#and the back of dan miller's head

[crow-in-snow]

THE THICK OF IT | Spinners and Losers

Malcolm Tucker making faces in the specials part 2

[ace-turned-confused]

spin me around | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all word count: 2,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a dress, way too much music talk, food & alcohol consumption, pet names, touching in public, dirty talk a/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! i saw record store on your wheel and ran away with it - this is highly self-indulgent with the music references (like woah) but what better place for it than secret springs :) not beta'd, keep slaying

The stair treads creak as you head up to the second floor, blank CDs are fastened to the risers and old warped vinyl hangs from the ceiling. A faint melody floats down the stairwell that you don’t recognise, the instrumentals rising in a crescendo as you climb, the varnished railing worn and knotted.

You’d found this place online on your quest for a bargain, the secondhand vintage vinyl shop is situated on a fashionable street at the top of town with picturesque mountain views. After stalking their social media pages, you decided you’d just come and see it for yourself. Having mentally prepared yourself for parallel parking, it was unusually stress-free for a Saturday morning, the sun just beginning to warm the air.

Reaching the landing and glancing around, the room is essentially wallpapered with band posters, crates and crates of records are alphabetically organised, and a gallery of LPs sits on shelves behind the counter. A few customers are rifling through the various collections, one man perched on a barstool with headphones wired into a cassette player. The space is light and vibrant, it feels like a sacred haven.

What really catches your eye is the man behind the counter — unruly silver-streaked hair, trimmed moustache and greying beard, unreasonably broad shoulders that fill out his faded thin t-shirt.

“Mornin’!” He looks up as you round the bannister and flashes you a winning smile, his brown eyes sparkling in the light filtering through the windows. “Anythin’ in particular you lookin’ for?”

You greet him shyly as you enter the room, “Just came to look around, thanks.”

“No problem.” He turns back to his newspaper and you can’t help but stare, stuck in place as you think you’ve found far more than you could’ve imagined.

-

The sheer number of records fitted into the quaint shop is amazing, with some dividers spilling over into two or three boxes. Flipping through the S category, you find Sade, Stealers Wheel, Steppenwolf, Stevie Nicks, and countless others — a never-ending supply of artists and albums, some popular and some obscure.

Your eyes go wide at seeing Pretzel Logic, a favourite album by a favourite band. You’ve considered for weeks whether or not to just buy the damn thing online at full price, but you never did. Now you see why, some sort of divine intervention leading you here to snatch it up at a fraction of the cost — or it led you here for that man.

You’ve been peering over to him every time you move to the next crate — crinkles around his eyes, plush lips, deft hands. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is, hidden away up here from the rest of the world. Admittedly you tried looking if he had a wedding band on, but you scolded yourself before you could complete the task, not wanting to get caught.

Time slips away from you as you switch between scouring through everything and stealing glances at the mystery music man, your fingers cramping from holding onto far more records than you’d planned to take. You scan over the tables and check for anything you may have missed, slinking through the room and placing your selection on the counter. You rummage in your bag to find your wallet.

“Fan of Steely Dan, huh? Gaucho, Pretzel Logic, Countdown to Ecstasy… You’re cleaning me out here, darlin’.” You lift your head at his words, losing yourself at the endearment.

“Yeah, uh… couldn't help myself,” you huff a laugh, feeling heat under your skin as he keeps his attention on you, a half smile on his face. “I did pick out some others, too. For some variation, you know?”

He fans the records out on the table to see each one.

“Yeah, thought you might be a Fleetwood Mac girl, Eagles is a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one… Steely Dan, though? Wouldn't have pinned a girl like you as a fan of ‘em.”

“A girl like me…?”

“Far too pretty.” He winks at you with a tilt of his head, that half smile now spread fully across his face before he moves to add up the total. Your mind races as you try not to stand and gawk like an idiot.

“I saw online you had Dark Side of the Moon… do you uh, still have it, by any chance?”

“Full of surprises… I’m afraid we sold that one already, noticed it’s a bit of an elusive find ‘round here.” He drums his fingers against the wooden top and looks at you briefly, his eyes warm.

Shuffling papers around, he picks up a notepad, big hands and thick fingers dwarfing the pages. “I can keep an eye out for you, if you’re okay giving me your number? Won’t bother you, just business.”

“Yeah, sure.” His fingers graze across your skin as you take a pen from him and write down your information. Tearing the page off, you slide it across the counter and tease him, “Wouldn’t mind if you bothered me.”

“Well then, maybe I will. I’d love to know what else you got in your carefully curated collection.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you pay for the records, and he slips them into a brown paper bag, folding and unfolding the top like he doesn’t want you to leave.

“There’s actually this nice restaurant—” he turns to look behind him, grabbing a small carton and repositioning it on the counter, stalling as he tries to find the words, “—they have uh, live music on Friday nights… if you’d be interested.”

“Sounds fun…” You mull it over, impressed by his boldness but still wary. “Can I let you know?”

“‘Course, no pressure, here,” he writes his own number on a new page and tears it off, holding on as you reach for it and brush your fingers over his hand.

“And you are?”

“Joel Miller.”

Joel Miller. You quite like that.

-

You’d stared at Joel’s number for days, a constant back and forth on whether or not you should go. On the one hand, you knew nothing about this man except his name and where he worked; on the other, you’ve seen just enough of him to be well intrigued… 

You caved and said yes, which brings you to the present day — it’s Friday afternoon and you’re pacing in front of your wardrobe, worried about what to wear. To avoid losing your mind over this, you text Joel for some insight.

You: So, what am I supposed to wear tonight?Joel: Place is smart casual, I guess

Smart casual — arguably the worst fucking dress code description in existence.

You: That doesn’t help meJoel: Just wear a dress or something nice? I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect

Perfect? Well, that certainly raises the bar. You suspect that Joel isn’t impressed by material things, and isn’t phased by flashy appearances, but you still want to make an effort. He called you pretty once already and you’re hoping he’ll repeat it tonight.

-

Approaching the restaurant, the brick wall facade is lined with fairy lights, the stars just beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky, and muffled music sounds through the windows and glass doors.

Joel waits out on the pavement like a gift from God himself — black dress pants, a hint of chest peeking out from behind his button-up, a blazer hooked on one finger over his shoulder. You can’t help the way your gaze runs over him, noticing how his tummy just pokes out past the waistband of his pants, and just how well fitting those pants really are. You swallow to steady yourself.

“Hey.”

“Hi…”

You fall into silence as you take each other in — a low heat settles at the base of your spine and you drop your eyes to the floor, holding back a giggle like an enamoured schoolgirl.

“Shall we?” He pulls the door open and gestures for you to lead the way, eyes sparkling and a crooked but warm smile on his face, a guiding hand on the small of your back as you step inside.

Black-framed minimalist posters line the walls, the floors are polished dark wood and exposed brass light fixtures hang at varying heights from the ceiling. You pass a long, elegant bar lining one side of the room as you’re led towards the back of the restaurant — this place oozes sophistication, even the waitstaff are in fancy uniforms. Not smart casual.

Joel pulls a chair out for you as you reach your table, a small reserved card rests against a floating candle and two red roses bloom in a slender vase. 

“Do you mind if I take the wall?” you ask timidly, pointing towards the opposite bench.

“Not at all.” His gaze is soft as he shakes his head, eyes trained on you as you both take your seats.

“I just— I like being able to see, it’s uh…”

You smooth your hands over the tablecloth as your voice fades off, resisting the urge to make a game of blowing the candle out. You flit your eyes up to look at Joel, finding he’s already staring at you, candlelight flickering in his eyes. You drop your gaze to the table again, failing dismally at suppressing the grin that spreads across your face.

“You look gorgeous, by the way — if you don’t mind me sayin’. Knew you would, of course, but…”

It seems your outfit choice has paid off — gorgeous?

After hours of flinging clothes off hangers, you’d finally settled on a black, mid-length dress — a sweetheart neckline with white piping, the same white mirrored on the hem, a daring slit up one side of the skirt. There’s nothing casual about it, but seeing Joel dressed up and the finely decorated restaurant has calmed your nerves.

You don’t dare look at him again as the waiter returns and places two menus on the table. The night’s barely begun, and you hope it doesn’t end any time soon.

-

There hasn’t been a lull in the conversation once during dinner, a sharing dessert now in the centre of the table as Joel swirls what’s left of his whiskey around the glass. He held back all evening, fingers twitching and curling into a loose fist alongside yours on the table until he finally allowed himself to dance them across the back of your hand.

“How’d you get into all this record business?”

“Started workin’ there on weekends as a kid, wanted to earn some pocket money. The old man who owned it was like a mentor, he taught me all about the world. He left it all in my hands when he retired, and I’ve never looked back.”

A fond smile on his face as he retells his memories, you saw the first day you met how happy and comfortable he was in his charming shop, and it seems that charm bleeds over into him, too.

“And you get to meet all kinds of people — loud, friendly, aloof… pretty ones, too.” He gives you the same wink and devilish grin as before, continuing his stories as if you aren’t burning across the table.

-

Sometime during the night, he’d moved to sit next to you, claiming he ‘wanted to see the band’ — the arm draped on the bench behind you and fingers trailing across your shoulder says otherwise.

He mentioned at the shop that there was live music here on Friday nights — the one thing he didn’t mention? That tonight’s particular band was a jazz quartet — the slow, smooth, romantic kind of jazz, the kind that acts as the perfect backdrop for a night of cheeky flirting, lingering glances and desperate touches.

“Joel, can I ask something?”

“Shoot.”

You roll the edge of the tablecloth between your fingers. “Is this a date?”

“It can be, if you want.” You drop your hands and eye him, unimpressed by his response.

“Alright, I’ll admit, I was hopin’ for a date. I wasn’t really sure how to ask, didn’t wanna come on too strong.”

You’re silent for a beat, considering how to respond. “I mean, you could’ve just asked.”

“Well then, you wanna go on a date?” He tilts his head, eyebrows raised.

“I thought we were already on one.”

He chuckles at your remark, downing the last of his whiskey and momentarily tracing a finger along the rim of the glass. You focus on his movements, imagining his fingers tracing patterns into your skin instead.

As if he can read your mind, he twists himself towards you and plants that same hand just above your knee, fingers curled towards the inside of your leg as he scrapes his nails against you.

“And?” His voice is almost a whisper in your ear, “Has it been a good one?”

He glides his hand up your leg and into the slit of your dress as you nod, higher, higher, higher until his fingers brush against lace. You wonder if he can feel the fabric dampening.

“Y’know the Pink Floyd you asked about? It wasn’t sold, I kept it for myself. I’ll play it for you sometime.”

“You’re gonna talk about music? Right now?”

“What should I talk about instead? The delicate panties you got on? How wet they’re getting?”

Your breath hitches as he shifts his fingers, tucking them just under the edge of your panties and caressing your skin. Glancing around, the band are still playing low and slow, most tables having cleared out by now.

“Would love to see ‘em, if you’ll let me. I’d really love to see what’s underneath though. Pretty girl like you’s bound to have a real pretty pussy, too. Certainly feels like it, Jesus.”

He presses his fingers into you with more force this time and you turn your head to him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and not from the dim lighting. He glances down to your lips and back up to your eyes again and you close the distance between you. He repositions the arm around your shoulders, hand holding the back of your neck as you lock your legs together and grind yourself against him.

His lips are soft, beard and moustache tickling your skin as he swipes his tongue against the seam of your mouth. You moan into him as you part your lips, letting him lick into you and you can taste his whiskey. He pulls back and you whine, teasing you with just enough to leave you reeling for more.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Take me home, Joel. Please, I need you.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Wanna hear the music you can make.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

DON’T YOU EVER GROW UP

CHARACTERS: Joel Miller & Sarah Miller

RATING: none | WORD COUNT: 900

SUMMARY: Joel experiences many emotions as Sarah reaches the childhood milestone of getting her “big girl” bed.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is me, projecting my own experience onto my favorite character because I’m a fic writer and that’s what I do. Divider by @/saradika-graphics and beta read by @murder-wife 💕

LINKS: support for palestine 🇵🇸

Joel wipes the sweat beading along his hairline with the back of his hand. He stares at the new bed frame, his mind not reconciling how much bigger than her convertible crib it is. It's just a twin, white wood that matches her dresser and her bookcase stuffed with children's books of all shapes and sizes, but it seeing it take up so much space feels jarring.

"Little help?" Tommy calls from the hallway. Joel shakes his head to clear his thoughts before joining his brother, who holds one end of a mattress teetering on the stairs. Together they bring it the rest of the way into Sarah's room, settling it on the frame.

"Thanks for the help," Joel says, patting Tommy's shoulder. "I owe ya one."

"Don't sweat it. I know the little miss was dyin' for her new big girl bed."

There it is, the phrase that makes Joel's heart clench in his chest. Sarah's barreling towards five years old, shedding some of the baby roundness in her cheeks and no longer saying certain words incorrectly, the way toddlers tend to do. She gets up every morning for preschool and eats her cereal all by herself and comes home in the afternoon to tell Joel about her day, legs kicking against the chair while she shows him her art because she's not quite tall enough to reach the floor. Joel looks around the room again, remembering the rocking chair in the corner that was the first piece of her childhood to retire, followed by the changing table with its pile of diapers. He thinks about how small she'd been, how light her tiny body was on his chest and for a moment he misses it so fiercely his eyes burn with the threat of tears.

"I need a beer," Tommy says, leaving the room. Joel takes the opportunity to press his fingers to his eyes, willing the wave of emotion to subside before joining his brother in the kitchen.

They share a couple beers before Tommy checks his watch, announcing that he should leave. On the way out the door, they pass the dismantled crib and Tommy taps it with his hand.

"You want me to drop that off for donation?" he asks. Joel looks at the chipped white wood, rubs a thumb over a dent in the veneer.

"No, that's alright. I'll take care of it," he replies. Tommy shrugs and Joel walks him out to his truck parked in the drive way, waving him off. When Tommy disappears from view, he heads next door to Connie's house.

He knocks on the front door and waits, the sound of tiny feet against wood growing louder, making his smile grow wider. The door opens, Sarah's sweet face peeking through the crack allowed by the chain lock.

"Password?" she asks, tone as serious as a four year old can muster. Joel crouches down to look her in the eye.

"Pizza for dinner," he says. She squeals in excitement and jumps away from the door just as Connie unlocks it. His daughter sits on the worn carpet runner to pull on her shoes while Joel asks how she behaved.

"She was an angel as always," Connie assures him. "Wait right here, we made cookies earlier and I want to send y'all home with some."

Connie disappears down the hall and Sarah darts after her. When they return, his daughter is balancing a foil wrapped plate in both hands, tongue peeking out of her mouth in concentration.

"Thanks again, Con. I'll be 'round Sunday to help Dan with the yard," Joel promises. Connie waves a hand at him.

"Don't you worry about it, you know it ain't a big deal to watch her. You got a good egg on your hands."

Back at home, Joel calls in an order for pizza that he shares with Sarah. He lets her take sips of his Coke to wash it down, her brown eyes wide with excitement at getting to drink soda with dinner. After a bath, pajamas, and a minor argument over brushing her teeth, Sarah enters her room for the first time that evening and sees her new bed.

"Wow!" she exclaims, clambering onto the mattress. She stands, jumping excitedly and Joel wraps an arm around her middle, placing her back on the ground.

"Remember how that song goes? The monkey falls off and bumps his head?" Joel asks, knocking his knuckles against the top of her head as she giggles. "No jumpin'. Come on, let's get your sheets on."

Together, though the bulk of the effort falls on Joel, they get her bed ready. Purple sheets with a cream colored quilt decorated with purple butterflies, a set that she spotted in the store that Joel went back to purchase on his own. She crawls between the sheets and settles her head on the pillow, ready for her stories. Joel reads three books of her choosing and shuts down her argument for a fourth, seeing that she can barely keep her eyes open any longer. He plugs in her pink butterfly nightlight and kisses her forehead.

"Goodnight, baby girl," he whispers.

"'M not a baby, I'm a big girl now," Sarah replies in her sleepy voice. Her eyes have already drifted shut before he can respond and he stands there for a moment, watching her with a lump in his throat.

Sarah may be getting bigger, but she'll always be his baby. Of that, Joel is certain.

Thank you for reading! For more of my writing visit:

All masterlists

Joel Miller masterlist

[tremendum]

heaven is a place on earth; joel miller

prologue; im a loser, baby!

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au (pre-outbreak, altered ages), Joel Miller x fem!nanny!reader.  dedicated to the anon who suggested this trope.

↬     series masterlist main masterlist

↬      it's 2000. you're freshly single, three weeks away from being evicted, and your coworker knows a hot, single dad who is hiring for a nanny. you'll take anything you can get.

↬     warnings; tagged 18+ for eventual smut and mature themes. MDNI. age gap (reader is 22, joel is 35), fiscal anxieties, allusions to a shitty ex. if your name is michelle, norah, or dan, you get to be twins with my ocs in this series <;33

series mixtape, song one; Loser, Beck. 1994.

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"fuck."

your voice hisses through the rows of books you stalk down, legs carrying you with fervor towards the front desk. "fuck, fuck, fuck!" 

you whirl past a mother reading a children's book to her toddler and wince at your language, mouthing sorry! at the baby as you pass. avoiding the harsh glare of its mother, you mutter under your breath. "shit." 

in your hurry, your hip slams into the wooden corner of the front desk; a small grunt of pain hisses through your clenched teeth as you trudge up to your swivel chair. 

"god, damn it!" you bemoan, lowering yourself into your chair and sighing heavily as you drop your head to your hands. 

"so...it can't be good news." Michelle says to you, quietly, as she grimaces apologetically to the mother who walks towards the exit, shielding her stupid baby's ears from your foul mouth. you ignore the woman's harsh look of judgement, instead biting your lip, willing yourself to calm down.

with a suck of deep breath you shake your head. "no, it is not."

she sends you a consolatory look and to this you groan, "the rent's too much here. thought I'd get this one, I really did." you mutter helplessly, picking up several of the books from the drop bin to check them back in on your computer. "they made me endure four interviews. all for nothing." 

a consolatory hand graces your shoulder and you offer your coworker a small smile of gratitude. she sends you a smile so hopeful that you nearly forget the desperate state you're in - the heavy fear of starting new.

"we'll find you a good one. you're smart, marketable, charming..." Michelle shakes her head as you move to protest, pointing at you. "-no, don't even start. we'll get you some more interviews. in the meantime...Dan and I were thinking. we have a couple hundred we could spare this month, just to..." she glances at your shocked stare, shrugging her shoulders. "-you know, get you on your feet. it's not easy to restart, especially after a breakup." 

your heart drops at her words, a crawling feeling of shame licking your throat as you shake your head. 

eyes stinging, you stare down hard at your keyboard, where your nails pick at the F key. "I couldn't- I couldn't ask that of you. thank you, but I-" you shake your head. "don't do that, really Michelle."

she waves her hand, "we insist. but Dan wants to discuss it in person, so we'll be having you over for dinner soon, okay?" she insists, and you hide your burning face between your hands. "this is too much." you say with a grumble, shaking your head. 

"think of it as a gift." she says hopefully with a shrug. "your birthday's soon, isn't it?" 

you sigh, smiling over at her as you shake your head. "at least let me do something for you in repayment. do you need any rooms painted? gardening? babysitting?" you offer, sliding slightly towards her to take a sip of her coffee. 

"we'll talk about it." she agrees, but you know she isn't going to ask you to do any of it; she and her husband are much too kind.

at your silence she just hums triumphantly, typing away on her keyboard as she files a damaged book report. the library hums with its inherent stillness, the fluorescents flickering as you busy yourself filing your own work for the evening.

five whole minutes pass in silence; a feat for you and the woman who sits just beside you. as you work idly, your eyes jump back to the payphone on the wall across the room where you'd heard the words: thank you for your interest, but we decided to go with another candidate. 

whatever. they don't deserve you, anyways. and honestly, the job had shitty benefits.

a sharp sigh from you gives Michelle the narrow opportunity to swivel her chair to face you, as if she'd been waiting for an opportunity to speak.

"you know," she puts on the look of innocence, "I was thinking..." 

you fix her with a look - the last few suggestions for money she'd given you were take up dancing (which you would certainly consider, if the nearest club wasn't fourteen miles away) or marry rich. for a woman who's still with the same man she was with in high school, she sure has an imaginative mind.

you're a month away from losing your new apartment and you cannot fathom moving back in with your ex; you'll take anything. Michelle holds her hands out in defense at your glare. "listen, Norah's got a teammate whose father is looking for a nanny." 

you let the words sink in as you spin your chair to her in interest. nanny? 

"-he owns a construction business. he mentioned looking for a nanny for weekdays at the girls' tournament last Saturday." 

you sigh, touched that she'd thought of you, but exasperated. "I work weekdays!" you sigh. she lifts a brow, leaning closer, "yes, but..." she looks around conspiratorially, "-I think Joel would give you higher pay - and you can still work here on weekends." 

your brows raise in shock, hope growing in your chest. "what, is he loaded?" 

at this, she laughs.

you blink as she holds a hand to her chest, chuckling to herself, leaving you unaware of whatever was so funny to her. "no, no." she calms herself as you stare, less amused. "-but he loves his girl. definitely the type of man who will pay well to make sure his baby's safe."

your lip is tugged between your teeth as you consider; "kids don't really like me." 

it’s not even true- kids love you as much as you love them, but something self-sabotaging within you begs to differ.

Michelle snorts, "Norah loves you." she counters; you cross your arms, "well, that's different. she's, like, an eleven year old version of you." 

she grins at this; Michelle has known you since you were a sophomore, just freshly out of the dorms - she may be older than you by over a decade and a half, but she and her husband are the closest to family you have in this part of the country. 

you nod. "please, will you give him my information? I need any money I can get. I'll be the best nanny in the world."

you're convincing yourself more than her, but she smiles all the same. "I'll see him when I pick Norah up after practice this afternoon. I'll share your number with him, okay?" 

you have the next day off of work; you spend it unpacking some boxes and organizing, taking a walk around the new neighborhood, trying to befriend the building cat with a can of tuna.

you watch people pass in the street, distracting yourself from the disappointment of leaving your old neighborhood, even if it'd been infested by your cheating ex.

the opportunity to nanny this summer lingers in the back of your mind as you walk past a park, watching as the kids clamber and scream and laugh; you smile to yourself, watching a young mother push a child on the swing. 

sometime past noon, an unknown number texts your cellphone and you pause the TiVo to flip it open eagerly. 

Hey there, it's Joel Miller. Our mutual friend Michelle passed along your number. I've been looking for a nanny for my daughter and heard great things about you. Would you be open to chatting sometime this week? I'd love to discuss a nannying opportunity with Sarah. Let me know if that works for you.

Thanks, Joel

you stare at the words, reading them slowly with a pounding of excitement in your chest. suddenly, the walls of your new, too-expensive apartment seem brighter, the sun opens up the sky - you nearly call Michelle in a burst of excitement before even thinking of a response. 

an inkling of doubt pulls at the back of your head; the man seems kind enough - even if he texts like he's a hundred years old, Michelle and Dan know him personally. you slide your phone, staring at the phone screen for a moment before starting to type out a response. 

Hi Joel! Nice to hear from you, thanks for reaching out. I'd be happy to meet this week to chat about Sarah and nannying opportunities. I am available in the evenings most days, so if there's any time that works best for you, I can make that happen. 

knuckles cramping, you roll your eyes at your effort to be professional over text. you tweak your message several times before signing your name, shutting your eyes, and hitting the send button. 

Joel doesn't respond until very late; nearly eleven in the evening, suggesting a time later in the week and telling you his address. Michelle is ecstatic for you, even helping you draft up ways to tell your boss you'll be going part-time in a professional way; it's accepted gracefully, and now all you have to do is hope this Joel Miller can pay enough. 

he hires you an hour after meeting up.

to your relief, his daughter Sarah is a darling; big eyes and a bright smile that hides no malicious intent or snobbery. your anxiety slipped away the moment Joel opens their front door, replaced instead with flustered surprise in your lower belly at the man who stood before you.

why hadn't Michelle at least warned you?

he's taller than you'd imagined, and much more handsome; his dark hair is slightly tousled, a faint hint of stubble framing his jawline, biceps defined by a dark gray shhirt. he's curt but chivalrous, voice a low baritone and veins that trickle up his thick forearms golden skin glowing as he talks.

and jesus christ, his eyes - the memory of how they'd scaled over your body, taking you in as you'd stood in the dying sunlight on his doorstep that first time. dragging slowly, eyes dark and shrouded by long lashes, as you'd introduced yourself. how he'd cleared his throat and let you through with a half smile and a nod.

you'd had to try your hardest to keep your eyes on his as he explained he'd need you most weekdays because he has several new projects and has been working longer hours recently.

it took Sarah all of a minute and a half of shyness and hiding behind her father's leg before you showed her your tamagotchi; immediately after, she decided you were new best friends - with her hand in yours, she eagerly showed around the house in a half-intentional tour, pointing out the best hide and seek spots and showing you her collection of toys. 

by the end of the evening, Joel was shaking your hand and agreeing on a bi-weekly payment much higher than you'd expected.

he'd insisted on walking you to your beat-up car, smiling as he opened your driver's door with a shrug - it's dark out, don't want to let my new sitter walk alone at night, do I?

you'd tried your hardest to keep your thoughts professional, but the moment your head fell to your pillow that night, you knew you were fucked. 

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up next: chapter 01 ; as long as you don't care there is no longer a taglist; follow @tremendumnotifs to be notified when i post.

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[hellishjoel]

hi!! if you feel down to write this, could i request something along the lines of: bratty reader teases joel all day, even in front of his friends and in public, so when they both go their separate ways, he sends her a video of her fucking his fleshlight teasing her back for her attitude.

"See babydoll, this coulda been you if you weren't acting all bratty today; I could've been balls deep in you by now, but instead im balls deep in this toy"

SORRY, IT'S BEEN RATTLING AROUND IN MY BRAIN FOR DAYS NOW ♡♡

tease

1.5k // brat tamer!joel x f!reader

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

masterlist

Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, brat!tamer Joel, smut via fucking a toy, extended teasing, dirty dirty dirty man talk, pet names, etc. very little editing, a little angst?

A/N: thank you for the request! short and sweet <3

Joel is infuriated. 

Your hand is under the table, raking up and down his thigh as if the motion was innocent. As if you didn’t know what you were doing. 

It had been like this all day, you had been toying with him. Cat and fuckin’ mouse. 

It started this morning. You insisted on coming over to Joel’s place early in the morning to make him a big breakfast, something he could definitely get behind. He came out of the shower, freshly trimmed and manscaped, all for you. 

What he didn’t expect when he walked downstairs and to the kitchen was the sight of you making breakfast in just a pair of black panties and his oversized dark gray Miller Contracting shirt. The sight alone made his cock swell for a treat of morning wood. 

You served his plate, gave that innocent little face, and proceeded to bend over the table to reach for the salt and pepper. 

Joel’s hand slowly moved up the back of your thigh, cupping the globe of your ass and giving a good squeeze to you. He was about to pull you in to sit on his lap, but was surprised to see you just go and sit in your chair across from him, digging into your own breakfast. 

Okay. 

The two of you had plans to meet up with Joel and Tommy’s good friend Dan and a few others to celebrate Dan’s birthday at a local pub. 

That’s where the two of you were now, with your hand raking up and down his leg and doing a few gentle squeezes that really made a shiver go up his spine. 

He could feel himself leaking in his boxers, hard under the outline you were absentmindedly drawing on his thigh. 

“Cut it out.” Joel told you sternly under his breath, his pint glass covering his mouth as he laid it against his bottom lip, trying to stare straight ahead at one of the large televisions they had in the bar. 

“Cut what out?” 

So many damn people were around, and it always felt like they were watching. 

Your fingernail added pressure to him, Joel’s knuckles going white around the pint glass he was certain he might shatter it. 

He felt you lean in, lips to his ear as everyone absentmindedly discussed the game on the tv. 

“What’s wrong, daddy?”

The condensation on Joel’s glass and your naughty comment had his pint slipping right through his fingers, his iron grip loosening for just a second before it clattered down onto the table and spilled everywhere. 

“Shit,” Joel quickly cursed, standing up from the table and reaching for the closest napkins he could find. 

Everyone looked at him and leisurely laughed, dismissing Joel’s little slip, wiping the streams of ale that reached their side of the table before returning to their mundane conversations. 

Joel’s eyes were staring daggers into you. He was pissed. 

Not only did he have beer dripping from the hem of his shirt, you were watching with a dopey smirk on your face as if you didn’t have anything to do with it. 

Joel’s cock has been aching in his jeans for hours now, the thought of bending you over and spanking the attitude out of you was really what he could go for right now. 

But you’d like that wouldn’t you? Getting Joel worked up all day, denying him access to his favorite little toy, not being able to pound his dick into your pussy like what he’s been craving for since he woke up this morning. 

He’d be a simmering tea kettle until he could get a good cum in, he couldn’t be here any longer. 

“I’m headin’ home to change.” Joel announced to Dan who shook his hand and thanked him for coming. 

You were in tow, slinging your bag around your shoulder as you followed Joel out with a pleased little grin. 

Joel’s face was fuming red like an angry cartoon character, one hand gripping his steering wheel while the other held his clutch.

Your hand landed on his arm, head coming to lay on his shoulder as you let out a soft sigh. 

“Someone’s angry.” Your teasing made his cock twitch. 

“Don’t like bein’ toyed with.” Joel returned flatly, feeling you run your fingers delicately up and down his bicep, causing goosebumps in your wake. 

“Who’s toying with you, daddy? When have I ever not delivered?” Your hand egregiously cupped his cock through his jeans, Joel swerving on the road at the unexpected grip you had on his pulsating balls. 

He could cum in seconds if you’d just let him. 

“Bein’ a real fuckin’ brat, you know that, baby?” Joel said through gritted teeth, his eyebrows furrowed together as his heart raced, the pressure pumping down to his swollen dick. 

He harshly shoved your hand away, feeling your pout from the passenger seat. 

Joel pushed his tongue against the side of his cheek as he concentrated on driving, watching from his peripheral as you hiked your skirt up for his pleasure.

You slipped two fingers past the band of your panties, playing with your slick before circling around your clit and letting out a little moan of his name. 

Joel’s eyelashes fluttered, he dared himself not to look but he couldn’t help it. 

His lips parted at the sight, watching as your fingers moved under the veil of your panties. But he could hear it. The squelching of your wet juices combatting your anxious fingers.  

“You gonna let me take care of that for ya?” Joel asked, his final try at trying to get himself in your pants. 

He watched you throw up your eyes in debate, biting down on your lower lip before you shook your head and crossed your legs, removing your hand as you sucked your slick right off your fingers. Not even letting Joel have a taste. 

“Mmm… nope.” 

Joel cocked his head, his throbbing member nearly giving him a headache. 

You were surprised to see Joel had parked in front of your house, looking out the window then back to him. 

“What are you-”

“Go on.” 

You paused, your eyes narrowing on him before you took off your seatbelt. 

“Fine… you can come in, you know.” You looked over his face but he was just staring straight ahead. “Joel?”

“Gotta go home and change my shirt, take care of a few things. Go on, now.” 

You let out a short little huff, throwing his truck door opening and hopping down, quickly slamming it closed as the truck rocked. You eyed him as you crossed in front of it, hitting the steps to your front porch when he peeled off. 

What the hell. 

You teased Joel all the time! Maybe never for this long but you weren’t expecting him to leave you high and dry at the end of the night. You liked when he showed you who was boss, telling him that your pussy was all for him. 

You threw yourself back in bed, rolling your eyes at the whole situation. 

Your phone buzzed beside you after you got out of the shower, combing through your hair before sitting on your bed and opening the video message from Joel. 

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped at the sight. Your eyes were glued to the screen as you watched Joel thrust his cock into his fleshlight. 

An audible whimper left you, watching it in shock. 

His deep grunts echoed through your phone speakers, mouth going dry as you watched his fleshlight get filled up. You were envious of that fucking toy. 

“Oh, fuck me,” Joel’s moans were heaven to your ears, feeling a white hot spot start in your stomach as the video continued to play. 

His wrist snapped the toy faster down his cock, watching as it was lubed up with his spit and slick from his pre-cum and probably a bit of lube. 

Another whimper left your lips, begging that the toy could have been your aching pussy. 

“Ya see.. This could have been you, baby doll. Could have.. fuck.. could have been balls deep inside of you right now if you didn’t act like a damn brat all day. This could've been you.” 

His words made your bottom lip quiver, continuing to watch as his girthy length filled that toy to the brim. 

“God damn.. M’ fuckin close.”

His words made you shutter. You wanted to turn the video off. Hell, you wanted to chuck your phone out the window. But here you were, your eyes glued to it. You could see his dark happy trail, his salt and pepper hair that led to his fat fucking cock. 

You should have taken it at breakfast, you should have given it to him at the fucking bar! You’d do anything right now for him to fill you up like he was for his fleshlight. 

His phone got a little shaky as he came, Joel’s beautiful but erratic moans filling your ears as he flushed himself deep into his toy, filling it with his white hot cum. 

You could hear his breathing slow, watching as he slowly filmed himself taking the toy off his cock. He was covered in his own spill, and all you wanted to do was lick it clean off of him. 

“Goodnight baby girl, thanks for the good cum. Needed it all day.”

-----

@jrrmint @gracieispunk @macfrog @strang3lov3 @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre @brittmb115 @casa-boiardi @nostalxgic @cool-iguana @chim-cham-blog

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[jobean12-blog]

In It for the Long Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 1,656

Summary: Joel is out for the night and when he returns early and wants you to leave work and come home you know something isn't right.

Author's Note: Just because I love him and missed him and this seems like something that could really happen when you're with a biker. PS our sweet little black kitten Ink is here too- she's getting big and just loves Joel of course! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, little angst sprinkled in here and there, mentions of blood but very light

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Joel just text me that he’s here.”

You look at your friend Jade with worried eyes.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t he going to come in?” she asks.

“He said he can’t come in. He wants to know if I can leave now.”

“Of course you can babe,” Jade says quickly. “Dan and I will be fine tonight.”

“Are you sure…I don’t know what’s goin…”

“Don’t worry,” Jade assures you. “Just go to him. I’m sure everything is fine.”

You nod with a hard swallow and rush to the back to gather your things, texting Joel as you go that you’ll be right out.

Your legs are slightly shaky as you approach the door, a feeling of dread weighing you down with each step.

At first you don’t see him but then you hear the rev of his engine and your gaze is drawn to his bike. He’s parked across the street with his headlights off.

“Joel?” you question when you reach his bike.

He holds his arms out for you and you rush into them, burying your face in his neck.

“What’s going on?” you mumble into his skin.

“Let’s go home,” he says quietly.

You pull back to look at him and let out a gasp.

“Oh my god, what happened? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine darlin.’ Really I am. Just need a little help gettin’ cleaned up.”

Your eyes instantly well with tears and you lift your finger to gently brush it across his bruised cheek.

“Aw angel, no tears. I promise it’s nothin’.”

“But Joel…you’re bleeding and bruised…”

The tears roll down your cheeks, hot and wet, and his hands cup your face, thumbs sweeping across your skin to wipe them away.

“Are you ok to drive? Should we take the car? Do you need a doctor?”

Your questions come out in a rush and your voice is high pitched with worry.

He shakes his head no and the side of his mouth twitches with a smile.

“No. Just need you.”

You study him, your eyes lingering on his face until you whisper, “ok, let’s go home.”

He takes his helmet from the handlebars and secures it on your head before unzipping his leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“Let’s zip this up. It’s chilly tonight,” he says.

“Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?”

“You always do darlin’.”

He kisses you softly on the side of the mouth and then helps you onto the back of his bike.

The ride home is short, less than ten minutes, but in that time the wind picks up and sky opens up with rain.

As you near the house the headlights from his bike reflect off the growing puddles on the street and you shiver against his back.

He pulls over and kills the engine, holding out his hand for you to hop off. He tucks you protectively under his arm and walks you to the door.

“I hope you didn’t get too wet angel,” he says.

“I’m fine,” you say as you walk in and turn on the light.

You turn to him and fresh tears fill your eyes.

“Let me just get us towels and the first aid kit. Don’t move.”

You rush off to the bathroom just as Ink hops off the ledge of the front window. She meows at Joel and then starts to rub between his legs.

“Hey, you,” he says as he picks up the small black cat.

Her tiny pink nose delicately explores his chin before she reaches up with a paw and softly presses it to his cheek.

“Don’t be worried like your mama. I’m fine,” he tells the cat.

“She knows you’re hurt,” you say when you return and find the two of them standing by the door staring at each other.

You take his free hand and walk him toward the couch.

“You might have to set her down for a minute. I want to get your wet shirt off.”

He puts the cat down on the couch and then grabs the hem of his shirt.

“Wait,” you say quietly. “Let me. Please.”

He drops the material and looks at you with big brown eyes.

“Ok angel. Whatever you want.”

“Lift your arms,” you instruct him as you start to peel his shirt up and off.

Inch by inch his wet skin is revealed, his tattoos along with it and you find yourself inspecting every inch of him for more injuries before gently pressing the towel to his chest. You do nothing to hide your shameless perusal of him and he’s clearly enjoying it, his eyes sparkling and his lips turned up into a boyish smirk.

“Anything else hurt?”

“Nah, but you can keep checkin’ all ya want.”

He winks at you when you look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Ok sit and tell me what happened.”

He sits with a plop and extends his arm to pet Ink while you start to work off his boots.

“I can do that angel, it’s no…”

When your eyes meet his he clamps his mouth shut, only opening it again to explain that some out of town biker gang had started some trouble with him and the boys. No of the boys were hurt more than some bumps, scrapes and bruises but the other guys weren’t as lucky.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t any worse,” you sigh. “I got so scared when you said you wanted me to come home and all. I figured you would come in and have a drink…”

“I know darlin.’ I’m sorry I scared you. I knew I couldn’t go in the bar lookin’ like this though.”

“It’s ok. Just promise me you’ll always be careful.”

“Always,” he whispers.

After you have his boots off and dry socks on you stand and straddle his lap, settling your knees on either side of his waist and taking a smaller towel to run through his hair.

You then comb your fingers through the wet strands and give it a slicked back style. He raises a brow when you smirk and drag your teeth over your bottom lip.

“What?” he asks.

“Looks really good.”

“Yeah angel? Even with the blood?”

“Somehow it makes it even hotter…but I’m still so upset you’re hurt.”

“I’m ok.”

“You keep saying that.”

“But I am darlin.’ Honestly, couldn’t be better at the moment.”

His hands slide along your thighs and then settle on your waist. He pulls you closer and runs his nose along the column of you neck to breathe you in.

“Don’t you dare,” you gasp. “I have to patch you up first.”

“Mm hm,” he murmurs as his lips press to your skin and his fingers dance higher.

You flatten your palms on his chest and give him a light shove, giggling when he looks at you with pouty lips.

After a soft kiss you get the first aid kit and start to clean the cut above his eye and the one on his lip. When you press the antiseptic to the wound he winces, leaving his eyes closed as you continue to carefully wipe each spot.

You inspect every area of his face, especially focusing on the skin beneath his beard, lovingly caressing the gray spots as you go. He relaxes into your touch and you let your fingers gently trace his features.

“All clean,” you whisper.

You hand him the small ice pack you got from the freezer. “Hold this on your cheek.”

“But my hands are busy,” he sighs.

His hands graze the skin beneath your shirt, calloused thumbs caressing the softness before they inch higher.

“You only need one hand for this,” you lightly chide.

His eyes pop open and he gives you a stern look. “Fine.”

You bat your lashes at him and wait until he has the ice pack pressed to his cheek.

“Just until I finish up.”

You put medicine on the cut above his eye and one butterfly stitch then clean up the dried blood on his knuckles.

“You must have gotten a pretty good punch in.”

You can see his muscles tense when you press the pad to his bruised knuckles.

“You bet I did angel,” he boasts. “And that’d be plural…punches.”

When you meet his eyes he winks again and throws you a smug grin.

You kiss it right off his lips then smudge some medicine on his knuckles. He immediately puts down the ice pack and places his hands back on your body.

“That could probably stay on a bit longer,” you tsk.

“Later,” he murmurs.

Ink walks along the back of the couch and sits herself down right behind Joel. She blinks at you several times then starts to swat at the curls of hair at the back of his neck.

“She likes them almost as much as I do,” you tease.

“She’s just wantin’ attention,” he grumbles. “Gets that from you too.”

You shoot him an incredulous glare and then give him one more once over.

“Think I did a pretty good job,” you state.

“I feel brand new,” he says as he drags you closer and smooths his hands along the curve of your back.

When your lips meet you’re mindful of his cut but he doesn’t seem to care at all and dances one hand higher until he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you harder.

He moans into your mouth and tugs at the hem of your shirt. Your hands delve into his damp hair and then slide down to his shoulders. His bare skin is warm and when you feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers you ease away and battle with the reminder of what happened, your eyes glassy.

His large hand cradles your cheek and he smooths his nose along your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Darlin’,” he coos. “It’s all right. I’m fine…let me prove it to you.”  

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

[romanarose]

The River

Joel Miller x Black!fem!reader

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Summary: Joel and Sarah's mom! reader the days he's conceived, written to Bruce Springsteen's The River in honor of his birthday today!

Warnings: Virginity loss for both, piv sex, skinny dipping, not a happy end, if you want the spoiler look at notes at the end. Classmate calls reader a name but its never stated so you can fill in the blank however fitting you feel, but its implied its either a slur or a derogatory word towards women. Story starts with joel and reader in HS and 17, but 18 when the smu happens. If this makes you uncomfortable, thats fine. Dont read it.Some drinking but everyone is consenting, and at 18 in the 80's in the us you can drink Immersivity: reader is at least biracial as fitting with the show TLOU. Not super descriptive there bc I wanted it to remain pretty open but I mentioned hair care for curls and dark skin

Happy birthday Bruce!!!! I love you

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

I come from down in the valley

Where, mister, when you're young

They bring you up to do like your daddy done

  It started at 17, just kids. You were like something out of a dream to a teen. Well, a wet dream. You dressed so unlike everyone around him, showing off skin in a way scandalous to the bible belt you were living in. Joel was taught that impure thoughts and sex before marriage was sinful, shameful.

A year later, it didn’t feel shameful with you. 

When you moved here during yours and Joel’s senior  year, you and Joel met at a party and it was all over for him the second he saw you in that pretty black dress that dipped so low… Dark, thick curls spiraled around your head in a halo and beautiful dark skin. Joel was certain you weren’t looking his way even once. Joel wasn’t unpopular by any means, but if he were honest a lot of his circle came from either playing baseball or being Tommy’s brother . 

Tommy was a linebacker on the football team, something much cooler than baseball was. Joel didn’t think himself ugly, he thought he was decent to look at, but his nose got in the way, just planted large smack in the middle of his face. Tommy had similar features, but for some reason they meshed together better. Tommy was also just so much more extraverted, friendly as they came. And none of it was fake, Tommy was genuine and that's why people liked him. That’s why Tommy lost his virginity long before Joel had his first kiss.

When you walked over and struck up a conversation with him of all people, Joel’s eyes nearly popped out of his face.

“Hey.” You told him your name. “I start school next week with y’all”

“”M Joel,” He reached out shaking your hand, a move that made you grin ear to ear. “Nice t’meecha”

“You’re cute, Joel, wanna talk outside?”

An hour later, you and Joel hadn’t spoken to a single other soul. He watched as envious eyes lingered on them, pride swelling in his chest at having the prettiest girl at the party wearing his jacket as you sat on the porch. 

“HEY MILLER!” A teammate of Tommy’s shouts at Joel from below the porch. “Gonna finally score a homerun?”

When you looked at him confused, Joel explained the metaphor. “I play baseball.”

“YEAH AND HE’S NEVER SCORED WITH A GIRL!”

“THANKS DAN I THINK SHE GOT IT!!” Joel shouted to the jeering boy who’d drawn a bit of a crowd. When he turns back to you, you weren’t weirded about him being a virgin still, instead you were smiling.

“I’m a virgin too, don’t worry. Wanna really show ‘em how stupid they look?” You whisper.

Joel laughs, smiling something dopey. “Please…”

Swinging one leg over the porch railing, a move that spread your legs and rode your skirt up. You grab his shirt, yanking him towards you and kissing him right tyoure in the porch light, getting bitten by mosquitos. This creates a bunch of loud whooping from everyone except Dan, more people gathering to watch the show. Joel about passed out, ready to fall off the porch and die a happy man. He didn’t, holding onto your leg as you giggled into his mouth at the reactions of everyone around them.

After that, only death could separate Joel from you. 

Me and Mary we met in high school

When she was just seventeen

We drive out of this valley

Down to where the fields were green

“Hey Miller!” Dan called after him in the hall, but Joel wasn’t interested in talking to him.

That school year had been a wild one to be sure. You joined the cheer team, but admitted later it was so that you could see Joel more, an excuse to talk to him. Joel was absolutely baffled at the concept that you thought you needed a reason to talk to him after he’d kissed you, but sweet nonetheless. 

Dan had tried in vain to steal you out from under him, but to Joel’s surprise you showed no interest. After that, he got mean. Joel frequently found himself telling Dan to shut the fuck up, defending you even though the relationship still didn’t have a name. It was stolen smiles in class, study dates, choosing to spend your 18th birthday with him at the local diner instead of a party.  DIdn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let Dan talk the way he did about you. It’d never escalated to more than a few shoves in the locker room, resulting in being separated by Tommy and your teammate. Their coach said if Dan causes more problems to let him know.

And then, Dan crossed a line. The crowded hallway was loud, people pushing around to get the hell out of school and onto their next event but Joel heard him loud and clear. The hall got real quiet, everyone between Dan and you and Joel hearing with Dan called you, and it was over. 

“Joel…” You warn, feeling him squeeze your hand tighter. “Don-” but he was gone, letting go and lunging at Dan like he was tackling in a game.

The fight didn’t last long, Joel a little better off than Dan was by the time they were pulled apart, which is why the coach suspended Joel for 2 days instead of Dan. They told the coach, multiple students testifying, what Dan had called you but he never go any repercussions. That just makes Joel all the more happy he broke his nose.

You were his after that. Officially. Boyfriend and girlfriend and inseparable. Every game, you were there cheering him on and every night you worked he was there to walk you home. 

When the summer turned warm, Joel decided he wanted to share something special with you.

It was a secret spot, a place Joel grandpa used to take him and Tommy to fish before he passed. They pair had grown up swimming there when they could get their hands on a car in the summer, and it was somewhere that few people knew about. A quiet lake, the perfect place to fish and swim or just relax. Joel managed to borrow your brothers car, people trusting him as he was responsible, unlike Tommy. He even packed you a picknick, making it a nice date. He knew he was romantic as shit. He didn’t plan on what happened happening, but he knew it would be a special afternoon.

The week after graduation in Texas was already warm, the world bright and happy around him as college approached. You and him had plans to move to Austen together, he had gotten a few good grants for low income students and was going to attend the tech school, get into electrician work. He even knew a place where he could apprentice in the city, and hopefully by the time you graduate with your 4 year degree he would have his journeymans. You had gotten an excellent scholarship, and between that and the money saved from the last few years of both of you working, if you guys budgeted well you would graduate almost debt free. Then, find permanent jobs, get a house, get married, have kids… the entire world was in the palm of your hands.

You hadn’t taken the big step, even after 7 months of dating, you were still virgins. You wanted to… but where? On the bottom bunk of the bunk bed Joel and Tommy still shared in the tiny mobile home? Or at your place, where your mom made you keep the door open at all time? Joel certainly wasn’t going to deflower you in the back of a car, he wasn’t a fucking animal. Still, he liked to think what ended up happening was perfect.

You loved it.

We'd go down to the river

And into the river we'd dive

Oh, down to the river we'd ride

“Joel!!!” An excited squeal escaped your lips as he finished setting everything up. There were even a bundle of wildflowers on the blanket he sprawled out on the grass. 

“M’grandpa used to take me  n’ Tommy here ‘fore he died.” Joel explained, standing up and stepping back to admire his work. There was a tinge of longing, reminiscing on those old days, childhood that he was soon to leave behind for a life with you. There'll always be nostalgia, but he didn’t have to fear facing the future with you by his side. He’d do it all in your honor. Joel felt your hand on his back.

“He sounds great, baby.”

Joel smiled. “Yeah, he was.” But he turned to hug yo. The smell of your hair was always something he took his time to appreciate. Throughout these months, he’d learned a lot about taking care of your hair, and absolutely adored the smell of coconut oil. He'd gotten pretty damn good at braiding. Sometimes you’d even put the oil in his hair, and Joel loved the scalp massage too much he was practically purring. That’s how you learned he had a sensitive scalp. Very sensitive.

Got anything to drink?” You smiled, trying to distract him.

He paused for a bit, then finally smiled for the first time tonight. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

Joel pulled out the glasses, iced tea, rum, and sliced lemons; Long Island iced tea.

Joel insisted on holding the ice to your lip as You sipped through your straw and drank his own. Joel was more of a beer guy himself, the guys would never let it go if they caught him drinking this, but for your, he’d drink it. Plus, it actually tastes good. Beer does not.

Now, Joel was Joel again. He laughed along to your stories and shared quips about the guys at the shop as they sat on the blanket he laid out by the banks. He braided your hair back for you, tying it up nice and tight so the river water doesn’t ruin it.

“You ready to swim?” You asked.

Joel grinned “Absolutely. I brought some spare clothes, I figured you couldn’t exactly sneak out with swimwear.”

“Actually…” You stood up. “I was thinking we could just…” You took off your shirt. Joel quickly stood up. “Skinny dip?” 

Joel had felt your tits before. Plenty. You and him had explored things before… but never this. Seeing your breasts in that bra had his mind short circuiting. He was only a man. 

You turned away and began walking towards the river. The Texas sun was setting on your back as you slid your underwear off. Joel never really gotten a good look at your ass until now. Well now, he was taking it all in. 

“You gonna join me? Or just stare at my ass like a perv at a gas station?” He looked up at you and saw you glancing over your shoulder as you unhooked your bra. When you turned back and tossed your bra back to the shore, Joel scrambled out of his jeans and underwear comically fast, hopping out of his last pant leg. Joel grinned wildly as he giggled (did he just giggle?) and ran into the river as he pulled his shirt off.

By the time he reached you, you had dove into the water, swimming out. He caught up to you and pulled your wet frame in, finally taking yor in the kiss he had wanted to give all afternoon. He was careful, ever so careful, not to startle you or move too fast, but he hears you laugh. “Oh my god Joel, just kiss me.”

As the lady wished. He deepened the kiss as you ran fingers through his thick curls, massaging into his scalp. He could feel himself getting hard, so he pulled away. “Time to swim, sweetheart.” As he dove into the water, you got a quick peek at his ass before it re-entered the cool water. Oh man, you could not wait to get a hold of that latter tonight. You swam as the sun peaked, until your bodies were too tired to keep changing between kisses and splashes.

The evening was still warm, but could cool quick. Joel grabbed towels and another drink for the two of you on the blanket. While in the car, he opened his windows and turned up the radio. He helped dry off your hair and body before pulling a blanket over the two of you. The area was private, no one would be here except him. Snuggling into his chest, you signed contently. Joel was your safe place. Despite being naked under the blanket, You felt warm and secure. When “Sister Christian” faded out of the car radio, You listened to the DJ.

“This next song is a request, it goes out from Joel in Arlington. Joel wants you to know how much he’s enjoyed your time together and he hopes for many more nights like tonight. Well, isn’t that sweet. Here’s to you, this is You Make Loving Fun by Fleetwood Mac”

You turned to him with a broad smile. “Joel! That’s so sweet” You took him in for a kiss as the opening chords started playing, your dark, naked body pulling up against him.

Joel tried to keep his cool, but fighting his hard-on was getting a lot harder to control. “I wanted to play something by Stevie Nicks, but all the songs I knew that she sang sounded like break up songs.” Joel sucked on your neck.

You moaned out his name. “Oh god… mmm” You tried to keep the conversation going, but he felt so good on your skin. “True, but Silver Springs is a masterpiece…”

“You are a masterpiece…” He murmured between the soft kisses he placed along your stomach. your heart rate kicked up as he crept closer to your sex. 

“Joel…” You pleaded, begging him for more as he kissed the crease of your legs, so, so close to where you needed him to be. Something else entirely. Just when You thought he was finally going to take your in his mouth,  moved past your sex, his beautiful lips tantalizingly grazing over you’re folds to move towards your inner thighs. “Joel, please, stop teasing…”

“As the lady wants…” Finally, he dove into you.

Then I got Mary pregnant

And man, that was all she wrote

You tasted fantastic. He flattened his tongue as licked up, swirling around your clit, making your whimper. He loved the little sounds You made when he touched you, tasted you. Sliding two fingers inside, Joel worked your lower body with everything in him: his fingers deep inside your, his mouth licking and kissing everywhere in reach, his free hand massaging along your thigh.

In the freedom of the dark night, You felt free to be as loud as You wanted. “FUCK! Fuck Joel, just like that.”

“Fuck, you taste so good”

You gave a breathy laugh “Baby, I taste like river water”

“Like delicious river water” He muttered with an obvious smile;

You giggled “Ew”

Joel hummed “mmmm” the vibration sending another wave through you.

“Oh! Oh God, Joel!” You whimpered when You felt his teeth carefully draw along your sensitive inner thigh.

Joel continued working you, fingering you open carefully until you came on his tongue, tugging on the sweet curl and his oh so sensitive scalp.

You moved your hips up, sending a shock of electricity through him when he felt your thigh rub along his cock.

He kissed into your neck, fighting the strong urge to leave hickies. “If I told you I brought a condom, would you think I was presumptuous?”

“If I told you I brought a condom, would you think I’m easy?”

You could feel a shit eating, teasing grin being pressed into your neck. “I don’t believe in women being easy, I believe in men being lucky.”

With your soft hand, you guided his face back to yours and You gifted him with a kiss. “Do you think you’re lucky tonight?”

He couldn’t help the feral growl that escaped him as he nipped along your neck and chest. “Sweetheart, tonight, I think I’m favored by the gods.” He rolled over and pulled the condom out of his pant pocket and slid it over his length before lining himself up at your entrance and planting a soft kiss on your brow. He touched his forehead to yours. “You want this?” Joel spoke softly in your ear.

You smiled, eyes closed, and nodded, gently tracing the muscles on his back, toned from physical labour.

“More than anything, Joel. Do you?”

When you opened them, Joel was beaming down at you. “More than anything.”

 He felt your grip on his shoulder as he entered your, wet and hot in contrast to the cool air seeping into their little haven. He pulled the blanket over both of their heads to keep the heat between them, to keep the world outside. Right now, only they mattered, only you existed, nothing else could possibly be more important than making you feel beautiful and special and… loved.

You were ethereal. Nothing in the world felt better than you sweet pussy and there was nothing he loved more than you, his beautiful girl giving herself to him, just as he gave himself to you. 

In your little tent, you felt safe, appreciated and adored. Joel always had a way of taking away all your anxieties, his demeanor was always so light and relaxing but fiercely protective. You could feel him hitting deep inside you despite his movements being slow and steady, not wanting to hurt you. He was all kisses: your mouth your jaw, your breasts, your cheeks. As you stretched out your body and put your arms over your head, he ran his hands up your sides, over your breasts and shoulders, along your arms and finally pinning your hand above your. Joel held you to the ground and he picked up his pace, making your toes curl as your orgasm built back up again.

“Mmmm, Joel, baby you feel so good… so good honey”

Joel could feel your tightening around him, he knew you were close. He kissed deep into your mouth that opened for him. You aggressively kissed back, taking his lip between your teeth. “Please baby, I need to feel you.” You wiggled your wrists.

Joel complied, releasing your hands which You returned to his tan skin. When You came around him, he felt your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, tipping him over the edge. His pace faltered as he rode out his orgasm, pressing tender kisses into your neck.

When they re-emerged from the cover of the blanket, night had completely fallen on the reservoir, the moon shone above the treeline illuminating You’s tan, wet body. “Keep on Lovin You” by REO Speedwagon was in full swing. They laid on the bank of the river, pulling your close just to feel each breath You takes.

There they laid, until Joel heard the rumble of thunder. “We should probably get going, don’t want to get rained on.” No answer. He looked down to see you sleeping against his chest. 5 more minutes won’t hurt… He thought to himself, and watched your sleep for 20 minutes, until you stirred to the sound of the thunder getting closer.

“Hm?” You grumbled into his chest, despite him not saying anything.

“I said we gotta go, it looks like rain.”

“Oh.” You rubbed your eyes and sat up. “Oh shit, I forgot we were naked.”

Joel stood up and gathered your clothes that You had practically stripped off for him, then got dressed himself.

It was that July you told him you were pregnant.

And for my nineteenth birthday

I got a union card and a wedding coat

We went down to the courthouse

And the judge put it all to rest

No wedding day smiles, no walk down the aisle

No flowers, no wedding dress

Everything changed after that, 

Not the love you had for each other, no, not that.

But everything else.

Your parents kicked you out when you told them, and Joel’s family let you move in, kind enough to let you take the couch, until a week later you and Joel were married at the courthouse. You spend your wedding night on the bottom of a bunk bed, Tommy staying with a friend for the night to offer you some privacy.

Life wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t the worst. No trade school, no apprenticeship, no journeymans, but Joel found a union job which was good. You continued working your job at the diner until Sarah was born, the best day of Joel’s life.

The next 5 years would be difficult, late bills and a sick baby, union going on strike, but no matter what, he had you. Always had you, his beautiful girl. Sometimes, Joel would ask Tommy to watch Sarah for a few hours, and he’d take you back to the river, back to where she was conceived. He couldn’t say he regretted it, but when this life brought him his baby. He couldn’t regret anything with you, honestly. Every struggle was worth it for his little family.

It was here you told him about the cancer.

Now all them things that seemed so important

Well mister they vanished right into the air

Now I just act like I don't remember

Mary acts like she don't care

Joel watched as a preteen Sarah swam around the river, Tommy and Joel parked with chairs close enough their feet were wet. Joel supposed she was technically a teen now… but it felt wrong to say his baby was a teenager of all things. 13 could be a preteen, just one more year. He had braided her hair back the same way he always did yours, the memory of which always tore at his chest. There were a few years there he didn’t take her, the last time Sarah had been was when she was 6.

 The chemo had taken its toll on you, but you wanted this last summer with your daughter. Joel had carried you in, your body to weak to stand for long but once you were in again, you were at ease. The water helped you move, taking pressure off your joints and Sarah, as little as she was played gently with you, knowing her mom was fragile. Joel loved how much you loved her, how much Sarah adored you, and it killed him. It killed him to know there wasn’t much longer left. 

Joel watched as you floated, taking in the sun on your skin as Sarah did the same. Two peas in a pod.

You died two days later.

But I remember us riding in my brother's car

Her body tan and wet, down at the reservoir

At night on them banks I'd lie awake

And pull her close just to feel each breath she'd take

Now those memories come back to haunt me

They haunt me like a curse

Is a dream a lie if it don't come true

Or is it something worse

Joel didn’t take her again until she was 10. He couldn’t stomach it, so Tommy did, wanting to keep the family place alive.

“You alright, brother?” Tommy asked, cool beer in his hand.

Joel sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Just….” He shook his head, watching as Sarah went under to do a handstand. “She looks so much like her mom, doesn’t she?”

When Sarah popped up again, Joel and Tommy cheered for her in encouragement.

“Yeah, that she does.”

School was starting soon, and Joel would have less time with her, so he was savoring these little moments, just as their family. Just the three of them. Joel still felt you here, present with him in these ways, even after all these years. 

2003 marked 7 years since your death, and every day Sarah grew to look more like you.

Now those memories come back to haunt me

They haunt me like a curse

Is a dream a lie if it don't come true

Or is it something worse

That sends me down to the river

Though I know the river is dry

That sends me down to the river tonight

Down to the river

My baby and I

Oh, down to the river we ride

SPOILER!!! Reader dies.

Thak you soooo muc for reading, i know my last fic and this one have been downers, and i gonna be honest, my final joel piece before leaving the fandom wil be bittersweet too ;-;

Thank you for all the love you've given me!!!

Taggint htose whove expressed interest. I think. if i mistagged you im sorry!!! its late for me

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @msjarvis @grogusmum @hiroikegawa @jennaispunk @fandxmslxt69 @sweetlummie

[dailycass-cain]

Can you tell us more about Gabrych and the end of the 2000 run? Why was it cancelled?

Near the end of the comic book event "Infinite Crisis", Batgirl Vol. 1 was axed. This was not due to low sales (several DC Comics at the time were selling worse and continued on when the relaunch "One Year Later" program was to hit) but for a rather sexist reason.

Back in 2010, the inker for Batgirl Vol. 1, Jesse Delperdang, posted on Deviantart the real reason the series was canceled, "canceled to make room for the coming Batwoman."

That "coming Batwoman" was an ongoing series by Devin Grayson, and would never see the light of day (DC got cold feet when the character got more publicity than they realized and decided to retool the character (which we got with Greg Rucka and J.H. Williams III over in Detective Comics a few years later).

Because more than "one female bat comic" was one too many. Not only that but just last year Dan DiDio posted on Facebook the original outline he had for "OYL" regarding Cass:

Of course, DiDio always changed his mind and instead, we got the racist caricature in OYL. Nor would this be the last time DiDio would change his thoughts on what to do with Cass (2009, 2011, and 2016. Each a can of worms of themselves).

So that's why Batgirl Vol. 1 was canceled, due to sexism.

As for Gabrych, he continued to work with DC until an Omega Men mini in 2006-2007 and began to go back to his life outside DC Comics. He did come back to write a 2010 graphic novel Frogtown for the Vertigo label.

The thing is, DC Editorial under DiDio was a nasty business. Sometimes you followed the edicts or didn't and walked altogether (Kelley Puckett for a brief run with Supergirl Vol. 5 in 2008 and Dylan Horrocks with the "War Games" event when he and Grayson objected to Stephanie Brown being brutally murdered and DC taking away Babs from the comic too). Or you got nasty pricks in editing to deal with like Eddie Berganza (a noted DiDio toadie). It was just a toxic culture altogether, and I'm glad it is over when DiDio got fired in early 2020.

Two have left comics altogether (Puckett & Gabrych) and Horrocks is doing indie comic work in his native New Zealand, but avoiding the Big 2 after the "War Games" experience.

The sad truth is, if you write a Batgirl ongoing there's a 75% chance you're gonna get out of the industry. Literally, there's only a handful of Batgirl writers who've done stories on the ongoings and not left.

We just got Bryan Q. Miller back to DC in a few months (they're also reprinting the Batgirl Vol. 3 run he did), and that's probably cause most of the old regime left (see an SDCC 2020 Batgirls panel he was on with Sarah Kuhn and others where he goes onto a tale regarding his clashes with the heads over Cass).

Puckett did do a new foreword to his Batman Adventures run which got an Omnibus recently. So MAYBE there's hope for him too.

I hope I answered your question to the fullest on why Batgirl Vol. 1 ended and why Gabrych left the industry.

[thebubblesareevil]

School’s Haunted

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Danny watched students swarm around the front entrance to Gateway High. They were all over the place, way more than Casper High. Danny took a deep breath, only to have it knocked out of him as a Travis smacked him on the back.

“What’s up man, exited for your first day?” Danny scoffed.

“Excited isn’t exactly the word I’d use. Dread, despair, devastated, some other word that begins with D.” Danny shrugged. “ I don’t know man, my last first day of high school didn’t go too well.”

“Oh come on, it couldn’t have been too bad.”

“A few days before, I got electrocuted which kinda fried my nerves for a bit. I ended up getting a lifetime ban from holding anything made of glass.” Danny quirked an eyebrow “Plus my old bully ended up in the same class as me. Not Fun.” He replied.

“Sheesh, we’ll it’s not like this time can be any worse.” Danny’s jaw dropped.

“I’m sorry, did you just jinx my first day, Dude!” Travis laughed.

“If it makes you feel better, I could ask some of my buds on the football team to keep an eye out. Bullies are a pretty big no go around here.” Danny laughed.

“That’s what they all say. There’s always one.” Travis shook his head.

“Fair enough, but we’re pretty tight knit here. Trust me and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” He said pushing Danny forward. “Now hurry up, you don’t wanna be late on your first day.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” Danny made his way through the crowd of teens, using the makeshift map to try to find his class.

“Are you lost?” Danny turned around to see a girl wearing her gym clothes. She looked almost surprised he heard her.

“Yeah, I’m looking for Mr.Graham’s class.” She gave him a huge grin.

“Down the hall, take a left and it’s the first door to the right.” He smiled.

“Thanks you’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t mention it!” She said as she walked the other way.

With newfound direction, Danny made his way to his home room. When he walked in he saw Matt sitting near the middle of the room, there was an empty seat next to him. He was just about to make his way over when he was stopped.

“You must be our new student, why don’t you come up here and introduce yourself.” Danny froze with dread. ‘Why me?!’

“Come on now! Don’t be shy!” Danny gave up, making his way to the front of the class as Matt gave him a look of sympathy.

“Hi, my name’s Danny Prince, not Daniel, not Dan, not Dano, Danny.”

“We’ll let me be the first to welcome you to our class Danny! So what made decide to come to our wonderful school?” He prompted joyfully. Danny had a dark look of glee in his eye. One Matt recognized from the one, and only, time Danny was invited to join his and Travis’ D&D campaign.

The DM hasn’t been the same since.

“Well sir, I just couldn’t resist sunny California. What with the the beaches and rich history here in Gateway city.” The teacher puffed up his chest in pride. “After my parents died in that car accident I just couldn’t say no when my cousin invited me to live here!” He said cheerily. Mr.Graham paled.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” He hastily responded.

“You’re fine. Figured it was best to get it out now. I’d hate to have to keep repeating it over and over again.” Danny said with wide eyes. The teacher coughed.

“Why don’t you take a seat by Mr. Miller?” He suggested, gesturing towards Matt.

“Probably for the best.” He continued his journey to his seat uninhibited.

“That was cruel.” Matt claimed

“No, cruel is making a teenager stand in front of his class on his first day. That was revenge.” He said with a grin. He heard a giggle from behind him, he turned.

“He’s not wrong you know, it’s practically inhumane.” a girl commented. “The names Simone. Sorry about your parents.”

“Nice to meet you Simone.”

“Likewise, how are you liking Gateway?” Danny smiled.

“It’s great, all things considered. I got a job over at the museum, at the space exhibit!” Danny announced, practically glowing. Simone blushed.

“Oh? Do you like it?” She asked. Matt groaned from Danny’s other side.

“I love it! Dr. Scott even let’s me use the telescope sometimes!” His smiled widened. Simone’s blush got darker. The bell rang.

“What” Simone cleared her throat “what class do you have first?” Danny took his schedule out of his pocket.

“Looks like history first. Shouldn’t be too hard.” He shrugged. Simone pouted.

“I’ve got math first. Maybe I’ll catch you later?” She asked. "Maybe we could sit together at lunch?"

“That’d be awesome! Hey all four of us can sit together!” She stopped as he left in search of his next class. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“I know your pain.” Matt sighed watching Danny make his way down the hall. He handed Simone a pamphlet, before he too headed to his next class.

She looked down at the paper and read in bold letters

So you’ve got a crush on Danny Prince. Here’s everything you need to know.

At the back of the pamphlet was a museum schedule for space shows.

The bell rang.

She kept the pamphlet.

————————

There are many benefits to being the honorary grandson of the Master of all Time. One of which is the ability to go back in time to study for history.

This has caused Danny many issues. History is written by the victors, and not many of them were interested in historical accuracy. Which is why Danny ended up completely derailing his entire history by starting a debate on Julius Caesar. By the end of class Mrs. Beatle was practically vibrating with excitement. There was not a single silent voice as they questioned what was written in their books. Everyone booed when the bell rang, including Mrs. Beatle, but she promised they could continue the debate the next class.

Most of Danny’s classes ended much the same. Chemistry was especially exciting, they were meant to be doing a simple experiment to show a chemical reaction that would change the color of some paper. Danny’s glowed.

Mr. Thorne spent the rest of the class trying to figure out how.

Danny made his way through math, surprised at how much he enjoyed it.

And that brings him to where he is now.

Gym class.

The class met in the gym only to be led out to the field, for a soccer game to start off the new year. He couldn’t really be mad at Coach Cooper, she was actually pretty cool. But facts are we’re facts, and the fact is Danny hates gym.

Sure he can show off a little, but it was way too easy to forget what was okay and what wasn’t. Way to easy to slip up. He slowly followed the rest of the class.

“Why the long face?” Danny shrugged.

“Not really a big sports fan, plus no doubt Coach is gonna make me take off my hoodie. I really just don’t want anyone staring at my scars."

“Scars?” She looked at him concerned.

“Yeah, fighting ghosts is pretty dangerous. You don’t always walk away unscathed .” He replied with a shrug. The girl froze.

“I’m not gonna fight you.” He watched as everyone started to congregate on the field. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your haunt, but I kinda gotta go to school. You know how it is.” He kept walking, joining the rest of his class.

“Uh, yeah. I do.” She muttered under her breath.

————

Vanessa watched the strange boy for the rest of the day. He was right about the sweatshirt, however he made up a story about a car accident and no one questioned it.

Since the moment he entered the school, she felt compelled to follow him. She hadn’t been a ghost long, but he felt different than anyone else. He felt powerful, terrifyingly strong…and safe.

Everyday she was surrounded by unfamiliar faces, she walked through the halls, watching them go about their day unseen. But this year things were different this year there was Danny.

Vanessa smiled as she watched him leave the school from her perch on the roof. He stopped after crossing the street, turning around he looked right at her and waved. Her smile grew brighter.

This was going to be a fun year indeed.

———————-

Danny quickly made his way back home, excited to tell Diana all about his first day. Travis was right, though Danny would never admit it, and most of the students were pretty cool. He hadn't expected to meet a ghost, luckily she seemed pretty unaggressive. Last thing he wanted was to fight a ghost in the cafeteria...again.

Racing up the stairs he barged through the front door, Diana spun around from where she was sitting at her computer.

"How was school? Make any friends?" She smiled.

"It was great! Sure the teachers were no Mr. Lancer, but they were pretty cool. I made a few new friends, but get this! The school is haunted!" Danny grinned like a maniac.

"Don't you think its a little early in the year to start spooking you classmates?" Danny scoffed, heading towards the kitchen for a snack.

"Cousin mine, its never to early for a good spook. But I'm not talking about me, there's another ghost. I'm pretty sure she was a student there when she died." That got Diana's attention.

"Danny, promise me you won't join forces with the school ghost to reek havoc." Danny gave her the fakest offended look she had ever seen, she raised a single brow.

"Okay, fine. I won't haunt the school, except on Halloween, Frighty would disown me if I didn't scare some teens." He declared dropping the act as he grabbed a thermos filled with ectoplasm.

"Actually, the museum might be doing a temporary exhibit on the history of Halloween. The whole tour is meant to be haunted." she grinned. "I was thinking we could team up and give the Ancient Egyptian crew a run for their money." Diana grinned as her cousin practically started to vibrate from excitement.

"Are you kidding?!?!? That would be awesome!" His feet left the ground as he flew over to the table. "I learned this trick awhile back that I've been DYING to try out!" She smiled as Danny started mapping out plans for a perfect haunted museum.

"We have plenty of time to plan things out," she said laying a hand on his shoulder "tonight however we are celebrating your first day of school in this world so I was thinking we would go out to eat tonight." Danny grinned. "They just opened a new burger place down the street and-" She was cut off by the sound of her communicator. She stepped away from the table as she picked up the communicator, Danny zipped his lips as she answered the call.

It didn't take long, but from the look on her face Danny could tell they would not be going out tonight. Diana sighed after she ended the call.

"I'm sorry Danny, I have to go. Batman has an emergency meeting to discuss some things."

"Is everything okay?" She hesitated before shaking her head.

"Many of the higher priority villains have become increasingly quiet, while weaker villains have been more active than ever. We have been keeping an eye on the situation, however there have been some unexpected developments." Danny nodded.

"Don't worry about dinner, I'll go hang out with gramps tonight and we can do something tomorrow. Just be careful, last time Plasmius went quiet for too long I ended up fighting Pariah Dark."

"You'll have to tell me about that sometime." She smiled "I'll call when I get out of the meeting, hopefully we'll have some time for a movie and ice cream when I get back. Your pick."

"Awesome! There's a new movie that just came out called the Evil Dead that I've been wanting to check out." Diana ruffled his hair.

"Have fun with Grandfather." she said as she headed out.

-----------------

Diana was frustrated, she was meant to have dinner with Danny, instead she was called to an emergency League meeting. The Team found evidence of alien technology being used in the Bialyian desert. The criminal behind the project appeared to be Psimon, a powerful psychic who wiped the memories of the young heroes and put them in extreme danger.

Luckily the Team made it out in one piece, though not completely unscathed.

For the 3 hours they had been going over intelligence by the Team, going over any changes in the conflict, and reviewing other villains recent movements. The more they talked, the more Diana was sure something greater was at play.

To many people were staying far too quiet.

When the meeting finally ended, Batman approached once more.

“Diana."

"Batman, to what do I owe the pleasure?" she smiled congenially.

"What is your opinion of Superboy?" he asked in his usual blunt tone.

"He shows great potential. He needs to work on directing his strength and keeping his temper under control." Diana was quite proud of her new student.

"He's a loose cannon as things stand. We need to keep him under tight supervision." Her smile dropped.

"He may have trouble controlling his temper, but considering everything he's been through in the past months he's doing remarkably well. He listens well and, while stubborn at first, he was an attentive student. Until such a time when Superman decides to train him, I intend to continue with our training." She left no room for argument. Batman nodded.

"If you notice anything-"

"I will handle it personally." She interrupted him, her mood now sour. "And he prefers the name Conner."

"Noted. I won't keep you any longer." He grunted with a nod.

Diana made her way to the Zeta tubes, nodding to her fellow heroes as she passed though her mind was busy. Something was bothering the Bat, and that never boded well for anyone.

She said her farewells and left the base. Once she made it back to the apartment, she changed into her pajamas and pulled out her phone to call Danny. Smiling as she saw messages from her cousin, she tapped the screen to see the pictures.

She choked.

There on the screen, was none other than Vandal Savage, the ruthless warrior who fought against the Justice Society...with neon pink hair trying his very best to look serious in the middle of a meeting. She clicked on the next picture.

It was Vandal again though this time he seemed visibly furious as he stood against the Justice Society... covered from head to toe in glitter. The next message was a video.

Vandal was standing before a group of villains, clearly making some kind of presentation, as Danny and their Grandfather danced in the background. Colorful lights flashing as though they were at a party. From Vandal's twitching eye and the lack of reaction from the other villains... he was the only one who could see or hear them. Upon closer inspection, Danny appeared to be singing along to something. Diana was already at her limit as she unmuted her phone and pressing play, the moment the music came blasting through her phone she had to brace herself against the couch to stop herself from falling from the force of her laughter. She dropped her phone on the floor as the apartment was filled with the sound of-

"WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY?!?!?!?!"

@a-salty-sal@impulsiveasshole@meira-3919@alcorbearson@cute6troll@samgirl98@skulld3mort-1fan@addie-lover-of-stories@amercurio@chronicallyonline-fandomwh0r3 @heirxofxtime @gin2212 @thegatorsgoose@wanderer-of-worlds@terzatheunderscorerima@bright-shade@satanicrutialspecialist@mur-ururu@birdie-24-05@ascetic-orange@cyber-geist@thatrandomsarahchick@dr-syko-pharm-4@observerblock23@addie-lover-of-stories@rainybyday@berseid@pastalavistamf@ae-vixrose@sunflowershine03@theauthorandtheartist@ruelukas22@krzys2000@onlyhereforthechaos@stargirl1331@apointlessbox@mewzaque@distractedducky@cutelittlebeanie@unorthodoxdreamers @universallytacowolfbakery @joseph557@ver-444@icedbluesoul@shark-time@milo-l-l @spookytragedyshark@nutcase8691@idfk-man10 @s1eepyreader @all-eyes-no-dragon@demented-trashcan@avelnfear@tuhguo@genuine-muse@mentalcarebear@britcision@v-inari@redhoneysugarorange@kayekate244@litlecameron@magic-pincushion@mutable-manifestation@@kyrianclawraith@potatoeofwisdom@fisticuffsatapplebees@akikkobara@spooky-fm

[sixhours]

Chapter 1 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

Portland, Maine September 26, 2003

“Fuck.”

The air in the bathroom is thick with moisture, making it hard to breathe. You wipe at the condensation on the mirror and stare at the face reflected back at you, pale and drawn in the yellow light.

“Fuck, fuuuuck,” you mutter, holding the pregnancy test up and squinting, tilting it this way and that, hoping the extra line is just a trick of the light, but it doesn’t go away. You groan, internally vacillating between panic and rage.

Fuck.

There’s a knock at the door. Your girlfriend, Joanna, probably wondering what’s taking so long.

“Hey, you done? We just got called into the hospital again.”

“What?” You drop the stick onto the counter, but you can’t stop staring at it, the two clear blue lines taunting you. Outside your shared one-bedroom apartment a siren begins to wail. “I just got home.”

“That’s the job, babe,” Jo says. The doorknob creaks, breaking your reverie.

“Shit, just a sec,” you mutter, shoving your foot against the door and fumbling for some toilet paper to wrap the test in before tucking it at the bottom of the garbage can. You swallow the urge to vomit as Jo pokes her head in.

“You’ve been in here forever–”

“Jeez, privacy,” you snap, clutching the towel to your body more tightly, suddenly keenly aware of how flimsy it is, how exposed you are.

Jo’s eyes widen with hurt and you immediately soften, guilt stabbing at the gentlest swell in your abdomen. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…it’s just been a long-ass day.”

You soothe her with a quick kiss, hoping she can’t taste the hint of bile under the mint of your toothpaste and mouthwash.

“I’ll be right there,” you say, ducking around her, headed to your room in search of fresh scrubs.

“You want something to eat? I made sandwiches to go.”

Your stomach turns. “No, I ate at the caf after my last shift,” you lie. “Is this an all-hands thing?” you call over your shoulder as you dig in the hamper. Nothing is clean, there’s never enough time to do laundry.

Plenty of time to fuck an old buddy and get knocked up, though , you think, setting your lips in a grim line and smoothing the wrinkles out of some navy blue slacks.

“Yeah, Dan says they’re calling everyone in,” she confirms. “Something about a virus, flu season’s starting early, they’re expecting a full house. It’s bad.”

“Mmm,” you say, pulling on the freshest top you can find and tying back your hair in a ponytail. You meet Jo at the door where she hands you a brown paper sack, presumably your sandwich.

“You okay?” she asks as you walk the four blocks to the hospital, grateful for the crisp fall air. You hope it hides the flush in your cheeks, hopes she didn’t hear you retching before you stepped into the shower. She reaches for your hand and takes it, but your fingers are numb. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m fine,” you say automatically. “Just…tired.”

“Okay…hey, I had an idea for our anniversary next week.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s this new place on Congress Street, they do a great brunch with free mimosas? Since it’s on a Sunday I thought we could probably sneak in a date after your shift–”

“That’s fine,” you say automatically, squeezing her hand in weak reassurance; just the word brunch makes your stomach turn. “I mean, great, sounds great.”

She stops you outside the hospital’s employee entrance and holds fast to your hand to pull you back before you can go in.

“Babe. Are you sure you’re alright?”

You blink back tears, swallow hard, and it almost comes out. You open your mouth to speak, but the sound of a siren interrupts as an ambulance screams out of the nearby garage, lights flashing, and the moment is gone.

You pull her into a tight hug. She smells soft and warm and familiar, like oranges and vanilla. You press a tight kiss to the nape of her neck in an unusually public display of affection.

“Whoa,” she says softly, taking an unintentional step back as if to catch you.

“I’m okay,” you murmur into her neck. “We’ll be okay.”

~*~

The smell of antiseptic barely registers as you enter the building, so familiar to you now it’s like a second home. Joanna gives you a quick wave before being intercepted by her attending, who drags her off to the ICU to check on a patient.

By the time you drop your bag off at your locker, shoving the paper satchel with your sandwich at the back, you’ve almost put the pregnancy out of your mind. It comes naturally, this tight compartmentalization of your feelings, this easy decoupling from your emotional state.

The on-call attending physician looks no worse for the wear, and in the back of your mind, you wonder if someone higher up is overreacting to the news out of Indonesia. Your limited knowledge of virology knows the flu can’t jump that quickly. You’re over a hundred miles from the nearest major airport. It will be several days before what’s happening there crawls its way to this tiny state. It’s true, the waiting room is busy, but that’s not unusual for a Friday night.

You fight off a wave of nausea and take a clipboard from the wall.

~*~

Several hours later, at about the time a man named Joel Miller is holding his dead daughter in his arms somewhere in Texas, you are beginning to understand that this is not influenza.

Reports out of Boston and New York City are fragmented and, quite frankly, unbelievable. There’s a federal emergency warning on the screen of every television in the lobby and a growing sense of unease as nurses, doctors, and assistants dash between rooms, weaving between gurneys, calling out orders for beds, antibiotics, IVs. The thrum of the waiting room only grows louder and more insistent. The sirens are a constant, frenetic wail in the distance.

But all of that is a dim clamor in the background because your latest patient has a bite. A distinctly human-mouth-shaped arc of angry red impressions in the crook of their neck. The patient also has a sudden fever and a rash that is rapidly spreading up the side of their head. 

Rashes don’t move like that, rashes don’t fucking undulate …

If you didn’t know better you’d think it was blood poisoning, but you’ve never seen sepsis like this. You watched the bite happen, watched a troubled man in the waiting room lurch from his chair and fly toward his victim, sinking his teeth into the flesh of her neck before being restrained by an orderly and the receptionist. That was maybe five minutes ago, and you’ve never seen an infection spread so fucking fast . By the time you’d helped the patient into a cot, they were already shivering, skin clammy and burning at the same time.

The patient is your partner, Joanna.

“What…the fuck,” she murmurs, chest heaving. Her neck twitches and jumps under your careful, probing touch. Her skin is already dewy with sweat, hot under your fingertips.

“Hold still,” you hiss, unsure if you’re talking to her or your trembling hands. You douse the bite in antiseptic, wiping away the blood with a clean square of gauze, leaning in to examine the rash again. It’s crept up from her collarbone to her ear, and it has to be your imagination, but you can almost see it…move. Joanna is shivering, whether from the fever or shock you don’t know, but you don’t have time to process before a shriek rings out from the hall.

“Need some help out here!”

Joanna grimaces, hissing softly through her teeth. “Go.”

“Jo–”

“Go. I’ll be fine,” she says, even as her eyes roll back in pain.

You give her one last desperate look, squeezing her hand, whispering, “I’ll be right back,” before ducking out of the room.

A woman is seizing on the floor, spasms jerking her limbs from side to side. A nurse looks up at you with wide eyes as he attempts to stabilize the patient’s head and neck. The seizing woman’s head turns sharply and her teeth make contact with his wrist, ripping a gash in the tender flesh.

“Shit!” he cries, jerking his hand away, blood running in rivulets down his arm.

“Go, I’ve got this,” you bark. He doesn’t wait, doesn’t ask if you’re sure, just backs away and runs down the hall.

A hot hand on your shoulder spins you around before you can figure out what to do with the writhing woman on the floor. It’s Joanna, her eyes cloudy. The heat radiates off her body in waves, the rash–

Not a rash.

–has spread up her neck, already red and raised welt-like lines are slithering–

Rashes don’t slither.

–around the sunken sockets of her eyes.

“Help…” she croaks. Her fingers pulse and twitch against your collarbone, gripping too tight, too close.

“Jo, it’s–” you start to soothe, intending to send her back to bed, but she’s staggering toward you in sharp jerks, her mouth glistening, and some deep, primal urge makes you recoil from your lover’s embrace. You stumble backward, heels catching on the woman on the floor, and you land on your tailbone behind her.

Joanna follows like a moth to your flame, pitching forward, crawling, oblivious to the woman on the floor who is also moving underneath her, rolling over in a jerky, twisting, impossible way. Both women lock onto you and you can almost feel their need, their–

Hunger.

From down the hall comes a rising chorus of shouts, a crash. Someone bursts through the doors from the waiting room, one shoulder soaked with blood. From between the swinging doors, you see glimpses of chaos, hear more screams.

No. No. Not Jo. Not–

Something inside you breaks; you scramble backward, barely stifling a moan. You feel a hand tighten around your ankle and you kick it away, the tile floor slippery against your sweaty palms. Another hand grasps, scrabbles, another kick; a bloody palm print gleams on the crisp white leather toe of your sneaker.

No! No! Get out!

By some miracle you find your feet, feel yourself turning, running down the hall, deeper into the hospital. A dim part of your brain reaches for a reprimand, but you can’t make yourself stop, driven by panic, passing lines of gurneys and bodies slumped on the floor. You’re acutely aware of the thick smell of blood, drowning out the familiar antiseptic wash. You push your way through crowded halls over a chorus of groans and screams.

Out get out get out out out–

You burst through an emergency exit at the back of the hospital gasping for air, pressing your back to the weathered brick. Your heart lurches in your chest, wishing for this to end, for you to wake up in your bed after a bad dream.

A pregnancy dream , you think, barking a manic laugh into the night, recalling that your biggest fear this morning had been a little nausea and a missing red dot on the calendar. You taste hot bile and feel yourself swaying, ready to empty the meager contents of your stomach next to the dumpster, but a blinding light freezes you in its glare.

“Stop right there!”

You blink, stunned. Then you see the gun.

A figure in Army fatigues is pointing a rifle at you. The trembling of the muzzle makes you understand he’s just as scared as you are. If you get sick now, you’re a dead woman.

You raise your shaking hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot, I’m a…I’m a doctor.” 

He doesn’t lower the weapon. “Are you bit?”

“I’m not–I don’t know what–”

His voice rises, panic creeping in as he gestures with the rifle, jabbing it at you. “Are you bit?!? Are you sick?”

“No!” you say, trying not to let your voice shake. “No, I’m not sick.”

He swallows hard, appearing to take this in. You close your eyes in the endless seconds between breaths, waiting for the crack of the rifle.

You open your eyes at the sound of the gun being lowered to his side.

“Ma’am,” he says shakily. “I think you should come with me.”

[oh2e]

A (long) Collection of TTOI Quotes

He’s as useless as a marzipan dildo

I’m going to have to mop up a hurricane of piss here

He and Hewitt are tight as arse cheeks

‘How fucked am I? On the fuckometre?’ ‘Oh 12’ ‘yeah 12’ ‘out of what?’ ‘50’ ‘oh…. mine was out of 10’

Tiny little dick the size of a bookie’s biro

There’s no time to go home I’ll pass myself on the way back in

I can only cook with what I’m given. You give me Hugh Abbot I’ll give you bangers and mash, you give me Jerry from home office then I can raise it to fucking risotto and scallops

I am king of remembering my own password

‘Shagging your way to the top is it?’ ‘Yes well I’m not Scottish so I’ve got to get in somehow’

How much shit is on the menu and what flavour is it?

‘What do you want Malcolm’ ‘Two bits of tit. Two titties.’

Come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off

“What about just firing him at a wall from a cannon?” “I know we force feed him a mixture of garlic and Dettol in cup a soup” “What about the old red hot poker up the arse?” “I’d like to nail him to a tree through the head and watch lice slowing crawl over his body eating off all the flesh”

“Has security checked this [plant]?” “For little terrorists?”

This is the problem with the public - they’re fucking horrible

Not only was it a shit idea to ruin my holiday, it was a shit idea you stole from the government to ruin my holiday

Ah that’s like smoking dead skin that is

You’re the fucking shittest James Bond ever - you’re David Fucking Niven!

You’re like a sweaty octopus trying to unhook a bra

You take the piss outta [Al] Jolson again and I will remove your iPod from its tiny nano sheath and push it up your cock! Then I’ll plug some speakers up your arse and put it onto shuffle with my fucking fist

I thought you said no one reads these except political obsessives and mad Christians in wheelchairs but loads of people read mine

“I am not the story here” “Well no you kind of are though Malcolm, they spelled your name right and everything”

Come with me before I put your nuts in a book and squeeze them so hard that they come out like pressed fucking flowers

You’re The Ben….Ben Nevis…Bentally Ill…

Tickety fuckity boo

“Anyone seen Jamie?” “Oh don’t tell me he’s gone feral cos he was fucking terrifying when you had him on the leash.”

I’d love to stay and talk to you but I’d rather have type 2 diabetes

Mr Baby New Potato Head

It sucks cock so deep the bell end is wearing your appendix as a little hat

This is an operations room so unless you want your tonsils out by keyhole surgery from this key here, piss off!

Cliff Fucking Lawton! Nice. Was the Cilit Bang man not available?

To a guy who loses it so bad he needs a sat nav to find his own nipples

I’m feeling about as up to date as a Gregorian calendar

“You couldn’t organise a bum rape in a barracks.” “Au contraire”

You’re about as secure as a hymen in a south London comprehensive

Stop fucking blinking or I will take your optic nerve and fucking strangle you with it

Hanging round like a couple of school secretaries in the summer holidays

It’s like a prostate consultant’s waiting room in here

You will be sorry you inflatable cock!

I am going to have your intestines as a skipping rope and your lungs sundried and turned into a fucking waistcoat

Or will Dan Miller pull his scalp off and use it as an oven glove?

Enough of the pleasantries let’s just oil up and get fucking

A towel rail shouldn’t take up a whole wall, that’s not a towel rail it’s a climbing frame.

I’ve got a to-do list here longer than a fucking Leonard Cohan song

More on my plate than a spinster at a wedding

The only other candidate is my left bollock with a fucking smiley face drawn on it

Feels a bit like my head’s made entirely of smoke alarms

Fuck the Is and fist the Ts

May as well ask what I think of skirting boards, I’m sure we need them but I don’t know why

“No no I didn’t say that” “Well you sort of did with your face”

Let me row back a little bit, perhaps all the way back to the boathouse

She’s not bent either in the sense of being corrupt or being gay and by the way that’s an incredibly homophobic headline you massive poof

Omnishambles, from bean to cup you fuck up

I’m on my way to wipe my arse on pictures of Nick Robinson

“And I’m not doing terribly am I?” [Malcolm looking out the opposite window] “I love the way they’ve sandblasted here. It looks so clean.”

No no, don’t get up - I’m not viagra

He’s a fucking knitted scarf, he’s a balaclava.

The only thing John Duggan is doing here is depriving a village somewhere of a twat

You write almost entirely in generic meaningless buzzwords don’t you?

I will tear your fucking skin off, I will wear it to your mother’s birthday party, I will rub your nuts up and down her leg while whistling Bohemian Fucking Rhapsody

She’s behaving like a squirrel in a pedal bin.

Or I’ll have to tear my eyelids off and scrunch them up into fucking earplugs

I’m flypaper for dickheads

I think you’re wrong Malcolm you’re like a sultana in a salad

Sorry I can’t make espresso but I’ve made this so thick and black it’ll be like drinking fucking plimsoles

Well fuck a pot noodle. Sam, prepare my horse. I ride to DoSAC

The only fucking vibe you need to worry about is the one your wife hides in her knicker drawer

See you later and remember my door is always locked

* Tintin’s sexy sister to Ollie

What I really need is to shoot you all in the back of the head FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. but I can’t because it’s illegal.

I reserve this level of anger for when I’m flying Ryanair

As about a strong defence as ‘the fertiliser in my homemade bomb was organic’!

She’s a fart in a frock and we both want her wafted out of here

She’s going to have to fall on her sword, which means that we’re going to have to stick one in the ground, trip her up onto it and get someone jump up and down on her back for ten minutes

She’s going to kick her own head in which’ll be easy because she does yoga

I’m looking for Mr Oliver Reeder? He looks a bit like a Quentin Blake illustration

“Is she fucked?” “Like Caligula’s favourite watermelon.”

Can I bring you a shot glass? And some bleach?

You can’t look a gift corpse in the mouth

“It’s over the fat lady’s singing” “No she’s not, the fat man from the go compare advert is talking”

I’ve got my cock out, it’s covered in breadcrumbs and the fucking pigeons are circling

Have I just stepped through a portal into a sausage machine because this is making mincemeat out of my head

Sit there and ogle me like a page three girl

I’m as busy as a two-twatted hooker

Now I have to step in your shoes but after you’ve shat in them

I don’t just take this fucking job home you know. I take this fucking job home, it ties me to the bed and it fucking fucks me from arsehole to breakfast then it wakes me up in the morning with a cupful of piss flung in my face then slaps me about the chops to make sure I’m awake enough to kick me in the fucking bollocks. This job has taken me in every hole in my fucking body.

Everything is fine I’m like lube at a funeral

If you pull off again I’m going to stick the meter so far down your throat you’ll be able to tell the price of your next shit

You closeted regency homosexual

It’s been a bit like renovating an old, old house. You can take out a sexist beam here, a callous window there, replace the odd homophobic roof tile, but after a while you realise […] the foundations are built on what I can only describe as a solid bed of cunts.

Shit in the couscous

[butterflies-and-bumble-bees]

I'm sorry but WHO DID DAN AND PHIL HIRE TO SET UP THE ORDER OF THEIR TOUR SHOWS!?!?!?!?!

I'm sorry but this is just blatant ignorence of basic geography

OCT 06 SEATTLE, WA / Moore Theatre

OCT 07 *NEW DATE* SEATTLE, WA / Moore Theatre

OCT 08 PORTLAND, OR / Arlene Schnitzer Auditorium

OCT 09 VANCOUVER, BC / Orpheum Theatre

OCT 11 OAKLAND, CA / Paramount Theatre

OCT 13 PHOENIX, AZ / Celebrity Theatre

OCT 17 SAN DIEGO, CA / Civic Theatre

OCT 18 LOS ANGELES, CA / Peacock Theater

OCT 20 SALT LAKE CITY, UT / The Union

OCT 21 DENVER, CO / Ellie Caulkins Opera House

OCT 23 KANSAS CITY, MO / The Midland

OCT 24 GRAND PRAIRIE, TX / Texas Trust Theatre

OCT 25 AUSTIN, TX / Bass Concert Hall

OCT 27 ST. LOUIS, MO / The Factory

OCT 28 DETROIT, MI / Masonic Temple

OCT 29 AKRON, OH / Civic Theatre

OCT 30 INDIANAPOLIS, IN / Clowes Memorial Hall

NOV 01 MILWAUKEE, WI / Riverside Theater

NOV 02 MINNEAPOLIS, MN / State Theatre

NOV 03 CHICAGO, IL / Chicago Theatre

NOV 05 TORONTO, ON / Massey Hall

NOV 08 PHILADELPHIA, PA / Miller Theater

NOV 10 NEW YORK, NY / Kings Theatre

NOV 11 TYSONS, VA / Capital One Hall

NOV 12 *NEW DATE* TYSONS, VA / Capital One Hall

NOV 14 ATLANTA, GA / Cobb Energy PAC

NOV 16 TAMPA, FL / Tampa Theatre

NOV 17 ORLANDO, FL / Hard Rock Live

NOV 18 FORT LAUDERDALE, FL / The Parker

NOV 20 DURHAM, NC / DPAC

NOV 21 NASHVILLE, TN / Andrew Jackson Hall

NOV 24 BOSTON, MA / Wang Theatre

NOV 25 READING, PA / Santander PAC

NOV 26 RED BANK, NJ / Count Basie

tldr: they go from pennsylvania to ny to virginia to Georgia to Florida to North Carolina to Tennesse to Massachusets and then back to Pennsylvania and the mental map in my head just gave me an overload error

[taytrashmouth]

Im not a kid Joel!

Joel miller x female reader

Description: camping out in the woods after a pretty rough escape from a group of clickers and a bloater. Joel accuses you of being a kid, another piece of cargo that had to learn when to stand back and you loose it with his constant mood and tell him just how wrong he is

TW: mentions of rape, substance abuse, murder, teen pregnancy, blood, yelling, swearing etc.

————————The Last of Us————————

The fire was cracking and the noise of the wind flowing through the woods made me tense.

Ellie had fallen asleep reading her comic, she had a long week, after escaping all the clickers, watching Sam and Henry die. All of it.

Joel and I stayed up, keeping watch.

“Why don’t you get to bed, I can keep watch.” Joel spoke up.

I just shook my head. “Wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, hurts.” I pointed to the huge slit down my face, from my lip to my eye. Some raider attacked me.

There was a short silence.

“Thank you.” I spoke up. He just frowned.

“If you hadn’t have shot that clicker when I tried to save Ellie I probably would’ve been dead, we both would’ve.” I looked at his messy hair in the orange fire light and I thought about how messy my long hair looked after a couple weeks without a brush.

“Yeah well you should know when to step back.” He mumbled.

“Excuse me? I saved her.” I pointed to Ellie who was curled up in her sleeping bag.

“No you endangered her, if you hadn’t have moved in the way I would’ve had a clear shot and killed the damn thing sooner!” Joel was yelling in a hushed tone trying not to wake Ellie.

I stared at him in shock.

“You’re no better than her, you’re a kid, and you don’t know what you’re doing.”

I scoffed. “I’m 37 Joel! And might I remind you that the only reason I’m here is because Ellie is the first one in 20 years that is like me.”

I watched Joel’s eyes trail to my healed bite on my neckline.

“Why the fuck are you even mad!?”

“BECAUSE YOU COULD HAVE FUCKING DIED Y/N! And I don’t have time for your childish behavior! It’s bad enough having one of you!” Joel yelled.

I Flinched.

“Joel I am many things but a child is not one of them….I wasn’t a child when at 5 years old my dad left and I wasn’t a kid when my mom overdosed and while she was out my stepdad raped me, when I was 8, and 9 and 10 and every year after that until I was 15 and I got pregnant.”

Joel stared at me. I had tears in my eyes but my gaze never left him.

“I wasn’t a kid when I gave birth at 16 and my mom kicked me out, or when the outbreak started when I was 17, with a 1 year old and a shitty boyfriend called Dan….but I loved them both.”

Joel watched my tears fall down my face rapidly.

“And I definitely wasn’t a kid when at 18 Dan got bitten and he didn’t tell me, I woke up one night to find him chewing up my two year old, and I haven’t been childish since I put a bullet between the eyes of my baby and the man I love.”

My voice was shaking.

“Now you’re an asshole! And I don’t deny that I might not know what I’m doing but Im still alive and I’m here. So do not take whatever anger you have out on me.” I finished.

After about 10 minutes Joel spoke.

“I’m sorry y/n.”

I didn’t look up, I just started walking towards my sleeping bag.

“What was its name?” Joel asked. I stopped walking.

“His name was Joel…” I whispered.

He was quiet, probably thinking about how I complimented his name when we first met.

“I lost my kid too”

“I’m sorry.”

“First day of the outbreak, her name was Sarah.”

I turned around and sat next to him.

“I’m only mad because everyone I love, i loose and I can’t loose you too y/n- I can’t-“

“You love me?” I interrupted.

Joel just looked at me, shocked at what he had just admitted.

His eyes fell to my lips and I took that as the green light. My lips were on his, both chapped. He pulled me closer to him and my hands were in his hair and his were on my back. The kiss felt like it lasted forever before we broke apart.

“You’re still an asshole.” I sighed with a smile and for the first time since Ellie’s diarrhea joke I actually saw him smile.

We both started laughing and our foreheads were touching, looking at his every feature so close was so intense.

“For Mr tough guy your kisses are real sweet.” I joked.

“I think it’s past your bedtime.” Joel sighed.

“You’re not the boss of me.” I laughed.

“With almost 20 years between us I think I am” he gave me a look that told me he was in charge and I liked it, it made me feel a twist in my stomach that I hadn’t felt in years.

He picked me up bridal style and I laughed and kicked as he put my on my sleeping bag and kissed me so gently as he walked back to the fire holding his gun, ready to protect me, to protect Ellie.

I smiled as I stared at the stars.

“Fucking finally!” Ellie whispered next to me.

“You little shit!” I whisper yelled and she just smirked.

[disease]

The Rhino Brothers Present the World's Worst Records: Volumes 1 & 2 are a series of compilation albums released by Rhino Records in 1983 & 1985. They purport to compile the worst music ever recorded and feature mostly novelty songs, parodies and cover versions of popular songs, performed very poorly (though in many cases, intentionally so, either as a novelty or as a joke). The original first volume included an airsickness bag and a warning that the album 'may cause internal discomfort.' Full track lists include...

VOLUME 1 [1983]: 1. "The Crusher" (The Novas) 2. "Big Girls Don't Cry" (Edith Massey and The Eggs) 3. "I Want My Baby Back" (Jimmy Cross) 4. "I Like" (Heathen Dan) 5. "Kazooed on Klassics" (The Temple City Kazoo Orchestra) 6. "Fluffy" (Gloria Balsam) 7. "Paralyzed" (Legendary Stardust Cowboy) 8. "I Wanna Be Your Dog" (The Seven Stooges) 9. "Boogie Woogie Amputee" (Barnes and Barnes) 10. "Kinko the Clown" (Ogden Edsl) 11. "Umbassa and the Dragon" (The Turtles) 12. "Ugly" (Johnny Meeskite) 13. "Surfin' Tragedy" (The Breakers) 14. "Young at Heart" (Wild Man Fischer) [YOUTUBE: FULL ALBUM]

VOLUME 2 [1985]: 1. "Downtown" (Mrs. Miller) 2. "K'nish Doctor" (Mickey Katz) 3. "Party in My Pants" (Barnes and Barnes) 4. "Foreign Novelty Smash" (The Credibility Gap) 5. "Nag" (The Halos) 6. "Who Hid the Halibut on the Poop Deck" (Yogi Yorgesson) 7. "Goodbye Sam" (Shad O'Shea) 8. "Just a Big Ego" (Bob Rivers and Zip) 9. "Candy Rapper" (Bird & MacDonald/"Sticky Fingers") 10. "Hands" (Debbie Dawn) 11. "Baseball Card Lover" (Rockin' Richie Ray) 12. "Fudd on the Hill" (Little Roger and the Goosebumps) 13. "Split Level Head" (Napoleon XIV) 14. "Teenage Enema Nurses in Bondage" (Killer Pussy) 15. "The Troggs Tapes" (The Troggs)

[raivos-world]

Hello I'm writing a story that I want to share with the world:)

Title: The tails of Dirt Creek

About: A western town with anthropomorphic cats and dogs

Author: Arri Endrik (pen name)

Genre: comedy-western, drama, slice of life, mystery, action

Setting: somewhere in Wyoming between 1876-1890's

I'm hoping to make this into a comic, btw I'm not a professional writer and I'm doing this all by myself so it's a lil iffy

Summary: Gunnar gets framed for a murder and now he's on the run, he was just wandering aimlessly throughout Wyoming until he came across a small town...

Chapter 1: "Welcome to Dirt Creek"

Gunnar had no clue how long or how far he was runnin, but he knew one thing.....he was tired and hungry........ever since he got framed for that dad-gummed murder he didn't comment.........sure, he was not the goodest dog in the west, but he wasn't a killer!

Gunnar could only see dirt.... and more dirt......not a blade of grass in sight....he was starting to just give up right then and there, but then he saw somethin......in the distance....he shielded his eyes with his paw, There! A town! Gunnar had a spark of hope.....he was not well known in these parts, so the towns folk probably wouldn't recognize him...... Gunnar figured he outta stay there for a bit then move on, no one would find him in a small town in the middle of nowhere............ right?

He walked up to a broken wooden sign that said "Welcom to Dirt Creek", That's funny Gunnar thought....."Welcome" was spelled wrong........., he kept walkin till he was in the middle of town.......but where is everyone? Gunnar thought..... the town was completely empty..."Huh, no one here....?" Then suddenly he heard a loud commotion, he looked around and saw that the sound was coming from the saloon, which was named The watering hole, Gunnar walked in and if he hadn't ducked in time he would've gotten his head knocked off by a flyin beer bottle! Gunnar saw that there was a Huge bar fight goin on! He walked in carefully..... and sat at the bar between a Blue heeler and a brown Newfoundland, working at the bar was an English bulldog who looked like he had enough of life..... Gunnar politely asked "Uh excuse me sir, may I have a glass of water please?"

The bulldog nodded and handed him a whole bottle of beer and said "You'll thank me later" and walked off.

Gunnar looked around and watched everyone fight......... He was shocked, and wondered why there wasn't a sheriff keepin everyone in line.... Suddenly he felt someone pat his shoulder, and he turned around to see that Blue heeler staring at him with a big stupid grin on his face,

"Well Howdy there partner! What's your name? I'm Dan Miller!".

Gunnar answered back "Uh.....the name's Gunnar Wilson, nice to meet ya, say......why is everyone fightin? Where is the sheriff?".

The dog just laughed "Well we don't have a sheriff...not anymore, he died! And as for why everyone is fightin....well.....I guess everyone just has anger issues".

Gunnar wondered what happened to the last sheriff but he figured it'd be best not to ask....."So.....why don't y'all get a new sheriff?".

Dan replied "No one ever lasts long as a sheriff tho....they either die or head for the hills! I don't blame anyone for runnin away tho, we are a stubborn bunch....".

And Gunnar believed him.......... Suddenly a bullet nicked his left ear! Gunnar looked around and saw the culprit.....a small tan Chihuahua that was jumpin on a table and had two large pistols in his paws ........shootin and yeppin like a coyote......"Hey pipsqueak! You almost shot my head off!". The Chihuahua just pointed his pistols at Gunnar, and Gunnar ran for cover, he heard a bullet pass by his other ear........he hid under a table..... watching......"Maybe I should lay low for a bit .........till this clears out......"

(Outside the saloon)

Gunnar barely got outta there with his ears and tail attached........he looked around for a place to stay.....as he walked around he saw a Café, library, Tailor, Flower shop, and a Butcher.......then he saw a small Chinese crested dog staring at him suspiciously...... Gunnar tried to look friendly "Uh hello there sir, name's Gunnar Wilson, and I'm new around here".  The dog just stared at Gunnar..... judging him..... Gunnar smiled sheepishly, till the little dog finally said

"My name is Ping Wú, and if I was you, I wouldn't stay long......". 

"Why?" Gunnar asked.

Ping sighed, "Because.....this town is as the name suggests.....it ain't nothin but a pile of dirt"

To be continued....;)

[jobean12-blog]

Get Your Engine Runnin’

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 890

Summary: You’re having a night out with friends but Joel’s a big softie and wants to keep you home in bed. 

Author’s Note: This is just because I’m in love with him and who the hell would want to leave him home! But of course he’d be completely fine with you going out on your own- but he’s still gonna tempt you to stay in with him instead haha Thank you all so very much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet Daisy @firefly-graphics thank you love! 

Warnings: fun, flirty and fluffy, Joel is sweet and soft and cheeky but he’s really a tough guy (lol)

Joel Miller Masterlist

“You have fun tonight darlin’”

“I will,” you whisper as you fingers gently scratch through his beard.

He tugs you closer, settling you between his spread legs as he sits back on his bike.

You wind your arms around his neck and hold on tight as he kisses you goodbye. Again. You can’t help the little moan that escapes you and you press yourself closer, slipping your fingers inside his leather jacket.

“AHEM! HELLO! HI!”

At your friend Jade’s exaggerated remarks, Joel releases you with a chuckle and loosens his grip, but only enough to tuck you into his side.

“Hi Jade. Didn’t see you there,” Joel teases.

Jade rolls her eyes. “Of course you didn’t. How could you when you two are making out like horny teenagers?”

Joel presses his lips together to stop his laughter and raises his brows in innocence.

“I’ve been sitting in my car for god knows how long waiting for you to be done,” Jade adds with a playful huff.

“It’s not my fault,” Joel swears but you see his mouth twitch with a smile.

“Oh yes it is,” you retort with a tug on the collar of his jacket.

“No…” Joel argues, “it’s not…it’s yours darlin’ because you’re over here…”

“There’s Dan,” Jade interrupts as she points to the door of the bar. “Quit arguing but more importantly quit making out and come inside!”

She makes a gagging noise but then smiles sweetly before walking off.

“Ok, be there in a minute,” you tell her as you wave to Dan over her shoulder.

“You better be!” she warns with a grin. “I don’t want to have to come back out here.”

Jade has barely turned around to find Dan when Joel positions you back between his legs, his hands on your hips.

“You were saying?” you ask Joel.

He slowly brushes his lips over yours.

“I was sayin’ that you look so fuckin’ gorgeous it’s not my fault I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“It’s only for a little while,” you whisper.

“I hate to let you out of my sight,” he murmurs.  

He kisses you and this kiss is slower, sweeter than before and after a while he breaks away with soft brushes of his mouth against yours, but he doesn’t let you go.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says quietly, his eyes shining with heat and something softer.

“Joel,” you warn, squirming against him. “Don’t look at me like that when I can’t do anything about it.”

He gives you a smug grin and then kisses you again. It’s hard and hungry and completely inappropriate for the public space.

When he finally lets you up for air your whole body is thrumming with need.

“Now look what you did,” you say breathlessly as you give him a little shove. “You better go or I’m never going inside.”

“Sorry darlin’.”  He winks and keeps his smug grin as he releases you but still holds tightly onto your hand.

“Just for that, you’re doing all the work tonight,” you tell him.

Your fingers start to slide from his grip as you take a step away but he stops you when he closes his hand around yours and drags you back into his embrace.

His lips brush the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “I’ll keep my head buried between your legs all night if that’s what you want.”  

You tremble in his arms, digging your teeth into your bottom lip at the thought.

“I can’t wait,” you breathe out.

He growls out your name and then sighs with yielding frustration.

With a small pout you free yourself from his hold.

“I’ll see you soon,” you promise.

He watches you walk away and you can feel the heat of his stare along every inch of your skin.

You’re just about to cross the street when you hear him yell, “darlin’ wait!”

When you turn around he’s jogging toward you with a boyish smirk, the front of his hair flopping over his forehead.

“Gimme some sugar darlin’. Just one more.” He taps his cheek with his thick finger.

Your rush back into his arms and pepper his scruffy cheek with kisses before your mouth trails down his neck. You lift your fingers to brush the hair from his face then let your fingertips smooth through the rest.

He groans in satisfaction. “Don’t go.”

“Joel. You’re such a big teddy bear! Imagine if the guys knew…”

His thumb strokes your lips before he reaches for another kiss, his large hand cradling your cheek.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he warns when he eases away. “It’ll ruin my tough guy image.”  

“You’re my tough guy teddy bear,” you coo as your nose bumps his, “and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

His kiss swallows your laughter, his hands caressing your body as your fingers tighten in his hair.

“Fucking hell darlin’,” he breathes against your lips. “Go before I pull a tough guy move and throw you on the back of my bike and take you home.”

“Don’t tempt me with things I want…” you counter as your fingers slide down his chest to trace his tattoo.

His hands flex on your hips before he whispers, “I love you,” and reluctantly let’s go, the promise of tonight filling the space between you.

@sstan-hoe @blackwidownat2814 @justkinsey​ @beccablogsthings​ @laineyreads​ @pedritosdarling​ @littleseasiren​ @lorilane33​