#( ; with tommy wilder ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daryltwdixon · 5 months ago

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Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Joel never meant to let you get under his skin, but you did—slowly, quietly, until you were all he could think about. When you go missing on patrol, the months of keeping his distance end in an instant. Finding you hurt, vulnerable, waiting for him— he finally stops fighting what was inevitable.

babes idk this has been plaguing me all damn day okay? angsty, grumpy, eventually fluffy Joel Miller. im all about the drama today I've been getting a lot of requests about Joel tending to reader on a patrol gone wrong / Jackson!Joel so here is a whole one shot dedicated to all of you ♥︎

When Joel Miller came back to Jackson after taking Ellie from that hospital, he was on edge. Always on edge. The bags under his eyes darkened by the day, deep-set proof of sleepless nights spent tangled in sweat-drenched sheets, jolting awake from nightmares that left him breathless and clawing at the past. So he worked. Took on more patrols, fixed fences, chopped wood—kept his hands busy, his mind busier. If he let up, even for a second, the memories crept in like rot in the walls. That way when his head hit the pillow at night, he was too exhausted for dreams.

Then spring came, and with it, something new. Something warm. Something bright.

You.

He didn’t know where the hell you came from at first. Just that Tommy had dragged you in, half-dead and shaking, after your group got torn apart by Infected out near the old hunting cabins. He heard about it once Tommy could stomach telling the story—another tragedy, more unknown lives lost—but you? You survived.

And now he hardly recognized you as that scared, bloody thing they found in the snow. You were—Jesus—you were everywhere. Helping in the garden, stacking supplies, chattering with the old folks who baked you fresh bread or cookies because they liked how sweet you were. It was annoying. Distracting. You were too...bright. Too alive. Too much of a reminder of something he shouldn’t want. He didn’t even want to know your name, but it found him anyway.

“She wants to start helping on patrols,” Tommy said casually, slicing into his steak one Sunday night over dinner. Maria nodded, considering.

“We could always put her with—”

No. It was all Joel could think. Not you, not out there in the wilderness again. There was so much shit out there, you’d faced enough. Couldn't you just stay here, safe?

Tommy narrowed his eyes. “No?” he echoed, a little amused, a little suspicious.

Joel clenched his jaw, shoving another bite of food in his mouth, chewing slow to buy himself time as he realized he must’ve said it out loud. His throat went dry as he forced himself to swallow.

Joel forced a grunt, waved a hand vaguely. “Just think she’s too young to be goin’ out there. Didn’t she just get here?”

“She’s older than Ellie,” Tommy pointed out, spearing a potato on his fork. “And Ellie’s out there right now, you know that.”

Joel’s fingers curled tight around his knife. Yeah, he knew. Ellie was out on her first real two-day patrol, and he’d spent the last twenty-four hours half-sick over it. His eyes flickered to her empty seat, and he sent up a silent prayer that she was still safe.

“Well,” Tommy continued, oblivious, “I’m plannin’ on buddyin’ her up with one of my best guys. Jesse can take her. Shouldn’t be an issue. He’s quick on his feet, got a good eye.”

Jesse. Joel barely held back a sneer. The kid was fine, sure. But Jesse wasn’t the issue.

You were.

Joel sipped his shitty, lukewarm coffee from a chipped mug, scowling at how diluted it was as it settled on his tongue. He missed real coffee. Hated that he had to drink this watered-down bullshit. The only thing worse was the sharp knock at his door.

His jaw clenched.

With a heavy sigh, he set down the mug, already annoyed, and stomped over. If this was Tommy with more goddamn chores or Maria with another lecture about community responsibility, he was gonna—

Joel yanked the door open, glare already in place. But then he saw you, and his stomach dropped.

You stood there, a little breathless, strands of hair falling loose around your face despite how you’d tied it back. Morning sun caught on your skin, the warm glow of sweat making you look… Fuck. His grip tightened on the doorframe.

"Oh–Hi," you said, a little uncertain, shifting on your feet.

Joel just stared.

He hadn’t spoken to you. Not once. Hadn’t let himself. You were too damn…well, whatever you were, whatever part of him that couldn’t quite place what you did to him…he wanted no part of it. But now you were standing at his door, looking at him with those bright, wide eyes, and he felt like a teenage boy again.

His brows furrowed, lips pressed into a hard line. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He had no clue what the hell to even say.

Your blush deepened under his stare. "Um," you murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Ellie told me to come grab her before I left for patrol. First time and all." A nervous laugh puffed out of you, light and breathy. "She said she keeps a map of the area—marked with all the bad spots. Ya know."

Joel blinked. His brain finally caught up.

Patrol.

Your patrol.

His jaw ticked. So Tommy still had you paired with Jessie then?

"Ellie," Joel called behind him, finally tearing his gaze from you.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs before Ellie appeared, still in her pajamas, rubbing at her eye with the heel of her hand.

"Hey!" she called when she met your gaze, brightening.

Joel grumbled something low and incoherent, something that excused him as he turned on his heel and headed back toward the kitchen. He didn’t dare look at you again. But he felt your eyes on him. Questioning. Curious.

He hated it.

You were in his house.

Moving around upstairs. Talking to Ellie. When the hell had you two become friends? Your voice filtered down, mixing with the soft creak of the floorboards, and Joel stood in the kitchen, fuming.

He shouldn’t care.

Shouldn’t give a shit about where Tommy had you stationed, who you were paired with, how ready you were or weren’t for the outside. It wasn’t his goddamn business. But the thought of you out there—stumbling into an ambush, stepping too loud in a place you shouldn’t, a clicker lurking just out of sight, waiting for one wrong move—made his chest tighten in a way he really didn’t like.

He braced a hand on the counter, fingers drumming against the wood.

A few minutes later, your footsteps padded back down as Joel was heading out the door for his own chores. He didn’t turn, didn’t move as you crossed through the house. Just as you made your way past him, your flowery scent, so feminine and light and soft—

"Bye, Joel."

Your voice was light. Casual. Like it was nothing. Like saying his name didn’t do anything.

But it did.

His body went rigid, like something had yanked him back into himself, back into that dark and tangled place in his head where things got real complicated real quick. His name in your mouth, soft and easy, made his skin prickle, made something heavy settle deep in his chest. It stuck to him like a damn burr, taking place and nestling tight in his mind. His name on your lips was like a song, something like a siren’s call made specifically for him. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

He was so fucked.

Joel spent the day trying not to think about you.

And managed to do a shit job of it.

His hands worked—fixing a busted stable door, making sure the latch held, leading the horses out into the pasture on the warmest day so far—but his mind stayed locked on one thing. Had you made it to the outpost? Was the trip quiet? Had Jesse kept you close? Had he been watching your back?

It was pissing him off, all this worrying about someone he barely even knew.

Joel huffed, trying to shake the gnawing in his chest. He just needed to get through the work. Keep his head down, get home, and sleep it off.

Then he saw Jesse.

The kid was near the stables, talking to Dina, grinning like he didn’t have a single worry in the goddamn world. Joel’s brow furrowed. His steps slowed as he stared, confusion creeping in. Jesse was back? Already? That didn’t make sense. It had only been half a day. Patrols didn’t wrap this early, not unless something had happened.

For a moment, he almost convinced himself he was grateful that the hours had passed without sight of you. Maybe that meant his mind was finally loosening the barb you’d stuck in him. Maybe, after today, he wouldn’t waste any more time thinking about you.

But that was a damn lie.

Because hadn’t he thought of you every single hour since you left his house this morning? Hadn’t his eyes kept tracking the road, half-expecting you to appear? Hadn’t he been waiting—hoping—for some confirmation that you were fine, that patrol had been canceled, that you had never even needed to go in the first place?

Something was wrong. He felt it.

His jaw clenched. “Jesse.”

The kid turned, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hey, Mr. Miller. What’s up?”

Joel frowned, eyes narrowing. “You’re already back?”

Jesse tilted his head, looking confused. “Uh… yeah?”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, patience wearing thin. His fingers twitched at his side, a slow, creeping sense of unease taking root in his chest. “Patrols don’t usually wrap this early.”

Jesse blinked, then let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, right—yeah, I didn’t go. Switched last minute, said it was some schedule mix-up.”

Joel barely heard the rest of the explanation.

I didn’t go.

The words hammered around his skull, his stomach twisting. You hadn’t been with Jesse.

You’d been out there—out in those woods—this whole time without one of the few people in this place who could actually handle themselves.

His fingers twitched at his side, curling and uncurling. His breathing stayed slow, even, controlled—but that was only because every part of him was focusing on not snapping. “Who’d you switch with?” His voice came out too sharp, too flat, but he didn’t care.

Jesse shrugged, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind Joel’s eyes. “Uh… can’t remember his name. New guy. Kinda scrawny, blond—”

Joel didn’t need to hear any more.

He knew exactly who Jesse was talking about.

Fucking Caleb.

Barely twenty. Couldn’t shoot for shit. Slow on his feet. Jumpy. The kind of kid who hesitated. And Joel had seen firsthand what hesitation got people. It got them killed.

His vision went red. You. Out there. With some stupid kid.

His pulse was a dull, thudding roar in his ears. He should’ve put his foot down with Tommy. Should’ve stopped you from leaving his house this morning. You might've thought he was insane, maybe even hated him for it. But he had known it was a bad idea. He felt it in his gut. And now you were out in the goddamn wilderness with someone who barely knew his left from his right, and there wasn’t a damn thing Joel could do about it.

His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths. His hands curled into fists.

Dina and Jesse went back to talking, still existing like everything was fine, like nothing had shifted, like nothing had gone wrong.

But Joel was already moving.

He needed his gun, he needed a horse.

And he needed to get to you—now.

Joel stormed toward the gates, his blood hot in his veins, fists clenched so tight his knuckles ached. The second he spotted Tommy, standing near the watch post, chatting with one of the patrol leads, he nearly exploded.

"What the hell were you thinkin’?" Joel’s voice came sharp, cutting through the quiet.

Tommy turned, brow furrowing. "What?"

"You sent that girl out with Caleb for her first patrol?" Joel seethed, stepping closer, his frame tense, his breath coming out hard and fast. "Are you kidding me? You said she was goin’ with Jesse, and I just saw him at the barn."

Tommy’s face darkened. "I didn’t do that."

Joel let out a harsh, humorless laugh, his hands going to his hips like he was physically holding himself back from breaking something, “That so? So why is Jesse tellin’ me you did?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "No, Joel, I wouldn’t send two damn novices out together. They must’ve switched last minute and didn’t tell anybody."

Joel’s jaw locked. That answer didn’t make him feel any better.

"Christ," Tommy muttered, shaking his head. "Look, we’ll deal with it when they get back—"

"Deal with it?" Joel barked. "If they get back, Tommy. That dumbass kid don’t know his left from his right. He hesitates, he panics—she’s out there alone."

Tommy held up a hand, voice leveling. "Joel. Just wait. We don’t even—"

"RIDERLESS HORSE COMING IN!"

The shout came from above.

Both brothers whipped their heads toward the gate as someone from the watchtower pointed out toward the open plains.

Joel’s stomach plummeted. Every muscle in his body went tight as the gallop of hooves thundered against the dirt, stirrups flapping madly at its sides, the dark blur of a horse sprinting toward the gates.

"Shit," Tommy muttered, already waving for them to get it open. "Whose is it?"

The guard peered over the ledge, adjusting his scope. "Looks like… it’s Eclipse. Who took him out today?"

The world dropped out from under Joel’s feet. The barn door he was working on, it was that horse. He saw your name on the check out clipboard by his stall. No, no no. This was all some sick nightmare he was in.

Tommy’s eyes went wide as he looked at Joel, all the color draining from his face.

The sound of his own breath—too loud, too ragged—roared in his ears. That was your horse. Your only goddamn way back. And now it was here. Without you.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. His feet were already moving, shoving past Tommy, heading straight for the stables.

"Joel—"

He ignored Tommy, grabbing his saddle, moving with a purpose that wouldn’t be stopped. Strapped on his rifle as he checked it out at the booth, barely sparing a glance at the patrol guard logging the weapons. His hands worked fast, quicker than they had in a long time, muscle memory kicking in as he moved on autopilot.

He made his way straight to his usual horse, Diablo, getting him tacked up in record speed. The gelding shifted under his hands, picking up on the tight, coiled tension radiating off of him. Joel didn’t ease him. Didn’t whisper the usual steadying words, consumed only with thoughts of where you could be.

"Joel, dammit—think about this," Tommy’s voice rang out behind him, stepping up into the stall, frustration biting at the edges of his words. "You can’t just go out there alone. We’ll send a group—"

"Don’t have time," Joel muttered, cinching the saddle tight.

"You don’t even know what happened—"

"Exactly."

Joel’s voice came sharp, bitter, final. He turned, finally looking at Tommy, and his brother must’ve seen something in his face—something dark, something unmoving—because whatever argument he was about to make died on his tongue.

Joel led the horse out of the stables quickly, boots heavy against the dirt. Diablo tossed his head, nostrils flaring, sensing the shift in him. Once they were outside, Joel hoisted himself into the saddle in one swift motion, gathering the reins, already angling the horse toward the gates.

"Joel, for fuck’s sake—"

"Open the gate."

His voice was low, commanding.

The men guarding the post hesitated, glancing at each other, then at Tommy.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Joel’s jaw ticked, grip tightening. "Open the damn gate!" he snapped, his voice a sharp crack of thunder, booming across the yard. Diablo snorted beneath him, ears pinning back as his hooves shifted nervously in the dirt.

Still, no one made a move. Joel’s patience snapped.

He swung his glare back to Tommy, voice low, dangerous. "You can stay here and play it safe, but I’m going."

Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath. But he gave a quick nod to the men at the gate.

The locks disengaged. The doors groaned.

Joel didn’t wait.

The second the opening was wide enough, he kicked his heels in, sending Diablo into a hard gallop, tearing out into the open.

He didn’t care what Tommy had to say.

Didn’t care that he was riding into the unknown, alone.

Didn’t care that this wasn’t his fight.

He didn’t care that he hardly knew you.

Because he did know you, after all.

You were light and soft and gentle in a world that hardened even the best of souls. You smiled at people when they spoke to you, laughed easily, touched others when you talked—little brushes of your fingers over an arm, a squeeze to a shoulder, things Joel wasn’t used to seeing anymore. You had no reason to be kind, no reason to be so goddamn good, and yet, you were.

And now the world had you.

It didn’t matter that he’d never spoken to you, that he had tried so damn hard to keep his distance. He had stayed away, convinced himself it was better that way, easier. But that hadn’t stopped you from getting into his head, hadn’t stopped you from settling into the places he didn’t have room for you, hadn’t stopped his chest from tightening all goddamn day wondering if you were still breathing.

Because he knew what was out there.

He knew what waited in the trees, in the shadows, in the abandoned places people never came back from. He knew how quickly a routine patrol could turn into a massacre, how easy it was to be there one second and gone the next. He knew how fast infected could pop up from the dark, how quickly a gun barrel could press against a skull, how little it took for someone like you to disappear forever.

And if that happened—if he found you out there, lifeless and cold—Joel didn’t know what the hell he’d do.

Joel spotted the outpost cabin up ahead, barely visible through the dense green of the trees, its frame old and weather-worn. A lone horse stood tied outside, shifting restlessly. As he rode closer, his eyes flicked to the J brand on its croup. Caleb’s.

His stomach twisted.

He swung off Diablo without thinking, barely registering his own movements as he tied the reins to the nearest branch. His heart was hammering, his breath coming hard and fast, sweat slicking the back of his neck as he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

His heart launched into his throat when he first saw you. You were slightly slumped against the wall, your fingers curled tenderly around your leg, face pale.

Joel could barely breathe. His body moved quickly, crossing the space in seconds. You were alive, you were alive. Everything was fine.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but then something in your face softened—relief, gratitude. "Joel?"

His throat was dry. "What happened?" His voice came rough, low, sharp with something too close to panic.

Your lips parted like you weren’t sure if you were hearing him right. This was the first time he had ever spoken to you—really spoken to you—but right now, none of that mattered.

You exhaled shakily. "Eclipse spooked at something. Threw me off. I-I landed wrong." You grimaced, shifting slightly as you gripped your leg. "I think it’s broken.”

Joel’s chest went tight. Broke your leg. Out here. With no way back.

The scenario was too damn close to something worse, and he hated how easily his brain filled in the gaps. If you hadn’t made it to the outpost…if you’d landed just a little worse. Where the hell was your supposed patrol partner and why wasn’t he taking you back to Jackson?

"How long you been here?" His voice was clipped, his hands already moving, pushing back the fabric of your pants to see the damage.

"Couple hours," you murmured, watching him. "We managed to get here, checked the logbook like we were told to. I didn’t know what else to do."

Joel’s jaw flexed. You were trying to be strong. He could see it in the way you held yourself, in the way you downplayed the situation, like you weren’t sitting here with a broken goddamn leg and no real protection.

Before he could say anything else, footsteps sounded at the doorway.

Caleb.

Joel looked up, and something in him snapped.

The kid had the nerve to look relieved. "Oh—Joel, you found us."

Joel was already on his feet, moving. He shoved the kid—hard.

Caleb stumbled back, barely catching himself against the doorframe. "H-hey—!"

"The hell were you doin' leaving her here?," Joel seethed, stepping forward, voice low and dangerous. "You left her here hurt and alone while you what? Sat on your ass?"

Caleb swallowed hard, eyes flickering between him and you. "I didn’t—I didn’t leave, I was out checking the perimeter—"

"Checking the perimeter?" Joel’s breath came sharp, bitter. "She’s got a broken goddamn leg. What the hell were you gonna do if something came through that door? If infected caught her like this? Why didn’t you turn back and take her home?!”

Caleb’s face flushed, his mouth opening like he wanted to argue, but Joel was already done listening.

"Get back to Jackson." He shoved the kid toward the door again, barely resisting the urge to do worse. "Tell ‘em she’s alive. Tell ‘em we’ll be back once I've patched her up.” Joel leaned in, voice dropping into something dangerous. "I’ll deal with you later."

Caleb hesitated, like he wanted to say something, but one more look at Joel’s face must’ve changed his mind.

He left, the door shutting behind him, and only silence followed.

Joel exhaled hard through his nose, still standing there, still furious, still running too hot, his hands clenched into fists.

“You didn’t need to be so hard on him,” you said softly from where you sat.

Joel’s scowl was back in full force as he turned toward you. "And you—" His voice came sharp, and that was when it hit him.

He was here. With you. Alone. And he was speaking to you for the first time. He had been so panicked when he walked in he barely noticed. The words he was ready to lash at you to you weren’t kind, weren’t measured. They were biting. They came with anger and frustration and fear and all the shit he hadn’t let himself process on the ride over.

He scrubbed a rough hand down his face, trying to reel himself in. "What the hell were you thinkin’? Switching out Jesse from your crew? Ain’t this your first patrol?"

Your mouth parted slightly, caught off guard. "I didn’t—" you hesitated. "I didn’t think it was a big deal. Jesse misses Dina, they wanted to spend more time—"

"Jesus, girl," Joel muttered, shaking his head. "That shit don’t matter! He was supposed to watch you because this is your first time out here. You needed someone in charge. Someone who knows the way."

You scrunched your nose, a flicker of irritation sparking across your face. "We were doin’ just fine."

Joel let out a dry, humorless scoff. "Yeah, looks fine to me."

And then—he stopped himself.

The words sat between you both, heavy, cutting.

This wasn’t how this should go.

He didn’t want this to go like this. Didn’t want the first real conversation between you to be this snappy, this barbed. You’d just made him so goddamn angry with your irresponsibility, had scared him too damn bad, and now he was running his mouth like some short-tempered asshole.

He needed to breathe. He needed to calm down.

Joel took a slow breath, scratching his beard before crouching back down in front of you. His fingers were still twitching, his body still wired too tight, but he forced himself to focus.

"Let me see again," he muttered, voice still gruff, but quieter now.

Your eyes flickered over his face, searching, but you didn’t argue. You shifted slightly, biting down a wince as you let him push the fabric of your pants up further to assess the break.

Joel’s jaw ticked. It was swelling badly already, bruising and tender to the touch, but at least it was something that could be fixed. That he could fix.

"Don’t look too bad," he murmured, rolling his shoulders to shake off some of the tension.

"Really?" you huffed, shaking your head. "Cause it sure hurts."

Joel reached for his pack, pulling out what little medical supplies he had before scanning the cabin. "Just need to make a splint," he muttered.

His hands moved carefully, barely grazing you, barely touching you any more than he needed to. He worked in silence at first, securing the wood, wrapping the bandage around your leg in tight, practiced motions. You kept still, your breath catching here and there when he adjusted the angle, but otherwise, you didn’t complain.

And maybe that should have been his first sign.

Joel wasn’t sure when he noticed it—the way you were watching him, the way your fingers curled just slightly into the fabric of your pants, like you were bracing yourself for something more than just the pain in your leg.

He should have ignored it. Should have finished his work and moved on.

But something about the way you stayed quiet, your lips pressed together like you were holding something back, made him pause.

"You’re quiet," he murmured, tying the last knot in place.

You blinked. "What?"

Joel smirked, just slightly. "Was expectin’ more complainin’. But you’re sittin’ awful still."

You swallowed, your eyes flicking away for just a second before you forced a small, breathless laugh. "Just tryin’ to be a good patient, I guess."

He could tell that wasn’t the whole truth. And for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from pushing.

"That so?" His fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, grazing against the bandage before he pulled back. "You ain’t the nervous type, are ya?"

You let out a soft scoff, but your voice was quieter now. "No."

But you hesitated, and Joel noticed. He wasn’t supposed to like that. Wasn’t supposed to let it sit in his chest the way it did. But you did things to him, even from the very moment you’d arrived. You’d gotten under his skin in ways he hadn’t been prepared for, and even now, as he knelt beside you, his fingers still lingering over the bandage, he wondered—

He thought he’d been the one avoiding you at all costs. He thought he’d been keeping clear of the girl who was too bright and bushy-tailed, someone who was so different from him, so good. He thought he’d done a damn good job of steering clear, of making sure he was just another face in Jackson to you.

But now, looking at you—your cheeks tinged pink, your breath just a little uneven, your hands clenching and unclenching like you didn’t know what to do with them—his mind pulled back to the little things. The way you would duck out of his way every time too. The way, if he ever caught your eye across a room, your cheeks would flush, your fingers would twitch, and you’d excuse yourself just as quickly as he had.

And when you had come to his house to find Ellie… You had been flustered then, just as uncertain as him, though he had been too wrapped up in his own damn head to see it. He’d been too focused on why the hell you were standing there in his doorway, too busy trying to tamp down the immediate, sharp pull in his chest that had threatened to unravel him the second he saw you in the morning light. He had been so sure he was the only one feeling it, so convinced he was the only one being rattled by your presence.

But he remembered the way you had blushed under his stare, shifting on your feet, your voice softer than usual, your breath catching just slightly when he didn’t say anything right away.

Jesus. Had you felt it too?

Had you been trying to stay away from him just as much as he had been trying to stay away from you?

Had it been there this whole time?

And if it had…

Then Joel didn’t stand a goddamn chance.

Something slow and warm uncurled in his chest, something dangerous that he swore he’d lost for forever. His fingers brushed against your knee as he adjusted the wrap, just the lightest graze, but it was enough to make you shift, to make you pull in a breath.

His throat very dry suddenly as he spoke, "Somethin’ wrong?" His voice was low, quiet.

You blinked, shaking your head too quickly. "No."

But you hesitated. Joel smirked. "No?"

You exhaled sharply, dropping your gaze. "Joel—"

His name in your mouth did something to him. Something deep and warm and dangerous.

"Hm?" he hummed in question, his voice quieter now, rougher at the edges.

You hesitated, shifting slightly under his touch again, your fingers tightening against the fabric of your pants before you finally looked up at him again. There was something in your eyes—uncertainty, hesitation, something else—and for a second, he almost thought you wouldn’t say it.

Then, softly, you whispered, "Why’d you come all the way out here?"

His chest went tight, his breath uneven. There were a hundred ways he could answer, a hundred ways he could try to explain what had driven him out here, why he had stormed out of Jackson without a second thought, why he had spent every damn second of the day thinking about whether you were still alive.

His fingers found yours, brushing over your knuckles before he took them, his touch hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure if he had any business holding you like this. His grip was steady, warm, his thumb grazing over your skin in slow, careful circles—maybe to soothe you, maybe to soothe himself.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to just say it.

"I had to," he murmured.

And then, before he could stop himself, before he could think about how much of a fool he was making of himself if you pulled away, how out of his depth he was, he kissed your hand.

Your fingers were so soft, so small in his wide grip, his calloused palm swallowing yours as his lips pressed into your knuckles. His eyes stayed on you all the while, drinking in every shift, every reaction—how your pupils blew wide, how the flush crept hot across your cheeks, how your tongue darted out to wet your lips like you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

Joel didn’t move, didn’t let go, didn’t do a damn thing but hold you there, feel you there, his lips pressed against you like he had any right to be touching you like this.

Slowly and carefully, as if you didn’t want to startle him, you lifted your free hand. Your fingers brushed tentatively along his jaw, skimming through the rough patch of stubble on his cheek, tracing over the lines life had carved into him. You were watching him now, your eyes flickering down, settling on his lips.

Joel only released your knuckles from his lips when he felt your hand pulling him closer to you, and he let you.

For once, after so many years of feeling like he needed to always be thinking of the next move, to be in control at every turn, his mind went quiet.

It was never quiet.

Not since the world had ended. Not since he’d lost everything. His thoughts had become a constant, grinding machine—always assessing, always calculating, always searching for the next threat, the next weak spot, the next thing that could go wrong. He had learned, too many times over, that the second you let your guard down, you paid for it in blood.

So he never let himself stop.

But now, you were touching him. So soft, so gentle, so careful. Your fingers running over his jaw like he was something worth handling carefully. Like you weren’t afraid of him.

And for the first time in years, that instinct—the one that told him to always be ready, to be hard, detached, sharp—just… stopped.

His mind went quiet.

And then your mouth found his.

The kiss was tentative at first, cautious, like neither of you wanted to be the one to break it, to admit this was happening. But then your fingers curled into the nape of his neck, your breath warm against his, and Joel—god help him—tipped his head and deepened it.

His hand found your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek, holding you there, steadying you like he needed to, like he had to.

And for the first time in a long, long time,

Joel let himself have something good.

#im really in my feels about this one guys #Joel miller #Joel miller x you #Joel miller x reader #Joel miller fanfic #Joel miller fluff #Joel miller tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #Jackson!joel

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radio-flora-tm · 2 years ago

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#Laura Branigan #David Lynch #Judith Durham #Shane Lynch #Javier Weyler #Kevin Hearn #Martyn Walsh #Vince Clarke #Mike Corby #Neil Clark #Andy Fraser #Johnnie Wilder #Paul Barrere #Top Topham #Fontella Bass #Tommy Tedesco

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beforeastorm · 3 months ago

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Methods, notes, etc. under the cut

Happy one year anniversary to "Buck, Bothered and Bi-wildered", to the kiss, to Buck discovering something new about himself, and to BuckTommy.

Methods: I used a data scraping tool to collect information from the works pages for the 'Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard' relationship tag on AO3. Although we're celebrating the one year anniversary, data for all works regardless of publish date were included.

The scraping tool can only collect information for unlocked works. No, data scraping is not prohibited by AO3's terms of service, but they reserve the right to boot you if you abuse it; I deliberately slow walked the tool to be a good partner. Information was collected on 4/4/2025 between 8:00 a.m. and 11:00 a.m. EDT. As this is a snapshot of dynamic data, it will already be out of date. Notes: Recognizing that not making editorial decisions is in fact making a decision, I did not exclude any tags or use additional filters to limit which works were included. I know some people may prefer this, but I decided to honor authorial intent: if they tagged it, I included it.

I am open and interested in potentially doing something similar for other ships/tags, but my artistic skills are very limited. If you'd be interested in collaborating on something, send me a message! Information from infographic:

Words: 38,688,046

Kudos: 2,313,022

Bookmarks: 310,154

Comments: 215,801

Works: 7,396

Unique Authors: 1,567

many thanks to @aainiouu for their assistance with the infographic!

#911 abc #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 on abc #911 on ao3 #ao3 stats #911 fanfic #stormy does stats

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 11 months ago

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Michael Crawford, Barbra Streisand - Put On Your Sunday Clothes 1969

Hello, Dolly! is a 1969 American musical romantic comedy film based on the 1964 Broadway production of the same name, which was based on Thornton Wilder's play The Matchmaker. Directed by Gene Kelly and written and produced by Ernest Lehman, the film stars Barbra Streisand, Walter Matthau, Michael Crawford, Danny Lockin, Tommy Tune, Fritz Feld, Marianne McAndrew, E. J. Peaker and Louis Armstrong (whose recording of the title tune had become a number-one single in May 1964). The film won three Academy Awards for Best Art Direction, Best Score of a Musical Picture and Best Sound and was nominated for a further four Academy Awards, including Best Picture. Michael Crawford was later cast as the original Phantom of the Opera, in the West End and Broadway productions.

The songs "Put On Your Sunday Clothes" and "It Only Takes A Moment" were later used in the 2008 Disney/Pixar film WALL-E. WALL-E keeps a recording of the song on him and listens to it while he works cleaning up the garbage. An instrumental version of "Put On Your Sunday Clothes" is also used as WALL-E's theme song in the game Dreamlight Valley.

"Put On Your Sunday Clothes" received a total of 69,6% yes votes!

youtube

#finished #high yes #60s #soundtracks #film score #michael crawford #barbra streisand #english #o1 #o24

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duranduratulsa · 9 months ago

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Up next on my Spooktober Filmfest...Child's Play (1988) on glorious vintage VHS 📼! #Movie #movies #horror #childsplay #chucky #DonMancini #braddourif #alexvincent #catherinehicks #dinahmanoff #chrissarandon #edgale #tommyswerdlow #JackColvin #johnfranklin #neilgiuntoli #edangross #michaelpatrickcarter #alanwilder #vintage #VHS #80s #spooktober #halloween #october

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darknight3904 · 21 days ago

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im beggingggg please a soft dom tommy worshipping reader after she had the courage to show him her naked body (she’s insecure about it because of scars and struggling with self esteem in general)🙏

Every Damn Inch

Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Insecure about your appearance, Tommy shows you how much he appreciates you

Warnings: Nudity, body worship, hint of oral f! receiving, Tommy Miller: dad bod

Word Count: 1.8k TLOU Masterlist

Jackson glowed at night. Soft yellow lights string illuminated main street as you walked home, hand in hand with your boyfriend of three years, Tommy.

“Excited to go home?” Tommy asks, “You’re practically dragging me along, hon.”

You laugh and squeeze his hand in yours, “I just washed the sheets today. M’excited to take a shower and then get in bed.”

“You gonna do that thing where you wrap yourself up like a burrito in the duvet?” Tommy asks

“Probably.” You grin

“Well then, let’s get home.” Tommy chuckles, speeding his legs up to match you pace.

The soft sounds of the water hitting the shower curtain slip under the crack of the closed bathroom door. Tommy has slipped into a soft pair of sweatpants, giving up the jeans that had been digging into his middle all day. He’d have to trade for a new pair of pants soon, your cooking wasn’t doing any favors for his waistline. It wasn't his fault all of your dishes were so damn good he had to have seconds.

Lying back on the bed, the soft duvet tickles his bare upperhalf, the scent of the homemade detergent from Harriet fills his nose as his eyes slip shut. That 80 year old knew how to do everything, from headshots on infected, to perfectly scented detergent, she never failed to impress him.

Tommy begins to doze as he waits for you. Dinner at Joel’s had been surprisingly tolerable considering his brother couldn’t cook for shit. Tommy sighs and scratches at his stomach, thinking about how far the two of you had come.

He and Joel had found you one day on patrol. It’d been wickedly cold and a sudden snow storm happened upon them, forcing them to hole up in an old development about eight miles west of Jackson. Tommy had chosen the big blue house, the only one of the culdesac that still had most of it’s roof to take cover in. They’d only been in the house for half an hour, shivering their asses off while trying to light a meager fire in the old fireplace in what was once probably a beautiful living room when they heard you.

They’d left their backpacks unattended by the front door and foolishly walked away. Joel had been the first one to move after seeing a flash of red darting back up the steps, Tommy hot on his heels.

You reminded him of a skittish deer. Dressed in clothes too big for your frame and wrapped up in a big red quilt as you crowded into a corner, scared out of your mind. Wild eyes and even wilder hair met Tommy’s eyes as you held a bag of the jerky Joel had packed for them to share.

It took another month to convince to you come back to the safety of Jackson. Tommy had come back to the blue house every day, bringing you food and new clothes along with a hair brush. He’d talk to you and eventually you began talking back, telling him little things about your past. He’d won you over late one afternoon after sliding a container with two chocolate chip cookies across the floor. You devoured them and then hopefully asked for more.

“Gotta come back to Jackson with me for more. Joel’s little girl can make you all the cookies you want then.” Tommy said, “She’s got a mouth on her but the kid can bake like you wouldn’t believe.”

Before he knew it, you were on his horse, hands wrapped around him as the red quilt sat shoved in his bag, it was the only thing you wanted to bring from the blue house. If he’d known all it would take was a couple of cookies to get you into the safety of the walls, he would’ve told Ellie to bake them weeks ago.

Now, the quilt sat nicely folded on the couch downstairs, you’d washed it four times to get the grime out of it. Eventually, you told Tommy it was from your grandmother, a gift for your 16th birthday back before the outbreak.

You dry yourself off with the soft purple towel Joel had given you for your birthday last year. Running a brush through your hair you sigh as your reflection stares at you in the mirror. You’d never been happy with your body, growing up in the early 2000’s as a teen hadn’t helped either. You’d never been that perfect girl the magazines at the grocery store advertised.

Even now, you didn’t like what was looking back at you. Face a bit too round, hair too short, not to mention the zit that’d formed on your cheek. You swore even your arms looked weird if you let them hang at your sides for too long.

Dropping your towel you picked up the soft fabric of the big T-shirt and flannel pants you often wore. The light of the bathroom makes the scars on your body stand out more.

Running your hands over the rougher bits of skin, the raised bumps and pink lines that litter your body, you try to block any negative thoughts that might come with your scrutiny.

Tommy was head over heels for you. He was fucking obessed with all of you. Sure, it’d taken a few months for you to let him in, camped out in the spare bedroom of his house since he’d deemed you too scared to live on your own or in one of the homes that had been converted into apartments in Jackson. But, one day you’d decided to trust him whole heartedly, and eventually somehow it’d blossomed into something more.

Tommy wished you could see yourself the way he did. Instead, you often wiggled away from him, never fully being interested in skin to skin contact beyond hand holding. This unfortunately resulted in the lights always being off during sex, the first few time’s it’d left him fumbling in a dark abyss and accidentally hitting you in the face with his elbow. He’d gotten better since then, making sure to be careful with his limbs and learning to hone his other senses to bring you pleasure.

The sound of the bathroom door has him lazily opening his eyes. You stand there illuminated by the glow of the bathroom for a second before you flip the switch, leaving the nightstand lamp to light your way as you walk towards him.

Tommy sits up, scooting up the bed so his back rests against the plume of pillows you inist the bed needs. You’re dressed in your usual sleepwear, an old shirt of his, the design too faded to make out and the pajama pants with red and green checks on them. Your hair drips darkening the shirt as you toss your dirty clothes into the hamper and stare at yourself in the mirror, your brow furred as if you’re displeased by what looks back.

“You comin’ to bed? Blanket burrito awaits.” Tommy’s teasing voice fills your ears from behind

Without another thought, you grit your teeth, fuck it, it’s now or never. You let out a soft noise as you pull the tshirt off, your head nearly getting stuck as you go. Then comes the pants as you untie them and twirl around to look at Tommy.

“Woah.” He breathes, probably shocked that his girlfriend has just suddenly stripped, “You want me to hit the lights, baby? I didn’t think you were in the mood.”

Fuck you knew it. He hated what he saw. Hot shameful tears begin to burn in your eyes as you blindly nod and reach for the clothes that you’d tossed onto the floor. You’re never fucking getting naked again.

“Wait, wait.” Tommy’s deep voice stops you, before you know it, he’s standing infront of you, hands cradling your face so you have to look up at him, “Why’re you cryin’?”

You shrug as if you don’t know, “I’m not.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” Tommy grunts

He looks at you for a moment, eyes scanning your sad face before his gaze softens, “Mmhm, I know whats goin’ on now.”

You scoff, how could he possibly know just like that?

“C��mon, come sit with me.” Tommy pulls you toward the bed, “N’ leave the clothes there.”

You drop the shirt back to the floor shivering in your nervous and very nude state.”

Tommy pats the edge of the bed, “Sit right there.”

You sit down, listening to him as your arms fumble, crossing over yourself as your face heats up. This is embarrassing.

Tommy surprises you, you expect him to sit beside you, instead he kneels down, hands resting on the sides of your upper thighs, rubbing circles into the skin there.

“Now, I’m all for a surprise strip tease but this is somethin’ new for us.” He softly says, “You gonna tell me what brought it on.”

You tongue feels like lead in your mouth as you swallow thickly, “I guess, I just…I wanted you to see me. Wanted to know if you’d still like me after you did.”

Tommy laughs softly like its the funniest thing in the world, somewhere deep down you know he’s not laughing at you so you stay put, nervously twitching in his hands. A kiss is pressed to one knee, then another, right ontop of the scars you got after face planting while roller skating as a kid.

“Like? Baby I love you.” Another two kiss, this time to your thighs, “All of ya, I swear..”

You sigh and he gently squeezes your flesh, “I mean it. Been dreaming about seeing you with the lights on.”

You shrug, “It’s not anything to look at.”

“Not anything to look at?” He scoffs, “You’re fulla’ shit.”

“Tommy.” You counter, your voice dripping in disbelief

He says your name in the same tone, matching your eyebrow raise too.

Big hands leave your thighs and begin to gently run themselves across your body, followed by soft kisses, his facial hair tickling as he goes.

“What’re you doing?” You gasp when he kisses at your collarbone

“Mmhm.” Tommy mumbles into your skin, “Showin’ my lady some love. That ain’t illegal now is it?”

“Well no…” You sigh

“Then I’ll keep goin’.”

Wet kisses litter every inch of your skin by the time he’s done with you. He’s officially seen every inch as your back is cradled by the soft mattress. He’s kissed down your body and ends with a kiss to the soft patch of hair between your legs.

“Prettiest girl in all o’ Jackson. Can’t believe you been hiding all this from me.” Tommy says

“I won’t anymore.” You say, confidence boosted by his kisses and soft words

“S’ right, you won’t.” He affirms, hands spreading your thighs apart to get a glimpse of the wetness between them “Now, stay right there, gonna worship every damn inch of ya’ baby.”

Hope you enjoyed, anon

This is loosely edited, sorry for typos

More Tommy here

#Tommy Miller #tommy miller x reader #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfic #tommy miller smut #tommy miller fluff

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bittertasteofhoney · 1 month ago

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Good Day Sunshine | Ch. 8

Hello, Sunshine?

Summary: You try and fail to turn off the town’s commentary but Joel catches on as he grows worried about your distant state.

|| smut, jackson!joel, jackson!joel x f!reader, unprotected sex (please do not do this), p in v, oral sex (female receives), public sex (sort of), creampie, couch sex, riding, makeout session, age gap (but legal!), reader is afab ||

Notes: And the plot continues, with a touch of smut, of course. Joel finally gives us a little concert moment because I could not avoid writing this after Sunday’s episode.

18+. Read at your own risk. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Minors DO NOT ENGAGE.

The characters, names and characterizations belong to HBO Max and The Last of Us franchise. This work is my creative property and aside from re-blogs and shares, I do not give permission to share or copy my work without permission or consent.

Previous Chapter.

After your shift, you usually took the right to go down the path leading to your faded yellow door and Joel’s arms. Instead, you went left and went down the dirt path that led to one of the outer borders of Jackson until the physical wooden barrier stopped you.

This one featured long gaps between posts fortified by metal chain links, offering a glimpse into the wild Wyoming landscape. You gingerly gripped one of the posts and leaned your forehead against it, staring blankly at the harsh wilderness.

Was it true what they were saying? Was Joel just playing parlor tricks on your mind?

You wanted to brush off the thoughts, but the reality of how you and Joel grew close kept plaguing your mind. You weren’t sure if he truly disliked you when you first met him, but months later, you definitively knew that a lot of that dislike was misdirected and originated as attraction. But did that encompass the brunt of it?

An hour passed before a group of patrols cut you away from your thoughts. You squinted at the sky to see that it was a dusty rose color and closer to dusk than day. You took a deep breath before spinning on your heel and down the path towards home.

When you stepped onto your beaten stone path, Joel was already sitting on your stoop with his head resting on his chin. When he heard your footfalls, his head perked up and he caught your eye with a confused look.

He called out your name and stood slowly. You tried to offer him a small smile, but it ultimately fell flat, and the space between his eyebrows shrank even more.

“Everythin’ okay?” You stood there debating whether to let on about the truth of your day and ultimately decided a head shake would suffice. He closed the distance between the two of you instantly and cradled your head against his shoulder as he held you.

“Whatever it is, just talk to me and we can sort it out.” You pushed against his embrace slightly to look into his eyes. All you saw was raw concern. Maybe they were wrong.

You swallowed and smiled, something that looked more akin to a wince and took his hand. “C’mon, I’m hungry. It’s been a long day.”

He nodded, clearly wanting to say more, but followed you inside to the comforting promise of a tasty meal and heaven between your legs.

You were quiet through dinner, pushing your vegetable soup around your bowl rather than eating it, and Joel took slow bites, trying to determine what was on your mind. As far as he knew, your day was a normal one—filled with picking and deliveries, but that was an everyday schedule for you. He had no idea your world was a little off its axis.

It was killing him not knowing what diluted the smile on your face. Did Tommy say something stupid? He knew he shouldn’t have rhapsodized about ya’ll’s relationship, but when he couldn’t keep the grin from his face, his younger brother demanded to know why he was suddenly at ease in Jackson—and smiling, of all things.

Turns out, all Joel needed was a little Sunshine.

After another ten minutes of distracted silence from your end, Joel stood and held out a hand for you. Confused, you placed your palm delicately within his and stood slowly. He walked you to the back porch and sat you down, motioning with one finger that he would be right back.

A few minutes later, he returned with a piping cup of tea and honey, a cup of coffee for himself, and, after a second trip inside, his guitar. You sat up straighter as he handed you the tea and looked at the guitar questioningly, “Where did that come from?”

“Had it leanin’ on the porch when you got here. Figured I’d finally play you something. If that’s okay.”

Your face softened. “Of course it is.” You curled up in your chair with your tea as he propped the guitar on his knee.

He gave you a long look before his fingers started moving across the strings. You leaned a head on your hand, closing your eyes as he began to sing.

Well, mostly talked than sang, but his timbre and tone were enough to lull you into the song. It was earnest more than musical and soothed a part of your soul. Perhaps the specific part that was doubting the two of you in whatever this relationship was blossoming into. His stripped-down version of the tune was so different from the original that it took you an entire verse and chorus to pick out that it was Hello Sunshine by Aretha Franklin.

When the realization hit you, you opened your eyes and beamed at him, only to find him softly smiling at you through the words. You closed your eyes again and sank into the memory of your mom pulling out her old suitcase record player from the eighties and playing this exact LP. This was long before anyone ever called you Sunshine, but the memory was tinged in a golden light. The two of you spinning around, and your father singing along off-key.

When he finished, you cracked open your eyes again and stared at him through a loaded silence. You decided to keep the memory to yourself and let it continue to soothe you as his fingers began to twist across the strings once again, playing scales and ditties.

You took a long sip of tea before setting your sights on him again. “Play me another?” He just smirked to himself and nodded as he leaned into another tune. This time it was Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce. His voice wouldn’t have won any awards, but it was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever heard.

After that song ended, he paused and looked at you again. You smiled. “Now, I want you to keep playing for a bit. We’ll finish our tea and coffee, and then we’ll go inside because after hearing you play, I have no intention of sleeping tonight Joel Miller.”

You made the man blush.

You spent the next hour listening to him as you sipped your tea and he his coffee, which was brewed from a bag you now kept tucked in your kitchen cabinet just for his visits. The outrageous trade requirement was worth it to see him comfortable. As he twiddled his fingers through what sounded like the beginning of While My Guitar Gently Weeps by George Harrison, he placed his guitar on the ground mid-song and walked over to you, crouching down.

“Everything okay?” He locked eyes with you and nodded, before placing your tea on the deck next to you, leaning in and kissing you breathless. You gasped but cradled his face as your tongues tangled together.

As if it were a simple, everyday gesture, he slid his hands up your legs under the maxi skirt you wore to work, not stopping until his fingers were beneath the flimsy material of your panties, prying your legs apart.

“Joel! Anyone could see-” He shushed you, smirking like a bastard.

“Not if you keep quiet for me, darlin’.” You blushed and watched as he slid your panties down and lifted the skirt over his head. You barely had time to attempt another chastization before his tongue licked a long, hot stripe across your center.

You almost screamed out, but clamped a hand over your mouth. The man was insatiable.

He alternated between circling your clit with his tongue and moving down to tongue fuck you, letting his prominent nose step in to drive you crazy, nudging your clit as he moved. He growled as you shook beneath him, and the vibrations almost gave you away because you could barely hold it together.

You kept peeking over your fence line to see if anyone was walking by, but luckily, the dusky hour had most people inside enjoying a good meal rather than taking a nightly walk to check to see if two grown adults could barely keep their hands off each other.

You removed your hand from over your mouth, shuddering as you pleaded with him, “Joel, please.” You could almost feel him grin between your legs as he nipped your clit with his teeth and soothed the jerking sensation with his tongue. He again move down to insert his tongue in you but picked up the pace, truly fucking you senseless with just his mouth.

His hands were now gripping your thighs tightly, unaware of just how wound up he was as you approached your orgasm. It was crazy. Anyone could walk by, and you couldn’t decide if that drove you crazy because it was reckless or made you burn like a furnace, seeing how seemingly mad he was about you.

After you cried out and came on his tongue, he wasted no time helping you up on shaky legs and bridal carrying you into the house. He brought you to the couch and stripped as he nonchalantly stated, “Now, you’re going to ride me darlin’ until neither of us can take anymore.”

How could you refuse a direction like that?

When six in the morning rolled around, you peeled yourself off his sleeping form on the couch and padded to the kitchen to make a cup of tea that you would hopefully finish this time. You placed the water on the stove, grabbed the bag of tea, and absentmindedly stared out the window as you waited for it to boil.

You hadn’t realized Joel woke up until he was standing next to you, shooting you a worried look. “You okay?”

You jumped and threw a hand over your chest. “Oh my god, you scared me! Yes, yes I’m fine.” He didn’t look too convinced.

He gently pushed you to the side and took over making your tea as you sat down at the kitchen table. You were quiet again, and it didn’t sit right with him.

He said your name softly, causing you to look at him in question. “Please just tell me what’s on your mind. I can tell somethin’s eatin’ you up.” You immediately tried to shake your head, but he raised his hand. “Don’t bullshit me.”

You sighed heavily and simply shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He waited for you to continue, so you crossed your legs anxiously as he stared at you with those penetrating brown eyes. “It’s nothing really. I’m just having an off-week. Don’t worry about me.”

You still hadn’t convinced him. He was worried, but if you weren’t going to tell him, he would ask around.

He held onto his suspicions as the week went on, growing more and more concerned. The only time your mind seemed to be in the room with him was when he was kissing or fucking you. He even snuck into the gardens between patrols to pull you behind the greenhouse for an impromptu makeout session while you rode his leg to see a spark in your eyes, but he knew it couldn’t continue like this.

By the end of the week, he cornered Tommy after a supply run in the stables. At first, he didn’t know how to approach the subject, but after Tommy eyed him a few times during the awkward silence, he just spit it out.

“You heard any talk around town? About me and-” Tommy cut him with a dark look, stopping his sentence short. His eyebrows shot up, and he took a step forward. “What is it? She hasn’t been herself for days, and I’m runnin’ in circles trying to figure it out.”

Tommy let out a loaded sigh and threw his hands up. “No easy way to say this but, people are sayin’ she’s lookin’ like a fool for being with you. Sayin’ you were nothing but ugly to her and she’s takin’ it lying down because you’re sleeping together.”

Joel saw red, and Tommy put his hands out in defense, worried his brother would start swinging. “That ain’t comin’ from me! And trust me, I shut that shit down when I heard it, but it isn’t keepin’ people from whispering.”

Joel could barely speak; he was so angry. “I’m guessin’ she heard it? That’s why she’s been in her head so much?”

Tommy nodded, and Joel leaned against one of the paddocks to take a deep breath.

He wanted to punch any person who made your smile disappear, but really, the one he had to blame was himself. He was the reason at the core of it.

And fuck, if that didn’t kill him.

Next Chapter.

Tag List :) @silksepia @hello-nah817 @longlivetheloneliness @keseqna @millers-girl @treacherqus @lemonboi @spnfic85 @secretlettersfromyourlove @nosebeers

#bitter taste of honey #good day sunshine #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #spotify #the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel miller imagine #Spotify

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