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#the last of us joel

The King is dead

Long liv- ah who am I kidding, there’s no replacing him.

7 notes

A/n: I decided to do a sequel to Baby’s First Kicks because I said so.

 “its called the “pregnant privilege”.


It was nice to get out of the home, to be able to relax with your daughter and husband. While Joel thought it was a horrible idea to head to the Science Museum you couldn’t say no to Sarah, it may have been cutting close to your last trimester but this was the last week for her favorite exhibit. 

“This…is a horrible idea.” Joel muttered, his arms wrapping around your waist. Sarah beaming at you while Tommy kept his eye on her.

Rolling your eyes you gave him a smile as you rested your head on his shoulder. “Look how happy she is though you need to stop scowling or your hair will turn grey.”


Through out the day you let Sarah egerly explain each exhibit to you but you couldn’t help but think how cute it was when the young girl would put her hands on your stomach telling her little brother what was going on and how she couldnt wait to show him everything.

It was getting close to the end of the day when you felt the need to take a break. Finding the nearest bench you were about to sit down until a younger man almost knocked you side as he slipped into the spot. Biting your tongue you ignored the rudeness of it about to find a new spot until Joel stepped in.

“Hey asshole! Who do you think you are?” His accent slipping through cause several heads to turn in yours and his direction.

“Listen bud, she should have moved faster. Not my problem.” He stated not looking up from his phone.

“Joel its okay.” Keeping his hand on your lower back to keep you steady, Joel scowled ripping the phone from his hand.

“What did you just say, my wife is pregnant! You look awfully fine too me…Now in my book I think she…well I like to call the “pregnant privilege”…so you should move your ass before I take this phone and shove it up said ass so you will get a good spot to sit.”

Now looking up at Joel, the young man shrunk under his gaze quickly standing up. “S-sorry lady.” Grabbing the phone out of Joels hand the young man took off running as you let Joel help you on the bench.

“Was that necessary.?” You gave him a crooked smile as Joel knelt in front of you, his hand rubbing your belly.

“Course it was, what man makes a pregnant woman stand.” 

Letting out a laugh you shook your head as you noticed Sarah and Tommy walked towards you. “ If he calls security….I don’t know you.”

“Fair enough.” Smiling Joel lent close giving you a gentle kiss, you couldn’t wait for your son to be born, you knew he was going to be very loved.

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Dads falling asleep on the couch after work

I like to imagine Joel staying up late, trying to wait for Ellie to come home but always falling asleep in the end.

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“Well, I’m the romantic type.”

Crooked Still’s “Ecstasy” somehow got looped and this scene popped into my head while listening. Gosh I love that song so much, just so beautiful :))

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Author’s Notes: Just a romantic trip out in the woods. Thanks for reading! I hope you guys like it. I’ve been really busy lately and I’ve had this chapter half written for like a month. I wanted to get it right and I feel like this is pretty good, so again, I hope y’all like it. Hopefully I can start writing on a more consistent schedule again soon. And last but not least MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Genre: Peak Fluffiness IMO

Summary: You and Joel go on the aforementioned camping trip from the last chapter. You guys fish and hike and all that nature ooey gooey fluffy mess.

Ship: Joel x Reader

Keep reading

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I wanted to draw hunter Joel but I ended up animating him a little again.
It is still hard to draw consistent animations *sigh*

Also it would be so amazing to get a dlc about the Hunter years of the Miller brothers *heavy breathing*

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Watch “The Last Of Us Part II (Alternate Story)”

This video is alittle over an hour long but this is a great rewrite of the sequel. I would’ve loved to have played this version of the story as it feels like an actual continuation of the first game.

Also, if you want a different rewrite of the sequel, I suggest go to this YouTuber named the Closer Look, who also had a great rewrite of the sequel.

But this video needs more views and I highly suggest you guys check this out! It made me emotional and I cried at the end.

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My Last of Us Pt. 2 Thoughts collection


Originally posted by pyrifera

So here is a collection of thoughts I had on certain things that happened or character in this game, if you guys wanna know how I feel about the game and hadn’t read them.

My Thoughts on the game

My thoughts on Joel’s Death

My thoughts on Abby

Even after months since this game’s release, I still feel like I have more to say as it seems with each passing day, I notice more things or I see people bring up something and I feel like I need to put my thoughts out.

I’m thinking talking about a topic where I’ve seen some people compare Abby to Negan, and man do I have a few things to say about that!

I also feel like I could talk about the ending some more and why, IMO, it doesn’t really work.

But if you guys wanna hear about those or if you guys noticed something and want my thoughts on it, let me know! For now, enjoy reading my thoughts on those three subjects above if you haven’t already.

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Author’s Notes: This one is just as short and sweet as the chapter before it. I previously wrote this chapter on my google doc file that got deleted, so this one is short because this was all I could remember from the original. The rest is lost to space and time. 

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Joel finds a special gift for you. You practice your ukulele. 

Ship: Joel x Reader

Keep reading

23 notes

I’m just getting into the last of us 2 and honestly I’m loving it?? Seems to me like people just bitter over nothing.

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Shove on AO3

Front notes: Joel’s around 51, Molly’s around 42. Let the hot old people be happy. They’re together already but not really tellin’. 

I couldn’t help picturing this with them over doing an x reader; I hope you like it!Dina’s trying to get Ellie to talk to her old man again, people in Jackson actually have some weird approximation of house parties, and generally this is a worry-free AU.

First half of this prompt for Kinktober is chapter one: “Your writing is fantastic and it would be great to read some rough, shove-y sex with Joel 👀 also needy, clingy sex would be cool too.” Clingy will be chapter 2 :) 

I tried to do this as an x reader, but what can I say, emotional context and cohesion makes things like this work, and their history comes easy to me. 

End notes: Disclaimer: talk to your partners, no matter how good your rapport, before pushing boundaries like these, especially if you’re inebriated. This is fantasy; negotiating consent with real humans isn’t!


Joel crosses his ankles as he leans against the porch railing, Molly predictably taking up Eugene’s offer to sneak out of the town Christmas party to smoke. How the hell he’d been dragged along as a bystander was beyond him, but his brow snaps into a line when Ellie and Jesse emerge from the other side of the porch, dulled music pulsing the walls of the church.

They sidle up to Eugene, who greets them warmly and offers them the lit joint, Joel’s mouth hanging open in protest, which, to his credit, he rethinks. Ellie gives him a look before taking a drag, and he segues his aborted comments into:

“I’m runnin’, if Maria comes out here,” he notes.

“Head to Jesse’s place and go down to the basement if you’re spooked, we’re just leaving too,” Ellie mutters, abundantly drunk, handing off to Jesse before disappearing inside presumably to give some form of goodbye.

Molly piques an eyebrow and Eugene beams.

“Careful, Molly, Alex’ll be excited to see you,” Jesse warns in his soft drawl.

Molly grimaces.

“What’s that possibly mean?” Joel tightens.

“You know how he’s lookin’. You’ll be fine,” Jesse slugs her on the shoulder and she looks at her arm and back to him, realizing the composure in his voice was not necessarily a sober man’s. Joel looks like he’s trying to fit his own smug smirk down the neck of his beer bottle.

Jesse’s basement is a smoky disaster zone, most of the patrol group burrowed in to drink, smoke, or evidently crawl all over each other. Joel has the sense memory of descending into a basement when he’d visited friends at school or been forced to go get Tommy from some A&M party.

Sarah’s mom was already gone by the time he got tackled into a wall by a pretty blonde a few years younger than him one night, in a hazy room like this. Fun-chasing as Tommy was, he saw the sliver of opportunity for a carefree night for his brother and sobered up, picked up Sarah and stayed the night at Joel’s, texting his brother to come home when he wished.

None of it feels particularly real now—someone else’s memories—until he refocuses on the Molly, forever baffled by the way she looks at him with her whole attention.

“Joel,” Molly urges, smiling at him from the bottom of the stairs and holding her hand out for his. She’d accepted his coat on the walk over, and tall as she is, the sleeves offer just the tips of her slim fingers.

He takes it briefly, still subtle enough, and meets her near the bottom. Ellie manifests from a corner, somehow having beaten them there.

“Best behavior. Welcome,” she grits, shoving a—flagon? Jug? Some type of container full of harsh whisky towards them. Dina watches her interaction curiously, chin in her hand. When Ellie rejoins her, Molly sees her mouth a “you did good!”

“You good?” Molly asks, taking the flask.

“I feel eight thousand years old, why?” Joel takes it back briefly for another hard swig.

Jesse’s steel toes thunder down the stairs behind them, hooking an arm over Joel’s shoulders.

“Anyone who goes out and shivs those motherfuckers is welcome. Also, this was Eugene’s idea, my place was just far enough from the—” his eyes widen in the realization of ‘I’ve said too much.’

Joel raises his hands.

“To my grave,” he vows, Jesse snagging the sloshing liquid Joel’s trying to steady and busting between them to slink into the dark opposite end of the room, from which raucous howling resounds.

“You think Tommy knows?” Joel glances around conspiratorially.

“Maybe. Want to get absolutely tanked?”

Joel can’t remember the last time recreational drinking in Jackson had been more than a few beers or a single whisky; some of his less adroit coping skills in Boston spring to mind readily. Molly’s dimples are showing as she smiles at him and he breathes deep and dives.

They work through three shots together, overhearing Eugene telling Firefly stories that’d make Tommy clobber him over the head.

“No, they called these body shots, idiot,” one of the patrol group younger than Ellie’s age emphasizes from the far corner. He takes a shot and slams his chest into his companion and Molly bursts out laughing.

“Outbreak babies. Christ,” she comments.

“You’re going to need to fill me in,” Joel admits, not fully recognizing the words strung together as a phrase.

Molly grabs him by the collar and whispers in his ear, his face tinging pink as she speaks, carelessly grazing his ear with her mouth. If anyone was starting to do the math around them, they definitely weren’t preventing much tonight.

Recognizing it quickly as she speaks and intimates what they could do later, “You don’t think Ellie’s—” Joel slurs together.

“Joel, yeah, I definitely do,” Molly nods, leaving him to put his hands on his head and feign stretching, scanning for his kid and finding an empty couch where she’d Dina had been progressively draping limbs over her.

“College, that right?” one asks, her patrol nickname less a sign of erudition and more a signifier of the younger group begging for stories of what they assumed had to have been a great time.

“Not even close,” she folds her arms.

Joel’s looking back over at her with an unfathomable expression.

Molly raises an eyebrow at him.

“Molly!” Both Joel and Molly snap around at the sound—an inebriated Alex, ever hopeful that Molly would take interest, ambling towards them.

“Alex,” Molly acknowledges.

“Look I’m juss gonna—” he gears up, puffing his chest out.

“Heyyy!” a chorus around the room lights up as Tommy comes into view, pausing at the stairs to beckon a more hesitant pair of jeans to finish the descent.

“Look what I brought,” Tommy announces, taking Maria’s hand faux-courteously and ushering her into the room. She takes a quick glance around the room for anything really out of line, but her eyes are back on Tommy.

Molly exchanges a glance with Joel, mouth turning down in a smile she’s clearly biting the inside of her cheek through. Tommy slots in by Eugene, squinting up at Joel like he can’t process his brother’s presence, Maria swarmed by red-handed occupants trying to earn her favor with the spectrum of tipple they offer.

“I think we’re skewing the demographic a bit,” Molly turns and starts, realizing Joel had pulled much closer and they’re inches apart.

If he leans in and whispers to her with an ill-contained smile, hand on her lower back, it’s not his business if anyone chooses to see it, even if it’s intentionally around the side visible to the whole room.

They barely make it back to Joel’s house in one piece, Molly fully face planting into the foot of snow twice. Joel almost offers to throw her over his shoulders but realizes he’s already swaying plenty and opts for an arm around her waist, which slows their progress considerably. Joel stops them every few seconds, guiding her momentum towards him to kiss her indiscreetly.

“Y’know, never personally did one of them body shots,” he murmurs, Texas inflection pouring out of him.

“How forward,” Molly teases back.

“I think you’re supposed to be lyin’ down, actually,” he jokes, getting his keys in on the fifth try and tugging Molly inside by the waist.

“Didn’t even make sense—” she complains, Joel’s hands on either side of her face as he kisses her. She grants him easy access, inviting the taste of the dark liquor into her mouth. He grabs her knitted hat and spikes it to the floor with far more force than necessary as he gets through her buttons with surprising dexterity.

They kiss messily between being successfully liberated from each layer of her clothing and Joel finally scoops her hips up, forcing her legs around his waist and into the dining room with the table they were already perfectly certain could handle a decent amount of stress.

“Pity my missed youth,” he implores, even as Molly is reclining and clearly interested in humoring him.

“Just get over here,” she falls back to her elbows as he hovers over her, balancing on one hand.

“You know, you’d usually come at it from the side,” Molly instructs.

“That so? I think I can do it this way,” Joel laughs, pouring the bottle he’d retrieved right onto her breastbone with no warning.

“Jooooel! Fuck!” Molly squeaks when the cold liquor slides uniformly down both sides of her abdomen, quickly chased by his hot tongue. He seems to get to her navel before the liquid can even pool there; thorough in laving the sticky liquid off of her skin, returning to her belly and swiping it clean with broad strokes.

“That was not nice,” she chastises, fisting his barely-long-enough hair in one hand, other hand pawing at the rest of him.

It makes Joel tilt his chin up at her, a look that would be sharp if they weren’t both so obviously besotted and hammered at once.

He twists free with next-to-no effort, moving back down and biting the side of Molly’s abdomen, tugging the skin a little as he pulls back.

Molly lets him look pleased with himself for a second, leaning heavily over her with a cocky smirk. She bites his lower lip, always searching for the appreciative grunt it earns, and isn’t surprised that he enjoys the pressure right up until she draws blood. Even in the low light (nobody drew the curtains against the reflective snow) his eyes are almost completely dark and he’s running them over her body and back to her face raptly.

Joel grasps Molly’s thighs, hard, and drags her roughly to the edge of the table, almost pinching.

Molly slaps him, not too hard, stinging on the ridge of his cheekbone. His mouth drops open for a second and she can’t help herself with how captivating he is, slowly tabulating what various replies may cost him with a clench of his jaw.

Joel watches her curious expression considerately and notes the flush along her front, returning the gesture with an extraordinary sense of control for being drunker than he’d been in years.

“Harder,” he challenges, eyes glinting in the snow-reflected light. Molly obliges, and they smile like they’ve stumbled on inventing a new art form together.

Molly lurches them together, grasping the back of his neck and kissing him feverishly, Joel reciprocating as their fingers overlap to get him out of his shirt. Joel shifts one knee next to Molly on the table, and the nervous groan it gives in reply makes him sigh and drag her down to the floor with him.

Molly straddles him as he kicks out of his jeans. It takes two seconds for him to flip them, slamming her back to the floor a little more roughly than he would’ve sober. He hooks the back of her right thigh over his shoulder and moves his mouth to suck on her clit without pretense.

“Joel!” Molly whines, arcing up on the chilled floor, interrupting it with a gasp when his first two fingers spread her. He glances up and tries not to break his pace, but Molly’s so fucking stunning, wreath of cropped auburn spilled on the floor, eyes boring into him with a soft upturn to her mouth.

“Hush,” he grumbles, smacking her thigh as he rises to his knees and drags her hips towards him.

Molly always feels as receptive as her demeanor towards him would suggest when he first slips inside of her, but tonight it feels like she’s thrusting into him somehow. Her shoulders stick to the floor as she’s far too wobbly to curl forward while he’s got her suspended well off the ground. Molly locks her thighs and shoves one heel into Joel’s lower back, knocking him off his knees enough to push forward into his lap.

“God damn it, Mol,” he protests thinly, gazing up at her as she grinds onto him, palms fanning over his broad shoulders.

“C-close,” she mumbles, throwing her head back and basking in the rough treatment he’s lavishing on her breasts.

Joel strokes the side of her face with a reverence she’s going to tease him for in the morning before lightly slapping her again and grasping her hair in a mostly connected movement.

Molly comes hard, exclaiming loudly enough that he feels compelled to cover her mouth with his opposite hand. Molly’s shivering pulls him over fast, certain and uncaring that she’s drawing blood along his back. Joel cries out between some kind of euphoric giggle as she nips his palm, absurdity starting to dawn on her.

They both rock for a long minute as he comes, Molly affectionately kissing along his high cheekbones and stroking where she’d scratched.

Joel strokes her back in kind, boneless and comfortably counting the thrum of their heartbeats against each other. He huffs a soft laugh first.

“Don’t start. Was that good?” Molly asks.

“If you’re good, yeah,” Joel can’t stop touching her face at the most restrained of times, and he cradles it in two hands now. He seems to beam up at her, thoroughly contented.

Molly kisses along his cheekbones once more and he nudges her with his nose.

“C’mon, put a drunk old man to bed,” he jokes, patting her lower back gently.

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