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theherothesavior · 4 months ago

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One Little Scratch II Part 3

Joel Miller x AFAB Reader

Summary: Dinner goes about as well as you expected. But, will the evening end on a better note?

Warnings: mentions of drug use, mentions of addiction, Mallory, age gap (not a crazy one), violence, more of my terrible writing, never proofread, eventual smut.

Word Count: 3.2k

Author's Note: I appreciate the 4 people that are enjoying this 🤪💕.

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A family dinner was a practice that most people viewed as the pinnacle of love and normality. It was always the picture used to paint the perfect family, a copy of Norman Rockwell’s Freedom from Want. A moment in time, depicted so flawlessly, showcasing how an ideal family has no needs besides enjoying their time together. There is no lack of food or love to be seen. A perfect meal for a perfect family.

You adored that painting when you were younger. A copy of it had hung on your grandmother’s dining room wall when you were small. When it was just you and her, in the days when your parents were too strung out to see you or just simply didn’t care enough to come to see you, you would stare at that painting. You would analyze it every meal. The grandparents, eager to share their homemade meal with their family. The children, excited to be eating all the hard work that had been done. It was always something you longed for, something you thought that you desperately needed in order to make your family feel real, feel whole. The last Thanksgiving you had, with both of your parents still alive, was terrible.

You were eager to finally have the real Rockwell family dinner that you always craved. You thought it was going to be perfect, but much to the disappointment of your 7-year-old self, it was awful. The turkey was burnt, your father was drunk, and the entire evening was spent listening to your parents fight over whether or not sweet potato was actually sweet. You remember thinking that you’d rather be somewhere by yourself eating a dry-ass turkey sandwich than eating a real meal with your parents. That was the worst sit-down dinner you have ever experienced.

Until right now.

The food itself is amazing. Maria and Tommy have cooked a beautiful dinner of roast chicken and potatoes with green beans. They seasoned everything as beautifully as they could with the limited spices they were able to barter from the mess hall, making everyone moan and groan over how amazing the home-cooked meal was. Towards the end of the feast, it starts to get a little bumpy.

Tommy and Maria sit at each end of the table, Joel on his brother’s right while you sit next to him on Maria’s left. Ellie is across from you on the other side of Maria, with Mallory sitting next to her, facing Joel. While everyone picks at their last little bit of food, Mallory starts to ask Joel some questions.

“So, where did you and Tommy grow up?” She bats her eyelashes at him, and Ellie laughs into her glass, covering it up with a cough before taking a sip while you teasingly glare at her to remind her to behave. Joel clears his throat before simply answering, “Austin, Texas.”

“Oh, wow!” Her voice full of sweetness she saves solely for Joel. “You must have endured some hot summers then.” She winks at him, and now it’s Tommy’s turn to laugh, also attempting to cover it up with a cough, but rather choking on his water. Joel kicks his brother under the table and answers Mallory again. “Yeah, it could get pretty sweltering at times, but you’re used to it most of the time.” He smiles, and everyone but Mallory can tell it’s forced. Her gaze shifts to you, and you tense, expecting some backhanded insult. Joel senses your panic of an impending attack and carefully slides his hand onto your left thigh, silently reminding you that he’s there and not to snap at her. She softly addresses you.

“And where were you from?” Her faux sweetness pouring out of her mouth and onto her empty plate. You clear your throat before answering, the meek tone not sounding anything like you. “Vermont.” She nods at your response before asking a follow-up question. “Oh, that was a beautiful place to visit.” She sips her water. “I used to go with my sister when we were in our twenties. We were actually planning on moving there, but the amount of marijuana and slacker hippies was too much for us.” You grip Joel’s hand, forcing a smile on your face. “Yeah, it was sad. The addiction crisis in the state was pretty high when I was in high school.”

She gasps, “ Well aren’t you a baby! You were in high school when the breakout happened?” She laughs softly, glancing around the table to see everyone else’s reactions. Joel squeezes your thigh again as you answer. “No, I actually dropped out a year before the outbreak.” Mallory makes a noncommittal noise in response as she sips her water. Once she swallows, a small condescending laugh, one singular exhale, before asking a follow-up question. “A dropout? Well, good thing the world ended, so you actually had a chance, right?”

“Bitch.” Ellie mumbles under her breath and Maria puta a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep her out of it, leaving you to answer Mallory yourself. You take a deep breath, Joel’s hand moving further between your thighs, his grip growing stronger as he starts to get equally as frustrated.

“Well, I had to drop out to take care of my little sister.” You answer shakily, the memory of her starting to fade more and more as each day passes.

“Oh? Where were your parents?” Mallory asks, voice still condescending.

“My mom died when I was 12, and my dad wasn’t a great guy, so he wasn’t around a lot.” You look down at your plate, praying for someone to jump into the conversation and help you. She continues, “He wasn’t a great guy? That’s sad.” She takes another sip of water. “What happened to your sister?” You take a deep breath, the sadness replaced with rage.

“Well she’s not with me now so what the fuck do you think happened?” You snap at her, Joel’s hand moving to grip your knee even harder, urging you to calm down. You glance at him, and you can see he understands your aggravation but also desperately needs you to relax and not kill Mallory over the table. “She got shot by a FEDRA agent 19 years ago because she ‘looked sick, ‘ but she was just 10 years old, exhausted, and scared.” Joel’s head whips to look at you. He hadn’t known that you had to deal with that guilt just like he had for so long. His anger towards Mallory triples, knowing what you must feel right now.

Mallory scoffs, “Well, you didn’t take great care of her then.” Her words settle in the room, no one saying anything but everyone, apart from the bitch herself, knows what’s about to happen. Tommy rushes to help a very pregnant Maria up from her chair and out of the room. He comes back for Ellie as she protests that she wants to watch what’s about to go down. As soon as Ellie’s out of the room, you rush around the table and tackle Mallory from her chair. You punch her in the face, holding her down.

“You need to learn how to keep your fucking mouth closed! You never lst anyone because no one can stand to be around you for more than thirty seconds.” You punch her again, going to a third time, but Joel stops your hand. You angrily look up at him.

“She’s got the point, darlin’. Let’s go home, okay?” You go to protest, but he helps you up, sighing as he turns his attention to Mallory to help her off the ground. You can see the smirk appearing on her face, thinking that Joel’s coming to her rescue, but instead he glares at her.

“You’re gonna leave us alone. You’re gonna stop talkin’ to Ellie about her ‘needing a mother. ’ You’re gonna stop trying to get my attention because, let’s be honest, you’re only embarrassin’ yourself.” He huffs out a cold laugh. “And you’re gonna stop bothering my girl. If I hear that you even so much as address her the wrong way, I’m not going to stop her from beating you blind. Got it?” His dangerous tone leaves no room for discussion, and she nods in fear, covers her face, and runs from the house.

Ellie runs into the room. “You got her good! Holy shit!” You laugh at her enthusiasm, and Tommy comes in as well with Maria behind him. Tommy has a huge smirk on his face as he steps closer, high-fiving you. “She had that coming for a while.” You smirk back at him and glance at Maria and apologize if you stressed her out, not wanting to make anything harder on her while she’s pregnant.

She shakes her head. “No, Tommy’s right. Besides, if she had said anything like that to me, I would have done the same thing.” You nod in appreciation, and the five of you clean up the dinner you just had. After about forty minutes or so, you and Joel head back home while Ellie heads to Dina’s. You step inside and plop down on the couch, your knuckles starting to hurt from punching Mallory. Joel sits on the coffee table across from you, “Let me see, darlin’.” He carefully takes your right hand in his and inspects your cut knuckles as they start to bruise. “Not too bad. They could be worse.” He shakes his head and sighs. “I’m sorry I made you come to dinner, and I’m really sorry I made such a big thing about you bein’ nice to her for ‘neighbourly appearances.’ That was bullshit on my part.” You nod in agreement, and he sighs, going to grab a cloth and put some ice in it for your knuckles. As he walks back, he kicks himself for putting you in that position and for being part of the reason you were subjagated to the verbal abuse Mallory hit you with. He sits back down in front of you with a grunt. “Here.” He takes your hand in his again, holding the ice on your knuckles for you.

“Thanks…” You answer softly, smiling at him as he tends to your bruised hand. “Now you see why I was always such a bitch to her. She said all of that in front of four other people. Imagine what she’s said to me without anyone around.” You sigh, wincing slightly at the cloth brushing against your cut knuckles. Joel’s brows bunch together, his face hardening as he looks up at you.

“What has she said?” He asks gruffly, and you sigh, throwing your uninjured hand up in defeat.

“A lot of it had to do with you and her insane belief that every time we’re alone we’re fucking each others brains out.” You look up just in time to see his cheeks redden before he looks away.

He clears his throat. “Well, that’s something. Why do you think she’d say that?” He finishes, and his eyes meet yours again, and you shrug. “I don’t know, but she seemed to think that ‘my pussy wrapped around your cock was cutting off blood flow to your brain to make the right choices’.” You chuckle. “That’s a direct quote, by the way.” When you look back at him, he looks pained, and he senses your confusion.

“You can’t be sayin’ stuff like that to me, darlin’.” He says, roughly making you roll your eyes. “Yeah, I know, but I’m just repeating some of the things Mallory has said to me. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He laughs darkly. “You did… but not for the reason you think.” You look at him, eyebrows raising as your eyes lower to his lap. “Oh.. uhm… is it just the way I said it? Or is it me?”

He looks at you like you have three heads, like it’s a question you shouldn’t even have had to ask. You laugh, still confused, “What? Is there something on my face or something?” His eyes only grow wider, his smirk growing along with the upper half of his face.

“Darlin’, you can’t be serious right now?” He laughs, eyes searching yours until he finally realizes that you are, in fact, being serious. “Baby… you drive me absolutely fuckin’ crazy.” His voice is low, barely audible, and if you hadn’t been looking at him, you might not have noticed he even spoke. Your jaw drops, only slightly, before his hand that’s not holding your busted one moves to cup your chin.

“I didn’t think you thought of me like that. I just thought you tolerated me, liked me just enough to keep me around for Ellie’s sake.” It’s your turn to practically whisper, afraid that if you raise your voice too much, he’ll get scared like a deer and run into oncoming traffic. His grip on your chin tightens as his thumb barely brushes against your bottom lip.

“Barely tolerate? Do you think that I would have taken the time to bandage your back last night if I barely tolerated you? Give you my clothes to wear? You think I would have given you the better mattress to sleep on or the more comfortable sheets if I ‘barely tolerated’?” He takes a deep breath and looks down, his other hand running his thumb along the back of yours before looking back up at you. His eyes, usually hardened and guarded, are soft as they peer into yours. The vulnerability in them is akin to a labrador that wants to be cared for. “If I felt how you thought I did, I wouldn’t have cared that you were thinking about leaving. The sheer thought of possibly not being able to see you every day wouldn’t have sent an icy chill through my bones like it did when you mentioned it earlier today.”

You're speechless. Every interaction that you’ve had with him in the past year is replaying in your mind. Every moment where you thought there was maybe something more between you two that you ultimately ruled as delusions in your own mind. Moments you’d think about over and over, wishing they meant what you hoped they had. Every single conversation, glance, or brief touch weighs heavier as you realize that you were right this entire time. You were right even though you had managed to convince yourself you were wrong. After what feels like hours of silence, you manage a soft, “Joel.” Not knowing what else to say, he continues for you.

“Now please, baby, please tell me that you’re not thinkin’ about leaving still. I just started to get comfortable here and I would hate to have to pack up and drag my ass out there with you.” The corner of his lip turns up again, making you laugh softly.

“Well, out there really isn’t a place for a teenage girl or an old man.” You jest, and he squeezes your chin again.

“Watch it, darlin’.” He warns with no real sternness, and you giggle softly.

“I think I’ll stick around for a while.” You smile softly. “Under one condition.” His face gets serious at your statement, and he nods for you to state your terms. “Take my mattress. I didn’t know you gave me the more comfortable one, and you have a worse back than I do.” You urge, and he shakes his head with a soft chuckle, his thumb resuming its soothing motion along the side of your chin.

“Not a chance in Hell, baby. It’s yours, and I want you to keep it.” You groan and start to argue again.

“Then at least take my sheets. You deserve to be comfortable, especially after taking care of me and Ellie. Plus, you work so hard around town and do so much for everyone you deser-.” His lips meet yours softly, cutting you off. You hadn’t realized that he had slowly been pulling your chin toward him the entire time you were ranting about how much he does for you and the rest of the town. The kiss makes you melt against him, warmth spreading through your body as his full lips press gently against yours. You hum as he pulls you closer, hand moving to the side of your neck while his thumb rests against your cheek.

He pulls away slowly. “Sweet girl…” He breathes, “You’re keeping your sheets. End of discussion.” His voice is soft and caring, his eyes matching his tone as he looks down at you.

“You’re really not going to take anything from me? I can’t give you anything as a thank you.” Your eyes mirror his as you look up at him, and he smirks. “Well, there’s something you could give me.” He offers suggestively. “But, you’re hand’s bruised, and your entire back is cut up so that won’t be happening any time soon.” He sighs, his face growing serious as he clears his throat, attempting to be the responsible one.

“What if I ask nicely?” You whisper sweetly, craning your neck so your lips get closer to his again. You stop right before they touch and press your lips to his jawline instead. “What if I begged you so sweetly?” You press another kiss to the other side of his jaw, to the little spot in his beard where no hair ever grows, making him tense. “What if I left little kisses all over you? What would you do?” You giggle and press a soft kiss to his lips, his hand moves from the side of your neck to lightly wrap around your throat as he deepens the kiss. His tongue strokes against your bottom lip, and you grant him access, allowing him to explore your mouth. He grunts against you as you moan into the kiss, making him hold you closer to him. Your hand rests against his thigh, squeezing just above his knee, and he moans as he breaks away from you. He rests his forehead against your, the two of you inhaling each other’s heavy exhales.

“Baby. I’m not touching you right now, not with your back the way it is.” You whine and protest, and he presses his lips to yours again to silence you for the second time in a few minutes. “No whining. We’re gonna go upstairs, you’re gonna let me check that bandage, and we’re going to bed because we both have patrol tomorrow mornin’.” He gruffs. There is no room for arguments, and he stands up from the coffee table, holding his hand out to help you up from the couch. He presses a smooch to the top of your head before guiding you toward the steps to head up to the bathroom.

“Yes, sir.” You tease and he swats your ass with a smirk, making you squeal and giggle.

“Watch it. Head upstairs; I’ll be right there.” You smile softly and go toward the bathroom. He stands at the bottom of the steps, watching you go, his feelings swirling in his gut. He’s been fighting his feelings for you for months now, and he thought that admitting them would appease some of his fear and guilt for feeling the way he does. So how come he still feels like he’s going ot vomit? The yearning in his heart keeps fighting with the voice in his head that feels guilty for feeling the way he feels about you. You’re not “young” per se, but you are younger than him. He’s worried that he’s going to somehow “take advantage” of you because of the age difference, even though you were a legal adult when the world ended. You stick your head out of the bathroom and look down at him.

“You okay?” You call down the stairs, and as his eyes meet yours, there’s a ceasefire in his body. Everything but your sweet voice and face stops him from thinking, and his breath catches.

“M’fine, darlin’. I’m comin’.” He smiles, pushing his inner turmoil to the side. The promise of touching your skin, even if it’s just to tend to your wounds, propels him up to you, leaving his doubts downstairs to wait for another day.

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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader

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theherothesavior · 4 months ago

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One Little Scratch || Part 2

Joel Miller x AFAB Reader

Summary: After your interaction with Joel the night before, you two have a conversation about your future in Jackson.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, Mallory, some more angst, more of my shitty writing, still not proofread.

Word Count: 3.2k

Author's Note: Thanks to those interested in a Part 2.

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It was never supposed to be like this. You were never supposed to be living in Jackson with him and his pseudo-daughter, well both your pseudo-daughter if you think about it, but here you are. You were never supposed to have these feelings for him, never supposed to have the air catch in your throat every time he looked at you with soft eyes. It was never supposed to be difficult for you to see him flirt with anyone else, even though you know you have no claim over him. You wish you did, even if you shouldn’t. You wish you had the hold on him that Mallory seems to think you have. The hold that makes you his. The hold that makes him yours.

The hot water from the shower head cascades down your weary body, rinsing off some of the alcohol induced exhaustion from the night before. You face the stream, making sure that the bandage Joel had put on your back stays dry and clean for as long as you can. You allow yourself a few more minutes in the shower before you dry off, get changed and head downstairs to face the music. You know this conversation with Joel is going to be rough, even if you can’t figure out everything he probably wants to discuss. When you step off the final step, Ellie comes out of her room.

“Hey, Ellie.. have you seen Joel?” You ask her, while trying to swallow your nerves.

“He’s at Tommy’s helping him build a crib.” She answers flatly and you let out a breath of relief, shoulders relaxing. “Why? Are you hiding from him or something?” She asks with a laugh, the idea of being scared of Joel, laughable to her.

You sigh, “A little. We had a small “disagreement” last night and he left me a note saying he wanted to talk.” She nods, chuckling more. “Is it because you’ve been drunk off your ass nearly every night for a month?” Her eyebrows raise, a smirk on her face, thinking it’s funny that Joel is, voicing his annoyance with your recent behavior.

You laugh softly, “Yeah that could have something to do with it.” You pause, “About that, Joel told me you think I’m upset with you…” You stop there, wanting to gage her reaction. She shrugs, trying to hide her real feelings from you, “Yeah, well, Joel says dumb shit sometimes.”

You smile softly at her, “Yes he does, but that’s not the point.” You sigh before continuing, “I’m just…sad. It’s been a long time since I lived in a “normal” town. When I walk around Jackson, it’s just a reminder of the life that I never got to have, a reminder of everything I never got the chance to experience and it’s…hard.” You hang your head, feeling shameful for admitting that when most people still alive would give anything just to have a semblance of the normalcy you have now. You look back up at her, “I’m not upset with you. I could never be upset with you, okay? “ You tell her honestly, your voice as soft as your eyes as you look at her.

She nods, a smile on her face. “Yeah, I know…” She says, the relief of your reassurance clear on her features. Before either of you can say anything else, Joel walks through the front door and Ellie takes that as her cue to leave. She rushes out the door, barely hearing Joel remind her to be back in time for dinner at Tommy’s. “...damn teenagers.” He huffs with a smile as he turns back to face you.

“Hey…” Your voice is soft, almost unrecognizble as you greet him. “Hi, darlin’.” He answers equally as soft as he sheds his coat and hangs it by the front door. “We need to talk.” Joel tilts his head toward the couch, urging you to sit. You nod and move to take a seat. He sighs and walks toward you. “About last night…that can’t keep happening. The drinking and fighting with our neighbors.” You go to interrupt and he puts his hand up to stop you. “I know, I know. Mallory shoved you…”

“...and slapped me.” You manage to interrupt him like you’d wanted. “Wait, wait, wait, she slapped you?” He asks, angrily. “Yeah… right before she shoved me.” You say, not looking at him. He scoffs angrily, “I can’t believe her. Why the fuck would she slap you?”

You still don’t look at him, “I may or may not have told her that you said she looks like a ‘busted Barbie doll’.” You cringe when you finally look at him, expecting to hear him start yelling, but he’s silent. He stares at you, glare unwavering as he takes a deep breath.

“Darlin’... why would you tell her I said that? We’re just getting settled, you know half the people here aren’t exactly warm with us yet.” He asks you, seemingly exhausted.

“Why do you care? It doesn’t matter what she or anyone else thinks. There are bigger things for me to worry about other than whether Mallory likes me or not.” You say, annoyed from this conversation already.

“Because, we live here. We have to see these people everyday. I’d actually like to stay in a place that’s relatively safe. A place where I don’t have to worry about anything happening to Ellie or you!” His voice raises, not in anger, but in exasperation at you not understanding this without him having to tell you. He takes a deep breath, “I know you’re having’ a hard time adjusting, but please, just ease up on the drinking. I have enough stress with Ellie, bein’ in a place that actually allows her to be a teenager and do teenage things. I don’t want to have to worry about you drunkenly tryin’ to fight half of the community.”

You scoff, “Mallory is one crazy person, not half of the community, Joel.”

He smirks slightly, “Mallory’s mouth is as big as half of the community, so stop arguin’ with her.” His words make you laugh softly.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to if she stopped thinking your dick is down my throat every time we’re alone.” You joke, making him snort. Your smile widens at the sound of a genuine laugh coming from him. You stand up, hissing as the torn skin on your back stretches with the motion. Joel’s laughter stops, eyes softening.

“Easy, darlin’ don’t make it worse.” You nod, tugging at your shirt, the fabric too tight. Joelfrowns then wordlessly walks upstairs. You can hear him as he moves around in his room for a second, then comes back downstairs to you. “Wear this.” He holds out a green flannel, his stern eyes. You take the familiar garment from him, smiling gratefully.

“Thanks, Joel.” You turn to take your long sleeve off and slip his shirt on instead. When it’s fully covering your bare torso, you turn back to face him. “Of course. It looks better on you,” he stutters, “I mean you look more comfortable.” He half smiles, suddenly embarrassed that he just admitted that to you. You blush and as your face reddens, it heats up to a supernova level as you remember another detail from the night before.

“Uhm, sorry for completely flashing you last night.” An awkward laugh, bubbles from your chest. He rubs the back of his neck, blushing as well. “It’s okay, it’s nothin’ I would complain about seein’ again.” He smirks, eyes falling to your covered chest before flicking up to your lips and finally landing on your eyes once again. You clear your throat, “uhm…another thing about last night… when you said that I had ‘given up’, what were you talking about?”

The words are nearly inaudible when they exit your mouth, scared of his answer. Joel lets out a heavy breath, “Nothin’ really. I just meant that your drinkin’ and your attitude about being in Jackson, makes it seem like you’ve given up. Plus, you said to Ellie that you wanted to go back out there.” He pauses, worry etched deep on his face, “Please tell me that’s not true darlin’. You can’t possibly want to go back out there.”

You sigh, leaning against the back of the couch. “Out there makes sense. It’s the world I’m used to. In here, it feels like a weird dream and I don’t know how to navigate being in a ‘normal’ environment after 20 years of running and fighting.” You want to choke on your own words feeling guilty as they exit your body.

You have an actual home again, not some run-down, mold covered apartment that you got thrown into in some random QZ. You live with people you care about, who also care about you in return. There’s no screaming from another floor in the middle of the night because someone traded their ration cards for a bottle of smuggled whiskey. There’s no shoveling shit in the sewer just to earn food for the week. You’re not worried about FEDRA agents attacking you if you’re out past curfew. Yet, you still feel worse here than you ever have in any other place. You know why, you’d just rather not admit it because then you’d be making it real.

Joel steps closer, finger tilting your chin up as he softly replies, “I understand how you’re feeling, but it’s better for us in here than out there. You have to know that.” You nod,

“Yeah I know…but I don’t really remember what life was like before this. I was a little older than Ellie when everything happened, but I’ve kind of blocked that part of my life out.” He nods, letting you continue as his thumb runs along your jaw in a soothing manner. “It just seems easier to go where I’m familiar… and that’s out there.” You sigh, looking up at him feeling awful for admitting the truth.

“It makes sense, darlin’, but we can’t take Ellie out there again.” His voice is gentle as he looks down at you, remorseful that he can’t just take all your worries away.

“Well, I never thought you’d come with me.” You answer, simply expressing the three month long belief that you’ve been sitting on every time you’ve wrestled with the idea of going. He stops stroking your jaw, face growing tense as he drops his hand and steps back.”You think we wouldn’t come with you?” The words shake as they fight their way out of his throat and you shrug. “So you’d just leave? Is that what I’m hearing.” He asks bitterly. “Just leave Ellie like that? Leave me?”

You look at him, ashamed that you thought differently, but you shake that feeling off. “I would never ask you to come with me. I figured you wouldn’t care.” Your words are quiet, but he backs up as if you shouted at him. His jaw clenches, fist furling and unfurling at his sides as he breathes heavily.

“I was right…you really are an idiot.” His words hit you harder than they should as he moves past you, swinging his coat on and slamming the door as he heads out of the house. You stand in the middle of the room, trying to wrap your head around what just happened. Your eyes water as you stare at the door, holding back your emotions as they fight against the flood barrier inside. You didn’t think it was a reach to assume that if you left, you’d be leaving alone.

…

The day passes and you try to busy yourself, cleaning up downstairs, changing the sheets on your bed, little things that feel normal and safe as your brain spins with confusion. You realize that you’re supposed to meet at Tommy’s for dinner soon and groan at the thought of having to sit at dinner and act like everything’s okay. Instead of worrying about it, you grab your hidden pack of cigarettes from your underwear drawer and go out to smoke on the porch. The flick of the lighter warms your fingers for a few seconds as you take the first puff, lighting it successfully. The cold air from outside mixes with the hot tabacco, filling your lungs with a similar squall to the one playing out in your head.

Smoke billows around your face, blocking you from the movement on the porch next door. “Oh, good evening, sweetie.” The grating voice hits your ears and you roll your eyes as you exhale. Mallory leans against her porch to the left of you, “Smoking can kill you, you know?” She says with a smirk.

“Yeah? You should try it then.” You smile sweetly back at her, taking another drag. Her face falls and she mumbles something under her breath. “What was that?” You ask, her head snapping up not expecting you to say anything. She grins eerily and you could practically hear the plastic in her face stretching as she does.

“I said, at least Joel wouldn’t have to taste cigarettes from my mouth.” She laughs to herself like she just told the funniest joke to ever be told. You scoff, smoking the last bit of your cigarette and putting it out in the snow on the railing. You stand up with a sigh and turn to face her.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say this to you, but you need to get it through your thick skull and into your pea sized brain. Joel and I are not together. We have never been together. I don’t know how he kisses or what he tastes like and I would really appreciate it if you stop assuming that the only reason Joel isn’t throwing himself on you is because I’ve got my pussy wrapped around him.” You lean further over the porch so that she can see how serious and annoyed you are. “Joel doesn’t want you because you’re gross to look at. You’re a bitter woman who’s only full of silicone and hatred. Now, if you don’t want me to throw you over the wall and right into a clicker’s arms, I would recommend you leaving me and everyone else in this house, alone.” You hiss at her and all she does is smirk. You get angrier, perplexed on why she’s smirking after you threatened her. It isn’t until you hear Joel say your name pointedly from behind you. “Shit..” You sigh, tilting your head back and close your eyes. When you open them you see one last smirk from Mallory before turning around to face Joel. “Yeah? What’s up?”

He tilts his head toward the front door, silently telling you to head inside to talk. You say nothing and walk past him, hearing him exchange pleasantries with Mallory before he follows behind you, closing the door as he steps inside. “We just talked about this.” He states angrily. “And where the hell were you? You were supposed to meet me at the stables to help me fix the gate on Ranger’s stall before we went to Tommy’s for dinner.” His voice getting more venomous as he nears the end of that statement.

“I lost track of time… I was cleaning.” You say simply, shrugging while looking at the floor. He scoffs, shaking his head as he looks up at the ceiling in frustration, hands on his hips.

“No, you were arguin’ with and threatenin’ Mallory.” His accent always comes out heavier when he’s aggravated and usually you find it endearing, but right now you hate how it sounds directed toward you. “Are you still comin’ to dinner?” He asks with a sigh and you shrug. “You know what? I’m not askin’, I’m tellin’. You’re comin’ to dinner. Go get your shoes on.”

His tone leaves no room for argument, so you reluctantly do as he says, not looking at him once. You find your coat, slipping it over the flannel Joel gave you earlier as you pull your boots on. When you finally look up at Joel, he’s looking down at you, his umber eyes full of aggravation and something you can’t quite place. You exhale, feeling defeated “Let’s go.” You say trying to walk past him but he lightly grabs your wrist, stopping your movement and moving to stand in front of you.

“I should warn you that Maria invited Mallory for dinner.” He whisper, remorsefully.

“Are you kidding me, Joel?” You exclaim, completely dissatisfied from the news, he puts his hand up to stop you from getting more annoyed.

“I know, I know, but it’s just a few hours. If she starts with you, I’ll take care of it.” Joel’s voice is soft, like he’s trying to ease a wild animal.

“You won’t, though. You never do. You’re stuck with the idea to be pleasant to her when all she does is speak to me like I’m nothing but a drunk whore.” Your voice waivers, the first visible sign of how much Mallory truly gets to me. He sighs, the hand on your wrist moving to hold your hand in his palm while his other one cups the left side of your neck as you face him, his thumb resting against your jaw.

“Sweet girl… please.” He begs softly. “I promise, I’ll handle anything that happens, but please don’t stress out Maria. She’s pregnant and is just starting to warm up to me.” The vulnerability in his eyes make you hesitate before answering.

“I thought I was an idiot, now I’m ‘sweet girl’ all of a sudden.” You ask with equal vulnerability, making him sigh.

“You’re not an idiot, I was just frustrated. I promise, we’ll talk about what happened earlier, after dinner but please, just come. Ellie’s probably already waiting for us.” He pleads, eyes soft as they search yours. You go to protest again, knowing that it’s going to be a long night of dealing with Mallory, even if it is just supposed to be dinner. Before you can say anything he whispers to you again.

“Baby…it’ll be fine.” The nickname catches you off guard and makes your eyes widen slightly. His gaze flits down to your lips, your breath catches in your throat. You crane your neck up on instinct, his mouth moving toward yours. One breath shared between the two of you as his nose bumps yours. The sound of the front door interrupts the moment as it swings open, slamming against the wall making you two jump apart.

“Hey! What the fuck are you guys doing? I’m over at Tommy’s with musty old Mallory, trying to avoid talking to her about ‘needing a step-mom’ waiting for you two!” Ellie shouts, exasperated from her brief talk with your terrible neighbor. You chuckle softly and listen to Joel as he reprimands her for swearing as he ushers her out the front door. He turns back to you, tilting his head again for you to follow, with blush on his cheeks, he continues to remind Ellie not to call Mallory ‘musty’ or ‘old’ when she can hear. You sigh and follow them over to Tommy’s.

It’s going to be a long night.

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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader

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theherothesavior · 4 months ago

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Masterlist

One Little Scratch, II, III

#pedro pascal #masterlist #theherothesavior

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theherothesavior · 4 months ago

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Joel Miller x AFAB reader

Warnings: alcohol, slapping (not from Joel), light angst, my shitty writing, not proofread.

Author’s Note: This is the first thing I’ve ever really posted in here for a character so please be kind. Feedback is always appreciated.

Word Count: ~3k

………………….…………………………………………………………

Three months in Jackson means nothing when your brain is still out there. Out where the ghosts of the past linger as pale memories of a life you never even got the chance to live. No graduating high school, no getting to enjoy college, hell, not even a normal relationship with someone where the worst thing that could happen would most likely have been a shitty break-up and not watching them get eaten by a faceless fungus monster. Every day in Jackson is a reminder of what you’ve lost, or rather, what was taken from you. This illusion of a normal community makes you sick as you walk down to the bar, the only real thing in this fake town that is worth being here.

Passing through the Tipsy Bison to one of the stools against the bar is the highlight of each night at this point. Jack, the surly bartender who’s a spitting image of Willie Nelson, pours you your regular and you thank him, tipping your head back to down it before nodding for another. Around the fourth drink, the familiar smell of campfire and saddle leather settles next to you.

“Rough day?” He grumbles softly, Jack giving him his usual drink as well.

“Not in the mood, Joel.” You huff back, completely uninterested in speaking with your housemate at this moment. He scoffs next to you and your jaw clenches in aggravation. “What?” You ask through clenched teeth.

“Nothin’... just wonderin’ what’s up your ass lately.” He whispers, head turning to face you. “You’ve been like this since we got back here and decided to stay.” You avoid looking at him, continuing to sip your drink, making him sigh and move forward. “Listen, darlin’... I don’t really care if you talk to me or not, but you’re upsetting Ellie. She thinks you’re pissed at her.”

“I’m not,” You answer simply.

“Yeah, I know that but she doesn’t… she even said you came home drunk the other night and said some stuff about wanting to go back out there.” His voice is eerily soft, making you finally look at him. Remorse bubbles up your throat, wishing you could take those words back from her. You swallow it down.

“It’s not because of her. She shouldn’t worry about it.” You finish your drink, a little tipsy at this point, but wave to Jack for another. The next one comes and goes in the blink of an eye, and the next…and the one after that. When you call for your eighth drink, thoroughly drunk at this point, Joel stops you from downing it.

“You’re done, darlin’. Let’s go home.” His tone, still as soft as earlier and it makes your chest ache, the usual rough timber of his voice, lowering to a volume only you can hear. You push the warm feeling of him away, wanting to drown it in the warmth of liquor instead.

“No. Leave me alone.” You say, reaching for the drink. He quickly downs it, keeping one arm on your waist as you lean too far off the stool, practically falling in his lap. “Asshole.” Your voice raises and he immediately rises, towering over you.

“Enough.” His voice, dangerously low as he glares down at you.

“I’m not a child, Joel.” You bite back, but the words slur from your tongue, falling between you two like fluff. “Then stop actin’ like one.” He says sternly, the commanding look on his face shooting straight down your body. Your knees grow weak and you can’t tell if it’s from him or the copious amount of alcohol from this evening.

“Don’t talk to me like that…” your voice barely above a whisper, no real power behind it. You push his hands off your hips and stumble out of the building, boots crunching as they meet the snow. The cold air whips across your cheek as you tilt your head back to face the sky, eyes closed, letting the snowflakes land in your lashes. For a moment, everything’s normal. The world didn’t end. You’re just standing drunk in the snow, enjoying the beauty of life, feeling as weightless and soft as the snow melting against your cheeks.

That doesn’t last long.

“Awe… are you drunk again?” A grating voice pulls you from your thoughts, from your moment of peace. You turn carefully and open your hazy eyes to see Mallory. The terrible woman who lives next door to you, Ellie, and Joel. The same irritating woman who is constantly trying to live in Joel’s pants. Her condescending smirk lingers on her face as you manage to answer, obviously drunk.

“Maybe. But at least I don’t look like you.” It makes no sense, but you’re too gone to care. She scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, too bad for you, sweetie, ‘cause Joel seems to actually notice me.” You can’t help the giggle that crosses your lips before immediately answering, “Joel thinks you look like a 40-year-old busted Barbie doll.” Your voice, slurred, but the insult doesn’t go unheard by Mallory. “Said…. He said… he thinks all the plastic in your body is what keeps anything from biting you. S’how you survived this long.” You giggle more to yourself but Mallory moves quickly, way too fast for your drunken reflexes, slapping you across the face. You hold your cheek, the cold weather making the sting worse.

“What the hell!?” You exclaim.

“Stupid whore! You don’t get to speak to me that way! You think that just because you have Joel wrapped around your finger and shoved so deep down your throat, you can walk around this town like you can’t be touched. Well… you’ve never been more wrong. He’ll see. He’ll see just what a liar you really are.” With that final threat, she shoves you hard, causing you to fall on your back in the snow. Your drunken mind struggles to catch up to what just happened and how you’re suddenly parallel with the night sky, a searing pain traveling up your spine.

“Shit..shit..shit…” You roll on your back, the cold seeping through your coat reminding you of the large gash you’ve been hiding for a few days now. Mallory laughs at you, bitterly, as you writhe on the ground, unable to get up in your drunken state. Her laughter gets drowned out by the familiar sound of Joel’s voice coming closer.”

“Hey! What the fuck is going on here?” He comes stomping over, glaring at Mallory as she plasters a look of faux concern on her face.

“I don’t know, I think she fell because she’s drunk again. I was coming to help her up and take her home to you.” Her fake sweetness makes your teeth hurt just hearing it as Joel kneels next to you.

“Come on, darlin’.” One arm slips under your shoulders while his other hand holds yours helping you to your feet. “Easy.” He whispers in your ear, his hand sliding down your back making you hiss and recoil in pain, stumbling back at the quick motion and almost falling down. “What? What’s wrong?” His eyes soften as he searches your face, his chest tight with worry as he watches you draw away from him. You mumble something incoherently, and he can’t understand what you’re trying to say. Mallory attempts to say something to him, her words falling on deaf ears as he slowly and carefully brings you back home. “Come on, up to the bathroom.” His voice, sweet but stern in your ear as he helps you upstairs, guiding you to sit on the lid of the toilet.

“I’m gonna take this off, okay?” He tugs at your coat’s zipper with a soft nod, like he’s speaking to a toddler, waiting for you to nod back before actually taking it off. The chunky sound of your coat unzipping, mixed with your drunken breathing is the only sound in the room. Once it’s off, Joel puts your coat to the side before turning back to you. “Okay, I need you to turn around and straddle the seat for me.” His hands tenderly move to your elbows, helping to shift positions so he can get a full view of your back. You sit back down and giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, a slight grin on his face.

“Straddle,” you giggle more. “It’s a funny word.” Joel huffs out a laugh behind you, shaking his head. “Alright, Giggles, I’m gonna lift your shirt to check your back now.”

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner before you undress me, Miller?” You joke and once again he grins when you can’t see, shaking his head. He doesn’t answer while he grabs the hem of your shirt and starts to carefully roll it up your back with his warm hands. Always so warm, even though it’s below 20 degrees out. His whole aura, the color of a diminishing fire. Not as bright as it once was, but still has the potential to burn bright again. Not in the same way, never in the same way, but warm nonetheless.

His hands move your shirt up and you hear his breath catch in his throat. “…sweet girl.” His words, laced with stress and pity as his fingers delicately stroke your bare skin. You shudder from his gentle touch and the cool air hitting your exposed flesh. “When the hell is this from? This doesn’t look new.” He asks, confused.

“S’not… from those raiders two weeks ago.” You mumble, even in your drunken state you know he’s going to be pissed.

“2 weeks?!” He exclaims, stressed. “You had this for two weeks and it looks barely healed. Have you even been taking care of it? Or are you giving up on that too?” His hand moves and you hiss as your shirt grazes the irritated wound, making you just pull the shirt over your head leaving your top half completely bare.

“What do you mean given up on that too, Joel? What else have I given up on?” You manage to string the sentence together with enough sobriety to get your irritation across.

“Nothing… it means nothing.” His voice, withdrawn as he grabs the first aid kit from under the sink before turning the conversation back toward my back. “Why’d you hide this for two weeks? It looks like it’s a day away from infection.” He mumbles angrily finding an alcohol wipe from the box and running it over the wound making you grip the top of the toilet tank in pain. “Why didn’t you say anything about this?” He asks, a bit of frustration in his voice. You sigh in relief as he stops using the alcohol on your cut flesh, “...because I knew you’d freak out about it. You’d get all Joel about it and make me feel like shit.”

You answer quietly, each pass of bandage and cleaning solution on your skin, sobering you up slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, offended, his hands pausing against your spine.

“It means. Joel, that you tend to overreact over little things.”

“Little things?!” His voice raises, “This is a huge thing!” He yells, making you turn around on the top of the toilet seat to face him. “It’s a big cut, so what? It was fine until Mallory slapped me and shoved me onto the ground! You should be angry at her, not me.” You seethe, the alcohol making your bite not as strong as you want. “I’m angry at the both of you! Mallory is a bitter woman who is obsessed with the idea of me liking her, and I’ll deal with how she treats you tomorrow, but you,” he pauses, lowering his voice as he tries to calm himself down. Though his volume is quieter, his breathing is still heavy as he steadies himself to answer. “...you are a fuckin’ idiot for not telling me about something like that.”

You scoff, “I’m an idiot? You’re an asshole.” You stand up, “You already made me feel like shit about that altercation with those raiders. If I told you about the cut on top of that, you would have started a fight about me not going on patrols anymore.”

He laughs mirthlessly, “Damn right I would have. I didn’t want you going out there when we were out there!” The stress is evident in his voice as he steps closer.

“Okay, I’m drunk, so that makes zero sense.” You answer confused, unable to process his words at the moment. “You just like having control over what I do. You treat me like a child, like I don’t know what’s going on ever and that you’re the only one who gets a say in my life.” Your words are less slurred that earlier, but you’re still nowhere near sober enough to be having this conversation. “You act like you care, but you really don’t. You just want me around because you’re too scared to have your life change in anyway you can’t control. You see me as a burden to take care of, you think I can’t take care of myself and you don’t want me.” Half the things you’re saying aren’t true, you know he’s aware of your ability to protect yourself, but in this moment you just want to yell at him. You just want to make him feel something for you other than the indifference you believe he feels. Something. Anything that means he cares in the way you want him to, the way you’re too scared to admit to even yourself, let alone him.

His jaw clenches, suddenly aware of the state you’re in as you stand in front of him. His eyes drift to your completely exposes top half, lingering on your breasts for a moment before moving back up to your eyes, schooling his features. “Darlin’... if you believe all that, then you really are an idiot.” He says flatly, internally trying to calm the inner turmoil brewing within him. He wants to tell you everything. He wants to admit why he worries, why he’s so protective, why he gets aggravated when you don’t listen to him wanting to keep you safe. “Put your shirt on and go to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” His voice leaves no room for argument, but you try anyway.

“There you go again! Telling me what to do, when I don’t want you to.” You turn, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head. “There’s only one reason I’d let you tell me what to do, but you don’t want that.” You mumble to yoursel, bitterly, not expecting him to hear all of what you said. When you turn, he’s stalking toward you, backing you up against the wall, his hand reaching to your waist to stop you right before your wounded spine hits the hard surface. He looks down, inches from your face, eyes almost black.

“You don’t tell me what I want. You don’t know what I do or don’t want.” His voice, at a dangerous level, his breath hot on your neck as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl, go to bed, and we’ll talk about all of this in the morning.” You gasp at his firmness but you still go to protest. He leaves you no room for argument. “No. No arguments. All I want to hear is ‘Yes, Joel.’ and then go to bed.” He drops his gaze, looking at you to make sure you’re understanding him while waiting for your reply.

“Yes, Joel…” You answer with a small voice. He nods and moves to the side to let you pass by and exit the bathroom. You move slowly to your bedroom, still drunk and even more confused as you drop to your bed with a heavy sigh. As soon as your head hits your pillow, you’re out.

The stabbing pain in your head reminds you of the overconsumption of liquor you had the night beforehand. With your face smushed against your pillow, your fingers tighten around the sheets as the room spins around you. With a groan, your attempt to sit up is over powered by the drastic shift of your insides, a tidal wave of nausea filling up your stomach, weighing you down like a flood filling a once empty pool. As you manage to shift onto your back, the memories of last night play in your mind. Each moment more vivid than the last as they project themselves onto the ceiling above you.

“Fuck…” You mumble to yourself, the heels of your palms pushing against your eyes like a reset button you so desperately need to work, but knowing it won’t. After another five minutes of staring at the ceiling, you manage to sit up, closing your eyes until you gain your equilibrium once again. With an awkward stretch, a sharp pain shoots across your back, making you yelp like a wounded puppy, and ignore the nausea as you shoot out of bed and rush to the mirror attached to the back of your door. You twist your torso with a hiss, attempting to lift your shirt at the same time to see what’s causing the burning sensation on your back.

When you manage to lift the well-worn fabric, you’re met with a giant piece of gauze on your skin, stretching over your spine. With the sight, more of the night comes rushing back to you. You let your head fall back, eyes closed in regret and frustration before looking back into the mirror. Something on the nightstand catches your attention, a scrap of paper. Crossing the room, your chest tightens when you read the words.

We need to talk -Joel.

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#joel miller x reader #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut

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