#jackson!tommy

Nothing makes you throb more than hearing the clink of his belt start to become unraveled. If there’s one thing about Tommy, it’s that he never leaves the house without slapping on an over sized solid metal belt buckle. You can take the man out of Texas, but you can’t take the Texas out of the man. You wouldn’t have it any other way though. It’s his signature style, and knowing that you’re the only one that gets to peel his belts off his waist at the end of the day is enough to have you clenching your thighs together. 

On your last patrol with Tommy you simply couldn’t contain yourself. Looking over at him you noticed the evening sun glow on his face, spotlighting his freckles like a showpiece. His hair messily tied back into a bun, a few defiant strands hanging out. Rifle slung across his strong back. That big belt buckle peeking out over his flannel, ever so slightly digging into his belly with each trot of his horse. God that damn buckle. Your mind had wandered, imagining what it would feel like pressed against your wet heat.

You were staring, hard. And you were caught in the act.

“Baby you’re burnin’ a hole in my face with how hard you’re starin’.”

Tommy knew though. He knew what that look meant. He’s a good man too, never keeps his girl needy and wanting.

“C’mon now honey, gonna show you a spot I think you’ll like real nicely.” The last two words came out slow and thick with a deep southern drawl.

He leads the two of you out to a small clearing in the woods, ties up each of your horses and gives them both a carrot to occupy themselves with in the meantime. Tommy takes your hand and gently tugs you so you’re following him down a man-made path. Your mind is so foggy with anticipation of what’s to come that you don’t even realize he’s stopped walking. Before you can protest, he has you up against a tree, arms caging you in, face inches away from yours.

“Y’know baby, I pride myself on being a very level headed man. But with you? Fuckin’ hell. You give me one of those looks like ya did and I’m wrecked until I can have you wrapped around me right where you belong. You feel what you do to your old man, huh sugar?”

He presses his erection into your thigh and starts attacking your lips with hungry kisses. Tommy is a man who likes to take his time. He lives to kiss, lick and grope every inch of you. Sure, he loves a good quick fuck - but to him you're something sacred that deserves to be worshiped and adored, this is a man who prefers the term "making love" because to him, that's exactly what it is. You can feel him wanting to take his sweet time with you, but right now that just simply wont do. You’re so wound up all you can think about is his heavy cock inside of you, absolutely nothing else matters. That’s when you break away from your kiss and urgently plead with him to just take you as is. His dark brown eyes lock onto yours and seem to grow a shade deeper with your request.

“As much as I love tasting that sweet cunt of yours baby, who am I to deny such a request from you huh?”

He starts frantically messing with his belt before your hands fall over his, intervening. Confusion falls over his soft features for a moment, but Tommy puts the pieces together and seamlessly reads your mind.

“Ohhh I get it now." His eyes flick to yours, pupils blown wide. A crooked and sly smirk forming. "Filthy fuckin’ girl. I see the way you’ve been starin' at my belt buckle lately. Yeah that’s it ain’t it? Well, what my baby wants, my baby gets. Fuck that’s so goddamn hot darlin', you're makin' me blush."

His calloused hands undo the button and zipper of your jeans before finding the trim of your panties and yanking both down in one fell swoop, too heated to bother taking any of your other clothes off. You watch him intently as he clicks his buckle back into place, flashes you a quick smile, and instead pulls his zipper down and takes his leaking cock out. He’s so hard and throbbing it’s almost a struggle to get all of him out and through his zipper hole. He manages though, and when he’s all done he looks at you with a devilish grin and taps at your thighs to signal he wants you to do a little jump up for leverage. You happily oblige and feel the delicious weight of him pressed against you keeping you steady.

"Atta girl. Always such a good listener f'me. You ready for this cock sweetheart? I know you are baby, just look at her drippin' wet and I ain't even done nothin'. Prettiest pussy I ever seen and shes all mine, goddamn. You have any idea what you do to me babygirl?"

After stealing a tender kiss, Tommy lifts your chin up to look at him as he starts to sink into you, eye contact never breaking. The sounds are obscene as he feeds his hungry length further inside you.

"Gonna take real good care of my baby, this is what'cha wanted yeah? Couldn't even wait till we got back to Jackson. Needed me to fill you up out here like the desperate little girl that you are, ain't that right?"

Your breath hitches as the hilt of his cock is almost completely flush with your cunt. Tommy stops and admires the view where you two are joined before sliding the last inch in, bottoming completely out and finally letting his buckle rest atop your pulsing clit. The coolness of the metal buckle rubbing against your bundle of nerves made you cry out in ecstasy. This is exactly what you craved. You knew it would feel good, but not this good. Your nails dug into the backs of his shoulders, a silent plea to get him moving, to get him fucking into you. Tommy groaned and started bucking his hips into yours with a feverish intensity you've never seen before, it was downright carnal. Both of your arousal mixing and spilling out of your hole in long strings, connecting the two of you when he pulled out and slammed back in. The friction of his buckle bumping into you combined with the sweet sting of his pounding cock made your head dizzy. Tommy was fucking you so hard you felt yourself becoming dumb in the head, nearly drooling from the sheer pleasure coursing through your body.

Between whimpers Tommy was sucking and biting on your lips, always trying to be as close as possible to you, tasting you in any way he can. Breathlessly you looked down to watch his filthy ministrations. You could see your slick coating the shiny metal of his buckle, and a small fogged over reflection of your puffy cunt getting the attention she so desperately craved. You moaned and closed your eyes, softly rolling your head back, finding purchase on the tree behind you. The sights and sounds were too much, nearly driving you to the edge.

Tommy took the opportunity to start sucking on your exposed neck before making his way up to your ear and planting a kiss just under the lobe. Always so sweet to you, even with your pants around your ankles as he tears you apart in the woods.

"You feel like heaven darlin'. Squeezin' me so tight, taking all of me like the good girl you are. Ain't gunna last much longer honey and I can tell you're barely holdin' on too. I've gotcha sweet girl, go 'head and make a mess on me, take what you need."

Tommy's words make your stomach flutter and drive you over the edge with a cry. Tears spilled out the sides of your eyes as you shake through one of the best orgasms you can ever recall having. As you start to come down from your high you grab onto Tommy's face, scrunch your eyebrows together and beg. He knows what you're begging him for, because you do this to him every damn time. Neither one of you have the self control to stop it either.

"Always such a needy little thing. Fucking you with my belt wasn't enough, you need me to fill you up too? Shit baby you know I cant ever say no to that. Dont you worry in that pretty little head of yours, 'm gonna stuff this cunt full and you're gonna take every drop of it, just like you wanted."

Tommy presses closer into you, wrapping his arms around you clinging as tightly as he can, and nudges his face into your neck. With a few more sloppy thrusts he groans through gritted teeth and comes hard and hot inside of you. Fulfilling your request, and his word. After a few moments he pulls out, the both of you sighing from the loss of contact, and starts to tidy you back up sweetly. You can start to feel his release slowly dripping out of you and falling onto the mossy floor of the woods.

"I thought I told you to take every drop of me baby girl. C'mon now don't be wasteful."

Before you can craft a snarky reply, you gasp as you feel two of his thick digits scooping his spend up from your legs, and pushing it back into your fucked out hole. He does this until every last drop is cleaned from where it leaked out, and your cunt is stuffed white with all of his come. He mumbles something along the lines of "that's more like it", and brings his fingers up to his mouth to suck them clean. The sight alone could have made you ready for round two, but the sun was setting fast and you had stupid patrol obligations to complete. He pulled you in for a passionate kiss, tongues connecting and tasting the mixture of the two of you. He helped you bring your jeans back up and into place, even fixing up your zipper and button. Tommy gently pats his hand in between your legs as a sly reminder of the fun that was just had, and starts to kiss your face again.

You walk side by side, his hand wrapped around yours as you make your way back to your horses, whose carrots were eaten long, long ago. Always the gentleman, Tommy helps you up and onto your horse before he saddles himself. You look over at him to find he's already staring at you, flashing you the biggest grin, crows feet on full display.

"Y'know, I ain't ever washing this damn buckle. Look at the shine on it now baby." He pauses and chuckles for a moment. "I've got at least 10 more I think you should polish up f'me yeah?"

Yeah. You think you can handle that.

thinking about how, for so long, joel believed his birthday was cursed. the day the world ended, the day his world ended. he would take patrols or work in the stables to keep his mind busy, even if people often hugged him or touched his arm, wishing him a happy day. tommy knew better at least, he’d simply give his big brother a slap on the back and a new bag of coffee beans he’d been holding out on him the past few weeks just to surprise him with.

but since joel met you, the day feels a little different. because you know him well enough to not to make a big fuss, but you still go out of your way to make the day a good one for him. hot cup of coffee right out of bed, his favorite meal for dinner and even a nice apple pie for dessert—ellie has never let him go a year without you and maria and tommy singing to him, even though his ears go all red.

so really, now with you in his life, he thinks his birthday might not be so much of a curse, but something that brings the people around him joy. he loves how ellie comes bounding into the house with a new drawing for him or that one time she had a new mug with an owl she traded for him. tommy even joins in more these days, maybe a little awkward at first, but now with a grin after some coaxing from you—sometimes it’s a loud toast at dinner, sometimes a story from their childhood that makes joel groan and everyone else laugh. joel loves the way your eyes light up in devilish excitement when you settle into bed at night with him, belly full and everyone gone, and you kiss him, offering his birthday gift beneath the sheets. he lets himself be remembered, despite the graying hair and the ghosts behind his eyes, because you remind him that this day is about more than the past. it’s about the people who love him now, who want to celebrate him.

Tommy Miller x fem! Reader

wc: 3.7k

genre: fluff

Warnings: Reader wears dresses often, mentions death (of a minor character), and is a skilled cook and sewer, much like a picture-perfect housewife, but she's not described as such. FEM! Reader, fluff, slight angst, age gap, 50s/30s, undescribed age, Joel bullies Tommy, post-outbreak, so Jackson!Tommy, reader is so whimsy!

Requested by: @woantohae i hope you enjoy 🥹 I started adding some pizzazz to my fic layouts! Ty @/gradient-text for that tut. and also @/saradika-graphics for the dividers. idk, I might keep up with it!

Watching you down the road was like watching a woodland nymph flounce around her little fairy village. Being one of the town's few seamstresses, you wore a lot of your own things, from dresses to flowy skirts and blouses. Everyone made orders with you, as the frontman of the seamstress's little shop, and everyone had alteration or mending requests.

Before Jackson, you were a QZ kid, only a few years old when the outbreak happened. When the world ended, your mom mended it for you, in jackets, sweaters, button-ups, jeans, you name it, your mom mended it and taught you as well. Then you two left, found Jackson, your mom passed away naturally, Jackson’s doctors said cancer, untreatable in the conditions now. You and your mom accepted it. That was only 3 months into being in Jackson.

Tommy would not like to admit that he was part of the population watching you walk down the streets, as if you were a showstopper. Tommy also wouldn’t want to admit that he was a part of the crowd asking you for alterations on his jeans or mending the holes in his jackets.

Like today, Tommy is coming back around, just after his morning patrol. The bell rings upon his entrance, his summer button-up taken off, leaving him stranded in a white tank top. The button-up has splits in the seams, and the pocket practically ripped from them too. You emerged from the back, behind a flowy butter yellow curtain.

Your bright eyes look back at him, and his stomach twists in obsession. “Heya,” he said with a smile.

“Nice to see you, Tommy,” you greeted. “Got somethin’ for me?”

Tommy chuckles while setting the button-up on the counter, “I wish I could wash this one more time, but I need it for tomorrow.” You bat his apology away and smile. You take his shirt and look around it, “We normally wash intake anyways…jus’ don’ tell no one—woahhh Mr. Miller, this looks older than me.”

You don’t notice how he winces, lost in the weathered fabric in observation as you examine the rips and tears. It is older than you, the same one from outbreak day, rewearing what was his youth. Tommy shrilled lowly, “Maybe.”

Yet you remain unbothered about his reply, whether it’s blissful or just didn’t mind the tattered clothing. You look behind you and see rolls of fabric lining the walls. He doesn’t see it, but your eyes land on this thick, sturdy, but thin enough for summer fabric. It was white, even custom-patterned by you with some fabric paint someone managed to scavenge for you. You had one in the process of being made—meant to be exchanged at the town market they’d host soon.

It was perfect for Tommy, though. “Can I measure you? I got new fabrics in, I think you’d like ‘em,” you said with a grin.

“What do I owe you?” Tommy asked after nodding to your question. You tilt your head, “Nothin’ this time. I’m gonna rework this entire thing,” you said, lifting the solid red over shirt. The holes and tearing pocket weren’t the worst, but with your other orders, it would take a few days, especially if she needed the color to match her fabric to the red for the mending.

“I gotta probably color match it, so it’ll take a while. It’ll look brand-spankin’ new, though. I got one nearly done—like you could pick it up in the morning. I just needa make sure the sleeves, shoulders, and back fit.”

“I can’t ask that of you for free. What do you need? I’m going on a run tomorrow. I can get you anything,” Tommy said confidently. You laugh, shake your head, and unwrap the tape measure around your neck. “I got nothing I need, Tommy. Come on over here.”

With a frown, he shakes his head too, either mocking your reaction or genuinely enjoying this back and forth. With a gentle step to his right, his stride was big enough to reach, and he stood by the flip-up countertop. “I’m sure you need something.”

“Nothing,” you repeated assuringly. When you locked the countertop, you were finally able to stand almost face-to-face with each other. Tommy raised an eyebrow, his little smirk saying, ‘I’m sure there’s something.’

You huffed, knowing Tommy wouldn’t accept no, and he stood. “Get me what you think I’ll take as payment.”

“I dunno if I can give you the world,” Tommy said naturally. His eyes widened as soon as he said it, yet you didn’t flinch. With a tepid inhale and smile, you nodded with that pretty sparkle in your eyes, “Give me as close as you can then.”

“What’s the material?”

“I recently patterned it myself,” you said. “I’ll show you in a second.”

Tommy could barely handle himself when you touched his shoulder. What was he, a Victorian woman? Even as you measured him, with a smile on your face and nimble fingers, he just smiled, thankful for your attention. Each touch was smooth and confident with a gentle grace. Tommy knew there was nothing that could make you like him. It would be a travesty for you even to consider Tommy.

Every touch you blessed him with was like an angel connecting to his soul; he was lighter, holier than the man at the beginning of the apocalypse.

Snap out of it, dumbass.

You were 20-something years younger than him; he was already 30-something on Outbreak day, and you were younger than 10 at the time. He was a creep, a weirdo, someone who most certainly didn’t deserve someone like you.

Lost in his own mind, you were already finishing up. You scribbled numbers down, your thumb holding down the length of the measurements. “All done,” you said softly, and you retreated behind the counter. You traced your fingers gently along the seams, “Your shoulders are broader, so I’m gonna cut here and give some more flexibility, same thing here. You’ll look real handsome in it, swear, Tommy.”

Tommy could listen to you talk all day; maybe he would absorb the information, but watching you speak and smile expertly over some button-up made him want you all the more. His eyes followed your hands as if you were holding a ball, and he was a puppy. His eyes watched your nimble fingers, slightly rough from so much handiwork, but not as rough as his. Even his hands screamed, 'Older than you, tougher than you.' However, my endless work

“I’ll get it to you by 11, okay?” Tommy looked at the clock on the wall. “You sure, that’s enough time?”

“Plenty. Don’t worry, I’ll be quick.”

“Don’t needa rush, I got a patrol at three anyways.”

“That’s perfect then, you can come around 2? I go home for lunch, why don’t I bring some lunch too for you? I heard you’re doing construction too by the Tipsy Bison?”

“Yeah, someone’s pipe burst,” Tommy nodded. Then his mind caught up, busy daydreaming about your expressive eyes and big smile. “No, no, no, you don’t gotta make me food.”

“But I want to,” you said simply with a crease on your forehead. Tommy wouldn’t turn down a meal, especially one homemade by you. The food in the hall was bland so that everyone could eat it. Salt and pepper were anyone’s best friends when they craved taste. Homemade meal from you? Score.

“I’ll be damned,” Tommy smiled. “I’ll come by a bit early if you want, can’t wait.”

“Alrighty,” you nodded. Tommy just kept smiling. The time hit him in the head again. “Shit, I gotta get back to work—I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“See ya, Tommy! Be safe out there,” you bid goodbye. Tommy waved and tossed a glance behind him as he jogged out of the shop.

Coincidentally, Tommy was at the Tipsy Bison tonight. Sitting beside Joel, the two shared conversations over beer. Really about nothing, mostly contraction with Tommy tittering to other subjects. When you walked in, the whole damn bar stared. Well, except for Joel, you were just a confidant to Joel ever since you opened up to Joel on one of your last patrols. While Joel didn’t do the same in the moment, Tommy trusted you, so he did too.

With a tilt of his beer, Joel needn’t pay mind to you, so he didn’t. Tommy suspected because Joel didn’t want anyone to know that he trusted you just as much as he did Tommy. Although his mind was flooded with facts and tidbits about you, he was enamored by everything. Wearing a blouse and the tightest pair of jeans Tommy has ever seen on a person before, he thinks you’d make a great wife on a farm, pretty, delicate, definitely able to hold your own.

“Y’r staring, dumbass,” Joel spoke into his beer. Tommy knocks his open hand into his chest, sloshing the beer up Joel’s nose. “You fuckin’—“ Joel pinched Tommy. “Wake up, weirdo, and quit starin’ at her like that.”

That didn’t matter; our voice was clear across the bar, and after that, you laughed at someone’s joke. He wished he didn’t care. Tommy was obsessed, but you were just too fucking young for him. So, he listened to his big brother.

Tearing his eyes off you felt like his heart shattered on its own accord.

He listened to every word you said, smiled when you laughed, and sighed when you stopped for someone else’s turn to talk.

“You lovesick fuckin’ dog, I’m sick of you,” Joel grunted. “Gotta get home, got shift in the mornin’.”

Before Joel could do his old man, hand on the table, hand fixing his belt, you waltzed over with a drink in hand. “Tommy, Joel, how are you two?”

Joel would’ve laughed, honestly, Tommy knows it. Joel hid himself behind his beer while he spoke, “I’m alright, how’s business been at the shop?”

“Easier, everyone’s bringing in their thinner summer apparel, so it’s not too bad,” you shrugged. Ordering another drink, you leaned against the bar top. When your drink was served, you took a quick sip and pursed your lips. “How about you, patrol good?”

Joel hummed, “A bit harder, cause of the heat, the horses aren’t all that happy.” You ahhh’d, turning to Tommy with a gentle smile. “How ‘bout you?”

He cleared his throat, eyes a little wide and caught off guard. “It’s fine, I’m not a horse whisperer like Joel, so I've just been leaving that to him. Routes are clearer, prettier. Needa go on a run, look for what I owe you,” Tommy explained.

Tommy ignored the way you looked at him like he spoke the world to existence; you were just drunk.

“Take your time, Tommy,” you cheerfully smiled. With a glance to the side, your demeanor deflated slightly. “My friends want me to come back over. Thanks for the chat.”

“G’Bye,” Joel replied. Tommy said your name gently with his goodbye, and when you were far enough, Joel snorted at his brother. “You’re a fuckin’ loser. I’m goin’ home.”

“Man, fuck you.”

Tommy did come by the next day. He could smell the hot food in the back. The bell jingled, and you came out from the back with a smile. “Right on time, Miller. Come on back here.”

Tommy followed you past the lifted countertop. There it was. A clean table, where a scavenged sewing machine had once been, sat two Tupperware containers side by side, packed, with steam pressing against the clear lids.

“Didn’t know when you’d be by, so I just kept it warm in its container,” you said as you gestured to the chair across from another. You apologized in advance, saying you had made it. Pasta, and the meatballs, down to the sauce; everything had been made in your home kitchen by hand. Tommy took that first bite, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip as he groaned in satisfaction. Some simple ass meals, just pasta noodles, vodka sauce, spinach, and some meatballs. But these were all especially made by you. “Lord, this food is some of the best I’ve had,” Tommy complimented.

Shoveling food into his mouth like a starved man, he finished while you lagged. You would rather watch Tommy eat than eat yourself. With a groan, Tommy leaned back, patting his stomach lightly. “Thank you so much,” Tommy said genuinely.

You grew a little warm, and batted it away with your hands, “‘s just lunch, Tommy.”

“Doesn’t make it any less fantastic.”

He wished he could just eat lunch with you forever; he honestly did. But he knew the looks he would get, visiting you every day, not a clothing item in hand, coming out fuller than the moon. He was a council member, for God's sake, he shouldn’t be doing anything to ruin his image.

“I’m making pot roast on Sunday, do you wanna come over for dinner?”

Fuck. You evil temptress.

Of course, just of course, dumbass Tommy says, “If you don’t mind.”

“Oh, please, Tommy. You’re always welcome to my place.”

Lord, don’t ever say that again. I wouldn’t know what I might do with that information, he begged to whoever watched over the skies of the apocalypse. They were monstrous for landing you here in Jackson with him; he wanted you whole.

“Then, I’ll see you on Sunday?”

“Not without this, you won’t,” you stood up with a snicker. You unzipped a garment bag, pulling out his new shirt. White with brown-red fabric paint decorating the chest pocket, paint from the collar down to the shoulders that weren’t there before. The swirls and floral brushstrokes gave it a countryside-influenced look.

“Now, all that wasn’t there before,” Tommy said as he stood up to look at it with you.

Your shoulders barely touched, but Tommy could feel it. Feel you.

“Ehhh, may have gotten inspired. Saw it in an old magazine we have, tried it out,” you said nervously. Your thumb dragged across it; most of it was embroidered. Simple designs, it was still a rush job, but it was pretty.

“I love it,” Tommy whispered. His hand reached to trace it too, the embroidery a mix of red, brown, and a hint of orange.

“Good, it’s yours,” you smiled.

Tommy faced you, holding the fabric in his hands and gently clenched it, “This is amazing.”

“Tell me another time, you got work soon, dontcha?”

Tommy cursed and laughed at himself, “You’re right. I’ll see you another time.” You walked him back to the front, staying behind the counter as he passed and headed towards the door.

“Sunday at 6!”

“Sunday at 6!” Tommy replied, the bell chiming as he exited.

The entirety of Sunday, Tommy felt a little shaken. Like every nerve in his body was vibrating so fast he wasn’t real. His palms wrapped around a bouquet, flowers he’d seen at your shop, literally stopping to smell the flowers. It was tied off with skinny twine. The few days he was gone, he didn’t find a lot. Mostly shitty stuff, broken and unusable, but thankfully, spring gave summer beautiful flowers. Wrapping his hand into a fist, he knocked gently on your door. It had pretty flowers drawn onto it, hand-painted by you. The blue made it look like fine china.

You opened your door, wearing a white cotton dress with a sage green apron on top. Tommy stared with stars in his eyes.

“Hey, come on in, Tommy,” you said, breathing through your gentle smile. You stepped aside and gestured in.

“Couldn’t find nothin’ good, but I found these,” Tommy said awkwardly as he walked in, his boots causing some wood to creak under his weight.

“They’re perfect,” you hummed casually. “I’m sure you know your way around, all the houses look the same. You're welcome to join me in the kitchen if you'd like. I don't really use the dining room.”

Tommy followed, the flowers in his hands still as he crept behind you quietly, like he wanted to shrink himself to hide.

You noticed, but just said nothing. Your walk slowed, letting him catch up and bump shoulders. He muttered his sorry and pulled back. You had set up the table, with the pot roast still on the stove and dishes beside it to be plated.

“You want a beer,” you asked as you sidled up to the steaming pot and pulled the lid off. The over-stove fan ate the steam, and you set up the vase for Tommy’s flowers. Neatly settling them in with a good amount of water.

“No, I’m good with water,” Tommy said, looking over the ice water pitcher set on the cafe sized table. “Help yourself,” and Tommy did. He also poured your water. He joined your side, taking a finished plate into his hand and the other to walk it over.

“Tommy, you’re the guest—”

“Too late,” he smiled as he let the plate settle into the placemats gently. He even pulled out your chair.

You watched Tommy eat in silence as you picked at your food slowly. Eating food slowly just to watch him enjoy the meal.

“You’re awfully nice to invite me over for such a good god damn dinner,” Tommy sighed as he leaned back into his chair. His elbows rested on the armrests, and his hands were over his stomach again. He didn’t miss the way your tongue licked nothing at the side of your mouth.

With all your gall and confidence, you cleared your throat quietly.

“You know I invited you here as a date,” you said gently, finally taking another bite. You chewed in silence, like Tommy didn’t hear you. But he did, he most certainly did.

“What?”

“I like you—you really think I would give you a shirt for free? Man, Tommy, you really are a playboy, huh?”

“No! No, I am not!” Tommy cleared his throat. “No—I just don’t think this makes sense.”

Pouting your lips, “Whus’that mean?”

“You’re just…you… an’…” I’m old, I’ve got a shitty back, kinda shitter knees. You’re 22 years younger than me, you’re smart, kind, talented, too good for me?

“I’m just me,” Tommy poorly explained. Your stomach roiled and Tommy watched you closely for your reaction. You didn’t expect your eyes to water in rejection, but they did.

You dropped your head, scooted the chair back, and stood up.

“I should probably clean up,” you muttered as you gathered your half-eaten plate and his emptied plate. Tommy rose with you, taking the plates from you and settling them back down.

“No—baby, it’s just… ” Tommy paused to think. “I don’t deserve someone like you. You’re like an angel to everyone here, hell, I heard Dina talkin’ ‘bout how to ask you on a date two days ago. ‘Fore that the new group was askin’ if you were single—baby you’re too good...”

“That doesn’t matter; no one else matters,” you replied stalely. Tommy rounded the table and stood in front of you, arms open for a hug. You hesitated before leaning in, your face squished against him. “‘Cause I like you, Tommy. Don’t want no one else, they ain’t as good as you.”

“Oh, I find that hard to believe,” Tommy grunted. His hand swirled your back, the other rested by your neck as you relaxed into him. “You don’t need any old man, ain’t half as spry as the rest of the guys your age.”

“You’re only 22 years older,” you huffed quietly.

“Only? Girl, that’s two whole decades,” Tommy snorted.

“Doesn’t mean I want you any less,” you said, looking up at him, shiny eyes and hushed from gently crying. Tommy was a weak man; with a sigh, he watched your watery eyes shimmer. “You even cry pretty.” One hand left your neck and wiped your tears dry with his thumb. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Doesn’t make me stop wanting you.”

His heart sped up, and he was sure you heard it as you smiled up at him coyly. Your hand rested on his chest, and you drummed your fingers before taking his collar into your pointer and thumb, as if assessing the fabric. “Do you really?”

“I do,” you shyly said this time.

“Say it again, baby,” Tommy begged slowly. His chest rumbled under your hands, and your fingers tightened ever so slightly. He saw your little knuckles whiten slightly in anxiety. Tommy’s big hand squeezed yours, and you met his eyes again.

“I want you, ‘wanna be with you,” you mumbled. Your eyes watched Tommy eagerly before he leaned down. Kissing your lips was like the pearly gates opening for him. Tommy had kissed plenty of women in his time, but nothing matched your kiss.

It was gentle and sweet when you kissed him, like a secret meant for only you and him. You pulled away slowly just to whisper, “Do you want me too?”

“Hell yes, I do, baby,” Tommy laughed before kissing your lips one more time. He pulled off with a sly groan, “You taste like beauty.”

“You tasted like potatoes and carrots.”

“You little shit,” Tommy grunted before digging his fingers into your sides as you yelped under him.

“Tommy!” You shrieked in laughter, “Stop it!”

“Repeat it! Dare you!”

You laughed in giggles under his torturous hands. You were slowly slinking into the ground, him standing over you as he tickled your sides and neck. Your arms squeezed in to protect your body. In one last attempt, you shouted, “I want you!”

Weakly, Tommy groaned and kissed you again into the floor, his legs over yours. “Promise?”

“I promise, Tommy.”

“Goddamn,” he breathed. He slid off you and lay beside you on the kitchen floor.

“Tommy,” you sighed after a long moment of catching your breath. His head rolled against the floor to you, repeating your name back stately in response.

“You think you love me?”

“You love me?”

“Maybe.”

“Even if I’m old?”

“Even when you’re all gray.”

Tommy grinned as he teasingly replied, “Hm, then I think I do love you.”

“You better,” you said, flipping onto your side. “Because I love you too.” Untying your apron, you pulled it off.

“And because I had made this dress to maybe match that shirt I made you.” Under the apron revealed a similar pattern to the one on his new work shirt you had made.

Grasping your face in his hand, he stared into your eyes like they were magic. “God, you’re incredible.”

“Jus’ like you, Tommy Miller.”

“Yeah, jus’ like me, I suppose.”

Series Summary: A community based in a small town south of Jackson call upon Tommy to warn him of rogue raiders and to ask for assistance. They head to the town to devise a plan with its leader, Nikandr-a Russian ex raider who welcomes the Jackson men with open arms, letting them see into his world of rough living, claimed women and ruthless men- how the world really is. But when Joel stumbles upon you, a beacon in the cestpool. Along with a friendship, Joel’s protective side ensues, and he will do anything to get you out of there.

Warnings/tags: Slow burn-Fluff with Dark themes? Talk of dead bodies, bodily harm. NonCon. Implied NonCon. Forced relationships. Rules enforced. Multiple wives. Forced pregnancies. Implied rape. TW:Mention of baby loss. Some spanking mentioned. alcohol/weed consumption. Drugging. Pining. Forbidden love type trope. Some angst. Soft!Joel. Protective!Joel, awkward!joel. Eventual smut. The events of the hospital and Ellie being immune still happened. All dark themes aren’t heavily described<3

Reader: Described having a curvy body, visible scars. Is 40+. Is forced the name Lavender/Lavvy but has nicknames. No y/n. Reader makes good of a bad situation(brainwashed or just conditioned?) NonCon implied. Reader is in a forced “marriage” with Nikandr. Tw: talk of reader being infertile. Reader has it bad for Joel. Reader smokes.

More tags and warnings with be added.

Each part will have its own warnings

Part One - Welcome To Kostroma -

Part Two - The Return To Kostroma

Part Three: - The Quiet Night Of Kostroma

Part Four - The T&Cs Of Kostroma

Part Five - The Fall Of Kostroma

Part Six - Kostroma To Jackson

Part seven - The Jackson Chapters

Jackson!Joel Masterlist

⚠︎ Each story have their own warnings.

Series 𐚁°⋆

Sawdust And Six Strings - Your birthdays approaching and Joel makes you a gift but the catch is, you have to help. Status: Completed

The Birthday Girl - Joel takes you out of Jackson for your birthday. Status: Completed

The Red Chair Tales - Various tales of you and Joel in the Red chair. Status: paused

My Weird, Sweet Girl - You’re Joels goth girlfriend who has her own graveyard outside of Jackson. A few stories of their shenanigans. Status: paused

One Shots

Good Girl - Joel teaches you your new patrol duties.

Sadness, Anger, Guilt - tw!talk of rape - We see how this event affects Joel.

Show Me Stars - Joel shows you the space pod at the museum.

Let Me Help You Tonight - It’s Joel’s first night in Jackson, and he seeks you out.

Peaches - You twist your ankle on patrol and Joel has to carry your silly ass home…loving iiiit

Cherry Pie - You’re on the hunt for your husband, Joel fuckin Miller.

Not Being Subtle, Darlin - You’re horny and you want Joel…and you ain’t shy to show it.

You, No Question - You break up with Joel after he reveals a secret.

Freckles - Is Joel gonna give it up or what?

Favourites - Joel can’t decide…

Starstruck - Your past life catches up to you but your hero Joel Miller, comes to the rescue

Knock, Knock Miller -You get ditched by Joel so you go and ambush him.

chapter one: the girl in white | two

pairing— married!tommy x reader, jackson era

summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen. God, it wasn’t supposed to. But how can Tommy ignore all those little butterflies you give him? How can he ignore you when you’re in his space. And that million dollar smile of yours? It was game over the second he saw you. He knew that. But he wouldn’t give in so easily, no of course not.

includes: slow burn , angst, guilt, not much but Tommy’s internal battles! loaded tension.

note: based off of this ask. Here is a full blown fic bc you know it’s heavy on my mind now. thank you anon cutie!!! I have such a vision for this one, & I hope I do it justice. wc: 5,8k