#ellie williams x afab!reader

[edenspoem]

𝐧𝐨 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧.

summary. ★ ┆ in this numbing winter wood guarded by her hunting-adroit family, ellie believes she is safe. but her tracking methods are not so familiar with the intelligence and vigilance of sadistic creatures—of invisible kinds. reader discretion heavily advised. ★ ┆ dark content (not dubcon/noncon, think of murder, manipulation and abuse), smut, angst, horror, major character death, prey!hunter!ellie x predator!vampire!reader (prey and predator dynamic, the kink is sort of involved), enemies to lovers to enemies again, apocalypse au, lore-centered, flashbacks from centuries ago, ellie is almost a dead-ringer lover, religious references, biting, blood sucking, reader is a bit of a stalker (vampire behavior), reader is an undeniable evil, gunshot wounds (she thought guns would work), bites don't turn people here, forbidden romance with a touch of corruption; starts out sweet, ends up ugly, one instance of physical abuse (that is not endorsed. it is shamed), arguments occur, relationships with wayward and delusional vampires are not for those who fall easy—and deeply. ellie for sure isn't thinking when it comes to you; reader is the first to touch her (she has freaked other girls but never received freak reciprocation, if you catch my drift), sub!leaning!ellie, fingering (e!r!receiving), oral(e!receiving), tribbing, masturbation, subtle overtones of masochism, drugging (with herbal tea, and for reasons that aren't violation), neck and hand fixations, slashing, victim blaming, ellie tends to sub here but energies do match. memo. ★ ┆ here comes a very long-awaited fic (circa five months ago). tried to make this one as long as i could to percolate the tension. expect bittersweetness. actual blood sweat and tears went into this thing i think. info. ★ ┆ wc: 10.9k proofreaders: @baptismbaby, @elstattoo, @meganegatari, @vifilms (thanks to each one of you for ur commentary!) masterlist. discord. palestine masterpost.

𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓

Guns will not save you, sweetheart.

There she is. Sweet opalescent girl, woolen in gear from head to toe, scrunching her nose and squinting her eyes out in the winter clearing, the girl you have long pursued. You are watching her. Chasing her, silently. 

The grove is dense where snow slipped down to die.

She sticks close to her mechanical savior: a coal black rifle up in her arms like a swaddled babe. It befits her act tremendously. She, a human solely, would not want to penetrate this forest every sacred Sunday without her guns. They have provided her plenty. Pelts, savory meats, skulls above the fireplace, fabricated potential. Some guns even go as far as scoring her family the thinning rations of a sorry trespasser.

But they will not save her.

She knows somebody—or something, is out there. Lurking in alder, hounding in spectacularly painted shade. You can tell her treading is expectant, and alert. Even the way in which she points her gun is inviting. But, on the other side, a paradox invites you.

She is paranoid. Paranoid people are alert, but easy targets. Vampires feed on easy. She hears everything in paranoia; she hears her muscles shift. Bones scrape. Eyes wake. Heart race.

But, of course, never you.

Lastingly, a forever has passed; the Millers have bid no farewell to their scriptural, woodland acreage, and never plan to. So, graciously, your recent years have been ones of watching. After all, you do have all the time in the world, so you spent some learning about this girl in the blind spots she's oblivious to. The romanticism of her not knowing you, or your presence, is that you know nearly everything about her. Much about that is to be smiled over. Even the memorable, quaint little name she has.

Ellie.

And, for a lasting time, she has been your unrequited wife of obsession.

Gorgeous girl. Thin, smart, a labyrinth of limbs and sunspots and reclused words. Hibernates in her room, as far as you can tell. She always has these interludes of solitude, cried on by sunlight, and you linger by the window whenever so. Invisible, of course, but there. Observing how long it takes a human of artistic design to perfect a mere stroke. Once on the canvas, twice, and thrice over. And sure, she ceases seclusion some days to help in pastoral tendings, hunting and patrol; but she always crawls back inside her little paintings, and shuts the hinges on relatives. She is a protagonist of silence.

No lovers, little friendships, a small existence in a small room. Alone, as of late. Never too fond of wayfaring strangers that trickle in like maple seeds. And yet today you have herded her, silenceless, to the throat of this thick forest. Confused by the sounds it produces. 

“Where the fuck am I?” she grumbles to herself, voice husky under her snared lip. The intricacies of her gun creak as she points in restless circles, aiming the long spire everywhere. She is inclined to kill the next noise. “Swear to god, if that bunny ran off already..” For a second, she looked like she wanted to bail and forget about it. But a heavy sigh falls, and the reluctance in her body goes cold. “Too deep now, Ellie. Gotta come back with somethin'.”

She is desirably late; the bunny in question is already disposed in a berry bush off the white avenue. You had to be quick, as she is too. It's almost impressive. Rather than her invigilance in sleep, or solstices of the day, you prefer her now.

Running.

Yes, a strange fixation—you are wary. However, where is the thrill in feeding if not in the chase? This is tradition.

Wonder how sweet she is.

“Shit.” Her startled whisper blurts at a spitting distance, not that far. Careful footsteps crunch in your ear. “Who got you?” You left a ribbon of blood on the ground for her to find, which she did, and now she is investigating it. This opens her up.

From your place, you could lunge and snare her now. Bite her, even. Nothing inhibits you, and her flesh is singing to you, but you want to wait. My, that invigorating sound of her blood rushing and her heart thumping. You often listened in by her windows, speculating what occurred based upon the volume; a healthy and vicious rhythm was rage, and you fucking loved the sound of her rage. It gulps the mind. Pounds the somnolent heart.

Even inches away, you can hear it.

Scent is markedly a distant world, though. All these hardships at home; you can smell the regret outside her window sill. Alcohol, sweat, wounds. Those are the main ones you use to track her, and heed the elusive, perfect moments to leave trinkets for her.

Flora, odd bones and bits—guns off the usual unsuspecting victim. You often killed things with your own two hands, and dragged them over for her, too. Makes her the lesser hunter, huh?

There is a revolver stashed in her waistband, one you left for her. 

“Not seein' anything out here,” she rasps.

Pocket knife, too. She came prepared, just not for you. With her focus swallowed, and mind inside of her gun, you stroll up from behind. Your hand plants on her shoulder before she can brace herself.

“Looking for something?” The question makes her snap around, but you behave like light.

Shoving her into the crisp ground goes smoothly, but not without a first impression. A gunshot is cracked from her rifle before you can disarm her of it. When you manage to, she flits into flight mode. Violent protests writhe under you.

Her pale face is screaming red. “Fuck! Get the hell off me!” Milk and roses, like the rest of her. She pounds her fists into your chest.

She is not easy. She is a rainstorm under your control. You have to put the weight of the world on her to chastise and limit the struggle, pinning her wrists into the snow and straddling. This subdues her, given your vampiric stamina, and your nose has never been closer. Her neck—a secodont temptation in human flesh. The scent filling you makes you laugh delightedly.

Her soft pink mouth is slightly agape, and filtering cold breath in your face. It envelops your eyes, fogs up her features, yet watching it enter, and leave her lips, fascinates you. Love is a rooting thing; you look once, and you never want to stop looking.

“Hey pretty eyes,” you allure, honey escaping your throat instead of venom. You never sound this sweet. “What are you doing so far from home?”

Ellie appears clueless to your nature. Rather, what things lie inside your mouth—sharp, and starving things. She flickers her eyes like a violent womb over your face, your blinkless eyes, and mentions nothing of it. Therefore, besides this being an obvious first encounter with a vampire, she won't expect it. Not like she can combat it, really; your strength precedes you.

Her chords tremble quietly, angrily, brows anchored low. “Fuck are you doing?”

Experiencing her voice so close and so personal makes you visceral. Lust enshrouds. “Hunting.. gathering..” you fade into a seductive coo, lips rolling over her neck. “Same as you.” Muscles in it flinch when you steal a short stroke with your tongue. Every part of her flinches.

Disgust then crosses her expression, and she blurts, “Are you a fucking cannibal?” Turning her head away. This only exposes her ripe neck more.

Either your tone, or the fact that you might be a flesh-eating killer, lifts her heart into her throat; pulses thump against your lips, so intoxicatingly. You want them in your mouth, in your memory. Somewhere they can exist and nurture you forever. “Mhh, so close.” You try to give her a hint by scraping your fangs along her sensitive carotid. 

It seems to work.

She whimpers.

This was it, in her shallow mind. Eternal rest is calling, and she has nothing but her paintings and thoughts alone to rot without her. Ellie would die and have to bear the winter sun as her witness—her only witness. God, her heart breaks just thinking: Joel will be confused. Tess will send a rescue team for a corpse, and Joel will be lost when he has nobody to give the ol' regulation lecture to. Nobody to be a worried, old man for. Simply because of something she thought only existed in fiction and fairytales. How fucking rich!

“Fuck you!”

The night has a thousand eyes, and the day has but one.

You comb three attentive fingers into her hairline, and tip her head back. The gesture is too gentle for how ugly, mangled and sanguinolent the bole of her breaths is to be made. You are too gentle doing this. Scraping your teeth, wetting her skin; you have the social grace of a sycophant, and the conduct of a lover. Eat her whole, why don't you? She is your apple to keep. Eat, eat, eat.

You crumple the sage collar of her jacket, whispering, “Hold still for me, huh?” Quiet, and cold as the forest she relies on. As your opening lips.

And that is just what she does. Tighten as your teeth sink, motionless as these very trees. When you take her blood inside, you find her absolutely celestial. And you carve your teeth into her like she is a pietistical mural to make impure. Dying as a falling angel, she squirms. The penetralia of her throat is the main thing moving: tensing muscles, swallows pushing out a river of subtle, pained sounds. Crimson breaks, and draws in lithe lines down the base. Stains the crossroads of your sucking lips.

You make a soft-spoken voice crawl out of her. “Fuck,” she curses. Her teeth leap from her plush lip, and stay open. You imagine the pain is a gentle torture for your inexperienced victim. You are feeding on a sensitive silhouette, and she is staring up, quietly at the thistle drapings above. Misty-eyed, probably. Fingers tugging on your clothes just the way you need them to.

Blood thickens as your composure thins. She tastes sickeningly sweet. There is a pure hideosity reaching under your chin and down to your collarbones, because your hunger is beginning to precede you. Some ancient, voracious and cacodaemoniacal thing is wanting, and wanting hard. From your throat, from the cavity of your torso; somewhere desperate. Wherever it is, it wants a deep mouthful of Ellie, and you aren’t morally-deposed to take her to that dark there quite yet.

Your hungry grunt stifles. She has gone soft and pliant now and is holding your arm. As a grounding measure, you think, but it sends a pricking through your spine. 

“Mhh,” you hum, slowly extricating from the side of her neck. Stronger gushing flows from the holes left behind as if the wound was crying in ease. Heaven, crying.

The cracked partings of her mouth shudder around a soundless gasp, and she reaches for the intrusion you left. Something was given and something was lost; she feels the raised punctures. Gets blood on the precious tips of her fingers. Lets her still-alive pulse hit against her palm. You took from her lifeline, and left a cruel epilogue. 

Are you truly this savoring with it?

Maria said that something was out there—something uglier than infected. Creatures lie dead rampantly, and in cryptic, clean ways that denote sentient procedure. Nothing a brainless, living dead would have the capacity to do. So now that she has drawn you, a secret world exposed, snapped like bone, she has to say something. Do something. Joel drilled that incentive.

It knocks her into fleeing like fucking hell.

As in any exciting, horrific prologue, it begins in a scatter. Ellie clambers with milk knuckles in the self-same snow, grappling to slide out from under you, and manages a slim much. Her countenance is kneeled eyes and a gaping mouth, puffing clouds every which way. The face of escape; as if she had woken in a surrounding of her own blood, which is an embroidered, but hovering truth.

You watch with an empty one. She stands up and wrestles the approaching mist for her disposed handgun, flecking up snow with her footsteps as she dashes.

Adrenaline flees with her. If she is wise, a search team will be enlisted after your whereabouts. Carnage will break in these white woods an evening hence, under vacant cover of night, and she will no doubt be a curious murderer; searching for you under a false sense of safety, in the grove here.

But if you are wise, you will be there. Waiting for her.

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋

Evening begins in a whimper.

Or in sequences of them.

Troops shall not be drawn out, she decided. It grates her to sift this weight of knowing, this imperative information. But she is a waking potential, who has slipped her head under a crossroad and found a world of gnashing. She does not want to be the girl who cried vampire.

Well, winter is tired now. Snowfall has whirled, died, and crepuscule has crept in through the window sill. Everyone succumbed to it, except for her; still awake, still remembering. Hunched on her bed, she wads an alcohol-dredged cotton ball to the sickly white punctures on her neck, sipping harshly through her teeth. Stings like a fucking bitch. “Shit.”

But why is she still alive?

Ellie still feels the shape of your teeth in her neck. Skin flushing and pumping around them, or engraving some sort of scriptural curse. It was not painful, so much as it pained like death to think she would die. But she is here, and she feels misplaced. Watched, her faith in safety loosening.

The cotton ball is agitatedly discarded into a drawn-out trash bin, littered by all the cotton fumbled before. She pushes up at the knees and drags her ankles into the bathroom, fingers already reaching for the sink. 

“Just gotta sleep this off, Ellie.” The faucet cries, its gentle stream pouring right into her asking palms. She uses it to splash her eyes, fingers rubbing around them to wipe the water away. Rinse, and unlearn the memory.

Try, at least.

She needs solacing rest. Forest duties will call her name in the youngest morning, and without a shroud of doubt, will be the warm, shepherding drawl of her father. She is fortunate enough to hang from him, his good name, who is the least bit hard on her. But others—such as her in-a-sense, patrolaholic aunt—would reproach him for his tender loving. 

So, to cut the bullshit, she tries to lead a responsible life. Before, it was imprudence plentiful. But taking the inebriation, the heartbreakers, and the snuck-in cannabis out of her grasp has led her somewhere good. Somewhere she can feel like a worthwhile girl in one fucked up socket of the world. It seems to be valuable; she holds the highest count of infected shot in a single patrol.

Her concentration is immeasurable.

But she begins to doubt her resilience as she stares into the center of her sullen eyes.

She snags her lip to the left, contemplating. Ellie is alive for a reason. She fucked up; forgone each principle of the forest, of the hunt, omitting the signs and senses that beheld her in the stout snow. Yet, here she is, flesh in the mirror. And something else clicks: the inescapable leaving of unusual objects on her window sill face trial too. All that clattering and scratching at walls she thought was a rodent seems to align with it pretty well. Not to mention the disembodied touchings of her head and hair in deep-sleep dreamings, and awoken to in chapel-cold sweats to find nothing there.

It distressed her mind: how long should a human wonder, until it is lethal?

She concludes with the idea of a stalker.

Fucking vampire stalker.

It introduces a shiver. “Okay.” One she has to pursue genuine warmth for; she crosses her arms and kills the bathroom light, the ends of her fingers lingering up her sleeves as she crosses the threshold. Between a introspective bathroom, and an infiltrated bedroom. 

Neither are soft with the home; its safe wood walls, weeping willow scents, and inborn temperatures. She is open to the outside. She is the centerpiece for the thousand eyes of night. Cold, bare. The bed welcomes her weight in a billowing hollow for her body—yet, is the most unsettling thing she has slipped against her skin. The question of whether you manifest on this meaningful night, or let your eluding presence delude her into searching for it, begs for sleep before it can transfigure into an answer.

Her quiet, petal-soft lids droop closed. Trying to sleep conceives like death; it’s as if the air seeping her bedroom is a miasma, each breath in getting her drowsier and drowsier. Soon, all sound fades, and the inhibition whether or not hunger will find you at this crescent of night, and on her pale neck, is forgotten. 

Time is forgotten.

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

This is where she nestles—dreams. Pretty, isn’t she?

She is water and the way it settles. She is poetry scribed in the summer month of June, feeding on its younger, more innocent, springtime chassis in which it longs to return to. Gentle petrichor, plush skin, and lashes of an auburn fire. She is beautiful; but much harrowing is to be combed inside, underneath.

Dreams and pain lulled you. But after you first sought her, watching over her in the deepest sleep on the most painful of nights, it became ritual for a farther reason: 

You fell in love. Again; love is a rooting thing; you look once, and you never want to stop looking.

Never.

Seams adore and finish the girl with eliciting interest. Low-cuts under the arms, in between the legs; it leaves less frou-frou and forest to the imagination than raised with. She really is auburn all over. She really, really is. You could not desire it any different. Peek-ins to temporal changes—when she strips plaid from pale and peels rough, woven blue and button from her muscled hips—excited you before, and they excite you now. Flesh has never been dangled in front of you as it’s in this time.

An arm is slackly risen above her pillow, and she clads a sleeveless. You can see it; the autumn forest.

But the instinct to protect, and nurture from her is worse now. And with the precedes of last afternoon—yesterday, the first of her blood taken into your vitals—you feel evermore lustful for it, leading you here at the foot of her bed. She looks peaceful now: unlatched lips, ribs that swell and wane, moon-shine on her neck. Your eyes land, in particular, on the sleeping shape of her fingers, curling slightly into her palm, which is against lilac-colored sheets.

Gods, she has the sweetest, speechless gesture of telling you where to bite.

You sidle upon the edge, tucking both legs and straightening both arms into a slow crawl until you reach that hand. It, limp at the wrist, delicately fits in yours, and you take it to your teeth.

Before you intruded her somnolent skin and trickling veins with your lust, you admired the feel of her freckled flesh against your lips. The hairs there tickled. The scent made you feen; a heavenly sigh stretching through your throat. And that sigh led your mouth open. 

You bite the apple.

She slowly creaks awake—the hinges of her eyes fluttering with a slow, white surprise. “Uhn—what the?” And when she notices, they blow wide with an olive ring. “Fuck!”

She stumbles up on her bottom. The wrist in your mouth supplied you a sip of blood before it was ripped from you and fled in excretions of that crimson nectar—wasted. It stains her sheets. Writes the event in blood. Crucifies the affrighted face of the auburn girl who grips her leaking wrist with a pressure you can hear tighten.

And she bleeds, and she bleeds—and you watch.

Like a lover.

You fawn, pouting all sick-and-sweet. “You know you could injure yourself more. Doing that.” It contorted a sicker-looking sharpness in her glare; staring from under her pricked brows. You unwind, and reach for her, “Here, let me.” But she flinches, a fitting punishment for a monster.

“Who are you?” She sounds instinctive, grit in her tone. “And what the fuck do you want with me?” The old, frightened-lamb act of her afternoon self seems to have diminished, painting her a volatile violence. She weaponizes her eyes; lacerates your red ribbon secrets into a bleed. Tries to, at least.

You never made it simple.

Well then, resilience it is. Quite stunning when she stomachs it up from her throat—a pretense swollen from hiding. Perhaps, this relenting will entertain you more. “Mmm, a secret admirer,” you intone, limning circles on the bed with your pointer. Then, you remember the situation, and chuckle. “Not so secret anymore though, I suppose.”

She looks the least bit impressed.

You still your finger, sighing. “Right.” And you plummet sights upon the silent, clothing-riddled carpet in spontaneous thought. 

Her stare wanted to carve an entire confession out of you, and unfortunately—your truth is ancient, and incomprehensible. Not the safest knowledge for humans. But seeing as she said a precise ‘who’ are you, and not a ‘what’ are you, implies she knows enough not to require too much more. Eager to soften her, though, the portion she carves is a thimbleful of sugar; a sweet, harmless idea. 

It starts with breath filling your windpipes. “Infected make life impossible, but you already understand that perfectly fine. At least on your end of things.” You squint, contorting the somethings of a musing expression.  

She gulps, and it pulls her lids with it into a pensive blink.

“We vampires, on the other hand, have it so desolate.” Your voice is softly crawling inside of her. “It makes us desperate.”

Her brows narrow. “So, you still feed on unsuspecting victims?”

“Well, is that not just the naturalistic nature of vampires?”

“Tch,” she scoffs, kneeling up from the bed. “Fucking pathetic.” Her footpath to the window is sharp. The latch clangs under her finger, and the panes are palmed open, swallowing inside the cold airs of the forest. “Now, if you don't mind—could you get the fuck out?”

You cock your head and immerse. To her, you are a thorn in the flesh; some creature she did not invite into the home of her body, and certainly not her life. You staring at her makes her want to rip out of her skin.

“What, am I supposed to empathize with you or some shit?” Her hand casts out, shrugging at you with a disinclination she conjectures as obvious. “No fuckin’ way.” It drops to her thigh.

Thus, you relapse. The mind bends into itself and what it sees is springtime—her most earning months, and you, victorious to have earned her heart that is caged. Being aware of her nature made it easier done than said, but you have your secret stash of lilies; your thornless guise. You want it to be real. You would utter anything for it to be real. 

“You're lonely,” you blurt, smooth and seductive, evocative of the moonlit shadow you sit sedentary in. Tension is born in a confounded gulp from her you hear so clearly. “You starve for some sort of company, right?”

She tuts, stares off. “Not with you.”

“Who else?”

You prick a nerve.

And her countenance seems eager to linger: lips tugging over her teeth in such a simmering fashion—so you begin again.“See—Ellie, I myself am quite alone too—”

“‘Course you know my fuckin’ name.”

“I know you watch the stars every night. For a reason, too.”

She softens at the mouth. What you said gets her skin raised; it has nothing to do with the original conversation, yet makes an eerie sense. Of course you know.

Bring up space, and she is all ears.

“Did you ever wonder how alone they are, too? Big, blindingly bright things in the sky that yet have an eternal cling to the empty, cold nothingness?” Your voice reflects the poignant contents. And in that poignant, in-between silence, your stares are battling each other. “I know it well. It drives you to rather deplorable things.”

She still says nothing. Her eyes are shifting with a million things she could, but she casts them aside and settles her lids.

“You know too.”

The sound creases her brows.

Hopeful creatures prance in the night. It is night; you are a creature. The bed rustles with your hopeful movement—legs pouring from the edge to the floor, and drifting your way over with so much as a quiet prance. You intend not to scare her, or harm her, but to persuade her of your good—in other words, ambivalent—will and soul. “Think of my feedings as a special little hello. I don't regularly interact with the human world as much as I fend from it.”

Ellie repositions herself along the sill when you join her, a chastened flinch.“Huh.” She crosses her arms. “Okay. But, like—what do you want outta’ this?” she questions, and her brows have a stronger downpour when she espies you; clenched, cautious things.

“Sanctuary.”

Her breath groans. “English, please?”

“I speak as you do.”

“Wh—okay well,” Her tongue stumbles. Articulation is never her strong suit, unless it is an articulation of rage. She pinches the bridge of her nose, crumpling her inner-eyes and pitches herself to the window, leaning on it. “Forgot you're like fuckin’ ancient, probably.” 

You thought you forgot how to laugh—but there it springs, the age-old sound. And you expect her to be offended because of it, but she eyes you in her hung position without a crack in her expression. Nothing-faced. Throat cold and tongue soft; this must be what compliance looks like. If it is, then it’s all you need.

Self-indulgence steals you. You enclose the warmth of her hand in your palm, and shape it like an alcove. Her rough skin made for a captivating texture.“Smart girl.”

You expected her to scoff—least of all, to blush, and conceal it by turning to the paned, outside world—scoffing.

Tingles run down your spine.

“So, am I granted?”

Ellie blankly snaps her head from the window. She blinks for a couple beats. “Huh?”

“To stay here—it’s what I was asking of you before.” You take a step forward, prudent and slow. Her soundless mind made you preclude; you cannot read it, but you understand where her heart is and its sensibilities. She is logical, she wants reasons. Chances are, her response will be apprehensive, and you intend to reel it out without it snagging on the gentle inside. You need to be on her level. “Housing is scarce and less sustainable than it ever has been. Surprise, surprise.”

She also loves sarcasm.

“Tch—” She straightens her spine, slipping in a fleeting smile. “What’s wrong with where you live now?”

“The others are all heartsores,” you deplore, tone elongating. “Groaning on and on about tradition and ethics.”

“By others, I’m going to assume you mean.. other vampires?”

“Indeed.”

The conversation interludes with a sigh, deep in her chest. She covers it with her arms crossed. The question then seems to fester; her lips rub together without an answer—but more thinking, and then her eyes thread up through another inhale. “Fine,” she says. With a heart softened. “Guess an invisible roommate wouldn’t be so bad.” Loneliness has convinced her. The window locks shut with a clack, a flick of her fingers. “My blood is one-hundred percent off-limits, though.” She shoots you a half-serious, half-sarcastic face—intending one over the other.

“Ah,” you wince, bending at the knees to accentuate your comment. “But it’s so sweet.”

And she cringes at it, but with faux mirth; a guarded, disgusted chuckle. “Don’t say that, either.”

You heed her wish with a small sound, “Hm.” and a mirrored smile. The sentence itself feels as though it will become repertoire. Several things do. The events here today are a stain, a crimson, violent-smelling one that cannot be washed out.

You hear the sound of fabric shifting. “Take the couch.” An indigo, plaid wool blanket is stripped from her bed, and chucked onto the quaint window-seat across, which is satin-like with moonlight; an edgeless, dull gleam reaching for it. It drapes with erratic procedure. “Don’t leave my room, don’t leave the house during the day, and don’t drag in any dead animals..”

“Do you think me uncouth?”

“Well—ugh.”  She pinches her eyes together. Then, she rolls her head around.“You know what I mean. Just act like a human and don’t get fucking caught.”

“Oh, I won’t.”

She huffs. “Good.”

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐓

She promised you it was off-limits.

But still it persisted. The ancient hunger, the memories of her inside. 

Humanity can be a limiting thing.

There, a conflict was born. You could eat from any tree you wanted. Tear it apart, watch it foam at the mouth for mercifulness. Nothing—not a thing that is tangible—is stopping you, or stopped you in the past. So, what meaning does that conviction hold when you spot the most beautiful, available, and abundant tree; beautiful with her freckles, available in her sleep, and abundant with the thing she lives on to survive and you drink to survive?

The indolent sound would not leave. It would not soften, it would not climb.

It would flow, and flow mercilessly.

It was upon her bed the night she resigned. “Fine,” she sighed, and it was said so softly in spite of the original promise. Time around you had softened her. “Just a little, right?” 

But even as it left her lips, her fingers were reluctant in folding up the hem of her sleeve. You noticed the careful pace. The second thoughts in her eyes, whispering to her fingers that this would be a potential regret, and soon a routine. The implications in her features scrunched as she watched you come closer.

“Just a little,” you reaffirmed. You kissed that node in her wrist with it, too. “Nothing more.”

The moon hung a little past three in the morning when she was up, and you were hungry. Slightly hungry. Soft urges are enough a reason.

Sensations were high that night. Teeth buried into her leather-cushion skin and it felt like a velvet drug; Ellie loathed and loved, whined and writhed for you. It fed you and silenced her. That is a sanctioned schedule. You would drink it in a this-or-nothing, soft-fondling manner and she would give it past midnight—all nights. Most times, sleep would befall, and she would need your voice to guide her awake before you decided to feed. As long as you are in accordance with time, place, health and spectation—she never minds.

Weeks flowed, and it persisted.

“You have a strange-ass routine. ‘M still not used to this,” she laughed, bolstering fatigue in her tired eyes that fluttered. Down, and down.

Perhaps you loved opportunities.

Her skin fits tight and warm in your mouth; alive and pulsing and ever so whistling blood. It was no longer massacres under your lip, it was clean, and she made little sound—besides when she had something dull to weigh in. 

Your lips sutured together, imbibing that last stria of delicate red. “Me?” you pitched, and secondly smiled as her laugh riled it in you. “You wake at this hour regardless for inessential nothings. You are strange.” 

She scoffed with character. “What?” And had it in her to laugh a little louder—praying it didn’t bleed outside the room: that and the beheaded nonsense. “The only reason I get up this early is because I have.. shit to do, people to feed..” She crinkled her nostrils and sniffled.

“Taking care of yourself for me?”

“Uh, what makes you think that?”

“Your skin tastes of honey,” you declared this alongside your caressing fingers, rolling over the fresh wound, the honey skin in question. It met like silk. “Do you want to impress the impressed?”

Either it was your question muddling her—or your statement and its ring of truth, that made her features crinkle up.“No?” Such a failured liar. She conserved not a clue about the accumulating chaos in her bathroom, whom she had no mind other than hers to blame: herbs all around, sweet liquids, ingredients you find in self-made soaps but nonetheless in heaps and scattered. She thought you were clueless to it. She tip-toed around it. “Fuck, is this just you wracking my brain again with your weird phrases and your.. old—”

“Don’t play dumb with me, darling.”

Her cheeks seemed to redden on the spot.

This unadulterated sweetening to her flesh was a decision. Raw, home-harvested honey that she lathers to sanctity herself—or satisfy you. It added up to this this little, unspoken—but traceable—secret she had slipped into, though exposed; she hadn’t treaded the feeling in years. You saw her, heard it beat in attempts to catch up with her running thoughts.

She likes you. 

Her behavior reminded you of your darling years abounding the Enlightened Age: in love with a pair of frilly, fern eyes that often wandered, and robin-bellied hair: a girl who roamed the court with gut and courage, but could not pave it through the same.

You loved her.

But she was taken from you.

Ellie mumbled,“Not dumb,” with her mouth under her fingers and pupils disengaged. She wiped at the corner with the crook of her thumb until she thought of something else. The tone was written on her face beforehand. “Just being.. considerate?” She knew it wasn’t the right one. So, she laughed and spared you her timid stare, shrugging. “Dunno’. You tell me.”

You laughed too, scornful. But not harsh. “Bit of a brat today, huh?”

Staying acclimated this other hunger. This pure, gentle, moan of a hunger. It is simple to say you believed in love; wished it upon others, witnessed it, longed a little for it. But it isn’t your function. Isn’t your toy to play with. You denied it. 

There reached a strange night: your spine was against the black-wood headboard and sacrum further down, blooming with an old sensation, and your hands were on her. Groping, guiding. Admiring the naked skin of her hips, which twitched, and writhed with sounds and sights you prefer to have faith in no one else seeing. Not in a while, at least. These lines of midnight-light wavered over her movement, her teardrop breasts, even catching the mess in between her thighs she tried to hide rubbing in between the spreading of yours. Wet and wanting and abandoned and—you remember all too much. 

She is beautiful down there.

Tears form in your heart.

Ellie was close to the edge. You could hear it in her voice. “Fuck—if you'd just stop playing hard to get, coulda’—uhn, had this way sooner.” 

The phrase confounded you. “Hard to get?” Lots of her speech confounds you; there was a love-hate relationship to be had with that. On her side, though. You found it cute.

“Just—shut up, please.” She climbed a partial note, turning grunts into whines. As soon as she said that, her fists crumpled and her tension released. You, in your long life, have never seen such an overwhelmed girl. Her cheeks were smitten-red. Cum was trickling down the stretch of her shaking, muscled thighs, and she could not help it; she was lead with it. Ellie was wobbling once you were finished.

But she loved it.

Then, there it was in the derelict chapel. The strangeness again. Down her panties was your hand, training back the seam, and in the air her cries. Angelic ones. Pushing you into substantiation; you did love her.

And you felt selfish.

“You are too paced for yourself. Go slow, like this.”

You had pushed her own hand out prior. She was palming herself in a book-sprinkled office a short couple minutes after initial arrival. You aren’t even supposed to be here with her, in this house of God, scavenging for supplies—let alone outside. She should be paired with someone Joel trusts, someone Maria has seen kill. Human, good-hearted. 

The quick, and snagging circles she performed with her fingers never compared to the attention and care you made with her. Like she was in a rush, and you had a blade to stab into the axis of the world. It did constitute sense: she was blushing with shame when you walked in on her—jeans almost off her hips—giving you the idea that she meant to finish in a dreamlike minute. But she didn’t slap her own hand for its perversion. She wore the helpless look.

“How long before you decided to tell me?”

“When we left.” The heart of her thighs compressed your hand. She was getting restless under your touch, twitching into your hand to earn more friction, biting down on her lip. Ellie can only do so much as huff when you rearrange the twining of her legs again. “It was aching s’fuckin’ bad, babe.”

You are certain that she lied. She had the velvetiness, drip and need of someone who hasn’t handled their problem since morning; it was pooling in her underwear. “Before a house of God?” you whispered, your voice a small softness in the mush of her mind. “You really are a strange one, my girl.” She couldn’t care less. You were tugging her just right and that was all she attended to. Numb-locked.

She mouthed a curse. Breath hitched in her throat. “Bite me,” she breathed out.

“Oh, you want it?”

Her face was pinching with pleasure. “Mhm.” Lips rolling over each other.

The once isolated and responsible Ellie you coerced for blood, was now tilting her chin up like a sunflower in bloom. Sometimes, she rolled her shirt up or pulled her pants down, letting you feed in clandestine places; her open thighs became a fast favorite, and dipping in between to that slickened parting made you want to write a poem with your teeth. An introduction to the core. For the thrill, for the devotion—it set the belting green in her eyes thin no matter the bite. 

It made her feel loved. 

But should it; being a strange thing to love?

Cracked moans curled out her neck. You noticed their swell, their added breath when your tongue caught her clit and wrote with it in circles, pulling her wound-ridden thigh over your shoulder. Lips, pinker than her vestal love, dropped open. You trained her voice to not be so swallowed, hidden, and conscious of being heard. You would not stop without hearing it. “Come on, Ellie,” you would coax. “Let me hear you.” And she would use it. Splutter it. Choke it.

“Fuck!”

“There, there..”

She is no virgin. She was no virgin. But, her mind made by the girls of Jackson she poured eyes—or poured lips—over, most in for casuals, or nighttime flings, neglected itself. She gave, and never seemed to receive. Ellie didn’t know if she was ever going to; then, there you were. Her heartbeat was running centuries ahead, and it gave you life.

You assumed, with an assuming inherence, to protect her from that loneliness. The loneliness you get from other people—not from the lack of them. You have her in that sort of catching grasp that feels suffocating, but ends up a pleasant surprise.

She thought you must be magic for that reason.

And the Devil for another.

“Jesus—are you listening to me?” Her voice wanted to break. It wanted to flood, it wanted to sting, it was a rough invocation that you never heard before, and her hands pranced the air. In anger. “You dragged a dead animal in here. You did exactly what I fucking told you not to!” Then, they crossed into her warmth, and the thrash song of her heart went muffled. “You fuckin’ kidding me?.” 

Everything in the world went silent to listen in. The birds, the trees, the surrounding matter. But your guilt was just as quiet when, for a change, it should have been sobbing loud. 

You caressed the words strolling from your mouth, a complacent gesture. “I was careful,” you tempted, tracing circles around that facetious hole in your face. “So careful.”

Her fingers turned to fists. “You..” Her mouth, in contrast, was a pert snag. But it soon had to face a laugh for coping. “You don’t get it, do you?.”

“I do.”

“Right.” She flinched into the light. Moved into the cold.

You get it when blood in droves leaves distasteful secrets, clinging to hardwood floors. You get it when others are involved and get dragged into it. What you do not get is the desire to see it happen. The stomachs that turn at you for not fitting into their forgivable frame. What should one expect?

Is she really this soft?

Oh, how your poor heart aches watching her not watching you.

Ellie continues at the mouth. Irritated fingers drag her under-eyes from their sockets. “Shoulda’ known this was a fucking mistake, Ellie.”  Though your oral worship was stunted; you couldn’t see her whisper these things, you knew they were real. You knew she meant them.

You knew it would ring in her head. 

That night, an attempt to instill a different idea ends in a laceration, and a throb in your nail beds. Because you thought she had done the one thing you would bleed her for:

Stopped loving you. 

You rhymed her with reasons. You extorted your very own, amended morals for relief, with palms cupping her cheeks—and she cut a statement too deep: “Huh. Doesn’t fuckin’ seem like you’re any different than those bastards you ran with until—”

Her hair was the last thing you felt before the tear.

No, no, no. You are different.

Crouching, you clutched her chin with sharpened, hidden fingers, and a controlling thumb. You stole her tears from the wardrobe panel they wept to. “My darling,” you coaxed—as sickening as the dull blade. She twisted you inside herself; staring up at you through her soaking, shining lashes, made for internal conflict she could not put a finger on. “Does it hurt?” She is right, under the condition that you are gospel. What was she thinking?

She wiped her fingers in the openings of her blood, and examined them. A sniffle cut between looking at them, and looking toward you. “Y-Yeah.” It was a painfully awkward, and docile croak. Her irises were thin with shock, breathing laboured.  

Ellie was bleeding from her cheek, to the tip of her philtrum, and to the edge of her apologies. Yet, you only cared how it..

Tasted.

“Shh, shh..” You swept her stained fingers from her face. “Let me take care of it,” whispers scattered. In her head, she was packed in litanies of heavy cotton; woolgathering. Paid the littlest bit of attention to your tongue, it lapping up her septum, furling back with blood, and how it should feel strange. But, it did not. She felt nothing. She felt the same. She still wore that lost, dreaming-eyed stare.

Why?

It is vile.

All is forgotten in time.

𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄

“Ah, shit! Fuckin’ knife.”

Ellie hasn’t been her usual.

And neither have you.

You have been feeding less this cycle, and it’s put her into this stir. Divine, enigmatic stir. Questions upon worries upon interventions—headstrong hands and kitchen knives—curdle up in her gut. Are you bored of her? Has her nectar gone sour? Have you found another source? The silence in the room is louder than usual. Whether it was your intention, or its own result, Ellie has gotten used to this agriculture of give and pleasure; she inclines her wrist without your word. She opens her neck without your teeth.

The cabin, for once, is empty this day. So is her head.

You’re stood off to the side. 

Ellie—who loves getting called stupid by her girl—pricked her finger for you. She was handling delicate produce on the counter, and her far more delicate fingers stood stockstill in their position, meeting the sharp tip of that knife in that headstrong hand. Her brows rucked, or already were; she had something on her mind. Some enchanting idea.

She sidles up against you. “Hey, babe.. mind cleanin’ this up?” Ellie wiggles her finger in an awkward and sultry manner, signature to she and she alone. There is a small, shining, seed of blood forming on the wound. 

You consider it. For a second, or more, you consider feeding into her sweet little game. And she continues to pitch that finger east and west like a last chance, but it comes into question first. “Should you be handling that knife?” you answer—and she lets a disgruntled sound slip. 

Also, you have seen your guaranteed share of slit fingers. That girl in the court had a graceless aptitude.

Ellie finds a smile to laugh at you with: insulted, asymmetrically dotted, with all the crinkles of someone who thinks so different of themselves—but it’s pretend. A softened wire in her brain molds into the warmth of your perception. She did it for Joel, once. “Guess not,” Ellie mumbles, bringing her finger down to stare at it. It almost bugged her that it wasn’t immediately in your mouth. The blood long-reaching.

Instead, you enamored yourself with the syrup-orange tea in front of you. Stirring, stirring. 

Her throat clears. “What’s that?”

You turn, at last, with knuckles bending around the base of the porcelain cup seeping with heat. It feels cold in your hands. “For you.” You press it to the middle of her chest. 

Her fingers come up to palm it, glancing at your face for a sign that another word would leave your throat. Eyeing up, and then down; she hopes you will make sense. You just hand it off to her. “Well, that answers my question halfway,” she sighs, cocking her hip against the counter. “Thanks.”

You lop a smile as nothing else seems to spring to mind. Turn away, turn away.

How should you begin—to a girl you met at the pulse of a throat—explaining that the contents in that cup can and will send her to sleep? Should you distress concern and mention how she has been missing it? Should the room go silent, and she as well? 

A confession has been smothering your thirst for weeks.

You are bored.

Vampirical instincts have sat restless and upset in the sockets of your fangs. You feel tired, you get cravings that seem to climb and climb each hour, and at the crest of night, you prowl the short corridors in this house with suffocated footsteps, listening to the heartbeats of others with a small, specking guilt. You can quench it however you please, but the one thing that will not change is that you are a winter-blooded predator. You should be hunting; you are not. It nags at you. Months with her in your hands, in your mouth—and it isn’t enough. It was never going to be. 

Last night went as usual. You rush to fill the bed before she finds it empty. Then, as you are shifting the sheets, her sleeping tosses and turns find you, and on your waist, her slender hand finds a spot made for her to fill. Her lips find something in her dream to grin about.

You brushed it under your thumb. “My sweet dove.”

Beside her, she assumes you sleep well. Then, in the morning, she mistakenly traces her mind for a memory recording her forgetfulness, tapping the unshut window, contemplating. The animal blood isn’t in her palms— you somnambulist. 

Tomorrow, you would let instinct feel hunger again. Hunting is a desideratum. A deep-in, desired ultimatum.

Then, tomorrow came.

On the couch, you give in and draw her cut fingertip into your mouth. Sucking, silent and sensual. Ellie had the tea swirling around her limbs: weighing down her arms, slumping her legs, and her nose twitched with each escape from nodding off—and yet, she was still stubborn to lie down. Though you, twirling and twirling two fingers on her arm, inspired no help for her either. Perhaps, the swirling affect is a dreaming cling to you; your touch is a sleeping reverie.

Ellie jabs, with her free thumb, into her waterlines and digs around the stiffness. She can hardly lift them. Then, a low grunt follows. “Ugh, so tired.”  She is the softest thing in this room. Nothing could compare, not you—not ever. “How did I get this tired?”

Your stained lips peel from her finger. “Abandon at night?” Clasping the tip as you talk. “You avoid sleeping.” Sucking blood from its tip feels more pretentious than it used to. Your tongue is climbing out, wasting time to be sure she watches you do it with your eyes shut in concentration, and she does.

Her eyelids droop imperceptibly watching you; a gait that out-performs centuries; your cold-fleshed lips wrapping around her warm finger, hands cupping hers, and suctioned as if it were your mortal first. The careless sanction is gone. The inaction to eating her whole—is gone. You deepen the length her finger reaches, and it hits near the back of your throat, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Licking each ridge of it, quietly cannibalistic.

Loving left and swept with you, greed.

“Babe..”

Ellie has moonshine eyes when you open yours. Green irises that no longer hold their color. Eyelids that are dog-eared, deepened and—brown-lashed, saddening. Not the eternal same. Spring is coming; why is there nothing?

After a silent pause, she answers. “I can’t sleep.” Rasp in her chords.

You dislodge her finger from your mouth once more. Sigh in the warmth fleeing you.

She ruffles her hair. “But it’s never this bad. Jesus, I just can’t fight this.”

The innocence, and lack of detection present in her springtime-longing attitude feels wrong—and is perfectly your fault. So, that conflict scars. You tighten your throat. Cause a hesitant strangle. Forever has passed; you believe you are tasting your own blood.

You flinch into partial shadows. Drop her arm. “Just—get some rest.” 

Ellie frowns at your abrupt resistance. You can hear it when she tries to plead you backwards. “Hey,” her voice cracks in that special, air-pitched tune that stops your feet against hardwood: a tired Ellie, and the couch shifts with the sounds of her sitting up. “What are you doing? Don’t go.” 

You imagine that arm is reaching out to you now.

“Cleaning up.” Stifled breath leaves you with a drop of your shoulders. “You will see me, first thing when you wake.”

She giggles. “Hm, okay.” So willing to trust.

For the first time, it sickens you. And for the last time, it make sense in your head full of heart what you can be. In her world—painted and threaded and canvas-white underneath—you can be her secret. But in yours, you are her open wound; latching condition. With no color but red. Everyplace, in every opening, red. She sees so much more than that. But she, afraid to blotch outside the lines, and you, bleeding throughout and into others, made for a conflicting pact. Messes, everywhere. And then, you understand it seems right that you feel sick.

She just assumed you were faithful to take care of them. “Love you, babe.” Even if you never pled for her faith, and her warm voice doesn’t stop you now.

You need to eat.

𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

The mourning sun wept, for what you hoped, was the first and final time.

In your Georgian years, you were introduced with transubstantiation; you often tripped on your own flounces as a little girl, but carried into bridalhood with the pearl-blue poise a faith-wielding-mother-to-be should have. No longer did you intimidate crowds with ill etiquette, but rather, with what you became—and who you turned to in fawning innocence.

Wise men. Innovators, practitioners, maestros of trade. All of them had futures under their belt, and you had a single, untouched one. God, did men feed on that.

It was temporal. Men later found your intelligence to be intimidating, and in personal accords, offensive—for a woman. Your heart was a church on fire; knowledge crept in and you crawled out of your own mouth, spreading those words. Disgusting, secular truths. The court censured you for it. Kept you from attending banquets, beat you with threats of asylum, and rose torches to your beloved solace for it. It was a quiet hatred hailed, and yet performed so loud: your ears throbbed in pain each night.

But it never stopped you.

“Why do they cast you out here?” A voice—curious and delicate—whipped your intrigue out of your head, for a change. You peeked, with wide eyes, from under your brow and quivered over the silhouette leaning against the quaint terrace opening. It nudged off, and only then did its fern and fox-orange features become apparent, small pockets of light raining across. “With the dogs?”

Then, you knew it; it was her. Smiles creased in your throat. “And why do you wear pants?” But you showed just one, a subtle one. “And come to banquets smothered in coal?”

Albeit, she was clean; the wares of her straining day in the mines clung to noses. She pinched her coat open, and sniffed out either a truth, or a lie. The flinching of her nostrils proved one. “Ah—damn, guess I made a pitiful attempt at washing my own coat, huh?”

Her self-blaming quip pushed those smiles right up. Even, in your eyes. “Mhm,” you hummed, and it seemed to peel her lips back even more, off-centered teeth shining.

You tried to get her to simper, always. Seeing the slight gap in her teeth, all while inappreciable, pounded your unsettled heart.

Spring came in droves. It came with the bushels, it tore with the rain, and it ended with lips against your ear that promised you the period inbound was helpless. The summer was going to be helpless to your happiness.

“You don’t care for their thoughts,” she told you. “You grant yourself everything. It’s beautiful.” 

Her white-hot breath burned through skin. Where did your sense of abandon go—you wonder? She was telling you to be free, but with lissome arms around you, you wanted a limit. You would rage without a hand to settle you where it wanted. And when you got too quiet, it moved; your invisibleness to being a lover menaced her to bits, but it was just that—invisible. There, buried. Low in the meadow.

Your arm leapt from rest. It wrapped with care. “No,” you whispered, a scared tremor in her hold. “Don’t go.”

Refusing her romances for little whiles, she never expected it—but expected you.

She laughed. “See?” Because you do get what you want.

You do lose your freedom.

Rain clung to blades of grass. Your phrase was foreseeable, but you had your ears folded and feet bare in the garden. The meadow before, beheld by two, and now yourself alone. At least, you assumed you were alone. If loneliness—and happiness, medlied together—felt as pasture and moisture did free under the pallets of your toes, the wet blades between, then it was fine. You would be fine with it, with this. The latchet heels you refused to wear, as a girl and then, hung from your fingertips.

But staring at that puncture of light high up made your concepts swell. Fine is not fine enough, if her being there made your days even finer. Love couldn’t abide longer; you tossed your heels in the vendure, lifted your drapings, searched for her through the atrium openings and contended with a stride that made it to the exits.

And out of them again.

Sharp fingers clutched you from behind, and it sent you a shrill. Your throat grated with it. “Let me go!” But as soon as the world rolled upside and around your throat, it collapsed being pounded into the ground tandem with insertion of pain. You constricted with prayers left inside.

Strange, pitched siphons of a dead kiss; a pair of coldnesses attached there—faceless as it lies too close—and drained the blood. You went silent. You were terrified feeling drips of blood escape your carotid and the mouth of the thing, ending up in that green grass. Pitiful, the tears. Vision gone wet and dull, this was it. In your mind, gentle for some end: this was it.

And then, you became again.

The creature replaced loss with a new fiber. While you were drifting into numbness at a glacial pace, no longer staring beyond your eyes, sudden flows of cold liquid were pushed and bursted. The pain waned, then it abated. Warping into a strange, something-else phenomenon. For a second, all the sound in the world emptied and nothing replaced it. Even in the hollows, where air is invited and dismissed, it was hauntingly quiet; you weren’t sure if you were breathing at all. Then, as a whip is lashed, it pops.

The first sound of this life, was a gasp. “Oh, god!” you choked from the air present inside you. It almost hurt to breathe, and your windpipes suffered a severe whiplash, strangling you to cough, cough, and cough until whatever pearl-shaped bane that was in there—was out. But as you clutch the flesh upon your chest, your heart drops. You are sitting up—free, without a thing to hold you in place. 

Was it a dream?

For mornings you relapsed to the same conjecture; waking up felt no different than falling asleep. Cotton breathed, winter continued, and sunshine eclipsed in real life as it does in a dream. In the prologue of summer, you could never fall asleep. You were never tired enough. Wanted less of light and more of night, and you could not put a finger on it.

It became an ode to transient living—which you could sing no more.

But, something ached. From your throat, to the seedless pit of your stomach, something was wanting for you—wanting hard. 

Conniption. That was all you needed. Tangled ligatures of conniption, a communion, and the weapons to do it. You went prepared: a knife was laced tight into your undergarment, accessible from the breach of your pressed breasts, but not once did you evince it. You did not need it.

You figured that out with your first victim. The blood—oh, it poured from the base of his voice into his shirt and it wrote your name in the stone tiling. In red, it whispered to you. Luring, convincing. You imagined claiming the possessions on his person, and returning your stolen virtue to its place in-heart was his result, but then you began to precede yourself. 

Thoughts from another age trickled in. His skin, pulsing inside your teeth before you made the bite. It was meant to be.

Inside chapel doors, it was quiet and cold. To you, it was; the temperature perceived has a scattered origin. Summer heat coagulates against the windows, pulses inside the stone and almost boils the pool of blood under his head, but you are what you have changed into. Sucking, with hunger and without a stomach, it warms your lips before it chills and dissipates. Weird—love often operates as so.

Those doors groaned open. Behind your attention. 

A relieved sigh starts. “God, I was searching all about for you,” that familiar voice said. Her knowledge was perfect, but on a peripheral edge; she had figured you were inside because your equine presence was outside, but she did not see you as soon as she entered. Blood left a curious trail. “What in.. God..” Into a forest of devotional pews.

God abandoned centuries ago.

“Joel!” Ellie reaches for him with a scream. “Get the fuck off him!”

With a mouthful of blood, her pale lips are focused on. You rise, teeth crimson, and she is standing there in the melting numb with nothing to protect her but flannel, wide-eyed with this waking world. Had the tea not kept her? “Ellie,” you rasp. The hole in your throat left with the fear of your failure—factured to her being here, and not on that couch. She hates. She hates your guts. She is staring at you, watching, and it is a shifted stare you hope upon none. Your throat goes swollen: understanding it.

You wanted to protect her.

Her fingers writhe in careful spasms. Lips fold in. “Joel?” She wants to be confused. But her guts sinks considering if she were to have slept, she would have missed this. Missed Joel, in confusion.

The swollen sounds that so much as struggle, and die in the windpipe. “I couldn’t do it, Ellie.” You draw the last breath you feen to kiss her with. You scrape toward that chance; step in a careful line.

Ellie regresses—she denies your approach. Her flinch is all too familiar. “You..” she trembles, and deprives you of beholding the one thing that fascinates you from reason: her unprecedented eyes, a green gift from the mother underneath. Tears dilate in the corners. Lumps in the throat toughen her swallows. “Couldn’t do it?” Her mind is hers, again. “You fucking killed him!” 

Him?

When she wails, is when she trades you her look again. Brighter, sharper, raging and horrible. Space between your bodies diminishes as she closes it, but it is a meant punishment; to reach the man behind you. She comes near, and not near enough. “Joel..” Sobs will her mouth unhinged. “Joel, please..” Heaven cries.

Is he more special than you?

Both knees thud into the ground. She bare-hands the blooded snow, clenching it into a fist. Screaming, mouth wanting to curl into itself—louder, louder. “You killed him.. You killed him!” Ellie chants, and snow crumbles from her grip as she replaces it with the fabric over her blue heart, hysterical. Her own throat chokes her. “He’s fucking dead.. Look, he’s fucking d—d..” Icicles could form on her philtrum if it were a month earlier. Hunger admits; it could have been.

Really, you never learned who he was to her. Father, saviour, a nevermind-stranger. To you, or for you, everything about this home was a secret. The doors, not to touch. The floorboards, given to screeching. Other humans—she made sure your eyes kept her way. His firewood scent lit the halls at night, pulse calm; your judgement relied on the stories you felt throughout the house.

The smell of estrangement.

God, it reeked. Alcohol settled on his windowsill for nights along months. It seemed foreign. Not meant to be. Misplaced, you attempt to recall. You wipe at the blood that won’t go away.

Curious thing: you don’t recall his name being a craving.

Winter fills you again, and when you decide to sidle up against her in the snow waning to spring, she does nothing. For a moment, she is still curled—deadened—to his chest. That stubborn auburn strand has shifted from its tuck, adhering to the snot on her lip. You touch her to return her some life.

It works, to your disbelief.

She sniffles.

You breathe out, “Ellie?” close to her nape exposed, gentle enough not to shatter silence. “My girl?” But it gets fabric to shift under you. Attention to be given.

She turns slowly, and without a word. Stares without a drought in her waterlines. Your reflection consumes you in them, as both hands consume her at the sides, cupping her delicate, mourning-blue face. You could eat her. Sweet as an apple: round, shining, blooding whooshing to the surface. But you would begin with her lips. From her lips, to her love, as you did your girl before.

Yes, see? You are different.

You are different, and she loves you. “I love you.” You kiss her. Unrequited and soft. Though, the gesture snags curls into her lips. Yes, yes—please keep smiling.

Her lips part to utter something. Throat moves with the shape of a word. But, it does not dislodge. She swallows it, her lips snaring with it, pushing into this frown of undelight you could never have foreseen; doll-wide eyes and knife-point brows cutting into her own flesh. And then, puncture.

Your chest opens up.

It burns. It slides in. What is this sensation?

Out of that sudden choke-up, you drop your interests to the foreign parting. Seeing it, you stop living; silver protrudes from your chest, ribs holding it in place, and her hands are the guide. Fingers wrapped with love and promise, whitened from the pressure, around this blade and its hilt. No, not the blade you left for her; this one is a stranger, intrusion. The sacred invitation.

Its embrace is warm, not cold.

The dense snow is not when you plummet spine-first into it. It is warmest thing soothing your body ever since her last touch. You’re staring up at your freckled angel, high up—hopeless, but not confused. She has nothing more on her mind that you need to hear.

Revenge is her concept.

You cannot intimidate her to return. There is none. There is no return. This is not a punishment.

Your happiness is helpless; it is spring.

perm taglist: @whore4abby @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @fleshunger @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @beemillss @elsmissingfingers @maleelee @seraphicsentences @ravyaryn @sunnsh1ne @kaykeryyy

fic taglist: @vanillachic @bartshart @666killz @lianxian33

[let me know if you'd like to get on that perm taglist]

[nats-revival]

𝙚𝙡 𝙦𝙪𝙚 𝙣𝙤 𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙜𝙖, 𝙣𝙤 𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙖 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: ex-jailbird!ellie williams x ex-jailbird!afab!reader

tags: angsty, ellie is an asshole, between past and present (indicated with dates), ellie has issues, pet names (baby), description of violence, mild language, drug use, one use of y/n (i had to im SAWREE!!), idk what trope this is, but it’s certainly something, good ending, but i HATE it ugh, lowk wanna make an alt ending, but i might not. 🤷🏽‍♀️

a/n: the word ‘jailbird’ being used in this context is lowk cringey but who cares? ive been on a roll lately!!! (i still have reqs to finish) ellie fic speed run r smth idk. tbf, this is the longest fic ive written in a while. i considered making this like a series or something but i never finish those so.. ig this is like a rlly big fat oneshot??? idk.

p.s: for my pookie @sweetysaccharine who also got a sneak peek hehe. 🤭🤭

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟽𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

you stand infront of a burning car on a hill in the middle of the desert at nighttime. you and ellie had just stolen $20 thousand worth of diamonds at some high end store in the city where only the most wealthy of people live, and now you were destroying the evidence, burning your costumes and leaving the diamonds out for the coyotes. “ellie, i won’t wanna do this anymore.” she looks at you through the blazing fire with a slightly raised eyebrow. “do.. what?” she asks as she pushes her hands into her pockets. “commit crimes. i want to have a normal life. im tired of this. you’re always making me do crazy shit.” you explain, exaggerating a bit with your hands. “were felons, baby. there is no normal for us. you chose this life. but sure. let’s say hypothetically, you get this ‘normal life’. where will you work? at a grocery store?” “i don’t know.” “exactly. that’s the beauty of it all. we don’t know what comes next. we don’t know if the police will come after us again, do we?” “well.. no—“ “exactly. go out and buy some more fruit.” she begins walking off, leaving the burning car behind. “we don’t need anything else, ive already got what we need.” you say as you begin walking off into the opposite direction. sand crunches underneath your feet as you walk off, hood over your head and the nights cool wind brushing against the bits of exposed skin on your body.

𝙰𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗, 𝚃𝚇 | 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟽 what were the odds of two felons who hate each others guts working together after escaping together? highly unlikely. but it was your reality. let’s start from the beginning, shall we? ellie had gotten.. waaay too many years to even count. she was charged with identity theft, armed assault, two counts of homicide, and possession of illegal firearms. what were you charged with? accessory to a robbery, armed robbery and you’d also had a few DUI’s. was how many years you’d gotten even mattered now? it didn’t. you were free. and freedom smelled great. but sometimes? freedom sucks. ellie was crazy. she was batshit crazy. she was the one who helped you escape prison. she knows a lot of people. like, a scary amount of people. lawyers, drug dealers, private doctors, the whole nine yards. how’d you escape? simple.

“the other girls are gonna start a riot. cause i told em to. you’re gonna sneak into the break room. there’s a window a few inches up from the floor. break the window and—“ she explained, making sure to keep her voice down. you were a bit wary of her little ‘plan’. “wait, won’t that set the alarm off?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. “lemme ask you a question. whats more worth it — freedom or a goddamn alarm?” “.. im guessing you want me to say freedom?” she nods, then patting your shoulder approvingly. “back to what i was saying, after you’ve broken the window, there’s someone waiting for you on the other side. the security cameras should be busted by then. ill follow you.” her confidence in her plans certainly amazed you. “don’t screw this up.” “i won’t.” “good. now.. why don’t you go read a book?” she suggested before walking off. she was strange, like really strange. sometimes ellie tended to say things that didn’t really make any sense. it was also a rumour that ellie had hallucinations. she’d just sit up in the middle of the night and talk to.. nobody, or she’d stare into the mirror talking to seemingly nobody. was that maybe why she’d been so crazy? because she was fighting her own demons? you didn’t know. the riot began. you heard them in the lunch room banging their trays against the metal tables, yelling at the prison guards and attacking some. you run away into the break room. there were metal bars against the windows. “how the hell am i gonna remove this?” you mumble to yourself as you look around. you search under tables like a madwoman, even searching the pockets of the coats suspended from the metal coat rack.

you heard angels sing once you find a toolbox hidden away underneath a bench. you look at the screws. you needed a flat looking screwdriver. you search the toolbox for one that loosely resembles the screws and you hurry to the window with a chair. standing on the chair, you quickly unscrew the screws and you pull the bars from the window. with the metal bars in hand, you smash the window, all the little glass pieces flying everywhere as the prison alarms go off simultaneously. you look back at the door to the break room. ellie would come, she valued her freedom more than anything in this world.

and with all the uncertainty in your body, you followed through. you jumped down into the parking lot while the alarms ring all throughout the prison. there had been someone else on the other side. a woman with curly hair and tan skin, driving some beat up blue honda. she was pretty. “cmon, hurry and get in. we’re gonna floor it as soon as ellie gets here.” she said, relatively calm as if she’d done this before. you hop into the backseat of her car anxiously. your leg shakes and you bite your nails. looking around at the security cameras, you found that they were, in fact not busted. “that goddamn liar!” she exclaimed as you hit your hands against your thighs. “you’re an idiot for trusting her. ellie never holds her word. she said she’d pay me back a year ago. she owes me $14,000 that she still won’t pay back.” the woman says as she looks at you through the mirror above her. you didn’t trust her. nobody did. but she was a good convincing person and an even better liar. while you were sitting in the back of the car, you recalled all the times she’d attempted to kill you. she gave you concussions, she stabbed you with makeshift knives, she got her minions to beat you half to death. what had you done in retaliation? well, you stabbed her, hung her from a bathroom stall with your sheets, wounded her badly and proceeded to shoot air into the major vein until her heart almost exploded out of her chest. the two have you had gone tit for tat for a while. but is it really an appropriate time to reminisce on old memories? not at all.

the sound of her shoes hitting the ground caught your attention. you look over and see her running towards the car, hopping in her front seat and slamming the door shut. “cmon, drive dina! step on it!” she demanded as she hits her hands against the dashboard. the woman, dina, steps on the gas. the gates of the prison had been closing slowly, leaving just enough room for the car to slither out. ellie cheers to herself. why was she cheering? ellie suddenly turns to you. “we have to get out of texas. dina here is gonna take us halfway to.. somewhere. ive already arranged a place for us to stay. if you screw up? ill strangle you with the hem of your shirt.” her tone falters between the lines of something serious and something a little playful. what was this? why were you doing this with her? you’d been royally screwed now if you weren’t before.

𝙰𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗, 𝚃𝚇 | 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟽

you drove for hours on end while ellie sat in the front, blabbering about seemingly nothing. she sat in the front, smoking weed and changing the radio station until she settled on some sorta rock station. “ellie, do you realize how much you owe to me?” dina asks seriously as she takes the two of you through some sort of desert. “mm.. how much?” “14k. you owe me big time, ellie.” ellie laughs. she turns to you, whites of her eyes turning a light red colour. “can you believe her? me? owing her 14k? that’s insane.” she sat there laughing to herself. dinas iron clad grip on the steering wheel told you what you needed to know. she was fed up with ellies shit.

dina stops the car abruptly on the side of the sandy road. she turns to ellie with a face full of fury. “yknow, ive offered you enough. i said you can pay in installments. you didn’t pay. i gave you time. you still won’t pay. now im being complicit in your fucking prison break!” dina exclaimed. ellies laughing almost instantly stopped as dina raised her voice. “you don’t seem to understand how this works. i don’t owe anyone anything. the way ive paid you back was giving you a good fuck like you asked.” “ellie, i was as high as a kite when i said that! jesus christ, you really don’t listen do you?” you don’t intervene even though ellie is looking for you to do so. something you learned was to never fight battles that weren’t yours. this was between them.

they argued. a lot. going back and forth while ellie took super long drags of the joint between her fingers. dinas car reeks of the smell of weed. ellie wouldn’t take anything seriously until dina raises her hand to smack the daylights out of her. a ringing sound resonates throughout ellies ears as she looks at dina in shock. “why the fuck would you slap me?” “i.. i don’t know.” dina was shocked and you were equally as shocked. ellie opens the car door and she gets out. “get out the car.” she says to you, opening your door. “what, but we’re in the middle of the—“ “get out the fucking car!” ellie yells. you get out. “thanks for nothing. don’t call me again when your boyfriend can’t make you cum!” ellie yells at dina, flipping her off before grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you off into the sunset. you look back at dina and you see her with a look of shock on her face. as if now she regrets what she’d done.

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷 after that day, dina hadn’t come around anymore. maybe because she was under investigation for helping you and ellie escape prison. you and ellie lived in a rv and it was pretty peaceful. she chilled on trying to kill you for a while. you sat outside in a beach chair, looking at the sunrise with a cup of tea.

she joins you, sitting in the chair right next to yours. she was smoking a cigarette. “i wanna do something with you. before that ‘normal life’ you want.” she said as she looked at you. “one last heist.” she exhales the smoke, the smell of tobacco entering your nose. “a heist? ellie, you know we can’t do that anymore. the police have our photos.. and fingerprints.” “they’ve had our photos and prints since 2017, baby.” those goddamn pet names that rolled off of her tongue made you a little weak in the knees. you hated her but you couldn’t hate her voice. “ellie, this isn’t a good idea. we need to think about this. the last time you tried to pull off a heist, you almost got arrested.” you tried to be the voice of reason in this ‘relationship’ (or lack therefore of.) “i hate doing this, ellie. i want a normal life. i wanna go home.” your voice was sad. “and what happens if you go back home? your parents will be happy to see you, naturally. someone could betray you. your mother, your brother. anyone.” her words hang in the air as she looks at you. she puts her cigarette out in the makeshift ashtray that sat on a small wooden table. “what do i always tell you?” you thought about it for a moment. ellie had lots of weird sayings. so you take a guess. “hate is the worlds strongest motivator?” she nods her head. “and what else?” “the person who doesn’t risk, cannot win? but quick question— what does that have to do with anything?” she gets up and she stands in front of you. she squats down to your eye level.

“you’re either one of two things in life. a fox or a rabbit. the fox will hunt the rabbit and won’t back down till it gets what it wants. the rabbit will run for its life so the fox doesn’t let the fox get it. who would you wanna be in life?” ellie had a strange way of looking at life. maybe when you’ve been locked up for so long, attempted to escape so many times and had some mental issues, your outlook on life changes drastically. her analogies always made you wonder how she’d even been able to look at life this way. when you don’t answer her question, she answers for you. “a fox. you wanna be a fox. right now? you’re being a rabbit. tighten the fuck up.” her hands give your thighs a few slaps as she spoke. they were a bit hard but not hard enough to leave marks. after your little talk, she goes back into the rv.

you’re sat there with a racing mind and a swell of emotions. the once warm tea had gone cold. whatever she’d been planning to do on this heist must’ve boosted her head up enough to the point where she could go around, telling people to tighten the fuck up. you resented her heavily. ellie wasn’t a hard person to hate. well, maybe a better word is loathe. she was a terrible person with no moral compass. she didn’t care about anyone else but herself. and maybe she’d been going through things on her own, but she had multiple options to get help. she lived knowing that she’d survive, and only would be at the top of the food chain. as if.

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

ellie still wanted your help. she tried everything to convince you. a share of her earnings. a 60/40 share (you having 60%, leaving the other 40% to her.) but you don’t budge. she needed to think, her brain wasn’t functioning well at finding a different approach. maybe she could just let you go with that ‘normal life’ you’ve always wanted. but this wasn’t something she could just easily do alone. it was much bigger than that. and she also couldn’t threaten you cause then you’d definitely run away. ellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kind to someone. she’d been met with a harsh response to anything she’d ever done in life, so she projected her issues onto other people. maybe it wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but she felt like she had nothing to lose.

she approaches you slowly. “we should talk.” she mumbled. “about.. what?” you ask. “the heist.” “ellie, no—“ “just hear me out please.” she takes a breath before she starts talking. “i swear we won’t get caught. and if we do miraculously, ill take the blame. you can say i kidnapped you or something.” “why are you do adamant about doing this? do you even have a reason?” ellie slowly shakes her head. she sits next to you. her hands fall in her lap as she twiddled with her fingers. “yknow, i don’t really know. i just get these urges to do these things that don’t really make sense.” her tone was genuine, but you werent sure. ellie had a tendency to guilt trip you into doing things that you really didn’t wanna do all because you were the only person she had left and nobody else would do this for her. of course you knew what she was going through, albeit you didn’t understand on a personal level as she had because she was living with this everyday.

you saw all her pill bottles — some SSRI’s, something for her hallucinations, and some other stuff with scratched off labels. “ellie, i really hope you’re not trying to guilt trip me into doing this heist with you.” a part of you was fed up with her shit, just like dina had been. but another part of you wanted to be there for her (even though she didn’t open up), and you also like liked her a little. not too much. “of course this isn’t me guilt tripping you. in fact, you don’t even have to worry about it.” she turns to you and she smiles. it felt weird seeing her smile. with all that serotonin she got from the SSRI’s, she didn’t really ever smile. you didn’t put too much thought into it. you just hoped she wouldn’t do anything impulsive.

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

ellie was up early the next morning. it was six something. she was pacing around outside while she was biting her nails. she was nervous or anxious about something. sometimes you wished you you’d be in ellies brain when she was being like this or being way too brief with her explanations when there was clearly something up with her.

what was she thinking about now? well, you. she was thinking about you. how long you’d put up with her, how long you’d live. stuff like that. there’s only one certainty in life — death. everyone inevitably dies one day even though they may not wanna. ellie planned on dying on her own terms. something else ellie thinks about often was her life before all this. she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her dad. she missed him. she also missed dina. ellie had dated a few people in the past, some girl named cat and dina. they didn’t end up really working out together because of ellies impulsive nature, but they stayed friends until.. the incident when dina slapped ellie.

in her own way, ellie wanted her old life back as did you. she wanted to wake up to the smell of joels coffee and dinas sleeping form in her bed, all that pretty curly hair sprawled over her pillow. but she knew what she was doing when she made this decision. she knew what she was doing when she decided to steal the identity of some rich lawyer so she could withdrawal all their money for herself. she knew what she was doing when she’d went to that very same lawyers office with an unregistered pistol, robbing them and leaving them with practically nothing. this couldn’t have happened coincidentally. she wanted her old brain back. the one that didn’t have violent and impulsive thoughts. the one that didn’t keep replaying her heinous crimes.

“you’re a mess.” ellie looks up. she sees herself wearing her prison uniform. her hair was much longer then (she’d cut most of it off.) “don’t tell me that. you’re a mess too.” she says to herself. “you want this heist so bad, then do it yourself. it’s nothing you can’t handle.” the split image of ellie was pushing her hands into her pockets and looking at the trees around her. “what’s stopping you?” “you know the answer to that question.” “i don’t. tell me ellie, what’s stopping you?” “y/n.”

as she says that, she hears your footfall behind her. she looks back at you and then back to where the other copy of herself had been. the other ellie was gone. you approach her slowly. “who were you talking to?” you ask, offering her a glass of orange juice that you’d made. “nobody. and uh, the heist.. it’s off.” she muttered as she takes a sip of the orange juice, quenching a thirst she didn’t know she had. “oh, well, that’s good.” you nod in approval. “im sorry.” ellie said it loud enough for your ears only. “i fucked up big time. i know i did. im sorry for putting you through this. im so sorry.” ellie almost never apologized for anything. your face flashes with multiple emotions at once, not sure which one you should feel right now. “it’s.. okay. it’s gonna take me some time to forgive you, but id like to try.” ellie turns to you once you finish speaking and she gives you a firm pat on the shoulder before heading towards the rv.

you felt yourself smiling a bit. you always knew she could do it. you just had to wait for her.

[avameller]

𝑺𝒑𝒂𝒄�� 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 - Ellie Williams x afab!reader - Episode List

Episode Themes/Warnings :

NSFW/SMUT Marked with " ☆ " FLUFF Marked with " ♡ " ANGST Marked with " ♤ "

Episode length :

SHORT (1k- words) Marked with " ♦︎ " LONG (1k+ words) Marked with " ♣︎ "

Charecter List -> ᖭི༏ᖫྀ 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ࣪𖤐

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟏 - 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 - ♣︎

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟐 - 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 - ♣︎

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟑 - 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 - ♦︎

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟒 - 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝? - ♦︎

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟓 - 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 - ♣︎

Planned upcoming episodes (there are more ofc)

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟔 - 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 (𝟏)

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟕 - 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 (𝟐)

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟖 - 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

[ellabscrush]

— fucking you behind the screen.

thinking about getting pounded by your gamer girlfriend’s strap while unmuted..

pairings; gamer!ellie williams x reader

cw; men and minors don’t interact, making out, strap use, breeding kink, agoraphilia, r uses “daddy” to ellie once, language, dom!ellie, sub!reader.

ways you can help, boycott, do not support neil.

“jesse the fuck was that?” ellie laughs at the guy behind the mic when he missed the shot.

“dina, get him!” she shouted, “fuck yeah!”

your girlfriends excessive cursing and yelling across the room made you snap out of your phone while scrolling on tiktok, wondering if she was about to break her setup right about now.

it was mid winter and the apartment was freezing so you threw on a zip up over your top underneath, feeling the warm athmosphere disappearing from your body as you walked out your room.

“holy shit els, it’s freezing” you said shivering tensely towards the living room, but she didn’t hear you.

“took out your friend.. fucking cunt.”

not gonna lie, her little frustrated grunts and insults were very attractive, you thought. you stared at her hands switching in between buttons, her eyes glued on the screen showing her focus, manspreading enough room for you to eat her out down there.. she looked too good.

you plopped yourself on to the couch, loud enough to make her turn over, pausing her activity. she sets down her headphones and took a long look at you.

she lays back on her chair, “hey you,” she sighs.

“you almost done?” you asked, desperate for some attention.

“almost,” she replies, “this game is pissing me off anyway.”

you smiled, having a silent moment between the two of you. there was a familiar tension, but unsure wether you should go along. ellie kept scanning you up and down like she hadn’t seen you in forever, technically she hadn’t since she’d been playing all day.

“you need somethin?” you asked with confused expression.

“do i look like i need something?” she teased, licking her lips.

you shrugged, shyly looking down as you we’re hiding the redness forming in your face. you couldn’t act normal around her when she looked this good, i mean she always looks good. you soon got up from the couch, walking towards your girlfriend, giving her a long wet kiss.

“you should take this off” she insisted while tugging at your zipper, her tone switching making you go insane.

ellie, being her clumsy self, didn’t mute.

“get a room!” jesse and dina yells from the speaker, unaware the two could listen to you both smothering eachother.

“shut up,” she pulls down the mic, “i’ll get on soon.”

you burried yourself in the crook of her neck from embarrassment and laughed. she pulled you in for a deeper kiss, pulling up your one thigh and the other on to her lap.

“can we make this quick?” ellie asks making you confused, “take this shit off,” she demanded quietly, making sure her friends doesn’t hear.

“just mute it ellie,” you giggled in between the kisses.

she lets out another smirk, this time having an idea behind it.

she whispers in your ear that made you shiver a bit hearing her talk in such a dirty way as she fills you in on her plan. contemplating her genius yet scary idea, you couldn’t help but feel the adrenaline rushing up on you. it turned you on and so you agreed.

“suck.”

ellie puts her middle and ring finger in your wet mouth, prepping it with your saliva before it goes in you. she turns her chair towards her pc, leaving a bit of room for you.

“stream your screen,” she speaks into the mic, “i’ll just watch you both from here.”

a few minutes later, her strap was going in and out behind you, making you cry just trying to keep your moans in. back arched and both hands on the rim of the table infront of you as ellie make your stomach turn.

“shh, can’t let them hear you now.”

“mmph.. so deep..” you whimpered.

at this point you were barely clothed, nipples poking through the see through, thin fabric of your bra. ellie gropping your perky tits as hard as she wanted, you were hers. she could do whatever she wanted.

her hips moving faster and faster, holding yourself up with just two grips on her white desk. her praises for keeping quiet were not helping, it made you even louder.

“you look so slutty right now,” she basically drooled, “asking to get fucked under that jacket?”

“y-yes” you say quietly, “fuck daddy.”

the name made ellie flustered. her hand grabbing your jaw while your mouth was hanging open dry, she stared at the long silicone disappearing inside of you.

“ellie- i cant-“ you squeeled as you tried reaching her arms, begging for some gentleness.

“yes you can,” she whispers in your ear, “be a good girl and let me fuck you in secret, okay?”

you didn’t say anything, you couldn’t, so you just nodded. ellie kissed down your neck to your shoulder as a reward for listening, being a good girl just for her.

“gonna fuckin’ breed you..” ellie muttered in your ear, “being s-such a good mama for me.”

it started getting rough, more than before. the image in your head of what you two looked like right now, or even getting caught by her friends made you more horny. your body started shuttering and the familiar feeling of pleasure in your thighs took over.

“please baby..” you moaned trying to keep your composure.

“faster?” she asked knowing the answer, “yeah i know you want it faster, love.”

your girlfriend started pounding you like crazy while firmly gripping your swollen ass.

“perfect fucking ass sucking it in.. godd.”

the little action figures on the desk falling, table hitting the wall, making you realize how loud you two were being.

“mm ellie too much..” you whined, “please slow down!”

suddenly, she couldn’t take your begging anymore. as much as she loved hearing you, she had to shut you up. her hands quickly covered your mouth, “quit talking,” she growled.

“you have to keep it down, can you do that?” she raises her eyebrow while making eye contact with you, basically making this harder for you purposely.

“answer my fucking question. do you want me to stop?”

“no.. els no,” was all you could mumble out, “fuckk”

that last moan alerted the two on the other side of the screen, luckily ellie saved it.

“yo ellie you good?” jesse asks, “uh yeah! just bumped my knee.”

“idiot,” he laughed.

that was close. your quick taps on her hand covering your mouth lured her attention back on you, begging with teary eyes to cum. ellie was full in lust looking at you being a needy whore bent over.

she took the palm of he hand out and put her thumb in your mouth while continuing to pound you hard. your mumbled words were frustrating her, “words baby, words.”

she pushes you back towards her chest, “need your cum..” you begged looking up at her, “fuck me please.”

with that, your wishes came true as she railed you deep and faster. making you reach your climax with every thrust coming in and out of your hole.

“ellie!-“

“shut it,” she covers your mouth again aggressively, slapping your ass with one free hand. the gesture secretly making you more close to orgasming.

“that’s my slut getting fucked behind for everyone to hear.”

you couldn’t help yourself but moaned, not even caring who could hear you at this point.

“yeah?” ellie mocks, “like it that much?”

you nodded. your girlfriend feeling better right about now for letting her take it all out on you over a game.

“i’m fucking cumming.. holy shit,” you pant out of breath, feeling the turns in your stomach and liquid dripping down your thighs.

“i’m gonna cum in you, baby” ellie groaned, “make you.. all mine.”

“yes cum in me oh my god!”

she grabs your shoulders, “take my fucking dick.. f-fuck.”

ellie swore she could feel you, seeing the white ring forming on the strap made her smile just knowing no one else could fuck you this good.

“i love breeding you baby.. fill you up with that warm.. sticky cum, yeah?” ellie continues to please you as you ride out her strap, “goodd girl.. it’s okay mama.”

“els i’m shaking,” you whined, “no more..”

“you did good baby.”

don’t worry, she was actually muted this time.

[breathinlove]

fucking ellie with the strap ellie williams smut drabble

daily click to help palestine read this

cw: strap usage and min ass play? e!receiving, strap referred to as cock, not explicit if readers fem or masc, they're in love.

thinking 'bout... making ellie ride your strap until she gets tired and you coo “baby's tired? you tired, huh?” when you notice her going slower.

“mhmm… yeah” she whined, nodding. you hold her flushed face, mesmerized by her teary green eyes and freckled cheeks that were tainted pink.

she leans in to kiss you and you gently kiss her back but roughly thrust up into her to give your own clit attention again, making ellie moan against your lips.

“on fours, baby. come on.” you pull out, eyeing her puffy clit and stretched out cunt, helping her up.

she eagerly crawls on the bed, turning her ass to you as she holds her weight on her elbows and knees. she looks back at you with the sweetest smile and you just wanna make her cum.

you run your fingers along her back, making her squirm under you. you're pressed up against her, strap agaisnt her ass.

“jus’fuck me.” she reaches out for your strap, pushing it inside of her wet pussy. you smile at that.

“so needy for cock, aren't you?” she doesn't see it, but she can hear you smiling and she does too.

“yeah… need your cock.” she moans, pushing back on you, strap bumping harder on your clit. you moan back.

 “ohhh that's right, but let me do that for you, ‘kay?” you hold and kiss her lower back and her arches. you kiss lower and lower and she's clenching around your strap.

you spit down her ass before starting to thrust hard and slow. she hasn't stopped moaning, your thumb meets her spit wet asshole and you rub it. it's getting harder to thrust and you're soaked.

“tightest fucking pussy.” you grunt and slap her ass. she moans even louder and you can feel your clit throb.

you keep your pace, holding her waist and caressing her back. pleasuring her and yourself with every thrust.

“yesyesyes 'm close.” her arms dropped and her face pressed up against the mattress. “faster.”

“i got you.” and you're thrusting fast and hard, ellie's a moaning mess of ‘yes's. you feel yourself close to orgasm too.

“c-cumming.” she moans with a raspy and tired voice, she's gone

“yeah, cream my cock.” you moan, getting lost in the pleasure of your clit bumping against the base of the strap everytime you thrust into her.

you fuck her through her orgasm as she cums around your strap. you don't stop, chasing your own high that doesn't take long to catch up.

“f-fuck.” you moan, thrusting deeper and ellie lets out a pornographic moan.

the base of your strap meets her ass and you ride it, cumming against the strap and her ass. you pull out as you fall next to her, both your bodies sweaty.

she holds you, you two filling eachother's faces with kisses and eachother's ears with 'i love you's.

[ellieslittlewh0re]

THE BET - Ellie Williams x fem! reader

wk - 1.3k

summary - cockwarming ellie’s strap (this is literally just p0rn lol)

additional tags - established relationship, SMUT, strap-on usage, crying (not the bad kind), porn w/ no plot, e! Is rough but not too rough, some aftercare and fluff :3

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Ellie sat on the couch, manspreading and completely relaxed with her body movements, but her eyes told a different story... dark and her lips slightly parted as her breathing picked up. She was beyond horny, aching to touch you. How could she not? You were straddling her legs, your hands on her shoulders to keep you from completely going limp on her. Her cock was deep inside your dripping cunt, pressed against the spot that made you go fucking crazy.

How did you get in this situation?

Well, you and Ellie made a bet, how long could you two go like this before one of you gave in. It's been all of two days since the last time you saw your girlfriend, but it was 2 days too long and when she came over, the heated tension almost immediately gave you away. You ached for her, your body craved her.

"Just give in, baby. Lemme take care of that pussy." Ellie said with a teasing voice, pushing her hips up ever so slightly which caused you to yelp.

Your head falls to the crook of her neck, panting into it, your hips staring to go numb from your compromising position.

"M-m' not gonna... lose." You barely make out, head to fucking dumb on her cock.

Her hand squeezed the fat of your ass, pulling at it to split you open further, causing her strap to slip in, reaching deeper.

You whimper, looking at her with dazed eyes, a furrow between your brows and a pout on your puffy lips, tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes.

"E-els... please, fuck me."

As much as Ellie loved to see you so needy and desperate for her, she could only take so much.

"Up." She demanded, slapping your ass to get you to move fucking faster.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, slowly lifting yourself off of her and wince at the sensation of your now empty pussy.

Before you could comprehend what was happening, she was dragging you into the bedroom, slick dripping down your thighs with only a over sized t-shirt (that was Ellie's of course) barely covering your ass.

"Get on all fours." She points to the bed in a rush, quickly shutting the door in case one of your family members were to come home.

You hesitantly do as your told, crawling on the bed with your ass facing her. The cold air of the a/c hitting your wetness, made you shudder, goosebumps rising on your skin. You felt exposed to say the least, everything on display for your girlfriends viewing pleasure.

"Fuck baby, the shit I do for you." Ellie said almost to herself, too entranced by your glistening folds that was pressed so prettily together between your thighs.

A high pitched moan emits from your lips as her fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your slick to your ass which she squeezed harshly, letting the fat spill between her fingers.

She stood behind you, holding you in place as the tip of her cock bounced against your pulsing clit. You rock your hips, grinding them against her crotch, the base of her strap digging harder into her own sopping pussy.

"So needy- you want my cock that bad, baby?" She growled, looking down at your back, how it arched and twisted, desperate for some friction- how ready you were for her.

"Mmhm-" you bite down on your lip, pressing your ass harder against her, and that was enough to get what you wanted.

Her hands wrapped firmly around your hips right where they crease into your thighs, her fingers digging into the flesh. Her cock wedged between your legs, thrusting back and forth between your slippery heat, coating it again with your pre release.

"F-fuuck, Ellie.." you whine, frustration in your voice because it wasn't enough, and Ellie knew that. If she was going to lose this bet, she was going to have fun with it.

"What baby, use your words pretty girl." She coos, a hint of malice in her voice as she leans over you, placing a kiss to the back of your shoulder, her hand reaching around to palm your breast.

Your squirm under her, your head hanging low between your shoulders, on the brink of sobs from how frustrated you were, desperate for this aching feeling in your tummy to go away.

"I-inside... I want your cock inside, els.. please." You begged.

Ellie smirked into your bare shoulder, a satisfaction she got from your confession gave her a power trip that only you could do to her.

She lifted from your back, her hand holding the base of her cock, lining it up to your entrance. Ellie loved this view, your ass up in the air, the way your contorted under her touch. She also loved how exposed you were and she wasn't, still fully clothed, just the waistband of her sweatpants tugged slightly downwards to make room for her strap.

She pressed the tip of her cock inside your pussy, slowly deepening it as you let out a sigh of relief mixed with a moan of pleasure, finally full of her- just how you liked it.

She doesn't give you much time to adjust to the feeling inside, picking up her pace and slamming into your hole. She was relentless, her fingertips bruising your hips as she ground herself deeper inside you.

You cry, tearing fully dripping from your cheeks and onto the soft pink bedding below, sharp high pitched whines reverberated in your throat, jaw slacked and head empty.

You physically couldn't hold yourself up anymore, your face smushed against the tear soaked pillow, letting her use you like a toy.

"Yeah.. that's right baby, take it.. atta girl." Ellie praised through clenched teeth, quickening her pace on your abused pussy.

You babble and scream, chanting her name like it was a prayer, a confession of your sins perhaps.

Ellie fully rests her body on top of yours, one hand tugging harshly at your nipple, rolling the hardened peak and pulling at it while the other hand reached for your clit, rubbing tight circles which just made you cry out louder. It was all too much, you felt your climax creeping up quickly, your stomach tightened as you clench around her, half-hooded eyes, and panting like a bitch in heat.

"M' gonna cum- els.. I'm gonna-" You cry out, stuttering with each snap of her hips.

"Be a good girl, come fr' me baby." She breathed into the back of your neck, suckling the salt stained skin while her fingers quickened on your clit.

Your mutter curses, your fists tighten on the sheets as you come undone around her, your slick gushing around the base of her cock. She slows her pace, working you through your orgasm to insure you were thoroughly fucked out.

She litters soft kisses to your back before standing up and carefully slipped out of your abused cunt.

You fully collapse on the bed, laying on your stomach with your head tucked on the pillow.

Ellie tucks her strap back into her pants, not bothering to take it off completely, too busy wanting to soothe you and make sure you were okay.

She laid beside you, her hand rubbing your lower back in circular motions. You turn to face her, cheek squished against the pillow, eyes and lips red and puffy. You smile sleepily at her, her hand came up to run fingers though your hair, ridding them from your face.

"I win." You say in a hushed voice, closing your eyes as she continued the movements on your head.

She chuckled as she observed you; her adoring girlfriend, picturing what it would be like to wake up beside you everyday for the rest of their lives, coming home to you and what you'd look like pregnant with her child.

"You win pretty girl- now get some rest. You'll need it for round 2."

[serraphinm]

⋆.˚@Messy#⋆.˚

Summary: Ellie has been off for weeks now and you have no idea why. So when you've finally had enough you snap, causing a fight.

Happy New Year! This is my gift to all of you!

@vxsellie - For you girl <3

Masterlist

Ellie was in a mood... She had been for three weeks now. Why she was in such a mood I had no idea but she refused to tell me, let alone calm down. The worst part was she was taking her anger out on me. Since we lived together it was impossible to truly get any space unless one of us left. We had been living together for a few months now and dating for two years. Her duality is what made me fall in love with her in the first place. But now her underhanded insults were starting to sting.

I scan the room once more, avoiding her eyes. The stale air in the room mixed with the smell of weed made it suffocating. My eyes water a little from a fresh puff of smoke blowing into them. Our home was practically a hot box with how much she had been smoking. The couch felt rough beneath my calloused fingers. I had been working in the gardens for a few weeks now and my hands had gotten a handful of cuts and calluses. Ellie wouldn’t let me touch her anymore and I blamed my hands.

“Are you even listening or what?” Her voice reaches my mind and my eyes finally snap to hers.

“I’m listening, Ellie,” I say, hoping she doesn’t snap. 

“Fucking finally..” She mutters. Another puff of smoke that I wave out my face. Despite all the weed she still seemed on edge, which was a feat in itself. “I have patrol today.. Need you to get a job gardening,” Ellie sits up slowly, a little dizzy.

“I was actually thinking of going on patrol with you today.. You know.. Switch it up?” I say standing from the couch to grab her some water. 

“Did you not hear what I said?” Her green eyes narrowing,“I don’t want you outside the walls, just go garden like you always do,” Her voice is harsh but I try to focus on the fact she wants me safe inside the walls.

“I understand that Els but-”

“Why can’t you just fucking listen?! I’m trying to keep you safe!” She snaps. This rage was uncalled for.

“I don’t need you to make decisions for me Ellie.. I’m fully capable of being safe.” I argue back, my fist clenched around the glass of water. My eyes met hers once more as she sat on the couch. All I see in her eyes is anger, no fear.

“Cordyceps is no joke! You’re not immune like I am!!” She argues, standing to meet me

on an equal level. 

That sent me back to when Ellie had told me of her immunity. We had been walking outside the wall on a warm summer night. She was awkward as hell grabbing my hand with her own sweaty ones. Her eyes sparkled as she told me about her day. She and Dina had been on patrol when they ran into a bear—scared the shit out of them, causing them to finish patrol early and ride all the way back to Jackson. They laugh about it now. She got so serious though when she told me Dina almost got bit. I watched fear etch her features before she turned to me.

“Babe, I need you to know something..” She whispered, my brows furrowed. It seemed this was serious so I stopped smiling and faced her.

“When I was younger I had a friend… sorta… her name was Riley and, well we were really close. Long story short.. We both got bit…” That last part left her mouth slowly. I looked at her confused. 

“But.. there’s no way you should be alive right now if you were. Are you pulling my leg?” I asked as I tilted my head in her direction. Confusion all over my face. Ellie huffed and scratched her neck before holding out her tattooed arm and running her fingers over the chemically burned section.

“That day I found out I was immune…” She said softly, her eyes not meeting mine anymore.

She had to be shitting me.

“Immune..? Like.. immune immune?” I asked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her arm closer to my face.

“Yea..” She whispered.

“Really Ellie? That’s some bullshit and you know it,” I said before dropping her arm, “Tell the truth.”

“Wha- hey! That is the truth! Look, the chemical burn was me covering the bite mark!” She said as she lifted her arm back up again and practically shoved it in my face.

“Alright! Alright! So let’s say this is true.. Why tell me?” I asked as I pushed her arm out of my face.

“Cause… cause I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you…” Her voice is so quiet, like a whisper. She stared at the floor beside me while I looked at her shocked.

“You… you love me…?” I whispered as I stepped closer to her. Ever so slowly her eyes met mine. I could tell she was nervous so I sent her a smile.

“Something like that..” Ellie muttered. My smile grew and I moved forward once more as I wrapped her in a hug. She hugged back almost immediately, but not before she wiped her palms on her jeans.

“I love you too Ellie..” I whispered to her and the stars. My eyes trailed to the moon and I wished then and there that this moment would never end…

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. You’re not even listening again!” Ellie’s harsh voice snaps me out of my daydream. She must’ve been going on a rant again. I often zoned out when she did that. “What did I just say?? Huh?” 

“I’m sorry, Ellie, I don’t listen to you when you get like this.” 

Ellie rolls her eyes, “You’re so clever so how can you be so dumb?”

That hurts a little so I send her a glare, “You have no right to talk to me like that!” My hand clenches around the glass of water again.

“I can talk to you however I want!” She argues back, her arms waving around in frustration.

“No! You can’t! I am your equal and partner! Not someone you can just talk down to cause you’re pissy about something! I have been nothing but kind and patient with you and you’ve just been rude!!” I snap. My anger gets the better of me and I squeeze the glass so hard it shatters. Pain reaches my senses as I realize I’ve been cut. Blood seeps from my palm and I grimace. Without looking at Ellie I rush to the door, wrench it open, and slam it behind me. The cool fall air hits my face and I shiver. 

I decide to patch it up before dragging my feet to the gardens. Getting work done with this was going to be a pain, but it was better than staying with Ellie right now. One of the sweet women I work with gives my hand a concerned glance. She offers to help but I decline as I slide a glove over the hand. Work takes a few hours and by the time I’m done, it's as dark as the stains of dirt on my clothes. Trudging back home I decide to take my time and marvel at the lights in Jackson. The peaceful walk back shatters when I open the door to see Ellie sitting on the couch still- -clad in her patrol gear. When I walked in her head snapped to me. Ellie stands quickly and walks over to me.

“Where the hell have you been?! I’ve been worried sick!” She looks me over before noticing all the dirt spots. “Why are you filthy? Did you fall or something?” All my patience vanishes.

Deciding I’d rather not fight again today I start walking to the kitchen to just put some space between us when she grabs my wrist.

“Ellie let go,” I say, not in the mood.

“No.. you left without even saying anything and left a mess for me to clean. You’re so messy.” 

That does it.

“Really Ellie?! You wanna sit here and nitpick me?? I get what you’re saying, but really??”

Ellie lets go of my wrist, a little shocked at my outburst. But I wasn’t done.

“I’m too messy and then I’m too fucking clean! I’m too perfect till I open my big mouth. I’m too clever till I’m too fucking dumb!” It all starts pouring out as I step closer and closer to her. She begins backing up as tears well in my eyes.

“You told me to go to the gardens then wonder where I’ve fucking been!!” I poke her chest as I stare into her eyes. She seems to start to understand so I keep going.

“You can’t even talk! You smoke weed to help you sleep. Then get stoned at four o’clock! You come home from patrol to me and don’t even say hello before you’re yelling at me. All 'cause I made a mess!”

Her face falls as she stares at me in realization.

“I want to be me! Is that not allowed?! I wanted to go on patrol! But no! Instead I had to work all day in the gardens with a gash on my hand!” 

Ellie stares down at the floor. It seems I finally woke her up from whatever cloudy haze she was in.

“Thousand different people I could be for you Els.. and you hate the fucking lot…”

That last line seems to finish her off and she starts to tear up. My breath is fast and my hands shake. Rage truly overtook me. I wasn’t the most patient person in the world. But usually, I was a bit more composed. Seems Ellie really hurt me…

“I…” She whispers. Tears drip down to her chin before falling onto the cold floors. My breathing slows a little as she fiddles with her fingers.

“I just.. Joel did some really fucked up shit… and I lost it…took it out on you…” She takes a deep breath and wipes her face with one hand.

“What the hell happened?? And why didn’t you tell me that?” I ask gently. Ellie takes another deep breath. She begins to explain that she could’ve been the cure for cordyceps.. If Joel hadn’t taken her from the fireflies and killed them all. I stare at her in shock.

“I just got so furious… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive him for that…” My heart hurts and I take a hesitant step towards her. 

“Ellie..” I start. She brings me into a hug and cries into my shoulder. Tears well up in my own eyes. Now I felt bad for snapping. One of my hands rests on the back of her neck while the other wraps around her. I could tell she needed this hug. We both did. 

Slowly I move us over to the bed and take off our dirty clothes before laying back in bed with her. She holds me like a lifeline as she calms down, her skin cold on mine. Moving the covers overtop of us I secure it tightly around her as she snuggles into my chest. My fingers rung through her short auburn hair. I take her hair tie out and pull it onto my wrist.

“Look.. all those things I said… I never really meant them.. I just.. I wanted someone to hurt with me... So I’d feel less alone..” She was surprisingly self-aware.

“Dork,” I mutter. She looks up at me with a glare.

“I open up my thoughts and feelings to you, and you call me a dork?? Really?” I watch as her composure cracks, a smile spreads across her face.

“Yup. Dork.” 

“Rude..”

“You love me.”

“Yea… I do…”

Ellie spends the next few hours talking everything out. We discuss it all before deciding to put steps in place to prevent this from happening again. It takes us a while but we work it out. I glance at the clock to see it’s almost 2 am. With a yawn, I relax further into the pillows.

“Ellie.. I know it’s going to be hard… but could you try and forgive Joel..? If not for him or yourself.. Maybe for me..?” I say gently.

She says nothing for a moment before take a deep breath… and ever so slowly nodding her head.

“Yea.. for you.. anything..”

.

.

.

[cxrdycxps]

Work Song • Joel Miller

No grave can hold me down, I’ll crawl home to her.

☢️ Canon typical violence • smut, unprotected p in v • angst • soft Joel (it needs a warning) • what might be classed as Tommy and Maria bashing • AFAB Reader ☢️

Main Masterlist • Joel Miller Masterlist

Stop. Breathe. Think.

There had to be a way out. There had to be something he hadn’t thought of. Muffled noise was hard to focus on when his heartbeat was louder. He could feel the pulsing pain in his side, his ribs were broken. His guns and his backpack were gone.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Eugene shared a glance with Shane as they approached the gates of Jackson. There would be word spreading soon. Only two riders returned.

They hesitated in the tree line, waited with bated breath. Once they passed this line they would have to explain. Would have to find a way to break the news.

“We don’t know there’s anything wrong. He might have beaten us back here.” Shane told Eugene. Eugene nodded slightly but they both knew they were kidding themselves.

Joel would never leave a man behind. He would wait all night at an outpost and definitely wouldn’t head back to Jackson without a husband and a father.

“He wouldn’t have wanted us to wait. We know the rules.” Eugene sighed and Shane nodded shortly before he nudged his horse out of the tree line.

“Riders!” The tower patrol called and the gates were opened slowly as Eugene and Shane approached.

Jesse paused at the sight of only two returning patrol men and stared at them as they passed. Both men rode in with their heads down, avoiding the stare of everyone.

Maria stood at the stable talking patrol routes with a group of men due to head out for a long patrol in the next week.

She looked up when the surrounding area fell quiet and put a hand out to steady herself against the sudden dropping of her stomach when Eugene and Shane approached on horseback.

Without Joel.

“Where is he?”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel clenched his jaw and tensed his whole body, readying himself for the impact. There was a burst of pain, bright light behind his eyes. But he didn’t make a noise.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

“Why do I need to know this?” Ellie sighed, her head leaning on her hand. You looked up from the pot you were stirring and found her chewing on the end of her pencil.

“Because a basic knowledge of biology will help in life. Do you know how many people probably wished they hadn’t slept through their bio classes in high school?” You asked her and she sighed heavily, letting her head fall on her notebook.

You only rolled your eyes as you pulled plates down out of the cabinet, eyes on the clock over the window. Joel would be home soon hopefully.

“Set the table?” You asked Ellie and she scrambled to comply, shoving her books into her book bag in an effort to get out of doing her homework in any way possible. “When Joel gets back he’ll help you finish up.”

She laughed and shook her head as she set out the cutlery how Joel had thought her. He still clung to the strangest of Southern traditions. One of the most obvious was his table manners which he was trying in vain to pass on to Ellie.

“Cause he’s gonna know it. Joel’s a high school drop out.” Ellie reminded you and you laughed.

“Joel dropped out of high school to be a dad. Not because he wasn’t smart.” You reminded her while you ruffled her hair when she got close enough, you laughed again when she grumbled about it.

“What’s your excuse?” She huffed, setting three glasses down and filling two with water, a finger of whiskey in the third.

“Gee Els, I don’t know? The end of the world, maybe.” You laughed with her and covered the simmering pot. “Go check the stables and see will they be much longer.”

You all preferred to eat dinner together most evenings. Sometimes home cooked, sometimes at the diner. But eating together was something you had always done with your family and you liked that they did their best to uphold that for you.

Ellie huffed and moved to pull on her converse, sitting on the bench by the front door. A bench Joel built specifically so she would sit down to put her shoes on instead of hopping around and knocking her head on the wall.

A knock sounded at the door just as she had tied the laces on her shoes and you leaned from your place at the sink to look down as she answered the door. Tommy appeared, his hat pressed against his chest and his mouth down turned.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel was alone in the room. Maybe not a room but a shed or barn. There was a lot of creaking going on. The ground underneath him felt like bare concrete but he thought he could hear the rustle of hay when he moved.

Panic was biting at him as he took stock of his injuries. He had been left in a stress position which was murder on his already bad knees. His ribs were on fire, each breath like a brand to his lungs.

His hands were bound to something above his head. Something sturdy enough to hold his weight but it groaned when he pulled. A pipe maybe.

His stomach growled again and he sighed. It had only been a few hours. Regular eating in Jackson had stolen his edge and now he found himself hungry and tired.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the protest from his ribs and pulled, putting all his weight on whatever he was bound to. There was harsh groaning and then a screech.

And then he dropped, no longer suspended.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

You stared at Tommy as he stepped into the hallway past a frozen Ellie. You knew that look. You had seen him do it only once, having to tell Denise that her husband had passed away in the clinic.

A heart attack. That’s what they thought happened. You wondered if this is what it felt like. The pressure building in your chest, your breath catching, frozen stock still.

“He isn’t.” Ellie breathed, moving from the doorway to you. She wasn’t looking at Tommy, hand reached out for you. “It’s Joel. He isn’t. He can’t be.”

“He missed the meet point.” Tommy said with a wince and your eyes narrowed as part of you relaxed just slightly.

“It was a three man patrol.” You pulled Ellie closer by the hand she had reached for you with. You needed to keep her close, keep her safe. “There isn’t a meet point on a three man patrol.”

“Eugene and Jason-“

“You mean to tell me that my husband is missing because those two fucking stoners had to check their grow house?” You asked Tommy, voice low. “Because you know Joel wouldn’t fucking suggest splitting up. You fucking know that!”

“Now look, I’m just the messenger.” Tommy started and you clenched your jaw. “I’m just as mad as you about it and Maria-“

“Oh for fuck sake Tommy. When are you gonna grow a fucking pair and stop hiding in the shadows?” You snapped, a hand running through your hair. “Fucking letting Joel take the fall half your life and now Maria? You ever gonna stand on your own two feet?”

“Now hold on a second-“

“No, you hold on. You heard that those two fucking clowns didn’t wait for Joel and you left them standing? Joel might be dead so that Eugene could check on his fucking weed.” You tell Tommy as he stepped closer in anger. You met him half way, a finger pointed into his chest. “You better fucking hope he’s okay or I’ll make what both of you used to do look like child’s play.”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel paused in place to see if the sound had alerted any one. His hands are still bound and the circulation returning to his legs caused a rush of pins and needles so strong he dropped to his knees.

He needs to get out. He needs to get home. Home to you and Ellie.

There’s no noise that Joel can detect when he raises his bound hands to push the blindfold off his face. The darkness blinds him a second time, his eyes slowly adjusting to his surroundings.

It’s a barn. Wide and barren, hasn’t been used in decades from the looks of things. There’s not much in way of weapons but there is a rusty scythe hanging on the wall. It looks dull but after a few minutes Joel gets his bindings cut and his hands free.

The pipe he had been detained to comes free with a yank and he swings it, testing the weight. It’s not much but it’ll do if he keeps the element of surprise on his side.

A quick turn over of the barn shows nothing else of importance and so he heads for the hayloft, trying to see if he can get a glance of his surroundings.

His arms ache as he climbs and his ribs are still on fire but he pulls himself up, rung by rung, until he’s able to drag himself to the top. He tried not to breathe heavily, leaning on his hands and knees so as not to hurt his ribs further.

There’s an old dilapidated farm house a couple hundred meters from the barn. There’s smoke coming from the chimney though which means whoever stole his pack is probably in there. He grips the metal pipe tighter in his hand and breathes slowly.

Just one more push. It’s always just one more push.

Joel heads for the ladder and finds climbing down is harder on his ribs than climbing up. He attempts to hurry it which results in him losing his footing and falling a couple of rungs, hitting the ground hard with a sickening crunch. Joel fights the urge to vomit, white hot pain bursting through his body.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

“Now I don’t think this is gonna help-“ Tommy yelled after you as you headed for the Tipsy Bison. Sure as anything you’d find Eugene and Shane at the bar.

For their sake they’d better have changed up their routine.

Ellie followed along side you, her face closed off, her eyes burning with anger. You still held the hand she had outstretched to you in the house. Both of you gripping tightly.

You swung the diner door open and traced your eyes across the occupants and sure as the sky was blue you found Eugene and Shane in the corner of the bar.

You ignored Tommy calling your name and finally released Ellie’s hand, making a beeline for both men who had their heads hung over their drinks. When Tommy called your name they looked up and Eugene stood from his stool.

In his defense he did look sorry. Until your hand cracked against his face. Then he just looked shocked. “You better fucking hope he gets home.”

“We waited for him.” Eugene tried to explain but you only shook your head at him, pointing a finger over his shoulder at Shane.

“You’re just fucking lucky he’s in my way.” You warned, sending Ellie pressing close behind you. “Where did you split up?”

“It was west of here, about three quarters the way through the route. Just after the last post.” Eugene explained and your hand cracked out again. He caught your wrist this time, squeezing roughly. “I let you away with one.”

“You split up with him so you could check your fucking grow house?” You spit at him, attempting to pull your wrist free. “You’re that fucking desperate you couldn’t wait another day till the group patrol headed out?”

“He was fine with it.” Shane attempted to argue. Almost silently Ellie slipped an arm in front of you, the tip of her knife pressed against Eugene’s zipper.

“Let her go or lose your fucking dick.” Ellie warned, voice cold. “And from what I can tell that’s your entire personality.”

Eugene released your wrist which you cradled to your chest, your free hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Cmon Els, while we still have daylight.”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel grunted, his arm cradled to his chest. His right arm. All he had was a metal pipe and he didn’t even have both hands to swing it.

His ribs, if possible, hurt worse. Every slight inhalation had him fighting back screams. The pain in his wrist made him want to vomit and he wondered what the fuck he was gonna do.

He didn’t have much time. He knew that. They would be back to check on him again in no time and he had to have a plan or he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Voices.

He froze in place, the panic overwhelming him, they were coming from the farm house. Coming for him. He was going to die in this stupid barn if he didn’t think quickly.

The closer the voices drew the worse the panic gripped him. He stepped back into the shadows, his ragged breathing lighting his ribs on fire.

The door opened, the dark sky on his side as two men stepped into the room. They were too busy talking, a lantern held in one of their hands, too low to notice Joel wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

He swung out between the men, enough strength that the first dropped like a rag doll whose stings had been cut. The second had enough time to dodge, taking a bang to the ribs which made him hiss.

Joel swung again at him but he ducked, his hand freeing the gun on his hip. Joel dove at him, panic pumping adrenaline through his blood.

All he could hear was his breathing and the rhythmic pump of his blood.

He swung the pipe, slamming it down on the head of the man and watching his skull collapse with the force.

Joel didn’t hear the shot. He didn’t even feel the bullet make impact. What he did feel was the warmth of the blood on his trousers. The fabric sticking to his skin uncomfortably and then the burst of pain when he stepped forward, his leg buckling out from underneath him.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

“Pack both first aid kits and a vial of penicillin. Enough food for three days and bring me your gun.” Ellie’s feet pounded on the stairs as she climbed them swiftly. You weren’t far behind her, pulling your rifle from under the stairs and setting it on the table.

You checked it over, knowing it was fine as Joel had cleaned it the night before for you when he was doing his own. You grabbed a box of ammo and left it beside your gun. Ellie appeared by your side, setting her own pistol down before taking off again.

You went through the same checks, loading it for her and leaving her a box of ammo to pack for the journey too.

You left them both there and hurried up the stairs pulling your backpack out of the closet and filling it quickly with anything you thought you might need.

A quiet call of your name made you pause, inhaling deeply. You knew why she was here. What she would say but you wouldn’t be deterred. Not when he could be in danger.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Through and through. The bullet had come out as it had gone in and Joel thanked god for small mercies. His whole body was on fire, the bullet wound in his thigh, his broken ribs and his shattered wrist were all throbbing in tandem.

He had a pistol now and a knife. It wasn’t much but it was something. He staggered his way to the farm house and took a minute to walk the outside of the house, ensuring he couldn’t hear anyone else.

His backpack was just inside the door but his rifle was nowhere to be seen. The farm house was just as dilapidated inside as it looked from the outside. It seemed everything had been lost to the elements besides the living room.

Joel stepped towards the fire, dragging his bad leg behind him. He could hear heavy breathing and wondered if it was his own before someone groaned and shifted on the sofa facing the fire.

Joel lifted the gun in his hand, his left arm shaking. He stepped slowly towards the sofa. The man sleeping only had time to open his eyes before Joel cracked the but of the gun down on his head.

When the man came through Joel had managed to tie him to a chair and was reasonably certain he wouldn’t get out of it. He had taken the time to wrap his leg with the first aid kit from his backpack.

A quick raid of the house offered Joel what he thought might have been painkillers. Three white pills in a bottle. He took his chances and swallowed one down with a shot of whiskey from another of the men’s backpacks. No water to be found.

A small groan alerted him that his new friend was waking up just as Joel managed to splint his wrist and construct a sling for support.

They stared at each other for a second and Joel waited patiently, dropping onto the sofa with a grunt of pain.

“Where’s the others?” His voice was quiet, timid.

“Which one are you?” Joel asked in return, looking him over as he struggled against the bindings.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Well, you’re either Billy or Tyson. Cause I know which one Mark is.” Joel told him and he winced. In truth Joel knew this was Tyson, he just wanted to leave the man with hope he hadn’t found Billyyet.

“We didn’t mean any harm, man.” Tyson muttered and Joel narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. “We just needed the supplies.

“So you beat the fuck out of me because it what? Felt nice for me? Toughened me up a little?” Joel asked, leaning forward and ignoring how his body protested. “Here’s what I’m gonna do Ty, can I call you Ty?”

“No-“

“I’m gonna ask a couple of questions and you’re going to answer them. It’s pretty easy, Ty. I got people I gotta get back to, you know?” Joel asked. Tyson spat at his feet.

Joel shot forward, ignoring the pain and stuck his knife into Tyson’s thigh, right where his own wound was.

Tyson screamed as Joel pulled the knife free, wiping it on his jeans and taking his seat again while the man yelled and bucked against the chair.

“Now. Let’s start again. How many of you are there, Tyson?”

“Four.” Joel’s goddamn bum ear let him down again. A gun loaded behind him. His rifle, he could hear it now he was actively listening. “Something you should’ve checked before you killed two of our brothers.”

Joel sighed heavily and inhaled. He stared at Tyson, counting the seconds. Tyson was sobbing now, either from the physical pain or the emotional pain. Joel didn’t know and didn’t care.

The rifle pressed against his neck and he swallowed again.

“Ben, I take it?” Joel asked, reaching up over his shoulder quickly and pulling the rifle forward. Ben jerked the trigger by accident and Joel yelled at the noise in his ear but he didn’t give up, pulling sharply again and knocking Ben off course.

Joel only has time to duck, his rifle in his arm before he scrambled from the couch and swung the rifle strap over his shoulder. He made sure to keep the sofa between then as he grabbed the gun in his waist band.

When he looked up Ben was frozen, staring over Joel’s shoulder. Joel chanced a quick look back and watched Tyson as he gasped for breath, the blood on his chest spreading, soaking through his t-shirt.

Ben had shot Tyson.

Joel didn’t hesitate, he lifted the gun and shot once at Ben and a second time at Tyson. Putting them both out of their misery.

He collapsed back onto the sofa, ears ringing and body burning. When the adrenaline fled his system he was shaking. One small touch against his leg let him know he needed to start worrying about blood loss.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

With his face tucked in your neck he couldn’t see your expression but he didn’t need to. He knew how you’d look, jaw hanging down, eyes rolled back in your head as you moaned quietly in his ear.

He continued the slow grind of his hips, pushing deeper with every slide of his body against yours. He made sure that each press abused your already swollen clit. He could still taste you on his lips, smell you on his beard.

He groaned again, sponging kisses to your neck before exposing his teeth to nibble against your skin. “Feel so fucking good.”

Your fingers were tangled in his hair, clenching tighter with every minute that passed. You were boneless, two orgasms deep and a third building slowly. “All yours.”

“Damn fucking right.” He groaned, hot breath against your neck causing you to shiver. “My pretty baby and her sweet fucking cunt.”

“Joel.” You whimpered, nails scratching against his scalp. “Make me come.”

“You’re in charge.” Joel groaned, pulling back so he could slam into you in earnest. “Anything for you.”

“Anything?” You ask, moaning loudly.

“You want it, I’ll make sure you get it, baby.” Joel told you through gritted teeth as he pushed into your tight, wet heat again and again.

“What if I asked you to burn Jackson down?” You asked teasingly and he rolled his eyes, bring his hand up to your mouth, presenting you with two fingers.

“If it was something you needed then baby, I’d burn the fucking world down. I’d kill every person in my fucking way to getting you want you need.” He told you earnestly as you sucked on his fingers.

He pulled them from your mouth and brought them down to rub against your clit, rendering you speechless as your orgasm hit you.

A few minutes later you lay across his chest as you both attempted to catch your breath. Joel’s fingers traced patterns up and down the line of your spine. You were tracing the same patterns into his chest hair.

“Burn the world, huh? Sounds dangerous.” You teased. Joel smiled, huffing a small laugh that made you bounce against his chest. “What if you get hurt doing it? What if you die? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Baby, if you think there’s a grave that could keep me from you then you’re crazy. I’ll always come home, crawlin’ on my hands and knees if I’ve gotta.”

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Joel can’t move. His whole body is one big starburst of pain. He knows he needs to get moving, knows that he doesn’t have long. There could be more of the group and they could be back any second.

But he can’t move.

His head is spinning and he knows he lost too much blood. The spinning is compounded by the fact that breathing is a nightmare. He doesn’t know where he is or how to get back to Jackson.

He rolls off the sofa, landing on his knees which jolts just about every injury he has. He barely catches himself on his good hand and vomits up every thing in his system from the pain.

He uses the sofa for leverage to push himself up off his knees. He staggers slightly, catching himself in enough time that he doesn’t careen into Tyson’s body, still tied to the chair.

He grunts as he moves, his leg dragging behind him. Each step is torture, a life time of bad karma catching up with him.

He checks over Ben but doesn’t find anything besides another knife. He leaves it where it is and hobbles out the door Ben left open behind him.

Joel doesn’t expect much but the sight of his horse is enough to almost bring a tear to his eye. No crawling needed this time.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

“What do you mean you aren’t sending a search party?” You ask Maria. She stands at your kitchen table and refuses to meet your eyes. She had sat at this very table just last week for your birthday dinner. She had laughed and joked with your husband while he held her little girl in his arms.

“We aren’t ready. A route needs to be planned, quadrants divided among patrol men. Marching out without a plan will lose men.” She warned, slipping into her role as a council member, not a sister in law.

“Do you think he’d hesitate? Do you think he’d wait for routes and quadrants if it were anyone else out there? He wouldn’t have even come back without Eugene or Shane. Those cowards-“

“Followed the rules. Something Joel has never done. He flaunts it in our faces time after time and I’m not going to let everyone else get hurt just because he wouldn’t care if the shoe was on the other foot.” Maria interrupts and you stare at her, jaw dropped. Ellie mutters a curse from beside you and you reach out for her. “Joel will be able to survive on his own until we get a group together. Lord knows that anyone that takes him on is in more danger than he is.”

The chill in her voice makes you hold the rebuttal you had. Your mouth closes as you catch the silent distaste from her and your hand moves to Ellie’s back.

“Wait on the porch, Ellie.” You speak evenly and even short tempered Ellie can hear the rage boiling over your words. She looks up at you and over to Maria, her fingers reaching for your sleeve. “Just a few minutes. I promise.”

“My husband is missing. He’s god knows where with god knows who. Neither Eugene or Shane backtracked or attempted to see if he’d been injured. I don’t know if he’s fallen off his horse, if he’s been bitten and is currently trying to decide wether or not to blow his brains out or if raiders have him and are beating him to death because he’d rather die than betray Jackson.” You tell Maria once Ellie has cleared the room. “He has fought with everything he has for over twenty years and if you want to say something about that, well now’s your chance.”

“I’m just saying that maybe, if there’s karma out there, that-“ Joel’s glass smashes, the whiskey splashing you both when you sweep it off the table, leaning towards Maria.

“Your husband done everything that mine did. So if it’s karma that’s hurt Joel out there then you’d wanna wrap Tommy up tight.” You warn her and she bristles, her jaw clenched.

“You know damn well that Tommy-“

“Was a grown man? With two hands? He pressed every trigger, he planned every attack. Just like Joel. So that they could survive. So that they could be alive to love us. Joel never pointed a gun at Tommy of that I can be absolutely fucking sure.” You told Maria, cutting her off. “Tommy was in the fucking army before it all happened. You think he sat twiddling his thumbs there?”

“There’s a team heading out in the morning. You won’t be given a horse before then. Sundown is in an hour. You won’t make it. I won’t condone it. You need to think of Ellie.” Maria left without further comment.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Joel didn’t know pain like this existed. Every movement of the horse jolted each of his injuries. He had tried everything, every speed to see which hurt the least and there was no answer that didn’t have him biting the reins so as not to scream out.

Night was closing in fast and he was still too far from the closest patrol safe house. He needed to stop for the night but there was nowhere safe to stash himself and the horse. He stuck to the trail when he could, hoping he wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention.

He had to stop twice to bandage his leg again. The blood had slowed but it hadn’t stopped and he knew that was dangerous. He just had to get home. Tommy and him shared a blood type. He’d be fine if he got home.

Something cut across the trail causing his horse to rear back. With only one hand Joel didn’t have a chance, falling back and rolling into a ball as the horse stampeded and took off.

Joel stared at what was visible of the sky through the trees and gasped, attempting to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him.

This was it.

He would have to break his promise.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

“You’re going to be late.” You laughed when he began sponging kisses over where your towel wrapped around you. He moved your wet hair over your shoulder and continued kissing a path up your spine.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed attempting to get dressed while he was having his twenty extra minutes. It seemed he didn’t want to waste them sleeping today.

“It’ll be fine. Eugene is always late. It’s my turn.” He whispered and you felt the bed shift behind you as he sat up. You laughed when he tugged on your towel and you let him have his way. “Fuck.”

“See something you like?” You asked with another light laugh. His hands cupped your hips and travelled up your sides which had you writhing away from him while giggling. “Stop it. I give in.”

“Yeah, you giving in?” Joel asked against your neck, sucking kisses drawing the blood to your skin. “Gonna let me have my way with you?”

“Mhmm, I should’ve expected this when I married a dirty, old pervert.” You teased, gasping when he used his teeth to bite down. “All those years in the wild has left you depraved.”

“Who could blame me? A hot young wife like you, walking around half naked and basically begging for it like a bitch in heat. Well any man would have trouble resisting you.” Joel’s hand slipped around your side while he spoke to cup your breast. He thumbed lightly at the nipple before pinching harshly.

You gasped, leaning back against him as your hips lifted of their own accord. His words only fueled the fire and you whimpered, your head falling back on his shoulder. “Ain’t so smart now, are you Mrs Miller?”

“Nuh uh, Mr Miller.” You whispered as his hand slipped down over your stomach. He ran a finger down your slit and groaned against your neck. “I ain’t even touched you yet, baby.”

“Was thinking about you in the shower.” You muttered. He laughed against your neck. “Was hoping you’d wake early enough for this.”

You breathing turned shaky as his finger ran over your clit, barely there pressure making you twitch. “Yeah, is that why you were making so much noise getting ready for the day? Need me to take you apart first?”

You groaned as Joel pulled you back to sit between his legs. He was leaning against the headboard, keeping you faced away on purpose. He knew you liked to look at him. “Mhmm.”

“Couldn’t let me lie in. I fucked you twice yesterday, Pretty Girl. That wasn’t enough?” Joel asked, adding pressure to the finger circling your clit.

“Never enough.” You told him honestly. It was true. You don’t know how either of you managed to get anything done. From the moment you had met Joel, scared and defenseless on the outskirts of Jackson, he had enchanted you.

You had thought that maybe you had been alone so long that the trip back with him, sharing a horse had been the closest you had to human contact in months, made it seem reasonable that it had an effect on you.

“Insatiable.” He whispered in your ear, sliding a deliciously thick finger into you. The angle was off and he knew it wouldn’t do anything but tease you. “That’s what I get. Hard to keep up in my old age. Shouldn’t have snatched you out of the cradle.”

“I’m thirty- thirty six.” Your words caught on a moan when the palm of his hand pressed against your clit. “Hardly cradle snatching at that point.”

“I’m pushing sixty sweetheart. If I had a couple million dollars I could be a more handsome Hugh Hefner.” He teased as he inserted a second finger.

“That what you want? For me to put on some lingerie and bunny ears. Jacked it to playboy back in the day, did you?” You asked and he groaned. “Well old man, if you can’t keep up then let me take over.”

He laughed and raised his hands as you shuffled around to straddle his lap. He pulled the sheet back to bare himself to you and held you steady as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. “Always so fucking tight.”

“Cause you’re so fucking big.” You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. For a moment while you adjusted his hands were on your hips, thumbs stroking the skin softly.

“You ready, baby?” He asked softly as you started to shift your hips slowly. “Gonna take me?”

“Promise me.” You whispered, moving yourself slowly. The teasing was gone now, your hands cupping his face. “Make me the promise.”

“I’m coming home today.” He promised, his hands helping your hips in the slow grind, your clit rubbing against his happy trail. “If I have to crawl.”

“You’ll always come home, right?” You asked and Joel pressed a soft kiss to your lips, closing his eyes. “Promise.”

“There ain’t a force that could hold me down.” He promised quietly. “I’ll come home to you.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Joel wasn’t alone. He could tell as much from the sounds around him. He was still over an hour from the closest safe house and darkness had settled over the forest like a blanket.

His vision was impaired and with his already shit hearing it had taken him a while to hear it. A stalker.

He wasn’t sure if that was worse or better than another of the merry band of brothers. His rifle was shit to him in the dark and he barely had the strength to raise it anyway.

At this point it might be easier to crawl. He considers it, getting down on his knees and crawling along with his one good arm.

Lying down is tempting if he’s honest. He’s got the pistol. It could be quick, painless even. He wouldn’t miss this time. He would be sure of it.

He knew the sound of his daughters voice was most likely due to blood loss. But his brain couldn’t rationalize the look of her in the forest. She was wearing her soccer uniform and he hissed at her to keep it down.

“It’s not safe. It ain’t safe, baby girl.” He hushed as the noise drew closer. He had to catch her, keep her quiet. She didn’t know, she had never known this world. “Sarah, baby, please.”

She continued to skip ahead, that same grin on her face. The Miller grin, it only ever lead to trouble. He could go back to her.

He could spend every day kicking a soccer ball with her and watching terrible movies. It wouldn’t be so bad. He missed her. He missed her so much.

“Sarah, you gotta be quiet.” She stared at him in horror and Joel knew without knowing. He ducked and the stalker overshot him just slightly, hitting the ground and rolling back. Joel freed his knife and brought it down, flinching back from the smell of rotting flesh and the teeth inches from his face.

He stumbled over the body of the stalker and waited for the next one to appear. The forest was still. Joel couldn’t hear his daughters laughter or the shifting noise of a stalker in the trees.

He was alone. Again.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Ellie had fallen into a fitful sleep. You had woken her twice from nightmares, your shirt damp from her tears. You had never seen her so scared but you had never seen her without Joel. Some days it was hard to remember she was only sixteen when she carried everything on her shoulders.

She was just a little girl and her dad was in trouble. He was missing and she couldn’t help him anymore.

You weren’t much better, replaying his promise to you that very morning. He had to be okay because if he wasn’t okay there was no way you would be.

You’d be strong for Ellie, you knew that much but you wouldn’t be able to stay in Jackson. Not when every turned corner would bring back his memory.

“You better be crawling, old man.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Come on, Dad. We’ll be late.” Sarah was laying in the grass next to Joel. She was trying to convince him to come to her.

“You’d like them. You know.” Joel told her quietly, his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain that came with every movement. He was so cold. “She’d have been a good step mom.”

“She’d have been a good older sister.” Sarah teased and Joel laughed. It was true, she was only a couple of years younger than you. “She’s good for you.”

“Ellie too. She’s not you. She’ll never be you.” Joel told the ghost of his daughter by his side. “But she helps when I miss you.”

“Good. You need that. It’s time you forgive yourself for me.” Sarah sighed and Joel opened his eyes, turning his head to the empty forest.

“You better be crawling.”

He huffed a laugh and winced, rolling over and shoving himself up to his feet. “I’m coming baby.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

First light finds you at the stables. Ellie is preparing Shimmer while you go through the bags one more. With Joel being lost the stables are down a horse and you consider sharing with Ellie.

The only downside is you don’t know how stable Joel will be and three people is just too much for Shimmer to carry, especially with Joel.

“A patrol will be leaving at midday.” Maria is standing behind you when you turn. She looks as if she’s gotten as much sleep as you have. “It’ll take a while to organize supplies for a patrol that may take up to a week.”

“Midday is too late. Ellie and I will head out now. We’ll follow the route. Leave markers if we have to leave it for any reason.” You told Maria, looking over her shoulder.

“I can’t let you do that.” Maria spoke evenly and you turned to find Tommy and Darren flanking her. “Those horses are property of Jackson. You’re erratic, you’ll make mistakes. Get yourself hurt.”

“Keep your horse then. We’ll go on foot.” You shrug, pulling your pack up on your shoulders. Ellie joined you at your side, leaving Shimmer at your words. “That’s not something you can stop me doing.”

“We need to look at the reality of the situation.” Darren spoke up and you raised your eyebrows at him before looking across to Maria’s other side at the very quiet Tommy Miller.

“What other reality is there? My husband is probably hurt and I’m going out to help him.” You shrugged and Maria shook her head. “Don’t.”

“You’ll get hurt. It’s not worth-“

Silence fell as Ellie raised her pistol slowly, pointing it at Tommy. You stared at her and tried to fight the smile. She couldn’t know you approved of what she was doing. “You were saying?”

“Ellie. Lower the gun.” Maria spoke quietly, inching towards Tommy who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Don’t joke around like this.”

“Who’s joking?” Ellie asked, her thumb knocking the safety off. “Cause either you got a problem with Joel, which you better not, or you got a problem with husbands. In that case I’ll help get rid of yours.”

You covered your mouth so that she wouldn’t see you smile but you didn’t say anything, watching Maria go through the thought process. “Maybe it’s father figures? Want your kid to grow up without one so she can be cool and edgy like me?”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Maria warned, her jaw tight with tension.

“So are you. Cause it sounded like you were gonna say Joel wasn’t worth it.” Ellie told her, coiled just as tight with tension. “If you feel that way about someone we care about then why the fuck shouldn’t we treat you the same?”

“You’re awful quiet for a man who don’t seem to give two fucks about his brother.” You spoke up finally, eyes on Tommy. He stood to attention but his rifle was still slung over his shoulder, relaxed.

“Y’all are gonna point that gun at me no matter what I say.” He shrugged idly. “Turns out I ain’t able to stay on everyone’s good side. Joel has been through some pretty bad things and I think that he’ll hold on somewhere until we can get to him.”

“He wouldn’t have this discussion. He’d have been out that gate before Eugene and Shane had finished explaining.” You told him and Tommy nodded, agreeing with you.

“I ain’t pretending to be Joel. I’ve got a baby and a wife to think of. He’d kill me if I got hurt on his honor.” Tommy explained. “Now you told me yesterday to grow a pair and I’m telling you I did. I’m praying my big brother is okay but I can’t let my little girl grow up without a daddy.”

“He’s protected you-“

“Since I was four years old and our daddy went to get the paper and never came home. Our momma wasn’t much good and so he stepped up. He bailed me out of jail more times than I count.” Tommy interrupted. “He made sure I stayed alive all through the end of the world. I ain’t forget every sacrifice he made. He woulda been happier just rolling over and dyin’ after Sarah but he stayed alive. For me.”

“Then why-“

“Seems a piss poor way to thank him for saving my life by putting it on the line like this. You two should think about that. I know he’s made his fair share of sacrifices for you both, too.” Tommy said and you sighed, lifting a hand to cover your face, eyes burning with tears.

“He’s all alone.” You whispered and Ellie clutched you. “He ain’t ever been all alone. What if he can’t find a reason to keep fighting?”

“He’s got two great reasons right here.” Tommy promised. “He wouldn’t dare forget that.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

You had only left the lamp on in your living room. The low light lended you a softness in its golden glow. It kept everything cozy and personal, gentle.

Gentle just like his hands that held you up. Your back pinned against the wall, your legs around his waist. He held you like you were precious, kissing you softly.

“You sure about this?” He whispered against your lips. “Don’t owe me anything, sweetheart.”

“I want everything.” You whispered back, your hands cupping his face. You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, feeling the heat of his breath. “I have since that first moment.”

“There’s better men out there. Younger, kinder.” He warned you and you rolled your eyes. “I mean it, you think I’m a good man because I helped you. A few years ago I might not have.”

“While I highly doubt any version of you would’ve been able to tamp down your noble spirit, how fortunate am I that got this version of you?” You asked him, your hand moving to the back of his neck. “I want you, Joel. Scars and all.”

“You might change your mind in the morning.” He sighed, his head tipping back into the fingers combing through the hair at the base of his neck. “What happens then?”

“Well in the extremely low chance that happens we act like two adults that had sex casually. We get over it.” You tell him and he shakes his head.

“I won’t be able to get over it. I haven’t been able to get over you since the first time I touched your skin. Getting this, getting everything, I won’t survive it not working out.” He muttered and you sighed against his lips, using the hand at the back of his neck to push him close enough to kiss.

“Then take me to bed and keep me forever. It’s the only way it can work.” You whisper when you separate. He huffs an incredulous laugh before his grip shifts and he’s supporting you entirely, heading for the stairs.

“Well if that’s the only option, I guess I’ll take it.”

Think. Think. Think.

You had stayed in the stables with Ellie while the discussion took place. Tommy led the team, a map spread out over a barrel as he divided up routes for each team to take.

Initially he hadn’t wanted you or Ellie to go but for the sake of peace he had given in, assigning you both the creek trails. It was as much of a peace offering as you were gonna get so you both taken it.

“We got a live one!” A call came from the tower, drawing everyone’s attention. It was almost casual how disinterested you were in an infected getting this close to Jackson.

It was rare it happened but that’s what tower patrols were for. To deal with a situation like this. There was a pause and then a yell.

“Don’t fucking shoot! For the love of god don’t shoot. It’s Joel!”

Everyone paused in place, not daring to move a muscle. Several long seconds passed before you ducked by Tommy, tearing out of the stables towards the gate that was opening slowly.

And there he was. He was down on his knees, one hand across his chest in a sling. He was covered in blood and bruises but he was there. You slipped out past Jesse and skidded along the mud on your knees to land in front of Joel.

“I promised.”

Think. Think. Think.

Joel’s breathing was labored and even in his sleep he grunted in pain on every exhale. The sheet was low on his waist, showing of the mottled expanse of his chest. It was easy to see which ribs had been broken by the deep purple coloring.

His wrist was wrapped in a hard shell cast which Ellie had already signed with a black sharpie she had been coveting.

Hidden by the blanket was the knife wound which hadn’t knicked any arteries but had led to the need for two transfusions from Tommy just to give Joel enough of a chance to fight through his injuries.

You had spent most waking seconds with him in the clinic. You slept curled up in the chair and the rest of time you held his uninjured hand. The swelling on his face was going down slowly and he was beginning to look like your Joel again.

Ellie dipped in and out between school and spending time with her friends. You had assured her that he was fine and that you’d come get her if she was needed.

Your finger traced over his scarred knuckles and you wiped a tear away. His hand twitched in yours, lifting to wipe your cheek clumsily.

“Those tears better not be for me.” He grunted.

“Nah, they’re for me. You’re such a pain to keep on bed rest.” You teased, throat tight against the onslaught of emotion. “How you feeling, old man?”

“Like shit. Do you know how I broke my wrist?” He asked, looking up at you, shifting against his pillows. You only shook your head silently, unable to say anything for fear it would just be a sob. “Fell down a fuckin’ ladder. Was a contractor all my fuckin’ life and I fell down a ladder.”

You laughed wetly, the tears falling freely now. He tried to shush you, his free hand pulling you closer until you were curled up on his good side. “I was so scared.”

“Made you a promise, didn’t I?” He asked, a lightness to his voice so you’d know he was teasing. “There ain’t a force in this world that could keep me from coming home to you.”

You press your face into his neck as you attempt to compose yourself. You sniffled quietly and he tightened the arm wrapped around you. “Don’t ever put me through that again. Ellie and I almost got us kicked out of Jackson.”

“Oh yeah?” Joel laughs like it’s funny. “You causing trouble baby?”

“Ellie held Tommy at gunpoint. Maria and I fought so bad I thought she’d shoot me herself.” You told him quietly and his shifted around until he could look you in the eye.

“Why?” He asked, his eyes wide in shock.

“They didn’t want us to go looking for you.” You told him and he sighed. “I also hit Eugene.”

“Baby, it wasn’t his fault.” Joel assured you, raising the hand covered in a cast to smooth a finger over your cheek.

“Everyone knows why you’d split up.” You argued and Joel only rolled his eyes. “And then Maria and Tommy wouldn’t let us go. They, well Maria, said some pretty nasty things about you.”

“Maria’s got her reasons. I don’t know how much I’d like me if I was in her position.” Joel sighed and you rolled your eyes this time. “I’ve done some bad things, baby.”

“Just as many as Tommy has!” You argued and he sighed, sick of the same argument. You knew Joel was no saint but that didn’t make Tommy much better. “Told him to grow a pair.”

Joel laughed before wincing at the pain in his ribs. You let the conversation go and pressed in closer to him, your hand running up and down his chest carefully.

His breathing steadied and you assumed he had gone back to sleep. You continued to lie next to him, touching him softly.

“If heaven is real, they ain’t ever gonna let me in. No god could forgive me for what I’ve done.” Joel spoke and you looked up at him, your hand resting over his stomach.

“I ain’t too worried about a god that let the world fall to ruins like this. He’s got more problems than what you did to survive when I get to him.” Joel laughed, groaning in pain again. “I don’t care. About any of it. You’re my husband, you’re Ellie’s father. That’s what I care about.”

Think. Think. Think.

Maria calls by when Joel has been back home for a few days. He’s allowed sit up in bed but that’s all. You’ve taken it upon yourself to enforce his bed rest and he’s decided the rewards are very much worth it.

He learned the hard way what happens when he ignores your ruling in favor of stumbling down the stairs and collapsing against the couch in the short time it takes you to head to the trading post in town.

He had hurt his ribs which had only made it worse when you took a seat on the rocking chair in your bedroom, the one he had built you.

He had watched as you had brought yourself to orgasm, in too much pain to even sit all the way up.

It was the first time he had seen you have an orgasm without his help and it hurt more than all of his injuries combined. He had learned his lesson quickly.

So when Maria knocked he didn’t even look up from the book he was reading and you kissed his cheek in reward before crawling out of bed and heading for the stairs.

You opened the door and felt your smile drop as Maria stood in place, her hands folded in front of her. “I owe you an apology.”

You knew that you should accept it, send her on her way, and get back to Joel. It was all water under the bridge. “Damn right you owe me an apology.”

“I’m not sorry that I didn’t let you leave.” She explained, shifting her weight. “I was right, I knew he would get back here on his own.”

“Just fucking barely!” You couldn’t help the explosion. “Do you know how close I got to never seeing him again?”

“I understand but-“

“You play God here. You choose who is worth your time and who isn’t. You ain’t got a problem with Joel’s past when it makes him the best for patrol. When it’s raiders and smugglers he’s killing.” You snapped and she sighed. “He’s not your little soldier, that’s what you hate. You can bend Tommy to your will but you can’t have him.”

“I came to apologise.” She ignored your point and it made you even angrier. “I want to apologise for judging how he kept himself alive.”

You paused at that, not expecting her to admit it. She took a deep breathe and clasped her hands in front of her. “You were right. The choices they made brought them here to us. Tommy is alive because Joel made sure of it. I owe him everything I have.”

“I’m glad we’re clear on that.” You muttered petulantly, unable to stop yourself pulling the same face Ellie did when she was proven right.

“He loves you so much.” Maria sighed softly. “He used every last reserve a person has to get back here. He’s a different man when it comes to you.

You sighed and shook your head. “You still don’t get it. He’s not a different man with me. He’s the exact same man he’s been for over fifty years. I love him in every phase of his life. Given the chance I wouldn’t change loving him.”

You stared at Maria for a long second before shaking your head again and shutting the door in her face. You climbed the stairs and found Joel with his book in his lap and a proud smile he was trying to hide.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on her. She ain’t wrong.” Joel sighed and you rolled your eyes.

“Course she is. That’s my husband she’s talking about. I wouldn’t swear myself to just anyone in this world. Only the best.”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel had only just earned the right to tackle the stairs again after two weeks of bed rest. He was reveling in his new found freedom by sitting on the sofa rather than the bed.

You had begun returning to society, picking up a few shifts down at the Tipsy Bison and trusting him to behave. You knew he would, he was wrapped around your finger.

He had just found a position that didn’t irritate any of his still healing injuries when there was a pounding at the door. He sighed to himself got up from the sofa, staggering slightly on his bad leg.

An irate Eugene was at the the door, his face red and his eyes wild. He attempted to shove past Joel who wasn’t so injured that he allowed it. He shoved Eugene back over the threshold, his eyebrows furrowed.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Joel asked, his hand raised to shove Eugene backwards again if needed. He was incoherent with rage so Joel just stared at him.

“Where the fuck is she?” He snapped at Joel who frowned at Eugene. “The fucking bitch of yours, where is she?”

“Now Eugene, I got two lovely ladies in my life and I know you ain’t referring to either of ‘em as a bitch. So let’s try again before I gotta bust my stitches and break my cast to teach you a lesson.” Joel warned and Eugene attempted to shove by again only for Joel to shove harder this time, knocking him back a step.

“She fucking done it. I know she did. She’s the only one who would’ve. That fucking wife of yours.” Eugene’s eyes flashed and Joel reached forward, his fist curling in Eugene’s shirt.

“You don’t talk about my wife like that. I ain’t said nothing about the bruises you left on her wrist cause I been in recovery and she did try to hit you a second time. But don’t think I didn’t notice. If I think you’re gonna hassle her further I’ll bury you in that back fucking yard and use you to fertilize her flowers.” Joel warned, voice low. He barely noticed Tommy opening the gate behind Eugene and making his way up towards the porch.

“It’s all gone. It had to have been her.” Joel took a guess at what was missing as Eugene stepped back. “Years of fucking work.”

“She ain’t been outside that wall without me since the day she came in it. So walk fucking away. And don’t let me hear you been hassling her.” Joel warned. Eugene turned with more drama than Ellie during a tantrum, stalking past Tommy and banging the garden gate behind him.

“Wild that. Someone moved every single plant he had. You know how much that is?” Tommy asked and Joel looked over at his brother’s smirk. “Enough to fill the basement of that mansion a few miles away. Heat lamps were tough to get up there but there was already a generator in place.”

“You son of a bitch.” Joel grinned.

“That’s your mama too you’re talking about.”

[scandalcus]

‧₊˚⊹ sweet - ellie williams x afab!reader

summary: ellie teasing and pleasing u content warnings: smut (no plot), teasing, cunnilingus (r!receiving), fingering(r!receiving), top!ellie, bottom!reader, ellie calls reader princess once, etc. notes: i saw this and couldn't help myself, something short i threw together that wasn’t really proofread so i hope it doesn’t suck too bad

“Tell me what you want,” Ellie coaxes, her voice laced with a teasing tone. She was nestled between your spread legs, mouth only inches away from your heat, her warm breath fanning over your pussy eliciting a small whimper from you. Her gaze was downcast as she grazed her fingertips across your slit, watching them gleam with your slick. Your cunt pathetically contracted around nothingness as you impatiently waited for her, the searing ache between your thighs growing to become too much.

Her fingers barely tease your clit causing you to buck your hips up in response, only to have them forcibly pushed back into the mattress by herself. Her movements still before she pulls away completely, the ghost of her touch still lingering; you whine at the sudden halt. “Use your words, princess,” she goads in the most delicious way, the sound of her voice alone making your brain foggy. "Show me how much you need me.”  

There was no winning this battle, Ellie will literally tease you to the point past suffering just to get the upper hand on you, and you knew this; but you couldn’t help yourself. You had too much pride, you wanted to hold onto the ounce of dignity you had left, so you found yourself appreciating silence, even though you felt your sanity diminishing every second you lay sprawled beneath her, yearning for her to please you. 

“Don’t act shy now.” Ellie quips, bringing her lips to suck on the skin of your inner thigh and slowly leaving a trail of raspberry-colored blemishes approaching your cunt, which she deliberately neglects. She’s pushing you, determined to get you to convey your desires.

The throb between your thigh becomes painfully obvious, the frustration is driving you insane. You bite your lip to mute the whine that so desperately wants to escape. Ellie isn’t oblivious to your struggle, she’s just waiting for you to stop being so stubborn.

 "Please, Ellie.." 

The sound of your own voice brings a flush to your cheeks, you sound pathetic, really. It was almost humiliating, but the ache in your belly was too overpowering, the sensation was eating you alive.

"You can do better than that," she tuts, her voice oozing with mockery. Asshole. 

You had no choice but to swallow your pride; meanwhile, Ellie's expression was nothing short of it. Watching as you unraveled at the seams for her, needy and a desperate, eager mess beneath her. It did nothing but fire up Ellie's ego. She drove you crazy in the best way possible.

"Fuck- Ellie, touch me, please," you whine, protruding your bottom lip at her. Finally, after what felt like forever, she leisurely drags her tongue through your folds, taking her time to lap up the taste of you, letting your saccharine sweetness coat her tongue. She shifts between your legs and pulls your closer, causing a yelp to erupt from your throat. She tauntingly flicks her tongue against your clit, the subtle movements drive you absolutely crazy. You and her both know it simply isn’t enough; you need more, the slick between your thighs is enough to prove it. 

“Mm.. more,” you whine, “please,”

“You’re so needy,” Ellie hums, looking up at you through hooded eyelids. She was just as desperate to taste you, but she’s better at expressing herself with her actions than her words. Her eagerness displays itself when she increases her movements. Her tongue greedily swirls around your clit, your body involuntarily twitching with every perfect stroke. You entangle your fingers into her hair, pulling and tugging her closer into the expanse of your pussy as she continues to trace shapes into your sensitive bundle.

You’re so entranced in the pleasure, you didn’t realize her right-hand venturing up your thigh, not until two of her digits slip into your entrance, your pillowy walls flutter around the sudden intrusion, the sensation forcing a hoarse cry out of you. She hums against you after feeling how needily you clamped around her, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

“You taste so sweet,” she utters beneath her breath, words muffled against your heat. She gave you little time to adjust before she began at a relentless pace, her two glistening fingers disappearing in and out of your cunt, her pace creating lewd, wet noises. 

Your legs wobble as she curves her fingers inside of you, reaching that sweet spongy spot that sent you into overdrive. You dragged out a string of curse words as she mercilessly pounded her fingers in and out of you, creeping in a third finger because she knows “you can take it…” Her left-hand caresses the swell of your hips, the touch is soft and delicate in contrast to the brutal assault on your pussy. 

“Feels good?” she asks, looking up at you through her eyelashes, her chin glistening in your essence. She replaces her tongue with the pad of her thumb while she waits for your response, sweat lining at her forehead. She bit her lip as she watched you squirm under her touch, engraving the ethereal image into her memory forever. 

“Feels s’good- fuck” you moan between labored breathing. You throw your head back and squeeze your eyelids shut, hallucinating stars as Ellie fucks you dumb with her fingers. She brings her lips back around your clit, sucking on the bundle as her fingers scissor and curl inside of you, the combination producing a sequence of obscene squelching sounds paired with the moans emitting from your throat.

“You’re doing so well, look s’pretty,” she coaxes you through it, the praise causing your heart to stutter. Your abdomen twinged with euphoria, pure ecstasy coursing through your body as she worked the skilled combination of her tongue and fingers on you, the blend making you dizzy. Flashes of an ivory white prick at the side of your vision, you feel your stomach tighten with each pump of her fingers. 

“Don’t stop, so close,” you mustered between breaths, only motivating Ellie to make her movements more erratic. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, faint images of mandalas fade in and out of your vision as your limbs spasm, your pussy convulsing around her fingers. You shamelessly gasp and cry out as Ellie continues to fuck you through your high, lapping up every last drop of the wet rush flooding out of you.

Ellie doesn’t slow down until you start to loosen your grip on her hair, your body relaxing as your chest rises up and down with each heavy exhale. She finally pulls her fingers out of you, making sure to clean up every bead of your arousal, sucking her own fingers dry, savoring your taste.    

You slowly blink your eyes open, coming face to face with Ellie, who’s face is glistening in your slick. She places her hand under your chin and collides her lips with yours, letting you taste yourself, the salty yet saccharine sensation on the tip of your tastebuds stirs up something animalistic inside of you, you can’t help but moan, earning yourself an amused smile from Ellie, every hint of flattery going straight to her head. She was never going to let you live this down.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃. 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 ♡

[dyk3ification]

low | ellie williams

summary: ellie has been and always will be on top, the dominant one. but when reader asserts her control, ellie can’t help but fold a little. basically ellie x dom! fem reader. (written from ellie's pov)

warnings: slight choking, name-calling (teasing), slapping, r receiving, r riding, strap-on sex, pet names, subtop! ellie x dombottom! reader, no use of y/n, if i forget anything pls lmk, 18+ (minors PLS dni.)

word count: 2,592

A/N: hi i havent written in so long and i cant stop reading ellie fics atm so i figured why not! plus i feel like there's a shortage of dom! fem reader fics out there. i just thought it would be a different reading experience to almost be in ellie's head, pretend ur reading her journal or sum fr. all that being said i hope you enjoy!! pls lmk if you do!! and a big ty to @elliewill for all her help and motiv when i was writing and debating this fic, i love her so bad.

i'm in charge, always. in charge of pleasing her, fucking her, loving her; in charge of her. the power complex when she's beneath me while i pound into her, getting to watch her face as the only sound she can make isn't even moaning. just short, open-mouthed gasps and whimpers, her eyes always locked with mine. her eyes would feel like they were nearly piercing into my brain like two damn fucking ice picks.

it only made me want more. more power, more of her. the way her eyes would hold their gaze on mine, even when the pleasure would threaten her to squeeze them shut; or go half-lidded. which was so unbelievably fucking hot to watch, knowing i was the reason for that- i needed her to look at me. i needed to know that she knew who was in charge, who was doing this to her, and who was making her feel so good. so i could know i was that person. who owned her, and fucked her so well she could barely keep her pretty eyes open. or her mouth closed. one of my hands began to travel, the journey starting from one of her thighs that i had pressed into her abdomen as i fucked her, not forgetting to drag the pads of my fingers over her skin; knowing how she reacted- and loving the feel of her shiver beneath them when she did react. the journey ended at her neck, one of my favorite places of her to hold. especially during times like these. i had a hold on her, physically and metaphorically. i threatened a squeeze, smirking softly as her pretty little lips parted when i did. those perfect lips, that were glazed from her drool, and mine. those lips that she couldn't keep shut, but could only let those heavenly fucking sounds out of. the sounds of encouragement, the sounds that i caused her to make. a short gasp fell from those damned lips of hers when i threatened the squeeze. i leaned in even more, my own lips barely touching hers, but enough for her to whimper against mine. it killed me knowing she whimpered, just for me. just for a fucking kiss from me. i began to speak, wanting to hear more of those pretty little praises. whether by sounds or words, despite knowing the words would probably be broken; but that made it even better. “yeah baby? you love me fucking you, ‘feels good, yeah?” 

“yeah.. it feels good fucking me, doesn't it, baby?” 

my grip on her neck loosened for a moment, more so fucking slipped. i let out a wry laugh to disguise the clearing i needed to do for my throat, nearly choking over what i just heard. i squeezed her throat this time, using her neck as leverage to pull her face to mine. baby? is she fucking with me? her face was smug once we were face to face, i couldn't tell if i was feeling her pulse on my palm or my own fucking heart pounding. baby. why did she sound so fucking hot-

“you okay, baby?” she spoke again. jesus fucking christ. her delicate hand trailed up my forearm, i knew she was watching my face to see if i'd give in. cave into her touch, her words; her. she stopped at my wrist, and my grip on her neck was merely even a hold at this point- and she used it to her advantage. she lifted my hand slowly, placing my thumb between those fucking lips of hers. the same lips that were making me so fucking weak with their words. “`m fine.” i mumbled, maybe stuttered. i knew i didn't look it, but i was so ready to just fucking collapse. and she knew it.

“you sure?” she asked again, the plump skin of her lips brushing against the pad of my thumb when she spoke. i can't fucking do this shit. i hadn't even realized i had stopped moving, or lost my grip on those delicious fucking thighs of hers. but she did.

oh and did she use it to her advantage. she took those thighs and pulled me in again, locking me in with her. i couldn't hold back the groan, i was holding it in for too long at this point. her words, her voice, her fucking lips.. the pressure against me from the fucking harness of the strap when she pulled me in. everything. i dropped my face into the crook of her neck. too ashamed to even face her. god does not fucking give his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.

“ohhh, c’mon baby…” she fucking cooed. i just pressed my lips to her neck, trying to keep together any fucking amount of dignity i had left. if i were ever to whimper- so help me god. she fucking giggled. i suppose the hitch of my breath when my hands practically shook against her waist; was not keeping my act together. 

within seconds i was being pushed onto my back, my own hands getting thrown at my sides. she crawled right onto my lap, her thighs on either side of mine, caging me in. i was absolutely fucking gone. i threw my hands up, my biceps staying against the bed. “babe.” i managed to get out, my eyes probably looking fucking wild. do i look at her face, her tits, her? she had rode me before, just not.. like this. “what is it, baby?” she said so fucking casually. like it was just some ordinary fucking question. is she fucking insane?

“noth.. nothin’.” i said through a shaky breath, real fucking dominant ellie. my eyes darted back and forth between her own, and her hips as she took me in again. that perfectly tight little cunt of hers sliding both of us right back into place. i bit down on my lip, leaning my head back into the pillow and just staring at the ceiling. i was gone. 

a few throaty moans escaped my lips. a sound i rarely let happen. get it to-fucking-gether. the pressure on me from her bouncing on the stupid fucking cock, the sheer sight of her fucking herself on me like the little fucking slut she was. i could barely even watch her, i'd embarrassed myself enough. all i could do was let a hand run up her thigh, too weak even to caress it the way i usually would. i stopped at her hip, those perfect round hips she moved so fucking well for me. she had the power now. she had power over me. 

“you like watching me fuck you, huh baby? so fucking dirty-” she spoke almost brokenly, but the words. the words. i think i let out a choke from them. if she ever knew how close to the edge i was right now. so close to soaking through the thin cotton of my fucking boxers. just from this and the friction, i’d never fucking hear the end of it. maybe i wanted to listen to it, though.

“mm- mhm. watching.. watching you take me s-so  fucking good baby…” 

she froze, stopping all her movements. those eyes piercing mine once again. oh fuck.

“did you just fucking stutter?” she said with that smug little fucking look, i could practically hear a laugh in her throat. she tilted her head, slowly leaning down to be face to face. i'm fucking gone. i furrowed my brows when i looked back to her. keep your fucking composure ellie. get it together. “no.” i practically choked on the syllable, my hand on her hip slipping slightly. she just gave me a smirk, that slutty little, smug, fucking smirk.

“fuck.”

it was all i could say- whimpered,  when she jutted her hips forward, if she didn't know i was on the brink before, she sure as fuck did now. my hands had dropped at this point, i had to of looked like such a fucking fool. i couldn't even keep my eyes open at this point, but i had to. i couldn't miss seeing her like this. being such a slut and owning it. owning me. she looked so fucking hot right now, taking me in and out of that tight cunt effortlessly, her hair thrown to one side, her perfect fucking tits bouncing with every jut of her hips. and she was all fucking mine, and clearly, i was all fucking hers.

i squeezed my eyes shut, unsure of how else to hide how fucking close i was. how fucking close i was to letting go into my fucking boxers beneath the goddamned harness of the strap she was fucking herself on. i kept my eyes shut, unable to look at her knowing what i was about to fucking do. how fucking embarrassing.

until i felt that sweet little hand of hers on my neck, her touch gentle and her skin soft. my eyes were jutting open, as much as they even could, if they weren't rolling fucking backward already. i whined. how fucking pathetic. 

“babe-”

i tried to speak, only to be cut off by a smack on my fucking cheek.  from the same dainty hand that was just on my neck. and i fucking moaned. the sting of it. the fucking sting that came from that sweet hand of hers. 

 “i want you to look at me when you cum.” 

and i nearly did right there. she knew what she was doing, what i was trying not to do, the entire fucking time. i just gave her a nod, too embarrassed of what would come out sound or word-wise if i were to fucking speak. usually, i’d be ravenous at this point for her to fucking cum, abusing that cute clit of hers while she bounced on me. until she gushed around me and collapsed. but that's the last possible thing i could even fathom doing right now, she was waiting on me. fucking herself to the brink. fucking me to the verge of insanity, it felt like.

“what a fuckin’ pussy..” she muttered through her heavenly fucking moans, shooting me a smirk. and i let out a fucking gasp. a fucking throaty, wimpy, loser-like fucking gasp.. a whimper.

i knew she was nearing her end, the way her hips twitched at the end of every hip thrust, the way she began to slouch towards me. i just wanted to fucking touch her, and i couldn't. 

but she was fucking herself. 

“you like watching me play with my little clit, baby-” 

fuck.

she was starting to lose again.

“you're so fuckin’ hot, baby..” i finally managed to speak coherently. barely. my eyes darted down to what she was doing, taking my chance when she tilted her head back from the euphoria. those pretty digits of her’s making circles over her clit, so wet her slick had them glistening. god. she looked so fucking pretty like that, using me as a fucking toy. fucking herself into euphoria. so much of a slut for me that my cock wasn't enough. she needed even more.

that hand of hers that had slapped me, that nearly had me coming, amongst other things; still on my cheek. anytime my eyes fluttered shut, she'd give the skin of my cheek beneath her palm a smack. reminding me of what she wanted from me. this tap, she wanted something else. those fingers she had on that clit of hers just mere seconds ago, now being dragged down on my lower lip, tugging it when she did. teasting me with the essence of her cunt that i loved so much. it took everything i had in me not to give in and suck on them like some little bitch, yearning to taste that sweet shine on them.

 i wasn't that weak, though.

“go ahead. suck ‘em off, baby. just like my little mouth does on that big fucking cock of yours.”

nevermind. 

and i did. wrapping my lips around those two fingers, stabilizing myself by wrapping my hand around her wrist. being a little bitch, her little bitch. i knew i must have looked like one too. sucking the juices of that delicious pussy of hers off of her fingers, latched onto them like i was fucking dehydrated and hadn't had a damn drink in days. 

“this must be how pretty i look.. huh? when i'm suck- sucking your dick.” 

there she was. 

she slipped. if we were in any other situation, i would've caught it. but she did. of course, she did. so she snatched her sweet fingers away, wrapping them around my jaw to cover that slip-up that showed how weak she still was. like i should be fucking talking. to keep my eye contact locked with hers, those gorgeous fucking eyes. 

“gonna… gonna cum all over your fucking cock, baby,” she said through broken moans and her pretty little sounds, continuing to fuck as much out of that silicone as she could take. without my relentless ‘help,’ she couldn't take as much. but she was taking it  “so good.. my fuck.. fuckin’ whore..” her eyes were glued to mine. the contact unbreakable. like something was holding the connection of us together so fucking well. and there was; pure fucking lust. she knew how badly i wanted to watch. watch her slick shining all over my cock every time she moved up on it, watch it pool at the base of it. soak those perfect fucking thighs, knowing i'd clean it all up for her after.

she was losing.

but fucking so was i.

she let out one loud moan, gasping as she began to tremble, her hand that was once on my neck dragging down to my abdomen. clutching on for dear fucking life. i let out a grunt when her face was down, letting her fuck herself through her orgasm. “so fucking good, baby..” i said as i watched her, hiding my own trembling with hers. i was sure my lip would be fucking bruised from how hard i was biting it. my hands slipping down her hips yet again, still wanting to keep her precious body stable and safe while we, she came. i am no better than a man. 

the skin of my abdomen beneath her fingers, now indented with crescent shapes from her damn nails. a wet spot from slick on the base of the strap. 

and beneath it. 

she collapsed onto my chest, her chest rising with every fall of my own. our bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces that created a perfect picture. i threw an arm around her back as she lifted her hips off with a short breath, allowing me to pull out. 

and there she was, there i was. fucked, literally. I tightened my arm around her back, her sweet body curling against mine when i did, dancing the pads of my fingers along her ribs. 

she nestled her cheek into the valley of my chest, her sweet fingers dancing up the strap of my sports bra. “hey.” i spoke up, lifting my hand from her side to brush some wispy hairs from her temple, some of them stuck to her sticky skin. she looked up to me, using my chest as a pillow for her chin. that pretty face, all mine.

“you really think i'm a pussy?” i quirked as i looked down to her.

a beat.

“i mean.. you are what you eat.” 

“speaking of.”

i smirked. i had a mess to clean up.

[nats-revival]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: nepo baby!business owner!ellie williams x afab!business owner!reader

tags: smut, fingering (r receiving), pet names/name calling?? (dirty girl, pretty, good girl, baby), slight praise??, god why is tagging so hard, mild language, unethical business practices??, thoughts are green, ellie lowk an asshole, but both reader and ellie are pretty harsh to eachother, maybe that’s it, bare with me if i forget something pls. 😭🙏

a/n: i wrote this directly on tumblr bc i did NAWT feel like pulling up google docs today saur the format might be a lil off. i was watching this show on netflix called ‘locked up’, and like an episode from season two is what inspired this!!! 😜 the show is good honestly it just drags on sometimes!!! ive actually never actually written smut any times before this (believe it or not hehe) anyways, let’s get into it!!!

P.S - DEDICATED TO @sweetysaccharine YAWP YAWP!!!! <333 HOPE U ENJOY POOKIEEEE

P.P.S - don’t look at the typos or i will find you (IM JOKING)

rumors traveled fast, and sometimes it wasn’t always good. for one, they could be infuriating. a company you’d been toe to toe with for.. quite some time had gotten a new ceo. some young girl. articles appeared online about some kinda nepotism scandal. the photo on the top of the article displayed a photo of the previous ceo — joel miller, and the new owner, ellie. they looked happy. but why were they accused of something as harmful as nepotism? long story short, joel turned his brother down for the position (even though he was the better option) so ellie could have it. favoritism of sorts. but god was she infuriating! her stupid, flashy displays of wealth (that probably didn’t even belong to her) made you so mad! and also, her arrogance and her constant need to compete with you was very infuriating aswell. you had influence, she had money. wouldn’t these things be considered as a double kill in some perfect world? yes. would you ever even consider working with someone like her? absolutely not. you couldn’t even stand being in the same vicinity as her whenever you two ended up at the same social events.

imagine that terrible, ugly feeling of anger that coursed hot through your veins once finding out she’d brought possibly one of the biggest clients you could’ve ever had. it was one thing for her to shove it in your face that she was wealthy but this? she’d completely overstepped. storming your way through the companies large building, you find yourself at her offices door knocking like a madwoman. “open the goddamn door, williams!” you yell as you attempt to open the door on your own. she doesn’t say anything, but you’re just almost certain she’s smirking or something. she opens the door with this.. look. it was weird. a perfect mixture of condescending, arrogance, and ‘i know what i did and i don’t regret it’. “are you insane?” “mm.. yeah. i guess so.” you laugh, dumbfounded by her. “how bout you come into my office for a seat and a drink?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “let’s handle this civilly, shall we? knowing you, i have the feeling that this could get real ugly.” she pushed open the door with that same condescending/arrogant smile. of course, reluctantly, you walk inside. maybe this could be resolved civilly.

the sound of some smooth music played. it sounded like micheal buble or something. she walks around her desk to pour you a glass of bourbon. she hands it to and you just hold it. “it’s not poisoned, see?” she says before taking a sip. you take a sip and of it before putting the glass on her desk. “so, i realized that.. i have something you want.” the something being that client. “why else would i be here? that was a really petty move and you know that.” she chuckled. “yknow, i could just.. refer them back to you.” initially, you’re in disbelief. ellie? being generous? no way. she must’ve completely lost it. “but! it comes with a price.” of course it does. nothing was free, not in this economy. you kept your expectations low for this very reason. you raise an eyebrow at her. “we could work together. become business partners.”

she turns her music up a little. she dances her way over to you, circling you a bit. “no chance, ellie. how could i ever work with someone like you?” she chuckled again. “why wouldn’t you work with ‘someone like me’? you have something that i want aswell.” “what?” “power. influence. however you may wanna word it. i admire that.” it had to be some sick joke. why would she wanna work with you? “shouldn’t all your daddys money be more than enough to keep you in a position of power?” you quarry, then crossing your arms. a part of you didn’t believe that she’d been the one asking you for help.

“just think about it. me, giving you money. you, drawing power hungry clients in with that pretty face of yours. we’d work together like yin and yang.” she proposed before taking another sip of the drink in her glass. that was her giving a go at an analogy. was it good? she didn’t know. did she care? not at all. “you bullshitting me, williams?” “not at all. all you gotta do.. is say ‘yes’. cmon.” she offers her hand, those pretty slender fingers and that tattoo that peeking from underneath that black button up shirt were just so.. enticing. you were in your head, just thinking. was this a good idea? could i trust her? she probably has bad intentions. but she was so tempting. this had to be one of the seven deadly sins or something.

she snaps infront of your face. “where’d you go?” she asks. “nowhere.” you respond quickly. “so, you taking the offer or not? or.. will i have to convince you?” she takes a step closer to you. temptation taints your brain.

you’re not in control of your thoughts anymore. ellie was.

her hand seeks solace on your waist. “shouldn’t finding business like this be considered illegal?” you whisper to her. “im not a law abiding woman. and quite frankly, i don’t give two shits.” maybe it wouldn’t be illegal if nobody knew. but all you thought about was her. how she smells. how she’s looking at you. how her hands feel on your body. you can’t stop yourself. your lips crash down onto hers. your fingers tangle in her auburn hair as the both of you kiss passionately. she brings you to her desk, knocking stuff over as she sat you on her desk.

glass shattered, pictures were knocked out of their frames, and her computer mouse was.. somewhere. your back arches into her touch as you let out a soft moan into her mouth. she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth. in the competition of dominance between your tongues, she reigns supreme. her hands slide up your body and end up on your oxford button up shirt. she doesn’t unbutton it, she rips that shit open. “i’ll get you a new one.” she mumbled as the buttons from the shirt scatter across the room.

“you’d better. or else id have to come back here and get it by force.” “oh please, you’ll be back here for more reasons than a goddamn shirt.” she said as she peppers kisses down to your jawline, then your neck. “don’t leave any marks.” “but why?” “oh, i dunno, cause i don’t want anyone asking me who i had sex with?” “who gives a shit? your workers get paid to look the other way, don’t they?”

well, she makes a good point. and you can’t argue with a point as valid as that. she sinks her teeth into a sweet spot of your neck, making you moan out as she runs her tongue along the new mark. she sticks her tongue out again to run it all the way down to one of your boobs. the sensation makes you shiver. “wore this pretty bra for me, didntcha? you were just expecting this. you must’ve wanted me to touch you like this, didn’t you? dirty girl. must’ve been waiting for me to bend you over this table.” she rambled all while stripping you of your bra, then leaving soft kisses and licks across the valley of your breasts.

she takes her time, making you wait for it. she knew what she was doing to you, and she was going to make you wait. “ellie, you’re going soo slow! you know what i want.” you whine as she leaves kisses and bites all over your exposed skin. “tell me what you want or you’ll get nothing. tell me where you want me.” she whispered. “i want your fingers.” “where?” “you know where.” “tell me or you get nothing.” you hesitate for a moment before saying feebly. “in.. in my pussy..” “that’s a good girl.”

she smiles as she pushes her hands into your slacks. she could feel your wetness. “i got you this worked up, huh? who knew little miss perfect could get this wet over me, a ‘nepo baby’?” she teased with a cocky smile. she slowly slides your slacks and underwear all the way down to your ankles before she applies a delicious amount of pressure to your clit. you gasp, your hand wrapping around her wrist. “oh, you like that do you, huh? you want more? fucking beg for it. cmon.” she applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing small and soft circles as her fingers ghost your sopping entrance. “oh— please ellie, i need more. give me more.” “gonna take more than that, baby.” you whine when she suddenly takes all that pressure away from you.

you let out another whine as you attempt to rut against her hand. her free hand slaps your thigh as she shakes her head in disapproval. “none of that. keep still. you get nothing until you beg like a good girl.” “please, please. ill do anything. just please touch me.” she chuckles at you. she found it cute how you were so desperate to chase that pleasure. “god, you’re so desperate. you need it so.. goddamn bad, don’t you?” she lets out a grunt in the middle of her sentence as she suddenly plunged into your pussy.

as she moves her fingers, she groans at how wet her you were. first she starts with middle finger, then adding her ring finger. her long fingers are hitting that sweet spot in you. she was making you see stars. “listen to yourself. look at ‘er, she’s crying for me.” she coos as she speeds her pace. you moan out. “watch me, baby.” you slowly look down at her fingers plunging in and out of you. sounds of wet squelching fill your ears. you bite your lip and you toss your head back as you let out a moan. you grind yourself down onto her fingers, chasing that wonderful and blissful orgasm.

you felt a pressure building up in your stomach. your eyes were fluttering open and shut. everytime you looked away, she stopped. you made sure to not look away. once that pressure in your stomach felt like it was gonna release, your moans became more broken. “ellie! ellie— oh fuck! ellie! im gonna cum! don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you say between moans as you bring your hand back down to hold her wrist in place.

“oh yeah? gonna cum? let go for me. make a mess on my fingers. cmon. i know you can do it.” she said as she kept her pace at that same one that was making you see stars. she’d been rambling something to you, talking you through it as she watched you cum all over her fingers. she helps you ride out your orgasm, a slight tremble in your legs becoming more apparent.

“what do we say?” “thank you.” she smiled as she pulled her fingers out. the sudden loss makes you whine. she sucks her fingers clean and you watch as her tongue runs across the length of her fingers. “still being a tease, williams?” you ask as you look at her while she does it. “mm.. well no, i dont think so. just savouring how good you taste.” when she was finally satisfied, she drops her hands. “so, you finally ready to stop being so stubborn and take the deal?” “not a chance if it means we get to have sex like this.” you respond with a chuckle. “maybe you need to be fucked again, hm?” she ask with a smile.

needless to say, you’d went another time, and on the third you fucked ellie. eventually you come to some sort of agreement after you’d been laid on her leather sofa, naked and feeling like you were floating. the only question you had now is what the hell had you gotten into. “will this turn into a scandal?” you ask. “.. probably not if we keep this under wraps.” she responds as she puts her head in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to it. “plus, yknow i can just pay the media off right? they won’t say anything. not a peep.” she reassured as she smiled softly.

[avameller]

𝟐. 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ࣪𖤐

Posted on the 9th of July 2024

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mentions of scars/open wounds

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You get brought back to their base which is called "Jackson Community". You go get your wounds checked out and taken care of. You get told about your possible new family.

Spelling mistakes are to nicely be pointed out. <3 1023 words

- Aishas POV -

₁₄ The group of people on horses brought me back to their town -which I soon learned was called Jackson Community.I was brought to a big cabin and into a room with lots of chairs in it¨must be where I will get my wounds checked out¨ I thought to myself looking around, the walls were painted a scrappy blue and there was a stupidly big fat red cross painted across one of the walls "Can I have my knife back? It was a proud found of mine" I suddenly remember asking him acting innocent.

₁₅ "The kids here don't walk around armed." He said sternly as I dropped the innocent act "But im 17?" I said, "Still a kid." I looked at him with an annoyed expression "But! If you take a course on fighting and take patrol tryouts we will hold it till you turn 19 and you're old enough to carry weapons around" which made me a little hopeful "Well? better than nothing! I'll take it! please hold it for me" I give him a smile which he returns.

₁₆ "I will then, Aisha" He smiles with a little nod as a nurse comes out from the other side of a door labeled Room 105, "Scars and cuts!" The man says as the woman nods us to come in, I stand up heading into the room slowly scanning the new room, the man follows me into the room with the nurse "She was attacked" He informed her as she nodded giving him a sweet smile"ill take care of her, thank you for bringing her in" she said as he looked at me "I will go now kiddo, uhm..  and after this, a new family is waiting who would like to adopt you...? how's that sound?" he asks unsure tone scanning my face for a reaction, my face lit up as he said that "A new family?! is there any kids?? am I going to have like, siblings??" I ask as he chuckles "I'll come pick you up later, think about it!" he says "I will!" I say as he exits the room.

₁₇¨a new family?! Oh my fucking god! But how could I do that to my old family? wouldn't that be rude?.. they would tell me to do it! it's for my own good. and I need to have a guardian of some sort if i need to live in this town¨ I think to myself, just then the nurse walks up to me "Hi there" she smiles at me preparing a cloth with what looked like alcohol "Hello" I answer her returning a smile, "Can you show me the places you were scratched?" She asked politely as I showed her under my shirt on my abdomen, 2 on my left arm, and a couple on my legs as well.

₁₈ "Ow those must'of hurt," she said "It did" I added "This is gonna be a little painful," she said warning me as she put the cloth over the scar on my stomach ¨A LITTLE?!¨ "OW!" I scream as I wince in pain my belly muscles stiffening as I covered my mouth with my hand looking at her wide-eyed, "Sorry" she mumbles "But we have to keep going" she says as she slowly puts it back on the scar "AuH!.." I wince in pain tightening my hand around my mouth.

₁₉ After about 15 minutes of pain, 3 new cloths, lots of bandaging, and a sprinkle of the words 'thank you' and I was outta' that place for good. The man, whose name I learned was Tommy, had picked me up again and taken me to an office where a lady was sitting a little too formally in a wooden chair. "Here's the girl," he said "Hello, Aisha." she said as I looked at her confused "And you know my name?" I asked furrowing an eyebrow at her "A smart brain didn't need to think twice about that one, kiddo" she said with a laugh "Tommy.." I said now realising how stupid that sentence was.

₂₀ "We have a married couple who has been trying to have kids for 4 years with no luck, so they think it's because she can't get pregnant.." she said sounding a little hurt for them, "The mother's name is Lily, and the Father's name is James that is if, you want them to adopt you" she smiled at me "You can meet them soon and decide then," she says  "if you don't click with them, that's okay we will find you another family" she added "Can't I just be parentless?" I asked "We don't want any children being parentless here in this community, we try to find every kid a place to call home and people to call family," she said which kinda warmed my heart a little

₂₁¨Maybe this 'town' isn't so bad after all¨ I thought to myself as I smiled at the women "could i meet them now??" I said "They will come in later I sent Tommy out to find them and tell them your here" She said, "cool." I mumbled back as I glanced around at the different decorations around the walls, there was an old-looking picture with her, a child, and a cat "What's that?" I said curiosity getting the best of me "Huh?" she said as she looked to where my finger was pointing "Oh! This? That's an old picture of me, my son, and our old cat" she said as she smiled warmly at the picture ¨it must mean a lot to her¨ - "cool" I replied in a more not-so-dry tone not wanting to sound like I didn't give a fuck.

₂₂ Suddenly the door opened and two adults came walking in with Tommy right behind them...

[nonbinairyboi]

NOTHING LEFT MASTERLIST - ONGOING

Fic Summary: You hadn’t spoken in years. Technically, you had the ability to, though as the years wore on, you weren’t so sure. You’d settled in Jackson over a year ago and now it was Fall again. You are drawn towards Ellie and her ‘not-dad’, but you had always assumed any relationships deeper than surface level were beyond you at this point.

Series Warnings: This is my first fanfic and I plan to go into some dark stuff including some in-depth discussion of SA that was done to the main character (not by Joel) and the mental impact it has. Blood and Injury. I am unsure if I will be writing smut as I never have before but I will update the warnings if that changes.There definitely will be allusions to smut if nothing else, so MINORS DNI!

I made a playlist for Nothing Left. It includes songs that came out recently, so those are just for vibes, but I also included songs referenced in chapters :) we’ve got a folk and soul vibe going

Updated 3/1/2025

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

More coming soon

ASL MASTERLIST

Basics Part 1

Basics Part 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Part 1

Chapter 3 Part 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 Part 1

Chapter 7 Part 2

Chapter 8

[lookforthelightsposts]

okay lowkey havent really been using this app unless i NEED to read abt abby or sevika BUT i will try to finish the fan fic (i cant keep promises online bro) but i was having some interesting thoughts about abby today and a short thing with come out about abby (or sevika..?) but its gonna be with mean!abby or mean!abby because theyre too sweet for what im thinking of. Anyway! vote which one and i’ll make it tomorrow or tonight (wtv i feel like lol) if you REALLY want someone else than tell me and i’ll make another poll.

-🌱

[cinematicgf]

After Hours- 18+ dbf!joel

Summary: coming home from college and staying with your dad means that you get to see his attractive best friend, Joel, all the time, from nights in to neighborhood parties. but as the two of you start to see each other regularly when you’re home for college breaks, feelings start to get involved, all leading to one night in a hotel room.

Pairing: (pre-outbreak) dbf!joel miller x afab!reader

Warnings and notes: 18+, smutty smut, minors DNI, dad’s best friend Joel, age gap, fingering, pet names, phone sex, dirty talk, teasing, swearing, reader in uni, drinking, no use of y/n, a little hint of fluff and lots of smut

~ 3.9k

A/N: hey again<3 this was suppose to be a drabble but i got carried away whoops. I hope you guys enjoy this work of dbf!joel smut and as always, your feedback is always welcome so please like, comment and reblog!

ps. I wrote this over a bottle of wine before going to friends place to drink another bottle of wine so apologies if there’s any mistakes. enjoy<3

  ~

Oh, baby, where are you now when I need you most?

I'd give it all just to hold you close

~

The morning sunlight seeps through a crack in the curtain, illuminating the hotel room in a soft glow. Your eyes crack open at the breech of your slumber, as you take in the unfamiliar setting. Usually, in a situation of waking up to unknown territory your heart would skip to your throat and panic would set in, if it weren’t for the warm body and heavy breathing encased close behind you. One large, muscular arm keeping you in place draped over your waist and an all too familiar hint of yesterdays cologne and musk relaxes you into a blissed-out morning attitude. Behind you, of course, is Joel. Joel of contractor and fourth of July barbecue fame in your neighborhood. The man who you had been crushing on since you were a teenager, and now, with your transition into university and spending time apart from your hometown and the residents, coming back meant that you have changed.

You left a naive teenager with a passion for history and came back as a young adult, ready and willing for what life through at you. And no one had noticed this change more than Joel. Taking extra-long glances at you as your back was turned whilst you were studying in the living room, taking peaks at your ass as you bent over to grab yourself a beer from the fridge, oh so kindly provided by your father, and oh god almighty, who could forget the pet names, anything from ‘honey’ to ‘pretty girl’ which, admittedly, use to just be a friendly affirmation of care from the older man, but now sent an electric shock of arousal straight to your core.

There was one slight problem to both of your developing feelings was the Joel was your father’s best friend. Although you and your father were somewhat close, after your mother had decided to bail and your new slutty stepmother had been brought into the mix of your home life, your not-so-subtle feelings of despise toward the woman were apparent. Of course, you wanted your dad to be happy but CMON... did it have to be with Slutty Steph who flirted with quite literally every man who came within a 3-mile radius of the woman?

In your trips back from university to home over the past six months, your “friendship” with Joel had grown into the two of you flirting back and forth with hearty banter which always led to a filthy comment from either of you- (“What would my father think if I told him, you were just checking out my tits, old man” you shot at him with a smirk. “I would simply tell him his darling little girl was wearing these low-cut shirts only when she knew his best friend was coming over”, he retorted, his breath hot in you ear as he brought his hand up to grip your bare waist under your crop top.). Eventually the flirting turned to a sloppy make out sesh one night when your father had gone to bed early and left the two of you with a bottle and a half left of wine. After that night, every time you would come home from university, the two of you would secretly meet up, either to make out and explore each other’s bodies in the back of his truck, or to dip out of a neighborhood get together so he could have your up against a door, blocking anyone’s unwelcomed entry, as he held you with one huge hand under your thighs and another laced your waist, as he whispered the most filthy string of words known to mankind in your ear as you moaned softly as his cock twitched inside you and he fucked up into you at a brutal pace . Eventually, the hand on your waist would have to be brought up to your mouth to cover your moaning as he pushed deeper and deeper into you, the top of his large cock hitting your g-spot at just the right angle, this, accompanied by the leud sounds of slapping thighs and wet noises throwing you over the edge, with his hand still pressed to your mouth as you came, hard, party makeup and mascara running down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and shook in his arms as he fucked you through your high. It wouldn’t take long for his thrusting to get sloppy after you clench around him tight and he would cum deep inside you, holding you still as he stayed in your pussy, muttering praises of, “that’s my sweet girl, god almighty you did so well baby, squeezing me tight like that. Such a good girl for me, always”. This within itself almost made you come again, but soon enough, after he had gone limp and after a few more slow thrusts, the two of your would have to clean yourselves up and go back out to the familiar faces of your neighbors, pretending a man twice your ages and twice your size in height and muscle hadn’t just fucked you so hard against a bedroom door that your knees were now jello and the shirt you had changed into had a higher neckline to avoid suspicious glares at the many bitemarks and hickeys decorating your neck.

 Joel, being the most eligible bachelor in the town, or so your high school friends commented one night when you were out smoking in her car on a university break, always had looks from women, mostly his own age, who were so eager to settle down with the respectable, stable (and ever so filthy) man. Sometimes you thought these little neighborhood parties your dad (and Joel too) would insist you come to were just ways that he could find someone and settle down finally. I guess everyone hoped so, or they hoped that they would be the one he would choose. I mean, with his structured face and messy brown curls, his patchy yet groomed beard, muscular arms, giant hands and not to mention the ever-present bulge in his jeans, all the grown woman in the neighborhood would swoon when he entered. He entertained their boring conversations about work and sometimes ever their husbands, but hell, you would never admit to the jealousy it made you feel. Sometimes, after one too many and a boiling of envy in your veins, you would retreat into the house of whichever neighbor had the honors of hosting and lay on the couch so as not to see the women drooling over the guy you were fucking on a regular basis. The one who was so handsome when he got down on his knees between your legs after racing to your fathers house, knowing he was at work. He would kiss and thrust his fingers into your tight hole until you came around them, back arching and moaning so loud you were surprised you didn’t get a noise complaint. The one who, afterwards, would tangle his hands in your hair as he pulled you onto his lap, feeling his achingly hard cock swell against you as your lips collided, sloppy and lovingly, tasting yourself on his tongue. The one who would whisper how sweet you tasted and who always praised you with a “good girl” after taking his cock so deep it would leave you aching for days.

 When you were in the house, having the much needed lie down after your subtle (or so you thought) jealous outbreak, it wasn’t long before guess who wanders through the sliding door into the living room, which you’ve occupied. “Sweetheart…”, he drawls in a knowing tone, “Let’s get you to bed”. His voice is low as he leans against the door, one hand placed on his hip while the other rests on his thigh right next to where his jeans look awfully tight. Your jealousy is quickly forgotten in your drunken state, as you feel yourself get slightly wet from his muscular stance and understanding smirk. He noticed your absence and came looking; that’s gotta be something... right? “Why don’t you join me”, you coo, narrowing your eyes and moving your arm slightly to lean on your side, thus emphasizing your breasts in your lowcut shirt. He grins to himself, rubbing his bead as he adjusts his jeans around his crotch. “C’mon, then, bedtime for you”. He steps over. “Weeeeeeeee”, you exclaim as he picks you up bridal style, giggling the whole time. “Are you taking me for round two?”, you giggle, throwing your arms around his neck and looking at him doe eyed. “You”, he gives you a kiss on the forehead once you are both halfway up the stair, “need to sleep it over, sugar”. He puts you down in a room and gently kisses your forehead again, “G’night pretty girl”, he whispers. You smile up at him, drunk and looking with such fascination at the attractive older man. “You’re the pretty one”, you whisper, before he chokes back a laugh and kisses you softly on the lips. “Get some sleep, sweetheart, I’ll check on you tomorrow”. 

At first it had just seemed like simple fun. Two grown adults fucking around with each other when you came home from university every few weeks for a break. Despite being your dad’s best friend, Joel spent an ungodly amount of time with you, either when you were staying, and you two fucked in private, or when you were back at university, and you would receive those oh so delicious late night calls of him stroking himself, telling you he had been thinking about you and asking when you were coming home so he could taste how sweet you were again. You were glad your roommate had left earlier in the year, leaving the dorm to yourself, because your moans mixed with Joel’s filthy words of pleasure and praise as you rubbed your clit and eased two fingers inside of you while his hand gripped his cock had you both climaxing at the thought of each other and, to be frank, neither of you were very quiet about it. God, your fingers did nothing compared to having his cock inside you; hell, even his fingers.

“I miss you, doll, when are you back.”

“Joel… I was there last week”, you giggled, breathlessly after you came down from your hig.

“I know, I just miss you is all”, he smiled, rubbing his beard, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot actually, I just wanna make sure that uni is taking care of my sweet girl”.

 After a few hours and a knowing of morning sleep deprivation because of the call carrying into the early hour of the dawn, you both hung up. You felt different, you couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of them. That is when you knew that, maybe, you had fucked up a little. It wasn’t just a casual meet and fuck when you were in town anymore. You were both thinking about each other when you were alone and when together, the sparks would fly. But… you couldn’t be in love with your father’s best friend. It was out of the question. Shit… what if he found out? What the hell would he do? You started to overthink and the more you did, you were drawn back to his words, “I miss you” “MY sweet girl”. You decided that you needed to talk to him, fuck it. He would know what to do, and there were only really two options of what could happen. You could tell him your feelings and he could laugh at you and shut it down, maybe even coming to the realization that you were indeed his best friend’s daughter and perhaps this was a bad idea; (despite how fucking incredible you looked when you were straddling him, leaned back a little to take him deeper as you bounced on his cock, riding him so good. He would often come back to that image late at night when he gripped himself and jerked at a rapid pace, pretending he was inside your tight hole). The other option was too exciting to even think about, but you knew it wasn’t exactly ideal… or that he would feel the same. “Sure, he misses you. He misses fucking you, is all”, you speculate to yourself. He is a grown ass man, he has been fucking women since before you were born, what makes you think he is going to want you? A third-year uni student who, may I reiterate, has been his father’s best friend for the better part of roughly seven years. You sigh to yourself as you sit in bed, your textbooks discarded to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry at the inevitable fate of your quick fling with Joel. You decided, fuck it, and sent Joel a text that you needed to talk to him.

And this all had led you here, lying in a hotel room in your university town with your dad’s best friend wedged behind you, naked and fast asleep. Despite your groggy state you think back to yesterday’s events. You had texted him in the morning, throwing your phone aside because of nerves but after the familiar ding a few minutes later, you took a peak and, low and behold, a message from Joel saying he would be there soon. Your nervy state only jumped at this, your uni town was two hours from home, and he was wiling to come today to talk. “Calm down” you told yourself, “It’s not going to go like that”. You laid back down, trying to ease your anxiety, before hopping in the shower to wash off all the unwanted nervousness and brace yourself for tonight. Late notice aside, he had been out front of your dorm by midafternoon, leaning against his truck, sunglasses and a t shirt stretching over the expanse of his chest, tight jeans (thank god for your sunglasses because lord forgive, your eyes immediate go there) and his arms folded. He grins upon seeing you, “There she is”, he chuckled pushing himself up from his truck and untucking his arms to greet you with a strong, warm hug. His cologne fills your senses, making you feel at home again, in his arms. He places a kiss to your forehead, opening the truck door for you as you both speed off away from the uni and through town. 

Despite the nerves still kicking in your system, you start to make conversation.

“So, why come all the way down here”, you start, looking at his side profile from the passenger seat and god, if he doesn’t look beautiful. His strong nose and trimmed beard making up the artwork that is his face.

“Because you wanted to see me, sugar”, he replies, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yeah, about that, how long are you staying, because this may take a little bit”. You stare down at your hands, fidgeting slightly in your seat.

“I got a hotel room in town, we can talk all night, doll” he chuckles, glancing at you quickly with a grin before returning his gaze to the road.

God, you wish you didn’t have this weight on your shoulder, you wish you could just get this over with and be tucked up in bed to cry yourself to sleep once his definite answer, that being, of course, that you two should end it, is said and finalized.

Once the two of you arrive at this hotel room it is early evening. The sun is caressing the outskirts of the horizon, flaming the coast, as your heart is rapidly thrumming in your chest. Joel kicks off his shoes and drops heavily on the couch provided by the room and you sit rigid on the arm, not daring to meet his gaze and not being able to utter a word as the nerves, not most insistent, claw at your throat. Joel notices and pushing himself into a sitting position, his thighs push apart of his hand falling between his legs as he watches you, waiting, his brow slightly furrowed as if he knows what is about to happen. Only then do you decide to meet his gaze. Fuck it, lets just get it over with.

“I want to, um, I wanted to talk about us”, you start, meeting his gaze briefly before your eyes return to your palm as your other hand rubs it. “And about what you said on the phone the other night”.

Joel is still looking at you, his brow has furrowed out of slight confusion, or what was that concern… maybe?

“I have found”, you begin again, slowly, not daring to look at him, focusing on a spot on the floor where the carpet meets the linoleum of the kitchen. Perhaps if you just get it all off your chest first without waiting for a response, you’ll feel better. “That I enjoy your company. I mean. Besides the sneaking away and fucking and video calls”, you say slowly. “I enjoy spending time with you at the parties and I find myself getting excited when I get a response from you over text, it’s just… maybe I’m delusional Joel but, I think I’m starting to have feelings. And trust me, I know that wasn’t the deal going into all this, and I know that I’m just a fuck to you and it’s thrilling, having that danger to a relationship, such as sleeping with your best friend’s daughter, but I can’t help it”, you voice is wavering and slightly speeding up to get this all over with quicker. You can feel the sting of tears behind your eyes, but you continue, nevertheless. “So please, just tell me that you don’t want anything now and it can be over with. We can go to those shitty neighborhood parties and talk to each other as if nothing happened but please, Joel, if you don’t want this, tell me now.” A hint of a tear drips down your cheek as you finish your dramatic speech. Your heart is trying to break out of your chest and your hands shake slightly at his awaited response. You still don’t meet his gaze. He is still sitting in the same position, frowning slightly as he takes in your words, before he lets out a heavy sigh. A small tense silence engulfs the room.

“I feel the same”, he says, just barely a whisper. Your head whips around to finally meet his gaze. You look down at him from where you are perched on the side of the couch. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t realize sooner”, he continues, “especially after the call, and what I said to you. When you are gone, I really do miss you, doll, not just the sex, but… you”. He meets you gaze with a tired smile, and you can’t believe your ears. Your towns hottest, most eligible bachelor; the only guy who has made your heart jump like this and, for the record, the only guy who has actually made you come, has reciprocated feelings for you.

You smile lightly at him, “Really?” you choke out through unwanted tears which started at nerve crying turned into happy sobs. He chuckles, reaching his long arm to intertwine your finger with his, “C’mere babygirl”. You push yourself off the arm of the couch and slide into his lap. One hand laces around your waist while the other is on your thigh, holding you steady. His lips meet yours in a closed-mouth kiss. His hand on your waist travels up to tangle in your hair as he inhales a moan from you, using the opportunity to weave his tongue into your mouth, intertwining yours and his in a heated kiss as you grind down on his hardening cock. He pulls away to gaze at your blissed out face, lips swollen and plump, you smile at him through your daze of joy and love for the man in front of you. “My pretty girl”, he says, caressing the back of your hair, bring his hand around to cup your face and running his thumb over your kiss-drunk lips. You kiss the pad of his thumb. “You’re mine, sweetheart, my gorgeous girl”. He uses his thumb to ease open your mouth before reconnecting your lips in a tongue and teeth clashing kiss. “I don’t care if your father finds out”, he says between hot kisses and your uncontrollable light moans, “you’re my girl and that is all that matters to me”. You feel the arousal warming your panties at his words, as he slips his hand from your thigh up your skirt. Feeling how wet you are makes him grin against your lips, “all for me?”, he whispers more so to himself. “All for you”, you confirm, gasping as he slips a finger through your wet folds. Collecting your arousal, he coats his fingers and slips them inside you. Gasping, you grab onto his shoulders for support, as he reconnects your lips with his. You bring your hand up to caress his face, as he pulls your body closer with the hand that’s not inside you. He swallows your moans as you ride his fingers. “Good girl, you’re doing so well for me baby. You’re taking my fingers so well”, he praises, pressing his forehead to yours as you both watch his fingers moving in and out. You feel the coil in your stomach tighten quickly, and you squeeze his fingers. Joel speeds up slightly, your mouth falling open as a string of moans and gasps escape you. “Joel, I’m—I’m gonna “. “That’s its baby, come for me”, Joel whispers, sending you over the edge as your head falls to his shoulders; your teeth meeting the skin there. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers as he continues to move his fingers in and out slowly, riding out your high. When the stimulation gets too much, you bring your hand down to his, moving it out from inside you. You kiss him, ardently, as he brings both muscular arms to engulf you. When you both pull away for air, you notice your bitemark on his should. “Oh shit”, you run your hand over it, “I’m so sorry baby, heat of the moment I guess”, you breathe. He follows your gaze and chuckles, “Sweetheart, I didn’t even feel it”, he assures you, a cheeky, horny look decorating his features, “Besides, I’m sure that’s not going to be the first time tonight”, he chuckles. You roll your eyes, playfully slapping his shoulder as he hoists you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he carries you to the hotel bed, lips nudging that sweet spot behind your ear.

 The day, which had started out as unwanted nerves and hopelessness, as you mourned the inevitable death of your relationship with your dad’s best friend Joel, had ended so much better than you had expected. And as you feel asleep with your head on his chest, listening to his shallow breathing as one large hand was tucked around your waist, rubbing circles on your bare skin, you couldn’t help but smile. He was yours. Now and always.

~

[letmehavemyfictionalmen]

A Doll's Heart

Summary: When visiting your best friend, Barbara Handler, also known as Stereotypical Barbie, you make a decision to connect with the two girls who have played with your doll counterpart for years, all while dealing with issues of self-identity and love. Little did you anticipate that your heart would be captured by Joel Miller, the grumpy yet caring father of the girls. As you navigate the complexities of emotions, you also find yourself playing a role in mending the delicate threads of the Miller family's relationships.

pairing: Joel Miller x Model!Barbie!Reader

warning: 18+ content, Eventual smut, Unprotected sex, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, a sprinkle of Angst, Flirting, Joel Miller being a girl dad, Joel being hard on the outside but he is a softie, Ellie and Sarah being a chaotic duo, Ellie being a menace, Sarah being a sweetheart, reader being a maternal figure, teenage crushes.

Chapters

001. — A Doll in a Human World — [Visting your best friend, you are intrigued by how Barbara's life has evolved from the stereotypical Barbie to a human. The changes in her life raise questions within you, prompting a deeper introspection; is this life for you?] (currently working on it)

The year is 2023, and this is an au. Ellie and Sarah are both Joel’s daughters and are both 16 years old. This story is inspired by @poeticbarnes oneshot on a Joel Miller x Barbie!reader. It can be read here.

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don't have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

taglist: @poeticbarnes