#and that ellie can’t see her life matters

[aeirithgainsborough]

imagine if part 2 had been about ellie learning her life DOES matter, regardless of her immunity, and that’s why joel saved her and then lied to her about it. yes, there was selfishness in it, but there was also selflessness in it. it’s so rare to get one without the other. he cared for her he loved her of course he didn’t want her to die! but think about the things he says to her, after the giraffe scene, that she doesn’t have to do this and how she reveals the burden on her shoulders - that it all has to matter. that’s so much for a kid and it should never have been on her.

think about when he tells her you have to find something to survive for at the end, when she’s grappling with survivors guilt when it was never on her that people died and it certainly wasn’t on her to save the world. think about when he tells her that if he had a second chance at that moment, he’d do it all over again. like really think about it. that moment led to their estrangement. it led to her telling him they were done. he has to see her from afar living her life. but that’s the point. she lives a life. she grows up safe. she has friends. she’s happy. and despite the pain of losing another daughter, he’d do it all again, the heartache and the pain, because she got to live a life. the lie was for them both. he wanted to keep her in his life but he also wanted to lift the weight of the world off her shoulders, the burden she felt that at 14 years old she had to save the world or her life wouldn’t matter.

but her life always mattered. this special, funny, loving, determined, fighter of a girl always mattered just for her. ellie’s life was worth something and not just because she’s immune. joel saw that in their year of travelling together. and he made a choice and told a lie because he saw that. because she deserved to live. i just wish we’d got her realising it too in part 2, instead of what we did get. she deserved better. she deserved that rather than ending up alone and still feeling like her life lacked any meaning because she didn’t die to save the world.

[ciucalata]

i can say with my whole heart that i hate philosophy majors, i could talk about anything, literally anything and they’d still tell me what an old man in ancient greek thought about that and continue with the worst opinions i’ve heard in my life

[vampiefemme]

so, your best friend accidentally sent you a video of her masturbating. what now?

18+ below! smut smut smut!

ellie’s bedroom is heavy with the scent of sex, her fingers still pruned from her own wetness. she’s spent the last few minutes tense and panicked, too paralyzed with anxiety to get up and put some clothes on, and she’s considering what she’ll change her name to and where she’ll move to start a new life when you finally, finally text her back.

it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?

the weight on her chest eases a bit at your reassurance, but a new spark of uncertainty flares up at the second part of the message: give me a second to reply. jaw tight, she sends you a question mark, then follows up with you don’t have to respond. it’s probably better if you don’t?? again i’m so fucking sorry.

but as the minutes tick by, slow and lazed, she starts to panic again. her mind conjures every possible response you could send her next: an angry thesis statement on why ellie’s a disgusting pervert, a seething comment about how stupid she must be for sending a video like that so carelessly. would you ever look at her the same way? would things ever be the same?

all it takes is another notification from you to make every imagined worst-case scenario evaporate. ellie clicks the notification as soon as it pops up, chewing on the soft flesh of her inner lip.

it’s a video.

you sent her a video.

she hits the play button without a second thought, heartbeat thudding in her ears.

“i know you’re probably embarrassed,” you say, head tilting as you frown with sympathy. a blush paints ellie’s cheeks bright red. “but i need you to know how wet that made me.”

holding the camera up, you extend your arm outwards to reveal the rest of your body - your naked body, ellie realizes with a shock. she sits up in bed, back ramrod straight, her phone shaking as a nervous tremor strikes through her. but she can’t look away - not when you’re tracing a hand down the soft curves of your body, fingertips grazing over one peaked nipple, then moving lower, lower. ellie swears she’s forgotten how to breathe.

you release a pleased hum. “i liked watching you touch yourself,” you say, so matter-of-fact. “i hope you like watching me.”

and she does, god she does. she settles back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving the screen as you work two fingers through your soaked folds. you moan and sigh and keen, rolling your hips down against your own hand, the wet sounds of your pussy so intoxicating, ellie can’t believe she’s gone her whole life without seeing you like this.

and it might be wrong, the way her own hand drifts between her legs to find herself still hot and wet, but she doesn’t have it in herself to care. she dips a finger inside of herself as she watches you ride your own hand, grinding down on your palm as your fingers work in and out of your cunt. she finds a rhythm that matches your own; soon enough, you’re both gasping at the pleasure building beneath your waistline. with every roll of your hips, ellie’s cunt tightens, flooding with slickness - as if she could get any wetter.

as you get closer to the edge, your grip on your phone falters and the camera starts to shake. ellie hisses and curses under her breath when your phone captures the blissed-out look on your face: eyes rolled back, brows pulled together, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“oh - oh my god,” you stutter, panting, “i’m gonna come, ellie.”

ellie. ellie ellie ellie.

“holy fuck.” ellie’s pussy clamps down around her fingers at the sound of her name on your lips; her thumb glides over her clit just right, and she didn’t think she’d come this fast but she does, her vision exploding into blinding white as her orgasm crashes into her. it’s the only time she looks away from the video on her screen - but she certainly hears your orgasm, all high-pitched moans and ragged breaths, your cunt gushing onto your fingers.

when ellie finds the strength to open her eyes again, the video is still playing. you’re catching your breath, chest shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. you look at the camera and smile. ellie thinks she might pass out.

“thanks for the video,” you say, lifting your free hand up to wave.

when you bring your fingers to your mouth and purse your lips around them, sucking them clean of your own come, ellie’s sure she’s going to pass out.

and then, she decides, she’s going to fuck you stupid.

[greenglowinspooks]

The way that I’m brainrotting over a DCxDP crossover with a Danny who’s a vengeful villain rn

Like, let’s just say that the GiW finally get into contact with the JL. They need help neutralizing a threat, you see, and they’re on their last limb trying to keep civilians safe.

They have video evidence! They have studies to back their claims! The JL have to help them!

Unfortunately, the JL believe them. They join a fight against Danny, and defeat him due to being far more experienced than he is. Danny is locked away and experimented on by the GiW.

That would CHANGE a person. Your heroes turning against you and seeing you as a monster, being experimented on for who knows how long, not knowing if your friends and family are safe.

Danny gets out due to a simple mistake on the GiW’s part; having Blüdhaven as part of their transport route.

Of course the trucks were attacked, they’re government property!

So now, whoever decided to raid the government transport trucks (the Penguin or something) has a ton of experimental weapons with no idea how they work, and a heavily traumatized teenager.

Danny knows how they work. Danny can be useful! They won’t throw him out if he’s useful! And so, now Danny is working for the Penguin, altering the ectoplasm weapons to make them work on humans.

It’s a good deal for both parties. Danny gets to neurotically imprint on the Penguin like a small baby animal, and the Penguin gets a brilliant mind who will stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

But eventually, Danny finds out what happened to his family in his absence.

Jazz is in Arkham. Not as a psychologist, but as a “patient.” Apparently, she snapped and completely destroyed the house, leveled a few blocks of Amity Park, and conducted organized attacks on government bases (mostly GiW) for months.

Sam and Tucker helped her, eventually splitting once Jazz was captured. Sam travels to areas of extreme pollution, completely overgrowing them with her plant powers. Currently she’s in the Amazon rainforest, engaging in an ongoing feud with logging companies. Sam is winning.

Tucker faked his death, and Danny has no idea where he is. He only knows that the death wasn’t real because of a code that the three of them made together, just in case.

Ellie’s trapped in the Infinite Realms. Danny had a failsafe in place so that if she was ever cornered by the GiW, she would be sent to her haunt in the GZ. However, with the portal destroyed, she can’t come back. Danny just hopes she’s okay.

His parents are now top GiW scientists. They’re traveling the country giving speeches. They’re working on a battery powered by ectoplasm, but apparently started “having difficulties” around the same time that Danny escaped.

None of it is fair. None of it is right.

The Justice League destroyed his life, the lives of his friends, and they’re doing as good as ever. The GiW is respected, and his parents are happily working away for them.

Danny takes up some of his more experimental weapons and breaks Jazz out of Arkham. She’s a little different now, colder and more quiet, but she still loves him all the same. It’s an unimaginable comfort to him to see his sister again.

He can’t use his powers anymore. He’s so used to associating them with pain that even transforming into his ghost form is enough to take him down for hours.

However, he understands ectoplasm more than anyone else in the world. He knows how to use it in virtually everything; how it can become a weapon, how it can be used as a supplemental ingredient in poisons and nerve agents, how it can twist and distort the mind if applied correctly.

He doesn’t care what happens to him. He’s going to take down the GiW, and destroy the lives of the JL members who helped lock him away, just as they did to him.

No matter the cost.

[pedrospatch]

splash

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: You come home from your first day back out on patrol and find Joel giving your daughter a bath.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. GIRLDAD!JOEL. established relationship. this specific work does not mention reader’s age (other works in this series may mention she is younger than Joel), no physical description of reader, Rosemary comes with a slight physical description (she has Joel’s hair color/hair type and eye color, no mentions of her skin tone). brief mention of Sarah, brief mention of Joel being a single father pre outbreak, Joel and Ellie are fine because i said so and it’s what he deserves, okay? general fluff and a lot of cuteness, brief smutty themes, but nothing explicit. minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: short little thing, but this feels like the cutest thing i have written in a while. if you enjoy it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment <33

Joel sighs to himself as he scrapes the remnants of Rosemary’s lunch into the bin of food scraps beside the kitchen counter—the neighbor’s chickens were in for a real treat tomorrow morning when he dropped them off on his way to patrol. He had just about coaxed his two and a half year old daughter into eating the crust of her jam sandwich when Ellie walked into the kitchen with a soccer ball tucked under her arm, a trade he was fairly certain she’d made more for the toddler’s sake than her own.

She was sixteen now, spent more time with her friends than she did with her family lately, but her soft spot for the little girl always, always brought her back home.

“Hey kid, look what I’ve got,” Ellie had grinned, holding the ball out for the child to see. “What do you say we go out back and kick this thing around? Sound like fun?”

He frowned, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Ellie, can’t you see I’m in the middle of feedin’ her—”

But it had been too late.

Rosie’s dark brown eyes widened, and she squealed in delight. “Down! Down!” she had exclaimed, whacking her teeny hands down on top of her wooden high chair on either side of her plate. “Daddy! Down, want down!”

Joel decided to put his foot down.

Well, he had tried to put his foot down, anyway.

“Not ‘til you’ve finished every last bite, babygirl. Y’gotta finish your sandwich and eat all your carrots, alright?”

“M’all done,” she’d insisted, placing both hands on her belly. Although Joel would have preferred she clean her plate, you had taught him to honor her fullness cues.

“We have to listen to Rosemary,” you’d told him. “If she says she’s full, then she’s full. The last thing we want to do is force her to keep eating when she’s not hungry, Joel. Her relationship with food starts with us, after all.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like that goddamn child rearin’ book,” he had teased you, earning himself a stern glare.

He liked to give you a hard time about it, but the truth of the matter was, that parenting book you found in the library turned out to be pretty helpful for both of you—while this wasn’t Joel’s first rodeo, the last time he had been around a child this young was over three decades ago. With Sarah, he’d flown through her childhood by the seat of his pants, went through a lot more trial and error scenarios than he liked to admit.

Often, Joel found himself feeling guilty. He tried to give some credit to the clueless young man in his twenties, the one who had been left to raise his baby girl all on his own when her mom couldn’t take it anymore after one year. Things turned out alright, but whenever he sees you with Rosemary, takes in the way you pour your entire heart into being a good mother to yours and his daughter, he can’t help but reminisce on his first life, on all those moments he felt so hopeless—all of those moments when he didn’t know what to do, and had no one to turn to for help. No one to lean on.

Oh how he wished Sarah could have known what it was like to have both of her parents at her side.

Like Rosie does.

Sighing, Joel places her plate in the sink, along with his own. He turns and glances at the clock on the wall—it’s half past noon, and he knows your early morning patrol group should be arriving back to the town’s main gates any minute now. Sure, caring for Rosemary had served as a decent distraction, but every so often, his anxieties would creep up on him. He worried about you being out there on the other side of the wall. And if you being out there wasn’t bad enough, you were out there without him.

“I’m back on the patrol roster next week,” you informed him one evening while the two of you were cleaning the kitchen after supper. You winced when he dropped the plate in his hands into the sink, the loud clanking noise bouncing off the walls. You wasted no time in pleading your case. “It’s been almost three years, Joel. I have to get back to pulling my weight around here. As much as I’d love to, I can’t stay home forever, and you know that as well as I do.”

Slowly, he’d spun around to face you, the muscle in his jaw ticking—he wasn’t happy. “Find another job,” he bit through his teeth. “Somethin’ in town. Somethin’ safe.”

“Joel—”

“You’re a mother now!” he hissed, angrily.

“And you’re a father,” you’d countered without missing a beat. Knowing Joel’s reaction was only coming from a place of concern, you walked up to him and placed a hand on his heaving chest, right over his racing heart in an effort to calm him. “Look, I’m just capable of getting myself home safely as you are, alright? And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be partnered with Tommy. He’ll have my back.”

He’d found very little consolation in that.

Joel sighs again and reaches for the faucet.

“Uh, Joel?” Ellie’s voice comes from behind him.

“What?” He turns around, his jaw dropping open when he sees her standing there, carefully holding Rosemary out towards him by her underarms. She’s covered from head to toe in mud. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“You know how it was raining for like three days?” Ellie shoots him a sheepish smile. “The ball went into a mud puddle, and well, she sorta went in after it.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s filthy!” Exasperated, Joel narrows his eyes at her. “Why weren’t you watchin’ her?”

“I was, but she was too fast! Kid’s a little speed demon, man. Aren’t ya, Rosie?”

Rosie giggles and kicks her dangling feet, mud dripping off her tiny, leather oxford shoes and onto the floor with an audible splatter.

“She’s gonna be home from patrol any minute now,” he says, shaking his head. “If she sees Rosie like this, she’ll have my ass, and yours.” Carefully, he takes Rosemary from Ellie’s hands, holding her out and away from him. He jerks his chin towards the dirty floor. “Clean up this mess while I take her upstairs and give her a bath. We might just be able to get away with this.”

She gives him a thumbs up. “You got it, old man.”

“C’mon, Rosie Posie. Let’s get you all washed up before mama gets home and puts all three of us in a timeout.”

She gives him a wide, toothy smile. “Okay, daddy.”

Groaning, you shove through the front door.

You had underestimated how difficult it would be to get back in the saddle of a horse after almost three years of not being in one.

It would take some getting used to—again.

“Fuck,” you hiss, closing the door and leaning against it for support. Your knees. Your thighs. Your lower back.

There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t aching.

After taking a minute to collect yourself, you push away from the door and toe off your old, brown leather boots, leaving them there near the entryway. You call out, “I’m home!”

“Oh hey!” From seemingly out of nowhere, Ellie comes speeding down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of you with her backpack slung over her shoulder. “Just the person I wanted to see! Mind if I head over to Dina’s for a while?”

“How long is a while, El?”

“She invited me to stay for dinner.”

You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Again?”

Flushing, Ellie nods. “Yeah.”

“Did you ask Joel for permission?”

“Aw come on, man! Do I really have to ask Joel?” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I can hear him bitching at me already.” Dropping her voice several octaves, she starts to mimic him, accent and all. “Y’been spending every fuckin’ night over there. Don’t you forget you’ve got a family, kiddo.”

Amused, you chuckle and lightly nudge her shoulder. “I have to take his side on this one, Ellie. It would be nice for the four of us to have dinner together. You know, like we used to before Dina came into the picture?” 

“I’ll stay home for dinner for the rest of the week,” Ellie swears, clasping her hands together. “Please?”

Sighing in defeat, you step aside. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll hold you to your word though, alright?”

“Thank you!” she grins as she breezes past you and out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Shrugging out of your jacket, you hang it up in the hall closet and then head upstairs. “Joel? Are you up here?” There’s no answer. You pass by Rosemary’s room first and peek inside only to find it empty. Furrowing a brow, you head a bit further down the hallway into yours and Joel’s bedroom. That’s when you hear his voice coming from the en suite bathroom.

There, you find him kneeling on the tile floor beside the tub, his back to you as he gives your daughter her bath. Hours ahead of her normal schedule, you realize.

Casually leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, and quietly watch them, your lips already curling into a smile.

“What’s this?” Joel asks her, holding up a yellow rubber duck. It’s almost comical how small it looks in the palm of his large hand.

“Duckie!” Rosemary answers, enthusiastically.

He nods. “S’right, honey. It’s a duckie. And what sound does a duckie make?”

Craning your neck, you catch a glimpse of her sweet little face as she stares at him, her expression a mingle of equal parts curiosity and confusion.

“C’mon now, babygirl,” Joel prompts her, handing her the toy. “Mama taught you this already, remember?”

She looks at the rubber duck and thinks, thinks, thinks. 

After a minute, Rosie gasps and shouts, “Quack!”

“S’right! Good job, Rosie,” he praises. Leaning over the edge of the tub, he presses a kiss into her damp, dark brown curls. “That’s my girl. You’re so smart.”

“Quack!” Giggling, Rosie lifts her chubby arms over her head, bringing them down into the water with all of her might, splashing Joel. She does it over and over again, soaking his face and the front of his denim shirt as she chants, “Quack, quack, quack!”

“Alright, alright, alright!” Joel laughs, shaking his head. He lifts an arm, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “S’enough, my little duck. Daddy already had his shower today.”

Grinning, you saunter up behind him, and with a bit of protest from your back, you bend over to kiss the top of his head. You say in jest, “Without me?”

“Mama!” Rosie cries happily, reaching for you.

“Hi baby, I missed you!” Leaning down further, you kiss her cheek, the soothing, calming scent of her lavender soap invading your senses. Drawing yourself back up to full height, you glance down at Joel with suspicion. “Is there any particular reason you’re giving her a bath so early today?”

You can tell he’s contemplating lying to you. That is, until your eyes flicker over to her muddy clothes, which lie in a heap next to the hamper.

He’d forgotten to get rid of the evidence.

“Joel? What happened to my child?”

“We, uh, we had a little problem earlier this afternoon,” Joel explains, his ears burning red. “She was out in the backyard playin' with Ellie and she got into one of the mud puddles.”

“Rosemary Miller!” you playfully scold her. Placing your hands on your hips, you ask,“Is that true, young lady? Did you get into a mud puddle?”

Rosie beams. “Yeah!”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh and shake your head. “You silly girl.”

“Thought you’d be mad, darlin’,” Joel admits, peering up at you in relief.

“Joel, all that I ask when I leave her alone with you and Ellie is that I come home and she’s still in one piece,” you tease him.

Dipping his hand into the water, Joel splashes you, and of course, Rosemary decides to follow his lead and she does the same, bursting into another fit of giggles.

“Get her, Rosie, get her!” he encourages her. 

“Hey!” You jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet. “Cut it out! You’re getting water everywhere!”

About an hour later, once both Rosie and the bathroom floor are dry, Joel puts her down for her long overdue afternoon nap. He heads back into the bedroom where you’re digging in a drawer for a pair of clean leggings and a sweatshirt. He comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. He inhales deeply. 

“Ew, Joel, stop it! I’m all filthy,” you say, wiggling to get away from him. 

Joel holds you tighter. “Mm, I love it when you’re filthy, baby,” he smirks. “C’mon. She’s out for at least an hour. We’ve got some time to ourselves.”

“I’m so sore,” you whine. “From riding a horse all day.”

His lips find the shell of your ear and he whispers, “Too sore to ride me, darlin’?”

Biting back a tiny whimper, your head falls back onto his shoulder as wet heat pools between your thighs. He lightly nips at your pulse point, his teeth scraping your tender, delicate flesh.

“Jesus,” you breathe when he presses into you. You feel him against the small of your back—he’s already hard. “Can you at least let me bathe first?”

Joel hums. “I’ve got a better idea, baby.” Spinning you around, he reaches for the buttons of your shirt. “How’s about we save some water and shower together?”

“Thought you already had a shower today,” you remind him of what he’d said earlier.

He pushes your shirt off your shoulders and licks his lips. “I’m sure as hell up for another one.”

divider credit to @/saradika 🩵

[totheblood]

protective!spencer reid headcanons

a/n: this is a remake of one of my headcanons i did for ellie but i completely rewrote it cause yea... AI AUDIOS throughout, also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

spencer is extremely protective of you, more than anyone else in his life... he just doesn't know how to show it

he knows that the job entails danger and as much as he doesn't like it, there isn't much he can do about it

but that doesn't stop him from trying

when you partner up on cases together he always makes sure he enters first, a hand outstretched to make sure you're always covered

"it's clear, you can come on in now," he would whisper, gun still drawn. 

"spence, you don't have to do that every time."

"i know," he'd say with a small smile, "but i want to."

he tries not to coddle you. he has seen you take down unsubs twice your size(which he would be lying if he said it didn't turn him on), but sometimes his protective instincts just take over.

he'd rather put himself at risk than see you hurt. even after you're cursing him out, hands in a balled up fist banging on his kelvar vest. 

"what the fuck was that?" you'd yell, face getting hot, "i had him, and you could've gotten yourself killed,"

with an ice pack pressed to his forehead where the unsub got a punch in he closed his eyes gently, "i know, i know... i didn't even think, i just saw his hands on you and i just... look, i'm sorry for scaring you but i'm never going to be sorry for protecting you."

but when you get injured on a case, he just loses it

"what were you thinking, running in like that with no back up?" he'd scold while gently dabbing at the wound on your arm. 

"spence, I'm fine, it's just a scratch."

"just... be more careful next time, okay?" he'd say softly, looking around to make sure no one was watching before pressing a gentle kiss to your forhead, “i… can’t lose you.”

or if you were partnered with someone else and you came back with even a semblance of a bruise, he'd have his eyebrows furrowed, lips twisted into a scowl as he approached you, hands gently holding your arms, his face softening when you wince at the contact

"what happened?" he'd say voice tight, looking up at morgan who was trailing in behind you, looking guilty as ever. 

as derek opened his mouth to speak, you spoke up, "it wasn't his fau-"

"i didn't see him coming," morgan shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, "i got him off of her the minute he was on her."

"he shouldn't have had a chance to be on her," spencer spat back angrily.

"spence, it all happened in a matter of seconds," you say, voice sickeningly sweet as you tried to sooth his nerves, "i didn't see him coming either,"

"i know," he sighed, closing his eyes as he took a shaky breath in, "i know, but all it takes is one second and you could be..."

"i know," you pull him into a hug, his tall frame leaning down to wrap you in his arms, "but i'm here and i'm okay."

his protectiveness extends beyond the field too. 

the team would be out for drinks at o'keeffe's, you with a saltrimmed glass as you sat next to him. as you licked the edges, and drank your margarita with a satisfied grin, he would smile to himself, his smile dropping the minute a tall gruff man approached the two of you 

spencer's fingers twitch as the man puts his hand on the small of your back, taking notice in how your body tenses immediately and you laugh nervously. 

when he was in front of the team he wasn't your boyfriend spencer, he was your coworker spencer and as much as you planned on keeping it that way, spencer's patience was wearing thin each second the man's hand was on you. 

he'd cringe as you lean away from the man, mumbling some excuse like "i have a boyfriend," which made spencer's lips quirk upwards, just for a moment before he realized the man was still leaning into you, whispering, "he doesn't have to know,"

it's then that he steps in, getting up from his seat and stepping in between you and the man, flashing his badge at him with a quirked eyebrow and tight voice as he said, "i believe my colleague has made it clear she's not interested."

after a long case, one he knows hits you harder than the other's he is insisting you go to his apartment with him, his hands linking in yours the minute he's in the car and rubbing soothing circles into your palm

his voice is soft as he speaks over the radio, "everything okay, baby?"

"yeah," you would mumble, but he knows you too well and he knows that's not true. but he also knows you well enough to not bring it up again, choosing to distract you with your favorite songs on the drive or a warm bath when you get home, pressing sweet kisses all over your face as he bathes you

when you're sick, he shows up with:

homemade soup (his mother's recipe), herbal teas, and your favorite books which he reads to you, despite your protests for him to stay away.

instead he'd be telling you to open up as he fed you chicken soup while speaking to you gently, "did you know that chicken soup can actually help reduce inflammation? the chicken and vegetables in chicken soup actually inhibit the migration of neutrophils which can help you breathe better."

in public, his eyes always find you. especially at work he is glancing over at you from his desk, pen in his hand tapping the desk as he looks over at you for the thirteenth time that hour. 

"she's fine, kid. she's not going to magically disappear from her desk," derek teases, as he leans on spencer's desk, looking over at where your eyes finally met his and gave him a soft smile. 

"i know. i just like seeing her smile," spencer replies, voice soft as he smiles back at you. 

[s-4pphics]

errr hi cont to this or whatever combating my depression with horny crazy lesbians with parental trauma goodbye again

—

Guilt festers in Ellie like hornets.

She hardly remembers the last time she’s seen you. The turbulence that roared within you for months had finally reached its peak, and it sent you crashing into a static-filled void — an unsettling tranquility. Whenever she’s home, you don’t say a word to her, fully committed to the bind that reinforces your lack of autonomy. But still, the house stays clean, dinner stays served, and Ellie stays guilty.

She can’t pinpoint for what exactly — her aggression towards you throughout your marriage, her ignorance to your suffering, for leaving you alone to wilt while she goes and lives her life like you don’t exist, like the weight of the band on her finger doesn’t snare whenever they dig inside someone else.

Divorce. Divorce…

If it ever occurs, both families will bury you, then Ellie, then each other, only leaving behind wasteful bundles of inheritance and homes with no name. But death… It has to be better than this crushing burden in her stomach. It has to be.

There’s water running. Right above where Ellie sits on the couch with a bouncing knee, fiddling with her wedding ring. Her heart thumps in her chest when the rush stops. You must be in the bath.

The thought should make Ellie flush and stutter; the image of her beloved wife bare and surrounded by bubbles from the neck down, scented with lavender and incense, soft as ever.

But she can only see you drowning. Breathing water into your lungs as you fight against your own will to survive. Your screams are loud beneath suffocation, battered as you…

Call out to her—

“Ellie.”

She flinches at your presence from behind, heart racing at the sight of you in your robe and dripping hair, somehow disheveled despite your cleanliness. Ellie swallows dryly when water drips down your neck and seeps into your gown’s collar. The tie is synched around your waist and your breasts are pushed together from its tightness and Ellie’s lost her mind because she shouldn’t be gawking like this. Her eyes fly back to the vacant windows that bring such torture.

“I ran your bath.”

You turn to leave without another glance, already up three— five steps before Ellie mutters,

“Thank you.”

She sees your shoulders stiffen, and she shifts uncomfortably where she sits. It might be the first time you’ve heard any verbal appreciation from her. From anyone, matter of fact. Ellie’s heart thrashes in her chest at the look you give over your shoulder: confused… and so, so tired. The emptiness within them sends her stomach into knots, churning up that treacherous feeling that makes her ill whenever she really looks at you.

But then you smile, soft lips curled around pearly teeth. Dark. Empty.

“Anything for my wife.”

The term of endearment is poisonous on your tongue. Small hairs on Ellie’s arms are upright and thrum with fear and embarrassment and… shockingly enough, something else. Something dirty and thoughtless. It’s the maroon robe. It has to be.

“Should I prep you for the bath, as well?”

Your tone is hateful. Mockingly so. Why does Ellie’s face burn? Why do her nails dig into the cushion beneath her? Why is her breathing so shaky? Why is her body so hot? Because of you, of all people, and you’ve barely spoken to each other. You hate her and she hates you so why why why.

Disgusted eyes rake over Ellie’s squirming form, and a smirk grows on your face.

“I’ll be upstairs.” Voice soft as a feather, but your feet are weighted with each stomp up the stairs.

Ellie can’t halt her fear for what waits for her in your bedroom. Fear has never made her thighs rub together this much.

—

Ellie’s in a fever dream.

You put something in her wine from earlier. She’s knocked out cold and this is all a fucked up, sadistic nightmare. The lavender scent that floats through the marble bathroom isn’t real, the candles that burn with cinnamon aren’t real, the last sizzles from the bathbomb melting into the water isn’t real, your hands aren’t… She can’t feel them. They’re definitely not real. Not where they gently massage her shoulders.

But they are. How fucked up is Ellie. It’s been all of two minutes and she’s already memorized your fingerprints through her button up. Nothing but guilt, guilt, guilt and fear and arousal that makes her more guilty. What sick game are you playing at. You’re so fucking sick.

“You’re so tense, wife… You really needed this bath, huh?”

Your nails sink into her shoulders and Ellie can almost feel your venom eating away at her bloodstream. Her toenails scrap against the tile through her socks. She won’t stop fiddling with her wedding ring. A sign of guilt. An act of nerves.

Your hands drag from her neck to her collarbones and she shivers whenever your nails rake through her. They reach the top button of her shirt. Each pop of a button sends aggressive rattles to Ellie’s ribcage.

Before your meddling fingers stop.

Her flushed chest rises with rapid breaths. Your eyes sear and they’re electric. Ellie’s heart stops when she realizes where your attention is.

A blotchy, ruby-red bruise sits right in between her breasts. The bite glows blue where it fades. It taunts you. Ellie can see it where your jaw clenches. Guilt guilt guilt guilt—

“Who gave you that?”

You sound so innocent. Her anxiety will peak in an instant.

“No one.”

Ellie gasps sharply when buttons clatter to the floor, angered hands ripping open her shirt, prying the fabric from her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. She’s stiff as a board, unable to move, forbidding to combat your aggression. Why does she allow you to take?

“Who gave that to you?” You grit before reaching for her Louis Vuitton belt, pulling it from the loops and throwing it behind you. “Huh? A friend of mine? A family member? Someone I know?”

You smile like it excites you to know who wrecked your home. Who your wife abandoned you for, all for a fix — to exist outside of her body and not think about the world she despises. Ellie shakes her head. Why does she wish to appease you all of a sudden? She’s never cared; never hesitated to flaunt her lechery to you in the late hours of the night. Why now?

“How long ago? How gorgeous was she? Did she give you everything you desired—“

“Stop—“

“Maybe you should invite her over,” You suggest painfully, seductively while you treat her slacks with the same violence, “I’m sure our parents wouldn’t mind a third. More money, right? She’s rich, isn’t she?”

Your suggestion sends knives into her throat. Her hands clamp down onto your arms to get you off. To pull you closer. Fuck, fuck —

“Bring all your whores here, matter of fact!” You screech and fight against Ellie’s grip on your wrists. “I’ll let them fuck me with you if you want! I’m sure it’d please you, wife—“

Ellie nearly vomits when slick drips from her at the imagery; you completely engulfed by the pleasure you deserve for being such a good wife, fucked to peak after peak. Hands all over you, bruised to hell, stress-free. She’d give you that. Only she could give you that. No one else, fuck, just her—

She uses all her strength to shove you into the wall near the sink, ripping your hands from her pants and shoving them behind you, holding you still as you thrash and shout obscenities.

Her heart breaks when you release the loudest sobs she’s ever heard from you, and all she can do is apologize. Whisper calming words against your wet cheeks.

“Look at me, look at me, fuck, m’sorry—“

“Why me! What d-did I do to deserve this! Why — why —“

“I know, I’m sorry, I know I know—“

Ellie blows cool air all over your cheeks. Gentle brushes of wind that ice your boiling skin before your hollers turn to devastated whimpers. She watches you self-soothe, blows more air on your face, redirects your attention onto her.

“Look at me.” She says into your skin.

You whimper and shake your head, eyes downcast at her feet.

“Can you do that for me so we can talk?”

“I don’t wanna fucking talk to you.”

Ellie huffs a laugh at your insolence, “Fair, but I need you to calm down. Can we agree on that?”

“I didn’t drown you. That’s as calm as you’re gonna get.”

Ellie smiles sadly, “Also fair.”

“You’re fucking dead to me.”

“… Potty mouth.”

Ellie loosens her grip on your wrists when you shove her off you, head plopping onto the wall as you gaze at her, eyes filled with rage and possessiveness and lust. For once, your eyes mirror hers.

Your robe isn’t as tight after your fighting, a glimpse of a nipple peeking beneath the deep red cloth. She shouldn’t look, not when you're this vulnerable and hurt, but she can’t help it. She can’t explain it, but she wants you to see how hungry she is for you. So much guilt.

She doesn’t know how to love, to be kind, to dote like a wife should. She can’t do that with you. But she stares, gazes at you with territory. What she’d give to be all over you.

Her ogling pauses when you laugh to yourself, cheeks still glistening under the candlelight. Ellie frowns despite the butterflies in her stomach.

“You’re crazy.”

You don’t adjust your scattered dress, pushing yourself off the wall and into Ellie’s chest. You invade her senses like she wants; her body aches and shakes when your breasts touch hers. She can smell you. All you have to do is inch closer. Your noses almost touch. She just needs a bit more from you and you’ll have her. All to yours—

“Enjoy your bath…”

Your lips tickle hers,

“Ellie.”

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip when you vanish into the bedroom. She's never climbed in there with you, but she just might.

-

-

-

Ellie didn’t believe you when you said she was dead in your eyes, but now, she realizes you might’ve actually meant it. She assumed you to be a vessel of patriarchy, of status, of everything she loathes, but you’re unraveling before her eyes, inklings of your true self seeping through the cracks of your parents’ mold.

You might be just as vile as she is. You might even have her beat. You do want her dead.

What else can she think as she sinks lower into her bath to hide her shock, eyes glued to the glass dildo that still drips with your slick at the edge of the tub? Right next to your wedding ring.

How nasty would she be to use your cum as lube while she fucks herself in the shower? How gross would you be if you awoke from your slumber to watch her get off to you?

… Come to think of it, you both never consummated your marriage.

You deserve to wake up to something nice.

[tremendum]

Mr. Miller’s House 

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)      

word count: 7.6k  requested: yes  summary: “Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.” warnings: mentions of food/eating, drinking alcohol, age gap (unspecified), Jackson era, Ellie gets a splinter, Joel is honestly rude to Ellie in this and reader is judgy about Joel’s parenting practices lol. but really,  this is just filthy smut (PiV, unprotected), dirty talk, sir kink, use of the word slut a LOT, one use of the word bitch, humiliation/degradation, hints of masochism, choking, exhibitionism, public smut, rough sex, dom!Joel, mean joel, lots of fighting/anger, cumplay, dirty talk, ass spanking, pussy spanking, mentions of blood (reader gets scraped knees), throat/facefucking, rough oral (m!receiving), overstimulation, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms. lmk if i missed any please lmfao

notes: okay jesus fucking christ!!! i wrote this so fasst lol but it was fun and highly requested. hope yall like it.  as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because as i have said before im lazy and INSANE! 

[this is a sequel to Mr Miller.    part three   other Joel fics:     fever       landmines  ]

★  

this was a mistake. you shouldn't have done this....this was a terrible idea. 

fuck. 

the chair is stiff beneath you. there's a hard coolness about it that is welcomed on the skin of your bare legs, the shorts you wear helpful in the heat of summer but futile against the slick of sweat that sheens your skin. the chair is hard, but yet still strong, sturdy.

 you swallow dryly, heart beating fast. it's the same chair you sat at just a few weeks ago, signing the log with Joel leaning over your shoulder, before he-

you look away, around, anywhere in order to avoid the memories, hot and boiling and clawing at your mind and suffocating you until you stop breathing- and then your eyes settle, they glue themselves across the kitchen table. 

they glue themselves to him. 

fuck. 

Joel's already staring at you; his lips are downturned in that permanent grimace he always sports, the muscles of his torso rigid with immobility - perhaps he thinks if he's still enough, the ground will just swallow him whole and he won't have to do this. 

you yearn for that escape as much as he does. 

then, out of the silence; "see, this isn't so bad." 

speak for yourself, Ellie. 

both heads in the room turn to the speaker slowly, the girl watching between the two of you, more than willing to ignore the obvious disdain in the air. she's grinning like a damn devil. 

this girl's going to kill you. 

it is that bad, contrary to Ellie's statement. 

it'd been days of her begging you, with a tug on the hand, a punch to the shoulder, and countless pleads and threats until you finally caved in and accepted her proposal to have her and Joel over for dinner. 

no matter how much you detest her guardian, you just can't resist those big puppy-dog eyes, or that gigantic, youthful smile. 

for the last few months, Ellie has grown to be quite the little farmhand for you; though you like to keep to yourself on your days in the gardens, it was nice to have the girl buzzing around you and the other gardeners, pollinating each person she sees with questions like what really happens in germination and is this ripe? can I pull it? 

it's cute, how excited she is to show Joel all of the crops you've grown with her in the last few months. but what isn't cute, is that it's him that has to be here. of all people, why did Joel have to be the one Ellie chose as her father? 

because.... things weren't okay between you and Joel. 

you're not sure if you were childish for expecting for him to warm up to you after - well, after the time he bent you on this table and fucked you stupid - but you hadn't been prepared for the coldest shoulder you've ever gotten in your measly life for the last few weeks. 

it didn't help that the summer was kicking up and you needed more crops than ever for the commune; your patrolling had dwindled into maybe one or two every week or so, usually with Maria - so you didn't have to face Joel, really, at all. 

but he avoided you like the plague when in town or on your street (though, he did that with everyone) and even at the Tipsy Bison, where your presence would clean him from the room before a drop of condensation could even slide down his glass of whiskey. 

hell, maybe he even put a word in with Maria and Tommy that the last patrol together didn't go as planned; you'd even considered doing it at one point. you're not sure, but it just made you all the more irritated when you'd catch glimpses of their porch in the afternoons, Joel holding a guitar around Ellie's chest, chuckling as she strummed horribly. as if everything was okay. like you didn’t exist. 

the anger and hatred grew awful. 

it festered, grew when Maria mentioned off-handedly to Tommy that some woman, Dahlia, had taken a liking to Joel. you'd nearly shattered the glass you were holding in your fist at that; Joel, with Dahlia? that grumpy piece of shit, taking a liking to someone sweet and kind like her? 

you ought to punch his fucking face. 

you're zoned out when Ellie suddenly comes into your line of sight; reaching over your chest to grab a slice of the fresh bread you'd picked up earlier that day. you blink back into reality as Joel grunts, "E-Ellie, hey." he's shaking his head as he gestures to her arm, "use your manners." 

he sounds almost embarrassed; annoyed. your mind betrays you as it whirls back; when Joel had you pinned down on this very table, commanding you in a different way, his eyes dark with delight as you cried and writhed for him. 

but at his chastising, you send Ellie a sneaky look, rolling your eyes when Joel's looking down. the girl chuckles at that and an untrusting Joel stares daggers between the two of you. Ellie clears her throat with a smirk,  "sorry. can you please pass me the bread?" 

you grin, "why, yes, ma'am." you hand her the basket, "thank you for asking." you add to the girl on your right, your eyes on Joel's. he stares back harshly, hand grabbing for the glass of wine that sits in front of him. 

another few moments of tension before Elie decided to take it upon herself to introduce as much of the food that sits on the table in front of you as she can remember. 

peas, spinach, lentil and cabbage stew, beet salad, goat cheese and roasted carrots, cauliflower mash. fresh bread.

proteins from animals are scarce and are typically served in only the dining hall, so you decided to skip the meat and serve roasted artichoke instead. Joel doesn't look too thrilled about that as Ellie explains. you hide your scoff behind a sip of your dark wine. 

"-and, look, I planted these beets." Ellie points to the bowl on the table which houses arugula and beet salad; you smirk down at the plate as Joel hums as if interested. his eyes flicker to yours from across the table as Ellie delves in on a tangent about how bloody beets look, those dark pupils flickering over your face before flitting back to the young girl. his eyes were swimming with something else, something.... seductive. 

a shiver runs down your spine.

does he ever think about it? 

you do. you think about it every night - how his hands felt, rough, unforgiving; the look on his face, that dark smirk when he'd made you beg for him to ruin you... the frenzy in his eyes when he'd ‘taught you some goddamn manners,’ when he'd taken you apart brutally and quick. Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months. 

your name calls you back to Ellie, whose eyes are wide and tracing over a rough, splintered notch in your table, "the hell is this from, is it-" her fingers jolt away at the rugged piece that slides into her skin, "shit!" she yelps, shaking her hand. 

your brows furrow, rising to help her as Joel pulls her hand towards him.  "I have tweezers." you mutter, disappearing into your bathroom to pull out your tweezers, returning to see Ellie smiling in embarrassment and Joel sitting with his arms crossed, amused irritation lacing his face. his beard is growing in more recently - you can hear the noise of the short bristles scratching his hand as he rubs his knuckles over his jawline. 

nodding, pleased that Ellie's discomfort has subsided, you set your tweezers on your right, spearing some salad on your fork as silence cradles you three yet again. 

it’s only tense and silent for a moment. then Ellie speaks, and it’s just tense.

"why is there a notch like that in your table?" she finally wheezes, as if she'd been summoned to be silent until she couldn't handle her curiosity anymore. 

you don't have to look up to know that a pair of dark eyes pin you to your chair, daring you to say something about it. 

your throat dries as you swallow your mouthful of salad, coughing a bit. 

a rip in your flannel, the grazing of your soft skin with the blade. a hand pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the thick slide of Joel as he drags his length through your destroyed, spent core. 

"um- I-I" perhaps it's your panic, of the knowledge that his eyes are glued to you, but soon your eyes meet his; unwavering. "well. someone likes to threaten people when they can't find patrol logs." 

"Joel!" Ellie hisses, smacking his arm, "you fucking stabbed her table and didn’t do anything about it?” she’s grinning. 

"yeah, Joel," you smirk, swirling with desire as his hawkish gaze pins you to your chair, "you really should use your manners. you've ruined my table." 

"shut the hell up right now." he snaps at you, hand slamming his fork down harshly onto the plate. you and Ellie both jump at the sternness in his voice. 

you listen, for once. 

and honestly, ten minutes ago feels like heaven compared to the tenseness of this silence. 

several minutes go by, the sounds of scraping forks and knives and the meager attempts by you and Ellie to salvage a decent dinner conversation ringing soft in your kitchen. 

at least you and her are trying. 

you ignore the notch from the knife like a wildfire and pretend Joel isn't even with you; Ellie is more than enough life and laughter for you, and your playful disposition matches hers perfectly despite the joy-damper of a man sat across from you. 

he's stewing. arms crossed, chewing on food here and then, mostly listening and sighing, brushing off Ellie's jabs or playful questions or stories. he won't do anything except eat and glare at you. 

the wine bottle is nearly gone and you're not sure if it's his fault or yours. probably both. 

you snap when he just outright ignores Ellie, shaking his head with a sigh and taking another bite. the audacity. 

"-she asked you a question, Miller." you snap, fed up with his dissociative disposition. you don't even intend to say it; even Ellie looks up at your words, surprised. 

his head turns to face you too slow to be safe. his eyes are fucking furious as he mutters, "excuse me?" 

"hey, guys-" Ellie's hands are out in front of her, but you can't take your eyes off him. 

"I'm just saying, you could at least try to pay attention." you spit, crossing your arms defensively, "we made this dinner, we're just trying to have a conversation, the least you could do-" 

"you don't tell me what to do." he states, calm and cool, pointing at you. his nose flares as he breaths heavy, your own breath quickening. arousal rushes to your center and you shift on your seat. 

"-listen, maybe this was a bad idea. I knew you weren't the best of friends, but this is-" Ellie starts again, eyes flickering between you both. "this is too awkward." 

"no, Ellie, I'm sorry-" you start to say, breaking. 

you don't want her to be caught in the cross-fire of your problems with Joel; it's unfair. the further this goes, the more she'll be put in a position of mediator, so you figure it should just end now. 

"Ellie, go home." 

Joel growls the demand, eyes looking to her, his hand falling gently to her shoulder. her eyes widen, as if asking him if he's serious. 

"what?" she asks, "no! you'll-you’ll fucking stab each other or something." 

yeah, you think. you might. 

Joel's shaken off her shoulder but he's resilient, "go on, go see the kids for the movie. I'll come later. we just need to sort something out." he mutters, eyes falling to you at the tail end of his sentence. 

shivers roll down your spine; fuck, fuck - a flood of arousal hits you again, and you swallow, willing the feelings to go the fuck away. 

Ellie's scowling, but still has the decency to thank you for dinner before slamming the door hard on her way out of the threshold. 

Joel's eyes stay locked with yours until her footsteps are gone. 

it’s silent for a moment before he speaks. 

"do not fuckin' disrespect me like that in front of her again." he snaps. 

you narrow your eyes, "you're concerned that I- what, I undermined you in front of your girl?" you hiss incredulously. "come on, that's pathetic." 

"I don't like you." he snaps, shoving his plate away from him in an almost childish act of defiance. it’s shocking, the immaturity of his words so sudden. barely prompted. 

it's clear he intends to continue this little confessional of his, but you have no intention of allowing that. 

you roll your eyes, "big fucking deal. what do you want me to say?" you hiss, "sorry that I was rude, Mr. Miller! let me just cook you fucking dinner and invite you over to make up for it." 

his nostrils flare, "never wanted to do this in the first place." he mutters. 

you nearly rip out your hair in frustration. "obviously you didn't! christ, why do you always act like everything you do is a goddamn chore?" you snap, "Ellie wanted to have a nice night and show you what we've been doing- what she's been doing for this community. and all you can do is sit here and act like a fucking asshole because you don't know how to enjoy anything. it's a miracle she's still around with you, when you treat her like that." 

his jaw clicks in anger, "you have no fuckin' clue what we've been through together." his voice is close to a yell, "you don't know how much that girl means to me." 

"then why won't you show her!?" you yell. 

it quiets the room for a moment and a fleeting feeling of pride is squashed when he speaks again. 

his brows raise, a look of realization creeping onto his face. he nods his head, "I see what this is," he lets out a bitter, mocking laugh. "you want me to tell you how much I love your food? y'trying to prove to me that you're not a bad influence on her, after all?" 

you stare at him, anger clouding your sight; are there tears of frustration rimming your eyes? you hope he doesn't notice. 

"-newsflash, darlin', I don't fucking care about you." he finishes, scowl dark. "you're a nuisance. don' know why Tommy took you in, anyways. you're a foul-mouthed, untrustworthy, pathetic little slut- and jus' because you can't stop thinking about my cock doesn't mean I owe anything to you. no dinner, no fuckin- cordial neighborly attitude, nothing." 

thinking about- what?

oh, fuck him. your face burns; your jaw unhinges. of course he thinks this is about you and him. your eyes spare a quick, fleeting glance to the notch in the table before you glare, "well I don't fucking care about you either, Miller. don't be so fucking conceited." 

he laughs, shaking his head as he downs the remainder of his wine before slamming the glass down, but you're not finished. you can't let him think he's won. 

"you’re delusional. I haven't thought of it once." you spit, aflame at his accusation. you feel flustered, still caught off-guard. if anything, it was him who was obsessed with it - you see the way his eyes can't leave you; the way he adjusted his jeans earlier when you leaned over to pull a bowl from your cabinet. 

"really?" he spits, brows raised. his chest moves with the exertion of your yelling and you resist the urge to hit him or stomp your foot or anything. "yes, really." you defend, face heating up under the scrutiny of his knowing gaze. 

"anyone ever tell you you're an awful liar, sweetheart?" he drawls, raising his brows at you. 

you fume, standing up, pointing to the door, "get the fuck out, Joel." 

his eyes light ablaze with the same anger that rages in your heart as he stands, throwing his napkin on his plate, "gladly. food was great." he spits, storming out of the house with no other words. 

-- 

your scowl doesn't leave your face for the entire rest of the night. what- what the fuck was that? how dare Joel assume so much about you- he doesn't know you, at all. 

your eyes fall to the bottle in your hands.

ellie left her water canteen at your place. you were so angry, so mad earlier, that you hadn’t realized she’d left it until a few minutes ago. 

she doesn't need it, right? she could get it next time she comes round. yeah. she'll get it next time, you don't have to go over. right?

no. 

you have to go over. 

the anger within you festers just as much as the slick that plagues the apex of your thighs in the aftermath of your spat with Joel; it's a vicious cycle where you think about his tone, how condescending it was and then you get mad - but some sick part of you wants it to consume you; wants him to consume you. 

you’re fucking obsessed with him. you hate him. 

you need to hear him yell at you again- if-if anything, to get your ten cents in on the argument, and also maybe to get some good content for your wet dreams tonight. jesus christ. 

god, you're so fucked up. 

christ. 

so once you finish cleaning from the remnants of the meal, your legs are carrying you over to his house with Ellie's canteen in your hand before you can second-guess it. 

what the fuck are you doing? 

you're standing on their porch in mere seconds, your breath heavy with wrath. what if Ellie opens the door? well- you suppose, if she does, you'll give her the canteen and talk to her. probably apologize for acting the way you did. no business with Joel, then. yeah.  that’s... that’s fine. 

fuck. why do you want Joel to answer so terribly? 

you know where the answer lies - a coiling beast of arousal, consuming and muddling your mind, just at the apex of your thighs. 

Joel is a fucking asshole. you need him. now. 

your knuckles slam so hard and unforgiving against their door that there is no possibility of them assuming it's anybody else but you at their porch. their light is flickering and dim above you as you stand, canteen in hand, eyes trained forward in determination.  

the door swings open in an air of irritation. 

your face jerks back as Joel Miller stands, staring at you with the disdain of a thousand lifetimes swirling around his eyes. 

"y'here for more?" he snarks. 

your momentary hesitation melts away when his words drip from his lips. a glare pierces him through the eyes when you shove the canteen into his hands, "I'm here for Ellie. she left this." you spit. 

he lets out a chuckle, humor absent from the ring as he scratches his nose, "right." he mutters. "well she ain't home. went to the movie in town." he clips, setting the canteen on the table just inside the house. "y'need me to pass any more of your words of wisdom on to her?" he asks, voice clipped and prickled with sarcasm. 

you glare. "yeah. just do me a favor, tell her I'm sorry her dad is being a hypocritical, neglecting asshole." you snark, sending a false smile up at him as he leans with his arms crossed at the doorway.

you don't miss how he leans into it, how he's not slamming the door on your face. he wants to argue, too. "-and you can suck a dick, Mr. Miller." you add, intending to whirl away on your heel. 

he scoffs, a deep and condescending noise. "thanks for comin' all the way over to return a little canteen. g'night, darlin', hope you don't make too much'a mess when you cum all over that table again tonight thinkin' of how much I hate you. glad y'got your ten cents in." 

your face burns hot in embarrassment, and at the irony of him using the same phrase you’d thought. 

the door moves quick to shut, but your arm moves quicker. 

your hand wedges is just before it shuts, leaving you far too close to Joel than you'd like - gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey surround your senses. again. 

so you shoot another fist forward, aiming for his left jaw; aiming for it to hurt.

he’s going to fucking hurt.  

it doesn't make contact with the warm skin, though: no, his hand has caught your wrist in an iron-tight grip, wrenching your arm down hard. 

you let out a gasp of surprise as he shoves you off of the door and away from him before you can blink. 

but instead of the door slamming in your face, his rough hands are pushing you hard up against the side of his garage. the door behind him remains ajar as he pushes himself into your space, growling at you as your mouth falls open in shock. 

"did you just try to hit me, girl?" he whispers, voice deadly serious. you swallow, arousal rushing down to your heat; you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy as he stares hard at you, but your eyes trail down to his jeans.

you hide your smirk as you take in the stretch of the rough denim, the outline of his own arousal evident even in the dim light. he’s hard because you were going to hit him. 

your body aches as you remember the stretch of him inside you, splitting you open. your eyes flicker back up to his where he breathes heavily, expecting a response. 

you give him one. 

"yes, but you already knew that." you smirk, cocking your head as you boldly gyrate your hips forward slightly, your clothed cunt clenching in desire as you graze his hard-on. "or are you not hard right now, Mr. Miller?" you purr, your voice laced with seduction. 

his rough hand shoves your hips hard back against the wall, a growl slipping his throat. "y'got a dirty fuckin' mouth on you." his breath hits your cheeks in a warm reminder of the wine you'd both had for dinner. 

"so it wasn't because of that?" you ask, blinking in a false sense of innocence, watching as his eyes swim with an animalistic hunger. you've got him right where you want him. "was it from thinking about me touching myself? or, from remembering the last time we were together in my house?" 

his momentary lapse in recovery allows for you to go in for the final kill, "Mr. Miller,” you coo, “do you think of my pussy when you fuck Dahlia? d'you wish it was me?" you spit, smirking up at him as red splatters his furious features, "you can talk all you want, Mr. Miller, but I know you're just a greedy, desperate man who loves to pretend you have any power over me." you whisper into the shell of his ear, palm roughly grabbing the outline of his cock boldly. 

his next movements take your breath away: the shock of his fists slamming hard against the wall on either side of your head makes you jump, and his hawkish, angry eyes bore into yours. 

"get your fuckin' hands off of me. now." 

his voice is... scary. 

the blood leaves your head as your damp spot of your pants floods with desire, the fear spiking a real excitement in you. you are smart enough to follow his orders; the look in his eyes suggests you do so. 

your hands shakily fly back from his crotch to hang by your sides as you stare up at him - nervous. excited, ready. 

his eyes are narrowed, stern as his brows are furrowed low. the permanent scowl on his lips is intimidating as he holds your gaze with fierce intent. "you're gonna be real fuckin' honest with me, now. okay?" 

you swallow dryly, staring up at his face, how he's boxed you in with arms on either side of your head. you feel cornered, small; prey, hunted by predator. 

you nod smally, startled into silence, unable to speak as the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. your legs clench, searching for relief only to be disappointed at the dull sensation. 

he stares at you for a few moments, unmoving except for the flaring of his nostrils and the rising of his chest as he breathes just as heavy as you. 

"are you wet?" 

your face flushes with heat. christ, Joel is going to kill you. (if you don't kill him first). your legs feel weak, desire driving your heart rate up as you nod meekly, voice cracking out. "y-yes." 

he nods, seemingly pleased with your honesty. 

"how long have you been walkin' round with ruined panties?" his head tilts down slightly, angled down at you as if chastising you. you flush in shame, genuinely taking a moment to remember the exact moment you first noticed your underwear dampen. 

you can't admit to him that you woke up this morning with his name on your lips and a wet patch on the seat of your sleep shorts, can you? (and certainly not that it happens every day.) 

"s-since-" you take a sharp inhale, glaring at him for humiliating you like this - outside, no less. anybody could walk past or look out their window and see Joel and you like this. "dinner." 

his brows raise, the look darkening on his face. you can tell, he loves the beginning - the teasing, the arguing, the embarrassment - just as much as the end. "dinner? s'like, two hours." his frown immodest, tempting. judging. 

you nod, biting back a snide comment about Joel being an excellent time-teller, your face burning in embarrassment as you break eye contact, staring at your feet. 

"d’you like being a slut?" he asks, then. you nearly whimper at his words, the aching in your cunt burning, pulsing and clenching around nothing as you stare at him in desire. fuck Joel Miller. 

"'m not a slut." you say, but the defiant words come out more as a whine than a sharp argument. one hand falls from the wall on your left to grip onto your jaw, holding your cheeks hard as he forces your eyes back up to him. 

his nails dig into the soft flesh of your cheeks as you gasp, your own hands in fists as you resist pulling him into you. 

"that's not what I fuckin' asked, now, is it?" he sneers. you blink up at him, shaking your head after a moment of contemplation. "no, sir." you whisper meekly. you don't miss the tightening of his grip at the honorific as it falls sultry from your lips. he hums. 

"do you want me to touch you?" he asks next. you can't even have the decency to stop your whine as you nod, "yes, please." 

his other hand falls from the wall, eyes just as angry and unforgiving as he undoes the button on your shorts single-handedly. "good. don't you fuckin' look away from my eyes, y'hear me? hands down, eyes up." 

this is twice now that he hasn't let you touch him - your brows furrow, but just as he snaps in front of your face, you let the thought melt away. 

"y-yes, sir." you nod, your palms sweaty, heart thundering as he shoves his hand down the front of your shorts, breaching your underwear easily as fingers slide through the deft curls that lie just above your heat. 

"gotta warm y'up for me this time," he mutters, eyes sharp as he watches yours, ensuring they don't do as much as blink. 

it's delicious, almost too much as two of his thick fingers part the seam of your lips, your wetness spilling and coating his fingers immediately. you burn in shame, thighs starting to close over his hand. 

one ruddy, thick thigh slides to kick your leg to the side, widening your stance as he shoves you harder up against the side of the house. the tip of his finger prods at your aching hole, leaking with desperation for him. 

there are crickets outside, a steady but low staccato of music filling the summer Jackson air as one finger slowly slides into you, curling unforgivingly as you gasp, rising on your toes as he stretches you. "fuck," you whimper, throwing your head back against the wall behind you. 

the thud is dull, but it echoes around the street and it calls your attention to the very public space you're in. 

"hey." Joel snaps, one hand swatting your cheek lightly as your eyes close, "don't look away." 

you blink back at him as he pumps lazily for a few moments, watching your every micro-expression, the way your chest stutters with his motions. the noise of your arousal is humiliating against the pleasant summer breeze. 

you can't help the low moan of his name when he adds a second finger. the stretch is nothing like when it's his cock inside of you, but the strokes, the curl of his fingers start to coax a simmering coil in you that you know will explode soon. 

your eyes are still on his obediently when you nearly whisper it. 

he hears it, though, and smirks, "what was that, darlin’?" 

you groan in irritation but it splinters into a sharp moan when his fingers pick up their pace, fucking into you as you lie slack against the wall, legs trembling. 

"just- fuck me. fuck me now." you wheeze, the desire a burning snake that coils around your chest and squeezes at your heart. 

"no." he decides, eyes glaring, "can't have y'whining like a bitch again, darlin'. gotta open you up on my fingers first." the sting of his words are cushioned by the lust that swirls around his voice, the languid was his thick fingers pump up into you, holding you up against the frame of the house with a dark smirk. 

you nod, hissing in stimulation when one finger slides to start rubbing your neglected clit with just enough pressure to curl your toes; your chest is slick with sweat, fingernails digging painfully into the meat of your palm as you hum, lips sealed tight to avoid yelping out. 

your eyes flicker from his once more, scanning the street just feet away from you, paranoid of the possibility of a neighbor seeing you. 

Joel notices, of course. "what, baby, don' want the neighbors to see?" he hums, eyes cutting into you as your face flushes with heat, "y'seemed to want everybody to hear me fucking you stupid last time, didn't 'ya?" 

you groan, "fuck you, Joel." 

his hand stops its ministrations just as cold ice pours down your spine. oh, shit. 

his hand slides out of your pants, face furious. 

you shake your head, eyes welling with tears; you hadn't meant for it to slip out like that. "n-no, wait, 'm sorry, didn't mean it." you whimper, voice choked with the loss of his hand. 

he just huffs a cold chuckle, wiping his hand over his face, the other one glistening with your juices under the light of the porch. 

your panicked, desperate babble of apologies is stopped with one look from him. 

"get on your goddamn knees now." 

you shiver with excitement, tears drying slightly as you swallow, complying quickly. the cement is rough and cold under your bare knees, your hands held still together on your thighs as you stare up at him in wait. he stands tall before you; the shroud of the flickering porch light emboldening him, making him look like a god - an unforgiving one, at that - as he pulls his thick, pulsing cock from his jeans. 

your mouth waters as he starts to pump it languidly, the tip a red color from arousal, leaking precum. 

he doesn’t have to ask you to open your mouth for him, your own desire to taste him spurring you to stick your tongue out flat in wait for his dick. 

"I'm going to ask you again." he says, tapping your tongue with the weight of his length, the slapping noise flooding your underwear as you ache to feel him again. "do you like being a slut?" 

you swallow, tongue sliding along the bottom of his head as you do, muttering a slight, "yes, sir." 

"'s right. you love being my slut." he nods, your mouth open and ready for him as he thrusts his whole length into your wet, warm mouth; you gag almost immediately, his hips unforgiving as he immediately starts to fuck into your throat. you try your best to breathe through your nose, gagging as his tip pokes the back of your throat - you know there'll be a bruise that will make it painful to eat, drink, speak - you fucking love it. 

he lets out a grunt of arousal, nodding as his hands gather your hair from your face, gripping your cheeks and pushing your head back against the side of the house. 

two thrusts, a few tears from your eyes as you choke, your lungs burning for air. 

he pulls away, you suck in air with a strangled gasp. your saliva links you to his heavy cock, a chain that holds you in his grasp. "tell me you love being my slut." 

you burn at his words and in your brief hesitation, his cock is slapping at your mouth, his impatience bleeding through his actions. 

"I-" your voice is wrecked after only a few seconds of him in your mouth, but you swallow as you gasp for air, "I l-love being your slut." 

he slides himself through your slick lips again, hips a punishing pace as he fills up your mouth, your throat tight and wet. his groan echoes through the street; in the corner of your eye, you swear you see a light turn on in a bedroom window. shivers of desire run through you as you resist the urge to touch yourself. 

you can't breathe; your nose brushes against the course hair at the base of his shaft, the scent of him surrounding you as his hips try to smash you against the side of the house. 

he holds you there, hands rough on your cheeks, slapping your right cheek as it bulges with his length. you choke, gagging as you try your hardest to keep eye contact. his face is harsh, his sneer cold as he stares at you, "'s right, choke on your fuckin' words, darlin'." his hips press forward slightly and you cough around him, it's too much - tears slide down your cheeks as you try not to gag more. 

"you gonna disrespect me again?" he asks, tilting his head as spit trails down your chin, tears meeting the trail of saliva as it drips down onto your chest. 

you can only hum a nuh-uh around his cock, hoping it's enough to satisfy him. you feel yourself throb and fucking burn with need, your knees sore from the cement under you. 

you cough and sputter when he pulls himself away from you, mouth sore, jaw aching and throat wrecked. his eyes flicker over to the house across the street before he grips your shoulder, tugging you in your aroused, dazed state up to your legs. 

"oh, darlin', you're bleedin'." he coos at you, thumb swiping your cheek as you stand up. he's right: your knees are just scratched enough to speckle the skin with dark splotches of blood. you feel a tingling sensation of arousal as he hums, "let's get you inside, hm?" 

you stumble to keep up as he storms through the threshold of the house, the door swinging shut after your shaking frame falls inside. it's dark; there is only one lamp turned on in the other room. 

Joel is almost a shadow as he surrounds you, your hands falling onto his large, stiff shoulders as he pushes you against the door frame. 

your legs give out from desire soon and the two of you tumble to the ground, a mess of grunts and shoves, tearing at clothes as you whimper in desire, his own lustful groans echoing the empty house. as his pants are shucked off and your shorts are thrown across the room, your hips are shoved and flipped over until you're ass-up for him, one of his large hands moving roughly to grab a handful of your plush behind. 

your hands and knees ache, but you wiggle your ass slightly in need, not daring to speak to him. the anger that radiates from the two of you is a grenade; you can feel the tension bubbling behind your desire and so you just move back until you brush against his hard length, the fabric of your panties completely soaked as you grind against him. 

his moan echoes as a hand falls hard to slap against the skin of your ass. you let out a strangled yell, the pain stinging through you as you keen forward. you know there will be a handprint branded into you, you know it'll be sore to sit and you'll have to think of him each time. he'll consume you for days. 

you love it. 

his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with desire, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty cunt, just for me." he mutters; you shake with desire when you realize it was more a mutter for him than an intentional phrase for you to hear.

"think you're ready for me, baby?" he grunts, his fingers pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your puffy, glistening cunt to him. 

"I'm so re-ready sir, please, fuck me." you beg, reduced yet again to nothing but a writhing mess for the worst man you know. 

he gives no warning, no teasing - he breaches you swiftly and rough. you scream. 

it cracks, it echoes, it's painful as you yell out, his cock heavy and huge and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within a few seconds. Joel's moan reverberates on your skin as his hands grip so hard at your ass you think his fingers will remain there for days. 

he immediately sets a pace that has you squirming under him, breath choking up in your chest as you slide against the hardwood. the smell of the house is Joel - sandalwood, whiskey, pine. sex. 

your arms are tugged roughly. 

panic rises in you when you think you're about to slam your face against the floor, but as Joel pounds hard into you, he pulls your hands tight to your back, holding you up to you're suspended with just his cock working you open can keep you from falling. 

it's bliss. it's sharp, this angle; he hits into that spongy spot inside you as his cock drags against your pulsing walls, your hands clenching as your breath leaves you. 

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as he reaches up into you deeply. then it snakes lower, rocking you forward as he swats at your clit, the sharp smack of his palm causing you to squeeeeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- jesus christ, girl, you're s-so tight."

the noises of your arousal swallowing his dick echo around the room in a sickening chorus. 

"dumb girl, lovin' it when I yell at her," he mutters to himself, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "gonna be o-obedient and thank me for each orgasm, 'kay?" his accent is thick in the throes of passion, you notice. 

you nod, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful; you let out a wheeze of ecstasy. "y-yes, s-sir," you choke, your voice croaking from the remnants of his dick wrecking you. 

you barely realize you're cumming until you’re screaming, a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision. tears are resurfacing on your eyes as he hums, "say it." 

you swallow, shakily squirming as he pounds into you, unforgiving in tone and pace. "than-thank you." 

it only takes a few more minutes and his thick hand squeezing your throat before you cum for a second time, your hands pulling at his hips, trying to escape the overstimulation of his long, dragging thrusts. the floor is slick with your juices, and so is his pubic bone. 

"thank you, s-sir." you slur out, his hand holding you by the throat against his chest, his heartbeat slamming just as fast as yours. 

soon he drops your arms, their shaky muscles barely stopping you as you fall to the floor. his chest follows you until he's smothering you, thrusts becoming weak with his own nearing orgasm. you cry, the overstimulation causing you to shake. "'s too much, too much." 

he hums, "you want me to stop?" 

"no!" you scream it, wail it; no, christ, don't stop. never stop. 

he chuckles; a dark, brooding noise. "an' you wonder why I think you're such a bad influence." he mutters into the shell of your ear as he pushes further, deeper into you; "lettin' an old man fuck you into the floor. lovin' it." 

he chuckles as you let out a whine, eyes screwing shut at the bursts of pleasure coursing through you. your knees ache.

"'s dirty, isn't it? and you love it, pretty girl." 

you let your cheek drop onto the hardwood at his ministrations, spent from your previous orgasms; the pet name makes you flush, arching your hips back. he's so deep, you feel him in your throat. each thrust pushes his tip into your cervix, a dull ache with a swirl of pleasure and ecstasy. you let out a groan, "love it, love it s'much. love it, sir, thank you." you whimper, your brain empty except for Joel Joel JoelJoel-

"good m-manners, sweet girl." he hums, pressing a hot kiss to your spine. goosebumps form in his wake, his words echoing in your brain. sweet girl. 

"you're gonna cum one more time." he orders, the thrusts of his hips grinding you down, melting you, tearing you. you nod, "yes, yes-yes, fuck, gonna-gonna cum again." you whimper, the painful overstimulation of his cock drilling through your spent, swollen folds. 

your third orgasm has you wailing, shaking your head as you convulse in pleasure, his strong grip holding your hips down as he hits your spot repeatedly, the noise of him fucking into you echoing through the foyer. 

there's tears on the floor as you shake, colors exploding behind your eyes as he whispers things you cannot hear into your ear. 

when you come to, he's still ravaging your body. 

you're limp, ecstasy flowing through your very being as his cock spears through you, hands smacking you, gripping you, grunts leaving his mouth as he nears his own orgasm, having pulled three from you. 

"where are your manners?" he whispers into your ear. you let out a broken half-laugh, half-gasp. "fuck- thank you, Joel, thank you." 

he hums in satisfaction and you swear you feel his cock twitch inside you as you utter his first name. 

he's back in your ear in seconds, surrounding you, swallowing you whole. you love it. 

"this is my pussy. mine." he grunts, "never think 'bout any other pussy. jus' this one. always." his voice is laced with desperation as he swats your ass, thrusting into you a few more times as you squirm, sobbing, throat raw. 

yours, you whimper in a chorus, body limp as he uses you; his thrusts are sloppy. he's so close- 

and he cums just as he's pulling out of you; you gasp at the loss but also as his cum shoots hot spurts across the plush curve of your ass, a bit onto your spine - most of it over your ruined pussy, streaking you in white. 

you pulse around nothing, shaking as your legs give out. he groans a deep thing, fingers falling to spread you open, the lewd noise soft and slick.

you jolt and he shushes you with a soft caress of your back. "jus' wanna see it, baby. wanna see how I ruined you." 

you swallow dryly at that, nodding as you tilt your hips, eager to feel his eyes over you, over all of you; eager for him. 

a finger smears his spend over your juices, pressing lightly at your puckered hole, pushing some of his cum back into you. "fuckin' christ, girl." 

you set out a laugh that turns into a cough of pain at the ragged state of your throat. 

he stands and leaves you on the cold floor, covered in sweat. you try not to let your heart deflate when he’s gone. 

but he returns with a rag and hands it to you before shucking his jeans on; you pull your underwear back on with shaky hands once you’ve wiped yourself clean, your body exhausted. 

you sigh. even the thought of making the trek just a few houses down to your own place is daunting as your eyes flutter. something in his eyes glint in understanding when your gazes meet each other, and he seems to get it. 

so if Joel gathers you in his arms with a grunt and a short complaint, you don't think too much about it. 

(you hate him. he hates you.)

and if he holds your head to his chest as he starts the walk back to your house, it’s not a big deal to you. 

when brings you up into your bedroom instead of leaving you at your front door as he finally carries you to your house, you chalk it up to you being nearly asleep. you must be delirious when he tucks you into your mattress and pulls your blankets up. you swear he mutters something about dinner and nice and good job. 

(what a cocky asshole.) 

it's probably a dream, when a hand caresses the sweaty skin of your forehead, brushing hair away gently before footsteps disappear through the doorway. 

. part three .

requests open

. 

[magnetic-rose]

if you loved episode 3 of tlou you really should listen to the official podcast with troy baker, craig mazin and neil druckmann because there’s SO much! here’s some of my favorite things said on the podcast:

- joel stacking rocks was to show that he missed and mourned tess. in that moment he was saying “i’m sorry, i blew it, i lost you.”

- in the beginning of the episode ellie told joel tess’ death wasn’t her fault but deep down she does feel like it was her fault.

- ellie admires joel because he protected her multiple times and as a child she has a desire for a parental figure to protect her.

- frank realized bill was gay pretty much as soon as he got out of the hole and saw how bill was looking at him. bill’s taking in how handsome frank is and “frank’s brain is incredibly attuned to that.” that’s why frank was smiling.

- frank realized bill was gay fast, but he realized he wanted bill when bill was playing the piano and singing linda ronstadt.

- it took them a while to find long long time by linda ronstadt but they always intended the song for bill to sing to be about a long love that was forever unrequited. “it was very important that the lyrics were someone saying ‘everyone tells me that it’s okay, that love will find me [...],’ no it doesn’t, no it’s not, and the person that i long for from afar - i’m gonna love them basically forever in the most unrequited manner.”

- it was important that frank immediately knew bill’s sexuality because frank SAW bill, because bill had completely buried his sexuality but frank saw through him.

- frank originally was trying to see what he could get out of bill (like a free lunch) but the more time they spent together, the more he went “oh, this is a beautiful person.”

- “there is two ways of loving things. frank wants to love outwards - he is sun, he is light. he wants to make things beautiful around him, he wants to care for bill, he wants to revitalize the streets so it’s not just this mausoleum bill lives in, and he wants to have friends. he wants to share what they have. and bill wants to put an electrified fence around them that is guarded by an additional layer of flame-throwing gas pipes and no one can show up ever because he must protect frank from the world... and as it turns out, both of those loved are required but one of those loves is likely to give you in trouble more than the other.”

- when frank put his finger on the furniture piece and saw how dusty it was, he realized what his purpose could be in bill’s life. bill can protect them, but frank can nurture their home.

- when bill apologizes to frank for growing old fast, it’s because he’s afraid of frank being left alone. “look at this beautiful man and the beautiful things that he does, and what is bill’s contribution? bill doesn’t grow strawberries. bill’s contribution is to keep frank alive. but bill is already afraid that he’s going to fail and that is a fear that joel has because he has that fear through experience [of losing his daughter.]“

- bill and joel understand each other and that they’re purpose is to protect others. they don’t care about their own lives.

- on their last day together, bill decided very early that he was going to die as well.

- the gun that ellie takes belonged to frank.

- that letter bill wrote reminded joel that he failed to protect both sarah and tess. the letter underscores for him that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t protect the people that he cares about. but now he has ellie to protect.

[ellieluvr420]

Friends? Never. Pt.1 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

New fic alert? Can you tell I've got a thing for the enemies to lovers trope? Sorryyyyyy. I have loads of ideas for so many stories but this one made me too excited :D I can’t tell if the writing in this is ass but i’m just setting things up hold out hope for me people…

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Ellie opens the door of her new home only to see you, her least favourite person in Jackson, standing at her door with your suitcase in hand.

"No no no no no no no." You say as you immediately start walking away from her. You keep walking until you see Maria walking towards you.

"Don't even start-" She already knows what you're going to say.

"I am not fucking living with her Maria."

"Didn't I tell you not to start? You're wasting your breath anyway, this is the only way we can accommodate all the new arrivals."

"Why do you hate me?" You groan and she spins you around immediately marching you back to your new home.

"I don't, but you and Ellie are a pain in my ass, maybe make the most of it and try and get along hm?" She keeps you held firmly at the front door as she knocks three times.

"Back for more alrea-" Ellie pauses as she sees Maria standing there with a stern look on her face, she pushes you through the door and smiles.

"Enjoy setting up!" She calls over her shoulder and you're sure you hear her laugh.

"Fuck my life." You push past Ellie, bumping her hard enough that she stumbles slightly. You storm off upstairs to find your room huffing at your new reality.

You're unpacking all your belongings when you notice her standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you just gonna keep staring at me like a creep?"

"Are you gay?"

"Pardon?" You scoff at her bluntness but your heart was beating a mile a minute, you knew it wasn't a big deal, she's a lesbian herself, but for some reason you still found coming out to people so difficult. Your parents hadn't taken it well which is how you found yourself living on your own... well, with Ellie. You breathe in and regain your composure, turning to her and flashing a coy smirk. "Why do you want to know Williams? Got a little crush on me?"

"Ha! You wish. Just wondered seeing as you're nineteen and have never once even held a guys hand."

"Didn't realise you paid so much attention to me, should I be worried I have a stalker?" She rolls her eyes at you obviously avoiding her question. "Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't, just trying to figure out if I should be worried about you getting a crush on me and going all crazy."

You walk over to her until there's only inches between you. "You're so arrogant." You bump her in the shoulder and she stumbles as you walk past her towards the kitchen. "You're also not my type... at all." You call over her shoulder missing the look of bewilderment on her face.

"Wait... so you are?" Ellie calls as she follows you to the kitchen. She's close behind you as you march away until you stop dead in your tracks causing her to bump into you.

"If you must know Ellie, yes I am."

"Oh." Ellie felt her heart clench a little for you as she knows how unaccepting your parents are, that's why you stopped being friends all those years ago after all.

You had met Ellie on the first day she arrived in Jackson, she looked tired and a little gaunt but you still felt butterflies in your stomach when you laid eyes on her for the first time. You remember seeing her walk in and hand a gun she kept in the back of her jeans to Maria, you were gobsmacked because she looked the same age as you and you couldn't imagine holding, let alone using, a gun. You had been born in Jackson, only ever leaving to go on patrol in the last couple years so 14 year old you found the girl all the more intriguing. You had watched her from a distance as Joel spoke to your dad, you still remember the feeling of your stomach dropping when she looked up to see you spying on her. You hadn't spoken to her until later that evening when Joel and her had come to yours for dinner. It was awkward at first but when she saw your record player and limited vinyl collection, the ice thawed quickly, you became inseparable until your parents started taking an issue with your friendship with her, you never understood why they stopped you seeing her and stopped seeing Joel until two years ago when you told them you were a lesbian. Ellie had always known that they were homophobic but it still hurt when they stopped you seeing her, she saw red any time she was near you because she was so hurt that you could cut her out of your life just like that and within a couple months you were bitter rivals that couldn't share a nice word with the other. Her hatred for you was so overwhelming that it forced her to stop being so awkward around people because she was so focused on throwing as many insults your way as possible that her nerves when speaking to others dissipated.

Now, as you stand in the kitchen staring at her leaning on the doorframe you felt a pang of guilt for how you had treated her although it quickly disappeared the second she opened her beautiful mouth.

"Well er... you're not my type either so don't get any ideas." You laugh at the awkwardness of her statement knowing why she suddenly lost confidence in herself.

"Thanks for the clarification." You roll your eyes before busying yourself getting a glass of water, it was the middle of summer so all the moving and unpacking was making you feel severely dehydrated. Ellie watched as you gulped down the water, noting how a couple drops fall down onto your white tank top. She dragged her eyes away from you and cleared her throat.

"Well now we've established the feelings mutual we can go back to never speaking again. Or are you going to bother me constantly with small talk?"

"Oh believe me you have nothing to worry about on my end." You refill the glass again and walk over to her. "And if I'm remembering correctly you're the one that came and spoke to me, so I could ask you the same thing, no?" You jab a finger into her chest as you speak emphasising your point. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to go wash this finger of your germs and finish unpacking." You push past her once again and she scoffs as you walk away back upstairs without looking back at her.

You continue unpacking methodically until everything is put away neatly and your decorations are in their new designated homes. As you collapse onto the bed picking up the book you were reading at the moment from your bedside table you breathe a sigh of relief at the breeze making its way through your open window. Your shared cabin was right on the outskirts of Jackson so your view was the beautiful woods that lined the north west section of the wall, as you looked at the greenery that was reflecting glittering spots of sunlight you reminisced on the times you and Ellie had spent in the woods when you were friends. You're interrupted from your thoughts by the growling of your stomach that prompts you to sneak back to the kitchen.

"Fuck's sake." You mutter under your breath as you walk into the kitchen only to be greeted by Ellie leaning on the counter savaging a bowl of cereal.

"You know you're spilling more of that down your shirt than you're getting in your mouth right?" Ellie looks down at her t-shirt only to see that you were correct when you said she was spilling milk down herself, she huffs and continues eating, this time being more careful as she brings the bowl right to her mouth.

"I thought I made it clear I didn't want to talk to you and yet... here you are talking to me." She mumbles through a mouthful of cereal. You roll your eyes and open the fridge only to see the leftovers you had put in there earlier were gone. You take a deep breath before spinning to give Ellie the dirtiest of looks.

"Are you fucking kidding me? That's the only food I had until I go out tomorrow. Why would you eat it?"

"Oh was that yours? My bad I got hungry earlier, it was really good though you gotta make me some more of that sometime." She smiles sweetly and your face twists into a scowl as you feel the rage boiling inside of you.

"Only we live here Ellie, if you're going to steal my food you could at least own it." You walk away and just before you leave the kitchen empty handed you turn back slightly. "Pussy." You go to walk away until you feel a hand enclose around your arm yanking you backwards. She pushes you up against the wall and leans her body weight on you so you can't move, relishing in your struggle.

"Say that again bitch, I dare you." Her eyes are dark and cold only mirroring yours, a devilish grin appears on your face as you lean in closer to her.

"You're a pussy Williams... and you don't scare me." You push her off with all your strength and rush away from her before slamming your door so hard you're shocked it doesn't come off the hinges. You pace around your room muttering and cursing Ellie before you stop, realising you actually have to live with her for the foreseeable future, every time you looked at her all you could think of is the screaming matches you endured with your parents when they banned you from seeing her and the look of defeat on her face as you ignored her for the first time when she came over to you while you were out with your parents, the nausea you were feeling only grew as the memory of when you came out to your parents flashes through your mind as it does multiple times throughout the day. You grab your book and begin reading once again trying to rid yourself of all these memories that Ellie was bringing up. As you finally feel the nausea calming there are three forceful knocks on your door that you ignore reflexively.

"You gonna open the door or what?" Ellie's voice is muffled but clear enough to make out what she's saying.

"No. Fuck off Ellie!" Ellie rolls her eyes before knocking harder this time and she doesn't stop, she continuously bangs on your door until you throw your book down in frustration to storm over to the source of your irritation. As you yank the door open you're greeted by a smirking Ellie. "WHAT? What could you possibly want? You eat my food, you piss me off, you pin me against a fucking wall, what do you want now Ellie?"

Ellie is taken aback by your harsh tone, typically it had a hint of playfulness to it but now you just sounded angry. She gulped before regaining her standoffish demeanour. "Calm down sweetie."

You scoff and go to slam the door in her face but her hand stops you and pushes the door back so hard you stumble backwards with it, you huff and walk away dropping down onto your bed once again.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure whatever. You're gonna do what you want anyway." She stuffs her hands into her front pockets and walks in as she looks at all the decorations in your room before plopping down on your bed sitting directly on your feet. You snatch them away with a huff as you grit your teeth and curl up to put as much distance between you two.

"What... do you want Williams?"

"Nothing really. Just wanted to see your room. It's very... you."

"Mm and I'm sure yours looks like a squatters pit." You smile smugly at her as she rolls her eyes, your face drops as she turns and eyes the book on your bedside table with a smirk.

"You read romance?" She stifles a laugh poorly.

"Yes and what? Can you even read?" She chuckles and you mumble under your breath "idiot"

"Wow you really are a virgin aren't you?" You eyes flash up at her as your eyebrows knit together and your face turns to a grimace.

"Why do you assume I'm a virgin because I read romance? Maybe I just enjoy it."

"Ha! Right. I'm assuming you're a virgin because only virgins read romance books." You kick at her and she grabs your sock-covered foot stopping you in your tracks.

"Oh my god Ellie can you go away!"

"No no, not just yet. My curiosity is piqued about this book now." Before you can stop her she's reaching for the book and standing up while flicking through some pages.

"Wait, No Ellie don't." She holds it above your head as you stand, you try and snatch it from her once but it's too far out of your reach, panic takes over as she opens it above her head and begins reading aloud. "Ellie fucking stop!"

"Why? It's just a romance book right? Nothing too... inappropriate." Your cheeks heat and the familiar rage comes back in full force, you look down at her feet and stomp on the left one as hard as you can, she yelps and drops her arms which allows you to grab the book from her grasp and you immediately rush out of your room and into the bathroom, locking the door behind you with a triumphant smile.

"Ow you bitch!" You hear Ellie call after you. As you eye the bathtub you decide now is the perfect time to relax in the tub so you can escape Ellie for awhile and read your book in peace.

You stay in the bath until the sun has completely set and the room is bathed in a silvery glow from the moonlight, you guess you were in there for at least an hour but as you start to shiver from the cooling water you decide to finally leave your refuge. As you climb out of the bath you're horrified when you realise your towel is still in your room.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You had to walk past Ellie's room to get to yours but ultimately you decide you'd have to risk it, you unlock the door and peak out into the hallway to see its empty, you edge the door open and begin quickly creeping to your room, you're almost there but as you go to walk past Ellie's room she walks out at the exact same time walking straight into your naked form.

"AGH OH MY GOD!" Your hands immediately attempt to cover your dignity but its an almost failed attempt as you notice her looking you up and down. "DON'T FUCKING LOOK!" You scream as you run past her to your room so quickly your feet slip a little. You hear her cackling in the hallway as you lean with your back against the door in utter disbelief. "No no noooo that did not just happen." You mumble to yourself as you run a hand over your face.

You try to put the embarrassment past you as you settle into bed before passing out from the sheer exhaustion of the day.

[asgardiansofthegalaxyvol3]

I was a fool. An absolute bafoon. Deadpool and Wolverine 2: the musical starts with a montage of their daily life to the soundtrack of Accidentally in Love (from shrek) to WADE falling in love with Logan, not the other way around, because honestly who better than Deadpool? He can girlishly kick his feet and smile sweetly to the camera and (badly) play it off when Logan is actually looking at him. And it’s just them being domestic. Logan cooking, Wade sneaking glances throughout the day, can even have them fighting something together. And of course it ends with them platonically sharing a bed and you can see Wade wanting to reach out to Logan but he doesn’t, just goes to sleep instead.

And one way or another they’re fighting some big bad magical being, and honestly Marvel it doesn’t really matter who you pick. All they need is to be able to use magic and get pissed that 1-Wade can’t die and 2- he never shuts the HELL up. And bam, instant curse. The entire world is a musical and Deadpool has to suffer the consequences (being annoyed by the constant noise of everyone singing)

Except he LOVES it. He walks down the street and hears someone singing about cheating on their spouse, someone singing about how they miss their dog at home, and someone getting increasingly angry about traffic through the open window of their car. And the icing on the cake is that his roommate, THE Hugh Jackman is cursed too. Since y’all wanna make him be the Wolverine until he’s 90 you can at least throw him a bone and let him sing again, it’s what he was made to do. And since Ryan can’t/wont/doesn’t like to sing it gives him the opportunity not to, plus it has comedic effect if he’s bland and boring, making comments through everyone’s songs. Social commentary on people’s rhymes/pitch/beats. The potential is limitless. They should also have multiple people who are just genuinely bad singers, because that’s just how the real world works.

And by the third act Wade has had enough of the singing. “Can everyone shut the fuck up for five minutes PLEASE. Not you, Logan, you have the voice of an angel, please keep going.”

And since Disney owns them now they can have a scene of Logan singing ‘i won’t say I’m in Love’ from Hercules with Ellie, Yukio, and Blind Al as the muses because surprise surprise the main story is Wade trying to undo this Musical curse but the subplot is Wade and Logan both being in love with each other but both being too emotionally constipated and unaware to make a move on each other. And you know what, if the power of hand holding and gay love could save the day last time, maybe it can do it again this time. I’m thinking something cheesy like an off key duet between Wade and Logan that ends in a kiss, but I’ve never been great at endings so I’ll leave it up to Ryan.

And bam @vancityreynolds I’ve got the outline of your new movie right here. I’ll accept payment in the form of one meet and greet with you and Hugh where I can take a picture of you guys holding my Toddler so I can frame it, hang it on the wall, and ask her for the rest of her life how she could possibly not remember something that happened when she was under 2 years old.

[andersonfilms]

# LETTING IN WHITE HEAT ✶ abby anderson!

❝ vision go black, blood, letting in white heat.❞ ft. brakence

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, f!reader, wlw sex, poc!friendly, labeling this as dubcon bc abby is mean but she’s sweet after, mean!abby, top!abby, bottom!reader, sub!ellie, loser coded!ellie, voyerisum, kinda mean rough sex, jealous!abby, slight nipple play, strap use r!recieving, abby has one filthy mouth, mommy kink, aftercare, abby is kinda really mean

her jealousy is soft at first, small ticks easily missed if you weren’t looking. the way her blue eyes would become cold like the atlantic, void of any warmth anytime another girl hugged you for a little too long, lingering touch your smooth arms, or the one time at a frat part this ellie chick your hair wrapped around a slender finger. she wouldn’t really react, besides pulling you closer to her, resting her chin on your shoulder, abby’s long fingers intertwined with yours. she knew you were gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see it, people were going to hit on you and it maybe it was annoying at times when abby just wanted you to herself, but she ignored them and just focused on you. but tonight? god, she couldn’t control it. she was failed miserably to keep her cool. it was happening right in front of her, and you weren’t dismissing ellie’s advances like you normally would. no. not at all. you were encouraging her by batting your long, luscious eyelashes at her emerald eyes. leaning away from abby and into her, letting your fingertips grazing the tattoo on her forearm as you giggle, fucking giggling, at a lame joke ellie was telling you. abby would deck her if you wouldn’t get upset about it. you’d forgive her, eventually, but abby knew some groveling would have to happen on her end. no, she wouldn’t have it this way. still, the situation nagged her in way she despised. apparently abby wasn’t giving you enough attention you had to seek it elsewhere and god, abby was going to make you regret it. baby let’s go somewhere more quiet, yeah? your little friend can even come, quietly she whispered in your ear.

it’s how you ended up in this position, getting fucked within an inch of you life, on all fours and your delicate fingers gripping the railing of the frame at the edge, headboard crashing against the wall the abby’s thrusts. lamely, ellie was fully clothed sitting in a velvet green chair placed next to the mirror, not like she could move. abby made sure of it. her brown leather belt bound ellie’s wrist so they laid flat in her lap, lust building up in her eyes as she took in the scene before her. abby’s pierced nipples on display, burly arms flexing as they gripped onto your ass, slapping every few thrusts, letting her meaty hands smooth over the sensitive area. all ellie wanted was to be in the mix, but abby would not let her. every grunt from abby’s lips made ellie’s dripping pussy clench. it wasn’t fucking fair, her keeping you like this, all to herself. the recoil of your ass and abby’s moans mixed together was enough to make ellie cum just from rubbing her thighs against each other, but the blonde’s filthy mouth only made matters worse, pushing her to the edge quicker than she would have liked. really, even expected.

“what you think she could fuck better than me, baby? is that why you were flirting with her? huh? what? too drunk on my cock you can’t fucking talk?” abby laughed before picking up her pace, a light mumble of mommy slipped past your whimpering lips, but it was loud enough for them both to hear. “that’s right, baby. mommy always has to punish you when you’re being a spoiled brat. what? you think she can fuck you like this? she’s half my size. couldn’t even pick you up even if she tried.”

ellie felt humiliated but she couldn’t stop herself from the pressure building up in the pit of her stomach. “c’mon ellie, i know you’re close. show me what a fucking loser you are and come for me. right now, baby. yeah, just like that. ruin those pretty boxers for me.” it doesn’t take anything else ellie to squirm in the chair, spurts of white, hot cum flooding her boxers, pretty eyes rolling into the back of her head as she slumped in the chair.

abby could fully focus on you now, all the attention she could give fully on you.she slipped her the strap out of your swollen, puffy pussy and made you ride her. intentionally, she wanted to punish ellie. she wanted her to see the pussy she would never have, gush over abby’s cock. your beefy girlfriend watched as you bounced on her cock, the swell of your tits bouncing rapidly as you fully sat on the girth. abby could feel the base nudge against her clit each time, her breaths becoming more erratic, watching her stupidly pretty girl chanting out mommy mommy mommy as her hips jerked sinfully. abby decided to help you, even if you didn’t deserve it.

she met you halfway, bucking her hips, meeting you with her strong thrusts as she bent her head down to suck on the perky bud. “mommy, fuck, please can i come?” but it seemed abby still had a bit of cruelness left in her. she released your nipple with a soft pop! she shoved her middle finger and ring finger into your mouth, before instructing you “suck.” abby chose to ignore you, but you obeyed. continuing to ride her cock as she made you practically gag on her long digits. when she felt like you had enough, she circled them on your clit. “you tell me, baby? do you deserve to cum?”

abby smirked as your eyebrows furrowed, trying to concentrate enough so you wouldn’t come without her permission. she’d only punish it for you later when the two of you were back at home. “i think….” abby slapped your ass with her free hand, letting her blunt fingernails digging into the delicate flesh. “you’ve been a bad girl tonight. haven’t you? what have i told you before? c’mon, let me hear it.”

“mommy only lets good girls cum.” between every word, abby delivers cruel thrusts to your cunt, making your pussy clench around her cock.

then abby was whispering in your ear, “but since we have an audience, i’ll just punish you at home, yeah?” she pauses, before she applies more pressure on your clit. “now, ride my cock like you mean it, baby.”

once your pace quicken, abby could feel the pressure build up, could feel her clit pulsating. she was close, but she needed you to cum first. need more than the air she breathed. god, she knew you were close too. you were slamming on her cock, chasing the high you could only get from abby and she knew exactly what you were craving. she removed her grip on your ass guiding you and wrapped it around your throat, applying just the amount of pressure you craved.

“yeah, is this what you needed? just needed mommy to choke you? i know, babygirl. are you going to cum for me? yeah, you are aren’t you? cum all over my cock. fuuuckkkkk, yes. yes. good girl, such a good girl for me.” you practically screamed out her name as you squirt everywhere, abby finds her release with you. abby’s thighs, yours, the sheets beneath you drenched in your sweet slick. and all ellie could do was watch as you collapse into abby’s body. your entire body shivering as you seeked comfort in your lovers’ arms. she watched as abby soothingly rubbed your back from the tip of you spine to your lower back. whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but ellie couldn’t hear them, intentional by the blonde for her not to. abby nearly crumbled as she watched abby take care of you, cleaning you up and assisting you with putting on your clothes. you sat on the edge of the bed, completely in a daze, waiting for abby.

once abby was dressed, she walked over to ellie, towering over her, sitting or standing didn’t really matter. with a mean grip, abby held ellie’s chin, applying enough pressure to get her almost bruise. “next time you flirt with my girl, it’ll be you getting fucked an inch within your life and unlike my beautiful baby, i’ll leave you alone like the dirty slut you are, unable to fucking walk, talk, move. got it?” abby left with you in her arms, but to ellie it sounded more like music to her ears.

pathetically, ellie watched as the couple walk out of the room, abby whispering in your ear as abby kissed your temple, shutting the door behind them. and then it dawned on her. she was still fucking tied up. fucking anderson.

an: yeah.......so this is a thing. hope you enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it! god do i need a blonde girl to fucking rail me

[mountainsandmayhem]

Stay Still, Little Dove

Joel Miller x Female!Reader

18+

Series Masterlist

Summary: Joel takes matters into his own hands to deal with your newly insatiable sex drive with a little help from a u shaped friend. TW: softdom!Joel, female orgasms (like a lot of them), oral (fem!rec), this is all about her A/N: THANK YOU for all the comments, likes and reblogs on my last story! I fully believe only 1 or 2 people will read these and I'm just floored by the response so far. I wish I could write without a plot, but I added some backstory about these two. Word Count: 4.3k

Ellie has always been a tornado in your life. Her biological mom was your childhood best friend. She had her demons, so you can’t say you were surprised when during her weekend trip to visit you with her new baby she disappeared, leaving you with little Ellie. 

Overnight, you went from a 22-year-old young woman starting your third year of your degree to a 22-year-old adoptive single mom pushing through your third year of college. 

Your parents were helpful, driving four hours from the small town you grew up in every weekend so you could work or do homework. They offered to take Ellie for a while or help you find people to adopt her, but that little tornado of a girl was your priority and you weren’t going to abandon her like her mother. 

She broke her arm at 2 on her big wheel, and at 3 she needed 10 stitches across her eyebrow from when she tried to leap from the kitchen table to the granite island. Safe to say the granite won as she still bears that scar today. At 4, she bolted up the stairs to the high dive and jumped off without an ounce of fear. Thank god she was already a strong swimmer.

She seemed to crave chaos, so when she befriended the girl with wildly curly hair on her first day of school you just shook your head, predictable little tornado. 

Thankfully Sarah Miller was a sweet and kind-hearted girl, maybe even a little shy. It also helped that Sarah’s young dad, who didn’t wear a wedding ring, resembled a Greek god. Tall and broad with tanned skin, he owned some sort of contracting business based on the truck he’d do school pick up and drop off in. When the girls introduced you two, he flashed you a small smile, revealing that goddamn dimple. 

You’re both pretty sure the girls played a hand in the two of you eventually getting together, granted they both conveniently don’t remember playing tiny matchmakers. They’d ask for sleepovers and playdates almost daily, or sign you both up to the same shift at school events.

“Mommy, I swear on the moon that the teacher picked!” Ellie said when you had the coat check station at the Valentine's Day dance. “Buuuut you might want to put on lipstick.” 

It’s been a little over 14 years since then and he still sets your blood on fire with that dimple. 

Both of you approached this new empty nest phase apprehensively, but it turns out that having the house to yourself (with no risk of one of the girls walking in) opened a whole new set of rather kinky doors. Not that you were necessarily vanilla before, but while they lived there you didn’t have ropes and paddles hanging on your bedroom wall, or the hooks on your four-poster bed.

You also never would have been how you are now, bathroom door wide open in only the trousers you planned to wear to work. 

“Not that I’m complainin’ sweetheart. But why are you topless?” Joel asks on his way to the kitchen. 

“It’s too damn hot in here.” You grumble, getting out your skincare and makeup. 

Joel shook his head to himself as he walked to the kitchen. He knew better than to bring up that it wasn’t the temperature, it was you and your recent perimenopause diagnosis. He hated to see you suffering, but your newly insatiable libido gave him an idea. 

As you get ready, Joel leans against the bathroom door frame drinking coffee, observing you through the mirror. 

You see him most days in his typical work attire - dark jeans, a t-shirt with his company logo, and a flannel or denim button-up. But it will never get old to you. You almost find him sexier in this than in a suit. Especially when he has the cuffs rolled like he does today. 

“Little Dove?” His voice is deep and scratchy. 

A slight blush paints your cheeks, knowing that it’s going to be one of those days. 

“Yes, sir?” 

He slowly walks towards you as you lean into the mirror to blink on some mascara. He stops just a hair away from you, not touching you but close. Close enough for you to feel the heat coming off of him. He waits until you’ve put the mascara wand away, and uses his free hand to trace a line slowly down your spine. 

A shiver runs through you, and you let out a small moan. Partly from the feeling of him, but mostly at the reprieve from the hot flash you’re experiencing. 

“How many orgasms do you think I could give you before you beg me to stop?” He kisses the top of your left shoulder, watching your eyes widen slightly in the mirror. 

Goosebumps spread across your body. If he wants to play, you’ll make it difficult for him. “Well, after the little kidnapping the other night you gave in after three.” 

“This is about you giving up and not me giving in,” His free hand continues a light trail along your bare back. 

“And didn’t you say you felt like you had done an intense Pilates workout the next day?” He adds teasingly.

You were hoping he’d forgotten about how you groaned as you lowered yourself into the bathtub to soak your sore muscles. Even though your hormones seemed to think you were a teenager again, your body took a little longer to recover. Joel cared for you in a way that only he could; making dinner, wrapping you in your beloved heated blanket, and gently massaging your hips and legs. 

You don’t want to give up this easily so you scoff and say, “Please, old man. You’d get tired before I’d quit.” 

The next two things happen so quickly that it’s over before the excited squeal leaves your lips. He spins you to face him and lifts you onto the countertop, caging you between his arms, his hands gripping the vanity on either side of you.  

“Now now, Little Dove. I’d be careful who you call old.” His recently playful tone is back to a deep gravel-like command that settles right between your thighs. 

“You will refer to me as sir in these moments and nothing else. Do you understand?”

You nod eagerly sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, fuck you love him like this. 

He kisses down your neck towards your right breast. Pausing he adds, “Words, Little Dove,” before gently dragging your right nipple through his teeth. 

You let out a desperate moan arching your back into the pain, “Yes, sir.” 

Joel quickly steps back, taking his coffee cup with him. “Be a good girl today.” 

+++++

You spend your workday trying not to think about Joel. You immerse yourself in your to-do list and your team gets a few projects done early and sent off for approval. You’ve almost forgotten about the morning events when you hear your phone buzz. 

Joel: When I get home I want you in that little black lacy thing, Little Dove. I’m bringing home dinner. 

You reply with a funny ‘yes, sir’ gif.

Joel: Oh, my sweet Little Dove. I’m almost starting to think you like it when I punish you. 

You: Do your worst, I won’t tap out.

Joel: Tell me what you’re going to be doing when I get home.

You find a photo of you wearing the aforementioned ‘little black lacy thing’ and attach it to your message that says, “Wearing this, sir.” 

Joel: Be kneeling beside the couch when I get home. 

You: Yes, sir. 

++++

The rest of your day goes by tortuously slowly, yet the drive home seemed suspiciously fast. You laugh to yourself picturing a speeding ticket in the mail and Joel’s reaction when you tell him he has to pay it since it’s his fault. Maybe you’ll ask him when he’s in a sir mood.

You hop in the shower, shave and touch up your makeup before clipping and clasping yourself into the outfit Joel loves so much. As you step back to admire yourself in the full-length mirror you realize certain squishy parts of your body don’t look great in this.

Focus on the positive, you remind yourself. 

The deep v-halter of the one-piece garment accentuates your breasts, you spin to take in the low cut back and high cut cheeky bottom that highlights the globes of your ass. 

The familiar sounds of Joel’s truck pulling up the driveway sends a rush of nervous and excited butterflies through your stomach. You hurry to the sitting room, grab a throw pillow from the couch and kneel. 

Your eyes follow as Joel heads to the kitchen, holding a bag from your favourite sushi restaurant.  He places it on the island before looking up at you with dark eyes

“Look at the ground and put your hands on your lap.” He commands. 

You can’t stop your eyes from rolling as you look down and do as he says. 

“Little Dove, don’t roll your eyes at me.” His voice deepens with every word, instantly setting your core on fire. 

He’s silent for a moment and you can feel his eyes on you. “From now on when I say to kneel, this is how you’ll be. Understand?” 

You squeeze your thighs a little tighter, breathing starting to shallow at the sound of his voice as he slips deeper into sir mode. 

You reply with a breathy, “Yes sir. Sorry.” 

Joel walks over and pets your head. “You look stunning like this.” He whispers, before turning and leaving you alone. 

His words feel like warm honey being drizzled down your spine. No one makes you feel as desired as Joel and immediately your earlier body insecurities vanish. You can hear him moving things around the bedroom before he walks back to the kitchen but you don’t dare look up. You’re a good girl, Joel doesn’t like brats, and right now all that matters is pleasing him. 

Joel sets up dinner, arranges the sushi on plates, opens the wine and lights a candle before sitting at the table, legs spread, facing you. 

“Crawl to me, Little Dove.” His deep voice washes over you. Almost as if it puts you in a trance. You know your knees are going to regret this in the morning, but you’re so turned on that you don’t hesitate to crawl across the area rug and then onto the hardwood flooring Joel installed himself.

Stopping between his bare legs, his strong hand cradles your chin and tilts it up, he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and tight black boxers. But it’s the sleek black remote control vibrator in his other hand that steals your attention.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He says with a soft moan, gently stroking your cheek. “Go put this in, and then come back and have dinner with me.”

He helps you to your feet and hands you the vibrator. He turns you towards the half bath off the kitchen and pats your bum gently while you walk away. 

Joel has laid out everything you might need on the counter. After cleaning the toy, you push the thin fabric of your lingerie aside and slide it inside yourself. You can already feel pressure on that little spongy part inside you that Joel loves to tease. As you wash your hands you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. 

I can do this, you say to yourself. 

As soon as you step out of the bathroom and make eye contact with Joel the toy comes to life. Your false confidence from a few seconds ago buckles along with your knees as you brace yourself on the door frame and let out a breathy gasp. 

“I want you to keep count and thank me for each one, Little Dove. Understand?” 

“Y-yes, sir,” you moan, crossing your legs and squeezing your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact. 

The vibration stops, you take a few deep breaths before standing up tall and walking over to the table. Always the gentleman, he pulls out your chair and kisses the top of your head before taking his seat. 

“Eat while we go over some ground rules, Little Dove.” 

You don’t have to be told twice, you love sushi and you’re probably going to need your strength for the evening. 

“You are going to need a safe word tonight.” Your mouth goes dry and you become accurately aware of the small remote control in his possession. 

“We are going to use a colour coding system, much like traffic lights. If I ask you for a colour tonight you have three options. Green means you want to keep going,” he emphasizes the word you. 

“Yellow means you need a break and will let me know when you’re ready again. Say red and we stop.” Joel pauses and looks at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes, sir,” you reply in between bites. 

He picks up his wine and takes a sip before continuing softly, reaching across to grab your hand. “But baby, you can say yellow or red at any time. If you need a break or reassurance, say yellow. And if it’s too intense and you need me to stop, say red. We’ve done our research on this. But you need to know that if you say stop, or that you need a break, or even if you’re crying and saying I’m hurting you, I will not stop. Colours only. Understand?”

You nod while taking a big mouthful of wine, the nervous excitement that you’ve been feeling all day courses through your body. As your wine glass is put back on the table the vibrating starts again, stronger this time. 

“You should know by now that you need to use your fucking words, Little Dove.” He says darkly. 

“Yes,” you stammer. “Yes. I under….I understand, sir.”

The vibrating stops and you let out a breathy, Oh god.

You both eat your dinner and finish the wine, this man could give you whiplash with how quickly he can go from sir to family man.  He asks about your day and tells you about the new apprentice he’s hired. When you both finish eating he takes the dishes to the sink. He turns to face you, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. The sleeves of his t-shirt stretch over the ropes of muscles lining his biceps. 

“Little Dove, do I have your consent to make you come until you use a safe word?” 

Again, the whiplash. 

Your mouth goes dry as you reply with his preferred ‘yes, sir.’ 

The toy comes to life again, on a higher setting than the last 2 times. You lean forward so your ass is slightly off the chair to ease some of the intensity. You’re not a stranger to a vibrator, but never one that’s pushed this firmly against your g spot and your clit. The seat of your chair is clamped between your fingers as you cry out in pleasure. 

“Don’t make me tie you to that fucking chair. Sit down, Little Dove.”

You do as he says, letting out a desperate moan as the hard seat presses the two ends of the u shaped toy deeper and harder against your g spot. 

“Oh fuck - fuck - m’gonna…” you close your eyes and your head falls back as the white heat in your center starts to reach its breaking point. 

Joel strides over to you and grabs your chin, twisting you slightly to face him. “Look at me, I want to see it when you come.” 

“J-Joel,” his hand doesn’t leave your chin and he watches you with such admiration as you start to come undone. 

“That’s it, Little Dove,” he whispers as he places a few kisses along your jaw towards your ear adding, “Let go for me.” 

Your orgasm hits you hard, spreading from the base of your spine and out to every inch of your body. Wave after wave flows through you, intensified by the look of admiration spreading across Joel's face.  

“There you go - good girl.” 

Your fingers start to ache as you fight to stay seated in the chair, his wishes are your command and you’ll do anything to hear him praise you again. You squirm against the seat as overstimulation starts to take over. 

“Please, sir,” you beg, “fuck! I need…I need to move.” 

“So beautiful when you beg, Little Dove….count it for me” He says. 

“One sir, thank you.” It comes out weak and breathy, a voice you didn’t expect after only one orgasm. 

“Give me a colour, baby.” His voice is almost soothing as he torments you with the vibrator. 

Current state aside, you’re not giving up or giving in after one orgasm, even if it is still coursing through you minutes later. 

“Green!” You scream, shifting yourself off the chair slightly as he switches to a new vibration setting.  Its intensity varies and shifts, and the anticipation of never knowing what might hit you next is a new level of wonderful torture.

Joel slides your chair out and kneels in front of you, pushing your hips back down to the chair. 

“I will tie you down if you don’t stay still, Little Dove,” he growls before slamming his lips into yours.

A second orgasm tears through your body, your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you try not to move. It’s no use, the vibrations are too intense and you buck your hips up while your head falls back breaking the kiss. 

The kitchen fills with your cries of ecstasy. Somehow you manage to count and thank him for the second one before he turns off the toy and pulls you to your feet. You grip his strong forearms to steady yourself, your pussy still fluttering against the weight of the vibrator. 

“You have five seconds before I turn this on high, Little Dove. Unless you can make it to the bedroom before that.” 

Your legs feel like jelly beneath you, but your competitive side kicks in and you sprint down the hallway as he loudly and authoritatively counts to five. You almost make it through the bedroom when you feel the most intense vibration hit your swollen g spot. You stumble forward, folding your upper body onto the bed. Your brain scrambles to catch up to your body as it processes that you’re not in pain but instead in a state of agonizing pleasure. 

Joel walks up behind you, pressing himself against your ass. “You’re doing such a good job for me,” he praises before landing a hard slap on your right ass cheek. 

Your body is suspended in that moment right before you come. You almost feel like you’re floating and the pleasure is so intense that you can’t even make a noise as you clench the bedsheet in your fists to try to ground yourself. 

He uses his body to pin you down, folding over you and whispering “Give me a colour,” in your ear. 

“Green” comes out in a shaky whisper. 

“That’s my girl.” He says proudly, biting your shoulder blade. 

Again it’s his words that do it, my girl, and you finally tip over the edge and tremble underneath him. Joel kisses and sucks the skin of your upper back, every inch of your body feels encompassed by him and crying out for relief, but you’re not giving in. 

“Ah - fuuuuck…” you feel like this orgasm has been going on for hours.

“I wish you could see how good you look right now.” 

“Stop. P-please. Stop,” you beg in between gasps of air. 

As you come down from your high the vibrating slows to a small tickle, not enough to make you come again but enough to remind you that it’s there.

Can someone die from an orgasm? 

“Take off your clothes,” Joel growls in your ear, slapping your right ass cheek as he peels himself off of you. “I’m not stopping until you use the safe word, Little Dove.” 

He pulls his shirt off and watches as you undo the clasps and clips of your lingerie and slide it off with shaky hands. 

As you lay on the bed you say, “I’m not a fucking quitter, sir.” 

Joel smirks, laughing through his nose a little as he wraps a silk cuff around each ankle, spreading your legs apart for him. “How many are we at so far?” 

As he cuffs your wrists you reply. “Three. Thank you, sir.” 

He kisses your forehead as he slowly removes the vibrator. “Fuck me,” he says, “look at this mess, such a good girl for me.” 

You close your eyes and let the praise wash over you like a warm bath. Joel shifts his body between your legs and places two little kisses on your swollen clit making you whimper and suck your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He uses two fingers to lightly circle your clit making you come instantly with a whimpering ‘four, thank you, sir,’ at the end. 

Joel doesn’t stop, switching to use his tongue while keeping the same pace and pressure as you come again.

“Ah - five, thank you, sir!”

….and again….”fuck, six. Thank you, sir.”

...and again….”s-seven - oh god - thank y-you, sir.” 

Your skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat as a cool liquid drizzles down your pussy. You gasp at the new sensation, eyes shooting to his face. 

“Stay still, Little Dove.” 

As he runs his fingers up and down your pussy, the lube turns warm and tingly, heightening his touches. Joel draws circles on your clit with his thumb, pursing his lips and blowing cool air. The warmth turns icy cold, and when he stops blowing, heat rushes to your pussy, pulling another orgasm from you. 

Yes, I’m certain someone can die from an orgasm. 

“Count, Little Dove.” 

A whine escapes your lips as you try to tug your legs together. His thumb has slowed down but it’s all becoming too much. “Eight. I can’t anymore, sir.” 

He blows cool air again and the heat rushing has you keening all over again. 

“Please, Joel. I can’t. Please.” Tears spring from your eyes. 

“You’re ok. You can do this, baby.” Cool air hits your pussy again and you come apart.  “Good girl. So gorgeous. Count it for me, Little Dove.” 

“Nine. N-nine,” your eyes slam shut as he pulls away from you. “T-thank you, sir.” 

Before you’ve even finished thanking him, he slides his middle finger inside you, lightly massaging your g spot that’s still so sensitive from the vibrator. He pushes one of his strong hands down on your mound as he torturously works you toward your tenth orgasm. 

“No…please. Sir, I,” you gasp as you try to pull free. 

“I can’t,” the pleasure is almost painful at this point as the pressure from your arousal builds. He knows your close, he’s been dying to make you squirt again after the other night. 

“Color,” Joel says tenderly, slipping a second finger inside you and hooking the forward. 

You swallow hard against your sore and scratchy throat. You whine ‘green’, as you arch your back to try to ease the intense mixture of pain, pleasure and pressure that you’re experiencing. 

“Stay still, Little Dove,” Joel pushes harder on your lower belly. “Give me number ten. Show me, baby. Show me how good this feels.” 

You swear that everything stops, including your heart and time, as you fall apart under his touch and gush all over his hand. The walls of your pussy are clenching around Joel’s fingers and you can feel a puddle forming underneath you.  You think you hear Joel praising you, but the sound is muffled by your gasps and moans.  If you lived in an apartment your neighbours might think you were being tortured based on the loud cries coming out of you. Joel is sure that he’ll be making you a hot toddy to ease your throat later, but right now he’s hyper-focused on getting you through this orgasm.

As you start to come down his hand slows, “relax, baby.”

 “Red. S-stop. Fuck Joel, red.” 

Joel gently removes his fingers, shifting quickly to undo your restraints. You’re shivering and exhausted as he pulls you into his arms and away from the soaked sheets.

Everything Joel Miller does is done with the utmost care and attention, including aftercare. Your heated blanket is already warmed up, tucked near the headboard. He pulls it over you and places a featherlight kiss on your sweaty forehead. 

“I got you, darlin’. Shhh. I got you.” He holds you tighter as you melt into him. 

After a few moments of silence, you tilt your face up to look at him. “Are you okay?” He asks gently.

You bite your bottom lip to stop a smile. “Ya, that was - amazing.” 

You laugh a little and tuck back into his chest. “Are you sure? I’m so proud of you for using a safe word, but I need to ensure I didn’t hurt you.” 

You shake your head and fight to stay awake. “No…you didn’t” you mumble sleepily, stifling a yawn. “I’m great - just one minute…then I’ll do something for you.” 

Joel laughs softly and tilts your face up to his. He presses his lips to yours gently. “That was for me, Little Dove. Sleep for a little bit, I’ll wake you up for electrolytes and food.”

The warmth of your blanket takes over, you whisper an ‘I love you’ just as you drift off, thanking whoever brought this beautiful man into your life. 

++++++++++

Taglist: @corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @mermaidgirl30 @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut

[lily-fics-11]

I Can See You: Chapter 2 (Ellie Williams, TLOU)

I Can See You

Fic master post here

*Not beta read

Ellie Williams is a player, on and off the lacrosse field. You begin tutoring her so that she can get her grades up and stay on the team. You try to keep things professional, however, your affection is a great motivator. Ellie wouldn't be caught dead with you so you become her secret mission. 

Chapter 2

Ellie’s behavior towards you fluctuates and you aren’t quite sure why. You go to her lacrosse game when you need to learn more about lacrosse, she ends up giving you a private lesson.

Word count: 4k

CW: Profanities, reference to sexual situations and feelings, innuendos, slight intimacy, *Ellie and reader are both 18*

“Under one condition, we keep things professional.”

Ellie, though in need of a few reminders, holds up her end of the bargain. Sure, she is naturally flirtatious but the two of you start to become… friends? She genuinely wants to get to know you and becomes more comfortable being open about her own life. 

However, as your friendship continues to grow, you can’t help but want her as more than that. You gave the ultimatum, but it wasn't long before you regretted it. Even though it was the right thing to do. 

Seeing Ellie in the hallway goes from inspiring admiration to longing begrudgingly. Pangs of jealousy spike when you see her talking to other girls. 

With a little probing, Ellie starts to share her academically oriented interests, and she wants to teach you about them since you’ve taught her so much. You started by asking if there were any sections of a museum that she likes. Turns out that she has an affinity for dinosaurs. “You should watch Jurassic Park with me. I could point out every type of dinosaur for you,” she declared confidentially. 

You smile and shake your head. “Ellie, you can’t just ask me on a movie date. Professional, remember?”

She raises her eyebrows in shock but you can see in her eyes that she absolutely intended it that way. “I’m not asking you on a date! I'm trying to educate you on a subject that actually matters.”

“So that’s not just one of your tricks, telling a girl you are going to teach her about dinosaurs so you can impress her? Get her close enough to kiss?” You are frowning, not wanting Ellie to see you as some girl to put her moves on. 

She looks a little disgusted. “Do you think girls are impressed by dinosaur facts? That would be a tyrannosaurus wreck.”

You shrug your shoulders. “I would be impressed.”

“You’re nothing like the girls I usually date.”

“Good.”

In an attempt to get Ellie further invested you ask her about her dream job. You expected her to say professional athlete, but she actually wants to be an astronaut.

“I like to go to the planetarium, you should come with me some time,” she offers nonchalantly. 

“I’m not so sure about that Ellie, sounds like a date to me.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve never dated a girl that would want to go to the planetarium.”

You roll your eyes back at her, but also laugh. “Maybe you are dating the wrong kind of girl.”

“Then maybe you are the right…” she stutters, “right about the girls I date.”

Things go on that way over the next few tutoring sessions before there is a shift in Ellie’s behavior. She is suddenly quiet, and even a bit awkward. You wonder if she’s tired of being friendly and doesn’t know how to say it. The weird thing is that you see her looking back at you when you watch her in the hallway. She’s never done that before, and only started after acting differently. 

While working on her Spanish homework one day the silence is driving you crazy. You can’t help but say something.

“You have nothing, I don’t know… random, to say?” 

“Random?” She questions nervously. 

“You haven’t asked ‘donde está la biblioteca’ for no reason. You haven’t answered any of the questions with ‘vamos a la play, a mi me gusta baila.’”

“I guess I’ve just been… feeling things. About you…” she stutters, “what you’ve said. I really could do well if I focused enough. I’m going to college to play lacrosse, but doing something I actually want doesn't need to end there.”

Ellie won’t carry a conversation. Nonetheless, you continue to catch her looking at you, anytime or anywhere you see her. She will force down a smile, look away, and pretend like it didn’t happen. You try to stay in your lane but you end up confronting her.

You stare her down until she makes eye contact, she looks a little startled. “You know I can see you, right?”

Her cheeks go pink. “Well I am sitting across from you. Best seat in the house.” She laughs but it is forced and fake.

You cross your arms. “Not like that. Actually looking at me, here, and in the hallways.”

Ellie’s eyes nervously dart around the room. “I like to be aware of my surroundings, I look at everything.”

That makes your eyes squint and your nose scrunch. “I see you looking at me, which would be whatever, but it started after you stopped talking to me. It doesn’t make any sense!”

Ellie huffs and runs a hand through her hair. “I’ve just got a lot going on. The first game of the season is coming up. I’m grateful that I’ve gotten to… uh, get your help. And when I do work I get nervous because I, uh, know there is a lot of pressure for me to do well. I hope you know that I,” she clears her throat, “appreciate you.”

You unfold your arms and busy your hands with papers on the table. “I’m sorry Ellie, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’ll leave you alone from now on, it’s none of my business.”

“Please don’t leave me alone,” she mumbles, her green eyes glassy. You’ve never seen her like this and you wonder if anyone ever has.

“I’m here for you Ellie, I’m not going anywhere,” you assure her and she snaps back into reality. She hurriedly gets back to her work, speaking no unnecessary words or making any eye contact for the rest of the period.

The day before the first game of the season your ears perk up when you overhear Ellie’s name in the chatter coming from the table next to you during lunch.

“Anna is upset because Ellie doesn’t flirt with her in class anymore,” one girl shares. 

“Ellie as in Ellie Williams?” Another questions.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t sound like her.”

“I heard that if she doesn’t fix her grades soon she won’t be allowed to play anymore.”

You would like to say your initial thought upon hearing this was being proud of Ellie. However, the first thing that crossed your mind was an embarrassing satisfaction, knowing that she’s giving less attention to other girls. Even if you aren’t receiving that sort of attention in turn

Later that day you meet with Ellie. You aren’t going to say anything flat out, but you are proud of her, and wonder why she hasn’t mentioned anything. Even if things are awkward, you hope she knows that you care. 

Ellie is on high alert, which makes sense, the first game of the season is looming over her. Between subjects you casually inquire, “how have things been going in class?”

“Uh, fine I guess,” she mumbles, not looking up. 

“Do you think tutoring is, I don’t know, helping you focus?” You question. “Maybe understand things better as they are being taught?”

“Well it is what made me want to stop…” she hesitates to finish the sentence. “Doing things the way I was.”

Your face lights up. “So you are paying more attention?”

Her posture slumps. “I try. But sometimes I think a lot. Get lost in my own head.”

“I understand that it’s easy to get lost in thought, but doing your best to listen to your teachers could make things a lot easier for you.” You do your best to be gentle and encouraging. 

A smile starts to creep up on Ellie’s face. “I don’t need to listen to them, I have you. You are way more attrac- more accommodating than any teacher I’ve ever had.”

You giggle a little. “I appreciate the compliment, Ellie, but they are the professionals.”

She purses her lips. “It makes sense why you would have faith in them. They have faith in you. They’ve never believed in me.”

Your face drops hearing her say that. “For whatever it may be worth, I believe in you.”

Ellie’s eyes widen and her freckled cheeks blush. “No one has said that to me about anything other than lacrosse in a long time, except Joel.”

“Who’s Joel?” You ask curiously. 

“My dad.” She informs you with a small smile, you can tell she must really care about him by the sparkle in her eyes. 

“You call him Joel?”

Ellie runs a hand through her hair. “It’s… complicated.”

That’s not your business and you are happy she’s already shared so much with you. “Well you should listen to Joel, he knows what he’s talking about.”

Ellie goes quiet for the rest of your time together and you don’t push her not to be.

As she is leaving you call for her to wait. She turns towards you and her green eyes are wide and expectant, there is a certain glimmer in them that you haven’t seen before.

“Good luck with your game tomorrow, Ellie.”

On the day of the game you can’t help but stare at Ellie more than usual in her suit and tie. The team always dresses up on game day. She catches you looking and licks her lips with raised eyebrows, clearly pleased with herself, before returning her attention to the friends she is walking with.

Lacrosse seems to be haunting you when your gym teacher announces that it’s the next thing you are going to be covering. 

The teacher hardly goes over anything before splitting the class into two teams and throwing everyone into a game. Ellie plays with grace and ease, not even the other lacrosse players can compare. You try to watch what she’s doing, and that’s obviously the only reason you are looking at her, to try and see if you can figure out how this sport works. But that is really hard to do when you are worried about getting hit in the face with a flying ball or swinging stick. 

In the locker room after class you hear a few girls giggling and talking about how they can’t wait to see Ellie play this afternoon. It hits you that it would be the perfect opportunity to see how lacrosse is supposed to be played without risking your personal safety. You could study the game, but just the game. Nothing else. At least that’s what you are telling yourself. 

After the final bell of the day you hang around school before the game starts, with your friend Nicole. You convinced her to come to the game with you. She doesn’t seem to have any suspicions that you may have ulterior motives for attending. You start reading the chapters needed for one of your classes tomorrow to pass the time.

When you get to the field the bleachers are pretty packed, rivaling the crowd you’ve seen (only on other students' social media stories), at football games. 

You and Nicole take a seat far to one side that isn’t too densely packed. 

The team takes the field and you spot Ellie immediately, you would recognize that stance anywhere. She is wearing number 11, which happens to be your lucky number, on the opposing team's 30 yard line. You hadn’t planned this, but she is basically in line with where you are sitting. Taking a closer look you see a tattoo on her forearm, which definitely doesn’t have you feeling any type of way. 

You recognize Abby Anderson wearing number 7, from her phenomenal physique. Ellie isn’t the only girl on the team you are attracted to. Abby faces off with a tall girl from the other team in the middle of the field. When the referee blows the whistle their two sticks, and the ball, shoot up into the air. Abby jumps higher and secures the ball for her team. She passes it right to Ellie, who makes a quick getaway, and effortlessly scores before 30 seconds has gone by. You don’t really know how this all works, but from the way the crowd roars that must be impressive. 

The first half goes by rather quickly. You would like to say you were engrossed by all the action, but it was number 11 that was consuming your thoughts. In your defense a lot of the game centered around her, she scored 3 out of the 4 goals for her team, they are winning 4 - 2, and had a ton of assists.

As the team takes the field for the second half your eyes find Ellie immediately, and you could swear that she was looking back at you. She is too far away to tell for sure, and wearing goggles, making it easy to fall prey to delusion. The game starts but Ellie doesn’t move until the ball is passed to her and it wizzes past her head while she is still facing your direction. She snaps out of being distracted and manages to recover the ball. Did she actually notice you? 

“Get it together Williams!” the coach yells at her and that only makes Ellie run faster. She rolls around a defender and scores a goal. That one hiccup didn’t stop Ellie from performing with near perfection the rest of the game. She does, however, glance in your direction every once in a while. But your head must be messing with you, right?

Ellie scores 4 more goals in the second half, leading her team to victory with a final score of 12 - 5.

“You are tutoring her, right?” Nicole asks as you clear out of the stands with the rest of the spectators. 

“Who?” You ask, playing dumb and praying she didn’t notice the trance number 11 had you in for the last hour and a half. 

“Ellie Williams.”

“Oh, yeah,” you reply, acting as natural as possible.

“She really is as good as everyone says she is, I hope you can help her stay off the bench.” 

Nicole doesn’t try to discuss Ellie any further and you thank the universe for its mercy. You part ways after exiting the bleachers because you forgot a textbook in your locker. While making your way back to the school you spot Ellie talking to a ruggedly handsome man. He looks slightly older than you would expect an 18 year old’s father to be, but that must be Joel. You don’t spend too long looking at him, not when Ellie looks so hot now that her goggles are off. Sweat is glistening on her forehead and her short ponytail is tousled with a piece in the front falling across her face. You shake your head to rattle the thoughts of what other activities make her look like that.

When you finally get back to your locker you pull out the textbook and notice that the bookmark you had in it is gone, it must have fallen out. While you can still recall the images on the page you left off on you flip through to find it. Then you get stuck in the hallway even longer when your mom calls you, questioning whether or not you are going to be home for dinner, and what you want to eat.

By the time you make it out to the parking lot there aren’t too many cars left, just those of the lacrosse players who are starting to trickle out of the locker room. You start driving, and as you pass the door Ellie has just stepped out of it. You accidentally make eye contact with her, and she flashes you a devilish grin. In turn you force a smile through your embarrassment and quickly look back ahead of you, praying she didn’t notice how red she has turned your face. 

There is a mischievous fire burning in Ellie William’s eyes when she enters the library for her tutoring session the next day, with a confidence she has recently lacked. “I can't believe you came to watch me play, tutor girl.”

You roll your eyes. “I was there to study.”

“Study what? My physique?” Ellie licks her lips, obviously trying to draw your attention there. “I do look pretty good in the uniform. It shows off my muscles, and my tattoo. Plus green really is my color.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to convince her that her charm isn’t working on you, even though it is. “I was studying lacrosse, for gym.”

Ellie’ nose scrunches up, quite adorably. “Why would you need to study lacrosse?”

“We are being graded on participation, but it’s hard to participate when you have no clue what you are doing.”

Her pupils expand instantaneously and her lips part. “You would be a little too powerful if you were able to play sports, you are already so smart.” She turns away and you swear you hear her mumble “especially when you look like that.”  

You bite your lip for a moment, almost giving in to the energy that Ellie is projecting. “They don’t offer tutoring for gym class. I figured watching an actual game would be beneficial.”

Something wicked, yet playful, flickers in her striking eyes. “I could tutor you.”

You start to panic, spending more time than necessary with this attractive girl can't mean anything but trouble. “That won’t be necessary,” you rush to say.

“Oh come on, would you turn down the chance to be tutored in physics by Newton?”

“Are you calling yourself the Isaac Newton of lacrosse?”

“That’s just the first analogy I could come up with. It will be so much easier for you if I show you what to do. Since you won’t let me teach you about dinosaurs and space you could at least let me teach you this. You would never want to go on a sports date, so I can help you out and keep things professional.”

“It would be really helpful to have someone show me exactly what to do.”

“My practice ends tomorrow at noon, come at 1, that way no one sees us together.” Ellie passes you her phone with her contacts open so you can add yourself in. “I’ll teach you how to shoot your shot.”

“You know what Williams, I’ll see you then.”

When you get to the field Ellie is alone, waiting for you, looking undeniably sexy. Her legs are casually spread and her elbows rest on the bleacher bench above hers. The sun has kissed her face wondrously, though her cheeks and nose are burnt a little pink. And her hair, messy from playing hard, you wish you were the one making it look like that.

Ellie saunters down to the field with all her things, and the extra lacrosse stick she had said she would bring for you in your brief text message exchange. You reach out for the stick right away, not leaving room for any funny business. 

She looks a little taken aback at first, but smiles playfully while hungrily looking you up and down. You can see her try to focus in when she suggests “why don’t we start with you showing me how you hold the stick.”

You try to take an athletic stance, legs bent at the knees, feet shoulder width apart. You at least know that much. You fiddle with the stick a little before taking your final guess at how to grasp it. “Is this correct?” you ask.

Ellie blinks rapidly and one corner of her mouth turns up. “Gotta be honest with you tutor girl, not even close. I have to ask, what were you paying attention to during the game if you didn't no even see how to hold the stick?” She looks you in the eyes, seductively. Like she knows exactly what had your attention.

Your mouth scrunches to one side as you try to find an excuse.  “The ball!” you blurt out. “I got distracted following where the ball was.”

Ellie stands with her hands on her hips, chin up in the air, looking way too pleased with herself. “I’m sure. Let me show you how to hold the stick.”

You expect her to show you with her own stick. Instead, Ellie gets recklessly close and puts her hands over yours to reposition them. Your heart rate shoots up and you thank god the long fingers of her veiny hands aren’t too close to where she can feel your pulse booming. Ellie remains in your personal space long enough for you to smell her cologne. It’s pretty strong, like she just sprayed it. The scent attracts you to her more than usual being in an unusual proximity. It's earthy, woodsy, and suits her well. You are distracted by her tattoo when she pulls away, it draws your eyes, and up close you notice that it’s covering a scar. 

Ellie clears her throat but doesn’t step away. “Now that you’ve got that, show me how you cradle.”

“Why don’t you just show me how you do it?” Being able to feel the heat radiating off her body on this cool spring day, her warm skin touching yours, it’s a dangerous game. It will only leave you longing for more. However, watching her strong hands and muscular arms in action can give you at least some satisfaction, without too much temptation. 

Ellie demonstrates how to cradle the ball before letting you try. You hold the stick and swivel your body. 

“Hold on, it’s gotta come from your wrists, not your torso. Ears to nose.” Before you can correct yourself she grabs your shoulders, more tender than you would expect the rough and tough Ellie Williams to be. She could have remained an arms length away, but she is nearly pressed up against you. When she tells you  “I’m going to keep your body in place so that you can only move the way I want you to,” you can feel her breath on your neck, creating a ripple of goosebumps.

Your breath hitches and you bite your lip so that you don’t audibly gasp. “Are you going to give it a try?” She snickers after you had taken time to bring back your thoughts from the dirty place she clearly wanted them to go. You can hear the smirk in her voice, she knows exactly what she is doing.

“Yeahhhh,” you grumble before you start. She gives you a few corrections as you practice and eventually you get the hang of it. You step away first and turn to face her. 

“I’ve gotta say Williams, I’ve been on dates where I’ve been touched less.”

She raises an eyebrow and scratches her head. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

You cross your arms. “Touching my hands, holding my shoulders…”

“Let’s just say it’s easier to cradle you through this. I wouldn’t do it if I had no reason to, professional was the deal. But I’m not going to act like it’s absolutely necessary, or that I don’t enjoy it. But, if you had let me teach you about dinosaurs I wouldn’t have an excuse to do this. Though I wouldn’t complain if you got scared and let me put my arm around you. I want to steal a kiss but I’m not going to.”

“If this is the easiest way to get this done, so be it,” you huff, trying to disguise your excitement.

Ellie goes on to teach you how to throw and catch. Eventually you can do those a few times in a row when tossing the ball back and forth to each other.  

When you realize how long the two of you have spent together you tell her “I think this is enough… enough to get me a grade that won’t skew my GPA.”

“Are you sure? I don’t have anything to do until tonight.” Ellie looks at her wrist like she is checking a watch, even though she isn’t wearing one. “I don’t mind taking my time with you.”

Your face is burning, and not from the exercise. “I appreciate that. I’ve got a lot of work to do though. Thank you Ellie, I really appreciate you doing this for me.” 

“Anything for you, tutor girl.”

(Shout out to my sister Nicole for being my lacrosse expert) 

Tags: @bready101, @st4r-b3rries, @tlou-bombshell, @stvrs13, @dinanellie, @everegretseverything, @mikellie, @lamolaine

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 | a joel miller x reader oneshot

summary: this is based around work song by hozier, felt a deep need to write some joel miller comfort stuff. listen to the song if you fancy, it really helps, i swear. this is just a lot of angst, fluff, and longing wrapped into a 5k fic i wrote out a couple weeks ago out of missing writing and joel miller.

word count & warnings: 5k | 18+, fem!reader, mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it's just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

It’s like an atom bomb uprooting your world with the heavy rasps of a hand against solid wood, sending a sharp buzz of electricity down your spine as you shoot up from your position on the couch, nearly tripping over Ellie on the way. The remnants of a night spent like a teen, enjoying a sleepover with the young girl who had a lot to talk about. You knew enough about Savage Starlight that you were practically an aficionado now, but that didn’t matter. 

Ellie only stirs slightly, turning on her side on the cushion of her make-shift pallet and you open the front door slowly despite your rapidly beating heart.

Joel never knocked, never really announced himself. He would come in quiet, quick, and busy himself upstairs. You knew that because he usually found you in his bed, waiting for him.

Tonight was a little different. 

No grave can hold my body down,

I'll crawl home to her

You world spins as you see what’s on the other side, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you see him.

Joel. But he wasn’t alone.

“Maria—“ It’s laced with too many emotions, too many meanings. You shift your gaze between the two.

“Everyone—“ Maria has to force herself to take a deep breath, a careful hand on Joel’s arm as she forces him to take a step forward, “everyone is fine.”

“Maria, he’s covered in blood.” As if that wasn’t obvious.

It was crusted and oxidized down, sticking to his skin and covering him like something out of a horror movie. He wasn’t shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. Joel was unnaturally still. Frozen.

“Do you have him?” Maria asks, only expecting one answer. “I’ve gotta tend to Tommy and he’s not telling me a damn thing.”

“Is he hurt?” Your brow furrowed in concern, but Maria doesn’t elaborate at all. You reach for Joel silently, his skin icey to the touch, the rigid, cold weather partially to blame.

“He’ll be alright.” Maria assures you with a nod and she’s gone without another word, leaving you to stare at the shell of a man before you, his eyes boring into the ground, staring at the scuffed up material of his boots, not a word to be spoken. Not even so much as a breath.

“Is he in shock?” Ellie’s less than chipper voice speaks from behind you, forcing your heart to kickstart again.

“Um, I don’t—know…” You pull him inside gently, which he doesn’t fight, but he feels lifeless, “has he—have you seen him like this before?”

“Never.” Her eyes well with silent tears and you quickly shoo her away. Ellie almost seems thankful. Joel can’t admit it to himself but Ellie knows. 

You care. 

“Go upstairs and get some sleep, Ellie.” You assure her, “I can handle it.”

The walk to Joel’s bedroom feels miles away. Joel shows no signs of life still, as you drag him inside of his room and shut the door with a soft click.

“You need to shower.” 

Joel knows this, he can smell it on him.

The smell of death.

You smell it too, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Joel,” You speak softly, invading his line of sight, a gentle touch against rough skin, his scruff a few days grown and there’s a small twitch as your warm hand makes contact, “are you here?”

His nod is a sigh of relief, a weight off your chest.

“Okay—okay, that’s good,” You keep your voice low, like a secret between the both of you, “do you need my help?”

Joel shakes his head weakly, pulling at the buttons of his thick coat, realizing slowly that it was just as bloodied as the rest of him. He wants it off. All of it. Now.

“Are you going to fight me if I try to help?” It’s lighthearted, but you can see how deeply it digs at Joel, like a fresh wound. “Sorry—I just, I want to help. Okay?”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push your hands away when they reach forward and take the coat from his hands. You toss it in a nearby corner, out of sight and out of mind.

You could handle it later, get rid of the mess so Joel wouldn’t have to bother with it.

He toes off his boots after tugging at the laces, delicate fingertips tracing down his chest as you unbutton his flannel, forcing it down his shoulders. It takes a moment, but eventually he’s down to his boxers and tattered white undershirt, barefoot on the hardwood floor.

And he stops, leaning into you, pressing his forehead against your own in a silent bid of thankfulness, a heavy sigh escaping his chest.

Joel showers alone, eerily quiet. You get rid of the clothes, bringing them out to the garage to deal with in the morning.

Joel is already in the bed by the time you make it back to his bedroom, but if he was actually asleep was yet to be discovered, the nightmare replaying behind his eyelids unbeknownst to you. 

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Joel wasn’t supposed to come back until later in the evening that day, well after work was wrapped up for the day and everyone was already tucked into bed. You found yourself in Joel’s bed most nights now, off and on for the first few months but now, almost a year into…whatever this was, it was a weekly thing, as often as Joel wasn’t out on patrol. 

There was never an agreement about what this was either, not that there needed to be. But, the unspoken rule was to keep your problems away–the anger, the fear, the suppressed feelings you both have tried to keep at bay for weeks now. Joel only mildly complains about things around Jackson, but never about his life before, how he feels now, or how his pseudo-daughter seeks out comfort in your presence when Joel isn’t around. 

Joel hasn’t stirred for hours, or so it feels. The night sky fades away into early morning, the tiniest amount of dawn peeking through his window and bathing him in a shadow of blue. The crinkle of sheets pulls your attention toward his face, your body heats like a furnace as it slid near, hoping that even in his slumber he might draw closer. There’s a brief moment where you think he might wake, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer. Nuzzles. 

You’ll take it. 

He moves silently, letting you hold him. An arm slipped under his head, a leg slipped between his own thighs and his hands found their way around your middle and you sigh, a deep breath through your nose that does nothing to calm your worrying, aching heart. 

If he wanted to talk about it, he would. That’s all you can hope for.

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

Joel is edging on delirious. The adrenaline was beginning to wane and he kept seeing things in faint recollection. The faces of the couple that had snuck into the cabin he and Tommy were patrolling last night, the fear on his brother’s face–something he hasn’t seen from Tommy since they were teenagers. They’re battle-hardened warriors, attack first and ask questions later. His brother was helpless then and if it weren’t for Joel’s terrible bout of insomnia—he couldn’t think about it.

He feels everything finally caught up to him, the physical exertion, the mental toll, he’s never slept so easily in his life and he feels terrible about it. He feels terrible about bringing this on you, forcing you to help piece him back together and keep him from falling apart. 

Joel is a man, solid and steel-like in his ways but he’s not invulnerable to emotion. He feels it creeping in as he blinks his tired eyes open, the flutter in his chest growing strong when he feels you wrapped around him and his own limbs just the same. 

He could’ve swore you left. The look on your face, of pure terror and disgust as he poured his heart out to you, but Joel quickly realizes that was only a dream, something his mind cooked up in the haze of hysteria.

“Is Tommy hurt?” You ask with a timidness he’s not used to, your fingers massaging at the base of his neck, twirling a curl of his hair around your finger idly, “Maria...didn’t say, she looked exhausted.”

We don’t talk about these things.

We don’t talk.

We don’t.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what happened,” You assure him like he’d spoked aloud, “Just…even a nod, Joel. Anything.”

Joel waits too long, to the point where you think he’s fallen back asleep. But eventually, he shakes his head. You relax briefly. No, he wasn’t hurt.

But, that doesn’t explain the blood. 

As much as you wanted to know, it wasn’t your place to ask.

She never asked me once

about the wrong I did

Joel doesn’t understand why he feels drawn to you, so eager to have you here, home. You had your own place, your own things, but when you were here it almost felt normal. Real. He’s dragged this out for months, avoiding the looks you give him when things get a little too intense and he pulls away. 

Ellie calls him an idiot every month that passes, knowing how good it is to have you around.

“Jesus, Joel—you can’t really be that oblivious.”

Joel forces Ellie to drop it.

But, not before she mumbles the word under her breath.

There’s a soft sob that racks your body as Joel stirs, crying silently above him with worry. You weren’t as great at burying those emotions as him, unfortunately.

Because, for tonight, well—it was almost too much to process.

“I took care of it,” Joel speaks through his gruff, sleep-filled voice, “Tommy’s fine.”

It? Took care of it? Come on, Joel.

“It was a couple. Hunters. They were from the west.”

You stay silently, scared that speaking might startle him too. You didn’t want to steal the chance of knowing, understanding.

“I handled it.” The emphasis around the word is enough to make you understand.

He killed them. There was no way around that.

“I’ve never…” The quiver in Joel’s voice is apparent, no matter how hard he tries to mask it, “I’ve felt a lot of things. Anger, betrayal, but that fear—”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling Joel closer into the space you shared.

“They had their hands around him,” Joel explains slowly, like he’s trying and failing to relive that sight in his mind, “my damn hearing, old fucking age—another minute and things would’ve been a hell of a lot different.”

“But, you took care of it.” You affirmed him and his hands tightened against your skin. “Seem pretty damn capable to me.”

“Fuckin’ cowards.” Joel spits out, “We were sleepin’ and they tried to get the jump on us.”

“It’s alright, though—Tommy’s okay, you’re…okay,” You hesitate, a quiver of a breath from Joel ghosts over your chest, his tired eyes peering into yours, “You’re okay, right?”

“Always am,” Joel assures you with a low, soft response, “had so much on mind, though, ya’ know?”

“Well, yeah—”

Joel shakes his head, cuts you off for a brief moment. You don’t really mind, talking felt too draining right now.

“Ellie’s still learnin’, she can’t even go out on patrol by herself. Tommy and Maria have the baby now.” Joel’s fingers squeeze again, a nervous tic he’s picked up when he’s got himself wrapped around you, the urge to say things he wishes he could but can’t. You’re begging for it now, wondering if this was the moment. “I couldn’t live with myself if things went the other way.”

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

Joel was a killer. Is. But, with good intentions. Not that it was needed anymore.

Survival, family, protection. He’s killed for the wrong reasons and the good ones, but it’s never been something you’ve judged him on. You never even questioned it. You accepted it, moved on, and treated him like everyone else. But, of course, there was a tinge of sweetness that creeped in, got him all caught and wound up in your web.

“Did she give you any trouble last night?” It’s a quick turn from the heavy conversation you were having, but it isn’t lost on you. He’s silently asking things to shift to something else.

“No more than the usual,” You shrug, talking softly in the early morning ambience, wind howling outside his bedroom window, a storm brewing on the horizon, “I don’t think it’s me that you should be worried about her giving trouble anyways.”

He would be stuck here in Jackson for a few days. You’ve never been more thankful for shitty weather in a goddamn apocalypse. 

“That kid loves you.” Joel comments fondly, and I do too.

“Only because I help her and Dina sneak out during town movie nights,” You admit, glancing away sheepishly, “she really worries about you.”

Joel nods knowingly, his usual scowl returning to his face. You reach forward, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone—in this light he looks fine, untouched and perfect, but he winced at the contact. He’s a tough man, but he’s not invincible. 

The touch of his fingers as they wrap around your palm are instinctive, he’s careful that he doesn’t startle you by the quick action, but it’s almost like he’s being shocked and brought back to hours before, the one hit they managed to land on him.

You’ve seen a few of Joel’s violent outbursts, yelling matches upon yelling matches with Tommy but it’s never been directed at you. You retract slightly, fingers curling over the top of his own.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, “I didn’t realize—“

“I would never hurt you.” Joel says adamantly, but you can’t help but feel puzzled. “I’m not a monster.”

That idea never crossed your mind.

“Defending yourself doesn’t make you a monster, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t know why he feels the need for validation. 

“Maria—she thought I,” Joel laughs sadly, a huff of air that borders on defeat, “Tommy was hitchin’ the horses up and she saw me first, without him and she thought I left him behind. That I sacrificed my own damn brother to save my ass.”

Maria had never been fond of Joel, that much was always apparent, even from the moment you met. She tolerated him because he was Tommy’s brother but that was all. There was no way around it. 

“I’ve done plenty of shit to cement my place in hell somewhere, and so has Maria,” You tell him, “Doesn’t matter what she thinks, Tommy knows you would never do that.”

Joel squeezes your waist tighter, the soft skin molding under his calloused fingertips, “You’re too damn good to me.”

The kissing starts slowly, a soft caress as Joel moves in closer, and doesn’t even try—he waits for you, teasing you with a touch until you can’t fight anymore and you press your lips against his gently. It’s the first time in the last several hours that Joel doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, barely skimming the surface to keep himself afloat. 

He feels horrible, using you like this—coping with things by stowing them away and surrounding himself with you in a hope that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions, that he would have to explain his actions or justify them. But, you taste too damn sweet under his tongue and he prods until you let him in, a small sigh leaving your mouth as your lips part. 

“Fuck, darlin’.” He swears like a symphony, sounding more devious than it should as it leaves his lips, “Can’t keep at this, not with Ellie upstairs.”

“Joel, she’s not here.” It’s not so obvious to Joel, who’s just about as oblivious to every teen antic thrown his way. “She’s out with Dina, probably. That’s usually where she goes when she’s upset.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I heard her moving around when you were asleep,” You explain quietly, jostling your head slightly on the pillow until Joel’s situated over you slightly, his head resting in the palm of his hand that held him upright, “it’ll do you some good to talk to her in the morning.”

Joel nods knowingly, half-smiling as he pushes your hair behind your ear, his thumb finding the sensitive dip behind your lobe and rubbing until you couldn’t hold your laughter in, letting it bubble out weakly before falling silent, a soft, but serious look growing across your features.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” You tell him, “please.”

“C’mere,” Joel nudges his chin upwards, drawing you in close, “I’m not goin’ down without a fight, darlin’.”

“I’m serious,” You don’t need to force a love confession on him, not that it would salvage anything or make things better, because Joel already understands—there’s too many instances where he’s felt his heart tug in all the weird, uncomfortable places he’s kept locked away since he was younger, before the outbreak, before Sarah, “you can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m here,” Joel assures you, forehead pressed firm against your own as he nods, “I’m right here.”

He failed to mention how after the attack, the split second of everything flashing through his memory, the possibility of losing Tommy, disappointing Ellie, that you were the one thing that kept him conscious enough to come home.

He’d left you with a burning kiss the day he left, kissing like two lovebirds trying to keep a secret as you hung around the stables as the pairs readied to leave. 

It was his own little promise of a return, but you didn’t realize in just what shape. He was good at masking, even now. Joel was hurting, but all he wanted was you.

And you could give him that.

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Joel hums, soft and quiet, “Don’t move,” He pleads, “need you right here.”

His palms are heavy, feeling so much larger than they should as they span the length of your body, pulling you in close and cradling you like a safety blanket. Maybe you should stop, it isn’t the best route to cope with the situation, but Joel is there—wanting and needing and he’s mouthing at the junction of your neck in a way that has you gasping for air. 

He needs you to occupy his mind, it’s what you did best for him. Joel needed somewhere else to be, anywhere but the hellscape behind his eyes when sleep succumbed to his pure exhaustion.  

Just a moment. Just a moment to breathe. To feel.

Your brow furrows so deep that you're scowling now, but mostly out of concern, forehead scrunching from the emotion and you cradle Joel’s face carefully between your hands, “Tell me what you need.”

You. 

He doesn’t say as much, but you can feel him sifting for your tattered pajama pants as he digs his fingertips under the waistband and yanks, hoping you’ll get the idea. 

Okay, this is fine. He needs sex, you can provide him that. But, you won’t let him escape. Joel needed to be present and here with you, not forcing himself to some far off space in his mind and keeping you around him like nothing more than a warm body for him to fuck.

He’s got you all pliant under his touch as he needs at soft skin, thumb digging into your hip bone as he shifts between your legs lazily, spreading you wide and using the arm that is holding most of his weight to unfurl his hand and reach for that tight space behind your knee, tucking that leg up and over his right hip—this feels undoubtedly vulnerable, but he’s staring at you with those eyes and you absolutely fucking melt, his mouth parted by mere centimeters as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages, “I know you need it too.”

That was an understatement.

He’s already hard, head of his cock resting against the small expanse of skin between his groin and belly button. It’s like a wave of heat that rushes over your bodies when you finally touch him how he’s been begging—not so much with words but pleading looks. He needs it even more than you do. 

Usually you would spend a while in the throes of leisurely foreplay, letting Joel devour you until you were nothing but a heap of numbness on the bed and only then would he allow you what you were begging for the entire time. His cock, buried deep enough inside you that it felt impossible. But, there was none of that.

Your thumb slides over the head, smearing the precum in a too teasing motion that has Joel cursing under his breath before you’re abruptly guiding him to your core, slick and waiting without a single touch, embarrassingly so. Fortunately, you and Joel were long over that. Joel was overly aware of the effect he had on you—mind, body, and soul. 

He slides home and you have to take a moment, a second to breath, chest expanding with a full breadth of air as Joel pulls you in closer, if that was even possible, warm hands settling firm on your hips, his head resting against the pillow you both shared, “There she is,” Joel comments vexingly, “always know what you need, right, baby?”

As good as it feels to hear him, the way he can melt you with a single phrase or sound, he’s still on guard in the way he’s shielding himself against your body, rocking his hips in a motion that drowns out all relative thinking and it builds, builds until you can’t take it and you feel like you just might burst. You slip a hand out from under him to pull at the chain on his bedside lamp, drowning you in a soft yellow glow and Joel doesn’t look right away—that’s how you know. 

“Switch me,” You suggest softly, followed by an even lower, disgruntled noise from Joel, “—Joel, come on.”

Joel feels that distant ache in his bones, the soreness in his hands from the damage they caused, he groans with the movement, but even louder with the way you sink back down onto him once he’s settled against the mattress, hands fisted into his shirt and rumpling it up his stomach, revealing a few inches of soft skin, grinding down against him until he’s nearly writhing. His mouth opens slightly, ready to say something you didn’t want to hear.

You offer a soft shhh, eyes focused on the lines of his face, beautiful with age and scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as he settles into the feeling of you again, “Stay with me,” You jeer quietly, a soft giggle settling on the surface as you smile, ever so slightly, ”‘can you do that?”

Sometimes it feels like an impossible feat, but Joel grips you a little tighter, pulls you in ever the more closer and the slick of your body feels so goddamn good, he doesn’t even realize his thought breached his lips before your breath is hot against his ear, his mind battling the thoughts buried under the surface and every filthy thing he could blurt out in the moment, he’s so tense with anticipation, “Stop thinking so hard, Joel. You’re home. Safe.”

And for once, he gives in. A long, hard fought battle that succumbs to his own exhaustion, allowing the kinder touches, the intimate glances between two people, almost like your fingertips were grazing each other’s souls. It’s felt intense before, but this moment is sharp around the edges and Joel knows what you need to hear. He’s fought it for a while, trying to right his wrongs, remind himself still, that he didn’t deserve you. He’s done fighting.

“Just need you, darlin’.” He admits gruffly, lips sliding against each other in a messy, lazy attempt at a kiss, “Always know just what to do.”

In other words, you could read Joel like a book.

And in the few years you’ve known him, you were hoping that was the case, considering the level of intimacy you’ve reached. Joel comes with a tired, drawn out groan that pierces you deep, and you’re right there—right there, before Joel is flipping you over with little fight on your end, sucking on your clit with a ferocity that doesn’t let up, coming with a shout as you grip his hair at the root, riding out the extent of your climax against his mouth as he eased you into your sated state of exhaustion.

The comedown is heavy, long, extended bouts of silence as you two try to catch your breath, slow your pounding hearts and Joel, at some point, finds his way higher up your body, his head laying against your chest, just underneath your breasts and it's an easy position to rub your fingers into his hair, along the planes of his face. He'd never admit it, but this is his favorite part. The after.

For you, it was everything.

"I want you around more often," Joel says quietly, like a whisper, "—m'tired of worrying about you when you're not around."

It almost makes you think you slipped into some sort of fugue state, not believing that the Joel Miller had said anything remotely close to a confession. But, then again, he surprised you every day. And you knew he couldn't ask you outright, not now, maybe not ever.

But, you'd settle for this.

"I'm not going anywhere, Joel." You promise, "You've always got me to come home too."

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor- pt 10

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9.

Summary: With your ex-husband in town, this is sure to be interesting.

WC: ~2.4k

I’m in Philly this weekend. We should talk.

The good mood that you were in from waking up in your girlfriend’s arms sours at that text, and she notices.

“Hey,” she whispers as she kisses your temple, also rolling out of bed. “You’re upset.”

“I’m not,” you shrug. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you sigh. “I should probably go check on El. You comin’?”

The redhead nods and follows you into Ellie’s room, where she’s playing on the floor with a few of her dolls.

“Momma! Mel!” she grins up at the two of you. Immediately, she’s launching herself at you, and if either her or Melissa notice the way that you cling to your daughter only a bit desperately they don’t say anything. You lift your little girl onto your hip and hold her close, smoothing down her wild locks and kissing her temple. Melissa follows suit, and she grins when Ellie kisses her cheek back.

“Breakfast?” your daughter looks to your girlfriend with those sweet eyes of hers.

“Obviously,” Melissa chuckles. “And what does the princess want?”

“Chocolate chip pancakes!” Ellie cheers. When you give her a look, she quickly adds on a, “Pretty please!”

The three of you head for the kitchen, and while your daughter and your girlfriend mix the batter together and start heating up the griddle, you stare at your phone contemplating what you should do.

“Penny for your thoughts, hun?” Melissa breaks your trance as she sets a plate full of the breakfast food in front of you. Ellie comes bouncing over with the butter and syrup a few short moments later.

“We can talk later,” you tell her softly. “When we take El to the park.”

Once you finally get Ellie ready for the park and get yourself ready, you head out. Melissa drives the two of you there, and as soon as she can, Ellie is running for the swings. You and your girlfriend walk hand in hand to find a park bench to sit on and keep an eye on your little girl.

“So, what has my girl down?” the redhead asks you once she’s sure your daughter can’t hear her.

“Jared texted me. Said he’s in Philly, and we should talk.”

Her face flickers through a few different emotions before settling on a neutral face. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Honestly? Like I never want to see him again, but I also have El to think about. He is still her father.”

“And he gave up his parental rights,” she reminds you. “Willingly, and without hesitation.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh as you set your head on her shoulder. “But if he wants to reach out in order to stay in Ellie’s life, I cannot deprive my child of her father.”

“You can,” she tells you.

“But it wouldn’t be right… especially because El… she loved her Daddy before everything got messy.”

“It’s up to you, hun,” your girlfriend says. “But I would be cautious.”

“I know, I know,” you mutter.

Ellie has a blast at the park like she always does, but after about an hour she’s running back to you with rosy cheeks and telling you she’s sleepy. Melissa carries her back to the car, and in the short ten minute drive back to the apartment complex, she falls asleep in her carseat clutching one of the stuffed animals Melissa keeps in her car now. You lift her out of her carseat and hold her tightly as you make your way up to your apartment. You settle on the couch with her, still in your arms while your girlfriend heads for the kitchen.

“Are you good if I make eggplant parm?” she calls softly.

“That sounds great,” you sigh out.

As she cooks dinner, humming quietly to herself, you continue to torture yourself with the pros and cons of texting Jared back. Ultimately, you tell him that if he’s serious, you can meet him for coffee tomorrow- preferably around the time when Melissa will be going to mass.

His response is almost an immediate one. So the two of you set a time and a place, and you know that come tomorrow morning, you’re going to have to make an excuse to your girlfriend as to why you can’t join her for the church service tomorrow.

Ellie stays asleep up until Melissa calls in that dinner is ready. She clings to the redhead through dinner, claiming that she’s warmer than you are. Despite Melissa trying to get her to stay with you (she knows you need Ellie to keep you grounded right now), your daughter insists on staying in her lap.

Your routine through the end of the night goes on as usual, and when you and Melissa finally lay down for bed, you have an awful pit in your stomach as you prepare to lie to her.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you mumble with your head on her chest. “But I’m not feeling too great right now.”

“Oh?” Melissa looks at you. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just… cramps. Probably PMS.”

She’s immediately out of bed and grabbing some ibuprofen and the heating pad, and you feel even more guilty at your lie. Melissa is so willing to take care of you and love you through everything.

You’re lulled to sleep with the extra warmth provided by the heat on your abdomen as well as your girlfriend gently combing her fingers through your hair and her soft humming.

The next morning, you wake up and you wish that you were lying to Melissa when you said that your cramps were awful- they really are. But you also know that this is going to be the perfect way to get out of going to the long church service with her, and you know she’ll take Ellie with her to let you ‘rest’.

She does, and you stay in bed until they both head out. And then you run around like a maniac trying to make yourself look presentable to meet your ex-husband. 

You arrive at the coffee shop you agreed to meet at, and he’s already sitting with two cups in front of him. You drop into the seat across from his, and he pushes one of the cups in your direction.

“Hey!” he smiles at you, and it’s that damned charming smile that made you fall for him in the first place. 

You stare at him for a few minutes in a steely silence. Why did you come here? “What do you want?” is all you ask him as you take a sip of the coffee in hopes of it soothing your nerves. You cradle your abdomen in hopes that your cramps begin to subside soon.

“Damn,” he chuckles. “I come all the way out here to meet you, and that’s the greeting I get?”

“I didn’t ask you to. What do you want?” you ask him again.

He looks a bit stunned that this is the approach you’ve decided to take with him. He’s so used to you being meek and mild, warm and gentle. “I just wanted to catch up.”

“I’m doing just fine out here, with my daughter,” you say shortly.

His eyes go soft. “How is Ellie?”

“She’s fine.”

“C’mon, Y/N,” your ex sighs. “Listen, I’m sorry about everything that happened.”

“You should be,” you laugh bitterly. “You broke apart our family, and for what? To go fuck someone newer and younger? Tighter?” you quote back one of his texts to Jen that you saw after you caught him in bed with her. 

“Y/N, I was an idiot,” he tells you. You nod with a smirk. “I came out here to tell you that I want us to get back together.”

“Not a chance in hell,” you snort.

“Then at least let me see Ellie,” he tries. “C’mon. You owe me that.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” you tell him. “You cheated on me, and then signed away your parental rights without hesitation. And I’m still waiting for all of your child support money. So, I see it that if I don’t have the money in my hand by the end of this meeting-”

“Where is Ellie?” he asks quietly. “I was hoping she would be with you.”

“With our neighbor,” you say. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“You left her with your neighbor?” he asks you incredulously.

You nod. “I did. I trust Melissa- my girlfriend.”

He raises both of his eyebrows at that reveal. “Moved on so quick?”

“You moved on before you even took your ring off, so don’t give me any fucking shit, Jared,” you hiss out. “Babysitter fucker.”

“I didn’t realize you still swung that way. I thought I fucked the gay out of you,” he smirks.

“Oh, eat shit,” you stand from your place and throw your hot coffee in his face. “Don’t bother getting in touch unless it’s to fork over the child support. If I don’t have it by the end of the month, I will be getting a lawyer.”

You head out to leave the shop, and who do you run into on your way out the door but Melissa and Ellie. Your girlfriend gives you quite the questioning look, considering you were sick in bed an hour ago. 

“Momma!” your little girl shouts as she slams into your body to hug you.

You groan softly at the contact, but lift her into your arms and hold her tightly, praying she doesn’t see her father. Melissa kisses you at the same time that Ellie gasps, points, and shouts, “Daddy!”

You close your eyes and give a face of pure defeat. You were just caught.

“Ellie girl!” your ex-husband replies with the same amount of enthusiasm, and your daughter is wiggling her way out of your arms to run over to her father. He scoops her up into the biggest hug, despite the fact that he’s still covered in your beverage.

“You came here to meet Jared?” Melissa whispers as she eyes the man.

You nod sheepishly before attempting to make your way over to the two of them. You have to stop about halfway there, gasping in pain as your stomach twists in knots. Your girlfriend follows, an arm wrapped around you protectively.

“Daddy, you’re all wet!” Ellie giggles.

“You know Daddy,” he chuckles in the easy way that he used to with her. “Clumsy, clumsy.”

“Silly Daddy,” your little girl playfully rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically.

“How are you, little girl?”

Your daughter grins as she launches into her stories. “I love it here! I love school, and Momma and I go to the park all the time with Miss Mel like we are today!” she points to Melissa. “That’s Miss Mel, and I love her. She’s my favoritest person in the whole wide world!”

You have to bite back a snort when you see the hurt expression on his face, and you beam when you see your girlfriend’s proud look. You don’t even care that you aren’t your daughter’s favorite person right now because at least it isn’t him. 

“And Miss Ellie’s favorite person in the world brought her down here to pick up some coffee and doughnuts for being such a good little girl at church today,” Melissa cuts in. “Which I think we should do, what do you think El?”

The little girl absolutely beams as she remembers why they’re here, and she runs for the redhead. 

They head off towards the counter, and your eyes turn to stone again as you face your ex-husband. 

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play here, but quit it. You’re not getting her back,” you hiss. You turn on your heel and make your way up to where your girlfriend and daughter are ordering.

“I already ordered your coffee,” Melissa tells you with a kiss to the temple. She readjusts Ellie so she can grab her wallet from her pocket, but before she can insert the card, Jared is there handing over some money.

“I got this one,” he says cooly. “For my little girl, and my wife.”

There’s a fire in Melissa’s eyes, and before she can get anything out, Ellie pipes up. “You and Momma aren’t married anymore!”

Your mouth, along with Melissa’s and Jared’s, form into shocked faces. Your little girl is right.

“But thanks for breakfast anyway,” you laugh in his face. “Bye.”

You hope that he’ll just leave in anger, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his eyes even softer and his voice even smoother. “Well, I was hoping that I could maybe tag along to the park to spend some time with my little girl who I’ve missed so much.”

Fuck. Now he’s using Ellie against you, and you know your daughter will beg you to let him come.

“I missed you too, Daddy,” your daughter whispers softly, but she keeps her hold on Melissa.

“Not today, sweetheart,” the redhead says quietly as she runs a hand through your daughter’s hair. “Your momma isn’t feeling super well, so today is going to be an easy day.”

You nod along.

“Maybe another day this week then,” he shrugs. He isn’t giving up. “I’m here all week for a work conference.” With that, he kisses Ellie’s head, kisses your own, and then heads out.

A tense silence washes over Melissa and you as you wait for your coffees to finish being prepared. Ellie just hums to herself softly as she lays her head down on the redhead’s shoulder and fiddles with the ends of your girlfriend’s hair.

Your names are called, you grab the coffees, and make your way out to her car- you silently thank God that you won’t have to take the Septa now.

No words are spoken between you and your girlfriend for the entirety of the drive home, and when you make your way to your apartment, she turns for her own door.

“You aren’t coming in?” you ask quietly, and you hate the way that your voice breaks.

“I need ten minutes,” she says scarily calmly. “To change and collect myself.”

Fuck. She’s mad. Deciding that it’s best to give her the ten minutes she’s requested, you unlock your own front door and take Ellie to the kitchen table to enjoy her breakfast.

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