#joel is still a meanie

[penvisions]

garnish {chapter 3}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Thoughts about Joel Miller have you desperate for something you hadn't sought out in quite a while: human touch. So when your friends suggest a girls' night out, you readily agree. It's just your luck that the very man plaguing your thoughts happens to be at the bar picked out for the night.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warning: alcohol consumption, drunken interactions, creepy flirthing, unwanted attention, fighting, bar fights, nonconsensual touching (not joel), protective joel, injuries, blood, degrading talk, power dynamics, abuse of power, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, smoking, cigarettes, joel miller is a conflicted man, kissing, drunk makeout session

A/N: this story is literally keeping me from climbing the walls in my apartment, i've applied to over 20 jobs the last few days and made even more calls to see if places were hiring. the issue isn't finding something, it's finding something willing to pay me for my experience and skill set. but i found out a local coffee shop is opening a new location and i should be getting a call back with interview times for that today, they need cooks and bakers and i can definitely do that

ao3 || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was Wednesday, your normal day off for the week, but Joel had scheduled you two hours of prep, the shift reminder notification early that morning. It had woken you up, having allowed yourself to sleep in after the rather busy shift the night before. It had been a record-breaking sales day, the concert downtown only blocks away bringing increased foot traffic. It had been a week and a half since that terrible Sunday shift where you had finally given into hunger and had ordered food only to be told you had messed up. You had gone hungry that night, nothing in your kitchen at home.

You hadn’t spoken to Joel beyond confirming that dishes were ready to go out and helping to take updated pars out to the servers’ board for them to be aware of throughout services. Lists were left atop the sandwich prep station, and you completed it every shift you had before making your way toward the bar. They were in his writing, some things new with recipe page numbers for the guidebook stored on the expo line.

You had completed a few things on your list and were moving onto the next thing when his booming voice sounded from the walk in.

“Where are the rest of the yellow onions?”

Everyone in the kitchen looked over their stations, including you. The yellow onions you had chopped up for the red lentil soup were sitting in the pot you had atop a portable burner on the left side of your station. Cutting board beside it as you chopped the carrots that were to be added next.

“Whose used yellow onions today?” His brow was furrowed, lips downturned as he gazed around the kitchen. The three confirmations of ‘here, chef’ had him moving intimidatingly through the space, the first two seemed to come out of their interaction unscathed. But you felt like you weren’t about to be so lucky.

“When did you start the prep for these? They look nearly caramelized already.” He stirred the wooden spoon resting in the deep pot, getting a feel on the state of the onions cooking inside. You had stepped aside, hands behind your back as you let him inspect your station. He turned to watch as you answered, professional air about you as you briefly met his eyes with your own. You spoke in an even tone, worried about how he was going to react. He had already proven himself comfortable with cutting you off and denying you food that you had paid with your own money. And that was when you hadn’t actually done anything to warrant that type of reaction.

“I started this half an hour ago, gathered them from the walk in as I gathered everything else, chef.”

“Did you happen to notice that you grabbed the last ones? There are none in the box, left empty on the shelf. That you too? Don’t understand the way things work here, do ya?” He turned with a sharpie held tight between his fingers and he jutted it at the dray erase board beside the walk-in door where things low in stock were to be written down. “In case anyone is unclear on how this kitchen operates: things low in stock are to be written on that board there BEFORE we run out. Boxes or containers that are emptied while grabbing items are to be discarded or put into dish, not left on the shelf for the next person to find.”

“Yes, chef!” The chorus rang out evenly throughout the room.

He turned back to the portable burner and clicked it off, turning the nob off and the whoosh of gas going out was loud in the slight hum of busy work that the kitchen returned to once he had finished speaking.

“Why don’t you go clock yourself out.”

“Chef, there-“ You tried to talk to him, let him know that you had left nearly three pounds of onions left in the box. It wasn’t empty when you left the walk-in. You had been too wrapped up in your work to notice who else had gone in afterwards, though you wouldn’t have sold them out to begin with.

“Go. Clock out, now.”

“Yes, chef.” You wouldn’t raise your face to meet his look. Trying to keep your anger in check lest you give him a real reason to go off on you. Instead, you moved to grab your sharpie laid out over the recipe binder. The small field notes pad of paper beside it with the notations for a double batch written neatly on the page it was open to. Joel blocked your movement with a sidestep, his broad figure blocking your reaching hand.

“Now means now.”

“My-“

“Is now mine. Go.”

Your eyes flicked up and you tried your best not to pin him with the annoyance that was humming through your very blood. This man was nothing but a nuisance, you had only agreed to come into the kitchen because they were short staffed. But it was degrading work, to be around this man who deemed nearly everything below par and had extreme standards for the way things were to be done. The two instances of common decency he had offered you had to have been a fluke, maybe he had been extra tired and worn out those days, didn’t mean to let his guard down. Either way, you were quickly getting over the fluctuating temperatures of his attitude. At first it had been jarring, but you weren’t about to let it get to you any longer. You were determined to face it head on or dish it back out in what ways you could safely do so without risking your job.

You were lagging outside of the back door, standing with the bar back, whose name was Millie and a server who were both on break. You each had a cigarette in hand, swapping stories about the worst pick up lines that you had been approached with. You had removed your apron, it was folded carefully in your crossbody bag to be washed when you got home, simple black long sleeve Henley along with it. That left you in your black denim with that kitschy cute heart belt buckle and a dark green racerback. You had left your hair up in its normal fashion of low buns on either side of your head, short black beanie atop your head.

“You gotta admit,” Your laughter ringing through the air accompanied by the giggles of the two girls in front of you. “He was honest, what better way to start a conversation, though I could’ve done without the-“

All the laughter cut off as the backdoor opened and Joel appeared with a bag of trash. The two younger girls snubbed out their waning cigarettes and scurried inside, deeming breaktime over with his sudden arrival. You watched as Joel tossed the bag over the lip of the nearby dumpster before removing his gloves and tossed them in as well. He removed a pack of his own cigarettes from the breast pocket of his chef’s coat, and you could see the spiral wiring of your notebook peeking out over the top of it. His eyes took in the way your lips moved as you took a long drag from your own, bringing your phone out to ignore him.

The snick snick snick of his lighter resulted in a deep grunt, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. The cigarette he had pulled out was between his plush lips and his dead lighter was being pushed back into the pocket of his chef’s pants. When his eyes flicked to you, your attention snapped back to your phone. He cleared his throat, and you cocked an eyebrow up at the sound, turning to give him the barest hint of attention. He was leaning heavily against the side of the building, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he regarded you.

“Do you-

“Nope.” You took the last drag before snuffing out your own cigarette and tossed the butt into the pail beside the door. You started walking toward the parking lot, your truck beeping with a press of the control in your hand. The strap of your bag over your shoulder caught the man’s eye as you began to move away.

“You’re just gonna walk off from your shift?”

“Today’s my day off, chef.” You didn’t look back at him but could tell that your words had affected him.

“Shit, I-“ He straightened up and moved away from the wall, taking a step toward you, his hands coming out from his pockets to take the unlit cigarette from between his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. Now you don’t have to worry me using up all your inventory, right?” You pulled another cigarette out from the pack still in your hand along with your phone and brought a lighter out from your own front pocket. You took a long drag and blew the smoke in his direction over your shoulder, aware of his gaze on your back and you hopped into the cab of the truck.

The next day, everything that was on your prep list had been completed and the one for today had instructions on where to find the mise for each recipe. Everything was already prepared for you and were just combining and finishing the last few steps of each one.

“Hi there, what can I get started for you?” You placed a coaster down on the bar top before a glass of water, eyes coming up as you smiled at the new guest. Your smile faltered a little when the face of your biological evolution professor beamed back at you, but you didn’t let your surprise show other than that.

“I heard a rumor that the bartender here made the best whisky drinks. Here to test out that theory.” His voice was smooth, something you had often spoken aloud to your friends that made the class lectures rather easy. His baritone deep and the ways in which he spoke with such passion and interest in his material was an added bonus to understanding the class subject matter than most.

“Let’s get to testin’, what your preferred whiskey?” You busied yourself making the drinks that had been rung up the last couple of minutes, the man having sat to the side of the well in the last seat along the right side of the bar.

“I’m a Bullet man, myself. But I’m up for whatever you think is best.”

“Oh, well, of course the one I think is best is our top shelf.” You tossed the man a playful smirk, aware that it was a possible line being crossed. But neither of you were on campus, you were at work, and he was one of your bar guests. His laugh was beautiful as he knocked his head back, the line of his throat catching shadows from the strong lights over the bar.

“I actually prefer Woodford, it’s not too expensive but its leagues above some of the stuff on the shelves like Evan Williams.”

He was funny, quick-witted. Matching your jokes as fast as he could. Bringing up documentaries he had recently seen.

“No, but like that’s the thing! There’s been no discovery of this caliber ever before, its unprecedented in nearly every aspect.” You were making a round of lemon drops for a group of girls on the other end of the bar, loading up the shaker and then securing the smaller component over it before lifting your hand and shaking it. As you did so, you reached over to grab the coup glasses you would need for the pour. A figure appeared at the well, taller than the servers and barback, who had gone on break a few minutes ago.

You glanced over at Joel, the man had his hands atop the plastic mats, eyes taking in the organized garnish container and the jars of small straws and picks for the servers to complete their drinks. You nodded at him to let him know you saw him and would be with him as soon as possible before you held the shaker tight in one hand and used the heel of your palm to knock the smaller part loose. Your hand was steady as you parted the two components enough to strain the bright pink liquid from the ice, not looking up from it.

“To actually have fossil evidence of not just any Hominid species, but of a newly discovered hominid species, with a crafted tool in their fuckin’ hand! Like, I got chills, and I was pretty sure my attention was plastered to the screen. Didn’t even touch the food I made that night. I immediately started just taking notes throughout the whole thing.”

“To be fair, it was just as intriguing to find out that the child’s body had been in the cavern wall, not even properly buried like the rest of the bodies in the Dinaledi chamber.”

“Oh my gosh, I know! That opens a whole plethora of questions about what that child was even doing, was he the one carving those symbols into the wall, was he alone- hold on one moment.” You moved over to the other side of the bar, two coup glasses cradled carefully in each hand, and you took the four of them over to the girls who had been watching you make them. They were all bright smiles and excited giggles as you told them you used Meyer lemons for a sweeter drink and added a bit of cherry juice for the color.

“She’s a busy one, guests seem to love her.” Your professor smiled over at Joel, who was watching you flit around behind the bar much like he had been admiring all night. Joel’s eyes snapped to the man beside him and he just nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“She knows what she’s doing.”

“Not much of a talker in class, but her papers are beyond wonders. The way her mind makes connections is amazing. And the way she uses her words so carefully, so eloquently.”

“You go to school with her?” Joel questioned, mind going over the small interactions he’s had with you recently. You tended to stutter over your words around him, as if you were hesitant to speak in the first place. He didn’t like the comparison, now, seeing you in your element and recalling the way you had always been professional around him. But this, you behind the bar and completely enthralling as you entertained so many people and mixed drinks like it was second nature. Firing back jokes and conversation as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Your laughter ringing through the space of the dining room. He felt the pull of a frown, not liking the shift he was causing in you lately.

“Oh no, school is way behind me. I’m her professor.” The grunt Joel made seemed to display his trepidation at the revelation and the man was quick to jump into defense mode. “It’s not what it looks like, she’s at work and I’m just here on a friend’s word that it’s a good place. Didn’t even know she was here until I sat down.”

“Sure.” Joel said in a tone that said he didn’t buy a word the man was saying.

You were back with them by the well, professional smile in place as you addressed Joel. You were busy tucking a receipt and some bills of money into your server’s book, secured underneath the counter and atop a cooler beside the drink station.

“Yes, chef?”

“Bourbon for the steak sauce. And whatever amber you have on tap.” He tried to muster up the courage to lighten up his face from a frown, but the way your eyes flashed away from him told him it didn’t work.

“Heard, chef.”

You busied yourself with retrieving the bottle of bourbon he had asked you to tack onto your order. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the liquor vendors himself and sure you would find a better deal than him anyway.

“It’s gonna be a 6.7 percent amber, it’s smooth and the notes of pecan to cut the malt. Only one I have on tap at the moment, that okay?” You talked over your shoulder, picking up on the waves and attention from the other patrons of the bar top, reaching to get more than the one glass needed for just Joel’s request. You poured two blondes, an IPA, and a stout and placing them in front of those who had been nursing them all night before going to pull the tap for the amber. It poured for maybe two seconds before it sputtered and compressed air forced itself out of the spicket.

“I told Millie to change out the keg last night, I’m sorry, chef. It’s gonna take me a minute before I can step away and replace it.” Your brows were furrowed in a worried expression, not wanting this to be something he used against you. You were really hoping to get something to go later, needing to finish a paper that was due tomorrow before class. He must’ve clocked the rising panic in your eyes because he squared his shoulders before shoving off the drink station.

“I gotcha, which label am I looking for?”

“Oh, um, Riverbank Red.”

“Heard.” He turned to move toward the small walk-in just behind the bar, the heavy door opening easily underneath his hands. You could hear him rustling around inside, the hiss of him removing the empty keg and then the clunk of him placing the new one in its place. The two knocks on the wall alerted you that it was all set and you pulled the tap, compressed air working its way through the hook up before foam began to stream. Letting it run for a few seconds, you turned around and grabbed a fresh pint glass for Joel’s drink. You used the previous one and filled it, cutting off the tap and took a long pull from it.

When you lowered the glass after your drink, you found two pairs of eyes on you. You looked between your professor and Joel, both on each side of the corner of the bar. Some of the foam from the outside of the glass when the tap died out had run down your chin and settled on your chest. The cut of your shirt was a little low, your simple, silver chain necklace catching the soft glow of the bar lights much like the foam.

You avoided meeting either of their gazes as you poured a second pint for Joel and walked it over. Before you could place it atop the drink station beside the bottle of bourbon already waiting, he reached out for it and his thick fingers brushed yours. His beautiful, brown eyes flashed down and caught yours, full of something you didn’t recognize, prompting you to pull your hand away as you struggled to catch your breath.

His teeth clicked with the clenching of his jaw, his hands tightening around items he came over for and he turned to make his way back to the kitchen.

“He’s not much of a charmer, is he?”

“He just has an asshole voice, don’t mind him.” With a somewhat fake smile plastered on your face, you turned back to your professor and started making him another drink as more rang through the printer. “Now, what were the most concrete dates we had archived for allusions to tool use?”

The alcohol in your system was washing your stress and anxieties away. Moving your body along to the song that was bumping from the speakers of the bar that held a small dance floor. Your friends’ bodies were moving alongside you, along with you, tangling with your own in a heady and exciting way. It was such a relief to not have any worries at the moment, only blipping thoughts of ‘oooh this is a good song’ and ‘another drink, yes please’.

You were taking a break, downing a glass of water and ordering a round of shots for everyone. There were five of you altogether and they huddled around you as you passed one to each of them, smiling widely at the bartender across from you. He just chuckled with a shake of his head and moved on down the bar to help out two waiting men. If you had been paying attention, you would’ve recognized one in a particular. But you were too preoccupied with the rather loud cheers the girls were trying to agree on before someone finally just shouted, ‘drink up, bitches!’ and you were downing the shot along with them.

The burn of it down your throat was anticipated and you gathered the empty glasses from them while they sputtered and coughed, not able to handle it as well as they normally could with already being more than tipsy. You were leaning over the bar a little, on your tip toes to place them atop the washer on the plastic pad you knew the bartender liked to gather used cups before loading them up.

A large hand found the exposed small of your back, your crop tank top allowing for the skin to be on display. It was dangerously close to the waist of your skirt, and you jerked back with a start, face contorting into one of anger.  

“Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?” You settled back on your heels, the height of them making you a little taller than normal. Your eyes swept over the crowd around the bar and found that your friends had returned to the dance floor, leaving you to deal with this on your own. Not that you couldn’t, but it would’ve been nice to have a witness. The man in question was rather tall, blonde, nice suit, but his forwardness left little to be desired.

“Just helpin’ to hold ya steady, looked like you were about to flip over the bar, little lady.”

“Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Didn’t mean to offend-“

“Yeah, well, ya did. Don’t fuckin’ touch me, got it?”

“C’mon now. You were gettin’ all close and personal with your friends, maybe I wanted a feel for myself.”

The man stepped closer to you, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath, cheap and cloying as it wafter over into your personal space. His hands were coming up as if he were going to wrap them around your hips and pull you to him. His eyes were raking slowly up and down your body, taking in the short skirt and crop tank top you had deemed appropriate for the night. The cleavage peeking out of the top of your shirt glistening with the glitter body spray you had used before leaving your apartment.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” You spat, stepping away from the man only to collide with another’s back who had been passing by.

“Watch where-“ Joel of all people turned around, a scowl on his face. You felt like a deer caught in headlights, totally caught off guard that your boss was here in the same bar. The beer in his grip had sloshed over his fingers when you slammed into him and it was dripping to the already sticky floor. There was another man beside him, similar height and build. He had the same brown eyes and you realized they must be related.

Joel’s eyes took in the slightly panicked air about you, gaze moving behind you to see the man you had been fleeing from in such a haste.

“He touch you?”

“Don’t know if that’s any of your business, old man.” The man stepped forward and hooked a finger on the strap of your crossbody, pulling you backwards and you stumbled at the bold move. “We’re just two friends having an intimate-“

You maneuvered your stumble into a pivot and raised your clenched fist to deck the guy across the face, cutting off his words. You felt the crack of his nose beneath your knuckles, the action splitting two of them open. There was a gasp and a bark of laughter from behind you.

“I said, don’t fuckin’ touch me.” You sneered, anger lighting you up from the inside out. You didn’t pay the dull ache of your new injury any mind as you brought your arm back closer to your body, but you did flinch when the man’s hands shot out and his nails scratched along your neck where he had tried to grab you.

Joel was moving with a grunt of effort before you could fully register that the man had lunged at you.

Body slamming into his and pinning him face down against the bar with a hand tight on the back of his neck. His forehead had cracked against it, and he had shouted out weakly at the pain the action must’ve caused. His arms were twisted behind up, Joel’s right one holding them tight by the wrists. As he did so, the man with Joel had pulled you away from the confrontation, hands far more gentle with you than the man now pinned to the bar.

“You okay?” Joel looked back at you, his eyes hard and his expression schooled into one of control despite the way he had just cracked that man’s head on the top of the bar. When you didn’t answer, he looked to the man who had pulled you further out of harms way. “Tommy, she okay?”

There was no time to answer him, the bartender was out from behind the bar in a second, security that checked identification alongside him and they were forcefully guiding the man toward the door. He was putting up a rather good effort, but the two men were stronger than him. He turned with one last look over his shoulder and spat at you. The spray of it startled you and the tears that formed were angry, wet, ugly things.

Suddenly, the girls were swarming you, all talking at the same time and guiding you toward the bathroom to help get you somewhere safe to gather yourself. You let them guide you away from Joel and what you assumed was his brother, not glancing over at them lest they see more of the tears than they already had.

The bathroom muffled the booming music enough to hear your own thoughts, the lights a little brighter to help you process what had just happened. The girls were dabbing wet paper towels underneath your eyes to wipe your smeared makeup, to sooth the scratch marks on your throat. They plopped you down on one of the chairs off in the corner, removing your bag from around your body and just allowed you to take however long a moment you needed. Someone fetched a bottle of water from somewhere and you gulped down half of it without taking a breath. Your hands were shaking and you lifted your hand up to inspect the damage on your knuckles.

Someone gasped and it startled you, making you jump in your seat and then the bartender was there with a first aid kit.

“Me’n my boyfriend kicked him out, some cops were walking down the way and he taken to the station.”

He said as he kneeled in front of you, tearing open a package of sterile gauze. He dabbed some disinfectant on it before gently taking your hand and patting it across the top of your hand.

You found yourself back up at the bar, seated in a stool with your bag laid over the back of it. Your friends had checked on you again and pouted at your insistence of not going to another place with them. They wished you a good rest of the night and told you to check in with them when you got home, you returned their kind words.

You downed the last dregs of your cocktail, a vodka something, and gathered your keys from your purse.

Heels heavy, you stumbled over your own feet as your head swam and the lights of the bar flared. You reached out for the back of the stool but ended up grabbing onto a man’s arm. It was warm and strong and white-hot desire raced down your spine at the contact. Bringing your face up to apologize, it was lost in your throat as you realized it was none other than Joel Miller you were holding onto. You stepped back, turning from him to properly retrieve your bag this time.

“You’re not the boss of me here, lemme go.” You struggled against the hold he had on your upper arm, where he had turned you to face him. He seemed to realize you were uncomfortable and he dropped his hand, allowing you to turn back to face the bar. Jerry looked from your annoyed expression to the man behind you, taking in the situation and trying to determine how best to deal with it.

“Hey, man, good on you and your brother for helping us get that guy earlier, but I don’t think she likes the attention.”

“She’s drunk, you really gonna let her leave alone?”

“She comes here a lot, knows her limits and she’s got me to look out after her.”

“She’s drunker ‘n you think.”

“I am not.”

“Darlin-“

“I am not your anything, Mr. Miller.” You turned back on him with such a glare he was surprised you could hold the look in your state. He could see the way your head was lolling with every turn, your movements loose and uncoordinated. “This is a public space, I am not your prep cook and you are not my boss. You can’t lord over me and refuse me food here like at work. And I want…I want French fries.”

You stumbled as you turned around to face him again with heat behind your words. Eyes flaring in anger as he tried to reach for you again. Your body sung where one of his arms wrapped around the small of your back, helping you to keep upright as your balance faltered. The heels weren’t helping. You wished you had just stayed home, the sting of being ditched by your friends, the sting of his treatment at work and the workload of your classes, all of it was a lot and tonight was supposed to help you get out of your head, not make things worse.

“You-“ You swayed on your feet, leaning back from him slightly. The length of his forearm supporting you as you did so and stabbed a finger into his chest to emphasize your next words. Ignoring the way that his chest was firm and hot through the fabric of his shirt, he would probably have chest hair and it would be as peppered as his scruff… “You’re mean.”

His brother was doing his best to smother his laughter behind a hand, but you could hear it and you pouted even more.

“Your little brother is laughing at me and you’re a meanie.” You shoved away from him again, the warmth of his arm gone from your back as you turned around to retrieve your bag from the back of your stool. “I’m leaving.”

“The hell you are, you can’t walk, let alone drive.”

“Don’t need help. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember.”

“Sweetheart, you-“ Tommy tried to step in, hoping that maybe he could help out the situation. It was clear they were both worried but you were just being so stubborn. Jerry was right, you didn’t like the attention, you didn’t like getting felt up and your boss had been there to witness the aftermath. That he was still there and seeing you in such a way.

“I’m not your sweetheart.” Your voice held more bite than you thought you were capable of in your current state. Tommy stepped back with his hands held up in surrender. His brows furrowed as he shared a look with his brother.

“Lemme call you a cab, please.”

“No, I don’t need anything from you. You made it clear how you feel about me, barking at me all day when I’m helping you with your kitchen because the staff don’t wanna show up and deal with you.”

“Oof, that’s a hard hit, brother.” Tommy reached over to help you drape your purse strap over your shoulder, the crossbody secure over your form and he stepped away as you pushed at his hands much like you had done with Joel. “You really did a number on her.”

“Lemme just, please, lemme take you home. Need to make sure you get home okay.” His voice was pitched quiet, leaning a little into your space with an open expression. His hands were at his sides, not reaching out to touch you again, his fists clenched at his sides. Your eyes lingered on the way his mouth formed around the words and you swallowed the harsh ones you were about to fire back at him. All you could manage was a small nod.

That’s how you found yourself in the passenger side of his own truck, waiting in a short line of a drive through.

Once your fries, and some for him too, had been passed through the window, he was following the spoken instructions to your house. Watching the way you watched things pass by the window as you munched on the salty treat in your lap out of the corner of his eye. The dried blood on your split knuckles making his stomach lurch as he thought of that man putting his hands on you and the look on your face when you tried to flee. The look on your face when you had run into him, eyes wide and panicked.

You had calmed down, now in a lazy mood after the adrenaline packed events of the night.

“You do know what you’re doin’, just don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud ‘fore now.”

“Hmm?” You rolled your head along the back of the seat to face him, bringing a fry up to the seal of your mouth as you did so. He had to look away from the sight, your entire body and demeanor relaxed. Your expression was so open and curious, eyes soft as you looked over at him. Containing none of the animosity and worry he seemed to pull from you at work as you looked him over. He was in a pair of dark wash jeans that his thighs looked good in as he drove, a simple white Henley for a shirt. It allowed for the tan of his skin to pop, the grays that speckled his hair looking good in the lights of passing cars and lamps.

“You-uh-you, nevermind.” Joel’s deep voice wavered before he cut off, not being able to handle the earnest gaze you had pinned him with, his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Mkay, whatever you say.” You turned back to look out with window, letting him know that your complex was around the corner.

He parked along the curb beside the gate that opened up into the parking lot. Watching him as he hopped out of the cab and toward your side of the vehicle, his expression hard to read. He was opening the door and leaning into the can to undo your seatbelt. Not wanting to risk you trying to do it and spill your fries, knowing you would probably tear up at the mishap should it occur. He said as much under his breath when you asked him what he was doing and you couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up from your chest as you agreed with him, it would be tragic.

Once unbuckled, he reached for the fries in your hand and put them back in the bag they came in, tucking it into your purse that was still across your body.

“Will you let me help you step down?”

At your nod, his hands came around your waist, the wideness of them allowing his fingers to span across your back in a tantalizing way. He lifted you a little, holding most of your weight as you hopped down from the cab. His arms tensed around you as you felt yourself wobble, forgetting you were in heels for the entirety of the drive. Another round of giggles bubbled up and you found yourself leaning more into Joel’s space. His body was warm where you were pressed up against his front, the scent of cedar stronger tonight than it had been all those nights ago when he insisted on making you food to take home.

“I wish you liked me.” You spoke quietly into his neck, lips brushing against the skin there as you did so.

You felt his fingers twitch where they held onto you before you were pulled back a little so he could look down at you.

“Darlin’, I do like you, that’s the problem.”

“Doesn’t have to be.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling yourself closer to him.

“You’re not in the right state to be talkin’ about this right no-“

Surging up, you smothered the words from his lips with your own. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back. As if he was unable to stop himself despite the words he had just been ushering. It was all teeth and tongue, sparking heat that pooled low in your middle. A whimper sounded in the air, Joel swallowing it as he licked into your mouth. Your nails dug into the curls at the base of his neck and you pulled.

A deep groan rumbled through his chest and you pulled away to catch your breath, looking at the face of the man who had been consuming your thoughts for weeks now.

He looked back at you, took in the way your eyes were blown out and dilated, the puffiness of your swollen lips, the quick breaths you were taking to recover from his mouth on yours, the heat that he was causing was all consuming and you knew that he could feel through your skin underneath his hands. He was swooping back down to capture your lips, his hands moving up to cradle your face in his hands as he did so and you melted at the action.

Consciousness hit you like a jolt and you were shooting up from your bed. The covers fell from you to pool around your waist, and you looked around the room, nothing looked out of place but something felt off, so incredibly off. Your bag was on the bedside table, an empty greasy bag crumpled beside it and your lips were tingling with the memory of pressing them against someone else’s.

“Oh, fuck.”

You had drunkenly kissed your boss.

And he had kissed you back.

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#dev writes #fic: garnish #the last of us #the last of us au #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #tlou au #restaurant au #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #chef joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #food industry #restaurant lingo #chef! joel x bartender! reader #joel is still a meanie #tommy miller #line cook joel miller #joel miller's hands #ao3 #ao3 link #ao3 fic #archive of our own #secret relationship #work dynamics

[shadeysprings]

Hey!! I was the anon that mentioned that I was religiously reading your Joel fics everyday! thank you so much for your writing them they are so good! 🫶 I was wondering if you can write dark joel Miller who is into Tommy’s girl (reader) 😳 you are so creative you can do whatever you want with the plot! Thank you so much xoxo

You ask and I deliver. I apologize if it's short but I hope you still enjoy! Also, thank you so much for indulging my Dark Joel fics. Your words have made my heart feel full❤️

Thicker than Water

—Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You're Tommy's girl but Joel wants to make you his.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, kinda cheating, fingers at play, threats & Joel being a meanie.

A/N: Wrote this on a whim so might be sloppy. It's hard to type while copy-pasting some data for work haha. I am hoping to make a one-shot with the same theme soon or would y'all want a series??

A drabble this may be, your feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated.❤️

“Joel—please,” You whimper as you grip his wrist, struggling hard to keep his hand from slipping past the band of Tommy’s boxers and into your panties. “Stop it or—or I’ll scream.” You wanted to sound threatening, but the tremble in your voice only gives away your fear.

“Go ahead then. Do it.” He taunts and your body shakes when you feel him lean closer, trapping you against the counter and blocking every means of escape. “Call Tommy for help, I dare you.” His hot breath fans against your cheek, tears slowly rolling down your face when he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “I can simply say that you seduced me and you’ll lose him and everything.”

“He—he would n-never believe you.” You groan, your grasp on his hand tightening when he finally slips it in, a reluctant moan leaving your lips when he cups your cunt and firmly presses his thumb on your clit.

“Wouldn’t he?” You hear him smirk, the tone of his voice making doubts circle in your head that Tommy, the man you love, would believe you. “You think he’d take the word of some slut he met just a few months ago over his own flesh and blood?”

“I—” You try to speak but his persistence stops the words from coming out. 

Another moan escapes you, your back pressing against Joel’s solid chest when he pulls you flush against him, and you push your thighs together to prevent him from going any further. But a sharp pain scatters through your skin when he pinches your flesh hard, your hand shooting up to cover your mouth and muffle any sound.

You don’t understand why he’s doing this, why he’s doing this to his brother. You never saw any signs of his desire, never once thought he would be capable of hurting you in this manner. It must have been hidden beneath his friendly smiles and helpful demeanor and you curse yourself for never seeing Joel for what he truly is, yet at the same time, befuddled at how he has easily masked the darkness he possesses.

“He won’t ever believe you, baby, so shut up and be still,” He snarls low against your ear and you stiffen against him when he slips a digit in your pussy, slowly fucking you in the middle of your kitchen. “Daddy’s busy.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #dark joel miller #dark!joel miller #the last of us #au #thicker than water #joel miller drabble #dark drabble #shadeysprings fics #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal imagine

[pedge-page]

Okay but pls feel free to ignore this I'm not creative but I love your writing

But I have an elderly sphynx (cat) and he's the love of my life, he gets cold so he wears jumpers and hats, and wants to be inside my clothes for warmth and is just an absolute baby, and sleep in my arms/in my hood honestly 24/7. He's like a small person he's so needy.

I can picture Joel getting home and pregnant reader has acquired one from someone, and the cat is her "practice" baby and she dresses him up and absolutely spoils him and carries him everywhere and Joel is just so baffled by what on earth is going on. BUT CANT QUESTION IT BECAUSE READER IS A MEANIE (as she should be) (mother knows best)

🩷🩷🩷

Sphinx cats are so cute oh my gosh!!! She would love him so much, subconsciously because she'd think it's like a little Joel when he would shave and be like "smooth—hairless—baby man" (which is subsequently the last he shaved fully).

Also can't believe youre gonna give such cute imagery but not even show us with a pic ugh devastating but ALAS. Here's how it would go:

- - - -

When Joel comes home, he usually expects one of two things: you're sleeping on the couch with some mixed fruit jelly smeared all over your mouth and between your tits, or you're throwing a plastic cup (because he pre-baby-proofed the house to avoid having any dangerous objects in YOUR grasp) at his head for opening the door the "wrong way" (how does one open a single sided hinged door the wrong way? He's still trying to figure it out).

So when he walks in the front door and hears excited little peeps from you from the bedroom, he's a little weary.

It's not till he's tossing his keys on the counter and hearing you say "you're such a handsome man" that Joel's heart stops.

There's no way. You wouldn't. Not now, not so fucking pregnant with his baby—

Oh fuck. Was it his baby? Or was it this "handsome man" in HIS house with HIS wife, canoodling in HIS bed!??

And how long? How long has this affair been going on under his roof? The entire time you'd be angry at Joel during your pregnancy, maybe you meant it? Maybe you were done with him, seeking something new and exciting?

When Joel finally rounds the corner, just one step away from the doorway, listening to your giddy gasps and rustling clothes, he doesn't know if he can bring himself to find out. Can only imagine a million things he's going to see, all of which are too painful to conceptualize.

He hears your excited giggles, closes his eyes, braces his heart, and walking in.

It takes him a second to register what he's looking at: there's no other man in here, but rather something tucked up in one of his old high school hoodies that you're wearing, backwards, with the hood hanging against your chest.

Then there's something moving in it, and he's almost scared you may have already had the baby and are suffocating it in the hood, though your belly is still very much full, so what—?

"Joel!" You shout, looking petrified as if you're caught in a scheme.

Before Joel can even speak up to ask what's going on, you're pulling what is possibly (from Joel's perspective, mind you) the ugliest pink squirmy ballsack out of his hoodie, complete with a skiny pale rat tail, big marble eyes and pointed ears.

"Meet Ramses!"

He drops his backpack at the door and stares. "What. Is that."

"I literally JUST said his name is Ramses." you scold, kissing the—thing— on the wrinkly folds of its forehead.

It starts purring affectionately, and it clicks.

"That's a CAT?" Joel shouts.

You can feel the poor thing curls up against you with tension at his booming voice.

Joel, please, lower your voice—"

"Where's its fur? No wait, why is it here? How did you get a cat? Who's cat is it? WHY do you have it??"

"Well Deanna next door had a family emergency in Connecticut and they had to fly out this morning, so I agreed we'd watch Ramses until they got back."

"Why is it naked? What did you DO to it?" Fucking hell, Deanna and George are going to have a field day to find you'd shaved their pet literally within 24 hours—

"That's the way it is. Never seen a sphinx cat before?"

Hes not really listening at this point. Joels heart rate had finally caught up with him as he kind of breathes a sigh of relief.

A cat. He thought you were having an affair with a cat.

"Isn't he sooooo cute!!!" You squeal with little jumpy feet.

But it's not cute. Not with the way it's looking at Joel, with its slitted murderous eyes and pointed claws clinging to you while it hisses at him.

"Why is it in my hoodie?"

"He's cold, damnit Joel even YOU noticed he's naked. Poor handsome baby needs all kinds of love, and sweaters, and warmth and—"

The little sucker is just eating it up, as you babble on about getting it jumpers, and baby socks, and cutting all of Joels sweaters up so it can rest on top of your belly, and a spot for it in the bed—

"The BED? NO. No ballsacks in the bed."

"He's SO much cuter than your HAIRY ballsack, Joel, which as far as tonight, can agree to those terms and sleep on the couch." You scoff him and hold Ramses to your chest, scratching his ears and kissing him as you shove past your husband.

-

Joel doesn't know what to do. Its one thing to agree to feed a cat every so often for a friend while they're out. It's something else entirely to be doing... what you've been doing.

There's a new amazon box in every hour with custom knitted cat sweaters and hats and ear muffs that you've gone off the reservation with just "needing" to keep warm, now full blown getting an outfit for every occasion. He hears you talking to it like a person, using a baby voice to tell him how handsome he looks, "like a wittle baby pharoh". Joel is tripping over all the cans of luxirous cat food youve been "testing" to find his desired taste. The man can't even get cuddles with you anymore because you're so god damn obsessed with swaddling Ramses in your clothes and softest blankets.

And it KNOWS. The damn cat KNOWS you've completely ignored your ever doting and pampering husband for it—while it does NOTHING but absorb your affection. You've craddled it against your every exposed piece of skin from sleeping across your neck to letting it rest atop your bump. Each time Joel tried to hug you, there's a quick hiss at him and low and behold there's the sleeping Ramses all nestled in HIS GODDAMN HOODIES (granted, that he gave you BUT STILL) wedged between your tummy and tits like a sauna, all curled up as youre talking to it like its a—

Oh my god.

"Are you... practicing—for the baby??"

You stop mid bounce of the kitty in your lap, wearing a matching knitted sweater to yours. "What! No! Thats—" but your eyes faulter to the cat who's just been helplessly going along with your toying. "No! Ramses is just a sweet little kitty who has NEEDS. Poor baby boy is so cold, he needs warmth of a —"

"Mother?"

"MAYBE."

Joel goes to sit down but the cat is giving him a less than inviting glare, so he slinks back to the other end of the couch.  "Honey. I think you're taking the cat-sitting too far."

"NO Im not!" You cry. You clutch the poor baby close to you defensively.  Why are you crying? I mean, you KNOW why--you're worried Joel is going to take your baby away from you—

Ooooooooooooooooooh. Oh fuck.

You stare at the little lump of skin curled up in your lap, with his collar that says "mommy's goodest boy" and realize how much Joel is definitely right...

Not that you'd EVER tell him that.

"No. You're wrong. I'm just being a fantastic neighbor. And you're being a shitty husband and not supporting me."

"That's a little too far—"

"And—" you interject. "Even if it WAS my baby practice. Which it isn't. You aren't being a very supportive father here either."

He sighs in defeat.

Can't argue there.

so when Deanna and George call to let you know they're going to be another week up North, you let them know Ramses is in good hands.

All true. Now that Joel had gained Ramses trust and had maneuvered the little guy in the new baby sling that you two could not figure out for months, you felt pretty confident in Joel's papa skills blossoming.

- - - -

Joel dealing with Preggo Wife masterlist

#joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller fluff #joel dealing with preggo wife

[lu-vin-it]

Sarah’s first day @ school ?

First Day

Baby Momma AU

Summary: You worry about Sarah’s first day at school.

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

Pronouns Used: She/Her

Word Count:

Warnings: None

A/N: Thank you to @stqrfishluvr for proofreading ily bff!!!

“Y/N.. she’ll be fine.” Ellie says, hugging you from behind as you nervously watch the window. Today was Sarah’s first day of school and boy were you nervous. At first, it was your idea to put her in school. You thought moving back to Jackson and her being able to interact with kids her age would be good for her, but now you were regretting everything.

“What if the other kids are mean?” Ellie leaves a kiss on your collarbone.

“They won’t be. Besides, JJ is with her, there’s no way he’d let anyone be mean to her— I mean— you saw what happened last Winter.” You smiled at the memory.

“I got your nose!” Tommy exclaims, holding his thumb between his pointer and middle finger. Sarah frantically brings her hand up to her nose.

“Hey! Give it back!” JJ yells, stepping in front of Tommy.

“Yeah Uncle Tommy, you’re being a meanie.” Tommy lets out a breathy laugh.

“I.. I am?” The five year olds nod. “I’m sorry you guys.” He brings his thumb back up to Sarah’s nose, rubbing it before bringing his hand down.

“I know but still, I worry.” You sigh, letting go of the curtain. You turn around to face your lover.

“Well..” She leans down and kisses you. “I can think..” she pecks your lips again. “of a few ways…” And again. “to distract you.” And again, this time longer. You giggle.

“I could be persuaded to shower with you.” Ellie’s eyes light up.

“I’ll go start warming the water.” She rushes upstairs making you laugh.

At three, you and Ellie head over to the school— well— church they used as a school— and wait for Sarah to come out. You chew on your fingernails nervously.

“Momma, Mommy!” Sarah calls as she runs up to you. You crouch down and extend your arms to catch her. She stops in front of you, showing no sign of wanting to hug you. You drop your arms sadly.

“Hi, sweetheart, how was school?” You ask, covering your disappointment.

“Good! I made three friends.” You gasp and look at Ellie.

“Three!” You exclaim. Ellie crouches down too.

“That’s insane, you’re like.. the most popular little girl ever!” She giggles.

“I know! Can we go see Grandpa? I wanna tell you guys all about school and math class and Angelica.” You nod.

“Sure we can, I’m sure he’d like that.” She grins.

“Yay! Let’s go.” She grabs one of your hands and one of Ellie’s before dragging you both towards Joel’s house.

#ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou x reader

[pascalscoffin]

Away From The Devil pt. X

Full Pedro Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Please dont hate me if this is short

Pt. XI

Warning: Minors Go Away I Will Kick You In The Forehead. I just don’t want kiddos here. Reader is around 24, Joel is 56. Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. Cursing. Joel being lowkey a meanie. Ellie calling Joel an asshole. Reader is a little depresso. Tommy calling Joel a dumbass. Horny old ladies thirsting after Joel. A couple uses of y/n. Readers a little agro

Yes hello I have returned thank you for sticking around I'm sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy🥹

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The next week went like that, one of you going to the bedroom but the other ending up there with them. You’d lay there together, sometimes just looking at eachother, sometimes talking about whatever had bothered the other enough they had to come to the bedroom. Usually it was nightmares, and Joel would mutter something about his back bothering him, but his eyes would glance around, glossing over as he avoided looking at you. You wouldn’t push, he never wanted to talk about it.

Every morning, regardless of who’d ventured into the room the night before, Joel’s side of the bed would be cold and empty by the time you woke up, Joel would be in the kitchen drinking coffee or talking to Ellie. The last couple days, though, Joel hadn’t been in the house when you got up, the bed would be cold and Ellie would usually be alone in the living room or kitchen until you pulled yourself out of bed.

You never asked him why he kept leaving, why he was distant during the day, but not at night when you were alone. To call it up upsetting would be… a gross understatement. You couldn’t describe the dejected feeling you got every morning when you woke up to an empty bed, despite knowing when you went to sleep that he wouldn’t be there when you woke up.

And Maria, Maria still wasn’t letting you go out of Jackson, Joel was going on patrols with Tommy, Ellie was making friends her own age even if she was trying to spend time with you still, and you were stuck inside, catering to whatever Maria wanted. Whenever you asked her why, she’d say something about needing you more inside than she needed you outside but it felt like she was hiding something.

You’d considered cornering her, or cornering Joel, getting answers as to what the hell was going on, why Maria wouldn’t let you go out or why Joel had started acting the way he was acting. But as soon as you’d start to say something you’d chicken out and say something else.

Joel was off with Tommy, you guessed patrol but couldn’t really find a part of you that cared, just as long as you didn’t have to be around him, moved around and talked around like a ghost. It was like when you’d first joined them all over again, but with less puns or no Ellie at all if she was hanging out with Dina. You were happy she was making friends, even if your own loneliness made it difficult.

You were helping do laundry, which was a group chore for some reason, why people couldn’t do their own laundry you couldn’t understand, though you did make sure to have yours, Joel’s, and Ellie’s clothes in your pile. While scrubbing one of Joel’s flannels on the tiny little washboard you’d been offered, you heard some of the older women talking. About Joel, specifically.

“Have you seen him on that horse?” Helen, you think her name was, her voice traveled, it was shrill and sharp and made you want to stab yourself in the fucking ears just so you wouldn’t have to listen to it anymore.

“Oh I bet that horse isn’t the only thing he’s rode hard.” Candance, younger than the other two but still much closer to Joel’s age than you were, a more likely pair. She wasn’t too bad you guessed, which made you hate her more. Her voice was soft and velvety, combatting your own slightly deep, sometimes scratchy voice, her words never got hung up in her throat like yours did. Her features were soft and she didn’t carry that haunted, broken look in her eyes that you knew resided in your own. Her hair was long and soft and properly taken care of, it didn’t frizz when it got hot out and it always seemed to be the perfect amount of wavy. You wondered briefly if Joel ever noticed the differences in the two of you, if he would take Candance up on any offers she might throw his way.

“God with the way he’s built there’s no way he does anything soft and easy.” Helen was rubbing her clavicle now, making you twist your face up in disgust. “Those broad shoulders and big hands?”

“If Robert had a body like that I wouldn’t need to remember what an orgasm was.” Elizabeth was the oldest of the three, at a striking 56, same as Joel, only with a husband that didn’t seem to be good for much other than eating or yelling at community meetings. You weren’t worried about her too much, she was absolutely gorgeous, with long tight curls that reached her waist, dusted with gray hairs and full lips she always painted pink. But she was married, perhaps if it wasn’t for that, if that weren’t a problem for Joel, you’d be worried.

The women laughed amongst themselves as you scrubbed harder at the shirt, until your hand slipped and you cut yourself on a stray piece of metal that apparently no one had noticed. “Fuck!” You snatched your hand from the soapy water and groaned as you held it close, causing them to look over.

Helen and Elizabeth whispered amongst themselves as Candace made her way over to you. Fucking of course it had to be the pretty one that actually stood a fucking chance. “Are you alright, y/n?” You nodded quickly as you stood up, almost knocking over the bucket. “I’m fine. I’m gonna go get this looked at.” You stepped away from her quickly as she frowned.

As you walked out you heard them talking. About you this time.

“Poor thing. Stuck in that house with such a fine piece of meat and she doesn’t stand a chance.” Elizabeth tsked as Candace and Helen giggled. Tears stung as you made your way to the infirmary, not because their words and laughter hurt, which it did, but they only hurt because you knew it was true, you’d never have a shot with Joel, not with these women around.

Later you had three stitches in your hand, frowning deeply as you stepped out of the infirmary to look at the bandage on your palm. That’s when you heard it. Candance’s stupid fucking voice.

“Oh, Joel!” You looked up and saw her running over to where Joel was standing talking to Tommy, holding a laundry basket. The now blood free flannel of Joel’s folded neatly on top. “Here, doll. Silly y/n cut herself before she could finish your laundry.” It wasn’t nearly as fucking heavy as she was making it out to be, shifting it in her hands and propping it up with her knee.

You hid in one of the little alleys between the buildings when Joel looked towards the infirmary, hearing him let out that stupid chuckle. “Right, yeah, kid can be a little clumsy. Thank you. Here. Let me..” he took the laundry basket and held it effortlessly. You could practically smell Candace from the alley, feeling your chest squeeze as the word kid echoed in your head. Tommy looked ecstatic, grin wide like he was about to laugh his ass off as Candace continued.

“Oh, my. You’re so strong~” you started to feel nauseous, shaking your head rapidly as you bolted around the corner, practically sprinting back to the home you shared with Ellie and Joel.

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“Uh.. thanks.” Joel cleared his throat and adjusted the laundry in his hands, glancing at Tommy to save him before glaring when he saw the look on his face. He turned back to Candace, polite as ever. “You said she cut herself, right?" "Gosh, yes, so odd I've used that board hundreds of times, poor girl uses it once and practically slices- oh." Joel was walking away from her now, stepping into the infirmary after setting the basket of laundry down to look for you.

When they told him you left he'd groaned and walked out, almost forgetting the laundry before turning around to get it before going home, you had to be home by now. There weren't very many one handed chores around Jackson so at this point there wasn't anything for you to do.

We he got to the house, though, you weren't there and Ellie looked at him like he'd interrupted something- which was just the joke book Joel had found for her the last time he'd gone scavenging. "What did the donkey-" "Where's y/n?" Ellie pouted as her joke was interrupted and shrugged a little. "i don't know. She was on laundry- oh." She pursed her lips when Joel held up the basket of laundry.

"That uh... what's her name? Cadence?" "Candace?" Ellie frowned and Joel snapped at her and nodded his head. "Yes. Candace said she cut her hand or something and I can't find her." "Did you-" "Ask me if I checked the infirmary and I swear you'll be eating through a straw." Ellie made a face. "Jeez, grumpy. What crawled up your ass and died?" Joel set the laundry basket down. "Nothing." He said sharply, turning to go out the door and continue to look for you.

"Ohhhhh i know what it is." Ellie smirked and hopped up off the couch, dropping her joke book on the coffee table you'd begged Joel to fix. "You wanna go check on her hand cause you liiiiiiiiiike her." "I do not- I'm not talking about this. I'm a grown man and you're a child." Ellie rolled her eyes. "Dude- Helen Keller could see you like her." "Do you even know who Helen Keller was?" "The QZ had books, Joel!" Ellie threw her hands up in the air. "She was right, y'know. You do like to dumbify the Crodyceps generation." Joel grunted and glared at her.

"Fine. Fine, I'll drop it." "Thank you." "After I say one more thing." "Oh my- fine. Fine." "If you don't.. tell her, eventually she's gonna give up and throw herself at the first guy that isn't you. And I don't know if you've noticed, but pretty much every guy here wants to date her." Joel scoffed lightly. "Yeah. Date her." Ellie raised a brow but didn't say anything as she watched Joel turn around and stomp out of the house.

She shook her head and sighed, scratching the back of her head before grabbing her joke book and going up to her room, dropping down onto her bed and opening her book. "He's gone."

You emerged from her closet with a sigh. "Thanks, Ellie." You headed for her door. "You know none of those old ladies have a chance with him, right? I mean.. one of thems married, another one sounds like you dropped a fork in a woodchipper, and he doesn't even know Candace's name." "At least he doesn't call her a kid." You scoffed.

Ellie looked at you over her book and rolled her eyes before sighing and looking back down at it. "I'm just saying... if you guys are gonna share a bed at night you could at least talk about your feelings." You snapped your head over to her as she shrugged. "Heard you screaming that first night." She mumbled. "Saw you and Joel go to the bedroom." "You know we-" "What you do in there is none of my business and I'd like to keep it that way." "We didn't do anything, Ellie." You rolled your eyes. "And we aren't going to." You added quickly when she opened her mouth to speak.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Whatever.” She looked back down at her book and hummed quietly as you shook your head and walked out of her room. You didn’t know why you hid from Joel, you felt like a kid. Maybe he was right to call you kid all the time. You basically were.

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You were sitting in the bar when he finally found you, he sat down next to you, watching you fiddle with the cloth wrapped around your hand. “Been lookin’ all over for you.” You’d looked at him and smiled a little. “You found me.” He frowned a little. “You alright?” He asked softly.

You sighed and nodded. “Of course, Joel. Why wouldn’t I be?” Joel raised a brow. “Well.. for one it feels like you’ve been avoiding me. Two you cut your hand apparently bad enough to bleed all over my shirt.” You scoffed. “It was two fucking drops.” “I’m just telling you what Candace said.”

Your jaw tightened. Fucking Candace. “Candace wouldn’t know bled all over if I stabbed her in the fucking throat.” Joel’s eyes widened. “Jesus-“ he looked around a little. “You can’t just say shit like that.” “Oh god forbid someone say something about precious Candace and her gaggle of sluts.”

Joel made a face. “Okay- are you drunk right now?” “So what if I am? I’m an adult, not a kid.” He rubbed his face and heaved a sigh. “Okay- come on let’s get you to the house.” He grabbed your arm and you jerked away before sliding off your stool. “I can walk on my own.”

He sighed heavily but didn’t say anything and let you walk out on your own, walking close enough behind you that he could catch you if you happened to fall. Of course you weren’t really that drunk, your words weren’t slurred and you didn’t wobble so he wasn’t too worried about it. But he didn’t know what alcohol did to you in the long run so he was keeping a close eye on you.

When you walked into the house you immediately dropped down on the couch and sighed happily. “Why do you keep leaving?” You asked him. Okay, so, that’s not really how you wanted to bring it up, you wanted to ease into it a little but regardless the words were tumbling out before you could stop them.

Joel sighed and sat down slowly. “I have chores around here like you.” You scoffed. “I’m not asleep every time you leave, Joel. You walk out the first chance you get.” “No, I don’t.” “God then Im either really fucking stupid, have a shitty internal clock, or you’re a liar.”

Joel sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “Listen, kid-“ he glanced at you when you scoffed at the nickname but shook his head and didn’t acknowledge it. “I can’t… this can’t…” he motioned between the two of you before shaking his head again and looking at the fireplace with a frown. “We just can’t, alright?”

“Why not?” You mumbled softly. “You know why.” Your jaw tightened as you looked down at your bandage, playing with the frayed edges, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as his words from earlier echoed in your head kid can be a little clumsy.

Kid.

That’s all you were to him a dumb, clumsy little girl he had to keep an eye on.

“So… so I was just.. tricking myself… this entire time.” You mumbled, looking down and wiping your eye quickly when one of the tears tried to slip. “There wasn’t.. you don’t.. want me.”

Joel felt his chest tighten as he looked over at you, frowning deeply. He felt horrible. He knew it would upset you, telling you that nothing could come out of what both of you were feeling, no matter how much he wanted to he couldn’t.

He couldn’t be good for you, couldn’t be what you needed. He wasn’t a good person, how you could even want him after what happened in the hospital he didn’t understand. He figured the best option was to agree, tell you that you were right, he hadn’t felt anything for you and move on from it. But that felt just as wrong as falling into bed with you.

“We just… can’t, darlin’.” He whispered softly. “I’m too old for you. You should be with someone your own age, someone who can keep up, keep you happy.” You scoffed lowly and he frowned, raising a brow at you expectantly. “What?”

“Up until recently I was.” You looked down. “Until we got here.” You scoffed lowly. “Before I was locked in this stupid fucking place with those overeager bitches doing fucking laundry.” You spit the word like it burned your mouth, clenching your jaw tightly.

“What’s wrong with doing laundry?” You looked at Joel and scoffed. “Like you haven’t noticed every desperate horny woman here fawning over you.” You looked down, clenching your jaw tightly. Joel was quiet for a minute and then he chuckled. “You’re jealous?”

You snapped your head towards him and glared. “Fuck you.” You scoffed. “I’m not fucking jealous. Can’t be jealous over something that isn’t mine.” You stood up. “Maybe I don’t wanna sit there and act all sweet while they talk- in graphic detail- how bad they wanna fuck you.” Joel laughed at you- again. “They do not- they’re classy women.” “HAH! Classy- they wouldn’t know fucking classy if they were born with the definition engraved into their skin. And I swear to god, Joel. If you fucking laugh at me again I’ll break your nose.” You growled.

Joel clenched his jaw and the two of you stared at eachother for a moment before he rubbed his face and stood up. “Look- if Maria and Tommy want you to stay inside then you’re staying inside theres nothing I can do about that. Taking it out on innocent people and me is childish.”

“I’m not a fucking child, Joel.” “I really couldn’t tell- I guess your tantrum is blinding me from seeing it.” You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and curled your fist- except it was the hand you’d cut and you’d dug your fingers into the stitches.

“Ow- shit-“ you lifted your hand quickly, blood flooding the stitches a bit. “Fuck..” you groaned lowly. “Let me see-“ you stepped back and glared at him. “Fuck off.” Joel rolled his eyes and forced you to sit back down before yanking your wrist close to him lightly and unwrapping it. “You didn’t pop any stitches. How the hell did you manage to do this?” He asked, making a face at the gnarly gash in your hand.

“Not sure you’ll believe me. Apparently I’m throwing a tantrum.” “You still are. Just tell me what the hell happened without the damn attitude.” He reached under the couch for the first aid kit you kept there. You sighed heavily and looked down at the stitches, shrugging. “They wouldn’t shut up and it just- distracted me. If it’s not music I like silence when I work and I guess their voices just got to me.”

“They distracted you?” Joel looked at you and raised a brow. You looked at him and blinked a little, shifting. “Yeah, so what?” “What were they talking about that you couldn’t drown out?” “It’s impossible to drown out Helen’s voice.” You mumbled and he chuckled. It made you feel better, but not really. “It is kinda shrill.”

“She talks like an infected screams.” Joel laughed again, cleaning up the blood and wrapping your hand. “Seriously- what were they saying that bothered you?” You sighed. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” You muttered. “Well too bad cause I want you to tell me.” You scoffed. “Unless you plan to torture me to get it out then no luck there.”

Joel was quiet for a minute before he sighed heavily and reached out, turning your head to look at him. You looked up at him hesitantly and furrowed your brows as you shifted. “What?” “Tell me what they were talking about. That’s all you gotta do, kid.” You huffed and jerked your chin from his grasp.

“I’m used to them horning over you. It’s not a fucking surprise anymore. I just.. wish they wouldn’t be so fucking obvious about it. Okay? Just leave me alone, Joel. Let me throw my tantrum in fucking peace.” You glared at the table in front of you, bouncing your leg rapidly. “I’m going to bed.” You stood up quickly. “If your back bothers you then just fucking deal with it on your own.” You told him harshly.

“So you’re gonna run away from the problem?” God why was he fucking following you? Why can’t he just leave you alone. He said his piece. “There is no problem anymore, Joel. You said what you needed to say.” “You’re stomping away from me like-” you spun around and glared at him. “Like what?” You growled lowly. “Like a child?” You remembered to curl your good hand this time.

“Are you that fucking surprised? Isn’t that your favorite nickname for me? Hm? Kid this, kid that. Kid, kid, kid, fuc-king kid.” You swallowing the lump in your throat, choking on your words and that only pissed you off more. “God damnit!” You brought your hands to your face, pressing your nails into your forehead.

“Y/n-“ you flinched away when Joel laid a hand on your shoulder. “Just- leave me alone, Joel. Please. I can’t… do this anymore. If you wanna ignore me then fine. Ignore me. But don’t… crawl into bed with me and disappear as soon as you think I’m asleep. It’s worse than just ignoring me.” It was too much, all of it. Your hand was throbbing and your chest hurt and your stomach felt like it was going to come up out of your throat.

Joel didn’t say anything, he couldn’t disagree with you, beckoning you into bed, crawling in next to you, holding you, making you feel better, making eachother feel better and then leaving before you woke up. It was wrong. He was hurting you. Even if nothing happened between you physically, he was fucking with your head and he knew it, and up until this point he hadn’t even considered how much it was actually hurting you, how little it was benefiting you.

“Okay.” Your eyes filled up again as you turned away from him and muttered a weak goodnight before going into the room and closing the door quickly. He stood there for a second, leaning his forehead against the wall, fist curled and pushing into it but not punching it before he heard a door open. Ellie’s.

“Well… that was fucked.” Joel clenched his jaw and looked at her. “Look- I love you Joel. Like a lot. But I love her too. And you’re being a fucking asshole. I didn’t even know you were leaving like that. Why the hell would-“ “stop it.” Joel mumbled softly. “What?” “Stop it, Ellie. You don’t… know everything. You don’t understand what this is about and for your sake I hope you don’t.”

Ellie scoffed. “I’m old enough to be able to tell when two people love eachother. But if you wanna keep acting this way then fine. Go ahead.“ she went to close her door but stopped and hesitated before saying the next thing. “Maybe you’re right- I mean- if you’re just gonna keep leaving her like that then you might as well tell her to move on.” She shrugged. “Maybe she’ll find a guy with a heart.” She added before closing the door.

She didn’t really mean it. Joel had a huge heart, she knew that, she’d be an idiot if she didn’t. But he was being an asshole to her best friend. And for absolutely no fucking reason. She couldn’t understand what could be so wrong about the two of you getting together, so what if you were younger than him? Who gives a shit? It’s not like you were underage. You were like 24 years old.

Joel stood on the other side of the door for a moment and rubbed his face, glancing between the two doors before going to the couch and laying back on it, staring up at the ceiling as he took a heavy breath in.

He could handle seeing you with someone, right? It’s not like you belonged to him or anything. Hell most of the people here thought you were his fucking daughter and that made him so sick to his stomach he almost threw up in front of everyone while you awkwardly explained you weren’t in fact his daughter.

As long as it wasn’t any of those assholes from the patrol he would be fine, right? He had to be. You were so much younger than him, had so much time to figure out what you wanted, to figure out that he wasn’t what you wanted. Him and his baggage. He’d do more damage than he’d already done.

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It's been a week since your fight with Joel, you hadn't talked to him much, opting instead to just ignore him or try to slip out of the house before he was awake. As you opened your eyes, though, the sun shining in and blinding you a bit, you could hear Joel and Ellie's voices in the dining room accompanied by Tommy's.

You wondered for a second if you could just stay in bed, at least wait for Joel to leave, but the blinking 7:30 on the clock told you that you had no choice but to get out of bed and face them. You groaned and closed your eyes before pulling yourself out of bed.

Once you were ready you headed out of the room and into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee and a piece of toast. "Morning, Ellie." You bumped her with your hip as you walked past her and smiled at her and then Tommy. "Morning, Tommy." The two of them said goodmorning before looking awkwardly between you and Joel.

You heard Joel clear his throat and closed your eyes down at your coffee. "Mornin', y/n." Your skin still tingled and your ears still got warm when he said your name and it only stressed you out more. You didn't respond, though, and instead walked straight passed him with your coffee and toast. "I'll see you later, Ellie." You told her, body-checking Joel's shoulder on your way past him.

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Tommy raised a brow when you body-checked Joel and watched his brother grunt and clench his jaw before he was looking down at Ellie. "So... what was that about?" "Joel's an asshole." "Ellie." Joel mumbled in warning. "I mean that much is obvious." "Tommy-"

"They've been sharing the bed or whatever but apparently Joel kept leaving like... as soon as she went to sleep or something, so she's super pissed." "Wow, Joel." Joel sighed heavily and rubbed his face rapidly. "I'm a fucking idiot. I get it." He grumbled and put his head down on the table.

Tommy looked at Ellie for a second and cleared his throat. "Ellie, uh... why don't you go on. I'm sure Dina or another one of your friends could use help with their chores." "But-" Tommy raised his brows at her and glanced at Joel and then back at her. She looked between the two for a moment before huffing. "Fine." She stood up and left. She wanted to know what Joel's problem was too!

Once she was gone Tommy looked at Joel and waited for him to talk. "... she's so young, Tommy." Tommy hummed a little and nodded. "Yeah..." "She's not even- Sarah would be older than her." Oh. Oh. So that's what this is about. This isn't about you, it isnt even about Joel. Its about Sarah.

"Yeah... but... you know Sarah would want you to be happy, Joel." Joel looked up at him like he was stupid. "With someone who's 24 years old?" Tommy shrugged and sighed heavily. "If they make you happy. I'm not saying it's not going to be different, or an adjustment for both of you. Cause it will, but... okay its not like she's 18, right? And she grew up in this shit, Joel." "She's thirty-two years younger than me, Tommy. I can't... keep up with her or keep her happy. She needs someone young for that."

Tommy rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. "She was happy, dumbass. Untill you started acting like a dick." He took a deep breath and licked his lips slowly before he sighed. "Look- I'm just sayin'.. Sarah would want you to be happy, actually happy. You're settled down now, you got somewhere safe to be.. just let yourself be happy."

"And if I fuck it up like last time? And she leaves?" Tommy raised a brow when he said that and scoffed. "You didn't just compare her to Michelle." "I'm not comparing them-" "Michelle was selfish, Joel. That's why she left. She didn't care about you or Sarah, just herself." Tommy leaned his head a bit to catch Joel's eyes. "She's not Michelle. She's practically obsessed with Ellie, they're best friends. And you- if you let her- she'd be good for you. She loves you, anyone could see that. But if you don't get your head out of your ass she's going to jump into the first arms that open up to 'er." Tommy stood up and calpped his hand on Joel's shoulder. "Pretty sure you wouldn't like that."

And with that, Tommy was gone and Joel was alone at the dining table to sit with what he said, looking down at the cup of coffee in his hand with a deep frown on his face before he got up to get ready for patrol... Tommy did have a point. Sarah would want him to be happy, and you were nothing like Michelle.

... maybe he could make it work.

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Taglist:

@romanarose @orcasoul @caitlynsixxx @shotgun-shelby @aspecialgreenie @pedropascalsbbg @picketniffler

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #ellie williams #joel tlou #away from the devil #away from the devil part ten #Ellis tlou #Joel miller tlou #Ellie Williams tlou

[eroseas]

gimme a lil angsty drabble of reader and ellie being exes who still love each other and miss each other but know that they’re not good for each other right now (hint hint maybe things will be different in the future)

firstly, im very sorry for the late reply! ive been a bit busy. hopefully you enjoy this tho cause it definitely made me feel shit. in a good way tho. also, i saw a tiktok of that doctor strange scene where christine and strange were talkin and christine says "there are other things that can give your life meaning" and strange goes "like what? like you?"

....yea so anyway. heres this for you, my dove.

cw; idk angst? ellie is kind of a meanie but its fine.

word count; 1.6k

an; i say that ellie sings a song that obviously she did not write. don't take it personal. if u see errors no u dont

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

“There are other things that can give your life meaning,” you had pleaded, exasperated, exhausted. 

Ellie was unimpressed; had scoffed all mean and bitter and utterly defeated. You remember it like it was yesterday. The way her lips had pulled back into a sneer, like she couldn’t stand the thought of anything else, anyone else, being important to her. Like the thought of holding you on a pedestal made her sick. 

The fact of the matter had been that Joel had slipped into a coma six months prior to your fight, and he wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon. The doctors were doing anything and everything, Ellie had been traveling all over the world to find answers, and you– You had gone with her. You did everything you possibly could. You loaned money to her, didn’t bat an eye when she sold things you had gotten her for the extra cash, you didn’t flinch when she became distant. You stayed. You were loyal. You knew deep down she loved you, and that this was just something she had to do for Joel’s sake. You could understand that, you’d even excused any questionable thing she said or did. And yet. 

She hadn’t missed a beat. Arguing wasn’t new at this point. You’d get into it every other day. There was only so much you could take; the constant bickering, the snide remarks under her breath. You could take it, for the most part. 

And yet.

“Like what?” She snapped, her face permanently etched into a scowl, “Like you?” 

It had rendered you speechless. A devastation that rocked you internally. It was the worst thing she had ever said. Four little words, and that’s all it took. 

You had shut down. You both knew that this was it. That the relationship wouldn’t survive after that outburst, that it just wouldn’t be the same. You didn’t leave, though. You kept staying over to cook her dinner, and you’d clean the house while she traveled. For two months, neither of you said a word to each other that wasn’t hello, goodbye, thanks, or you’re welcome. 

And just as those two months were up, Joel finally woke up. 

Even so, you had left. Once you got the news, you had given her a hug and kiss. You visited Joel at the hospital, gave him a nice bouquet in a boot-shaped vase, and smiled as Ellie played the guitar for him. 

You were gone the following morning. Not much else to it. 

You couldn’t leave your apartment for three months. You couldn’t stomach throwing away the pictures of you two, couldn’t even get rid of the guitar picks she left at your apartment. The ghost of Ellie lived there still, and it was all you had left. Therapy, and time, and lots of patience helped. You started going out again, started hanging around Dina and Jesse, and four months after the break-up, you packed up all of Ellie’s stuff and shoved it under your bed. She was important to you still, and you’d never deny that. But out of sight, out of mind, right?

Two years had gone by, and here you were. Junior year of university had just begun, and you, Jesse, Dina, and Ellie all had a class together.

You huff out a breath, and adjust the strap to your bag. You haven’t seen Ellie in months. You ran into her by chance at the cafe down the street from your apartment, where you both always went to for breakfast. She had smiled at you, and nodded her head, and after that, poof. Gone again. 

You shift on your feet, waiting for an appropriate time to walk into the class. You’d gotten there early, hoping to grab a good seat. Once you deemed the time appropriate, you snuck into the class and looked for a table. You faltered in your step, recognizing the silhouette of the person sitting alone at a table towards the back of the room. Ellie. You nibble at your lip, a sick little habit that you could never give up, and weigh your options. Sit by yourself because Jesse and Dina will want to sit with Ellie, or suck it up and sit with her alone for a few minutes. You sigh quietly.

“Fuck.” You mutter, ducking your head. Your feet start to move before you have the chance to change your mind, and you eye the earbuds sticking out of Ellie’s pierced ears once you get to where she is. You reach over hesitantly to tap her shoulder, suddenly hit with the thought that you used to just jump on her shoulders anytime you wanted. How things change.

She looks up at you before you can think about it too hard. Her eyes widen in surprise and she flounders for a bit, her lips parting open but no words escaping. 

“Mind if I sit?” You ask, putting her out of the misery of finding something to say. She blinks, and nods quickly, grabbing her bag out of the seat next to her. 

“Yeah, fuck, sorry–” She mumbles, clearing out her little mess on the table. You eye her notebook, catching the sight of what looks like a song. You slip yourself into the seat, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. She quickly shoves her tattooed arm in front of her notebook, hiding it from your gaze. You look away, and start grabbing your notebook from your bag. 

The air is thick, even though the room is so fucking big. You can vaguely hear the music coming from her earbuds, and you try not to look at her. 

She looks the same, though. A little more grown, a little less tired. Like the dread has finally let her go. The calmness suits her. You remember her being tense and guarded from when you two were together; how nothing could calm her down. This Ellie, though, she looks like she fuckin’ sunbathes and does yoga. The thought makes you snort, and you duck your head quickly, embarrassed. Ellie looks over at you, a small grin on her lips, and when you meet her gaze, you realize it looks a little sad. You ignore it.

“It’s–” She coughs softly to clear her throat, wincing at her awkwardness, “It’s good to see you.” 

You mess with the pen in your hand, looking over her features. The freckles you used to kiss every night, and the lips that used to kiss the beauty mark on your neck, and the stupid little slit in her eyebrow that you know the story to but you swore you would never tell. You smile, trying to be polite, but it falls quickly. 

“Yeah, you too,” you nod, opening your notebook to try to look busy. The class starts filling with bodies, thankfully, and if Dina gives you a worried glance when she sits in front of you, you pretend not to notice. 

Growth is hard. It takes time, and effort, and it’s a push and pull every single day. Being around Ellie more has allowed you to experience this growth full force. You moved on after two years, sure, but now it's being put to the test. It’s hard to be around her, to treat her like she’s only a little bit more than a stranger when she used to be everything. It gets easier as time goes by, but then Dina just had to barge into your apartment, yelling like a crazy woman. 

You jump out of bed, rushing to the living room where she holds her phone out like a bomb. You breathe heavily, looking over her face and figure to make sure she’s not hurt. She looks back at you with wide eyes and a shit-eating grin, in perfect condition. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You exclaim, and she steps closer, shoving her phone towards you. You squint at it questionably, gesturing to it. 

“The fuck is that?” You ask, your voice still on the verge of a yell, and she squeals suddenly. 

“This is a fucking Spotify account. More importantly, it’s Ellie’s fucking Spoitfy account where she posts songs that are about you!”

The statement makes you freeze. At first, the words don’t register in your brain. When they do, you scoff. Dina raises an eyebrow at you, silently asking you to try her life so she can prove it to you. You cross your arms over your chest, and glare at the phone. 

“Songs?” You ask, to which Dina nods. “Like, plural?” 

She groans in annoyance, connecting her phone to the bluetooth speaker. She scrolls, then clicks on a song. You peer over at her phone and notice it’s titled my kind of woman. It makes you lose your breath, hearing her voice and knowing the face she pulls when she sings a certain word. You bite the tip of your nail, and try to take deep, calming breaths. 

You and Dina sit there for what seems like hours, listening to every song in her discography. There’s not much, but the songs about you tell you everything you need to know at the moment. It brings back a feeling that you had when you two first started seeing each other. That giddy little fluttering in your tummy, the hope that you snuffed out years ago. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and when you pull it out, you eye the message on the screen. 

ellie 

3:46pm 

hey. would you mind meeting me for some coffee? i was hoping we could talk.

When Dina catches a glimpse of the dreamy look on your face, she asks what's up. You’re too content to not tell her, and yet–

“I’ll tell you after.” You smile.

#ೃ⁀➷; eroseas writes #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams

[zipperzoo]

A GOOD MORNING

The Last of Us (2013 - 2020) Joel Miller x f!reader Word Count: 1.1k A03 Themes: One-shot, Birthday, Sleepy Joel, Established relationship, Domestic, sweet Summary: A sweet, just utterly sweet short one shot of waking Joel up in the morning of his birthday. Domestic feel good short honestly!

The quietness of a cold brittle morning,

where the snow has settled and the blues meet a comforting orange in the sky. The trees stilled as birds sang their routine melody. Letting it bounce around. Welcoming those nearby to a new day.

In a large old worn house, the wood along the floors froze to the touch, but yet silent and peaceful. 

Illustrations of western landscapes bathed in sunlight on the walls, capturing the dust dance around it in the air. The carved statues half finished laid in the office in their slumber, cradled around their shavings and tools.

On the counter top, a coffee mug that had an etched image of an owl on it stood, waiting patiently to be warmed up by a hot beverage. Something the object came accustomed to.

Up the creaky stairs and in the biggest room of the second floor. Where several records were displayed on the wall, all worn and well played. Loved and adored throughout the years even through an infectious outbreak. 

A man laid in a giant bed alone. His head to the side resting on his arm that folded behind his head. 

His chest rose and fell peacefully as he slumbered. 

Tranquil sounds of birds chirping and his soft snoring was all that was present in the house.

He wasn't expected to wake up for at least a few hours. He had traded places with Jessie for the morning shift to instead have the evening patrol. 

It was his birthday after all, why not have a sleep in?

His bed could swallow him up whole. The warmth and comfort of the blankets that contrasted the crispy air. What person wouldn't be in deep sleep right now?

“Joel!!” Suddenly a speedy figure ran in and jumped onto the bed in which he was resting in. 

Joel jolted up in a panic to then see her there. Staring back at him with a mischievous grin. “You've slept in.” she whispered. 

He flopped back down onto his bed, pulling the blanket back over him. To protect himself from the harsh cold air and to let her know that he is sleeping. He gave her nothing but a grumble in response.

“Joel… Joel get up.”

“Joel isn't here right now.” he mumbled.

“Oh I see. So I’m here all alone at big ol’ mean Joel's home- what a shame if I were to..” She crawled onto him. Laying down with only the blanket between them both. “Cut all the strings of his guitars…”

Slowly and cautiously he pulled the blanket back to then stare at her. “Mean? I’m not mean. You’re mean for thinking about damaging my possessions.”

“Everyone thinks you're mean” she planted her hand square in his face and patted him. “Even the horse groomers.”

He sighed, reaching over and intertwining her hand with his, pushing her hand away from his face. “And do you believe them?”

“I’ve had first hand experience that you're mean. So yes, I believe every word they say.”

He scoffed “really?”

“Oh yeah! I can recount perfectly the time you’ve manhandled me.”

A wheezy laugh that developed into a chuckle left him, making her stomach feel all fuzzy and warm. Oh that gentle laugh “Manhandled you? What- like this?” He threw the blanket up and rolled her up into it like a giant blanket burrito. 

Letting out a single yelp she attempted at wiggling out of his hold. 

While he held her snuggling into her he couldn't help but hum out a soft laugh as she attempted to break free. 

After a while she gave up. “Meanie!”

“Shhh, I’m trying to sleep.” He mumbled, tightening his grip around her. 

Worming her way out of the blanket, popping her head out to then suddenly see him there, as her only view. He was actually trying to get back to sleep, holding her like she was a god dayum blanket worm.

His eyes closed, soft and undisturbed, a rare vulnerable state for him. She couldn't help but take it all in. Snaking out her arms she reached up and cupped his face, rubbing his cheeks with her thumbs.

“What are you doing?” he murmured. “Your hands are cold.” He frowned.

“Your face feels like toast.”

He opened one eye to look at her, catching her smiling up at him. “Is this your way of trying to get me to get up for breakfast?” “Not really. I could stay like this forever but I would very much like to make you breakfast in bed.”

“Oh?” He pulled a face “Breakfast in bed? For me?”

“you’ll have to let go of me first!”

“Hmm… Do I have to?”

“Unless you want us to starve?”

“hmm…Less talking, more sleeping.”

Her mouth went agape. “Joel!?” Gently slapping his cheeks “Wake up! Wake up!” 

He wasn't moving. She resorted to kicking her feet and then Joel let go of her. All her wriggling and kicking made her fly off the bed and hit the cold hard floor. He couldn't help but sit up and burst out laughing. 

“You okay there?” he asked, peeking over the bed, holding back a stiff laugh. “Now that wouldn't have happened if you weren’t wriggling so much.”

Shooting up, with the blanket wrapped around her, she glared at him. “Very funny.”

Leaning up against his pillow, Joel just looked at her tenderly. Letting his eyes wash over her before reaching out to yank his blanket back. “Very.”

Shivers ran up her spine as she just crossed her arms at him. “You're not going to get up are you?” 

“I don't see why I have to.”

“You can't stay in bed all day.”

“And why not?” he spoke into his pillow, muffled, full of tease.

“Because I said so.”

“Hmmm hmm.”

“Joel.”

“Hmm.”

“You better not be falling back asleep.”

“Hm.”

“Joel.” Silence. “Joel for god's sake-” She crept under the duvet cover and sat on top of him, saddling him. “If you're really asleep I swear to god.”

He was wearing nothing but his boxers. His body radiated heat, the kind of heat that if you snuggled up against you’d fall asleep instantly. Hair sprawled out all over his chest and arms. She ran her hands up his chest as she let herself fall down to rest her elbows on him. Leaning her chin on the palm of her hand as she just started poking his face.

“Hmm.” he groaned, face scrunching up as she pestered him. 

“Joel.” she sang “wake up~”

His eyes fluttered open, capturing her beaming above him, he couldn't help but reach up and  tuck a hair behind her ear. 

“Happy Birthday Joel.” She whispered leaning down and planting a ghost of a kiss onto his lips, breathing her next words lightly across them. “I love you.”

“Love you too."

#joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #fanfiction

[littlepadika]

I had this daddy!joel idea where maybe his little!has seperation anxiety and is very clingy?(totally not projecting)

yes absolutely!!! He'd absolutely attract a little that challenges his independent "i-can-do-it-myself" mentality because you're not afraid to admit how much you need him.

Warnings: DDLG, separation anxiety, crying

It breaks his heart to have to leave you mostly because of how much you cry and beg for him to stay. As soon as you see him put his shoes on you're grabbing at him and tearing up. You were getting better. The first time he came back to a mess and a tantrum but still... it wasn't easy.

"No daddy. No go!"

"I'll just be a minute. I have to get something in town." He tries to explain calmly

"I come with you, daddy."

"No, petal, it's too dangerous." he'd explain time and time again. Sure maybe it would be a quiet outing but he wouldn't risk it.

"I won't be bad I promise!" You switch tactics and blubber against his chest.

"Listen, sweetheart, you are the best best girl in the whole wide world. And that's why daddy has to keep you safe here."

"No daddy. Not without you."

"I will only be a minute. It'll be so fast. I don't wanna leave you either, petal." He almost thinks about giving up and staying in but he knows that will only make it harder the next time.

"All I wanna do is stay with you, but we need more food." Joel hugs you back with equal fierceness. "I'm tryna be a good daddy for you and take care of you. I need you to be a big girl for me, okay?"

"I c-can't!" you cry harder.

"I know you can, petal." Joel blinks back tears. Damnit. "I know you can do it. And why don't you plan our next trip?"

"We go to the store!" you fist his jacket.

He laughs at that. Clever girl. "How about I get that candy you like so much and we call it a deal?" He wipes your tears with his calloused thumbs.

You bite your lip wanting to argue more but you want to be a good girl.

"Petal..." He leans down and kisses you deeply. "Come on now..."

"Daddy..." You sniffle, loosening your grip. "Hurry."

As he leaves he knows you're inside crying and he feels like the biggest meanie in the whole world. It was just as hard for him. He hated leaving you alone and thinking anything could happen to you. Especially if the last thing you remember is being angry and hurt. He is almost jogging so he can come back as soon as he can.

~~~~~~~~

daddies masterlist

#ask padika #daddy!joel #logan-strong

[froggymarsh]

“Is Tim being mean to you, G?” Joel demands.

“Hey!” Jimmy protests. Grian shakes his head quickly, furiously wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands.

“Jus- feelings,” he spits, hating that every thought is turning to mush.

“Feelings?!” Joel gasps, storming closer and pushing up his sleeves, “why I outta-”

He swings, Grian flinches- and feels a tap on his stomach. He looks down. Blinks at the fist. Looks up. Blinks at Joel.

“Did I get ‘em?” Joel asks, poking Grian’s stomach with one knuckle, “I’ll try again. Pow! Wham! Punch punch punch!”

Each sound is accompanied by Joel’s fist tapping so so softly- first his stomach, then his arms, then his shoulder. Grian is baffled- but his confusion makes way for giggles.

“Yeah! I always get ‘em,” Joel preens, standing back with his hands on his hips, “no more meany feelings for you, Bad Boy.”

Grian thinks being called a “bad boy” should sting a little bit, but the way Joel says it with nothing but fondness in his voice has pride welling up in his chest instead of shame. He beams. That’s right, he is a Bad Boy!

“You’re my Bad Boys,” he answers softly, still smiling at the way Jimmy coos fondly, a hand over his heart, and the way Joel goes bright red.

“We are!” Jimmy beams.

“We are,” Joel nods, “your Bad Boys, always and forever.”

#not as long as it was going to be but i dont wanna write more so here u go :thumbsup: #mcyt agere #ivory drabbles #joel tag #jimmy tag #grian tag #bad boys beloved

[paldean-ranger-brandy]

📀

Send me a 📀 for a recent(ish) memory from my muse

“Ahem, excuse me, I need to speak with one, ah, ‘tree mommy,’ please?” A woman dressed head-to-toe in the brightest orange Brandy had ever seen leaned over the desk Brandy had set herself up at. Brandy threw a pencil at her.

“Fuck outta here Mark, I’m on lunch,” Brandy said to the woman who served as Tagtree Thicket’s operator, and whose name was definitely ‘Maryk’ and not ‘Mark’. 

“Wha- ow! Meanie! This is workplace harassment.” Maryk flinched as the pencil hit her, accidentally knocking it into her hair where it immediately got stuck in her dark curls. “Oooooo, now it’s all stuckies. I’m telling Joel.”

“Go for it, tell Joel. I’ll stick a pencil in his hair too. I’m unstoppable.” 

Maryk huffed at this, trying to work the pencil out of her hair without teasing out too much frizz. “Fine. I guess I’ll tell him that your little Rox has been late starting patrol 3 days running too. Since you apparently don’t care.”

“Uggggh.” Brandy leaned back in her chair, a hand placed dramatically over her eyes. “Maryk no, I really don’t feel like arguing with Rox right now.”

Rox was one of the newer rangers on Brandy’s team of area rangers that helped her take care of Tagtree Thicket. She was also the most contrarian person Brandy had ever met. Every order, every rule, every piece of advice was always and immediately questioned. Which was something that Brandy liked, hell it was a quality Brandy was quite proud to have in common with Rox. But being questioned day in and day out on every little thing did, as it turned out, get exhausting. 

“I mean like girl. I get it. Question authority, absolutely. But every time she’s questioned me on something I’ve given her a good reason for it. I don’t tell them to do anything if there isn’t a good reason for it. I tell them when the reason is just ‘because Joel will get mad’ and I tell them why ‘Joel getting mad’ is something they want to avoid. I have been so open and honest every single day - have I not earned any trust from this girl?”

Maryk just shrugged, still attempting to gently twist the pencil out of her hair. “I don’t know. Has Joel earned any trust from you?”

“Yes.” 

“Really?” Maryk raised an eyebrow. “Or have you just run out of things to question him on?”

“I- hm.” Brandy paused to consider this. “I guess you’re right. I just know everything now.” 

The operator rolled her eyes, finally freeing the pencil from her hair and tossing it back. “Uh huh. Well, you are a field ranger supervisor. It’s literally your job to share that knowledge. Rox is just being extra efficient about it.” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.” Brandy sighed, and pushed herself up from the desk. “Guess I’ll go talk to her. Thanks for the tip, narc.”

“You are so welcome, tree mommy.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

“Oi, Rox. It’s 10:15. Pretty sure you were supposed to be out in the bush 15 minutes ago.” Rox was sitting in the staff area, feet curled up onto the brown, leather couch and phone in hand. She looked to be no older than 17, with dark hair and eyes and a misdreavus floating beside her. Brandy limped over to the young ranger in question. They noted, with slight amusement, that Rox was in fact fully in uniform and geared up, suggesting that her tardiness was just her latest way to test boundaries. 

Rox’s stubborn glare and crossed arms seemed to confirm this. “So? It’s a few minutes, what difference does it make?”

“It makes a difference in two ways, newbie.” Brandy lowered themself into a nearby chair. “One, if something happens in that forest while you’re on patrol and you aren’t there to fix it, that becomes your mistake. From the time patrol starts to the time it ends, that forest is your responsibility, and you’re culpable for anything that happens in it for that time. If you’re an area ranger and you aren’t ranging your area during your designated range time, and something goes down, it’s gonna be your ass on the line.”

“Well, that’s my risk to take.” She responded, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Yeah, but I can’t imagine you took this job to take risks. I can tell you for sure that we didn’t hire you to take risks. Personally, I’m gonna be pretty peeved with you if some nutjob with a lighter pulls some shit while you’re supposed to be out there guarding that forest.”

Rox tilted her head, acquiescing the point. “Still-”

“Hold that thought for a mo’, there’s a second point here.” Brandy cut off whatever argument Rox was about to muster. “When you start your patrol late, it screws up everyone else’s shifts. It should take the full two hours to patrol the entire forest properly, and whoever is scheduled after you can’t start their patrol until you come back and give your patrol summary. If you start late, you’re gonna end late. And if you end late, the person after you is gonna also start late. And that’s rude as hell to your teammates. You don’t know what kind of plans or appointments they have scheduled after their shift.”

Rox pursed her lips at this. As combative as she was, Brandy would not have agreed to put Rox on her team if she wasn’t the kind of person who cared about her teammates. “Well, what if I’m on the last shift of the day?”

Brandy shrugged at this. “If you’re on the last shift and you start a few minutes late, I honestly won’t give a shit. 15 minutes is pushing it though, a lot can happen in 15 minutes.” Brandy paused, a thought occurring to her. “Joel might be annoyed though, for the first reason I gave you. And he’ll know when your patrol starts, he memorizes the shifts when we send them in for approval.”

“Alright, I guess that makes sense.” 

“Girl, everything I tell you to do makes sense.” 

“Yeah, once you explain it.” Rox pushed up from the couch, giving Brandy a lazy two finger salute. “Well, I’m off then. Thanks for the talk.”

“No problem, Rox,” Brandy said, leaning back into the sofa. “Always a pleasure convincing you to do your job.”

#ask game #ooc post

[penvisions]

garnish {chapter 2}

Pairing: Head Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Joel can't seem to make up his mind when it comes to you: one minute he's kind and thoughtful, the next he's cruel and cutting off your every word. You're just trying to keep your head above water, work becoming something that is not so simple anymore.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: pining, mutual pining, masturbation, mention of sex toys, use of sex toys, use of recreational drugs, marijauna, joel is a meanie in this, power dynamics, degrading talk, age gap (reader is late 20's, Joel in his 40s)

A/N: diving full force into this story while i'm trying to navigate finding jobs to apply to and calls to places i'm interested it. hopefully this chapter is received as well as the first! please let me know what y'all think!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

It had been a hectic two weeks of prepping before your normal bartending shifts.

There had been application posted to fill the position of the sandwich station worker who had called out all those days ago and then just never returned. But in the meantime you had been given the opportunity to prep the station for whoever would be manning it while Joel took over the main hot station that did a majority of the heavier cooking for the entrees as well as the garnishing before plates were deemed ready to go out onto the floor.

Everyone in the kitchen seemed to be under the impression that without a dishwasher until the service began and that it would be a collective effort to keep them in line and working through the washer and then added to the drying rack.

Except for yours.

The items you used and transferred out in the station were left in the bus tubs lining the intake area of the dish pit. You didn’t let it get to you, used to having to keep up with glasses and garnish cambros with the steady if not hectic business of the place. You were in the middle of rinsing out a giant bane when someone placed their own beside you directly in the dish pit and it knocked the ones in your hand enough to cause the spray of the nozzle to wash over you.

You cursed under your breath as it doused you from head to waist. It was a cold shock and you frowned as you continued to get the dishes from your prep cleaned and dried. As soon as it was all set and you double checked everything for the station’s workers for the night, you walked over to where the employee lockers were.

Thoughts of how things had been going overall swirling in your mind as you made your way over to the shared space at the back of the kitchen. Eyes followed you sometimes, people aware of the weird dynamic of someone working both front of house and in the kitchen. But people were outwardly friendly with you still, no animosity other than the business with the dishes. Joel’s eyes often caught your own as he handled his own prep and went about his supervision of things going the way they need to for him to run his kitchen. He would tackle the dishes every so often as well, telling people to line them up if he was able to spend time in the dish pit. Casual conversation were still an occurrence, more so now that you were in the kitchen with people you often talked to through the expo line and the width of the bar top. It was something that just wasn’t worth bringing up and potentially change the easy going dynamic that had been set.

You untied your apron, a black thing with a simple floral pattern that wasn’t really allowed as it didn’t match the uniform of the kitchen staff. But it had been allowed as it was a custom with your name stitched on the front pocket and the one you used to set up the bar. You tossed it into your locker, also labeled with your name, and moved to peel the wet black long sleeve you had worn for the day. Underneath it was a dark heather gray tank top that was lined with lace on the neckline, paired with black denim pants. Your belt was a little kitschy, the buckle a silver metal heart.

You were too preoccupied digging around in your locker for replacement to notice that someone else had come into the locker room. When you made a triumphant sound at finding another shirt, you pulled it out quickly only to come face to face with Joel.

“Oh!” You startled, feet taking you a few quick steps back, or they would’ve if you hadn’t been jammed in the middle of your back by the open locker door. The fabric fell from your hands as you exclaimed again in pain. “Oh, fuck!”

Expletives rained down from your mouth, some in English and some in Spanish, your mind getting tangled as you tried to deal with the pain.

You braced your hands on your knees and leaned down a little, trying to stretch the sharp pain out of your throbbing back before it could cramp and get worse. It was the wrong move as Joel had just leaned down himself to pick up the dropped shirt and your chest was practically in his face. The cleavage from your tank top allowed him an eyeful and he caught sight of the rose-colored bra that you had picked out that morning. He quickly stood back up and shoved the shirt back into your open locker and left the room as quickly as he had come in.

You straightened back up as well and felt the heat rush to your face as you realized what had just happened.

The rest of the shift went by well enough, though you had to be careful with twisting and maneuvering a little more than normal to avoid twinging your sore back. You were sure there was a large bruise that had bloomed to life on the skin but wouldn’t be able to tell for sure until you were home. The restaurant had closed, the last customers were walking out as you began to break down the bar.

You had all the mats in the washer and had started to replace bottles you had grabbed from the shelves lining the back of the bar above the small counter. A particularly full bottle of pomegranate liquor was a hard reach for you and your back spasmed with the effort to reach the middle shelf. Losing your grip on the bottle, you braced yourself for it to fall but a large hand was catching it by the middle before it could lose too much air and placed it atop the shelf for you.

You turned to see Joel standing unnervingly close, his body was a warm line beside you, his chest practically pressing up against your side as he had swooped in to save you from dropping the bottle completely.

“Would hate for it to have gone to waste.” Was all he said as he stood back, his hands resting atop both counters that made up your area, effectively blocking the entrance as he took up the space with his broad form. He watched you as you continued to put bottles away and placing stoppers the ones in the well, wiping them all down with a clean sanitizer rag as you did so. When you got to a good scotch that you had taken weeks picking out, you picked up two rocks classes and filled them with two fingers of the amber liquor each, you slid one over to him. He regarded you as he took a drink from it. His plush lips pressing against the glass in a tantalizing way despite the casualness of the action. “You didn’t eat anythin’ tonight.”

“No, I didn’t have much time. My barback called out and it was just me mixin’ and runnin’.” You explained as you took a sip from your own glass. His eyes traced the movement of the glass much like you had done with his own as he took a drink. Your fingers were adorned with a new coat of dip, having allowed them to grow out a bit and treat yourself to the splurge. The dark green of them adorned with small golden stars must’ve caught his eye as they glinted in the soft lighting of the dining room.

“Could’ve put in a takeout order to have something sent over. I woulda comped it for ya.”

“I’ll just have something when I get home.” You set your glass down on the back shelf, by the register and out of reaching hands should another employee come looking for a post shift treat. You had already made a last call for everyone, some people taking you up on it.

“It’s late.”

“Yeah, but I need to study anyway, so it’ll be okay.”

“Study?”

“I’ve got a midterm tomorrow. I’ll be up for a bit.”

“Didn’t know you were in school.” Behind the casual curiosity you could see a worry about your age, as did everyone when you mentioned school. But the reality was that you had taken a few years off to focus on family and get some personal things straightened out before returning.

“Hmm,” You absently responded as you wrapped up the tops of the squeeze bottles with cling wrap and gathered them in a large storage basin to put in one of the many coolers beneath the bar. “Only part time, graduate this fall.”

“Lemme make you somethin’ to take home.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. You looked up from where you were now loading the guards for the drains that lined the bar top. Pausing as you had moved to put something into the washer on the other side of the space. Taken aback by the shift in his tone from casual to one he would adapt on the line.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, chef. Really.”

“Chicken or beef?”

“Chef, really, it’s okay.”

“Joel’s fine, darlin’. Chicken or beef?”

“You know, this is the most we’ve ever talked.” He didn’t take the bait, the comment a distraction from his attempt. The last sip of your own drink was quickly downed, and you turned to face away from him as you placed your own glass in the washer. When you turned back around, his eyes were still on you. There was a slight glint to them, something you couldn’t quite make out, but it had you crumbling all the same.

“…beef, please.” You sighed, rubbing your hand over the small of your back. A shy smile taking over your lips as you tried to avoid meeting his eyes with your own. The glass he still held in his hand was knocked back, the remaining liquor downed in a single swig and he was stepping into your space to load it into the open dishwasher. His arm brushed against yours and you felt your face heat up at the proximity.

“Comin’ right up.”

“Lemme know what you think,” He placed one hand on the hood of your truck, the other on the side of the open door and leaned inside the cab a bit. The scent of him filled the space, winning out over the dying air freshener you had yet to replace out of sheer laziness. His cologne was faint after a long shift but the cedar undertones of it were heady as they filled your nose. His lips were suddenly brushing the apple of your cheek, the contact brief. “Good luck on that midterm, see ya tomorrow.”

He took your shocked stillness as a sign to close the door, a smug grin taking over his features as he did so. You watched him through the glass of your window as he walked back to the building, turning to look at you once more with a wink before he disappeared inside.

You sat there for far too long, willing your heartrate back down before you turned the engine and took off toward home. For most of the drive, you found yourself pressing a hand to the skin his lips had touched and glancing over at the two takeout boxes he had secured in a tied-up plastic bag.

The campus was crowded, so incredibly crowded. You had to circle the various parking lots three times over before you were able to snag a spot. The sound of the truck door was loud as you pushed it closed and locked it up before rushing towards the main buildings. You were nearly late, but had just made it down the hall and could see the open door as the time for the beginning of class displayed on the small watch you had adorned today. You had actually been able to dress like normal, only going into the bar later to do inventory and place an order before your day off tomorrow and next. A little break, the manager had said, to help you relax after summer midterms.

Fall was around the corner in a few months and you needed to get things lined up and ready for the menu change that staff meeting had been about a few weeks ago. The skirt of your sundress, black patterned with sunflowers, swirled up as you rushed through the door and turned to take the first seat that was open. Your short sleeves not allowing you much warmth in the colder air of the classroom. As you sat, you pulled out a mustard cardigan and shrugged it on. You felt eyes track your figure as you had walked the entire length of the classroom to the back and took a seat in the back row and plopped down. The shift to the air of the building wasn’t the only reason you decided to don your little sweater, fingers shaking slightly as you buttoned it up completely.

“Alright, now that everyone is here,” The professor offered you a kind smile as they spoke, shutting the door and locking it to prevent anyone from entering from the outside. “Let’s tackle the exciting world of biological evolution.”

An hour and a half later, your hand cramping from writing so fast to catch your thoughts and theories down into tangible words, you turned in your small, stapled packet. You were one of the last ones in the class, everyone else rushing off to enjoy the rest of their day, thankful that class wasn’t running the typical three hours and taking advantage of the early hour before noon. Fingers brushed against your own as the professor reached out to take the paper from you. You felt a jolt of anxiety race up your spine and you offered a weak smile before taking your leave.

Your smaller sized backpack was placed in the heightened bar seat beside you. The laptop you bought for school last year open and glowing in front of you with the white blankness that was the ordering screen for the company the restaurant preferred to use. It was early, only Joel in the kitchen for early prep due to a lot of reservations and the manager doing the same as you, taking inventory before placing orders.

You looked over your notes, unsure of what you had scrawled down on one page, but it didn’t seem to matter. It was about the lamb special, something that Joel was still working on. Uncrossing your legs, you hopped down from the stool you had been sat it for far too long. The tingling of blood flow returning to your legs had you walking stiffly toward the kitchen, the thump of your healed boots louder than normal on the floor of the dining room as you crossed the space. Your hair was down, the scent of your shampoo calming you as you approached the door.

Thoughts of the man just on the other side of the door had plagued you all night. You tried to fight a heat that threatened to rise as you recalled the way you had called out his name in a loud whimper when you had come undone with the help of your vibrator. It had been all encompassing, recalling the heat of him as he had stood close to you and roped you into allowing him to cook for you after close, the brush of his warm skin along your arm, the plush give of his lips as he had leaned in to touch them to your cheek. The care he had put into the food he prepared for you, enough for dinner and lunch today if you hadn’t gotten so high and gave into the desires of your stomach and cunt so easily.

Taking a deep breath to settle your nerves, you pushed open the swing door, your nails clinking softly on the dark metal. As you crossed the threshold, Joel’s eyes snapped up from where he was on the line. You were suddenly self-conscious of the dress you were wearing, cardigan laid over the back of your stool at the bar.

“Chef, I had a few questions about the special. I know we went over it at the meeting but-“ The words cut off in your throat as you looked up to see his eyes hard and heavy on you. He had only glanced at you before looking back down at what he was doing but it seemed his attention was focused solely on you now and it made you squirm after the awkward morning you had had.  Maybe he was upset about food safety, your hair was down, and the dress had rather short sleeves and low cut. “Oh, I have a sweater I can put on and a hair tie if you’re worried about food safety.”

“No.” It was quick, the word flying from his lips and followed by the sound of him clearing his throat rather harshly. You could practically feel the heat of his gaze in the metal of the necklace around your neck, the simple chain reacting to his eyes on you much like your skin was. His next words weren’t as harsh as that first one. “No, don’t worry about that, should be fine.”

“Um, okay.” Fingers wringing around each other, you took another couple of steps into the kitchen, closer to the expo line you were peering at him through. “Did-did you decide on the balsamic for the fall special?

“Testing it out today, want to help?”

“Oh, oh no, I couldn’t!” You put a hand on the empty space of the expo line, nails clinking as you did so, and the sound drew his attention to it. You worried he was going to tell you to remove them before your next shift. But he had seen them yesterday and not said anything. “It’s your kitchen, I don’t want to intrude on prep time when I’m not even on schedule.”

“You’re here off the clock?”

“No, I clocked in, but it was…supposed to be my day off. Mary- she gave me the weekend off to relax after midterms.”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes going over your attire again in a sweeping gaze. The way your chest was slightly pushed up as you leaned against the slightly higher counter. His gaze moved back to what he was doing, out of your line of sight.

“Hop back here and we can figure it out together.”

“I-I can’t, really, I’m just here to do the order.” You didn’t want to turn down the offer, something he wasn’t keen to hand out to people in the kitchen let alone anyone else. But his close proximity was a heady thought and your body hummed with the prospect of being behind the line with him. It was dangerous, a line that shouldn’t be crossed and he was sending you such inviting signals. You didn’t need gossip to start, focused on you and how you seemed to soften the man in charge of the kitchen though you hadn’t really done anything.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“Chef-“

“Joel, thought I told you to cut that chef crap out?” His lips twitched up slightly, the hint of a dimple appearing in his right cheek through the scruff along his face. You closed your eyes in a long blink as you felt a pulse of desire underneath your dress. He was so enamoring, the hint of his true personality peeking through the work persona he took on, or maybe just another facet of the man who you couldn’t seem to get out of your head.

“Joel, I can’t. I have stuff to do today after the order. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to offend you but it’s-“

The openness of his expression and the light behind his eyes dulled, slipping back to the normal emotionless one he wore when service started.

“Got it,” His hands became rough with what he was doing, and you realized he had been chopping up the brussels and sweet potatoes you were asking after. The knife was making a fast-snicking sound as his eyes focused on the cutting board in front of him, his focus on the task at hand. His voice had lost the jovial tone he had taken up, now rough and no nonsense. “Balsamic will most likely be a glaze thrown on before they roast.”

“Heard, chef.” You found yourself pushing off the expo line, feeling small, and made your way back into the dining room. Quickly shutting the laptop, not bothering to wait for it to save anything or power down, you shoved it into your bag along with your cardigan. You swiped your keys off of the counter beside the glass of water you had poured for yourself and took hurried steps toward the entrance. You scrambled for the handle of the door and pushed it harder than necessary, tears springing up in your eyes at the thought of confrontation as you heard the kitchen door swing open.

Heavy, even footsteps through the dining room had you forgetting to lock the door back up and you were throwing your bag into the passenger seat of your truck parked on the curb, having been told you could do so since the place wasn’t due to open until regular hours. The sound of your driver’s side door slamming was loud even to you as you jammed the keys into the ignition and the engine roared to life.

You didn’t spare a glance up at the outline of Joel standing on the curb you could see out of your peripheral, jerking the gear shift into drive and taking off with a sob bubbling up from your chest. His signals were so confusing, making it hard to figure out how to act around him. Work was supposed to be work, easy. Clock in, prep, make drinks, clean, clock out. Not this mental game of gymnastics with a man who seemed to warm up to you one second and then ice you out the next.

You were called early Sunday morning by an apologetic Mary. Saying that the bartender on shift for the brunch service had called out. You calmed her down, knowing it would be good to get the hours and tips and said you would be there in time to open the bar. Brunch was an earlier ordeal, the only day that the restaurant wasn’t open for dinner service. An easy shift, only a few hours between nine and three. A baby shift, and you would have the opportunity to order something sweet to go. A treat to enjoy on the couch with a dumb comedy playing on the screen of your living room.

The service went by quickly, jugs of orange juice and bottles of champagne piling up in your trash bin in a whirlwind of orders. Mimosas were easy money, strawberry syrup an easy upcharge to get people excited about. You had spilled tomato juice on your apron earlier and the cloying acidity was making waves of nausea roll in your stomach every time you caught a whiff of it. Things were winding down with only an hour and a half left of service. Another forty-five for kitchen orders, but you would be pouring until about ten minutes to close. You rang in a to go order of French toast and a side of scrambled eggs.

You had forgotten all about it until you were wrapping up the takeout order of someone at the bar, realizing yours had never made it over to you at the bar. It wasn’t as if you were about to eat it during service but still, it would’ve been nice to close everything down and have it ready to grab on your way out the front door.

You locked the door for the customer as you followed them to the front door. The last of the day and turned the lock after they safely across the public parking lot. With a sigh you turned toward the kitchen and braced yourself to interact with the man who had weaved his way into every one of your thoughts.

He had been professional throughout the shift, allowing you to pass clearance on dishes that needed to be run when you had come back to check on the lag created by servers flooding the sparse kitchen with orders. Allowing you the ability to do so as he always had done.

“Um, chef?” His eyes snapped to you for barely a second before he went back to gathering the stuff he needed to clean the grill. He made a grunt of acknowledgement to show he heard you. “I was wondering if my ticket was ready? I put it in before the cut off but-“

“We sold the par for what you ordered. Didn’t have enough for it.” His back tensed as he raised a hand to pour a good drizzle of oil over the entirety of the grill, grill brick ready in his other hand. The black gloves looked tight over his knuckles, like he was tense.

“Oh, um, okay.” You shuffled on your feet, aware of the two other cooks glancing between you both at the interaction. They were busy wrapping things and storing them into their respective stations, gathering dishes and things that needed to be washed. A grumble from your stomach urged your next question, too tired to attempt grocery shopping or cooking yourself. “Is-is there anything I can swap it out for?”

“We’re already shut down, can’t you see me cleaning the grill?” He turned around, items still in his grip as he finally faced you head on. “Shoulda come and checked before service closed. It ain’t my job to look after mistakes made by the front of house.”

The heat climbing up your face startled you, shame bubbling up alongside embarrassment. But you ignored it as your teeth ground against each other with the pressure of your jaw clenching. Eyes flicking over the items on the line in front of you. There was plenty he could throw together for you; he just didn’t want to. You nodded once before speaking in an even, professional tone. Your own mask falling into place.

“Apologies chef, it won’t happen again.”

You tried not to let the whispered words of the other two cooks hurt too much as you moved through the door. The two of them followed slightly as they came out from the line and made their way over to the dish pit.

“I thought I saw a second tray prepped in the walk in.”

“Me too, she must’ve done something to piss him off.”

You wallowed on the couch until late, the brightness of the screen playing across your blank face, eyes not really seeing the movie playing across the screen.

previous chapter || next chapter

#dev writes #fic: garnish #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #tlou au #the last of us #the last of us au #restaurant au #chef! joel miller #head chef! joel miller #bartender! reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #head chef! joel miller x bartender! reader #restaurant industry #food industry #drug use #recreational drug use #alcohol consumption #mean joel miller #angst #joel miller

[thefvrious]

@ghostsxagain sent -> joel & damon

☀️          »        what    was    your    character’s    first    impression    of    their    partner   ? "who is this beautiful creature and what do i have to do to know him?" 🍯          »        what    trait    does    your    character    admire    the    most    about    their    partner    ? damon's absolute strength. joel thinks damon's probably the strongest person he's ever met, and he doesn't know how he did it all those years on his own, but god damn does he admire him. ⚡          »        who    spends    more    time    on    the    phone   ? joel, unfortunately, it's a work thing. ✏️          »        who    takes    longer    to    text    back   ? damon bc he's a big old meany face >:[ 💡          »        what’s    the    first    movie    /    tv    show    your    pairing    saw    ? they went out on a date and saw a horror movie, joel was just happy to have some time with damon in a real capacity. 🐣          »        who    has    the    best    style    ? ooft. good question. dare i say joel? 🔑          »        who    is    the    better    driver    ? haha probably damon. joel doesn't do a lot of driving for himself. he hasn't had to in years. ⭐          »        what    are    three    things    that    your    pairing    have    in    common    ? crime, big families, taste in media they enjoy to consume [music, books, film, etc].

🌩          »        how    does    your    character    calm    their    partner    when    they    are    angry    ? joel's tried all manner of things to calm down damon when he's angry. if the anger is directed at joel, there's nothing he can do. but, he's found, sometimes he can get damon to calm down with physical touch -- rubbing his shoulders, holding him close, remaining silent and not adding to the stress. 🌼          »        who    was    the    first    to    say    i    love    you   ? joel on absolute accident, love drunk in his sleep. 🧀          »        who    is    the    better    cook   ? they both know how to cook, for sure, but i feel like damon's better at it, and boy oh boy does joel like being treated to a dinner made by his lover <3 🌻          »        who    is    the    better    listener   ? joel is. sorry 'bout it, damon, but you got some issues, my guy. ✨          »        what    is    your    pairing’s    favourite    thing    to    do    together  ? joel just likes to be in the same room as damon. his favorite is when they have a few drinks and relax on the couch watching whatever damon puts on because let's face it joel's not paying attention to anything but dai anyway. ⚠️          »        who    has    the    crazier    family    ? joel doesn't think his family is crazy, which is hilarious, but damon's definitely is bonkers. at least his parents, and his siblings are sure to have their issues, too. the hills are... well, special.

🌙          »        what    are    your    character’s    love    languages    ––    gifts    ,    affection    ,    words    ? literally all of them. try and stop him, damon, it hasn't gone so well for you so far. 🌤          »        how    long    has    your    pairing    been    together    ? chasing each other for a decent amount of time, only together for a little while. 💛          »        who    says    i    love    you    more    often    ? joel. probably to a fault. he thinks damon needs to hear it more, and it just falls out of his mouth, oops. 😭          »        who    is    most    likely    to    forget    an    anniversary    ? damon, but i feel like he only pretends to forget it. 🍌          »        what    is    your    pairing’s    favourite    place    ? unsurprisingly, joel loves to be seen with his boo. so, anywhere they can go in public and be seen but still be alone. the top section of some of the bars he runs are always a good bet.

#joel kane ~ about #ship tag tbd #ghostsxagain #joel x damon

[f-sharp-inder]

🎶‌

ONLINE — Dover Quartet

Meany On Screen: Feature Performance

✅Ticket

Free

⏱Time

New York : Fri, Mar 26, 2021 1:00 pm

London : Fri, Mar 26, 2021 5:00 pm

Seoul : Sat, Mar 27, 2021 2:00 am

🔊Performers

Dover Quartet

Joel Link, Violin

Bryan Lee, Violin

Milena Pajaro-van de Stadt, Viola

Camden Shaw, Cello

🎼Program

Franz Schubert: Quartettsatz, D. 703

W. A. Mozart: String Quartet No. 18 in A Major, K. 464

William Grant Still: Lyric Quartette: Musical Portraits of Three Friends

ONLINE — Dover Quartet | Meany Center

#classic #music #classical #concert #orchestra #livestreaming #onlinestreaming #daily #lfl #l4l #likeforlike #ootd #musik #musician #virtual #instrument #musicians #live #virtualconcert #string #quartet #mozart #doverquartet #violin #viola #cello #schubert #williamfrantstill #quartettsatz

[androgynousblackbox]

I think I know what happened with W.I.T.C.H that ended up... like that. At least it’s a theory. They became mainstream to the point of even being owned by Disney. They became so successful that now, to keep the wave of money coming in, they prefered to go the easy route and just use every formulaic trope at their disposition, so now the stories have “morals” and thus this resulted on: -An episode about taking care of the environment by turning off lights and not wasting water. -An episode where the girls meet their genderbend version, who are evil. -Matt being originally hateable and Will just forgiving everything with a pretty speech. There you have a little bit of “love/hate.” -An episode where Hay Lin has to learn it’s more important to be herself than to persue a guy... even Eric still exist, pressumably, and Hay Lin was never established to be the kind of doing something like that. -Taranee thrirsting over literally any hot guy she comes across, despite that never been established as a trait of her before, while Irma, who has a boyfriend now, never does that, despite that actually being a trait of hers. -The elements having an “evil side” we literally never heard before. -Irma choosing “love” over power and still recieving power. -The girls forming a “magic school.” -An episode entirely revolved around “character act suspicious so we follow him to see what he is doing and discover it was nothing, but oh wait, he was actually hiding something that was important to him, what a twist.” -An episode about the girls meeting Santa just when they were feeling hopelees in christmas. -An episode dedicated entirely to the girl meeting past version of themselves who just so happened to be their living reflection for some play at school. -A lot... like really a lot of chase scenes. -Some episodes are just... literall fluff of good feeling and no plot, barely any magic, nothing. The old comics had those moments too, but they always seemed to be for character moments and now they look just to make the reader feel good. Which isn’t bad per se, but it’s definitely different. It’s like watching a tipical cartoon in another format. So yeah, basically they are just more commercially appealing than before. In some ways this is good because now Will isn’t angsting nearly as much as before, in general there is not as much angst, and the are still good moments here and there. I But then there are changes I literally do not understand like Matt being called a figure of authority by Kandor, talking about considering the old Oracle a great master, and literally no one ever wonder what it’s up with that, like there was literally no point into doing that except to establish Matt as some kinda of Important Badass despite still looking like Shagy with longer hair. Or how Joel, who actually had great chemistry with Irma, just dissapeared. Or how Sheila and the guy Taranee liked on the dance academy were retconned out of existence. Or that dance teacher that was just a meanie, had a VERY minor subplot with another dancer and just died and since then nobody cared about the dance academy now.  But you know? It’s not that bad once you get on the mindset this is a cartoon... and just accept that is how things are. I have heard of worst renditions of preestablished characters before. It ust take some time getting used to.

#w.i.t.c.h.

[johnnymundano]

First Reformed (2018)

Directed by Paul Schrader

Written by Paul Schrader

Music by Lustmord

Country: United States

Language: English

Running Time: 113 minutes

CAST

Ethan Hawke as Pastor Ernst Toller

Amanda Seyfried as Mary Mensana

Cedric Kyles as Pastor Joel Jeffers

Victoria Hill as Esther

Philip Ettinger as Michael Mensana

Michael Gaston as Edward Balq

Bill Hoag as John Elder

(Confession: All images stolen from the Internet. We’re all going to hell anyway.)

In which Paul Schrader, a man whose last movie I bought from a pound shop makes a movie with goofy Ethan Hawke as a sad vicar and…it’s my favourite movie of 2018? Damn straight it is, Poncho. In First Reformed Paul Schrader creates a gloriously stark and sedately paced meditation on the question, how can we survive in the face of despair?

First of all, the Ethan in the room. Ethan Hawke. He’s okay, right? Never a chore to watch, but hardly a heavy hitter. A pleasant enough addition to any cast. Well, that was before First Reformed. First Reformed is movie about revelation and Ethan Hawke’s Ernst Toller(1) surely is a revelation. Toller, predictably enough, is the umpteenth iteration of Schrader’s evolving portrait of (Thomas Mann’s) God’s Lonely Man, and, like the Whitman said, he is large, he contains multitudes; he is the refined essence of all the God’s Lonely Men who came before him. Given Hawke’s predecessors in this ever mutating role include such titans of thesping as Robert De Niro, Willem Dafoe, George C. Scott and Richard Gere, the fact that his (Ethan Hawke’s!) performance can lounge comfortably amongst them is perhaps the biggest surprise in First Reformed. Appropriately enough, watching Hawke as Toller you will feel the scales fall from your eyes; Ethan Hawke (Ethan Hawke!) is not a lightweight screen presence, he is, in fact, an actor of the top tier. It helps that in First Reformed he’s given top tier material by a true auteur going at it like he’ll never get to go at it again. First Reformed is Schrader at the top of his mature game, exerting an iron control over material driven by an icy rage. And Hawke (Ethan Hawke!) is more than equal to the task. The boy done good.

1) A toller is defined as “a person who rings church bells (as for summoning the congregation) bell ringer, ringer. signaler, signaller - someone who communicates by signals.” There is some irony here as Toller’s congregation is small, but he definitely communicates via signals, particularly so at the close of the movie. Oh yes, particularly then.)

Everyone else has to act in Hawke’s daunting shadow, so it is absolutely to their credit that they still shine so brightly, so fiercely.  I doubt many people other than his immediate family thought that Cedric the Entertainer could portray such a smoothly venal and slyly manipulative Pastor, while still appearing wholly human and relatable. (Mind you, Brummy funnyman Lenny Henry made a creditable Othello, so who the hell knows?) Michael Gaston is great as Edward Balq (2), the bad businessman who ambushes Toller over apple pie and thinks maybe it’s God’s plan to fuck up the world for cash. And he’s no one dimensional greedy meanie either, he is part of Schrader’s dramatisation of humanity’s struggle with The Bible’s (typically) contradictory command to both tame the world and also to preserve it. The abysmal weight of the latter burden falls on Philip Ettinger, as Michael Mensana (3). Ettinger is worryingly convincing as a man who clearly can no longer control his own mind. This tortured soul is desperately using his last scraps of rapidly fleeing reason to prevent himself from doing an unforgivable thing; either via the humane intervention of Toller or via other, more drastic measures. Amanda Seyfried is harrowingly vulnerable as Michael’s wife, Mary Mensana (4), but she also brings the core of steel essential for survival in the fallen world, a core which her husband, Michael, fatally lacks.  

2) “Balq” is a phonetic ringer for “balk” i.e. to hesitate or be unwilling to accept an idea or undertaking.

3) Mensana alludes to “mens sana”, the Latin for “healthy mind”; it is used ironically for Michael. His mind is unhealthy.

4) Mens sana is used literally in the case of Mary. She also deserves its use in the wider sense; Mary embodies Juvenal’s phrase “mens sana in corpore sano”. She is “a healthy mind in a healthy body”. Her pregnancy is a sign of health and hope. Also, she’s called “Mary” and is pregnant in a movie thrumming with religious tones both over and under; I don’t think we need Sherlock Holmes to puzzle that one out for us.

Things are being said in First Reformed. Things weightier than “Tom Cruise can save the world without chipping a nail” or “uptight businesswomen need to unclench so wacky men can love them”. All true and valuable lessons, no doubt, but they aren’t what’s being said in First Reformed. Of course, something is usually being said in a Paul Schrader movie. That’s the way Paul Schrader rolls; like the thunder. Paul Schrader has been knocking about movies for what, five decades now? Since 1974 anyway, when The Yakuza was filmed by Sydney Pollack from a script by Schrader and his brother, Leonard. It was a good start; an entertaining geriatric action movie, involving an aged Robert Mitchum steamrollering his way through the Yakuza, while delicately pining for his war-time love. A little bit of playing in the Hitchcock sandbox aside (Obsession, Dir. Brian De Palma, 1979), this potent fuel of meditative violence would form the core of Schrader’s early offerings, with Rolling Thunder (dir. John Flynn, 1977) and, particularly, Taxi Driver (Dir. Martin Scorsese, 1976) refining the approach. Movies like Blue Collar (1978) and Hardcore (1979) also displayed Schrader’s interest in alienation, guilt, dehumanisation, guilt, sexuality and spiritual inquiry. And guilt. Sure, such themes were certainly less immediately arresting than hook handed ‘Nam vets and tonto taxi drivers, but with American Gigolo (1980) Schrader successfully intertwined all his major themes, high and low, into his first critical and commercial career maker of a knockout. That same year saw the release of the Schrader scripted Raging Bull (dir. Martin Scorsese). Top o’ the world, ma, in effect.

There then followed the ‘80s and, for Schrader, what appeared to be a “kid in a candy store” phase.  (Legal note: no one said “nose candy”) Given the freedom Hollywood success bestows, Schrader  indulged his more personal fascinations via his own scripts and those of others. Schrader having more going on upstairs than most in La La Land, this led to mixed results; his study of the celebrated Japanese author and coup instigator Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters (1985) clearly being of more artistic value than his study of Nastassja Kinski’s bare arse in his remake of Cat People (1982). But I have watched the latter far more than the former, so who am I to judge? Somewhere in this wayward and invigoratingly fun period is a movie about kidnapped heiress Patty Hearst (1988) and an adaptation of Paul Theroux’s Mosquito Coast (Dir. Peter Weir, 1986). And I’m pretty sure few filmographies contain a musical starring Michael J. Fox and Joan Jett (Light of Day, 1987) and a Jesus movie which managed to upset various touchy Christian groups, including that of his own father (The Last Temptation of Christ, Dir. Martin Scorsese, 1988). A real cinematic fruit basket; lots of fun, something for everyone.

But after the party comes the hangover, alas, and the early ‘90s for our fascinating firebrand seemed somewhat listless and directionless. At best. Schrader working with Harold Pinter sounds dauntingly awesome, especially with Christopher Walken and Helen Mirren on board, but the result was a stodgy Europudding adaptation of Ian McEwan’s The Comfort of Strangers (1990). (Walken is amazing in it though, true.) Then in 1992 there came Light Sleeper, a perfectly fine movie, a pretty damn good movie in fact; if you ignore that it’s basically American Gigolo for drug dealers, with a soupcon of a last act shootout for Taxi Driver/Rolling Thunder flavour. It’s probably Schrader’s best ‘90s movie because it magpies from all his earlier, good movies.  A TV movie starring Dennis Hopper which used fear of witchcraft as a metaphor for the ‘50s Communist scare (Witch Hunt, 1994) sounds…interesting. (I haven’t seen it.) And the lean period sputtered out with a script contribution to City Hall (Dir. Harold Becker, 1996), a movie which despite a class pedigree stubbornly refused to ignite. No period in Schrader’s filmography is a total loss, but there was a clear lack of  artistic traction in those six years.

Maybe even Schrader noticed, because in 1997 his work flowered anew with the release of both Touch and Affliction. As if invigorated by the source works, Schrader produced one of the best ever Elmore Leonard adaptations (an even greater achievement given the atypical nature of Touch. Christopher Walken is excellent in it, obviously), and an appropriately despairing staging of Russel Banks’ grim novel of dysfunctional families and DIY dentistry. As to the latter it would be lax to fail to state how incredible James Coburn is as The Awful Father. I’ve never seen Forever Mine (1999), so for me Schrader’s ‘90s closed on a high with the adaptation of Joe Connelly’s Bringing Out the Dead (Dir. Martin Scorsese, 1999). A fine high-octane night-in-the-life-of-a-paramedic parable featuring a lively cast kicking out the jams; all led by a truly great Nicolas Cage before his fall, before his face started adorning novelty sequin cushions.

In 2002, with Autofocus (from Robert Graysmith's book “The Murder of Bob Crane”) Schrader went back to the well of morality and debauchery he had been lightly dipping into throughout his career, and this time chucked the bucket in further than he had since Hardcore, drawing up a weighty, but darkly comic, look at the corrupting influence of images. Pretty ballsy for a man who trades in the things. It was a great start to the 2000s, so obviously it immediately turned to shit. So shit in fact most of the movies from this period appeared without my noticing, were difficult to source, or were disowned by Schrader himself. Not exactly Paul Schrader: The Glory Years. A 2005 Exorcist prequel was yanked off him by the studio and re-edited and re-shot under Renny Harlin. The Walker (2007), was really good with Woody Harrelson as a gay “professional companion” to older women accidentally uncovering Washington corruption; a kind of Light Sleeper for gay consorts. A really good movie, but nobody noticed. In 2008 Adam Resurrected occurred without my noticing, as did The Canyons (2013). In 2014 I did notice The Dying of the Light was taken off Schrader and re-edited by the studio so, without wishing to cause offence:  **** that one. And this is where we came in...last year I picked up Dog Eat Dog (2016) on Blu-Ray in a Pound Shop; it was…very energetic, very hectic; a post fall Nic Cage and a never-even-stumbled-once Willem Dafoe were obviously having fun. I kind of dug it in a weird way, but Schrader definitely looked like his best days were behind him. Then I heard he was doing a movie with Ethan ****ing Hawke as a sad vicar or something. Hoo boy.

HOO BOY! indeed. Cover my face with egg and fry it in a pan! Yeah, Paul Schrader made a movie with Ethan Hawke as a sad vicar or something, and it was one of The 3 Movies I Loved in 2018. (The others, obviously, being Mandy and Let The Corpses Tan. I’m sure everyone agrees.) Schrader, the wily bugger had just been playing possum; letting his energies build, fermenting his themes, you know, getting ready to put out some fires with gasoline, as someone sang over the credits to one of his movies once. Filmed in the hypnotically discreet Transcendental Style so dear to his heart First Reformed is the “Paul Schrader movie” par excellence. It’s all been building to this one, kids!

First Reformed is a heartbreaker, a goddamn beautiful heartbreaker of a thing, it moves soft as a breeze and punches you in the heart like LaMotta on meth. The everyday becomes numinously stunning under Schrader’s soporific direction; the mundane is exalted; an indefinable mysticism hums through every scene; every performance is pregnant with the preternatural. Schrader lays his transcendental groundwork so well that when the movie makes a late lurch into magical realism it doesn’t jar, it just feels right; no, it just feels perfect. In First Reformed, terrible, terrible feelings are going on behind ordinary people’s faces; terrible, terrible feelings Schrader’s camera miraculously, tenderly, delicately captures like snow settling on an outstretched tongue. So, no, slow cinema doesn’t have to be boring cinema; only bad cinema is boring cinema. And First Reformed is good cinema. First Reformed is great cinema. First Reformed is Paul Schrader taking back the crown. Turns out everyone else was just keeping it warm.

#first reformed #movies #drama #transcendental cinema #paul schrader #ethan hawke #2018 #the 2010s #favourite movie of 2018 #nic cage sequin cushions #united states #cedric the entertainer #amanda seyfried #cedric kyles #philip ettinger #michael gaston

[fromtheringapron]

ECW CyberSlam 1996

Date: February 17, 1996

Location: ECW Arena in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. 

Attendance: 1,300.

Commentary: Joey Styles.

Results:

1. The Bad Crew (Dog and Rose) and Judge Dredd defeated The Dirt Bike Kid, Dino Sendoff, and Don E. Allen.

2. Spiros Greco defeated El Puerto Riqueno. 

3. Taz (with Bill Alfonso) defeated Joel Hartgood.

4. Buh Buh Ray Dudley (with Big Dick Dudley, Dances with Dudley, and Sign Guy Dudley) defeated Mr. Hughes.

5. The Bruise Brothers (Don and Ron) defeated The Headhunters (Headhunter A and Headhunter B).

6. J.T. Smith defeated Axl Rotten. 

7. Dog Collar Match: Francine and The Pitbulls (Pitbull #1 and Pitbull #2) defeated Stevie Richards and The Eliminators (Saturn and Kronus). 

8. ECW World Television Championship Match: 2 Cold Scorpio (champion) fought Sabu to a time limit draw. 

9. Shane Douglas defeated Cactus Jack.

10. ECW World Heavyweight Championship Match: Raven (champion) (with Kimona Wanalaya, Stevie Richards, and The Blue Meanie) defeated The Sandman.  

Analysis

The 1996 edition of CyberSlam is all over the place in terms of quality so, as a result, my feelings on it are all over the place as well. There’s no doubt ECW is hitting its stride at this point. They’ve firmly established themselves as the alternative to the then PG WWF and WCW, and taking as many shots at both whenever the opportunity arises. They’ve also solidified a devoted, passionate fanbase. I don’t think the ECW crowds have aged particularly well, mind you. For every moment when their participation helps the show, there’s a bunch of other moments when they’re kinda obnoxious and give off a certain brand of testosterone-fueled white male rage that later became one of the worst byproducts of the WWF’s Attitude Era.

The first hour of the show is mostly unwatchable garbage. In a way, you can see in the first hour the chaotic, car-crash booking that the Attitude Era would later make mainstream, with its short matches and constant interruptions. I really do appreciate ECW’s complete aversion to the structure that’d grown stale in both the WWF and WCW. The only problem, however, is that it’s not well-done for what it’s trying to achieve. It’s just a mess, and not in a fun way. There is some interest in watching Taz in the early stages of his push, but you could fast-forward through most of the hour and be fine. And I don’t recommend the fast-forward button often.  

So it’s funny that for as dreadful as it can be, the first hour also features the show’s best and most memorable moment: the surprise debut of Brian Pillman. Few wrestlers have seemed as legitimately unhinged and dangerous as Pillman. His promo here is filled with all the usual Bischoff-bashing that everyone in ECW did at some point, but there’s more believability when he does it. When he threatens the audience that he’ll yank out his dick and piss in the ring, I totally believe it. I am wholly convinced that is something Pillman would do in real life (and if some shoot interviews are to be believed, he totally did). The whole bit with him attacking the fan, who is obviously a plant, is at once a bit too over-the-top but, again. It wouldn’t surprise me if the real Pillman got in trouble for the same thing. This is also one of those moments where the ECW crowd helps more than it hinders, because you can tell they’re completely buying into it too.

The show finds its groove in the second hour. The 2 Cold Scorpio/Sabu match is considered an ECW classic. At the risk of sounding incredibly weird, something about the match reminds me of when I’d hold matches with my wrestling figures as a kid, in which I’d have the figures pull out all these ridiculous maneuvers without any consideration of building a story. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing because much like those matches I’d hold as a kid, it’s a lot of fun, even if the time limit draw is kinda deflating. We’re also given a glimpse at Cactus Jack, whose anti-hardcore heel persona remains a high point for ECW. Foley, at his peak, is unrivaled when it comes to character work. He shows up here for his match with Shane Douglas wearing a cheap suit, but it’s amazing how he can wring out pathos from the most gimmicky of ideas. It’s a skill that comes in handy when he jumps skip to the WWF a month later to portray his most famous persona, Mankind.  

So, yes, it’s hard to sum up my overall feelings on a show this erratic, but that’s pretty much ECW in a nutshell. The promotion had to make do with what they had which could result in a product that ran the gamut from piss poor to fun and, at times, brilliant. Fortunately, in their peak years, they hit the latter quite often.

My Random Notes 

A man can be seen in the front row wearing a Confederate flag shirt. Wonder if he regrets that now. Probably not.

The Dirt Bike Kid totally sounds like a gimmick the WWF would’ve done around the same time period.

Tons of WCW and WWF bashing here, which is expected. But I can’t help but notice the irony in how many ECW guys later jumped ship to those promotions anyway, mainly because Paul Heyman most likely paid them like shit.

There is some red substance on the floor at some point and I’m not sure if it’s from JT Smith throwing a pizza or not but, either way, it bothers me.

One little detail I love is the ECW fans bringing their own props to the show for the wrestlers to use. Huge fan of that kind of audience participation.

I dig the spot where JT Smith plays possum by making it look as if he botched a move off the top-rope. Totally playing into the ECW crowd’s typical “You fucked up” chants and turning them on its head.

The opener may feature some of the most obscure wrestlers that I’ve ever covered on this blog. Any Dino Sendoff fans willing to give me more details on his storied career?

I’ve been trying to determine who the planted fan in the Pillman segment looks like and the closest I can think of at the moment is either Disney’s Pepper Ann or Boomer from the Burger King Kid’s Club, neither whom aren’t even that close in resemblance.

Raven and The Sandman botch a move so badly toward the end of their match that I literally laughed out loud. I guess even in its prime, there were moments where ECW could still feel like your garden variety shit indy.

#ecw #mick foley #brian pillman