So sorry for being inactive 😓 in the mean time...please check out these amazing writers 🥹
@bat1nsignia : I love love love this woman! She is so sweet and has so many wonderful works! Don't know where to start? Here are some of my favorites from her!!
mr and mrs wayne - Bruce Wayne
matching sets - Bruce Wayne
comfort - Dick Grayson
@brinawing : "your so vain" is literally so so cute and she is so nice! So glad she came back 🥹 as far as I know she has yet to finish uploading the rest of her works but her is her ongoing series!!
"you're so vain" series masterlist - Dick Grayson
@sugarbunnyluv : I love her fics so much! They are mainly fluff and I love how she writes reader. Her works are definitely more shy and anxious reader (me low-key)
"best friend" Dick Grayson - Dick Grayson
night-time accidents - Gojo Satoru
subby-boyfriend choso - Choso Kamo + Yuki
@srenique : genuinely I love how she is never afraid to stand up for herself and others. Her writing is amazing please check her out!!
if the shoe ever fits - Dick Grayson
Who said– - Dick Grayson
that kind of man - Bruce Wayne
@scissorhvnds : genuinely such a beautiful writer! I still need to read "scuff marks" lol. I feel bad for not saying much but it's 1:30 AM. Please check her out!
sloppy mornings - Bruce Wayne
fwb-Dick Grayson - Dick Grayson
hard to impress - Dick Grayson
Please check out all these amazing writers!! Again sorry for not posting, I have been busy and have not been able to access my computer (doing this on my phone was not fun) stay safe!!
Hii!! I just saw that you added my Jason Todd headcanon to your May fic recs and I just wanted to say thank you!! Made my day I’m so glad you liked it!!
ahh yes i did !! im so glad i could do that for you, you definitely deserved it !! your fic was so cute ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა
I'm guessing this isn't considered a request since i'm not asking for nothing specific (i don't have creativity for that lol) ) but just casually want to let you know that whenever you feel inspired to write more autistic reader scenarios with carlos, we as your followers will support you on it🙌
ahh thank you angel !! i definitely will keep this in mind ໒꒰ིྀ˶꜆´˘`꜀˶꒱ིྀა i don't feel like writing for carlos very often but the next time i play re3 i will remember this !!
── ⟡ ʙᴜɴɴɪᴇ : may recs are here !! sorry it's so late, i'll try to be a little more active but juggling hobbies is a little difficult </3 as ever, if any writers dont want to be tagged in these lmk and i hope you all enjoy !! happy reading ໒꒰ྀི ˶> ˕ <˶꒱ྀི১ reblog account is @bunniigrlism
── ⟡ ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛsᴜ ᴋᴀɪsᴇɴ :
no tears left to cry - @gyarujo
sukuna catches you watching porn - @neossence
masseuse suguru geto takes his job of helping you relax very seriously - @yailuxe
gazing at gojo & his lifted shirt results in him dry humping you - @aliienangel
── ⟡ ᴅᴄ ᴄᴏᴍɪᴄs :
living with jason todd - @solisstars
jason & the hands he likes to worship! - @bloomcissa
first time with jason todd - @fancy-possum
tits, thighs or ass but it's the batfam - @honeysucklewatr
dick grayson who fucks like a pornstar - @/honeysucklewatr
the boy is mine : jason todd - @arfemiz
nonchalant : bruce wayne - @poutymouse
tastes like coca cola : jason todd - @solarisd
assessing if the dc boys' have a sleeper build - @srenique
who's that chick : bruce wayne + clark kent - @coquettefrancaise
smoker!jason and his ashtrays - @lucidcrashing
bf!jason todd who's got a subtle obsession with the top half of your body - @mintstar
home : clark kent - @honeyy-darling
── ⟡ ᴍɪsᴄᴇʟʟᴀɴᴇᴏᴜs :
leon taught you how to kiss - @luveline
leon has steady nerves [...] which is maybe why it’s so easy to take care of you - @/luveline
all the types of kisses leon gives you - @flirtingfawn
your husband gets clingy and sappy during sex - @rkkuna
── ⟡ rulesノdni list here ( sometimes i miss a few things when checking accounts <3 )
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ lets you sit on his lap as he plays guitar
ʚɞ fem! reader fluff no specified age gap but written with a vague one in mind set in jackson faint-of-heart reader sweet reader canon-adjacent ( though no mention of other characters ) ᴡᴄ 𝟷.𝟸ᴋ
jackson gets so cold this time of year, thick blankets of snow covering the run-down city you've come to know as home these past couple months. despite the temperature, nothing will stop joel miller from getting out on his back porch and plucking away at his guitar strings, all bundled up in his thick coats and woolly scarves you've knitted him — a hobby you picked up not too long ago to fill the time when joel is out on patrol — a flask of hot, pitch-black coffee sitting next to his wooden rocking chair. a chair he whittled himself of course.
the fresh air always helps your boyfriend clear his mind, it's even better when it's got that cool nip to it, even if it makes him cough a little — damn those cancer sticks he used to smoke on the job in between laying bricks and climbing the scaffolding. god that job fucked up his back. nothing you can't help with, those magic hands of yours always have him groaning our in relief when you work out a tight knot in his lower back. after days of trekking through the snowy wilderness, clearing out the small hoards of clickers that wander outside the city, nothing calms joel out more than pulling out his guitar and taking a trip back to when things were better, calmer, safer…
he spends some time tuning the guitar, plucking the strings, making sure it sounds right to his trained ears. some of the neighbourhood kids must've been messing around on it while he was gone, you can never quite say no to their big eyes and whiny voices when they come round to eat your baking and to mess with joel's things. it doesn't take long for the music to come back to him, soft strums of notes that form one of joel's favourite old country songs that he murmurs the lyrics to under his breath. clearly that caught your attention, drawing you out from the house behind him, popping your head out the door to listen.
"i know you're there,"
he mumbles gruffly, a smile tugging at his lips that's barely hidden by his moustache. you giggle, pulling on your fur-lined boots before making your way out to him, bundled up all nice and warm just like he is.
"wasn't tryna hide… room for one more?"
you make your way around the chair that softly rocks, watching as joel puts his instrument down for just a moment, widening his arms and spreading his legs to make room for you to wiggle yourself down into. you unfold a blanket you brought from inside over the two of you for that extra warmth. once you're nice and snug against him, he pulls his guitar back onto his — well your — lap, calloused fingers thrumming the strings, easily making his way back into the song he was playing before the pleasant interruption.
"i like this one,"
you whisper softly, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. you hardly notice the cold with the warmth of your boyfriends embrace, his arms wrapped around you so tight, trapping the heat between the two of you. with your eyes closed, the only thing that reminds you that you that you're even outside is that subtle, cool breeze that makes you sniffle, which you remedy with tucking your face into his neck, your arms snaking around his shoulders.
"i know… 't's a good lullaby…"
the rumble of his chest beneath you and that soft southern twang soothe all the anxieties and worries from the past few days of having joel out the house. you wish you could go on patrol, make sure your boyfriend is okay and to be there with him in any dire situations, but the faintness of your heart just can't take it. joel has seen you under pressure, seen you in near death situations — there's no need for you to be out there when him and the other residents of jackson can take care of you and others like you. his princess doesn't need to worry about a thing.
the lyrics of the song always make you imagine what joel's life could have been before the outbreak. they're so painfully southern, you can just picture him hauling hay and milking the cows even if he lived a much more domestic life. he's told you how he's always liked the idea of farm life. something disconnected and free, though the reality is much less glamorous, that always put him off. caring for the horses fills that farm life dream well enough for his liking nowadays.
the song comes to a finish not soon after it started. joel's forgotten most of the lyrics by now, mumbling half of them but that's enough to get you by. you've really been scouring for that record, maybe only a trip down south will help that. unfortunately that's not too easy these days, far too unnecessary.
"any requests?"
joel hums from beneath, bouncing his thigh just a little to get your attention. you let out a sleepy sound, contemplating before you land on a decision. it's pretty easy, given it's your favourite.
"your song,"
that pulls a rough chuckle from the man behind you. ah, he really should have expected that. maybe he shouldn't have showed you those songs he used to make in his free time, creating images of the vast landscapes of the great lone star state through his words. he never thought they were very good, yet you seem to think otherwise.
"fine..,"
your boyfriend sighs, scratching his full, salt-and-pepper beard before his hand returns to the neck of his instrument, the first note already bringing a smile to your face, warmth spreading through you from the pure anticipation of what's to come.
he only gets halfway through the song before he notices you starting to shiver. maybe his charm is wearing off, or maybe the winds have picked up and a whole new layer of snow is getting ready to settle. with a pat to your thigh, he helps you up off his lap, unable to his the fond look on his face when you start rubbing your eyes. is his singing really that boring to you?
"c'mon, it's gettin' chilly… don't want your toes freezing off, now do we?"
he hums, picking up the half-filled thermos on his way to the door, holding it open to let you inside — not without a gentle tap to your ass as you walk through.
"how's about a bath? need to conserve water, might as well share it…"
"you're not slick, old man,"
you giggle in response, already making your way upstairs to the bathroom to run the hot bath that'll chase that chill right out of you both.
afternoons like this are essential to living in the post apocalypse. times when you can forget all the loss and hardship from the world you live in, where you can pretend everything is normal and safe, that beyond the walls of jackson is just more safety and not monsters — whether affected by the cordyceps or by the need to survive. tonight you'll go to the bar, chat with your friends, and make the most of the little home you've managed to make for yourselves as the future may not grace you with as much kindness as the present.
✐ ugh i've been craving the last of us so bad but i don't have my sisters ps4 </3 tempted to buy a cheap one off ebay just to play it again
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ lets you sit on his lap as he plays guitar
ʚɞ fem! reader fluff no specified age gap but written with a vague one in mind set in jackson faint-of-heart reader sweet reader canon-adjacent ( though no mention of other characters ) ᴡᴄ 𝟷.𝟸ᴋ
jackson gets so cold this time of year, thick blankets of snow covering the run-down city you've come to know as home these past couple months. despite the temperature, nothing will stop joel miller from getting out on his back porch and plucking away at his guitar strings, all bundled up in his thick coats and woolly scarves you've knitted him — a hobby you picked up not too long ago to fill the time when joel is out on patrol — a flask of hot, pitch-black coffee sitting next to his wooden rocking chair. a chair he whittled himself of course.
the fresh air always helps your boyfriend clear his mind, it's even better when it's got that cool nip to it, even if it makes him cough a little — damn those cancer sticks he used to smoke on the job in between laying bricks and climbing the scaffolding. god that job fucked up his back. nothing you can't help with, those magic hands of yours always have him groaning our in relief when you work out a tight knot in his lower back. after days of trekking through the snowy wilderness, clearing out the small hoards of clickers that wander outside the city, nothing calms joel out more than pulling out his guitar and taking a trip back to when things were better, calmer, safer…
he spends some time tuning the guitar, plucking the strings, making sure it sounds right to his trained ears. some of the neighbourhood kids must've been messing around on it while he was gone, you can never quite say no to their big eyes and whiny voices when they come round to eat your baking and to mess with joel's things. it doesn't take long for the music to come back to him, soft strums of notes that form one of joel's favourite old country songs that he murmurs the lyrics to under his breath. clearly that caught your attention, drawing you out from the house behind him, popping your head out the door to listen.
"i know you're there,"
he mumbles gruffly, a smile tugging at his lips that's barely hidden by his moustache. you giggle, pulling on your fur-lined boots before making your way out to him, bundled up all nice and warm just like he is.
"wasn't tryna hide… room for one more?"
you make your way around the chair that softly rocks, watching as joel puts his instrument down for just a moment, widening his arms and spreading his legs to make room for you to wiggle yourself down into. you unfold a blanket you brought from inside over the two of you for that extra warmth. once you're nice and snug against him, he pulls his guitar back onto his — well your — lap, calloused fingers thrumming the strings, easily making his way back into the song he was playing before the pleasant interruption.
"i like this one,"
you whisper softly, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. you hardly notice the cold with the warmth of your boyfriends embrace, his arms wrapped around you so tight, trapping the heat between the two of you. with your eyes closed, the only thing that reminds you that you that you're even outside is that subtle, cool breeze that makes you sniffle, which you remedy with tucking your face into his neck, your arms snaking around his shoulders.
"i know… 't's a good lullaby…"
the rumble of his chest beneath you and that soft southern twang soothe all the anxieties and worries from the past few days of having joel out the house. you wish you could go on patrol, make sure your boyfriend is okay and to be there with him in any dire situations, but the faintness of your heart just can't take it. joel has seen you under pressure, seen you in near death situations — there's no need for you to be out there when him and the other residents of jackson can take care of you and others like you. his princess doesn't need to worry about a thing.
the lyrics of the song always make you imagine what joel's life could have been before the outbreak. they're so painfully southern, you can just picture him hauling hay and milking the cows even if he lived a much more domestic life. he's told you how he's always liked the idea of farm life. something disconnected and free, though the reality is much less glamorous, that always put him off. caring for the horses fills that farm life dream well enough for his liking nowadays.
the song comes to a finish not soon after it started. joel's forgotten most of the lyrics by now, mumbling half of them but that's enough to get you by. you've really been scouring for that record, maybe only a trip down south will help that. unfortunately that's not too easy these days, far too unnecessary.
"any requests?"
joel hums from beneath, bouncing his thigh just a little to get your attention. you let out a sleepy sound, contemplating before you land on a decision. it's pretty easy, given it's your favourite.
"your song,"
that pulls a rough chuckle from the man behind you. ah, he really should have expected that. maybe he shouldn't have showed you those songs he used to make in his free time, creating images of the vast landscapes of the great lone star state through his words. he never thought they were very good, yet you seem to think otherwise.
"fine..,"
your boyfriend sighs, scratching his full, salt-and-pepper beard before his hand returns to the neck of his instrument, the first note already bringing a smile to your face, warmth spreading through you from the pure anticipation of what's to come.
he only gets halfway through the song before he notices you starting to shiver. maybe his charm is wearing off, or maybe the winds have picked up and a whole new layer of snow is getting ready to settle. with a pat to your thigh, he helps you up off his lap, unable to his the fond look on his face when you start rubbing your eyes. is his singing really that boring to you?
"c'mon, it's gettin' chilly… don't want your toes freezing off, now do we?"
he hums, picking up the half-filled thermos on his way to the door, holding it open to let you inside — not without a gentle tap to your ass as you walk through.
"how's about a bath? need to conserve water, might as well share it…"
"you're not slick, old man,"
you giggle in response, already making your way upstairs to the bathroom to run the hot bath that'll chase that chill right out of you both.
afternoons like this are essential to living in the post apocalypse. times when you can forget all the loss and hardship from the world you live in, where you can pretend everything is normal and safe, that beyond the walls of jackson is just more safety and not monsters — whether affected by the cordyceps or by the need to survive. tonight you'll go to the bar, chat with your friends, and make the most of the little home you've managed to make for yourselves as the future may not grace you with as much kindness as the present.
✐ ugh i've been craving the last of us so bad but i don't have my sisters ps4 </3 tempted to buy a cheap one off ebay just to play it again
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ lets you sit on his lap as he plays guitar
ʚɞ fem! reader fluff no specified age gap but written with a vague one in mind set in jackson faint-of-heart reader sweet reader canon-adjacent ( though no mention of other characters ) ᴡᴄ 𝟷.𝟸ᴋ
jackson gets so cold this time of year, thick blankets of snow covering the run-down city you've come to know as home these past couple months. despite the temperature, nothing will stop joel miller from getting out on his back porch and plucking away at his guitar strings, all bundled up in his thick coats and woolly scarves you've knitted him — a hobby you picked up not too long ago to fill the time when joel is out on patrol — a flask of hot, pitch-black coffee sitting next to his wooden rocking chair. a chair he whittled himself of course.
the fresh air always helps your boyfriend clear his mind, it's even better when it's got that cool nip to it, even if it makes him cough a little — damn those cancer sticks he used to smoke on the job in between laying bricks and climbing the scaffolding. god that job fucked up his back. nothing you can't help with, those magic hands of yours always have him groaning our in relief when you work out a tight knot in his lower back. after days of trekking through the snowy wilderness, clearing out the small hoards of clickers that wander outside the city, nothing calms joel out more than pulling out his guitar and taking a trip back to when things were better, calmer, safer…
he spends some time tuning the guitar, plucking the strings, making sure it sounds right to his trained ears. some of the neighbourhood kids must've been messing around on it while he was gone, you can never quite say no to their big eyes and whiny voices when they come round to eat your baking and to mess with joel's things. it doesn't take long for the music to come back to him, soft strums of notes that form one of joel's favourite old country songs that he murmurs the lyrics to under his breath. clearly that caught your attention, drawing you out from the house behind him, popping your head out the door to listen.
"i know you're there,"
he mumbles gruffly, a smile tugging at his lips that's barely hidden by his moustache. you giggle, pulling on your fur-lined boots before making your way out to him, bundled up all nice and warm just like he is.
"wasn't tryna hide… room for one more?"
you make your way around the chair that softly rocks, watching as joel puts his instrument down for just a moment, widening his arms and spreading his legs to make room for you to wiggle yourself down into. you unfold a blanket you brought from inside over the two of you for that extra warmth. once you're nice and snug against him, he pulls his guitar back onto his — well your — lap, calloused fingers thrumming the strings, easily making his way back into the song he was playing before the pleasant interruption.
"i like this one,"
you whisper softly, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. you hardly notice the cold with the warmth of your boyfriends embrace, his arms wrapped around you so tight, trapping the heat between the two of you. with your eyes closed, the only thing that reminds you that you that you're even outside is that subtle, cool breeze that makes you sniffle, which you remedy with tucking your face into his neck, your arms snaking around his shoulders.
"i know… 't's a good lullaby…"
the rumble of his chest beneath you and that soft southern twang soothe all the anxieties and worries from the past few days of having joel out the house. you wish you could go on patrol, make sure your boyfriend is okay and to be there with him in any dire situations, but the faintness of your heart just can't take it. joel has seen you under pressure, seen you in near death situations — there's no need for you to be out there when him and the other residents of jackson can take care of you and others like you. his princess doesn't need to worry about a thing.
the lyrics of the song always make you imagine what joel's life could have been before the outbreak. they're so painfully southern, you can just picture him hauling hay and milking the cows even if he lived a much more domestic life. he's told you how he's always liked the idea of farm life. something disconnected and free, though the reality is much less glamorous, that always put him off. caring for the horses fills that farm life dream well enough for his liking nowadays.
the song comes to a finish not soon after it started. joel's forgotten most of the lyrics by now, mumbling half of them but that's enough to get you by. you've really been scouring for that record, maybe only a trip down south will help that. unfortunately that's not too easy these days, far too unnecessary.
"any requests?"
joel hums from beneath, bouncing his thigh just a little to get your attention. you let out a sleepy sound, contemplating before you land on a decision. it's pretty easy, given it's your favourite.
"your song,"
that pulls a rough chuckle from the man behind you. ah, he really should have expected that. maybe he shouldn't have showed you those songs he used to make in his free time, creating images of the vast landscapes of the great lone star state through his words. he never thought they were very good, yet you seem to think otherwise.
"fine..,"
your boyfriend sighs, scratching his full, salt-and-pepper beard before his hand returns to the neck of his instrument, the first note already bringing a smile to your face, warmth spreading through you from the pure anticipation of what's to come.
he only gets halfway through the song before he notices you starting to shiver. maybe his charm is wearing off, or maybe the winds have picked up and a whole new layer of snow is getting ready to settle. with a pat to your thigh, he helps you up off his lap, unable to his the fond look on his face when you start rubbing your eyes. is his singing really that boring to you?
"c'mon, it's gettin' chilly… don't want your toes freezing off, now do we?"
he hums, picking up the half-filled thermos on his way to the door, holding it open to let you inside — not without a gentle tap to your ass as you walk through.
"how's about a bath? need to conserve water, might as well share it…"
"you're not slick, old man,"
you giggle in response, already making your way upstairs to the bathroom to run the hot bath that'll chase that chill right out of you both.
afternoons like this are essential to living in the post apocalypse. times when you can forget all the loss and hardship from the world you live in, where you can pretend everything is normal and safe, that beyond the walls of jackson is just more safety and not monsters — whether affected by the cordyceps or by the need to survive. tonight you'll go to the bar, chat with your friends, and make the most of the little home you've managed to make for yourselves as the future may not grace you with as much kindness as the present.
✐ ugh i've been craving the last of us so bad but i don't have my sisters ps4 </3 tempted to buy a cheap one off ebay just to play it again
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ lets you sit on his lap as he plays guitar
ʚɞ fem! reader fluff no specified age gap but written with a vague one in mind set in jackson faint-of-heart reader sweet reader canon-adjacent ( though no mention of other characters ) ᴡᴄ 𝟷.𝟸ᴋ
jackson gets so cold this time of year, thick blankets of snow covering the run-down city you've come to know as home these past couple months. despite the temperature, nothing will stop joel miller from getting out on his back porch and plucking away at his guitar strings, all bundled up in his thick coats and woolly scarves you've knitted him — a hobby you picked up not too long ago to fill the time when joel is out on patrol — a flask of hot, pitch-black coffee sitting next to his wooden rocking chair. a chair he whittled himself of course.
the fresh air always helps your boyfriend clear his mind, it's even better when it's got that cool nip to it, even if it makes him cough a little — damn those cancer sticks he used to smoke on the job in between laying bricks and climbing the scaffolding. god that job fucked up his back. nothing you can't help with, those magic hands of yours always have him groaning our in relief when you work out a tight knot in his lower back. after days of trekking through the snowy wilderness, clearing out the small hoards of clickers that wander outside the city, nothing calms joel out more than pulling out his guitar and taking a trip back to when things were better, calmer, safer…
he spends some time tuning the guitar, plucking the strings, making sure it sounds right to his trained ears. some of the neighbourhood kids must've been messing around on it while he was gone, you can never quite say no to their big eyes and whiny voices when they come round to eat your baking and to mess with joel's things. it doesn't take long for the music to come back to him, soft strums of notes that form one of joel's favourite old country songs that he murmurs the lyrics to under his breath. clearly that caught your attention, drawing you out from the house behind him, popping your head out the door to listen.
"i know you're there,"
he mumbles gruffly, a smile tugging at his lips that's barely hidden by his moustache. you giggle, pulling on your fur-lined boots before making your way out to him, bundled up all nice and warm just like he is.
"wasn't tryna hide… room for one more?"
you make your way around the chair that softly rocks, watching as joel puts his instrument down for just a moment, widening his arms and spreading his legs to make room for you to wiggle yourself down into. you unfold a blanket you brought from inside over the two of you for that extra warmth. once you're nice and snug against him, he pulls his guitar back onto his — well your — lap, calloused fingers thrumming the strings, easily making his way back into the song he was playing before the pleasant interruption.
"i like this one,"
you whisper softly, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. you hardly notice the cold with the warmth of your boyfriends embrace, his arms wrapped around you so tight, trapping the heat between the two of you. with your eyes closed, the only thing that reminds you that you that you're even outside is that subtle, cool breeze that makes you sniffle, which you remedy with tucking your face into his neck, your arms snaking around his shoulders.
"i know… 't's a good lullaby…"
the rumble of his chest beneath you and that soft southern twang soothe all the anxieties and worries from the past few days of having joel out the house. you wish you could go on patrol, make sure your boyfriend is okay and to be there with him in any dire situations, but the faintness of your heart just can't take it. joel has seen you under pressure, seen you in near death situations — there's no need for you to be out there when him and the other residents of jackson can take care of you and others like you. his princess doesn't need to worry about a thing.
the lyrics of the song always make you imagine what joel's life could have been before the outbreak. they're so painfully southern, you can just picture him hauling hay and milking the cows even if he lived a much more domestic life. he's told you how he's always liked the idea of farm life. something disconnected and free, though the reality is much less glamorous, that always put him off. caring for the horses fills that farm life dream well enough for his liking nowadays.
the song comes to a finish not soon after it started. joel's forgotten most of the lyrics by now, mumbling half of them but that's enough to get you by. you've really been scouring for that record, maybe only a trip down south will help that. unfortunately that's not too easy these days, far too unnecessary.
"any requests?"
joel hums from beneath, bouncing his thigh just a little to get your attention. you let out a sleepy sound, contemplating before you land on a decision. it's pretty easy, given it's your favourite.
"your song,"
that pulls a rough chuckle from the man behind you. ah, he really should have expected that. maybe he shouldn't have showed you those songs he used to make in his free time, creating images of the vast landscapes of the great lone star state through his words. he never thought they were very good, yet you seem to think otherwise.
"fine..,"
your boyfriend sighs, scratching his full, salt-and-pepper beard before his hand returns to the neck of his instrument, the first note already bringing a smile to your face, warmth spreading through you from the pure anticipation of what's to come.
he only gets halfway through the song before he notices you starting to shiver. maybe his charm is wearing off, or maybe the winds have picked up and a whole new layer of snow is getting ready to settle. with a pat to your thigh, he helps you up off his lap, unable to his the fond look on his face when you start rubbing your eyes. is his singing really that boring to you?
"c'mon, it's gettin' chilly… don't want your toes freezing off, now do we?"
he hums, picking up the half-filled thermos on his way to the door, holding it open to let you inside — not without a gentle tap to your ass as you walk through.
"how's about a bath? need to conserve water, might as well share it…"
"you're not slick, old man,"
you giggle in response, already making your way upstairs to the bathroom to run the hot bath that'll chase that chill right out of you both.
afternoons like this are essential to living in the post apocalypse. times when you can forget all the loss and hardship from the world you live in, where you can pretend everything is normal and safe, that beyond the walls of jackson is just more safety and not monsters — whether affected by the cordyceps or by the need to survive. tonight you'll go to the bar, chat with your friends, and make the most of the little home you've managed to make for yourselves as the future may not grace you with as much kindness as the present.
✐ ugh i've been craving the last of us so bad but i don't have my sisters ps4 </3 tempted to buy a cheap one off ebay just to play it again
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ lets you sit on his lap as he plays guitar
ʚɞ fem! reader fluff no specified age gap but written with a vague one in mind set in jackson faint-of-heart reader sweet reader canon-adjacent ( though no mention of other characters ) ᴡᴄ 𝟷.𝟸ᴋ
jackson gets so cold this time of year, thick blankets of snow covering the run-down city you've come to know as home these past couple months. despite the temperature, nothing will stop joel miller from getting out on his back porch and plucking away at his guitar strings, all bundled up in his thick coats and woolly scarves you've knitted him — a hobby you picked up not too long ago to fill the time when joel is out on patrol — a flask of hot, pitch-black coffee sitting next to his wooden rocking chair. a chair he whittled himself of course.
the fresh air always helps your boyfriend clear his mind, it's even better when it's got that cool nip to it, even if it makes him cough a little — damn those cancer sticks he used to smoke on the job in between laying bricks and climbing the scaffolding. god that job fucked up his back. nothing you can't help with, those magic hands of yours always have him groaning our in relief when you work out a tight knot in his lower back. after days of trekking through the snowy wilderness, clearing out the small hoards of clickers that wander outside the city, nothing calms joel out more than pulling out his guitar and taking a trip back to when things were better, calmer, safer…
he spends some time tuning the guitar, plucking the strings, making sure it sounds right to his trained ears. some of the neighbourhood kids must've been messing around on it while he was gone, you can never quite say no to their big eyes and whiny voices when they come round to eat your baking and to mess with joel's things. it doesn't take long for the music to come back to him, soft strums of notes that form one of joel's favourite old country songs that he murmurs the lyrics to under his breath. clearly that caught your attention, drawing you out from the house behind him, popping your head out the door to listen.
"i know you're there,"
he mumbles gruffly, a smile tugging at his lips that's barely hidden by his moustache. you giggle, pulling on your fur-lined boots before making your way out to him, bundled up all nice and warm just like he is.
"wasn't tryna hide… room for one more?"
you make your way around the chair that softly rocks, watching as joel puts his instrument down for just a moment, widening his arms and spreading his legs to make room for you to wiggle yourself down into. you unfold a blanket you brought from inside over the two of you for that extra warmth. once you're nice and snug against him, he pulls his guitar back onto his — well your — lap, calloused fingers thrumming the strings, easily making his way back into the song he was playing before the pleasant interruption.
"i like this one,"
you whisper softly, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. you hardly notice the cold with the warmth of your boyfriends embrace, his arms wrapped around you so tight, trapping the heat between the two of you. with your eyes closed, the only thing that reminds you that you that you're even outside is that subtle, cool breeze that makes you sniffle, which you remedy with tucking your face into his neck, your arms snaking around his shoulders.
"i know… 't's a good lullaby…"
the rumble of his chest beneath you and that soft southern twang soothe all the anxieties and worries from the past few days of having joel out the house. you wish you could go on patrol, make sure your boyfriend is okay and to be there with him in any dire situations, but the faintness of your heart just can't take it. joel has seen you under pressure, seen you in near death situations — there's no need for you to be out there when him and the other residents of jackson can take care of you and others like you. his princess doesn't need to worry about a thing.
the lyrics of the song always make you imagine what joel's life could have been before the outbreak. they're so painfully southern, you can just picture him hauling hay and milking the cows even if he lived a much more domestic life. he's told you how he's always liked the idea of farm life. something disconnected and free, though the reality is much less glamorous, that always put him off. caring for the horses fills that farm life dream well enough for his liking nowadays.
the song comes to a finish not soon after it started. joel's forgotten most of the lyrics by now, mumbling half of them but that's enough to get you by. you've really been scouring for that record, maybe only a trip down south will help that. unfortunately that's not too easy these days, far too unnecessary.
"any requests?"
joel hums from beneath, bouncing his thigh just a little to get your attention. you let out a sleepy sound, contemplating before you land on a decision. it's pretty easy, given it's your favourite.
"your song,"
that pulls a rough chuckle from the man behind you. ah, he really should have expected that. maybe he shouldn't have showed you those songs he used to make in his free time, creating images of the vast landscapes of the great lone star state through his words. he never thought they were very good, yet you seem to think otherwise.
"fine..,"
your boyfriend sighs, scratching his full, salt-and-pepper beard before his hand returns to the neck of his instrument, the first note already bringing a smile to your face, warmth spreading through you from the pure anticipation of what's to come.
he only gets halfway through the song before he notices you starting to shiver. maybe his charm is wearing off, or maybe the winds have picked up and a whole new layer of snow is getting ready to settle. with a pat to your thigh, he helps you up off his lap, unable to his the fond look on his face when you start rubbing your eyes. is his singing really that boring to you?
"c'mon, it's gettin' chilly… don't want your toes freezing off, now do we?"
he hums, picking up the half-filled thermos on his way to the door, holding it open to let you inside — not without a gentle tap to your ass as you walk through.
"how's about a bath? need to conserve water, might as well share it…"
"you're not slick, old man,"
you giggle in response, already making your way upstairs to the bathroom to run the hot bath that'll chase that chill right out of you both.
afternoons like this are essential to living in the post apocalypse. times when you can forget all the loss and hardship from the world you live in, where you can pretend everything is normal and safe, that beyond the walls of jackson is just more safety and not monsters — whether affected by the cordyceps or by the need to survive. tonight you'll go to the bar, chat with your friends, and make the most of the little home you've managed to make for yourselves as the future may not grace you with as much kindness as the present.
✐ ugh i've been craving the last of us so bad but i don't have my sisters ps4 </3 tempted to buy a cheap one off ebay just to play it again
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ lets you sit on his lap as he plays guitar
ʚɞ fem! reader fluff no specified age gap but written with a vague one in mind set in jackson faint-of-heart reader sweet reader canon-adjacent ( though no mention of other characters ) ᴡᴄ 𝟷.𝟸ᴋ
jackson gets so cold this time of year, thick blankets of snow covering the run-down city you've come to know as home these past couple months. despite the temperature, nothing will stop joel miller from getting out on his back porch and plucking away at his guitar strings, all bundled up in his thick coats and woolly scarves you've knitted him — a hobby you picked up not too long ago to fill the time when joel is out on patrol — a flask of hot, pitch-black coffee sitting next to his wooden rocking chair. a chair he whittled himself of course.
the fresh air always helps your boyfriend clear his mind, it's even better when it's got that cool nip to it, even if it makes him cough a little — damn those cancer sticks he used to smoke on the job in between laying bricks and climbing the scaffolding. god that job fucked up his back. nothing you can't help with, those magic hands of yours always have him groaning our in relief when you work out a tight knot in his lower back. after days of trekking through the snowy wilderness, clearing out the small hoards of clickers that wander outside the city, nothing calms joel out more than pulling out his guitar and taking a trip back to when things were better, calmer, safer…
he spends some time tuning the guitar, plucking the strings, making sure it sounds right to his trained ears. some of the neighbourhood kids must've been messing around on it while he was gone, you can never quite say no to their big eyes and whiny voices when they come round to eat your baking and to mess with joel's things. it doesn't take long for the music to come back to him, soft strums of notes that form one of joel's favourite old country songs that he murmurs the lyrics to under his breath. clearly that caught your attention, drawing you out from the house behind him, popping your head out the door to listen.
"i know you're there,"
he mumbles gruffly, a smile tugging at his lips that's barely hidden by his moustache. you giggle, pulling on your fur-lined boots before making your way out to him, bundled up all nice and warm just like he is.
"wasn't tryna hide… room for one more?"
you make your way around the chair that softly rocks, watching as joel puts his instrument down for just a moment, widening his arms and spreading his legs to make room for you to wiggle yourself down into. you unfold a blanket you brought from inside over the two of you for that extra warmth. once you're nice and snug against him, he pulls his guitar back onto his — well your — lap, calloused fingers thrumming the strings, easily making his way back into the song he was playing before the pleasant interruption.
"i like this one,"
you whisper softly, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. you hardly notice the cold with the warmth of your boyfriends embrace, his arms wrapped around you so tight, trapping the heat between the two of you. with your eyes closed, the only thing that reminds you that you that you're even outside is that subtle, cool breeze that makes you sniffle, which you remedy with tucking your face into his neck, your arms snaking around his shoulders.
"i know… 't's a good lullaby…"
the rumble of his chest beneath you and that soft southern twang soothe all the anxieties and worries from the past few days of having joel out the house. you wish you could go on patrol, make sure your boyfriend is okay and to be there with him in any dire situations, but the faintness of your heart just can't take it. joel has seen you under pressure, seen you in near death situations — there's no need for you to be out there when him and the other residents of jackson can take care of you and others like you. his princess doesn't need to worry about a thing.
the lyrics of the song always make you imagine what joel's life could have been before the outbreak. they're so painfully southern, you can just picture him hauling hay and milking the cows even if he lived a much more domestic life. he's told you how he's always liked the idea of farm life. something disconnected and free, though the reality is much less glamorous, that always put him off. caring for the horses fills that farm life dream well enough for his liking nowadays.
the song comes to a finish not soon after it started. joel's forgotten most of the lyrics by now, mumbling half of them but that's enough to get you by. you've really been scouring for that record, maybe only a trip down south will help that. unfortunately that's not too easy these days, far too unnecessary.
"any requests?"
joel hums from beneath, bouncing his thigh just a little to get your attention. you let out a sleepy sound, contemplating before you land on a decision. it's pretty easy, given it's your favourite.
"your song,"
that pulls a rough chuckle from the man behind you. ah, he really should have expected that. maybe he shouldn't have showed you those songs he used to make in his free time, creating images of the vast landscapes of the great lone star state through his words. he never thought they were very good, yet you seem to think otherwise.
"fine..,"
your boyfriend sighs, scratching his full, salt-and-pepper beard before his hand returns to the neck of his instrument, the first note already bringing a smile to your face, warmth spreading through you from the pure anticipation of what's to come.
he only gets halfway through the song before he notices you starting to shiver. maybe his charm is wearing off, or maybe the winds have picked up and a whole new layer of snow is getting ready to settle. with a pat to your thigh, he helps you up off his lap, unable to his the fond look on his face when you start rubbing your eyes. is his singing really that boring to you?
"c'mon, it's gettin' chilly… don't want your toes freezing off, now do we?"
he hums, picking up the half-filled thermos on his way to the door, holding it open to let you inside — not without a gentle tap to your ass as you walk through.
"how's about a bath? need to conserve water, might as well share it…"
"you're not slick, old man,"
you giggle in response, already making your way upstairs to the bathroom to run the hot bath that'll chase that chill right out of you both.
afternoons like this are essential to living in the post apocalypse. times when you can forget all the loss and hardship from the world you live in, where you can pretend everything is normal and safe, that beyond the walls of jackson is just more safety and not monsters — whether affected by the cordyceps or by the need to survive. tonight you'll go to the bar, chat with your friends, and make the most of the little home you've managed to make for yourselves as the future may not grace you with as much kindness as the present.
✐ ugh i've been craving the last of us so bad but i don't have my sisters ps4 </3 tempted to buy a cheap one off ebay just to play it again
Hiii I love your hybrid works a lot! Keep up the amazing writing!Ive never really requested works from other people so ignore this if it sounds rude,but if your willing to write more owner suguru+puppy satoru+ puppy reader,maybe some comfort fic about being in a scary situation?maybe puppy is left at home with out satoru?sorry if this annoying,thank you for your consideration!Hope you have a good night/day/evening!
hiii nonnie !! i actually take requests through a google form linked on my requests page but im going to save you the trouble and just say i won't be writing this request ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა IM SO SORRY !! i should probably specify on my requests page that i won't take requests for part 2's ( i had thought about already putting it on there but i wasn't sure until now... ) so it's TOTALLY not your fault, i'll update it once i've posted this ask !!
usually my ideas are pretty one-and-done, i like to move onto new ideas because i get bored if i stay too long with one ૮꒰ ˶> ༝ < ྀི˶꒱ა im so so sorry nonnie and this definitely isn't annoying, you were very polite !! i hope you have a lovely rest of your day too !! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა
