𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 police officer!ellie williams / 1.5k words
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 fluff, flirting, ellie being a cocky police officer
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 now, it's here now - i hope this satisfies you - whoever you are. hope u like it! (the amount of research i had to do on american police - i hope i'm not on any list) (divider cr. goes to @saradika-graphics )
♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎
It’s raining cats and dogs and your jacket is NOT waterproof. The cardboard of the package in your hands is probably soaked through and the contents ruined but it’s now or never - the post office closes in about fifteen minutes.
The door to the post office swings open as a man steps outside on the pavement but, oh yes, he doesn’t hold the door open. While juggling your handbag, a cup of very hot coffee and the stupid package, you somehow manage to open the door and slip into the semi warm building.
There’s no one in here except the cashier and she doesn’t look like she’s enjoying being here at all. “How can I help you?” The young woman behind the register, who you’re convinced should still be in high school, asks in a tone which indicates how awfully bored she is. “I’d like to give up this package.”
She doesn’t retaliate and takes the package from your hands without a word. It doesn’t take long for her to type something into the small worn display of the register before the low hum of the label machine fills the awkward silence. The cashier slaps the label onto the package with more force than required and lifts her gaze to yours once again.
“That’ll be 25,70 dollars.” You give her a blink and a pause, because what the hell.
“Excuse me?” Escapes you as you slowly reach for your wallet.
“I don’t make the prices, lady.” The answer leaves her monotone, you’ll guess she’ll have to say it several times a day in order not to go insane. You hand her the money and she puts it into the register before she hands you the recipe. “Bye.” What a lovely young girl.
Then you turn and head towards the door, rain still pounding, the rainfall makes everything look vaguely like a budget version of the twilight films.
The moment is quickly shattered as a woman in uniform, specifically a female officer makes her way to your car - which, okay there was nowhere to park and the damn post office was about to close - is parked in a handicapped space.
“Shit.” You whisper to yourself as you rush out onto the sidewalk. With quick steps you cross the street and unlock, quick - time to act pathetic.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I-”Safe it, sweetheart.” The officer interrupts you without looking up from her notepad. The interruption make you still next to her, fuck you.
“I’ll move it right-”Too late for that.” She scribbles a little more on her notebook, pen gliding over the paper like finality. As she rips the paper off, doesn’t hand it to you but clips it under one of your windshield wipers. The little gold nametag catches your attention ‘Williams’.
“Look, Officer Williams - I’m really sorry for parking in a handicapped parking spot. I know it looks bad-”It really does.” Williams interrupts you once again with what looks very close to a smile she’s trying to hide, you decide to ignore it.
“I was running late for the post office, it was about to close and there were no parking spots and…I'm just really sorry.” Officer Williams wipes her brow with the back of her hand since her short hair as plastered to her forehead like yours is plastered to your neck and your shirt - she looks beautiful, you must look like a hooker reject.
“That’s heartbreaking, really. But rules apply to everyone, even pretty girls who can’t plan their time.” The whole sentence makes your brain float - rules, yes, okay - you can live with that but pretty girls? You..a pretty girl - is she complimenting you?
“I mean..umh..-”Bring the money to the station by Monday. Ask for Ellie Williams.” With that the Officer turns around and strolls back to her cruiser like she didn’t just rewire your brain in a very both pleasant and unpleasant way. What the actual hell.
You watch her pull off the curb and glance back to the now soaked ticked between your windshield and wiper.
The walk to the station on Monday feels like being publicly shamed, with the money in hand, you shoulder the glass door open and immediately the bustling of a very busy but rather relaxed station fills your every nerve.
There are people arguing at the counter, people being guided through narrowly placed desks in handcuffs, officers half-heartedly doing paperwork.
The counter clears when the man who’s been arguing with a very tired woman behind it slams the paper in his hand onto the wood and stalks off with a string of curses flying from his mouth.
The glass door rattles a little when he leaves. The woman behind the counter waves you over with an expression that screams ‘I’m too old and too tired for this shit.’
You swallow once before stepping forward, placing the ticket on the wooden counter with an awkward expression. “I’m here to pay my parking ticket - I was told to ask for Ellie Williams.” The woman raises an eyebrow and sighs exasperatedly.
“She flirt with you?” The question makes you cock your head in question - the woman, ‘Shonda’ as her nametag says, chooses to ignore your perplexed expression and instead picks up the telephone on her side of the counter and asks for ‘Williams’ to whoever is on the other line.
“Pay the fine and get your behind out the station - Williams likes to butter up pretty things like you.” Shonda warns as the very same female Officer slips through the door behind her.
“I got it from here, Shonda.” Williams pats Shonda’s shoulder once before the older woman scampers off to god knows where with a roll of her eyes. “Lesbians.” She mutters to no one in particular before she’s gone.
Your gaze flickers to Officer Ellie Williams as she pulls the ticket from your hand and gives you a teasing half smile. “150 dollars, please.” Williams says, her voice lower and a little playful - she is definitely flirting with you now.
You reach into your coat pocket and pull out the small bundle of bills and hold it out for her to take, she reaches a hand and lets her digits glide over yours in a way that normal transactions don’t go - the eye contact is probably not professional either. Why is she looking at you like she would climb over this counter and ravish you in broad daylight?
“You don’t look very happy.” The officer before you notes as if she didn’t just take 150 bucks from you with a smile on her face. “Oh I wonder why.” You counter dryly, head cocked in a way that suggests sarcasm.
“Look, I’m just doing my job, sweetheart.” Ellie answers rather amused as she stamps the ticket with ‘PAID’ in bright red and slides it back to you over the counter. “I think doing your job doesn’t include calling me ‘sweetheart’.” The tiny spark of bite in your retort sparks pure delight in her expression - does she like feistiness? This woman is making your brain swim and your heartbeat spike behind your ribs and you’re not entirely sure how to feel about it. She’s hot, too hot to be completely honest and you’ve always had a weakness for hot women with sharp grins.
“Alright, how about this - I’ll make it up to you with a nice dinner, what do you say ‘sweetheart’?” The question makes your brain skid to a halt - did she just - yes she absolutely did.
This irritating, hot bitch of a woman just asked you out after the whole parking ticket fiasco. And the deliberate use of the pet name once again makes something in your lower belly coil dangerously. “Excuse me?” Is all you manage, what the fuck are you supposed to say to a police officer asking you out like this.
“No? You’ll really leave me hanging after I’ve been so ‘nice’ to you?” Ellie tilts her head, challenging you to chicken out, to awkwardly decline but you’ve always been competitive and she is a wet dream come alive - so why the hell not.
“Alright.” The agreement makes Ellie’s grin sharpen and she slips a piece of paper and a pen over the counter.
“Good, give me your number and I’ll have you fed in no time.” That was overly sexual and somehow it doesn’t bother it at all - the number is written down quickly. You pocket your ticket with the ghost of a bashful smile on your lips.
The light rosy blush makes Ellie tilt her head with a gaze that suggests she’s shamelessly undressing you in her mind. Before you can slip out of the station with your head buzzing and your heart doing summer saults in your chest, Ellie calls out once again.
“Clean up nice, sweetheart. Might have to show you off.”
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 detective!ellie williams x mobster!reader / 7.5k words
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 angst, alcohol abuse, murder, debiction of death, mutilation, smut (fingering, pussy eating, dub/con, scissoring) MDNI
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 hi hi, OMG! I'm so excited for u all to read this! i had so much fun making this, it's a work i'm so so proud of and i hope you all see that, thank you for checking it out and i hope you all like it! (just to let u know - this fic is 16 pages long in my google doc) (divider cr. goes to @saradika-graphics )
♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎
“You look like shit, Williams.” The provoking tone of Captain Servopoulos scrapes at Ellie’s very prominent hangover. She lets herself fall into the chair by her captain’s desk, legs crossed and one hand brushing over her face with a huff. Too much whiskey and too little time to have her body fight it.
“Thanks Tess.” Ellie murmurs around an unlit cigarette which will do nothing to solve the insistent pounding behind her right eye. “Don’t call me that.” Tess grunts as she sits down in her worn office chair. Williams only answers with an amused huff, lighting the cigarette despite the yellow little sign by the door which forbids it.
The older woman opens the top left drawer of her mahogany desk and fishes out a worn yellow folder, one Ellie has only heard of up till now. She slaps the folder onto the desk with a sigh and Ellie knows that this is how shit starts - she’s assigned a case which no one wants and to be honest - she doesn’t want it either.
“Don’t tell me this is what I think it is.” Williams grunts in displeasure as a thin milky string of smoke escapes her nostrils. “Shut up.” Tess exhales as she pinches the bridge of her nose in mild irritation. “This is-”It’s a cold case, that’s what it is.” Williams retorts with snort, tapping ash into the empty paper coffee cup she brought.
“You’re giving me cold cases now, Captain?” The very prospect of being downgraded to cold cases bites at Ellie’s ego - newbies get cold cases, old pricks with retirement practically in their pocket get cold cases - not Ellie Williams, not the very officer who got the JCPD’s ranking up by ten in the last five years.
“It’s not a punishment, Ellie.” Tess tries, places a hand on the yellow folder to emphasize her words, though all Ellie feels is this sour feeling at the back of her throat.
“You can’t push me back like that, Tess. I mean, I’m one of your best.” Ellie attempts, placing the nearly finished cigarette into the paper cup. “You’re a drunk, Ellie. A hypocritical idiot who’d rather spend her days processing park tickets than using your skills as a detective to solve my cases.” Ellie shakes her head with a bitter expression, true words she doesn’t want to hear.
“I know the last year was hard for you. Joel’s passing struck us hard and I know it affected you the most but, Ellie, you have to get it together.” William’s jaw clenches at the very mention of her adoptive father’s death. Joel was a detective too, her partner in crime as he liked to call himself.
“Don’t bring Joel into this.” Ellie manages to whisper as the feeling of the cigarette’s nicotine turns ratchet in her veins. “I’m better, I did the whole therapy shit. I’ve been sticking to my desk like a good soldier and now you’re throwing me under the bus with a cold case?”
Tess barely contains her frustration, the cocked eyebrow tells Ellie that she’s pushing it, but she’s never been good at minding boundaries. “I’m doing you a fucking favor, Ellie.” The older woman pauses for a moment, flips open the folder and flips through a few loose papers. “This case isn’t cold anymore.”
Before Tess can explain further, a knock interrupts her. “Come in.” The Captain calls and with a soft squeak from the old hinges, the white wooden door with the lettering ‘Captain Tess Servopoulos’ opens and reveals a young woman. The dark hair and prominent nose stands out to Ellie - what annoys her even more though is the too bright smile and the awkward stance. “You wanted to see me, Ma’am?”
“Who the hell is that?” Williams tries to whisper to Tess, though it isn’t a whisper at all. Tess shoots her a scalding look, telling her to shut the fuck up. “This is Dina Woodward, rookie and your new partner.”
The words slither into Ellie’s ears like a searing rod, making her heartbeat spike dangerously. She had said that she didn’t want a new partner, not after Joel. Not after she had to bury the only man who has always had her back, not after it all. Ellie was good alone, better than good and this feels like a replacement. Like Tess saying ‘get over it’ without the actual words and it’s fucking awful.
“Fuck no!” Ellie spits with as much venom as the day she identified Joel’s murderer and it makes something burn behind her ribs. Dina looks like a deer caught in headlights, unsure about what to do - turn around and run, pretend this reaction to her simply stepping into the room never happened, possibly ignoring Ellie long enough for the detective to forget her or stay right there in the doorway and listen to the detective rejecting her as if she might carry the plague.
“Stop this instant, Williams.” Tess slams a hand onto the wooden table, her voice echoes off the concrete walls. “You will take this rookie and train her the way Joel did. You will solve this case with her and you will not under any circumstances do this alone.” Ellie crosses her arms, chest tight with anger and something painful she doesn’t want to name.
“Or what?” She whispers, the words a little breathless. “Or I’ll terminate you. I’ve tolerated your behaviour and slip ups out of the goodness of my heart but this stops now. You will take Dina as your partner and solve this case, do you understand me?”
Ellie knows that look, that tone of voice. Tess is serious and if she lets her anger drive this, ruin this - it’ll all be over. It’ll all be in vain. Joel signing her up for the academy, Joel training her for months on end just to be the best in her class - she can’t throw it all away, she knows that much.
“Fine.” Ellie murmurs, her shoulders drop in defeat as she takes a breath. The thought of a partner, a rookie makes her sick enough but Dina’s seemingly unbreakable smile makes her tad nauseous. “It’s an honor to get to work with you, Miss Williams.” Dina steps forward and offers Ellie a hand she’s sure will be sweaty. “Ellie’s fine.” The detective grumbles before she sidesteps Dina and opens the door.
“And Williams.” Ellie looks over her shoulder. “If you show up to work smelling like a dive bar one more time, I'll have you on archive duty for a month.” The detective gives one more pitiful sigh before she leaves the office without another word. The words are clear in her mind, flashing like a sex club sign - Fuck My Life.
The rookie, Dina, trails after Ellie like a lost puppy no one wanted until they reach her desk. Across from it sits an empty one, Joel’s one. Ellie never cleared it, she doesn’t know when it was cleared but when she came back from therapy, when her mandatory time off to ‘process’ the loss of him - it was empty and she never commented on it.
When Dina sits herself down in his chair, puts the yellow folder and her bag onto his desk and scowls a little at the worn mouse of the tattered computer in front of her, Ellie’s jaw works but she restrains from calling her any names - not a good look if she decides to go snitching to The Cap.
“Give that here.” Ellie snatches the folder from the rookie’s grip and avoids looking at her as she opens the damned thing up.
“I’ve read a little about the case, it’s truly fascinating how-”I can’t read if your gob is open.” Dina shuts her mouth quick enough and slowly shifts her attention to the sad excuse of a computer as to not aggravate her any further.
The papers inside the folder are mismatched and yellowed at some corners. Witness reports and statement papers are all over the place and the state of this case isn’t really a case - it’s a mess. Then, as Ellie flips through a few papers to set them aside, a few loose pictures flutter onto the roughed up wood of her workdesk. She takes the first one between her thumb and pointer finger - a crime scene photo. Two bodies lay splayed across a concrete floor.
Both wear a red oozing bullet hole across their foreheads, eyes wide open. The body on the right is already covered with a white sheet up to the shoulders but the angle isn’t good and she can’t make out his face. The one on the left has his leg bent at an unnatural angle, fingers sprouting on the left hand as if all broken individually - the way those bodies were broken suggests torture before the actual killing.
What catches Ellie’s attention though, is the symbol by their feet. Painted in blood, the symbol of what appears to be a key glints in the camera’s flash like a sign, like a warning. Ellie has seen this symbol before.
With her heart skipping behind her ribs, Ellie reaches for the top left drawer of her desk. It slides open with a faint squeak and she has to rummage through a few small half empty liquor bottles, candy wrappers and receipts she was too polite to reject at the register. Under all that junk her fingers pull out a folded crinkly picture.
With a breath to psych herself up, Ellie unfolds the picture that has haunted her dreams for months since the incident. Joel lays on the floor, arm wedged under his own torso, leg bent at an unnatural angle - broken and beside him his gun, magazine neatly placed beside it.
His forehead bears a bullet hole and his eyes stare at the camera wide open and glossed over. By his feet glints the same symbol, faint and almost dried into the cobble stone but it’s there - drawn in his blood.
Ellie’s blood roars in her ears, mind stumbling over itself - she knew it. Joel’s death wasn’t a robbery, not an accident. Nobody wanted to believe her, nobody was on her side when she insisted on opening an investigation, yet she was right.
Ellie doesn’t know how she’ll solve it, doesn’t know how far this whole thing even goes but she’s sure of one thing - she’ll find the person who did this, find the person who took the only constant in her life and turned it into a pit of grieve she’ll never be able to fill.
She’ll do Joel justice.
“Umh..Ellie..Ma’am..-”What?” The detective barks, fingers already pinching the bridge of her nose at the voice of her rookie problem.
“I swear to god - if you tell me something motivational, I’ll hit you in the face.” Dina pales a little, eyes darting everywhere but at the very disgruntled woman across from her as she points at the receiver in her hand. “Crimescene, umh..they said it’s about our case.”
Ellie’s eyebrows lift a little, interest piquing at her rookie’s words. “A crime scene?" The rookie swallows once, visibly, almost relieved that her detective won’t hit her in the face yet.
“Oh, yeah - something about a symbol we might be interested in.” That makes Ellie ditch her slumped posture - spine ramrod straight as she slams the file shut. “Tell them we’re on the way.” Without waiting for an answer from her newbie, Ellie practically leaps from her chair - which the still very present hangover punishes her for very quickly.
The room tilts for a moment as she catches herself on the desk. “You alright, Ellie?” With a shake of her head the room comes back into focus, there’s no time for this bullshit - hangover or not.
“Shut it, newbs.”
Dina parks the car by the curb, almost hitting the lamppost as her attention strays for a second at the mass of blue lights, media people and others in white forensic hazmat suits.
“You crashing my car on your first day?” Ellie utters around the plume of smoke escaping her nostrils and disappearing through the cracked window. “Actually-”I really don’t care.” Dina only sighs softly at the rude interruption but she’s growing used to it, Ellie thinks. This is no time to tally.
Williams exits the vehicle first, rummages for her badge in her pocket and takes another drag from her cigarette before flicking it down the drain. “Come on now.” Ellie cocks her head as Dina slips out of the car and jogs up behind her. “Why is this linked to our case if our case is cold?” The newbie asks as she pockets the car keys in her coat pocket, her gaze lingers on Ellie’s side profile, she can feel it.
“Because our case is obviously not cold anymore?” Williams casts her glance, eyebrows furrowed at the dumb question. “Just because the trails went cold on the last murder, doesn’t mean they’ll stay cold forever.” Ellie briefly shows her badge to an officer standing guard at the warehouse entrance, once checked, she shoulders past the man without another glance. “Do they not teach you anything at the academy nowadays?”
Dina puffs once as she steps in Ellie’s way, fists clenched and eyebrows drawn together. “I get it that you don’t want me here and I understand but, I’m here and I want to help, that’s my job. So please, stop berating me and let me do my job.” Williams cocks her head with a faint smile, almost impressed by her small outburst.
“I think your job’s right behind you.”
Dina cocks her head over her shoulder and her expression changes quickly, the irritation morphs into revulsion - your first murder is always an experience.
“Holy shit.” The newbie takes a step back as Ellie steps around her to get to the bodies. One lays front to the ground, nose crooked and faintly blue under a smear of blood - bullet hole in the back of the head. The other body, female, lays crumbled sprawled over a yellow plastic chair. Her arms are bound and her head slumped over the back of the chair, a bullet hole decorates her forehead in a splatter of blood.
Then, while slipping on the gloves which were placed on a small white table, Ellie sees it. There, by the female body’s feet glitters the familiar symbol. A blood painted key symbol is already drying on the rough concrete ground.
“The bodies are still warm, dead for about an hour - give or take.” Jesse, one of the only forensic people Ellie can tolerate, steps up beside her.
“So the unsub isn’t far?” Dina throws in as she snaps a few pictures of the bodies. Ellie tilts her head as she takes the scene in - the bodies left here like they did not matter. This isn’t calculated, no serial killer, this simply means to an end, cleaning up if you will.
“This is no ‘unsub’, Woods.” Ellie murmurs as she takes a closer look at the female body. She’s dressed casually, a pencil skirt and a blood splattered blouse. Faint bruises around her throat and collarbones as if she was choked before they decided to end her suffering with a bullet she saw coming. Information. That’s what they kept her alive for long enough to torture her.
“My last name is Woodward.” Dina throws in as she snaps a few more pictures, almost knocking Ellie over as she shimmy’s past to get a picture of the female victim. “It’s Woods for me.” Ellie couldn’t be bothered with remembering names, especially not of rookies.
The newbie doesn’t comment on it and keeps snapping pictures for the file - at least the academy taught her that much. Ellie moves on to the male victim. His face is turned half way into the concrete, his hand bent at an unnatural angle and his ankle is swollen and blue. They were rougher with him, less merciful as with her - if you can even call it that.
Ellie slowly turns the body onto its back, the short black hair still sticks to the blood crusted forehead where the bullet exited. His nose is busted and a tooth is missing - definitely rougher. “Jesus, didn’t go easy on him, huh?” Dina comments as she lifts her gaze to gauge Ellie’s reaction. “Probably a blunt object or a fist, hard to pinpoint.” Jesse throws in. “He was the one they wanted information from.” Ellie tilts her head, wheels turning in her mind. “She was simply leverage.” Dina is fast to write it all down on a small station issued notebook.
With a few slaps to the right side of the microwave, the thing finally blinks alive and a low hum from the electronic device fills Ellie’s ear. The small dollar store lasagna turns in sad little circles as if to say - hey, I don’t actually taste like the real deal, you’re just convincing yourself that I do. With a sigh, Ellie turns around to the top drawer by the barely functioning oven to retrieve a fork. Her mind wanders back to the case - to the parallels. Joel was somehow involved with this key symbol, maybe he pissed someone off and they got rid of him - but who?
The distorted ping of the microwave rips Ellie out of her thoughts and with a hiss, she pulls the little tin out of the device - it’s piping hot and she doesn’t own an oven mitt. With two fingers on each side, Ellie transports the tin to the small kitchen table “Fuck - Shit.” She curses as it’s burning her fingertips.
As she pulls the soggy paper covering off, milky steam drifts towards the ceiling and Ellie decides to wait - she doesn’t need to burn her mouth too. While she waits for her sad excuse of a dinner to cool down, she flips open the laptop which once belonged to Joel, as does almost everything in this house.
Ellie has to find out who is behind this symbol, who might’ve wanted Joel dead. So Ellie types “Key Symbol Jackson.” into the search bar. The search engine spits out a few hits that won’t bring her very far - even one about a swinger club but that’s nowhere near her preferences.
Then, as Ellie scrolls down to the very bottom, a link to a website catches her attention. “Lock & Key - Wood’s Services” - it’s a local locksmith business, has been open for centuries and has changed owners only once about ten years ago. Ellie has seen this place, of course. As her job requires her to move around town constantly - it’s not a heavily visited place, it’s just been around for as long as one can remember.
Then as Ellie scrolls down the homepage of the business, one little thing sears her attention - the key symbol. It’s exactly the same and it’s the symbol the locksmith uses. But why would a locksmith business go around killing people, why Joel? Unless - unless it’s a front, a front for something much bigger.
But before Ellie can even think about writing her findings down to rub it under the newbie’s nose the next morning, a small but audible sound makes her still. The back door of the house has this squeak - a squeak Joel wanted to fix since they moved in years ago but never got to fixing it, Ellie hasn’t fixed it either.
She turns her head to look over her shoulder but the masked figure approaching from behind is faster. With a sickening crack the hand of said figure drives Ellie’s head forward and smashes her nose into the keypad of the laptop - the website glitches away at the sudden key intake.
“Oh fuck!” She curses as a hand shoots up, only to come back bloodied. Then, the figure yanks her backward off the chair - the wood connects to the floor with a clatter and Ellie falls on her back, the back of her head snapping against the laminate floor. Her vision swims for a second, the pain making her nerves fray.
“Keep away from the case.” Is all the figure says before it vanishes out the back door as fast as it appeared. Ellie lays on the floor for a moment, sprawled like a very beaten starfish, nose oozing blood, back of her head pounding from the impact.
Any sane person would back off now, let the cold case be a cold case but Ellie is very clearly not sane. She can’t give it up - especially not now. Someone breaking into her house to beat the shit out of her, to scare her into wrapping the case up as a cold case once again means she’s close, means she’s on the right track - she’ll find out what happened to Joel and why it happened and she won’t give up.
With a grunt, Ellie manages to bring herself to her feet, blood trickles steadily onto her favorite triceratops shirt. With one hand braced along the wall and the other cupping her nose, Ellie manages to make her way into the bathroom. The overhead light flickers to life as she blindly tabs at the switch and what awaits her in the mirror only makes her frown. Her nose doesn’t look broken but it’s definitely swollen, blood coating her lips and chin - jesus, she’s a cop for fucks sake.
She presses a towel to her face as she lowers herself onto the edge of the greyish bathtub - this was a warning which she’s not going to hone.
The next morning Ellie doesn’t bother to cover up - she neither has the tools to nor does she have the skills to even try. A few people look as she steps into the station, probably speculating if she lost another bar fight last night or if gravity one again after having one bottle too many.
“Good mo-Oh Jesus, what happened to you?” Ellie can feel the overly worried expression on her newbie’s face. If she tells Dina the truth, she might be pulled into this and getting a rookie killed in her first week doesn’t look particularly great on her wrap.
“Stumbled.” Ellie grunts, the word leaves her a little naisily since her nose is still swollen from the very rude and unexpected assault. “Did you fall?” Ellie knows that Dina means well but she wouldn’t mind if the newbie just shut her mouth.
“Yes I did.” The detective sneers, collapsing on her ratty chair with a disapproving sound. “How about you keep organizing the damn file and shut your mouth while I fully wake up, mh?” Dina’s mouth quivers downward for a moment but she doesn’t retaliate, smart girl.
Ellie decides to focus on her computer instead, logs in and continues her research from yesterday. At the thought of digging deeper, her nose throbs once more to remind her of the warning, the simple words of leaving whatever is going on behind the locksmith business alone but Ellie’s always been rather stubborn.
The website from yesterday flickers as it loads fully, bearing the same simple design and limited information.
The key symbol stands as the logo of the small business and under contacts is an email - lock&keyy/[email protected], now if Ellie were an idiot, she’d send an email and ask for a visit to question the people behind it all but Ellie’s not as stupid as she currently looks so she decides to search the name included in the email - Y/N Marshall.
The internet shows limited results as always, people in Jackson rather stay private. Though one result catches her attention - a high school graduation post from Jackson High School.
A very badly formatted web post loads on the screen - the text doesn’t interest Ellie much but the picture attached does. It depicts a row of students, neatly captured next to each other. On the far right sits the picture of a girl, young and unsmiling but her eyes stare into the camera as if challenging it to do her beauty justice - it didn’t. Under the picture is no quote or teenish words telling the world to fuck off, just her name ‘Y/N Marshall.”
Ellie’s on a roll now, she’s got the face behind the blacksmith front and she’ll find out more, she’ll find out what the fuck is happening. With a click of her mouse, Ellie logs into the station's server and searches for someone named ‘Marshall’ and soon enough the system spits out a deceased ‘Theodore Marshall’, several felonies. The profile reads that he had died at the hands of Detective Joel Miller two years ago while Marhsall tried to fire a handgun at said Detective. Marshall died on the way to the local hospital, leaving behind a younger sister - Y/N Marshall.
Ellie’s downright ecstatic as she reads the evidence she so desperately knew was out there - Joel was killed because he killed Y/N’s brother. It wasn’t a simple mugging gone wrong, it was revenge.
Later that day Ellie is the only one left at the station. Her desk is lit by the smudgy old table lamp as she’s hunched over a notebook writing everything down of information she’s accumulated on Y/N Marshall and the blacksmith business she’s sure is just a front for something bigger.
When her phone pings once, signaling that it’s currently fighting its life on approximately ten percent of battery, she glances at the phone’s clock and winces - she’s not one to stay long, especially not until ten p.m. on a friday night. She logs out of her computer and stretches with a groan which someone passing might mistake as a dying racoon.
Ellie’s thoughts drift to the local bar, to the endless drinks on a tab she’ll never really pay off because despite it being Joel’s tab and not her own, she likes telling the bartender to put it on Miller’s tab. It feels like he’s just far away and not six feet under a couple miles away.
With her head heavy and eyes tired, Ellie lifts herself out of her chair and the hours of sitting at this damned desk make themself known in her lower back.
“Jesus.” She mumbles to no one in particular as the ache settles in like an old friend. She gathers her phone, pack of cigarettes and the old scratches lighter Joel gifted her for her eighteenth birthday and pockets the items into her jacket pockets.
With slow leaden steps, she makes her way to the glass doors of the station which lead into darkness of the night, the door closes behind her with a soft hiss and Ellie turns around to lock the door behind herself. Jackson is a quiet town but even quiet towns have loud individuals.
Without warning the squealing of tires sound behind Ellie and time seems to speed up as the telltale sensation of adrenaline shoots through her veins. There is no time to turn around, to even think of having her hands wander to her holster or let alone defend herself in any way possible as a hood is hastily thrown over her head - stealing her vision.
“What the fuck, hey!” Ellie yells once as she’s lifted off her feet and dragged into the inside of a van - she presumes as said vehicle pulls off. She’s held down by two hands as the vehicle jerks down the road. “Who the fuck are you?” Ellie barks at her captors. They tighten zip ties around her feet and wrists to keep her immoble and pressed onto the floor of the automobile, breathing hard.
Are those the people who belong to the key symbol, who answer to Y/N Marshall? The same people who killed Joel because he got too close to what they do? What do they even do? So many questions stir in Ellie’s mind that the sound of the van roaring down an off track road, the low mumble of the unknown people in the vehicle with her and her own questions swim together in a numbing swirl threatening to empty her belly in answer.
Ellie’s unsure how long the drive actually takes, no one in the damn car speaks to her, the only contact she’s having are the hands pressing her hooded face to the car’s floor, one holding her back down and one her calves.
After what feels like forever and a day, the van stops abruptly and her head knocks into something metal. “Oh fuck, ow!” The sliding door of the van opens with the same hiss as they yanked her off the sidewalk and one hand closes around the hood of her jacket, pulling her to her knees, causing her to cough at the sudden choke of the fabric around her throat.
“You assholes really know how to treat a lady.” She mumbles more to herself since none of them - she doesn’t even know how many are actually in the fucking car - talk to her. Ellie’s dragged out of the van by arms which, two of the people she can’t make out through the hood, hook under her armpits. Ellie lets herself be dragged into what she believes is a house since it’s suddenly a lot warmer. They haul her up a flight of stairs and into a room which is only dimly lit, judging by the limited sight of the hood over her head.
She’s placed in a plush chair, hood kept on. “Oh, please don’t tie our guest up, boys.” A low female voice speaks and it slithers into Ellie’s ears like a long forgotten lullaby. “Take the hood off, will you?” Ellie stays quiet as one of ‘her boys’ yanks the fabric off of her head. The room comes slowly into focus, swimming like she’s underwater and can’t get up for air in the midst of a bad dream.
The woman stands a few feet away, leant against a massive dark wooden table. Her stance is relaxed but in no way cocky, she holds herself with such confidence - it makes Ellie wonder if she’s ever seen loss.
“Who the fuck are you?” Ellie breaks the silence, cocking her head slowly as to read her intentions - if she wants Ellie dead, she would already be on the side of the road by the station, no, she doesn’t want her dead, not yet at least.
“I think you already know me, Ellie.” The woman cocks her head with the hint of a smirk etched into her features and that alone makes her stomach turn - she can’t read this woman, can’t get a tell on her and it pisses her off to no end.
“You’re Y/N Marshall.” Y/N only hums, her slender fingers picking at her sleeve in disinterest. She doesn’t seem surprised that Ellie knows her name, that she’s suspicious enough to dig into her facade.
“Fascinating, is that all you found out?” Her gaze flickers back to Ellie and the unwavering eye contact makes something behind Ellie’s ribs pound - maybe her heart which Ellie believed she had numbed with enough whiskey the last few months.
“The symbol, the bodies, it’s all you, no?” Ellie’s voice is steady but laced with the wavering of adrenaline. She tries to tug at the zip ties but the restraints don’t give.
“So you did put your cute little nose into my business.” Y/N drawls on, voice low and steady as she pushes off the chair to take a step closer to Ellie. “I don’t care about your business.” She hums in return.
“Then what do you care about? Because I believe you wouldn’t dig your early grave over a cold case, no?” The cold case - she knows that about the cold case, how long has she been watching? How much does she know?
“Joel Miller. He was my…partner, he was killed six months ago. The key was found by his feet and I want to know why.” Ellie manages as the familiar ache in her sternum accumulates again at the mention of his name, of his memory, of his loss.
“Joel Miller…doesn’t ring a bell.” The woman answers, tilting her head with her eyebrows drawn in question or disinterest - Ellie can’t really tell. “Why was the symbol by his feet then?” She barks, hands tugging at the ties in earnest. “Now, don’t get all worked up, Ellie.”
Y/N places a hand, cool to the touch, on Ellie’s cheek to direct her gaze to her. “You belong to me now, Ellie - that is if you don’t want to die here tonight.” Ellie’s pulse spikes as her finger traces the fluttering evidence down her throat of her fear, she’s playing with her and Ellie has no choice but to play along.
“No I don’t” Ellie whispers in response which sparks the hint of a smirk on Y/N’s face. With a flick of her wrist, she sends the men lurking in the shadows out of the room and as the door shuts with a soft click behind the last - Ellie’s suddenly aware of the proximity between them, the fact that she’s alone with a woman who commands men and silences people with the barrel of her gun.
“You’re pretty worked up.” She states, hands skimming down Ellie’s shoulder and under the fabric of her shirt, her fingertips nudge the textile of Ellie’s bra to the side and then her cool digits brush over the already pebbled skin of her nipple.
Ellie’s breath catches involuntarily at the contact, at the sheer event of being groped by a woman who she thought would kill her in cold blood a moment ago.
“Let me help you with that.” Y/N whispers as she retrieves her hand. She sinks to her knees before Ellie and brushes her hair behind her shoulders to keep it out of the way for whatever she has planned to do to her.
The woman reaches for the button of Ellie’s jeans and pops it open without much trouble, with a tug the pants pool now around her knees and Ellie watches in a mix of aversion and arousal as Y/N yanks Ellie’s panties down just as fast. With a little more pulling the trousers fall to Ellie’s ankles and leave her cunt awfully bare in the weirdly large room - and so close to this strange but strikingly beautiful woman.
Ellie fights the pressure of the woman’s hands as they push her knees apart for little as a second before letting her. What is she to do - tell her no? They’re far past consent it seems. “You’ll relax in no time.” Marshall whispers against the skin of her inner thigh, evoking goosebumps along the sensitive flesh. Without much preamble, Y/N dives in - her mouth attaches to Ellie’s cunt like it's always meant to end up there. Her tongue licks a fat stripe from entrance to clit - Ellie answers with a sharp cry, bound hands fisting into the soft hair of her captor.
“Fuck, oh fuck!” She shrieks at the assault on her center. Y/N doesn’t let up, if anything, she’s encouraged by Ellie’s outburst of pleasure.
“Shit, oh- fuck me.” Woods pulls back for a moment, chin glistening as she looks up at Ellie. “Already am, sweetheart.” Ellie has no time to retaliate before she dives back on, tongue swirling her clit in the best way.
Ellie should push her away, demand real answers and not get her pussy eaten by a woman with shady back business but fuck - it’s been a long time since someone has gone down on her, who is she to say no to a stunning woman licking her without the need for drinks and awkward foreplay.
Y/N sucks and licks at Ellie’s clit like she’s starving, like she’s been waiting for this pussy. Obscene sounds fill the air, mixing with the moans and whimpers Ellie can’t quite hold back.
“Shit, shit.” Without warning, Marshall plunges a finger into Ellie’s entrance - fingers curling just right as she sucks at her clit. Ellie keens at the utter volume of pleasure cursing through her veins. Her toes curl, her head lulls back with ardent noises.
“Gonna- oh fuck fuck, gonna.” Ellie stammers as Y/N pumps her finger into her tight hole, her tongue flicks along her clit like she’s writing a symphony Ellie’s supposed to feel in the marrow of her bones.
The orgasm crashes over Ellie like electricity shooting into every nerve her body inhabits, sharp and fast and so so good. A sharp cry leaves her as her body locks up, thighs shaking and closing around Y/N’s head. Her chest is heaving, body limp as the woman pulls back, chin glistening with Ellie’s juices. She pulls her finger from Ellie’s tight cunt and slips the digit into her mouth to lick it clean.
“Such a good girl.”
With heavy lidded eyes, Ellie lifts her head and licks her lips. If she wants answers, real answers - she has to get close, not the other way around. This woman is unguarded and way too sure of herself. If she plays along, if Y/N thinks that she has Ellie in her grasp long enough, she might be able to get those answers.
“Untie me.” Ellie rasps, voice raw and dry. Her wrists throb and she knows, what better way to a woman’s mind than mushing it up with the simple tool of sex.
“And why should I do that?” Y/N tilts her head as she gets to her feet. “Let me make you feel good.” She tilts her head as if she’s considering Ellie’s offer. “We’ll have other-”No, I want it now. I want my pussy on yours and make you come with my name on your lips.” Not the worst thing Ellie has said, to be honest.
Y/N’s head cocks, intrigued by the detective’s eagerness to give back the pleasure she received a moment ago. The corner of her lips lifts and she steps back to retrieve a small object from the wooden table, a switchblade, and moves to kneel before Ellie once more.
“Any funny business and you’re dead, Williams.” The woman warns before cutting the zip ties around Ellie’s ankles and the ones around her wrists. Y/N steps back to perch herself on the wooden desk, hiking her dress up and slipping her panties off without much effort.
Ellie doesn’t waste time as she stumbles forward, her pants which still pool around her ankles almost make her plant on the edge of the table - she kicks them off with a shrug of her foot.
Ellie hooks one of Y/N’s legs over her shoulder and one of her own up onto the table and positions her cunt over the woman’s. Then, because this has to be over as quickly as possible, Ellie rolls her hips and slides her slick cunt against Y/N’s.
She thrusts into her, the sound of wet flash rocking together fills the space. Marshall keens as Ellie pulls her leg up higher. “What is it that you actually do?” Ellie tries, her voice comes out wrecked and a little out of breath but she’s a detective to the bone and she promised herself that she’ll find out what the hell’s going on - even if she has to ask those questions while having her pussy wedged against a woman she knows for about twenty minutes at most.
“What?” Y/N whimpers, eyes half lidded as her hands roam up and down Ellie’s ribs. “The blacksmith, oh fuck, is it a front?” Williams tries again, sliding her clit up and down the length of her cunt, juices mixing in a filthy slurp.
“Oh, ah shit, yes yes it is.” Y/N whispers, voice high pitched with pleasure. Her fingers sweep under the fabric of Ellie’s bra to toy with her nipples, rolling and tugging at the buds in a way which makes her head swim.
“I sell coke - a lot.” Y/N manages between high keens and whimpers. This is working, her head’s so fuzzy with pleasure that Ellie can pull out the answers without any trouble at all. Her gaze sweeps over the woman beneath her - she’s truly beautiful, in another world they might’ve been a good match.
Y/N’s breathing is growing ragged quickly as Ellie picks up her pace, lifting the hand resting on the woman’s thigh to rub tight and quick circles on her clit with her thumb - Y/N mewls at the contact, the sudden spike of her orgasm approaching at a rapid pace.
Her fingers slip to the underside of Ellie’s breasts, kneading the delicate skin. The mixed sensation of their cunts slipping together, the friction of it all combined with the assault on her tits, Ellie’s close too - so so close.
Y/N breaks first, her body locks up, back bowing off the table as a cry leaves her. The stutter makes her pussy jump against Ellie’s and that alone is enough to push Ellie over the edge too. Her legs buckle as she has to brace herself on the table above the woman catching her breath beneath her.
Ellie’s knee slips off the table and she’s hovering over Y/N while catching her breath, her chest heaves and her cunt throbs with the aftershock of what they’ve both done just now. It was ecstatic, brilliant and so wrong - Ellie’s done a lot of fucked up shit in her life, but this takes the cake. Y/N licks her lips and lifts a hand to brush her fingers along the edge of Ellie’s jaw, tracing a few freckles there.
“Miller - I did kill him.” Ellie doesn’t even register the words at first, her own blood roaring in her ears from the spike of her orgasm is still going, suddenly firing again. Images of Joel as he adopted her, gave her a home, holding her while she told him that she likes girls rush into her mind’s eye - she was so scared but he assured just enough ‘Doesn’t matter to me, Els.’ He had said. He was her dad in every way that mattered and this woman, this monster beneath her has killed him.
“What?” Ellie whispers as tears gather in her eyes, unwanted but present. Her heart pounds behind her ribs and she feels the rage, the grief making a home there once again.
“He took my brother from me, Ellie. I had to do something.” Ellie stays exactly as she is, hovering over the woman like a statue, eyes open and stinging as a tear slips and falls onto Y/N’s flushed cheek.
“Don’t cry, you knew it before you fucked me.”
Ellie swallows as her fists ball up, eyebrows furrowing as a new kind of rage makes way in her chest. Her breathing picks up once again, jaw clenching.
“What’re you going to do?” The woman whispers, brushing her fingers along Ellie’s cheek as if she’s merely consoling a saddened child.
Ellie doesn’t think as time slows down - her hand shoots out to the switchblade Y/N has discarded on the edge of the table after untying Ellie. With a flick of her wrist the glinting blade of the knife flips out and before the woman beneath Ellie can even form a word or make a move to push her off, Ellie plunges the weapon into her heart.
A choked cry leaves Y/N as the knife makes itself a home in her chest, piercing her heart with all the strength Ellie can muster - her hands stay clasped around the weapon as it sticks in the woman’s chest, her chest heaving with the gravity of what she’s done as well as the edge of relief. A sob jerks out of Ellie as Y/N’s breathing falters, blood seeping out from around the weapon’s entry in her flesh.
Ellie’s grief mounts as she bows over, sobs tearing out of her, ugly and real. Y/N breathes out once more before her body stills, her hands slips from Ellie’s cheek and lands on the wooden table with a dull thud as her heart stops beating.
This won’t bring him back, it won’t give Ellie the late nights on the deck with a cold bear as they talk about god knows what, it won’t stop the ache in her chest when she listens to his records after a long shift.
This is simply an end - an end to violence, to people disappearing and an end of the endless questions Ellie has been asking herself for the last months. It’s an end and it happened through Ellie’s hands, brutal and bloody.
“I did it, Joel.” Ellie whispers through her own tears.
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 detective!ellie williams x mobster!reader / 7.5k words
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 angst, alcohol abuse, murder, debiction of death, mutilation, smut (fingering, pussy eating, dub/con, scissoring) MDNI
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 hi hi, OMG! I'm so excited for u all to read this! i had so much fun making this, it's a work i'm so so proud of and i hope you all see that, thank you for checking it out and i hope you all like it! (just to let u know - this fic is 16 pages long in my google doc) (divider cr. goes to @saradika-graphics )
♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎
“You look like shit, Williams.” The provoking tone of Captain Servopoulos scrapes at Ellie’s very prominent hangover. She lets herself fall into the chair by her captain’s desk, legs crossed and one hand brushing over her face with a huff. Too much whiskey and too little time to have her body fight it.
“Thanks Tess.” Ellie murmurs around an unlit cigarette which will do nothing to solve the insistent pounding behind her right eye. “Don’t call me that.” Tess grunts as she sits down in her worn office chair. Williams only answers with an amused huff, lighting the cigarette despite the yellow little sign by the door which forbids it.
The older woman opens the top left drawer of her mahogany desk and fishes out a worn yellow folder, one Ellie has only heard of up till now. She slaps the folder onto the desk with a sigh and Ellie knows that this is how shit starts - she’s assigned a case which no one wants and to be honest - she doesn’t want it either.
“Don’t tell me this is what I think it is.” Williams grunts in displeasure as a thin milky string of smoke escapes her nostrils. “Shut up.” Tess exhales as she pinches the bridge of her nose in mild irritation. “This is-”It’s a cold case, that’s what it is.” Williams retorts with snort, tapping ash into the empty paper coffee cup she brought.
“You’re giving me cold cases now, Captain?” The very prospect of being downgraded to cold cases bites at Ellie’s ego - newbies get cold cases, old pricks with retirement practically in their pocket get cold cases - not Ellie Williams, not the very officer who got the JCPD’s ranking up by ten in the last five years.
“It’s not a punishment, Ellie.” Tess tries, places a hand on the yellow folder to emphasize her words, though all Ellie feels is this sour feeling at the back of her throat.
“You can’t push me back like that, Tess. I mean, I’m one of your best.” Ellie attempts, placing the nearly finished cigarette into the paper cup. “You’re a drunk, Ellie. A hypocritical idiot who’d rather spend her days processing park tickets than using your skills as a detective to solve my cases.” Ellie shakes her head with a bitter expression, true words she doesn’t want to hear.
“I know the last year was hard for you. Joel’s passing struck us hard and I know it affected you the most but, Ellie, you have to get it together.” William’s jaw clenches at the very mention of her adoptive father’s death. Joel was a detective too, her partner in crime as he liked to call himself.
“Don’t bring Joel into this.” Ellie manages to whisper as the feeling of the cigarette’s nicotine turns ratchet in her veins. “I’m better, I did the whole therapy shit. I’ve been sticking to my desk like a good soldier and now you’re throwing me under the bus with a cold case?”
Tess barely contains her frustration, the cocked eyebrow tells Ellie that she’s pushing it, but she’s never been good at minding boundaries. “I’m doing you a fucking favor, Ellie.” The older woman pauses for a moment, flips open the folder and flips through a few loose papers. “This case isn’t cold anymore.”
Before Tess can explain further, a knock interrupts her. “Come in.” The Captain calls and with a soft squeak from the old hinges, the white wooden door with the lettering ‘Captain Tess Servopoulos’ opens and reveals a young woman. The dark hair and prominent nose stands out to Ellie - what annoys her even more though is the too bright smile and the awkward stance. “You wanted to see me, Ma’am?”
“Who the hell is that?” Williams tries to whisper to Tess, though it isn’t a whisper at all. Tess shoots her a scalding look, telling her to shut the fuck up. “This is Dina Woodward, rookie and your new partner.”
The words slither into Ellie’s ears like a searing rod, making her heartbeat spike dangerously. She had said that she didn’t want a new partner, not after Joel. Not after she had to bury the only man who has always had her back, not after it all. Ellie was good alone, better than good and this feels like a replacement. Like Tess saying ‘get over it’ without the actual words and it’s fucking awful.
“Fuck no!” Ellie spits with as much venom as the day she identified Joel’s murderer and it makes something burn behind her ribs. Dina looks like a deer caught in headlights, unsure about what to do - turn around and run, pretend this reaction to her simply stepping into the room never happened, possibly ignoring Ellie long enough for the detective to forget her or stay right there in the doorway and listen to the detective rejecting her as if she might carry the plague.
“Stop this instant, Williams.” Tess slams a hand onto the wooden table, her voice echoes off the concrete walls. “You will take this rookie and train her the way Joel did. You will solve this case with her and you will not under any circumstances do this alone.” Ellie crosses her arms, chest tight with anger and something painful she doesn’t want to name.
“Or what?” She whispers, the words a little breathless. “Or I’ll terminate you. I’ve tolerated your behaviour and slip ups out of the goodness of my heart but this stops now. You will take Dina as your partner and solve this case, do you understand me?”
Ellie knows that look, that tone of voice. Tess is serious and if she lets her anger drive this, ruin this - it’ll all be over. It’ll all be in vain. Joel signing her up for the academy, Joel training her for months on end just to be the best in her class - she can’t throw it all away, she knows that much.
“Fine.” Ellie murmurs, her shoulders drop in defeat as she takes a breath. The thought of a partner, a rookie makes her sick enough but Dina’s seemingly unbreakable smile makes her tad nauseous. “It’s an honor to get to work with you, Miss Williams.” Dina steps forward and offers Ellie a hand she’s sure will be sweaty. “Ellie’s fine.” The detective grumbles before she sidesteps Dina and opens the door.
“And Williams.” Ellie looks over her shoulder. “If you show up to work smelling like a dive bar one more time, I'll have you on archive duty for a month.” The detective gives one more pitiful sigh before she leaves the office without another word. The words are clear in her mind, flashing like a sex club sign - Fuck My Life.
The rookie, Dina, trails after Ellie like a lost puppy no one wanted until they reach her desk. Across from it sits an empty one, Joel’s one. Ellie never cleared it, she doesn’t know when it was cleared but when she came back from therapy, when her mandatory time off to ‘process’ the loss of him - it was empty and she never commented on it.
When Dina sits herself down in his chair, puts the yellow folder and her bag onto his desk and scowls a little at the worn mouse of the tattered computer in front of her, Ellie’s jaw works but she restrains from calling her any names - not a good look if she decides to go snitching to The Cap.
“Give that here.” Ellie snatches the folder from the rookie’s grip and avoids looking at her as she opens the damned thing up.
“I’ve read a little about the case, it’s truly fascinating how-”I can’t read if your gob is open.” Dina shuts her mouth quick enough and slowly shifts her attention to the sad excuse of a computer as to not aggravate her any further.
The papers inside the folder are mismatched and yellowed at some corners. Witness reports and statement papers are all over the place and the state of this case isn’t really a case - it’s a mess. Then, as Ellie flips through a few papers to set them aside, a few loose pictures flutter onto the roughed up wood of her workdesk. She takes the first one between her thumb and pointer finger - a crime scene photo. Two bodies lay splayed across a concrete floor.
Both wear a red oozing bullet hole across their foreheads, eyes wide open. The body on the right is already covered with a white sheet up to the shoulders but the angle isn’t good and she can’t make out his face. The one on the left has his leg bent at an unnatural angle, fingers sprouting on the left hand as if all broken individually - the way those bodies were broken suggests torture before the actual killing.
What catches Ellie’s attention though, is the symbol by their feet. Painted in blood, the symbol of what appears to be a key glints in the camera’s flash like a sign, like a warning. Ellie has seen this symbol before.
With her heart skipping behind her ribs, Ellie reaches for the top left drawer of her desk. It slides open with a faint squeak and she has to rummage through a few small half empty liquor bottles, candy wrappers and receipts she was too polite to reject at the register. Under all that junk her fingers pull out a folded crinkly picture.
With a breath to psych herself up, Ellie unfolds the picture that has haunted her dreams for months since the incident. Joel lays on the floor, arm wedged under his own torso, leg bent at an unnatural angle - broken and beside him his gun, magazine neatly placed beside it.
His forehead bears a bullet hole and his eyes stare at the camera wide open and glossed over. By his feet glints the same symbol, faint and almost dried into the cobble stone but it’s there - drawn in his blood.
Ellie’s blood roars in her ears, mind stumbling over itself - she knew it. Joel’s death wasn’t a robbery, not an accident. Nobody wanted to believe her, nobody was on her side when she insisted on opening an investigation, yet she was right.
Ellie doesn’t know how she’ll solve it, doesn’t know how far this whole thing even goes but she’s sure of one thing - she’ll find the person who did this, find the person who took the only constant in her life and turned it into a pit of grieve she’ll never be able to fill.
She’ll do Joel justice.
“Umh..Ellie..Ma’am..-”What?” The detective barks, fingers already pinching the bridge of her nose at the voice of her rookie problem.
“I swear to god - if you tell me something motivational, I’ll hit you in the face.” Dina pales a little, eyes darting everywhere but at the very disgruntled woman across from her as she points at the receiver in her hand. “Crimescene, umh..they said it’s about our case.”
Ellie’s eyebrows lift a little, interest piquing at her rookie’s words. “A crime scene?" The rookie swallows once, visibly, almost relieved that her detective won’t hit her in the face yet.
“Oh, yeah - something about a symbol we might be interested in.” That makes Ellie ditch her slumped posture - spine ramrod straight as she slams the file shut. “Tell them we’re on the way.” Without waiting for an answer from her newbie, Ellie practically leaps from her chair - which the still very present hangover punishes her for very quickly.
The room tilts for a moment as she catches herself on the desk. “You alright, Ellie?” With a shake of her head the room comes back into focus, there’s no time for this bullshit - hangover or not.
“Shut it, newbs.”
Dina parks the car by the curb, almost hitting the lamppost as her attention strays for a second at the mass of blue lights, media people and others in white forensic hazmat suits.
“You crashing my car on your first day?” Ellie utters around the plume of smoke escaping her nostrils and disappearing through the cracked window. “Actually-”I really don’t care.” Dina only sighs softly at the rude interruption but she’s growing used to it, Ellie thinks. This is no time to tally.
Williams exits the vehicle first, rummages for her badge in her pocket and takes another drag from her cigarette before flicking it down the drain. “Come on now.” Ellie cocks her head as Dina slips out of the car and jogs up behind her. “Why is this linked to our case if our case is cold?” The newbie asks as she pockets the car keys in her coat pocket, her gaze lingers on Ellie’s side profile, she can feel it.
“Because our case is obviously not cold anymore?” Williams casts her glance, eyebrows furrowed at the dumb question. “Just because the trails went cold on the last murder, doesn’t mean they’ll stay cold forever.” Ellie briefly shows her badge to an officer standing guard at the warehouse entrance, once checked, she shoulders past the man without another glance. “Do they not teach you anything at the academy nowadays?”
Dina puffs once as she steps in Ellie’s way, fists clenched and eyebrows drawn together. “I get it that you don’t want me here and I understand but, I’m here and I want to help, that’s my job. So please, stop berating me and let me do my job.” Williams cocks her head with a faint smile, almost impressed by her small outburst.
“I think your job’s right behind you.”
Dina cocks her head over her shoulder and her expression changes quickly, the irritation morphs into revulsion - your first murder is always an experience.
“Holy shit.” The newbie takes a step back as Ellie steps around her to get to the bodies. One lays front to the ground, nose crooked and faintly blue under a smear of blood - bullet hole in the back of the head. The other body, female, lays crumbled sprawled over a yellow plastic chair. Her arms are bound and her head slumped over the back of the chair, a bullet hole decorates her forehead in a splatter of blood.
Then, while slipping on the gloves which were placed on a small white table, Ellie sees it. There, by the female body’s feet glitters the familiar symbol. A blood painted key symbol is already drying on the rough concrete ground.
“The bodies are still warm, dead for about an hour - give or take.” Jesse, one of the only forensic people Ellie can tolerate, steps up beside her.
“So the unsub isn’t far?” Dina throws in as she snaps a few pictures of the bodies. Ellie tilts her head as she takes the scene in - the bodies left here like they did not matter. This isn’t calculated, no serial killer, this simply means to an end, cleaning up if you will.
“This is no ‘unsub’, Woods.” Ellie murmurs as she takes a closer look at the female body. She’s dressed casually, a pencil skirt and a blood splattered blouse. Faint bruises around her throat and collarbones as if she was choked before they decided to end her suffering with a bullet she saw coming. Information. That’s what they kept her alive for long enough to torture her.
“My last name is Woodward.” Dina throws in as she snaps a few more pictures, almost knocking Ellie over as she shimmy’s past to get a picture of the female victim. “It’s Woods for me.” Ellie couldn’t be bothered with remembering names, especially not of rookies.
The newbie doesn’t comment on it and keeps snapping pictures for the file - at least the academy taught her that much. Ellie moves on to the male victim. His face is turned half way into the concrete, his hand bent at an unnatural angle and his ankle is swollen and blue. They were rougher with him, less merciful as with her - if you can even call it that.
Ellie slowly turns the body onto its back, the short black hair still sticks to the blood crusted forehead where the bullet exited. His nose is busted and a tooth is missing - definitely rougher. “Jesus, didn’t go easy on him, huh?” Dina comments as she lifts her gaze to gauge Ellie’s reaction. “Probably a blunt object or a fist, hard to pinpoint.” Jesse throws in. “He was the one they wanted information from.” Ellie tilts her head, wheels turning in her mind. “She was simply leverage.” Dina is fast to write it all down on a small station issued notebook.
With a few slaps to the right side of the microwave, the thing finally blinks alive and a low hum from the electronic device fills Ellie’s ear. The small dollar store lasagna turns in sad little circles as if to say - hey, I don’t actually taste like the real deal, you’re just convincing yourself that I do. With a sigh, Ellie turns around to the top drawer by the barely functioning oven to retrieve a fork. Her mind wanders back to the case - to the parallels. Joel was somehow involved with this key symbol, maybe he pissed someone off and they got rid of him - but who?
The distorted ping of the microwave rips Ellie out of her thoughts and with a hiss, she pulls the little tin out of the device - it’s piping hot and she doesn’t own an oven mitt. With two fingers on each side, Ellie transports the tin to the small kitchen table “Fuck - Shit.” She curses as it’s burning her fingertips.
As she pulls the soggy paper covering off, milky steam drifts towards the ceiling and Ellie decides to wait - she doesn’t need to burn her mouth too. While she waits for her sad excuse of a dinner to cool down, she flips open the laptop which once belonged to Joel, as does almost everything in this house.
Ellie has to find out who is behind this symbol, who might’ve wanted Joel dead. So Ellie types “Key Symbol Jackson.” into the search bar. The search engine spits out a few hits that won’t bring her very far - even one about a swinger club but that’s nowhere near her preferences.
Then, as Ellie scrolls down to the very bottom, a link to a website catches her attention. “Lock & Key - Wood’s Services” - it’s a local locksmith business, has been open for centuries and has changed owners only once about ten years ago. Ellie has seen this place, of course. As her job requires her to move around town constantly - it’s not a heavily visited place, it’s just been around for as long as one can remember.
Then as Ellie scrolls down the homepage of the business, one little thing sears her attention - the key symbol. It’s exactly the same and it’s the symbol the locksmith uses. But why would a locksmith business go around killing people, why Joel? Unless - unless it’s a front, a front for something much bigger.
But before Ellie can even think about writing her findings down to rub it under the newbie’s nose the next morning, a small but audible sound makes her still. The back door of the house has this squeak - a squeak Joel wanted to fix since they moved in years ago but never got to fixing it, Ellie hasn’t fixed it either.
She turns her head to look over her shoulder but the masked figure approaching from behind is faster. With a sickening crack the hand of said figure drives Ellie’s head forward and smashes her nose into the keypad of the laptop - the website glitches away at the sudden key intake.
“Oh fuck!” She curses as a hand shoots up, only to come back bloodied. Then, the figure yanks her backward off the chair - the wood connects to the floor with a clatter and Ellie falls on her back, the back of her head snapping against the laminate floor. Her vision swims for a second, the pain making her nerves fray.
“Keep away from the case.” Is all the figure says before it vanishes out the back door as fast as it appeared. Ellie lays on the floor for a moment, sprawled like a very beaten starfish, nose oozing blood, back of her head pounding from the impact.
Any sane person would back off now, let the cold case be a cold case but Ellie is very clearly not sane. She can’t give it up - especially not now. Someone breaking into her house to beat the shit out of her, to scare her into wrapping the case up as a cold case once again means she’s close, means she’s on the right track - she’ll find out what happened to Joel and why it happened and she won’t give up.
With a grunt, Ellie manages to bring herself to her feet, blood trickles steadily onto her favorite triceratops shirt. With one hand braced along the wall and the other cupping her nose, Ellie manages to make her way into the bathroom. The overhead light flickers to life as she blindly tabs at the switch and what awaits her in the mirror only makes her frown. Her nose doesn’t look broken but it’s definitely swollen, blood coating her lips and chin - jesus, she’s a cop for fucks sake.
She presses a towel to her face as she lowers herself onto the edge of the greyish bathtub - this was a warning which she’s not going to hone.
The next morning Ellie doesn’t bother to cover up - she neither has the tools to nor does she have the skills to even try. A few people look as she steps into the station, probably speculating if she lost another bar fight last night or if gravity one again after having one bottle too many.
“Good mo-Oh Jesus, what happened to you?” Ellie can feel the overly worried expression on her newbie’s face. If she tells Dina the truth, she might be pulled into this and getting a rookie killed in her first week doesn’t look particularly great on her wrap.
“Stumbled.” Ellie grunts, the word leaves her a little naisily since her nose is still swollen from the very rude and unexpected assault. “Did you fall?” Ellie knows that Dina means well but she wouldn’t mind if the newbie just shut her mouth.
“Yes I did.” The detective sneers, collapsing on her ratty chair with a disapproving sound. “How about you keep organizing the damn file and shut your mouth while I fully wake up, mh?” Dina’s mouth quivers downward for a moment but she doesn’t retaliate, smart girl.
Ellie decides to focus on her computer instead, logs in and continues her research from yesterday. At the thought of digging deeper, her nose throbs once more to remind her of the warning, the simple words of leaving whatever is going on behind the locksmith business alone but Ellie’s always been rather stubborn.
The website from yesterday flickers as it loads fully, bearing the same simple design and limited information.
The key symbol stands as the logo of the small business and under contacts is an email - lock&keyy/[email protected], now if Ellie were an idiot, she’d send an email and ask for a visit to question the people behind it all but Ellie’s not as stupid as she currently looks so she decides to search the name included in the email - Y/N Marshall.
The internet shows limited results as always, people in Jackson rather stay private. Though one result catches her attention - a high school graduation post from Jackson High School.
A very badly formatted web post loads on the screen - the text doesn’t interest Ellie much but the picture attached does. It depicts a row of students, neatly captured next to each other. On the far right sits the picture of a girl, young and unsmiling but her eyes stare into the camera as if challenging it to do her beauty justice - it didn’t. Under the picture is no quote or teenish words telling the world to fuck off, just her name ‘Y/N Marshall.”
Ellie’s on a roll now, she’s got the face behind the blacksmith front and she’ll find out more, she’ll find out what the fuck is happening. With a click of her mouse, Ellie logs into the station's server and searches for someone named ‘Marshall’ and soon enough the system spits out a deceased ‘Theodore Marshall’, several felonies. The profile reads that he had died at the hands of Detective Joel Miller two years ago while Marhsall tried to fire a handgun at said Detective. Marshall died on the way to the local hospital, leaving behind a younger sister - Y/N Marshall.
Ellie’s downright ecstatic as she reads the evidence she so desperately knew was out there - Joel was killed because he killed Y/N’s brother. It wasn’t a simple mugging gone wrong, it was revenge.
Later that day Ellie is the only one left at the station. Her desk is lit by the smudgy old table lamp as she’s hunched over a notebook writing everything down of information she’s accumulated on Y/N Marshall and the blacksmith business she’s sure is just a front for something bigger.
When her phone pings once, signaling that it’s currently fighting its life on approximately ten percent of battery, she glances at the phone’s clock and winces - she’s not one to stay long, especially not until ten p.m. on a friday night. She logs out of her computer and stretches with a groan which someone passing might mistake as a dying racoon.
Ellie’s thoughts drift to the local bar, to the endless drinks on a tab she’ll never really pay off because despite it being Joel’s tab and not her own, she likes telling the bartender to put it on Miller’s tab. It feels like he’s just far away and not six feet under a couple miles away.
With her head heavy and eyes tired, Ellie lifts herself out of her chair and the hours of sitting at this damned desk make themself known in her lower back.
“Jesus.” She mumbles to no one in particular as the ache settles in like an old friend. She gathers her phone, pack of cigarettes and the old scratches lighter Joel gifted her for her eighteenth birthday and pockets the items into her jacket pockets.
With slow leaden steps, she makes her way to the glass doors of the station which lead into darkness of the night, the door closes behind her with a soft hiss and Ellie turns around to lock the door behind herself. Jackson is a quiet town but even quiet towns have loud individuals.
Without warning the squealing of tires sound behind Ellie and time seems to speed up as the telltale sensation of adrenaline shoots through her veins. There is no time to turn around, to even think of having her hands wander to her holster or let alone defend herself in any way possible as a hood is hastily thrown over her head - stealing her vision.
“What the fuck, hey!” Ellie yells once as she’s lifted off her feet and dragged into the inside of a van - she presumes as said vehicle pulls off. She’s held down by two hands as the vehicle jerks down the road. “Who the fuck are you?” Ellie barks at her captors. They tighten zip ties around her feet and wrists to keep her immoble and pressed onto the floor of the automobile, breathing hard.
Are those the people who belong to the key symbol, who answer to Y/N Marshall? The same people who killed Joel because he got too close to what they do? What do they even do? So many questions stir in Ellie’s mind that the sound of the van roaring down an off track road, the low mumble of the unknown people in the vehicle with her and her own questions swim together in a numbing swirl threatening to empty her belly in answer.
Ellie’s unsure how long the drive actually takes, no one in the damn car speaks to her, the only contact she’s having are the hands pressing her hooded face to the car’s floor, one holding her back down and one her calves.
After what feels like forever and a day, the van stops abruptly and her head knocks into something metal. “Oh fuck, ow!” The sliding door of the van opens with the same hiss as they yanked her off the sidewalk and one hand closes around the hood of her jacket, pulling her to her knees, causing her to cough at the sudden choke of the fabric around her throat.
“You assholes really know how to treat a lady.” She mumbles more to herself since none of them - she doesn’t even know how many are actually in the fucking car - talk to her. Ellie’s dragged out of the van by arms which, two of the people she can’t make out through the hood, hook under her armpits. Ellie lets herself be dragged into what she believes is a house since it’s suddenly a lot warmer. They haul her up a flight of stairs and into a room which is only dimly lit, judging by the limited sight of the hood over her head.
She’s placed in a plush chair, hood kept on. “Oh, please don’t tie our guest up, boys.” A low female voice speaks and it slithers into Ellie’s ears like a long forgotten lullaby. “Take the hood off, will you?” Ellie stays quiet as one of ‘her boys’ yanks the fabric off of her head. The room comes slowly into focus, swimming like she’s underwater and can’t get up for air in the midst of a bad dream.
The woman stands a few feet away, leant against a massive dark wooden table. Her stance is relaxed but in no way cocky, she holds herself with such confidence - it makes Ellie wonder if she’s ever seen loss.
“Who the fuck are you?” Ellie breaks the silence, cocking her head slowly as to read her intentions - if she wants Ellie dead, she would already be on the side of the road by the station, no, she doesn’t want her dead, not yet at least.
“I think you already know me, Ellie.” The woman cocks her head with the hint of a smirk etched into her features and that alone makes her stomach turn - she can’t read this woman, can’t get a tell on her and it pisses her off to no end.
“You’re Y/N Marshall.” Y/N only hums, her slender fingers picking at her sleeve in disinterest. She doesn’t seem surprised that Ellie knows her name, that she’s suspicious enough to dig into her facade.
“Fascinating, is that all you found out?” Her gaze flickers back to Ellie and the unwavering eye contact makes something behind Ellie’s ribs pound - maybe her heart which Ellie believed she had numbed with enough whiskey the last few months.
“The symbol, the bodies, it’s all you, no?” Ellie’s voice is steady but laced with the wavering of adrenaline. She tries to tug at the zip ties but the restraints don’t give.
“So you did put your cute little nose into my business.” Y/N drawls on, voice low and steady as she pushes off the chair to take a step closer to Ellie. “I don’t care about your business.” She hums in return.
“Then what do you care about? Because I believe you wouldn’t dig your early grave over a cold case, no?” The cold case - she knows that about the cold case, how long has she been watching? How much does she know?
“Joel Miller. He was my…partner, he was killed six months ago. The key was found by his feet and I want to know why.” Ellie manages as the familiar ache in her sternum accumulates again at the mention of his name, of his memory, of his loss.
“Joel Miller…doesn’t ring a bell.” The woman answers, tilting her head with her eyebrows drawn in question or disinterest - Ellie can’t really tell. “Why was the symbol by his feet then?” She barks, hands tugging at the ties in earnest. “Now, don’t get all worked up, Ellie.”
Y/N places a hand, cool to the touch, on Ellie’s cheek to direct her gaze to her. “You belong to me now, Ellie - that is if you don’t want to die here tonight.” Ellie’s pulse spikes as her finger traces the fluttering evidence down her throat of her fear, she’s playing with her and Ellie has no choice but to play along.
“No I don’t” Ellie whispers in response which sparks the hint of a smirk on Y/N’s face. With a flick of her wrist, she sends the men lurking in the shadows out of the room and as the door shuts with a soft click behind the last - Ellie’s suddenly aware of the proximity between them, the fact that she’s alone with a woman who commands men and silences people with the barrel of her gun.
“You’re pretty worked up.” She states, hands skimming down Ellie’s shoulder and under the fabric of her shirt, her fingertips nudge the textile of Ellie’s bra to the side and then her cool digits brush over the already pebbled skin of her nipple.
Ellie’s breath catches involuntarily at the contact, at the sheer event of being groped by a woman who she thought would kill her in cold blood a moment ago.
“Let me help you with that.” Y/N whispers as she retrieves her hand. She sinks to her knees before Ellie and brushes her hair behind her shoulders to keep it out of the way for whatever she has planned to do to her.
The woman reaches for the button of Ellie’s jeans and pops it open without much trouble, with a tug the pants pool now around her knees and Ellie watches in a mix of aversion and arousal as Y/N yanks Ellie’s panties down just as fast. With a little more pulling the trousers fall to Ellie’s ankles and leave her cunt awfully bare in the weirdly large room - and so close to this strange but strikingly beautiful woman.
Ellie fights the pressure of the woman’s hands as they push her knees apart for little as a second before letting her. What is she to do - tell her no? They’re far past consent it seems. “You’ll relax in no time.” Marshall whispers against the skin of her inner thigh, evoking goosebumps along the sensitive flesh. Without much preamble, Y/N dives in - her mouth attaches to Ellie’s cunt like it's always meant to end up there. Her tongue licks a fat stripe from entrance to clit - Ellie answers with a sharp cry, bound hands fisting into the soft hair of her captor.
“Fuck, oh fuck!” She shrieks at the assault on her center. Y/N doesn’t let up, if anything, she’s encouraged by Ellie’s outburst of pleasure.
“Shit, oh- fuck me.” Woods pulls back for a moment, chin glistening as she looks up at Ellie. “Already am, sweetheart.” Ellie has no time to retaliate before she dives back on, tongue swirling her clit in the best way.
Ellie should push her away, demand real answers and not get her pussy eaten by a woman with shady back business but fuck - it’s been a long time since someone has gone down on her, who is she to say no to a stunning woman licking her without the need for drinks and awkward foreplay.
Y/N sucks and licks at Ellie’s clit like she’s starving, like she’s been waiting for this pussy. Obscene sounds fill the air, mixing with the moans and whimpers Ellie can’t quite hold back.
“Shit, shit.” Without warning, Marshall plunges a finger into Ellie’s entrance - fingers curling just right as she sucks at her clit. Ellie keens at the utter volume of pleasure cursing through her veins. Her toes curl, her head lulls back with ardent noises.
“Gonna- oh fuck fuck, gonna.” Ellie stammers as Y/N pumps her finger into her tight hole, her tongue flicks along her clit like she’s writing a symphony Ellie’s supposed to feel in the marrow of her bones.
The orgasm crashes over Ellie like electricity shooting into every nerve her body inhabits, sharp and fast and so so good. A sharp cry leaves her as her body locks up, thighs shaking and closing around Y/N’s head. Her chest is heaving, body limp as the woman pulls back, chin glistening with Ellie’s juices. She pulls her finger from Ellie’s tight cunt and slips the digit into her mouth to lick it clean.
“Such a good girl.”
With heavy lidded eyes, Ellie lifts her head and licks her lips. If she wants answers, real answers - she has to get close, not the other way around. This woman is unguarded and way too sure of herself. If she plays along, if Y/N thinks that she has Ellie in her grasp long enough, she might be able to get those answers.
“Untie me.” Ellie rasps, voice raw and dry. Her wrists throb and she knows, what better way to a woman’s mind than mushing it up with the simple tool of sex.
“And why should I do that?” Y/N tilts her head as she gets to her feet. “Let me make you feel good.” She tilts her head as if she’s considering Ellie’s offer. “We’ll have other-”No, I want it now. I want my pussy on yours and make you come with my name on your lips.” Not the worst thing Ellie has said, to be honest.
Y/N’s head cocks, intrigued by the detective’s eagerness to give back the pleasure she received a moment ago. The corner of her lips lifts and she steps back to retrieve a small object from the wooden table, a switchblade, and moves to kneel before Ellie once more.
“Any funny business and you’re dead, Williams.” The woman warns before cutting the zip ties around Ellie’s ankles and the ones around her wrists. Y/N steps back to perch herself on the wooden desk, hiking her dress up and slipping her panties off without much effort.
Ellie doesn’t waste time as she stumbles forward, her pants which still pool around her ankles almost make her plant on the edge of the table - she kicks them off with a shrug of her foot.
Ellie hooks one of Y/N’s legs over her shoulder and one of her own up onto the table and positions her cunt over the woman’s. Then, because this has to be over as quickly as possible, Ellie rolls her hips and slides her slick cunt against Y/N’s.
She thrusts into her, the sound of wet flash rocking together fills the space. Marshall keens as Ellie pulls her leg up higher. “What is it that you actually do?” Ellie tries, her voice comes out wrecked and a little out of breath but she’s a detective to the bone and she promised herself that she’ll find out what the hell’s going on - even if she has to ask those questions while having her pussy wedged against a woman she knows for about twenty minutes at most.
“What?” Y/N whimpers, eyes half lidded as her hands roam up and down Ellie’s ribs. “The blacksmith, oh fuck, is it a front?” Williams tries again, sliding her clit up and down the length of her cunt, juices mixing in a filthy slurp.
“Oh, ah shit, yes yes it is.” Y/N whispers, voice high pitched with pleasure. Her fingers sweep under the fabric of Ellie’s bra to toy with her nipples, rolling and tugging at the buds in a way which makes her head swim.
“I sell coke - a lot.” Y/N manages between high keens and whimpers. This is working, her head’s so fuzzy with pleasure that Ellie can pull out the answers without any trouble at all. Her gaze sweeps over the woman beneath her - she’s truly beautiful, in another world they might’ve been a good match.
Y/N’s breathing is growing ragged quickly as Ellie picks up her pace, lifting the hand resting on the woman’s thigh to rub tight and quick circles on her clit with her thumb - Y/N mewls at the contact, the sudden spike of her orgasm approaching at a rapid pace.
Her fingers slip to the underside of Ellie’s breasts, kneading the delicate skin. The mixed sensation of their cunts slipping together, the friction of it all combined with the assault on her tits, Ellie’s close too - so so close.
Y/N breaks first, her body locks up, back bowing off the table as a cry leaves her. The stutter makes her pussy jump against Ellie’s and that alone is enough to push Ellie over the edge too. Her legs buckle as she has to brace herself on the table above the woman catching her breath beneath her.
Ellie’s knee slips off the table and she’s hovering over Y/N while catching her breath, her chest heaves and her cunt throbs with the aftershock of what they’ve both done just now. It was ecstatic, brilliant and so wrong - Ellie’s done a lot of fucked up shit in her life, but this takes the cake. Y/N licks her lips and lifts a hand to brush her fingers along the edge of Ellie’s jaw, tracing a few freckles there.
“Miller - I did kill him.” Ellie doesn’t even register the words at first, her own blood roaring in her ears from the spike of her orgasm is still going, suddenly firing again. Images of Joel as he adopted her, gave her a home, holding her while she told him that she likes girls rush into her mind’s eye - she was so scared but he assured just enough ‘Doesn’t matter to me, Els.’ He had said. He was her dad in every way that mattered and this woman, this monster beneath her has killed him.
“What?” Ellie whispers as tears gather in her eyes, unwanted but present. Her heart pounds behind her ribs and she feels the rage, the grief making a home there once again.
“He took my brother from me, Ellie. I had to do something.” Ellie stays exactly as she is, hovering over the woman like a statue, eyes open and stinging as a tear slips and falls onto Y/N’s flushed cheek.
“Don’t cry, you knew it before you fucked me.”
Ellie swallows as her fists ball up, eyebrows furrowing as a new kind of rage makes way in her chest. Her breathing picks up once again, jaw clenching.
“What’re you going to do?” The woman whispers, brushing her fingers along Ellie’s cheek as if she’s merely consoling a saddened child.
Ellie doesn’t think as time slows down - her hand shoots out to the switchblade Y/N has discarded on the edge of the table after untying Ellie. With a flick of her wrist the glinting blade of the knife flips out and before the woman beneath Ellie can even form a word or make a move to push her off, Ellie plunges the weapon into her heart.
A choked cry leaves Y/N as the knife makes itself a home in her chest, piercing her heart with all the strength Ellie can muster - her hands stay clasped around the weapon as it sticks in the woman’s chest, her chest heaving with the gravity of what she’s done as well as the edge of relief. A sob jerks out of Ellie as Y/N’s breathing falters, blood seeping out from around the weapon’s entry in her flesh.
Ellie’s grief mounts as she bows over, sobs tearing out of her, ugly and real. Y/N breathes out once more before her body stills, her hands slips from Ellie’s cheek and lands on the wooden table with a dull thud as her heart stops beating.
This won’t bring him back, it won’t give Ellie the late nights on the deck with a cold bear as they talk about god knows what, it won’t stop the ache in her chest when she listens to his records after a long shift.
This is simply an end - an end to violence, to people disappearing and an end of the endless questions Ellie has been asking herself for the last months. It’s an end and it happened through Ellie’s hands, brutal and bloody.
“I did it, Joel.” Ellie whispers through her own tears.
coming tomorrow (4th of February), here's a little sneak peak!
“And Williams.” Ellie looks over her shoulder. “If you show up to work smelling like a dive bar one more time, I'll have you on archive duty for a month.” The detective gives one more pitiful sigh before she leaves the office without another word. The words are clear in her mind, flashing like a sex club sign - Fuck My Life.
------------
“Fuck, oh fuck!” She shrieks at the assault on her center. Y/N doesn’t let up, if anything, she’s encouraged by Ellie’s outburst of pleasure. “Shit, oh- fuck me.” Woods pulls back for a moment, chin glistening as she looks up at Ellie. “Already am, sweetheart.”
(the second paragraph is a sneak peak of the smut part of the fic - it's not only smut. the fic has about over 7k words (i'm not entirely finished as of now) and it's pretty slowburn at first. I'm already very proud of this because i did a lot of research (to do the detective part of the story justice) and it's the longest fic i've ever written.)
will you give us sevika with the vibrating str@p please, baby?
Just because you said please and called me baby.
“Look at me when I fuck you,” Sevika growls, her hand cupping one of your tits as she squeezes it, making you look up at her glaring silver eyes.
“I’m— I’m sorry!” You choke out between your moans.
Her strap is punishing. The toy is at least eight inches long and the girthiness of it was beyond you. Your pussy clenches around it as if apologising for struggling. Your fingers meddle with the sheets, holding on for dear life.
“P-p-please…” you whimper pitifully, making Sevika laugh. The sight of you is just so pathetic.
You’re crying and struggling to take your big burly girlfriend’s vibrating dick when you had all the nerve in the world to give her attitude the way you’d done this morning. She’s not going to forgive you so easily, not when she’s been thinking of ways to punish you all day simply because she ran late in the morning and hadn’t punished you for your bratty behaviour.
Sevika pushes your legs further apart and thrusts deeper making you gasp and squeeze again. The simple view of your cunt squeezing the big toy, wetness coating the shaft like a desperate slut with a tight hole.
“Watch the way your cunt just swallows me in,” Sevika groans, knowing fully well you could barely even listen to her first order and maintain eye contact.
You look down where she impales your body and she grabs the remote controller.
“Looks like you need a lesson on who controls this body now,” the remote beeps and suddenly the toy buzzes harder.
You cry out, “n-no! Sevika! Oh!”
You push your head back, sweat making strands of damp hair cling to your temples as your pussy convulses and cums around the big dick.
gp sevika being way too big to fit inside you so she says “just the tip” but slides all the way and reader is too cock drunk to even notice 😫
tags : reader is a clueless virgin, unprotected piv, g!p sev, free use mention, objectification if you squint, cock-drunk!r, dom!sev, subby!r, virginity loss
Knowing that you’re just an innocent virgin who has no clue of how most things work in sex, g!p Sevika told you to just lay back and let her handle it.
Initially, you’d been very scared given how much bigger Sevika was in general comparison to you. Sevika’s body was mainly composed of thick muscles which scared you because in comparison to her 6′2 physique— you were tiny. Not comically tiny but still a noticeable height and size difference. So it took a lot of convincing for Sevika to get you to lay down and spread your legs for her.
She told you she’d be gentle and she’d use a lot of lube and make sure you wouldn’t get hurt— not as much as it’s supposed to when she took your virginity— not that you would know because absolutely clueless.
You watched her undress slowly as her cock throbbed with need. You watched how her member was leaking a little bead of pre-cum— testament to how needy she was just seeing you laid out there, waiting for her to come destroy your sweet little cunt. She placed one hand on your lower abdomen and pushed in.
She penetrated you slowly but each inch seemed to gradually cut all the wires in your brain. Your eyes were fixed nowhere, just staring at the ceiling with your mouth half open. Sevika smirked down at the sight of you.
“Want more of me, baby?” She asked, knowing the answer already.
You just nodded, “please…” you cooed weakly making Sevika’s chest swell with the power she held over you now.
She started moving— every snap of her hips pulled a grunt deep from her chest. The bed creaked, headboard hitting the wall over and over— making it impossible for your neighbours to stay asleep but who would honestly have the guts to face a neighbour like Sevika?
“Sweet cunt— so fucking tight,” Sevika moaned, “gosh!”
You wrapped your arms around her, and then quickly did the same with your legs around her hips. You clutched her tightly as she pounded in you. Your eyes squeezed shut, your brain already melted into nothingness.
And you liked it.
No— you loved it.
You loved being cock-drunk. You loved being her stupid little cock-sleeve, and given the way your pussy drooled for her big cock, you knew you’d have no problem taking her anywhere, anytime.
Caitlyn was a lot of things, but her core trait was probably possessiveness. If anyone so much as looked at you funny, consider them getting threatened by her in the next alley they’re alone in.
“Caitlyn, I didn’t intend to— I wasn’t flirting!”
She’d seen you talking to a classmate after college and now you sat there in her car at the passenger side, clutching your bag in your hands, desperately defending your actions and labelling them “platonic”— you were sure Caitlyn wasn’t convinced. Not judging by the way she gripped the steering wheel, her eyes focused on the road, lips pursed.
“Cait.”
She glanced, “yeah, sweetie?”
“I’m serious. I wasn’t flirting.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.” Caitlyn responded, voice cool, “but the way you’re being so insistent,” she tapped her nails against the wheel, “makes me wonder…”
“Caitlyn! I’m telling the truth!”
She didn’t answer once again.
You hated this back and forth of silence.
Once you both reached her place, she killed the engine and got out. Despite the way she was acting, she didn’t fail to walk to your side of the car and open the door for you. You got out, cautious. She led you inside and to the bedroom.
Caitlyn got in bed without a word and leaned her back against the headboard before looking at you expectantly.
You blinked. “Should I—?”
Caitlyn pointed to her thigh, “come here.”
You complied and slowly climbed on and straddled her thigh hesitantly. Caitlyn smirked softly but she didn’t let it show properly.
Her hand held your waist as she guided you back and forth on her leg. You let out a small whine when your crotch brushed the top of her thigh.
Caitlyn pushed you down, applied pressure.
You gasped softly, hands holding her shoulder tightly now.
“Say that you’re mine.” Caitlyn said, voice devoid of affection.
“I’m yours…” you muttered, moving back and forth, small moans leaving you as your pussy ached for more friction but of course your girlfriend was limiting your pleasure.
“Louder.”
“I’m yours! I’m yours, Caitlyn—”
“Mommy.” She corrected.
“Mommy…” you looked at her with those puppy eyes, or at least you tried to.
Caitlyn’s grip on you increased a little and she made you grind harder.
You let out another small moan, “mommy, please, I’m—... I need more. I need more than this.”
“Aww, maybe I’d consider that if you weren’t flirting around with others.” Caitlyn whispered.
“I wasn’t! I swear, I just… I love you. Only you.” Your clit caught against the seam of your pants, making you moan again, higher in pitch than before.
“Yeah?” Caitlyn pulled your face closer, kissing you softly. You returned the kiss, more desperately than you’d intended but fuck she kissed so good.
“I’m gonna cum for you.” You said, voice soft and rasped, “you, only you…”
“Yeah, cause mommy only knows how to make you feel better, isn’t that right?”
