hair still tangled between her fingers. Ellie pulled you up and slammed her lips against yours, the two of you desperate to taste each other.

She lifted you up onto the sink again and brushed a finger against your clit.

“You’re so good at making me feel good, baby. I bet you could make yourself feel good too.”

She stepped back and leaned against the door, her arms crossed and a huge smirk on her face. “Come on, touch yourself for me.”

“W-What?”

“I said I wasn’t gonna let you cum but that doesn’t mean I won’t let you finish yourself off while I watch,” said Ellie. She chuckled as your face grew red. “C’mon, I know you can do it.”

“I’ve never tried it, though. I prefer letting you do it.”

“I’m not touching you again until you make yourself cum.”

You whined, feeling too embarrassed to do something like that. You knew that if you refused again, she’d leave you there all alone. You slowly reached your hand between your thighs and pressed your fingers to your clit. You sighed and slowly started to move them in a circle, Ellie eyeing your cunt closely as she licked her lips.

“Atta girl,” she praised. “You like touching yourself for me?”

You didn’t respond. She laughed and grabbed your thigh gently. “You’re shy now, pretty girl? How cute. You were just fucking me and now you can’t even look at me.”

You sped your fingers up the more she spoke to you, soft whines escaping your lips and echoing off the walls.

“Good girl. You put on such a good show for me.”

Your legs shook as a knot began to build in your stomach. “El-Ellie, can I cum please? I-I’m so close.”

“Go on,” confirmed Ellie. You grabbed Ellie’s hand on your thigh and gripped it as your climax took over you.

“Shhhh, baby. That’s it. Be quiet.”

Ellie took your hand and sucked your fingers to get a taste of you. She hummed, wrapping her arms around you to help you stand. “You did so good,” she whispered, holding you close to her body. For some reason, you wanted to cry. Ellie hasn’t comforted you after sex since you lost your virginity, if that was even considered comfort. You melted in her arms and sighed. The warmth of Ellie’s body made your heart ache. You wished so desperately she was like this all of the time. You suddenly remembered what she called you earlier and wondered when you should bring it up. Ellie stepped back and grabbed your panties.

“Let me help you,” she said. Ellie pulled your panties up your legs and tugged your dress down. She quickly fixed your hair with a smile before putting the rest of her clothes back on.

“Can I ask you something?”

Ellie nodded in approval, putting her belt back in the loops and buckling it.

“You said… good girls don’t make their girlfriends jealous.”

“I did.”

“Am I… your girlfriend?”

Ellie shrugged, avoiding your eyes as she tried to focus on anything but you. “Uh… I think that’s up to you. I haven’t asked so… we really aren’t.”

“Are you wanting to ask me?”

“Fuck, why is this so awkward?” Ellie muttered to herself. “I’ve kinda been repressing some feelings towards you for a while now because I wanted this to be a hookup thing and nothing more. But tonight confirmed my feelings for you. Seeing you wearing that dress, knowing people would be eye fucking you… it made me sick. When I saw you dancing with that girl, I was infuriated. Dina kinda figured it out somehow and said I should tell you. I guess I’m not good at hiding my feelings once I have them.”

You smiled. You never thought your feelings for Ellie would be reciprocated. You knew it was hard for her to admit it, which made you like her even more.

“See, I knew something would come out of this!” you exclaimed. Ellie rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the shit eating grin that grew on her face.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I was certain that if you knew I liked you, you’d resent me.”

“Pfft, I knew you liked me. You do a shitty job at hiding things. I can’t go anywhere without you trailing behind me. You’re a pain in my ass but in a good way,” Ellie opened the door for you and followed you out. She wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to her.

“So, you wanna ask me?”

“Ugh, no. We’ve said enough for it to be official. You can’t make me say anything.”

“Aw, you’re shy!”

“Shut up…”

Ellie stopped and looked down at you, her thumb slowly brushing against your cheek as her eyes softened. “You were always mine, weren’t you?” she asked. 

“Of course I was.”

“I promise to be nicer. I know I said that last time but I mean it. I like this. You’re not so bad, church girl.”

You chuckled at the nickname. “I guess you’re alright yourself, Els.”

“What if I told you Jesse and Dina are making out behind you right now?”

You turned to look and laughed at the sight. “We already knew it would happen,” you said.

“Yeah. The party is starting to die a little bit. Wanna swing by yours so you can get a few things for the morning?”

“What do you mean?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re spending the night with me.”

“Wait, really?”

“I’m not saying it again. Let’s go,” Ellie said as she dragged you out by the hand. The two of you spent the rest of the night holding each other in Ellie’s bed, talking about anything you could so neither of you would fall asleep. Ellie felt nervous about entering a relationship and still felt some guilt about being such a bitch to you. And yet, something about this felt so right to her. She was okay with changing her ways since you changed for her. Ellie knew she made the right choice and that it would be worth it. You were wrapped around her finger.

[ladyelissarose]

‘Stop Thinking!’

Miguel O’Hara x girlfriend reader

Warnings; 4K!!! NSFW, smut. Very fluffy- Like fluffy overload. Soft Miguel. I feel like he would be such a soft and sweet person while off-work. (Like look at how sweet he was with Gabriella) anyways. Enjoy y’all!


Author’s note: so this is my first time writing smut. I have no experience in this area of writing. But I wanted to try something new for y’all. So far I’ve been learning from all the amazing smut fics I’ve read. (There are some great ones out there!!) So please, I’m willing to take some word from y’all if y’all like or see something that is fixable! Likes and reblogs are much appreciated- much love y’all! message me if you’ll like to mention something in private;)




“Oh!- Miguelll. Ah! That’s tickles.”


You let out a soft giggle as Miguel laid on top of you in bed, at your shared apartment, kissing your soft stomach wherever he pleased. You both decided to take the day off, (more like you pushed him to finally agree because you saw how exhausted he was) after being stressed out and running on 24 back to back shifts all to protect the spider-universes.

Jess and Peter B. had it in their control, along with LEGO Spider-Man too, (Miguel actually trusted that poor LEGO and seemed more at peace with him along with the others than not.) Anyways, while a very attention deprived Miguel tried to shower you in his once all pent up love and touch, you were too busy still thinking and being busy.


“I wonder if Hobie is going to pull a funny prank once you get back, he hates your guts yet can never leave your lair area.”


Miguel mumbled incoherent words as his lips kissed every part of your soft tummy, your shirt now scrunched up to your neck. You were in simple panties while Miguel rested in his boxers, choosing to have less clothing between the two. You felt Miguel all over you, relaxing in his touch but thought a little more before adding,


“Baby can I babysit MayDay one day? So Peter B and you can work better together and he’s not very distracted?”

This time he let out a groan which you considered a ‘yes’.


“Oh yay!”

To that he softly bit your tummy, to which you let out a soft squeak but nonetheless put forth,

“Or maybe I’ll go on a mission with all the teens, they all seem pretty fun, especially Miles and Pavtir. Gwen gives me ‘mommers’ energy, I’ll invite her to the mall instead. ohhhh.”


 He had just left a super wet kiss in between your breasts after giving attention to them, but he replied,
“Hmm hmm amor.”
Miguel loved to hear you talk, it was no doubt that hearing your voice made his day better (especially when certain spiderlings gave him a hard time.)

But right now, he didn’t want to hear that, he just wanted to hear your soft sighs, those little hitched breaths when he kissed a certain spot. Although more than any of those, it was the whimpers and pleading cried you made for him, along with the sweet moans that were addicting and music to his ears.

Buuuuuut, you wouldn’t god damn shut up. Your mind was working to fast instead of slowing down.
“Hey Miguel, when do you think Jess will have her bab-“

Ok, he has had it, pushing his hair back with one hand he lifted up off of your for a second before stressing out his desperation,


“Por Dios amor, can you shut the hell up for one minute?”

Silence filed the room instantly, you snapped out of your chatty self and saw Miguel’s warm brown eyes hold a yearning in them, and he was breathing hard yet letting in and out slowly. You felt bad for being selfish much, and for not being able to decompress for him.

“I’m sorry Miguel.”

A pout fell on your lips which he kissed away instantly,
“It’s ok amor... I’m not mad. Just... relax.”

You nodded and he then kissed you, feeling that you might give in already, but you began to make excuses against his lips. Mumbling the words against him as he had refused to separate from your lips,
“-ut Migg-“

He pulled away with a huff and held up a very serious finger to your lips gently,
“Don’t ‘But Miggy’ me. Miguel, your boyfriend is telling you to shut up and let me love you. No more work, or nothing. All I want to hear from those pretty lips is moans and my name. Es todo, y nada mas.”


A little snicker passed your lips as you then exaggerated with heavy pants,
 “Oh yeah! Yes please! Ohh- AH MIGUELLL! Oh- fuck!!”


Miguel let out a delicious chuckle with a smirk, groaning lowly as he seated himself deep inside you, relishing in the fact of how you squeezed him so perfectly, hitting all the right spots for him. You were left breath and wordless, as his sudden act caught you off guard and now shut up. You let out a shaky breath and a small moan, trying to suppress it as he pressed in harder and held his place as he whispered to your ear,


“Wanna be quiet now? Thought you wanted to be loud? Hm queirda?”


Teasingly he dragged his fangs across your neck, placing feather light kisses behind the wet trails he left. You squeezed his broad shoulders tightly and in that moment you tried to admire his stealth and magnificence above you, but your mind went racing, and you lost yourself in his eyes as you once again went into thinking,
‘How’d his big size fit in so quickly and unexpectedly-‘


“Amor. Are you ok with this- I’m sorry if I-“

Miguel had the guiltiest frown and started to pull away, and you felt as if your air was being taken from you. How could he think he was in the wrong for absolutely praising and pleasuring you?

With grabby hands you pulled him flush against your chest as you pleaded,

“No no no! You’re ok baby, I swear.”


 His brow picked up a bit as he then asked curiously, showing how much he actually cared about ‘you’ over everything, even while still balls deep inside you,
“Then what’s wrong amor? Hm?”


His homey brown eyes bore only yours as you calmed him,
“Sorry, I was just.. lost in thought.”


 His frown was long gone as he pursed his thick lips and couldn’t help but tsk,
“You still have a question do you?”


Your cheeks burned bright red as you slowly nodded and whimpered,

“yes.”

He propped himself on his elbows to not crush you as he then threatened with a kiss to your nose,
“You have one last question to ask before I rail you until you stop thinking.”


 A breath left your chest in satisfaction as you wiggled a bit, biting down a moan from feeling him swell harder in you, and perfectly ignoring how he bit his lips hard to contain himself. You then raked your hands across his back as you perked,
“How’d you squeeze yourself so easily inside of me? When it usually takes-“

Then you took one of his hands and kissed his knuckles before continuing,
“-your fingers to warm me up?”


 Miguel let out one of his warmest smiles that had a hint of tease in it as he replied,
“Well... you were to busy thinking up here *kiss on your head* instead of thinking down here!-“


And with a quick pull back he slammed himself back into you, causing you to arch into him and this time really moan out,
“Ahhh! Oh Miiiguel.”


“Si? I’m here amor. And you-“

Another deep thrust*

“-were long ready before you even knew it.”

deep thrust*

“Oh go-“

“No amor.. just me.. Miguel. Vamos amor, say my name.”

Lust and pride burned red in his eyes as he looked down at your smaller form under his, adoring every move and sound you made, because of him.

With gentle but hard moves he thrusted into you, being the cause of your short breaths and little whimpers that he was now happy to receive and hear. Arms wrapped around him you pulled yourself up and bit onto his lips, and you left him a sweet kiss before challenging with a sultry voice,


“Make me, Miguel.”


His slower, languid movements suddenly stopped, as he watched you look up at him with a high chin. You let go of his arms and dropped yourself back down, lifting your arms above your head and resting them there. You were sure in a damn mood huh? But it only excited you and brought more to your arousal when he growled,


“Lo hare entonces.”


 Eyes now glowing red, in seconds he had one hand clasped with both of yours, fingers intertwining in a bruising grip, holding them high above your head. With his other hand, he put a soft pressure on your lower stomach, and trailed it up, expanding his fingers to get a whole feel of your skin against his. He stopped his hand right at your throat, his sweet voice betraying his sharp demeanor when he asked- of not pleaded,


“Por favor amor? Do you trust me?”


You sent him a confident smile with a verbal reply, knowing he preferred those for good confirmation,


“Yes love. I trust you.”


Fingers embracing the hold your neck gave him, he squeezed lightly, not wanting to push it too much, but it was just the right amount.

Miguel loved pushing you and trying new things, but he always did it after asking and making sure you were absolutely comfortable. If not he wouldn’t ask twice to do it or make you feel bad about not going with it.

Now your legs found place around his waist, hugging him tightly as he had pulled back and you refused him to go any further out.

But your worries about that were cut short when he began to pour his love out to you with every sharp thrust. Hitting every spot in you had you almost seeing stars, warmth seeped into you from the inside out. Low whimpers escaped his lips all while he made sure loud moans came from yours.

Also, one thing Miguel couldn’t go through this without- was the praise.

“You’re taking me so well amor, eres perfecta. All mine hm?”

A kiss to your lips he added,
“Look at you, hermosa. Tan bueno... look at me.”

You eyes had tried to flutter shut, but at his whimpering plea you couldn’t deny him. Your fucked out eyes looking into his hungry and lustful ones, you both fed off on one another, pleading for more.
 Words were almost not able to get out from how breathless he made you with every thrust. Bit with a certain one that hit you right where it made all the butterflies go all out, you did muster out,
“Y-Yes! Jus’ for you Mig- ah! Please- don’t stop!”

A heavy sigh left your lips as tears prickled in your eyes, the pleasure all too good to keep a straight face. You could feel it all building up, but it felt all too right and perfect to want to finish it and let it go so fast. And you knew Miguel felt the same when he groaned,
“Just a little longer amor, no quiero parar tampoco.”

Your legs pushed him further into you and you dug your heels into his muscled lower back, reaching up to kiss he parted lips.
 Lips then connecting he took your breath away yet provided leverage with his hard pants escaping into you. His muscles rippled under you and you could feel his every movement as he pressed himself impossibly closer to you, not getting enough of your touch or your skin against his.

A light coat of sweat covered you both at the close proximity, but neither gave a damn as you dove into the heat of this moment, embracing into this warmth and heat that was like no other. It was the kind that made you feel safe, known, belonging, cared for, and most of all.. unapologetically loved.

After every other thrust Miguel seemed to be going faster, his hand leaving your neck to use his fingers to rub against your clit, prompting you to reach your high he called his trophy.

Your moans spurred him on as you could feel that familiar and all different warmth of pleasure grow in your lower tummy. You squeezed Miguel’s hand tightly as you pleaded in between moans,
“Ah! Miguel, please.”

With a harsh but quick kiss to your lips Miguel teased,
“Please what? Qué deseas amor?”

He let out a deep groan when your walls tightened around him, making him let out a sweet low moan that was rare to get but you swallowed his every sound desperately like a drug. He smiled with his lips on yours as he asked,
“You close amor? Hm? I can feel- ahhhh.”

You’ve never heard Miguel this vocal before, and you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t triggering something deep in you. Finding him strong in his vulnerability, as he moaned to your words,
“I’m close baby- please! F-Faster!”

Miguel then let go of your hands, and wrapped his arms around you, settling with one hand splayed on your back, and the other gripping your waist tightly, threatening to leave ‘love tattoos’. With a single kiss to you lips Miguel growled,
“Como deseas, aferrate a mi.”


 Your arms grasped tightly onto his broad shoulders, closing whatever gap was left between you two. Your cheek was pressed on his and you held his head against you possessively. 


Miguel put himself onto his knees, and laid you down while clinging onto him for life, as if you were afraid to let him go and lose everything of him. With a reassuring kiss to your head, the fight for your highs became utterly real.

With quick, deep thrusts he began to absolutely rail you, grinding onto your sweet spot with every hit, spurring you on and raising your cries for him.
“Oh Miguel! Ah! Please please- Miguel!!”

He could definitely feel how close you were to an euphoric moment, velvety walls swallowing his length and milking him for what was to come. It only encouraged him to suck up what was left of his adrenaline to sink further in and gift what he could in pleasure.


 Miguel loved you entirely, he’d kill and die for you. You had given him your heart and knew he wouldn’t screw up again, and if he did, he swore with his heart and life that he’d pay for it. In return he had finally given his to you, once he saw and knew you’d do the absolute same for him, if not more.

His life was harsh and more than occupied, he wore a mean facade 99% of the time so he wouldn’t be stepped on, but with you, he could be 100% himself, and this is who he was. A loving, self-sacrificing man, who was vulnerable and healing by giving his all to you. Showing his love endlessly by making himself yours and you his. 
 Feeling himself coming to close to his release, he let go of your waist and trailed his hand to your clit, using his fingers to press down harsh and tight circles that have you curling your toes.
“Vamos amor, come baby I’m right with you. I’m h-here.”


 His words cut short when you finally let go at his command, gushing on him as you let out a deep cry of his name and ‘I love you’s’. 
 Miguel embraced you close as he let go right after you, panting and kissing your neck as he let his cum paint inside of you, marking you once again as his. With a couple last deep thrusts, he finally came to a stop and took deep breaths in between heartfelt words.


“I.. I love you amor.. so m-much.”


You responded with a light kiss to his lips and a mumble, feeling the exhaustion slowly take over,
“I love you... more baby.”


 Miguel got up on his elbows, muttering comforting words as he slowly started to pull out, but you whined a bit and held his shoulders, a small but visible pout on your lips. He thought you were very sore after such a long and hard session, but you quickly said,
“Stay inside.. I.. I want you close.”


 Miguel smiled at you sweetly, knowing that he too would love to do the same, but you needed a refreshing bath first. So he bargained and promised,
“Why don’t we take a quick bath, then we can do that, yeah amor?”

You thought for a minute before accepting he was right, the sticky feeling in your legs showing so. The thought of having cool yet warm water embrace your growing sore body, had you ready to get up immediately.


“Ok baby, let me get up to start it-“

“No no no... let me carry you, come on.”


Like the strong man he was, he was able to sweep you up into a bridal style, carrying you gently into the bathroom as you muttered,
“Thank you..”

“Anytime amor. Sit here while I get the stuff ready.”


 He gently placed you on the sink and wrapped you with the sheet you dragged along so you wouldn’t get cold, pressing a kiss to your lips twice, he then went on to prepping your bath. 


Having memorized all the salts and bath bombs you preferred most for soreness and relaxation, Miguel efficiently and quietly placed them all into the warm water, splashing it a bit to make more bubbles (as he knew you secretly loved it passionately) 

 In peace you watched how his back muscles moved so enticingly with every thing he did. They were so big and comforting to touch.

He used his strength to take out big scary guys and protect his multiverses... but he also used them to make your bath perfect, and that thought... did warm your heart and make you fall harder for him as always.

His chiseled chest gleaming in light and in his sweat, brought you back to earth as he walked toward you with a warm smile and soft words,
“Ok mi amor, it’s ready, come on.”


 With one arm he picked you up, only confirming how tough you thought he was, and he gently and carefully placed you both in. His chest against your back he held you close, his hands never leaving your body. 


You two sat in quiet for a bit, relishing in the water and in each other, soon then Miguel asked if you were ok and not hurt at all, you responded with,
“I feel complete with you. I’m perfectly safe and happy baby.”


 With peppering kisses you two helped each other clean up, you too also asking him questions to make sure he was ok as well, and he responded assuringly,
“Never been better. Contigo estoy contento amor.”


 Little after you both were ready to hop out, as the water had cooled down. Drying off with fluffy towels, exchanging shy and loving glances at your exposed bodies made you both giggle a bit and have rosy faces, but you’ve never felt more free and safe. 


Massages were given to your sore legs and back, as Miguel rubbed on some lotion for you. You tried to do the same, but ended up being enthralled by how rock hard his abs were that you got distracted a couple of times.

So you instead helped him back by getting some fresh water and popping some fruit in his mouth, he couldn’t resist but return that favor but also steal fruity kisses. Then you two put out clean sheets, it all felt so romantic yet domestic, and beautiful combination that was so perfect. 
 Now completing his promise, the big, strong, mean and hard Miguel held puppy eyes and crawled on top of your laying form and whispered,
“Can we still...?”

“Yes baby, I haven’t changed my mind. C’mere.”


 He smiled like a dork, as he guided himself into you once again, this time he was soft yet firm, but you both sighed contentedly once he was fully inside.

Half of his weight rested on you, his legs to the side as his face came to hide in your neck, his hand finding place on your head and the other intertwined with yours. You cradled his head and kissed it sweetly,
“Goodnight baby, get some sleep.”


 Your words sounded like he was the only one going to be sleeping. Your voice sounded so alive compared to his, and he could only grumble,
“You better not be thinking. Go to sleep.”

“Miggy-“


 His head lifted to be above you as he worded seriously yet with a tease,
“Go mimis. Please amor. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You lifted a brow and sassed,
“Promising another round sir?”


 Calling ‘sir’ had him smirk and threaten,

“More like rounds. I won’t only make your legs sore but your brain too.”

“Mmmm challenge accepted-“

He sighed a short laugh of disbelief at your still sassiness as he plopped back down into your neck.
“Mimis amor. Now.”

You were going to respond, but a sudden deep yawn came over you, and in seconds you felt extremely exhausted. Eyes closing slowly you worded lastly,
“G’night baby.. love you.”


 Miguel hummed against you, content to hear you passing out as he replied,
“Sweet dreams amor.. love you too.”


 You passed out before he even finished, he felt the deep breaths you took and how your hand went limp on his head. He smiled to himself and got comfortable, before riding his sleeping chariot alongside you.

Spanish Translations;
amor- love
Queirda- dear
Como deseas- as you wish
Es todo, y nada mas- that’s it, and nothing more
Lo hare entonces- I’ll do it then.
Aferrate a mi- Hold onto me
Vamos- come on
Contigo estoy contento- With you I’m happy
Eres perfecta- you’re perfect
Mimis- night-night

[saberlight1]

lovefool — billy the kid

pairing: billy bonney x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, fluff, Y/N usage, reader is a cowgirl and gunslinger, hints towards murder, one bed trope, standard billy the kid warnings.

authors note: hii!!! i’m so happy to be writing about billy, thank you anon for sending in this request that this is based off of. i loved the show and slowly am getting more obsessed with tom blyth everyday i swearrr. i hope you enjoy!

masterlist

You and the boys damn near fell through the doors of some random boarding house you came across— the lot of you attempting to run away from a rival gang that caught you stealing cattle.

Jesse threw 10 dollars down on the counter, more than enough to get rooms for you all. You had been running around all day— but the smell of gunpowder and crimson blood still clogged your nose hairs and adrenaline still pumped through your veins. You simply wanted a bath and to go the hell to bed.

But, who would you be to turn down Jesse’s smiling face, holding out a shot of whiskey for you.

You sighed, your hat tipping down with your head as you shook it, your hands rested neatly on your gun-belt, cowboy boot tapping softly on the floor as you pretended to weigh your options.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N.” He held it out for you. “Drink with us!”

You chuckled. “Why not,” You went to sit down at the bar next to them.

“Hell yeah!” Jesse and the rest of the boys who were scattered around the bar cheered— you normally weren’t one for their after hour shenanigans.

“Only for a little bit, though. I’m tired as hell.” You said, downing the whiskey shot.

“Sure,” Jesse waved you off with a knowing look, ordering a couple more rounds for you all. You laughed, going along with his antics as always. You had known Jesse since you were young— he was the one who had vouched for you in this group, who had helped you gain the respect that you had today.

You let out a hiss at the burning feeling of that whiskey going down your throat, slamming the shot glass back onto the table.

“I’ll have what they’re havin’.” You heard that familiar husky voice from next to you. Billy Bonney stood with a small smirk toying on his lips as he sat down on the stool next to you. He nodded at the bartender when he slid him said shot, the outlaw throwing it back without hesitation.

“Where you been, cowboy?” You asked, slightly tipsy.

“Been at the Saloon playin’ Poker.” He responded.

“You win?”

His smirk only grew. “Sure did. It was a big pot too,”

“Good for you, Billy.” You smiled, turning back to grab you and him another shot. “To your winnings.” You cheered, the pair of you clinking your glasses together before downing them.

“Aye, y’all get that cattle?” He asked, leaning closer to you with a quieter voice. “Y’all stink of gunpowder.”

“Nah,” You shook your head. “Their boys came out— the shots scared the cattle away, and we ain’t have enough ammo to fight ‘em off so we had to cut and run. Shot a couple of them, though.”

He hummed. “We’ll get ‘em next time, Y/N, don’t worry.”

“I hope so. Jesse here is runnin’ up his tab right now and we barely got enough cash to buy food.” You shook your head with a bitter smile. “Aye, at least we got liquor.”

“We’ll figure it out— we always do.” Billy reminded with a comforting smile.

“Yeah.” You sighed, trying to push the worries away. You downed one last shot before pushing yourself off the bar stool. “Alright, boys, that bath is callin’ my name. See y’all tomorrow.” You turned, heading to the stairs as you heard a string of good nights.

After washing up, you put on a comfortable nightgown, heading to the room that matched the key Jesse had given you.

You carelessly threw the door open, the towel in your hands still wringing out your wet hair. But said towel almost fell from your grip once you saw a shirtless Billy standing in the middle of your room.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” You apologized as soon as his confused gaze landed on yours, backing out of the room. “Thought this was my room,”

He sighed, throwing on the shirt he was changing into before you walked in. “You’re good. Jesse told me downstairs that he ain’t have enough cash to get me a room— Hope you don’t mind, but I’d rather bunk with you than the one of the boys.”

“Oh, yeah, no, you can sleep in here. I don’t mind,” You nodded, walking in and shutting the door, placing your gun-belt down on the nightstand. Your eyes drifted to the small twin bed before you, your gaze going back up to Billy’s nervously.

“I can sleep on the floor, it’s alright.” He immediately tried to come up with a solution, already knowing what you were thinking of.

“Billy, I’m sure your back hurts just as bad as mine— if not more.” You waved him off. “I don’t want you to wake up even more sore tomorrow. It’s fine.. I ain’t scared of sleepin’ in the same bed as you. Unless you’re scared of sharin’ with me,” You lightly teased, laying down onto the bed, opening the covers for him.

A soft smile crept onto his lips. “Now, why would I be afraid of such a pretty lil’ thing like you?” He poked back, his words sending a blush to your cheeks as he got into bed, taking you up on your offer. The bed was quite small, and to ensure Billy wouldn’t fall off you were kinda hanging off the side.

A giggle left your lips. “There’s no way I’m not gon’ roll off this bed in my sleep and face plant onto the floor.”

He laid on his back, one arm thrown behind his head so he could look down at you. His gaze lingered onto yours for a moment— and you could see the gears turning in his brain. “Here,” He flipped onto his side, his hands slowly tugging you into him so your back was to his chest, his arm loosely hung around your waist. “I won’t let you fall,” He whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Thank you,” You leaned up to blow out the candle lit next to you before snuggling back into his arms, smiling. “G’night, Billy.”

His arms tightened around you, and you could hear a faint chuckle from behind you, the man placing a soft kiss to your head. “G’night, darlin’.”

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary_ He pushed you away some time ago. You forgave him, but Miguel realizes intentions don’t mean much and he wants you back.

Warnings_ age gap! (I’m 20, Miguel is around 28-31, bear with me), angst, fluff.

A/N_ this is The Craving from Twenty One Pilots, I loved the new album. and imgonnagetyouback from Taygod Swift, BOTH IN MY MIGUEL PLAYLIST🩷

♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

_____________

Waves of silence crash all over the Spider Society. Miguel O’Hara had just told Miles Morales that he had to let his father die to protect canon. Your guts twist in an odd feeling, you feel a bad omen. The chase had been tough, your insecurity playing with your head as you knew Miles had the right to choose his destiny.

Canon had been fair with you, offering you light problems compared to others. So you wished every spider had the same destiny as yourself.

Now seeing that Miles was gone thanks to the “Go Home Machine”, you couldn’t let Gwen to follow the same path.

“Miguel… you can’t send Gwen home. She’s vital for this.” You say quickly stepping up against the man who was intimidating the sixteen-year-old girl.

“I don’t need more problems than we already have. I restate… she’s a liability” Gwen pleads you with scared eyes. You gasp, running out of options to calm the angered man.

“You gave me a second chance too, I was once a novice like her” Miguel huffs, looking at you with much impatience.

“Yes, and you learned from that, never committing an error again.” Gwen is picked and caged inside the machine, she starts panicking and you too. In an act of desperation, you grab Miguel from his forearm, making him turn to look down at you. His crimson-red eyes stare at you with such hostility that you know you have to be careful to choose the right words.

“This is not right. You are not thinking clearly. Miles and Gwen deserve better” Your gaze moves between him and Gwen, hoping Miguel would agree and let the girl stay.

“Miguel, please…”

“THIS IS ABSURD, Y/N!… CANON HAS GIFTED YOU WITH MUCH LUCK, YOU CAN’T EXPECT EVERY PERSON HERE TO RUN WITH THE SAME FATE. BE REALISTIC, RESPONSIBLE, AND INTELLIGENT FOR ONCE!” As he attacks, Gwen is gone. Another round of silence invades the place, but this is worse. Your eyes open in shock after hearing Miguel.

He can’t be fixed. He won’t change. It’s time to go and follow what you think it’s correct.

You eye Jess and Peter, they seem like they have some things to say but remain quiet.

Miguel finally looks delicately at you and notices your eyes are watering. The awkwardness is very loud, your blush letting everyone know you are embarrassed.

You won’t say anything about it. You just look back at Miguel for a second, before opening a portal in your gizmo, doing the same as Hobie Brown did; quitting.

“I really thought you would get it…” Your gizmo fell to the ground as you disappeared, the screen of it cracking and leaving Miguel a little stunned by your decision. He sighed, knowing he had screwed it, but confident that his intentions were correct.

That night, after a quick patrol, when you returned home, you took a quick shower to wash away all the pain and bitter taste of the day you had. But when you came back, there was a little present wrapped in newspaper that wasn’t from your earth. You unwrapped it, revealing a homemade gizmo. You grabbed the little note attached.

We need you

-Hobbie

You would do things right. And you didn't care if you had to fight with old friends or colleagues. Especially Miguel.

…

The seasons had changed so fast. By the time summer ended, the leaves were already drying and many people had left, by winter and the snow falling over, others came back. But you stayed the same.

You had the same suit, with upgrades and chrome instead of golden details, but it was the same. Your earth was well controlled, with no sign of the villains that used to terrorize your city. All the smiles you offered were the same. All the laughing with Peter B. Parker, Hobie, Gwen, Pavitr, and Miles was the same. Yet, something had changed between you and Miguel O’Hara.

The man knew the perspective people had of him would change after the events of last summer when he put the lives of Miles and many others at risk. He let his fears win and while he tried to protect everything, he was only pushing it towards the edge, dooming the fate of the multiverse. You were on his side at the beginning, claiming that canon was sacred and couldn’t be changed. But the image of Miles, his face full of fear and anxiety, unsure and terrified of his future. He was a kid, he had no idea of anything. He made you question if canon events could change. Either way, the kid was more than enough to draw you worried. Destiny could be wrong, so you decided to help Miles. Your decisions had consequences? Yes. The moment you left the building of the Spider Society, you started to miss everything. In your mind, you were almost assured Miguel didn’t care about you, but deep down, your heart said the opposite. Ending with a drift that seemed invisible at the beginning. But now, a year later, it was more than clear.

The change was something you could get used to. Your work remained the same, with Jess and Peter. B Parker. Your missions only turned more fun with the addition of Miles and Gwen permanently returning like you. Gatherings at Peter’s each Saturday remained the same. But all the awkwardness of the spiderverse invaded you when Miguel O’Hara came into the picture.

After all, you two had gone on a date the day before you met Gwen at her earth while capturing the Renaissance vulture. He asked you out, and you said yes. It was a lovely afternoon and he even visited your home. What started as a mentorship from him, blossomed into a friendship and then as a “almost something”. Which hurt worse.

It all started with you walking away. Briefings were cautiously heard by you, even staying after for further questions. Jess asked you to hand the mission details to everyone when Hobbie and Miles came to talk about a concert you were going to with Gwen and Margo when Miguel came and started asking about a new gizmo coming soon. Everyone noticed you grew quiet and soon after you were gone.

Then, you stopped asking to go on missions with him, Ben, and his usual party. When you were recruited, Miguel was annoyed but pleased to have you along. It happened that one day, you blew things off accidentally, making him extremely angry. Your web shooter failed and you almost missed it to save a baby. Nonetheless, you quickly were ranked higher thanks to your abilities.

All of your friends could see how your small friendship with your boss had suddenly evaporated. And Miguel couldn’t blame you. After all, he was the one yelling in your face when you argued in favor of Gwen when she was sent home. Miguel could remember he almost made you cry, leaving you completely embarrassed in front of everyone. He felt terrible seconds after you left, but he soon went to the earth of Miles with Ben and Jess. Eventually, when the man learned you were silently helping the kid and the ones who had left his side, he didn’t say anything. In the final moments, Miguel knew he had to side with the teenager and help to get rid of The Spot. And when the chaos was over, he wished he had the right to celebrate it with you.

The aftermath changed him, over the months, he even thanked you for trying to make him see the reality from the beginning, and he apologized. But that night, he understood that you had forgiven him, but remained hurt.

Either way, Miguel had to deal with the consequences of his acts and sort the way things would work for the sake of everyone’s canon. Yet, in the middle of the night, he constantly remembered you.

Out of nowhere, Miguel O’Hara was accepting that he missed you. And acknowledging that fact, only made him accept he had some feelings towards you. Which scared him for sure. But after losing his daughter, almost losing all he had built for spiders like him, after feeling so isolated, Miguel lounged to have a partner. He craved the love of someone. And had found it. He just wished he had done things differently.

Jessica knew Miguel so much that she easily solved the mystery. On a random Monday, she bombarded him with questions that soon made Miguel spit out he was attracted to you. She suggested the man slowly try to talk to you. Nothing was lost, there was hope. The woman had her theories about you never getting over that crush on Miguel. She often had caught you staring at him, staring too much for later to avoid him. Jess knew you were protecting your own heart.

“Miguel?” She asks.

So there he was, Miguel was sitting in the cafeteria, taking a big bite of his empanada de picadillo. He could taste the shredded beef, potato, carrot, jalapeños, and mushrooms freshly mixed with spices.

“Yes?…” The insides of the empanada are burning his tongue and he doesn’t mind.

“I asked if you assigned today’s missions?” He nods. With a quick glance at his surroundings, he huffs at the sight of the hamburger with the face of his mask still being served. The cafeteria is full and he hates all of the voices speaking at the same time. He has to wear sunglasses because the place is full of light, and it hurts his eyes. Why is everyone still eating a hamburger with his mask on the bun?

“Are we lunching here because perhaps you want to see when a certain female spider appears?” Miguel rolls his eyes. Some days, he loves Jess and knows about his feelings for you because she grants him free therapy. But other days, he hated it because Jess knew how to mess with him. Like now…

“Oh…Hi y/n!” Miguel looks at Jess panicked, but soon feels relived that his sunglasses are dark enough to cover his blown wide eyes. You appeared there. Upside down, of course, Miguel notices how your hair hangs freely, and he isn’t sure if it’s longer, or it’s just the gravity.

“Hey, Jess. I just came to drop this file with Miguel. Lyla said he wasn’t in his office” You say calm. He notices you have your mask on, but you’re definitely not looking at him. He takes the folder from your hand and stays there looking at you. You seem awkward but remain relaxed.

“That’s from my morning patrol, you asked for a report. I’m leaving with Hobbie and Pav now…” you add. And you can see how Jess keeps glancing back and forth between you and Miguel. Was she hiding something from you?.

“Okay… guess I’m leaving now…” you only sigh when no one answers.

“Get back safe, please,” Jess says as you are already far away from them.

“Thanks” you answer without looking back. Soon you open a portal at the entrance of the cafeteria and you’re gone. That’s when Jess comes back to her friend, side-eyeing him.

“Really? You couldn’t even say ‘thank you” or “good luck”?” Miguel sighs, dropping his empanada and relaxing his shoulders. He knew he had to say things to you to get back to normal.

“I know… I just… I don’t know how to start this” Jess smiled. In the end, even when Miguel was a 6’9 tall man with the title of founder of the Spider Society and creator of the Gizmo, he was a silent and certified emotion avoider.

“She forgave you for last summer and all. But this is now, she’s also awkward about you. She’s also unsure if you want to talk to her…” Miguel leaned closer, interested and equally anxious.

“She said that?” Jess shrugged while taking a bite of her French fries.

“It came out very vaguely. But for sure she’s also a mess for you”

“What? Did she also say that?” Jess giggles at him, only sipping from her soda.

“Maybe you could start sending flowers or letters, Romeo” Miguel huffs, wondering if his friend actually knew something or not.

Jess wanted to lock you two in a room and hopefully, when she opened the door, Spiderman 2099 would have a prospective lover.

…

With another college semester ended and a driving anxiety, summer was a relaxing time for you to spend in your room. Painting your toenails, you were singing at your CD player playing one of your favorite songs. Your family was gone, so you could be letting your feet dry walking upside down in your ceiling. Suddenly, your gizmo beeped and it was a deleted message from Miguel. You frowned and almost screamed. Probably he sent something to you by accident and then he deleted it. But you had an omen. So you called Jess, she answered with a long and mean “what?”, she must’ve been watching some movie with her husband.

“Miguel sent me a message and proceeded to delete it before I could read it?” You didn't mean to sound so fast and desperate, but you did.

“Slow down, girl. But… he deleted it?” Actually, she had been sleeping, her toddler being a little bolt that demanded a lot of her time even with her husband there.

“Exactly… Odd, Right?”

“Coming from Miguel? Sure it is. But… I think it’s time you try to talk to him too, y/n. Maybe he’s awkward about what happened last summer and doesn’t know how to approach you” Jess wants to scream that Miguel likes you too, but she can’t ruin it.

“ I feel like Miguel doesn’t even care I distanced myself from him. But when I see him, my heart starts beating so fast, and my hands sweat.” She laughs and lets out a long “eww”.

“You hide it very well. But you’re very cold, it doesn’t help. I have to admit you also might need to try….”

“Jess, I’d end up bursting out that I’m in lo-“You immediately stop, Jess lets out a surprised groan.

“MISS Y/N, YOU LOVE HIM?”

“Goodnight, Jessica” You go straight to bed, ignoring the deleted message and everything regarding Miguel.

But Jess and her questions keep popping up in your head.

Could it be possible that you were actually in love with Miguel?

…

“So my teacher said my essay was lacking everything, it was marked with red all over,” Miles says walking beside you, both of you are done for the day with the missions. You were almost infected by some poisonous lizard that was haunting earth-2407.

“Did you actually make the corrections?”

“I did-“ you side-eye him.

“Well, not all of them but-“ you two are just walking around with no destination secured. So when you two pass by the training center, Miles literally pushes you towards the stairs that lead to the balcony of said center. He gestures to you to keep hushed before turning to see the couple speaking; Miguel and Jess.

“We shouldn’t be hearing them” you remind him, not wanting to get caught, especially by Miguel.

“Jess banned me from the 10th floor because I was disturbing everyone. Gwen was with me and she received no punishment, bro” the teenager whispered. At sixteen, Miles had grown impossibly taller, almost like Peter B. Parker and Noir. Even Gwen was taller, everyone was taller. But at least you weren’t the same height as Penny or Peter Porker.

“Maybe because Jess is training her yet?”

“So? That’s nepotism” You want to laugh but he shushes you again. So you turn to see Miguel and Jess training.

The man was extremely sweating and Jess too. You never reached the same level of training simulations as them, thinking it was unnecessarily violent and fast-paced.

“Keep Gwen and Miles out of my lair. I’m tired of catching them trying to make new suits from themselves”

“They don’t even know how to work the machine, relax” the woman bites back.

“So? It’s annoying”

“It’s also annoying that I have Lego Spiderman and y/n printing random pictures at my office” The mention of your name makes you blush, remembering the print of Peter B. Parker with a big red font saying “Have you seen this man in your dreams?” It was very funny among the coworkers and every time Peter saw it, he would start complaining from all the bullying he had to endure.

“Don’t get y/n on this. I can’t even stand her now” You swear you can feel your heart shattering. Miles turns to look at you, encountering your sad expression.

“Y/n…” the boy tries to soothe you, but you just shake your head.

“I think I’m going home, Miles” you whisper to him, leaving soon after.

Your eyes water as you walk away from the training center, many fellows stare confused at your sadness. But you ignore them as you open a portal towards home.

And when you are in the safety of your earth, you are not ready to go to your pillow to cry. So you start swinging between skyscrapers and buildings just to clear off your mind.

You knew it was a mistake from the beginning to start developing feelings for Miguel O’Hara. Then he invited you to that damn date. Such a fun day till he had to yell in your face that you were privileged and shouldn’t be stupid ignorant. Now he seemed to have left the issue behind, after his apology. And you forgave him, even letting your feelings for him float around. But if he didn’t want you back at the society? Why did he call? Why did he offer the gizmo again?

He was an asshole.

Meanwhile, Miles stayed a little longer, hearing more of the conversation.

“Just tell y/n to stop using my printer” Jess pleaded.

“Nah, I won’t tell her,” Miguel says smirking. The woman training with him rolls her eyes annoyed.

“Just because she’s your impossible crush doesn’t mean she can have the privilege to print stupid things at my place” Miles gasped, thinking what Jess said was a joke.

“You can use my printer, so I don’t have to say anything to my girl,” Miguel said and Miles was officially shocked. He had to tell you everything the next day.

…

Two days later, the overheard talk is somehow forgotten. Miles tries to mention it occasionally but you brush him off. You have your head centered on Mayday, the two-year-old toddler walking beside you across the hallways of the Spider Society. Peter completely trusted you to leave his child with your babysitting.

“Where did you leave your ribbon, Mayday?” The little girl giggles. She has a dress of flowers and sneakers, making her look very adorable with her long disheveled hair.

“Don’t know” she babbles. Peter would be mad since it was the third pair being lost in the week.

Mayday clumsily waddles, giggling as you keep searching around for that ribbon. Even though the floors are mysteriously always clean and shiny, you can’t see the damn ribbon.

When you walk slightly away from the little girl to look down on a bench, you hear a little yelp from her and when you turn back, you see Mayday on the floor and then she starts crying.

“Oh fuck me…” you whisper, running to grab the kid and start calming her. You carry her in your arms as you sit on the bench.

“It’s okay, Mayday. It was only a little slip, but you are okay” She starts hearing your voice and her cries turn to sniffles, feeling protected when you hug her and gently brush her hair.

“Daddy won’t like looking at you crying. He wants to see you laughing and happy. You are fine, see?” The kid nods brushing away the tears.

“Now give me a smile. You were very brave!” mayday smiles brightly and you chuckle.

“That’s the Mayday I know!” The kid laughs at your way of entertaining her. When you turn towards the hallway to see if Peter is back, you almost drop Mayday again.

Miguel was there, looking at the interaction.

“I found the ribbon,” he says walking towards you and the girl. His expression is very neutral, and you can’t see the way Miguel’s hand is shaking slightly.

“Miguel!” Mayday greets the tall man with a smile, asking him to be in his arms. They both had grown closer. After all, Miguel had been around Mayday since she was born. You appeared when Mayday was 10 months old.

“Hey, kid” you let him take the girl, then you accept the ribbon from his free hand. You barely touch him but your lungs are dry and your stomach is a mess like a powerful tsunami. Nonetheless, your face shows the contrary.

“Thanks. Peter was growing annoyed by how many ribbons this little girl had missed.”

“I know. And you handled very well the situation back there…” he admits, recalling the little slip of Mayday. Miguel sees a little blush in your face, it lights up his hopes.

“Thanks…” you awkwardly say, standing up to try to reach the little girl.

Miguel leans slightly to let you tie the ribbon on Mayday’s hair and he’s able to smell your perfume of figs and brown sugar. He also sees the little golden seashell pendant hanging on your necklace. He smiles when he realizes you are avoiding his gaze. And when you’re done, both stare at each other, with many questions, but silence reigns. Both of your hearts racing with a tormented passion.

“Y/n… I feel like we need to talk about-“

Miguel grows quiet when Peter appears running in the middle of the hallway.

You don’t even catch what he said, you turn relieved to see Peter was back.

“Oh boy, we are late for her passport appointment. M.J.’s gonna kill me” You giggle at his drama. Miguel is still there behind you, he rolls his eyes making Mayday laugh.

“She will understand. And thanks for the ribbon, Miguel” The little girl is back in his father’s arms and you quickly start following them, too nervous to stay with Miguel alone.

The man just stays there seeing how you leave, and he sighs, taking a long breath. His intentions are not enough. His little efforts are nothing to reach you, it makes the craving he feels to be corresponded by you even bigger.

As for you, you feel a great heartache. Half of you feel very nervous, because it seems like some days Miguel wants to talk to you, and other days he wants to say he’s tired of you. What a confusing and fucked up situation.

…

He gives two steps forward, like five steps back. Miguel is standing at the entrance of the terrace in the building of the Spider Society, debating whether to go and talk to you or not. He even prepared a few things to say, hoping to not scare you away, more than you already were. While he knew he couldn’t just scream out he was in love with you, he could try to mend the breach built between you two.

It’s getting late in Earth-928, and a lot of spiders are leaving their home. It’s Saturday and a lot of them have plans with their families, partners, and friends. Miguel is set to have another lonely weekend doing some patrol. But for now, he’s still there, watching you seated on the rooftop of the building, eating some chicken and avocado tacos from the cafeteria. Miguel wants to laugh when he catches a glimpse of some avocado dropping from your taco. You set the plate aside and look down, letting out a little “yikes”, Heaven knows what or who would end up getting a piece of avocado from the sky.

He’s not ready. Miguel curses himself for being a big overthinker. He’s able to fight the most callous and evil villains from different dimensions. But he’s unable to say “Sorry, I was an asshole. Can we try it again?… Oh, and I love you”. Perhaps it was his anxiety or panic, but Miguel swears his gizmo beeped, so he walks away, going down the stairs, feeling his heartbeats returned to normality.

Each step he takes is filled with greetings, comments, warnings, notices, and more from different spiders. He sends spider plushie and Penny to work in a minor anomaly and finally, he closes the door of his office.

There’s a mess of papers around. Miguel suddenly remembers someone… Gabriella. He’s happy that his trauma is slowly fading away. He was officially healing and had accepted his daughter had also forgiven him. Miguel could rest knowing his errors were sealed.

And just as he was about to play some of the recorded memories he had, Lyla appeared.

“The whole gang is coming” she blurted out with her usual cocky smile.

“Tell them I’m busy, Lyla”

“But they’re already here” The AI had a new pair of fucsia heart sunglasses and coat. Which seemed to have made her more stubborn. Miguel sighed, turning off his monitors.

“MIGUEL!” the man heard the annoying voice of Peter B. Parker and sighed. When he turned around, he saw the whole club; Peter without Mayday, Hobie, Pav, Margo, Miles and Gwen.

“What is it now?” he looks down at them from his platform and is already irritated by their presence. Even after a year of changes, they were a group of teenagers and Peter.

“Well… uh-“ Gwen starts, but soon pushes Peter forward, encouraging him to speak up instead of her.

“Uh… Miguel, we know you hate us for wandering about your private life and we respect it. But we feel like you need to talk to y/n about her position here.” As Peter talks, he has Miguel’s whole attention.

“And why is that?” He sounds reluctant, but he grows anxious.

“She said she doesn’t feel the same as it was when she was recruited. That you confuse her with your behavior towards her” Margo answers for Peter, with a better choice of words, of course.

“As the leader of this team, we just want you to remind her that she’s welcome and that you want her here. Because you want her here, right?” Peter adds, Miguel crosses his arms.

He needs you, actually.

“I’m not sure I’m the most adequate person to tell her that,” Miguel replies.

“Oh, you have to be kidding. She heard you and Jess. At the training center…” Gwen speaks again, Miguel is shocked, even terrified of you hearing you were his girl.

“How much?” Miguel asks with that well-known tone of anger and fully intentional intimidation.

“Well…” Peter said.

“HOW MUCH?, POR DIOS!” Miguel yelled exasperated.

“She left when you said you couldn’t stand her,” Miles confirmed to him, making him sigh. Trying to get you back was only getting trickier than expected.

“Yeah… I don’t think chicks want to be neglected twice” Hobie speaks for the first time, mocking Miguel.

“Hobbie, not helping here” Margo scolds him whispering.

“At least I’m trying to pull one out” Miguel fires back making everyone bite their tongue to avoid laughing. Because Hobbie Brown didn’t have the best history search with girls.

“Hey no, stop. The point here is that you need to talk to her. I accidentally heard everything” Miles speaks up, walking forward toward Miguel.

The man only pinches the bridge of his nose, cringed that the teenager had to listen.

“I’m pretty sure she feels something too” Miguel hated that Miles had to be a wise kid, frequently reminding him of his errors and making him realize there were always other options.

“She must hate me.”

“No, y/n just needs to know how you actually feel” Gwen encouraged him, and unconsciously, Miguel was being pulled towards the exit.

“I couldn’t speak to M.J. for a very long time after we divorced. And I had nothing to lose, I just knocked on her door with some flowers. Look at us now… y/n will know too” Miguel thought Peter could be the goofiest man he ever met, but he was his friend. So maybe he could accept his advice.

“Va pues, don’t know why I’m listening to all of you” huffing, Miguel and the group were out, except for Hobbie, who stayed behind stealing things from Migue’s lair.

…

When you open your door, you gasp shocked. Miguel is there, he’s wearing a sweater that fits him a little too tight but nice, dress pants, and tied shoes. You rarely saw him without his suit. But that isn’t all, he has a pretty bouquet of lilies in his hand.

“I’m sorry.” He says and you are already making a pout.

“Miguel…”

“Let me finish, please.” He interrupts you, so you nod, stepping out of your place.

“I’ve made some mistakes, but as the son of a mother and… and-“ you start giggling and Miguel is red like a tomato.

“Let me guess… Peter gave you a speech to say to me?” Miguel tilts his head.

“Yes and… I-… mierda. See, I’m sorry, I don’t want you to leave the Spider Society. I need you. And I still feel guilty for last summer. But if you give me another chance… I swear that I will give you more than I take away” You nod, smiling. Miguel sighs relieved. To his surprise, you grabbed him by the sweater and pushed him towards you to give him a big kiss on the lips. He reciprocates immediately, smiling in between.

“I’m in love with you” he admits, his forehead kissing yours.

“I’m in love with you too, Miguel” As both of you kiss again, chants and applauses start. When you step away from Miguel, you see your friends there, passing past you and Miguel to step inside your home.

You are extremely confused.

“We were here the whole time, FYI,” Margo says as Miles, Gwen, Pav, and Noir pat your back and step inside.

“I’m so happy for you both. I can’t wait to have a double date. You two, M.J. and I” Miguel rolls his eyes at Peter.

“What did I miss?” You ask Miguel. Not that you mind that your friends literally invaded your home, but it was just weird.

“They wanted to help me”

“Aww, we have such good friends,” you say smiling.

“They’re not my friends. I just tolerate them” he is lying of course. You grab his hand, your cocky smile making him feel so happy. He’s still processing what just happened, he can’t believe he officially got you back.

“Oh shut up, of course, they are our friends”

“What about you and I?, Are we more than friends?” You blush at his questions. He grabs you by the waist to prevent you from going inside the house.

“Not so fast, bonita”

“I don’t know. But I’m eager to be your lover”

Now it was Miguel’s turn to get blushed.

_______________________________

[francixoxoxo]

𓆉 Opals and Pearls 𓆝

Pirate!Billy the Kid x Mermaid!reader

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦— 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬!

I wanted to put out something short and sweet to introduce my pirate/mermaid au for Billy the Kid!! I’ll definitely be writing more for this and eventually putting out a long form fic for ao3 and here on tumblr so stay tuned

You had Billy entranced since the moment you met.

Your eyes shone and glimmered in the light like opals, you moved and spoke in a way he’d never seen before. Your hair fell over your shoulders, thick and voluminous despite being wet, covering your ever-bare breasts. You wore little jewelry, but what did adorn your neck and wrists was made of pearls that added, not distracted from your impossible beauty.

Not to mention your lower half, a tail of iridescent scales that caught the light in ways reminiscent of stained glass in a church. Meeting you certainly felt like Sunday mass— you made him want to fall to his knees and worship you. You were perfect.

Billy met you at night, under the cover of darkness on the shore, where you lay with your belly in the surf. The way your eyes brightened as he came close made his heart swell to burst. “Hi.” You had your hands clasped on your chest, hiding something from him.

He had a few guesses as to what it was, as he shrugged off his boots, rolling his pants up to his shins and wading ankle-deep in the water. “Hey, darlin’.”

Sometimes Billy wondered how such an ethereal woman, a mermaid could find him interesting. For Christ’s sakes, you had the voice and heart of an angel. You were so esoteric, so mystical. If the ocean was a woman, you were her— incomprehensibly deep, he’d be a fool to try and understand every corner or curve of you. He was just a man.

But that seemed to be what you loved about him; there was a calming, rugged simplicity in him. A humbleness you wanted to appreciate with your whole soul. He adored you with no expectations. His love was not debt.

Billy sat on the damp sand, not minding his pants getting wet from the small, lapping waves. You had the giddiest smile on your face, crinkling your eyes and absolutely enthralling him. Perhaps it was your inhuman nature, something special about your being, but you drew him in like a sunfish on a hook. He regretted his silly human need to breathe— otherwise, he would happily let you drag him to the bottom of the sea if it meant he could be with you. Really, truly be with you. No fears of Jesse and the rest of the crew finding out and harming you. No fears of your parents discovering Billy and your meetings, and never allowing you to the surface again. Fears of this strangely beautiful connection being ripped from him, where it had already nestled itself a home in his heart.

But he would settle for this, only for the glimmer in your eyes and smile on your cheeks as you opened your hands. “For you!” Billy leaned over his knees, his lopsided grin growing to match yours.

In the center of your palm, the smallest of shells, a soft cream dappled with brown at the creases. “F’me?” Billy couldn’t help laughing the words, gently turning over the shell in your hand to find that the inside of it was a smooth lavender. Beautiful and delicately intricate— not unlike you. You hummed softly, the sound a song of itself, pressing the dainty shell to his own calloused palm.

“Do you like it?” Your brows drew together hopefully as you watched him inspect the shell. Billy snorted through his nose, shaking his head and looking up to meet your gaze.

“It’s beautiful.” He confirmed softly, “ain’t surprised you found it. Beauty knows beauty.” The way your nearly luminous eyes twinkled at the compliment, Billy felt a bit weak at the knees. You pushed yourself onto your hands, folding your tail under you and leaning forward to press a tender kiss to his slightly chapped lips.

You tasted like crisp saltwater, a stark contrast from your soft, surprisingly warm lips. When you broke from him, far too soon for his liking, you carefully took his fingers and curled them protectively over the shell. “Could I get you more?”

As if you even had to ask. Billy tucked some water-logged hair behind your ear, silently admiring the dainty pearl earring the action revealed. “You kiddin’? I’d love more, baby.”

Well, he’s not sure what he expected. Maybe a couple more before you got tired of it.

Billy didn’t expect that every time he met you, regretfully always in the dark, you bore gifts that he didn’t know how to repay. Billy’d scoop you into his arms, treading along the shore to give you a taste of what walking around must be like, and you’d lift a palm full of little shells, sea glass and pearls.

Once, you’d swam up to him as he sat on the rocks. Billy cocked a brow, eyes glancing under the water, “Whatcha got there, pretty girl?” And you’d smile shyly, swimming closer.

“Close your eyes, Billy.” You willed, taking his hands from his knees and moving them to cup to receive the gift. He was grinning boyishly, dark brows lifted as you placed something much heavier than he expected into his hands. Well, not particularly weighty, but much more than the few pearls and shells you’d given him. It was full of ridges and jutting edges, rough on his palms and wet from the saltwater.

“Can I look now?” Billy grasped the object gently, trying to subtly get an idea of what it was. You perched your elbows on the rock by his legs, admiring his face for a moment. Part of you wanted to reach out, to feel the subtle on his jaw under your fingertips. But you resigned to nod and coo, “Look.”

He opened his eyes, the blue irises bright with mirth as they settled on the large conch in his hands. He laughed a bit, turning over the sand-colored shell and admiring it. “Awh, baby! Y’outdid yourself, huh?”

The sheer joy in Billy’s expression filled you with a giddy pride. Apparently the things you’d accepted as natural, common things were beautiful rarities for him. And the happiness you felt from sharing them with him never seemed to ebb. “I knew you’d like it.”

“I love it. I gotta get you somethin’ sometime, it ain’t fair.” Billy’s eyes flicked to you, holding yourself up on the rock and staring up at him with twinking doll-like eyes. Your chin propped up on your fist, your wrist bare. An idea flashed behind his eyes, but he played it off by shifting the conch to one hand, the other holding your chin and tilting it up to him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours gently.

You let out a soft hum into the kiss, reaching your arms wound around his shoulders to, with surprising strength, tug him down into the water. Maybe his clothes were getting soaked, and maybe it was a bit cold for a swim, but Billy’s eyes crinkled in a deep laugh, carefully placing your gift aside and pulling you close.

“I don’t need anything.” You protested, voice sweet as honey against his water-logged muss of hair as he pecked at your neck. The giggle bubbling past your lips told him otherwise.

You deserved the entire world.

Billy took much care in selecting a gift fit for you. A plain chain wasn’t good enough— well, frankly everything affordable in the market wasn’t good enough. He was beginning to think that no worldly gift was worthy of being ‘round your wrist.

Pearls seemed too on the nose. Besides, if you wanted pearls you would’ve already been drenched in them, with how common you told him they were where you’re from. Anything with shells or sea glass felt just the same— he wanted to give you something you’d appreciate as something new, the way he appreciated everything from you. Something special. Nothing seemed to meet his standards for you.

He nearly gave up, planning to try at the next port town and just give it to you when the ship docked back here. Just as he was about to make his way to the pier, a particular jeweled bracelet caught his eye. He couldn’t have imagined a better gift for you; a simple golden chain, adorned with three sizeable opal stones. Stones that shone like the scales of your tale, iridescent like everything about you.

It had been most of his salary. But he didn’t give a damn— it was perfect. You were worth more than gold or riches, anyway.

What was even more priceless was your reaction. Billy tread through the sand with his hands behind his back, staring at the back of your head as you stared out at the horizon, the stars coming down to meet the sea. When you felt his presence more than heard it, you leaned your head back to look at him looming over you, a grin splitting your features. “Hi.”

“Hey, princess.” Billy hummed, crouching to press a kiss to your temple before moving to sit cross-legged beside you. His hands were cupped in his lap, hiding the gift. If you glowed this beautifully in the moonlight, he wondered if seeing you in daylight would knock him senseless. You pressed a simplistically beautiful little peach shell into his knee with a smile. “Mmm, pretty.” Billy hummed, pride washing over you similar to the seafoam currently lapping over your tail.

Your bright eyes flicked to his hands, brows drawing together in an impossibly cute expression. “What’s that?”

Billy smiled nearly shyly, pulling his hands apart and lifting the gold bracelet laid over his fingers. Lying over his knuckles, the teal flecks in the opal caught the moonlight in a way reminiscent of your scales. The grin that parted your lips was worth every minute of searching, every penny spent. Your hand came up to cup over your mouth, regretfully hiding that smile as you gasped.

“Oh, is it for me?” You gawked, reaching out to trace a finger over the chain, a free hand splayed over your heart. Billy nodded, smirking proudly. You didn’t have this kind of jewelry where you were from.

You let him clasp the bracelet ‘round your wrist, you admired the way the metal and the stones caught the light. Oh, you’d never seen anything like it!

Finally, Billy could give you something equally special as everything you’d given him. He could finally return the favor of showing you his world. He wondered if the bracelet would bring thoughts of him to your mind, a smile to your lips, the way all your gifts had for him.

Billy could only hope to be half as preciously intriguing to you as you were to him.

[elsblunt]

please write something stupidly fluffu abt ellie having a bad day or something and then reader cuddling w her and comforting her .. its always the other way round and ellie needs more love!!

we need more ellie being taken care of!!!!!!!

it was late at night, the room lit up by a flickering candle that smelt like vanilla that was gifted to you from an old lady in jackson. the room was cozy, ever since you moved in with ellie there were new crochet blankets draped over couches and beds and chairs, new trinkets and decorations scattered throughout the place you both shared.

ellie had a late night patrol that day and you sat on the couch, reading a book while humming some tune.

the sound of a doorknob twisting echoed throughout the room as you sat up, looking towards the girl who entered the room, her face illuminated by a warm glow. she looked tense, body trembling slightly with clothes dirtied up with blood and god knows what.

you frowned slightly at the sight. watching as she slipped off her boots and set them to the side and slowly taking off her jacket, hanging it on a rack that contained the shared jackets and coats,

it took a second for her to calm down, walking towards the couch with a weak smile. “hey, baby..” ellie rasped, kissing your forehead.

“hi els, you okay?” brows furrowed and eyes scanning her body, you rubbed her shoulder softly.

she nodded, scratching her ear. you knew those movements, she always had these little anxiety motions she did when nervous or uncomfortable, and of course you noticed. “hm.. let’s get you a bath, that sound good?” you smile softly, kissing her cheek and standing.

clothes were thrown to the corner of the small bathroom, ellie standing to the side as you turn the nob and adjust the water to a nice temperature and filled the tub.

she got in, laying between your legs as you wet her hair and grabbed the bottle of shampoo, scrubbing it into her auburn locks.

these moments stitched ellie’s heart up, being able to do intimate things with you she was never able to do with any people she had met. to have a kind moment without it having to be sexual, it calmed her. ellie’s shoulders fell and a sigh slipped from her lips when you massaged her head and ran a rag over her body and the scratches that littered her skin. running your fingers over her tattoo, the matching bracelets you both had, her birthmarks, everywhere.

it was quiet except for your humming of one of ellie’s songs she showed you one time and the sound of water splashing. it was actually on your first date when the two went to stargaze. she had brought her guitar and played you one of ‘ellie’s originals’ and it’s just stuck ever since.

a towel raked down ellie’s frame as you led her to the bed in only her underwear, checking out some of her scars she had gotten. her once trembling body now settled to a slight shake, the one she usually had. the tense shoulders and neck now calmed.

“what happened on patrol, baby?” you ask with slight concern lacing your tone. it must’ve been something worrying if she is this quiet and shook. ellie seemed to take a sharp breath when you asked, hesitating slightly.

“…me and jesse were on this trail, and we saw this clicker— runner. but it was a kid,” the green eyed girl paused, swallowing. “and i could hear his cries, you know? when they’re fighting the infection. he came at me i couldn’t kill him, i couldn’t.” ellie looked down in shame, voice shaking as she spoke softly.

though most didn’t see it, she had a sweet soul. under her tough demeanor and furrowed brows that you had to constantly remind her to relax. “the— the blood is his.” ellie’s voice minimized to a soft murmur at the end, playing with her fingers.

“that’s okay, els. don’t worry okay? doing this probably put him out of his misery, you did good. it’s okay..” you reassured, standing up and hugging her. ellie’s head rested against your stomach as you stroked her wet head, feeling warm breaths brush against your skin. “cmon, lay down.”

a smile tugs at your lips as she crawls to her side of the bed, covering her body with a blanket that was covered in small stars and space symbols. you follow, laying next to the girl.

ellie’s head rests on your bare chest, matching her breathing to everytime your chest rose and fell, listening to your heartbeat. the two girls legs are entangled, skin on skin. you pressed soft kisses to her temple, forehead, hair, everywhere. she calmed at your touch everytime, only yours.

i feel like this was actually decent😊😊😊😊thank u for the request!!

[ineylesian]

MIGUEL’S GIRL.

PETER B. PARKER/ MIGUEL O’HARA X FEM! READER

— AO3 | NAVI

— WORD COUNT | 1k

— WARNINGS | smut, masturbation (m), voyeurism (??), majorrr jealously, kinda cheating but not really, dirty minded peter.

— SUMMARY | it should’ve been him, but it wasn’t. you were miguel’s girl.

— AUTHOR’S NOTE | remembered a cod fic inspired by jesse’s girl and had to bring it to atsv. also peter b parker is such bee keeping age 🤭 crazy for him

Being dragged into a different universe sucked.

Peter’s head was pounding, his back aching, growing stubble itching at his chin. His foot tapped as Mayday rocked around on his lap, babbling about something he wasn’t paying attention to.

“MJ and I are on the rocks again.”

Yeah. You paused at his answer, looking back with your mouth slightly ajar.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Your response was quick, tones of guilt ridden underneath. “Uhm- how old is May?”

“She’s one.”

He sighed, slotting his fingers against his upper jaw. You were rambling about how pretty she was— his daughter, eyes shining, lashes batting at her teasingly. It’s almost as if you’d totally forgotten about what had just happened.

He’d put it lightly. MJ had called it quits (for the 5th time this year) the night this whole ordeal started. She found out about your, as she called it, “little tango with Peter Parker”, which was years ago and frankly over. You didn’t need to know that, though.

“You want to hold her?”

You excitedly walked over, scooping Mayday— his daughter, into your arms. Peter watched as you swung her around, happily responding with her incoherent babbles with nonsense of your own.

It was years ago, when you and him were together. Nothing much became of it; you dropped in from another dimension, he was single.. and bored.

Nothing much, Peter sighed; he’d know you for merely a month. Fell for you in merely a month, too, recalling the way you’d broken his heart, and his yours, as you headed for home.

That mere month he knew you was perfect. You were the girl of his dreams, he’d thought he’d escaped that.

But damn, you still looked good. Especially with his kid in your arms.

“Peter.”

Shit. He shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“Peter.”

His eyes snapped open, looking up to see Miguel standing over him, Mayday held firmly in his hands.

“She needs to be changed.”

“You’re such a dad, el diablo.” You snickered, earning a glare from the man beside you. Miguel handed Mayday back to him before turning to you, effortlessly hoisting you onto his shoulder with a single arm. “His terrible jokes are rubbing off on you. I hate it.”

“Miguelllll.”

Your whine echoed down the halls, settling coldly in his ears as Miguel took you away. A frown had absentmindedly settled on his face the moment you disappeared, following him to the bathroom. The moment he looked into the mirror, he saw it, forcing him to smile down at Mayday as she tugged on his pant leg.

“Just my luck, huh, kiddo?”

Peter knew he’d heard this sound before.

“Miguel, what if people hear?”

You’d asked it, over, and over. You were always a cautious person, but you always gave in too quickly for your own good.

He’d also heard the same whine buzz from your throat. The same one you’d do when he’d leave hickeys on your neck. The same one that he’d do to you— except he wasn’t, Miguel was.

Shit. He could’ve picked any other hotel tonight. Any other that wouldn’t have him staring at the ceiling, listening to you get ruined by another man. Any other that wouldn’t possibly have Mayday waking up to the sound of his ex getting fucked in the room above him.

Just his luck, indeed.

Why was he bothered, anyway? You weren’t together anymore, that was in the past, completely. You didn’t love him anymore, and he had a kid with another woman. Albeit, a woman that he couldn’t stay with for more than two months at a time. And, you did look really nice holding May.

…shit.

Seconds passed. Your moans grew progressively louder. Peter could feel his face flush, deep, spreading erratically to other parts of his body. Every nerve in his system was struck, listening to you make noises like that— noises that only he should be pulling from you.

Before he knew it, Peter was palming himself through his suit, aggressively, listening intently as your voice began to run a little hoarse. Miguel must have already make you cum once, then. He imagined himself in that position, spreading the embarrassing amount of precum that had gathered at his tip along his skin as his hand slipped further underneath.

Peter could almost remember every detail from your nights together. He soaked in each reaction, how your face would scrunch up when he fingered you, the way your eyes would roll back when he bottomed out. Your chants and pleas of his name echoed faintly against the shabby motel walls, contrasting with his in a disturbing symphony.

“Miguel.. ah— Miguel— don’t stop…”

It should’ve been his name you were crying. Peter’s strokes grew faster as he tried to block Miguel’s name out, violently fisting himself at the thought of you under him, hot and streaking with tears of pleasure. He could nearly feel the soft curves of your thighs that he would gently trace, choking out a moan at the way you would look at him while he was lapping up your sobbing pussy.

It should’ve been him. Should’ve been you he fucked his kid into. The thought had him grounding his teeth into his bottom lip, eyes brimming with tears as his abdomen began to tighten. You were outright wailing now, begging Miguel to let you cum.

Peter imagined that you were whining his name, just as you did before, eyes glossy, lips swollen and puffy. You cried one last time as you came, and he felt his own cum leaking onto his hands, along with Miguel’s quiet praises. He swore, burying his head into the pillows when he began to console you.

It should’ve been him, but it wasn’t. You were Miguel’s girl.

In this universe, at least.

[misserabella]

sexting with gf! ellie williams!☆ (pt. 3)

pt2!

cw; +18 content! minor dni!, sexting, public space (jesse’s party), usage of drugs (weed), smoking, reader and ellie being horny af, cursing, heavy make-out (semi public space), nipple play, tit sucking, hickeys, teasing, praising, dirty talking, use of pet names instead of y/n, fingering (r receiving), strap on sex, dom! ellie and sub! reader but they are kinda switches at the end, hard sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, oral sex (ellie receiving) not detailed (cliffhanger😋)…

me after writing this;🤕😵‍💫😩

it was friday night. and as every friday uni night, jesse had decided to throw a party at his huge house since his parents had left for the weekend on a business trip.

you were sitting with dina, chatting up as you two smoked down a blunt with him, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off of ellie, who sat in front of you on the other sofa, dealing some weed. it was something she would do every now and then to get some money. she always spend too much on you and your little dates. but you couldn’t love her anymore for it. last month she had payed you a week on a hotel near the beach. you had really made it up to her that night after a swim in the pool on your littlest bikini.

she was wearing his grew hoodie, the one you always borrowed from her since it smelled like her, and a pair of baggy jeans with a pair of converse. her hair was half up and half down in a messy bun, and her hands were adorned in rings. you could see the one you had bought her sitting on her ring finger, the silver shining against her skin. she looked so hot. even more when she’d shift just the slightest and you could see a little bulge on her thigh under her jeans; the shadow of the strap she had worn tonight. you knew she has done it to tease you. to turn you on. and fuck if it was working…

els

her reddish eyes fell on her phone when she received your message. she looked at you for just a second, smiling at you.

hey pretty girl

what’s up baby? having fun?

yeah, kinda missing you though

she chuckled, shaking her head.

missing me? i’m in front of you babe

exactly. why aren’t you on top of me?

you smirked when you saw her eyes widen just the slightest, her eyes scanning the room to make sure no one was staring at her phone. no one was. and they were too drunk or high out of their minds to even care.

shit princess

you feeling a lil needy baby?

you bit down on your lip, and she huffed.

you bit down on your lip while i’m talking to you again i’ll fuck you so hard you’ll cry

your cheeks burned and your thighs pressed against the other. you thanked god dina was too busy making out with jesse to notice the way you trembled.

i’d let you

fuck, i bet you would

ellie’s jaw tightened, and your pussy throbbed.

yeah… i’m so wet right now, can’t stop looking at your strap

ellie smirked.

you like it baby? it’s your favorite

that one that makes you cum like crazy

your breath hitched. you knew which one she meant. it was long, and purple, and was detailed at the tip and the base, where some veins popped out. you remembered the first time you two had used it and how much you had ended up squirting that night. the length of it had you seeing stars. every new harsh thrust abused you g spot and made you whimper over and over again. it drove ellie crazy.

i still remember how good you looked riding it for me baby, taking my cock so deep and nice like the good girl you are.

i remember it too

felt so good

your dick always feels so good…

i bet it does, huh? you’re always so loud for me

want it inside els

you want it inside, baby? want me to fuck it inside that little pussy of yours?

your panties were so wet…

yes els please

come here first baby, let me give you a kiss.

you were quick to sit up, her emerald eyes taking in your appearance and tight red dress. you looked like a fucking dream and she wanted to hear you moan so bad…

she patted her lap, and your cheeks reddened as you looked around. the music was loud, and the stoners room was actually pretty chill and empty. most people were at the salon dancing. you let out a little scream when you felt a pair of warm and strong hands grabbing at your hips and pulling you down. you landed on ellie’s lap, and an inaudible soft moan left your mouth when your clothed cunt made contact with her strap under her jeans.

“much better…” she smirked, her hands now on your ass. “now. why don’t you open your mouth for me doll?” she inquired as she leaned in, and your eyes fell to her lips. you hummed when her tongue pushed in between your parted ones, deeply kissing you. your hands creeped up to her hair, and shit, if you weren’t in public, you’d grind down on her to try and get some friction, ‘cause you were aching and needed her so much you felt like dying… “calm down baby, not going anywhere.” she teased you, pulling away when she felt just how needily you were kissing her back, how your whole body was shaking on top of her. “i’m all yours.” she whispered against your lips before kissing you again, and this time she kissed you with the same intensity, pushing you down on her strap and making you whimper on her mouth. her stomach was knotting, and she felt that if she didn’t fuck you she’d go completely insane. “let’s go up, hm?” she inquired, and with hazy eyes, you nodded, letting her get you off of her lap and guide you upstairs with her hand on yours.

one of the free rooms was locked behind your back, and quickly she was pressing you against the door and kissing your neck, her hands reaching down to the rim of your dress to pull it upwards.

you moaned and she groaned when one of her hands cupped your clothed cunt, panties all soaked and thighs covered in slick.

“fuck.”

“ellie…” you whimpered.

“you’re so fucking wet baby…” she muttered, kissing you hard. your breath got punched out of your lungs when she raised you in between her arms and took you to the bed, crushing you under her weight. this. this was it. this is what you needed.

“please els… need you.” you whined, letting her strip you out of your dress, your chest now completely exposed to her hungry eyes. her touch was rough on your tits, pinching your nipples.

you were letting out this little sweet sounds that were making her impossibly horny. shit. you were perfect.

“i know baby, i know…” she cooed, pulling down her pants and stripping out of her hoodie to push your panties aside to take a look at your soaking cunt. your eyes fell on her huge strap, although your breath hitched when her fingers teased your folds and slick. “poor little thing just needs a good fuck, isn’t that right angel?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back arched as you let out a loud moan when two of her fingers easily plunged inside, stretching you out. “that’s it. just needed something to keep her all nice and full…” your hands gripped the sheets underneath you as she started to fuck you with them. “atta girl, taking my fingers so good…” you gasped as her fingers curled and her thumb pressed against your puffy rosy clit.

“ellie, fuck!” you screamed. she always knew how to make you feel so good…

“so fucking loud…” she cursed. “haven’t even dicked you down and you’re already fucking crying.” she shook her head with a smirk when she saw the tears of pleasure reaming your eyes.

you whimpered, and she grunted, pulling her fingers out and and pulling from your hips to drag you closer. your thighs shook when you felt the tip of her strap tease your folds, lubing itself up.

your back arched and your jaw hanged loose when she started to push in, inch by inch of her cock filling your pussy. “you just love getting fucked, don’t you? my pretty girl always looking so beautiful taking me so deep inside her cunt…” she groaned and you whimpered when —even if she hadn’t finished filling you up— she tried to pull back. “fuck baby, you’re sucking me right back in.”

“don’t pull out.” you cried out, but she cooed.

“you know we need to go slow with this one baby, don’t want to hurt you…” you moaned when she thrusted back in, this time a little deeper than last time. “that’s it. nice and slow. gotta warm you up for my cock doll.”

you could hear the embarrassing wet sounds your pussy was making as you took her inside. you couldn’t help but flush all the way down to your chest. fuck. you were so fucking horny. it almost hurt.

“so wet… look at that.” she muttered more to herself than you, eyes on your cunt swallowing the strap.

one more thrust, there were only a couple of inches left to go.

“ellie…” you moaned as she started to get rougher, starting to pull from you onto her dick harder. “please… i can take it. i promise. please, ellie, please…” you babbled out, needing her to fuck you stupid. maybe she already was.

“so needy…” she grunted, and with a harsh snap, she buried herself inside you to the base. you swore you could see spots as the tip crushed your g spot, making you clench down around the strap. “shit, you’re squeezing my cock, baby.” she groaned as she started to fuck into you, each thrust quicker and harder.

“ellie!” you screamed, your moans getting cut with every snap of her hips. she too was moaning, low and heavy. you looked so good with your makeup now starting to get fucked up, marks on your neck and tits bouncing up and down… she couldn’t help but suck on them as the strap started to rub her clit, making her fuck you in need of her own release.

“fuck baby. doing so good for me. looking like a fucking angel while i’m so deep inside you…” tears were rolling down your cheeks, mascara staining your skin.

“i’m gonna cum…” you whimpered, feeling the knot on your stomach growing tighter and tighter. shit, she was fucking your brains out.

“yeah baby? you gonna cum on my cock?” you screamed when her fingers met your clit, rubbing it just the perfect way to have you trembling underneath her and falling apart, gushing all over the strap as your moans got louder and louder. ellie thanked god the music was loud as fuck, ‘cause she’d surely kill anyone who’d ever get to hear you like this. see you like this. you were hers. the hickeys on your neck were a proof of that, and she’d make sure to ruin you for anyone else. “atta girl. fuck. that’s it baby, keep cumming for me, you look so beautiful when you cum…” your ears were ringing and your vision was rimmed in black, the pleasure on your body being to much. and it only seemed to grow, and grow, and…

“ellie, i’m gonna… i’m gonna…!” before you could even warn her you were squirting all over her thighs, strap and the sheets, your back arching as you let out a broken, low and long moan that had her cumming on her own boxers. and how couldn’t she? fuck. that was the hottest thing she had ever fucking seen. and heard.

she was grunting as she fucked you two through it, the wet squelches of your cunt swallowing her cock making you feel dizzy and light headed.

when she finally stilled, you whined when she pulled out, but she hushed you with a soft peck on your lips.

“need to clean you up, baby.” she said before leaving the bad and going towards the bathroom to your left. you heard the water running for a moment before she was finally back, holding a wet towel. you hissed and shook when it made contact with your sensitive cunt, even more with your puffy and abused clit. “i know… but you did so good for me baby… took me so good. my good girl…” she praised you, —once she had finished cleaning up the two of you— leaving kisses up from your thighs to your stomach, chest, neck, and finally your lips. you hummed when her tongue entered your mouth, kissing you deep and slow.

you slowly rose yourself, and sat up to kiss her harder, this time pushing her down onto the mattress. her lips were shiny and swollen red when you pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouth.

your lips next fell onto her jaw, and the on her neck, where you paused for a second, leaving open mouth kisses before sucking on her skin. wanting too to leave your mark behind.

“what are you doing?” she inquired, breathy, almost weak.

“wanna take care of you.” you said as you unclipped the strap and pushed it aside and onto the floor. you couldn’t care less. you’d clean everything later. one of her veiny hands found your hair as you pressed your lips to her sports bra, mouthing at her nipples, which pocked through the material due to her arousal.

you then went lower, onto her toned stomach, and then, your hands were tugging down on her soaked boxers.

your eyes fell on her cunt, sticky with cum, and you felt high.

you looked into her emerald eyes, and her lips curved in a smirk.

“go ahead baby.”

-

a/n; oh god i actually i am happy about the results of my writing in this one for the first time in like… weeks. hope you liked it too<3

xxx

[pedgito]

summary | a story of how things began, where they ended up, and where they might go. a collection of patrols over the course of several months is forcing you closer to joel than you ever imagined, tense circumstances leading to hasty decisions and one bad choice after the next. [17k+]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no explicit use of y/n, set post s1 (but not specifically stated), lots of characters from the game (but not significant if you're unaware) grumpy!joel, friends (?) with benefits, sex under stress as a means for distraction (consensual), graphic depicition of an attack of raiders (it's brief, easy to skim over), a litany of sexual escapades (oral, unprotected, ect) semi-public sex (no one's around), orgasm denial, repressed emotions

author’s note | um, yeah. i had this idea back in february and had an outline that finally came to fruition over the past month. this was a serious labor of love and purely self-indulgence. if you make it through the entire thing, thank you! if this has typos please ignore. i proofread this like 4 times and i will cry

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

Patrolling with Joel was always something. Miserable when Joel was having a bad day, mildly enjoyable on the days where he managed to have enough coffee that morning when you weren't on the rotation for the shitty patrols that took hours to trek through in this weather, the snow halfway up your shins nearly everywhere.

It’s been a few months now and Joel is still who you favor going with over anyone else—he’s thoughtful, methodical, always watching over his shoulder for danger. And Joel does warm up to you eventually, but the reluctance in his eyes is always there. He’s seasoned in the art of surviving, avoiding connection when at all possible. He doesn’t talk to you for the first month out of simple answers or orders, helping you get accustomed to a route you haven’t run before, but small talk? It’s nonexistent.

Maybe that was for the best. 

Because the first time you find yourself pinned under his gaze, fingers clenched around your wrists in warning, the unseemly thoughts invade your brain.

He doesn’t sleep often during patrols, either. So, it’s a little intimidating when you find him curled up on top of his sleeping bag when he swore he was taking a quick break, resting the ache in his back that quickly melted into a deep slumber. You can’t dare to wake him up so soon after, seeing how peaceful he looked when he slept, almost at ease but still carrying that deep scowl, permanently on his features. It was a part of him.

Tommy and Jesse had arrived to rotate and relieve you guys back to Jackson, something that wasn’t out of the norm, but you find yourself battling with leaning over him, shaking him awake and disturbing his slumber. And on a dime, the moment your hand connects with his shoulder, Joel is awake—very awake and subduing you with little resistance, your leg forced hastily between his own, eyes dark and pensive from where he held himself above you.

“Joel, Joel—it’s just me,” You spit out in a panic, “Tommy and Jesse, they’re outside.”

You’re not sure what breaks his stupor, be it the panic in your voice or the terrified look on your face, he relents quickly, apologizing half-heartedly under his breath.

You release a tight breath when he finally lets go, rising up slowly as he does, grabbing your pack without a word, as does he, watching as he rolled up his sleeping bag, something you’ve seen him do a million times before, but he feels you watching him, almost hesitant to speak now.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks lowly, the thickness of sleep in his voice.

“No, um—“ You shake your head, rubbing the skin of your wrist absently, “I guess I should’ve been more careful, but you fell asleep and I figured you needed it.”

He looks even more apologetic, more so for his actions but for also leaving you up alone, not that it really mattered to you. It was an easy patrol spot in the watchtower— it never caused trouble, so falling asleep was the least of your worries. 

You shrug when his eyes glance over your slightly hunched frame, shivering from the cold but an arm clutching around your middle. It’s defensive, a subconscious movement that Joel doesn’t even think you realize you’re doing.

He shouldn’t feel shitty about it, but he does. Still, he won’t admit that out loud.

“Next time I’ll keep six feet and poke you with a stick,” You joke, “kinda like waking a bear.”

You smile when Joel huffs reluctantly, a subtle motion of his chest as he chuckles. It’s faint, but you see the involuntary quirk at the corner of his mouth as he shoved his sleeping bag into his pack and rose to his feet.

“Hey, you’ve still got decent reflexes,” You shrug, passing him by with the soft scuffle of your feet, shoulders rubbing against each other awkwardly as you turn toward him over your left shoulder, his body too close for his own comfort, “for an old guy.”

He scoffs at the implication, though any maliciousness in his expression is void, “Old?”

He knows it’s the truth, he just hates the implication. He’s weaker, but not any less that man he was than that he is now. He watches your face scrunch up in amusement, a soft laugh slipping past your lips. 

“Joel, I’m fucking with you,” You tell him, the tense in his brow relaxing slightly, “it’s gonna be a long ride back, isn’t it?”

“Ah, don’t know—think you can handle travelin’ with the old guy for a few hours?”

Joel doesn’t divert to humor often, but when he does, it’s a sweet sight, that rough exterior cracking under your gaze more often. 

“Please,” You puff your lips out in a quick huff, yanking your back over your shoulder, “I can handle you just fine.”

Once you got to know him, it was actually quite easy.

Joel nods his chin forward silently, ignoring your teasing for the time being, a long ride ahead of you and not nearly enough patience on his end to deal with your antics.

And you try to ignore how intensely his touch lingered on your skin, rubbing the tender spot on your wrist during the long ride back to Jackson. 

Joel keeps his distance behind you, but he sees it—the subtle look over your shoulder every now and then, your eyes lingering with him when he forces eye contact.

It’s only the start of what was to come, something neither of you were prepared for.

*

The rotation is adequately simple over the first few months, keeping the pairings fair by filtering them out evenly—Ellie is fun to be around, a lot more relaxed and less jaded by everything. She keeps things light, always bringing along her comics for extra entertainment or spending her time drawing you or whatever she could find, something to keep her busy when things get boring. And she talks, freely, to you—something Joel never did. Besides, Ellie kept up to date on the town drama, so in turn, so did you. 

And Tommy is, well, Tommy. He’s efficient, likes to do his rounds, sign the patrol sheet, scope the area, then spend the rest of the night or day relaxing away when things aren't going awry. He talks about before—his job, how people lived in Austin, the summer cookouts in the neighborhoods that you were never privy to. Tommy’s nice, you’ve always liked him. It was Joel who proved to be the difficult one, something Tommy would wholeheartedly agree with.

Eventually you find yourself paired up with Joel more often than you’re used to, now Ellie would stick to patrols with Dina when she could, occasionally Jesse. She always complains when she has to ride with Joel, something about:

“We live together, but we’re not attached at the fuckin’ hip.”

Joel doesn’t complain, his hesitancy toward letting Ellie take more responsibility waning by the day when he realizes how well she holds her own.

You take the patrol further west, a lodge that he and Tommy cleared out some months prior when you were still new—you’ve only ran into infected there once, end of the summer, but Joel cleared them out no problem. 

It seemed like an easy patrol. It was. Joel even seems a little more cheerful than usual, making comments to some of the information you were relaying to him that Ellie told you, some pointless gossip to fill the lull.

“It’s why I mind my business,” Joel speaks over the soft trollop as you ride alongside him, “nothin’ good comes from stickin’ your nose where you shouldn’t,” his head turns, eyes glancing over your frame briefly, shrugging his shoulders in an effort to loosen them, “it only breeds more problems.”

“I’m just the messenger,” You shrug, “I keep to myself—you know that.”

He does. He finds the shyness endearing in a way, a contrast from how exuberant Ellie could be when he spent patrols with her. It’s why things worked so well with you—you respected his space, he respected yours. 

“Remind me to check that guitar place for those strings Ellie’s been buggin’ about,” Joel tells you, “I’ll hit it before we leave.”

“She’s improved a lot,” You compliment, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “props to her teacher, I suppose.”

Joel shakes his head, emitting a bit of fondness every time he talks about Ellie, “That kid is determined. I don’t think she would’ve needed my help either way.”

“You know,” Your tone bleeds something teasing, putting Joel on edge as he tilts his head your way, looking expectantly, “she said you’re a pretty good singer.”

Joel opens his mouth for a beat before snapping it shut, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to sing,” You promise, “but—I don’t know, just didn’t pin you as the type.”

“I’ve got a type about me?” Joel seems dully interested, a soft smirk on his face as he yields the reins to a stop, leading you to follow suit as you both guide the horses to the makeshift stable tucked away on the side of the building, gathering your things before you make your way inside.

You leave Joel in a curious silence until you’re able to relax, closing the doors behind you with a heavy shove once Joel has done his quick walk-through, the fireplace setting unlit in the middle of the room looking all too appealing right now. 

“Look, I’ll just keep askin’,” Joel says, clapping his hands together deftly to grab your attention, throwing the lighter stuffed into your coat pocket at his waiting hands, cupped as he catches it with ease, setting up a fire that crackles to life instantly, “first I’m an old man, now you’re judgin’ me, doesn’t really seem fair now does it?”

It’s the most he’s talked to you before, suddenly invested in getting an answer out of you. It’s playful, his intention, and you can’t help but find it a little enjoyable to watch him squirm. You take a seat around the circular fire pit, feet propped up against the brick surrounding it, hands laying flat over you stomach, jacket unzipped but still snug on your body.

“You’re a big grump all the time,” You tell him honestly, his face morphing into something indecipherable, “—Ellie’s words, not mine.”

You hold a finger up, pointing in his direction.

“But, she’s not wrong.” It earns a subtle shrug, Joel’s arms stalling over the back of the couch that wrapped around the fire pit, a few feet away from you still. “I’m just saying, most of the people in town who enjoy that stuff—you know, music and all that. They’re loud about it, a little showboaty if you ask me.”

“What? I’m not loud enough for you?” 

He was loud when he needed to be. Directive and strong, aggressive to anyone who may cause him harm or anyone he cares about—you’ve seen it a few times, but never on the side of it being just you and him. Part of you is thankful for that, but you can’t help the wanted to feel that type of fierce protection aimed toward you.

You snort softly, “Forget it, Joel. It’s a nice surprise, I bet you have a great voice.” It’s free of any teasing or ill-intent of riling him up. A true compliment, one that cracks Joel’s surface, just barely.

Joel hits you softly in the chest with a bag of jerky a while later, chewing on a piece quietly as he rests, neck hung against the back of the couch, eyes closed. The heat creeps in slowly, forcing you to strip down a few layers—jacket first, then your sweater, down to just your jeans and shirt, wiggling your feet out of your snow boots in hopes that they’ll dry by the fire quicker. 

And truthfully, your bored out of your mind. It was hard to stay dormant like this, holed up in a place for an extended period of time with nothing to do but entertain yourself—and because Joel was about as entertaining as watching wet paint dry, you took the initiative into your own hands.

“Have you ever played pool?” Your voice slices through the thick silence, one of Joel’s eyes peeking open curiously, head still reclined back. “I’ve been dying to try this out since Tommy found those balls a few months ago.”

“It’s been years,” He mumbles lowly, tapping his fingers against the back of his right palm, “—what about you?”

“Not a chance, Joel,” You reply, voice oozing with a flippant vagrancy, “I was fifteen when the outbreak happened, I’ve never even stepped foot into a bar, let alone some place like this.”

Even now, twenty years into a world that had crumbled to the ground, the lodge still held up nice.

Normally you would expect Joel to make up some excuse, roll over on his side or lay down and pretend he was asleep or keep watch by the door, his demeanor never faltering for more than a second, clipped answers to your question. But, that was Joel wasn’t here now.

He’s warmed up to you, partially—but you could tell there was still a long way to go. He still keeps his distance, less of a chance to bump into your or accidentally brush shoulders. It makes you feel forlorn, like maybe you had scared him by how you reacted, eyes wide and terrified underneath him. 

Truthfully, Joel doesn’t want to scare you again. He couldn’t handle it. Not with how reluctantly fond he’s grown of you, something he kept close to his chest and didn’t dare tell a soul. He’s got his own justifications for it. 

“We can play a game,” Joel suggests, “it’ll kill some time, I guess.”

Joel didn’t need to know how easy it would be for you to play him under the table, having spent most of your time around the guys at the bar who like to hustle bets for pool. They never stood a chance. And Joel never frequented The Tipsy Bison outside of parties thrown for the community as a group (and that was still rare), always dragged along by Ellie or Tommy. They were insufferable to attend. 

You could share the sentiment. 

“Any bets?” You tease, stripping the pool cues off the wall and handing it to him as he approaches, strip down to a similar state as well, tanned skinned under a navy blue shirt, wearing the jeans he seemed to never take off and boots that were barely holding on. 

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Joel decides, “I’ve got nothin’ in mind anyways.”

“God, you’re no fun,” You pout, pulling an eye roll from Joel, his eyes flicking toward the ground briefly as he reconsidered, “come on—anything.”

“Jesus—uh, I don’t know,” He chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully, “huh, how about the loser just owes the other a favor?”

You blow a raspberry with your tongue, “Lame,” You tease further, but his quick switch to defeat has his arm slumping at his side forcing you to reassess, “—fine, fine. A favor is fair, I’m running low on those anyways.”

It’s a small hint at your competitive nature, something Joel is clueless to pick up on, guiding you through the basics of the game with ease—you listen intently despite how badly you were going to destroy him, the stakes surprisingly high.

A favor. For anything. 

The small crack of a smile on Joel’s face is enough of a reward as he watches you attempt to break the set, barely tapping the center as it rolls back slowly, your face scrunching up in annoyance. 

“Oh, fuck you,” You scoff playfully, “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Joel shakes his head in a blatant attempt at lying, heaving his cue up to show you his stance, “Keep your dominant hand on the end and your other near the type, you’ve just gotta guide it through with some force.”

You feign innocence, switching the cue to your dominant side, though still looking visibly uncomfortable and rigid. 

Joel thinks it over in his hand, rehashing his decision making a million times over until he’s resting the pool cue aside and joining your side, hesitant as he brings his hands to your elbows from behind, keeping a careful distance.

“Keep your arm a little further back,” He pulls at your dominant arm, thick fingers wrapping around your bicep, his body leaned forward slightly to adjust the other when he can’t reach, spreading your fingers to wrap around the other end, tucking your thumb under the cue gently at wrapping your index over the top, “it’s almost like you’re holding a pencil, if that helps. Sort of.”

You nod slightly, his touch lingering lightly as he leaned over you, pointing toward the center of the table, “Just use that hand as a guide, don’t grip it too tight and let the cue follow through. Here, try it.”

He crowds you in slowly, aiding you in the force of your cue as he guides it back and through with a sharpness, hitting the ball dead center and the rest of them scattering as a result.

“Just like that.” He praises, a softness to him that wasn’t there before when speaks over your shoulder. You roll your shoulders insignificantly, nodding at his response.

He notes how unbothered you are this way, in this situation compared to the latter, his touch guiding and soft compared to rough, suffocating, the force he only used in situations where his opponent wasn’t going to make it out alive.

Joel parts without so much as a word, shifting into his typical stance, favoring his right leg as it bends slightly, using the cue for support as he leaned into it. “Got it?”

You nod silently, feeling warm all over, too warm. It’s your own fault, really—not a soul to blame but yourself. To be fair, you didn’t think Joel would bother to take the bait. But he did, almost too eagerly. It was enough to mentally knock you on your ass, leaving you to play the rest of the game with a cloudy mind filled with how warm his touch felt against your bare skin, craving a touch you haven’t felt in months. It’s pathetic, but you can’t help it. 

Joel sinks the last ball with finality, slapping his hand against the felt table in triumph, a surprising show of emotion for someone so sullen as him. He was full of surprises you were quickly finding out.

“M’sorry, darlin’.” He tells you, sounding authentically apologetic, “I don’t expect you to owe me any favors.”

“Screw that,” You shake your head stubbornly, annoyed at how easily you let him get the better of you, “one more.”

“I’m not sure if that’s—“

“One. More.” You tell him adamantly, reracking the balls without an answer, nodding pointedly toward the table, “Pick a pocket.”

Joel’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion, “You want to play one-pocket? How the hell do you even know about—I thought you said you’ve never played.”

“Joel, pick a damn pocket.” 

You don’t choke this time, letting him take the first hit, watch the ball sink, and the next one he misses. 

You don’t miss, one turn after the other passing him up as you sink them in succession.

He stares at you with wide eyes, nose flared like he’s going to laugh, mouth spread into a subtle smile, his teeth peeking through.

“You’re a fuckin’ pool shark, aren’t you?” Joel questions, tossing the pool cue aside. “That was goddamn impressive, I’ll give you that.”

“How do you think I score the steak sandwiches for our routes over the tuna and cheese?” You ask redundantly, “I’ve played Tommy under the table enough times that he won’t even play for fun anymore.”

“Well,” Joel shrugs, “guess we both owe each other favors, don’t we?”

You could care less about the favors now, battling with the conflicting feelings as you stared at the man ahead of you, seeming like a completely different person to you now. He's acting nothing like the sulky man you walk by every day in Jackson.

“Shit—one more,” Joel insists, “no holdin’ back on each other. No bets, just braggin’ rights.”

Joel never hears the end of it that night, falling asleep to the faint giggle of victory.

Another few weeks later and things are even more different. 

You spot Joel from a mile away, tucked against the corner of the bar with wistful eyes downturned toward his drink, the ice in the glass swashing alongside the dark whiskey. The squeal of a couple kids and their scattering feet as they ram into you and pull your attention away, guiding them away to safety and out of the crowd with a gentle hand, a pair of apologetic parents waiting off to the side.

He must’ve seen the interaction halfway through, smirking with amusement as you approach, though still eerily silent. 

Your friendship since the pool game has blossomed slowly, he jokes with you more often, shares his food when he hears your stomach growl, no matter how much you refuse. He even talks about his hobbies, things he enjoys, and it feels like he’s less of an enigma now. Real, tangible, someone you can make a connection with.

He still keeps his distance, mostly—the pool game was a fluke, a split second decision he hadn’t thought through and fully regretted after the fact. He’s gone from tackling you to the ground in fear to feeling you up for a good shot and that just doesn’t sit right with him, but he never apologizes. He can’t find it in him to embarrass himself further, figuring that by getting his ass kicked at pool was already punishment enough.

But, it doesn’t help that he always finds himself in situations that end up with him closer than he intended—he can’t tell if you’re being intentional about it anymore, but tonight, it’s all you.

“Damn, who dragged you out of the house?” You ask, a huff of a laugh muffled by the glass that tips to his lips, your fingers drumming silently against the bar as you asked for a beer, smiling at a familiar face. “Wait, let me guess—Ellie?”

Joel shakes his head honestly.

“Shit—Tommy?”

“No.”

“Maria forced Tommy to force you to show up?” Joel actually has a laugh at that, the idea not that far-fetched, but it’s another wrong answer.

“Joel Miller—“ Your finger wags in his face, landing on the center of his chest as you sip from your own drink with your opposite hand, “did you actually wander out of your house on your own free will?”

Guilty as charged. Joel would never make decisions like this, but he knew you would be there—and goddamnit, he couldn’t help it. He’s dressed incredibly suave too, a clean, slick dress shirt that works well on him, a nice change from his usual thick coats and plaid button ups. 

“Hey, brother,” Tommy claps a hand down on Joel’s shoulder warmly, flashing you his trademark grin, teeth and all, “ma’am.”

You grimace at the word, “God, Tommy—you gotta stop calling me that.”

“Sorry, habit.” He chuckles before glancing over at Joel briefly, eyes connecting with yours in question, “So, what are we thinkin’—hell finally freeze over?”

“Seems that way.” 

You play along, teasing Joel with no reluctance, enjoying the pinched look on his face as he downs the whiskey.

“Well, sorry Joel, but I came to steal her away for a dance,” He informs Joel, jabbing his thumb in your direction, “it is tradition, after all.”

Joel didn’t know that, of course. How could he?

Tommy always takes a minute or two to dance with you, one of his favorite songs being played by the band of townspeople—Maria doesn’t enjoy dancing as much either, spending most of her time mingling and helping out where it was needed, it’s an easy compromise. 

It’s an upbeat song, something country that you can’t be bothered to memorize the words of, but it’s all big twists and twirls, dancing with little precision and more for pure enjoyment than anything else.

Joel tries not to stare, he does. But, it’s nearly impossible. It starts at your face, lingering as he savored that huge smile plastered across it, arm flying above your head as Tommy spun you, squealing in joy. Eventually it travels elsewhere, lower and lower, until Joel can’t help but keep his gaze stuck on the curve of your jeans, the way the denim cups your ass perfectly. 

And it feels wrong, almost demeaning, but you don’t seem to have a care in the world, turning on your heels and to Joel suddenly, who’s already straightened up by then and shoving his glass away, poised to make his excuse to leave until you’re bounding toward him, hand outstretched as Tommy watches from the side, hands settled on his hips. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

“Come on, Joel.” You try to persuade, using a grabby motion with your hands as you approach him closer, bordering on shoving yourself between the bar top and his legs, “Just one dance.”

“Darlin’ I don’t—“ His refusal is imminent, obvious in your eyes. But, you’ve got a trick up your sleeve that he’d never hear the end of if he denied you. 

“My favor,” You play your cards, “I’m cashing’ in.”

You cock your head to the side, awaiting his answer with a pointed look, satisfied smile creeping onto your face as he sighs, letting you take his hand in reluctance as you pull him to your feet.

Joel’s at least thankful the tempo of the song is slower, but that leads to a minacious closeness he wasn’t prepared for, your delicate set of fingers resting over his shoulder, the other slack in his hand. He settles one against your waist, touching cautiously light and his other hand enveloping your own.

“This is a waste of a favor, you know.” Joel comments off-handedly, his eyes dragging toward the floor as he swayed to the gentleness of the music, dancing with an ease that still stuck with him, even after all these years.

“I don’t think so,” You shrug, “I get a dance, you’re no longer in debt to me, seems like a win win.”

Joel shakes his head with a fondness, eyes flicking up toward you briefly as he bows his head, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he seems to relax, realizing that the only eyes on him were you now, Tommy having gone off to search for Maria.

“All these other guys and you want to dance with the old man,” Joel starts, “how’d you come to that decision?”

“You’re never letting that go,” You roll your eyes half-heartedly, pulling him in closer on a whim, trading your current position for one where your arms rest of his shoulders, fingers interlocking behind his neck loosely, his own hands adjusting against your hip more casually, fingers dancing over the sliver of bare skin from where your shirt had started to rise, “can I tell you a secret, Joel?”

“It’s not a secret if you tell me,” He counters slyly, “besides, I’m terrible at keeping ‘em.”

And blame it on the lingering remnants of his second whiskey, but you can feel his fingers drag against your skin, finding home under the fabric of your shirt, his expression never changing—but it feels like a test, like he’s waiting for you to have a reaction. There’s not a word traded during the subtle interaction, ignoring his actions as you spoke.

“I’d choose you over any of those guys,” You say, a rawness that bleeds truth, Joel doesn’t have to second guess you, he sees it, “and Seth is way older than you and a prick, give yourself some fuckin’ credit, Joel.”

Joel settles quietly, shaking his head at your soft outburst. It shouldn’t surprise him, your shared devotion having grown over the past few weeks, small moments that made Joel second guess everything he’s taught himself to be.

Distant, hard, cold. But with you, it just wasn’t possible anymore. At least, not lately. 

“And,” You sing, wiggling excitedly under his grip, “I may have saved your ass for patrol tomorrow.”

Joel looks at you expectantly, pulling you in closer when a quick pass of two rowdy kids has you stumbling forward. 

You laugh at the sudden change in motion, hands slapping against his chest to keep you steady. He doesn’t try and move you away, which is surprising. But, you don’t try to move either, enjoying the slow guide of your chest against his as you sway to the music.

“Tommy’s takin’ coverage with Eugene,” You tell him, “I know how much you hate patrolling with him.”

Joel huffs out a laugh, “I don’t hate him, he’s just—“

“Talkative? A little too cheery for you?” You ask, leaning your head back an inch to examine his face fully, “Damn, I guess I’m not much of an improvement, either.”

“Now, I didn’t say that.” Joel responds defensively, though his face is still relaxed.

“Then?” You tease.

“Let me ask you,” Joel switches things around, “You’d rather patrol with Tommy over me?”

You shrug before thinking about it for a moment, actually thinking—and no, you wouldn’t. “No, guess not.”

“Why?” He questions, putting you on the spot.

“You’re prettier to look at,” You say with a nonchalance, “and Tommy really likes to reminisce, like…a lot.”

Joel snorts a quiet laugh at that.

“So, you see my issue with Eugene then.” Joel brings the conversation to a head, watching as a smirk appears on your face, realizing his mistake in real time.

“Hold on— that’s why you enjoy our patrols so much?” You turn your head into your shoulder to hide your laugh, quickly gathering yourself to tease him further, “Because, I’m prettier to look at and I keep my mouth shut?”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, ignoring your question. “You do realize where we’re going tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Of course, we’re stationed out at the dam.” You respond casually, “It’s not that bad, Joel.”

It’s the one place you and Joel haven’t had the opportunity to patrol together, always paired up with someone else—it’s a cramped spot, loud, and uncomfortably cold at this time of year no matter how many fires you set. Plus, it’s a lot of leg work to check the dam, making sure it’s still in good working condition. It’s what powered Jackson, without it, you wouldn’t be dancing with Joel right now, let alone even allowed the luxury of having a weekend to unwind and enjoy the party. 

Joel looks hesitant.

“What?” You pry, “Don’t like the idea of being stuck in a tiny room with me for that long, one bed, nowhere to sulk off into a corner?”

If anyone else had approached him like this, it would’ve ended in a broken jaw—his own internalized anger getting the best of him. But, it’s you. And he knows you’re right. 

You squeeze in closer, leaving barely any room between you now that the center of the hall was filled with other dancing bodies, shifting Joel’s hands down over your ass, the tips of his fingers adjusting over the curve and leaving little to imagination as he can feel every ridge and curve of your body, his solid chest against your own. 

Your heart clenches at the idea that he might pull away, something akin to a bad sting and finally give up on his attempt at being sociable—he doesn’t move an inch.

Doesn’t say a word.

In fact, his gaze is even more intense now than it was before, edged with a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I’ll sulk wherever I feel like it.” Joel retorts, falling into his usual scowl. “It’s probably about time we turn in for the night, don’t you think?”

You blink slowly, gaze never faltering. There’s a darkness behind his eyes, something still undiscovered. You nod blanky, but secretly acquiesce what he’s about to say.

“Long day tomorrow,” You agree, the shift in the air evident to the both of you, an innocent attempt at pulling some enjoyment out of Joel devolving into something dangerous and uncharted, “I’ll see you bright and early, yeah?”

“I’ll walk you back,” Joel insists, “maybe my sulkin’ will scare those boys who’ve been eyeing you all night.”

“I can handle myself, Joel.” He knows it—doesn’t make his offer any less tempting, though. He was a protector, you liked being protected. It was a devious offer that would find you in trouble soon, but you relent, accepting his help. He doesn’t make the first move, leaving you to take that step.

Joel doesn’t realize how badly he’s craved to touch you until he was, the second he laid his hands on you it was over for him—and he hates himself for letting you in, letting you wear him down. Joel’s close behind as you turn, navigating your way through the crowd quietly.

“Never said you couldn’t, sweetheart.” 

Your breath catches in your throat.

There’s a hammering in your chest that doesn’t calm the entire way back toward your house, a small street near the edge of the town, a few houses away from the one he shared with Ellie.

You clear your throat awkwardly, a thickness there that crept up on you, watching as Joel shoved his hands into his front pockets, leaning on his better leg, always favoring the left.

“I can ask Tommy to switch things back if you’re really bothered,” You remind him gently, wondering if that was why he seemed so bothered now, his face brooding and flat, “I won’t get my feelings hurt, I promise.”

But inside Joel’s head, his mind is filtering through a thousand bad decisions to make, every one of them involving you. 

“No,” He tells you surely, “You’re doing me a favor—shit, so I guess that means you don’t owe me anymore, actually.”

You shrug slightly, “Keep it, this one’s free.”

Joel has an inclination that you wouldn’t do that for just anyone, watching your face morph into a tired smile.

“Careful,” He teases, “you’re goin’ soft on me.”

You snort softly, ignoring the still burning tingle that lingered on your skin long after Joel’s touch disappeared. It was the same ache you felt the first time he touched you, tackled you to the ground and kept you pinned under his grip. He hasn’t gotten much better, still jerking awake in most situations, but you’ve learned to keep your distance. 

“Sorry,” You slip your hands into your back pockets, your thick jumper pulling tight over your chest, “didn’t realize that was a bad thing.”

Joel shakes his head slightly, still lingering on your doorstep despite himself. Old Joel would hightail it home, old Joel wouldn’t have even offered to walk you back to begin with—but, here he was. 

“I should turn in.” You tell him, his subtle nod in response.

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea.” Joel agrees, “long day ahead of us.”

The clipped responses are feeding a tension you don’t realize until you’re both still standing there, unmoving, swaying with the gentle breeze and somehow feeling warm all over while still surrounded by the bitter cold.

And there’s a quick flash that invades your mind, even while stone cold sober, that has you twitching under his gaze. He sees it, clocks it with his eyes. 

There’s no indication that he’s attempting to get a reaction out of you, just lingering in wait, waiting for you.

You never make a move to open your door or walk inside and that’s what he’s waiting for, to see you home safe. It’s the whole reason he walked you back, wasn’t it?

Joel says your name quietly, a beckon to bring your attention back to the surface, drowning in your own thoughts but your gaze never faltering, stuck on him. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” He asks.

It’s a question that has too many answers. And it’s a test too, wondering if you’ll slip up and speak on what you’re trying so hard to hold back.

Too much—is what you should say.

You—is what you want to say.

But instead, you act. That itching feeling overflowing and forcing you to make haste decisions, tired of hearing his voice in the back of your mind, how easily it drove you crazy. The endearing twang that echoed in your head all day long, even when he was miles away. 

And you find that Joel is almost expecting it, his hand cupping your face gently, warming the skin as you press in to kiss him cautiously, top lip slotting over his bottom and relaxing, your opposite hand mirroring his own. 

It feels too tender, like suddenly Joel is just as breakable as you—it’s terrifying. You pull away suddenly, coming to your senses, wide eyes staring him down. He looks calm.

You hate it.

It feels embarrassing.

He expected it, or at least anticipated it. You can see it on his face.

“Goodnight.” He tells you tenderly, sounding upset with himself but avoiding the choice to make things weird and you’re forever grateful.

You release a soft breath, nodding absently.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

You turn on your heels and enter your house, finally. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change Tommy’s mind.

It was.

Joel was already waiting by the gates by the time you arrived, food and supplies secured in your bag for the road, two rifles slung securely over his shoulders as he held the reins to the horses, both of them neighing impatiently. 

“All good?” Joel asks, avoiding the obvious air of unspoken instances surrounding you two. 

You nod confidently, taking the reins away silently.

“All set,” You assure him, guiding your foot through the saddle and mounting the horse, settling yourself as he followed suit, “you?”

Joel echoes your response.

You sigh internally, a deep annoyance settling into your bones. Annoyed with yourself, annoyed with Joel. Just annoyed, wholly and plainly. 

Joel didn’t need to admit that he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night prior—he already had enough trouble sleeping on a normal night, but you in his head? That didn’t help.

And it flooded into the morning, still, Joel watching your body sway and rock slowly from the motion of the horse, head tucked away slightly to counter the breeze that prickled your cheeks. 

When you finally make it to the dam he breaks the silence, slipping the reins from your hand and nodding toward the front entrance, “I’ll tie ‘em up if you want to settle and sign us in, you can get a fire going?”

He’s asking, not telling. You nod, hopping down carefully and unhooking your bag from the saddle.

“I’ll scream if I need help.” It’s a joke in poor taste.

Joel doesn’t take it too lightly, scowling in response.

“Sorry,” You apologize lamely, “bad joke.”

“Be careful,” Joel stresses, face softening, “keep your gun out until you’ve done a once over of the place.”

*

It feels like fate is fucking with you, most days. Dangling your life in front of its prey and savoring the outcome, because even with your gun poised carefully at your hip, knife tucked into the strap at your thigh, it doesn’t prepare you for what’s waiting on the other side of that door.

There’s a split second where you think you can talk things down, buy you some time so Joel could get here and settle their nerves, but they’re already on high alert, as are you, and there’s no time to think.

Plus, they don’t seem to be keen on listening.

“Grab her,” The burly man says, blunt weapon held tight in his grip as he goes for your arm, the other man forcing you to the ground with a harsh gasp escaping your chest as your back hits the concrete floor, “just gut her—fuckin’ do it.”

Your brain shuts off, realizing that your strength isn’t nearly matched with theirs, your shrill scream cutting through the commotion.

“Joel!” You tell, hoping he’ll hear, dodging the hand that comes your way to muffle your yells, barking out an even more broken, “Jooooel!”

Your gun is long gone, tossed away in a corner with your hand pinned under someone’s knees, eyes squeezed shut as you struggle for the knife around your thigh blindly. They didn’t have the wits or common sense to strip you properly before they were attacking you, the younger one hesitating at the other’s words.

“I thought you said we were just tyin’ her up.” He responds, sounding panicked. 

You grab the knife successfully and pierce it through the young one’s gut with a sickening squish, a garbled groan ripping from his throat—and a rush of a shadow overhead as Joel wrested the other down, coming in from the door on the opposite side of the room, fists connecting with the attackers face with a sickening crunch.

The rage overtakes quickly, adrenaline flooding your body as you shove the man away, pulling the knife out to sink back in once, twice, until the blood fills his mouth and spills over, lifeless eyes staring back.

Your chest heaves with a breath, adjusted your clothes from where they had been pushed aside in the tackle, tossing your knife aside and putting enough distance between your body and the one who’s your killed, watching as Joel sunk the tip of his own knife through the throat of the larger man, draining the life from him in an instant. 

Joel has a ferocity in his eyes when they land on you, tossing his knife to the side momentarily as he rises, towering over the body beneath him. He can't be angry with you—he can't.

“Grab your gun,” He tells you, ignoring how easily the rage would have overtaken his body in most situations, buring it away for the moment when he sees how badly you’re shaken up (it wasn't fear, not even close—more like rage), moving around rigidly to grab your gun off the floor, “knife too—then sit down.”

“But the—the bodies, Joel,” Joel can hear the uncertainty in your voice, shaking his head insistently, “we’ve gotta go back—tell Tommy, let them know.”

Joel shakes out his muscles, adjusting his thick leather jacket around his frame and steps over the dead body, moving to stand in front of you, touching you for the first time since last night. It’s not soft or gentle, more leading in an effort to get your attention and pull you out of your gaze, his fingers cupping your jaw, chin falling in the curve where his thumb and pointer finger connect. 

You wonder how many times he's done this before—how he'd come to learn to calm people down through his intense eye contact and grounding voice. He could mask his emotions for the sake of others, even when they were threatening to boil over.

“I’ve got it, I’ll take care of this—” His eyes never left yours, eyebrows raising in question as he awaited your acknowledgment, a small nod coming from you, “go wash the blood off and come straight back, okay?”

You nod again, deftly, eyes empty and void of emotion.

“Hey,” Joel calls out, pulling your attention back, “I need you with me—you with me?”

“Yeah—yes,” You mumble weakly, ignoring how tenderly his thumb rubbed the junction of your jaw at the admittance, something you’re sure he wasn’t even aware he was doing, “I’m with you.” 

“Go.” He instructs, releasing his hold on you.

His face morphs into resentment as you leave.

He should've stuck by your side. But, then he thinks back to the joke you made in passing and it fuels the anger more.

*

Joel’s taken care of the bodies by the time you returned, shrugging off his own jacket as he yanked the door closed, barricading it closed with the vacant table stuff in the corner of the room, letting his own paranoia get the better of him. It wasn’t a crime to be too safe, not anymore.

“If they’ve got a group they’ll come here looking for ‘em,” Joel tells you, “but somethin’ tells me we won’t have to worry about that.”

“So, no fire then?” 

Joel shakes his head, nodding toward the few camping lateens left haphazardly on a desk, “We’ll use those tonight, better to be safe.”

He would have to explain this to Tommy when he saw him, put the town back on high alert for a while and go to sleep every night worrying that someone was going to snatch his family away again—snatch Ellie away, snatch you away. It was another problem, another stressor, but none of that was new to him. 

“I’m gonna do a walkthrough,” He tells you, cocking his gun loudly, a little unnecessarily in your opinion, but his anger is still there, radiating off of him, “keep your gun out and shoot at anything you see that isn’t me.”

He doesn’t want you letting your guard down, which is why his apprehension to relax is valid. You nod quietly, sinking in on yourself as you take a seat on the old, torn up couch.

He’s gone for an hour or two, the sun nearly nonexistent outside now, lamps scattered around the room and bathing you in a low light, gun still clutched in your hand on your lap, safety off.

Joel knocks on the door shortly after, startling you to near death. You hated being jumpy like this, nothing to calm your nerves. You’d always prided yourself for being able to handle yourself in situations like that and you couldn’t explain why you froze—but deep down, you knew.

It was Joel. Worry for him when he wasn’t there, what threat might be awaiting him if they could get the jump so easily on you. You stumble to your feet and pull the door open, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the mattress in Joel’s grip.

“Tommy must’ve moved it last time—he doesn’t like sleepin’ when he’s on watch down here.”

You open the door wider, letting him inside and taking the opposite end to help with the weight, settling the mattress up against the edge of the couch and shifting the folded blankets down onto the surface, crouching down onto your knees with a soft sigh as you spread out the blankets.

You don’t realize Joel is watching you until you chance a glance up his way, wondering if this was the moment he’d let you have and berate you until he was blue in the face. 

You’ve witnessed it once, with Jesse. He’d nearly risked Ellie’s life on a patrol that should’ve been easy—he still seems a little jumpy in Joel’s presence, rightfully so.

“Look at me,” Joel beckons, adding your name in a demand to grab your attention, “you with me?”

And it breaks you, what little patience you have left in your body.

“Yes, Joel. I am right fucking here.” You snip back at him, throwing the blankets down and standing to full height. You’re tired of his act, hidden behind his pathetic excuse of a kind guise, wanting him to say what he really felt. When he looked at you earlier, hovering over that man’s body, all you could see was contempt. He was upset with you—upset that you allowed yourself to be in danger, ignoring his lectures time and time again, that you weren’t mindful of your surroundings, upset with himself that he wasn’t there from the beginning. 

Joel looks offended, like maybe you wounded his ego or something similar, his hand held up defensively.

“You’re the one over there shakin’ like a leaf,” Joel accuses, “I told you to keep your damn gun out, told you to be careful—don’t you try and take that anger out on me.”

“Jesus, Joel,” You cry out in desperation, “careful? Two against one and you’re telling me I wasn’t careful? Fuck you.”

You toss your gun and knife sheath aside for good measure, stripping out of your coat and extra winter layers, his hardened gaze stuck on you. 

“I’ll take first watch.” You tell him flatly, reaching for the lantern on the table beside the door that led to the rest of the plant, a maze of halls and room. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

Joel knows that if he lets you leave, there is no repairing what little relationship you had—it would return to a tolerance rather than anything else. His hand wraps around your closed fist, forcing the latent back down as he moves to stand in front of you, head tilted your way.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes, though it feels unsympathetic coming from him, and he’s blaming it on his tone, “okay?”

“It doesn’t matter, Joel.” You tell him adamantly. “You said it, it’s done. I’ll let Tommy know you don’t think I can handle myself anymore and you can keep running patrols without me. That’s what you want, right?”

Joel scoffs.

Say no, please say no. 

“What are you getting at?” Joel challenges.

“The first time I make a mistake—one that almost kills me and all you can think to do is shift the blame on me? That somehow I’m responsible for not handling it myself?”

He shifts slightly, jaw clenching as he moves his outstretched hand to rest against the doorframe, blocking you from the exit. 

“You never let me go alone,” You remind him, “why all the sudden today?”

Joel doesn’t answer. He knows why. He trusted you, trusted that you could handle it. Joel knows you’re not the one to blame, but he can’t battle with his internal guilt of putting you in that position, letting it come out in bursts of wrath.

You lean in slightly, his eyes mindful of your body language, shoving a finger into his chest roughly.

“Why isn’t it your fault, huh?” You ask, baiting a reaction out of him before you can’t stand the look on his face, mouth shut tight as he his eyes trace your movements, the soft brown irises now an encroaching darkness.

You scoff, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” It’s a snide comment that has you feeling a surge of confidence that you’ve finally rendered him speechless.  “Don’t act like you haven’t been bothered being around me all day—if the kiss bothered you that much you should’ve just told Tommy to switch out. Now, move.”

Joel doesn’t budge.

Now your patience is wearing then, reaching to shove his forearm out of the way, but he’s as solid as steel and doesn’t take too lightly to your touch, gripping your wrist and pulling it back in a harsh grip, one that has your face grimacing in pain.

“Say that again.” Joel demands, his voice shaking you to your core, the sickeningly dark turn it’s taken. 

You double down, “Move, Joel.” You say through clenched teeth, yanking your arm back to no avail.

You hadn’t realized how wound up you both were until now, the shared frustration and pique boiling over the edge.

You yank away again, forcing a quick change of position as Joel retaliates, shoving you against the table by the door, your legs buckling from the force of it as he towers over you.

“I apologized,” He glared at you through hooded eyes, chin tilting down slightly, “it’s your turn.”

You scoff softly, never making a move to push him away, his legs crowding between yours as they spread involuntarily, the only thing keeping you upright being the grip he had on your arm, leaving you hanging by a thread. If he let go, you’d surely collapse.

“Why don’t you tell me why you really switched patrols?” Joel suggests, tilting his head in interest. “Don’t lie to me—I’ll know.”

There was a side of you that couldn’t stand being around him, his proximity driving you crazy. But, there’s a bigger part that yearned to be around him, by his side—it was never like this at first, but you found yourself unable to escape him lately. 

You want to blame him for letting you in, letting his guard down—but you can’t. It wasn’t just his fault. It wasn’t just yours. 

You craved each other. Plain and simple.

“You tell me,” You counter, “I’m not the one keeping you from leaving.”

It snaps Joel—that feeling he’s been burying away all day. He’s nearly insatiable over it. 

He trades his grip on your wrist for your face, too quick to counter before he’s gripping your chin again like earlier, but under completely different pretenses, your mouth lolling open at the force and pulling a soft grunt from your lips, eyes narrow in defiance. 

“You are so goddamn stubborn,” He complains, eyes scanning over your face slowly, “—and you know exactly what you’re doing.”

You laugh bitterly, a choked gasp. 

He's never touched you like this, but intensity is all too familiar.

His grip was tight, your mind flashing back to the first time he held you, though involuntarily. There was intention now, meaning—and you needed him to give in to it. 

You blink once, slow, eyes staying shut for a moment longer than needed. There’s a soft sigh that leaves your nose, ghosts over Joel’s outstretched palm. When you open your eyes, there’s little left of the Joel you’ve become accustomed to.

“We’ve got all night, Joel.” His nostrils flare in warning, “Go on—do it.”

He won’t. Joel wouldn’t let himself. You’re waiting for the moment he lets you go, shuffles away and tucks himself into a corner for the rest of the night. But, it never comes.

Instead he’s surging forward, tilting your chin up roughly and forcing his lips against your own, nothing like the delicate kiss shared the night prior. There’s no gradual increase, no soft sighs and hesitant touches. He doesn’t want that and neither do you. 

You open your mouth in an airy gasp of breath and Joel jumps on the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, into your mouth, pressing against your own until you finally, finally return his touch. He feels the heat, the weight of your hand where it rests against the seam of his jeans, fingers resting over his belt and your knuckles pressing into the firmness of his stomach, his breathing steady despite his eagerness to ravish you. He greedily pulls your bottom lip between his own, sucking lewdly until his teeth drag against the skin, pulling back with untamed eyes.

You narrow your eyes with intrigue, mouth quipping up into a smirk at his final break of self control, allowing himself what he wanted. There was no turning back now. 

He grips your hands, yanking you upright and forcing you to turn until your hip bones are hitting the blunt edge of the table, his movements haste but pointed, his palms rubbing over the soft curve of your hips, pressing underneath the material of your shirt and squeezing the skin. 

“Joel—“ You sing softly, your tone mocking.

“Keep quiet,” He warns, pulling you back suddenly and against his front, the heaviness of his cock pressing into your backside, strained through his jeans and craving a selfish need for release—it’s been too long for him and he’s bursting at the seams, “don’t wanna hear your smartass remarks.”

And you can hear the restraint in his voice, drowning in his thoughts—he wanted to ravish and pull you apart, not thinking about how he would put you back together and make you whole again. You shift back against him, a greedy rut of your ass against the stiff denim and he’s grunting under the weight of it.

“Get ‘em down,” He instructs, yanking at your jeans briefly before his touch is gone, hands working swiftly at his own.

The rustle of his belt is deafening, metal clanging against something solid, the quick shuffle of his zipper and the shifting off fabric. You rise without hesitation, unbuttoning your jeans and wiggling them far enough down your hips until they hit your knees, underwear following roughly as Joel shoved them down impatiently, bunching your shirt higher up your back as he rubs his fingers over your cunt sleazily. 

He’s waiting a beat, eyes examining you from behind and looking for any sign that you didn’t want this—it never comes. In fact, the subtle push back into his fingers is enough, two thick digits sinking inside slowly.

You gasp ruggedly, feeling the immediate difference in fullness to your own, the touch of someone else that you haven’t felt in so long. Joel is desperate, but so are you. 

You turn your face to the side, cheek pressed against the hard surface, fingers gripping either side of the table and you let yourself melt into his touch, his fingers working you over steadily, his other hand squeezing at the soft globes of your ass, following the insistent and impatient wiggle of your hips as you seek more friction, more fullness until Joel can’t stand it anymore, palm coming down in a rough slap to your backside to still you, a warning.

“You treat all the ladies like this?” 

He should’ve known you wouldn’t give yourself over this easy, his stifled chuckle coming from behind, low and dark, until he’s quickly switching back to menacing, his fingers increasing with speed and intensity, dragging a third finger along your center and pressing it in smoothly, forcing a lewd moan from your lips as you grip the edges of the table harder, willing to strain your neck for a look his way, a glimpse at his face to see how this was affecting him. You could only imagine, his groans stifled behind heavy puffs of air forced through his nose when you forced yourself back against his cock, inadvertently rubbing yourself against the length of his shaft.

“Fine, keep acting like you hate me.”

The loss of fingers is sudden, fingers fisting into your hair with a sudden fierceness as he pulls you upright, your hands grasping for purchase. He tilts your head back, allowing you the smallest glimpse of his face as he looks forward, talking to you but never allowing you the eye contact you desperately craved. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, sweetheart.”

You shake your head in disbelief, lifting your hand up to wind into his own overgrown hair, curling wildly. You pull taut, reveling in the grunt that slips past his lips.

“You don’t scare me, Joel.” 

He never could. You’ve seen all sides of him, the good and the bad—there was nowhere left for him to hide.

But, he should, he thinks. You should be terrified. 

“I don’t remember sayin’ I wanted to hear your voice,” Joel reprimands, “can’t fuckin’ listen today, can you?”

He turns his head toward you slightly, catching the playful glint in your eyes, the type that was asking to be pushed. Begging for it.

“Depends,” You smile, releasing the rough grip on his hair to slide between your bodies, cupping his cock from where he’s tucked it over his briefs, also pushed haphazardly down his hips, “are you going to fuck me, Joel?”

His name shouldn’t sound like that, falling from your lips in such a circumstance, but it drags a rabidness out of him he’s never felt before. 

“Say it again.” Joel demands—and you already know.

“Joel,” Your voice is sultry, dangerous, adding a squeeze of your hand to his length, thumb rubbing over the head of his cock, smoothing the slick of precum over the slit, “you started this, too afraid to finish it?”

Joel smirks at that, a smug expression crossing his face as releases the grip on your hair, shoving your hand away and gripping himself at the base, removing his fingers from inside you and replacing them with a slow press of his cock, watching your expression fall lax, mouth hung open in a silent release of pleasure. 

“You underestimate me,” He shakes his head in amusement, his own brow furrowing at your snug hold on him, walls clenching around him involuntarily, “Now, why don’t we teach you a lesson?”

You nod numbly, gasping loudly at the sudden change in pace, body shifting to lean forward and Joel’s hands slotting against your body, one secured firmly on your hip, the other guiding you back with a steady pressure against your shoulder, immediately blanking your mind, whatever rude quip you had poised was failing you.

“So — goddamn — stubborn,” He echoes from earlier, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, no restraint, divulging in the pleasure both of you have been seeking for a while, “don’t fuckin’ listen, always testin’ me.”

You release a soft cry, reaching an arm behind you to squeeze at his side, tightening with every sharp thrust, the head of his cock nudging something deep inside of you, the feeling coiling in your gut despite yourself. It’s a dull ache, mewling desperately when he forgoes his hold on your hip to keep your arm stuck, thick fingers wrapping around your wrist to hold you steady, eyes shifting to watch you sink onto him with an unrestrained eagerness.

“Nothin’ to say now?” Joel pesters you, thumb rubbing the tender spot at the base of your neck, the start of your spine between your shoulder blades—your silence lingers, at least in words, your pathetic noises keeping you busy.

He feels like he’s finally got the upper hand with you, he just never realized this was what it would take. 

“Fuck—fuck, Joel.” You say through a stuttered sigh.

Joel grimaces from behind you, that longing feeling of release creeping on him, too long without it and he feels pathetic for it, but you—the sounds, the view.

Oh, the view. It’s your neediness for it that sucks him in, how eager your cunt is to take hold, the wet squelch growing louder, your slick soaking the base of his cock.

“Why’d you kiss me, huh?” Joel questions firmly, trying to draw the truth out in the heat of the moment, your movements growing desperate as you orgasm creeped in, blunt nails digging into his skin. He hissed, pulling you in tight, trading the hand on your shoulder for a squeeze to your chest, palm the mound of your breast through your shirt—still enough contact to drive you insane. 

“Wanted to—wanted to see how you would react.” You admit, but there was also that selfish need. You kissed him because you wanted to—and you knew he did too.

Joel huffs in response, not fully believing you. 

“Try again,” Joel assesses the way your body tenses when his hand shifts down, pressing over his fingers over your clit and driving you over the edge in an instant, your body arching into his touch as you come, a broken moan falling from your lips, “why?”

“Doesn’t matter—you kissed me back,” You argue tiredly, “You wanted it just as much as I did. Clearly.”

And in a way, it’s all the confession he needs. 

Joel growls lowly, pulling out abruptly to grip himself, squeezing himself at the head to delay his orgasm until it fades, face scrunching up tightly in anguish. 

“What—what are you doing?” 

Joel is already tucking himself back into his pants by the time you turn around, his expression stiff and avoiding your gaze. 

There it was again, the avoidance. 

You don’t know why it bothers you so much, but it does.

“I’ll take the first watch,” He says, shuffling backwards slightly, “get dressed.”

You stare back blanky, at a loss for words.

“Did you hear me?” He asks bluntly, brow now permanently furrowed in frustration.

“But—you didn’t—“ 

The silence lingers, your head tilting in question. Your expression softens suddenly, pulling weakly at your jeans to secure them back over your hips.

“Get some sleep, we’ll head out early tomorrow.”

You still had to send a bigger team to scout the place thoroughly, a distant memory now.

You’re so fucking confused. A few minutes prior he was lost in the moment, though still wound up and tense—but it was the biggest break in demeanor he’s ever given you, the most he’s allowed himself to touch you, be close to you. 

Joel didn’t want to admit it, but he didn’t deserve it. He was trying to convince himself it was a mistake, that this was a fluke. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, hesitating for a brief moment as his hand hovers over the doorknob before he’s leaving you alone. Again. 

Joel handles himself later that night, long after you’ve gone asleep, a permanent frown on your face when he peeks his head in before he’s traveling down the hall to a separate room, cupping himself in his palm eagerly, groaning out your name as he comes.

Somehow, it makes him feel even worse.

The week that follows is tumultuous. 

Tommy swears you and Joel off of patrol for a while, tells you that as soon as he has you two alone, gathering the full story of the attack, but somehow—Joel always weasels his way out. 

He’s gone most of the daylight, leaving you to fill your days around Jackson, helping wherever it was needed. And when it wasn’t, you were stuck inside your home, watching the snow melt from the ground, only to be covered with a new blanket of it the next day.

Joel always comes home late, heavy feet scuffling down the sidewalk after dark and entering his house, Ellie having already turned in for the night. His bedroom light comes on a few minutes later and it never shuts off, his shadow crossing the window every now and then. 

He can’t sleep, but neither can you.

At first you blamed it on the bodies—but none of that was new to you. You’ve killed before, animals, infected, raiders, even a few bystanders in a situation long ago, nothing they’ve done to end up the way they did. 

You followed a bad group for too long, but eventually you found Jackson—things were different here. Joel’s told you about the horrible things he’s done to survive, assures you it wasn’t anything you could blame yourself for.

This world made people rabid. It made people afraid.

There were people, much like Joel, that used to terrify you. But this Joel, he was lost and worn down, weathered by the world and by age. He’s afraid to let himself indulge, enjoy—you saw it that night, his hesitancy to look at you afterwards. 

And that ache that lingered for a few days, it made you realize that you were missing something you couldn’t have. It was clear on Joel’s face that he’d made a mistake. With you. 

Joel looks bitter the week that follows, you having convinced Tommy to let you back out, assuring him that nothing was wrong. He’s hesitant, rightfully so, but you’re too convincing. 

You even offer to run patrol with him, or Jesse—literally anyone but Joel, who seemed obviously disgruntled by your presence that morning.

Tommy clocks it immediately, swiping a finger between you both, “You know what—I’m sending you two out together.” It’s dreadful. “Take the lodge again,” and Tommy waits for everyone to part ways, except for Joel and you, before he’s eyeing you both down, “work out whatever argument you both have going—or you’re both coming off patrols until I feel like putting you back on.”

Joel grumbles at that, adjusting the thick gloves over his hand and shaking his head with a look down. Tommy seems slightly apologetic when you lock eyes, but it’s necessary. You were too scared to admit it to yourself, but it’s exactly what you needed.

*

You can’t be bothered to stay still, wandering around the lodge aimlessly, picking up some scattered trash, sifting through the small library that had accumulated over time, worn and slightly rained over books, the pages stiff and discolored. 

Joel’s cheeks are still tinged pink from his last watch, arms crossed over his stomach as he glares at the small fire burning in the fire pit, crackling softly in the silence.

He’s being insistently stubborn, somehow managing to avoid any exchange of words in the past eight hours, not giving you his usual orders, whether delivered in a clipped tone or a kind one—it’s just nothing.

And considering how talkative he was last time you ran patrol with him, you found it to be bullshit.

You grab a random book, large and bulky and make your way toward him—he sees you coming but he ignores it, the book hitting solid against his chest as you force it there, making a snide comment to rattle him.

“To entertain yourself, since you’re so miserable,” Your eyes drag over his face, his eyes lilting up your way, the fire melting them into a warm, honey brown, “and you won’t even have to worry about finishing.”

He grabs your wrist suddenly, thinking that he might pull you toward him, but he tosses it away, throwing the book to the side too. You sigh through your nose, frustrated.

“What’s it gonna take, Joel?” 

There’s an ire of defeat in your voice, a willingness to do just about anything to put this to rest. 

“Do I need to leave Jackson, is that it?”

That gets his attention, his gaze narrowing fiercely.

“Don’t say that shit,” He bites, “you got a death wish or something?”

“Well, you clearly don’t want me around, so who cares?”

Joel bites at the inside of his cheek—he didn’t agree with that. 

“Give me something, Joel. Anything.” You plead, hand accidentally brushing his thigh as you fall into the spot beside him, imitating the closeness he craved but couldn’t bring himself to ask for, not again. 

He tenses under your touch, fist curling at his side, noticing how you pointedly keep your grip there. 

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning.

But, it’s the biggest sign he’s given you. There was still a fondness there, lingering behind wall after wall that he’s built up.

He doesn’t move your hand either, your fingers dragging up the inside of his thigh, along the seam and stopping where his jeans creased at his groin, palm settling over the curve of his thigh.

“So, do we work things out or not?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper, talking like you might scare him away. 

And, yeah—Joel wasn’t big on hashing things out, confessing his thoughts or emotions and conveying them into words, that was never a surprise to you. But, you needed equal ground. 

You weren’t looking for a confession or some dramatic change in pace with your relationship—whatever you could classify it as. A partnership, maybe?

You need something mutually beneficial, something that was give and take on both ends. 

You squeeze at the junction of his thigh, taut muscle giving way as Joel shows little signs of being affected. His eyes follow though, acutely aware of your intention.

This was you returning the favor. 

This was you cornering him, like he had you—if he didn’t want it he would’ve pushed you away ages ago, but he does want it. He needs it. 

His jaw flexes under the weight of your grip, watching you move slowly to sink to the ground, thankful that this floor wasn’t nearly as dirty as most places. Joel shifts slightly to accommodate you, thighs spreading open to box you in, hands coming to rest down at his side, flat against the cushion.

You push at his coat lightly, forcing it away from his chest until he gets the idea, stripping himself the rest of the way, his unbuttoned flannel falling open.

You work quietly, eyes flicking up toward him occasionally to check in, make sure he was still with you. He’s mesmerized now, despite himself. Locked in.

He doesn’t stop your hands when they reach for the zipper of his jeans, unbuttoning and loosening them in one fluid motion, tugging at his jeans until, again, he catches on, forcing them down just enough.

It’s surprising how in tune he is with you despite how hard he tried to keep his distance, hoping that one big mistake would fade away—but frankly, it hadn’t left either of your minds since then. 

“Touch yourself.” You command softly, an amused aspect to your voice.

Joel balks slightly, his bewilderment something to enjoy.

“What?” You ask innocently, “Is that too personal? Sorry–I should’ve considered that when I let you fuck me over a table.”

His nostrils flare in annoyance, but he listens. Thank god. He slips his fingers under the band of his underwear, palming himself lightly under the fabric, leaving you to lean back onto your heels, enjoying the lazy show he put on for you.

He had nothing to be ashamed of.

His fingers roll against the taut skin of his sack, drifting upwards over his shaft until he finally has the courage to shift his underwear to sit snug under his balls, watching your eyes drift from his cock to his face. Joel’s mouth parted briefly, rubbing his thumb over the head, glistening with a sheen of precum, your hands itching to touch him. 

He knows it will lead to nothing but bad outcomes, but he’s indulging in it. Allowing it.

“Come here,” He’s using his free hand to beckon you forward, leaving his palm extending for you to lean into, resting your chin there gently, “open your mouth.”

You obliges, sweetening the deal by sticking your tongue out, earning a gruff laugh in response, softening your gaze on him. There were plenty of other ways to resolve things, but this was so much easier.

He slides the head over your tongue in a deft slap, slipping it past your lips slowly before he’s pulling back and repeating the process again, watching as you eagerly follow his movements until you’re bordering on impatience.

“Don’t think you have the upper hand here, sweetheart.” Joel says, eyebrow quirking up in amusement at your annoyed expression. “You want it?”

You tilt your head at him, eyes narrowing. “You want me to beg for it?”

Joel chuckles at the thought, shaking his head. “I didn’t pin you as the type.”

Cheeky Joel was something to admire, rolling your eyes and shoving his hands away, allowing yourself to take over fully and leaving him with nothing to do but watch, rolling your tongue around the head and through the slit, mouth enveloping the heady taste of him. 

Joel was always good at keeping his composure, even now–but you were looking to break him down, nothing but a mumbling, begging mess of himself, even for a brief moment.

You take him in slowly, soft and parted lips pressing down the length of him, the heavy weight of his cock pressing against your tongue, cheeks, until he’s nudging the back of your throat and you swallow out of reflex.

His knuckles flex, turning white as he curls them inwards and digs into the cheap cushion, the stitching protesting under his grip.

There he is. 

You make a small noise, a soft bubble of laughter out of pure enjoyment, pulling back with a showy drag of your tongue up his shaft until you’re sinking down again, burying your nose in the short, trimmed thatch of hair at the base of his cock, ignoring that telltale feeling to let up, breathing deep through your nose. 

“Goddamnit,” He curses, the hand not gripping the cushion rising slightly before slamming back down in a fist, the material taking most of the blow, “you gotta ease up on me.”

He doesn’t add the please, but you can see it’s implied.

You smile sweetly when you pull away, a thin line of spit connecting your lips to the wet head of his cock, stroking him languidly to keep busy, running your thumb along the thick vein that traced along the underside. 

“Don’t think so,” It’s sickening, tone laced in sugar and daring him—for what, you weren’t sure, “—more?”

Joel nods quickly, widening his stance as he sunk further into the couch, your hands bracing against his stomach as he filtered his fingers through your hair, framing it away from your face as you continued, driving him to near insanity with how easily you would take him down over and over again, stopping to tease your tongue over the head of his cock, realizing just how sensitive that part of him was.

He grunts on a particular rough pass, yanking your hair back and allowing a centimeter of reprice as your lips barely brush the aching tip, “You can stop, sweetheart. It’s alright.”

It feels like a punishment, not allowing himself to seek that relief—he sees it as a barrier, that by not allowing it, things won’t ever reach a point of no return. Not that this wasn’t already dangerous enough—it’s a ridiculous rule, but Joel follows it. He’d give you as much pleasure as you asked and then some, if that’s what you wanted.

And it clicks in your head slowly, his cock pulsing dully in your hands, begging for it. 

No. He wasn’t doing that again.

“No,” You echo your thoughts, “Give me your hand.”

“Darlin’—“

“Joel, shut up.” You demand, gripping his open palm and replacing it with your own, “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Joel looks conflicted, eyebrow pinching in a mix of pleasure and regret, his mind blanking the moment you press a gentle kiss to the head, pressing your tongue flat again and moving his hand in tandem until he starts to give in, his breaths becoming shorter, more strangled.

“That’s it,” You mumble a praise through his haziness—he doesn’t know how to take it, the feeling so foreign to him, “take control, Joel.”

His eyes fall shut briefly, forcing focused breaths through his nose as his free hand grips your face, keeping you still as he strokes himself roughly, that last string of self control breaking under your gaze when he tilts his head down to look at you, soft gaze staring back at him and he’s coming over your tongue and into your mouth with a warm rush, the taste of him overwhelming your senses as he squeezes up to the tip, milking every last bit of himself into your mouth before he’s pulling away and gently guiding your mouth closed.

“Shit—“ He groans quietly, cupping himself tenderly as he pulls away, watching you swallow and tracing a trace of him at the corner of your lip back into your mouth with your thumb, staring him down intently, “you’re fuckin’ greedy, you know that?”

You shrug proudly, rising to your feet slowly, the ache from sitting crouched so long singing a protest from your joints.

“Add it to the list,” You snark at him, taking a casual seat beside him as he tucks himself away, your hands working carefully to roll up your jacket and tuck it under your head as you recline, laying down on your side, “right?”

Joel scoots away to accommodate you, looking perplexed at how quickly you’ve changed your demeanor, yawning until your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Stop staring and get some sleep, Joel.” You gripe, reaching blindly to ball his coat up and toss it at his chest, “Problem solved, we’re even now.”

Joel puffs through his lips, ignoring that lingering feeling as you very quickly forced the distance between him and you—a payback to his own previous actions. It hurts, stings, and now he realizes what that meant and why that frown never left your face before, not even on the ride home or long thereafter.

He’s fucked. 

To say things escalate is an understatement.

The two of you never actually talk, avoiding all aspects of emotional vulnerability in turn for your usual interactions—small conversations, jokes, driving each other up the wall with the constant close proximity due to your assigned jobs. But, now there’s more.

There's the Joel that wants and takes, stops holding back his desires and gives you just about every possible orgasm from then on. This Joel is insatiable if he allows himself to be. He’s downright filthy and terrifying when it mattered and he found that the more you seemed to give yourself over, the easier it was for him to stop worrying so much. 

And he seems lighter nowadays, happier—though, it was still Joel. There was only so much to enjoy, his smiles few and far between. However, that smirk, laced in a smugness he carried with himself when he was alone with you—it had become a regular sight to see and something you craved when you’d finally get him alone.

It never starts off slow. Joel’s always itching by the time rotation leads you his way. You two keep it close to your chest like a secret–saving times like this strictly for patrols.

Joel doesn’t even wait sometimes, cornering you the moment the horses are tied up, bags set aside, crowding up behind you as he wrangles your jeans down, along with his, and presses himself inside you with a deep grunt, pressing you up against whatever hard surface was near–it didn’t matter, the ferocity of his thrusts clouding your mind.

It’s punishment for how well you tease him on the rides there, thighs spread wide over the saddle and always riding just a few inches ahead, leaning forward enough that you can stick out your ass, Joel’s eyes drawing toward you immediately. 

It was easy.

“You like messin’ with me, don’t you?” He chastises, palming at the inside of your thigh in desperation, pulling you wider and wider for him until it aches and you have nothing to do but take it. “Fuckin’ with my head?”

You laugh breathily, head thrown back against his shoulder as you moan wantonly, thick fingers bearing down on your throat, keeping you tight against him. “It’s not my fault–fault you can’t control it.” You reply innocently, stumbling over your words when his fingers press against your core.

And it’s often like this. Fast, hurried, no care or soft, caressing touches involved. It’s simpler that way.

But, eventually, Joel breaks down–little by little.

*

A week or two passes by and Joel seems desperate. 

“What did I just say?” He seethed, voice laced with annoyance, “Keep your eyes open.”

He’s right there, his hand, his fingers, buried deep inside your cunt. Joel’s on edge again, having ordered you to strip down naked while he remained completely clothed, the cold air prickling your skin like this, the lingering days of Winter coming to a close. It’s dark here, wet and mucky, the only barrier between you and the floor is an old blanket that Joel had stowed away in his saddle. He spent the last two weeks dealing with a copious amount of shit–killing more infected than they’re used to, dealing with mundane problems around Jackson that shouldn’t be his problems, but in being Tommy’s brother, he took a piece of the burden off of him.

You gasp sharply, feeling the force of Joel’s grip as he orders your eyes open, an impossible feat in the moment with how easily he’s able to bring you near the edge with just his fingers–something he found out fairly quickly. 

“Joel–Joel, please,” You beg–it’s new for you, something you don’t do often, “let me–fuck–”

“Hmm, sweetheart?” Joel questions, igniting a fire in your belly that won’t go out. He likes you this way, clawing at him, nearly on the brink of tears over how bad you need him. “Spit it out.”

You’re hastily shoving him away, brow pinched in determination as you shove him down, working desperately at his buckle, his pants, working them down with little care or finesse, gripping the length of him and sinking down in one quick movement. 

It punches a moan out of Joel’s chest that you’re not used to, his head slamming pack against his bag, the makeshift pillow he’s got stuffed behind his head as he grips your hips tight, eyes locked on the center where you’re both connected, grunting with the hurried bounce of your hips, losing what little patience you had left as you chase your orgasm, shoving his shirt up his chest to feel him–all soft, tanned skin under your fingertips as you brace yourself against him, using the surface for leverage.

He can’t stand to watch you this way, tits jostling with every hurried thrust, blunt nails clawing at his abdomen, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, again. He likes you facing away because he can hide his own inflections, how well you drive him wild–you’ve never cared, especially not now. 

Joel grunts raggedly, forcing out a hoarse whisper, “You’re fuckin’ killing me here.”

A soft laugh bubbles in your chest, head lolling forward and eyes opening to look at him.

“Mmm, eyes on me, Joel.” You beckon, his slow gaze trailing upwards, nodding in response to his wrecked state, hair sticking up wildly, teeth grazing his bottom lip gently. “God–it feels so good, doesn’t it?

Joel nods absently, his hands slipping from your hips to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hands, aware of how your touch burns a trail up toward his face, coaxing his bottom lip to freedom, grazing your thumb over the soft tissue, soothing the ache.

You ignore how easily he takes the pad of it over his tongue and lets you press the digit beyond his lips, how willing he’s being to let you take what you want.

He pulls out before he comes, spilling into his hand to contain the mess, leaving you enraptured with his expression as his face pulls up in anguish, the same expression he has when he’s bothered or annoyed but edged with something more, his breath catching.

He rolls you back over soon after, replacing his hand with his mouth, hot tongue lapping into your folds and tasting, savoring, the mix of you two tangled together and he devours until you come, hand yanking hard at his hair.

*

April comes quickly—it means longer patrols, more problems out in the field with the infected less dormant, and Jackson coming alive more often at night, everyone enjoying the weather after a bitter winter.

You find yourself at Tommy’s doorstep one night.

Maria had been planning this dinner for a few weeks, something special for Tommy’s birthday, and somehow you got roped into going.

It was Ellie.

Joel was the least bit surprised when you showed up at the front door that night, dressed up nicer than he’s had the privilege to witness. You’re smiling, a flowy dress cutting off mid-thigh, forgoing the usual sweater with the air warming up, leaving your shoulders bare. 

Joel nods in greeting when Ellie peeks around his shoulder, beaming at the sight out of you.

“Thank god,” She groans, “Those two are insufferable together,” Tommy and Joel, “—they’ve been arm wrestling each other in the backyard for the last hour.”

Your eyebrows raise, looking over at Joel. He’s got the hint of a smile on his face, looking down at Ellie before he’s shoving her away with a palm to the crown of her head, his arm flexing under the fitted cotton shirt he wore, muscle on full display. 

It’s easy to forget how strong Joel is under all those layers, but it’s even more apparent now with how often you find him stripped down underneath you, behind you, watching him become more and more comfortable around you as the weeks pass, finally giving in to whatever it was that you two were indulging in.

It was mostly sex—a means for release and often a cure for boredom and neither of you minded it much, but there was something lingering in the shadows. 

You were good at ignoring it, apparently so was Joel.

He leads you to the backyard with a silence you’ve become accustomed to, and spends most of the dinner laughing at Ellie’s terrible and poorly timed jokes. It’s such a sight, seeing how effortlessly Ellie can break that man down, and you realize just how deeply he cared for her, even if she wasn’t his daughter. 

He glances at you frequently, a silent check-in.

You were fine—a little tired, maybe? 

You excuse yourself to the bathroom with a flick of your hair behind your ear and a whine in protest from your chair as it scrapes the floor, leaving the rest of the party in the backyard while you traverse inside. 

It isn’t long before there’s a knock behind the closed door and that unsettling creak, only to be met face to face with Joel. He looks relaxed, placated, his face falling into a natural smirk.

And based on the drink in his hand, slightly inebriated. 

“Lost?” You tease, fixing yourself idly in the mirror, watching as Joel crossed the threshold and nudged the door close behind him. “Joel–”

“Don’t worry, darlin’.” Joel soothes, “Tommy thinks I’m using the one upstairs, everyone’s outside.”

You don’t need him to explain to know what he’s implying. But, for him to want you here–now? That was different. You hate how it made your heart skip, realizing how willing he was to risk this bond of secrecy because he just couldn’t get you out of his head.

His glass slides against the countertop, the soft scuff of his boots grazing the floor as he moves in behind you, causing you to pull away slightly as he raises a hand, brushing your strap down your shoulder and mouthing the skin there, “You’re drunk.” You muse, earning a subtle shake of his head.

“Not at all,” Joel denies, “can’t be in a good mood?”

You sigh at his touch, opposite hand grazing under your dress and over the skin of your stomach, pinky finger grazing the hem of your underwear.

“When are you ever?”

Joel ignores your snark, “Don’t act like you don’t want it, sweetheart.”

He can feel the heat radiating off your body, the wetness that coats his finger as he dips it under the fabric and down the center of your cunt, “Joel,” You stress, “there’s people outside, we can’t.”

“Don’t worry about that,” He says softly, “Ellie’s gone home, Tommy and Maria are busy with a neighbor–if you want me to stop, tell me. You don’t need to make excuses.”

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

“Been needin’ this all day,” He admits, cupping your mound roughly, shifting to press the hard line of his chest against your back, pulling you taut, his idle fingers playing with the soft material of your dress, “This is cute–it’s a nice dress.”

You roll your eyes, though fondly. He can’t see it, face buried into your neck as he mouths along the skin, slipping the straps of your dress down until your tits spring free, nipples pebbling under the cool air.

“Are we talking or fucking?” You ask impatiently, pointedly rubbing your ass back against his body, earning a dark chuckle in response.

“I never said anything about fucking,” Joel points out smugly, “but since you’re askin.”

It’s the impatiences that brings you to take matters into your own hands, sliding your dress up high enough that Joel can yank your underwear down, undoing his pants with one hand and freeing himself hastily, sliding into you roughly, forcing a strained gasp from your throat. 

Joel shushes you, covering your mouth with his hand.

“Careful, these walls ain’t soundproof.” He warns, his forceful thrusts plunging you forward, eyes dragging toward the mirror image of you and him, a sight to see as he smirks from behind, admiring you openly. “Look at you.”

He grin’s devilishly, your senses overwhelmed, showing through your eyes as you squeezed them shut, only to be forced back open by Joel’s coaxing voice.

He clicks his tongue in warning, breath hot against your ear. “Open those eyes, sweetheart. Need you to see how good you’re takin’ my cock,” You whine into his hand, his brutal thrust driving you further into the countertop, ignoring the pain that spreads, overtaken by the insatiable need to come, “and how pretty you look when you come.”

Pretty. He’s never used that word before. It sends a flutter through your chest, down to your core.

It’s more intense this way, the subtle pull in Joel’s face when he drives deeper, his own orgasm on the horizon. His teeth grit hard, small peaks of it as he bares his lips back in a growl, squeezing at the soft planes of your body that he could reach, driving you over the edge with little warning, not that you needed the help. 

Seeing him this way was enough. God, was it enough.

“Fuck, fuck—“ He curses a symphony, holding himself back as he gripped at the base of his shaft and you jump at the opportunity, turning to him in a haze and sinking to your knees despite the cold floor beneath you, urging him with a silent plea as you open your mouth to him, nodding subtly.

That’s all it takes for him, a few quick strokes of his cock and he’s spilling into your mouth, head hung back at how intensely it hits him, the skin of his neck straining over the muscle, his mouth open in a soundless grunt. 

*

Luckily, Joel is the one that takes care of the goodbyes. You wouldn’t be able to face Tommy or Maria after such an instance, adjusting yourself back to a semi-presentable state in the bathroom, with some of Joel’s help as he sets your dress back over your shoulders.

It shouldn’t feel endearing, not in this context. But, it does.

“Wait for me out front,” He tells you, buckling his pants, eyes connecting with yours briefly, squinting curiously, he reaches a hand forward and wiping a mix of spit and what you can only assume is his come, away from your mouth and onto his jeans, “—you had a little…”

You both laugh at the unspoken, rubbing a tired hand over your face as you nod, shoving him away playfully.

Things are vastly different when you’re facing him on your doorstep now, his lingering presence a hint at what he didn’t have the courage to ask.

“Stay for a while?” You suggest softly, nodding toward your front door.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Joel agrees.

You never realize how much Joel likes to talk about music until he’s finally found himself relaxed, your body reclined into his open, outstretched legs as he adjusts himself sideways. It doesn’t feel intimate, no—but it feels different. Joel rests a hand over your shoulder, massaging the tight muscle with a steady grip. His voice is nice, soothing.

You fall asleep like this, but Joel is already gone by morning.

By June, things are confusing. Good, but…confusing.

Joel and you have a routine by now—off days were usually spent at your house, occasionally Joel’s (but rarely) and only when Ellie wasn’t around, the days that were spent patrolling were fairly normal, aside from the insistent touching you both allowed yourself now, always leading to something neither of you could be bothered to stop. 

Joel’s vocal about things now—what he likes, what he wants, but he’s also holding back. You can see it when things get a little too intense, hands grabbing at clothes, pulling each other in with a rabidness that neither of you could calm.

He doesn’t kiss you, not really. He likes to nip and bite and leave bruises where only he can see them, but he won’t allow his eyes to linger on your face for too long, your lips, too afraid things might be misconstrued.

Not that it mattered, Joel was already fucked beyond repair. He’s only ever felt this intensely once, before—his relationship with Sarah’s mom was a fling that turned into something more, but ultimately fizzled, crashed and burned. It gave him Sarah, but he never understood what heartbreak was until then, young and naive and wanting to make things work.

Clearly, they never did.

He feels that with you, though he’s smarter now. He can be cold and distant when he feels that pull in his chest, push away just enough that you won’t pry. But, you’re smart—you’re stubborn, so goddamn stubborn. 

And he knows eventually, things are going to implode.

He just didn’t expect it to happen like this. 

You were starting to hate the lodge, finding yourself lingering to the connecting shops down the road—a guitar store that Joel and Tommy picked through often, a small coffee shop further down the way that didn’t have much left for picking, but it helped when you felt cooped up, a nice change of scenery.

But even then, the lodge wasn't a luxury to patrol anymore. Summer is practically unbearable most days there, the building always too warm, too stuffy.

Joel had other ideas this time around, stripping you down slowly by the couch nestled against the large window that overlooked the rest of the small town surrounding it.

It was quiet here.

Joel presses you into the soft velvet cushion, his own body stripped bare, a combat to the heat, he says.

You didn’t mind. In fact, it was everything you wanted. 

He’s never allowed such contact, all of you against him, the slow push of his hips inside of you has you gasping softly, fingers gripping his biceps. His place is slow, dreadful, and you both are already sweating, skin sticky and damp.

Joel doesn’t seem to mind.

He seems needier today, more willing to let the sounds slip from his mouth, his hands more curious, pulling your knee tight around his hip and gripping at the knee, head tilting up as he huffed through his nose, tense jaw, teeth clenched. He’s looking off distantly, not at you or your body, or anywhere in your vicinity really, but the torture on his face is all the same. He couldn’t hide it.

You moan softly, mumbling soft praises under your breath when he fucks into you hard enough it has you clawing at his chest, gripping tight at his shoulder, seeking whatever skin you could touch. 

Eventually, your touch lingers near his face, palm spreading over his warm cheek, thumb running along the strong hook of his nose, forcing his attention down toward you. Your fingertips graze his lips gently, other hand mirror the action as you caress his face, his eyes closing under your touch. 

The arm holding him upright nearly gives you, barely catching himself as his chest is pressed in tight against yours, changing the angle immensely.

That couldn't have been you’re doing—not a chance. But, you’re curious. You guide his face to your chest, his mouth sliding lazily against the skin as he pumps into you steadily. You meet his rough grunts with whispered praises, his breath becoming more frantic as time goes on until he’s finally chancing a look your way, eyes soft and pleading. He looks lost. You frown slightly, guiding his face toward yours and ghosting your own lips against his, never quite indulging, keeping the praises going with a soft whisper.

“God, you always fuck me so good,” You say in a breathy whisper against his lips, “so good, Joel.”

Joel squeezes you tighter, a sign of his impending orgasm. “Right there,” You sigh, “fuck—you feel that? Need this all the time, everyday.”

This. Him.

“Sweetheart—“ He warns, grunting into your open mouth, knees buckling as you slide your tongue against his teeth, grazing his top lip.

“Don’t—don't,” You panic, eyes connecting with him suddenly, “wanna feel you, all of you.”

It was something Joel could reflect on later, consider the consequences, because now was not that time—not with you looking at him so earnestly, pleading with him.

He slips a calculated hand between your joined bodies and has you both hanging over the edge in seconds, gasping into each other’s mouth in desperation as Joel does something completely selfish and unlike him.

He kisses you, no qualms or hesitation. It’s messy and wet but it’s him—his mouth soothes the ache as your orgasm overwhelms your body, his own chest rattling at the force, moaning pathetically against your mouth as he comes in hot, warm pulses inside of you, cunt clenching around him tight, like a glove. 

Joel soon slumps against your body, all energy drained from him, your hands weaving through his hair gently, caressing the soft spot behind his ear.

He doesn’t complain, letting you hold him until his cock softens, pulling out of you with a disgruntled noise before he’s resting on the cushion beside you, back pressed tight against one side to make room for the both of you, tilting himself sideways and letting his fingers drift over your naked frame, indulging in every part of you. 

“Should we talk about this?” You ask curiously, voice softened under his gaze, his fist pressed to his cheek.

There it was.

Joel looks down briefly, his touch stalling over the spot between your breasts, right over your heart.

“I’m not even sure what this is,” Joel admits, the most honest he’s ever been with anyone, “just that—I enjoy it.”

He's being honest, he's letting you in. Your heart soars.

Joel was tired of fighting it. He'd be ignorant to think you didn't see it just then or even before.

“I would classify it as fucking,” You joke lightly, “but that—that didn’t feel like fucking to me.”

Joel shakes his head, “No—it didn’t.” He agrees, grabbing for the blanket draped over the back of the couch, spreading it gently over your frame despite the heat, finger fingers grazing along the underside of your breasts, a teasing touch that has you giggling in response, his own laugh following.

It’s a beautiful sound.

“Or we don’t have to figure it out at all,” You suggest, realizing that trying to force something out of Joel was not the way to go, it never had been—he’d come to whatever conclusion he felt on his own, “that’s okay, too.”

“We can save it for another day,” Joel promises, his fingers tracing up toward your jaw, his palm resting to cup your cheek, a tender gesture that’s all new, “right now, I just wanna quiet that pretty little mouth of yours.”

He sees your eyes light up with intrigue, already tilting toward him eagerly.

“You want that?” He teases, earning an eager nod in response before he’s closing his mouth over yours again, kissing with a leisureliness he didn’t have before, “Answer me, sweetheart?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me, Joel.”

And it terrified Joel, because he’d give you anything.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[halucynator]

False Fronts II

part 2 of 4

pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

warnings: kissing, pda, swearing, fake dating, not proof read (as usual) and my writing

there will probably be a part 3 (if im feeling nice).

summary: Being asked to fake date someone to get a petty ex off their back is the worst possible way of being friend-zoned. You, however, were willing to take any chances to get as close as you could to Theodore Nott.

the lovely lovely dividers have been created by @cafekitsune. here is the post with these exact dividers!

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4: fluff angst

Theodore's departing silhouette dissolved into the Hogwarts corridor, leaving you with conflicting emotions. A grin tugged at your lips—Theo had asked you to team up in this wild charade! But there was also this weird flutter in your stomach. Fake dating Theo? This was something straight out of a fanfic plot. (i wonder why?)

The agreed time rolled around, and you headed to the spot Theodore suggested—a tucked-away alcove away from the Hogwarts chaos. Your heart raced a little faster as you spotted him already waiting, a mix of uncertainty and determination in his expression.

"Hey," you said, aiming for a casual tone despite the bundle of nerves inside.

Theodore turned, a faint smile on his lips as he nodded. "Hey, thanks for showing up."

There was this strange tension between you, the weight of the plan hanging in the air. It was like the beginning of an unknown adventure, the kind that either makes you or breaks you.

Sitting down, you both seemed at a loss for where to start.

"So," you ventured, breaking the silence, "how are we playing this out?"

Theodore leaned in, lowering his voice. "Let's keep it simple. Act like we're together, maybe hold hands when people are around. Just enough to sell it to Jess."

A jolt of nerves mixed with a weird kind of excitement surged within you. Pretending to be Theo's other half felt like stepping into a storybook—exciting but also a tad scary.

"Sure," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "We'll make it work."

Theodore nodded a grateful glint in his eyes. "Thanks, Y/N. I owe you for this."

And so it began. There were these subtle gestures—his hand grazing yours, the occasional kiss on your cheek—but it never ventured beyond that. Just enough to plant a seed of jealousy in Jess.

Yet, it ignited a storm of butterflies within you. You knew it was all a mistake, falling for him in this make-believe charade. You knew it was a terrible idea. You knew it. Yet, each touch, each gentle kiss left you breathless, wanting more.

You reminded yourself it was all a facade, a performance meant to fool others. But for some reason, it felt real. You wished it were genuine. The line between what was fake and what you craved to be real blurred with every tender moment, making you yearn for something that was never meant to be. It all felt real. You wanted it to be real.

The question was, did he?

You knew diving into a conversation about his actual feelings wasn't on the table. He'd made it pretty clear: this was all part of the fake dating deal. Plus, the last thing you wanted was to weird him out by dropping the "Do you like me for real?" bomb.

If he caught wind of you wanting something more than acting, he might bail and rope someone else into this mess, leaving all the effort you'd poured into getting close to Theo in the dust. And you weren't about to let that happen.

Not now. Not ever.

Days turned into weeks, and the fake dating charade continued. You and Theodore fell into a rhythm, a seamless blend of staged affection and genuine camaraderie. It was a delicate dance, playing the part of an infatuated couple while maintaining the facade for Jess's benefit.

But amidst the pretense, something unexpected happened—the lines between what was feigned and what felt real started to blur. The stolen glances, the shared laughs, the moments when the act seemed to dissolve into something unscripted—all of it stirred a confusing mix of emotions within you.

Theodore's touches became less rehearsed, more natural, and each time he'd take your hand or wrap his arm around you, it felt oddly comforting. There was a warmth in his gestures that made them seem genuine.

Thing is, as much as you reminded yourself it was all a big show, there were moments when it felt too genuine, too sincere to be just an act. Those brief touches and the laughter that felt more genuine than staged—it all made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something brewing beyond the act you'd both signed up for.

Theodore escorted you towards your dorm, the air heavy with an unspoken tension that lingered between you two. The quiet stroll through the Hogwarts corridors felt different tonight—moments of comfortable silence interjected by furtive glances and lingering touches.

As the entrance to your dorm loomed closer, you felt the weight of an impending confession pressing against your chest. This might be the moment—the perfect opportunity to spill everything you'd been holding back.

"Theo, I have to tell you something" You blurted out.

"Hm?" He questioned.

"I- I lik-" You began.

"Stop right there bitch. Get the fuck away from MY boyfriend." a voice shouted.

It was Jess.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

hello! finished reading this? read part 3 next!

[hubbvrd]

I love you | Joe Burrow

summary — joe takes you to a bengals team party for the first time and on that day he tells you for the first time that he loves you

pairing — joe burrow x reader

words — 1769 words

Once a year, the Bengals team held a not exactly small celebration to which the players brought their girlfriends, wives and children.

This year it was the first time that you would be attending this party alongside Joe as his girlfriend.

From time to time you had already met some of his teammates like Ja'Marr, Sam, Logan, Trey and Tee.

Of the players' partners, you've got a pretty good connection with Morgan, Logan's wife, and Jess, Sam's girlfriend.

You hit it off with both of them right away, so you've been traveling with them quite a bit lately and you've watched a Bengals home game or two together.

Even though you already knew one or two of them, you were quite nervous, so you kept running a hand through your long hair, which you had curled especially for the party.

"You don't need to be nervous, y/n. They'll love you," Joe repeated his sentence again as he skillfully put the car in the parking space and then looked over at you.

His gentle gaze was on you and his lips formed a soft smile as he reached out and placed his hand on your bare knee.

For today, you had put on a bright summer dress that you had bought with Joe at the mall a few days ago.

His thumb ran over your knee in a circular motion and made you start to relax a little.

Joe's touch had a miraculous effect on you in situations where you were quite nervous or tense, so you immediately started to feel better.

In response, you just nodded and swallowed down all the negative thoughts that were running through your head.

Today's celebration was your first public appearance together in front of his team. Even though you had been to the stadium from time to time to cheer on Joe and the Bengals with Morgan and Jess, Joe and you had taken it pretty slow so far.

Not because you didn't want to appear together in public, but rather because Joe wanted to protect you.

Protect you from the public. Because he knew exactly how nasty and hard life in the public eye could be with the fans and the media, which is why he wanted to keep you out of it as much as possible.

Until now, only a few people knew that Joe and you had been dating for five months.

Every now and then, rumors that Joe was back in steady hands would spill out into the public, so that the media literally ran their mouths for a few days until things calmed down again.

But not once has your name been mentioned. You knew that this would soon come to an end, as you were now firmly at Joe's side, but you didn't want to worry about that for the time being.

"Are you ready?" Joe asked you after you got out of the car and he grabbed your hand.

His warm, slightly rough fingers intertwined your fingers with his and you immediately felt a pleasant security that let you know that Joe would be by your side the whole evening.

Before you had driven off, he had even told you repeatedly that he would leave the party early with you if it got too much for you or you started to feel uncomfortable.

It was really sweet and incredibly thoughtful of Joe to be so attentive to your well-being and to care about you.

You weren't used to these little things from your two previous relationships, so you appreciated these small gestures from him all the more.

And that was one of the reasons why you fell head over heels in love with the Bengals quarterback.

"I'm ready," you assured him after taking another deep breath in and out.

"If you need some space from the party or want to leave, give my hand a big squeeze and let's get out of here, okay?"

Joe pulled you a little closer to give you a gentle kiss on the forehead, which made you smile.

"I will," you promised him before you walked hand in hand to the garden of the large property where the party would take place.

In the middle of the lawn, a large white table had found its place, at which over a hundred people were sure to be seated.

There was also a huge buffet, a bouncy castle for children and other child-friendly activities, such as a photo box and beautiful, bright and friendly decorations.

A few children were playing together, while small groups had formed here and there, chatting and having a drink together.

"Everything all right?" Joe asked you as he gently stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

"All good," you replied honestly, with a smile on your lips.

Because everything really was fine. At home, you had imagined countless thoughts of panic, but now, as you stood here and saw this peaceful atmosphere, you began to feel directly that everything would be fine.

"Let me introduce you to a few people."

Joe gently pulled you over to a group consisting of a few men and women.

And you knew that you would certainly be shaking countless hands over the next hour, but you didn't mind because you were looking forward to meeting Joe's teammates and their partners.

- - -

"And what's your first impression of the others?" Morgan inquired curiously as you sat next to each other at the buffet and enjoyed the delicious appetizers.

"They're all really super nice, but I've forgotten more than half of their names," you admitted with a laugh as you reached for a brownie and placed it on your plate.

"It took me a really long time to even remember names. But I actually still don't know who one or two of them are," Morgan replied with a laugh, making me giggle.

You understood this all too well. Because there really were an incredible number of names to remember.

"You and Joe really are a cute couple, by the way," Morgan spoke up after a few seconds of silence, during which you loaded several things onto your plates.

You noticed how your cheeks took on a slightly rosy hue as you sheepishly wrapped a curl around my finger.

"He's been really happy again for a long time. Logan and the other boys have so many positive things to say. Joe sometimes just runs around with a beaming smile."

"Oh yes, do I?" you suddenly heard the voice of your friend next to you, who was snatching a brownie and popping it into his mouth.

"Yes, you are," said Logan suddenly, who had now also joined you and put his hand on his wife's stomach and stung it.

The two of them would soon become parents for the first time and indeed, whenever you saw them, Morgan talked almost non-stop about her unborn daughter, so that for weeks now your joy had been washed over and you could hardly wait to meet baby Wilson.

Joe wrapped his arms around you from behind, so that you snuggled up to him with a smile and then lifted the plate a little higher so that he could take another piece or two.

In fact, you loaded the plate with all the sweet stuff more or less just for Joe, because you knew how much he loved sweets.

"Thanks, babe," Joe said and pressed a gentle kiss to your hair before taking something from the plate again.

Shortly afterwards, the four of you started talking again, joined one by one by Ja'Marr, Tee, Sam and his girlfriend.

It was a really relaxed and fun conversation, so you started to feel more and more comfortable and relaxed with every minute that passed in the conversation, so that you started to talk more and more and at some point it felt like you had known everyone forever.

Joe had his arms wrapped around you the whole time as he kept pressing a gentle kiss to your hair.

At some point, he put the now empty plate down on a table behind him before reaching for your hand.

"If you'll excuse us for a moment, we have a little date with the photo box," he said, pulling you along with him towards the photo box before you could even say anything.

As the photo box was currently occupied, you both took a look in the box, which contained a few disguise options, such as hats, scarves and funny glasses.

"That's funny," Joe mumbled with a broad grin as he began to rummage around in the box.

You watched with a grin as he kept pulling things out of the box and then shaking his head again and again until he finally found something he was reasonably happy with.

Joe put a pair of oversized glasses on your nose, while he put a pair of alien glasses on his own nose and then pulled you into the free box.

"So how does this work now?" you asked as you pushed the goggles back onto your nose and looked at the large screen, perplexed.

"Just a second," Joe replied intently as he tapped the screen a few times until he said, "There, done." he said.

The two of you positioned yourselves in a funny pose as the seconds ticked down and shortly afterwards the photo was taken.

For the next few photos, you fooled around a bit more until Joe pulled you a little closer for the last one.

3

2

1

Before the photo was taken, Joe opened his mouth and uttered the three words that set off the butterflies in your stomach.

"I love you, y/n," Joe said, surprising you so much with these words that your eyes literally became the size of dinner plates and your mouth opened slightly.

Joe put his hands to your cheeks and gently stroked your cheeks with his thumbs as he moved a little closer to you and murmured the three words against your lips again.

"I love you so much, y/n."

And before you could even begin to say anything back, Joe had already placed his lips on yours.

While the butterflies in your stomach wouldn't stop fluttering around, your hands slowly moved up to Joe's neck as you gently returned the kiss until your lips became a little more demanding.

And this moment would forever be one of the most wonderful and amazing memories with Joe.

And very soon, when the kiss ended, you would say those three words to him too and you would kiss again.

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 1

part 2 - Life 360

screencaps and gifs: Pinterest

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Drinking, food,flirting, DRUGGING, KIDNAPPING, talks of true crime THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: A Tinder date goes very, very wrong, but you always considered yourself prepared for such situations.

WC: 2.9K

For notifications follow - @sinful-mind-joyful-fics

A/n: I tried to step out of my comfort zone a little with this. It's based on a post I saw while doom-scrolling on this app from @blondwhowrites. She had this amazing post about wanting to see more readers who fight and don't stop. They don't lose hope, they go into survival mode, and I just hope I do this idea somewhat justice.

Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.

Two glasses of wine deep, you and your best friend sat comfortably on the couch, a true crime podcast playing in the background. The room was dimly lit, the only sources of light being the glow from the TV and the occasional flicker from a scented candle on the coffee table. The smell of lavender and vanilla filled the air, mixing with the earthy aroma of the red wine. 

You laughed as your friend, Jess, made a snide comment about the latest murder suspect discussed on the podcast. Her dark hair fell in waves around her face, a playful glint in her eyes as she took another sip of her wine. You felt a warm buzz from the alcohol, a pleasant contrast to the cold shiver the podcast sent down your spine.

"Can you believe some people are actually that dumb?" Jess snorted. "I mean, come on. Who leaves that much evidence behind?"

You nodded, your eyes focused on your phone screen, fingers swiping left and right in a rhythmic motion. Tinder had become a mindless distraction, a game you played together to pass the time and maybe, just maybe, find someone interesting. The profiles blurred together after a while, a parade of faces and bios that hardly registered in your mind.

"Ugh, another one with a fish picture," you groaned, swiping left. "Do they think holding a dead fish makes them more attractive?"

Jess laughed, nearly spilling her wine. "Maybe it's supposed to show they're 'outdoorsy' or something. Like, 'Hey, I can provide for you in the apocalypse with my fishing skills.'"

You rolled your eyes, ready to swipe again, when Jess nudged you with her elbow. "Wait, wait. Give me the phone for a sec."

Reluctantly, you handed it over, watching as she scrolled through your potential matches with a critical eye. She made a few quick swipes, her lips pursed in concentration.

"Nope. Nope. Definitely nope," she muttered. Then, suddenly, she paused, her finger hovering over the screen. "Oh, hello. Who's this?"

You leaned in, your curiosity piqued. On the screen was a man named Joel. He was 56, a contractor, and attractive for his age. His profile picture showed a ruggedly handsome man with a salt-and-pepper beard and piercing eyes that seemed to look right through you. He had an air of confidence about him, the kind that made you stop and take a second look.

"Damn," Jess said, raising her eyebrows. "He kind of looks like Pedro Pascal. Not bad for an older guy."

You couldn't help but agree. There was something undeniably appealing about Joel, something that made you hesitate before swiping. You read through his bio, which mentioned his love for traveling, his work as a contractor, and his interest in trying new wines. 

"Well," Jess said, nudging you again, "it's your last free swipe. What do you think?"

You took a deep breath, your finger hovering over the screen. There was a strange flutter in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness. Finally, with a small, decisive movement, you swiped right.

As the screen flashed "It's a match!", you felt a thrill of anticipation. Jess cheered, raising her glass in a mock toast. "Here's to Joel and his contractor skills. May he be as good with his hands as he is with a hammer."

The sound of your phone buzzing broke through the haze of wine and laughter. You glanced down, surprised to see a new message notification from Joel. Jess leaned over, peering at your screen.

"Well, well," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like Mr. Contractor is making the first move. That's not something you see every day."

"Yeah," you agreed, a bit taken aback. "It's kind of refreshing."

With a grin, you opened the message. It was simple, yet charming: "Hey there. I saw you like trying new wines. Any recommendations?"

Jess snickered, taking another sip of her wine. "Smooth, Joel. Real smooth."

You couldn't help but smile as you typed out a reply. "Hey Joel! If you like reds, you should try a good Malbec. There's a great one from Argentina that I'm obsessed with."

His response was almost immediate. "Sounds perfect. I've been meaning to expand my wine knowledge. Maybe you could give me a lesson sometime?"

You showed the message to Jess, who giggled and nudged you playfully. "Look at you, already setting up a date. You go, girl."

You blushed, quickly typing back. "I'd love to. Any wines you're particularly curious about?"

Joel's reply came swiftly. "I'm open to anything, really. Maybe you can surprise me?"

Jess leaned in, reading over your shoulder. "Ooh, he’s smooth. What are you going to say?"

"How about this," you muttered, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Great! How about we start with a nice Pinot Noir? It's a favorite of mine."

"Sounds fantastic. Any recommendations for a good one?" Joel texted back.

Jess snorted. "He's definitely into you."

The conversation flowed easily after that. Joel proved to be both witty and engaging. He shared stories of his recent travel adventures, his favorite being a trip to Italy. "I spent a week in Tuscany, just soaking in the culture and, of course, the wine," he wrote.

You smiled, replying, "I've always wanted to go to Italy. Did you visit any vineyards?"

"Several! It was incredible. The scenery, the people...everything was perfect. You should definitely go if you get the chance."

Jess sighed dreamily. "Italy, vineyards, and wine? He’s painting quite the picture. Ask him about his work!"

You typed quickly, "So, tell me more about your work. What kind of projects do you usually take on?"

"I'm mostly into residential renovations, but I dabble in commercial projects too. Keeps things interesting. My favorite project was restoring this old Victorian house. Took a lot of work, but it was worth it."

Joel sent a photo of the Victorian house, its intricate details beautifully restored. Jess peered at the screen, impressed. "Wow, he's really good. That house looks amazing."

"Right?" you agreed, replying to Joel. "The house looks incredible. You have a real talent."

"Thank you! I love what I do. How about you? What keeps you busy?"

You shared stories about your job and hobbies, feeling the conversation flow as naturally as the wine. The atmosphere in the room grew even more relaxed, filled with the sound of your laughter and the comforting cadence of the podcast in the background.

"He's really something," Jess said, leaning back into the couch. "I haven't seen you this excited about anyone in a while."

You nodded, a warm flutter of excitement in your chest. "I know. It's...nice."

Jess smiled knowingly. "He's definitely a keeper. I should probably head home though. Work tomorrow, unfortunately."

"Yeah, me too," you sighed, feeling a pang of disappointment as the evening wound down.

Jess gathered her things, giving you a hug at the door. "Good luck with Joel. He seems like a great guy. Text me all the details later, okay?"

"Will do," you promised, waving as she disappeared into the night.

Returning to the couch, you saw another message from Joel. "It was great talking with you tonight. I'd love to continue our conversation over that Malbec. What do you say?"

You smiled, feeling a warm flutter of excitement. "I'd like that too. How about this weekend?"

Joel’s reply was quick. "That sounds perfect. How about Saturday night? I know a great Italian place downtown. We can have dinner and then maybe a glass of that Malbec at my place?"

You hesitated for a moment, the true crime stories from the podcast playing in your mind. But something about Joel felt genuine, and you decided to take a chance. "Saturday night works for me. What time?"

"How about 7 PM? I can pick you up if you’d like."

You thought about it, weighing the pros and cons. Jess had always warned you about letting strangers know where you lived, but Joel seemed different. Maybe it was the wine or his charm, but you felt a sense of trust. "Sure, that sounds great. I live at 112 Maple Street, apartment 4B."

"Got it. Looking forward to it. Have a good night!" Joel replied.

"Good night, Joel," you texted back, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.

The next few days passed in a blur of anticipation. Jess was thrilled when you updated her, giving you tips on what to wear and what to talk about. By the time Saturday rolled around, you were a bundle of nerves and excitement.

As the clock neared 7 PM, you stood in front of your mirror, adjusting your dress for the hundredth time. It was a simple, elegant black dress that Jess had insisted was perfect for the occasion. You had paired it with a delicate necklace and your favorite heels, wanting to strike the right balance between casual and sophisticated.

Before heading downstairs, you grabbed your phone and texted Jess. "Hey, just a heads up. I’m going to that Italian place downtown with Joel. His address is 245 Fallsview Lane. I’ll text you when I get back. My Life360 will be on the whole night. Can you check on my location occasionally?"

Jess replied almost immediately. "Got it! Be safe and have fun. Text me if anything feels off. I'll keep an eye on your location."

You always prided yourself on being prepared. Too many hours of true crime shows had taught you the importance of caution. Sharing your whereabouts had become second nature; you never wanted to take any chances.

At exactly 7 PM, your phone buzzed with a message. "I’m outside :)"

You took a deep breath, grabbing your purse and heading downstairs. When you stepped outside, you saw Joel waiting by his car. He looked even better in person, his rugged charm accentuated by a casual yet stylish outfit.

"Hi," you greeted, feeling a bit shy.

"Hi," he replied with a warm smile. "You look amazing."

"Thank you," you said, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "You too."

Joel opened the car door for you, and you slid into the passenger seat, your nerves slowly easing as he drove towards the restaurant. The conversation flowed easily, much like it had over text, and by the time you arrived at the Italian place, you felt completely at ease.

The restaurant was cozy and inviting, with soft lighting and a warm atmosphere. Joel held the door open for you, and you were soon seated at a corner table, a bottle of red wine already waiting.

"This place is lovely," you said, looking around.

"I'm glad you like it," Joel replied, pouring you a glass of wine. "To new beginnings."

"To new beginnings," you echoed, clinking your glass against his.

The dinner was wonderful, filled with laughter and easy conversation. Joel was charming and attentive, his stories about his work and travels fascinating. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, his eyes never leaving yours.

"So," Joel said, leaning back in his chair, "tell me more about yourself. What do you do when you're not working or swiping on Tinder?"

You laughed, taking a sip of your wine. "I'm a server, working my way through college. I'm studying to become a digital design artist. In my free time, I love reading, especially true crime. I also enjoy hiking. What about you?"

"I enjoy traveling and exploring new places," Joel said, his eyes twinkling. "I’ve been to quite a few countries. It's always interesting to see how people live and what they value. Speaking of which, are you close with your family?"

You hesitated for a moment, the memory of your dad's death flashing in your mind. "Not really. My dad passed away a few years ago, and things have been strained since then. My family lives across the state, so I don't see them often."

Joel's expression softened. "I'm sorry to hear that. It must be tough."

You nodded, feeling a bit vulnerable. "It is, but I've learned to rely on my friends. They're like my chosen family."

"That’s great," Joel said, smiling warmly. "Having a strong support system is so important. Do you have a big circle of friends, or do you keep it more intimate?"

"Mostly intimate," you said. "I have a few close friends who mean the world to me. Jess, who you’ve heard me mention, is my best friend. We've known each other forever."

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "It sounds like you have a great support system. It's so important to have people you can rely on."

"Absolutely," you agreed, feeling warm and comfortable.

As the night went on, Joel skillfully guided the conversation, his questions always seeming casual and light. "So, have you ever traveled alone?" he asked, casually.

"Not really," you admitted. "I prefer to have someone with me. It feels safer that way."

"That's smart," Joel said, nodding approvingly. "Safety is always a priority. Speaking of which, do you have any health routines? Like, do you take any daily vitamins or medication?"

"Just the usual vitamins," you replied, not thinking much of it. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Joel said with a charming smile. "I like to know what keeps you healthy and happy."

You smiled, feeling flattered by his interest. The conversation continued to flow effortlessly, Joel's charm and attentiveness making you feel special.

After dinner, you and Joel were heading back to his place for a glass of Malbec. You hesitated again, the warnings from the true crime podcast whispering in your mind. But Joel's smile was disarming, and the evening had been so perfect that you found yourself agreeing.

Joel led you to his car, opening the door for you like a perfect gentleman. As he drove, you looked out the window, making a mental note of big landmarks. You saw the city skyline fading into the distance, a large water tower, and a distinctive old barn. You kept these in mind, your true crime-trained brain insisting on caution.

"So, what do you usually do to unwind after a long day?" Joel asked, his tone casual.

"I love reading," you replied, glancing at him. "Especially true crime. There's something fascinating about the psychology behind it all."

Joel chuckled, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road. "That's interesting. So you must know a lot about staying safe then, right?"

You nodded, feeling a bit more on guard. "Yeah, it's always good to be prepared."

Joel's eyes gleamed with a curiosity that felt too intense. "Do you ever get scared living alone?"

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone light. "Not really. I take precautions. Plus, I have friends who check in on me."

"That's smart," Joel said, nodding approvingly. "It’s good to have people who care about you."

Finally, you arrived at Joel’s place. It was a secluded farmhouse, far from the city lights and surrounded by dense woods. The house itself was charming, with warm lights glowing from the windows and a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

Joel led you inside, and you were greeted by the comforting smell of wood and faint hints of vanilla. He poured the Malbec, and you watched him closely, noting every move he made. He didn't seem to spike the drinks; it all looked perfectly innocent. You settled on the couch, feeling a mix of comfort and unease.

"Thank you for tonight," you said, raising your glass. "It’s been wonderful."

"Thank you," Joel replied, his eyes meeting yours. "I’m glad we matched."

You took a sip of the wine, savoring its rich flavor. As you talked, the conversation drifted naturally.

"So, what inspired you to go into digital design?" Joel asked, his curiosity genuine.

"I've always loved art and technology," you explained. "Digital design feels like the perfect blend of both. Plus, I enjoy creating things that people find useful and beautiful."

Joel nodded appreciatively. "That's a great combination. Do you have a favorite project you've worked on?"

You smiled, thinking back. "Probably a website I designed for a non-profit. It was challenging but incredibly rewarding."

Joel leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued. "That sounds amazing. Do you see yourself starting your own firm one day?"

"I'd love to," you admitted, feeling the warmth of his attention. "But for now, I'm just focusing on finishing my degree."

"That’s smart," Joel said. "One step at a time."

You took another sip of the wine, feeling a strange dizziness creeping in. Your vision blurred slightly, and you set your glass down, trying to focus.

"So, do you have any big plans for the future?" Joel asked, his voice sounding distant.

"I... I want to finish my degree," you managed to say, the room starting to spin.

Your true crime instincts kicked in hard. Something was wrong. Very wrong. You discreetly reached for your phone, trying to text Jess, but your fingers felt heavy and uncoordinated.

Joel’s voice was soothing, almost too soothing. "You seem a bit tired. Are you okay?"

You nodded, your heart racing. You had to get out. Now. You fumbled with your phone, trying to hit the call button for Jess, but your vision swam.

Joel leaned in closer, his expression concerned. "Do you need to lie down? Maybe you had too much wine."

Panic surged through you as you struggled to keep your thoughts clear. "No, I... I need to..."

Just as you were about to press send, the phone slipped from your fingers. Joel was quicker, catching you as you slumped forward. "Easy there," he murmured, his arms strong and steady around you.

The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was Joel's face, his expression unreadable. The phone buzzed futilely on the floor, Jess’s name glowing on the screen.