#Ellie is Nomad

[spacedace]

Oh hey here’s the lil prolog thing I wrote for my DP x DC Leverage AU. I’m gonna actually write more of one day I swear but for now have this opening bit and feel free to use it as a prompt if you want :D

-

The station went utterly quiet as they brought her in.

Room after room going as silent as the grave when the young woman in handcuffs stepped through the door. Chatter stopped. Bodies stilled. Heads turned. Eyes widened. It almost felt like everyone was too afraid to even breath as she walked by. Cops and crooks alike watching with fear and awe in equal measures as Jim Gordon led her past them to the interrogation room.

She didn’t give the gaping crowd any mind. Head tilted up at an angle, shoulders back, steps sure. The solid heals of her boots clicked upon the scuffed linoleum, echoing loud in the stifling quiet. Like a royal herald announcing her presence. She held herself like a queen, which was fitting Jim supposed. Until tonight, the only name anyone had to call her by was Queen.

The blood, unnervingly, only made her seem more regal.

Batman was already in the interrogation room when they arrived. Jim didn’t even have it in him to sigh at the broody bat looming in the corner. He knew he’d be there. There was no way he would miss the interrogation of someone they’d been chasing for so long. Especially not now considering…well.

Considering.

Jim largely ignored the vigilante in the corner as he moved through the familiar process of getting the young woman handcuffed in place to the table, starting the recording and rattling off the relevant details: date, time, the - many - charges the young woman had been arrested for. If he faltered over the victim’s name of the young woman’s most recent crime no one commented on it. In the corner, Batman watched and lurked. Nearly lost in the shadowy corner of the room while still being impossible to ignore.

They’d done this before. Good cop, bad vigilante. It was usually effective in getting the truth out of stubborn criminals.

Jim rather doubted it would work in this case.

“Please state your name for the record.” He said, only to be met with the same cool silence Queen had given everyone since her arrest. She shifted in her seat, not a nervous fidget but an easy, languid movement. Even the uncomfortable metal chair seemed like a throne when she was involved. Jim bit back a sigh. “We have your information. I’m asking as a courtesy.”

Queen tilted her head faintly, looking at him with something almost like amusement, one brow twitching slightly upward. “You’ll have to forgive my disbelief, Commissioner Gordon.” She said, polite as ever. “But I’m rather sure that you won’t find me in any system you run my fingerprints or face through.”

She was right about that. They’d tried a hundred times over the past few years she and her team had been operating in Gotham. Her face never appeared in any pictures or recordings - not even in her mugshot during processing, all that was visible was her red hair and a mess of corrupted visual data where her face should be. The most her fingerprints had ever led to where the other crimes they already knew she’d taken part in. Batman had done everything to try and circumvent whatever meta ability kept her from being recorded on film, had done even more to try and find her and her people in every system he and the Justice League had access to. Nothing. Jim had grumbled a few times about how Queen and her crew might as well be ghosts for all the proof that they existed officially.

Turned out, ghosts was exactly right.

“The Ghost Investigation Ward reached out to us two hours ago.” He said, leaning back in his own seat, watching her carefully. “I’ll repeat, Ms. Fenton, my asking is a courtesy.”

For the first time in the years he’d known her, Queen - real name Jasmine “Jazz” Fenton - looked scared. Beyond scared, even. Completely, and utterly terrified.

Her body went rigid, eyes growing wide, breath picking up as she sat up sharply. Any semblance of that calm, collected presence she always held even when she was at her most cornered and vulnerable vanished in an instant. He’d seen her breath in a cloud of Scarecrow’s Fear Toxin and laugh. Watched as Bane wrapped large hands around her throat and tilt her chin up to stare down at her attacker imperiously. A mobster pressed the barrel of a gun to her head and she’d smiled, coy and confidant and untouchable. Queen always, always was calm. Aggravatingly so, even. Utterly unshakable as she waltzed into every wild and insane situation carrying the undeniable air of one who was complete control of everything happening.

She hadn’t even looked scared when the Joker had held her hostage.

And now? Now all it had taken was those three words. Ghost Investigation Ward. A nonsense name for a government agency with a ridiculous purpose. And yet there the unshakable Queen sat, looking terrified out of her mind at the mere mention of them.

Not for the first time since he received that call, Jim Gordon felt uneasy.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc writing prompt #jazz fenton #jim gordon #bruce wayne #leverage au #Jazz is the mastermind in this one #and has been having a great time up til this moment #everyone on the team has code names #Danny is Spaceman because of course it is lol #Sam is Nightshade #Tucker is Pharaoh #Ellie is Nomad #they're not actually shown here but I just wanted to share the codenames I came up for them lol

[summocrap]

#housamo #tokyo afterschool summoners #behemoth #yule #krampus #shino #tsathoggua #nomad #ellie #masanori #agyo #inaba #shiro

[cherry-shake]

Fancasts for the next gen of comics

Sinthea “Sin” Shmidt - The biological and hated daughter of red skull. She helped to brainwash Sharon Carter into “killing” Steve Rogers after the events of Civil War. She also became a god during the Siege event. Recently, she has been trained by Alexandra Lukin and given magical abilities. Abigail Cowen, Saoirse Rowan (my pick), Freya Allen

Eleanor “Ellie” Rogers - The daughter of Sharon Carter and Steve Rogers in an alternative universe where Hydra is supreme. Ian Rogers discovered this universe during Secret Wars. This universe has Carter and Rogers both dead. At one point, Ellie bonds with venom and helps leads the resistance. Grace Van Dien, Madison Iseman, Meg Donnelly (my pick)

Ian Rogers/Leopold Zola: Ian was genetically created by Zola in Dimension Z. Steve Rogers would end up trapped in Dimenzion Z for ten years where he raised the boy, however, barely any time has passed in the main universe. Sharon comes to the rescue and sacrifices herself which leads her to be stuck in Dimension Z. She raises Ian until they escape. He serves as Sam Wilson’s partner during his time as Captain America. He was thought to be killed in action until recently where he reintroduced himself to his parents. Cameron Cuffe (my pick), Josh Hutcherson, Jacob Elordi ps: due to the complicated time stuff in Ian’s origin, it’s difficult to figure out his age. Personally, I headcanon him as mid-20s and that Zola heirs age slower in Dimension Z (this explains why his sister didn’t seem to age much)

#comics #sharon carter #agent 13 #Sin schimdt #Red skull #marvel 616 #ellie rogers #Ian rogers #Leopold Zola #Nomad #Stevesharon #steve rogers #captain america #sam Wilson #meg donnelly #saoirse ronan #madison iseman #grace van dien #cameron cuffe #josh hutcherson #jacob elordi #abigail cowen #freya allen

[tragedykery]

​getting tired of the amount of elaboration on fire nation citizens/culture in comparison to the other nations (especially the water tribes and air nomads) tbh.

#atla #I like the kyoshi novels and they did quite a bit of worldbuilding for the ek & fn which is great! #but the dawn of yangchen did. not have the same energy #I mean it did have worldbuilding for the water tribes & air nomads but it just felt. less #korra is the main character and from the southern water tribe yet there was very little elaboration on wt culture in tlok #even in season two #the only thing I can remember is seaweed noodles which. couldn’t they have chosen food that is actually from the culture they’re trying to #portray? I wonder if they actually did any research at all #(not that it’s better if they did but just decided ‘no that’s not good enough we’ll go with seaweed noodles’ obviously) #and now that princess zeisan thing? #I wonder if there are many air nomads characters in the thing she’s from #elli rambles #I guess this can be about fanfic too #I don’t read a whole lot of it but just from browsing & ao3’s stats it’s. not looking good

[ellie-theinvincible98]

Characters from The Last of Us that would be benders, what element they would bend, why I think they would bend that element and what their sub-bending element would be, Part 1:

I've had this little idea in my head for awhile now, and wanted to talk about it lol.

Joel Miller: Firebender. As brutal, ruthless and cold as he is, deep down, there is warmth to him that he shows towards others that he does care about. His sub-element would be Lightning.

Theresa/Tess Servopoulos: Earthbender. She's very headstrong, stubborn, persistent, blunt, brutal, no-bullshit and straight to the point. Very strong and intimidating, so it would make so much sense for her to be an Earthbender. Her sub-element would be Metalbending.

Tommy Miller: Honestly? He would be a non-bender. I can't really explain why. He could be a Kyoshi warrior or a Chi-blocker? But, I don't know. I don't see him bending anything!

Marlene, Leader of the Fireflies: Earthbender. She's strong-willed, tough, stubborn, it just makes much sense for her to Earthbend. I can't explain much, but that element suits her. I don't think she would have a sub-element, to be honest.

Ellie Williams: Earthbender. I don't even have to explain why I think so, it is so obvious, she's an Earthbender, straight-up. She's stubborn, strong-willed, tough as nails - fuck, she's kind of the Toph of TLOU in a way lol. As for her sub-element, she would be a Lavabender.

Riley Abel: Non-Bender. Sorry, just like Tommy, I don't see her bending anything.

Maria Miller: Waterbender. She's caring, empathetic, strong-willed, compassionate. This is her element right here. As for her sub-element, she would be a Bloodbender, but only for medical purposes.

#naughty dog #the last of us #ellie williams #joel miller #the last of us part 2 #crossover #avatar the last airbender #legend of korra #four nations #fire nation #Earth kingdom #water tribe #air nomad #air nomads #tlou abby #tlou dina #tlou ellie #random list #tlou headcanons #avatar headcanons #korra headcanons

[agentxthirteen]

Sharon-A-Day, Day 309 (11/8/22)

Hail Hydra 4. On sale 11/25/15.

Writer: Rick Remender

Artist: Roland Boschi

Letterer: Clayton Cowles

Colorist: Chris Chuckry

Editor: Tom Brevoort

Ian escapes a mind bubble that's trapped him in his perfect world with his family.

tw: suicide

#sharon carter #agent 13 #captain america #steve rogers #nomad #ian rogers #ellie rogers #rick remender #roland boschi #clayton cowles #chris chuckry #tom brevoort #suicide tw

[johnspencerellis5]

John Spencer Ellis Trail Offer for Digital Nomad Business Lifestyle Program

Learn how to JSE went from extravagance to a practical minimalism digital nomad location independent business lifestyle. He is saving money, time and reduced stress. In fact, things change so much… People asked… "What happened to John Spencer Ellis?" You can escape the 9 to 5 rat race and enjoy life with John's simple plan. Registration is free and fast. Family plans for mother / daughter or father / son or the entire team. No full court press. No pressure. Just enjoy the free training. Visit: https://johnspencerellis.com/pick-my-brain/

#how to escape the 9 to 5 rat race #how to become a digital nomad coach #how to live a minimalistic lifestyle #john spencer ellis trial business offer

[lifestylebusplan]

Background of Business Coach John Spencer Ellis: Digital Nomad Lifestyle

He used to live a more extravagant life: big houses, fancy cars and "excess". Now, JSE practices practical minimalism and a digital nomad lifestyle. It's so different, people ask, "What happened to John Spencer Ellis?" Simple: change in perspective and daily values. Living or "things". Get John's plan. No full court press. Register for free gifts and training. See the case study that changes people perspective about location independence. Visit: https://johnspencerellis.com/

#how can I start a digital nomad lifestyle #what happened to John Spencer Ellis #Location independent business case study #how to escape the 9 to 5 #simple online lifestyle business plan

[handfullofweeds]

saw ppl saying to stop playing til phantom liberty comes out since they revamp everything but i just got back into my nomad groove...

hes a little country goth

#cyberpunk 2077 #ellis vane #nomad v #my art #he trans #sasha dunkirk #casey ablon

[onyourleftrogers]

#ellie rogers #marvel #muse #ian rogers #nomad

[sum007]

JSE won't give your the full court press to buy anything. Just get your free gifts for location free online entrepreneurs and nomadic workers. Get registered for FREE trial classes and consulting. No full court press. No pressure. Launch your location free online business lifestyle

#SEO service free trial #digital nomad business plans #john spencer ellis #work online from anywhere

[traduttrice-errante]

Agenzia di traduzione, pro e contro

Ciao! Finalmente un nuovo articolo disponibile sul blog! Oggi parliamo di agenzie di traduzione! Leggilo qui! #traduzione #agenzietraduzione #traduttriceerrante

Stai pensando di lavorare per un’agenzia di traduzione? Vediamo un po’ di pro e contro! Oggi parliamo di agenzie di traduzione e del lavoro in house, non così scontato per chi traduce. Vedremo com’è lavorare in agenzia e i pro e contro del lavoro in house per agenzie di traduzione. Ovviamente quella che ti porto ad esempio è sempre la mia esperienza, quindi tieni a mente che può essere diverso…

View On WordPress

#agenzia traduzione pro e contro #agenzia traduzione tariffe #agenzie #agenzie di traduzione #agenzie traduzione #contratto di traduzione #diventare traduttori #freelancer #lavorare con le traduzioni #lavorare per agenzie di traduzione #lavoro da remoto #lavoro in agenzia #lisa elli #lisa elli traduttrice #lisa elli traduttrice errante #nomade digitale #pro e contro #remoto o ufficio #tariffe di traduzione #tradurre #traduttore asunto #traduttore freelance #traduttore freelance o assunto #traduttore in erba #traduttore nomade digitale #traduttori #traduttori freelance #traduttori online #traduttrice #traduttrice errante

[summocrap]

#Housamo #Tokyo Afterschool Summoners #Michael #Hekate #Tsathoggua #Ellie #Volos #Thunderbird #Nomad #Choji

[tragedykery]

ok I’ve been thinking about taituk’s attitude towards murder lately and I think might have come to a tentative conclusion. the main problem is that if I make taituk just “ok with murder” is that, by letting (part of) their crew stay there, I would imply that attitude extends to the entirety of the tribe. but taituk being against killing in any and all cases would not be realistic, considering their job (pirate captain), and their background (grew up half on a farm in the earth kingdom where killing animals for meat presumably wasn’t rare, half in the south pole, where the main source of food is animals—both of which would lead them or others to question what the difference is between killing animals and killing people. are people of higher worth than animals and do they therefore deserve to not be killed? does that mean that animals don’t deserve to live? etc)

so I think the most realistic opinion for them to have would be that killing needs to save more lives than it takes. hunting for food, killing somebody to prevent them from hurting/killing others is okay, but hunting for fun and murder out of anything other than necessity is not.

#in any case I’d need to research the yupiit beliefs abt death and probably the vietnamese ones too if I can find any sources #abt those before colonialism #elli rambles #oc tag #oc rambles #taituk #the birates #wind in the sails #I’m still thinking about what exactly sita and hira would eat on the ship #& their presumed vegetarianism in general #I imagine growing up in an orphanage hira would not have eaten much meat bc that shit’s expensive #what would their attitudes towards killing animals be? I can’t imagine there’s a sustainable food source other than fish in the middle of #the sea. I know air nomads are allowed to eat meat when relying on others for food/if that’s what’s available (see: the dawn of yangchen) #but would sita choose to do so forever… #and what would hira do when finding out air nomads don’t eat meat? #with the desire to connect with her culture that’s so important to her character it’d be likely she’d immediately eschew meat #but like. is that possible in this situation? #they crew would definitely buy rice and dried foods at ports but that doesn’t last forever when you’re at sea… #hmm I could also play with those air nomad beliefs #bc I’m playing with the worldbuilding anyway which includes there being multiple ethnic and religious groups within the air nomads #and adding hindu influences so

[queers-gambit]

Save Me From Myself

prompt: ( requested ) in a moment of unparalleled anger, you learn what Joel really thinks of you.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Last of Us

word count: (short as hell at) 1.9k+

warnings: very mild spoilers, there's probably cursing, oneshot (no part two), hurt no comfort, mild angst, shorty shorty short short shorty! author is disappointed in this one, she wanted to give much more.

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

"Gimme that," you grunted at Ellie, picking her backpack from her shoulder with ease as the shorter young lady protested with a small growl.

"I got it - "

"Take a break," you smiled at the kid, shouldering her pack. "Tell me another one of those shitty jokes you love so much."

Ellie smirked and whipped out her book, flipping through a few pages, scanning the pages, then deciding on one. "What... Is Beethoven's favorite fruit?"

You shrugged, "No idea."

"Ba-na-na-naaaaa!"

You laughed, you couldn't help it. "Goddamnit. That's a good one," you praised, eyeing her for a moment as she silently read down the page. You wondered, "You know, I meant to ask, but why that book in particular?"

"My friend gave it to me... It was a present," she explained softly, seeing your head nod of understanding. "What did one ocean say to the other?"

"Nothing, they just waved," you smirked.

"You shithead," she tisked. "Okay, okay, here's a good one. What's brown... And sticky?"

"Oh, Ellie, don't be gross - "

"A stick."

There was a long pause.

"Oh, you know what? Fuck you," You laughed heartily. "I gotta remember that, I like that one."

"You'll like this one, too. Why should you never trust stairs?"

You knew the answer, but humored her, "Why?"

"Because they're always up to something."

You chuckled, "Good one, kid, yeah. Okay, okay, wait, I got one."

"Lay it on me."

"How do you cut a Roman Emperors hair?"

"How?" She grinned, ready for the punchline.

"With Caesars."

Ellie paused, offering a confused look, "I don't get that one."

You both stared at one another for a long moment, still walking through the cold, dead field.

"You don't know Julius Caesar?"

"No? Who the hell is that?"

You chuckled, "You know what? Just as well, who fucking cares about the Roman Empire when we're living in the end-of-days?"

"It's a decent joke," Joel spoke for the first time in hours; holding his rifle protectively as he lead you both through the wilderness, "for what it's worth."

You smirked at Ellie and teased, "Told you I was funny."

"You used the term punny."

"Both are accurate."

"I think you're just an idiot."

"I think you've got a helluva mouth on you."

Ellie grinned and flipped through her book, your gaze trailing to Joel and eyeing him for a long moment. You've known him since you were 19 and hired to babysit his daughter, Sarah. Joel was everything you could've asked for - loyal, sweet, protective, respectful. You had been at their house, doing coursework for your university program when the Outbreak happened. You did what you could to help protect Sarah, but in the end, nobody was safe, nobody was immune, and Death stretch His hand unto all of mankind alike.

He left only select few, you, Joel, and Tommy being amongst the survivors.

The past twenty years had been anything but easy, and while you had gone into this pandemic together, you and Joel didn't actually stick together the whole time. When you settled in Boston with Tommy, Tess, and a few other nomads, you were exhausted from the brutality you were forced to survive in, and so, first chance you had, you broke away.

Technically, you and Tommy broke away. But still.

Joel turned to a life of shadiness with Tess at his right hand (and on his cock). The two of you becoming estranged, until he saved your ass from a pair of FEDRA agents harassing citizens.

He didn't just distract your assailants, but put them in the dirt, helped pick you up, dust off, check for injury, then escort you home. Once at your apartment, he ensured you weren't hurt and was truly okay, and after that, he was back in your life - like the snap of fingers.

You hated to admit it, but it felt nice having a constant back in your life. Joel was your tether to reality, and without him, you felt akin to a kite with the string cut - useless and drifting away.

After that, you came around a little more to see how much your old neighbor had changed in your time apart. Joel was familiar, he was family; had always been something of a source of peace for you. He was usually protective of your wellbeing - even if he had a strange (and borderline unhealthy) way of showing it - creating a bubble of safety.

You eventually left the Fireflies and met Bill and Frank, venturing out and about with Joel and Tess; the latter of who simply despised you for just existing. She was never fond of you, more so now that Joel was obviously attached to you.

Joel never let her argue about you; he never cared for her opinion nor what assumptions she had. He kept you close, he liked your close; and if she sneered any hateful slander, Joel was swift to push her away in favor of you.

One time, he even literally locked her out of the apartment because she was rude to you and told you to "get lost!".

How could you not feel safe? Comfortable? Secure?

When you made it to Jackson and found Tommy once more, you were overjoyed by his familiar face and scent, but quickly pulled him aside to voice your concern for Joel.

"He's been clutching his chest, walking slower than I've seen before," you whispered to Tommy. "I don't think he's havin' a heart episode, but somethin' ain't right, Tommy. He's not doing the best."

"I'll talk to him," he assured.

You believed him, there was no reason not to. You (willfully blindly) believed Tommy would go about this subject with sensitivity and wouldn't mention your words of concern, but you were wrong. Very wrong. Joel had a known temper and if he caught wind that you spoke his name, even in passing, he would lash out, so, truly, you thought Tommy wouldn't tip Joel off.

The moment you returned "home" (to the house you, Ellie, and Joel were offered), you were met with a fuming Joel and an awkward looking Ellie. "What's going on?" You felt worried, fearing for the worst, asking, "What's wrong?"

"You," Joel snapped. "You're what's wrong."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Joel," Ellie tried with a frown, "she just walked in 0 "

"You had a word with Tommy now, did'yah?" He demanded, ignoring Ellie to focus his glare fully on you.

"Well - yeah - I mean - "

"No," he seethed with narrowed eyes and furrowed brow, "where the hell you get off talkin' to my brother like that? Huh? You worried 'bout me, you say somethin' to me - otherwise, the hell you talkin' for?"

"Joel - "

"You overstepped," he shook his head and pointed a scolding finger at you, "and my health ain't your concern - "

"Of course, it is! Fuck's sake, how can you even say that? I get you're mad, fine, okay, you know what? I get it, I'm sorry if I overstepped by telling Tommy how worried I am, but for the love of God, Joel, I am worried about you because you're not the same man you once were!"

"Are any of us?" He huffed.

"You don't think we've noticed the way you've slowed? How you clutch your chest? I'm allowed to be worried - "

"You know, if you weren't so Goddamn clingy all the time, you wouldn't feel whatever compulsion this is to concern yourself with something that ain't got shit to do with you."

You blinked in shock, feeling disarmed by the harsh tone and bruising words he offered. "Joel, we're both worried about you,," Ellie stepped in again. "Don't be such a dick, she's just looking out for you."

"By involving those that don't need to be involved?" He sneered, glaring at the girl before rounding on you. "From now on, you stay in your place - enough with this - this fucking - this protector bullshit you think of me as. You cling any fucking tighter and I'll suffocate, so back the hell off."

You nodded slowly, watching him storm off; door slamming after him hard enough to make both you and Ellie flinch. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, "I should... Um, uh, you know what, I'll jusy - uh, yeah, no, I can just... Yeah, I should - yeah."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"You didn't do anything."

"No, but that wasn't very nice of him to say."

"No, I suppose not," you smiled ruefully, giving a hearty, heavy sniffle. "I should, you know, go and find somewhere to crash - "

"Why wouldn't you stay here?"

"I don't exactly like to linger where I'm not wanted," you mused, keeping your tears at bay. "I just need to clear my head for a bit. Go for a walk or something. Maybe he just needs some space, I don't want to be here and upset him more... You two have a mission at hand," you tried to smile, "that's bigger than us all, and whether I see the end of it or not doesn't matter now - what matters is you, Ellie. This petty squabble will pass," you lied, "because you're all that matters. I won't risk further upsetting Joel, gambling with this already sketchy-ass plan and put everything we've worked towards so far at jeopardy."

You both smiled ruefully.

"I know when to walk away," you ended softly.

She nodded, opening her mouth but closing it instantly; knowing you were stubborn enough that she didn't even attempt to stop you. So, she did the only thing she knew she could do: offered her joke book.

"Oh, Ellie, no," you breathed, "no, no, I can't take that, it was a gift."

"And now I'm gifting it to you," she shrugged, holding the book out. "C'mon, just take it, it'll make me feel good knowing you're cracking shitty jokes to yourself - or whoever will listen."

"I can't take this," you whispered.

"Just make sure you stay alive to give it back," Ellie compromised.

"Deal," you smirked, opening your arms and embracing the girl the moment she rushed into your chest. "I'll miss you," you whispered. You promised to see her as soon as you could (so you could return the joke, of course), kissed her forehead, then grabbed your bag, which had yet to be unpacked, and left the house.

You managed to find lodging in the old cantina, and you'd never know that when Joel got back that evening and saw your items gone, he breathed a sigh of relief. In his head, with you gone, it was one less painful reminder of Sarah, the life he had before; and while his mind played tricks into thinking he saw Sarah in town today, he realized you were the constant trigger.

The single strand that kept him in the past.

Constant reminder of who he was, who he wanted to be.

Prevented him from truly moving on.

Though not done in the best or most respectful way, in his heart, Joel knew he needed to shove you into the mud to get you to let go; you saw too much "good" in him. You saw him in the same light as Sarah, and he couldn't handle that; could not fathom that there was anyone left in this world who saw anything remotely humane in him.

So, Joel did what he did best: made his own life infinitely harder by pushing away those who loved him.

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

Clingy Baby masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #tlou joel #joel the last of us #the last of us joel #tlou joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfiction #hbo the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou x reader #tlou x you

[joels6string]

Whatever Helps You Sleep

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: It's a restless night for you and the nomad you've been tied to in search of a new place to call home.

Rating: E

Word Count: 2.8k

Content: unprotected p in v sex, fingering, creampie in a post-apocalyptic world like morons, so much desperation, Joel Miller being a grumpy but standup guy

Everything hurt. All the fucking time. 

Every joint throbbed, the balls and socket grinding and scraping, each taut fiber threading beneath your skin begging for any release of the eternal tension that had settled in over two decades ago, the cold you’d still not gotten used to amplifying the ache as you laid on the rickety old mattress on the floor. The springs jutting into your back certainly didn’t help, nor did the sounds in the distance too far away to identify. The knots in your stomach mimicked the ones that had settled into each muscle, your teeth chattering against the chill of the fall night. 

“Why you twitchin’ like that?” Joel. 

The man you now traveled with had found you holed up alone in a building, your fingers trembling on a rifle that looked too big in your hands and eyes wide enough to display the fear that had consumed your every waking minute clear as day. The loss of your group at the hand of bandits had left you alone and unfit to travel the infected-swarmed lands around you. You’d accepted your fate to starve to death or put a bullet in your own brain should you get a bite. While you hadn’t been the weakest link on your team, you couldn’t go it solo. But Joel and his 15-year-old girl, Ellie had come bursting through in search of supplies and while he’d made you beg for your life with the cold metal of his revolver pressed to your temple, he let you keep it, offering safe passage through to the next habitable town. 

That was months ago.

“Sorry,” you mumbled at his complaint, you hadn’t even realized you’d been doing it. 

“What hurts?” he asked, that gravelly voice heavy with exhaustion, or maybe exasperation. 

“I’m fine.”

“Then stop movin' so damn much.”

Easier said than done. That rhythmic movement was the only thing easing the pain and keeping you even slightly warm, your subconscious searching for relief here in a rare quiet moment. An old bullet wound in your hip always flared up when the temperature got too low, paired with years of unrest and panic, comfort was nothing but a forgotten memory. 

“You’re makin’ the floor seem like a better option,” he grunted again, guilt joining the churning turmoil in your gut.

“I’m sorry.”

“You cold?”

Yes. Yes, you were fucking cold. It had to be no more than 40 degrees and all you had was a pair of jeans worn thin as the tissue paper that had gone extinct far too soon and a flannel that barely reached your wrists. You were freezing. 

“I said I’m fine,” you snapped back, thankful Joel had given Ellie the bedroom to sleep in, she needed the rest away from the bickering.

“I know what you said,” he retorted, “but you ain’t good at lying.”

He had you there. Especially when your dishonesty manifested in a hunt for solace from perpetual agony. 

“Is it your hip?” He knew. He’d pulled the bullet out and cauterized it not even two months into your time with them. Your piercing wails as the searing hot metal had seared at your flesh still haunted your nightmares, the smell burned into your nose, and Joel’s apologetic fretting at the time was the most unguarded you’d ever seen him. For a moment he made you think he actually cared.

“Yeah,” you muttered, arguing was fruitless.

“Undo your jeans.” What did he say? “Get some heat and pressure on it.”

In the search for any form of reprieve, you did as he asked. He’d gotten up, you could hear water sloshing and the click of the propane heating plate you’d used to warm your dinner, his heavy boots thudding above your head before his weight dipped the mattress again. 

“May I?” His tone was gentle and quiet—wary—and you nodded.

Joel was an attractive man, and not just by today’s standards but by general ones. Tall, broad, and sun-goldened skin, his hair and beard graying faster than they should beneath the weight he carried. Despite his hulking frame and aloof demeanor, there was a grace to him; you hated admitting to yourself that should he ever ask, you’d be more than willing to offer yourself up. You’d done well to repress the urges you first felt walking behind him and watching his wide shoulders sway and his competence around weapons and foraging alike, but every so often they crept back, usually on nights like this where you begged for a sliver of respite. 

A warm, wet cloth pressed against the hideous scar marring the side of your hip, a loud sigh whooshing from your lips. It did feel nice. The heat washed down to your numb toes, his large palm holding pressure down that did alleviate enough of the misery that owned you to let you settle, your knees no longer rubbing together in search of comfort. 

“You’re freezing,” he noted, and you bit back the retort on your tongue teasing him for pointing out the obvious, “I gave Ellie the blanket, all I got is a coat.”

“It’s fine,” you lied again, the heel of his palm pressing down and drawing a relieved cry from your parted lips as your cheeks heated in embarrassment. 

He did it again, massaging out the rigidity holding you hostage, the muscle loosening beneath his weight, trigger points releasing as he pressed them against the bones of your pelvis. When the rag had cooled, you expected him to roll over and try to sleep again, but a large hand swallowed you whole as he continued, now skin on skin, the sensation sending a forbidden surge between your thighs. This time, your teeth sunk into your lower lip in lieu of allowing the traitorous whines from breaking free. He’d gotten closer at some point, you could feel the heat radiating off of his body, your resolve holding strong enough to resist closing the remaining distance between you. 

“Why didn’t you leave me with that group a few months back?” you finally asked, the question had been burning in your mind since he’d refused to let you stay with a small civilization you’d found. It had been your original agreement after all. 

“Didn’t trust ‘em,” he answered quietly, his fingers continuing to knead into your flesh, “I have enough trouble sleepin’.”

That was as heartfelt as Joel Miller was going to get tonight. 

Callouses met scar tissue as you melted into the lumps in the surface molding around you now, his trigger finger finding a new skill as he soothed you to enough comfort to have your eyelids fluttering closed. The cold still nipped at your toes and nose, your body trembling as a result despite the searing hot palm on your skin. But at least the pain had receded enough.

“Scootch on back,” he murmured, tugging on you lightly in what resembled more of an offer than an instruction, but it was one you couldn’t refuse. 

Within seconds you were no longer yearning for the scratchy wool blanket Joel kept folded in his pack, his chest firm against your back, knees locked behind yours, and a heavy hand on your lower stomach the only source of warmth you needed. You sought more, closing what little distance remained between you as he shifted to allow you the space to do so, your smaller frame fitting easily in the stretch of his chest. 

“Now will you stop fidgetin’?” The husky tone he spoke with was softer than the first, less perturbed, his fingers still brushing through the open waistband of your jeans. 

It was mortifying but practically instinctual the way you pressed your backside against him, hoping his fingers would slip lower, breach the fraying waistband of the panties you’d cycled through for too many years. He stiffened slightly as you repeated the motion, desperate as lust took control, you could feel it in the way his bicep flexed on your arm and his palm pressed slightly tighter. The proximity allowed you to vibrate with the repressed groan he kept trapped in his chest, your brain too fogged from the scent of dirt and gunpowder clinging to his skin and the way his beard caught on your hair as he shifted, pressing his growing bulge against you lightly. 

“Joel…” It fell pathetically from your lips, whining and dazed as your stomach tensed at his offer to give what you’d so ardently desired. 

He clicked his tongue. “Why d’you gotta say it like that?”

“Please.”

Whatever control he’d been gripping like the barrel of his shotgun fell away, his hand leaving your abdomen to sting in the stark temperature change and pinch your chin, turning your face towards his own. You could barely see him in the dark, but the vulnerability swimming in his eyes glowed in the faint moonlight seeping in from the window. Did you take this plunge? There was no going back. Not for you. When you parted ways—and you knew you would—what happened then? Would you get over him? This man that saved your life more times than you could count with your fingers and toes, fed you before himself, and fought the battles you couldn’t. In a world as broken as this, Joel Miller stood alone.

His kiss was timid, testing the limits and giving you enough time to change your mind here and now before it escalated. Always the gentleman. But when you pulled his bottom lip between your own deepening what he’d begun, it took seconds for his tongue to dart into your waiting mouth and unleash a dam of pent-up attraction and need. 

The fervor you accepted his affections with only fueled the embering fire, his growl of appreciation echoing in your mouth as your fingers thread into his hair to pull him closer, the grayed locks softer than you expected. You didn’t know what to expect from him, was he generous or selfish? Greedy or giving? The question was answered as his weathered fingers slowly slid down your torso, palming roughly at your breasts as he kissed you still before slipping them beneath the final barrier and cupped at your mound, his middle slowly dragging through your slit.

“Jesus Christ,” he marveled at the slick that had accumulated, your lips brushing through the whiskers on his jaw as you spread your thighs wider to grant him access.

No time was wasted, too much had already and that was being made very clear by the sopping mess between your thighs and the franticness Joel’s belt and jeans were undone to relieve the pressure on the effect you had over him. His middle digit found your clit, circling slowly while he enjoyed the way your back was arching and the subdued whimpers ever so faintly evident in your panting breath. His hair was still knotted in your grasp and you greedily tugged his lips back to yours, sloppily kissing him as you let the heat coursing through you take control, losing your inhibitions and enjoying this long-awaited moment.

Your gluttonous body welcomed him eagerly when he dragged lower and slid inside your waiting channel, his hand clamping over your mouth just in time to muffle the wanton cry that finally broke free. The way he shushed you only made it worse, your body bucking down against his hand impatient for more. Slipping his ring finger in stretched you even further, his pace increasing as you writhed in his hold, your breath hot on his palm as it puffed out in blissful little gusts. 

“Warmin’ up?” he cooed gruffly, his tone hinting at cocky as you cried out again, his fingers scratching at the rough patch deep inside of blackening what little your vision could see.

You were teetering on the edge, your body rocking on the precipice before his thumb pressed down on your buzzing bundle of nerves and sent you rappelling down into euphoria. White hot heat banished the last of the cold that lingered, your hairline damp as your shirt clung to the sweat pouring down your back. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he soothed, continuing gentler now as you spasmed in his arms, “That felt good, didn’t it?”

All you could muster was a nod, the hand that was still lightly covering your mouth gripping your chin and directing your mouth to his again, his tongue probing into your parted lips as you collected enough coherence to kiss him lazily in return. 

“Your turn,” you breathed, a crooked smirk twitching as he pulled your jeans down to the middle of your thighs, shifting enough to free himself from his loosened garments. 

“You tell me if it ain’t right,” he instructed, nuzzling his nose behind your ear as the head of his cock slipped between your folds, pushing into you slowly as he sighed in contentment.

It was right. It was so fucking right you instinctually fucked yourself back, sheathing him completely in one swift movement. He was long and thick, stretching you past where any other had gotten you, your body molding around him as if it had been waiting for him to make it whole. A hand on your hip kept you still had he began to gently rut into you, acclimating to the feeling of being immersed in a woman’s warm, wet heat in an effort to not cut this shorter than it already probably would be. You were impossibly full, it had been a long time since you’d trusted anyone enough for this, your fingers no match for what he could do and the way he made you feel.

“Shit, you feel good,” he purred in that Texan accent that made you swoon, “You okay?”

“Uh-huh,” you gasped, your fingers returning to his hair to cradle him close.

The pace picked up, his hand on your hip sliding back between your thighs as he thrust harder and faster chasing a high he hadn’t felt in years. You wanted more, wanted to give him more, and as he began to lose control your body began to drift from your side to your stomach, his arms working to brace himself over your prone form as you lifted your hips slightly into the air to feel every punch of his hips on yours. Your ass rippled against his force, his grunts fueling the second wave crashing against your lower abdomen, the pressure building rapidly as he fucked into you like a man starved. The crook of your arm caught your sounds as he sought relief in you, the only thing keeping you in place were his hands as your knees slipped on the bare surface of the mattress you were pressed into. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mewled, slamming you back onto his length as he surged forward, every inch of him buried deep in your cunt until you were strangling him as you came again, him following not long behind.

When he finally stilled you could feel him spurting thick and hot inside of you, your pussy still twitching around him as your shaky legs burned from the exertion. As he pulled out you whined in protest at the loss, your body collapsing down as he reached for a rag and began wiping what was leaking from between your legs. 

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he griped as another glob dripped free, “Got carried away.”

“Timing should work in our favor,” you eased, your cycle still the only normal thing left in this God-forsaken world and he grunted in acknowledgment, his brow relaxing from its concerned grimace. 

“We should get some sleep.”

You nodded, watching him carefully as he settled back down on his back, his head turning to peer at you and finding your wide-eyed anticipation staring back at him. With a chuckle he opened his right arm out welcoming you onto his chest, a gesture you scampered to take before he changed his mind. You tucked yourself into the space between his neck and jaw, your arm draping over his middle as he wrapped you up tight. It didn’t take long to fall asleep. 

When you woke the next morning he was already up, repacking up and readying for another day on the road to nowhere. 

“We’re headin’ down to settle somewhere,” he sounded from the corner, his gaze remaining locked on his open pack, “figured you could get your fresh start there.”

“With you?” you asked timidly, your voice still heavy with sleep after the best night of rest you’d had in years.

“I don’t see why not.”

Ellie’s arrival into the kitchen you and Joel had slept in cut your conversation short, her always perceptive eyes flicking from you to Joel on the other side of the room. 

“Did you two finally seal the deal?” the teenager asked nonchalantly, both your faces falling in horror. You thought you’d been quiet. “What? Don’t worry, my innocent eyes and ears were spared if you did. You’ve just…never smiled at her when she’s actually looking.”

Joel Miller Masterlist

Series coming soon: More Than My Father’s Son

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