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rcmclachlan · 1 month

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I love how it appears that Tommy is the grounded, well-adjusted foil to Buck's devil-may-care adrenaline junkie, but I also have to remind myself that Tommy was the guy who was asked to steal a helicopter and fly it into a category 5 hurricane on a hunch, and he was like, "yeah, cool, let's go."

Buck probably thinks Tommy's a rational, responsible adult, because he's so considerate and he owns a house and he's so methodical when he takes Buck apart in bed and he's got a 401k and a Roth IRA account. The helicopter heist flight was definitely an outlier.

But eventually he learns the truth: Tommy's batshit insane.

Like, they're hanging in bed one morning and Buck's on his phone trying to solve the math riddle Hen sent him, and he's laments the loss of his lightning-enhanced skills. And Tommy, turning the page on the WWI biography he's reading, absently says, "At least you got them. All I got was 30% hearing loss in my left ear."

Buck slowly lowers his phone and demands an explanation, and Tommy, still focused on his book, tells him about when he was struck by lightning. Both times. The second time he was in the middle of a hoist and winch rescue trying to get to the captain of a sunk fishing boat in the middle of open ocean during a storm. Tommy holds his place in his book with his thumb and shows Buck the picture Lucy took of his Lichtenberg burn—it spans the entirety of his back and goes halfway down his arms. Buck stares at it, stunned, then takes the phone and book out of Tommy's hands, tosses them on the floor, and proceeds to suck Tommy's brain out through his dick.

The first time Buck goes to see Tommy at Harbor, Tommy is still en route back from a call, so Buck gets to talking to two people named Nico and Dana who've worked with Tommy since he arrived. Buck sheepishly apologizes for putting Tommy in such a dangerous position with the hurricane.

Nico and Dana look at each other and snort. Nico puts his hand on Buck's shoulder and is like, "Dude, that is not the craziest thing Kinard's ever done. That's not the craziest thing he's done this year."

They tell him about his legendary but batshit NATOPS check maneuvers and how no one's ever been able to figure out how he can do a barrel roll in low altitude in a transport bird.

They tell him about the time he and Donato were called to a high-rise gas explosion, and they casevac'd an unconscious, pregnant woman who ended up going into labor. Tommy got back there and, with the power of WikiHow on his side, delivered a healthy baby girl halfway to LA General.

They tell him about the time he sustained a concussion while landing a malfunctioning helicopter in the baseball field of a middle school, and yet somehow found the strength to host an impromptu AMA to three hundred kids about what being a pilot's like while he munched on tater tots and waited for a rescue.

They tell him about the time he was flying with a probie at night in an area with uncharted power lines that got tangled in the rotor, and how he slung the probie under his arm like a tote bag and dove out of the helicopter right before it exploded.

They tell him about the time Tommy and Nico were called to a cliffside mansion where some foreign dignitary's daughter was being held hostage. Tommy ended up HRSTing out of the helicopter and onto the scene, and then proceeded to beat the hell out of the guy, get himself stabbed, and give the SWAT team so much shit when they arrived that the 217 has an honorary table every year at the Backdraft Ball.

When Tommy finally shows up and disembarks, Dana's halfway through a story about the time they were all called to Shasta County to help with the Carr Fire in 2018, and as soon as Buck sees him over Dana's shoulder, he shouts, "You flew into a fire tornado?!"

Tommy's expression goes a little hunted and he holds up his hands placatingly, like, "In my defense, I tried to find another way around it—"

And Dana's like, "The fuck you did. You looked me dead in the eye and said, 'You know what would be funny?' And then you banked right into the whirl."

"It's not like you tried to stop me," Tommy says accusingly, ignoring the way the side of his head is starting to smoke from the intensity of Buck's stare.

"Well, no, you were right: it was funny," Dana says with a shrug.

That night, Buck rides Tommy slow and vicious and makes him recount every detail of the fire whirl flight before he'll let Tommy come, and the entire time he grips Tommy's head and forces him to hold Buck's gaze and thinks, I can't believe I ever thought you were normal. You're insane, you're out of your mind, you're perfect, you're perfect, you're perfect for me.

In the afterglow, practically humming with satisfaction, Buck bites playfully at Tommy's chest and says, "So this is what Lucy meant when she texted me that you and I match each other's crazy. Hell, after everything you've done, I think the only thing left to check off your list is, like, aliens."

And Tommy's entire body freezes and he falls very silent very suddenly. Buck lifts his head to stare at him, like, "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Evan, for legal reasons, I need you to change the subject."

#bucktommy #bucktommy headcanons #the freak4freak agenda

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year

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title: toyin’ with them older guys

pairing: bartender!joel miller/female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

chapters: 1/1

read on ao3 | masterlist

summary:

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder.

But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation.

Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

author’s note: thank you to everyone who hyped me up to post this when i wasn’t sure how i felt about it. your comments mean the world 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), alternate universe - no cordyceps outbreak, no use of y/n, unspecified age gap, alcohol references/consumption, possessive behavior, jealousy, mild violence (in the form of Joel kicking someone out of his bar), brief reference to Sarah’s mom and divorce, tinder dates, bribery, dirty talk, begging, pet names, praise kink, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), spanking. let me know if i’ve missed anything!

There’s a bar near the university that you love to go to for multiple reasons.

For one, they have great drinks. For two, their loaded tater tots are the best drunk food you’ve ever had the pleasure of consuming.

But the number one reason, above all else, is the grumpy bartender and owner, Joel Miller.

The first time you saw him, he was challenging a kid with a fake ID, his arms crossed over his broad chest, emphasizing the strain of his flannel over his biceps. When the kid tried to take a swing at him, he grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before marching him out of the bar and kicking him to the curb.

Your friend had to remind you to breathe.

He hosts a trivia night at the bar on Tuesday nights, the perfect excuse to see the man weekly. You sit at the bar each time, scribbling your answers on the notepad as you sip on a vodka cranberry and sneak glances at the older man while he works.

One night, you were struggling to answer a question about where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed when Joel leaned across the bar, bringing his lips close to your ear to say, “New Zealand.”

You’d gotten the point, thanks to him. And from that day forward, he’d linger near your corner of the bar, watching to see if you needed help with an answer. Eventually, you started showing up earlier and earlier for trivia night, just for the chance to talk to him.

You told him about your PhD program and the research you were conducting. You wanted to be a psychologist, but for now you’re just a perpetual student. You miss winter weather in Colorado, but appreciate not having to store a giant jacket anywhere in your small apartment. Your favorite season is fall, and your favorite holiday is Halloween.

He tells you about buying the bar a few years ago, after his divorce from Sarah’s mom and ensuing custody battle had been finalized, an investment he made with his brother Tommy. They’d fixed it up themselves and made it a popular local spot. His favorite movie is Indiana Jones and he prefers whiskey over any other drink.

It’s no surprise that along the way you’d fallen in love with the man.

Too bad he’d never feel the same.

————

Joel remembers the first night he saw you. Your rosy cheeks and tipsy smile as you leaned forward to say, “Vodka cranberry, please. With lime .”

“Lime, huh?” He remembers saying. You nodded your head vigorously.

“The lime is the best part,” you insisted. He chuckled.

“Not the vodka?”

“Gross, no.”

He tossed in three lime slices and you shimmied your shoulders with glee.

You come into the bar, alone, for trivia night on Tuesdays now. You’re a fountain of random facts, but every once in a while he’ll feed you an answer to help you out because he likes the smile that you give him in return.

He has no right to be looking at you the way that he finds himself doing every week. Eyes wandering to the way your jeans hug your ass or drifting to your cleavage when you rest your elbows against the bar.

But between the conversations and the trivia and the sweet smiles, he’d gone and fallen in love.

Which is why when you come to trivia night with a man who wraps an arm around your waist, Joel loses his goddamn mind and does the stupidest thing ever.

You get up to go to the bathroom and Joel leans across the bar to address the guy, keeping his eyes on the bathroom.

“I’ll give you $100 if you leave right now,” Joel says.

“What?”

“Hundred bucks if you walk out that door and don’t talk to that girl again,” he says again. He digs his wallet from his pants and pulls a bill out, setting it on the bar top.

Without further question, the man grabs the money and stuffs it in his pocket as he heads out the door. Joel feels a flash of guilt when you return from the bathroom and look around for your missing date.

“Said he had an emergency,” Joel lies. He’s surprised when you look relieved.

“He was kind of boring, anyways,” you shrug, dragging your notepad and pen closer to you. “He probably would have just dragged us down.”

Us, Joel thinks.

He could get used to that.

________

Your friend, Marie, had convinced you to try out Tinder. She was absolutely certain you were missing out on the love of your life by not swiping mindlessly through profiles that held no interest to you.

You weren’t about to confess your unrequited love for the local bartender to get her off your case, so that’s how you ended up on a date with Michael. He was a law student and liked kayaking and hiking.

You liked neither of those things, but he had curly brown hair and you had a type, so why not give it a shot?

You didn’t have it in you to be too upset when you returned from the bathroom only to find out from Joel that Michael had left. Joel slid you another vodka cranberry with lime and your night went as it always did.

When Marie asked you the next morning how the date went and you told her he bailed, she insisted on picking your next one. She chose Scott, a financial analyst at a local bank.

You’re starting to think Marie doesn’t know you very well.

Regardless, you show up at the bar for another trivia night date. Scott is tall and lean, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he wore a suit to a bar. When you comment on it, he pulls a face and says he came straight from work.

“Not all of us are lucky enough to not have real jobs,” he says. You blink at him, surprised by the hostility.

That hostility continues when Joel approaches the two of you at the bar, lips turned down in a scowl, and Scott decides to order for you.

“She’ll take a vodka water with lemon and I’ll have Bulleit, neat.”

Joel raises his eyebrows at Scott, his eyes flicking to you briefly, before he sets a plastic cup on the bar top. He holds Michael’s gaze as he pours a shot of vodka into your cup, before using the soda gun to dispense cranberry juice. You have to bite back your smile.

“Vodka cranberry with lime,” he says, sliding you your drink. “And your whiskey will be right out.”

“That’s not what I ordered,” Scott replies.

“Yeah, but it’s what she would’ve.”

Scott sputters, face going an alarming shade of red with his indignation.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, taking your drink with you as you head to the bathroom.

________

“I’m not paying for that drink,” the blonde asshole says, knocking his knuckles against the bar for emphasis. Joel huffs a laugh.

“I don’t give a shit, kid. I want you out of my bar,” he says, planting both hands on the wood.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my bar.”

“I’m on a date!”

“Not anymore.” Joel rounds the bar and gets up in the little weasel’s face. “Get. Out.”

The boy’s eyes go wide, like he realizes that maybe Joel isn’t playing around. He scrambles from his barstool, standing to his full height like he’s about to challenge Joel.

“You can’t kick me out, old man,” the blonde snaps.

Joel’s had enough. He fists a hand in the starched white shirt collar, driving him back towards the exit. The other patrons move out of the way, some whistling and cheering Joel on. He shoves the man out the door and looks at the doorman.

“He doesn’t come back inside,” he says. “And you? Don’t ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Joel returns to the bar as you’re walking up. For a moment, he worries that you may have seen him acting like a caveman getting rid of his competition, but you look around in confusion.

“Where’s Scott?” You ask.

“He forgot about somethin’ at work,” Joel says. Your brow furrows.

“Kinda weird that’s happened to me twice now,” you comment.

Joel just shrugs.

________

You don’t tell Joel about how you saw him throw Scott out of his bar that night.

You’d just left the bathroom when you saw Joel stomp out from behind the bar, his eyes dark and fixed on your date. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but based on the affronted way Scott was responding, it wasn’t anything good.

You crept closer to the scene, but stayed amongst the crowd. Joel marched Scott backwards with a fist tangled in his collar, shoving him out the door.

“And you? Don’t you ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Your mouth went dry at his words and your mind reeled at the implications. Was he doing this from a place of friendship? Or…could he maybe feel the same way you do?

Only one way to find out.

You call up Travis, a good friend from undergrad who still lived in town.

“Trav, I need your help,” you say when he answers the phone.

“Burying a body type of help or financial type of help?” He replies easily.

“Actually, more experimental.”

“I don’t swing that way.”

“No, listen to me, I have a hypothesis,” you insist, explaining the situation to him. How you’ve been on two dates at Joel’s bar but each time, the men have left without another word. And how after what you witnessed, you’re inclined to believe that it’s not a coincidence.

You ask Travis to come with you to the next trivia night. All he needs to do is pretend to be there on a date with you. A bit of hand holding, maybe an arm around the waist. Nothing more.

“But what if he tries to threaten my life?” Travis asks.

“Well…I mean…every experiment has risks,” you reply flippantly. He sputters indignantly down the line. “I’ll buy you your drinks and get you tater tots.”

He’s silent for a moment before responding, “Fine. Extra jalapeños and I’m not getting well liquor.”

“Thank you!”

________

You come into his bar with another man. His arm is draped over your shoulders as you approach the bar and Joel has to set the glass he’s drying down before it shatters in his hands.

“Joel! This is Travis,” you say, gesturing to your date. He forces a smile, reaching a hand across the bar to shake his hand.

“What can I get started for you?” Joel asks. The man, Travis, orders an old-fashioned with top shelf whiskey, while you request your regular.

“I’ll be right back,” you say as Joel is pouring the drinks. You weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms and Joel leans in to address Travis.

“I’ll pay you $100 to leave this date,” Joel says.

Travis smirks. “Make it $200.”

“Are you serious?”

“That depends, are you?”

Joel’s eyes flick towards the back of the bar and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out four fifties, dropping them on the bar.

Travis pockets the money before adding, “You know, there’s cheaper ways to get the girl.”

“Get out,” Joel grunts. The younger man laughs his way to the door, and you appear at the bar a moment later.

“Where’d Travis go?” You ask.

“Oh, he—“

“Can I get an order of the loaded tots?” Travis asks, cutting Joel off from making up an excuse for his absence and sitting back down on the stool beside you with a shit eating grin. “She owes me.”

“Owes you?” Joel asks through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, she lost a bet. I told her I could get the number of that guy over there in less than three minutes and she doubted my charm.”

“Travis and I went to undergrad together,” you explain. “We just wanted to hang out and catch up.”

Shit.

________

Travis decides to leave after two plates of loaded tots and one too many drinks. You help him call an Uber, but you stay behind as the bar starts to clear out.

It’s just Joel behind the bar, wiping down the wood and setting bottles back to their rightful spots as you sip from a cup of water. The kitchen has closed down and the music has been shut off, leaving the two of you in loaded silence.

“So…,” you say, twirling your straw in your near empty cup. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

Joel’s shoulders go tense before he releases a deep sigh, turning to face you. The bar separates you, and it feels like miles of distance when all you want to do is get your hands on him now that your hypothesis has been proven.

Joel Miller likes you. And he’s been sabotaging your dates because of it. Perhaps you should be more upset, but all you can feel is an effervescent giddiness bubbling in your veins.

While he struggles to find the words, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You reach across the bar, hooking your fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tugging him forward. You lean over to meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his.

You pull back and look into his eyes. The coffee colored brown of his irises seems darker, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

________

Joel’s got one hand on the wheel of the truck and the other resting on your thigh. He has to keep a hand on you because he’s worried that if he doesn’t anchor himself, he’ll wake up from this dream.

You kissed him. You reached across the bar and dragged his lips to yours in a way he’d only dreamed of doing a thousand times since you’d sauntered into his life.

He can’t help the small smile that tilts his lips up at the thought.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” You ask, your voice teasing. He glances at you.

“You do, darlin’,” he says. He relishes in the pink that blooms across your cheeks at the pet name.

Joel drives to his house, parking the truck in the driveway of his little bungalow. His bachelor pad, as Tommy calls it.

Maybe not for much longer.

He circles the truck to open the door for you, helping you down from the cab. He keeps his hand on your low back as he leads you up the porch steps and through the door.

You toe off your shoes in the entryway, letting them join the pair of sneakers Joel left by the door. You’re wearing a pair of socks with tiny cats printed on them, the sight so endearing to him he can’t hold back his laugh.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothin’, just…like the look of you here. In my house,” he says.

“Yeah?” You take a step closer to him, toe to toe as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging your body against his. The heat of you even through the layers of your clothes sends a shiver down his spine.

You press your hands to his chest, sliding them up and over his shoulders before linking them behind his neck.

“You gonna give me a real kiss?” You whisper back. Your lips are so tantalizingly close that they ghost across his as you speak.

He closes the distance, lips dancing with yours as he kisses you senseless. The feel of you against him, moving with him, sends sparks skittering across his skin. He’s unable to hold still, hands roaming from your back to your waist to your hips as your mouths part and your tongues tangle with increased desperation.

Joel slides his hands to the backs of your thighs, crouching slightly to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your core slides against his growing hardness and he groans at the sensation as you let out the neediest whimper.

He wants to hear more.

He walks you both through the empty house until he reaches his bedroom, tossing you on top of sheets still rumpled from last night’s sleep. You scramble to sit up on your knees, moving to the edge of the bed and curling your fingers into the waist of his jeans.

“Can I suck your cock, Joel?” You ask, voice all breathy as you stare up at him with your big doe eyes. “Please?”

Joel’s mouth has gone bone dry. “Yeah? You want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart?”

You nod your head, fingers working on the buckle of his belt. His hands work in tandem with yours to get his fly open, shoving the denim down his thighs until he can step out of them. His cock tents his boxers, a wet spot already apparent on the fabric and he watches as you reach a hand out to stroke him, a groan escaping him at the feel of your warm palm against him.

“Take your clothes off and get on your knees,” Joel commands. He lifts his own shirt over his head as you unbutton and remove your pants, shimmying the tight fabric down your legs. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed as he watches you lift your shirt up and off.

His eyes rove your body hungrily. Your perfect tits and gorgeous curves, the way you flush beneath his gaze.

“Come here, baby,” he says, crooking a finger. You come to stand between his legs and he reaches around your back, unhooking your bra with deft fingers.

“You’re rather skilled at that, Mr. Miller,” you tease.

“I’m old, not dead.” He slips the straps from your shoulders, tugging the last barrier between him and your tits away. “God, baby, these all for me?”

“Mhm,” you him as he wraps his hand around the weight of one breast, thumb teasing your pert nipple.

“Tell me somethin’,” Joel asks, “why’d you bring all those boys around when you knew you needed a man?”

You lick your lips. “Didn’t know if the only man I wanted would want me back.”

Your voice is small and vulnerable as you say it, and that just won’t do. “Don’t just want you, baby. Need you.”

Your face lights up in the brightest grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, digging his fingers into your hips. “S’why I had to play dirty.”

Your smile turns downright salacious. You drop to your knees, running your hands up his thighs. “Show me how much you need me, Joel.”

________

Joel shoves his boxers down, exposing his cock to your hungry gaze. It’s gorgeously thick, the head a dark red from his arousal, a pearl of precum sitting in the slit. You lean forward and dart your tongue out to gather it.

“Don’t tease, sweetheart,” Joel says through gritted teeth. You keep your eyes fixed to his as you take him in hand, swirling your tongue over the sensitive head before taking him further into your mouth.

His hand is instantly in your hair. Not pressing, but his fingers tangle in the strands and tug deliciously against your scalp. He moans as you take him as far back into your throat as you can manage.

“Fuck, your mouth is better than I ever dreamed,” he says, voice rough.

“You’ve thought about this?” You ask when you draw back for breath, hand pumping his length in place of your mouth.

“‘Course, baby. These pretty lips wrapped around me, beggin’ for me to make them all swollen and used,” he says, standing and bringing a thumb to your lips and swiping it across their spit slick surface. “Open up.”

He uses his thumb to press against your bottom lip, opening your mouth as he takes his cock in hand and feeds it slowly between your lips. The smooth, hot length of him dragging across your tongue makes you moan.

“You like that, baby?” He growls, pumping his hips in shallow thrusts. “Like me usin’ your mouth how I want?”

You try to nod, your movement restricted by the grip of his hand that’s returned to your hair. There’s spit trailing down your chin and tears gathering in the corners of your eyes from the effort of keeping your mouth open for his thick length. You know you must look like a mess but with Joel staring down at you with his lust drunk expression, you feel on top of the world.

“I gotta fuck you, baby, will you let me, huh? Let me feel that pretty little cunt strangle my cock?”

You hum around his length and he withdraws, tugging you up by your hair and pulling you into the dirtiest kiss, all tongue and teeth and blatant desire as he turns your bodies, shoving you down onto the bed.

Joel slips an arm beneath your low back, using it to pull you up the bed as he crawls on to join you. He positions himself between your legs, tearing the soaked fabric of your panties down in a frenzy.

He slides his fingers through your wetness before bringing them to his lips, sucking them into his mouth with a groan.

“Christ, I’m gonna feast on you for hours, baby, but I wanna fuck you so bad,” he says.

“Then fuck me, Joel, please,” you beg, lifting your hips so that his cock slips through your center. “Come on, wanna feel you.”

He lines himself up, pressing into you with a delicious stretch, the slight sting of it making you whine. He shushes you, not stopping until his hips press against the back of your thighs.

“Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ my cock like you were made for it,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you, the shift in angle making him go impossibly deeper. “Tell me when I can move, sweetheart.”

You shift your hips restlessly beneath him. “Please move, Joel, wanna feel it.”

Joel pulls back before slamming forward, the force of it making you slide up the bed as all the air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. His grin is sharp as he does it again and again to the tune of your desperate cries.

“Joel!” You cry, clawing at his back with each thrust. “Fuck, yes, yes!”

He withdraws abruptly, the loss of him as you clench around nothing making you whine pathetically. With a bruising grip on your hips, he twists your body until you’re on your belly, ass in the air and chest pressed to the mattress.

Joel slides back inside your tight heat, a palm slapping across one cheek then the other as he resumes his powerful thrusts.

“Fuck, darlin’, you’re so goddamn tight,” he growls. A hand presses to the back of your neck for leverage, changing the angle yet again. “Can you cum for me? Can you soak my fuckin’ cock, baby, I bet you can.”

You nod, the movement restricted, but you can’t form words. All you know is the feeling of Joel pounding into your body like he owns it.

The hand on your hips moves to the front of your body, fingers finding and pinching your clit. You sob against the mattress, the sheets wet beneath you from tears and drool.

“Come on, baby, fuckin’ cum for me,” he growls. “Won’t fill ya up until you do.”

That’s the visual that does it. The thought of Joel finishing with you, inside of you, dripping out of you too much for your lust addled brain. With a shout, the thin remnant of your control snaps and you pulse around him.

“Fuck yes, that’s it, sweetheart, good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his hand leaving your neck as he sits up, his tempo fast and sloppy as he chases his release through yours. “You want me to cum in this tight little cunt, honey.”

“Yes, please,” you manage to slur, muffled by the sheets. With three more harsh thrusts, he does as promised, spilling inside of you with a shout.

He slows before withdrawing, your body collapsing against the mattress without him there to hold you up. He chuckles as he flops beside you, dragging you into the cradle of his body.

“You done playin’ games with those boys?” He asks, smiling smugly against your neck.

“Yeah, think I might be into older guys,” you tease. He pinches your hip, making you laugh.

“See if I ever help you during trivia again.”

________

Joel’s standing in front of you, arms crossed with a scowl on his face as you stare up at him with pleading eyes.

“Come on, baby, help me out,” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

“Last call for an answer to our final question! What is the only song credited to all five original members of the band Fleetwood Mac?”

Joel sighs, biting back his smile. “The Chain,” he tells you. You scribble the answer, running your paper up to the emcee. When you return to the bar, you lean across the polished surface and tug him towards you, planting a kiss to his lips.

He drags you back for another kiss. And another.

“Anytime, darlin’.”

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #no use of y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x female reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #ao3 author #read on ao3

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artdcnaldson · 1 month

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I have some fluffy fuzzy thoughts to share... I feel like Patrick is one of those people that babies just unexpectedly LOVE

Like imagine he's at a gathering with Art's family and someone asks him to hold their very new, very small, very breakable baby while they're in the bathroom.

Patrick freaks out expecting high pitched wails and a lifetime ban from Donaldson family BBQs.

But turns out his big strong hands are good for holding little people as well as rackets...

ohhhh <3 this is so, so important to me <3

Because Patrick is the type to loudly and frequently say he hates kids. His experience with children comes down to his older brother's hellspawn that make the pretty young au pairs he hires gray prematurely. Nasty, dirty, loud, annoying, persistent. The kind of kids that need to be told No, but never are.

Art's family is different. It takes a village, and all that. His cousin Beth is a teen mom, with a cute, fat little baby that has the same blonde curls as its mother. It has two front teeth already, a gummy little smile when Art's grandmother feeds it bites of some tater tot hotdish that would send Patrick's bubbe into cardiac arrest.

Art happily holds the baby in his arms and he seems comfortable enough. There are so many young kids running around that Patrick figures he has experience with that sort of thing. In his eighteen years of life, Patrick has managed to hold one baby, at age fourteen, when his older brother had his first kid.

The baby blinks up at him, its eyes wide and brown like Beth's are. Beth— who's off making fruit salad and dumped her kid into the first pair of open arms she could find. It's outfit is stupid— a little set of overalls with pockets that have muppets sticking out. What the fuck do babies need pockets for?

"It keeps staring at me," he complains, trying to move in front of Art to break the creepy eye contact, which doesn't work.

"Stop calling him it," Art insists, face twisting with annoyance as he bounces the baby in his arms. "His name is Noah."

Patrick sighs. "Noah won't stop staring at me. It's freaking me out, so make him stop."

Art laughs at that, grinning in that annoying way he does when he thinks he knows what Patrick's thinking. So what if most of the time he does? "What? He's a baby, I can't just make him stop. You're being weird."

No. Weird was the way that Art's family acted. He knew the detachment in his family wasn't normal, but the closeness, the joking, the passing babies and kids and hugging was weird. It was weird that they had potlucks where they would eat servings of each dish and smile even if it tasted really bad. It was weird that Art's other cousin, George, stood up with his wife and proudly announced they were trying for a baby. For all the Zweig's knew, babies arrived in cashmere swaddles carried by some endangered species of bird.

"I have to pee, dude, just hold him for a sec—" Art says suddenly, and before Patrick can do anything, the baby is shoved into his arms. It— he— is heavier than Patrick expects, so dense for something so small.

"Art—" He whisper-yells, but Art's already darting away, leaving Patrick to awkwardly cradle the baby to his chest.

Noah babbles as Patrick swears under his breath. No one seems to look his way— it's too loud for anyone to really care. Beth at least glances over to check on her kid, sees a yawning Noah being bounced in Patrick's arms. He thinks he gives a help me expression, but it's ignored.

Noah likes him. He rests his chubby little face on Patrick's Hollister polo and babbles contentedly once Patrick manages to nervously walk across the room and settle on an old, sunken in leather couch.

Tentatively, Patrick reaches out, lets the baby wrap his hand around his index finger. Noah yawns, his little face wrinkling and scrunching as he gets comfortable. The baby is asleep on Patrick's chest by the time Art returns.

The blond grins as he sinks onto the couch beside him, holding out a plate of baked goods. "Hungry?"

"I can't move," Patrick whispers. "He's knocked out, dude."

Art lifts a marshmallow lucky charms bar to Patrick's mouth and lets the other boy take a bite. "You're good with kids. Girls think that's hot."

"Shut the fuck up."

#I LOVE THIS THANK YOU FOR THIS PROMPT #patrick zweig #art donaldson #artrick

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justherebecause15 · 1 year

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Pet names Bruce uses for his kids.

I'm having feelings so let's do this crap

Bruce's petnames are all either really old fashioned or strange. very few normal ones.

Dick: Chum, Dickie, kiddo, his little bird, baby. I feel like Bruce calls all his babies baby because. well. that's what they are. Dick won't let Bruce call him anything when he moves out. Bruce still does.

Babs: she's more of like a niece to him, but i can totally see him calling her barbie and kiddo and little girl.

Jason: Jay, lad, Jaylad, Jaybird (he 86'd that one when Roy started), bean. He calls him bean because he was a little bean. a tiny infant. he still does it when Jason's 6'4.

Tim: Sweetheart, buddy, timbit, Tater Tot, and the much longer Tim The Tater Tot.

Cass: Sweetheart, honey, sugarpea or sugarsnap, princess, my moon.

Steph: Steph, and Angel. sometimes, she's very tired and swear that he calls her "stephy". she's right.

Damian: With Damian, I like to think he reuses his mother's nickname of "beloved". I feel like he knows Damian misses his mama, but Bruce is one hell of an emotionally stunted alpaca and doesn't know what to do about it, so that's his little way of acknowledging her presence. Damian loves it. he also calls him dames, and sometimes little pear or cactus, because he's prickly. like a prickly pear cactus

Duke: he calls duke champ. like unironically. as well as kiddo and sport. Duke calls him an old man. Once he finds out about his powers he calls him a bunch of names to do with that. His little firefly(ONLY OUTSIDE OF GOTHAM), his lightbulb, starlight, sunny, my sun. Once he called him lighting mcqueen. Duke dyed his hair red in his sleep for that one.

I don't really know a lot of the other characters, like harper or cullen or luke. but of the ones I've got a grasp on, these what i think they'd be.

#i also know nothing about jarro #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #jason todd #barbara gordon #I'm very attached to the petname angel #because my dad called me that #when i was little #i miss it #batdad

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squadmuse · 2 months

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ONE DAY IN OCTOBER - Part I

A MATT CASEY X HALSTEAD!OFC FIC (Charlotte Halstead Casey)

A/N: so this has been an idea that I’ve been slowly working and developing for about a month now and @deanstead has been such a great & lovely helpful mutual through it… hope everyone enjoys this, as I am so excited about it!!

A cool October sun was high in the sky above the bustling city of Chicago that morning, and luckily Dr. Charlotte Halstead Casey found herself alone on the rooftop of the city’s Gaffney Chicago Medical Center to enjoy it.

A lifelong Chicago resident, her green eyes watched from high above as if she were a mere bird, looking down as cars rolled down the roads and people walked up along the sidewalks. Rush hour had been over for a few hours now, so it wasn’t as busy as it would’ve been as people hurried even more to reach work or school. When Charlotte had arrived for work the night before, the noisy city had been cloaked in a dark twilight with little to nobody wandering around.

Glancing down at her hand that was encircled around a travel mug filled with warm decaffeinated coffee, Charlotte grinned as the sunlight hit her diamond engagement ring and matching wedding band. It had been nearly six months since she had married the love of her life, Matthew Casey. He had dropped her off at the hospital last night with a kiss goodbye and a warm hug too. Matt was very much everything she had ever dreamed about.

It wasn’t often that Charlotte found herself working the night shift in the emergency department, but it had been a case of seniority needed and a call from Goodwin herself. Luckily, she hadn’t been working the day before and had been relaxing at home while Matt worked on one of his construction jobs in Wicker Park.

Looking back out at the metropolis that she called home, she sighed. It looked like it was going to be a slow day in Chicago, and luckily a quiet night too, as Goodwin had signed her up for night shifts for now on. Taking a gulp of her drink, Charlotte let herself be lost in the tranquil atmosphere around her on the roof, waiting for the moments to fly by and for caffeinated coffee once again.

Charlotte had been so lost in her daydreaming mind and her imagination running wild like a hummingbird would, that she did not see the figure that had appeared on the rooftop paradise that she had claimed for herself that mid-morning. Her green eyes were fluttering shut and there was a soft smile dancing on her soft lips which made her look as serene as the view that surrounded her.

With soft steps that were not unlike his soft wavy hair, did the lone figure make his way to where Charlotte stood alone. There too was a soft smile painted upon his face, like there was upon her own, and as he found his way to be at her side high above Chicago, the man placed a lean arm around her shoulders as if he had done it many times before.

Charlotte’s eyes shot open as if they were bullets firing from a pistol at the sudden touch and her wide eyes pivoted just as fast to face the figure beside her and a chuckle slipped from both their lips as she punched him jokingly on the chest. Her older brother Will Halstead grinned as she did so.

“Even after all these years, you still react to the slightest touch, Tater,” he chuckled, ruffling her dark hair, not unlike all those years ago.

Charlotte rolled her eyes at his comment and his childhood nickname for her, which seemed to be sticking around even as they were adults. Trust Will and Jay, her other older brother, to find out her name was also the name of a potato species when they were kids. She was grateful they at least didn’t call her Tater Tot.

“Well you still happen to have the coldest hands in Chicago, so we’re even Billy,” she grinned back as she used her own childhood nickname for her eldest brother in return. A louder laugh than before erupted from her lips as Will grimaced.

“You know you’re the only one I’ll ever let call me that?” said Will as he leaned on the railing beside his sister. His brown eyes followed the sights below like Charlotte had done before. “Jay is the same, only you get to call him Jayjay.”

A broad smile appeared on Charlotte’s face at his comment. Smugly, she nudged Will in his side. “That’s because I’m your baby sister,” she said mirthfully. It was true, ever since she had been born all those years ago in 1988, Charlotte had been the apple of her brothers’ eyes and spoiled rotten by two Halsteads. “Y'know, Pops is the same.”

Will nodded as he glanced at her. “That’s because you’re his little girl,” replied Will with a soft smile. “Pops didn’t expect to have a little girl, even Mom thought she would have another boy.”

Charlotte giggled as she shook her head. Thank god her parents had not had another boy, the old house back in Canaryville probably wouldn’t have survived that. “Remember the time when I refused to do the tap class Mom signed me up for and how I wanted to go to the ice hockey club with you and Jay?” said Charlotte quietly as she reminisced.

“How could I not?” chortled Will, his soft auburn curls jiggling with the movement of his head. “Mom was stunned, wondered where her little girly girl had gone!”

Sighing, Charlotte remembered that too. Theresa Halstead had been aghast about her only daughter wanting to act like her older brothers and not do all the girly things she was finally getting to do now she had a daughter. “I think I got pulled from the peewee team after Jay punched Eddie Lynch after he made me fall and break my arm,” said Charlotte, thinking about that moment with her brother.

“Yeah you did, I think Pops had a bust-up with Coach Murphy over all of that,” added Will as he turned to lean his back against the railing and so did Charlotte before taking another sip of her coffee. “I think that was when Jay switched to soccer, and you got into gymnastics?”

Charlotte nodded. She had got into gymnastics after that fiasco, at least it was all girls in her club in Bridgeport. “Yeah it was, Mom didn’t want me roughhousing with the hockey boys like I would with you and Jay at home,” she chuckled. It was true, and she still did have a tough side to her, having grown up a Halstead in Canaryville. “You just kept to your baseball, which Pops loved.”

“South Side pride, it’s in our blood little sis,” laughed Will as he threw his head back looking up at the fall sun. “I think it was Pop’s proudest moment when I won the high school baseball award.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes at the statement, which was the understatement of the century. Patrick Halstead was probably the biggest baseball fan in Canaryville and had been absolutely ecstatic about the prize at the De La Salle Institute, to the amusement of Will, Jay, Charlotte and their mother. Usually, Pat Halstead was a man of few words and even less emotion.

For a while the two siblings stood in silence, and the only sound was that of the lively city many floors below.

It was nice like that, just the two of them on a quiet day in October.

After minutes of watching the city and clouds go by, Will quickly grasped his sister’s travel mug and took a sip from it before spitting it back out.

“Serves you right,” giggled Charlotte as she took back the mug from Will, who was glaring at her with lighthearted disgust.

Will nodded, rolling his eyes in playful annoyance. “I see you’re still on the decaf?”

“Yup, you know I’m off it.”

Again, Will nodded his head in agreement as he knew that. “I know, I just hoped you had hot cocoa or something? Something that is actually nice!”

“Hey, decaf coffee is actually nice!” retorted Charlotte as she playfully shoved her brother to the side, making him stumble slightly. It wasn’t a lie, she had been surprised to find herself enjoying it.

Will shook his head and stood upright. “If you say so, Tater,” he replied before turning to face Charlotte with a more serious expression upon his face and his deep brown eyes fixated on her as he was reading her innermost thoughts. “How was your shift?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Charlotte sighed in response to her brother. “Just the usual stuff, I was only called in because Ethan is sick, and you worked the day shift.”

“Yeah Maggie had said about that when I arrived earlier,” said Will with a sigh, himself as he reached out to rub Charlotte’s shoulder affectionately. “I hope you still took it easy though.”

Charlotte took a large gulp from her mug before smiling at her brother. Even now, after all these years, Will was still the ever protective brother he had always been in her life. “I can still do my job, I’m not incapacitated.”

“Oh I know you’re not, and you’re a more than capable attending, but you’re carrying my unborn niece or nephew, so I’m not just big brother Will, but Uncle Will too, gotta keep two eyes out for you now,” he stated, gesturing at the round bump that was protruding underneath her ED scrubs.

It seemed Baby Casey was already under the watchful gaze of their Uncle Will, not just their mommy and daddy.

After a while longer up on the rooftop together, Charlotte found herself traveling down in the elevator with Will at her side. The two of them were not short on conversation topics as they traveled down the hospital building floor by floor.

“—I can’t believe he actually said that to you!” exclaimed Will angrily as the elevator stopped on the cardiothoracic floor. “You’re Noah’s superior.”

Charlotte shook her head, as neither could she when it happened. “He completely ignored my instructions and advice,” she stated wearily, remembering the interaction between herself and Noah Sexton, who was a resident in the department. “I think Connor is going to talk to Goodwin about it, he had to take the poor guy up to surgery to repair the mess.”

“Good, I’ll make sure to talk to him later about it,” scowled Will as the elevator started to move again. “You don’t need idiotic residents, especially now.”

Charlotte sighed in agreement. She didn’t need the added pressure and stress of someone like Noah Sexton working under her. With her pregnancy, it had been paramount to her and Matt that she stay as relaxed as possible, even in a stressful job (although he also had a stressful job too). Their baby would always come first. “Just don’t make a big deal out of it, Will. I’m off for maternity leave in December and then off for a few months. Maybe when I come back he’ll be off to some other hospital!”

“Fingers crossed, but I’ll say something to April,” stated Will, as he glanced at his sister worriedly. He knew their nurse friend would happily pull up her younger brother about his behavior and actions last night.

“Is she working today?” asked Charlotte as she felt the elevator move without stopping. It seemed not very many people were using the lift this morning.

Will nodded. “Maggie said so,” he replied as they finally reached the first floor and were met with the emergency department before them as the doors opened up. “So what are you going to be up to today?”

Charlotte shrugged her shoulders as the two doctors walked across the room. Much like she had thought before, it seemed like it was going to be a quiet day in Chicago. “Probably just napping and organizing baby things, Matt is on shift today,” she told her brother.

Will hummed as he held open the glass door to the doctors’ lounge for his sister to walk through before him.

“Maybe you could go visit Pop?”

#chicago fire #chicago med #chicago pd #one chicago #matt casey #will halstead #jay halstead #matt casey x reader #matt casey x oc #matt casey x halstead sister #will halstead x reader #will halstead x oc #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x oc

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