#*apologizes to snow patrol*

[andy-clutterbuck]

6x07 | Heads Up

#excuse me but The Nose™ #Rick Grimes #* #rg #S6 #sweaty curls were the best ones #if i lay here #if i just lay here #you could step on me and that'd be fine #*apologizes to snow patrol* #profile that'd make renaissance sculptors green with envy #put him on a postage stamp #rick's face reviving the postal service #rogue neck fuzzies 💚

[bet-on-me-13]

The First Supervillain

So! A Typical "Early Start" AU where the events of The Show happen early in the Timeline. Like, in the 70's or 80's.

Danny never quite managed to fix his Public Perception, and even years into his career people still saw him as the Villain.

Coincidentally Valerie was seen as a Hero because of how often they were seen fighting. Even after they revealed their Identities and got together, they still had the occasional Battle. It was their love language.

His role as the Villain was Cemented when Pariah launched his Second Invasion of Earth after some dumbass accidentally freed him, and Danny took the Blame for it. Instead of being seen as the Hero who battled Pariah and stopped the Invasion, he was seen as the Tyrant to launched the Invasion in the first place, with Red Huntess being the one to defeat him in one final Ultimate Battle.

And honestly? He was fine with that. Now that he was the King of the Ghost Zone, he had the Authority to Regulate the Portal so villains stopped getting through. And that meant that he wasn't needed to stop random Ghost Attacks anymore. He could finally focus on College and his own Life, instead of sacrificing everything to act as the Protector of the Human Realm.

Val continued to be a Hero for a few more years, eventually retiring when it became Clear that the new generation of Heroes could pick up the Slack.

He went to College, got a Job as an Aerospace Engineer, and eventually proposed to Valerie.

About 20 years since his initial Accident, and he was doing great! He had moved into a humble home on the edge of town with his loving wife Val, his beautiful daughter Ellie, and his cute dog Cujo.

Yeah, life was good.

Until the day Danny accidently caused a Mass Crisis.

...

Superman was having some extreme trouble in dealing with his current Opponent. He had just been flying around the City, patrolling as Usual, when all of a sudden he had been attacked by a Flying Mech Suit.

At first he had assumed that Lex was giving it another Go, but he quickly realized that was not the case when the Armor seemed to Phase though solid matter in the middle of the battle. Lex had never made Tech advanced enough to do that on the fly.

This opponent was tough too. Strong enough and Durable enough to go blow for blow with him, and seemingly able to pull Advanced Weaponry from out of nowhere whenever he wanted. As tough as it was to admit, Superman as losing the Battle.

Then, without warning, the battle stopped. His opponent was staring at the space just behind him, with a look of pure dread. He turned around, and his heart stopped.

Floating behind him, staring right past him and directly at the Mech Suit, was the First Villain Phantom.

He looked much the same as when he had last been seen, although he was definitely Older. He had snow white hair, and glowing green eyes that seemed to stare right past him and into his very soul. He was wearing what seemed to be a costume of sorts, with an all black suit, white gloves, and white boots. Over his Shoulders sat a Cloak made of Stars, and above his head sat a Crown made of an Icy Blue Fire.

The Mech tried for a greeting, "Er- Hello t-Lord Phantom. How do you d-"

"Skulker."

"Y-yes?"

"What are you doing here? I thought I gave you explicit orders to stay in the Ghost Zone until further notice. You disobeyed me."

"Okay look. I got excited, that's my fault. It's just, I got anxious waiting. Can you really blame me? I've been waiting 20 years to take another Crack at the Human World, what's it matter if I left a few weeks Early?"

"I told you. You were supposed to wait exactly 20 Years, and you left Early. This calls for punishment."

"No wait!"

"Let's see how you feel after a few days as Soup."

The Villain pulled out a Thermos, and in a flash of green light, Skulker was gone, and the King was capping the Thermos. He then turned to Superman.

"I apologize for him, he decided to leave ahead of schedule." The King addressed him. "Now, Kryptonian. Rest and tend to your wounds, you will need to be in your best health if you want to continue saving the lives of those people below us."

With a dramatic flare, the King reached up and Tore a hole in Space. Through the Hole, Superman could only see an infinite Green Void, with the sound of screams cheering being heard through the rift.

The King departed through the Tear in Spacetime, and it closed behind him.

Superman tried to collect himself, and activated his League Emergency Comms.

"Attention All Founding Members, and Justice League Dark Members. This is Superman calling for an immediate Emergency Meeting."

He took a deep breath.

"Phantom is Back."

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Phantom is the first Supervillain #Red Huntress is the first Superhero #Danny/Valerie #Danny x Valerie #When Valerie and Danny battled against Pariah Dark they both managed to beat him #So they both became the King and Queen of the Zone #But nobody knows this and thought that Hero Red Huntress had defeated Villain Phantom #Danny went along with this since if was just easier and he didn't plan to ever break out the Phantom Persona again #Until Skulker decided to break the terms of his Parole #Skulker was supposed to be released in a few weeks but he got excited when he learned that a new Rare Species had become a Hero #He violated his Parole and left to the Human Realm Early #Misunderstandings #Now Superman thinks Danny is planning an Invasion of the Human Realm #They need to find Red Huntress #she would know how to defeat Phantom #Too bad for them she never let her identity be revealed

[lyyhyuck]

fluff; bestfriend!haechan x reader, words: 565.

🎧 chasing cars - snow patrol and there is a light that never goes out - the smiths

“every time i’m here, i get jealous of your blanket. seriously what material is this? its crazy how its so soft. i’ve never had bed sheets this soft”, your best friend, haechan, said, truly sounding amazed. you looked over and saw that he completely buried himself in your blanket, only his head sticking out.

it made you laugh lightly, but you didn’t answer. you focused on your homework while haechan just enjoyed doing nothing and lying around. the room was filled with the smell of tea. your cup freshly refilled and hot, while haechan‘s cup was only half full and already cold, standing on your night stand.

“and im jealous of you because you can lay there stress-free”, you replied, but facing him with your back since you’re sitting at your desk. he watched you doing your assignment for a minute or two, not wanting to interrupt you because he knew you get the most amount of stuff done when you’re in a ‘flow’ like now.

you apologized to your best friend for having to work first and put on headphones and finished your work in about thirty minutes. when you turned around on your desk chair, you see haechan has dozed off. a soft smile spread on your lips and you decided to let him nap for a while. you packed your bag for the next day, then grabbed your phone and made yourself comfortable on the space that was left of your bed, being careful not to wake him up.

another twenty minutes passed before haechan woke up, stretching and yawning. “rise and shine!” you greeted him. he laughed quietly, “shut up”.

“i’d really like to have my bed back”, you said. “too bad it’s mine now”, hyuck sticked out his tongue at you. you shrugged, “not like we haven’t shared a bed before”, and lifted up the blanket to get under it too. “hey, move!”, you told haechan, who just stared at you at first but then did move. you snuggled into your sheets, which were indeed very cozy - haechan did not exaggerate this time - and didn’t even notice how your best friend tensed up next to you.

“sorry”, you mumbled, “you probably expected a more exciting hang out than this.”

“no”, haechan said, “i knew what i signed up for when i texted this morning.”

you had to laugh, “why would you want to hang out here when i would be busy studying? are my sheets really that great?” haechan smiled “well yeah they are great. but-“, he paused, “i just wanted to spend time with you”. your heart melted at the way he looked at you. the moment suddenly felt very intimate.

your body acted before you could think and you snuggled into haechans side. he wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on top of yours.

the room fell quiet for a while and you just enjoyed the moment, butterflys dancing around in your stomach.

“you know”, you hesitantly said, “i just wanted to spend time with you, too.” haechan kissed the crown of your head then. immediately, your cheeks turned red but you turned around to look him in the eyes nonetheless. you grinned, “i would always choose your company over anything even if it means that i study while you sleep”.

haechan kissed you.

masterlist

#hope you enjoyed <3 #haechan fluff #haechan scenarios #haechan drabbles #haechan imagines #haechan oneshot #haechan fanfic #haechan boyfriend #haechan x reader #nct haechan #nct dream soft hours #haechan soft hours #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct fanfic #haechan moodboard #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream headcanons #lee dong hyuck

[iovesia]

can u make a dating coriolanus hc like u did for lucy gray please?

𐑺 ˖ ࣪ ࿐ྂ dating coriolanus snow, fem!reader.

tags. lil’ fluff & angst. allusions to nsfw. toxic energy(?)

if you’re dating coriolanus in his uni & working with dr. gual era— that man is spoiling you rotten. he’s back at the top now, and with all this new real wealth he’s able to buy you the finest jewels and dresses in the capitol.

he loves seeing you smile and grin with pure joy and awe when he hands you gifts— and he loves that extra bit of control over you. you’re like his doll to dress up.

he’s always thinking about you. you’re always in his thoughts throughout the day. sometimes it aggravates him. like a catchy song that gets stuck— he’s always wondering what you’re doing, how you’re doing, where you are.

handsy in the possessive way. if you’re at balls or out in extravagent capitol events, his hand is always firm on your hip or on the back of your neck, thumb gently stroking your skin.

first he was doing it to make a statement: you’re his. after a while it becomes the default for where his hands go. as long as you two are touching, he’s ♡.♡ !!

if you’re dating him in his peacekeeper era, he’s always especially protective over you— wanting to keep an eye out for you.

when you walk past him while he stands on patrol, he can’t help the twitch of a smile on his lips when he sees your face.

coriolanus tries not to argue with you, most because he thinks it’s pointless. he’s right, why can’t you just admit it?

you often bump heads when you disagree on things: he’s stubborn, and you wanting him to not get his way like always. you’d have to do the apologies first, his pride’s too big to handle admitting his faults.

his idea of an apology is sending you roses— white roses. coriolanus likes to play it off as an apology, but you both know that it doesn’t mean anything other than “i was right, and you were wrong.”

sigh … he’s manipulative of course. canonically and fanonically— he’s gonna be a bit of a toxic boyfriend. but he does love you (contrary to popular belief) .. or so you think … right?

#love letters. #*⠀coriolanus snow. #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow smut

[angel-eyes05]

a spider in the snow

pairing: fem!reader x miguel o’hara

summary: you help rehabilitate an injured miguel after he returns from one of his late night patrols…in more ways than one

warnings: nsfw, fluff then smut then fluff, handjob (both m and f recieving), blood mention, an incy wincy tincy bit of angst

word count: 2.5k

notes: heyyyyy i've come back from the dead. i don't really write a lot of one shots so go easy on me for this one. just like every horny person on the internet, i’ve fallen head over heels in love with miguel o’hara. this is me giving into my impulses lmao. sorry if i do anything thats out of character idk him that well so just work with me here. i also don't know everything about nueva york and if names are different than here or something so im just gonna pretend they’re the same. if they are, great! if not, just go with it lmao. one more thing, despite being cuban i am a no sabo kid (rip me) so i had to use a translator for some of this so apologies in advance if some things aren't super accurate. ok lets get on with the show.

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Snowy nights in Nueva York have always been one of your favorite parts about moving up north. Seeing all the lit up buildings illuminated in the snow, all the people ice skating in Rockefeller Center rink just below your apartment window, the reminders of Christmas coming soon. It kept your heart warm against the freezing temperatures outside. You also loved the feeling of being able to bundle yourself up in blankets and hoodies, a mix of yours and your boyfriend’s, having an excuse to make hot chocolate, and finally being able to use the fireplace that normally laid dormant in the middle of your living room. The one con about the snow was when it would land on Miguel’s patrol nights. Your already nervous mind was only heightened by the added uncertainty of everything that could happen while he was out there. What if he got too cold while out there and it affected his ability to fight? What if it started snowing too hard and he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to the apartment? You knew some of your concerns were probably dumb, but they felt serious to you. 

This was one of those nights. One of the nights where you would sit on your couch, next to the cracked window, unable to sleep until you could see him come back safe. You flipped through the channels of the tv aimlessly, trying to find something to keep your mind off of the growing cold outside. You eventually turn it off after coming across the weather channel, claiming a snowstorm would be rolling into the city in about 15 minutes. Deciding there was nothing you could do about your situation, you walked over to your bedroom and wrapped yourself in your massive duvet to shield from the cold. Worries dashed around your mind about everything that could happen. Despite being verbally supportive about Miguel and his…hobbies, you really hated the idea of him sneaking out in basically pajamas almost every night to “beat up the bad guys” essentially. Even though he had explained everything to you by this point, having been dating for about three years now, you still couldn’t quite understand everything. Radioactive spiders? Corrupt businesses? Fangs and claws? Mutations? A multiverse? It was a lot to wrap your head around. But, despite all of this, all of your worries and concerns over Miguel, you stayed. Because you knew you didn’t start dating him because of his whole superhero business or whatever. You were dating him because you loved him. The real him. The way he would always press gentle kisses into the crook of your neck. How on his days off, you would be woken up to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking in the kitchen just for you. How he would always whisper sweet praises to you while you would give him head. How easily he could be crumbled down beneath his rock hard exterior. The Miguel underneath the red and blue spandex. You dreamt of this as you slowly fell into a calm slumber. You fell asleep bundled up in all the blankets on your bed, arm outstretched to the opposite side the bed, almost as if you were reaching for something that wasn’t there. 

After some time had passed, you’re not sure exactly how much, you were awoken by a thud coming from your bathroom. You lazily rubbed your eyes and grabbed your alarm clock to check the time. 3:47 am. Yeah, that’s definitely Miguel in there. You dragged yourself out of bed to help him out, throwing one of this hoodies over your tank top for extra warmth. You also liked how it still smelled like him after three times in the wash. You opened the door, eyes squinting from the bright fluorescent light. And there he was. You found it endearing. How Miguel was trying, and failing, to reach this massive scratch on his back to clean it instead of just waking you up to ask for your help. You look to the floor to find a bottle of hydrogen peroxide sitting there on the rug, probably what caused the thudding sound. You stood there leaning in the doorframe, waiting for him to notice you, even though he probably already heard every step you’ve taken from the bed up to the door now. “You need any help there?” you ask him, jokingly. You had seen him in much worse conditions, so you took moments like these to be more comedic, an attempt to lighten his mood sort of. It didn’t usually work. “No, I got it. Please go back to sleep,” he said, still attempting to wrap his arms around himself. You rolled your eyes and walked over to sit behind him, picking up the hydrogen peroxide off the floor and grabbing a couple of cotton balls from the first aid basket. “Mi amor, please go back to sleep, I promise I can do this by myself,” he argued. Before he could get another word in, you poured some of the hydrogen peroxide over his wound. He groaned in response and squeezed your thigh to help level out the pain. “That’s for worrying me all night,” you said to him, just over the volume of a whisper. As you began to dab the blood off of his cut, he responded. “You know I don’t want you to worry.” Once you could see he was turning his head around to look at you, you turned your eyes away. You didn’t really want to look at him right now. It’s not that you were mad at him. Ok that’s a lie, you were a little mad. But it was more of a helplessness you felt when you would see him like this. Beat up, cut, scratched, bruised. And there wasn’t anything you could do to help. Not until after at least. And it wasn’t like you were a trained nurse or anything. You dreaded the day that he would come stumbling through the window, too injured for you to take care of yourself. Or worse. The day he wouldn’t come home at all. “Yeah, well that doesn’t mean I don’t,” you said sort of coldly. You stood up from your position, waiting to patch up his back until after he showered. You changed your positions to sit from behind him to in front, ready to take care of his front side now. “I don’t want to talk about that right now tho-.” You cut yourself off when you finally saw his face

Cuts were scattered across his face, one above his eyebrow still dripping blood catching your attention first. He also had a bruise quickly forming on his left cheekbone. Once you moved your eyes more, you saw his nose marked with a deep cut going through the middle. His beautiful nose. It was one of your favorite parts of his appearance. Done scanning his face, your eyes moved down to his chest and his torso. His chest was marked with similar cuts to the one on his back. You kept your eyes on his chest in an attempt to hide the fact you were holding back tears right now. “I’m sorry mi cariño. I really am.” You knew he was. But sorry wasn’t going to keep him safe. This was one apology among many. It didn’t really matter. He wasn’t sorry for getting hurt again and again and again. He was sorry for the fact you had to see him like this. If you wouldn’t have seen that he was injured, he wouldn’t have said anything And you knew after this apology as well, he would go out tomorrow night and do the same thing over again. You didn’t respond to his words. All you could manage to do was pull him into an embrace and apologize when he winced from your hands hitting his cuts. You sat there for a bit, running your hands through his hair and trying to hold yourself back from crying. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted gentle kisses there, each a little apology from him. Once you finally pulled away and wiped your face, you started to clean the scrapes on his face, this time more gentle than his back. You dabbed the cotton ball on his forehead as he held you straddled on his lap. He admired your features as you concentrated on him, rubbing your back with his fingers in the process. You didn’t say much, only a simple “sorry” if you were a little too rough with cleaning. Despite the stern face you were putting on, Miguel knew you secretly liked the way he would grab at your thighs and hips with his claws when you did something that hurt.

Once you were finished, you silently put the first aid equipment away and left the bathroom so he could take a shower. He planted a soft kiss into your forehead before you left the room. Once you crawled back into bed, you sighed to yourself. How did you end up here anyways? There’s no way you were expecting all of this when you first saw Miguel at the concert bar that day. Some days were amazing with him. Others were much harder. And while you’ve definitely had worse days with him, today was leaning on the latter option. You contemplated all of this until you heard the door to the bathroom behind you open, Miguel stepping out of the steaming room with his towel wrapped around his lower body. You were very quickly reminded of one of the reasons you’ve stayed with him for so long. The way his wet curls were laying around his head. How his chest glistened while it was damp, despite currently being tattered with cuts at the current moment. He sleepily shuffled over to the bed, dropping his towel before crawling up close to you in bed. The warmth of Miguel’s freshly showered body against yours helped to melt the majority of your worries away. It also helped that you could feel his his cock getting harder against your leg while he cuddled against you. You finally turned around to face him, cupping his jaw in your hand and rubbing your thumb across his face. He grasped your hand and pressed soft kisses into it. “I love you so much Miggy,” you finally said, breaking the silence and drawing his eyes towards you. “I really do, and I’m sorry if I ever make it seem like I don’t. You just…you scare me sometimes.” You quickly realize those weren’t the words you meant. You begin to stutter and take back your words a bit, until you see that Miguel has given you his full attention. You take a deep breath and continue. “You don’t scare me. It’s more of what you do that scares me. I never know when you’re gonna come back or if you even are. If you think I take joy in taking care of you after you come back, I really don’t. I hate seeing my boy like this. And it makes me scared that one day you’re gonna come back in a shape I can’t fix. It scares me so bad Miggy you don’t even know,” you say, choking back your tears. Once Miguel notices you’re about to start crying, he wraps his arms around you immediately. “Shhh it’s ok preciosa,” he comforts as you quietly cry into his broad shoulders. “I’m so sorry for making you worry,” he says in between kissing the top of your head. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, and I love you too.” 

You pull away from his hug and stare into his beautiful crimson eyes as he wipes away your tears. You suddenly fall into the overwhelming urge to kiss him. He returns the kiss with even more passion than you put into it. You quickly found yourself exploring his body with your hands, moans escaping his lips whenever you would graze over one of his wounds. You drew yourself closer to him to absorb more of his body heat, though you were quickly reminded of his bare cock as you could feel it hardening on your leg. Your hands eventually made it down there, teasing Miguel along the way as you felt him up on the way down. You then took his hard, already wet cock into your hands, caressing every ridge you could find on it. You could hear more moans exit his mouth and slide into yours as you handled him like putty. He would let out messier sounds, even a growl at one point, and jerk forward into your hand when you would tease around his tip. “F-fuck baby. Y-you’re s-so good to me. ‘N pr-retty too,” he would blurb out Feeling his cock get increasingly hard in your hand began to make you slightly wet as well. This only increased as Miguel began to take off your underwear as well, sliding two of his fingers into your pussy and placing his thumb to draw circles onto your clit. Your grip on his length becomes lazy and sloppy as you’re stimulated as well. You’re surprised at how quickly Miguel is able to find your clit, but then again you expect him to know your body so well after three years. After both of you have been at it for a while, you’re the first one to get close to your orgasm. “Fuck M-Miggy, I-I’m gonna cum,” you manage to moan out. His kisses on you get sloppy as he reaches his as well. It’s over for you once he begins to put more pressure onto your core. You let out an inhuman noise as your stomach fills with the white heat of your orgasm, shaking your entire body. Miguel takes his fingers out of your entrance and licks your cum off of his fingers. It’s then over for him when you eventually put the pressure of your fingers onto his cock. You hand is then covered in his cum once he reaches his climax in your fist, moaning intensely into the air. While he’s in the middle of his orgasm, his claws pop out of his fingers and into your hips and underneath your thigh where his hands are placed. Then, he lets out his fangs and uses them to leave hickeys into your neck, making sure not to let out any of his poison while doing so. “Just stay here with me Miggy,” you sigh out, his fangs deep into your neck. “You don’t ever need to go back out there again. Just stay here with me forever.” He simply nods at first, still sucking into your neck. Once he lets go and and begins to calm down, he responds with “Forever and always mi corazón,” whispering the words into your ear as he lays more kisses along your collarbone and neck.

You stare outside the window at the falling snow, hoping this time he’ll keep his word, but knowing deep down that he wasn’t going to. But for now, you could just appreciate your time with him now. He was all yours right now. Everything. And that was enough.

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A/N: uhhhh sorry but i didn't feel like proofreading this cause its super late for me rn sorry not sorry lmao

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #x reader #smut #marvel smut #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse

[dancingbirdie]

Oh look it's me with another Astarion fic, what a concept.

This is the next part in my Astarion series called The Planets Bend Between Us (title taken from Snow Patrol's song). Part 1 (flashback) and Part 2 can be found by clicking on those links!

Everything is also posted on Ao3 - link to that here!

Find Me, Here

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 2.2K

Tags/Warnings: SMUT FREE FLUFF, non-sexual body worship, angst, trauma/trauma responses/trauma recovery

Suggested Song Pairing: The Light by The Album Leaf

They had begun sleeping together. There was no sex involved, or even suggested. Despite their mutual desire for one another, both had agreed to take this slow. Both had their demons to reckon with when it came to… relationships. The concept was foreign to both of them. They needn’t rush into things more than they had. 

But Astarion and Tav had agreed that sleeping was innocuous enough. They could be together without being together. At least for the time being. 

No one in the camp seemed too surprised by the development. It had started the night of Astarion’s confession, after the events that had transpired with Gale’s spell, after the revelation of Tav’s true intentions. She had forgiven Gale for the part he had played in all of it, although that decision hadn’t had much to do with the verbose apology she’d immediately received from him. No, it was mostly due to one certain pale elf with whom she’d reentered the camp. 

She hadn’t said anything to the rest of the party when they returned. They had all seen what had happened prior to her rushed departure. She didn’t feel like rehashing it, or catching them all up to speed on the conversation that had followed. Instead she went directly to her bedroll, grabbed it by one of the corners, and dragged it determinedly toward Astarion’s tent. He was already there, waiting for her, watching her with an amused grin. She quirked a brow. 

“Care to make some room in there?” she asked him bluntly. 

Astarion curled his mouth into a lazy smirk. “Of course, darling,” he returned, drawing aside one tent flap and moving inside to begin rearranging the interior.

Tav nodded to herself before turning to glance at the other party members. They were all observing the show. Some were smiling. Some glaring. Some smirking. She met the eyes of each of them with a sort of sternness. As if to say, not one comment from any of you. 

“Goodnight, all,” she said definitively, before turning and joining Astarion in his tent. 

A chorus of goodnights floated up behind her. 

And that had been that. 

***

Tonight she woke to the sound of quiet sobs. Lying on her back, she opened her eyes blearily, taking in the ceiling of the tent. It was dimly illuminated by the light of the moon. Her senses were sluggish, absorbing her surroundings incrementally. She felt blindly with one hand, stretching it out until she made contact with Astarion’s body. His back. He had turned away from her, curled into the fetal position. She clutched him gently.

“Astarion…?” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep. 

She heard him sniffle quietly then clear his throat.  

“My apologies darling,” he replied. His attempt at a casual tone failed horribly. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

She heard him sigh. Then he shifted to face her. She turned her head to meet his gaze.

“It was a nightmare,” he muttered. “I hadn’t had one since you started sleeping in here, but, well… I suppose they had to resume at some point.”

“About… Cazador?” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but his lips trembled, on the verge of another sob. He nodded mutely instead.

“Oh, Astarion, I’m so sorry,” Tav whispered, her heart breaking at the look on his face. 

He merely nodded again, too afraid to open his mouth lest another wave of emotion burst forth. 

“What can I do - how can I help you?” she asked desperately. 

He just looked at her, unsure. He’d never been asked that question before. He hadn’t the slightest clue how she could help him, however much he wanted her to. 

“Astarion,” she murmured, interrupting his thoughts. “Can I…” she swallowed, uncertain. “Can I just touch you?”

He stared at her, wide-eyed. She couldn’t discern the emotion on his face. 

“Not in that sort of way. I just… well, my mother used to use this trick when I was upset… her touch always calmed me… I thought it may be worth a shot” she trailed off, beginning to seriously regret her forwardness.  

Physical touch is obviously a sensitive topic for him, even if it’s not sexual. You complete arsehole! She chastised herself. He literally told you that being with someone still feels tainted. And now you go asking if you can put your lovesick little paws all over him?

“Please,” he managed in a broken whisper. His voice halted her inner cacophony of reprimands and insults. She blinked in surprise. 

Tears brimmed his eyes as he looked at her, desperation now clearly written across his face. 

She rolled onto her side, scooted closer to him. They faced each other, chest touching chest. She felt his lungs expand with a shaky breath. 

Slowly, like she would be approaching a wild animal, she raised a hand toward his face. His eyes tracked her cautious movements. But then they fluttered shut, when her index finger made a gentle sweep across his forehead. She followed the shape of one brow first. Then the other. Smoothing out the distress, stroke by stroke.

“Such strong brows,” she murmured. He jumped a little in surprise at her voice, his eyes opening to observe her. She gave him a gentle smile. “It’s all right,” she soothed. 

“They’re darker than your hair color, you know. Still silver, but more like the steel of a sword,” she continued. His eyes slipped shut once more. She thought she caught the slightest tremble of his lips. 

“And they’re quite expressive. This one,” she tapped his left brow lightly, “always quirks up when Gale says something absurd. Which is often.” 

Astarion huffed a laugh. His cool breath smelled of mint as it washed over her face. 

“And they both furrow when Wyll goes all noble Blade of Frontiers on us.” She drew a faint line down the middle of his forehead, over the bridge of his nose. He gave her a tiny smirk. 

“But my favorite. My favorite is how they raise up when you’re delighted. Or when you laugh… your whole expression changes. And those brows lead the charge.” 

She traced the line of his nose again. “And this nose. So noble. Regal, but not austere. A patrician’s nose. It suits your face perfectly,” she smiled at him, though he couldn’t see. 

She swiped delicately over his cheeks, noting how his eyelids fluttered slightly. “High cheekbones. Sharp enough to cut yourself on. Absolutely gorgeous alabaster skin,” she sighed. “Sculptors couldn’t replicate your likeness if they tried.”

Her index finger dipped to his mouth. He swallowed thickly as she traced his upper lip, then the lower. 

“A very pleasing mouth, even if it does utter the most deplorable things at times,” she teased softly. 

He released a true bark of laughter at that. She could see his fangs glint in the moonlight. But then he quieted, a silent request for her to continue her ministrations. 

“Full lips, a perfect cupid’s bow,” she went on. “Utterly swoon-inducing, as I can attest.” 

She moved down to his chin, tracing the point of it before grazing back and forth across his jawline. 

“Strong jawline and chin. Makes you look quite powerful. Someone who should be paid attention to. Listened to.” He hummed in approval of her commentary. 

Her hand slid up to his ear, tracing the tip of it, the elegant point. He shivered slightly but kept his features schooled, his eyes still shut. 

“And these ears. Beautifully pointed. Elegant. Refined.”

Then she carded her hand through his hair. 

“These curls. Simply gorgeous. Silver, like the moonlight. They almost glow at night when moonbeam touches them. They always look perfect, even in the midst of battle.” He sighed as she massaged his scalp lightly.

“But my absolute favorite…” she whispered after a moment, but then stopped. She moved her hand to cup his cheek. 

Astarion blinked his eyes open, curious as to why she had stopped. 

��There they are,” she smiled. Her thumb lovingly grazed the hollow under his eye. 

“These beautiful eyes. Deep burgundy. They hold so much emotion. So much levity. And sorrow.”

She noted the tears that welled in his eyes once again as she spoke. 

“They say eyes are the windows to the soul, you know,” she continued. “Which means I’m seeing such a beautiful, rare soul who lives inside. Marvelous. Incomparable.”

A tear finally fell, plopping onto the pillow beneath his head. Tav gently wiped away the others on his cheek that were racing to follow their leader. 

“It’s a privilege to see you,” she finally whispered, smiling softly at him. “A privilege, Astarion. Thank you.”

A quiet sob wrenched from him. He lurched forward to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He clutched her waist desperately.

She held him there. Curled her arm around him. Palmed the back of his head. Held him tight enough to feel protected. Loose enough to know he could break away. If he wanted to. If he needed to.

Eventually, she felt his breathing even out. His inhales and exhales became those of a slumberer. His body relaxed, muscles released from their tension. She continued to hold him, curled as he was into her body. She kissed the top of his head. Her lips remained there as she breathed in his scent. 

She fell asleep like that. Locked in his embrace. Surrounded by the comforting smell of bergamot. 

***

He hadn’t liked being touched. Physical touch had been reserved solely for the job, per Cazador’s command. It was hard to enjoy something when the only time he had experienced it was while doing something so awful as luring poor souls back to his master. 

Perhaps he had enjoyed it in his former life. But that was over two centuries ago. If that person had existed in this body, he didn’t remember them anymore. 

But Tav was changing that. 

For perhaps the first time in his long, long life he understood what it meant to be touch-starved. The concept had been so foreign to him when he used to hear the bards croon about it in the city squares. Or when reading the drabble that poets had peddled around the Baldur’s Gate artisan guild. 

But now, lying here with Tav, he felt he understood those lovesick fools a bit better. She had lulled him to sleep with those blissful caresses. Those touches that asked for nothing. That only gave him everything. 

She had awoken something in him, he realized now, in the pale hours of the morning. Something long-buried, something that desperately needed that unassuming affection she gave to him so freely. It was like opium, in the best of ways. It had soothed his pain. Had left only peace in its wake.

They had shifted in their slumber together. He was now on his back, with Tav curled into his side. Her legs and arms were banded around him, tangled in him.

And he… didn’t mind? Didn’t mind at all. In fact, it felt rather amazing. Her warmth radiated into him, creating hotspots in the places her limbs touched. Like his own personal sun. 

He stared up at the ceiling of the tent, lost in thought. One hand caressing up her arm, down her waist. Again and again. 

***

The tent was getting brighter with morning sunlight when Tav began to stir. She felt Astarion’s hand caressing her skin. The sensation had her humming in delight.

“Hello, you,” he murmured into the crown of her head, sensing she was awake. He planted a chaste kiss there. 

“Good morning,” Tav garbled through a yawn. She both felt and heard Astarion chuckle. Then he squeezed her waist firmly.

“Thank you. For last night,” he murmured. “It was a gift.”

“Of course,” she said simply, though the words were filled with affection. She wanted to say more, to tell him she would do anything for him, to promise a thousand touches if it pleased him. But she didn’t want to overwhelm him. He didn’t take grand expressions like that very well. She’d learned that after promising they would defeat Cazador and free him.

And, she reminded herself, bombarding him with affection was not the way to ensure he would stay with her. As much as she cared for him, she didn’t want to fall back on old ways of trying to prevent someone from leaving her. She had told Astarion that she had her own demons she wrestled with. Insecurity was chief among them.

She settled instead on telling him a truth. Vulnerability in exchange for vulnerability. 

“I like you touching me like that,” she murmured, feeling a certain shyness about the confession.

Astarion hummed his own approval, continuing to trail his fingers across her skin. “Is that so, darling?”

He became more intentional with his movements. She felt him graze her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder, the dip of her waist, the small of her back. His fingers slid delicately across her skin, painting the places of her body he could reach with his cool touch. 

Tav moaned in approval, snuggling up closer to him and closing her eyes once more. “It feels lovely.”

He couldn’t have agreed more wholeheartedly. Touching her felt almost as wonderful as when she’d had her hands on him the night before. And that, within itself, was an incredible revelation.

“It really does,” Astarion agreed after a beat of silence. He smiled faintly to himself. “It really does.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #dancingbirdiewrites #astarion x f!reader #bg3 astarion fic #tav x astarion #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #astarion fluff

[pedgito]

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

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

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

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

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

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

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

Maybe that was for the best. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hold a finger up, pointing in his direction.

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

“What? I’m not loud enough for you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could share the sentiment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

A favor. For anything. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sure if that’s—“

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

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

“Joel, pick a damn pocket.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another few weeks later and things are even more different. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel shakes his head honestly.

“Shit—Tommy?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seems that way.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then?” You tease.

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

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

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

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

Joel snorts a quiet laugh at that.

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

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

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

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

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

Joel looks hesitant.

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

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

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

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

Doesn’t say a word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never said you couldn’t, sweetheart.” 

Your breath catches in your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Somethin’ on your mind?” He asks.

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

Too much—is what you should say.

You—is what you want to say.

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

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

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

You hate it.

It feels embarrassing.

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

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

You release a soft breath, nodding absently.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

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

It was.

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

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

You nod confidently, taking the reins away silently.

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

Joel echoes your response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grab your gun,” He tells you, ignoring how easily the rage would have overtaken his body in most situations, buring it away for the moment when he sees how badly you’re shaken up (it wasn't fear, not even close—more like rage), moving around rigidly to grab your gun off the floor, “knife too—then sit down.”

“But the—the bodies, Joel,” Joel can hear the uncertainty in your voice, shaking his head insistently, “we’ve gotta go back—tell Tommy, let them know.”

Joel shakes out his muscles, adjusting his thick leather jacket around his frame and steps over the dead body, moving to stand in front of you, touching you for the first time since last night. It’s not soft or gentle, more leading in an effort to get your attention and pull you out of your gaze, his fingers cupping your jaw, chin falling in the curve where his thumb and pointer finger connect. 

You wonder how many times he's done this before—how he'd come to learn to calm people down through his intense eye contact and grounding voice. He could mask his emotions for the sake of others, even when they were threatening to boil over.

“I’ve got it, I’ll take care of this—” His eyes never left yours, eyebrows raising in question as he awaited your acknowledgment, a small nod coming from you, “go wash the blood off and come straight back, okay?”

You nod again, deftly, eyes empty and void of emotion.

“Hey,” Joel calls out, pulling your attention back, “I need you with me—you with me?”

“Yeah—yes,” You mumble weakly, ignoring how tenderly his thumb rubbed the junction of your jaw at the admittance, something you’re sure he wasn’t even aware he was doing, “I’m with you.” 

“Go.” He instructs, releasing his hold on you.

His face morphs into resentment as you leave.

He should've stuck by your side. But, then he thinks back to the joke you made in passing and it fuels the anger more.

*

Joel’s taken care of the bodies by the time you returned, shrugging off his own jacket as he yanked the door closed, barricading it closed with the vacant table stuff in the corner of the room, letting his own paranoia get the better of him. It wasn’t a crime to be too safe, not anymore.

“If they’ve got a group they’ll come here looking for ‘em,” Joel tells you, “but somethin’ tells me we won’t have to worry about that.”

“So, no fire then?” 

Joel shakes his head, nodding toward the few camping lateens left haphazardly on a desk, “We’ll use those tonight, better to be safe.”

He would have to explain this to Tommy when he saw him, put the town back on high alert for a while and go to sleep every night worrying that someone was going to snatch his family away again—snatch Ellie away, snatch you away. It was another problem, another stressor, but none of that was new to him. 

“I’m gonna do a walkthrough,” He tells you, cocking his gun loudly, a little unnecessarily in your opinion, but his anger is still there, radiating off of him, “keep your gun out and shoot at anything you see that isn’t me.”

He doesn’t want you letting your guard down, which is why his apprehension to relax is valid. You nod quietly, sinking in on yourself as you take a seat on the old, torn up couch.

He’s gone for an hour or two, the sun nearly nonexistent outside now, lamps scattered around the room and bathing you in a low light, gun still clutched in your hand on your lap, safety off.

Joel knocks on the door shortly after, startling you to near death. You hated being jumpy like this, nothing to calm your nerves. You’d always prided yourself for being able to handle yourself in situations like that and you couldn’t explain why you froze—but deep down, you knew.

It was Joel. Worry for him when he wasn’t there, what threat might be awaiting him if they could get the jump so easily on you. You stumble to your feet and pull the door open, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the mattress in Joel’s grip.

“Tommy must’ve moved it last time—he doesn’t like sleepin’ when he’s on watch down here.”

You open the door wider, letting him inside and taking the opposite end to help with the weight, settling the mattress up against the edge of the couch and shifting the folded blankets down onto the surface, crouching down onto your knees with a soft sigh as you spread out the blankets.

You don’t realize Joel is watching you until you chance a glance up his way, wondering if this was the moment he’d let you have and berate you until he was blue in the face. 

You’ve witnessed it once, with Jesse. He’d nearly risked Ellie’s life on a patrol that should’ve been easy—he still seems a little jumpy in Joel’s presence, rightfully so.

“Look at me,” Joel beckons, adding your name in a demand to grab your attention, “you with me?”

And it breaks you, what little patience you have left in your body.

“Yes, Joel. I am right fucking here.” You snip back at him, throwing the blankets down and standing to full height. You’re tired of his act, hidden behind his pathetic excuse of a kind guise, wanting him to say what he really felt. When he looked at you earlier, hovering over that man’s body, all you could see was contempt. He was upset with you—upset that you allowed yourself to be in danger, ignoring his lectures time and time again, that you weren’t mindful of your surroundings, upset with himself that he wasn’t there from the beginning. 

Joel looks offended, like maybe you wounded his ego or something similar, his hand held up defensively.

“You’re the one over there shakin’ like a leaf,” Joel accuses, “I told you to keep your damn gun out, told you to be careful—don’t you try and take that anger out on me.”

“Jesus, Joel,” You cry out in desperation, “careful? Two against one and you’re telling me I wasn’t careful? Fuck you.”

You toss your gun and knife sheath aside for good measure, stripping out of your coat and extra winter layers, his hardened gaze stuck on you. 

“I’ll take first watch.” You tell him flatly, reaching for the lantern on the table beside the door that led to the rest of the plant, a maze of halls and room. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

Joel knows that if he lets you leave, there is no repairing what little relationship you had—it would return to a tolerance rather than anything else. His hand wraps around your closed fist, forcing the latent back down as he moves to stand in front of you, head tilted your way.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes, though it feels unsympathetic coming from him, and he’s blaming it on his tone, “okay?”

“It doesn’t matter, Joel.” You tell him adamantly. “You said it, it’s done. I’ll let Tommy know you don’t think I can handle myself anymore and you can keep running patrols without me. That’s what you want, right?”

Joel scoffs.

Say no, please say no. 

“What are you getting at?” Joel challenges.

“The first time I make a mistake—one that almost kills me and all you can think to do is shift the blame on me? That somehow I’m responsible for not handling it myself?”

He shifts slightly, jaw clenching as he moves his outstretched hand to rest against the doorframe, blocking you from the exit. 

“You never let me go alone,” You remind him, “why all the sudden today?”

Joel doesn’t answer. He knows why. He trusted you, trusted that you could handle it. Joel knows you’re not the one to blame, but he can’t battle with his internal guilt of putting you in that position, letting it come out in bursts of wrath.

You lean in slightly, his eyes mindful of your body language, shoving a finger into his chest roughly.

“Why isn’t it your fault, huh?” You ask, baiting a reaction out of him before you can’t stand the look on his face, mouth shut tight as he his eyes trace your movements, the soft brown irises now an encroaching darkness.

You scoff, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” It’s a snide comment that has you feeling a surge of confidence that you’ve finally rendered him speechless.  “Don’t act like you haven’t been bothered being around me all day—if the kiss bothered you that much you should’ve just told Tommy to switch out. Now, move.”

Joel doesn’t budge.

Now your patience is wearing then, reaching to shove his forearm out of the way, but he’s as solid as steel and doesn’t take too lightly to your touch, gripping your wrist and pulling it back in a harsh grip, one that has your face grimacing in pain.

“Say that again.” Joel demands, his voice shaking you to your core, the sickeningly dark turn it’s taken. 

You double down, “Move, Joel.” You say through clenched teeth, yanking your arm back to no avail.

You hadn’t realized how wound up you both were until now, the shared frustration and pique boiling over the edge.

You yank away again, forcing a quick change of position as Joel retaliates, shoving you against the table by the door, your legs buckling from the force of it as he towers over you.

“I apologized,” He glared at you through hooded eyes, chin tilting down slightly, “it’s your turn.”

You scoff softly, never making a move to push him away, his legs crowding between yours as they spread involuntarily, the only thing keeping you upright being the grip he had on your arm, leaving you hanging by a thread. If he let go, you’d surely collapse.

“Why don’t you tell me why you really switched patrols?” Joel suggests, tilting his head in interest. “Don’t lie to me—I’ll know.”

There was a side of you that couldn’t stand being around him, his proximity driving you crazy. But, there’s a bigger part that yearned to be around him, by his side—it was never like this at first, but you found yourself unable to escape him lately. 

You want to blame him for letting you in, letting his guard down—but you can’t. It wasn’t just his fault. It wasn’t just yours. 

You craved each other. Plain and simple.

“You tell me,” You counter, “I’m not the one keeping you from leaving.”

It snaps Joel—that feeling he’s been burying away all day. He’s nearly insatiable over it. 

He trades his grip on your wrist for your face, too quick to counter before he’s gripping your chin again like earlier, but under completely different pretenses, your mouth lolling open at the force and pulling a soft grunt from your lips, eyes narrow in defiance. 

“You are so goddamn stubborn,” He complains, eyes scanning over your face slowly, “—and you know exactly what you’re doing.”

You laugh bitterly, a choked gasp. 

He's never touched you like this, but intensity is all too familiar.

His grip was tight, your mind flashing back to the first time he held you, though involuntarily. There was intention now, meaning—and you needed him to give in to it. 

You blink once, slow, eyes staying shut for a moment longer than needed. There’s a soft sigh that leaves your nose, ghosts over Joel’s outstretched palm. When you open your eyes, there’s little left of the Joel you’ve become accustomed to.

“We’ve got all night, Joel.” His nostrils flare in warning, “Go on—do it.”

He won’t. Joel wouldn’t let himself. You’re waiting for the moment he lets you go, shuffles away and tucks himself into a corner for the rest of the night. But, it never comes.

Instead he’s surging forward, tilting your chin up roughly and forcing his lips against your own, nothing like the delicate kiss shared the night prior. There’s no gradual increase, no soft sighs and hesitant touches. He doesn’t want that and neither do you. 

You open your mouth in an airy gasp of breath and Joel jumps on the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, into your mouth, pressing against your own until you finally, finally return his touch. He feels the heat, the weight of your hand where it rests against the seam of his jeans, fingers resting over his belt and your knuckles pressing into the firmness of his stomach, his breathing steady despite his eagerness to ravish you. He greedily pulls your bottom lip between his own, sucking lewdly until his teeth drag against the skin, pulling back with untamed eyes.

You narrow your eyes with intrigue, mouth quipping up into a smirk at his final break of self control, allowing himself what he wanted. There was no turning back now. 

He grips your hands, yanking you upright and forcing you to turn until your hip bones are hitting the blunt edge of the table, his movements haste but pointed, his palms rubbing over the soft curve of your hips, pressing underneath the material of your shirt and squeezing the skin. 

“Joel—“ You sing softly, your tone mocking.

“Keep quiet,” He warns, pulling you back suddenly and against his front, the heaviness of his cock pressing into your backside, strained through his jeans and craving a selfish need for release—it’s been too long for him and he’s bursting at the seams, “don’t wanna hear your smartass remarks.”

And you can hear the restraint in his voice, drowning in his thoughts—he wanted to ravish and pull you apart, not thinking about how he would put you back together and make you whole again. You shift back against him, a greedy rut of your ass against the stiff denim and he’s grunting under the weight of it.

“Get ‘em down,” He instructs, yanking at your jeans briefly before his touch is gone, hands working swiftly at his own.

The rustle of his belt is deafening, metal clanging against something solid, the quick shuffle of his zipper and the shifting off fabric. You rise without hesitation, unbuttoning your jeans and wiggling them far enough down your hips until they hit your knees, underwear following roughly as Joel shoved them down impatiently, bunching your shirt higher up your back as he rubs his fingers over your cunt sleazily. 

He’s waiting a beat, eyes examining you from behind and looking for any sign that you didn’t want this—it never comes. In fact, the subtle push back into his fingers is enough, two thick digits sinking inside slowly.

You gasp ruggedly, feeling the immediate difference in fullness to your own, the touch of someone else that you haven’t felt in so long. Joel is desperate, but so are you. 

You turn your face to the side, cheek pressed against the hard surface, fingers gripping either side of the table and you let yourself melt into his touch, his fingers working you over steadily, his other hand squeezing at the soft globes of your ass, following the insistent and impatient wiggle of your hips as you seek more friction, more fullness until Joel can’t stand it anymore, palm coming down in a rough slap to your backside to still you, a warning.

“You treat all the ladies like this?” 

He should’ve known you wouldn’t give yourself over this easy, his stifled chuckle coming from behind, low and dark, until he’s quickly switching back to menacing, his fingers increasing with speed and intensity, dragging a third finger along your center and pressing it in smoothly, forcing a lewd moan from your lips as you grip the edges of the table harder, willing to strain your neck for a look his way, a glimpse at his face to see how this was affecting him. You could only imagine, his groans stifled behind heavy puffs of air forced through his nose when you forced yourself back against his cock, inadvertently rubbing yourself against the length of his shaft.

“Fine, keep acting like you hate me.”

The loss of fingers is sudden, fingers fisting into your hair with a sudden fierceness as he pulls you upright, your hands grasping for purchase. He tilts your head back, allowing you the smallest glimpse of his face as he looks forward, talking to you but never allowing you the eye contact you desperately craved. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, sweetheart.”

You shake your head in disbelief, lifting your hand up to wind into his own overgrown hair, curling wildly. You pull taut, reveling in the grunt that slips past his lips.

“You don’t scare me, Joel.” 

He never could. You’ve seen all sides of him, the good and the bad—there was nowhere left for him to hide.

But, he should, he thinks. You should be terrified. 

“I don’t remember sayin’ I wanted to hear your voice,” Joel reprimands, “can’t fuckin’ listen today, can you?”

He turns his head toward you slightly, catching the playful glint in your eyes, the type that was asking to be pushed. Begging for it.

“Depends,” You smile, releasing the rough grip on his hair to slide between your bodies, cupping his cock from where he’s tucked it over his briefs, also pushed haphazardly down his hips, “are you going to fuck me, Joel?”

His name shouldn’t sound like that, falling from your lips in such a circumstance, but it drags a rabidness out of him he’s never felt before. 

“Say it again.” Joel demands—and you already know.

“Joel,” Your voice is sultry, dangerous, adding a squeeze of your hand to his length, thumb rubbing over the head of his cock, smoothing the slick of precum over the slit, “you started this, too afraid to finish it?”

Joel smirks at that, a smug expression crossing his face as releases the grip on your hair, shoving your hand away and gripping himself at the base, removing his fingers from inside you and replacing them with a slow press of his cock, watching your expression fall lax, mouth hung open in a silent release of pleasure. 

“You underestimate me,” He shakes his head in amusement, his own brow furrowing at your snug hold on him, walls clenching around him involuntarily, “Now, why don’t we teach you a lesson?”

You nod numbly, gasping loudly at the sudden change in pace, body shifting to lean forward and Joel’s hands slotting against your body, one secured firmly on your hip, the other guiding you back with a steady pressure against your shoulder, immediately blanking your mind, whatever rude quip you had poised was failing you.

“So — goddamn — stubborn,” He echoes from earlier, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, no restraint, divulging in the pleasure both of you have been seeking for a while, “don’t fuckin’ listen, always testin’ me.”

You release a soft cry, reaching an arm behind you to squeeze at his side, tightening with every sharp thrust, the head of his cock nudging something deep inside of you, the feeling coiling in your gut despite yourself. It’s a dull ache, mewling desperately when he forgoes his hold on your hip to keep your arm stuck, thick fingers wrapping around your wrist to hold you steady, eyes shifting to watch you sink onto him with an unrestrained eagerness.

“Nothin’ to say now?” Joel pesters you, thumb rubbing the tender spot at the base of your neck, the start of your spine between your shoulder blades—your silence lingers, at least in words, your pathetic noises keeping you busy.

He feels like he’s finally got the upper hand with you, he just never realized this was what it would take. 

“Fuck—fuck, Joel.” You say through a stuttered sigh.

Joel grimaces from behind you, that longing feeling of release creeping on him, too long without it and he feels pathetic for it, but you—the sounds, the view.

Oh, the view. It’s your neediness for it that sucks him in, how eager your cunt is to take hold, the wet squelch growing louder, your slick soaking the base of his cock.

“Why’d you kiss me, huh?” Joel questions firmly, trying to draw the truth out in the heat of the moment, your movements growing desperate as you orgasm creeped in, blunt nails digging into his skin. He hissed, pulling you in tight, trading the hand on your shoulder for a squeeze to your chest, palm the mound of your breast through your shirt—still enough contact to drive you insane. 

“Wanted to—wanted to see how you would react.” You admit, but there was also that selfish need. You kissed him because you wanted to—and you knew he did too.

Joel huffs in response, not fully believing you. 

“Try again,” Joel assesses the way your body tenses when his hand shifts down, pressing over his fingers over your clit and driving you over the edge in an instant, your body arching into his touch as you come, a broken moan falling from your lips, “why?”

“Doesn’t matter—you kissed me back,” You argue tiredly, “You wanted it just as much as I did. Clearly.”

And in a way, it’s all the confession he needs. 

Joel growls lowly, pulling out abruptly to grip himself, squeezing himself at the head to delay his orgasm until it fades, face scrunching up tightly in anguish. 

“What—what are you doing?” 

Joel is already tucking himself back into his pants by the time you turn around, his expression stiff and avoiding your gaze. 

There it was again, the avoidance. 

You don’t know why it bothers you so much, but it does.

“I’ll take the first watch,” He says, shuffling backwards slightly, “get dressed.”

You stare back blanky, at a loss for words.

“Did you hear me?” He asks bluntly, brow now permanently furrowed in frustration.

“But—you didn’t—“ 

The silence lingers, your head tilting in question. Your expression softens suddenly, pulling weakly at your jeans to secure them back over your hips.

“Get some sleep, we’ll head out early tomorrow.”

You still had to send a bigger team to scout the place thoroughly, a distant memory now.

You’re so fucking confused. A few minutes prior he was lost in the moment, though still wound up and tense—but it was the biggest break in demeanor he’s ever given you, the most he’s allowed himself to touch you, be close to you. 

Joel didn’t want to admit it, but he didn’t deserve it. He was trying to convince himself it was a mistake, that this was a fluke. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, hesitating for a brief moment as his hand hovers over the doorknob before he’s leaving you alone. Again. 

Joel handles himself later that night, long after you’ve gone asleep, a permanent frown on your face when he peeks his head in before he’s traveling down the hall to a separate room, cupping himself in his palm eagerly, groaning out your name as he comes.

Somehow, it makes him feel even worse.

The week that follows is tumultuous. 

Tommy swears you and Joel off of patrol for a while, tells you that as soon as he has you two alone, gathering the full story of the attack, but somehow—Joel always weasels his way out. 

He’s gone most of the daylight, leaving you to fill your days around Jackson, helping wherever it was needed. And when it wasn’t, you were stuck inside your home, watching the snow melt from the ground, only to be covered with a new blanket of it the next day.

Joel always comes home late, heavy feet scuffling down the sidewalk after dark and entering his house, Ellie having already turned in for the night. His bedroom light comes on a few minutes later and it never shuts off, his shadow crossing the window every now and then. 

He can’t sleep, but neither can you.

At first you blamed it on the bodies—but none of that was new to you. You’ve killed before, animals, infected, raiders, even a few bystanders in a situation long ago, nothing they’ve done to end up the way they did. 

You followed a bad group for too long, but eventually you found Jackson—things were different here. Joel’s told you about the horrible things he’s done to survive, assures you it wasn’t anything you could blame yourself for.

This world made people rabid. It made people afraid.

There were people, much like Joel, that used to terrify you. But this Joel, he was lost and worn down, weathered by the world and by age. He’s afraid to let himself indulge, enjoy—you saw it that night, his hesitancy to look at you afterwards. 

And that ache that lingered for a few days, it made you realize that you were missing something you couldn’t have. It was clear on Joel’s face that he’d made a mistake. With you. 

Joel looks bitter the week that follows, you having convinced Tommy to let you back out, assuring him that nothing was wrong. He’s hesitant, rightfully so, but you’re too convincing. 

You even offer to run patrol with him, or Jesse—literally anyone but Joel, who seemed obviously disgruntled by your presence that morning.

Tommy clocks it immediately, swiping a finger between you both, “You know what—I’m sending you two out together.” It’s dreadful. “Take the lodge again,” and Tommy waits for everyone to part ways, except for Joel and you, before he’s eyeing you both down, “work out whatever argument you both have going—or you’re both coming off patrols until I feel like putting you back on.”

Joel grumbles at that, adjusting the thick gloves over his hand and shaking his head with a look down. Tommy seems slightly apologetic when you lock eyes, but it’s necessary. You were too scared to admit it to yourself, but it’s exactly what you needed.

*

You can’t be bothered to stay still, wandering around the lodge aimlessly, picking up some scattered trash, sifting through the small library that had accumulated over time, worn and slightly rained over books, the pages stiff and discolored. 

Joel’s cheeks are still tinged pink from his last watch, arms crossed over his stomach as he glares at the small fire burning in the fire pit, crackling softly in the silence.

He’s being insistently stubborn, somehow managing to avoid any exchange of words in the past eight hours, not giving you his usual orders, whether delivered in a clipped tone or a kind one—it’s just nothing.

And considering how talkative he was last time you ran patrol with him, you found it to be bullshit.

You grab a random book, large and bulky and make your way toward him—he sees you coming but he ignores it, the book hitting solid against his chest as you force it there, making a snide comment to rattle him.

“To entertain yourself, since you’re so miserable,” Your eyes drag over his face, his eyes lilting up your way, the fire melting them into a warm, honey brown, “and you won’t even have to worry about finishing.”

He grabs your wrist suddenly, thinking that he might pull you toward him, but he tosses it away, throwing the book to the side too. You sigh through your nose, frustrated.

“What’s it gonna take, Joel?” 

There’s an ire of defeat in your voice, a willingness to do just about anything to put this to rest. 

“Do I need to leave Jackson, is that it?”

That gets his attention, his gaze narrowing fiercely.

“Don’t say that shit,” He bites, “you got a death wish or something?”

“Well, you clearly don’t want me around, so who cares?”

Joel bites at the inside of his cheek—he didn’t agree with that. 

“Give me something, Joel. Anything.” You plead, hand accidentally brushing his thigh as you fall into the spot beside him, imitating the closeness he craved but couldn’t bring himself to ask for, not again. 

He tenses under your touch, fist curling at his side, noticing how you pointedly keep your grip there. 

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning.

But, it’s the biggest sign he’s given you. There was still a fondness there, lingering behind wall after wall that he’s built up.

He doesn’t move your hand either, your fingers dragging up the inside of his thigh, along the seam and stopping where his jeans creased at his groin, palm settling over the curve of his thigh.

“So, do we work things out or not?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper, talking like you might scare him away. 

And, yeah—Joel wasn’t big on hashing things out, confessing his thoughts or emotions and conveying them into words, that was never a surprise to you. But, you needed equal ground. 

You weren’t looking for a confession or some dramatic change in pace with your relationship—whatever you could classify it as. A partnership, maybe?

You need something mutually beneficial, something that was give and take on both ends. 

You squeeze at the junction of his thigh, taut muscle giving way as Joel shows little signs of being affected. His eyes follow though, acutely aware of your intention.

This was you returning the favor. 

This was you cornering him, like he had you—if he didn’t want it he would’ve pushed you away ages ago, but he does want it. He needs it. 

His jaw flexes under the weight of your grip, watching you move slowly to sink to the ground, thankful that this floor wasn’t nearly as dirty as most places. Joel shifts slightly to accommodate you, thighs spreading open to box you in, hands coming to rest down at his side, flat against the cushion.

You push at his coat lightly, forcing it away from his chest until he gets the idea, stripping himself the rest of the way, his unbuttoned flannel falling open.

You work quietly, eyes flicking up toward him occasionally to check in, make sure he was still with you. He’s mesmerized now, despite himself. Locked in.

He doesn’t stop your hands when they reach for the zipper of his jeans, unbuttoning and loosening them in one fluid motion, tugging at his jeans until, again, he catches on, forcing them down just enough.

It’s surprising how in tune he is with you despite how hard he tried to keep his distance, hoping that one big mistake would fade away—but frankly, it hadn’t left either of your minds since then. 

“Touch yourself.” You command softly, an amused aspect to your voice.

Joel balks slightly, his bewilderment something to enjoy.

“What?” You ask innocently, “Is that too personal? Sorry–I should’ve considered that when I let you fuck me over a table.”

His nostrils flare in annoyance, but he listens. Thank god. He slips his fingers under the band of his underwear, palming himself lightly under the fabric, leaving you to lean back onto your heels, enjoying the lazy show he put on for you.

He had nothing to be ashamed of.

His fingers roll against the taut skin of his sack, drifting upwards over his shaft until he finally has the courage to shift his underwear to sit snug under his balls, watching your eyes drift from his cock to his face. Joel’s mouth parted briefly, rubbing his thumb over the head, glistening with a sheen of precum, your hands itching to touch him. 

He knows it will lead to nothing but bad outcomes, but he’s indulging in it. Allowing it.

“Come here,” He’s using his free hand to beckon you forward, leaving his palm extending for you to lean into, resting your chin there gently, “open your mouth.”

You obliges, sweetening the deal by sticking your tongue out, earning a gruff laugh in response, softening your gaze on him. There were plenty of other ways to resolve things, but this was so much easier.

He slides the head over your tongue in a deft slap, slipping it past your lips slowly before he’s pulling back and repeating the process again, watching as you eagerly follow his movements until you’re bordering on impatience.

“Don’t think you have the upper hand here, sweetheart.” Joel says, eyebrow quirking up in amusement at your annoyed expression. “You want it?”

You tilt your head at him, eyes narrowing. “You want me to beg for it?”

Joel chuckles at the thought, shaking his head. “I didn’t pin you as the type.”

Cheeky Joel was something to admire, rolling your eyes and shoving his hands away, allowing yourself to take over fully and leaving him with nothing to do but watch, rolling your tongue around the head and through the slit, mouth enveloping the heady taste of him. 

Joel was always good at keeping his composure, even now–but you were looking to break him down, nothing but a mumbling, begging mess of himself, even for a brief moment.

You take him in slowly, soft and parted lips pressing down the length of him, the heavy weight of his cock pressing against your tongue, cheeks, until he’s nudging the back of your throat and you swallow out of reflex.

His knuckles flex, turning white as he curls them inwards and digs into the cheap cushion, the stitching protesting under his grip.

There he is. 

You make a small noise, a soft bubble of laughter out of pure enjoyment, pulling back with a showy drag of your tongue up his shaft until you’re sinking down again, burying your nose in the short, trimmed thatch of hair at the base of his cock, ignoring that telltale feeling to let up, breathing deep through your nose. 

“Goddamnit,” He curses, the hand not gripping the cushion rising slightly before slamming back down in a fist, the material taking most of the blow, “you gotta ease up on me.”

He doesn’t add the please, but you can see it’s implied.

You smile sweetly when you pull away, a thin line of spit connecting your lips to the wet head of his cock, stroking him languidly to keep busy, running your thumb along the thick vein that traced along the underside. 

“Don’t think so,” It’s sickening, tone laced in sugar and daring him—for what, you weren’t sure, “—more?”

Joel nods quickly, widening his stance as he sunk further into the couch, your hands bracing against his stomach as he filtered his fingers through your hair, framing it away from your face as you continued, driving him to near insanity with how easily you would take him down over and over again, stopping to tease your tongue over the head of his cock, realizing just how sensitive that part of him was.

He grunts on a particular rough pass, yanking your hair back and allowing a centimeter of reprice as your lips barely brush the aching tip, “You can stop, sweetheart. It’s alright.”

It feels like a punishment, not allowing himself to seek that relief—he sees it as a barrier, that by not allowing it, things won’t ever reach a point of no return. Not that this wasn’t already dangerous enough—it’s a ridiculous rule, but Joel follows it. He’d give you as much pleasure as you asked and then some, if that’s what you wanted.

And it clicks in your head slowly, his cock pulsing dully in your hands, begging for it. 

No. He wasn’t doing that again.

“No,” You echo your thoughts, “Give me your hand.”

“Darlin’—“

“Joel, shut up.” You demand, gripping his open palm and replacing it with your own, “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Joel looks conflicted, eyebrow pinching in a mix of pleasure and regret, his mind blanking the moment you press a gentle kiss to the head, pressing your tongue flat again and moving his hand in tandem until he starts to give in, his breaths becoming shorter, more strangled.

“That’s it,” You mumble a praise through his haziness—he doesn’t know how to take it, the feeling so foreign to him, “take control, Joel.”

His eyes fall shut briefly, forcing focused breaths through his nose as his free hand grips your face, keeping you still as he strokes himself roughly, that last string of self control breaking under your gaze when he tilts his head down to look at you, soft gaze staring back at him and he’s coming over your tongue and into your mouth with a warm rush, the taste of him overwhelming your senses as he squeezes up to the tip, milking every last bit of himself into your mouth before he’s pulling away and gently guiding your mouth closed.

“Shit—“ He groans quietly, cupping himself tenderly as he pulls away, watching you swallow and tracing a trace of him at the corner of your lip back into your mouth with your thumb, staring him down intently, “you’re fuckin’ greedy, you know that?”

You shrug proudly, rising to your feet slowly, the ache from sitting crouched so long singing a protest from your joints.

“Add it to the list,” You snark at him, taking a casual seat beside him as he tucks himself away, your hands working carefully to roll up your jacket and tuck it under your head as you recline, laying down on your side, “right?”

Joel scoots away to accommodate you, looking perplexed at how quickly you’ve changed your demeanor, yawning until your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Stop staring and get some sleep, Joel.” You gripe, reaching blindly to ball his coat up and toss it at his chest, “Problem solved, we’re even now.”

Joel puffs through his lips, ignoring that lingering feeling as you very quickly forced the distance between him and you—a payback to his own previous actions. It hurts, stings, and now he realizes what that meant and why that frown never left your face before, not even on the ride home or long thereafter.

He’s fucked. 

To say things escalate is an understatement.

The two of you never actually talk, avoiding all aspects of emotional vulnerability in turn for your usual interactions—small conversations, jokes, driving each other up the wall with the constant close proximity due to your assigned jobs. But, now there’s more.

There's the Joel that wants and takes, stops holding back his desires and gives you just about every possible orgasm from then on. This Joel is insatiable if he allows himself to be. He’s downright filthy and terrifying when it mattered and he found that the more you seemed to give yourself over, the easier it was for him to stop worrying so much. 

And he seems lighter nowadays, happier—though, it was still Joel. There was only so much to enjoy, his smiles few and far between. However, that smirk, laced in a smugness he carried with himself when he was alone with you—it had become a regular sight to see and something you craved when you’d finally get him alone.

It never starts off slow. Joel’s always itching by the time rotation leads you his way. You two keep it close to your chest like a secret–saving times like this strictly for patrols.

Joel doesn’t even wait sometimes, cornering you the moment the horses are tied up, bags set aside, crowding up behind you as he wrangles your jeans down, along with his, and presses himself inside you with a deep grunt, pressing you up against whatever hard surface was near–it didn’t matter, the ferocity of his thrusts clouding your mind.

It’s punishment for how well you tease him on the rides there, thighs spread wide over the saddle and always riding just a few inches ahead, leaning forward enough that you can stick out your ass, Joel’s eyes drawing toward you immediately. 

It was easy.

“You like messin’ with me, don’t you?” He chastises, palming at the inside of your thigh in desperation, pulling you wider and wider for him until it aches and you have nothing to do but take it. “Fuckin’ with my head?”

You laugh breathily, head thrown back against his shoulder as you moan wantonly, thick fingers bearing down on your throat, keeping you tight against him. “It’s not my fault–fault you can’t control it.” You reply innocently, stumbling over your words when his fingers press against your core.

And it’s often like this. Fast, hurried, no care or soft, caressing touches involved. It’s simpler that way.

But, eventually, Joel breaks down–little by little.

*

A week or two passes by and Joel seems desperate. 

“What did I just say?” He seethed, voice laced with annoyance, “Keep your eyes open.”

He’s right there, his hand, his fingers, buried deep inside your cunt. Joel’s on edge again, having ordered you to strip down naked while he remained completely clothed, the cold air prickling your skin like this, the lingering days of Winter coming to a close. It’s dark here, wet and mucky, the only barrier between you and the floor is an old blanket that Joel had stowed away in his saddle. He spent the last two weeks dealing with a copious amount of shit–killing more infected than they’re used to, dealing with mundane problems around Jackson that shouldn’t be his problems, but in being Tommy’s brother, he took a piece of the burden off of him.

You gasp sharply, feeling the force of Joel’s grip as he orders your eyes open, an impossible feat in the moment with how easily he’s able to bring you near the edge with just his fingers–something he found out fairly quickly. 

“Joel–Joel, please,” You beg–it’s new for you, something you don’t do often, “let me–fuck–”

“Hmm, sweetheart?” Joel questions, igniting a fire in your belly that won’t go out. He likes you this way, clawing at him, nearly on the brink of tears over how bad you need him. “Spit it out.”

You’re hastily shoving him away, brow pinched in determination as you shove him down, working desperately at his buckle, his pants, working them down with little care or finesse, gripping the length of him and sinking down in one quick movement. 

It punches a moan out of Joel’s chest that you’re not used to, his head slamming pack against his bag, the makeshift pillow he’s got stuffed behind his head as he grips your hips tight, eyes locked on the center where you’re both connected, grunting with the hurried bounce of your hips, losing what little patience you had left as you chase your orgasm, shoving his shirt up his chest to feel him–all soft, tanned skin under your fingertips as you brace yourself against him, using the surface for leverage.

He can’t stand to watch you this way, tits jostling with every hurried thrust, blunt nails clawing at his abdomen, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, again. He likes you facing away because he can hide his own inflections, how well you drive him wild–you’ve never cared, especially not now. 

Joel grunts raggedly, forcing out a hoarse whisper, “You’re fuckin’ killing me here.”

A soft laugh bubbles in your chest, head lolling forward and eyes opening to look at him.

“Mmm, eyes on me, Joel.” You beckon, his slow gaze trailing upwards, nodding in response to his wrecked state, hair sticking up wildly, teeth grazing his bottom lip gently. “God–it feels so good, doesn’t it?

Joel nods absently, his hands slipping from your hips to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hands, aware of how your touch burns a trail up toward his face, coaxing his bottom lip to freedom, grazing your thumb over the soft tissue, soothing the ache.

You ignore how easily he takes the pad of it over his tongue and lets you press the digit beyond his lips, how willing he’s being to let you take what you want.

He pulls out before he comes, spilling into his hand to contain the mess, leaving you enraptured with his expression as his face pulls up in anguish, the same expression he has when he’s bothered or annoyed but edged with something more, his breath catching.

He rolls you back over soon after, replacing his hand with his mouth, hot tongue lapping into your folds and tasting, savoring, the mix of you two tangled together and he devours until you come, hand yanking hard at his hair.

*

April comes quickly—it means longer patrols, more problems out in the field with the infected less dormant, and Jackson coming alive more often at night, everyone enjoying the weather after a bitter winter.

You find yourself at Tommy’s doorstep one night.

Maria had been planning this dinner for a few weeks, something special for Tommy’s birthday, and somehow you got roped into going.

It was Ellie.

Joel was the least bit surprised when you showed up at the front door that night, dressed up nicer than he’s had the privilege to witness. You’re smiling, a flowy dress cutting off mid-thigh, forgoing the usual sweater with the air warming up, leaving your shoulders bare. 

Joel nods in greeting when Ellie peeks around his shoulder, beaming at the sight out of you.

“Thank god,” She groans, “Those two are insufferable together,” Tommy and Joel, “—they’ve been arm wrestling each other in the backyard for the last hour.”

Your eyebrows raise, looking over at Joel. He’s got the hint of a smile on his face, looking down at Ellie before he’s shoving her away with a palm to the crown of her head, his arm flexing under the fitted cotton shirt he wore, muscle on full display. 

It’s easy to forget how strong Joel is under all those layers, but it’s even more apparent now with how often you find him stripped down underneath you, behind you, watching him become more and more comfortable around you as the weeks pass, finally giving in to whatever it was that you two were indulging in.

It was mostly sex—a means for release and often a cure for boredom and neither of you minded it much, but there was something lingering in the shadows. 

You were good at ignoring it, apparently so was Joel.

He leads you to the backyard with a silence you’ve become accustomed to, and spends most of the dinner laughing at Ellie’s terrible and poorly timed jokes. It’s such a sight, seeing how effortlessly Ellie can break that man down, and you realize just how deeply he cared for her, even if she wasn’t his daughter. 

He glances at you frequently, a silent check-in.

You were fine—a little tired, maybe? 

You excuse yourself to the bathroom with a flick of your hair behind your ear and a whine in protest from your chair as it scrapes the floor, leaving the rest of the party in the backyard while you traverse inside. 

It isn’t long before there’s a knock behind the closed door and that unsettling creak, only to be met face to face with Joel. He looks relaxed, placated, his face falling into a natural smirk.

And based on the drink in his hand, slightly inebriated. 

“Lost?” You tease, fixing yourself idly in the mirror, watching as Joel crossed the threshold and nudged the door close behind him. “Joel–”

“Don’t worry, darlin’.” Joel soothes, “Tommy thinks I’m using the one upstairs, everyone’s outside.”

You don’t need him to explain to know what he’s implying. But, for him to want you here–now? That was different. You hate how it made your heart skip, realizing how willing he was to risk this bond of secrecy because he just couldn’t get you out of his head.

His glass slides against the countertop, the soft scuff of his boots grazing the floor as he moves in behind you, causing you to pull away slightly as he raises a hand, brushing your strap down your shoulder and mouthing the skin there, “You’re drunk.” You muse, earning a subtle shake of his head.

“Not at all,” Joel denies, “can’t be in a good mood?”

You sigh at his touch, opposite hand grazing under your dress and over the skin of your stomach, pinky finger grazing the hem of your underwear.

“When are you ever?”

Joel ignores your snark, “Don’t act like you don’t want it, sweetheart.”

He can feel the heat radiating off your body, the wetness that coats his finger as he dips it under the fabric and down the center of your cunt, “Joel,” You stress, “there’s people outside, we can’t.”

“Don’t worry about that,” He says softly, “Ellie’s gone home, Tommy and Maria are busy with a neighbor–if you want me to stop, tell me. You don’t need to make excuses.”

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

“Been needin’ this all day,” He admits, cupping your mound roughly, shifting to press the hard line of his chest against your back, pulling you taut, his idle fingers playing with the soft material of your dress, “This is cute–it’s a nice dress.”

You roll your eyes, though fondly. He can’t see it, face buried into your neck as he mouths along the skin, slipping the straps of your dress down until your tits spring free, nipples pebbling under the cool air.

“Are we talking or fucking?” You ask impatiently, pointedly rubbing your ass back against his body, earning a dark chuckle in response.

“I never said anything about fucking,” Joel points out smugly, “but since you’re askin.”

It’s the impatiences that brings you to take matters into your own hands, sliding your dress up high enough that Joel can yank your underwear down, undoing his pants with one hand and freeing himself hastily, sliding into you roughly, forcing a strained gasp from your throat. 

Joel shushes you, covering your mouth with his hand.

“Careful, these walls ain’t soundproof.” He warns, his forceful thrusts plunging you forward, eyes dragging toward the mirror image of you and him, a sight to see as he smirks from behind, admiring you openly. “Look at you.”

He grin’s devilishly, your senses overwhelmed, showing through your eyes as you squeezed them shut, only to be forced back open by Joel’s coaxing voice.

He clicks his tongue in warning, breath hot against your ear. “Open those eyes, sweetheart. Need you to see how good you’re takin’ my cock,” You whine into his hand, his brutal thrust driving you further into the countertop, ignoring the pain that spreads, overtaken by the insatiable need to come, “and how pretty you look when you come.”

Pretty. He’s never used that word before. It sends a flutter through your chest, down to your core.

It’s more intense this way, the subtle pull in Joel’s face when he drives deeper, his own orgasm on the horizon. His teeth grit hard, small peaks of it as he bares his lips back in a growl, squeezing at the soft planes of your body that he could reach, driving you over the edge with little warning, not that you needed the help. 

Seeing him this way was enough. God, was it enough.

“Fuck, fuck—“ He curses a symphony, holding himself back as he gripped at the base of his shaft and you jump at the opportunity, turning to him in a haze and sinking to your knees despite the cold floor beneath you, urging him with a silent plea as you open your mouth to him, nodding subtly.

That’s all it takes for him, a few quick strokes of his cock and he’s spilling into your mouth, head hung back at how intensely it hits him, the skin of his neck straining over the muscle, his mouth open in a soundless grunt. 

*

Luckily, Joel is the one that takes care of the goodbyes. You wouldn’t be able to face Tommy or Maria after such an instance, adjusting yourself back to a semi-presentable state in the bathroom, with some of Joel’s help as he sets your dress back over your shoulders.

It shouldn’t feel endearing, not in this context. But, it does.

“Wait for me out front,” He tells you, buckling his pants, eyes connecting with yours briefly, squinting curiously, he reaches a hand forward and wiping a mix of spit and what you can only assume is his come, away from your mouth and onto his jeans, “—you had a little…”

You both laugh at the unspoken, rubbing a tired hand over your face as you nod, shoving him away playfully.

Things are vastly different when you’re facing him on your doorstep now, his lingering presence a hint at what he didn’t have the courage to ask.

“Stay for a while?” You suggest softly, nodding toward your front door.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Joel agrees.

You never realize how much Joel likes to talk about music until he’s finally found himself relaxed, your body reclined into his open, outstretched legs as he adjusts himself sideways. It doesn’t feel intimate, no—but it feels different. Joel rests a hand over your shoulder, massaging the tight muscle with a steady grip. His voice is nice, soothing.

You fall asleep like this, but Joel is already gone by morning.

By June, things are confusing. Good, but…confusing.

Joel and you have a routine by now—off days were usually spent at your house, occasionally Joel’s (but rarely) and only when Ellie wasn’t around, the days that were spent patrolling were fairly normal, aside from the insistent touching you both allowed yourself now, always leading to something neither of you could be bothered to stop. 

Joel’s vocal about things now—what he likes, what he wants, but he’s also holding back. You can see it when things get a little too intense, hands grabbing at clothes, pulling each other in with a rabidness that neither of you could calm.

He doesn’t kiss you, not really. He likes to nip and bite and leave bruises where only he can see them, but he won’t allow his eyes to linger on your face for too long, your lips, too afraid things might be misconstrued.

Not that it mattered, Joel was already fucked beyond repair. He’s only ever felt this intensely once, before—his relationship with Sarah’s mom was a fling that turned into something more, but ultimately fizzled, crashed and burned. It gave him Sarah, but he never understood what heartbreak was until then, young and naive and wanting to make things work.

Clearly, they never did.

He feels that with you, though he’s smarter now. He can be cold and distant when he feels that pull in his chest, push away just enough that you won’t pry. But, you’re smart—you’re stubborn, so goddamn stubborn. 

And he knows eventually, things are going to implode.

He just didn’t expect it to happen like this. 

You were starting to hate the lodge, finding yourself lingering to the connecting shops down the road—a guitar store that Joel and Tommy picked through often, a small coffee shop further down the way that didn’t have much left for picking, but it helped when you felt cooped up, a nice change of scenery.

But even then, the lodge wasn't a luxury to patrol anymore. Summer is practically unbearable most days there, the building always too warm, too stuffy.

Joel had other ideas this time around, stripping you down slowly by the couch nestled against the large window that overlooked the rest of the small town surrounding it.

It was quiet here.

Joel presses you into the soft velvet cushion, his own body stripped bare, a combat to the heat, he says.

You didn’t mind. In fact, it was everything you wanted. 

He’s never allowed such contact, all of you against him, the slow push of his hips inside of you has you gasping softly, fingers gripping his biceps. His place is slow, dreadful, and you both are already sweating, skin sticky and damp.

Joel doesn’t seem to mind.

He seems needier today, more willing to let the sounds slip from his mouth, his hands more curious, pulling your knee tight around his hip and gripping at the knee, head tilting up as he huffed through his nose, tense jaw, teeth clenched. He’s looking off distantly, not at you or your body, or anywhere in your vicinity really, but the torture on his face is all the same. He couldn’t hide it.

You moan softly, mumbling soft praises under your breath when he fucks into you hard enough it has you clawing at his chest, gripping tight at his shoulder, seeking whatever skin you could touch. 

Eventually, your touch lingers near his face, palm spreading over his warm cheek, thumb running along the strong hook of his nose, forcing his attention down toward you. Your fingertips graze his lips gently, other hand mirror the action as you caress his face, his eyes closing under your touch. 

The arm holding him upright nearly gives you, barely catching himself as his chest is pressed in tight against yours, changing the angle immensely.

That couldn't have been you’re doing—not a chance. But, you’re curious. You guide his face to your chest, his mouth sliding lazily against the skin as he pumps into you steadily. You meet his rough grunts with whispered praises, his breath becoming more frantic as time goes on until he’s finally chancing a look your way, eyes soft and pleading. He looks lost. You frown slightly, guiding his face toward yours and ghosting your own lips against his, never quite indulging, keeping the praises going with a soft whisper.

“God, you always fuck me so good,” You say in a breathy whisper against his lips, “so good, Joel.”

Joel squeezes you tighter, a sign of his impending orgasm. “Right there,” You sigh, “fuck—you feel that? Need this all the time, everyday.”

This. Him.

“Sweetheart—“ He warns, grunting into your open mouth, knees buckling as you slide your tongue against his teeth, grazing his top lip.

“Don’t—don't,” You panic, eyes connecting with him suddenly, “wanna feel you, all of you.”

It was something Joel could reflect on later, consider the consequences, because now was not that time—not with you looking at him so earnestly, pleading with him.

He slips a calculated hand between your joined bodies and has you both hanging over the edge in seconds, gasping into each other’s mouth in desperation as Joel does something completely selfish and unlike him.

He kisses you, no qualms or hesitation. It’s messy and wet but it’s him—his mouth soothes the ache as your orgasm overwhelms your body, his own chest rattling at the force, moaning pathetically against your mouth as he comes in hot, warm pulses inside of you, cunt clenching around him tight, like a glove. 

Joel soon slumps against your body, all energy drained from him, your hands weaving through his hair gently, caressing the soft spot behind his ear.

He doesn’t complain, letting you hold him until his cock softens, pulling out of you with a disgruntled noise before he’s resting on the cushion beside you, back pressed tight against one side to make room for the both of you, tilting himself sideways and letting his fingers drift over your naked frame, indulging in every part of you. 

“Should we talk about this?” You ask curiously, voice softened under his gaze, his fist pressed to his cheek.

There it was.

Joel looks down briefly, his touch stalling over the spot between your breasts, right over your heart.

“I’m not even sure what this is,” Joel admits, the most honest he’s ever been with anyone, “just that—I enjoy it.”

He's being honest, he's letting you in. Your heart soars.

Joel was tired of fighting it. He'd be ignorant to think you didn't see it just then or even before.

“I would classify it as fucking,” You joke lightly, “but that—that didn’t feel like fucking to me.”

Joel shakes his head, “No—it didn’t.” He agrees, grabbing for the blanket draped over the back of the couch, spreading it gently over your frame despite the heat, finger fingers grazing along the underside of your breasts, a teasing touch that has you giggling in response, his own laugh following.

It’s a beautiful sound.

“Or we don’t have to figure it out at all,” You suggest, realizing that trying to force something out of Joel was not the way to go, it never had been—he’d come to whatever conclusion he felt on his own, “that’s okay, too.”

“We can save it for another day,” Joel promises, his fingers tracing up toward your jaw, his palm resting to cup your cheek, a tender gesture that’s all new, “right now, I just wanna quiet that pretty little mouth of yours.”

He sees your eyes light up with intrigue, already tilting toward him eagerly.

“You want that?” He teases, earning an eager nod in response before he’s closing his mouth over yours again, kissing with a leisureliness he didn’t have before, “Answer me, sweetheart?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me, Joel.”

And it terrified Joel, because he’d give you anything.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #my writing

[rosepascal]

Can't Break A Promise | Joel Miller x Reader

summary: of course the one patrol you're on without Joel is the one that lands you with a knife in your side.

warnings: graphic content, mentions of blood, stab wounds, fixing a wound, getting stabbed, lots of swearing.

a/n: I love love love fics where one person gets hurt and it scares the other person so here's my addition to this trope <33

Joel was going to kill you for sure this time. He always went on patrol with you. Always. He told Tommy that he didn't give a shit if he disrupted any damn schedule, he was going with you.

But he got hurt on the last one and he was benched. Which he absolutely despised.

He knew you were capable but that didn't stop him from wanting to protect you. So you promised him that you'd be careful. That you'd come back. It was a simple boarder patrol, no more than an hour or two and you were going to be with Tommy.

Of course the one patrol you didn't have Joel, is the one where a few asshole raiders decided to test their luck. They were easy to take down, couple of kids who could barely wield a knife. But they caught you off guard and drove a knife into your side.

"Fuck!" You hiss as you fall against a nearby tree.

You see the handle of the blade sticking out from your side and a wave of nausea overcomes you.

"Shit." Tommy rushes to your side, moving his hand to take out the knife but you stop him.

"If you pull it out, I'll bleed out before we get back." You groan as you push yourself off the tree.

He knows you're right and Tommy puts your arm around his shoulder and you start the trek back to Jackson. It felt like years. Every step shifts the blade a little forcing a whimper from your lips.

The snow runs red under you, your body on fire even as the wind starts to pick up. The wooden gates of Jackson makes you cry out in relief. It's through sheer willpower that you've managed to make it this far.

The only thing on your mind being getting back to Joel. You promised that you'd be okay and you weren't planning on breaking that.

"Almost there." Tommy says before shouting for help. You silently prayed that Joel couldn't hear them.

"Don't tell Joel please." You beg to Tommy as you see some people hurry towards you.

"Please.." Tommy's grip slips and you fall to your knees in the snow.

You feel yourself being lifted up and your head feels like its floating. The hard surface of a table hits your back and the sounds of peoples worried voice go in and out of your ears.

"I'm sorry but this is gonna hurt." Tommy grabs your hand and lets you squeeze it as someone pulls the knife from your side.

Your scream echoes through the room and you make a note to apologize to Tommy and everyone in this room after this is all over.

"Fuck!" Tears stream down your face as they pour a disinfectant into your wound. Slowly your world around you starts to fade as the pain begins to lessen.

"S'okay, you're gonna be okay." Is all you hear before the world goes black.

- - -

The darkness is sweet, comforting. No pain, nothing can hurt you. But your eyes open anyways. The first thing you notice is how comfortable the bed is beneath you and how much pain you're in. Your body screams in pain as you try and sit up.

"Don't move." A low voice says from the corner of the room. Shutting your eyes you let out a sigh, you know that voice from anywhere.

"Joel."

"Not another word." He's angry. His voice shakes as he gets up from where he was waiting.

"I waited for you to come home. Sat right here like I promised and waited." You shrink back gripping the thin blanket that you recognized as Joel's. You don't even try to interrupt him.

"I heard nothing from no one. Until my brother came back. Covered in your fuckin' blood." His eyes shine with tears as he sits on the bed beside you.

"I'm sorry Joel." You cry softly. The last thing you wanted was to make him worry.

"They came out of nowhere and I-" You're cut off by his strong arms wrapping themselves around you.

You bury your face into his shoulder, ignoring the pain growing in your side.

"I promised I'd come home." You say and he squeezes you a little tighter.

"I know baby." He won't tell you how terrified he truly was.

Watching the sun go down and you were no where to be found. Pacing back and forth as he waited for that door to open. The way his heart stopped when Tommy came walking in with his arms covered in blood. The apologies that he didn't hear as his brain went to the worst possible outcome. He couldn't lose you.

Nothing could stop him when he stormed over to the medics house. His stomach turning as he notices the blood stains on the floor. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful.

But nothing was more beautiful than seeing the steady rise and fall of your chest. You were alive. He carried you all the way back home and sat and waited. He couldn't sleep. So he just sat there.

"I kept thinking of you," You pull back and cup his face.

"I wouldn't break my promise." He gently shushes you as your breathing starts to pick up. Joel's lost so many people and you almost became one of them.

"Don't work yourself up, you'll rip out your stitching." He helps you lay back, putting a pillow behind your head for comfort.

"Stay with me?" You ask with pleading eyes.

"I don't plan on letting you outta my sight." He says as gets comfortable next to you.

Despite your protests he won't lay down. But he'll sit and watch over you. You know there's nothing you need to be protected from here but you let him anyways.

"Sleep tight baby, I'll be here. I promise."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction

[atinylittlepain]

Hi, love your writing!!! Anyways, I was thinking, a Joel x Reader! One-shot, where the reader possibly messes up a deal or trade with a different group and Joel is PIIIIIISSSSSEEEDDDD (grumpy angry Joel bc yes obvi 🧎🏻‍♀️) so anyways they go back to Jackson and he slowly gets over it y'know, BUT then when the next occasion for a trade arises, Joel brings reader along and it seems like Joel is betraying the reader, trading her for supplies (possibly handing her over to enemies or some real sick people) but then he reveals its a ploy to get the upper hand on the group and the two take out (k1ll) the bandits and Joel is basically like " I would never trade you for anything even if you mess up sometimes" Yada Yada fluff 💕💕💕

-yc :3

baaaabe, apologies for my delayed reply, but i love some good angst and wanted to do it right <3

gif by @riley-keoughs

Cold as Ice

Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

when she messes up on a job, Joel's anger freezes her out harder than the biting Wyoming winter.

warnings | 18+ angst, canon-typical violence, feelingsssss

..................

She was freezing. It was the middle of winter in Wyoming, and she was shaking so hard she could barely steady her hands on her rifle. It didn’t help that she was laid out in the snow on her stomach right now, peering out from an overlook at Joel and the men he was dealing with. She knew it shouldn’t be much longer though, so she did her best to steady her focus back on the scene in front of her. 

Joel had asked her to hang back while he traded with them, men that he had encountered a few weeks back on a solo patrol shift. Always careful to keep the existence of Jackson a secret, Joel had told the men that he was a lone survivor, making camp in the valley of the mountains for the winter. While the men had accepted this lie, they had also asked to meet soon to trade, something that Joel couldn’t deny without stirring suspicion. So, he made a plan to return to the plains the next week, bringing her along for hidden back-up if need be. 

She had said yes to joining him without hesitation.​ They’ve been partners for a while, having traipsed across the states with Ellie in tow and witnessed their fair share of horrors. Somewhere along the way, they had started seeking a little more creature comfort in each other, but she had chalked it up to just that, comfort, no need for feelings messing things up. 

Where Joel goes, she goes, and vice versa. But as she shivered in places she didn’t know could shiver, she wanted more than anything to be back in town where the unfathomable luxury of space heaters exists. 

Her nose was running, snot freezing right to her face as she tried to keep her eyes on the men down in the valley, but the deep itch of cold kept forcing her to rub her face in the crook of her arm.

It happened so quickly she didn’t have time to even think of stopping it, a hard sneeze racking her body. She was lucky her finger wasn’t on the trigger, but the men still seemed to have noticed it, heads whipping around to look up the hill that she was tucked behind. She could hear a swell of heated murmuring between Joel and the men. She pressed herself as flat into the ground as she could, praying that they would chalk it up to the whipping wind or an animal. The men’s questioning chatter died down into silence and she held her breath as the only sound that remained was that of boots trudging closer through the snow. 

She craned her neck up just enough to look out over the hill, relief flooding through her at the sight of only Joel hiking toward her, the four other men receding in the opposite direction. Her relief was short-lived, however, with the way he hauled her onto her feet with a harsh hand hooked under her arm, pushing her to keep walking along with him.

“What the hell was that?” Suddenly, the cold was the least of her worries, with the way Joel was seething beside her. She stumbled over her reply.

“I-I fucked up. I’m– I’m sorry.” 

“We don’t get to fuck up. Not out here. You know that.” Her heart dropped at the harsh tone of his words.

“Wh–what happened with those guys? Where are they going?” Joel huffed, keeping his eyes forward as they continued to trek back home.

“They got spooked. Gonna have to come back in a few days to finish this fucking deal. You’re lucky they weren’t smart enough to think anything more of that sound.” It was the last thing either of them said the whole hike back to Jackson, Joel’s anger cracking and fissuring between them until the distance felt insurmountable. 

For the first time since they settled in the house Tommy gave them, she slept in her own bed that night, startling awake to the sound of Joel slamming the door to his room.

…

It had been a quiet few days back in Jackson. She had been avoiding Joel as best she could, and he did nothing to stop her, each of them taking odd shifts to stay out of the house as much as possible. Ellie had sensed there was something wrong right away and had asked her “what the fuck happened” but all she could do was sigh and shake her head at the thick heat rising in her throat. 

More than anything, she was upset at herself, that she had made such a stupid mistake. But a close second to that feeling was the wary fear she felt being the subject of Joel’s obvious ire. If they happened to cross each other’s paths, he wouldn’t so much as look at her, keeping his head down and his brow furrowed as he quickly shuffled off. She hadn’t been sleeping at all either, having gotten so used to tangling up with him each night. There was no warmth, no steady heartbeat to lull her to sleep alone in her own bed. 

She was starting to resign herself to this new reality in which Joel Miller seemed to want nothing to do with her. She told herself that she’d stick around for Ellie, but otherwise, she’d keep away from the man she had so clearly let down. This didn’t last long, however, not when Joel sought her out at the stables, sidling up next to her where she was grooming one of the mares. It was hard to look at him, and she resolved herself to keeping her attention on the horse as he spoke in a hushed tone.

“I, uh, need your help tomorrow.” She couldn’t help the scoff she let out at that.

“Why would you want my help? I’ll probably just fuck it up anyways.” She knew it was a childish thing to say the moment it left her mouth, a heavy silence falling between them after. Joel finally cleared his throat to press on. 

“Gotta go back out tomorrow to finish that deal. Nobody else can know what’s going on, Maria’d probably have my head if she found out.” Her heart sank at the realization that the only reason he was asking her for her help was because she was the only person he could ask. She let out a harsh cough to mask the thick sadness creeping up her throat, nodding at his words, but still not looking at him.

“Alright, fine. We’ll head out in the morning.” Another stilted silence fell on them. She knew Joel well enough to tell that he had something else to say, by the way he was toeing his boot into the ground and lingering next to her. But he seemed to think better of it, letting out a sigh and grumbling that he’d meet her at the gate in the morning as he was already trudging out of the stables. 

…

The silence was maddening. They had been walking for a few hours, getting closer to the meeting point, but it had felt like an eternity with the way neither of them was speaking. They had never been particularly talkative on the road, but by the time they had settled in Jackson they had warmed to each other enough to usually keep a quiet conversation going. No longer able to stand it, she finally cleared her throat, words puffing out into the cold air.

“Joel? I am sorry– about last time. I–” Before she could finish speaking, Joel came to a halting stop, pressing her back behind him, and it was then that she saw the four men coming toward them, guns cocked. Shit.

“Drop your weapons! And whoever you got tucked behind you better step out to the side.” Joel glanced at her over his shoulder, a hesitant nod as she shuffled out alongside him, both of them shouldering off their guns, palms up as the group of men closed in. 

One of the men let out a low whistle, looking her up and down like a piece of meat.

“Was that noise we heard last time you, pretty?” She pressed her lips into a thin line, trying hard not to give anything away in her expression. The men all laughed, but Joel was quick to cut through it with a firm few words.

“This doesn’t have to be a problem. We can still trade.” The men instantly steeled back into silence, the mouths of their guns all aiming at Joel. The man who seemed to be the leader sneered.

“Was I talking to you, man? No.” He turned his attention back to her.

“Why don’t you walk over to us, pretty? Then turn around nice and slow so you’re facing your man.” With four guns aimed at them, she knew the man wasn’t asking, he was telling, so she did as he said, quietly trudging through the snow closer to the group before turning around to face Joel.

“Can’t blame you for hiding this one from us, buddy.” The man sauntered closer to her and she had to will herself to keep from flinching as he pressed up behind her, frostbit fingers skittering along her cheek. 

“What’s your name, honey?” She muttered her name to the man, trying to keep as still as possible as he skated the barrel of his gun along the side of her neck. She couldn’t help the quiet yelp that escaped her lips when he brought his other hand to the swell of her thigh, squeezing hard. She didn’t dare look at Joel, shame rising like hot bile in her throat.

“S’a pretty name for a pretty girl. Don't you think your boyfriend here was a little rude for not introducing us?” The men laughed again, a sound that sat heavy in her stomach. The man behind her hummed a little, pressing his cheek against hers as he looked over her shoulder at Joel.

“Isn’t he a little old for you, honey?” The men snickered, and her eyes finally darted to Joel’s face, his eyes squinted, mouth screwed up. A shiver of fear ran up her spine because for the first time in a while she couldn’t read him, couldn’t parse out what he was thinking or feeling in that moment. She had never felt so alone.

A gasp escaped her mouth when the man wrapped his forearm around her chest, cocking the barrel of his gun right under her chin as he kept his eyes set on Joel. She thought she could see his fingers flex where his hands were still held up.

“Tell you what, pal. I’ve got a new deal for you. You let us take this sweet thing off your hands, and in return, we won’t shoot you where you stand.” Blood rushed in her ears, an icy panic settling in at the way Joel wasn’t seeming to refuse, to offer up some alternative. She couldn’t help thinking that maybe this really was it, that Joel Miller was cutting her loose and feeding her to the wolves. Her thoughts were jolted by the sound of the man cocking his gun again, pressing the barrel a little harder into her jaw.

“I’d rather not ask twice, man. Do we have a deal or not?” She could see the bob of Joel’s throat, but he refused to look at her, his gaze staying on the man holding her up. 

“She has my knife. Just let me get it back and she’s all yours.” His words felt like a quick kick to the stomach and she choked on her breath, but her mind followed fast with the realization that what Joel said was a lie. His face was still unreadable, but it was becoming clear that he had a plan. The man behind her let out a breathy chuckle before harshly shoving her forward toward Joel, he catching her forearms to steady her.

“Go ahead, then. But make it fast.” Joel finally looked at her, reaching around her to unzip her pack, she guessed to look like he really was digging around for his knife. He ducked his head down, his words a low murmur just barely heard above the whistling wind.

“Know you keep a side piece in here. You still got your knife?” She offered him a faint nod.

“I’ll cover you. On my word.” She could feel his hand in her pack closing around the pistol she had stowed in there. She met his gaze again, one more jerk of a nod followed by Joel’s muttered “now.” 

They did what they do best. She whipped around in a flash, Joel already shooting one man down as she ran up on the others. The three men left standing were so disoriented, unsure where to aim their guns, and she made quick work of a second man, striking her blade across his throat and sending him down to his knees, warm blood spurting across her face. Joel was quick to put a bullet in another one, leaving the leader for her. She was more than happy to jam her blade up into the softness beneath his ribs, watching blood gurgle out of his mouth before he slumped to the ground. 

Her hands were shaking as her eyes swept over the aftermath, but Joel quickly came up behind her, spinning her around to face him and cupping her jaw in his palms, eyes searching her expression.

“You alright? Not hurt anywhere?” She shook her head in his hold, finally letting out a stuttering laugh, making Joel furrow his brow at her.

“What? What is it?” 

“I just– really thought you were gonna let them take me for a second there. Thought you were finally done with me.” His face slackened at her words before he snapped back with a gruff scoff.

“You fucking serious right now?” She shrugged, eyes not quite meeting his.

“After last time, figured you didn’t want to work with a fuck-up anymore.” Joel made a harsh sound in the back of his throat, dipping his head down to try to catch her gaze.

“That’s bullshit. You’re my partner. I’m not gonna fucking dump you just ‘cause you made a mistake. That’s not how this works, how we work.” She finally met his gaze, a little fire kicking up in her anger.

“Oh, it’s not? Then why have you been avoiding me like the fucking plague ever since?” She didn’t get an answer, Joel breaking away and quietly muttering that they needed to get home.

Another agonizingly quiet walk back to Jackson.

…

When they got back, she was quick to stomp off toward their house, but could feel Joel watching her the whole way as he trailed behind. She was sick of getting jerked around by him, and now it seemed the tables were turned and it was she who wanted him out of her sight.

She took the stairs two at a time, quickly shuffling into the upstairs bathroom and shutting the door behind her. She wasn’t expecting there to be so much blood spattered across her face when she looked in the mirror, and the sight made her pause, her breath catching in her throat. It wasn’t the first and it wouldn’t be the last time she had to harshly scrub away the remnants of violence. 

The soft click of the bathroom door opening didn’t stop her from continuing to drag a damp washcloth across her face, skin going red and splotchy under her ministrations. 

“Hey, hey. Just stop– will you look at me, please?” Calloused hands grabbed her wrists to stop her movements, turning her toward him. Joel let out a long sigh when she still wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Look, I’m sorry for the way I acted. I was never mad at you– was mad at the fucking situation. A-and I was trying to create some distance before I said something I didn’t mean. Never wanna hurt you– you’re– I–” he stopped himself with another sigh, leaning back against the sink. She tentatively stepped between his legs, her wrists still held firm in his hands between them.

“I’m sorry too, Joel. It was an accident– but it was a stupid one. Fucking hate that I let you down.” He let go of her wrists to bring one hand to cup her jaw, tilting her head to finally get her to meet his gaze.

“Didn’t let me down. Even if you did– more than made up for it today with the way you took out those fucking fools.” That coaxed a half-hearted smile from her as she leaned into his touch.

“We did that together.” He nodded lightly, thumb stroking the arc of her cheek and making her breath hitch.

“We did. Make a good team. Right, partner?” Her smile stretched into a grin at his words.

“Right– partner.” When he kissed her, it felt different. This wasn’t their usual lust-driven tangles. It was careful, and dizzyingly sweet, something she hadn’t known Joel was capable of. He pulled away just slightly to rest his forehead against hers as they silently followed the push and pull of each other’s breath. 

“You know I wouldn’t do that, right? Would never leave you.” She sighed, nodding her head slightly against his.

“I know you wouldn’t. But it wouldn’t hurt to be reminded every now and again.” That made him chuckle as he brought his other hand to her hip, squeezing lightly.

“Consider this your first reminder then.” 

The kiss he gave her that time was just as sweet as the first. It was all the reminding she needed.

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

[b0xerdancer-writes]

Snow White Peaks

Cassian x Illyrian!Reader

Summary: Cassian meets a strange female when investigating a random note from her summoning her 'Brother' Rhysand. He falls for her and the two have a child together only he doesn't know it. When he finds out he swears to be there from now on.

Warnings: 18+, implied semi-graphic smut but not full scenes, war, sub!Cassian, bullying, physical violence.

Word Count: 10,113

Notes: There will most definitely be a part two of Cassian bonding with his son and getting his wish of wanting to be there for firsts of a child. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Illyria: The northernmost region of the Night Court. A few barren rocky islets, steppes, mountain ranges, and most importantly the camps. 

There were 6 major camps nestled within the mountain peaks: Windhaven and Ironcrest being the most well known; the other four: Blackrock ran by Lord Caston, Snowhollow ran by Lord Edoril, Ebonhold ran by Lord Varyn, and Highgarde ran by Lord Soldril, were all lesser known but still trained members of the Night Courts armies. 

However, there was one more major camp, the Angelsrest. Rhysand’s father had commissioned the camp and swore it into secrecy and under protection. It was a camp for gifted Illyrians; he had tried to send Azriel there once but Devlon had his talons into him and refused to send him off. In reality it was a privately funded and specialized unit of powerful illyrians that were trained as a back pocket weapon for the High Lord.

Angelsrest was founded behind the other camplords' backs, Rhysands father had been keeping an eye on the war camps and villages since he had found his mate with her wings about to be clipped. He had found one village hidden back away from the other camps, hundreds if not thousands of miles from any other village or camp. The entire mindset and tradition of these illyrians, while similar to the others at their core, held a much higher regard for gods and their spirituality. 

He explored the village and introduced himself to the illyrians there who greeted him with open arms; they showed him around, fed him, let him examine their way of life, They answered any questions he had without hesitation. One thing, however, caught his attention; at the top of the camp where the Lords house normally stood was an elegantly painted and decorated temple like home.

“What's in there?” The High lord had asked a female working on tanning a hide.

“Oh! That's the ladies house, the white mother.” She had chirped back.

“The white mother?” He furrowed his brows.

“She talks to the mother and the night father, the old gods before the Cauldron. They rewarded us for our devotion by gifting us and her with a child from the skies itself. The starchild we call her.” The female explained.

“Why do you call her the starchild?” The High Lord was utterly confused, he had never heard anything like this before.

“There was old legends and lore eons ago when Illyrians first made their homes here that the night father guided every lord at the time to where their village or camp now stands, it's said our first lord was led here, where a star had fallen from the sky and landed amongst the snow. He nursed the star to health and kept trying to return her home to the night father, the stars are his children you see?” She hummed brightly. “As a gift for returning his child, he granted him powers of the stars; however, it turned his wings white in the process.  The night father declared that as payment every child of his bloodline would have the gift as well.”

“Ahh, Starchild makes sense now.” the high lord nodded.

“She's the last starchild. Her mother married into the bloodline but her father passed away recently after a hunting patrol went awry.” The female looked down, grief evident in her face.

“Oh, I apologize for the loss.” The lord mumbled.

“I can introduce you to the starchild if you wish? Her mother is out hunting right now so the child is with the elders and other babes.” The female offered, standing from the hide rack.

“Please, I’m intrigued by the story if I am being honest with you.” The lord thanked her.

The two walked silently through the sprawling houses and buildings, till they came to a large hut. Older males and women sat on stools and padded chairs, long since having served their community. The laughter and echoes of children rang out as they ran around the room, at the center a white winged female leading them to their next adventure.  Her wings white with a faint purple to the membranes, sparkled like freshly fallen snow; she held them high and proudly, they were much larger than any of the other childrens and she had to adjust them regularly so the tips wouldn’t drag against the wood flooring.

“Stardust, come here please.” The female beside him chirped. 

The child apologized and dismissed herself from the group, clearly only around 10 years of age. She approached the two sweetly introducing herself to the lord in front of her, he introduced himself back and shook her tiny hand.

It was the first time he had met her, and it surely wasn’t the last time; he would make regular check-ins with the small community and on the small female, who grew close to him like she was his own daughter. When Rhys was born he brought the babe out for her to meet, she held him excitedly while the lord told her about Velaris and his court and the other war camps and villages he had explored. As she grew so did her wings and personality, she had to hold her wings higher and higher on her shoulders as the tips of the talons started touching the ground; she used it to her advantage though as an extremely fast and strong flier, the day she had beaten all the records in her village she eagerly showed the lord.

Her powers continued to manifest  and expand and by 16 she was one of the top in her village, the lord invited her to Velaris and his home for her birthday where she had gotten to see a 5 year old Rhys. The lord offered to have her taught war tactics, to have someone teach her how to fight; she took the offer eagerly and began reporting to a general weekly till she was 20 and had learned everything the male could teach her.

By her 21st year the lord had called her into the mountains above her village and deep into a wooded plateau, she remembered males from her village would be up here for hours working on something; she asked him if their work had something to do with what he had to show her, when he agreed with thoughts she grew excited to see the years worth of work the villagers had put in.  The two marched through the powdered snow and worn path till they reached a clearing, a large wooden fence with the sign reading Angelsrest greeted them; she looked eagerly over to the lord, he motioned for her to explore the newly built war-camp.

“Why did you decide to build a camp out here father?” She inquired.

“As a gift. For you.” He replied. “You will be the lady of the camp, the first Illyrian female to run a war-camp.” 

She looked back at him, her wings flared slightly then relaxed. “Why me?”

“You have surpassed my expectations, it would be a shame if your talents were to go unharnessed.” He smiled. “I have seen you working with the children in your village, I wanted to give you the opportunity to really train.” 

She pulled him into a hug and thanked him, promising her best work for him. From then on the war camp began to take form, a mix of illyrians from her village and those the lord would pull from other camps and villages; those with powers much like his ‘shooting star’ as he called her. The camp was ideal from the get go, wing clipping had been banned, all illyrians within her camp were talented and trained equally.

Then the first tragedy of her life struck, her mother succumbed to wounds like her father had; the lord took her to Velaris and officially adopted her.  By the time Rhys was old enough to join Windhaven Angelsrest was in full swing, an assortment of various powerful illyrians making their home there. 

Then came the letter, written in a cursive panicked sprawl from the lord she now called father; detailing his plans to avenge the loss of his wife and biological daughter, he apologized for any wrongs he may have cause her and told her he had a bad feeling as he readied himself to go after their killers. He detailed how he had sworn Rhys to keep the camp running and protected under her rule as lord, the lord had his son swear to keep his eye out for talented illyrians and bring them to her for training. Rhys had only met her a handful of times as he grew up and being forced to swear her protection had startled him as he realized how much his father truly cared for his adoptive sister in the mountains. 

The day Rhys appeared at Angelsrest and saw how much progress the camp had made with their training, the white winged female had caught him off guard. Rhys had only become high lord a week prior and was touching bases with every camp but the atmosphere was different; every illyrian respected her and even though she stood taller than Rhys did at that point with almost double his wingspan he understood their fathers fascination with the power she possessed, she carried nearly double the siphons he and his brothers did. She commanded respect without actually commanding it, her actions made those around her want to follow her. She toured him around the camp's facilities, showed off their training, and her top warriors. 

Eventually a female with tiny wings joined  the two as they toured, folders and paperwork in her hands that she passed off to her white winged superior to approve. The small winged female was introduced as her deputy and second in command of the camp, while her wings had stopped growing as a child she had become incredibly intelligent and had adapted to be able to winnow or blink incredible distances. 

After Rhys had decided the tour sufficient, he apologized for her loss and swallowed a breath sharply; her wings flared slightly as she tried to keep her composure, her brother's attitude towards their father and his legacy having angered her.

“Like I said, your camp will continue to operate as is and we would like you to remain here unless called to Velaris or another camp for a meeting. If I ever need an update or anything I will send one of my inner circle to check in with you.” The younger male nodded and disappeared from the front of the camp.

The white winged female and her deputy turned back to the lively camp behind them, those in training pausing to greet the two; they climbed the steps of the main building while discussing the matters at hand and how to further continue their training. The meeting with her brother was the start of changing tides.

She wouldn’t see the male she called brother or his circle for nearly 4-5 hundred years, gifted and powerful Illyrians would appear at the front of the camp explaining they were dropped off by the new highlord; she would bring them in show them the ropes and introduce them to the others training at the camp. Then came the silence, 30 years of no new illyrians at their door; so she sent letters to Velaris looking for her brother and summoning him for a meeting, one of his generals came instead.

+

“Ferelith, any update on a letter back from Velaris?” I asked my deputy while looking over several pieces of paperwork from businesses within my camp and village.

“No mam.” She responded looking up from behind her own paperwork, her small wings fluttering quickly behind her.

“Fere, I told you no formalities.” I hummed back to her.

“And you will have to tell me every day my lady.” Ferelith responded back with a chirp.

I snorted and there was a knock on the study door, a younger male I remembered by the name Leander who harnessed some power that was capable of animal communication, stepped into the study looking extremely pale and panicked. He was from a village near camp Windhaven, had been brought to my camp when he was 15 after he had nearly been hanged for stealing a sheep that was in immense pain from improper feed and bloating.

“Mam.” he saluted.

“Leander? What’s the matter child?” I looked up from my desk, watching as the male panted, his wings taught against his back.

“The General! He’s outside, mam. The Lord of Bloodshed.” Leander shifted anxiously from foot to foot.

“Thank you Leander, you are dismissed. Ferelith come, we have a guest to greet.” I stood, pushing the stool under the desk, flaring my wings every so slightly as I adjusted them up my back.

I slipped from my study and pushed the grand doors open, eyeing down the male standing in the center courtyard; his wings were flared out in an intimidation tactic and a grand Red siphon set in the center of his chest.

I took a breath in and squared my shoulders staring down at the male in the center of my camp. “Lord of Bloodshed, what brings you to my camp?” 

His eyes widened as he stared back up at me, “So I see the rumors are true my lady. I’ve received your letter meant for the High Lord, he is otherwise preoccupied at the moment.”

I scoffed and continued down the steps till I stood eye to eye with him. “My own brother is too preoccupied to see to his own affairs? Let alone a deal he was sworn into?” 

The male tensed, his wings flaring like I had insulted him personally. “If you wish to further discuss the matters at hand, let me pull you aside and we can speak on it in private.”

He still had to look up at me by about a head and a half,my eyes raked up and down the male as a means to size him up; watching as he subconsciously made small movements that told me he found me intimidating: small eye movements between me and the snow covered ground, miniscule movements of his wings to make himself smaller in my gaze, and he turned his head ever so slightly like he would turn and run if I came at him aggressively. It made me want to smirk, instead I decided to test my observation further. 

I glared at him a bit harsher than I had before and flared my wings, watching as his throat bobbed. “Fine, this way then.”

I turned to the side, giving him space to climb the stairs beside me. His wings were tight and tense against his back as he climbed them, and as soon as he had passed me I turned to walk beside him up the bath to my house. 

After he had stepped through the grand door frame I looked over my shoulder to Ferelith. “Please see to the training regimens and check in with the shops while I attend this meeting.”

She simply nodded and turned; trodding down the wooden steps and towards the training ring. I  shut the door behind us, the faelights flickering from the chilled wind blowing in. He stood in the center of the entryway, uneased he shifted on his feet; I motioned to the study I had been sitting in earlier and he shuffled in.

Rounding my desk I pulled the stool back out and adjusted myself on it. I motioned for the padded chair in front of me that was specially made for illyrian wings;He sat and adjusted his wings, I greeted him with a smile and leaned onto my elbows.

“So, Lord of Bloodshed, tell me why my brother is too preoccupied to make good on our deal.” My tone was venomous as I smiled at him.

He straightened in his seat. “There's been some commotion in the Courts of Prythian, Rhys has done his best to keep Illyria out of it so you wouldn't know and wouldn’t have heard anything. He went to a meeting held by some kind of emissary slash general of the King of Hybern. Lots of the high lords and their people did, none of them have been back yet but we know they are alive from what Tamlin, the High Lord of Spring, has told us. She put a curse on him and his court held the rest of the lords hostage. We are waiting to find out more.” Cassian sighed. “We haven't heard from Rhys just as long as you, we didn’t even know about your deal and what it's about or this camp. No one even knew Rhys had another sister till your letter came.” 

I sighed and rubbed my temples. “That would explain the radio silence. Ask away.”

“First, why are your wings white?” Cassian questioned.

“My ancestors made a deal with the Night father, surely you've heard the mythology of him?” I asked.

Cassian nodded. “Vaguely yeah, didn't he show the ancient illyrians where to make their homes?”

“Precisely, the village I came from that I’m sure you saw when flying in, has a special connection with the Night Father. I implore you to find our archivist in the village below if you wish to know the lore to the full extent.” I half explained and he nodded intently.

“So, if you're Rhys’s sister and older than him, why didn’t you become lord or lady if you were the heir?” Cassian questioned.

“Adopted sister, my father died before I was born and my mother died shortly after the founding of this camp. Our father took interest in me when I was incredibly young, my powers made an impression on him and it was before Rhys’s birth. He had originally just wanted to see me trained correctly but became invested and we grew a bond like that of a father and his child. I'm not his true heir, even though he expressed his desire for that before he passed.” I motioned to the painting that had been gifted to me with the camp, a picture of father and I that he had painted.

Cassian nodded. “Rhys hasn't told us a thing about this camp or an outstanding deal with it, I've only heard rumors from the other camps I’ve visited.” 

I sighed. “The deal is that he and any high lord in the future, as long as this camp is running, will bring gifted and powerful Illyrians here to be trained. The camp has been kept out of major eyes and ears due to the fact it's a back pocket weapon for the high lords.”

Cassian tilted his head in questioning “Then why are you not on our regular camp regulation trips?” 

“Camp regulations? What does my dear brother have you check?” I asked.

“Like females being trained, wing clipping is banned, stuff like that.” Cassian shrugged.

“Then that is part of why Rhys hasn’t had any of you do a check here, those have been in place here since before Rhys was born my village never did that and when the camp was built that rule carried over.  It's been hard to break some of the males ,who came from camps and villages where that was practice, out of that mindset; and we have females here who were already clipped before they joined us but everyone gets equal training and opportunities as long as they want too. Some opt out and wish to work the shops instead, that is not frowned on either as it supports the camp further.” I said entirely disinterested, turning back to the paperwork on my desk. 

“I mean that's true, I was able to tell from mere observation. But! Normally we still check in every so often and observe training or join in on a session of training.” Cassian rebutted 

“Your high lord cares not for the camps or real change would have taken place by now. You only check them when you receive a complaint or a rumor reaches your ears.” I retorted without looking up from my desk.

Cassian growled and stormed towards the desk, slamming his hands on the wood. “Quit talking down on Rhys, you have no right! I’m sorry that he got the bigger stick and he ended up being dear ol daddy’s favorite; your not any better than he is, fuck I’d say from the attitude you have given me since the start you are worse than he is.”

My eyes flicked up to him, and I raised a brow at him. “You have 3 seconds to return to your seat.”

He scoffed and as he went to return to his rant. I flared my wings as a warning and stood up quick enough my stool clattered to the floor behind me. I used my speed to gain advantage against him while he wasn't paying any attention, pinning his head against my desk  by the side of his neck. His cheek was red squished against the wooden desk and his own wings flared as he struggled against my hold.

“Collect yourself General, before you regret it.” I hissed back at him.

His eyes widened as he looked towards me stunned. I narrowed my eyes on the male. 

“You may stay a few days if you wish to conduct your little observation further. But I warn you General if you cross any line here I will correct you. Remember whose camp you are in.” I growled down at him.

He growled back and tried to stand up and fight against my hold, I strengthened my hold and pressed his cheek harder against the desk; splinters threatened his skin and my desk creaked as it threatened to give way, my grip on the male finally loosened when he whimpered. I scoffed and released him walking out of my office and back out into the snowy campgrounds. 

+

Cassian’s visit was relatively uneventful, everything checked out regulations wise but he needed to know more about the strange white winged female whose life he had barged into at her request for the male he called brother. He didn’t necessarily like her and her tendency to drag Rhysand but something about her he found intimidating and interesting, like there was something more just around the corner she was hiding. He found any excuse to stay, even if it meant butting heads with her; he often lost the fights if he pushed her boundaries but he was hoping to push her over an edge, hoping it would cause her to mess up and reveal something. He had requested a walk-through of every building in the camp, finding something as simple as a loose board as a cause for concern. He had written to Azriel after a week telling him it would be awhile before he returned; saying the camp needed more observation and he wanted to make sure training was up to date, any excuse in the book really. 

It had been a month of Cassian and the Lady of the camp butting heads, when Cassian realized why he was so intrigued at pissing her off.

The first time was when he started his every building must be checked and looked over, he had spent the day being in her way; he followed her room to room looking at every minor detail. He knew he was close when her eyes kept flicking up to him and then shed rub her temples, he finally got her to yell at him by flapping or ‘adjusting’ his wings knocking papers from her desk when she took a drink of hot tea. She had stood abruptly and pinned him to the wall, yelling at him her office was off limits until she had completed her tasks for the day; she had dragged him out of her office and tossed him to the floor just outside it, slamming the doors shut.  He had lain on the floor for about 10 minutes with a victorious smile on his face, before he had finally got up to finish his walk through. 

The next day he had followed her to a meeting with her own generals, he had learned their names were Saros and Larissa, under the excuse he would like to be able to ask them questions about their regiment. She had agreed with a sigh, and hiked out to the ring with him at her heels. The meeting had started fine but when everything had checked out he had to find some way to annoy her, so questions he would ask. Everytime she would start to ask about something he would interrupt with his own question. ‘How do you specifically train for their powers?’, ‘Do you spend the same amount of time with every individual during personal training hours or is it based on that person's needs?’. All questions that would make sense for  him to be asking, but simply inconveniencing her.  He watched as her wings tensed and flared but she couldn’t do anything as it was all standard stuff he needed to know. He walked away from the meeting with a smirk and a swagger in his hips.

He would often follow her for about half an hour a day at the start, if she was walking around camp he was at her heel and if she stopped to talk to a member of the camp he was behind her mimicking her every movement. If she was in her office he was making small humming noises while ‘reading’ books from her shelf, ignoring her when she snipped at him to stop the annoying noises, he would kick his feet up on the coffee table much to her annoyance, ask personal questions, and fidget with kick knacks around her office until she forced him out of the office and away from her. 

Some of his proudest moments were when he was able to publicly embarrass or aggravate her. The first time he had gotten the rush from his new favorite pastime she had been in a meeting with the shopkeepers in a new conference room he had yet to see, he had been walking around admiring the art and artifacts compiled here. It was a public conference hall anyone in camp could reserve and use, everyone had pitched in to decorate it and it was actually quite a sight Cassian had to admit. They were deep in negotiations when Cassian had stopped paying attention and simply admired the surroundings; he had run into a pillar holding an ornate sculpture of ‘Her Highness’. He had spun on his heels when he realized the statue was falling, he had reached out to stop the fall but was a second late as it clattered to the floor and shattered. Everyone had looked over to Cassian as the shatter had cut off the female he enjoyed annoying ever so much, all eyes were on him and her as her wings flared; she let out a loud sigh, wings pulled closer to her back and she pinched the bridge of her nose. 

It had been unintentional but he was delighted when she sighed loudly “Meeting dismissed, we will reconvene later this week”

The second time he had publicly embarrassed her was a night in the mess hall. He had eaten in there with the other warriors everyday since he had arrived and he was a welcomed presence in the hall with his humor and antics. It had given him nostalgia to his days in Windhaven, to which he would tell stories of what he and his brothers had gotten up to in their own camp. She had walked into the mess hall, wings glittering like fresh powdered snow in the faelights, her small deputy at her side. They had both conversed their entire way through the line, paying him and the others barely any mind beside small hellos as they carried on back and forth. 

When the two sat down she had taken a bite and hummed, nearly moaning, as she took a bite of the beef. “I'm telling you Ferelith Beef and noodle night never fails to impress. I never miss it, by the father, this is my favorite meal we have, probably the best as well.”

The small female beside her nodded along, chirping back and Cassian took a bite of his own plate, chewing on the egg noodles he smirked at his opening. He cleared his throat, everyone turning to look at him wide eyed.

With a scoff he stood and made his way over to her. “The best? Don’t be ridiculous. If this is the best you have, I feel sorry for your warriors.” He shrugged and took his fork stabbing into her meat. “The meat is tough and you have to chew for ages to get through it. The noodles? Wayyyyy too doughy. Don’t even get me started on the broth, this is probably some of the worst gruel I’ve had.” He popped the piece into his mouth, and the room went super quiet, tension thick enough even Truth Teller wouldn’t have been able to cut it. 

To be honest, he was lying through his teeth, but being able to embarrass her like this was well worth it. This was probably one of the best meals he had ever had while in a camp, it was definitely better than what Windhaven called gruel. He looked around a smirk on his face, to see everyone still and tense. 

“If you don’t like it, General, you are free to leave at any time.” He didn;t like this he decided, her tone was cold and venomous. A silent anger on her features as she stood, plate in hand and walked from the mess hall.

Ferelith was still before she swiped up her own tray and scrambled after the head of camp. When the doors shut behind the small female he turned to the group of males he had been sitting with.

His brows furrowed in worry, “Why are you all so silent? What did I do?”

One of the males he had recognized as one of the generals from the training ring grimaced as he spoke. “The recipe for the beef and noodle gruel is her mothers, they were incredibly close.” 

Cassian winced. “I fucked up didn’t I?”

The males all nodded rapidly till one of them, the small male he had seen when he first landed into camp, an Oleander or something similar if he recalled correctly, spoke up. “Mr. Cassian sir, Lord of Bloodshed sir. If I may ask, what do you have against her? I just have noticed you seem to take joy in making her upset. She's a good leader sir, she doesn’t deserve whatever this is.”

There was a murmur of agreement and Cassian sighed. “To be honest, it started as a game  because she looked down on Rhys and I simply wanted under her skin, now though it's just kinda grown into a habit.” A partial lie but he wasn’t going to admit the truth, he could barely admit the truth to himself.

The small male spoke up again. “I just think, Casian sir, that you should maybe apologize to her, she does her best keeping up with everything here.”

“Right, Right. I’ll do it tomorrow and give her some time to cool off. I'm heading to my room. I'll see everyone in the morning for breakfast.” Cassian waved them off, dropping his own plate and tray off with the dishwasher. 

She had been nice enough to put him up in the guest room of her own house, he pulled the grand door open just enough to slip inside and moved up the stairs. He slipped into the dark room, not bothering to crawl under the covers, he kicked off his boots and slipped into warm night clothes, laying on top of the bed and staring at the ceiling contemplating everything. He finally had to admit it to himself and accept the fact the entire reason for annoying her was because he enjoyed the change of pace, enjoyed her being able to overpower him and put him in place. The first time she had shoved him against the desk had him realizing it made his pant tighten in the crotch, only seconded by the time she threw him out of her study and onto the floor resulting in the same reaction. 

He must have fallen asleep, because hew awoke to a small clatter and a mumbled “Fuck.” from the downstairs kitchen.

He dragged himself out of bed and down the stairs finding her nursing a cut finger and a broken glass. 

He leaned on the doorframe with his arms crossed. “You okay?” He yawned.

She turned to glare at him. “What do you want? Come to insult me some more?” 

“Honestly? No, I was investigating the loud noise that woke me up. Look I’m sorry okay, I realize I pushed too far.”  He shrugged and took a few steps into the kitchen, leaning against the island counters opposite her. 

+

I watched Cassian round the islands and lean against the counters, I’ve had enough of his shit this past month. 

“Other than that, what the FUCK  do you want with me Cassian? You push and push and are only ever satisfied after I lash out at you or you embarrass me.  Why?” I hissed at him.

Cassian shifted from foot to foot and sighed before straightening his stance and swiping the hair from his face. He moved to lean over the sink with me, taking my hand in his and rinsing the now dried blood from my finger.

He sighed. “If I’m being 100% honest, this month has made me realize something about myself. It took me awhile to accept it but after I realized I pushed too far tonight I had to face it and figured I’d confront you about it in the morning or just leave tomorrow but seems the mother or the father, I know he's a more important figure to you, have deemed me to confront you about it tonight. Maybe confront is the wrong word…” Cassian rambled on.

“What are you talking about Cassian? Just answer my question already.” I tried to hiss at him but was ultimately stunned by his gentleness.

“Maybe confess is a better word here. Yeah. I wanted to confess to you about it tonight.” He nodded and I furrowed my brows at him.

“What are you on about? What is it you wish to confess, Oh Great General?” I rolled my eyes.

Cassian pulled the hand he was holding to his chest, my palm laying flat against the muscular skin. “I’ve come to realize I like it when you put me in place, I like that you can overpower me with a flick of your wrist. It's haunted me since the day you pinned me to the desk. I had to test my theory and was only proven right when you tossed me on the floor outside of your study, when I had the same reaction I didnt wanna accept it but the thrill of getting you to lash out at me like that; often times physically overpowering me, was incredibly addicting.”

I could feel his heart pounding. “Cassian.” I warned, but his puppy dog eyes as I looked down at him I gave in, a heat beginning to grow in my cheeks and I sighed. “And what was this reaction you speak about?” 

Those same puppy dog eyes greeted me with a nervous smile, he pulled at my wrist guiding my hand to the crotch of the sweatpants he wore. I turned my head to look down on him with a half-assed glare, he shifted slightly and I could feel him strain against my hand. 

“Ah I see.” I hummed. “And what would you like me to do about it?” 

The worry in his eyes turned a bit hopeful. “I’m normally the one incharge in these situations so this is kinda new to me but I’m not afraid to let a pretty and strong girl top me, if I get a request… make me forget my own name?” 

He turned his head slightly to the side exposing his neck, a habit of submission and obedience in illyrians. I looked down at him through my lashes with a smirk, id torture him back for what he out me through .

“And why would I do that Cass?” I stepped closer to him, my free hand coming to his chin to make him look up at me.

His eyes widened again and he swallowed an anxious breath. “I can relieve some of your stress. I’ll let you do whatever you want to, however you want me. I can take what you give me and if I get a bit too cocky or bratty just put me back in my place.”

I tilted my head with a chuckledirecred at him, he shifted again and I smirked. “And how do I know you could do whatever I want?” 

He licked his lips, his voice heavy with want. “You've seen me train, you know I have enough stamina for it. I’ve been at death's doorstep plenty of times if you are worried about being too rough: Don’t. Look, I can't believe I’m saying this, I can be your good boy if that’s what you’d like. Mam, respectfully, if you'd let me I promise I can blow your back out.”

I smiled down at him and I felt him throb when venom coated every word that fell from my mouth. “Then get upstairs. I want you on your knees by the end of my bed, you have a whole month of torture to make up for. I’ll be up there shortly, be shirtless when I get up there; pants optional since I know you don’t have anything under them.” 

I dropped his chin from my hand and squeezed him with my other, he groaned loudly, choking out his words as he tried to maintain his composure. “Yes mam.” 

He slipped out of the kitchen and I slipped into my office, scribbling out a small note for Ferelith to reschedule any and all appointments I had as I would be otherwise preoccupied and resting. Sitting the note on her desk pinned it by the corner with her paperweight and stepped out of the study, making sure the door clicking would be audible on the third floor where my room was. The third floor consisted of only my room, and was purposefully made so I could completely stretch my wings out. I slinked up the stairs, not a board creaking under foot. I wanted him on edge like I had been all month since his antics started, he would have heard the door shut and he would know I was coming up the stairs; but he wouldn’t know when and with how my bed was positioned he would have his back to the door.

The halls were dark, and I pushed the door to my room open slowly so it wouldn’t creak. Cassian was sitting facing the bed, his wings flared out and completely stripped. He must have felt me behind him as he straightened up how he was sitting and I heard his breathing stutter. I slipped into the space between his wings and ran my hands from the knuckle in his wings to the base, where the membranous skin met with his tanner skin. His back arched and he moaned loudly, I leaned down behind him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

I ran my hand under his chin and across his throat, I felt his throat bob as I leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Boo.” 

My grasp tightened on his throat and from my vantage point over his shoulder I watched his member twitch, satisfied with his reaction I nipped at his ear and pulled back. 

He moved to follow me but I gave him a warning look, he begged with his eyes and they would have been enough for me to give in had I not had a plan. “Mam.” 

“Now, now, Cassian, you have a lot to make up for. Before I give you the attention you so desperately want you have to apologize for your behavior.” I chastised him.

He whimpered, “I’m sorry for my behavior my Lady. I’ll make up for it I promise.” 

I chuckled. “How cute yet how pathetic it is that you think that's all the apology you need to make up for what you’ve done.”

I rounded his frame and sat on the foot of my bed, wings stretched out either side of me.  He moved to crawl towards me but I planted my toes into his chest and he stopped to look up at me desperately. 

I raked my eyes over him, finally allowing him to crawl towards me with a simple order. “Come here and strip me, I don't wish to do the work myself.”

He nodded. “Yes mam.”

After he stripped me, he spent hours between my legs at my order; hours that were spent between his mouth as a punishment for his slander and when I was satisfied he had made up for that I finally let him use his cock that he was so proud of, he had let it do his thinking for him and would learn better than that. He had spent several hours nestled between my legs pounding into me and seeking my praise, till I grew bored and pressed his back into the comforter. We had finished our night with him below me, wings spread out either side of him and his fingers dug into the flesh of my thighs. His hips followed mine the closer he got to his final release, whimpers, moans, and pleads left his mouth in rapid succession.

I had finally acknowledged his approaching climax with a smile on my face. “That's it baby” I crooned at him, “Now be a good boy for me and cum for me.” 

He had roared in response, his hips slamming up into mine, his hands slipping from my thighs and up to the base of my wings; his nails dug into the line where the membrane turned into tougher skin, it had been just enough to push me over the edge for the final time tonight. My head was thrown back and my hips stuttered, my wings flared open to their full extent as I screamed out his name; coming down from the high I panted out goodboy like a mantra to him but he seemed otherwise mesmerized as he stared into my wings, the soft faelights glittered against them and he ran his fingers softly over the pronounced bone.I had pulled myself off of him and collapsed beside him, he curled up into my side with his head resting between my collarbone and breast. We had fallen asleep together wrapped up in the comforter in the early hours of the morning.

It was well past noon when we were woken up by Ferelith knocking at the door. I sat up and moved to climb out of the bed, Cassian deep in slumber grumbled and tried to pull me back into the bed beside him. I pushed his bangs out of his face with a smile and wrapped my robe around my frame, Ferelith was smirking when I opened my door.

“I’ve got a letter for Cassian here.” She teased in a knowing tone. 

“And you knew he was up here how?”I quizzed.

“You said you were preoccupied and obviously that letter was from after I had left last night. It only made sense to me.” She chirped back smugly.

I took the letter from her hand. 

“Thank you Fere, you are dismissed.” I grumbled back.

She turned and walked away with a hop in her step and I shut the door softly, turning to find Cassian groggy and laying on his stomach propped up on his elbows.

“What's going on, love?” He mumbled and yawned.

“You’ve got a letter, from a…” I looked over the letter and turned it in my hands reading it off to him. “From an Azriel.”

Cassian perked up and pulled himself from bed. “Let me see.” 

I passed him the piece of parchment and raked my eyes over his body, noting he could do with putting a bit of weight on, a dad bod would do him some justice.

“Fuck.” Cassian cursed as he read the letter over.

“What's wrong?” I asked, raising one brow.

“Azriel needs me to report back in, or else he's sending a spy team out.” Cassian mumbled.

“So? Go back to Velaris, that's your home you can always swing by the camp when you have free time. I’m not gonna bar you from the camp, many of my warriors and villagers like your presence.” I shrugged, pulling on my day clothes. 

“I figured I would have a day or two more before I would have to go back.” Cassian sighed.

“So go report back to the shadowsinger, that's what he is right? My father tried to bring him here once but Devlon refused to release him.  Report to him, give it a couple days, and when you get a chance swing up here.” I snapped the buttons on my side closed. “I can clear my schedule for the day with my good boy.” I tilted his chin up and planted a quick kiss on his lips, he pouted when I pulled away.

“You sure? I wouldn't want to get in the way of camp duties.” He looked up at me with those golden hazel puppy dog eyes. 

“I’m sure Cass. You are always welcome here, and you are always welcome in my bed.”  I tilted his chin up to me with a smile.

He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows back at me. I snorted and pushed him away. I moved to sit on a padded sofa and began lacing my boots back up. He stepped into the space behind me and placed kisses along the edge of my wings till he reached the leathers on my back. I shooed him away and he pouted dramatically as he began dressing into his own leathers. 

We slid down both flights of stairs. Ferelith had the door propped the study over, wiggling her own brows at me, I kissed Cassian farewell and slipped into my study while he slipped out the door. Ferelith looked awfully smug as she smiled up at me.

“What are you smug about?” I grilled her.

“Oh just that I definitely called Cassian having a thing for you, and now Leander, Saros, AND Larissa all owe me their cookies for a week.” She replied smuggly.

“You four placed bets on if Cassian liked me? Based on his actions purposely pissing me off?” I gave her a look of disbelief.

“Well there's more logic to it than that. Leander agreed with me but bet it would take longer. The other two disagreed but Saros said you would kick him out of the camp.” Ferelith chirped.

“Over the fucking mess hall’s cookies?” I furrowed my brows.

“Yup.” She smiled.

“Fucking mess hall cookies.” I sighed.

+

Over the next 5 years Cassian visited off and on, his final visit however felt off; he was anxious and on edge the entire three days he stayed with me.

“What's wrong?” I mumbled sitting against the headboard.

Cassian was laying on his stomach with his head in my lap, The silk sheets exposing the upper portion of his naked body as he bathed his wings in the rays of sun that came through the windows. 

“Something just feels off, like something wrong is happening. I'm worried about Rhys, it's been 45 years, Az’s spies can't even get anywhere near the mountain yet. I dont know im just a big ball of anxiety and at the same time its making me want to be protective over you and all of my family.” Cassian sighed nuzzling against my stomach and thighs. 

I ran my fingers through his hair, “I’m sure it will all be okay Cass.” 

Oh how wrong I was on that, it would not be okay. It would not be okay for at least 6 more years. I had ended up pregnant after Cassian's last visit, I had waited to tell him till the next time he appeared at my doorstep; but he didnt show, I got letters from him for sure. After our child had been born, a male that was undeniably ours, with Cassian’s tanned skin, hazel eyes, and black hair but my massive and white wings. 

I had ended up never truly telling Cassian, even when I had seen him for a split moment during the war with hybern. I had seen him in passing, dragging Larissa into a medtent while he was dragged into a medtent by Azriel and Rhys. The other two had no clue about the real nature of our relationship, that he had fathered the next heir of the star children’s bloodline.

By the time Rhys had released my squadron to go back to Angelsrest, I had yet to see Cassian but had got the privilege to meet my sister in law Feyre. I missed my boy, I had named him Rigel, after a star in the sky above my camp; and was just ready to go home and have him back in my arms. I dismissed the thought of searching for Cassian and regrouped with my generals.

My wings had ended up being fairly tattered around the edges of the membrane, the flight home was rough with the cold biting at the new wounds. We all landed and Rigel was bouncing beside Ferelith, he called out for me and jumped into my arms. Thankfully my camp suffered no major losses, it was handy being a specialist team with advanced training, our worst injury had been Larissa’s wing: A sword had gone through one of them and ripped a major hole through it, thankfully a healer managed to get the wing to heal itself back together with minor scarring.

Life continued on as it had before the war, before Cassian, with the addition of Rigel in the child classes we held. Everything had been food until Rhysand appeared at the front of camp. Solstice preparations were in progress, headed by a heavily pregnant Ferelith; she had been hooking up with Saros apparently since the bet.

I had come out of my study to force her to take a break when Rhys smiled at me, everyone in camp stilled and watched on silently; my wings flared in warning. The entire camp stayed silent until a loud cry broke out, I knew that cry… it was Rigel. I fought down my panic, as Ferelith waddled forward clutching Rigel in her grasp the best she could. His wings were scratched up and bloody, Saros was heading the children's class and was teaching them how to fly today; Rigel must have had a bad crash. Ferelith stilled when she saw Rhys there, but I motioned for Rigel to be brought up to me.

“Momma!” Rigel had cried in my arms and Rhys’s eyes widened.

“Sister… May we speak in private?” Rhys suggested eyed locked onto Rigel.

I motioned for him to join me in my home, but instead of my office I led him into a toy cluttered living room. I rocked Rigel and looked over his wings, Rhys sat stiffly across from me and his eyes never left Rigel’s tear-stained face. 

“He looks inexplicably like Cassian.” Rhys bluntly stated.

“That's because he is Cassian’s” I snipped back at Rhys.

“How?” Rhys mumbled. 

“Surely you know how babes are made, Rhys.” I said sarcastically.

“You know what I mean sister.” He deadpanned.

“About 11 years ago now, I sent a letter to you but you were under the mountain. Cassian came instead. We hit it off from there, about 6 years ago now I gave birth to Rigel here.” I replied.

Rigel’s sniffles slowed and he looked over at Rhys. “Rigel baby, this is your uncle Rhysand.” 

Rugel waved at rhys and yawned, Rhys waved back and Rigel began rubbing at his eyes trying to fight off the exhaustion crying caused. 

“He is astonishing. Does Cass know?” Rhys mumbled again.

“No I tried to tell him through letters but he never showed back up here, then at the war the only time I saw him was when you were dragging him into the med kit. I just resigned myself to keeping silent about it from Cassian.”I shrugged and Rigel nuzzled into my arm, soft snores coming from him.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Rhys sighed. 

“It's fine. You came here for a reason brother, what's wrong?” I changed the subject as quickly as I could.

“Well, originally I came here because both Feyre and I have been on this family united kick, and I suggested we invite you to Solstice. Feyre agreed, you see, it's also her birthday.” Rhys rambled. “But now with Rigel in the picture I believe you should come even more. It would be one hell of a solstice present.” 

“Only if Rigel is welcome will I come and I will leave if there is any drama over him.” I stood my ground.

“GREAT! Wonderful! Absolutely! That is expected of you my dear sister, we can't wait to see you there, I’ll show you from the House of the Wind then?” Rhsy stood excitedly.

I nodded in agreement, the solstice was only a week away. I would have to prepare both myself and Rigel for the emotional roller coaster this very well could be. 

When the week passed I strapped Rigel into fur covered leathers His wings were large, yes, and he could keep himself in the air for short periods of time and he could glide for sure, but he wouldn’t be able to make the flight between Velaris and our camp by himself, I had instructed him if he was tired to call out for me and I'd carry him. We would stay at the mountain house on solstice eve and Rhys would bring us down on solstice morning.  He had written to me to tell everyone to expect to buy a present for a male illyrian child and for his sister.  He had told me he bluffed when any of them asked, since he had explained I was his adopted sister who ran a camp for talented illyrians in the mountains and told them I had taken Rigel under my wing. He knew they would know the truth of his parentage the second they saw us but it was easier to bluff until we met them in person, so Cassian would still be surprised and Rigel would get solstice presents.  Rigel tired out about a quarter of the way through the flight and I carried him the rest of the way to Velaris.

I had bought Rigel a set of play armor with siphons and a fake sword, for Rhys I had gotten him a sculpture from one of our artists i had seen him eyeing when he invited me to solstice, Cassian's gift was Rigel, i didn't know much of the others so I let Rhys pick out gifts for me. 

Rhys was at the house with Feyre when I landed, both of them greeting me happily. Rigel was awake and jumped out of my arms to greet Rhys and Feyre. The latters eye widened as she processed who his sire had been.

“Oh my god he's Cassian’s isn't he?” She asked quickly.

Both Rhys and I nodded.

“Ohhhhhkay well tomorrow is going to be exciting.” Feyre sighed. “Get some rest you two we will see you in the morning.” 

Rhys showed us to our rooms before he showed himself out. I tucked Rigel into his bed, and was tucking myself into my own when a knock came from my balcony door; Cassian was standing outside with an eager smile on his face. I motioned for him to enter my room and he did so eagerly, throwing himself into my arms.

“Hey there momma, I figured I should call you that now since you’ve taken that boy under your wing now.” Cassian purred in my arms as I played with his hair.

“Actually Cass, about that…” I mumbled. 

“What’s up Momma?”  Cass hummed.

“Come with me Cass, I want you to meet him, I think you two will get along.” I purred back at him.

Cassian agreed, and I pulled him into Rigel’s room. Rigel was fast asleep on his stomach, wings neatly tucked over the blanket to hold it in place. Cassian slinked forward and moved Rigel’s bangs from his face. 

Cass sat at the side of his bed, running his fingers through the boy's hair. “He’s got your wings, you didn’t just take him under yours he is yours.” 

“That he is Cass, but you’ve recognized something else too haven’t you.” I stepped forward lowering myself onto my knees in front of Cassian.

“He looks so familiar yet so different, like looking in a mirror.” Cassian mumbled.

“You know why that is right Cass?” I placed my hand on his knee and he looked over to me with those caramel puppy dog eyes.

“He's mine isn’t he?” Cassian had tears welling in his eyes.

“Yeah, Cassian, he is yours. I wanted to tell you earlier but you weren't able to come to the camp despite all my urging, and then the next time I saw you Rhysand and azriel were dragging you into a med tent.” I replied sadly.

“I could have had so much more time with you, I could have had a life with you earlier… Oh mother, I’ve missed so much of his life that I can’t make up for.” Cassian began quietly sobbing, as to not wake the child he now knew was his son.

“You can still be there for him Cass, I’m sure there is still room in our lives for you.” I mumbled.

“I’d love that. I really would. I’m just so sorry I couldn’t have been there earlier. I’ve been so miserable here doing Feyre and Rhys’s bidding. Feyre’s sister is my mate you see, but I have never wanted anything to do with her, and she's miserable to be around. I’ve thought about breaking it plenty of times and now you have just given me a solid reason to.” Cassian wiped his tears and grasped my hands in his.

“Cass…”I gave him a look of pity.

“You’d still have me then wouldn’t you? There would still be room for me wouldn’t there?” Cassian whimpered.

“Oh Cassian! Of course there is, like I told you there will always be a place open for you with me.”  I pulled him down into a chaste kiss.

“I wish I could have been there for his younger years, I’ve missed so many milestones already.” Cassian sighed.

“Don’t worry Daddy, there's always more milestones ahead.” I soother him with an added nickname, he whimpered out a sob.

‘Can we have another one too? I wanna be there for the firsts at least once, I wanna be able to support you through everything at least once.” He begged softly.

“Oh my good boy of course we can, now lets go climb into bed, get some good sleep and in the morning we can go out together to the house. You can take Rigel with you to the snowball fight you told me about.” I mused.

“Rigel? That’s his name?” I nodded to Cassian’s question. “That’s the name of the star above your camp isn’t it? The star the father sent to guide you home?” Cassian sniffled.

“Yes, I named him after that star.” I nodded.

He pulled me up from the floor and spun me around. “To bed then?”

“To bed.” I nodded.

“So we can face tomorrow as a family united.” Cassian smiled brightly and pulled me into a kiss.

I knew from here on out Rigel and I’s lives would change forever, and Cassian would fit right into it as our missing pieces. Tomorrow I would let Cassian introduce himself to Rigel and the two could bond over the snowball fight with Rhysand and Azriel. Everything is going to be okay, and Cassian would make sure of that, he had purpose and reason now; he was excited to move forward with his son and to help bring in a new one and raise it, this time he would be there for the firsts he’d make sure of that.

Taglist: @lilah-asteria

#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #cassian acotar #cassian x reader

[andy-clutterbuck]

ANDY PHOTOGRAPHED BY GIANFRANCO TRIPODO IN 2017

#H E #Andrew Lincoln #* #al #GREEN SOCKS #H A N D S #im yelling stop yelling #also his arm hair but i'm not gonna be that weird right now #a certified specimen™ #don't look at me like that thanks #im fragile #if i lay here #if i just lay here #you could step on me and that'd be ok #*apologizes to snow patrol* #his lil bracelet

[satansamwriting]

Would write headcannons on how Smoke, Kuai Liang and Bihan would treat you on their anniversary with g/n reader?

MK1 HC, How they are on their birthday with GN!reader

0o0o0o0o0

Hiya anon, I know you only asked for how the boys would treat you on their birthday but I thought it'd be fun to see how they would also treat you on your birthday.

This is a short headcanon.

I hope I did your prompt justice!

Characters : Smoke, Kuai Liang, Bi-Han

Disclaimer : Enlgish ain't my native language. Mistakes might be found in this. I apologies for them, I'm trying my best.

Enjoy!

Smoke's birthday

Wouldn’t notice what day it is

Goes about his day as usual meaning he’d mostly be patrolling around and training. 

He’d be confused for a second when you wished him happy birthday.

Has to look on a calendar to confirm what day it is. 

He’d jokingly complain about being a year older.

If you ask him what he wants to do on his birthday, he would just shrug.

The Lin Kuei never did anything for  birthdays so Tomas doesn’t expect anything.

“Your presence is a gift in and of itself, I don’t need anything else.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o

(Y/n) would have none of it. Even if Tomas had affirmed them that he was fine with not having anything on his special day, that didn’t sit right with them. After a hard training, (Y/n) searched for the one person who knew Smoke better than them. 

“You're going to help me bake a cake.” They said to Scorpion once they found him meditating somewhere within the temple.

Surprisingly, the man agreed. 

Hours later, Smoke entered his room only to find the two of them waiting for him. A small cake laid on the table in between. Touched by the gesture, Smoke would smile, thanking whoever was up there for having met you.

0o0o0o0o

Your birthday 

Although this man didn’t care about his own birthday, it's the complete opposite with yours.

He remembers the date for a start.

He wouldn’t do something extravagant since again, the Lin Kuei usually didn’t do anything for birthdays.

However, you can expect to find flowers inside your room.

It's not much, but the gesture still makes you smile.

0o0o0o0o0o

Finished with training for the day, they walked back to their own room for a well earned shower. Upon entering the dark lit room, (Y/n) was surprised when the light opened by themselves. There in the middle of their room were Smoke and Scorpion. Tomas was holding a plate with sweet bread on it, candles placed on top.

“Sorry, that’s all we could get.” Smoke said sheepishly.

Blowing out the candles, they smiled at the two boys.

“It's perfect.”

0o0o0o0o

Kuai Liang's birthday

Much like smoke, this man doesn’t realise what day it is

Except, some of the other soldiers in the Lin Kuei would wish him a happy birthday.

One of them being you.

Give him a kiss and he’d melt all the snow around.

Saying something along the lines of you being the only gifts he needs.

Sadly, much like Tomas, this man focuses more on his duties for the clan than anything else. Even when it's his special day.

What he doesn’t know is that you and Smoke had made something for him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

“Happy Birthday.” (Y/n) exclaimed in between chuckles. 

Kuai Liang was surprised to see (Y/n) waiting for him by his bedroom door. It was rather late into the night. Wondering why they were there, the pyromancer found himself being lead by the hand somewhere else.

Arriving at one of Scorpion’s favourite places within the temple, (Y/n) smirked. Stepping slightly to the side, they tried their best to look innocent. Suspicious about something, Kuai failed to notice the smoke pooling at his feet. In a blink of an eye, sweet frosting was smeared on his face. Scorpion glared daggers at Smoke, who had finished materialising. 

Scorpion eyed them both before taking some of the frosting with his fingers. Despite the best effort to look menacing, Kuai Liang was smiling.

“You better start running.” 

Your birthday

“I just want to mention, it was their idea.” Tomas said before evaporating into a puff of smoke.

0o0o0o0o0o

The moment you leave your room, two warm arms wrapped around your waist.

Wishing you a happy birthday, Kuai Liang would sadly have to leave you in order to complete his duty around the temple. 

Just like Smoke, this man would give you flowers.

I mean, the Lin Kuei temple is pretty isolated so there’s not much in terms of gifts.

Bi-han would silently judge his brother for caring about such a thing.

Watch out, Kuai Liang remembers what you’ve done on his birthday.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

“Happy birthday!” 

Finding a note inside their room asking them to meet in one of the Lin Kuei’s gardens, (Y/n) smiled. They haven't seen their partner for the entire day, since the man was always very busy. However, they suspected that Bi-Han, being the grumpy killjoy that he is, was behind this.

They did not think about what this simple note could mean. (Y/n) found out the hard way when, as they entered the garden, a cake was smeared on their face. 

Removing the frost blocking their eyes, (Y/n) stared at the two smirking boys. The cake was sweet, despite having been destroyed on their face. As laughter erupted inside the garden, (Y/n) could not have asked for a better birthday.

O0o0o0o0o

Bi-Han's birthday

Oh boi.

This man would be grumpier than usual.

Would avoid anybody, even you.

He knows what day it is, that’s why he’d be this way.

Asking for the reason to Kuai would result in nothing.

Even his brother didn’t know why Bi-Han became this way on his birthday.

Good luck finding time to talk to him, he's busy being the Grandmaster.

The Lin Kuei did not celebrate birthdays

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Watching the cryomancer from afar, (Y/n) sighed. The man was giving everyone the cold shoulder. If Bi-Han wished to stay alone for the day, they would respect his wishes. However, that didn’t mean they couldn’t make something for him. Determined, they left their spot. 

Late into the night, Bi-Han walked through empty halls, his footsteps echoing on the frozen stones. Once inside his room, the grandmaster frowned. Resting on his desk was a box. He could feel heat coming from the inside. Approaching the object carefully, Bi-Han opened it. Dumplings, somehow still warm, laid on a plate inside the box. A little card was placed on the side with two simple words on it.

Baking a cake was out of the question since the cryomancer despised sweets.

An idea eventually popped in their heads. Content with it, (Y/n) marched toward the kitchen. 

“Happy Birthday.”

Your Birthday.

Alone in his room, Bi-Han would eat his gift, the tiniest smile on his face.

0o0o0o0o

If you think this man would act differently on your birthday, you’d be wrong.

You don’t see him for the entire day.

He’s busy being the grandmaster, he doesn’t have time for frivolous thing such as this.

Well his cold attitude is just a front.

Don’t get me wrong, Bi-Han still thinks celebrating birthdays to be beneath him but he can see how it affects your mood when he remains the only one not wishing you happy birthday.

Kuai Liang confronts him about it but Bi-Han keeps his facade up. 

Unknown to both you and his brother, he did have a gift for you.

00o0o0o0o0o

“Open it.” Bi-Han cold voice was muffled by the mask he still wore.

Fresh out of the shower, (Y/n) laid peacefully on their bed, a book nestled in between their fingers.

Suddenly, someone knocked at their door, breaking their concentration. Opening the door, surprised flashed across their face as Bi-Han came to view. Worldessly, the grandmaster pushed something on their chest. Puzzled, (Y/n) glanced at the object now in their hand. It was wrapped clumsily with brownish paper. 

Not wanting to make the cryomancer wait, (Y/n) removed the wrapping to reveal a beautiful dagger. The silverish blade simmered under the light. The handle was a deep blue, almost the exact same shade as Bi-Han’s clothes. 

“I love it, thank you.” 

Humming, Bi-Han turned to leave. Peering over his shoulder, he wished them a happy birthday before walking away.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk #mk fandom #mk headcanons #mk x gn reader #bi han #sub zero #kuai liang #tomas vrbada #mk1 #Subzero x gn reader #Kuai liang x gn reader #smoke x gn reader #tomas x gn reader #mk1 bi han #bi han x gn reader

[scandalcus]

𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 — ♡ 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒

pairing ; ellie williams x fem!reader summary ; ellie helps you relax and forget the scare you had while on patrol content warnings ; some fluff, lots of smut. top!ellie, bottom!reader, established relationship, cunnilingus (r! receiving), nipple play, fingering (r! receiving), gagging, explicit language, teasing, begging, orgasm delay, over stimulation, violence (against infected), etc. word count ; 2.3k a/n ; this is my first official fic on my blog! the last time i wrote a fic was probably 4/5 years ago so please bare with me. i apologize in advance if it isn't great and seems fast paced. feedback and constructive criticism are welcome!

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓, 18+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

A heavy silence hung in the air, but was quickly interrupted by an eerie screech coming from the clicker in front of you. Movement from the corner of your eye catches your gaze. You watch as Ellie carefully moves from her position behind the wooden counter. Quiet sounds of snow crunching every time she takes a step. You study her as she approaches the infected, her auburn hair gently blowing from the cool breeze of winter air, a switchblade held tightly in her right fist. Her eyebrow’s are furrowed and her sight doesn’t turn away from the clicker once, her only focus is eliminating the threat. Once close enough, she gets up from her crouched position and swiftly shoves the switchblade into the clickers throat, pulling it down to the ground as it dies. “Got you motherfucker.” she mutters, pulling the blade out if its neck and wiping the remaining blood onto her jacket. “I think that's all of them,” she says, looking back at you while closing her switchblade and putting it into her back pocket. You stand up, feeling secure enough to put your pistol into your holster. “Good, let’s get out of here-“ “Watch out!” Ellie yells. You turn around, not having any time to react to the stalker coming at you. Suddenly, you’re on the ground and the stalker is on top of you, eagerly trying to get close enough to bite you. You groan, using all your strength, along with all the adrenaline you have to push it's body away from yours, focusing on keeping its face away from you.

Everything is a blur, all you can hear is a high pitched ringing, accompanied by a headache. A sudden pressure of weight falls onto your body. You slowly open your eyes, blinking them a couple times as they focus. You hear the familiar noise of Ellie grunting as she pushes the limp infected off of you. You look down at your jacket and notice blood and scattered fungi, taking a second to compose yourself and process what just happened. “Holy shit, are you okay?” Ellie asks, a concerned look crosses her face as she looks down at you. She throws her shotgun over her shoulder, then quickly holds her cut up and bruised hand out for you. You reach out and grab it, pulling yourself up with her help. “Yeah, I think so. My heart is fucking racing.” you say, your hands slightly trembling and your chest rising up and down abnormally fast due to adrenaline still pumping through your veins. "We're losing light, let's get the fuck out of here." Ellie says, guiding you towards Shimmer. You follow silently, ready to get back to town and out of the harsh cold outdoors.

You sighed, pulling your bloody and fungi covered jacket off your body and throwing it into the horde of dirty clothes in the corner of the room. You felt Ellie's gaze burning into your back, turning around to see Ellie sitting on the edge of her bed and confirming that she was in fact, staring at you. "Take a picture It'll last longer." you say. Ellie rolls her eyes in response, leaning back in bed but refusing to avert her attention from you while you undress. "Come here." she says softly, a gentle smile across her lips. You pause for a moment, debating whether you'd rather shower or lay with your girlfriend. Ellie notices you contemplating and replies with a pout, and you obviously couldn't resist after that. You roll your eyes and lay down beside her, in which she proceeds to scoot closer towards you. "Ugh, you reek" you say to her with a small grin. "Shut up." she replies playfully.

You're now laying parallel to each other, face to face. You raise your hand to Ellies temple, moving a strand of hair behind her ear and then proceeding to caress her cheek. "Thanks for saving me today." you say softly. She hums in response. Both of you are lost in each others features. You observe her emerald green eyes as they stare back into yours, doing the same. You run your thumb over her cheek, admiring the freckles perfectly dotted across her face. You were so mesmerized you didn't realize that she had snuck her hand to the small of your back, getting slightly startled when you feel her pulling you closer to her. "Are you still on edge from earlier today?" she asked gently, her expression showing slight concern. "I-I don't know, I guess so." you shrug, letting out a deep sigh of relief that you actually got out of that situation. Ellie looks around the room for a brief moment, you watch her think, wondering what's going through her head.

"I know a way to help you get your mind off of it." she says suggestively, moving her right hand to your hip and pressing her thumb into your lower abdomen. "Oh really?" you say, raising your eyebrows, a faint smirk appearing across your lips. She doesn't care to bother with a response, everything is interrupted by her lips meeting yours. You close your eyes, you just can't resist leaning into her kiss, it doesn't take long for it to get passionate. You can feel your heart flutter inside your chest, along with her hands eagerly trying to explore every inch of your body. Her right hand wanders and eventually they find their way to the hem of your cami top, lifting it up until your breasts are exposed. She doesn't waste the opportunity to slide your nipple in-between her two fingers, gently squeezing them, causing a quiet whine to escape your lips, which encourages Ellie to gently tug on your nipple and sink her teeth into your bottom lip.

As the kiss becomes more sensual, you feel heat spread to your core, accompanied by a gush of wetness. You squeeze your thighs together for some sense of relief, but it's becoming almost unbearable how aroused you've become. Ellie is undoubtedly aware of the effects she has on you, but she loves watching the way you squirm for her and she loves to tease you until you're left completely helpless and needy, yearning for her touch.

She finds her way on top of you and attaches her lips to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses until she reaches your breasts, then placing her lips around your areola and sucking while gently grazing her teeth on your nipple, using her left hand to fondle with the other one. Her right hand slowly travels to your core, she slightly tickles your skin with her fingertips causing you to shiver. After reaching your cunt, she proceeds to run her middle finger across your slit in a soft, teasing matter with your panties acting as a barrier. "You're so fucking wet for me." she mutters, applying a little more pressure until she can barely touch your clit through the thin cloth, repeatedly grazing her fingertip across it, enjoying how you twitch every time and feeling the fabric become more and more drenched in your fluids.

"Ellie, I need you," you moan shamelessly, interlocking your fingers through her chestnut hair, gently tugging as to assure her of how bad you wanted her. You lifted your hips into her touch and end up wrapping your legs around her abdomen, pulling her closer to you. She lets out a soft chuckle as to how desperate you've become.

"Please Ellie, I need you to fuck me." you whine. Suddenly you felt very vulnerable, causing you to blush at how pitiful you sounded. She didn’t mind though, she lifted her head up to meet with your gaze and connected her lips to yours before running her index finger across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth, encouraging Ellie to shove three of her fingers into your mouth. She pushed them in further and further until you started to gag, never breaking her eyes away from yours.

As soon as her fingers were wet enough, she slid her hand into your panties and effortlessly ran her fingers through your folds, taking time to appreciate how wet you were for her before navigating your bundle of nerves. "Fuck y/n," she said in a whiny tone, the two words were enough to send shivers through your body and give you goosebumps.

She loved watching your expressions as she pleased you. The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brows, knowing she hit the perfect spot when you gasp your eyes start to roll into the back of your head. She ran her middle finger up your slit until she reached your throbbing clit, where she took the chance to start rubbing it in a circular motion while placing her head in the crook of your neck, placing gentle kisses and feeling the vibrations come from your throat as you moaned for her.

She applied the perfect amount of pressure, a sensation of pure bliss went throughout your body as Ellie continued to stimulate every sweet nerve almost effortlessly. The more you moaned and whined, the faster and harder she went. You felt the familiar tight feeling in your stomach she was always able to give you, your thighs started to quiver and you felt an orgasm approaching. "Are you gonna cum for me?" she asked, watching you fall apart beneath her touch. You moaned in response, so close to the edge when everything abruptly stopped. "Not yet," she grinned, the feeling of her calloused yet soft hand leaving your core.

"What the fuck?" you say, a hint of annoyance in your tone. "Don't worry babe, I'll let you cum... eventually. I just wanted to taste you first." Before you were given the chance to respond, she had already started to make her way down between your thighs. She eagerly pushed your thighs apart and spent no time taking your panties off, slowly revealing your pussy to herself. She left a series wet kisses on the inside of your thigh before reaching your soaking cunt.

You whine as you felt her hot breath hovering over your pussy, craving nothing more than to have her mouth on it. "You're so needy." Ellie chuckles, not giving you the chance to reply before she has her tongue between your folds, licking and sucking up all the juices you left for her. She ran her tongue along your clit, before placing her lips around it and sucking while her index and middle finger teased the insert of your vagina, her left hand slithering its way up your abdomen to fondle with your breast.

You moaned and squirmed, using your hand to guide Ellie's head deeper in between your legs. She shoved two fingers into you, your pussy immediately tightening around them, a feeling you've both been longing for. "Fuck, you're so tight," she says before continuing to work her tongue around your clit. She continued to use her fingers on her left hand to gently pinch and tug on your nipples. You felt her fingers curve inside of you, hitting that sweet spongy spot that sent a wave of euphoria throughout your body. She decided to add a third finger and moaned into your clit when she felt your walls clench perfectly around her fingers.

Your entire body started to tremble, you had the sheets balled up in one fist, the other had Ellies hair entangled between your fingers while a string of moans and curse words left your lips. You found yourself pulling away from Ellie due to being overstimulated. "I don't think so." she says in a low, raspy voice. Ellie wraps her left arm around your thigh, pushing your hips down and bringing your pussy back to her lips. At this point, she has her three fingers almost knuckle deep inside of you. She knows you're on edge and takes this opportunity to be more aggressive.

"Fuck Ellie, I'm gonna cum," you whimpered, your body trying to resist but Ellie refusing to let go of her grip on you. She ignores your whines and rapidly thrust her fingers in and out of you. She's still sucking on your clit while circling her tongue around it to add more effect. You feel your stomach getting tight, the feeling of pleasure overriding all your senses.

"Come on baby, cum for me." she pleads. That's all you needed to hear. You finally release your orgasm, arching your back and rolling your hips into Ellie's face. Moans spill from your mouth as Ellie continues to softly thrusts her fingers in you while cleaning up your mess with her mouth, moaning against your heat while watching your eyes roll to the back of your head and the way your lips parted while you screamed for her. She loved watching the way your breasts bounced as your body trembled beneath her, and the way sweat trickled down your face and body causing your skin to glisten.

Your body twitched as Ellie continued to clean you up, knowing you're far more sensitive now than you were before you came. "Ellie-" you gasped as she pulled her fingers out of you, looking up to you as she sucked your pussy juices off two of her fingers, closing her eyes to savor the taste.

She saved the last finger for you. She hurriedly crawled back up to you and you willingly opened your mouth for her as she placed one of her fingers in your mouth. She bit her lip as she watched you taste your own juices, swirling your tongue around her finger. "That was so sexy." she says, laying on her side to face you.

You turn over to face her, still breathing heavily from your orgasm. You scooted into her open arms, both of you wrapping your bodies around each other. "Soo, did that help?" she asked, moving a strand of hair behind your ear and placing a kiss on your forehead. "Absolutely." you said, a small smile forming on your lips as she pulled you closer to her.

You placed your knee between her thighs and noticed subtle grinding on your leg. You looked up at Ellie, raising your brows at her. "What?" she asked slightly defensively, clearly trying to act oblivious. You rolled your eyes, flipping over and landing on top of her while pinning her wrist down above her head. You notice a shift in her breathing, a subtle look of desperation in her eyes as she looked up at you. Now she's in the same position you were just in, and you couldn't help but take advantage. "Your turn." 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃. 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 ♡ 

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #the last of us smut #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie williams one-shot

[that-writing-raccoon]

MEET CHAOTIC PROMPTS

Alright, kids, listen up.

We’re all suckers for a good meet-cute. Don’t even try to lie to me. Like, yeah, they’re cliché, but, if done well, it can be really cute, hence the name.

Meet-uglies on the other hand can be super funny, and they almost always lead to enemies-to-lovers or rivals-to-lovers, even if just for a hot second. They’re great, too.

But here’s the thing:

I want more meet-chaotics. Not meet-cutes, not meet-uglies, meet-chaotics.

What do I mean by this?

Well, you know how crazy life can be sometimes? How wack shit happens, it makes a good story to tell your friends, and it makes you low-key question reality for a second? Yeah. Meet-chaotics are like that. How you met is just so weird and chaotic that it was a bonding experience.

Here are some prompts/concepts so you understand what I’m getting at:

“Normal”/Humor:

 “I’m an uber driver dropping off my last customer, and you and your friends(?) just jumped into my backseat right as they got out and yelled a variety of ‘DRIVE! FUCKING DRIVE!’ and ‘FLOOR IT!’ There are flashing lights behind me, but I panicked and stepped on the gas, and now you’re trying to assure me that it’s not what it looks like, but I’m too busy worrying that I’m a wanted criminal now.” 

Bonus points for found family and/or polyamory!

“I’ve had a really bad day, and it started to rain, so, because I’m dramatic, I blasted my ‘*insert playlist name here*’ and lied down on my sidewalk/lawn/driveway facing the sky, and you just drove by, backed up, and ran out to join me as ‘Chasing Cars’ by Snow Patrol was playing. I have never met you before, but I’m pretty sure we’ve bonded and might be soulmates.” (Yes, I got this idea from a TikTok. What of it?).

“I was walking my dog at the park when he got off his leash, and now I’m running after him through the park calling his name and yelling to ‘GET THAT DOG!’ You’re having a barbecue/family reunion/birthday party, and my dog sprints towards you, knocks someone over, and begins eating your food. You see me sprinting towards you and trying to catch my dog, but he’s faster, so now we’re both chasing my dog, and I may or may not be swearing words that’d make a sailor blush. Eventually, one of us or a random stranger catches him, and we finally stop, and, hey, sorry about that, but, wazow! You’re pretty cute.” 

Bonus points for anyone vaulting over a table or something.

“We’re on our way to class, and I just witnessed you run past me down the stairs holding a bunch of books, trip, roll down two flights, and roll to your feet and keep running like nothing happened. And, like, we didn’t talk, and I don’t think you noticed me, but now I can’t help thinking of you. Like, that was impressive, but are you okay?”

“We’re at a house party, and it’s gotten pretty wild. Music is blasting from the speakers, people are dancing on tables, stuff is breaking, etc. Suddenly, the music shuts off, and someone yells, “POLICE!” and everyone s c a t t e r s. It’s pure chaos. I trip while running outside and curl up in a ball to not get trampled, but then a hand reaches down and pulls me up, it’s you, and we run off together still holding hands. Who are you, again?”

Bonus points if this goes back to the uber driver prompt. 

Bonus bonus points if this couple is coming from the same place as the folks from the first prompt, so it’s same universe, but they’re completely different people having their own meet-chaotics running from the police ‘cause they were at the same party.

Could be any illegal/big crowd scenario. A concert, a protest, etc. 

Sci-Fi:

“We live in a world where superheroes exist. One day, I’m minding my own business in my own apartment when you, *insert superhero name here,* crash through my wall while I’m just lounging on the couch, mug of coffee/preferred drink to my lips, feet up on my coffee table, and laptop open on my lap. We stare at each other. You get up, apologize, and fly off through the hole in the wall. Little do I know, you feel bad about the whole thing and decide to try making it up to me, except every thing you try just descends us more and more into chaos.”

Bonus points if this ends up being enemies to lovers, seeing as the protagonist, Character A, would probably be hella bitter about not having the specific superhero insurance needed to fix their wall. 

Bonus bonus points if Superhero has to save A from x during one of their attempts to fix the situation. 

“It’s the zombie apocalypse. I’ve set up camp in a (mostly) abandoned town, scavenging to survive. One day, there’s an unusual amount of zombies in the road. Panicked, I start to climb something. When I’m about halfway up, I hear a weird noise, and look down just in time to see you and your friend whizzing by on a shopping cart down the incline- you in the basket and your friend riding on the back. You’re screaming/yelling and swinging a bat around. The zombies are too slow and uncoordinated to catch up with you. At the last second, you look up at me and we make eye-contact mid-me making at wtf face. It’s such a stupid strategy that I’m low key in love.”

“It’s an alien invasion. We’re all running and screaming for our lives. Suddenly, there’s a spot light, and you start being pulled up into a ship. You panic and grab something. For some unknown, ungodly reason, I try to help you. It goes as well as it sounds. Cue us both getting beamed up while holding on to each other for dear life.”

“We’re on a spaceship. There are so many people on board that it’s impossible to truly know or recognize anyone. I’m working or reading or what have you, when I so happened to glance up at my porthole/window, just in time to see you, who’d been fixing something on the outside of the ship, floating away and doing some space gymnastics with your lead and etc., and swimming, to get back to the ship. I do what anyone responsible would do and sprint off to the docks to get you back safe inside.”

Bonus if Floating Person is just doing the absolute most ridiculous things to make it back.

I have more, but I feel like this post is long enough. But yeah. Something something meeting someone in the most chaotic, stupid, and unhinged way gets to me. Like, we’ve all have shared moments with a stranger because we both witnessed something or been involved in something dumb or crazy. And usually it’s like, eye-contact or brief, awkward commentary, then at the end of the day you go home and it’s just a funny story that only you guys experienced. Something about it just speaks to me.

#writing #creative writing #writing prompt #writing prompts #meet-cute #meet-ugly #meet-chaotic #writing inspiration #writeblr #books #imagine your otp #otp prompts

[ellieshaze]

After Dark

{Part 3}

Ellie Williams X F! reader

Warnings: language , blood , kissing ofc , so much fluff fr , ellie is a big baby idc what y’all say

Word Count: 3k words

This probably sucks because i wrote it half asleep last night but whatever. Also, this one isn’t nsfw but the parts before are and the ones after this will be <3

Read part 2 here

It had been a few days since that night with Ellie in your bedroom, and she had been avoiding you ever since. Jackson is a small town, so she couldn’t avoid you forever, at least you thought. If you went into a room she happened to be in, she’d come up with any excuse to leave. When walking down the main street of Jackson, if you were on the same side or anywhere near her she’d go far around you. While patrolling she made sure you never got on the same patrol as her, even if it was a group. It was definitely petty but you deserved it, you had hurt her.

You wanted to apologize to her but every time you’d try and go up to her, she’d leave before you got to her. Honestly, it was kind of annoying and childish that she thought she could avoid you forever. On day four of Ellie ignoring you, you decided you’d do whatever you could to get close to her again, and try to apologize to her. “Jesse!” You yelled as you picked up pace to get to him, it was in the middle of the main street of Jackson. “Hm?” He muttered, turning around to face you. You grabbed his arm and dragged him off between two buildings, because if Ellie saw she’d know what was up. “Switch patrols with me” You said to him, he still looked confused as to why he was dragged away. “Why couldn’t you just ask me out there?” He was leaned against the side of the small shop, looking down at you.

“Doesn’t matter, can i have your patrol or not?” You asked him, feeling a little stupid for being overly paranoid. “Yeah sure.. weird that you wanna patrol so bad but whatever” Was all Jesse said before he walked away, laughing a little to himself. You made your way quickly back to your house, changing into clothes that were fit for being out in the snow for an extended period of time. You wore black jeans that were faded and torn up a little, a random long sleeved shirt and a heavy black jacket. You noticed Ellie’s gray hoodie on your bed, but you didn’t bring it, not knowing if she’d even want to talk to you in the first place. When you made it to your front door, about to leave, you suddenly got nervous. What if she refused to go and you were left to patrol by yourself or with someone you didn’t know well?

When you were finally able to build up the courage to leave your house you headed down to the stables. You expected Ellie to be there already, but she wasn’t, so you headed in for your horse. The horse you had bonded with was a paint mare, she was white with black running down from her neck all the way to the base of her tail. Her name was Eagle, she was found roaming around near Jackson, and had almost been killed by infected. “Hey girl” You said softly to the horse, you grabbed a handful of treats and held your hand out to her. She whinnied at you as she ate the treats, when she was done you grabbed onto her reins as you walked her out of the barn. You mounted your horse and sat by the gate, waiting for Ellie to show up.

You were running your hands through the mane of Eagle when you heard hoof steps approaching. You heard a grunt and when you looked up you saw Ellie on top of her horse, Shimmer. She avoided your eyes when she yelled at a woman who was standing near the weaponry by the gate, and she came quickly, two rifles in her hand. She handed one to you and then the other to Ellie before she yelled for the gates to be opened. Once the large gates were open, Shimmer raced forward, and you whistled at Eagle, indicating for her to go. Not long after, you caught up to Ellie, and your horses trotted side by side once you made it into the thick forest. You had only been out this way a handful of times, months before. “We have to make sure the town nearby is still clear.” Ellie said to you, oh how you missed her voice. Before you could respond she picked up pace, clearly trying to get this over with as soon as possible.

Once the two of you made it to the edge of the town, the two horses were now at a slow trot, unable to go fast because if they made too much noise infected nearby would hear and you’d be swarmed. You wanted to say something to Ellie as the two of you sat quietly on the backs of your horses, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. After a few minutes of silence you decided that you had to talk to her, that was the whole reason you took Jesse’s patrol anyways. “Ellie-“ You started but were cut off by the clicking sound you immediately recognized as a clickers, and your horses eyes went wide as she whinnied and began trotting faster. You gently pat your horse, trying to calm her as you got her to stop, you and Ellie both getting off your horses.

You both tied your horses in a nearby garage, closing it to ensure their safety. The clickers noise began again, it was louder and coming from a nearby convenience store, walking towards the door the both of you crouched down. Ellie glanced at you, nodding before she opened the door quietly, you made your way in quietly behind her. When you got into the store, you stood behind a shelf, looking out into the store to see two clickers, sighing as you reached for the blade in your boot. You and Ellie nodded at each other as she made her way to the one on the left, you on the right. Ellie brought hers down first, stabbing it in the neck quickly, bringing it to the ground silently. You were only a foot from the clicker when you stepped on glass, your heart dropping to your stomach.

You jumped to your feet, the clicker screaming out at you as it grabbed onto you. “Fuck!” You yelled, holding it back with your arm, but you weren’t strong enough and it knocked you to the ground. Your blade fell from your hand, now using both hands to keep the clicker off of you. Only a moment later Ellie came up, shoving her switchblade into the clickers head and pulling it off of you. “Holy shit” Ellie muttered, immediately on her knees, grabbing into your hand. Only then did you realize there was blood pouring from a wound on your hand. She began to wipe away the blood even though it was still coming out fast. “Not a bite…” She sighed, closing her eyes and you could tell she was relieved.

“It may not be a bite but I am still bleeding everywhere.” You said to her, laughing a little through the pain that now overcame you. She tore fabric from her jacket, the one she usually wore over her gray hoodie but you remembered, you still had it. She wrapped the fabric around your hand, holding onto it to keep pressure on the wound. She helped you to your feet, “We need to find something to clean the wound, Jackson is too far but there’s a house across the street. They might have something.” She picked up your knife from the floor, handing it to you and turning to walk out the door. “Ellie your back” You said to her, noticing blood seeping through her shirt on her shoulder blade. She reached a hand back and touched her shoulder, her hand covered in fresh blood. “Let’s go.” Was all she said in response before opening the door.

When you made it to the house across the street you made your way inside, Ellie ahead to make sure it was clear. She took out a stalker in the basement but aside from that, it was clear. When the two of you began to loot the rooms, she found some gauze, wrap and alcohol in an upstairs bathroom. You both ended up seated on the couch downstairs in the living room, and Ellie took your hand in hers. You watched her as she unwrapped your hand and poured alcohol onto it, you winced in pain but didn’t pull away from her grasp. You watched as she cleaned the deep gash on the palm of your hand, almost forgetting the pain as you were mesmerized by her focused face. Once she was done, she wrapped your hand with the gauze and then the tan wrap, tying it off tightly to be certain it would hold.

“Your turn” You said to Ellie as she let go of your hand gently. “I’m fine” She muttered, she wouldn’t meet your gaze for even a second. “Don’t be dumb, turn around and pull your shirt down.” You said firmly, and she didn’t object any further as she pulled her jacket off, and undid the buttons of her flannel, the one that she wore the first night everything between you began. She pulled it down on the shoulder, exposing a bloody cut on her shoulder blade, not nearly as deep as the one on your hand was. You poured some of the alcohol onto a cloth and brought it to the wound, noticing how she flinched at the sharp pain of the alcohol on a fresh cut. Once you cleaned the wound, you pulled her shirt back over her shoulder. “Can’t really wrap it because of the placement.” You as you began to shove things back into your backpack, watching as Ellie began to put her jacket back on.

Ellie was about to stand when you grabbed her hand, she stopped and just looked at you. “Don’t” She muttered, you heard some sadness in her voice, but no hatred or anger. “Please, just listen to me” You pleaded with her, and she didn’t object or move so you assumed she’d listen. “I’m sorry-“ you started but were cut off, “sorry doesn’t fix shit” Ellie snapped at you, anger was now slightly noticeable in her voice. “Just let me finish.” you said to her, your eyes not leaving hers no matter how angry and hurt they looked. She sat there, not saying another word. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have made you hide and i know i shouldn’t give a shit what people think. But i’ve seen how they’ve treated you, and i just- I don’t think i could deal with that.”

Ellie was fumbling with her hands now, something you’ve noticed she does when she’s nervous. “I don’t know how to just tell my parents, it’s weird to bring it up randomly” You said, your eyes landed at your feet, unable to even look in her direction anymore. “I’m not asking you to tell anyone.” Ellie finally spoke, “I just- don’t want you to pretend there’s nothing happening here when anyone else is around. I want to be able to be seen in public with you, i don’t want you to feel ashamed of me.” She sounded sad, you could feel her eyes on you. “I’m not ashamed of you, Ellie. I’m ashamed of myself.” Your eyes finally left your feet, meeting her sad green eyes. “Well fuck that,” Ellie said, grabbing your injured hand again, “We’re out here fighting infected, protecting that fucking town and those people. If they have an issue you can just remind them of that.”

“What if they don’t want me to be around the children anymore? I know some of them think it’s inappropriate” Ellie laughed at that, “Well they can deal with it because Maria decides on who does what and she won’t stand for that shit” You smiled at her, Maria was known to not take peoples shit and do whatever she felt was right whether it made people mad or not. “I am sorry, Ellie.” You said to her, holding her gaze, “It’s okay” Ellie said softly, she even smiled a little and it seemed to be genuine. “We should finish patrol and head back, we’ve been gone far too long” You nodded and grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

When the two of you made your way back into Jackson, you were both smiling like idiots. When you brought your horses back to the barn, Ellie looked around for a moment before leaning in to kiss you. As much as you wanted to pull away and make sure nobody saw, you didn’t, you were done trying to be someone else. You leaned into her, one of your hands grabbing her waist, pulling her closer to you. Only a moment later she pulled away, saying her goodbyes and waving at you on her way out. “So that’s what stealing my patrol was about” You jumped, turning to see Jesse standing there, a stupid smirk on his face. “Shut up” you groaned, leaving the stables before he could say anything else.

When you got home, you had found out that there was some event going on at the main hall in Jackson. Just some dancing and drinking, these only happened occasionally, usually when things were going well and there were no recent casualties. You decided that you were going to go, because you knew Ellie probably would show up for her friends. Before you headed out, you took a shower, not wanting to smell like blood and sweat any longer. Putting on a simple button up and jeans you left your house, heading towards the hall. Your family had joined you, it seemed like most of the town was there.

You immediately spotted Ellie when you made your way inside, she was leaned against a table with a drink in hand. She was wearing a blue flannel, the sleeves rolled up and unbuttoned to reveal a white shirt underneath. You noticed she wore the same type of outfits frequently, but you definitely were not complaining. Her hair was tied up, some strands hung loose as usual, her look was so basic but it had your eyes lingering for way longer than they should. She didn’t seem to notice you as you walked up, leaning against the table next to her. “Hey” You said, looking over at Ellie. “She smiled softly at you, “Hey.” You knew that your apology earlier that day wouldn’t fix everything, and that you needed to do more to make up for your shitty behavior.

Without thinking you grabbed her drink, drinking the last of it, it was disgusting but you needed the confidence. “Hey-“ Ellie said, not seeming to be mad but more confused. You grabbed her hand and dragged her to the middle of the room, the song had ended and a slower one had begun. You pulled her into you, your arms wrapping around her neck, and hers finding their place on your waist. “This is new” Ellie said, sounding impressed. “I’ve decided it doesn’t matter what people think” She smiled at you as the two of you swayed to the music, and you couldn’t help but lean in. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as you leaned in to kiss her, very aware of the fact that other people were around.

Her lips were soft on yours, her hands squeezed your waist tighter and your arms tightened around her neck. The two of you kissed for just a few more moments before pulling apart, smiling at each other like idiots. You looked around and then you saw it, a few had their eyes on the two of you, but nobody said a thing. You saw your family on the other side of the room, they were also looking at you but you didn’t see disgust or anger on any of their faces. “See” Ellie said softly. When the song came to an end and you walked away, Ellie’s hand in yours, not caring what anyone else thought in that moment. The two of you left early, walking down the snowy streets towards your house.

You leaned into her side as the two of you walked, your arms linked. “So are you my girlfriend now?” You asked her, immediately feeling stupid for even asking. “Do you want me to be?” She laughed softly, her head leaning into yours. You smiled, nodding but saying nothing more. “Then yes.” Ellie responded.

Soon you regretted not bringing a jacket with you when you began to shiver. Yes, Jackson wasn’t that big, but it was still cold as fuck. When you got to the porch you stopped, “can you stay with me?” She nodded, and with that you opened the door,walking in and slamming it shut quickly. Thankful for the warmth of the house. You grabbed her hand as the two of you made it to your room, the only lights were the blue christmas lights hanging around your walls.

When you made it to your room, Ellie immediately hopped onto your bed, getting comfortable. “Is that my hoodie?” She asked you, grabbing it off the edge of your bed. Your eyes went wide, it was so embarrassing to not only still have her hoodie, but it was in your bed, for days. “Uh-“ Was all you said, unsure of how to explain to her why you kept it in her bed instead of returning it to her. “Keep it.” She said, laughing a little at how flustered you had gotten. You didn’t say anything as you climbed onto your bed, your shoes discarded on the floor next to Ellie’s. Both of you just lied there on your sides, facing each other but not saying anything. After a few minutes you noticed she was drowsy, looking like she was about to fall asleep any moment. Without thinking, you pulled her close to you, her face leaned into your chest as she drifted off. Only yesterday Ellie was upset with you, and now she was in your bed, asleep in your arms.

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