#the last of us
a7estrellas · 1 day
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PEDRO PASCAL  dancing on the set of THE LAST OF US
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buckley-robin · 2 days
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Joel + hearing loss (insp from this post by @sentientmasstransit)
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millsheat · 3 days
whoever wrote on tiktok after the finale that “anna’s taking care of sarah whilst joel’s down there taking care of ellie”, i’m in ur walls tonight
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pedrohub · 3 days
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All "zombie-adjacent" films and shows tend to begin the same way - with the outbreak, and The Last of Us was no exception, taking its time to take us through Sarah's (Nico Parker) last day with her father Joel (Pascal), before she is brutally shot by a soldier who panics under pressure. It's pivotal, because the incident informs Joel's character arc for the entire series. "As quickly as that moment happens in the first episode, we shot that scene all night," said Pascal. "It was physically and emotionally one of the hardest nights of shooting I've ever had."
"That was a rough night," says Craig Mazin, showrunner. "I think we did eight takes and the one we used was take eight! Pedro was beating himself up, saying, 'I haven't gotten there, I haven't gotten there.' Because he knew how important it was. And then he got there. And boy, did he ever." ( x )
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cherrypickedxx · 2 days
when people (mostly the male species🙄) are mad about female video game characters having muscles. they are in a zombie apocalypse fighting for their lives, what do you expect😊
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azertyrobaz · 2 days
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This actually made my entire week already today.. 🥹❤️🥰
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joellellie · 2 days
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ellie's rich vocabulary series: part 7
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insxghtt · 2 days
hot knife — ellie williams x reader
if Ellie is butter, then you're a hot knife.
warnings: fluff, lots of cursing (it's ellie), lesbians being really really gayyyy, ellie and reader are 18
based on a request. y'all needed it, i needed it, we all need this.
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You were angry. Well, not angry like when someone tells you something you don’t really want to hear, or when someone messes with someone you deeply care about, or even when someone is trying to tell you what to do. No, this was a different type of angry. Something you have never felt before. 
It was like when you have a dog and this dog that you love so much only cares about someone else. Shit, you’re the one feeding it, you’re the one who covers that ungrateful dog with a blanket when it’s snowing outside, you’re the one who loves and would do anything to protect that dog when someone tries to hurt it, or kidnap it, or some shit like that. 
Of course, Ellie was not a dog. It’s not like you were comparing her to one, no. That would be just superficial and kind of mean, honestly. You cared about Ellie more than you would care about a dog. Also, Ellie was so much better than that. She was perfect. Every detail of her was just beautiful to you. You weren’t angry at her. You were angry at yourself for feeling like you were invisible every time she looked at her. 
Why did Ellie had to pay attention to every word she said? Why did she seem so happy when Dina talked to her? Most importantly, why did you care so much? It’s not like Ellie was your girlfriend. She was your best friend. Wasn’t it enough? 
Apparently, no, considering how shitty you felt when you saw Dina and Ellie laughing in the park while playing with snowballs. That morning, you were supposed to meet with her. You two made plans to have lunch together. Well, you didn’t plan that, but it became kind of a routine, so you though she would be waiting for you in front of your house like she always did. 
Ellie didn’t like to take care of herself. She was used to skip some meals and you were quick to notice it. Of course you would notice it, you were always looking at her. Since the day she arrived at Jackson for the first time. 
She was only fourteen then, but fourteen years were enough to make her tougher than the other kids. Tougher than you. You were more innocent than her then and that made it difficult for you two to connect. Yet somehow, you were able to sneak into her life. ‘If you are butter, I can be the hot knife’, you told her one time. That was the first time she laughed in front of you. Since that moment, you made it your goal to put a smile on her face at least once every single day. She deserved it. 
It hurt like hell when you realized you were not the only one doing it anymore. Dina was pretty, smart, confident. They made a good match if you look at it from any other point of view that it’s not yours. 
“You’re staring”, a voice next to you brough you back to earth. You didn’t have to look to know that it was Jesse. 
“You too.” 
“Do you think they’re like...”, he made a pause, obviously uncomfortable with the use of the word. “Lesbians... or something?” 
You raised your eyebrows and looked at him. “Is there a problem if they were?” 
“Well, I... No, it’s just that I...”, he stuttered. 
“You are unbelievable”, you sighed. 
“Hey!”, Ellie yelled when she saw you. “You!” 
She ran to you with a big smile in her face. For a second, you even forgot about that awful feeling. 
“I knocked at your door, but I guess you weren’t there anymore”, she stopped in front of you. Her cheeks were pink because of the cold. “Me and Dina went to sleep late yesterday, so I woke up late, and... you know.” 
Yes, of course, last night. When Dina and Ellie talked for hours and hours at the stable and you just decided to leave because it was just too much for you to handle. 
It was kind of funny how Jesse gulped when he heard Ellie saying that she and Dina were alone for hours. It obvious how much he liked Dina, but she didn’t seem to realize. 
“What were you two doing last night?”, Jesse asked. 
“They were doing drugs and making out, Jesse, that’s what they were doing.”, you said sarcastically. 
“Oh my God...”, you rolled your eyes. 
“We were talking”, Dina explained to him while she was getting closer. 
He laughed nervously and nodded.  
“I’m sorry I made you wait”, Ellie said to you. 
“It’s fine.” 
You just shrugged and turned away, now heading to the bar where you usually had your lunch. Ellie looked at Dina without really knowing what to do. You didn’t sound fine. Dina gestured for her to follow you and that was what she did. 
You entered the bar with her. It was weird how distant you were, but she tried her best to stay positive. You saw Seth from far away and gave him a signal. He already knew you and Ellie pretty well. He didn’t exactly like you, but he liked Maria, Maria liked you and you liked Ellie. That meant free lunch every day. 
When you sat at one of the tables to wait for the food, she sat in front of you. 
“Listen, I found this movie in one of the patrols and I...” 
“That’s nice”, you interrupted her, staring at your hands. 
“Okay...”, she nodded. You were not interested in the movie. Alright. “So, I was thinking we could...” 
“Did you and Dina have fun last night?” 
She opened her mouth to answer, but Seth called your name before she could say anything. You stood up and walked to the man behind the counter. 
“Thank you, Seth”, you said before taking the two sandwiches. 
The man responded with a mumble. You didn’t look at Ellie when you gave her one of the sandwiches, but she still followed you when you walked out of the bar. 
“Can you slow down a bit?”, Ellie asked. 
It didn’t really make a difference. It took her a few seconds to realize where you were going. Your home. Something was off. You two usually had lunch in the park. When it was too cold, you went to her place because it was closer. 
When you finally arrived at your house, you didn’t ask her to come in. No, you entered the door and closed it behind you. Okay, that was just too much. 
“Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 
“Oh, so now you care!”, you yelled too from inside the house. 
“What?”, she tried to open the door, but it was locked. “Did you just lock me outside your house?” 
There was silence for a few seconds. “No...” 
“The door seems pretty fucking locked to me!” 
You were being childish, and you knew it. With a sigh, you left the sandwich on the corner table and opened the door. Ellie stared at you, but she didn’t seem angry. No, she seemed... hurt? 
“Are you mad at me because I woke up late?” 
“Oh, fuck you! It’s not about that!” 
“Alright, then what is it?”, she crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation. 
You had no other option but to just deny it. 
“It’s nothing.” 
“Really? You think I'm gonna buy that?” 
“I don’t need you to, it’s the truth”, you shrugged. 
“So, you just ignored me and locked me out of your house for nothing?” 
“Maybe I didn’t see you.” 
“You did see me.” 
“Maybe it was the wind.” 
“The wind can lock doors now?” 
You really had no arguments, huh? 
“Stop...”, she whispered. “Come on, let me in? It’s cold.” 
You sighed and gave her space to enter you house. When you closed the door, the silence filled the room. Ellie took the backpack off her back and looked for something in one of the pockets. You watched in silence as she took a VHS film and showed it to you. 
“This is what I was telling you about...” 
“Who the fuck is Donnie Darko?”, you read the name. 
“I was hoping to find out.” 
Why did she had to look at you like that? 
“Well, I think Dina will love it.” 
“Dina? Why would I...”, she seemed confused for a moment, but then it hit her. “Wait, are you jealous of me and Dina?” 
Jealous. Was that the word? 
“Fuck, no!” 
“Oh, my fucking God, you’re jealous!” 
“No, I'm not!”, you could feel your cheeks burning right now. “Why would I be jealous of you two?” 
“I don’t know, maybe you have a thing for her...” 
“I do not have a thing for her.” 
“You have a thing for someone then?” 
Her confusion was making you dizzy. You sighed and sat on the couch of the living room. 
“Okay...”, she was still trying to absorb that information. She felt weird trying to picture you with someone else. “Who is it then?” 
“Shut up, I don’t wanna talk about it.” 
“I think we are already talking about it, so...”, she looked at you. “It’s okay. You can tell me, you know?” 
“No, I can’t.” 
“Because I can’t lie to you, Ellie.” 
“But you don’t have to lie... right?”, she said, and you finally looked at her with tears in your eyes. “Oh...” 
You didn’t have to say anything, it was too obvious. You were in love with her. The tears started to roll down your cheeks, and you didn’t try to stop them. It was done, you couldn’t go back in time. 
“I’m sorry.” 
Ellie was staring at the floor. Her silence was terrifying to you. What if she never talks to you again? All your worries were soon replaced by confusion when she let out a laugh. 
“You know what’s funny?”, she smiled and looked at you. “I spent a week with this movie in my backpack, scared that if I invited you to watch it with me you would realize I was asking you on a date.” 
She left the VHS tape in the center table. 
“And I really spent hours yesterday talking to Dina, describing to her everything I feel when you’re around, asking her if it would be too bad if I really did ask you on a date.” 
The way you looked at her made her heart melt. It was almost as if you were begging for that to be true. 
“So, is that what this is?”, you pointed to the VHS tape. 
“I mean, if you’d like that, then I guess it is”, she looked down, trying to hide the tears in her eyes. 
You nodded and stood up. 
“I do like that.” 
She stepped your way, your faces closer than ever. “Okay, then it’s a date.” 
You gave her a shy smile and paid attention to every single detail of her. Eyes, nose, lips. 
“It’s a date”, you whispered before leaving a soft kiss on her lips. 
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Cold nights, red Flannel
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Joel Miller X Afab!Fem!Reader
Summary: when the power goes out in your building Joel is more than happy to let you have his bed, but when his already sore back flares up in the middle of the night he’s given no choice but to share with you. Things play out differently than expected when he wakes up in the morning tangled up with you in between the sheets.
Warnings: SMUT (MDI) 18+ only, slow burn, dead child, dead people and the fire pit, cussing, age gap (reader is in their thirties), alcohol, Joel gets a ✨massage✨ thigh riding, teasing Joel, Dom!Joel, fingering, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, Joel is… big, slight breeding kink, raw p in v (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk.
Joel Miller Master List
Word Count: you’ve read my other stories right? This is long, buckle up butter cup.
The worst jobs earn the most money, it was something you were quick to pick up on, and if you wanted to live the best, you had to do the worst.
The burn pit was busier than usual, truck after truck with what seemed like no end in sight. Everything from your hands to your feet ached, clothes covered in the grey ash irritating your lungs, and the smell was unforgiving. You’ve already added your second bandanna, the lack of clean air nearly suffocating.
“You’re slowin’ down.” The man beside you notes, Texan accent laces his words as he crosses his arms over his chest, voice gruff from being here as long as you have.
“Coming from the man who has taken a water break every thirty minutes.” You snip back, lighthearted in your accusation, looking over to find your ‘coworker’, Joel Miller, tilting his head, brown eyes glaring under salt and pepper eyebrows. He points to the truck behind you, silently telling you to get moving.
You smile even though he can’t see it and turn on your heel, heading for the last body, but your cheeky attitude slips away. You swallow thickly, eyes scanning over the hooded and bound body. They are small in stature, an old cartoon character printed on the back of their white, clean shirt. They look so out of place on the blood and mud stained truck bed.
Only a child.
Joel is quick to notice your sudden hesitation, his own small smile falling as he follows your gaze.
“I’ll get ‘em.”
“No, it’s fine.” You stomp down your emotions, scooping the kid up, to light and frail, and walk them over to the fire. You whisper a prayer, like you’ve done with every child before and toss him over the wall. Soot blows up into the air, orange and red embers dancing among the cloud and you’re forced to pry your gaze away as the flame swallows their body.
“Last one!” A driver yells, the screeching of the reverse alarm cutting through the air. Relief washes over you, closing your eyes momentarily, the day was almost done.
“Son of a bitch.” You turn then, Joel’s looking at the truck in disbelief and when your attention lands on the man in the bed your jaw physically drops open.
The man before you is a literal beast, his height alone impressive but the muscle on him makes you thankful you never ran into him when he was alive.
Had to of been some kind of enforcer.
“Hey, yo, can we like get a horse or something? This guys fucking huge!” You call out to the truck driver who only sneers before disappearing back into the cab.
“It’s fine, I’ve got it.” Joel shushes you, steeping up and dragging the guy by his thighs closer to the edge of the bed, huffing and grunting looking for the best leverage point.
You laugh slightly, steeping back. “Sure, whatever you say cowboy, he’s all yours.” You cross your arms, excited to see how this pans out as Joel tries to position the hulk. To your surprise he’s able to lift the guy onto his shoulder with a strained groan. “Oooo okay, you’ve been working out.” You let out a sharp whistle, his eyes glancing to yours as he stumbles for the fire, giving you a playful wink.
The banter is cut short with his next step though when he cries out in pain, nearly crumbling under the weight as something in his back spasms. You rush forward, grabbing onto the body, helping carry him the rest of the way and over the wall.
“Fuck!” Joel barks, face pinched as he hunches over, hand pressing into his back.
“What happened?”
“My back… I’m fine. “ He grits out between clenched teeth, sucking in a few breaths before trying to straighten up.
Someone blows a whistle, signaling the end of the day and people start to rush past you both for the pay out line, ignoring Joel’s insistent cussing.
You offer your shoulder for him to lean on but he waves away your concern, telling you he just needs a minute to collect himself before you both make your way to get your ration cards.
Instead of signing up for another shift you decide to give yourself the next two days off, hoping to sleep as much as you can before hitting the next work period hard. You walk off to the side, waiting patiently for Joel out of habit as he goes down the list, rubbing at his spine.
Being this far from the fire you realize how cold it is, the setting sun the only indication that it’s about to get colder, and you know spring is still a few months away.
You glance to Joel as he haggles with the enforcer, probably over the shortened pay. Over the last five years you and Joel have worked together on numerous jobs, and he’s never shy to insist the right pay for the services you both provide. Though at first never coordinated, you both realized how effortlessly you worked with the other, always fast and to the point with whatever resources given, both searching for the most money.
You recall noticing him when you arrived at your first job at this QZ, his hair a little less grey back then but eyes just as intense. It wasn’t until your fifth job did you say something to him after catching him watching you for the first hour of your shift at the pit.
With whatever confidence you had, you’d walked right up to him, hands on your hips and chin tilted up with a sarcastic smile. “Does my stalker have a name?”
The notion had been so wildly outlandish that after he stared at you for a minute, mouth open and eyebrows raise, he barked out a laugh. A true belly laugh that had everyone turning their heads in shock and confusion.
It was the talk of the job.
Some new girl got the old grump to laugh.
From that moment on Joel decided to stick close by, your fiery attitude attracting him just as much as your smarts. He taught you how to play the system, which officers were more lenient than others, and when he grew to trust you he began taking you on contraband runs. You picked up on the trade quickly, surprising him when you started going out on your own and Joel knew he’d chosen well.
Joel now limps over, pulling you from your thoughts. “Ya know I have this stuff that can help with that.” You state, turning and walking with him towards your apartments.
“Got some icy hot, I’ll be fine.”
“20 year old icyhot? Yeah that most definitely will do the trick.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on him as he glares done at you. You raise your hands in surrender, walking the rest of the way in silence as the street bustles with life around you.
Parting ways at your building you watch for a moment as Joel limps along, shaking his head back and forth, a clear sign he’s talking to himself. You snort, grabbing for the door handle only to have it ripped away, your next door neighbor nearly knocking into you as she storms from the building.
“Woah, Joanne, maybe next time you can just run me over and we will call it a day.” You snap, glaring as she turns at the sound of your voice, she’s the buildings ‘manager’, a lose term for someone who takes your money and doesn’t fix a damn thing unless it involves her apartment directly.
Not much has changed since the end of the world.
“The entire building is out! I’m trying to get someone to fix it!” Her wrinkled face is red with anger, greying hair disheveled like she’d been pulling at the roots all day.
“Wait what?”
She rolls her eyes, exasperation clipping her words. “There was construction going on next door and they clipped a line or something. No lights, no heat, no fucking water to the entire building.” She turns on her heel, not bothering for what you have to say next and stomps down the road.
You throw your hands up in frustration, groaning at the sky, mentally cursing whatever was out there when a thought comes to mind. You bite your lip, weighing out your options before you are rushing down the street in search of Joel.
Luck seems to finally be on your side as you round the street corner, finding him leaning against a light post, talking to a man you recognize but can’t place with a name.
Jogging over the shaggy haired man’s eyes flicker to you, his posture becoming rigid before he quickly dismissing himself. Joel turns, expecting an officer or worse, and his expression softens as you slow to a stop beside him. “Heya Sunshine.”
When Joel decided to take you in, he made it very clear to others that ran around in the same under ground circles that you were not to be fucked with, being one of the few in his inner circle gave you a type of immunity not so sparingly given out.
“Hey… shit… my power is out.”
“Did ya forget to pay?” He’s mocking you only slightly, concern still underlining his tone.
“No, it’s the whole building, Joanne said someone must have cut a wire or something… I was wondering if maybe… we’ll I’m still covered in all this…” You hesitate, hoping he will fill in the gap as you gesture to yourself but he only stares. Joel always made you use your words. “I was wondering if I could borrow your shower, I’ll be super quick, I swear.”
Joel nods, looking down the road towards his building. “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem, give me about an hour to soak my back first and then you can come over.” You’re washed with relief, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug, catching him by surprise.
“Thank you, thank you so much!” Before he can reply you’re sprinting down the street and around the corner, he stares after you blinking slowly before looking around, a blush staining his cheeks.
Having only been to Joel's apartment a handful of times, it took you longer than you would of liked to admit to find his door, and there may have been the help of an elderly man along the way.
This time though, as the door opens, Joel is on the other side. His greying hair slicked back and still damp, he’s dressed in a long sleeve shirt with matching black sweats. “Well, don’t you clean up nice.” You make a point to look him over as you step into his apartment, breathing in the warm air.
Joel only snorts. “Yeah, sure. Bathrooms that way, should still be plenty of hot water, I rigged my heater a few months back.”
You smile at that, “What a naughty boy you are, Joel Miller.” You wink following his direction, closing yourself in the bathroom.
Joel leans against his front door for a moment, appreciating this side of you that is rare to see, as much back and forth as you two give each other at work you personality blossoms when it’s just you and him. And damn was it flirtatious. Some way or another you’ve kept a spark of life through the last 20 years that has Joel hooked like an addict, even if he could never bring himself to say so.
In the bathroom you’re pulling out your bath products, setting them next to his and the contrast of them makes you laugh a little. Pinks and purples next to dull grays and blues. You have the fleeting thought to look for something special just for Joel on your next run as you twist the shower nob. The pipes groan before sputtering to life, you wait until the waters just a little to hot before undressing and stepping in. You hiss involuntarily, skin blushing under the heat before you relax.
This was the hottest shower you’d had in years and you might just have to start lying about your power being out to get more of this. You allow yourself to relax for a moment longer before you begin to wash away the day.
You emerge thirty minutes later, steam following behind you, you’re dressed in your better winter clothes, but even that’s a stretch. Your sweater hangs on your frame, three sizes to big and moth eaten, your sweatpants in much the same condition.
Joel glances up at you from his rickety table, two mix match glasses and a bottle in front of him. “Is one of those for me?” He simply pours you a shot, sliding the glass across the table as you take your seat, curling your legs up under yourself. You lift the amber liquid in cheers, Joel mimicking your actions as you down the shot. It burns your taste buds, dropping into your stomach like a lead weight.
Coughing you turn the glass over, face scrunched in disgust making Joel laugh as he pours himself another. “Can’t handle your liquor?”
“Was never much of a drinker before all of this, haven’t acquired the taste just yet.” You manage to wheeze out, rubbing at your chest where it still burns. “Thank you again, it would have really sucked to of gone to bed still covered in that shit.”
Joel stands, chair scrapping across the floorboards. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Don’t need the whole building knowing I’m giving out free showers.” He gathers the glasses and takes them to the small sink, before opening his fridge, “How do you plan on staying warm tonight?”
“Um, probably throw on a extra layer and pray I wake up with all my toes.” You drum a rhythm on the table, watching him as he pulls a container from the fridge, grabbing two forks and walking over to you.
You attentions stays on the container as he drags his chair closer, setting it on the table. Inside is beef and rice and your stomach grumbles at the sight of it. Your eyes jump to Joel and he give you a smile, handing you a fork. “Eat.”
You know not to look a gifted horse in the mouth, splitting the container down the middle and enjoying the cold food as much as you enjoy the comfortable silence.
Joel suddenly lifts his head, sniffing the air before turning his gaze on you, stopping you mid bite to stare back.
“Do I smell… cookies?”
Your face lights up with a grin. “Oh yeah, I was baking in the bathroom.” He doesn’t look amused and it adds to your enjoyment. “Sugar cookies, specifically. You have your contraband, and I have mine.”
Contraband consisting of feminine products you’ve scored over the last few years, keeping nearly 70 other women fairly stocked and your pockets lined.
“Where ya hiding them? Under this?” He plucks at your shirt, distaste written across his face making you laugh, a sound Joel likes a little to much.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Miller.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively earning an eye-roll, his foot nudging your chair.
He slides you the rest of his food as he stands. “You can sleep here for tonight, I’ll take the couch.” He’s talking over his shoulder as he walks into his joined bedroom, leaving you to shovel the rest of the food into your mouth.
“Wait… your back, you should really sleep in your own bed Joel.” You can hear drawers opening and closing before a soft grunt of satisfaction as Joel finds whatever it is he is looking for. “I really don’t want to inconvenience you any further.”
“It ain’t an inconvenience, and my backs fine, the icy hot did the trick, just like I said it would.” He comes back into view carrying a very large red button down flannel, tossing to you. It’s thick, the fabric soft to the touch and smells clean with an underlying musk that’s unmistakably Joel. “That’ll keep you warm, a lot better than what you’ve got on now.”
“Really? Are you-.”
“Don’t argue with me. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to. Okay?”
A light blush tints your cheeks, glancing up at him through your lashes with a sweet smile that has his stomach tightening. “Thank you Joel.”
“You’re welcome.” He rejoins you at the table, watching you pick at a loose thread on the shirt.
Maybe it’s the fact you don’t know much about Joel, or maybe it’s the fact that this is the very first time you’ve been alone with him, no one else in the room, no traders. Curiosity sparks and it’s a hard flame to put out.
“Do you… are there things you miss about before?”
He glanced at you, your eyes still trained on the garment. “What do you mean?”
“Well like… I use to do kickboxing, I miss that a lot… I miss going on coffee dates with my girlfriends… things like that.” You shrug, refusing to meet his gaze incase he thought this was silly, ridiculous even. You were never good at small talk.
Joel is silent for a moment longer, biting at his lip. “I miss football with my brother.”
You smile. “Tommy right? My daddy loved football, he wasn’t going anywhere on Sunday night.” You laugh softly, resting your chin on your knee. “I miss mall Chinese food, they always loaded up so much on those plates and I could never finish it.”
“That was about the only thing I liked at the mall, we didn’t go there much though. I miss my guitar, I don’t even know if I could play it now if I remembered any songs…” Joel chuckles, “I loved the SNL show, tv in general I loved to stay up at night with…” His voice fades off, fist clenched slightly out of your peripherals and though you don’t know much you know at some point during the start of everything he had lost a child.
Clearing your throat you jump to change topics. “Do you like wine?” You lock eyes with him then, his expression a little more retreated.
“I haven’t found one I’m a huge fan of, but I never turn down a glass.”
Your smile does that thing to his stomach again and he can’t stop his gaze falling to your lips for the briefest of seconds. “Well good, there’s this lady I trade with in my building and she makes wine. I’ll have to bring you a bottle one night.”
The corner of his mouth twitches up, “trying to wine and dine me, Sunshine?” A blush creeps up your cheeks turning your smile sheepish.
“Maybe, only if you pay for dinner.”
Joel scoffs, the ease returning to his features as he tilts his head to the side. Your heart hammers a little faster under his gaze. “What a cheap date you are.” He mumbles softly, resting his elbows on the table leaning his head against interlocked hands.
“The cheapest.” You breath back, mirroring his posture. He smiles warmly butterfly’s erupting under your skin giving you that giddy school girl feeling that takes your breath away and turns your brain too mush..
“I’ll look forward to it then.”
You’d only been asleep a few hours when your name reaches your ears, startling you awake. You sit up mattress squeaking under your weight as you peer into the darkness.
His sleep riddled voice bounces back to you. “I need help.” Instantly your scrambling out of bed, flipping on a light as you round the wall to find Joel looking up at you from where he lay on the couch, red faced and defeated.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t get up… I gotta take a piss.” Joel hasn’t felt this level of embarrassment since throwing his back out working with his brother and had to be carried down to the hospital. The feeling only digging deeper as he watches your face fall padding over to him, extending your hands.
“I told you to sleep in your own bed, Joel.” You abolish gently, pulling him to his feet. His grip tightens on your arms, hissing as his back straightens out, taking the moment to get his bearings before he releases you, grumbling something under his breath and limping to the restroom.
You sigh, going to your duffle bag and rummaging through its contents before you finally come across a small bottle of chamomile and lavender.
Joel comes out a few minutes later, eyes trained on the floor. “Sorry.”
“Hey it’s okay, I tore my shoulder apart when I was in highschool and could hardly use it for a year. Had to have people help me all the time.” You try to sympathize with his situation, your expression soft and warm as his eyes find yours. “But, luck for you, I think you only pulled a muscle. And I have something to help with that.” You lift the little bottle shaking its contents.
Joel eyes it suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest, “I ain’t taken that.”
You scoff, grabbing his bicep, pulling him towards his bed. “You don’t take it, now lay down and lift up your shirt.”
Joel turns on you, looking horrified like you’ve grown two heads all of a sudden. “Excuse me?”
“Just trust me.” You pull him again, squeezing his arm, Joel hesitates, glancing from the bed then down at himself. “I use to be a message therapist. I’ve seen a thousand naked backs, yours isn’t going to be any different.” You encourage, smiling at him as he glances your way.
Sighing Joel relents, kneels onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and laying down, folding his arms under his head.
Maybe you were wrong.
Joel’s back is defined, scars littering in various stages of time, some more purple compared to others. Shaking your head you swallow your sudden nerves, kneeling beside him. You open the bottle, the smell instantly filling the room and dump it into the palm of your hand, the oil slipping between your fingers, soaking your sweats and you curse silently, setting the bottle onto the night stand.
“Tell me where it hurts the most.” You instruct, rubbing your hands together to warm the oil before placing them on Joel’s lower back, his hips twitching slightly at the sudden contact.
“A little to the right.” His skin is warm and he hums softly under your touch, shifting his shoulders and head, wishing he could see your face. “There.” You set to work, finding the knot in his muscle and kneading the area, digging your thumbs and palms into his flesh.
Joel groans, long and drawn out and a thrill works it’s way down your spine at the sound, “To much?” Your voice is softer than you initially intended it to be, much to sensual sounding.
It’s just a back rub. Nothing more, be more professional.
He shakes his head, his body relaxing fully. “You weren’t lying.” He’s muffled slightly by the pillow but you can hear his smile.
“Yeah I went to school and everything. It’s like riding a bike, you just never forget.”
“Get an A from me darlin’.” Your heart swells with his praise, staying quiet as you continue messaging his back, traveling up to his shoulders and back down to his hips, the silence interrupted occasionally by a soft grunt or groan coming from Joel.
It’s only when he goes quiet, his breath turning even and deep do you stop, whispering his name. When he doesn’t reply you ease away and into the restroom, washing your hands and shedding your oil soaked pants.
Joel’s soft snores are all that can be heard as you stand at the foot of the bed, chewing on your lower lip trying to decide what to do from here. The couch is now free, but there is only one blanket, which is now trapped under Joel. There are enough pillows to maybe set one between you both, make a little barrier of sorts…
Would Joel be mad if he woke up in the same bed as you? You shift your weight from one foot to the other, mind racing with every possible reason as to why he would be mad, before you finally take a deep breath and tiptoe to the other side.
Without giving yourself time to talk yourself out of it you climb under the covers, setting a pillow in between you, praying that Joel won’t be upset in the morning as you drift off.
Joel wakes up slowly, conciseness coming to him little by little with the early morning sun lighting the room. He’s warm, body heavy and mind sluggish from what has possibly been his best sleep in years. Selfishly he wants to hold onto it a little longer, screw whatever he thought he needed to get done today and bury himself back into his dreamless sleep.
It’s only when he shifts, his chin bumping something firm, does he feel the weight on him. Blinking slowly he lifts his head, looking down to find himself tangled up with you. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg slung over his hip while his own is slotted between your thighs, and you’ve seemed to have lost your pants; Joel being granted a perfect view of your black panties that hide little to the imagination.
And all of the sudden he’s overly aware of you, of how soft your waist is under his callused palm, of how you still smell of sugar cookies and lavender, of the little puffs of air leaving you full lips ghosting across his neck. Then there is how his flannel has morphed to your curves, twisted around your body showing the pudge of your stomach and his blood is rushing somewhere… South.
All he can think about is how damn good you look wearing only his clothing. Joel’s heart rate picks up, his fingers drifting to your hair on their own, carding themselves through the soft strands, “Sunshine.”
You hum in your sleep, grip tightening around him as you nuzzle closer, lips brushing the column of his throat making him hold his breath as you settle again.
I’m going to hell.
It’s all he can think, his body so readily responding to you and you’re not even aware of it. You’re in your thirty’s for fucks sakes he shouldn’t even be considering this… but…
Tentatively, his grip tightens on your hair, pulling your head back so he can finally see your face. You look so peaceful, your features soft and delicate in your sleep he almost hates to ruin it. Almost.
“Honey … sweet girl wake up.” Joel’s voice is firmer, cutting into your sleep, rousing you with a small grumble.
“What…” You voice is horse, rolling your head to the side as you yawn, sleep holding on tight.
“It’s just me.” He can’t stop himself, seeing the length of your neck exposed like that, he leans down, gently kissing the delicate skin and you gasp, body tensing slightly. “Just me.” His thigh shifts up, pressing between your own and he can feel the heat radiating off of you through his sweatpants and it makes him feral.
“W-Ah… what are you doing?” You whimper, eyes pinching shut, fingers digging into his ribs as he finds that soft spot just under your ear earning another small gasp.
“Repaying you… For last night.” His grip on your hair disappears, finding your hip and rolling you onto your back. Your eyes snap open, breath trapped in your throat at the intense look of lust etched into Joel’s face. Now that you can fully see him your stomach tightens, need zipping down your spine as your eyes drink him in.
Just like his back his chest is defined, shoulders broad with a light dusting of hair that runs down to his stomach, and just past the waistband of his sweats where you can clearly see the outline of his…
You swallow audible, causing Joel to snort. Your eyes dart back to his and you swear you can feel your body melting with the fire in his gaze. He dips his face closer, bumping his nose against yours and smiles as you nervously squirm, thighs clenching around his where it still rests pressed against your mound.
“This okay?” As he speaks his lips just barely touch your own and you already feel your thoughts emptying out one by one as you nod slowly, eyes never leaving his own. “Tell me, need to hear your sweet voice.”
“Th-this is okay.”
With that he’s on you, restraint snapping as he finally kisses you, rough and hungry and desperate. Teeth, tongue and spit, forcing a moan from your throat with the intensity of it all, that Joel is all too happy to swallow up. His thigh presses in closer, your hips bucking involuntarily, dragging a moan from low in his chest.
Your hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping anything you can find for leverage as he sinks you into the mattress, drowning you in the covers, the pillows, and him.
Arousal consumes you, sparking in your stomach and traveling through your veins making you light headed, having not felt this type of high in many, many years. You grind yourself up against his thigh, your slick wetting your panties and soon creating a darker spot on his sweats.
You moan as he pulls away, attacking your neck again and pulling at your shirt, trying to expose whatever skin he can. “J-Joel… m… what’s.. what’s gotten into you?” Your losing your breath, the hand he isn’t propping himself up with traveling over your body, down your thigh, up your side, fingers sliding along the other side of your throat making goosebumps raise the hairs on your skin.
“Just want you, been wanting you since I laid eyes on you.” He admits, your face flushing with heat. “D’ya know how many times I’ve fucked my hand thinking about you? All laid out and pretty on my cock.” A filthy moan leaves your lips, grinding against his thigh to relieve the ache building between your legs.
Joel sits back, both hands finding your hips, encouraging your movements. “That’s right sweet girl, just like that.” You whine into the air, hands dropping to the bed gripping the sheets. He stares down at you, lust darkening his brown eyes as you grind against him. “Make all those pretty sounds for me, it’s just us.”
You nod, chasing after your building pleasure, breathy moans falling from your lips. Joel ruts against the back of your thigh, hands bruising your hips in the most delicious way. “J-Joel… need more… please…” Your clit throbs painfully, the angle you’re at restricting you from rubbing it how you want against his thigh.
“So greedy, go ahead play with yourself baby, wanna see you cum on my thigh before I fuck you, senseless.” Your fingers find your clit and rub harsh circles through the damp fabric of your panties, flying to that familiar peak, teetering right on the edge as you moan his name, hips frantic, but you need more, you want more.
Joel coos softly, enjoying your struggle. The pinched look, the wobble of your lips, as you search for that last little something. “I know you can do it baby, cum for me. Show me how good you can be and soak my thigh.” His words are your tipping point, sending you spiraling into that void of dark bliss as your orgasm rips through you.
The noises that leave your delicate throat consume Joel, and he’s whispering soft praises that you don’t hear, watching your legs tremble and hand still. “There it is, did so good for me baby.” You go limp underneath him, chest heaving with each shuddering breath, eyes shut and mind to far gone.
“Let me get this off of you.” He takes his time, slowing down to let you ride your bliss, undoing each button of the flannel. “Sit up.” You hardly have to, just lifting your shoulders and head before he throws the flannel across the room and you’re sunk back into the pillows.
Your panties and his sweats follow shortly after. His lips back on you, kissing between your breasts his beard scratching your skin in the most delirious way. “Joel…”
But his fingers are finding your slick heat, a groan reverberating through his chest and into yours. “So fucking wet, you liked that baby? Like getting yourself off on my thigh?” Warm embarrassment fills your belly, reigniting that fire. You nod slowly, keeping your eyes shut to avoid his intense gaze. “You getting shy on me now? Just a second ago you were fucking my leg.” He smiles against your skin watching the red tinting your cheeks grow darker, turning your away from him.
“J-Joel don’t… Don’t be mean.”
“Not bein’ mean.” Two thick fingers are suddenly sinking into you, a shrill cry retching itself from your throat. “Just given ya what ya want.” Your brain turns to mush with each pump of his fingers, hands scrambling to find any perches, a set of nails digging into his shoulder, the other tugging at the sheets. “Fuck… you’re so tight, gotta get you ready for me.”
His thumb finds your clit, working the bundle of nerves making moans echo through the room. Those thick fingers press against that gummy spot inside you that makes your hips stutter, your moans a little louder and he smiles in triumph, teeth nipping your breast watching the skin bloom with red marks. “S’that the spot?”
“Mmhmm…” it takes everything you have just to hum out an answer, mouth hanging open, thighs trembling as you’re brought back to orgasm, again. Climbing that mountain, no running it, to your tipping point.
“Can feel you squeezing my fingers baby, you gonna cum again so soon?” Joel doesn’t need your reply, even if you could give him one, your hips rocking to meet the rhythm he’s set. He doesn’t ease up, watching you come undone below him with a few more expert swipes of his thumb across your throbbing clit.
You make him feel young again, his body thrumming with pure, carnal lust. Something he hasn’t felt in years as he draws his slick coated fingers to his mouth, tasting you for what, hopefully, will be the first time of many. “Mmm… So sweet baby, I could spend hours just eating you.”
You whine pathetically, shaking your head back and forth, hair clinging to your face with sweat. “C-can’t…” Joel shakes his head, laughing darkly before tapping your cheek with the pads of his fingers.
“Look at me, Sunshine.” The timber in his voice makes you obey instinctively, finding his steady gaze. He grips your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks making your lips pout comically. “I know you’ve got one more in ya, I need to feel your cunt squeeze my cock. Think you can do that for me? Hmm?”
Joel shifts closer as he speaks, settling himself between your shaking thighs. His cock brushes against your puffy lips drawing a small whine from the back of your throat. You nod, Joel letting go of your checks as arousal washes through you once more, almost painfully so, as he rocks forward, the underside of his cock slipping easily through your damp folds, coating himself in your cream.
He hunkers over you, forcing your legs wider and rests on one elbow as he guides his cock to your opening, nudging in. “Relax darlin’, don’t wanna hurt you.”
Before you can even comprehend what is being said Joel thrusts forward, sinking in a few inches with a grovel moan. Your toes curl, eyes squeezing shut with a whine, the stretch hurting in a way you never want to stop.
“F-fuck Joel… s-so big.” A hand slips into his hair, tugging harshly causing him to gasp, a wicked smile pulling at his lips.
“You haven’t seen nothin yet, little girl.” He pins you to the mattress with his weight, thrusting until he’s fully seated inside you, heavy balls pressed to your ass. Your pussy squeezes him tightly, pain mixing with the pleasure intoxicatingly. He’s big, bigger than any man you’d been with in years, and as he pulls out only to thrust back in, the head of his cock kisses your cervix.
“Oooooh fuuuck!” You cling to his shoulders, his neck, his back, legs locking around his middle; anywhere to pull him closer as his pace evens out, fucking into you roughly. The old bed squeaks, headboard tapping the wall and above it all are the sounds leaving your lips to mix with his.
“Feel so good baby… been dreaming about this pussy.” Joel huffs out between thrusts, pressing his forehead to yours. The farther he slips into his arousal the thicker his accent gets, words dripping onto your nerves like honey.
“Wanted you to… so long Joel .” You pant, rocking your hips to match what he’s giving you. That glorious pressure building again in your body, cunt fluttering around his cock. “Don’t stop… oh fuck please don’t stop.” You can feel every ridge and vein rubbing along your walls in just the right way, his mushroom head bullying that sweet spot making your eyes roll.
“Not gonna stop, baby. Not gonna stop.” Joel groans, one hand gripping your waist to steady himself as he bullies his cock into you.
Your fingers slip between your bodies, finding your clit with a soft moan, rubbing tight circles. “I’m… im gonna cum…” you whine against his lips, noses bumping, breathing each others air.
“Come on then… cum on my cock baby, let me feel it.” Joel knows he won’t last much longer his thrust starting to turn sloppy. “Fuck… wanna fuck you full of me, watch it drip out. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Let everyone know who fucked you so good huh?” You thighs squeeze his hips in response to far gone to acknowledge him as you topple over the edge, crying his name as the pleasure blinds you momentarily.
Joel cusses burying his face in the side of your neck, your cunt sucking him in . “Fuck baby, fuck baby, fuck!” He pulls back, cock twitching and jets of cum landing on your stomach and abused lips. He fists himself, grunting against your shoulder as he comes down, body relaxing and dopamine flowing through him.
“J-Joel…” You breath, feeling his weight more and more.
“M’ Sorry…” He whispers, rolling himself onto his back, your stiff legs dropping to the mattress. You’re both panting wildly, chests heaving and sweat coating your skin.
You blink at the ceiling slowly, the neurons in your brain starting to fire again. “Well…” A small laugh bubbles out of you, Joel lazily looking over at you confused. “I’ve never been woken up like that before.”
Joel scoffs loudly and your giggle turns into a full laugh, lifting your head to look down at yourself. “Do I at least get a rag?”
“Better, ya can come get in the shower with me.” Joel groans as he sits up, giving you his hand. “Gonna need another one of those messages after that.”
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alex-iltempo · 2 days
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Well, that makes two: You and the entire internet community
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ohcaptains · 1 day
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don’t you dare fall in love. | 2
pairing. dealer college student! ellie williams x f! reader
PART ONE. MASTERLIST.  synopsis. ellie tries her hardest not to mix business with pleasure. or, ellie gets a new customer and unfortunately falls in love with her.
warnings. 18+. drug dealing, panic attack, death references (light), creepy men (light), -- sexually explicit descriptions, dry humping, sleepy sex.
an. well. this happened quickly. thanks for all the love on part one. please comment & reblog<3 if this is being laggy, go to settings and smash the cache.
Ellie Williams is not a kiss-ass.
She would not kiss anyone’s ass for a better grade, but she would, theoretically, buy the textbook her professor has written to win good favour. She has tried chocolates. 
Tried reading around the subject: so, what do you think about Western’s ideas on thermal physics���still, Professor Sampson hates her guts. Hates everyone’s guts, really, so Ellie isn’t all that special. But she needs at least an 80 on this test, and she’s been getting 79 for the past month.
Ellie Williams is not a kiss-ass.
“You’re such a kiss ass,” Dina spouts, her voice directly in Ellie’s ear from her headphones. “Dina, we spoke about this. I would kiss no man’s ass.”
Ellie is in the science textbook section, trying to figure out how the staff have laid this place out. She can hear Dina smile, “No, we all know whose ass you want to kiss. She here?” Ellie looks around again, beady eyes like a frightened animal. “No, Dina, trust me. I’ve looked,” she whispers, reminiscent of a spy speaking through an earpiece.
“Trust you to pick the one day she’s not working to visit the campus bookshop.”
Ellie carries on looking through the shelves, head bent at an angle as she reads the authors. She talks through her Bluetooth, “I think the universe is trying to keep us apart.” “Or just the guy who does the rotas. What’s this book called again?” “A General Relativity course book.”
Dina snores, “Jesus, how bad do you need this grade?” “If I get this grade, then I don’t have to attend his Saturday sessions.” “Saturday? This man is—“ “Ellie!”
The distant voice cuts Dina off, and Ellie spins to her name, confusion on her face until she recognises you standing there, smiling in your uniform. You wave, far too happy to be working on a Monday morning. Ellie’s face splits open, excitement in her gut, a sudden living, breathing thing. “Hey, I looked around, but I didn’t see you.” “I was out back,” you state, motioning behind you. You play with your fingers for a beat, body inching closer, getting into her space, then stopping, suddenly -- she imagines you leaning to hug her, but your movements are reserved as if you’re telling yourself you’ve missed the opportunity.
Ellie aches with the memory of your hug, the touch happening in an alternate reality.
Note to self, Ellie thinks; hug her when I see her next.“What’re you doing here?”
“Ellie? Helllooooo…” comes Dina’s distant voice. Ellie ignores her. Focuses on you. Focuses on the way you’ve done your hair today. The cherry necklace that sits on your clavicle, glinting red against your soft skin. She dazedly stares at it, and when you cock your head to the side, waiting for her answer, she flinches back to reality. “Err,” she starts, blushing red, “I’m, err, trying to find a physics textbook, but I can’t find it.” “Oh, I can look on the system for you, if you want?” Who are you talking to? Is it her? – it’s her isn’t it? Ellie double-taps against her headphones, ending the call. She shoves them around her neck, breathing in the silence. “Yeah – please.” You throw her an easy smile, turning in the direction of the desk, “Follow me.” Ellie’s phone buzzes and she follows you, reading the new text from Dina: Okay asshole She quickly types, I’m sorry, you were ruining my ability to flirt Godspeed, and don’t talk about aliens again.
There’s a queue at the desk already, being served by one of your colleagues, but you walk behind them, signalling Ellie to cut the line and come to the computer at the end. She ducks behind the people, a smug smile on her face from the special treatment.
Your fingers clack at the keys, logging into something, concentrated look on your face. Ellie focuses on the small curve between your brows, wanting to make a home in it – so focused, that she doesn’t immediately answer when you ask, “What’s the book?” She manages to snap out of it, “It’s called ‘A General Relativity course book.’” You look up from the computer, pausing. “Okay,” you sound, pursing your lips, “not my type of literature, but I get It.” Your fingers drag on the keys, the clack echoing in Ellie’s ears. “It’s not mine, either,” she starts, hoping she sounds casual, “I’m aiming for it to win me good favour with my professor -- he wrote it.” “What’s your type, then?” you ask suddenly, eyes still on the screen. “Huh?” Ellie chokes, flinching. You look up from the computer, grinning slyly, “Of literature.” “Oh,” she bleats. The redness is back again – heat filling her cheeks. She feels it around her neck, too. Rubbing it, she tries to think. Luckily, you find the answer for her.
“I saw some westerns in your living room, the other day. Real old ones, too.” “Yeah—“Ellie speaks, cutting you off quickly. “Those…are, err, my dad’s—but I read mostly sci-fi. Space operas. Things like that.” “Mmm,” you hum, smiling at the screen. “So you are a nerd.” A surge of adrenaline hits Ellie, “I can’t tell if you’re flirting or just being mean.”
The air changes, responding to Ellie’s sudden confidence. Your tongue comes out, licking the corner of your mouth, all pink and red and wet. Yet you don’t answer, moving on with the drag of your mouse. “Ummmmm,” you sing, typing and clicking buttons, “We do have it.” “Sweet, how much?” “It’s…170 bucks.” Ellie’s stomach bottoms out, “That’s fucked up.” “I can give you my discount if you want?” you quickly offer, “But it’s only ten per cent.”
Ellie’s heart blooms at that. “Thank you – I appreciate it,” she says sincerely, “Lemme look online some more, okay? Maybe there’s a used version.”
Though, Ellie does fleetingly think about spending the money, just in case you work on commission. She supposes that bookshops might not do that…still… “Why do you need it anyway?” “I need an 80 on my test this Friday, or I have to go to his Saturday sessions for the rest of the term.” “That’s fucked up, you’re a smart girl, though. Can’t you just study super hard?” Ellie shakes her head, ignoring the words smart girl. Ignoring the way it makes her want to vault over the desk and beg you to say it again. “This man has never given me an 80 before. I’ve been getting 79’s for as long as I’ve known him. I was hoping the textbook would win him over.” “All this for one point? Who is this professor; want me to talk to him? I can be very persuasive.”
Your lips twist, a cheeky smile curling into your cheek. You put your fists up, readying yourself for a fight, and Ellie shakes her head, stifling a laugh – a real girly, schoolgirl giggle.
“This man hates the world. I’m pretty sure even your sunny disposition isn’t bright enough to lighten his mood.” You grin, quirking a brow. “My sunny disposition?” “Yeah.” “You think I have a sunny disposition?” your eyes go to slits, brows raised. Ellie suddenly thinks she’s said something wrong, but she sticks to her guns, “…yes.” “No one has ever said I have a sunny disposition before.” You lean on the desk, propping your chin in your hands. Ellie watches as you wiggle your brows, and suddenly gets it, “Does my presence brighten a room?” “Okay, you’re making fun of me now, I’m gonna—“Ellie jabs a thumb behind her, pretending to leave, “Nooooooo, wait, Ellie,” you giggle, and grab her hand.
Ellie’s brain turns off.
Like a mechanical power cut, her cerebral cortex goes completely black, humming with the echo of life. 
You must not realise that Ellie has turned off because you continue to hold her warm hand, asking, “You got any more classes today?” and Ellie’s cogs whir, attempting to send a message to her brain: wake the fuck up loser.
“E-Err,” Ellie stutters, trying to splutter back to life.
Her cheeks go red and her nose blooms bright -- the blush is so strong her chest burns. She does not move her hand. She does not move her hand, a cliché buzz crackling under her skin. 
The current shoots up her arm, through her chest, and there’s a fleeting moment where she thinks she’s going to have a heart attack.
“You okay? You look kinda pale.” “What? I’m—“she pulls her hand away, holding it to her chest, feeling the rush of her heartbeat “—fine. I’m---yeah. No classes today.” “So, you’re not up for a coffee?” you wonder, and yeah, Ellie is definitely having a heart attack. “I get off at 2,” you explain, looking at her, a nervous glint in your eyes.
“We could get a coffee…if you want? At the coffee shop on campus?”
Ellie goes silent. She knows that realistically she’s meant to say something, but in the fictional run down of this scenario, she was asking you. She wasn’t short-circuiting from you holding her hand. She was suave, cool, and flirty.
She was Ellie, the ladies man.
She’s clearly silent for too long, as you rush to speak. “It’s fine if you don’t wanna— “ Ellie cuts you off, “No!” she just about shouts. The word reverberates around the shop, and a few curious shoppers peer over, wondering if she’s berating a customer assistant. Ellie flushes, frowning at the counter, “um, yes. Yes, I would – would love to.”
You laugh, holding your hand where you held hers, and Ellie’s fingers hum with the memory of you.
“Sweet. I’ll see you at half two then?”
Ellie’s early.
She didn’t even go home. She just wandered, too fuelled with adrenaline to do anything but overthink. Gave herself multiple pep talks – you got this, cool, suave Ellie. No more loser Ellie!
At 2:45, when she thinks you’ve ditched her – that negative voice always alive and biting at her ear -- she hears someone holler her name. She spins, immediately finding you. You call her name again, waving, and breaking into a jog.
“Hey!” you beam, desperately holding the strap of your tote as you bounce. She lets herself ogle you for a few seconds – pretty in your flowy skirt and a tight t-shirt – but glancing behind you, she realises she’s not the only one.
Ellie sees a few curious jocks hanging near the vending machine turn their heads, and she’s filled with a sudden, terrifying need to take you in her arms.
It’s not the first time it’s happened, but this feels different. Feels almost violent. Protective. She inhales, body vibrating. The all-consuming feeling pushes at her temples, forcing pressure behind her ears.
“Sorry I’m late,” you huff, nearing. Ellie barely hears you. She glances behind you at the boys, her green eyes flicking over the scene. Their eyes are inquisitive, scanning the pair of you, trying to figure out the dynamic.
Ellie smiles softly, “No, you’re good.” “I just had to look for something quickly,” you explain, struggling with your bag. It looks heavy, and Ellie goes to offer to take it from you, but you glance at where she was looking, frowning.
You notice the eyes.  
“Um—” you start, flinching at her, small, flustered, “and I had to change.” You look back again. Two of the boys are whispering to each other, clearly talking about you. They huddle like a pack, discussing who’s going to go first, until one of them eventually waves, a sleazy, panty-dropper smile on his mouth.
You immediately tense, snapping back to Ellie, and Ellie takes your hand.
She doesn’t think.
Or didn’t think, as she took your hand in hers and pulled your body into hers, slinging a confident arm around your back and the other around your waist.
She tells herself she’s being protective. Friendly. Your body doesn’t relax. Instead, it tenses with the sudden change, and there’s a lightning flash moment where Ellie thinks she’s ruined everything.
Then, you hum.
She feels your body goes like jelly against her, and then your arms wrap around her middle, welcoming her touch as you lean into her. You nuzzle into her neck and Ellie’s whole-body flushes.
Looking over your shoulder, she stares at the boys, her green eyes livid and alive. They pause, off-kilter for a second.
“You’re warm,” you suddenly whisper, the nerves in your voice gone. Ellie doesn’t hear you, too busy feeling the fury course through her body. She licks her lips, eyes slipping into slits. One of the boys frowns. She watches and watches, and when they don’t look away, she brushes her mouth over your ear.
Ellie hears your breathing stutter.
“This okay?” she whispers, and you nod. You manage a clipped and quiet, “yeah,” into the shell of her neck, and air flutters against her skin, setting her senses on fire.
The boys eventually give up, turning their noses back to the machine, and Ellie carries on holding you. After a beat, you whisper, “They still there?” “Mm, not looking though.” “Thank you,” you rush, sighing, and Ellie squeezes your body tight, thinking, girlfriend, thinking, mine. The pair of you rest together for a beat, comfortable until a nagging feeling bites at Ellie.
Her fingers swell with gunk, her belly oozes green, shame a wave washing over her. You’re exactly like those boys Ellie, hounding her like a wolf. She snaps away, trying to shrug off the dirt that’s coating her skin, “Yeah, don’t mention it.”
Ellie buys your coffee, hoping it makes up for her crossing the line earlier.
She’s reserved as she sits, struggling to overcome the reddy green guilt that’s biting at her. 
There’s no hostility from you, though, as you rip open a sugar packet and pour it over the latte art, sprinkling it evenly over the brown and white foam. 
Ellie keeps her hands on her hot coffee mug, hoping the heat of the liquid will burn away the sudden sick in her veins.
You take a sip, then snap to, “Oh! I have a gift for you.”
You hoist your bag onto your lap, rifling through your stuff.
“When you left, I looked in the back.”
You pull out a thick book, heaving it onto the table. The slam of it makes the floor shake. 
Ellie curiously looks at the cover. When she reads the title -- A General Relativity coursebook -- her eyes widen. What the fuck? Did you buy it for her? steal it for her?
“The publishers send us sample copies,” you explain, putting your bag down. “I really didn’t think we’d have it, cause it’s so obscure.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ellie curses. She grabs the book and flicks through. It’s exactly the same, apart from Sample copy – not for resale, printed on the front.
She looks at you, eyes big. “Oh my god. Thank you. Thank you so much. What do you want for it? I mean I can pay you, or buy you like, twelve croissants or – shit,” she leans back in her chair, “your next pickup is on me.” “I don’t want your weed,” you quickly explain, shaking your head. You pause, rephrasing with a laugh, “I mean—I do, but not as payment. I don’t want anything, we were gonna throw it away, anyway…and…” you shrug, a small smile blooming. “--you’re cool.”
Ellie thumbs the textbook, considering you. She licks the corner of her lips and cocks her head to the side. “I’m cool?”
“Yeah,” you flush. With a small nod of your head, you bring your coffee up to your lips, and smile around the rim, “the coolest.”
Ellie rests the top of the textbook under her chin, watching you drink, then chew at your coffee-stained bottom lip, considering her. “Thank you for earlier,” you whisper. “With those guys.”
You reach over and take her hand, running your nail over her palm.
Ellie blinks at the huddle of your limbs on the coffee table, a warm, fuzzy buzz swirling in her chest, narrowly avoiding her heart, and she breathes the moment in, holding your hand as her subconscious whirls,
What are you doing, kid? A Texan accent whispers.
When Ellie gets back to her apartment, she strips.
Nearly tears her shirt off, body sticky, skin boiling. Her blood rushes under the surface like lava, threatening to erupt.
She can still feel your tight body against hers. Hear the stutter of your breathing as she brushed her lips over your ear. Your scent is stuck to her skin, and she itches, rubs, and squeezes, groaning in frustration as she tries to claw her flesh off.
She kicks her backpack, and her new textbook retaliates, jutting into her foot.
“Fuck!” she shouts, kicking it again.
She’s unbuttoning her jeans as she makes her way into her bedroom, and she slams her door closed, wood rattling on the hinges.
Confusion rips through her, a living and breathing thing. Though, as Ellie pushes her head into her mattress, she doesn’t feel all that confused. No, her belly is swirling, her skin warm and sensitive to the touch. She knows what this is.
“Fuck,” she sobs, clenching her fists.
You’re warm, you’d whispered, and Ellie had been too busy focusing on her rage to notice her want. You’d slot into her frame like a puzzle piece. Melted against her, mouth brushing over her neck, breath stuttering.
Ellie imagines the event differently.
She imagines storming over to the boys and grabbing the sleazy, hand-waving one by the back of his head and slamming it into the vending machine.
Anger floods her, comforting and familiar. So so fucking familiar. 
She imagines the glass smashing, imagines the shards scattering as she smacks the boy's head to the cement, reaching around and snapping his arm back, bone splintering, never able to wave again.
You’re warm, she hears again, followed by your pleased hum. Feels your soft, unbelievably soft body, and the brush of your hands as you’d rubbed her back.
They still there?
Ellie never forgets a face.
She could probably find them. Maybe she still deals to one of their buddies – she’s got connections. Knows people. 
She could find them. Find what frat they most likely lived at, and storm in, forcing them to line up for her with the knife she kept in her backpack clenched in her grip as she ordered, now show me your best smile.
She remembers the way you’d tensed up, that fun, bubbly aura you usually oozed disappearing. If Ellie wasn’t so busy holding you, she would have gone over there. 
Would have knocked their heads together like bowling pins, listening to them scatter to the floor.
It’s been a while since this rage has blossomed, and Ellie groans into the duvet, feeling a different kind of warmth, too.
Gingerly, she pushes her knuckle between her thighs and sighs.
“F-fuck,” she stutters, eyes fluttering closed. Her lower belly swirls, hips jutting. With her fist between her legs, she pushes her thighs together and moans.
Did she get this wet when she hugged you? or did this happen just now? when she was imagining making the boys bleed?
It didn’t matter, because regardless, Ellie knew that it was dangerous.
 Ellie gets your text for a pick-up ten minutes before you knock on her door.
At first, she thinks it’s Dina, so she’s pleasantly surprised when she opens the door and finds you standing there, a reserved smile on your lips.
“Oh shit,” Ellie spits, eyes widening, “it’s you. Did you fly here, or something?” she jokes, moving to the side. You don’t laugh, just hum in agreement.
“Usual?” Ellie asks, closing the door behind her. The air is thick and cosy, fueled by the dim lighting of her living room and the lack of real clothes. Sweatpants and a baggy washed-out hoodie. 
Her hair too clean from the shower she just had, that it falls in front of her face, begging to be noticed.
You twist to her, voice sudden and quick, “You got any weed that could put me on another plane of existence? or knock me the fuck out?” you ask, dumping your bag on the floor near your usual seat on her couch. 
“Had a really shitty week that I wanna forget.” 
It’s then that Ellie notices the bend in your brows. The flustered edge to your features. Bags under your eyes. You look like stress incarnate, and Ellie wants nothing more than to wrap you in a soft blanket and cook you dinner.
It’s been a couple of weeks since the coffee ‘date’, or incident, as Ellie calls it. You’d met up a few times since then, but never here, in the apartment Ellie lusted after you in.
“Oh fuck, yeah — yeah lemme –” She gets smiley, hoping it’ll change your mood, and moves her shit from the sofa, clearing a space for you. “--Sit down, make yourself comfy, lemme get some samples.” 
When she gets back from the bedroom, you’re curled up on the sofa, shoes off, and fiddling with the blanket she had wrapped around herself moments earlier, looking slightly less stressed than before. You give her a small smile, nodding to her TV. “Sorry for interrupting you while playing Uncharted, that’s simply unforgivable.” 
Ellie shrugs, clambering onto the sofa beside you. She opens a small bag, pulling out a joint. “I’ve played it before. I know that Nathan Drake gets the bad guy.” 
“Spoilers,” you smile, curling your legs beneath you. Your knees bump her thigh, and that silly, electric current shoots through her again, but it’s familiar, now. There’s less fear there. She keeps her thighs pressed against your knees, the denim of your jeans rubbing against her sweatpants.
“You gonna tell me what’s the matter?” Ellie asks, trying to mask her interest. She flicks her lazy gaze to you, and you fiddle with your fingers, quirking a small smile. “Just schoolwork.” “Mm,” Ellie hums, considering you.
Ellie has the innate ability to read people, so she knows you’re lying when you rub your neck and try and avoid her eyes. Tell me, she thinks, let me help.
Instead, she holds the joint out to you, figuring you’re not comfortable enough to tell her yet. “I got this new shit last week.”
You take it from her, sniffing it. “It’s meant to completely numb you out.” “You tried it?” Ellie nods, getting cosy on the sofa. “It’s stronger than the stuff you smoke. Didn’t know who I was for an hour.”
“I could do with that…” you trail off. She watches you fiddle with it, nerves pushing at your brows. “You gonna tell me what happened?—” You cut her off, “did you smoke the whole thing?” and Ellie pauses. Her green-brown eyes consider you before she reaches out and takes your hand.
“You can smoke here if you want. If you don’t wanna be alone while smoking something new.” 
You shake your head, “No — I couldn’t.”
Ellie slides her thumb over your palm, and beams when the knot in your brow loosens an inch. “It’s fine — I can play, you can sit and zone out. Be thoughtless for a while.” 
 When you don’t immediately respond, Ellie takes the joint from you, leaning for a lighter. “We can smoke it together, okay?” she asks, tone final. After a few seconds, you nod, picking at the blanket. You flash her a smile, “okay.”  
Ellie lights the joint for you, and your eyes follow her the whole time, intently watching as she ashes it against an ashtray. When she turns to you, her cheeks are flushed from your gaze. She passes you the joint, ignoring the heat at her neck, and grins, “ladies first.” “You’re annoying,” you joke, shaking your head and taking it from her. Ellie gets up to open the window. When she turns back, you’re taking a hit, and she’s forced to pause, eyes flickering over the pink of your lips.
She realises in all the time she’s known you – a couple of months now – she’s never seen you smoke before.
“Oh fuck,” you squeak, pulling away and coughing smoke out of your mouth. “That’s strong.” Ellie laughs, clambering back onto the sofa. You make space for her, then fill it, shoulder resting against hers as if you’ve done this before.
As if snuggling on the couch was something you did every Friday night. She smiles down at you, ignoring the swell of butterflies in her belly. “No weak-ass ditch weed for my best customer.” “Best?” you ask, offering the joint to her. She takes it and puts it in her mouth, tasting smoke, then something sweet and sticky. When she takes a hit and pulls back, her head rushing, she glances down at it.
You’ve got lip gloss on the joint. In her sudden fuzzy, slow mind, she stares down at the pink line of your mouth, blinking back to reality as the sudden rush fades.
You’re watching her.
She feels your hot gaze on the side of her neck, and she turns, seeing you gazing up at her from under your lashes, eyes wet with something. She forgets you’ve asked a question. Looks at the gloss on your lips, the stuff she’d just tasted, and wants to bathe in it.
Ellie hands it back, breathing a quick laugh, hoping it’s casual, “You’ve got lip gloss on the joint.” “Oh,” you bleat, blinking at her hand. “Sorry.” She shakes her head, “S’okay,” and hands it back to you, speaking – not really thinking as she blurts, “figured we’d share lip-gloss at some point.”
“Easier if we just kiss,” you shrug, and Ellie’s body flinches. She blinks at you, ears ringing with your words while you smoke the joint.
You said that, right? Ellie thinks. You pull it away, smoke pouring out of your mouth. “Yeah, it would be,” Ellie whispers. You glance at her, smirking, “I think you’d look pretty in pink.” Ellie’s body buzzes with something – a mixture of desire and affection. Her brows raise, voice a husk of itself as she asks, “You calling me pretty?” “You don’t think you’re pretty?” you wonder, matching her tone, whispering to each other like you’re two girls at the back of the class, sharing something secret.
“I bet those freckles get all the girls. And the eyebrow slit?”
You lean back against the sofa, breathing a sigh. “Panty dropper material right there.”
Ellie takes the joint from you, ignoring the image of you dropping your panties for her.
“It’s a scar, I didn’t cut it on purpose.” “Yeah? Lemme see,” and you lean forward, stopping inches away to peer at her eyebrow.
You’re there – right there, mouth so close to Ellie’s eye that if she blinks, you’ll kiss her eyelashes. Ellie imagined this moment differently. Still, she revels in it. Takes a mental picture. “Huh,” you hum, pulling away a centimetre, blinking at her. Ellie inhales and gets a whiff of the remnants of citrus. Her eyes feel heavy, intoxicated by your proximity. You must see it happen, because your mouth opens an inch, your nervous smile fleeting.
“How’d you get it?” you whisper. Ellie licks her lips, nearly touching your mouth. “Fell on my bike when I was little, smashed my face against a rock. Had to get thirteen stitches.” “Ouch. You musta been a tough little girl, Ellie Williams.” Something black flashes at Ellie’s eyes, before the light comes back, buzzing alive. She grins, cheeks red, “still am.”  
The pair of you smoke for a bit, chatting and catching up. Ellie starts playing her game again, and you hold the joint for her when she gets to an action sequence, eyes on her the entire time.
Ellie keeps on dying.
Keeps on thinking about your earlier admission. The causal way you’d said, easier if we just kiss. The easy way you’d leaned closer – the way it hadn’t affected you.
Ellie dies again, and her pride takes a hit as a result.
Your gaze is distracting.
She feels it prickle over her freckled cheeks and the slit in her brow, then fleeting around the skin of her neck, dipping under her hoodie. Eventually, you peel away, turning to the TV, and Ellie manages to continue the game without switching to easy.
About half an hour later, you start to fidget. Ellie turns to you, and you catch her gaze, zoned out. Your eyes are red, pupils blown -- high as a kite.
“Oh, fuck,” Ellie laughs, “You look so high right now.” 
“Yeah?” you ask, then you laugh, the sound bursting out of your mouth as if it’s suddenly really funny. “You okay?” Ellie laughs, pausing the game.
You rub your neck, face changing, “This is — I feel really funny.”  “S’okay, it’s meant to feel like this.”
A small furrow builds between your brows. She watches you pause, staring at something off into the distance as if you’re falling inwards.
You fidget again. A hand comes up to rub at your chest, and Ellie slowly starts to become concerned. She leans over and touches your arm, “hey, you okay?”
You think about it, bottom lip between your teeth. After a second, you shake your head, clenching your fists, and Ellie’s eyes widen.
“Ellie,” you whisper, voice small. You suck in a quick breath, and her heart snaps. She leans closer, kneeling in front of you, bending to meet your gaze.
“What’s the matter?” Ellie watches as you shove your palm against your chest, rubbing where your heart is. Your breathing shakes, and Ellie knows this.
Knows what’s happening.
Her hands come out, holding your shoulders. “Hey, whoa. You’re okay,” but you quickly shake your head, the panic sudden and overwhelming. You rebut her words, “Mm, no. Nope,” and clench your hands together.
Ellie helplessly watches as your breathing picks up, panic threatening to consume you. She moves to meet your gaze again, but you’re avoiding it, looking away – trying to hide. 
Your breathing suddenly spirals, chest sucking in and out, and Ellie finally takes your chin, green eyes meeting yours.
“No, look at me. Eyes on me — babe. Hi, hi angel,” she whispers, so sweet it’s sickly. The endearments spill out of her lips, natural on her lips. Your scared eyes snap to hers, begging. “You’re okay,” she states clearly. “Just breathe. In and out, let it happen. You’re perfectly fine. You’re with me, okay? I got you.” 
She nods, taking deep breaths for you. Slowly, you begin to mimic her, breathing in deeply through your nose and out of your mouth. Your hands are clenching her thigh, holding the fabric in your fists.
“In and out. In and out,” Ellie nods, coaching you through it. You match her breathing, following her instructions for a few heart-clenching minutes.
When your eyes slowly lose their frantic edge, she cracks a smile, “Good girl. Like that -- you’re gonna be okay, just let this wash over you. No thoughts, remember?” 
The grip you’ve got on her trousers loosens and after a few minutes of fading panic -- mostly on Ellie’s behalf -- you speak. 
“My heart is still beating really fast,” you whisper, a nervous giggle falling out of your lips. Ellie takes it as a good sign that you’re laughing.
“Here, feel,” and you take her hand and push it to your chest. Your heart thumps against her palm, beating quickly and hard. She nods, “Keep on taking some calming breaths and it’ll slow.”  
You keep her hand there, and Ellie thinks that the pressure must be comforting. After a few minutes, your body relaxes. “‘’sorry,” you whisper, eyes closed.  “S’okay, don’t apologise.” 
“It’s embarrassing.” 
Ellie shakes her head. 
“Last summer, I went to Amsterdam with Dina and her boyfriend Jesse. I tried this new strand as an edible and thought, psh, I’m a heavyweight, I can take it. I ate the whole brownie before going out one night. Blacked out. Came-to near a canal, while having the worst panic attack of my life. Felt like I was going to die. I forced everyone to go home with me and had a panic attack for three hours.” 
“Three?” you laugh, eyes opening, and she nods. “Worst trip ever.” 
She feels your heart beat slow against her palm. Your breathing settles back to its regular rhythm, fingers loosening on the back of her hand.
“Feel better now?” she asks softly. 
“Yeah, think so. “
You drop your hand, letting her move hers away. It’s warm from the heat of your body, and she goes tingly from remembering where you held it. Inwardly, she scorns herself. 
“I shouldn’t have let you smoke that much.” You breathe a smile, rubbing your chest and resting your head on the cushions, looking up at her. “I’m a big girl, I should know my limits,” you shrug, “It’s probably because my body is stressed anyway.”
Ellie considers you, “You gonna tell me what happened?” Your face goes distant, finally admitting, “Mike cornered me in the library.” “Ex-dealer Mike?” Ellie asks, locking up. “Yeah,” you nod, “Asked me why I stopped buying from him.”
“The fuck?” she breathes. What a weird thing to do. Customers come and go. You don’t make it weird by cornering them in the library and asking why. You nod, brows furrowed at the memory. You continue to rub your chest, fingers pushing under the fabric of your top as if to calm your heart.
“I said I found someone new, and he musta not liked that, 'cause he called me a cheater.” Ellie’s brows shoot up, body tensing. The familiar pressure pushes at her temple, “A what?” You nod, licking your lips. “He asked who my new dealer was, but I didn’t tell him. Didn’t want you to get this shit, too.”
Ellie’s heart swells at the thought of being protected, but it doesn’t swell too much, hardened by the mere idea of Mike calling you stupid shit like that. “You could have told him. Mike’s creepy, but I don’t think he’d try anything.” Your frown deepens, eyes go distant. “I don’t know Ellie, he seemed…” you whisper, voice cracking, “he was really mad at me.”
Ellie doesn’t think. Just, opens her arms, and you immediately reach up into her, wrapping your arms around her neck and settling against her.
She breathes you in. Starts to rub your back, long fingers scooting up the fabric and sliding back down. 
Ellie feels the lines of you. Let’s you burrow into her neck, and she hears you exhale, the tension leaking out of you as she rubs your back.
Ellie holds you like you’re hers.
In some ways – ways she won’t even admit to herself yet – you are. It’s why she doesn’t hesitate to admit that “you know I’ll beat the shit out of him if he tries anything, right?” When you don’t respond, Ellie pulls away and cups your cheeks. She bends to your gaze, eyes hard as she proclaims, “I mean it.” “Do I have to pay extra for your protection?” you laugh, trying to break the tension, but Ellie can’t bring herself to joke around – too fuelled by anger -- yet she does flash you a smile.  
“Promise you’ll tell me if he speaks to you again?” You nod, finally meeting her gaze, “promise,” and Ellie nods, satisfied.
“Okay, let’s get you something to eat,” and she pulls away from the sofa, padding to the kitchen, your eyes on the back of her head the entire time. When she opens the cupboard door, she realises her hands are shaking.
Ellie feeds you.
The pair of you silently eat together, comfortable in the noise of her playing her game, the adventure-themed backing music filling the room. 
The high you both share seems to make you sleepy, and eventually, you’re resting against her, head leaning on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her arm. Your breathing settles and slows, and a couple of hours later, Ellie wakes.
Her PS5 has gone into sleep mode. The tv has switched off, and the only light is the blue beam of her gaming console and the moon cracking through the window. 
She blearily inhales the night, looking down at you, and the shuffle wakes you up. “Mm,” you hum, blinking awake. You lift your head and twist to her, Ellie dazedly watching the moon glinting on the side of your face.
“I’m sorry – fell asleep,” you whisper, rubbing your eyes, and Ellie lazily shakes her head, fueled by the cute sleepy look on your face. She wants nothing more than for you to rest, so she reaches out, caressing your hair, “No, s’okay, go back to sleep.” You hum, drowsily holding her hand, “Wanna get comfy.” Ellie, like always, doesn’t think. Too tired to remember the rules of your friendship, she pulls your groggy frame into her, and you immediately wrap your arms around her neck, letting her lay the pair of you down. 
She crowds you against the back of the sofa, arms around you as you settle against her chest, your hands pressing into the cotton of her hoodie.
You nuzzle deeper, and whisper, “Cold,” and Ellie reaches up, grabbing for the blanket. She throws it over the pair of you, and you smile into her chest, humming a thank you. A minute later, when she thinks you’ve fallen asleep, she hears your small voice whisper, “’ m sorry for panicking,” and Ellie shakes her head. “Shh,” she breathes, “S’okay baby,” and she places a soft kiss on your forehead. “Go back to sleep.”
When Ellie wakes, your hands are under her hoodie.
It’s the first thing she notices.
Not the beam of the early morning sun cracking through her fluttering curtains. Not the couple having an argument on the balcony beside her apartment, no – it’s your warm palms resting against her bare chest, fingers rubbing comforting circles into her rib cage.
Your face is snuggled into the crock of her neck, the tickly flutter of your subtle breathing vibrating against her hoodie. She’s still groggy with sleep, and it reacts instinctively to the touch.
Her whole-body flushes -- belly tightens, thick with something gooey.
She lets you hold her like that. Let’s you snuggle closer into her chest, nose pushing against her breasts, and she hums a lazy sigh, cradling your body tighter.
In Ellie’s absent mind, and sleepy state, she lets your fingers drag up, thumb sliding dangerously close to the bottom of her breast.
She’s braless – because of course she is – and your touch is so gentle, comforting – delicate, that Ellie leans to it, not thinking, not realising as she dozes off to it.
Too tired to care, it feels too good to second guess.
The small brush of your thumb continues, lulling Ellie into a catatonic state. At some point, you speak. Drowsily whisper a hum, then mumble something else.
“S’warm,” you mutter, shuffling, body dragging against hers as you drape an open thigh over hers. Your hand moves, too, thumb skidding over her nipple, lazily rubbing back and forth.
Ellie’s whole-body flushes.
She hushes a sound, cradling you closer, long fingers plunging between your thigh and knee as she hitches you higher. There’s no restraint there. No fear. In her hazy, numb mind, she’s thinking – closer. Thinking, more.
The warmth of the sun beams down on your intertwined bodies, cars bleat, and people yell – but the pair of you are none the wiser as you snooze, tangled with each other like vines.
Slow moments pass. Moments where Ellie’s rubbing your kneecap. Where your hands slip through her auburn hair, looping the strands between your fingers.
Ellie feels you shuffle again.
You dreamily mumble, “’ wanna be closer,” and she doesn’t fight you as you push into her, pressing her flat onto the sofa and dragging your hips over her body to rest completely on top of her. 
Almost instinctively, Ellie’s hands reach to rest on your ass, and you hum into her neck, pressing back against her touch.
“’ S’nice,” you mumble, kissing under her jaw. The touch makes her legs ache -- the warmth of it pooling between her thighs, and then slowly, oh so slowly, your hips start to roll. 
Crotch drags against hers, the denim of your jeans pushing against her pussy, and Ellie dazedly moans.
“Keep doing that,” she whispers, and you nod, mumbling an okay, as your hips sleepily drag against hers. Your hand clutches the side of her neck, and her name breathlessly spills out of your mouth.
Ellie, you whisper, semi-conscious, followed by a small whimper. The pair of you continue to move like that -- half asleep and desperate. The world spins. Morning fades, and when Ellie wakes, her whole body burns.
An intense pressure is pushing between her thighs, and her skin feels electric -- a live wire – with goose bumps washing over her body.
She blinks the world into focus. Something is tickling her neck, and it’s then that your predicament falls into place.
Your body is straddling hers.
Ellie’s gripping your ass, helping you drag your hips, and she’s suddenly incredibly confused, before her belly tightens, clit aching.
Oh fuck, she thinks, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
“Babe,” she bleats, needing you to wake you up. “Mmm?” you murmur against her neck, hips still gently grinding. Ellie doesn’t know what to say. Get off of me isn’t all that polite, but if you continue to grind against her like this, she’ll come. 
Luckily, she doesn’t have to say anything else, as you wake with a sharp inhale, and there’s a quiet second before you freeze, your body locking up.
“Oh my god,” you mumble pointedly into her neck, and Ellie slowly lifts her hands from your ass. “Yeah, I don’t –” she whispers, staring at the ceiling. “--don’t know when this happened.”
Heat pools between her thighs, and in her groggy, fucked out mind, she fleetingly remembers you starting to drag your crotch against hers, whispering about wanting her closer. 
Remembers you breathlessly moaning her name, then kissing her neck. Remembers her begging, keep doing that.
You fidget, hips innocently slotting over hers, and you choke an “Mmh,” sounding incredibly similar to a whimper. 
The sound goes straight to Ellie’s clit, and she mouths a curse at the ceiling. Her fingers flex with the memory of your ass in her palms, coaching you as you ground into her.
The silence drags.
Ellie’s body doesn’t stop aching.
You fidget again, as if you don’t know what to do – fingers flex against her neck, wet lips drag over her jaw and Ellie snaps. “Babe, I’m sorry, but you gotta—” she chokes, “—gotta stop touching me or I’ll—” Ellie doesn’t have to finish – thankfully -- because you suddenly slide off of her, seemingly getting it as you drop to the floor in a collection of limbs, scrambling to lean against the sofa.
Ellie’s hands pause in the air. She keeps completely still, begging for the desire to pass.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “’s’okay,” Ellie bleats, hoping you don’t hear the desperation in her voice, “it was me too.” “I don’t—” you start, shaking your head, and the pulsing between Ellie’s thighs doesn’t go away. She suddenly feels awful. 
After a few painful seconds, she notices you shakily get up, and you don’t say a word as you shuffle out of the hallway and into the bathroom.
When she hears the lock click, Ellie’s palm immediately pushes between her thighs, eyes rolling back at the ceiling.
Bad idea, she thinks, but fuck it. 
She imagines you doing the same thing. Imagines you resting against her bathroom door, your hand pushing under your jeans, coming hot and sticky over your fingers.
You’d whimpered for fucks sake. 
Moaned her God damn name, and as Ellie grinds against her knuckles, the memory of you huffing her a desperate fuck fills her mind, followed by the soft, quiet whisper of you breathing, wanna come, into the shell of her neck.
Ellie hoists herself off the sofa, ignoring the pressing heat of her cunt, and storms to the bathroom, knocking against the locked door. “Babe?” she asks. There are a few seconds before you mutter a “Yeah?” and Ellie closes her eyes. “You wanna talk about it?” She calls through the door. Your strained voice bleeds through the wood, “Not really.” The girl doesn’t know what to say. This has never happened before. So, she chooses humour.
She breathes a laugh, “At least lemme finish you off,” she jokes, and immediately regrets it, closing her eyes in shame.
She doesn’t expect you to pause, then whisper, “um. I’m good,” then, “it kinda already happened.”
“Jesus Christ,” Ellie groans, head falling against the door. “When?” “Think sometime after you asked me to keep doing that.” “You gotta come out, gotta let me see you.” “Can’t we just never talk about it again?” “Is that what you want?”
There’s another pause. 
“Ellie,” you whisper, pained. “If I see you, I’m going to die of embarrassment.” “These things happen,” she tries to counter. “They do?” “No. I don’t think they do.”
You groan, and she hears the sound of something hitting the wall. Ellie imagines you throwing a roll of toilet roll. “You have to come out sometime,” she speaks. “Nope. I’ll die in the toilet. Like Elvis.” “Not a good way to go.” “If it means literally never talking about this again, I don’t mind.” “Okay,” Ellie huffs, breathing a smile. “We’ll never talk about this again.” “You promise?” “Yeah, I’ll never bring up the fact that you sleepily came against me on one random Saturday morning.”
“Ellie!” you yell, throwing something at the door. There goes another toilet roll.
“Can you stop trashing my bathroom and just come out?” “Promise me!” “Fine—” Ellie clips. “Promise. I would Pinky promise, but that requires you coming out of the bathroom.”
Finally, she hears the door unlock. You pull it open, and fuck – there you are. Eyes sleepy and features flustered. Your t-shirt is askew, and Ellie fleetingly remembers pushing her hands beneath it, dragging her nails against your back.
You hold your little finger out, “Pinky promise to never think about it or bring it up ever again?”
Ellie nods and wraps her Pinky around yours, heat still swelling in her belly. “Promise.”
Ellie always was good at lying.
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buckley-robin · 1 day
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She woulda liked you. Not to say the two of you are the same. Definitely different kids. (insp)
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ohraicodoll · 2 days
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Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 6.6k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: She never paid attention to the newcomers when they joined Jackson until one of them begins to get close to Joel. Warning: Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Violence. Sexual Content. 18+ Minors DNI
She didn’t care when Jackson got new people. She wasn’t one of the regulars that crowded around the entrance, watching patrol bring them through, so similar to how they joined. No, she didn’t care because the rest of Jackson didn’t matter, just the two people she currently lived with. If it didn’t have to do with Joel and Ellie, she didn’t care. So it was at least a month before she met Harper, when she was added to their patrol duty. 
The other women in town, the ones that frequently fawned over Joel Miller, were different from his companion and she knew that. Her insecurity frequently reminded her that she didn’t belong in Jackson with these women that still took the time to dress up and do their hair. But she had seen Joel downright ignore their flirting enough times, had heard him reassure her that wasn’t the type he was interested in. Someone to watch his back. With teeth, he had said. Harper had teeth. She was a good shot, wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, and never complained about the work. She got along well with Maria, with everyone really, able to get them to talk about their interests and lives easily and seemed like an open book. Harper helped with the horses and in the food hall and knew how to cook and how to clean a rifle properly. And to her dismay, as she watched the patrol party enter the gates where she definitely wasn’t waiting for the man she lived with, Harper could make Joel smile. Not a smirk or a condescending tilt of the lips, but an actual smile. She watched them dismount from the horses and the woman laughed at something Joel said, his lips curving into a grin, and her heart dropped in her stomach. Because she wasn’t sure the man had ever smiled like that around her. Easy and charming, relaxed. Suddenly she was the old version of herself, anxious and unsure, insecure in her own skin and embarrassed. All her faults and problems blared in her head alongside the echo of the threat hanging over her head. Assimilate or get kicked out of Jackson. She was on her last strike after three rough months of living there while this woman had shown up and fit in better than she ever could after only a month. Her nails dug into her thigh sharply, the small hints of pain trying to keep her grounded. She’d almost convinced herself to turn around and walk home, leave before Joel could see her standing there with all her defects, but then his eyes met hers. And if she didn’t feel awful enough, his smile dimmed a bit, became unsure and almost bashful. Like he didn’t want her to see it. She wondered if Harper had noticed his eyes were more hazel than brown when he was in a good mood. They both walked over to her and she stood there, stiff and stabbing into her own skin, wanting to bolt. Harper turned to her, light hair catching the sun and blue eyes glistening. Perfect and still pretty even after the world went to shit while she was very aware she hadn’t brushed her hair in three days. “Oh hi, I don’t think we’ve officially met,” she smiled sweetly, adjusting the rifle on her back and the bandana around her neck. Joel cleared his throat, nodding towards her and ignoring the furrowed brow that was permanently on her face around strangers, “Harper, this is Red. Red, Harper.” “I’ve heard so much about you. Red’s such an interesting name,” she smiled with a light chuckle though it wasn’t as wide as the one that had been aimed at Joel, her eyes roaming over her. Taking her measure. She only frowned and ignored her eye contact, staring at Joel’s shoulder instead. “It’s not my name,” the words were quiet but raspy, a growl. Harper’s smile tightened in the corner of her eye. The silence weighed between them, stifling, and Joel cleared his throat, “Harper happens to be from Austin. We frequented some of the same spots surprisingly.” The words were almost an explanation or an apology, or an excuse. She didn’t reply, eyes still solely focused on his shoulder and avoiding looking at either of them. Small talk was hard on most occasions but this seemed impossible. She wasn’t sure how she should reply to that. Congrats? Good job finding another person you could easily talk to besides me? She chewed the inside of her lip, feeling uncomfortable and desperately wanting to run, words stuck until she nodded and spit out, “I’ll see you at the house later.” His brow had furrowed when she swiveled on her heel and started walking down the street, rigid and feeling the small welts of blood seeping into her jeans from her nails. ___________________ It wasn’t long before she started seeing Harper everywhere and she grit her teeth every time. 
When she walked into the bar, the location on her list of places to search for Ellie, she found Joel and Tommy chatting with the woman at the bar top. She was talking rapidly, a smile on her face and hands waving as she told some story. A hand talker. Tommy was behind the bar, leaning on it and seeming enraptured by the conversation while Joel was standing with his elbow resting on the counter, body fully turned to face Harper. All three chuckled at something and she watched as her hand landed on Joel’s arm, staying there a few seconds too long before sliding off. Too lingering to be innocent. She wanted to snap her teeth at her, go up to them and put her hand on his back or in his belt loops, a move he’d done so often to her. Push him against the countertop and take his mouth with hers or even straight grab Harper’s perfect hair and slam her face against the table. A million images flashed through her head only to come to a halt at remembering her predicament. Joel’s urges to try to join the community or risk getting kicked out. She knew she was a fine thread away from getting booted. One wrong step out the door and probably bashing in perfect new girl Harper’s face would do the trick faster than she could blink. So instead she pivoted, snarl in her throat, and walked out the bar. Harper became a regular on Joel’s shift. She only worked with the newcomer a couple times. She was good and that irritated her. The woman was a survivor and knew how to handle herself and watch out for others. All the things she usually found lacking in the townspeople and hated, Harper had that and more. She didn’t know what to do with that knowledge and the growing list of the woman’s skills. They’d been scouting out a small location, a couple of cabins a few hours away from Jackson. She’d rode to the far side of them and gotten off, checking the houses for anyone hiding out or seeing if there was anything good to scavenge. When she heard the sound of glass shattering and heavy thumps a few houses down, voices crying out, her heart almost pounded out of her chest. That’s where Joel had been checking. She’d ran fast, bow out, feet carrying her quicker than she’d ever run before on the muddy Spring ground. Previous moments flashed in her mind. Too many close calls. Joel’s blood on her hands from a stab wound. Joel hurt. But the action was already over as she barreled into the room. A Clicker lay bleeding out on the floor, a large hatchet stuck in the fungi petals of its face, mouth in a grotesque scream. Joel was panting on the floor with his back against the corner, pistol in hand unfired, while Harper stood over the infected triumphant. With a grin, she ripped the hatchet from its head and walked over to Joel, offering him a hand. She felt useless. Harper had his back. Teeth. _____________________________ Tommy had finally found her a job she was actually fairly decent at, after being taken off both kitchen and farming duty, but noticing she seemed calmest with animals. People didn’t want to work with her and in her mind that was fine, but in Maria’s it made her a problem. But she liked the dog kennels. They weren’t unlike her. She could understand their wants and needs, their habits and what they deemed their territory. Training them wasn’t easy but it was rewarding and it came with the added benefit that she was around the animals more often than people. She didn’t have to be talkative or put on a mask. They knew hand signs, could read her feelings and what she wanted. It felt comfortable to be with them. Often in the morning she would go and feed the dogs, go over their exercises, walk them in the outside yard they had set aside behind the kennels. Ellie had fallen in love with them as well and sometimes would tag along, was even there when one of the dogs gave birth. She’d been grossed out initially but once the blood and the goo and all the disgusting parts of birth was over and done with she held the small puppies in her hands and helped them find spots to feed. Joel had come a few times, watched them with arms resting on the pen door as they sat in the hay and held the tiny jelly bean puppies. Ellie had grinned, taking over naming duty, and had even held one up forcing Joel to name one. He’d frowned, shrugging at the little brown squirming blob, scratching at his beard, “I don’t know, Brownie?” “Really?” Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes, “So original. Naming it after its color.” “You named me after my shirt,” she chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the teenager. Those first few days when she hadn’t known how to interact but knew she had to make sure the girl was safe. Unwilling to give any piece of herself, especially her name. So Ellie had formed a piece from the rubble and taken it for herself. Ellie huffed with a sniff, nose turning up, and ignored the dig, “Whatever, Red suited you.” She held the squirming puppies in her lap, watching them seek warmth while holding a small container of sugared ice for the mama to lick and enjoy after pushing out ten little bodies, “Good thing I wasn’t wearing a different colored shirt.” Joel’s eyes were on her and she looked up at him, finding him watching her with the slightest tilt of his lips. She knew he was worried about her, had already been fighting tooth and nail with his brother and his pregnant wife over her position. He was working harder to help her than Ellie who had adjusted quickly. This was the one job inside of Jackson’s walls she was relaxed in and she could feel him taking in the way she seemed at ease. The smile grew, warming. “Did Maggie have the pups?” a familiar voice rang out. The smile vanished and she stiffened.
The kennels had been converted from one of the old stables, the dogs held in old horse stalls on either side of the room. She couldn’t see the woman from her position on the floor, the walls of the stall blocking the view, but she knew it was Harper that had walked in. She came up to Joel’s side, almost touching shoulders, and looked down at her and Ellie with the pups and Maggie. “Oh, hi Red,” Harper’s smile became a bit tighter, head tilting, “I didn’t realize you were the one taking care of her.” She didn’t answer, averting her gaze to Maggie and adjusting the bowl for her to lick. Ellie answered instead, enthusiastically holding the puppy up in her hand, “She takes care of the dogs now! Joel named this one.” The man frowned almost bashfully, shrugging, “It’s Brownie.” Harper laughed and her dimples showed, head quirking as she looked at him, “That’s adorable.” She couldn’t get up and leave with the puppies all around her and both Joel and Harper leaning on the pen door. She was trapped, listening to them chat and laugh and Ellie showing off all the dogs while she sat there and tried to be invisible. She wanted to scream, rage, do something other than be meek and small. It was like every time the woman showed up, the version of her from two decades before took over her skin. The girl who had been shy and timid and didn’t know how to fight back. She wanted to scream at her to do something, say something, snarl at Harper that if she touched Joel one more fucking time she’d break her wrist and shove it down her throat. Instead, she sat there, listening to Ellie talk to her easily and Joel’s soft musings, the three of them getting along better than she ever did. Try. Try. Joel’s pleas haunted her constantly. She was trying. God, was she fucking trying so hard. But this wasn’t an instance like with Grant who had touched her and paid the price or his fucking brother who had sneered in her face and called her a bitch. She could argue those were justified. She could have done worse to them and didn’t. But the problem was Harper hadn’t done anything wrong to her. She hadn’t been mean, she hadn’t touched her, hadn’t done anything but make her feel small in comparison to her presence. There was no reason to fight her, to twist her pretty locks in her fingers and smash her face in until the strands turned red and she was nothing but a cavernous hole. She hated settlement life. She hated the fucking politics of it all, the dance to be respectable. Before, there was no time to worry about feelings or what her and Joel were, how he felt towards her, what her role was in their complicated mess of a relationship. It had moved beyond just sex, but she wasn’t sure what exactly. They’d gone through hell together. Maybe it was that she happened to be there, a place holder to fulfill all he needed while taking care of Ellie, but now he had options. There were other women that could fill that place. Could be a better guardian to Ellie, could take care of Joel, could watch both of their backs. One that didn’t cause problems or that he had to jump to defend or cause Ellie to yell at gawking strangers on her behalf. She tried not to focus on it. Swallowed it down deep in the pit of her stomach and refocused back on the things that mattered, which were caring for Joel and Ellie. 
She tried not to think about it when later that evening when they’d gone to bed he pulled her into his body, hands roaming over her soft belly before gripping her tightly and pushing his hard length against her backside. She tried not to think when his fingers slipped inside of her, pumping in and out as his other hand squeezed her tit and pinched her nipped. Tried not to think if he was pushing into her from behind because he was imagining someone else’s face. The confusion turned to a twisted sort of pain and hurt and rage that needed an outlet. Defiance against her situation. She couldn’t do anything outside the walls of their house and her frustration was tearing her up. She was a fox with its foot caught in a trap, snapping and snarling at whatever she could but unable to do anything. She pulled away, feeling him slip out of her, and shoved him onto his back. Joel let out a small grunt at the hard push, but she didn’t care as she climbed on top of him, watching the small bit of confusion in his eyes. He knew something was off, but didn’t stop her. Let her take what she needed. She had to feel some ounce of control. So she rode him hard, nothing gentle to the way she rose and fell on him, sweat coating her skin and panting. There was no rhythm to it, only primal need and hurt carrying her movements. He sat up, brows furrowed and not keen on the distance of laying back, the angle changing enough she groaned. His hand caressed her neck softly in contrast to her harsh movements and the small tattooed stars on her collarbone he was always infatuated with. Almost as if he was trying to bring that version of her back to herself. But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to give him an ounce of control over her, show him he could affect her at all. Because that meant someone else had the power to hurt her. Twisting her fingers in his curls tightly, she crushed her lips to his to avoid his searching eyes, swallowing every sound he made from the pleasure of their jutting hips. Her nails scraped along his scalp and into his shoulder hard enough she knew there would be red lines in the morning. He was letting himself be distracted, giving in, snapping his hips into hers equally rough with arms a tight band around her middle and holding her to his chest. They were wrapped around each other. For once there wasn’t the coaxing sound of his urgings as he drew her moans from her usually quiet throat, his praise at how good she was for him and how she felt. He was silent in the face of her aggression and she wasn’t sure how to feel, trying desperately to chase that control and release of her emotions. Her lips left his swollen and bruised and she pressed open mouth kisses onto the hard muscle of his shoulder as the pace became a mess. It wasn’t about her orgasm at that moment. She wanted to make him come, drag it from him like a trophy. Show him exactly what she could do to him. And when he did find his release, the hot spend of his arousal filling her, she bit down hard into the skin of his neck making him groan harder and dig his fingers into her skin. He tasted like sweat and salt and the earthy air from working outside. She didn’t come, didn’t mention it or even want it, only held him tightly as he came down from the high and slid his hand over her naked back. His grip was a little harder and she kept her face tucked into his neck when he tried to meet her eyes. They went to bed without any discussion, him holding her to his chest while her eyes stared into the darkness longer, listening to his breaths. The sound of knocking in the early morning woke them up. She heard Joel curse and throw on pants and a flannel, not bothering to button it up before lumbering down the stairs. Sleep beckoned to pull her back under, breasts pressed into the cool sheets and covers slid down from Joel leaving. It was usually Tommy, up early and taking care of things or letting him know of any problems. But she paused at the distinctly female voice she heard. A few minutes later Joel came back into the room and began to dress fully. She bit her lip, watching him from where her face was shoved into the pillow, brows furrowed. Boots, jacket, holster, gun. Everything signs he was leaving the walls. He looked at her after snapping in his gun and paused when he noticed she was awake and staring, two large unblinking eyes watching him from behind her arms. Joel hesitated in the darkness, contemplating, almost guilty. It was supposed to be his day off. Yet here he was, racing off. “Harper said one of the guys is sick and they’re short one so I’m gonna go help out with morning patrol,” he explained and nodded to himself, thumbs in his belt. A reasonable excuse. She wondered if he hadn’t noticed she was awake would he have left without telling her? But still, she said nothing and tucked her face back into the pillow, exhausted and a little sad and drowning in her own deteriorating self-esteem and doubt. A few moments later, she ignored the trail of his fingers on her naked back, soft and apologetic, before he left the room. Most of the time it was Tommy asking him to fill in. He didn’t say yes often and would tell him to shove it before going back to their bed. But Harper had asked this time and she felt her hackles raise at the fact she’d come to their house. To ask him specifically. And he’s been quick to say yes. 
These feelings weren’t something she knew how to process or handle. Who the fuck handled being jealous of all things in the apocalypse? It was ridiculous, but settling in Jackson had allowed those things to creep in. She became aware of all she lacked and all she couldn’t handle and how other people didn’t have the same issues as her. She let her instincts guide her. The kennels became her home. She knew when Joel was home and avoided him, knowing that if she didn’t see him with Harper then it wouldn’t hurt as much versus death by a thousand cuts. She knew better than to try and sleep in the downstairs room, he’d only find her and yell at her to go upstairs, so she went to bed early or late. Asleep before he would show up or waiting until he was sleeping himself. Ellie followed her around when she wasn’t going to classes or helping out where she could. The girl never asked directly what was wrong, but she knew something was up. There was worry in her eyes and she would ask for help with inane tasks, trying to lure her home like luring a frightened dog home with a treat. She didn’t want to worry or hurt her, but the feelings were choking her and she didn’t know how to cope. Some nights, she missed her sister and having someone to walk her through it all. Annie had been so much smarter than her despite her young age. She understood the world better, was sassy like Ellie, and could read people so well. Unlike her who was gullible back then and immensely naive, unsure and anxious constantly. Book smart, but not much else. But Annie was gone along with that version of her. 
Sometimes she’d feel Joel inching closer to her in the bed, hands ghosting over her shoulder or brushing through her hair when he thought she was asleep. His lips brushing her skin. Never pushing, far too patient. 
When he left for morning patrol, she pretended to stay asleep. Harper would be in his group and when that happened, she liked to wait outside the house for him. The kennels welcomed her and she spent time with each dog, shoving her face into their necks and running her hands over their fluffy coats. She checked on the puppies and weighed them all, walking Maggie so she could get a break from the squirming things. She even spent time with the older dogs, taken off duty, making sure they got attention and massaged their joints and hugged them in her lap. Her brain made backup plans. If Joel asked her to leave the house, she could set up a cot in the kennels and stay there. There was even a small converted garage she could live in if she needed to. If they asked her to leave, she could go north and stay within distance enough she could visit Ellie often enough. Maybe set up a radio code similar to what Joel had told her about their friends Bill and Frank so she could set meet up spots. The latter was more likely. People only put up with her because of Joel and if he chose Harper then there wasn’t any reason to keep her in Jackson to them. Ellie would have guardians, she wasn’t necessary.
Hours passed while she cared for the dogs. She skipped breakfast and lunch, choosing instead to spend time training them or napping with the senior dogs in their pens.
It was mid-day when the doors opened and she heard footsteps enter. They weren’t familiar and her body stiffened instantly, shutting the pen door behind her as she exited Maggie’s enclosure. Sometimes it was one of the patrols, coming to switch out the dogs, but they didn’t always take them out unless someone was spotted and none had been taken that day. Her heart thudded even louder when she saw who it was, Harper’s smile a little too tight as she made eye contact. In all the times since the newcomer had joined Jackson, she’d never been alone with the woman. Now she didn’t like the lack of a buffer, the way her focus took in every inch of her. But in the same way, the cracks in her mask were showing. What had seemed gentle in the lines of her face were now condescending, mocking, ingenuine. Her lips were stretched thin in almost a sneer and those blue eyes were hard. Oh. She could see the game then, the cunning analyzing way this woman looked at her. She was right. Harper was a survivor, was so very smart, and was also willing to do whatever to get her way. You don’t survive this long by being sweet and kind and caring. You had to be ugly sometimes, but Harper had gotten good at hiding that ugliness from the right people. There was no reason to hide it from her though. 
The woman stepped further in and walked towards her languidly, trailing her hands along the stable doors. Her exit was cut off, having to move around the woman to leave, and she began to see the situation for what it was. A standoff. A fight. Her teeth were grinding, nails sinking into her palm if only to inflict some kind of violence to keep herself in check. 
Harper smiled, faux kindness painted on her lips, “They told me about you, warned me to be careful around you, and all the problems you’ve been having. They told me how you’re on your last leg here.” She paused and the smile widened, “You should just go and save everyone the trouble. Ellie’s doing great here and from what Joel has told me, he’s enjoying having his brother back and this new settlement life. If you really care about them, you’d realize you’re holding them back.”
Her blood was boiling, rage roaring through her head at Harper’s gall to mention her people, and she growled, “And you’re so worried about them, right? Concerned citizen?”
“Joel has been through a lot,” Harper spat out and she wanted to snap her teeth as if she didn’t fucking know, “He shouldn’t have to worry about some woman messing things up and getting them kicked out.” Some woman, as if that was all she was. The words were spit out of her mouth like they were covered in grime and blood. She didn’t even bother to hide what she meant. The words were all there, the implication that the man had opened up to her, told her about his life and what they’d been through, and his feelings regarding this new chapter. Things he hadn’t told her yet, too busy trying to douse fires and help her get settled. 
Cleaning up her messes.
With a clenched jaw, holding in the hurt and the anger to keep from showing the damage, she bent down and grabbed her bag to try and leave. There was no winning in this sense because she was right and she’d never been good with words. Better to get out of there, go somewhere else before the damage took hold and would start to fester, “Your concern is noted.” Moving to go around her and leave, Harper stepped in her path, shoulders straight and spine rigid with her chest puffed out, “It’s not just for them. This is a civilized place.” And you’re not that went unsaid, “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and go? They’ll be fine and happy. No one has to worry if you’re gonna freak out and kill someone and you can finally roam the forests and be back home.”
She was so close she could smell the trees and wind on her, the slight hint of sweat from the horse. Too close. Close enough she could wrap her teeth into her flesh and bite and rip. Too tempting.
“Or you can get the fuck out of my face?” she hissed with her teeth bared. It was all rising, the urge to hurt her. She’d hurt so many people for less and it would feel so good to break her knuckles open on her mouth, to hear the cartilage in her nose crack. But her smile turned smug and she only pressed in, almost chest to chest, and using her few inches of height to look down at her, “Or what? What can you do? They’ll kick you out and do you really think Joel would be on your side if you hurt me?” That made her hesitate. Because she wasn’t sure. With the other women, the men and their obvious disdain for her, yes he would defend her. But this new person who was like a merging of all he liked? Tough but good with people and pretty and able to hold her own, someone he trusted at his back. Would he defend her? Harper sensed that hesitation and, before she could blink, took advantage and shoved her back. She stumbled, losing ground, so aware she was trapped. The fox with its leg in a noose, all over again. Fighting would give her exactly what she wanted. Not fighting back made her weak, someone to trample on. Someone too weak to live. 
“Come on. Settlement life make you lose your bite or are the rumors hot air?” Harper hissed and shoved her again. Her instincts were screaming to fight, to shove her back, grab her knife, or use her fists. Beat her teeth in and make her swallow each one to the point she could only eat soup until she choked on it. But that hanging threat was there like a guillotine, Tommy’s voice saying Maria was considering kicking her out.
Joel asking her to try.
So she did nothing. She clenched her fists and bit her tongue until blood coated it. And when Harper threw a punch, snapping her head to the side, she still did nothing. 
Shame and anger and resentment bloomed in her chest and the small taste of blood grew until she could feel a steady trickle down her throat as her nose took the brunt of the damage. She’d killed so many people for simply touching something of hers, looking at her, had done awful things to protect herself and her two people, and yet she would take this if it meant keeping them safe and happy. But it felt so much like losing to just let it happen.
“Can’t do anything, can you?” Harper chuckled, “They don’t need you, ya know that? You’re baggage. Joel and Ellie’s lives would be so much easier without you dragging them down-” “The fuck you just say to her?” The moment the deep voice snarled through the kennel, she saw Harper freeze. It came from the open doorway and she watched as the sneer on her face morphed into surprise and then tried to turn soft, apologetic. Fake. They both turned and watched as Joel entered the kennel, lips twisted into a hard frown and brow shading his eyes. He was looking at the woman differently now. Like an outsider or a threat. She could see the subtle fear and discomfort swim to the surface under that gaze. The game was up. Mask invisible. “Joel-” “Not another word. You shut your fucking mouth,” he snarled and Harper shrunk in response. She watched it all with a disconnect, feeling the blood slide down her lips and into her mouth. There was no relief at his appearance. Shame was still a heavy blanket on her shoulders at him finding her cowed.
With a gulp, Harper’s gaze swung between the two and she slid away, scurrying around him and towards the exit. But not before he called out, “If you say a goddamn word to her ever again, I’ll let her finish what you started and swear before the whole town that you deserved every bit of what she does to you. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get punished for a single fucking thing.” The threat was there but not from him. No, even catching them with her own blood smeared across her face, he knew she could do the damage herself unrestrained and untethered. That this moment was a special circumstance because what she could do was far worse than what he would. Harper ran and didn’t look back. Silence took over between them, tension thick enough the dogs whined and pawed at their pen doors. She stood stiff and unmoving, eyes not meeting his but looking off into the darkness. He was the first to break the silence. “Why didn’t you fight back?” Joel asked, a growl still in his voice but not towards her. She smiled humorlessly, hands on her hips and staring down at the door floor. Her blood was speckled on the ground, “Because I’m trying.”
Joel scoffed and stepped more into the room, grabbing her chin until she looked up at him. From his back pocket, he pulled out a rag and gently began to wipe the blood from her face, “Trying to do what? Be a punching bag?” Blood was in her throat when she swallowed, heart beating a little louder at his touch, but she continued to avoid his gaze, “Integrate.” He paused at the word, his thumb rubbing the edge of her jaw compulsively. Then his grip tightened and he turned her forcefully to meet his gaze. Joel’s eyes were hard and lips pressed thin with anger but also regret and frustration, “I don’t give a shit if we’re integrating or whatever. Someone gives you shit, lays a hand on you, fuck even makes you feel like you don’t belong with us then you knock their fucking teeth in.” She swallowed as he all but snarled the words at her, his fingers so tight on her skin, but he continued, “Settling down here doesn’t mean I want you to become a doormat and I’ll argue with Maria until I’m fucking blue over that. They start shit? Then you sure as fuck finish it.” Her teeth clenched and she felt the sharp coppery tang of the blood still in her mouth, “They’ll kick me out-” “No, they won’t,” he hissed angrily, “I fucking mean it, Red. I don’t want you softening for our sake if it means people try to make you feel like shit. Your place is here with us. No one is going to get between us, I can assure you that.” “She wasn’t wrong,” she replied softly as if saying it out loud was exposing an open nerve, exposing her insecurity to him, “I’m baggage. She could take care of herself and you and Ellie. She can cook and watch your back and gets along with people. I can’t do that-” “Stop,” he ground out, “I’m not that easy. Jesus, I’m not going to chase after the first woman that can hold a gun and make me a fucking pie.” Despite his hard words, he still gently wiped her face clean, taking such care in checking her over and making sure she was okay. It was almost too much, “Give yourself some credit, Starshine-” “You spent a lot of time with her,” the words were like ripping open her skin, bitter and stupid and raw as they spilled out of the wound, “She’s…from Austin and…you laughed and smiled with her. You just seemed happier around her.” Joel paused and pulled back a little to fully take in her expression and what was at play. She could see the moment he saw her, really saw her no matter how hard she was trying to hide her feelings. The insecurity. The jealousy. Everything she had struggled with. He chewed his lip and nodded, brow furrowing a bit harder, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what she wanted or how she was making you feel. But you’re fucking stupid if you think I wouldn’t turn her ass down in a second.” The words weren’t gentle or soft, but they were said as a fact. The simplest fact that Joel would never choose Harper. That he wasn’t actively pursuing that. And it worked. She felt the tightness in her shoulders ease a bit as he pulled her forward into his embrace, pressing a kiss against her forehead. Her fingers dug into his back, gripping the worn denim fabric of his shirt tightly and she couldn’t help but sigh into his embrace. Home. It felt like home and comfort and everything she had felt she was missing. Breathing him in, she mumbled against his chest, “She’s probably going to complain next time you have patrol with her.” “She’s not going to be on patrol with me,” he murmured into her ear, pulling back to sweep her messy hair behind her ears, “I’m gonna make sure she works exactly where she belongs. On shit duty.” “You don’t have to. You don’t have to come to my rescue,” she argued albeit weakly. “Oh I’m not,” Joel chuckled, lips turning up into a smirk, “This is all for me. No one insults what’s mine.” She looked at him, brow furrowed at the words, mind trying to process them. But she didn’t get very far before his lips were on hers, kissing her hard and tugging her back flush against his body so she could feel exactly how much he wanted her. Her nails dug into his skin, teeth tugging on his bottom lip, while his hands kneaded the soft curves of her ass, pressing the hard front of his jeans into her stomach. He groaned into her mouth and pulled away enough to speak against her lips, grip on her still tight, “Let’s get back home so I can fuck you so hard you’ll stop doubting yourself.” She chuckled, wanting to argue that that was a hard promise to keep, but he was already dragging her out of the kennels and into the darkening streets as the sun began to lower. True to his word, Harper found herself with a brand new post going forward. Tommy didn’t mention the reason why to her, didn’t pull her aside and question her over what happened. Ellie didn’t even mention her bruised nose. Whatever Joel had told them was enough. The woman went out of her way to avoid going anywhere near any of them going forward, even straight turning in the opposite direction when she saw them and eventually coming off patrol duty all together. She tried not to feel satisfied at that. Tried not to feel more at ease or proud of herself when Maria told her she was doing a damn good job with the kennels and asked if she wanted to take on more duties, almost cementing that she wasn’t going to be asked to leave. Joel and Ellie did that for her, celebrating every small win and reminding her exactly where she belonged. With them.  _________________________________________ Taglist:  @alouise20 @faceache111​​ @hawsx3​​ @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover​ @emlovesya  @agent007knight​ @spaacerabbit​ @namgification @wonwoosthetic​  @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8
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pedrohub · 1 day
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PEDRO PASCAL as JOEL MILLER The Last Of Us (2023- )
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tremendum · 1 day
Mr. Miller’s House 
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pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    
rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)      
word count: 7.6k  requested: yes  summary: “Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.” warnings: mentions of food/eating, drinking alcohol, age gap (unspecified), Jackson era, Ellie gets a splinter, Joel is honestly rude to Ellie in this and reader is judgy about Joel’s parenting practices lol. but really,  this is just filthy smut (PiV, unprotected), dirty talk, sir kink, use of the word slut a LOT, one use of the word bitch, humiliation/degradation, hints of masochism, choking, exhibitionism, public smut, rough sex, dom!Joel, mean joel, lots of fighting/anger, cumplay, dirty talk, ass spanking, pussy spanking, mentions of blood (reader gets scraped knees), throat/facefucking, rough oral (m!receiving), overstimulation, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms. lmk if i missed any please lmfao
notes: okay jesus fucking christ!!! i wrote this so fasst lol but it was fun and highly requested. hope yall like it.  as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because as i have said before im lazy and INSANE! 
[this is a sequel to Mr Miller.       other Joel fics:     fever       landmines  ]
this was a mistake. you shouldn't have done this....this was a terrible idea. 
the chair is stiff beneath you. there's a hard coolness about it that is welcomed on the skin of your bare legs, the shorts you wear helpful in the heat of summer but futile against the slick of sweat that sheens your skin. the chair is hard, but yet still strong, sturdy.
 you swallow dryly, heart beating fast. it's the same chair you sat at just a few weeks ago, signing the log with Joel leaning over your shoulder, before he-
you look away, around, anywhere in order to avoid the memories, hot and boiling and clawing at your mind and suffocating you until you stop breathing- and then your eyes settle, they glue themselves across the kitchen table. 
they glue themselves to him. 
Joel's already staring at you; his lips are downturned in that permanent grimace he always sports, the muscles of his torso rigid with immobility - perhaps he thinks if he's still enough, the ground will just swallow him whole and he won't have to do this. 
you yearn for that escape as much as he does. 
then, out of the silence; "see, this isn't so bad." 
speak for yourself, Ellie. 
both heads in the room turn to the speaker slowly, the girl watching between the two of you, more than willing to ignore the obvious disdain in the air. she's grinning like a damn devil. 
this girl's going to kill you. 
it is that bad, contrary to Ellie's statement. 
it'd been days of her begging you, with a tug on the hand, a punch to the shoulder, and countless pleads and threats until you finally caved in and accepted her proposal to have her and Joel over for dinner. 
no matter how much you detest her guardian, you just can't resist those big puppy-dog eyes, or that gigantic, youthful smile. 
for the last few months, Ellie has grown to be quite the little farmhand for you; though you like to keep to yourself on your days in the gardens, it was nice to have the girl buzzing around you and the other gardeners, pollinating each person she sees with questions like what really happens in germination and is this ripe? can I pull it? 
it's cute, how excited she is to show Joel all of the crops you've grown with her in the last few months. but what isn't cute, is that it's him that has to be here. of all people, why did Joel have to be the one Ellie chose as her father? 
because.... things weren't okay between you and Joel. 
you're not sure if you were childish for expecting for him to warm up to you after - well, after the time he bent you on this table and fucked you stupid - but you hadn't been prepared for the coldest shoulder you've ever gotten in your measly life for the last few weeks. 
it didn't help that the summer was kicking up and you needed more crops than ever for the commune; your patrolling had dwindled into maybe one or two every week or so, usually with Maria - so you didn't have to face Joel, really, at all. 
but he avoided you like the plague when in town or on your street (though, he did that with everyone) and even at the Tipsy Bison, where your presence would clean him from the room before a drop of condensation could even slide down his glass of whiskey. 
hell, maybe he even put a word in with Maria and Tommy that the last patrol together didn't go as planned; you'd even considered doing it at one point. you're not sure, but it just made you all the more irritated when you'd catch glimpses of their porch in the afternoons, Joel holding a guitar around Ellie's chest, chuckling as she strummed horribly. as if everything was okay. like you didn’t exist. 
the anger and hatred grew awful. 
it festered, grew when Maria mentioned off-handedly to Tommy that some woman, Dahlia, had taken a liking to Joel. you'd nearly shattered the glass you were holding in your fist at that; Joel, with Dahlia? that grumpy piece of shit, taking a liking to someone sweet and kind like her? 
you ought to punch his fucking face. 
you're zoned out when Ellie suddenly comes into your line of sight; reaching over your chest to grab a slice of the fresh bread you'd picked up earlier that day. you blink back into reality as Joel grunts, "E-Ellie, hey." he's shaking his head as he gestures to her arm, "use your manners." 
he sounds almost embarrassed; annoyed. your mind betrays you as it whirls back; when Joel had you pinned down on this very table, commanding you in a different way, his eyes dark with delight as you cried and writhed for him. 
but at his chastising, you send Ellie a sneaky look, rolling your eyes when Joel's looking down. the girl chuckles at that and an untrusting Joel stares daggers between the two of you. Ellie clears her throat with a smirk,  "sorry. can you please pass me the bread?" 
you grin, "why, yes, ma'am." you hand her the basket, "thank you for asking." you add to the girl on your right, your eyes on Joel's. he stares back harshly, hand grabbing for the glass of wine that sits in front of him. 
another few moments of tension before Elie decided to take it upon herself to introduce as much of the food that sits on the table in front of you as she can remember. 
peas, spinach, lentil and cabbage stew, beet salad, goat cheese and roasted carrots, cauliflower mash. fresh bread.
proteins from animals are scarce and are typically served in only the dining hall, so you decided to skip the meat and serve roasted artichoke instead. Joel doesn't look too thrilled about that as Ellie explains. you hide your scoff behind a sip of your dark wine. 
"-and, look, I planted these beets." Ellie points to the bowl on the table which houses arugula and beet salad; you smirk down at the plate as Joel hums as if interested. his eyes flicker to yours from across the table as Ellie delves in on a tangent about how bloody beets look, those dark pupils flickering over your face before flitting back to the young girl. his eyes were swimming with something else, something.... seductive. 
a shiver runs down your spine.
does he ever think about it? 
you do. you think about it every night - how his hands felt, rough, unforgiving; the look on his face, that dark smirk when he'd made you beg for him to ruin you... the frenzy in his eyes when he'd ‘taught you some goddamn manners,’ when he'd taken you apart brutally and quick. Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months. 
your name calls you back to Ellie, whose eyes are wide and tracing over a rough, splintered notch in your table, "the hell is this from, is it-" her fingers jolt away at the rugged piece that slides into her skin, "shit!" she yelps, shaking her hand. 
your brows furrow, rising to help her as Joel pulls her hand towards him.  "I have tweezers." you mutter, disappearing into your bathroom to pull out your tweezers, returning to see Ellie smiling in embarrassment and Joel sitting with his arms crossed, amused irritation lacing his face. his beard is growing in more recently - you can hear the noise of the short bristles scratching his hand as he rubs his knuckles over his jawline. 
nodding, pleased that Ellie's discomfort has subsided, you set your tweezers on your right, spearing some salad on your fork as silence cradles you three yet again. 
it’s only tense and silent for a moment. then Ellie speaks, and it’s just tense.
"why is there a notch like that in your table?" she finally wheezes, as if she'd been summoned to be silent until she couldn't handle her curiosity anymore. 
you don't have to look up to know that a pair of dark eyes pin you to your chair, daring you to say something about it. 
your throat dries as you swallow your mouthful of salad, coughing a bit. 
a rip in your flannel, the grazing of your soft skin with the blade. a hand pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the thick slide of Joel as he drags his length through your destroyed, spent core. 
"um- I-I" perhaps it's your panic, of the knowledge that his eyes are glued to you, but soon your eyes meet his; unwavering. "well. someone likes to threaten people when they can't find patrol logs." 
"Joel!" Ellie hisses, smacking his arm, "you fucking stabbed her table and didn’t do anything about it?” she’s grinning. 
"yeah, Joel," you smirk, swirling with desire as his hawkish gaze pins you to your chair, "you really should use your manners. you've ruined my table." 
"shut the hell up right now." he snaps at you, hand slamming his fork down harshly onto the plate. you and Ellie both jump at the sternness in his voice. 
you listen, for once. 
and honestly, ten minutes ago feels like heaven compared to the tenseness of this silence. 
several minutes go by, the sounds of scraping forks and knives and the meager attempts by you and Ellie to salvage a decent dinner conversation ringing soft in your kitchen. 
at least you and her are trying. 
you ignore the notch from the knife like a wildfire and pretend Joel isn't even with you; Ellie is more than enough life and laughter for you, and your playful disposition matches hers perfectly despite the joy-damper of a man sat across from you. 
he's stewing. arms crossed, chewing on food here and then, mostly listening and sighing, brushing off Ellie's jabs or playful questions or stories. he won't do anything except eat and glare at you. 
the wine bottle is nearly gone and you're not sure if it's his fault or yours. probably both. 
you snap when he just outright ignores Ellie, shaking his head with a sigh and taking another bite. the audacity. 
"-she asked you a question, Miller." you snap, fed up with his dissociative disposition. you don't even intend to say it; even Ellie looks up at your words, surprised. 
his head turns to face you too slow to be safe. his eyes are fucking furious as he mutters, "excuse me?" 
"hey, guys-" Ellie's hands are out in front of her, but you can't take your eyes off him. 
"I'm just saying, you could at least try to pay attention." you spit, crossing your arms defensively, "we made this dinner, we're just trying to have a conversation, the least you could do-" 
"you don't tell me what to do." he states, calm and cool, pointing at you. his nose flares as he breaths heavy, your own breath quickening. arousal rushes to your center and you shift on your seat. 
"-listen, maybe this was a bad idea. I knew you weren't the best of friends, but this is-" Ellie starts again, eyes flickering between you both. "this is too awkward." 
"no, Ellie, I'm sorry-" you start to say, breaking. 
you don't want her to be caught in the cross-fire of your problems with Joel; it's unfair. the further this goes, the more she'll be put in a position of mediator, so you figure it should just end now. 
"Ellie, go home." 
Joel growls the demand, eyes looking to her, his hand falling gently to her shoulder. her eyes widen, as if asking him if he's serious. 
"what?" she asks, "no! you'll-you’ll fucking stab each other or something." 
yeah, you think. you might. 
Joel's shaken off her shoulder but he's resilient, "go on, go see the kids for the movie. I'll come later. we just need to sort something out." he mutters, eyes falling to you at the tail end of his sentence. 
shivers roll down your spine; fuck, fuck - a flood of arousal hits you again, and you swallow, willing the feelings to go the fuck away. 
Ellie's scowling, but still has the decency to thank you for dinner before slamming the door hard on her way out of the threshold. 
Joel's eyes stay locked with yours until her footsteps are gone. 
it’s silent for a moment before he speaks. 
"do not fuckin' disrespect me like that in front of her again." he snaps. 
you narrow your eyes, "you're concerned that I- what, I undermined you in front of your girl?" you hiss incredulously. "come on, that's pathetic." 
"I don't like you." he snaps, shoving his plate away from him in an almost childish act of defiance. it’s shocking, the immaturity of his words so sudden. barely prompted. 
it's clear he intends to continue this little confessional of his, but you have no intention of allowing that. 
you roll your eyes, "big fucking deal. what do you want me to say?" you hiss, "sorry that I was rude, Mr. Miller! let me just cook you fucking dinner and invite you over to make up for it." 
his nostrils flare, "never wanted to do this in the first place." he mutters. 
you nearly rip out your hair in frustration. "obviously you didn't! christ, why do you always act like everything you do is a goddamn chore?" you snap, "Ellie wanted to have a nice night and show you what we've been doing- what she's been doing for this community. and all you can do is sit here and act like a fucking asshole because you don't know how to enjoy anything. it's a miracle she's still around with you, when you treat her like that." 
his jaw clicks in anger, "you have no fuckin' clue what we've been through together." his voice is close to a yell, "you don't know how much that girl means to me." 
"then why won't you show her!?" you yell. 
it quiets the room for a moment and a fleeting feeling of pride is squashed when he speaks again. 
his brows raise, a look of realization creeping onto his face. he nods his head, "I see what this is," he lets out a bitter, mocking laugh. "you want me to tell you how much I love your food? y'trying to prove to me that you're not a bad influence on her, after all?" 
you stare at him, anger clouding your sight; are there tears of frustration rimming your eyes? you hope he doesn't notice. 
"-newsflash, darlin', I don't fucking care about you." he finishes, scowl dark. "you're a nuisance. don' know why Tommy took you in, anyways. you're a foul-mouthed, untrustworthy, pathetic little slut- and jus' because you can't stop thinking about my cock doesn't mean I owe anything to you. no dinner, no fuckin- cordial neighborly attitude, nothing." 
thinking about- what?
oh, fuck him. your face burns; your jaw unhinges. of course he thinks this is about you and him. your eyes spare a quick, fleeting glance to the notch in the table before you glare, "well I don't fucking care about you either, Miller. don't be so fucking conceited." 
he laughs, shaking his head as he downs the remainder of his wine before slamming the glass down, but you're not finished. you can't let him think he's won. 
"you’re delusional. I haven't thought of it once." you spit, aflame at his accusation. you feel flustered, still caught off-guard. if anything, it was him who was obsessed with it - you see the way his eyes can't leave you; the way he adjusted his jeans earlier when you leaned over to pull a bowl from your cabinet. 
"really?" he spits, brows raised. his chest moves with the exertion of your yelling and you resist the urge to hit him or stomp your foot or anything. "yes, really." you defend, face heating up under the scrutiny of his knowing gaze. 
"anyone ever tell you you're an awful liar, sweetheart?" he drawls, raising his brows at you. 
you fume, standing up, pointing to the door, "get the fuck out, Joel." 
his eyes light ablaze with the same anger that rages in your heart as he stands, throwing his napkin on his plate, "gladly. food was great." he spits, storming out of the house with no other words. 
your scowl doesn't leave your face for the entire rest of the night. what- what the fuck was that? how dare Joel assume so much about you- he doesn't know you, at all. 
your eyes fall to the bottle in your hands.
ellie left her water canteen at your place. you were so angry, so mad earlier, that you hadn’t realized she’d left it until a few minutes ago. 
she doesn't need it, right? she could get it next time she comes round. yeah. she'll get it next time, you don't have to go over. right?
you have to go over. 
the anger within you festers just as much as the slick that plagues the apex of your thighs in the aftermath of your spat with Joel; it's a vicious cycle where you think about his tone, how condescending it was and then you get mad - but some sick part of you wants it to consume you; wants him to consume you. 
you’re fucking obsessed with him. you hate him. 
you need to hear him yell at you again- if-if anything, to get your ten cents in on the argument, and also maybe to get some good content for your wet dreams tonight. jesus christ. 
god, you're so fucked up. 
so once you finish cleaning from the remnants of the meal, your legs are carrying you over to his house with Ellie's canteen in your hand before you can second-guess it. 
what the fuck are you doing? 
you're standing on their porch in mere seconds, your breath heavy with wrath. what if Ellie opens the door? well- you suppose, if she does, you'll give her the canteen and talk to her. probably apologize for acting the way you did. no business with Joel, then. yeah.  that’s... that’s fine. 
fuck. why do you want Joel to answer so terribly? 
you know where the answer lies - a coiling beast of arousal, consuming and muddling your mind, just at the apex of your thighs. 
Joel is a fucking asshole. you need him. now. 
your knuckles slam so hard and unforgiving against their door that there is no possibility of them assuming it's anybody else but you at their porch. their light is flickering and dim above you as you stand, canteen in hand, eyes trained forward in determination.  
the door swings open in an air of irritation. 
your face jerks back as Joel Miller stands, staring at you with the disdain of a thousand lifetimes swirling around his eyes. 
"y'here for more?" he snarks. 
your momentary hesitation melts away when his words drip from his lips. a glare pierces him through the eyes when you shove the canteen into his hands, "I'm here for Ellie. she left this." you spit. 
he lets out a chuckle, humor absent from the ring as he scratches his nose, "right." he mutters. "well she ain't home. went to the movie in town." he clips, setting the canteen on the table just inside the house. "y'need me to pass any more of your words of wisdom on to her?" he asks, voice clipped and prickled with sarcasm. 
you glare. "yeah. just do me a favor, tell her I'm sorry her dad is being a hypocritical, neglecting asshole." you snark, sending a false smile up at him as he leans with his arms crossed at the doorway.
you don't miss how he leans into it, how he's not slamming the door on your face. he wants to argue, too. "-and you can suck a dick, Mr. Miller." you add, intending to whirl away on your heel. 
he scoffs, a deep and condescending noise. "thanks for comin' all the way over to return a little canteen. g'night, darlin', hope you don't make too much'a mess when you cum all over that table again tonight thinkin' of how much I hate you. glad y'got your ten cents in." 
your face burns hot in embarrassment, and at the irony of him using the same phrase you’d thought. 
the door moves quick to shut, but your arm moves quicker. 
your hand wedges is just before it shuts, leaving you far too close to Joel than you'd like - gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey surround your senses. again. 
so you shoot another fist forward, aiming for his left jaw; aiming for it to hurt.
he’s going to fucking hurt.  
it doesn't make contact with the warm skin, though: no, his hand has caught your wrist in an iron-tight grip, wrenching your arm down hard. 
you let out a gasp of surprise as he shoves you off of the door and away from him before you can blink. 
but instead of the door slamming in your face, his rough hands are pushing you hard up against the side of his garage. the door behind him remains ajar as he pushes himself into your space, growling at you as your mouth falls open in shock. 
"did you just try to hit me, girl?" he whispers, voice deadly serious. you swallow, arousal rushing down to your heat; you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy as he stares hard at you, but your eyes trail down to his jeans.
you hide your smirk as you take in the stretch of the rough denim, the outline of his own arousal evident even in the dim light. he’s hard because you were going to hit him. 
your body aches as you remember the stretch of him inside you, splitting you open. your eyes flicker back up to his where he breathes heavily, expecting a response. 
you give him one. 
"yes, but you already knew that." you smirk, cocking your head as you boldly gyrate your hips forward slightly, your clothed cunt clenching in desire as you graze his hard-on. "or are you not hard right now, Mr. Miller?" you purr, your voice laced with seduction. 
his rough hand shoves your hips hard back against the wall, a growl slipping his throat. "y'got a dirty fuckin' mouth on you." his breath hits your cheeks in a warm reminder of the wine you'd both had for dinner. 
"so it wasn't because of that?" you ask, blinking in a false sense of innocence, watching as his eyes swim with an animalistic hunger. you've got him right where you want him. "was it from thinking about me touching myself? or, from remembering the last time we were together in my house?" 
his momentary lapse in recovery allows for you to go in for the final kill, "Mr. Miller,” you coo, “do you think of my pussy when you fuck Dahlia? d'you wish it was me?" you spit, smirking up at him as red splatters his furious features, "you can talk all you want, Mr. Miller, but I know you're just a greedy, desperate man who loves to pretend you have any power over me." you whisper into the shell of his ear, palm roughly grabbing the outline of his cock boldly. 
his next movements take your breath away: the shock of his fists slamming hard against the wall on either side of your head makes you jump, and his hawkish, angry eyes bore into yours. 
"get your fuckin' hands off of me. now." 
his voice is... scary. 
the blood leaves your head as your damp spot of your pants floods with desire, the fear spiking a real excitement in you. you are smart enough to follow his orders; the look in his eyes suggests you do so. 
your hands shakily fly back from his crotch to hang by your sides as you stare up at him - nervous. excited, ready. 
his eyes are narrowed, stern as his brows are furrowed low. the permanent scowl on his lips is intimidating as he holds your gaze with fierce intent. "you're gonna be real fuckin' honest with me, now. okay?" 
you swallow dryly, staring up at his face, how he's boxed you in with arms on either side of your head. you feel cornered, small; prey, hunted by predator. 
you nod smally, startled into silence, unable to speak as the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. your legs clench, searching for relief only to be disappointed at the dull sensation. 
he stares at you for a few moments, unmoving except for the flaring of his nostrils and the rising of his chest as he breathes just as heavy as you. 
"are you wet?" 
your face flushes with heat. christ, Joel is going to kill you. (if you don't kill him first). your legs feel weak, desire driving your heart rate up as you nod meekly, voice cracking out. "y-yes." 
he nods, seemingly pleased with your honesty. 
"how long have you been walkin' round with ruined panties?" his head tilts down slightly, angled down at you as if chastising you. you flush in shame, genuinely taking a moment to remember the exact moment you first noticed your underwear dampen. 
you can't admit to him that you woke up this morning with his name on your lips and a wet patch on the seat of your sleep shorts, can you? (and certainly not that it happens every day.) 
"s-since-" you take a sharp inhale, glaring at him for humiliating you like this - outside, no less. anybody could walk past or look out their window and see Joel and you like this. "dinner." 
his brows raise, the look darkening on his face. you can tell, he loves the beginning - the teasing, the arguing, the embarrassment - just as much as the end. "dinner? s'like, two hours." his frown immodest, tempting. judging. 
you nod, biting back a snide comment about Joel being an excellent time-teller, your face burning in embarrassment as you break eye contact, staring at your feet. 
"d’you like being a slut?" he asks, then. you nearly whimper at his words, the aching in your cunt burning, pulsing and clenching around nothing as you stare at him in desire. fuck Joel Miller. 
"'m not a slut." you say, but the defiant words come out more as a whine than a sharp argument. one hand falls from the wall on your left to grip onto your jaw, holding your cheeks hard as he forces your eyes back up to him. 
his nails dig into the soft flesh of your cheeks as you gasp, your own hands in fists as you resist pulling him into you. 
"that's not what I fuckin' asked, now, is it?" he sneers. you blink up at him, shaking your head after a moment of contemplation. "no, sir." you whisper meekly. you don't miss the tightening of his grip at the honorific as it falls sultry from your lips. he hums. 
"do you want me to touch you?" he asks next. you can't even have the decency to stop your whine as you nod, "yes, please." 
his other hand falls from the wall, eyes just as angry and unforgiving as he undoes the button on your shorts single-handedly. "good. don't you fuckin' look away from my eyes, y'hear me? hands down, eyes up." 
this is twice now that he hasn't let you touch him - your brows furrow, but just as he snaps in front of your face, you let the thought melt away. 
"y-yes, sir." you nod, your palms sweaty, heart thundering as he shoves his hand down the front of your shorts, breaching your underwear easily as fingers slide through the deft curls that lie just above your heat. 
"gotta warm y'up for me this time," he mutters, eyes sharp as he watches yours, ensuring they don't do as much as blink. 
it's delicious, almost too much as two of his thick fingers part the seam of your lips, your wetness spilling and coating his fingers immediately. you burn in shame, thighs starting to close over his hand. 
one ruddy, thick thigh slides to kick your leg to the side, widening your stance as he shoves you harder up against the side of the house. the tip of his finger prods at your aching hole, leaking with desperation for him. 
there are crickets outside, a steady but low staccato of music filling the summer Jackson air as one finger slowly slides into you, curling unforgivingly as you gasp, rising on your toes as he stretches you. "fuck," you whimper, throwing your head back against the wall behind you. 
the thud is dull, but it echoes around the street and it calls your attention to the very public space you're in. 
"hey." Joel snaps, one hand swatting your cheek lightly as your eyes close, "don't look away." 
you blink back at him as he pumps lazily for a few moments, watching your every micro-expression, the way your chest stutters with his motions. the noise of your arousal is humiliating against the pleasant summer breeze. 
you can't help the low moan of his name when he adds a second finger. the stretch is nothing like when it's his cock inside of you, but the strokes, the curl of his fingers start to coax a simmering coil in you that you know will explode soon. 
your eyes are still on his obediently when you nearly whisper it. 
he hears it, though, and smirks, "what was that, darlin’?" 
you groan in irritation but it splinters into a sharp moan when his fingers pick up their pace, fucking into you as you lie slack against the wall, legs trembling. 
"just- fuck me. fuck me now." you wheeze, the desire a burning snake that coils around your chest and squeezes at your heart. 
"no." he decides, eyes glaring, "can't have y'whining like a bitch again, darlin'. gotta open you up on my fingers first." the sting of his words are cushioned by the lust that swirls around his voice, the languid was his thick fingers pump up into you, holding you up against the frame of the house with a dark smirk. 
you nod, hissing in stimulation when one finger slides to start rubbing your neglected clit with just enough pressure to curl your toes; your chest is slick with sweat, fingernails digging painfully into the meat of your palm as you hum, lips sealed tight to avoid yelping out. 
your eyes flicker from his once more, scanning the street just feet away from you, paranoid of the possibility of a neighbor seeing you. 
Joel notices, of course. "what, baby, don' want the neighbors to see?" he hums, eyes cutting into you as your face flushes with heat, "y'seemed to want everybody to hear me fucking you stupid last time, didn't 'ya?" 
you groan, "fuck you, Joel." 
his hand stops its ministrations just as cold ice pours down your spine. oh, shit. 
his hand slides out of your pants, face furious. 
you shake your head, eyes welling with tears; you hadn't meant for it to slip out like that. "n-no, wait, 'm sorry, didn't mean it." you whimper, voice choked with the loss of his hand. 
he just huffs a cold chuckle, wiping his hand over his face, the other one glistening with your juices under the light of the porch. 
your panicked, desperate babble of apologies is stopped with one look from him. 
"get on your goddamn knees now." 
you shiver with excitement, tears drying slightly as you swallow, complying quickly. the cement is rough and cold under your bare knees, your hands held still together on your thighs as you stare up at him in wait. he stands tall before you; the shroud of the flickering porch light emboldening him, making him look like a god - an unforgiving one, at that - as he pulls his thick, pulsing cock from his jeans. 
your mouth waters as he starts to pump it languidly, the tip a red color from arousal, leaking precum. 
he doesn’t have to ask you to open your mouth for him, your own desire to taste him spurring you to stick your tongue out flat in wait for his dick. 
"I'm going to ask you again." he says, tapping your tongue with the weight of his length, the slapping noise flooding your underwear as you ache to feel him again. "do you like being a slut?" 
you swallow, tongue sliding along the bottom of his head as you do, muttering a slight, "yes, sir." 
"'s right. you love being my slut." he nods, your mouth open and ready for him as he thrusts his whole length into your wet, warm mouth; you gag almost immediately, his hips unforgiving as he immediately starts to fuck into your throat. you try your best to breathe through your nose, gagging as his tip pokes the back of your throat - you know there'll be a bruise that will make it painful to eat, drink, speak - you fucking love it. 
he lets out a grunt of arousal, nodding as his hands gather your hair from your face, gripping your cheeks and pushing your head back against the side of the house. 
two thrusts, a few tears from your eyes as you choke, your lungs burning for air. 
he pulls away, you suck in air with a strangled gasp. your saliva links you to his heavy cock, a chain that holds you in his grasp. "tell me you love being my slut." 
you burn at his words and in your brief hesitation, his cock is slapping at your mouth, his impatience bleeding through his actions. 
"I-" your voice is wrecked after only a few seconds of him in your mouth, but you swallow as you gasp for air, "I l-love being your slut." 
he slides himself through your slick lips again, hips a punishing pace as he fills up your mouth, your throat tight and wet. his groan echoes through the street; in the corner of your eye, you swear you see a light turn on in a bedroom window. shivers of desire run through you as you resist the urge to touch yourself. 
you can't breathe; your nose brushes against the course hair at the base of his shaft, the scent of him surrounding you as his hips try to smash you against the side of the house. 
he holds you there, hands rough on your cheeks, slapping your right cheek as it bulges with his length. you choke, gagging as you try your hardest to keep eye contact. his face is harsh, his sneer cold as he stares at you, "'s right, choke on your fuckin' words, darlin'." his hips press forward slightly and you cough around him, it's too much - tears slide down your cheeks as you try not to gag more. 
"you gonna disrespect me again?" he asks, tilting his head as spit trails down your chin, tears meeting the trail of saliva as it drips down onto your chest. 
you can only hum a nuh-uh around his cock, hoping it's enough to satisfy him. you feel yourself throb and fucking burn with need, your knees sore from the cement under you. 
you cough and sputter when he pulls himself away from you, mouth sore, jaw aching and throat wrecked. his eyes flicker over to the house across the street before he grips your shoulder, tugging you in your aroused, dazed state up to your legs. 
"oh, darlin', you're bleedin'." he coos at you, thumb swiping your cheek as you stand up. he's right: your knees are just scratched enough to speckle the skin with dark splotches of blood. you feel a tingling sensation of arousal as he hums, "let's get you inside, hm?" 
you stumble to keep up as he storms through the threshold of the house, the door swinging shut after your shaking frame falls inside. it's dark; there is only one lamp turned on in the other room. 
Joel is almost a shadow as he surrounds you, your hands falling onto his large, stiff shoulders as he pushes you against the door frame. 
your legs give out from desire soon and the two of you tumble to the ground, a mess of grunts and shoves, tearing at clothes as you whimper in desire, his own lustful groans echoing the empty house. as his pants are shucked off and your shorts are thrown across the room, your hips are shoved and flipped over until you're ass-up for him, one of his large hands moving roughly to grab a handful of your plush behind. 
your hands and knees ache, but you wiggle your ass slightly in need, not daring to speak to him. the anger that radiates from the two of you is a grenade; you can feel the tension bubbling behind your desire and so you just move back until you brush against his hard length, the fabric of your panties completely soaked as you grind against him. 
his moan echoes as a hand falls hard to slap against the skin of your ass. you let out a strangled yell, the pain stinging through you as you keen forward. you know there will be a handprint branded into you, you know it'll be sore to sit and you'll have to think of him each time. he'll consume you for days. 
you love it. 
his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with desire, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty cunt, just for me." he mutters; you shake with desire when you realize it was more a mutter for him than an intentional phrase for you to hear.
"think you're ready for me, baby?" he grunts, his fingers pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your puffy, glistening cunt to him. 
"I'm so re-ready sir, please, fuck me." you beg, reduced yet again to nothing but a writhing mess for the worst man you know. 
he gives no warning, no teasing - he breaches you swiftly and rough. you scream. 
it cracks, it echoes, it's painful as you yell out, his cock heavy and huge and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within a few seconds. Joel's moan reverberates on your skin as his hands grip so hard at your ass you think his fingers will remain there for days. 
he immediately sets a pace that has you squirming under him, breath choking up in your chest as you slide against the hardwood. the smell of the house is Joel - sandalwood, whiskey, pine. sex. 
your arms are tugged roughly. 
panic rises in you when you think you're about to slam your face against the floor, but as Joel pounds hard into you, he pulls your hands tight to your back, holding you up to you're suspended with just his cock working you open can keep you from falling. 
it's bliss. it's sharp, this angle; he hits into that spongy spot inside you as his cock drags against your pulsing walls, your hands clenching as your breath leaves you. 
one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as he reaches up into you deeply. then it snakes lower, rocking you forward as he swats at your clit, the sharp smack of his palm causing you to squeeeeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- jesus christ, girl, you're s-so tight."
the noises of your arousal swallowing his dick echo around the room in a sickening chorus. 
"dumb girl, lovin' it when I yell at her," he mutters to himself, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "gonna be o-obedient and thank me for each orgasm, 'kay?" his accent is thick in the throes of passion, you notice. 
you nod, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful; you let out a wheeze of ecstasy. "y-yes, s-sir," you choke, your voice croaking from the remnants of his dick wrecking you. 
you barely realize you're cumming until you’re screaming, a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision. tears are resurfacing on your eyes as he hums, "say it." 
you swallow, shakily squirming as he pounds into you, unforgiving in tone and pace. "than-thank you." 
it only takes a few more minutes and his thick hand squeezing your throat before you cum for a second time, your hands pulling at his hips, trying to escape the overstimulation of his long, dragging thrusts. the floor is slick with your juices, and so is his pubic bone. 
"thank you, s-sir." you slur out, his hand holding you by the throat against his chest, his heartbeat slamming just as fast as yours. 
soon he drops your arms, their shaky muscles barely stopping you as you fall to the floor. his chest follows you until he's smothering you, thrusts becoming weak with his own nearing orgasm. you cry, the overstimulation causing you to shake. "'s too much, too much." 
he hums, "you want me to stop?" 
"no!" you scream it, wail it; no, christ, don't stop. never stop. 
he chuckles; a dark, brooding noise. "an' you wonder why I think you're such a bad influence." he mutters into the shell of your ear as he pushes further, deeper into you; "lettin' an old man fuck you into the floor. lovin' it." 
he chuckles as you let out a whine, eyes screwing shut at the bursts of pleasure coursing through you. your knees ache.
"'s dirty, isn't it? and you love it, pretty girl." 
you let your cheek drop onto the hardwood at his ministrations, spent from your previous orgasms; the pet name makes you flush, arching your hips back. he's so deep, you feel him in your throat. each thrust pushes his tip into your cervix, a dull ache with a swirl of pleasure and ecstasy. you let out a groan, "love it, love it s'much. love it, sir, thank you." you whimper, your brain empty except for Joel Joel JoelJoel-
"good m-manners, sweet girl." he hums, pressing a hot kiss to your spine. goosebumps form in his wake, his words echoing in your brain. sweet girl. 
"you're gonna cum one more time." he orders, the thrusts of his hips grinding you down, melting you, tearing you. you nod, "yes, yes-yes, fuck, gonna-gonna cum again." you whimper, the painful overstimulation of his cock drilling through your spent, swollen folds. 
your third orgasm has you wailing, shaking your head as you convulse in pleasure, his strong grip holding your hips down as he hits your spot repeatedly, the noise of him fucking into you echoing through the foyer. 
there's tears on the floor as you shake, colors exploding behind your eyes as he whispers things you cannot hear into your ear. 
when you come to, he's still ravaging your body. 
you're limp, ecstasy flowing through your very being as his cock spears through you, hands smacking you, gripping you, grunts leaving his mouth as he nears his own orgasm, having pulled three from you. 
"where are your manners?" he whispers into your ear. you let out a broken half-laugh, half-gasp. "fuck- thank you, Joel, thank you." 
he hums in satisfaction and you swear you feel his cock twitch inside you as you utter his first name. 
he's back in your ear in seconds, surrounding you, swallowing you whole. you love it. 
"this is my pussy. mine." he grunts, "never think 'bout any other pussy. jus' this one. always." his voice is laced with desperation as he swats your ass, thrusting into you a few more times as you squirm, sobbing, throat raw. 
yours, you whimper in a chorus, body limp as he uses you; his thrusts are sloppy. he's so close- 
and he cums just as he's pulling out of you; you gasp at the loss but also as his cum shoots hot spurts across the plush curve of your ass, a bit onto your spine - most of it over your ruined pussy, streaking you in white. 
you pulse around nothing, shaking as your legs give out. he groans a deep thing, fingers falling to spread you open, the lewd noise soft and slick.
you jolt and he shushes you with a soft caress of your back. "jus' wanna see it, baby. wanna see how I ruined you." 
you swallow dryly at that, nodding as you tilt your hips, eager to feel his eyes over you, over all of you; eager for him. 
a finger smears his spend over your juices, pressing lightly at your puckered hole, pushing some of his cum back into you. "fuckin' christ, girl." 
you set out a laugh that turns into a cough of pain at the ragged state of your throat. 
he stands and leaves you on the cold floor, covered in sweat. you try not to let your heart deflate when he’s gone. 
but he returns with a rag and hands it to you before shucking his jeans on; you pull your underwear back on with shaky hands once you’ve wiped yourself clean, your body exhausted. 
you sigh. even the thought of making the trek just a few houses down to your own place is daunting as your eyes flutter. something in his eyes glint in understanding when your gazes meet each other, and he seems to get it. 
so if Joel gathers you in his arms with a grunt and a short complaint, you don't think too much about it. 
(you hate him. he hates you.)
and if he holds your head to his chest as he starts the walk back to your house, it’s not a big deal to you. 
when brings you up into your bedroom instead of leaving you at your front door as he finally carries you to your house, you chalk it up to you being nearly asleep. you must be delirious when he tucks you into your mattress and pulls your blankets up. you swear he mutters something about dinner and nice and good job. 
(what a cocky asshole.) 
it's probably a dream, when a hand caresses the sweaty skin of your forehead, brushing hair away gently before footsteps disappear through the doorway. 
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