#pedro pascal x poc reader

[clubsoft]

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⠀ ⠀ OVER THE MOON ⠀ ⠀ PROLOUGE ⠀ ⠀ REED RICHARDS A . K . A MR . FANTASTIC / F ! READER⠀⠀

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SUMMARY ⋆ reed richards has caught feelings for his student , making their casual , sexual relationship all the more difficult for himself . WARNINGS ⋆ no powers au / professor ! reed richards / he's divorced :3 / age gap ( reader is early to mid 20s ; reed is in his 40s ) / visualized size difference ; little to none character description aside from this / no smut in this one but it's implied so MDNI ty / lovesick , pining reed richards / just an introduction so more context will come l8r / 3rd person POV ; no use of Y/N WORD COUNT ⋆ 1 . 35 k NOTES ⋆ contributing to the drought of reed richards fics !! enjoy !!

In Reed Richards’ world, the sun rises twice. 

First, at 6 in the morning, when his alarm clock buzzes on the nightstand and years of routine allow the blind reach of one long arm to silence it. Weighing down his other arm is the figure of his dream come true, slumbering, a cherubic delight amongst the cushions and furs encompassing her bare shape. In that moment, he lingers, soothing his hand over the silken expanse of her back, lower, lower, and lower still, alongside her hip, curling his digits to press their tips ever so gently into the plush of her ass, fondling the flesh with care, as to not wake her. The sensation of her under his palm marks her as real, as more than a sick — amatory fantasy of an old man like himself. His fingers travel once more, inwards, dimpling her thigh, so close to heaven itself — she stirs, he retracts his hand, and sighs. A solitary ray of light sneaks in, licks at the curve of her spine just as Reed finds the hem of the blanket and slips it up to her shoulders. 

Winter months don’t mesh with floor to ceiling windows, curtains of thick velvet can only retain so much heat, and a previously excruciating battle is made all the more difficult; it’s impossible enough to withdraw his warm embrace from the object of his yearning, but to do just that, and then press the soles of his feet against ice cold marble floors felt like punishment. Yawning, he heaves himself off the mattress, searches with lazy hands for his pajama bottoms, and after pulling them up his legs, pushing his feet into his slippers, making sure the girl is tucked in — snug, he yanks his knit sweater off the foot of his bed. The lights in the modern, minimalist home click to life, brightening his journey down the stairs and into the kitchen. Everything is on a sensor, finely tuned to his every need. He doesn’t even press a button, yet the coffee begins to brew in its pot; a perfect serving, one mug full. His guest doesn’t drink coffee, but she tries a sip when he asks, adamant on finding a ratio of sugar and creamer that she’d enjoy. In turn, Reed drinks a different flavor on most mornings he shares with her. He’s given up, truth be told, but he occasionally feigns continued effort, all to have her lips grace his mug so he can kiss her with each sip he takes. 

Tea is more her taste. Hot water, a paper tea bag, a pinch of sugar, a splash of milk. Instead of adding a setting to his coffee machine, he makes it by hand, stands above the steaming water and pokes impatiently at the tea bag with a spoon. The goal is to return to his bedroom with a mug in each hand, the brush of his stubble, the tip of his nose tracing the length of her neck, causing her to awaken with soft groans, the sound of giggles once the ticklish feeling truly registers. He doesn’t make it in time to wake her up himself, yet he’s content, beholding the sun as it rises a second time. 

The rustle of blankets, a delicate set of fingers wrinkling his half of the bed, searching for him. There’s a tug at his chest, a call to make everything right, fill his side of the sheets with his frame so that little hand finds just what it seeks, but he waits, watches, and his patience is rewarded by a soft smile as sleepy eyes finally find him, twinkling, taking in his tousled visage with a tenderness that mirrors his own. 

“Tea?” He lifts her mug. It’s the first word he’s spoken, low and thick with sleep, though the smoothness of his charming old school enunciation is permanent no matter how early it is. His slippers carry him across the distance between them as she sits up against the headboard, using a gray fur to modestly cover her chest. Reed doesn’t quite understand why. He’s seen, touched, kissed, licked — tasted every divine inch of flesh, left nothing to the imagination, memorized her very being within all five senses to where seeking her out has become a sixth … and yet, she divides them still. 

“Yes, thank you,” her wobbly morning voice calls him out of his thoughts, her fingers wrap around the mug, and draw it closer to herself. Reed’s large hand shoots out, takes hold of her wrist, pausing her movements altogether. Those big, youthful eyes stare at him expectantly, then shut for a heartbeat and a half when he tilts into her space to press a kiss to her lips. 

“Good morning,” he murmurs, hovering inches away until she repeats it back to him.

“Morning, Reed.” 

He watches her over the rim of his mug through the symphony of sips and sighs, hers rushed, his anything but, slowing down time as best as he could. The first ever morning after, months ago, he’d woken up alone, left with nothing but her scent on his pillow. With each night spent together following that fateful encounter, she granted him more and more time in the mornings; his second sunrise, making him the luckiest man in the cloudy city of Manhattan. 

“Busy day today?” He inquires after his final sip of coffee. His mug is empty, and he plucks hers off the bedside table to finish what remains of her tea, getting in his kisses while she dresses herself on the opposite side of the room. Answering him with an absent nod, she trudges closer, the hem of her navy blue sweater, embroidered with the Columbia University lion, brushing her thighs. His sweater, stolen so long ago that she’s forgotten its origin. 

“Do you see my panties anywhere?” she mumbles the query with utmost bashfulness, as though he wasn’t the one dragging that small strip of cotton down her thighs at sunset. Hooking both mug handles onto his fingers, Reed uses his unoccupied hand to toss the covers around. His search is uninspired, clumsy, but fruitful. Soon enough, that little white piece of fabric dangles from his fingers, a smug grin on his lips. So cute, he thinks to himself as she snatches it away, whispering, “Thank you.” 

Her departure never feels real until she’s near the door, sliding small, socked feet into those damned, convenient, comfy shoes. Gators, or something silly, she calls them, not even allowing Reed the extra couple seconds that it takes to tie a pair of sneakers. 

“ —  you later, then, Reed,” she’s saying, squeezing all two of the large fingers she can easily fit in her hold. He frowns, just ever so slightly, returning the gesture, his hand engulfing hers. With a tug, he leans down, and she rises to her tiptoes to peck the corner of his lips. 

“Later? Are you coming by again tonight?” He asks, sounding embarrassingly hopeful, still holding her hand near his chest, gaze stuck on those soft, plump lips as they part to answer. Her words strike him like a dagger through his heart, the confusion in her voice twisting the god forsaken knife until his ribs are left hollow. A dramatic internal reaction to such a simple sentence. 

“Like, in class.” 

“Oh… of course, sorry. Looks like I’m still waking up. Anyway, are you sure I can't give you a ride? It’s like the dead of winter outside.” How pathetic he must sound, how visible the longing in his brown eyes must be, for she places her palm over his heart, and smiles in a manner that draws the air from his lungs, easing the tenseness of his broad shoulders. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll catch the bus.” Fixing the strap of her bag on her shoulder, she steps backwards past his front door, turning halfway, pausing, then saying: “I’ll call you, and we’ll see about tonight.” 

He nods, the door shuts behind her, and if the world was watching, they’d see the genius Reed Richards break out into a joyfully lovesick dance in his drawing room.

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⠀⠀ ⠀ © CLUBSOFT⠀⠀ ⠀

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TAGLIST ⋆ @days1 / @luvrsluxe if u would like 2 be added 2 my tag list 4 my fics , pls click this link && fill out the form !! u will be added immediately && get a notif for my next fic !!

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

Maybe a clingy and needy joel x reader smut please 😊 he can't take his hands off her and he can't stop fucking her, thank you so much ❤

Answer me • Joel Miller

Request?: Yes

PAIRING: Joel Miller x f reader

GENRE: smut

WARNING: nsfw, unprotected sex, mention of drugs that's it tho, cursing oc

Masterlist coming someday

Enjoy

It’s been a couple of hours and Joels hands were still All over you. Your sweaty bodies were pressed against each other as you kissed for what felt like the millionth time.

You were like a drug to Joel, the antidote to his life. He craved your soul and your body more than anything in this world. Joel couldn’t get enough of you especially after he’s been gone from you for a bit of time.

Joel pulled away from your lips.

“fuck, I can’t get enough of you.” He muttered to you. One His large hand gripped your right thigh as he prepared to enter your aching heat for the 3rd time that night. You hissed softly at his fingers coming in contact with the beard burns on your inner from the action earlier that night, but it was replaced with a gasp as he felt his tip against your core.

“fuck.” You whined. Your back arched off the bed.

Joel pressed his lips behind your ear before licking a strip up your neck.. you moaned softly at the feeling but fuck, you needed more of him so badly.

“Joel please fuck me.”

A rough chuckle came from Joel. “don’t worry I will.”

He pushed into you. Your pussy stretched at his length entering you. No matter how many times you have had sex with Joel you never adjusted it.

You moaned out in pleasure.

Joel hand left your thigh and turned to your breast. He twisted your pebbled nipple between his fingers making you hiss.

A couple seconds later his length pushed into you. Due to you already being sensitive from the other two orgasms your walls fluttered around him.

Thrust after thrust Joel filled you. You tired your best not to be too loud but the feeling was too good.

“you like that huh? Like when I fill your pretty pussy?” Joel whispered in your ear. You tried to answer but it was all too much for you.

“No! Answer me.” Joel demanded. “tell me if you like it.”

Just as you were about to choke out a yes, Joel somehow thrust into you faster than before.

“Fuck Joel.” Tears were spilling from your eyes. You were starting to feel Joel in your tummy. It wouldn’t be long before you were coming to your orgasm.

“still having answered me.” Joel hand Left your breast, his hand snaked down in between your legs to your clit. He drew circles on them.

You hissed. The knot was starting to grow in your lower stomach at everything that was happening.

“im not letting you come till you answer me. “you like when I fill you up, make you cum around my cock hm?”

“Fuck.” You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to find the words.

“y-yes! Yes I love it Joel.”

You came soon after those words spilled from your lips. Joel didn’t stop, instead he keep thrusting until he empty out in to you with a grunt.

Both your panting filled the room. Joel pulled out of you. You groaned at the emptiness but settled when you felt Joel’s soft kisses on your shoulders.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his body. You both stayed silent for a few minutes just soaking up the moment between you two.

After a while you decided you were going to get up. You pulled Joel’s arms away from you and got up.

“where you going.” Joel asked. “im going to the bathroom. Gotta use it.” You laughed as Joel gave you a disgusted look.

“ok hurry up.” He sighed pulling the thin sheets over his body “I need to cuddle you so I can sleep.”

“Ok” you snickered and walked out of the room to the bathroom to do your business so you can return quickly to your needy man.

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE - J.M

Warnings: mentions of sex, runaway children?

Pairing: pre-outbreak Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: you had never thought that finding s little girl injured in the street would lead to loving a man that you had just met.

Wordcount: 3.1k

The summer sun was sweltering as you walked down the street, shopping bags heavy in your hands as you tried to make it back to your house. The summer of 1997 was too warm for your liking and you couldn’t wait for it to cool down into the fall.

You had just moved into the Texan neighbourhood and didnt know anyone yet; your best friend who you were sharing the house with had met a few people including the new mother Janet and the Adlers who seemed like the classic gossipers. Your introverted nature was challenged here where all the neighbours seemed to be friends.

You placed your bags down at the end of your drive as you tried to reach for your keys in the pocket of your shorts, rummaging round for them and finally pulling them out when you heard a little girls cry.

Your head instantly whipped around as you looked for where the sound came from and when you spotted the little girl in the middle of the street, lying there as she clutched onto her leg, you looked around. There was nobody else coming for her and normally, you would assume that someone was going to come and get her, something in you told you to check on her.

You looked at the little girl as she jogged over. She had dark curly hair that was tied into two pigtails on either side of her head and her face was distorted with the tears. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she clutched onto her knee and that’s when you spotted the gash along her leg, it was dark with blood and dirt.

Once again you looked around to see if there was anybody looking for the girl and when nobody came at the sound of her cries, you assumed she must have been some kind of runaway and that piqued your interest. You didnt want some little girl to be stuck out here in the heat by herself.

You knelt down next to her and she looked up at you, eyes wide and mouth turned into a frown as she scooted a little bit back, “My daddy says not to talk to strangers,” she said between her sobs, her words coming out in hiccups.

There was a reassurance that she had parents and once again you looked around for them but they were nowhere to be seen and that made you even more worried for the little girl.

You smiled, trying to seem non-threatening, “I just moved onto the street, that’s my house,” you said, pointing at the small bungalow on the corner of the street where you had dumped your bags. You pulled out your key from your pocket to show the house number on and she looked over your shoulder at your house, “See, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

She sniffled, the hand that wasn’t clutching onto her leg going up to her face to wipe her face clean, “You’re the pretty girl my Uncle Tommy was talking about,” she said nonchalantly.

Your face heated up as you looked at her, you didn’t realise that anybody had noticed her and hoped that her uncle wasnt some creepy old perv, “Where is your uncle Tommy?” You asked and she shook her head before turning her head to wipe her nose on her shoulder.

“At home,” she explained between her sniffles but it seemed that your presence had calmed her down because she wasn’t sobbing anymore at the pain from her leg

When you noticed a car making its way across the road, you extended your hand to her, “Let’s get you out of the road kid,” you said and you could see the way she hesitated before taking your hand and allowing you to pull her up.

You helped her up, hand on her shoulder as you ushered her out of the road as the car sped past through the cul-de-sac and towards the exit of the street. She winced when she stepped up the curb before sitting back down on the side.

“What’s your name honey?” You asked and she looked up at you, eyes red from the crying.

“Sarah,” she said and you said your name to her and she repeated, “That’s a pretty name,”

“Thank you Sarah, your names very pretty too,” you said, the pad of your thumb brushing a tear away from her cheek and she smiled at the action.

You were still curious as to why this little girl was crying in the middle of the street and why she was out here all by herself. You looked around again and nobody was coming to get her so you began to fear the worst.

“What’s happened to your leg?” You asked and she looked down, sniffling to herself.

“I was looking for fireflies in the garden and followed them out here and I fell over,” she explained and you nodded, looking at her knee. It was just a bit of a graze that needed to be cleaned up but she must have been in pain because you could see her wincing every time she touched it.

“Does that hurt?” You asked and she nodded, her demeanour turning shy.

You pressed a kiss to your pointer finger before placing it on the wound and she grinned, “You feel any better?” You asked and she nodded, a chuckle on her lips.

You smiled at the girl and looked around again, hoping she didnt see the worried crease between your brows.

“Where do you live honey?” You asked and she pointed at the house only a few doors away from where you were sitting. It seemed like a nice home with a porch and a big bay window that pointed out to the street.

“I'll take you home yeah, your daddy’s probably worried about you,” you said and you picked her up, the little girls legs wrapping around your waist and your hadn coming under her legs, supporting her.

As you walked across the street, you could hear yelling and assumed that it was the new couple thaat had moved in. It was a typical suburban street and as you looked around, you wondered what kind of dream you were living in.

“How old are you Sarah?” You asked as you walked the distance to her house and she looked over at you, her arms wrapped around your neck.

“I’m six,” she said and you nodded.

“You’re such a big girl,” you said and her face lit up, “I’m 23,”

That’s when you heard the door slam open at Sarahs house and some man stood at the door, yelling into the house, “Damn it Tommy! You don’t leave the gate open!” He exclaimed.

He seemed stressed out, his hands running through his hair and down to his beard as he scanned the area for his daughter and when his eyes landed on you holding the little girl in your arms, his shoulders sunk as all the tension left him.

The man immediately started running towards you and you finally got a good look at him. He was an attractive man who was probably only a few years older than you who had a grey hair or two growing from his hair - probably from the stress of this runaway child of his. He had deep brown eyes and a deep crease between them from where he was furrowing his brows.

You couldn’t imagine what he was thinking as he saw some random woman holding his child in the middle of the street and you walked faster to get there.

“Sarah, there you are babygirl,” he said, holding his hands out and you seamlessly passsed her over to her father. He ignored you for a second as he doted on the little girl, his hand coming to her face to smooth out the curls on her forehead, “What were you doing out here,”

“I was looking for fireflies daddy, and I fell over,” she said and her father instantly checked her over, spotting the graze on her leg.

He tutted to himself before bringing his hand back to her face, “My brave girl, does it hurt?”

She nodded her head before turning to look at you, “But our neighbour made it better,” she said before saying your name.

Her fathers attentions turned back to you and you felt like as he looked at you, eyes narrowed, that the entire gaze of the world was on you and he was somehow looking into your soul. Your face lit up under his gaze, the warmth spreading over your cheeks as you lifted your hadn up for a wave.

He repeated your name back to you and you nodded. You could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he tried to figure out what your intentions were so you clarified it for him, “I was putting my groceries away when I heard her crying,” you explained.

Once again, you watched some of the tension fall out of his shoulders and the crease between his brows lessen. He was about to say something when he heard someone call his name out, Joel.

“Joel! Did you find her?” The voice asked and you turned to see a man standing at the doorway of the house, one hand holding onto the doorway and the other by his side.

You assumed that this other attrctaive man was his younger brother, the uncle tommy who yous attention you allegedly had caught. Joel turned back to look at him and you saw his face contort into one of annoyance.

“Yeah, no thanks to you! Get dinner set up, we’ll be in soon,” he called out and Tommys eyes locked with yours.

“Can she stay for dinner daddy?” Sarahs voice asked innocently and you turned your attention away from the man at the door to the man standing here.

His eyes scanned you over again and you could already tell that he was an untrusting man who wasnt sure what you wanted. But as he looked at you, he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful but you seemed younger than him and at thirty, he wasnt used to having dinner with beautiful girls.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you said, taking a step back as your introverted side came out, clear and apparent.

Sarahs eyes were wide as she looked up at her father and he sighed as he looked back at you, “We have enough for one more if you want,” he said, his tone gruff and almost reluctant.

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips and you nodded, “Let me put my groceries away and uh, ill be back,” you said, your hadn reaching out hesitantly to brush a piece of hair behind the girls ears and her face lit up.

Joel watched as you rushed back to your house and he walked back into the house, looking down at Sarah, “Let’s get your knee cleaned up okay,” he said and she nodded.

He carried her into the bathroom, sitting her down on the toilet seat as he pulled the first aid kit out from under the sink. Gently, he brushed a wipe against the dirt on the graze, looking up to see the tears welling up in the girls eyes - he hated to see her cry.

He placed a colourful themed plaster on her knee before pressing a kiss to the plaster and watching as the tears left her. He wiped a tear away before helping her to her feet, taking her hand in his.

“She’s very pretty daddy,” she said as she looked up at him.

He shrugged, “I guess so,” he said as he looked away from his daughter and out of the window to see you lightly jogging back over to his house.

As soon as you had left his house, you knew that he was a special man with a very lovely little girl. You rushed into your house, fumbling again with your keys as you rushed to make it inside so that he wasn’t waiting too long.

You sprayed a bit of perfume on, trying to look nice as you brushed your hair out. You didnt want this man to think that you were a slob. to say that you were instantly attracted to the man would be true, the second you laid eyes on him you had fallen completley for him even though you didnt know what he was like.

You knew your best friend would never let you live it down if you didnt at least try to look nice and shoot your shot. You rushed back to his house, trying not to look too eager as you knocked on the door.

Sarah was the one who opened it and before her father could scold her for opening the door when she didnt know who was outside, the words were taken from his mouth. It was just a quick bit of a makeup and a nicer outfit but he thought you were stunning.

“You want to come in?” He asked and you nodded. He watched as you walked in, merrily chatting to Sarah and he cursed himself. He hadnt felt these feelings bubbling up in his chest since Sarahs mother had left him and he knew what had happened to him then.

He hadnt dated in six years, hadn’t kissed a woman since Sarahs mother and although he got plenty of action and was hit on by every single mother in the school district, he hadn’t dated anyone in a while.

He pulled out the chair for you at the table and you smiled, sitting down and thanking him. Sarah rambled on about something that she was reading and he watched as you listened intently, asking questions and stoking her joy.

As Tommy and Joel started to grab the pasta that he had made for dinner, the younger brother had a smirk on his face as he saw the way that Joel watched you.

“Ive never seen you look at a woman like that before,” He said with a teasing smile on his face.

Joel turned to him, a glare on his face, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, picking up a kiddy bowl of pasta and another one for you.

He placed the bowl down on Sarahs mat and smiled at her before turning to you, “I hope you like it, you’re not allergic to anything right?” He questioned.

You blinked, thinking over what he said before shaking your head, “No, nothing, and this is lovely, thank you for inviting me,” you said, trying to hide your nervousness.

“You want wine ma’am?” Tommy asked and you looked at Joel before nodding, watching as the man poured you a glass of red.

He pursed some for Joel and himself before putting a glass of milk down for Sarah, “So, when did you move into the neighbourhood?” Joel asked you.

You finished your mouthful of food before looking at him, “A few weeks back, me and my friend just finished our gap year and I’ve got a job locally,” you explained. His eyes went wide and you could tell he was wondering how old you were and you chuckled at his reaction, “I’m twenty three,”

He nodded, a slight smile on his face as Tommy smiled ast his brothers reaction, hed ever seen him this comfortable in front og a girl he had just met before and knew that you were someone special but he could also tell that he was insecure about the slight age gap.

Once dinner was over and Sarah had said goodbye to you, you stood at the door, the evening setting sun illuminating down on you, “Thank you so much Joel, I had a really nice night,” you said, a smile on your face, “And if you ever need a babysitter, I’m just across the street,”

“I might just have to take you up on that, good night,” he said and you repeated the sentient before taking a step outside of the house.

Joel looked back at his brother who stood in the doorframe, shaking his head at his brothers inability to make a move. There was a moment where he hesitated as he looked at you start to walk away.

He had been scared ever since Sarah’s mother to fall in love but there was something about you after you’d only known each other for a few hours that he knew he could trust. He was worried about introductions a woman into Sarahs life but she had already warmed up to you so he wasnt too worried.

He called out your name and you turned back, a smile still evident on your face from the dinner “Would you like to have dinner sometime? Without Sarah?” He asked and your face lit up.

You nodded a little too enthusiastically, “I’d love to,” you said, walking back and digging around your purse for a pen before scribbling your house phone number onto his hand, “Call me sometime, or you know where i live so,”

Your voice trailed off and you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek that made both your faces heat up in a blush before you started to walk away.

You were halfway across the street when you turned back to look at him still standing in his doorway, waiting for you to go into your house and you smiled to yourself at the situation. You could already tell that you were going to like him a lot.

I loved writing this and was thinking of doing s sequel of their date and something just because I think that'll be cute, let me know what you think :)

[wakandas-vibranium]

Wednesday Nights || Part One

Pairing: Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, smutty smut, phone sex, dirty talk, teasing, swearing, sex work

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: As a single parent of an active kid Joel’s funds were tight, so he needed to find a quick way to make more income and surprisingly, you could make good money being a phone sex operator.

A/N: I kept daydreaming about Joel being a PSO. When I went to search for related fics I couldn’t find any so I wrote one :) Please like, comment and reblog!

part two

part three

part four

part five

Your nerves deteriorated with each passing minute. It was almost ten o'clock. On most days, the time didn't matter, but today was Wednesday. Wednesday nights were highly essential for you. 

For the past five months, you've been making late-night phone calls to talk to a specific phone sex operator named Jay. You had a sneaking suspicion that "Jay" wasn't actually his name, but you didn’t let that bother you. You understood that the operators were obligated to follow certain procedures for their own safety. 

Except for the few small truths he told you, Jay's personal life was a vast mystery to you. All you gathered about him from your extensive conversations was that he was a man in his early thirties from the southern parts of the United States who enjoyed a good cup of coffee before starting his day. He never specified where in the south he grew up, but the Texan drawl sounded too genuine to be artificial.

On Wednesdays, Jay only worked until 11 o'clock, so the two of you came to the conclusion fairly early on that you should dial in a little after 10 in order to ensure that you were his final call of the day.

You managed to calm your nerves by doing a little dance. You twirled in circles until you found yourself standing in front of your full-length mirror that was intentionally placed in front of your bed. You stopped dancing and stood there, appreciating your half-naked figure in the mirror as you waited for the clock to strike 10:03. 

You weren't sure why you always ended up so nervous around this time of the week. You'd been doing this for a while now, but it was just something about Jay that turned you into the shyest little thing.

You looked downright delicious in your baby blue lingerie. You brought it this afternoon along with a new toy. It wasn't like Jay could see it, but your imagination ran wild. Your breasts sat flawlessly in the laced blue bra. You looked like a fucking snack. 

If only you could meet Jay in person, you thought, sighing in disappointment. You eyed the clock and shook the negative thoughts from your head before you ended up in a funk. It was time to dial in. 

You were already drained from the week's stressors, and there were still two more days to go. You were in your last year of graduate school and utterly stumped on your thesis. You were sick of doing research, reading, typing, crying, and everything else that came with being a grad student. At this point, all you wanted to do was talk to Jay for as long as you possibly could and get off. 

You called in, waiting for the main operator to ask you who you wanted to be transferred to. She answered in her usual upbeat voice. You answered her question and before you knew it the line was being transferred to Jay. You held your breath on every ring, as you always did, until Jay picked up. Unexpectedly, a memory of your very first call came flooding back.

9:58pm five months ago

Valentine’s Day

Ring. Ring. Click. 

“Decompress until there’s a mess,” a cheerful woman said as she answered your call and you fought back a cackle at that ridiculous ass slogan. “Who would you like to speak to tonight?”

“Umm…this is my first time calling, so I’m not really sure.” you admitted.

“That’s alright, sugar,” the woman assured softly. “Let’s start with the simple stuff. Do you have a preference for gender or ethnicity?” 

“Umm, well, ethnicity doesn’t matter, but I’d like to speak with a man.”

“Okay. We’re getting somewhere. What kind of man?” 

“Someone with an accent.” 

“What kind of accent? We have ‘em all here, sugar.” 

The constant use of the pet name actually eased your nerves. Your shyness was depleting while your confidence was rising. 

“A southern accent?”

You had a slight accent kink since you could remember. You appreciated all accents, but there was something extra sweet about southern men and the way they could hold a conversation. Maybe it was because you grew up in the south too. 

“Louisiana?” The operator asked as she typed away at her computer. By the sound of her taps, her nails must have been quite long. You bet they looked as pretty as she sounded. 

“More of a Texan accent please.” You insisted, nibbling your bottom lip as you waited for her to find someone. 

“That’ll be Jay then.” 

“It looks like he’s finishing up another call,” she informed. “Do you mind waiting on hold for a few minutes before I transfer you?” 

“No, I don’t mind. Thank you.” 

“Okay. Placing you on hold now.”

You were on hold for maybe forty five seconds. The wait music stopped abruptly and the line rang four times before a sultry voice spoke. “Hello, darlin’.” 

And fuuuuuuuck. 

The sultry twang of his voice sounded like toe curling, earth shattering, raw sex.

You went to say hello, but for some reason you forgot how your mouth worked. You palmed your forehead, wincing.

How embarrassing. 

“Hello?” he said, tone shifting slightly. 

“Hi.” you finally whispered, palms somewhat shaking. You never did anything like this. Thank god he couldn’t see how much of a nervous wreck you were. You weren’t a virgin, but you didn’t have that many sexual experiences. There was plenty left for you to learn. 

“Sorry,” you continued, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This is my first time doing something like this and I’m a little nervous.” you admitted, shifting in the computer chair, spreading your legs. 

“I understand. We can take it slow, okay?” 

“Okay.” you nodded as if he could fucking see you. 

“My name is Jay. What’s your name?” 

“Y/N.” you blurted, without thinking. Were you supposed to give him a fake name?

He chuckled softly, “That your real name, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” you sighed deeply. “It is actually.”

“Well, Y/N is such a pretty name.” He complimented. 

“Thank you.” you smiled, shoulders relaxing as you began to twirl in your chair. 

“How old are you?” Jay asked. 

“I’ll be 28 next month,” you revealed, slipping into a more seductive voice now that your nerves were further away, “How old are you?” 

“I’ll be 31 later in September.” 

“Ah, so you’re a Libra man?” you teased. You weren’t super into astrology, but you knew the basics and looked at compatibility charts every now and then. 

“Am I now?” he laughed.

“You are and I’m an Aries. Apparently we’re very compatible.” 

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“You believe that?” He retorted.

“Sort of.” you mumbled, half shrugging. 

“I think we’ll find out in a lil’ bit.” Jay purred. You pulled the phone away from your ear as you shivered in anticipation. You were already wet for him. 

Goddamn. He already had you hooked

“Evenin’ darlin’,” Jay answered warmly on the third ring. 

“Hi,” you responded, beaming up at yourself in the mirror. Jeez all it took was a simple greeting from Jay to have you smiling from ear to ear. “How has your day been?” 

“It’s been alright. Even better now though.” He said, already flirting. 

“I’m wearin’ the blue lace lingerie we looked at last week.” You blurted, getting straight to the point. You usually talked about regular things, but you were pent up and needed him to do what he was perfect at and make you a soaking wet mess. 

“Ohh,” he exhaled sharply, “I wish I could watch you model it for me, Y/N.” He was always so good and going with the flow. He always made sure to give you what you needed. After all, that was what you were paying him for. It was left unspoken that you both forgot that this was a transaction a few months ago. 

“I bought a toy, too.” 

“What kind?” He perked up, even more interested.

“You got your laptop open?”

“Mmhmm.” he replied.

“Go to www.lovegasm.com.”

You listened to the pad of his fingers fall against the laptop keys as he followed your instructions. You ignored the fact that you were lowkey jealous of the keyboard that got to feel how his fingers felt against them. 

“Okay. I’m there.” 

“Click on the drop-down in the left hand corner.” 

“Okay.”

“Then click on ‘for women’ then select ‘dildos’.” you instructed, you slid off your shawl, moving over to the edge of the bed to give him and the page a few extra seconds to load before asking, “You there?”

“Yep. Which one am I looking for?”

“Right column. Sixth one down.” 

“I see,” he said, humming in excitement. 

“Look familiar?” You asked, giggling softly as you laid back on your bed, spreading your thighs. 

“A bit.” he admitted, unable to hide the smile in his voice. You could hear it clear as day. It was another small thing you looked forward to. 

“I can’t wait to feel yo—it inside me, Jay.” you caught yourself, but it was too late. He’d already heard you and his cock twitched in response. 

“No, you were right the first time, baby.” he said, kind of muffled, grunting softly as he raised his arms, removing his shirt and unbuckling his belt. 

“I’m a bit thicker towards the top so we’re gonna have to finger you open, so that I can slide in perfectly.” 

“Okay. Do you want me to take off my panties?” 

“No,” he said, inhaling sharply. “Pull them to the side and rub your clit for me.”

You obeyed, pulling your panties to the side and slowly rubbed your clit with your middle finger, sighing softly. 

“How wet are you?”

“Honestly,” you breathed deeply, running a finger down your slick slit. “I’ve been wet for you all day, Jay.” He groaned deeply at your admission, thick cock swelling in his pants. 

“You’re gonna cum twice for me tonight, Y/N. First on my fingers, then on my cock.” 

Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp. He knew you loved when he talked to you that way. It helped you get off even more. 

“Got it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Repeat it.” he demanded, growling softly in your ear. You stopped breathing for a second. Completely turned on by the rough tone he was taking with you. 

God he knew what you liked so well. 

“I’m cummin’ twice tonight. On your fingers, then on your cock.” You repeated, voice deep with arousal. You whimpered softly, rubbing faster as you felt that coil deep in your belly loosen a smidge. You were getting closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” he praised, making you sigh deeply and even more of a puddle. 

“Slide a finger inside you,” he instructed, “Slow pumps.” 

You obeyed, pushing in your middle finger, massaging your folds gradually. Although the motion was effective, it wasn’t sufficient. It didn't push you very far at all. You needed more. 

“Can I add another finger, baby?” You asked, moaning louder as you rubbed your clit in wide slow circles, getting wetter by the second.

“Go ahead,” said Jay, granting you permission.

You added another finger, pumping faster. Now you were getting somewhere.

“Jay,” you moaned softly, grinding down on your fingers as you sped up just a little. 

“I love the way you moan for me.” he praised, grunting softly as he popped the button open on his jeans and unzipped them. The faint sound of his zipper being pulled down made your nipples harden almost painfully. 

“Shit Jay, I wish these were your fingers.” you admitted, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, shyness long gone. You closed your eyes, picturing Jay’s fingers inside of you, while his free hand held pressure on your lower stomach. You listened to him pull his jeans down some. 

“I know baby,” he groaned, palming his hard cock through his boxers, “So do I.” 

“Keep rubbin’ your clit for me,” like the good and dutiful girl you were, you obeyed, rubbing your bundle of nerves in tight, fast circles. Your other fingers were busy pumping in and out of your tight hole. 

It was weird at this angle, but you added a third finger and curled them up. Your thighs trembled as you fingered and rubbed yourself harder. Jay could hear how soaked you were for him and pulled his cock out, thumbing the bead of precum before stroking it lazily. You were always so wet for him and he oh so badly craved to taste it. 

He inhaled sharply before letting a single command fall past his lips, “Cum.” 

“Fuuuuck!” you moaned loudly as you came, body jerking against the bed as you worked yourself slower. 

“That’s it, baby,” Jay purred lowly, talking you through a well anticipated orgasm. “Let it out for me.” You were gonna have to change your sheets, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. You were sex crazed. 

One down. One more to go. 

Jay’s hand locked down painfully on his cock, stopping himself from almost cumming. “Now grab my cock and put it in your mouth.” Jay said, taking a steadying, deep breath. The sounds you made when you came always got to him. The sinful whimpers and desperate grunts you let out damn near made him go feral with lust. 

You palmed the silicone cock and brought it to your lips, licking up the veiny shaft before taking it into your mouth. 

“Suck it, baby. Let me hear it.” He cupped his dick loosely, starting back up with slow strokes. He had to be careful. 

You sucked the head while simultaneously pulling on the base, making the tip tug at your plump lips.

“Mmhmm,” he moaned, encouraging you to take him deeper. You tilted your head to get a better angle and took the fake cock as deep as you could, bobbing your head up and down, moaning loudly. When you choked, Jay growled. “Fuuuck, baby! You take me so well.” 

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” Jay said, panting sharply, “I can hear it. Go ahead and push me in. I know that I’ll fit easily.” 

“Goddamnit Jay,” you cursed, letting the dildo fall from your stretched lips with a loud pop, slapping your inner thigh hard enough to leave it aching in the morning.

“What?” He asked, snickering softly because he already knew the answer. 

“You just always know what to say.” you praised, gasping softly as you pushed the cock inside you, all the way to the hilt. He was right. It stretched you, but you were so wet it didn’t even pinch. 

You pushed the silicone cock inside you deep and fast. It felt so fucking good. You paused your moans so you could hear Jay. You wanted to match his strokes. Once he realized what you were doing he sped up. 

“Yeah, that’s it, babygirl,” he praised, groans growing louder, “Fuck yourself just like that. Don’t stop.” 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, pumping yourself even harder. 

“Did I tell you that you could cum?” The harshness of his voice made you open your eyes and slow your movements just a tad. 

“Jay p—please, baby,” you moaned louder, begging him to let you cum. He loved teasing you and you loved that he loved it. 

“Please what, darlin’?” said Jay, amusement heavy in his tone. He knew exactly what you wanted. Needed. He was gonna give it to you, but you had to ask first. You had to beg for it. 

“Cum with me this time,” you coaxed, whole body shuddering just from hearing the downright filthy noise Jay just made. 

“Okay, babygirl,” he groaned lowly, breaths quickening as he pumped his cock nice and fast. “Whatever you want.” 

“I want you to cum with me,” you begged, head thrashing wildly against the pillows as the tip of the dildo brushed up against that sweet spot deep inside of you. “I want to hear your moans mix with mine when we cum.” 

You sobbed as you started back rubbing your clit. The tight circling of your finger combined with the rapid thrusts from the dildo gave you a window of 30 seconds before you were cumming your brains out.

“That’s it, baby,” Jay snarled, hips jerking wildly up into his fist as he stroked his cock even faster. “Be a good girl and cum with me.” 

You came with a loud cry as your climax tore through you, back arching all the way off the mattress in sheer pleasure. Jay followed right behind you, cursing and whimpering as white ropes of cum landed on his belly and chest. You both panted harshly, together over the line as you recovered slowly from your intense orgasms.

“I think that was our best one yet.” he laughed warmly as he pulled a few tissues from the square box on his workstation to clean himself up. 

“Hell yeah it was,” you agreed, cheering weakly. Your arms were sore as hell and your legs still shook, but you felt amazing. You were on cloud nine, fully satiated. 

“Have a good night, darlin’,” Jay cooed, sleepily. “And good luck with your thesis.”

“Thanks. Night Jay.” You giggled softly, disconnecting the call, rolling over onto your side before drifting off to sleep.

The next few days were a breeze. You were in an advantageous mood thanks to Jay, and so you added four more pages to your thesis. You only had six pages left. 

On Saturday morning you woke up earlier than usual and decided to get dressed and head to your favorite coffee shop. The cafe was only a couple blocks away from your apartment so you walked there. You loved early morning strolls. The gentle wind dancing across your soft skin as the sun began to peak always made you feel alive. 

You left the cafe after the barista handed you your Assam Black tea and breakfast sandwich, while typing a text to one of your lab partners. You took a few steps without looking and collided with someone, dropping both your sandwich and your phone. Luckily, the grip you had on your tea did not falter.  

You both apologized at the same time.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. I wasn’t even lookin' in front of me.”

“My apologies, darlin’.' ' the man said, bending down to pick up your squished sandwich and unscratched cell phone. 

That voice.

That voice you knew all too well. 

Especially on Wednesday nights.

A cold chill ran across your neck and down your back, “Jay?” you squeaked loudly, staring at him in disbelief as he stood back up with your items in his hands. He stretched out his hands to give them back to you only to stop short, eyes widening in utter shock when he realized what you had called him. 

The corner of his mouth turned up as he grinned briefly. It didn’t quite match his eyes at all. “Y/N, I take it?” 

“Yes,” you nodded, giving him a small smile. “Hi, Jay.”

“Hi.” he said, eyes blinking slowly as he stood there flabbergasted, still holding your belongings in his hands. 

“Nice to meet you.” you continued, extending your hand out for him to shake. 

He shifted your sandwich and phone to his left hand, grabbed your hand with his now-free hand, and shook it twice. “Nice to meet you, too Y/N.” he said, shooting you a toothy grin. God, his smile was to die for. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he checked you out, admiring the view. During your phone calls, he, too, fantasized about what you looked like. He was not disappointed.  

His palm enveloped yours. Damn his hands were large, you thought, gawking at him unapologetically. They were warm and had a few callouses. He must have used his hands a great deal for his other job. He never mentioned what he did for work. 

You hoped that bumping into him wouldn't ruin your Wednesday night dalliances. Maybe he'd be okay with talking somewhere less public. It was quite rowdy both inside and outside of the coffee shop.

“My apartment is two blocks away if you want to go somewhere more private so we can talk.” you babbled, no longer able to look at him in his intense, pecan brown eyes for too long due to your shyness coming at it at an all time high. Fuck he was intimidating. The confidence he exuded had your mouth watering. 

Christ, he was sex on a stick. The man only had on a dark gray shirt, blue jeans that hugged him in all the right places and working boots. A warm flush crept across your face and neck. Get it together, girl, you thought to yourself. He barely said two full sentences to you and you were already hot and bothered. To be fair, he’d been the only one to make you cum every week for the past five and a half months. 

He raised a thick eyebrow at your suggestion — you dropped his hand, gesturing wildly once you realized how your offer must have sounded. “I mean—fuck! I promise I’m not a weirdo, Jay.” 

His eyes crinkled as he chuckled, shaking his head fondly at you, “Joel,��� he said. “My name is Joel.”

[lazy-nae]

Little Drabble

A little Roman General Justus Acacius X Black/ Poc reader. A small dribble to just make something sweet for the time being.

His prize

General Acacius X Black/POC Reader

Hooves…All you heard when your husband was arriving home was hooves, as you were making your way to the entrance of your home with two handmaidens flanking you trying to help you cover up properly with a thicker robe, yet you didn’t have much care.

You were to see your husband, after many nights spent worrying about his safety, and praying to the gods for his safe return. You knew your husband wasn’t the most righteous man to others, but to you he was the stars that filled your devoid nights and the very embrace you’d wish for at that moment.

As your long curly and course/ loose and curly/ straight black locs trailed behind you to your mid-back, after falling from there silk covering as they fell against your silk night robes which were as white as pearls, as your beautiful melanin skin, which was almost like the color that made vases that told of the most beautiful stories and tales/ skin that held beauty as the brown tourmaline and as dark as the many shades of the Chocolate Tahitian pearls which were littered across your arms in bracelets.

The entrance opened as your husband still clothed in his ceremonial armor, came over to your, nearly running as you two embraced one another tightly, not many knew the gentler and more domesticated side of General Acacius, but you did.

You tilted your head up looking to see those tired yet loving dark brown eyes looking down at you, as you felt the warmth of his olive toned skin against yours, you both could let out a exhale of relief as your eyes closed no longer having to worry for the others safety, as the comfort of each other eased the worry’s off both your shoulders.

Your handmaidens gently laid the thicker robe across your back before leaving to their chambers, to leave you two. As he heard their footsteps go out of hearing range, he lowly whispered, “My Lady, Mea Vita, I can’t hold your body as close as I wish to, but I can carry your love closest with me…How I’ve longed to see you again.”. You let out a soft exhale as you reluctantly moved back some.

“As you carry my love with you, I carry and hold yours….I drew you a bath, relax yourself in it and then come back to me.” As you were about to take a step backwards against the marble, he gently tugged you back to him as you met his gaze. “Join me my lady..” He lowly spoke with a glint of pleading within his eyes as they softened, hoping you’d agree.

(Mea Vita translates to “My Life” in Latin)

Should I continue? Either with another character or just finish the chapter?

If you want a different character just comment.

[plussizeappreciationfics]

Can you do angst like enemies to lovers? If so Oscar Issac or Pedro. Miscommunication with writer during preproduction causes strife between the two. Idk I’ll take anything with angst really

I noticed that I misread something, I'm so sorry!!

"Pedro what's wrong? You've been acting to distant lately..." you desperately tried to get him to look at you, but the actor refused to meet your deep gaze as he continued to chew on his food. The only reaction you got out of him was a quick head shake before he swallowed his bite and starting cutting another peace of the tender steak on his plate.

A sigh left your lips while you shook your head in defeat, your appetite long gone as you couldn't continue this dinner date. "It's the script, isn't it? I knew you wouldn't like my changes...".

Pedro stopped cutting his steak and dropped the fork and knife onto the plate, "Your script is fine, (Y/N). I'm just the actor, acting out your words".

"What is that supposed to mean?".

"It means that I have no say whatsoever and that my sole role is to act out the scenes", he finally looked at you but the annoyed and hurtful look on his face didn't sit right with you.

"I tried to add your changes, I really did. But the director said that it would be too chaotic!" you argued, feeling that you were being blamed for something that was out of your control.

"So that means I am chaotic huh? You think that this relationship won't work, yeah?!", your boyfriend shot back to which you gasped in shock and shook your head in disapproval. "I knew it bothered you! But again, I am not in control of what the director wants! Can't you understand that?".

Your question left the room silent and thick with tension as Pedro slowly rose from his seat and starting pacing through his living room, it was obvious that he was in great distress and you wish that he could communicate his feelings so that you could help ease the pain.

"I do understand that...I just feel like you butchered my character (Y/N)....I fell in love with the script and my character and to have you change so much is just hard to deal with....".

"Pedro...." you sighed and stood up, meeting him in the middle of the dining room and placing your soft hands on his broad shoulders. Again, his eyes weren't able to meet yours as he looked down at your feet.

"Me having to change some things in the script isn't a personal attack on you as a person. I personally also disagree with the new stuff, but I want to keep my job too...I'm sorry you're feeling this way, but it's unfair for you to lash out on me like this. It hurts" you confessed to which your boyfriend finally met your gaze while a shocked and disappointed look took over his beautiful features. It was never his intention to hurt you.

"We both see the changes differently, you as an actor and me as a writer. That doesn't mean that we have to be at odds with one another. Our jobs are already exhausting enough, can't we both call it a truce? Please?".

Pedro instantly nodded your head and surprised you with a swift but tight hug, letting out a frustrated sigh while holding onto you for dear life. "I'm sorry mi amor. You're right. I shouldn't have taken this so personal. It's just that I can relate to my character so much, any change feels like a personal attack. I need to loosen up and remember that this is just my job, not my whole life".

His words made you smile while squeezing his waist, feeling so relieved that the issue would be soon gone and that the two of you could continue your work and lives together as a couple.

"I forgive you" you whispered before pulling away from the hug and taking his beautiful face into your hands, caressing his soft cheeks and beard while Pedro lovingly stared down at you.

The two of you leaned in and let your lips meet in a passionate kiss, the stress and worries leaving your bodies while the delicate sensations took over you. Pedro moved his lips slowly against yours while gently picking you up in bridal style, earning a surprised squeal and chuckle from you while the kiss never got interrupted.

He smoothly carried you out of the dining room, towards the stairs while whispering loving words against your lips.

@ctrlszn l @baggyfaggy l @automaticdelusionstudent l @thefemfem l @ah-blossom l @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes

[inclusivepedro-oscarlibrary]

POC Writer/Artist Masterlist

ID also in alt txt.

[ID: The banner for our blog! On top of a peach pink cloud background with sparkling stars are two rows of six circles, filled with characters played by actor Pedro Pascal. In the top row from left-to-right, are characters: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian, Javier Peña, Javier Gutierrez, Oberyn Martell. In the fifth circle there is cursive text reading: “The Inclusive Pedro Library.” In the sixth and last circle of the row there is a photo of Joel Miller. In the bottom row from left-to-right, are characters: Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey, Dieter Bravo, Marcus Moreno, Marcus Pike, Pero Tovar, and Frankie Morales. In the bottom right corner there is text reading: “Tumblr: @inclusivepedrolibrary​.” End ID]

~

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[cassidyconner]

Imagine: At Ellie’s request, Joel rescues David’s “wife” after she protects Ellie from the cannibalistic “preacher” (Joel Miller x black!reader).(will publish more)

[realmofsolitaire]

Bye-Bye Birdie

The Tipsy Bison. The bar had been the place of Joel's solace for the past week. Tommy had convinced him to stay, and re-equip before He and Ellie put themselves in harm's way again. It was nice, for a couple days... It was slower, more domestic. An actual bed, hot showers, and toilet paper. But Joel couldn't hide from his demons. He spent nights gripping at his sheets or blinking at the ceiling. His mind roaring. All he had lost. Frank and Bill... Ellie? His palm tightened around his glass. He was about four whiskey neats in and he still felt everything; every excruciating thought, every cruel fear.

Then she sauntered over.

He heard the old wooden door creak open to reveal a bearly visible face behind a thick head of locs. Joel had never seen that much hair before.

Her upper half was wrapped in a burgundy sweater that had seen better days, and her bottom half was zipped up in some dark wash denim that looked painted on.

He glanced down at his drink.

"Evening Seth, you got any more of that Sangria?" she asked in a honeyed tone. Her voice was breathy and soft. She had a southern drawl, it wasn't quite Texas, maybe Georgia?

The man nodded.

"Of course Birdie," He mumbled.

Birdie.

She hummed into her glass, delicate fingers wrapping intently around the stem.

"You're Tommy's brother, right?" She gracefully turned towards the man, her legs crossed over one another.

Joel nearly choked. He simply nodded in response.

"I've uh, seen you around but haven't had the pleasure of meeting you until now," the woman said, her dark eyes never leaving Joel's stoic face.

The man exhaled sharply. He wasn't one for small talk, but he could tell that she was.

He started filling in the blanks of who she was and what she wasn't.

She wasn't rough around the edges like him; she was... warm and soft.

Probably grew up with two parents in a big house, but not too big. No siblings, no, she was an only child, maybe a pet to keep her company.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" she laughed.

It was melodic and contagious. The man couldn't help the quirking up of his lips.

He didn't like this.

"Not one for small talk," he grumbled.

She hummed in response biting her lip.

The two sat in comfortable silence listening to the sounds of glasses clinking and counters being wiped.

When the woman was about three drinks in, she rose to her feet and sauntered over to the ancient karaoke machine, her boots clicking against the wooden floor.

"He... left no time to regret... kept his dick wet... with his same old safe bet..." she serenaded.

Her eyes fluttered close, and the music traveled down her spine.

"Me... with my head high... and my tears dry..."

Joel could tell she was three sheets to the wind when she stumbled back to her stool.

"Whoa..." he cautioned, moving to catch her.

"You must think I'm a total lush," she slurred.

The man chuckled.

"It doesn't matter what I think; I'm just a stranger, Birdie", He breathed, getting her on her feet.

The woman scoffed playfully.

"My name's Y/N. Birdie's just somethin' Seth calls me, because I sing when I'm all pie-eyed," she slurred.

"You are definitely pie-eyed..." He mumbled, realizing just how close she was and how good she smelled.

Her skin smelled of patchouli and tonka bean, her hair smelled of vanilla and shea.

"You alright there, Joel?" she asked with a smirk.

The man hummed in response.

"Sorry, you smell nice," the man cringed when he heard the words tumble from his lips.

Those whiskey neats had done him in.

"Sorry..." he grumbled.

Birdie felt her face get hot and her pie eyes open wider.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Joel's eyes shifted to the dart board behind her.

"Oh, don't get all shy on me now," Birdie practically purred.

Joel's eyes darted to the floor, his mouth opening slightly.

Birdie only smiled and sent a wink over to Seth.

"See you around Miller."

[clubsoft]

⠀

⠀ ⠀ SIR GREENDOWN ⠀ ⠀ TOMMY MILLER / F!READER ft. JOEL MILLER ⠀⠀ ⠀

SUMMARY ⋆ tommy is having a hard time not confessing his love to his angel , when one fateful day , with the help of his CD collection , she beats him to it . WARNINGS ⋆ fluff , fluff , fluff / tommy is disgustingly in love n compares his lover to sugar / mentions of an age gap ; tommy is early 40's , reader is mid to late 20's / joel is the typical sibling / 3rd person POV ; no use of Y/N WORD COUNT ⋆ 1 . 7 k NOTES ⋆ i'm a bit rusty bc i haven't written a real fic in who knows how long but tommy miller has enchanted meeee . reblogs , likes & comments r v much appreciated <3 ty 4 reading n enjoy !!

Love had never shown any permanence in Tommy’s life. A glimpse here, a look there… sometimes, it'd stay visible long enough to mess up his sheets late at night, fill his kitchen with the scent of coffee in the morning, but once the front door shut, all he had to show for it was a hangover and a line of scribbled digits that never quite made it to the keypad of his phone. In his late thirties, early forties, it had gotten to the point where he was forgetting names, blurring faces, saying in a drunken haze that love didn’t exist, wasn’t real, and if it was, it sure as hell wasn’t meant for him. 

Until he saw her, that is, looking out of place at the family barbeque, invited and then ditched by his darling niece, a doe in headlights, in need of saving. Tommy didn’t take long to take on the role of her knight in shining armor, unable to resist those big brown orbs with their helpless glint and fluffy lashes that settled perfectly atop her flowery cheekbones. The reapplication of cherry lip gloss that took place in front of his very eyes didn’t help, and by the time he was driving her home, peeking away from the empty Arlington roads to watch her adjust his cowboy hat atop her soft hair, Tommy Miller was a goner. 

It was less than a year, not that he was counting, before every bit and piece of him, every item he owned, every story he told held a trace of her. His angel, he’d call her, in that smooth voice of his, listening for the giggle that followed in response to his flirtatious tone, the mellifluous sound turning into full blown laughter when his beard scratched at her collarbone, his lips against her throat, trailing up, up, up before they pressed against hers, and everything clicked perfectly into place. 

Love was real, and it existed as the picture of her on his living room floor, laying on that rug that he would have never purchased on his own accord, reading the tracklist off a CD he recalled getting as a gift over a decade ago. Tommy tried his hardest to settle into the couch cushions without breaking her focus, wanting nothing more than to behold her as her eyes scanned the beautifully designed text below the impressive well kept quality of the age old plastic, but his failure was immediately visible in the slow curl of her plump lips, the rise of her upper body, the flow of soft, wavy hair as it came to rest upon her shoulders. She was smiling as she held up the paper tracklist, tilting her head in the way she always did before she was about to tease him.

“You never cease to surprise me. There’s actually some good music in here. I was thinking you only listen to country!” There it was, the teasing. His family would joke that he’d met his match, though her innocent demeanor made it impossible to predict what would come out of that pretty mouth. Tommy’s mischief, on the other hand, made an appearance on every handsome feature before it was verbalized. 

“Country ain’t bad! You city people just wouldn’t know good music if it punched you in the face. Gimme that.” Before she could respond, he had plucked the booklet out of her grip. As Tommy skimmed the tracklist, his angel found her way off the rug, crawling up into his lap, a slender arm encompassing his neck, her cheek pressing to his so she could see exactly what he saw. Her affection earned her a soft peck to her lips, a loving smile; a moment of adoration shared between them. Then, his beard was brushing her soft cheek once more, a low hum resonating in his chest. “This is that one album about the ‘droid… Cindi Mayweather? She falls in love with a human or somethin’ around those lines, goes through hell for him. Sir Greendown is his name. S’good stuff, you’d like it.” 

“Sir Greendown, hm? Listen to it with me!” She’d said it in a manner which refused the word ‘no,’ not that he had the heart or self control to turn down the chance to spend time with her.

Never in his life did Tommy think he’d find himself with someone a decade younger, someone so sweet that it gave him toothaches, sent his heart racing like he was on a sugar rush, all to fear he’d ruin it all with a confession of love, to find out he was nothing but a few months worth of fun.

After all, their relationship was that of unspoken companionship. Neither of them had outwardly given it a title, yet the two drawers of his dresser that held only her clothes, the neatly folded sets of panties in the wooden organizer he’d so carefully painted a soft pink, the extra toothbrush on his bathroom counter, the half of his bed that smelled of jasmine and powder, the thin sheen of cherry lip gloss that sometimes covered his lips from the kisses she planted so dotingly… those things spoke a million and one times louder than any words ever could. 

Joel had been the first to notice, as shocking as that came to Tommy, how Tommy’s place was so much neater than usual. On cue, his angel had bounded down the wooden steps, said a sugary greeting to his brother, not lingering for long as she had somewhere to be, but not leaving without a kiss to Tommy’s cheek, and a reminder to answer his phone so he could select the next color of her matching mani - pedi when she reached the salon. Joel had waited until the front door clicked shut before repeating mani - pedi, and bursting into laughter. At that point, Tommy had no excuse but to explain, and with his brother being in the know, the affection he held became all the more real. That had been over a month ago. By now, Tommy was fighting off the four letter word on the daily. 

“Tommy?” 

“Yeah? Sorry, zoned out there for a sec.” For the past forty five seconds that he’d been caught up in his mind, he’d been staring blankly at her. When the clouds cleared, subtle concern was visible on her cherubic mien, and in addition to his apology, Tommy brushed his nose against hers, wordlessly trying to ease the furrow of her brow. It worked, because her other arm came to circle his neck, closing more distance between them.

“Do you wanna listen to the album with me?” This time, it was a request, spoken softly in comparison to the first time, as though rejection was now on the table. Tommy smiled, nodded, and let out a soft breath of air when she rose out of his lap to turn the CD player on, the beginning notes of the album’s opening track filling his living room. As soon as his angel returned to his lap, a peaceful silence fell between them, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, allowing Tommy to return to his thoughts as his fingers traced her thigh. A song went by, then another, and halfway through the third, she spoke once more, lashes low, lips slightly parted, lost in thoughts of her own, “She must’ve really loved this Greendown fella.” 

“If you like this, there’s two more albums about it.” Tommy found himself grinning, one large hand lifting to cup her cheek, looking somewhat amused by her sincere reaction to the music. “Really makes ya think, huh? What it’d feel like to be loved like that?” He was almost sure that when it came to feelings, hers mirrored his, but there never seemed to be a rush, never a worry that if those emotions weren’t translated into words, they’d disappear altogether, so it was a bolt out of the blue when her saccharine voice interrupted a pause in the instrumental once more.

“I love you like that.” 

His hand dropped from her cheek to her lap, eyes wide, like she’d spoken a different language entirely. The angel, who’d shown more courage than the older man before her, awaited his response with baited breath, and the longer it took, the more her gaze lowered, nerves replaced with oncoming disappointment, arms unraveling from around his neck. If it wasn’t for his large hands tightly gripping her waist, guiding her back down, she’d have slipped through his fingers. Tommy, breathing shakily, slipped his digits up the span of her back to her nape, thumbs under her jaw before they stroked her cheeks, eyes searching her face for any sign of regret, any sign of a lie, a joke. Perhaps, he’d hallucinated it altogether. Forehead against hers, he whispered amidst an unsteady exhale of air, “Say it again.” 

On his angel’s end, there’s no hesitation. 

“Tommy, I love you like that.” 

Then, her voice faltered, becoming meek with worry. 

“Is that okay?” 

His angel, his sweet, sweet babygirl, on the verge of apologizing for giving him the only thing he’d dreamt of since setting his tired eyes on her radiant being. A nod finally tipped his chin, the tip of his nose brushing her cheek, lips closing over hers. A strong arm circled her frame to press her chest against his, free hand tangled into endless, soft tufts, a sudden fervor in his movements that was reciprocated without the miss of a beat, the sensation of her own slender fingers sinking into his curls making him groan. The kiss was nothing unfamiliar, made unordinary by the act of giving in to the longing that’d kept their affection from becoming it all could become, and it went on for forever and a lifetime, ending only when Tommy turned them over, arm under the curve of her back as he laid her down on the couch, hovering a breath away, parting his lips to finally speak. 

“I-”

He was interrupted by the CD player skipping, producing a shrill noise that eased back into the song at the perfect moment, the universe taking on the liberty to answer for him.

Your magic mind makes love to mine. I think I’m in love, angel.

⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀ © 𝓒LUBSOFT

[art-estrange]

Ok so after seeing alot of people be like “OMG THE SAG LOOK IS GIVING PERIOD PIECE SOMEONE PLEASEEEEE WRITE A PEDRO PERIOD PIECEEEEEEEEE” I decided oh… so… I write? And then, just now, while watching the hobbit for the MILLIONTH time, I decided I WRITE!!!! Im gonna bring 2 things Im super passionate about, LOTR/Hobbit and Pedro pascal, together and hopefully make a super romantic fantastical story. I havent thought of plot but all I know is i will have his handsome ass on a horse at some point….fuck why do i do this to myself😭😭😭 ᵒʰ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃᵈʰᵈ

Anyways… lets hope I actually write it instead of writing like 2 pages and just abandoning it.😬😬

NOTE: they’re black… im making the main character melanated im sorry guys but… theres barely any brown people in the LOTR and… the idea of an elf with locs? I mean like think about it… thats so fuckin hot like think about it!!!

[flightlessangelwings]

“I just hope that when you say “sending hate” you don’t just mean getting the whitewashing called out. Because white people do have a habit of demonizing when poc get angry and I just want to make sure that’s not what’s happening here.”

I feel like that’s a bit of a shitty thing to say considering the amount of anon hate writers sometimes get. poc can be shitty anon haters. Obviously nobody is going to send hate with their public account. It’s always on anon and I’m sure there’s people of every ethnicity and every part of the world doing this shit.

Also, white people don’t need to be “called out” for writing a fic from their perspective. Fact of the matter is that white people just aren’t going to have the same experiences as poc do. Anybody can point it out and the writer can decide what they wanna do with that. But calling out writers because they don’t write how someone else wants it on tumblr is a bit ridiculous.

As a minority I can understand the frustrations but it’s just impossible to be inclusive to everyone. Just use your imagination or look for writers that write specifically for what you’re looking for.

Honestly the minute I wrote that down I knew someone was going to have a problem with it.

Yes you are right, anyone can be a shitty person and anon hate can come from anyone, even poc. I’m not denying that. Nor was I justifying or condone it because I don’t think anyone deserves any hate or harassment. We’re all here together and sending hate back and forth is not the way to go and that was not my point at all.

Where we disagree is on calling out whitewashing.

This isn’t about what I personally want but about the bigger picture here. I personally have tags blocked, content filters, block writers, etc. I curate my experience. I back out of things I don’t vibe with. But this isn’t about me personally.

No, a given piece of fic is never going to include every single person. People are too diverse and that’s an impossible goal. And what is helpful to one person is triggering to another. It’s just how things work with large groups of people.

The point is to be as inclusive as possible in your writing. It’s simple things like avoiding white coded language (like blushing, straight hair, etc), white coded names, relations to white characters, etc. Yes there are going to be some experiences and actions that the reader does that won’t always be inclusive but the whole point is to try!

And to tag things properly! Sometimes that makes a world of difference to have that proper tagging at the beginning so we aren’t blind sighted by white coding. I feel like that’s not a lot to ask.

And I have spoken to a ton of writers and artists who have appreciated being (kindly) called out and who do want to do better. Who do want to work to be more inclusive. And I’ve personally seen these writers and artists so better and improve. It can happen. And that doesn’t mean your a bad person if you have white washed before. We all make mistakes, it happens. It’s how you react and how you learn from it going forward.

Inclusivity helps everyone. It helps writers and artists become better. It helps poc feel seen and included. It brings the community together. Why wouldn’t you want that? Why wouldn’t you want better? Because I do.

[wakandas-vibranium]

Not a Virgin

-- Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

-- Warning(s): 18+ minors DNI 👁️ smutty smut, age gap(legal), kissing, swearing, teasing, dirty talk, oral/fingering(v receiving) unprotected p in v sex, creampie, slight dom!joel if you squint, praise kink, you like it rough and of course Joel obliges.

-- Word Count: 3.7k

-- Summary: You are on your usual afternoon patrol in Jackson with your usual group and the guys your age won’t stop questioning your nonexistent sex life. 

-- A/N: Sorry, no beta reader(nobody likes me on this app) There shouldn’t be too many mistakes though. Please like, comment and reblog!

You’ve been in Jackson for a little over three years now and you were grateful. The outbreak turned your life upside down and seemed determined to take everything and everyone you loved. 

You were surprised to not only find a new home in Jackson but also a new found family you’ve grown to care deeply for. You got close to Maria quickly because she reminded you of your mom’s sister. She was the spitting image of your Auntie Giselle. Maria was kind enough to help you keep your locs in tip top shape. She was very sweet, but also a very firm when needed. 

You weren’t super close with the hundreds of people here in Jackson, but a good 20 or so had your back and they knew without a doubt that you had theirs. 

You were currently on your afternoon patrol with your usual group: You, Felicia, Melvin, Josh, and Joel. Your group patrolled the gate entrance Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays from 2pm to 8pm. 

It was a quarter to 7pm and you were ready for this patrol shift to be over. Not only because you were starving, but also because Josh wouldn’t shut the fuck up. As per usual, but today you were more miffed because you were hungry. Hangry. 

“I’m not a virgin, Josh. I just haven’t gotten any in 4 years.” You reluctantly explained to the taller man. 

Melvin and Felicia made taunting noises of pity and you rolled your eyes at them. Not everyone was as lucky as them to fuck like rabbits every chance they got. Joel of course didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was listening. His shoulders straightened and his grip on the gun loosened. Definitely a dead giveaway. 

“Well, don’t you miss orgasms?”

“Of course I do.” You huffed. 

“Damn, why so long then?”

“Because my husband died 4 years ago, you nosey asshole and I haven’t found anyone interesting enough to let fuck me.” 

“Well, no need to look any further, Y/N. I’m right here.” Josh boasted, holding up his hands as he did a full spin. 

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, waving off his no game having ass, “I want a real man, Josh. Not you.” 

Josh had been in Jackson almost two years now and he’s been a real gigantic pain in everyone’s ass, but he’s still family. Sort of. Yes, he was young and his bronze skin was gorgeous, but his impulsivity on patrols and all around arrogance was a major turn off. 

Plus, you fancied older guys with brown eyes anyway. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m 31 just like you. If that ain’t grown then I don’t know what is.” 

“Well, maybe she’s into more mature dudes.” Melvin pointed out. You grinned at him and nodded in thanks. He was one of the few men your age who used his brain every now and then. 

“Well, how old was your husband?” Josh continued to prod. 

Felicia rolled their eyes at Josh’s invasiveness. He’d always intrude carelessly but it was still annoying. 

“My husband was 10 years older than me, but there’s more to being a real man than age, Josh.” 

“Like how?”

“Well, my husband took his time to learn my body. He was the type of man to make sure I finished twice before he did. Does that sound like you?”

“Hell yeah it does.” He lied right through his crooked teeth.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” You disagreed, “Cause from what I’ve heard, you cum after four pumps and all that tells me is that you’d be a waste of a fuck.” 

Melvin and Felicia snickered loudly while Joel at least attempted to hide his chuckle with a cough. Josh flushed as he stood there in embarrassment. 

Good. 

He talked too damn much. He should’ve just stood there and shut the hell up like the rest of y’all who were on patrol did.

Josh frowned at Joel as he noticed the older man covering his grin, “And just what the hell are you laughing at old man? You’re so scary nobody here wants to fuck ya.” 

“That’s not true.” Felicia laughed as they shook their pointer finger. 

“Definitely not true.” You chimed in, laughing even harder at Josh’s horrified face when Melvin nodded in agreement. 

“So, what?” Josh huffed, gesturing wildly to where Joel was perched, “You won’t fuck me, but you’ll fuck Miller? Are you serious?” 

“I’m sure Miller can last more than four pumps, so yeah...” You shrugged. 

Joel still didn’t utter a word, but he raised a curious eyebrow at you, no longer covering his knowing smirk. You shot him a soft smile before turning back to Josh’s aggravating ass. 

You had a thing for Joel that you refused to let be known. The older Miller was a mystery and simultaneously he reminded you of your late husband. You knew getting involved with Joel wasn’t a good road to go down for several reasons. However, there was a tiny voice in the back of your head and a deep ache between your legs that wanted you to push that big red, Joel Miller button and have as much fun as you could. 

“8pm switch!” Tommy called from the ground. 

Thank all the beings in the world for Tommy. You couldn’t hear any more comparisons from Josh or you were going to toss his giant ass over the railing. 

It was dinner time. 

Your patrol group usually ate dinner together for about an hour or so. 

Today was Wednesday which meant Joel stayed later because Ellie was spending the night at Dina’s. There’s no particular reason why you knew this information. You just did. 

Tonight they were serving stewed beef and potatoes. One of your favorites. You all prepared your plates and grabbed a half bottle of whiskey before sitting down at your usual table.

Josh moved to sit down next to you, but Felicia and Melvin swung their feet under the table and slammed them down next to you, making it impossible for Josh to sit down.

“Sorry Joshy,” Felicia started, “This table is for people who don’t cum quick.” 

You and Joel choked on a piece of meat and you refused to look up at Josh. Cause if you did you’d lose it.

Joel would never admit it, but he looked forward to patrols with your group and dinner. He was grateful to spend time with people other than his brother and surrogate daughter. 

A few months ago he started paying attention to the heated looks you’d give him when you thought he wasn’t looking. Still, he wasn’t gonna say anything. 

“I don’t cum in four pumps,” Josh growled. 

“Well, three pumps then.” Melvin shouted. 

You took a sip of your whiskey to refrain from making a guffawing noise. 

Josh shook his head and stormed off, “Fine. I’ll just eat outside you fuckers.” 

Dinner went very nice that evening. Everyone was more relaxed and in a good mood. Melvin started asking about your husband and you could tell Felicia thought it made you uncomfortable, but it really didn’t. You were glad to have friends to talk about your late husband with now. 

“Did y’all have any kids?” Melvin asked as he stabbed his last potato and shoved it into his mouth. 

“Nah, we didn’t really want kids. Plus I was born without a uterus so…” You trailed off awkwardly. 

You chanced a quick glance at Joel to see if he was listening and you jerked slightly when his intense eyes met yours. 

Fuck. Real smooth, Y/N. Real smooth. 

“What about you two? You gestured toward the energetic couple and grinned at them, “You two fuck so much I’m surprised Fel’s not already pregnant.” 

“My pull out game is strong.” Melvin grinned back at you. You held out your fist for him to bump and laughed softly when he did. 

“Was it Infected that killed your husband?” 

“Melvin!” Felicia admonished as they slapped their partner’s arm.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured, “I’m at a place where I can talk about him now.” 

“Are you sure?” Felicia asked.

You nodded at them as you gave a small smile. 

“My husband and I were headed to a QZ in Atlanta. Things were going pretty well until a bomb went off 10 steps in front of us. I was a few paces behind him so he took most of the damage.” 

“Fireflies?” Joel asked as he sat forward, leaning his arms against the table.

You looked at him and nodded, “Fuckin’ fireflies, man.” 

“Marlene loves her fuckin’ bombs.” Felicia grunted.

Felicia and Melvin left a little before nine, leaving you and Joel there. Joel didn’t say much, but it was clear he enjoyed listening to you talk. It was a little after nine and you were ready to head home so you could masturbate, shower and go to bed. 

“I killed her.” Joel whispered as he leaned closer to you across the table.

“Who?” You whispered back as you peered into his intense brown eyes. 

“Marlene.” 

“H-how?” 

“I shot her twice.”

You don’t know if it was the one shot of whiskey, a full belly or if it was the sheer knowledge of Joel bringing justice to your husband’s killer, but you started giggling. 

Joel’s dark eyes widened in surprise and he only began to chuckle once you let out a full blown cackle. You both quieted your sounds as you received weird looks from some of the kitchen staff. You motioned for him to scoot closer so he would hear your breathless question. 

“Did she beg for her life?” You asked before bringing your half empty glass of water to your lips. 

“A bit.” Joel admitted as he shrugged nonchalantly. 

Your whole face lit us as you choked on your water, bursting into giggles again. It was the way he said it and how he tried to stop the corners of his lips from turning up, but you caught it. Joel let out a full blown belly laugh. It almost sounded like it hurt him to laugh. You wondered how long it’s been since he’s allowed himself to laugh like that. 

He should laugh more often. He had a dazzling smile and dimples that were partially hidden by his beard.

“You have a heart stopping smile Joel. You should smile more.” You reached out your hand and traced the outline of his lips. 

“I like your hair.” He complimented as he traced one of your locs, squeezing it curiously between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Oh?” You beamed at him. Unable to stop your body from getting warm at the slightest touch from him. 

“Yeah it’s kind of like Maria’s but a little longer.” 

“You can pull on it while you fuck me from behind back at my place.” You propositioned.

Joel stood up as he gathered your trays and cups to throw away, “After you.” He gestured to the dining hall exit. 

Luckily, your house was not far from the dining hall. It was surely closer than Joel's. Joel picked you up as soon as you opened the door. You let out a shriek and wrapped your legs around his waist. You kissed him hungrily as he walked through the doorway, into the kitchen, and sat you on the counter. You nearly forgot he came over before to repair a few broken windows, which explains why he was so familiar with your house.

“Joel?”

“Yeah?” He breathed as he unbuttoned your yellow top. 

“You should shut and lock the door.” He took one look at the wide open front door before looking back at you with crimson cheeks. 

While he moved to close the door, you finished taking off your shirt and jeans. When he returned to the kitchen, you were still there where he left you, but only in your bra and underwear. You bit your bottom lip in response to him gawking at you and the erection in his blue jeans.

Once he was within arm's reach of you, you pushed two fingers behind his leather belt and pulled him in between your legs. 

You made quick use of unbuttoning the blue jean sweater he had on and once you had access to his full neck you licked a wide stripe before sucking a mark there. 

“Oh,” He murmured softly, “You like leaving a mark, huh?”

“Mhm, you’re mine.” 

“Damn right.” 

“Take me to my bed, please.”

“Your room’s still down the hall, right?”

“Yes.” You nodded. 

He picked you up and took slow steps towards your bedroom. Once you made it in your room he kicked the door shut before plopping you down onto your surprisingly comfortable mattress. You still haven’t gotten used to its fluffiness. 

Joel uncinched your bra and flung it across the room. He kissed your breast tenderly while placing his palms on either side of you, boxing you in. 

He leaned back to admire the wetness between your spread legs and let out a groan as he palmed himself through his pants. You were soaking wet.

“Goddamn you’re wet.” 

“All for you.” You hummed happily as he helped you out of your underwear. 

He leaned down on his forearms, big hands resting on top of your lower abdomen, licking a warm stripe up your wet slit. You jerked slightly in anticipation of the touch. It had been a long time since you had been handled in this way. You were almost positive that you were going cum within minutes. 

“You don’t have to finger me, you know?”

“Hmm? You don’t like being fingered?”

“No, I love it actually. It’s just that…when you finally slide your dick into me…”

“Yes?” He urged as he added a second finger and began to suck on your clit. 

“I like it to hurt a little bit.” You rushed out, biting back an obscene moan. 

“Naughty girl,” Joel quipped, adding a third finger, “I’m still gonna finger you a bit. I’m on the larger side.” 

“Oooh baby,” You let the pet name slip, moaning loudly, “I mean Joel—fuck!”

“No, you had it right the first time.” Joel chuckled, hooking his thick fingers upward and twisting them at a much faster pace. 

“Shit it feels so good.” You panted as he kissed your soft inner thighs gently. The complete opposite of what his fingers were doing. 

“Joel, I’m cu—“

“—I know, baby. I can feel it. Cum for me. I need you nice and wet for the good ole poundin’ I’m about to give you.” His filthy words, coupled with the sensual inflection in his voice, were enough to drive you home, your moans growing louder as he talked you through the best orgasm you'd had in years.

As you writhed against the bed, your fingers pulled at his soft silver-streaked brown waves. You couldn't decide whether you fancied his mouth or his fingers more. Either way, 10s across the board.

Joel backed up to remove his pants and underwear before settling both his knees on the bed. His hungry, chestnut eyes bore into yours as he jerked himself slowly in one hand. He smirked as your gaze drifted to his hard dick, mouth watering at the enticing sight. You ran your tongue across your bottom lip in anticipation. You wanted to taste him so bad. 

“Don’t get too excited. We’re savin’ that for another time,” He said as he motioned for you to turn around, “Hands and knees.” 

Once you assumed the position, Joel pulled you back against his hips to line his thick cock up with your entrance. In one swift motion, Joel was fully seated inside you. He stretched you pretty good with his fingers and you were soaked, but it still pierced a bit as you adjusted to him. It was that good kind of hurt that you missed. Joel had to be seven or eight inches in length, but his girth was astounding. 

You guess your luck was finally starting to come back around. 

You were already losing your mind, and he had only just slid inside you. You knew you weren't going to last. Joel pulled all the way out and slammed back inside, moving you higher up the bed. He thrusted a third and fourth time, and that tight coil in your stomach snapped. Your orgasm caught you both off guard. You had no choice but to lean forward into the pillow and scream as your thighs shook violently.

You came as hard and as loud as you wanted. Sleeping neighbors be damned. You'd been holding on to it for four long ass years. The orgasm was more than pleasant, but you knew the older man had more in mind for you.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N. I guess you’re giving Josh a run for his money, huh?” Joel teased as he gently rubbed your thick quivering thighs. 

If the circumstances were different, the utter surprise in Joel's voice would have made you snort. You were too busy cumming your brains out and sinking your teeth into the pillow to find any amusement at the time being.

“You good to go or do you need a minute?” He asked, smug as ever. Your head was still buried in the pillow, but you could hear the smugness in his voice clear as day. 

You lifted your head and cast a smoldering glance over your shoulder at him, “Shut up and fuck me.” 

“Yes ma’am,” He smirked as he lined himself up again and sank in until he bottomed out. 

“Ugh,” He grunted, “The way you wrap around me is gonna be a problem.” 

You giggled at the peculiar way he told you your pussy was tight as fuck. You rocked back into his slow thrusts, finding a flawless rhythm.

“Jo—Joel! Shit, you fuck me so good.” You whined as you reached under your thighs and played with his balls. 

“Goddamnit!” Joel cursed as his thrusts faltered just a tad. 

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. Takin’ every single inch I give you.” He praised, angling his hips before starting up at a merciless pace. 

Goddamn.

This man knew just what to say to get you over that fucking edge. 

The lack of a full-body mirror in your bedroom was bittersweet. You knew Joel must have looked downright mouth watering while he drilled into you from behind. You were also mindful that your eyes had rolled into the back of your head and that you were an incoherent slobbering mess.

Joel gathered as many of your medium locs as he could in one hand and yanked them back while his other hand gripped your waist and his hips brutally slapped against your soft, round ass.

The entire fucking room sounded like mouse traps going off.

“Fuuuck,” You cried out, eyes shutting tightly, “I can’t believe I’m cummin’ again.” 

“That’s alright,” he encouraged, letting out a low, guttural groan as he felt your walls clench around him once again, “Give it to me.” 

As you came, he landed two hard slaps on your bouncing asscheeks. Your mouth fell open in a silent O. You didn’t even realize that you were trembling, but Joel sure as hell did. You couldn’t remember ever feeling so blissed out like this. Has it really been that long? Or have you just never had this level of sex? Something to ponder about in the morning. 

Joel trailed steamy kisses down your sweat glistened back, scraping a fingernail down the back of your thigh as you rode out your consuming climax. 

He flipped you on your back in one hasty motion, tapping your sensitive clit with his swollen tip and slurping your hardened nipple into his hot mouth as he lined himself up with your drenched entrance.

He hovered over you, gazing into your lust filled eyes as he raised an eyebrow, “Do we need a break?” 

“Don’t fuckin’ play with me, Joel.” You huffed impatiently, slapping his backside for good measure. 

He shook his head fondly at you before plunging back inside you. His smile vanished swiftly as you both let out a ridiculously high-pitched moan.

You wrapped your legs around him even tighter and clung to his arms and shoulders as he fucked you into the mattress. You sobbed a moan as hot tears began to pool in your eyes as you were railed into a purer level of ecstasy with each calculated thrust.

“Are those tears, angel?” Joel slowed his pace, fucking into you deep and slow. 

“Yes. Hap—happy tears. I never thought I’d be able to experience pl—pleasure like this ever again.” You admitted breathlessly. 

“Thank me.” He ordered, licking the escaped tears that streamed down your cheeks.

“Thank you,” You praised, whimpering softly as he found that sweet spot inside of your core. You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him wherever your lips could land. His cheek. His nose. His bearded chin, “Thank you. Thank you Joel for fuckin’ me so good.” 

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“Fuuuuck,” Joel whined as your praises got to him, “You’re welcome, sweet baby.” 

Joel locked his lips against yours in a desperate kiss, both moaning as your tongues danced together. His unrelenting thrusts and needy kisses were causing you to run out of air, but you couldn’t give a damn. If this was how you were gonna go out then so be it.

“You’ve fucked me into oblivion so now it’s your turn to cum. Please Joel.” You panted, eyes blown wide with anticipation. 

“Mmm,” He gasped as he felt his end nearing, “Where do you want it?” 

“Cum inside me.” 

His movements faltered for a brief moment as he thought about something then nodded his head in agreement. 

“Okay.” He grunted as he buried his face into your neck, sucking a bruise onto your shoulder. 

“Please, baby,” You begged as you felt his cock pulse inside of you, “Give me all of it.”

“I’m cummin’, baby.” Joel warned, panting as his rocks lost their rhythm and became more erratic. The first stripe that shot inside of you made you shiver and you jolted right along with Joel. 

“Ahhh!” You would have let out an ear-piercing scream if your voice hadn't already been shot to hell. Another climax ripped through you. You bit your bottom lip and clung to Joel for dear life as you both shook with pleasure. 

“That’s one for the history books.” Joel blurted as he snuck a quick peek at you before settling back down along your spent body.

You both burst out laughing as you tried to calm your hash pants. 

Both of your untamed laughs eventually turned soft giggles then into steady breaths, and within 10 minutes the room was filled with soft snores.

[lovers-spit-left-on-repeat]

nonbeliever; ellie williams.

chapter two - waiting hours.

series masterlist

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art = @sunsbleeding

summary: A name is scratched from the list.

general warnings/notes: language, violence, brief gore, cursing, death, weapons (guns, knives, axe), familial issues, mentions of religion/implied religious trauma, implied suicidal thoughts.

word count: 6.4k

Isolation was nothing foreign to Amaya. She felt its breeze throughout childhood, recognized its kiss when the Abel curse sang true, and saw it in the mirror every waking moment. In the grey walls of the FEDRA military academy, Riley and a then 9-year-old Amaya had shared a room, but the youngest Abel was certain her older sister slept in someone else’s every night. She just didn’t know it was Ellie William’s, whose roommate was thrown into the “hole” and never came back. Fuck her, Amaya would repeat in a mantra once the clock passed 10 o’clock, too late for there to be a chance for Riley to shuffle through their door. It’s her choice. However shitty.

When the sun rose, she would get up with her alarm, haze through her day like a ghost, and only come alive once the clock’s arms skidded past 4. She called the window of time the Waiting Hours, where Amaya would bask in the silence of her solitude on her rickety bed and stare at the doorway in expectance. Riley only came through it twice.

The first time was the day following their arrival. After eight hours of school and training like the girl hadn’t become Death itself barely a week prior, Amaya was glacierized upon her bed. She pressed herself further and further into the metal frame but felt no pain, no sting of cold from the chilled brass. She waited and watched and when her eyes grew heavy, Amaya dug her nails into her palms until the blood pooling in the divots was enough to keep her up. It wasn’t until after dark when Riley arrived.

Her head hung low, she shuffled in. Whether it was in shame or grief, Amaya didn’t know. Riley grimaced as she dropped her hunched body onto her bed, still unmade from the night before. She turned away from her younger sister, features drowned in the shadows of the dim room.

“Riley?” Amaya whispered, her voice not yet vacant of childish wonder. Her sister stayed firmly in the shadows for a couple of seconds, then finally turned, allowing the flickering desk lamp to unveil her true nature. A bruise, purple and swelling, burrowed itself over Riley’s watering left eye. It, unlike the shadows that she left behind, was all-consuming, like all that made her face up was that violent, aggressive black eye. Amaya was silent. Even as Riley turned back around and fell onto her pillow. Even as the hour reached that of ungodliness. Even as her sister left with the sun’s call.

She didn’t know why she offered nothing, but this wasn’t her sister. This was not the girl she grew up with, hiccuping laughter and rebellious grins accompanying every sentence. This was a stranger who just happened to be violently familiar. Riley didn’t come back the next night, or the hundreds that followed, and the guilt was sharp against her veins. So Amaya learned some first aid. She took out nearly a hundred books on all types of burns, bruises, and breaks at the academy library, hoping that maybe next time Riley returned with a black eye, Amaya’s skills would be enough to convince her sister to stay.

The second time Riley came back was a little over two years later, in the peak of the morning’s glow. There was no black eye this time, but trembling hands and bleeding knuckles. Riley, now almost fourteen, was starting to look more and more like their mother; thin braids wrapped back by green fabric, full cheeks, and freckles kissing the bridge of her nose. She stood in the doorway like she didn’t belong there, then shuffled passed where a dumbfounded Amaya sat at her cluttered desk. Riley fell onto the nearest bed, which was exactly how she left it; unmade, cold, empty. She looked at her sister, and Amaya understood.

Ignoring the sting of angry tears and ringing of unsaid chastising that ricochetted in her head, Amaya pulled the bandages and stolen gauze from the readied box under her bed and ripped a piece from her already frayed bed sheet. Slow and careful, like Riley was some rabid beast ready to lunge, Amaya stepped towards her sister and kneeled at her feet. Hands still shaking and dripping onto the wooden panels, Riley faced them toward the ceiling, displaying two crooked fingers that quaked with very shuttering breath. The work was done quickly, and not without tears or groans. When she was finished, Amaya forced Riley to lay back on the bed and tucked the covers up to her shoulders like their father used to do.

In the morning, she was gone again.

In the morning, Amaya first felt the paralysis. In its first wave, she was alone, but not without the ghost of her sister staring back at her.

In the morning, once the chill of stillness has thawed, Amaya moved to sit at her desk again, where she kept a small mirror. A face, ever-patchy and dull, the grey twinge of stress creeping along her hairline despite her young age, stared back at her. Like Riley, this girl wasn’t the one she grew up with. Or maybe she had always been there, festering beneath the surface. Either way, she never vanished, even three years later when there was no hope that Riley might come home.

To be alone is to be unburdened, her mother used to say, ever a poet. But Amaya had never felt a burden greater than this isolation and was becoming so familiar that she might as well start calling it a sister. And now, trekking across a highway of overgrowth and decay, surrounded by three more strangers, she wished for nothing more than to be alone.

Her axe heaving with the weight of longing for its original owner, Amaya swore her bones grew heavier with every step. Maybe it was because of the head wound or how she hadn’t slept since Boston, but this fatigue was past physical; whatever life she had left in her was slowly dissipating, seeping from her veins and pouring from her fingertips. So slow, that it felt like it would take a million years to finally deplete. Amaya wondered what crimes she might have committed in past lifetimes that would warrant such a punishment, but quickly remembered the atrocities of this one. With the hundredth huff of the afternoon, Amaya slogged on.

“Has the bleeding stopped?” Amaya resisted the urge to look at the sienna eyes that unabashedly stared her down. Ellie, who was about as well-rested as the taller girl had ever seen her, hadn’t strayed from her side since leaving their temporary camp on the outskirts of the city. She was there when they’d seen how the sun’s magnificence bounced from the glass panels turning eroding skyscrapers into statues of divinity. She was there when Tess made them stop to reapply the bandage haloed around Amaya’s head (as she bit down on a piece of cloth to muffle the groans, Amaya wondered if the tears were from the pain of her wound of the sheer ferocity of the fire in Ellie’s stare). She was there now, even as Amaya tried to lose her between Joel and Tess.

“I’m fine,” was all Amaya could push out. In some odd way, she was relieved that Ellie was close. Tess and Joel could handle the four of them fine, but deep underneath the cloth of time and memory, Amaya wanted to be near in case of danger. For the promise.

Protect Ellie.

Amaya tried to speed up for the millionth time, but her lack of energy and the fact that Ellie seemed determined to stay barely an arm’s length away drowned her efforts away. As Ellie glanced over for the umpteenth time, she wondered how skeletal she might look now as the sun seemed to make everything glow but her. Lost in her thoughts, she missed Ellie calling to Tess and Joel for a short break and was thankful when they all found a place to sit.

Pulling herself up on the closest abandoned car hood, Ellie leaned against the one opposite to her.

“You should’ve slept,” she chastised as metal creaked beneath her weight.

“Would you rather have been completely vulnerable and have a bullet in your skull right now?”

As Ellie dreamed as peacefully as she could on a patch of grass hours prior, Amaya stayed awake on her armchair just out of reach of the sunlight pouring from the opening in the ceiling. Half to prevent a ghost from staring her down when she woke up, half because she knew now what Joel and Tess were capable of; after Amaya was lucid enough to question where the FEDRA guard went, Ellie filled her in. She pictured her and Ellie’s bodies buried somewhere, the adults finally worn tired of their antics, then realized that Joel and Tess probably wouldn’t even have to decency to give them a proper burial.

After slapping on the small watch Marlene packed in her bag, she counted down the hours until daybreak, watching Ellie’s chest rise and fall as the wisps of hair that escaped her ponytail flowed over her face in waves when the wind chose tranquility.

Ellie grimaced. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“We don’t know that. We don’t know them. If they wanted to get rid of us, it’d be an easy fight.”

Ellie hummed in dissent, a grin beginning to creep its way up her cherubic face. “You did some damage with that rock last night.”

Amaya turned her face toward the sun to hide a grin of her own. “Only ‘cause I’ve been running on adrenaline and canned beans for the last few weeks.

A silence settled over them and a voice reminded her that she was not allowed peace. Her legacy was not one of stillness and quiet.

“Come on,” Tess called as Joel glowered behind her. “We’re losing light.”

It was barely afternoon yet, but Amaya was thankful for the excuse to ignore the prying of the ghosts that made her up.

“Where the fuck are they already?” Ellie asked from a few feet ahead of Amaya. They had been walking for three hours now, and it was like the sun was glaring especially bright just to make her headache worse. From where she stood in their line, Joel taking up the back and Tess the front, she peered out towards the wreckage of Boston. However colorless and broken down, the view was calming. The beauty in chaos, as Maria would have called it.

“You’ll know it when they’re close,” Tess called back.

“I didn’t know last time,” Ellie mumbled. But Amaya did. She had known, looked it straight in its yellow, veiny eye. How could she miss the beast when its claws, fangs, and evil were born from her blood?

“How did you get bit?” Tess inquired. If Amaya’s stomach hadn’t dropped before, it was plummeting now. A chill settling over her shoulders, she slid past the pair and claimed a spot at the front of their procession.

Her anonymity, her erasure from this narrative was the one thing Ellie could grant if she chose to. Maybe even one thing she might deserve in the eyes of whoever claimed holiness in a world of iniquitousness. Amaya’s eyes fell to her feet as her nerves rattled.

“You know the old mall in the QZ?” Ellie began, and Amaya’s nerves rattled.

“The one that’s sealed off and boarded up, and no one’s supposed to go in…ever? That the right one?”

“Whatever,” Ellie sighed. “I snuck in, wanted to see what it was like. Didn’t think there was gonna be anything in there, and then one just came at me outta nowhere. Thought I got away, but…”

“So it was just you in there, alone?”

“Yeah,” she said and Amaya unclenched her calloused hands, pretending not to notice specks of blood in the crescent-shaped creases. But Ellie’s gaze rested on her, and that’s how she knew she was fucked. Amaya could feel it; blistering and sharp enough to cut all the blood from her body. But the odd thing about it was when it came to comparing the sun’s glare and hers, only one could raise the dead within her.

Tess said nothing more, and the older woman might not have connected the dots fully, but there was a knowing glint in her bruised eyes when Amaya briefly pivoted to look back at the rest of the group. So much for secrets.

The quartet eventually reached Tess and Joel’s choice lookout spot; 20 stories of mold infestations and mildew. The hotel, complete with a makeshift pond in the lobby and a new biohazard on each floor, was probably a hot spot for all types of disease and infection. As they moved up ten flights of groaning stairs, Amaya had to refrain from raising her shirt over her nose.

“Fuck,” Tess heaved as they reached the landing and Joel cleared the hallway.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Ellie teased as she looked back at Amaya, smirking at her struggle up the last step.

“You try climbing ten fuckin’ floors with our knees, see how you feel.”

Water dripped from the ceiling and sunlight shone through fogged windows. Amaya leaned against the door frame and panted, her mind shot back to the Fireflies’ base in the city. However unwelcoming, she was starting to miss it. The group rounded the corner into a dimly lit hall to find their path blocked by a caved-in ceiling.

“Well, when the fuck did that happen?” Tess grumbled as Joel began to poke around the rubble with the mouth of his gun. Once they discovered that both doors that paralleled the group were jammed shut, Tess proposed that she climb through a small gap in the rubble and snake her way to the other side, but Ellie objected.

“Well, I’m the smallest so it’d be easier for me to get through,” she reasoned.

Tess tilted her head and Ellie sighed, knowing her answer before she even opened her lips. “You die and we get nothing. You stay.”

“What about me?” Amaya proposed, voice hoarse from the lack of talking. “I’m only a little bit taller than Ellie and the Fireflies don’t need me, anyway.

“What about that Maria woman?”

Amaya looked down at her palms, still stained with the red tint of guilt. Did she have something waiting beyond this? A sister, a family, a life? Since finding out about the possibility that Maria managed to survive the past 5 years, she’d been trying to stop the pessimistic thoughts, but just because there was hope, didn’t mean there wasn’t sorrow to come. Amaya kept thinking about her ‘paradise in hell’ and wondered if it was just doublespeak for an unforgiving afterlife.

“No point in searching for someone who’s probably dead,” she abridged.

Tess considered her with concern for a moment before shoving her pack into the younger girl’s hands. “You both stay,” she commanded and began her ascent.

Ellie looked at her with worry in her eyes. Despite the flutter of her ashed heart, Amaya did nothing but shrug and lean against the wall as Joel boosted Tess up. A few awkwardly silent moments passed and Ellie moved to sit by Amaya’s feet like she had back in the QZ. Steadily growing more bored each second her sullen companions remained silent, she started flipping her switchblade in the air.

“Nice knife” Joel grumbled out. Ellie paused, looked at him, then continued her act. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“The circus.”

Joel and Amaya gave an exasperated sigh in sync, causing Ellie to roll her eyes.

“Where are you from?” she asked, less in kindness and more in obligation. Joel began to grumble a response, but Amaya's attention, ever vigilant, was captured by something other than small talk and sienna eyes.

Her axe glinted as shards of gold sliced through the rumble, creating ribbons of rippling fire across the walls like back in her childhood room. When she allowed a brief glance at Ellie’s eyes, no difference existed between them and the glow. The beginnings of a smile twinged at the sides of Amaya's lips but quickly vanished when she realized Joel was watching her.

“Where’d you get it?” He wondered, probably the kindest words he’d ever said to her. Amaya watched him for a second, looking for any pinch of ingenuity in his stare. She found nothing.

“Off some dead guy,” she feigned nonchalantness.

“Yeah,” Ellie continued, “after she killed him.”

Joel raised a brow in suspicion as Amaya, lips thinned, looked at the girl incredulously.

“What?” Ellie whispered, but not quiet enough for Joel to miss. “I’m trying to make you look tough!”

Amaya rolled her eyes and stalked off down the hall, losing her battle against a grin as Ellie continued to describe to Joel all the ways her accomplice could kill a man. She wandered into a guest room, which was just as pristine as the lobby. Dragging her fingers across the ledge of a rusted mirror, Amaya wondered what it might’ve been like here on outbreak day, what the panic of being away from home might’ve felt like. Cold and heavy and ardent, she supposed. Not exactly unfamiliar.

She settled herself on what was left of the mattress, carefully dodging the suspicious stains by the foot of the bed, and let the tension flow from her muscles. To be alone was to be unburdened, she remembered, even when this room screamed death and decay. The open window flowed nature’s breath against the torn fabric of the curtain, and on the dresser, a small piece of paper quivered. Deciding to entertain her curiosity, Amaya leaned across the bed and picked it up. For the second time in two days, she would soon wish she hadn’t let eagerness win.

On the backside of the yellowing polaroid four words were scrawled— “Super Sammy - 2019”. The handwriting looked like that of someone her age; messily looped and barely legible. Amaya flipped the picture over to reveal a young boy who couldn’t be older than 10. His brown skin was of the same shade as hers and one of his front teeth was missing. Despite the holes in his shirt, he smiled up at the camera like sunshine itself. Over his eyes, colored in with red marker, was a mask like Amaya had seen on superheroes in the few children’s books she had back in New Jersey. If it weren’t for the grey, eroding setting behind the boy, the picture could’ve been from a time when all someone had to worry about was taxes. Amaya didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone so happy.

“Amaya?” Ellie’s voice rang out from down the hall and she was throttled back into her reality; mildew, mold, and monstrosities. She shoved the picture into her back pocket where it rested against The List and hurried back to the group.

Once Tess unjammed the door separating her from the rest of the group, she led them past the wreckage and to a plastic-shrouded balcony. As soon as she slipped by the plastic which Tess held back, her sinuses were overwhelmed with the smell of rot from the enveloping plants as a lofty buzzing filled the air. Ellie eagerly rushed to the ledge and leaned so far forward, Amaya was tempted to pull her back by the sleeve of her jacket. The older girl looked back to Tess and Joel, who stood looking out on the city with solemn expressions.

“What?” She questioned and tightened her hold on her axe. Tess shook her head and walked up beside her.

“You see that?” The woman pointed to the patch of yellowing grass between two crumbling rows of houses. Confused, Amaya squinted, before realizing her mistake in recognition. It wasn’t a patch of grass. The strange buzzing wasn’t the wind and the smell of rot wasn’t from the encompassing nature. A herd of infected, maybe a hundred of them, lay on the concrete in close quarters like they were one unit. Some slithered, some were motionless. But all of them hissed with a hunger that ran for generations. If Riley were with them. she would’ve joked that it was just another Abel family reunion.

“I thought that was just more overgrowth…” Amaya mumbled and stepped away from the ledge.

“The last time we were here they were still deep inside the buildings.”

“And how long ago was that?” Ellie wondered. The sun passed over the herd and they squirmed, screeches echoing louder like they were being burned alive.

“…Three weeks.”

Ellie hummed in response and joined Amaya on leveled ground. “So we’re not going that way, huh?”

“No,” Tess sighed.

“What do we do then?” Ellie's eyes widened as she remembered their other option. “The short way?”

“Museum.”

Squashed between ivy-covered rubble, the building didn’t exactly look welcoming. Windows punched in and the door ajar, patches and vines of cordyceps snaked over its brick face. Amaya eyed it suspiciously and backed the group like merely peering up at the clusters would send her into a murderous frenzy.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Ellie frowned.

“There’s a way across from the top floor.”

Joel stepped passed Amaya and punched the butt of his gun into the nearest cluster of fungi, which cracked and caved in, releasing a puff of dust. Amaya took another five steps back. The last time she was this close to the fungus, there was blood on her hands when the sun rose.

“It’s bone dry,” Joel stood. “It could mean they’re all finally dead in there.”

He and Tess bent down and swung their packs down to the knees, pulling out flashlights. Amaya did the same.

“Marlene pack you one of these or just sandwiches?”

Kneeling on the ground, Amaya sifted through her bag, packing and unpacking, until she realized that there was no flashlight. She groaned and slumped against her legs.

“You can have mine,” Ellie reached her torch out to the frustrated girl. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me even if I can’t see them coming.”

Tess peered back at her. “You’re not immune from being ripped apart. You understand?”

A silence settled over the group and Ellie pressed her chapped lips together. Distantly, Amaya could still hear the infected’s hissing. She raised herself from the vine-covered ground and readied her axe. They proceeded through the door.

Littered with dust and a few bodies of infected, their heads caved and limbs webbed together like some fucked-up version of an embrace, Ellie and Amaya stayed close to each other. They stalked through the first hall, eyes sharp, and only saw a single body. Amaya quickly concluded that he had been shot outside of the museum and simply crawled inside, seeking a quiet place to die. Until she saw the claw marks and Tess’s words ricocheted around her head. With a push of her arm, she forced Ellie in front of her as Amaya kept an eye on the darkness slowly swallowing the hall behind her.

Silent as instructed, they climbed the stairs. As they creaked, the ceiling gave an aching groan, dust loosening like snow above the group. Like the herd back in the open, a cluster of infected bunched together on the second landing. Yellowing tendrils stretched from their empty eye sockets and mouths. Luckily they had fused with the rest of the rubble and no hissing could be heard besides that of Amaya’s pulse, but Joel’s shoulders remained squared.

A crunch echoed and everyone froze. Looking down, she saw Ellie’s converse-clad foot over the hollow hand of one of the beasts. The ceiling groaned again, but not with age—-with the presence of something ancient and wicked. Quicker this time, Joel crept up the remaining stairs and hurried to creak the door open, but as soon as he was passed the doorway, the ceiling gave a final lurch. Within two seconds, dust, beams, and concrete hailed down as Ellie and Tess flung themselves passed the doorframe. Amaya, who had been peering down the steps, had no time to react. If she had moved barely a foot, the wooden beam that swung tauntingly would’ve pierced right through her.

Amaya could faintly hear Ellie’s muffle voice yelling her name, but all she could process was her heavy breathing. “Fuck,” she panted and started to claw at the ruin, only giving up when her palms started to tear. “Fuck!”

Then, a screech. Sharp and pitched like a bird’s call, bloody and desperate like a starving animal. All was still. There was no shuffling on the other side of the ruin. Ellie didn’t dare yell for her and Amaya didn’t dare breathe. As the breath caught in her throat, she turned her head to look through the settling dust and down the stairs.

When the clicking started, Amaya ran.

She could hear the beast barrelling up the stairs and knew to not look back until she reached the dead end of the hallway. Swerving left and right, she prayed for a place to take shelter, and for the first time in her life, her wish was granted. Amaya barrelled through the narrow doorway to her left and practically fused herself with the wall. The room was doorless and nearly pitch black. On the other side of the wall where Joel, Tess, and Ellie might be, more screeching rasped. But they had guns and flashlights. They weren’t alone. All Amaya had was an axe she didn’t know how to wield and ghosts, who she soon would join.

The beast was up the staircase now and barely even ten feet away. It clicked and rasped as it stalked down the hall. Amaya clamped her mouth shut and it was just like the day before at the QZ, but this time, Ellie’s warmth couldn’t be felt. Amaya was alone. She was going to die alone.

Right next to her ear, the beast clicked and beckoned her toward fate. It should have been you. It should have been you.

Amaya supposed Riley’s voice could only mean that death was creeping closer and anger began to brew in her stomach. This wasn’t fucking fair. Not even 24 hours after she was told that Maria might still be alive, she was inches away from her own demise. It didn’t matter that she, regardless of Riley and Marlene’s claims, was likely rotting somewhere—a mirror of beast beside her.

She could let it happen as she would have let Marlene kill her back at the QZ. Maybe fate would spare her and make it quick. Or maybe it would take its time as it had with her sister, her mother, her father. It clicked again like it was trying to tell her something in morse code. Amaya remembered then the stolen book still in her bag, waiting to be read. She remembered how Riley has wanted to learn when they were young but gave up after a day. She remembered the picture of Super Sammy in her pocket. Would he give up this easily? No. Super Sammy was a believer in hope, not fate. A saint amongst sinners. He would not cower like she was.

Fate was like a father to her; absent when she needed it, glaring and unabashed when she wanted to be left alone. And she wasn’t going to let it win this time.

Whipping herself around the corner as she should’ve done when Joel and Tess first intruded at the Firefly base, Amaya stuck it in the neck. Not enough to kill it, but enough to send it reeling back into the wall. She stuck her foot into its stomach and yanked the axe from its neck, sending blood squirting into her face. Amaya had almost forgotten that she was 14 and inexperienced.

The clicking beast screamed with more terror and grabbed her by her shoulders, pushing her to the floor, and pinned her arms above her head. Amaya screamed for Joel, for Tess, for Ellie, but no one would come. She was alone. She was going to die alone.

Amaya was fed up. Of being left behind, of only knowing anger and sadness as friends. She was fed up with fate and faith, with chance and luck. This wasn’t fucking fair. So she did what she did best—-swung until she saw red.

Reaching to her left where her axe had fallen, she plowed it into its shoulder, into its chest, back into its neck. When it fell motionless, she didn’t stop. She kneeled over it, screaming and swinging, never taking her eyes off its face. Hair patched around the remnants of its scalp and it still had a single eye intact. Brown, like Ellie’s. Like Maria’s. Like Riley’s.

When she was finished, she took her damn time to try and find a way to the other side of the rubble. Eventually, she stumbled upon a jammed door, and on the other side, gunshots echoed against screaming—-Ellie’s screaming. Amaya slammed her body against the door until it gave way, revealing an infected toppled over her and Joel as they struggled. Amaya slammed her axe down again and this time it landed in the dead center of its skull.

Panting, she didn’t care to retrieve her weapon. She looked down at Joel and Ellie, who only stared back.

“What the fuck was that?” She asked. No response was given. Ellie was still staring. Not at her, Amaya quickly realized, but at the blood that patterned itself across her brown skin. She could taste it on her lips, feel it drip from a spot on her cheek. Weapon, killer, monster. **

You killed them, May.

Amaya quickly turned away from them and wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket. Behind her, the beast began to screech again and drag itself, impaled head and all, towards her. Tess, who had just rounded the corner with a gun of her own, delivered the final shot.

Amaya stared at her victim in silence. Once everyone was breathing normally, Joel asked “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Amaya glowered. “Thanks for fucking leaving me by the way.”

Her eyes flew from person to person but came to rest on Ellie. Amaya’s ears burned as she blinked rapidly. She knew that the pile of rock and wood between them would have withstood anything Ellie might’ve thrown at it, but still. Amaya would have tried. If not for the stupid promise, then for her own sake.

Ellie looked like she wanted to say something, but Tess stilled and pointed to her wrist.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ellie rolled up her shirt sleeve to reveal another bite mark and Amaya had to resist going off on her. Riley was barely even bitten and it took four hours for her to be gone. Ellie had now been bitten twice, and nothing would happen. She wouldn’t start to twitch as Riley did. She wouldn’t lose control of her mind, her body… this wasn’t fucking fair.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

On the roof of her almost grave, Amaya stared out at Boston again, growing further and further away from what rooted her there. With her red-tinted gaze, it was getting harder to see all that beauty Maria would talk about.

Joel and Tess sat by the windowsill and splinted Tess’s sprained ankle, but the pair kept looking at Amaya across the makeshift bridge. Maybe in anticipation for Ellie’s sanity to crumble, maybe in shame for abandoning Amaya. Probably not the latter. i

She tried to put as much space between her and Ellie, but it was like she magnetically attracted tragedies; she could feel Ellie’s gaze and didn’t have to think twice about who was cautiously coming up behind her.

“I’m sorry,” was all she said. No explanation and, Amaya was trying to convince herself, no remorse. The state house glowed almost as maliciously as her thoughts.

Without considering Ellie’s presence any longer, Amaya spun to Joel and Tess. “We should keep moving. The sun’s starting to go down.”

The place was fucking deserted. First, it was the odd silence, then the empty truck, then the blood on the steps. And lastly, the bodies. Ridden with gunshot wounds and in pools of their own barely settled blood, their stares were black. Upon seeing the corpses, Amaya rushed to inspect each one, looking for familiar locs of black hair.

“Shit,” she kept whispering as she sailed to the next body. The last one was a man, barely over twenty with dark hair on his shoulders. His eyes had gone grey and angry veins crawled up the side of his face. Amaya released her lungs from the clutches of fear when she saw nothing familiar.

“One of them was bit,” she called to the rest of the group. Tess was frantically searching through the dead Fireflies’ supplies and quickly turned on the girls.

“Where did Marlene say she was taking you?” She demanded.

“Just west,” Amaya mumbled cautiously.

“Just west. Fuck. Okay.” She ran a hand through her greying hair. “And what about that Maria woman? Where’s she supposed to be?”

“I…I don’t know. The only people who did are dead now.”

Grateful that her sister wasn’t amongst them, she hadn’t had the chance to consider what this meant for her. Maria wasn’t there. There was no one alive able to tell her where she was last. She no longer had any point of direction.

“One of them has got to have a map on them, right?” Tess continued panicking. “Joel, can you help me?”

“It’s over, Tess. It’s over. We’re going home.”

“That’s not my fucking home!”

Amaya’s fingers wrapped tight around the hilt of her axe as she distanced herself in front of Ellie, who had slowly sailed to her side. Joel’s silence was unlike the quiet that was constantly settled over his shoulders; he watched Tess, who kept backing away, with his lips parted, but he could not speak, paralyzed with something Amaya knew well—-otherness.

Tess raised her chin and stood. “I’m staying. I mean…our luck had to run out sooner or later.”

“Fuck.” Ellie whispered. “She’s infected.”

“Show me,” was all Joel could work past his lips. Tess pulled down the collar of her red button-up and showcased the beginnings of decay. Veiny and angry, the red tendrils were already creeping up her neck.

“Take your bandage off,” the marred woman commanded. Ellie, eyes heavy with memory, sighed and did as she was told. Just as Amaya dreaded, her bite was just that—a bite. No redness, no vines of malice.

“Joel, this is real,” Tess continued. She held her arm up against Ellie’s and pulled her forward in display like a circus animal. When her arm started to shake, she flopped it to her side. “Joel, she’s fucking real…I need you to get her to Bill and Frank’s.”

“No.”

“They’ll take her off your hands. They’ll know what to do.”

Unsure of her place in this discussion, Amaya mumbled, “My sister—”

“I’m sorry, Amaya, but you’re sister is probably fucking dead. You said it yourself. Go with them. Stay with Ellie, protect Ellie.”

Amaya shut her mouth in a snap. She’d almost forgotten. As Joel shook his head like a screw was loose in his neck and Tess repeated ‘they’ll know what to do’ like she was trying to convince herself. Amaya was back in the mall.

Staring at the marbled title, Amaya thought of her victims. Two she forbade herself from thinking about for more than a few seconds, one who she killed barely an hour ago. Was the person-turned-beast from the museum once a parent? A child? A sibling? Had she been staring at some fucked-up version of foreshadowing the whole time? And was Tess not the same now? Was Riley not the same?

Amaya was no stranger to guilt, and she knew Ellie wasn’t either. Why her and why not those who deserved preservation? The reason Riley had been in the mall in the first place was to make her happy. Not as deep down as she’d like rested a red-hot resentment of the girl, but also a sense of comradery, a connection born of tragedy. Their lifelines connected the moment Amaya decided to step foot in that goddamned mall and it would remain intertwined for the rest of their lives. She shouldn’t blame someone that was practically a mirror of herself. But now, as Tess’s eyes began to water, Amaya felt a deep sorrow for the girl.

She only came alive when a bullet sliced through the skull of the awakened Firefly by Ellie’s feet. They were all still for a second as the feeling of foreboding settled in the air. Something was happening. Something was awakening. Not too far in the distance, the hissing began again. Joel hurried to the door, poked his head out, and returned with his stony eyes set on one thing—Ellie.

Amaya raised her axe past her waist and assumed her position in front of the girl. Her head pivoted between Tess and Joel. If she hadn’t been scared of them before, she was now. Tess wouldn’t be able to buffer Joel’s rage and apathy this time.

“How many?” Tess asked in an eerily calm tone.

“All of them. We got maybe a minute.”

Tess began knocking open the barrels the Fireflies left behind until the circle of them created a sour-smelling brown river over the floor, pooling in the divots of the marble. As she dropped a crate of grenades over the substance and pulled a rusty lighter from her pants pocket, Amaya realized her plan. She was making sure they wouldn’t follow.

Tess closed in on an emotionless Joel and whispered to him. He stared at the woman for the few seconds he allowed himself, then turned on his heel and grabbed ahold of Ellie. Amaya moved to protest, raising her axe above her shoulders, but a quivering hand rested itself on her shoulder.

She felt like the biggest fucking hypocrite. Five minutes ago, she had been storming about them abandoning her back in the museum despite knowing there was nothing they could have done. Now, staring into the eyes of a woman cursed, she was doing unto them as they did unto her. But this was Tess’s choice. If her death had to come, it would be by her own hands.

Ashamed, Amaya looked down to see the glass of her watch glimmering. 5:32, it read. Just on time. It was the Waiting Hours, but it was her turn to leave. With one last glance, Amaya hurried away.

Without her knowing the name was even on it, Tess was scratched from the list.

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[just-here-for-the-moment]

JHFTM Fic Recs - blank slate Reader Insert fic recs - The Joel Miller Edition

JHFTM Fic Recs Main Menu

February 18, 2023 fic recs

Blank Slate Reader Insert Fics - These are fics I've really enjoyed and where I did not find any racial descriptors of the Reader Insert character. No blushing, no red marks, no visible bruising, no white-coded hair or skin descriptors that I could see! 🌟🌟🌟

My own notes are added here, but please heed all author warnings. My blog and all fics that I recommend are for 18+ friends only. Minors do not interact.

Joel Miller

One Bed by @frannyzooey - Joel Miller x f!reader (blank slate, no physical description, no age description) - The clasic "there was only one bed" trope and goddamn it is HOT!

Construction Corner by @katareyoudrilling- AU/no outbreak Joel Miller x divorced f!reader (blank slate, no physical description, no age description) - An AU where Joel hosts his own construction makeover show and it is SO CUTE!!!! KAT!!! I LOVED THIS!!!

Mine by @toomanystoriessolittletime - Joel Miller x f!reader (blank slate, no physical description, no age description, one mention of her having her tubes tied pre-outbreak) - Joel REALLY likes it when you wear his denim shirt... Steph!! THIS WAS SO HOT!!!

Always Thought I'd See You Again by @ezrasbirdie - Joel Miller x bartender f!reader (no physical description) - You catch up with Joel and Tommy Miller 20 years after you went to high school together, and Joel is polite and sweet. Flirty!! LOVED IT!

[just-here-for-the-moment]

ZOMG!!!! THAT was amazing!!

One Bed

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

A/N: Just shameless “there is only one bed” filth for the amazing beauty who is @jollyrancher87. Thank you for sending me your ask, my lovely - I hope you like it! ❤️

–

“Goddamn it.”

He sighs, his fingers curled around the straps of his backpack as he shifts his weight to one foot and you step around him to see what he is looking at. 

Oh. 

“I mean,” you start carefully, “At least there’s one?”

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