burntsaltsblog

[burntsaltsblog]

Can you write something about reader getting badly injured during patrol with Joel (they're in a relationship) and he has to patch her up. He's scared shitless of losing her, and he keeps talking and talking trying to keep her awake. Doing the whole "I know, I know, sweet girl, you're okay, you're gonna be just fine baby" soothing her. She also thinks she's not gonna make it and try to comfort him "please go back to Jackson, get safe. You know how much I love you, right?" But he's having none of it. He carries her and they find shelter and he patches her up, having to stay there for a few days until she's strong enough to move and he's by her side at all times. Happy ending please!!!!

Through hell

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: Joel risks everything to rescue you from raiders, then stays by your side as you both fight to heal—together. Warnings: established relationship, angst, kidnapping, violence, blood, caring Joel, happy ending

You can still remember the way the wind felt on your face that morning. Crisp and cold, like something out of a different life. You rode beside Joel through the snowy forest trail just west of Jackson, boots in stirrups, fingers tingling through worn gloves. He glanced over at you every now and then like he always did—like he couldn't help it, like your presence settled something in him that nothing else could.

“Let’s take the west ridge,” he said, voice low and rough. “Tommy said there’s been tracks out that way. Maybe just deer, but I don’t like how close it was to the lookout post.”

You nodded, shifting slightly in your saddle. The rifle on your back felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was the cloud cover, or the way the woods were too quiet, no birdsong, no wind through the evergreens—just the crunch of hooves on frostbitten ground.

Joel kept his horse close to yours, occasionally brushing your knee with his. Just a little touch. Just enough. Always enough.

“You warm enough?” he asked after a while.

You smirked, biting back a shiver. “You offering to warm me up, Miller?”

He grunted. “Damn right I am.”

You wanted to kiss him then and there, but you were almost to the ridge, and that part of the trail narrowed between thick pines. You had to ride single file. He went ahead.

That’s when everything started to unravel.

The crack of a gunshot rang out like thunder. Your horse reared and whinnied, startled. You barely had time to grab the reins before someone slammed into you from behind, knocking you clean out of the saddle.

Your body hit the ground hard. The air shot from your lungs. Boots stomped in the snow all around you, hands dragging you through the brush. You kicked and twisted, but the back of someone’s rifle slammed into your temple. Everything turned to white noise. Then black.

——

Joel didn’t see it happen. One moment, you were behind him—he heard the easy rhythm of hooves, trusted it like he trusted his own heartbeat. The next, your silence was too quiet. Wrong.

He pulled up on his reins.

“Sweetheart?” he called.

No answer.

He turned, only to find the trail behind him empty. Your horse, skittish and alone, was running off toward the trees.

“Shit.” His voice cracked.

He rode hard back down the trail, dismounted before the horse had even stopped. Snow was churned up where your body had fallen. Boot prints. Scuffle marks. Drag lines leading into the woods.

Panic rose in him like floodwater.

“Baby,” he whispered, barely breathing. “No—no, no, no…”

He dropped to his knees, fingers brushing over the snow where he found the tiniest smear of blood.

——

You came to in a dim, frozen cellar.

The air stank of mold and sweat, and your head throbbed so hard it made your stomach twist. You tried to sit up, only to find your wrists bound behind you with coarse rope, your ankles tied just as tight.

“Fuck,” you rasped. Your lip was split. You could taste blood in the back of your throat.

A man crouched in front of you—filthy beard, sunken eyes. One of the raiders. You could smell the rot on him.

“You’re awake,” he said, smiling like he liked the sight of your bruised face. “Good. We’re gonna have a little chat.”

You didn’t speak. Not at first.

“You from that settlement up north, ain’t ya?” he continued. “Jackson. That’s what they call it.”

You stayed silent. Bit down hard on the inside of your cheek. Joel had taught you well.

The raider’s grin slipped. He slapped you. Not hard at first. Then harder.

You barely flinched.

——

Joel didn’t sleep that night.

He tracked them through the woods like a man possessed. Every broken branch, every speck of blood—they were his lifeline. He could feel time slipping through his fingers like sand, and all he could see was your face. The way you looked that morning. The way you’d smiled at him through frost.

His chest felt hollow. Like if he breathed too deep, the pain would split him in two.

He found a glove of yours snagged on a bush just after dawn. The left one. You’d told him it always fit a little loose. He dropped to his knees again, pressing it to his mouth.

“Please,” he whispered, eyes shut. “Please hold on, baby.”

——

By the time the raiders realized Joel was close, it was already too late.

One of them had left the cellar door cracked open to smoke a cigarette. Joel saw the faint flicker through the trees, and that was all he needed.

He crept in under the cover of the storm rolling in overhead, knife already in hand. The first man didn’t even have time to scream.

The next two were too busy arguing over rations to notice their friend’s body cooling in the snow.

Joel’s hands didn’t shake. Not once.

They made you bleed. They hurt you. They took you from him. And he didn’t see red. He saw you—the way you sleep curled against his chest, the way you laugh with your whole body, the way you whisper his name like it means something holy.

He would’ve burned the whole fucking world down for you.

——

You heard the gunshots upstairs, then the screaming. Your heart thudded hard and fast. You tried to twist away from the wall, but your body was too weak, your vision doubling.

Then the door creaked open.

For a second, you thought maybe it was the end. That they’d come to finish what they started. Your heart slowed, ready for it.

But then you heard his voice. His voice.

“Sweetheart?” It cracked. Broke wide open. “Jesus—baby—oh my god—”

You couldn’t even lift your head. “Joel,” you whispered. “I—I knew you’d come…”

You barely registered the way he ran to you, how he dropped to his knees in the filthy straw, hands cupping your face like you were something fragile, precious, bleeding all over the place but still here.

“I got you,” he breathed, kissing your forehead. “I got you, baby. I got you. I know, I know—fuck—I’m here now.”

Your eyes rolled back.

“Hey—hey, no. Don’t do that.” His hand pressed firm against your ribs where they’d broken something deep inside. “Stay awake, babygirl. You’re gonna be just fine, y’hear me? You’re gonna be okay.”

You shook your head faintly, lips trembling. “You need to go. Get safe. Don’t—don’t stay out here. You know how much I love you, right?”

He made a sound that nearly broke you—a rough, wounded thing. “No. Don’t you dare say goodbye to me. You hear me? You’re gonna make it. I’m gonna carry you outta here, patch you up. We’ll find shelter. You just gotta stay with me, sweetheart. Please—please stay.”

Your head lolled weakly into his shoulder as he sliced the ropes around your wrists. Every movement sent fire through your body.

But he was there. His hands were on you, steady and sure. His scent—leather, snow, pine—filled your lungs.

Joel lifted you into his arms, holding you like something irreplaceable.

“I’m right here,” he whispered, over and over. “I got you. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

——

Snow is falling thick by the time Joel gets you outside. Heavy, wet flakes cling to your lashes, soak into your torn jacket. Your blood is warm on his hands, and that terrifies him more than the blood itself.

He cradles you tight against his chest, stumbling through the trees like a man drunk with grief, murmuring broken things into your hair.

“I got you, I got you—please, baby, don’t close your eyes.”

Your skin is cold. You’re shivering against him, twitching with pain every time he takes a step. He can feel the way your breaths stutter, shallow and rapid, like you’re trying to stay conscious through sheer will.

You whisper something into his collar. He can’t make it out at first.

“Say it again, sweetheart. I got you. I’m here.”

“Hurts…” Your voice is so faint it’s almost a breath. “It hurts real bad…”

“I know, babygirl. I know it does.” He presses a kiss into your hair, his lips trembling against your scalp. “You’re gonna be just fine, I promise. Just stay with me, alright?”

There’s a small hunting shack maybe half a mile out. He saw it once before, marked it in his head in case of emergencies. He’s never been more grateful for that steel trap of a mind.

He doesn’t let go of you the whole way there.

——

The shack is dark and empty, long abandoned. Joel kicks the door open with his boot, then shoulders it shut behind him. The place is barely more than four walls and a stove, but it’s shelter. It’s something.

He lowers you onto the cot as gently as he can, but you still cry out when your back hits the mattress. The sound slices through him like a hot knife.

“Oh god, baby—fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I got you now, alright? Just hold on.”

He pulls a lantern from the shelf, sparks it to life, and sets it near the bed. Light spills over you, and Joel sees the full damage for the first time.

Your face is swollen, lip busted open. There’s blood dried around your temple from where they struck you. Bruises already forming across your ribs. Scrapes along your wrists where the rope had dug into your skin. And the worst of it—a deep, ragged wound in your side, stained dark through the torn fabric of your jacket.

Joel sways for a moment, steadying himself on the table.

“Jesus,” he chokes out. “Fuck.”

You’re still awake, barely. “It’s okay,” you whisper, trying to blink up at him. “You came. That’s all I—”

“No,” he snaps, dropping to his knees beside you, grabbing your hand. “Don’t you do that. Don’t you talk like it’s over. I’m not lettin’ you go, baby. You understand me?”

Your hand twitches in his, weak and shaking. “You don’t have to stay…”

He leans forward, forehead to yours. “I do. I will. You’re mine. I ain’t leavin’ you. Not now, not ever.”

He strips your coat off with shaking hands, cuts the fabric around the wound in your side, trying to see how bad it is. Blood wells up immediately. He curses under his breath, grabs his backpack, and tears it open.

“You gotta stay with me, babygirl,” he says, louder now, trying to keep your eyes on his. “You hear me? Keep talkin’. Say my name.”

“Joel…”

“That’s it. That’s my girl.” He pulls a bottle of alcohol from the bag, then stops. “This is gonna hurt, baby. I’m sorry.”

You nod faintly.

He pours the alcohol over the wound. You scream.

Joel almost screams with you. He grabs your hand and presses it to his chest, trying to anchor you to him.

“I know, I know, I know,” he chants, his voice cracking. “You’re doin’ so good, baby. Just a little more. Stay with me. Please stay with me.”

You’re crying now. Soft, quiet tears that slide down the side of your face.

“I don’t wanna die,” you whisper.

Joel goes still for a moment. Then he leans down and kisses your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“You’re not gonna die. You hear me? I didn’t go through all that just to lose you now.”

“I feel cold…”

He yanks the blankets from the foot of the cot, bundles them around you, climbs halfway into bed with you so he can hold you close. You’re limp against him, breathing shallow.

“I love you,” you murmur, barely audible now. “Joel, I love you…”

His jaw clenches. “Don’t you say that like it’s the last time.”

You laugh, a tiny broken sound. “Bossy…”

He lets out a breath that might be a sob. “Yeah. That’s right. I’m bossy. And I’m tellin’ you—you’re not goin’ anywhere.”

He stitches the wound as best he can with what he has. It’s messy and brutal. But you’re still breathing when he finishes, and that’s all that matters.

He lays with you the rest of the night, wrapped around your trembling body, murmuring to you over and over.

“I love you. I love you so damn much. You stay with me, babygirl. You got a home to get back to. We got a life. You’re not done yet.”

——

Hours pass. Then a full day.

He doesn’t leave your side. Not to eat. Not to sleep. Not to piss.

He cleans the blood from your skin with melted snow water, dabs ointment on your bruises. Keeps a hand on your chest just to feel it rise and fall.

You fade in and out, whispering his name each time you surface. And every time you do, he’s there.

“I’m here,” he tells you. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

——

The days pass slowly.

You drift in and out of consciousness at first, your body too battered to keep you awake for long. Each time your eyes open, Joel is right there—kneeling beside the cot, crouched by the stove, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his gaze fixed on you like if he looks away, you might disappear again.

His voice is always the first thing you hear when you wake.

“Hey, babygirl,” he whispers, soft and relieved. “There you are.”

It’s never louder than a hush. He’s calm now, calmer than he was when he found you, but the fear is still there—coiled in his voice, in the way he checks your pulse every hour, in how he sleeps sitting up with a hand resting gently over your ribs, like he needs to feel you breathing just to survive the night.

You try to talk sometimes, but it takes effort. Your throat’s raw, your ribs ache with every breath, and your sideburns where the stitches pull your skin tight.

He always shushes you.

“Don’t push it, sweetheart. You rest. I got you.”

And he does.

Joel keeps the fire going even when it smokes up the place. He feeds you water by the spoonful, holds a cup to your lips when you’re too weak to lift your head. He tears old clothes into rags and uses them to clean your wounds, dabbing with a tenderness that makes your eyes sting.

You cry once—not from the pain, but from the sheer way he looks at you. Like you matter more than anything else in this world. Like the fact that you’re alive is something sacred.

He wipes the tears from your cheeks with the edge of his sleeve.

“No more of that now,” he murmurs. “You made it, babygirl. You hear me? You fuckin’ made it.”

——

By the third day, you can sit up, leaning against his chest while he holds a hand pressed gently to your back. Your breath hitches when you move too fast, and Joel instantly tightens his grip.

“Easy,” he soothes, voice close to your ear. “Ain’t in no rush. You just take your time.”

You tip your head against his shoulder, breathing him in. He smells like wood smoke and worn leather and the comfort of home. His beard scrapes lightly against your temple as he presses a kiss there.

“I thought I was gonna die,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “Don’t you say that.”

“I did. I thought—I thought I’d never see you again.”

Joel swallows hard. You feel the way it locks his throat.

“You know how much I love you, right?” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, voice thick. Then again, firmer: “I know. But you don’t get to say goodbye. Not ever.”

You nod faintly against his chest. He holds you tighter, cradles you like something fragile. Like something he almost lost and will never take for granted again.

“I should’ve been faster,” he mutters. “I should’ve known sooner. Should’ve—”

“Joel,” you interrupt, reaching for his hand. Your fingers are weak, but you manage to squeeze his. “You saved me.”

He stares at your joined hands for a long time.

“Damn right I did.”

——

The fourth day, you eat real food again—a half-burnt can of soup he found tucked in a cupboard. He feeds you from a spoon, making sure it cools enough before each bite, watching you like a hawk for any sign of discomfort.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” you mumble when he wipes your chin with a cloth.

His brow furrows, and he gives you a look—that look, the one he uses when you say something he refuses to even entertain.

“I’m takin’ care of my girl. Ain’t nobody else gonna do it.”

You smile, weak but real. “You’re a good nurse.”

“Don’t let Tommy hear that,” he says, smoothing your hair back. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You laugh a little, and it makes you wince, one hand flying to your ribs. Joel’s expression instantly shifts, guilt blooming across his face.

“Hey—hey, easy now.” He’s already reaching for the water, the pain meds, anything. “I’m sorry, baby. You alright?”

You nod, still smiling through the ache. “Worth it.”

He shakes his head and leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You scare the hell outta me,” he whispers.

You whisper back, “I know.”

——

By the end of the week, you’re strong enough to walk a few steps, gripping Joel’s arm like a lifeline. He keeps an arm tight around your waist, supporting your weight as you shuffle to the stove and back. Each step is painful, but his praise makes it bearable.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head. “Look at you. Tough as hell.”

You grin. “Taught me that.”

——

When you’re finally strong enough to make the trip back to Jackson, he doesn’t stop touching you the whole way. His hand is always on you—your back, your arm, your fingers curled into his coat. Every few minutes, he checks you over like you might vanish again if he doesn’t.

And when the walls of Jackson come into view, when you both walk through the gates with your steps slow and your body held close to his side, people stare.

They see the bruises. The bandages. The way Joel looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

But they also see the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

Tommy meets you at the gates. Maria’s there too, already calling for someone to prep the infirmary. But Joel doesn’t let them take you until he’s kissed your temple one last time.

“I’ll be right there,” he promises, brushing your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I ain’t leavin’ your side. Not now. Not ever.”

And you believe him.

Because even in the dark, even in the blood and snow and fear, he never let go.

[burntsaltsblog]

Back from the Dead

Chapter 2. The First Feed

vampire!joelmiller jackson!joelmiller x vampire!reader fem!reader fix-it fic

warnings: violence, mentions of blood and past physical abuse, and potintial tlou spoilers, MDNI

summary: joel learns to feed for the very first time as his abilities take over

oooooooooooooh, aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh

notes: i am so so so so so so so sorry for taking so long with this update. my chronic health issues have been acting up for the past two months, so i was constantly in and out of urgent care and my doctor’s office. Ironically, i had to get blood drawn the day i wrote the rough draft for this chapter. it gave me a lot of inspiration, lol.

happy friday, besties <3

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The sight of Jackson when Joel and I arrived back in town was a sorrowful one. Bodies, infected and not, were scattered on the streets. I had to turn away from the corpses that were especially mutilated.

I assisted the survivors and helped carry the bodies into Jackson’s makeshift morgue to give Joel some privacy during his reunion with his brother. The look of relief on Tommy’s face when we stepped over the community’s fallen wall further validated my decision to inject Joel with my blood.

Now, two days later, Joel and I sat in the Drunken Bison amongst those of the townfolk that were left, observing a town hall meeting.

“Of course,” Tommy spoke from the front of the restaurant, standing on a chair, “We still need to send out patrol units while we try to recover from this tragedy. It’s important to have people out there who can look for signs of another approachin’ horde.”

People around me visibly shuddered at the mention of another mass of infected. Jackson would never recover from a second attack that was as destructive as the first.

“Do we have any volunteers who will ride out at dawn?” Tommy asked. “I know a lot of ya’ll have just lost your friends and family, but we have to focus on protectin’ those of us who have survived.”

My hand shot up instantly, and I elbowed Joel in the ribs. “Raise your hand,” I ordered out of the side of my mouth.

He turned to me with one eyebrow raised as if to say no way in hell, lady.

“Do you want to eat? Or would you rather starve?”

Joel groaned under his breath before reluctantly raising his hand.

Tommy nodded in approval and gratitude. “I know I can speak for all of Jackson Hole when I say thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”

I offered a sincere smile on behalf of Joel, who was grumbling about getting snow in his winter boots.

“Oh, stop complaining, old man. It’s not like you have arthritis anymore.”

Joel glared in my direction, to which I couldn't help but giggle. For being a vampire, he couldn't look any more like a cuddly teddy bear if he tried. And I knew that he was trying.

The rest of the meeting was filled with Tommy, Maria, and the rest of the council forming committees that would be responsible for different aspects of the cleanup and rehabilitation of Jackson. I ended up zoning out towards the end and only realized it was over when everyone around me rose from their seats, delving into conversations of their own.

“Do you wanna head for supper at the dinin’ hall?” Joel asked, adjusting his coat that he’d left on. “Ellie said she’d meet me there, and I know she’d love to see you.”

The mess hall was the only place Joel would eat after he stopped dining and drinking here at the Tipsy Bison, simply because it was Seth’s restaurant. The hateful cook lost a loyal customer due to his big, ugly mouth.

Joel and I moseyed over to the dining hall and immediately secured a table in the back as we waited for Ellie to arrive. She’d skipped the town hall meeting, which wasn't unusual for her. If there's one thing that girl loved doing, it was playing hooky.

“I didn’t see Dina at the meeting,” I commented. “I guess it’s safe to assume those two are together.”

“It’s hard to separate them these days,” Joel replied. “And for that reason, she’ll probably be late.”

But his adoptive daughter proved him wrong when she popped up next to our table. “Hey,” she greeted us breathlessly.

“Where have you been?” I teased. “Just wandering around all alone?”

“Well, I wasn't exactly alone,” her cheeks glowed pink as she dropped down into the seat next to Joel. “Dina was helping me clean my guns. You know, for patrol.”

I couldn’t hide my smile at Ellie’s excuse for spending time with Dina. Though in human years, I was only in my mid-twenties, I’d been around far longer than either of them thanks to my vampirism and could barely remember what it felt like to have a crush as a nineteen-year-old human girl.

“You just be careful, yeah?” Joel asked, looking at Ellie. “If I hear anythin’ about that girl’s intentions not being honorable-“

“Please,” Ellie interrupted, “This is Dina we’re talking about. We’ve known her for years.”

That didn't seem to appease Joel, but he relented for the sake of having a nice dinner with Ellie, and we all stood, making our way to the line for the buffet.

I felt happy and greatly relieved to see Ellie spending time with Joel after having shut him out for so long. Her lack of fear was surprising, especially since he had almost attacked her. However, according to Joel, he and Ellie had talked after the night he changed. Ellie had forgiven him for his past mistakes, whatever they were, and assured him that she wasn't scared of him now that he was a vampire. It was wonderful news. Ellie even expressed a desire to help Joel adapt to his new life. And while taking her on a hunting trip was out of the question, there would be other ways she could support him, which he needed now more than ever.

♱⠀

“Ok, so the plan is to make it to the lookout point, leave the horses there, and then find something to eat.”

“You mean someone.”

“Yeah, but that makes it sound more barbaric. After all, we’re not members of one of those cannibalistic cults.”

Joel grunted at that, which was a common form of communication for him as we steered our horses through the deep snow.

Today’s lookout point, an old house, came into view an hour later, right as my hunger was reaching its peak. After giving some of my blood to Joel the other day, I was absolutely famished. But I had learned to control myself several decades ago, so I wasn't worried about losing control.

Once Old Beardy, Joel’s horse, whose name made me chuckle every time I heard it, and Penny, my mare, were situated in the garage and munching on a bale of hay, Joel cleared his throat, eyeing me skeptically. “What happens now?”

“Now, I am going to teach you the art of scenting.”

“And what on God’s green earth is that?” he sighed.

“It’s in the name.” I walked to the other side of the garage before pivoting to look at Joel. “Try to smell me.”

Joel stared at me, clearly waiting for me to start laughing and admit that my instructions were a joke. When I failed to do so, he began stomping his way over to me in his worn boots.

“Woah, woah, woah, cowboy. What do you think you're doing?”

“Do you expect me to smell you from all the way over there?” Joel pointed to the spot where he was just standing, his annoyance beginning to grow.

“That’s exactly what I expect you to do,” I confirmed as if it were obvious. “If you can’t smell me from ten feet away, how are you going to smell a raider who’s several miles away?”

“So that's how you find ‘em? By sniffin’ ‘em out?”

“Precisely. And I am now passing my wisdom on to you so you can do the same.”

Joel looked at me, totally unconvinced.

“You're a vampire, Joel. This is one of your gifts, just like speed or strength. Once you tap into it all, it’ll come naturally to you. You won't even realize you're doing it. It’s like learning to ride a bike.”

Joel seemed to be fighting something internal before giving in. “Fine. Just tell me what to do.”

“Go back and stand by Old Beardy.”

He did as he was told. Once he was next to his horse, he looked at me, awaiting the next command.

“Ok, close your eyes, and let your senses drift out.”

“I ain’t even know what that means,” Joel grumbled as he reluctantly closed his eyes.”

“You will soon,” I promised.

As I waited in silence, I felt the tension build, fully aware that at any moment, things would change drastically for Joel. The calm before the storm hung heavy in the air, and I braced myself for the inevitable fallout that was about to unfold.

“All I smell is this damn horse,” Joel peaked one of his amber eyes open. “You said you hosed ‘em both down last night.”

“I did . It may come as a surprise to you, Mr. Miller, but horses don't exactly smell like a meadow.”

I could almost see the exact curse word that wanted to roll off Joel’s tongue, but he held it back as I urged him to close his eyes and try again.

He rolled his shoulders as he resigned to the process, and I stared at him, willing his senses to kick in. It was something every vampire had to do: look for the metaphorical light switch that would unlock everything they’d been promised in their new immortal life.

Just when I thought there was something wrong and this wasn't going to work, Joel inhaled quickly. “Lavander,” he murmured. “And linen,” he opened his eyes, completely in awe. “I can’t believe it.”

“Thank God I don’t smell like horeshit,” I joked, but that did nothing to break Joel’s trance. He didn’t seem in control of his body as yet another one of his gifts possessed him, and he sped towards me, slamming me up against the wall of the garage. I barely registered the impact as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close and burying his nose in my neck. Joel’s hot breath grazed my skin, and he breathed me in deeply as if my scent was his oxygen, his lifeline.

My hands instinctively ran through his thick, greying curls as he enveloped me. I had scented him before, always finding comfort in his woodsy aroma with a hint of whiskey from his drinking habits after a long day of work. But it was so much more potent this time, going past my nose and down into my soul, commanding my body to relax against his.

Joel drew back just enough to look at me, and I didn't miss the way his dilated pupils dropped down to my lips. We were both hypnotized and trapped in a moment of unexpected yearning. But when he began to lean in, my breath hitched, drawing him back to reality.

Joel put several feet between us and scratched his neck the way he always did when he felt painfully awkward. “Sorry about all that.”

“Don’t apologize,” I whispered, missing the feeling of his hands on my body.

Joel could barely meet my eyes, so to save him from embarrassment, I tilted my head towards the closed garage door. “Let’s put your new skills to the test, yeah?”

He helped me manually lift the door, and we ducked out before closing our horses inside where they'd be warm, safe, and nourished.

The snow fell in a light flurry, making our ability to hunt much easier. Sometimes, when there was a blizzard, I’d return home unsuccessful and starving.

I headed for the treeline, and Joel trailed behind. “Raiders tend to camp out in these woods. Let me know if you see or smell any smoke from a fire.”

“I doubt they’re stupid enough to start a fire and reveal their location,” Joel pointed out.

I shrugged. “You’d be surprised what people will do when they’re on the brink of hypothermia.”

Joel didn't reply, only adjusting the strap on his rifle.

“You don’t need that, you know,” I pointed to his weapon.

Joel appraised me as if I’d grown a second head. “What the hell are you talkin’ on about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that your fangs can do way more damage than a silly little gun.”

Joel tightened his grip on the strap of his gun, stating that he was going to keep it whether he had fangs or not.

“Suit yourself,” I suspired before stopping dead in my tracks, realizing that Joel was doing the same.

“You smell that?” I asked.

“Smoke,” he replied lowly.

“Yup. Now, at this point, it’s important to listen carefully so you can track them by their heartbeat as well as their scent.”

Joel nodded, but the crease between his brows showed me just how overwhelmed he was.

“Hey,” I said. “You’re doing really well.”

All he did was nod again, holding his mouth in a tight line, causing a bout of compassion to surge through me. The poor man had turned sixty-one at the end of the summer, and here he was, out in the cold, training to be a vampire when he should've been home, with his feet up, listening to Patsy Cline and making one of his famous wood carvings.

As we pressed on in the direction of the smoke, I couldn't help but voice my frustration. "What were they thinking, sending you out on patrol in the middle of a damn blizzard?" Given that Tommy was Joel's brother and head of patrol, it was hard to understand why he would allow his aging sibling to venture into such perilous weather with only one other partner as backup.

“It wasn't snowin’ when we left,” Joel said in defense of his younger brother.

“It doesn’t matter,” I argued. “Everyone knew a storm was coming right along with the horde.”

Joel was quiet, and I feared I’d been too outspoken in my beliefs. But everything I said was true. Jackson grew in population every day as more and more refugees piled into town, most with outstanding talent when it came to fighting and weaponry. There was no need for Joel to have ever left the confines of the wall.

“I wanted to keep patrollin’ for the rest of the winter in hopes that Ellie would join me someday,” Joel admitted quietly. “The only time we ever went together was on her birthday, and if you remember, like the rest of the town, it didn’t go so well.” Shame coated his tongue and I had the strong urge to envelope him protectivly in my arms until it disolved. Instead, I slowed my pace so we could walk side by side.

“I’m sure she’d like to go with you some time now that you’ve worked things out.”

The conversation paused there as two heartbeats echoed in my ears. Seeing the way Joel reacted next to me, I knew he heard them too.

“Is that…” he trailed off, not finishing his question, already knowing the answer.

“Yup. That’s our dinner.”

Joel’s eyes snapped to mine with a look of admonishment.

“Sorry, sorry,” I apologized for my attempt at a joke.

The heartbeats seemed to be coming from roughly five miles or so deep into the forest, close to the western exit. One was beating steadily, while the other seemed to jump around in a flighty manner.

“How come we can’t see ‘em?” Joel asked, perplexed. “They sound like they ain’t farther than two feet in front of us.”

“And most things will now. So, you’ll have to practice not reacting to events that are all the way across Jackson and tune into your surroundings instead.”

“And here I thought eatin’ blood would be the hardest thing I’d have to do,” Joel grumbled.

Another wave of sympothy came about for the poor man, but I knew just the trick to lighten the mood.“You want to run the rest of the way there?”

“Run? Like the vampire kind of run?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fun. Plus, you need to practice using your breaks so you don’t slam me up against a wall next time,” I teased.

A soft blush painted Joel’s nose and cheeks. “Uh, yeah, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I winked. “I liked it.”

I let a minuscule burst of energy take over my body, and I ended up twenty feet ahead. “Come on, slowpoke,” I called over my shoulder. “Hurry up unless you want me to eat supper all by my lonesome.”

In no time, Joel caught up, and then it was off to the races, both of us letting the sound of the heartbeats going thum, thum, thum lead us to our feast.

We positioned ourselves a short distance away, concealed behind a towering oak tree, allowing us to observe our targets without revealing our presence. As I had anticipated, our first target turned out to be a raider. Their attire was unmistakable—distressed Fedra clothing, pilfered from a soldier, paired with a grimy ski mask that concealed their identity so they were untraceable.

He was crouched in front of the fire, and I could smell the remnants of his dinner: rabbit.

“What’s the plan?” Joel whispered. His breath fanned over my ear, reminding me of his previous actions in the garage, and it took a laser focus to keep myself in the present.

“We have to locate the second raider before moving in. I don’t know why they’re not both by the fire.”

Joel took a tentative step forward, still close enough to the tree should he need to shrink back for shelter. I watched his shoulders tighten, rising to his ears as he informed me. “There ain’t no second raider.”

I followed Joel and moved closer so I could get a better view, and my stomach sank at the sight; behind the one and only raider was a girl, no older than Ellie if I had to guess, huddled in the darkness and chained to a tree in nothing but rags. It was surprising she hadn't frozen to death yet.

“Let’s circle around back, so we can come at him from behind,” I informed Joel. “Your job is to make sure the girl stays quiet. If she screams, she’ll attract other raiders or infected nearby.” I knew there wasn’t anything within miles of us, but I wasn’t in the mood to take any chances.

Joel inclinded his head in concurrence, and then we were on our way, stealthily treking over the lumpy Wyoming terrain as we neared our target and its victim.

“On my count,” I whispered. “One. Two,” I took a steadying breath as I prepared to run. “Three.”

Joel had a hand over the girl’s mouth in seconds, muffling her screams while I threw myself at the raider.

I caught him by surprise, just like I wanted, and placed him in a tight headlock before dragging him away from his prisoner so she wouldn't see or hear the interrogation.

His head slammed up against the tree of my choosing, and he howled in pain. “So, who’s your friend?” I asked, placing my hands on his shoulders, pinning him to the bark. “Is she a little toy you picked up on your travels?” The raider’s head ricocheted against the oak again, causing him to finally relent.

“She’s- she’s a friend! I swear!” he cried, trying to hold up his hands in surrender.

“Oh yeah? Do you make a habit of keeping all your friends chained up?” I sneered. “I know how you sick fucks work.”

“Why the hell do you care, lady?” He whined before bracing for another impact with the tree.

His instincts were right, and I threw his skull against the tree for a third and final time before his body crumpled to the ground, and he was out cold.

I brushed my gloved hands down my jeans and called over to Joel. “It’s done.”

He sauntered over to me and surveyed the incapacitated raider. His hesitancy and nerves were palpable as he waited for me to take the lead.

I stepped behind the tree the raider was slumped against, approving of how it put me out of sight of the captive girl. “Over here. And bring him with you.”

Joel followed my order, and that was how we ended up huddled amongst snow-covered branches, staring down at the being that would provide us with substance.

I kneeled and yanked the raider up until the cold flesh covering his jugular met my lips. My eyes rose to Joel as he towered over me, watching. “It’s pretty simple,” I murmured. “Just find a vein and…” I let my growing fangs sink into his neck instead of finishing my sentence.

Warm blood coated my tongue, and I had to restrain myself from moaning. It had been over a week since my last hunt, and I was famished. But that gave me no excuse to be greedy, so when I knew I’d drank enough to keep me energized until my next trip beyond the wall, I pulled back. “Your turn,” I said, licking away the blood that coated my lips.

Joel stared at me with an unreadable expression until I offered him my hand, guiding him to his knees beside me. I offered up the open wound on the raider’s neck, waiting for him to drink his fill.

“How long do I drink?”

“Until you're satisfied.”

His eyes darted to me. “What if it kills him?”

“Why don’t you take another look at that girl over there and then decide whether or not you think he deserves to live.”

Joel turned his head in her direction. Even though she was out of sight, it was enough to convince him to let his fangs sprout and sink into the raider’s open vein.

He sucked quickly, and I couldn't tell if it was from hunger or the desire to get the atrocious act over with. The first couple of times a vampire feeds is always the most difficult morally, thanks to their human intincts that cling to them before finally being discarded.

When the raider was bone dry, Joel let him fall to the ground. He stared down at the corpse, and if I hadn't known better, I would've assumed it was the first life he’d ever taken, even if the victim was deserving.

“Here,” I offered, using the dark sleeve of my coat to wipe his mouth. “We can’t have you wandering back into town looking like you found an old Sephora full of red lipstick,” I lightly teased, wanting to distract him from the swarm of thoughts and emotions I knew were swirling around in his head.

“How do I look?” he asked, his voice all gravel.

“Perfectly handsome.”

Joel’s mouth crooked up at this. “So how I normally look then.”

I rolled my eyes, pushing his shoulder lightly. “I see immortality hasn't damaged your ego. Only inflamed it.”

Joel chuckled before standing to his feet. It was his turn to extend a hand and assist me. “You ok?” I asked quietly. “Learning to feed can be overwhelming at first.” I stared into his soulful eyes and waited to see if he’d tell me the truth.

He opened his mouth before fully deciding what he wanted to say, eventually landing on. “I’ll be ok. I have a damn good teacher, after all.”

My cheeks heated as I snorted. “That’s not saying much, considering I’m your only option as far as vampire teachers go.”

Joel and I returned to the cowering girl after leaving the raider’s body for a wild animal to take care of. In the winter, the ground was too frozen to bury anyone, so I left the task of disposing the bodies to the mountain lions that roamed these woods.

The imprisoned girl trembled as I knelt in front of her, and I knew it wasn’t just from the cold. I could barely look at the bruises that littered her frostbitten skin without wanting to return to the raider and tear him limb from limb even if he was already deceased.

My voice took on the softest tone I could summon and I smiled gently. “Hey there.”

She didn't answer, but I hadn't expected her to. Her fear wafted off of her in great waves, making tears burn at the edges of my vision.

“We’re not going to hurt you, I promise.” I waved at Joel, signaling for him to crouch beside me so his height wouldn't further intimidate her. “We live in a little town called Jackson Hole. It’s really nice there, isn't it, Joel?”

Joel looked caught off guard but quickly shook it off as he answered. “Real nice. We got lots of food and runnin’ water.”

“Hot water, I added.”

The frightened girl appraised us with wide eyes.

Joel leaned in close so only I’d hear. “She’s in shock. It ain’t no use tryin’ to get through to her out here in the freezin’ cold.”

I nodded in agreement. “You good to carry her? I don’t think she’s strong enough to walk all the way back to the look out point.”

“I got her,” Joel assured me as he turned back to the girl and held his hands up to show he wasn't a threat. “I’m gonna carry you, ok, sweetheart? We wanna get you somewhere safe.”

Slowly, he removed his heavy winter coat and draped it over her shoulders before scanning the area. “We need to find the key to unlock her.”

“No need,” I said, grabbing the end of the girl’s shackles and yanking them clean off the tree. The limp chains fell from her bony wrists, and with gentle guidance from me, she slipped her arms into the sleeves of Joel’s coat.

“There you go,” I praised. “Now you’ll be nice and warm in no time.

She put up a fight as Joel lifted her into his arms, kicking frantically, so he quickly transferred her over to me. She relaxed after that, and it became clear that she didn’t feel safe being that close to a man. It wasn’t difficult to understand why. Once I had her secured against my chest, we began our journey back to the lookout point.

♱⠀

After arriving back at the decaying house, Joel and I both offered the girl our rations of jerky that every patrolman traveled with. I bundled her up in extra blankets from the cabinets in the garage and watched her drink from our canteen before settling her on Penny at the front of the saddle. She gripped the horn tightly, still not daring to utter a word.

Joel and I took turns holding the garage door open for both of us as we urged our horses to depart from their temporary sanctuary.

The ride back to Jackson was thankfully uneventful, and soon, the tall gate was opening wide and granting us entry into the town that was such a safe haven.

Gus, one of the guys from the stables approached us to gather our horses, but I shooed him away as my boots hit the snow. “Go get Maria.”

His eyes bounced between me and Joel, who was still on Old Beardy, before landing on the quivering girl wrapped in blankets, perched on my horse, and he immediately turned on his heels.

He jogged towards the town sqaure and returned promptly with an agitated Maria.

“You know the rules about inviting in a newcomer before seeing Buckley first,” she chastised Joel and I.

I raised my brows, jerking my thumb to the patrolers manning the gate. “Blame them. They let us in without so much as batting an eye.”

“Take her back outside where Buckley can sniff her,” Maria instructed, paying no mind to my weak excuse.

The girl cowered further into her blankets, and I couldn't imagine how scary and confusing this all must be for her.

I stepped towards Maria, lowering my voice. “Look, this girl has been abused for God knows how long. We rescued her from a raider who had her chained to a tree, freezing to death.”

Maria grimaced at this but didn't seem to waver in her decision.

“Can’t you let Buckley smell her here? Please don’t make us traumatize her further by taking her back outside.”

“Rules are rules. If she wants to live here, she’ll have to abide-“

“She doesn't have any bite marks. I swear. And if Buckley finds something, then you’re welcome to shoot me right along with her.”

Maria narrowed her eyes before coasting them over to the poor girl. After what felt like a lifetime, she sighed heavily. “Fine. But your ass is on the line.”

“Just where I like it to be,” I joked, earning nothing but a less than impressed expression from the esteemed council member.

“Take her behind the stables,” Maria whispered. “And try to be inconspicuous.” At this, she whirled around, off to get Buckley I imagined.

I looked back at the girl, smiling. “Everythings ok. We’re just going to run over the stables real quick.” She didn’t say anything, but I’d grown used to her silence and wasn’t offended or bothered in the least.

Gripping Penny’s reigns in my hand, I walked the horse behind the newly refurbished stables and was touched to see Joel and Old Beardy follwing close behind.

We didn’t have to wait long before Maria came speed walking over with Buckley, the dog who vetted every new citizen of Jackson.

“This is Buckley,” I announced, introducing the furry fellow to the girl. “Do you want to meet him?”

The girl���s eyes tracked Buckley’s every move as I helped her down from Penny. “He’s just going to give you a little sniff. It’s his way of welcoming everyone to Jackson.”

She shrank back as Bucklery was released from his leash, enthusiastically trotting over.

Maria clenched her jaw, holding back from voicing what a terrible idea this was, as I stepped up to Buckley, letting him smell me first. Once he was satisfied, I scratched his ears and glanced over to the girl who gripped onto her blankets like they were her armor.

“See? He’s a sweet boy,” I said, trying to soothe her anxiety. “He wouldn't hurt a fly.” Only an infected, but I kept that part to myself.

Eventually, the girl bravely walked her frozen feet through the snow and reached her hand out to the dog. Buckley furiously sniffed and maintained his usual routine by circling her several times before sitting at her feet and panting up at her as his tail smacked the ground repeatedly.

“I think he just made a new friend,” I chuckled, giving Maria my best I told you so look. She merely shook her head, telling me to take the girl to the hospital where she could be tended to now that she was deemed clean by Buckley.

Back onto Penny, the girl went, and I led her to the hospital. Joel left Old Beardy in the capable hands of Gus and grabbed one of Penny’s reigns to help the horse navigate the streets of the bustling town.

After one glance, none of the townsfolk paid any mind to us because, at one point, we’d all been like this girl when we first arrived in Jackson: cold, scared, and in desperate need of a home.

♱⠀

Dr. Jade diagnosed her with acute hypothermia, dehydration, and malnourishment. The grandmotherly doctor tried to question her about other pains or symptoms she was having, but she still refused to speak.

The doctor shrugged and left, stating she was retrieving an IV bag, and Joel followed after her.

I sat on the end of the girl’s bed and watched her pick at the red skin around her nails.

“I know you’re scared,” I attempted cautiously. “All we want to do is help you. But we can’t do that if you won’t talk to us.”

The girl’s head snapped up at this, and she studied me, tilting her head to the side as she thought.

“Do you have a name?”

She shook her head.

“Well, that’s ok. You can pick one if you'd like.”

There she went again, inclining her head in contemplation.

“It can be anything you want. This is a fresh start for you, after all,” I encouraged.

I expected more silence from her until she shocked me by whispering, “Holly.”

“Holly,” I repeated. “That’s very pretty.” I grinned, proud of this girl whom I’d only known for a few hours. “Nice to meet you, Holly.” I stretched out my hand, introducing myself, and waited until she timidly placed her bony hand in mine, shaking it.

She dropped my hand and brought her knees up to her chest when Dr. Jade reentered. I noticed that Joel didn't follow her this time.

Answering my apparent confusion, the doctor spoke, “He didn't want to overwhelm her, so he’s waiting out in the hall.”

Holly didn’t give Dr. Jade any fuss as she was hooked up to the recycled IV bag, and soon enough, her eyes started to droop. Dr. Jade must’ve snuck some sedatives in with the fluids.

“You get some rest, dear. I’ll be back in the morning to check on you,” The elderly doctor murmured before sweeping out of the room, leaving me and Holly alone again.

“I’ll be back in the morning as well. Is that ok?”I asked, standing from the end of her bed.

She nodded, drawing her blankets right up under her chin. Some color was already dusting her features, thanks to the fluids.

“Guards will be posted outside all night. They’re kind folks from Jackson, and they’ll watch over you to ensure you stay safe.” I reassured Holly as I watched her exhaustion take over, her eyes finally drifting shut.

I checked her IV bag, ensuring all was good, before walking to the door and turning back. “Welcome to Jackson, Holly,” I whispered.

I exited her room and found Joel a few feet away, leaning against the wall with his head down and his hands in his pockets. He straightened when I closed her door behind me.

“How she doin’?” he asked.

“Holly. Her name is Holly. And she’s doing just fine. She’s getting some sleep.”

Joel’s brows reached his hairline. “You got her to talk?”

“Only one word: her name. But it’s a start, isn’t it?”

Joel’s mouth slanted up in the way I’d begun to adore. “Yeah. It is.”

We fell in step together as we departed the hospital.

“So, uh, is this the kind of thing you do on patrol, besides, you know, eat?”

I chuckled at Joel’s inability to say the word, feed. “You mean saving people like Holly? Of course. It’s not just about satisfying my hunger.” There’d been multiple occasions where, after feeding on a raider, I’d take their prisoners back to Jackson. Sometimes, Dr. Jade couldn't save them, or they chose to leave Jackson in search of their family or the nomad group they used to roam with.

“That’s real nice of you,” he commented, sliding his hands deeper into his pockets.

“Surprise. Just because I’m a natural predator to human kind doesn't mean I have to act like one. Only to the ones who deserve it,” I said, loosely quoting myself from earlier in the woods.

Joel cleared his throat, evidently ready for a change of topic. “Are you fixin’ to stop by the mess hall for supper?”

“We already had supper, Joel,” I ribbed, keeping my voice low.

Joel huffed out a breath, a tell-tale sign that I was doing a number on his nerves. “You know what I meant. Do you plan on eatin’ regualr food sometime tonight?”

“Sure. As long as there’s pie. I tried the chocolate cake Kelsea made at the dining hall for Valentine's Day, and let me tell you, I’ve drank infected blood that was less nauseating.”

Joel’s head whipped around, watching for anyone who might’ve heard. “Cut it out, will you? You're gonna give me a damn heart attack.”

“You can’t have a heart attack, Joel. You’re a vampire, remember?” I slung an arm around his shoulder, and if a civilian were to pass by, they’d assume we were the greatest of friends, discussing the latest town hall meeting, not the perks of immortality.

“How could I forget?” Joel sighed, not bothering to shake my arm off. “Let’s go get some pie.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

[burntsaltsblog]

Back from the Dead Masterlist

prologue

chapter 1.

chapter 2.

[burntsaltsblog]

Back from the Dead

Chapter 1: Beating Again

vampire!joelmiller jackson!joelmiller x

vampire!femreader fix-it fic

warnings: violence, mentions of blood and death, and potential spoilers, MDNI

summary: joel finds out that he is a vampire, but it doesnt go quite according to plan. If there even was a plan to begin with.

notes: vampire joel has officially entered the chat eeeeekkk. I 1000% believe that man could pull off a pair of fangs

happy tuesday besties <3

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Ellie used her sleeve to scrub the blood from Joel’s face as I stood in the doorway, perfectly playing the part of a bystander. Hesitation was something I lacked ordinarily, but seeing Joel alive and breathing sent intense nerves tumbling after my initial relief.

How on earth could I explain his newfound vampirism to him? Would he even remember dying? And would it be cruel of me to leave that part out, opting to say he merely passed out? However, that lie would shrivel into nothing but dust the second he smelled blood. The second he craved it.

Joel shook his head, dodging Ellie’s attempts to cleanse him as he scanned the room, his gaze eventually landing on me. “What the hell’s goin’ on?” his voice was gruff with that classic Texan twang. “Last thing I remember is bein’ shot by some girl who…” his words faded as his fingers grazed his knee, finding nothing but smooth skin under his ripped jeans while the black bullet lay by his side, taunting his confusion. It was safe to assume the little bugger had popped out when his body started to heal.

Ellie, not being able to hide her panic, whipped her head in my direction, silently pleading for me to give him an explanation.

I crept towards Joel, keeping my pace slow so as not to alarm him. “You were in an accident,” I started, buying time to throw together a story that would answer his question but also gloss over all of the life-changing stuff. “You were lured into this ski lodge by some strangers who clearly didn’t have good intentions.” I was now by his side and lowered myself to his eye level. “But I saved you. I saved both of you,” I acknowledged his adoptive daughter by his side. “And you’re going to be ok,” I finished, offering a smile that I hoped was reassuring.

There was a beat of silence that lulled me into a false sense of ease until Joel broke it by narrowing his eyes and growling, “Then why the fuck don’t I feel ok?”

“Uh, ok, what seems to be the problem?” I asked, resembling a doctor who was questioning a patient about their symptoms.

“For starters, my left shoulder ain’t hurtin’ like it has for the last twenty-five years, and I can see without my glasses,” Joel made to stand, shaking off the hand that I placed on his arm to steady him. “Oh, and my leg is missin’ a goddamn bullet hole .Does that list suffice?”

I bit my lip, willing my fangs not to elongate in my time of stress. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.”

Joel crossed his arms, seemingly deciding that everything that was out of the ordinary was my fault, which, in truth, it was. But I couldn’t risk angering him by telling him the details. He was surprisingly strong as a human, and I didn’t even want to imagine the strength he now possessed as a newbie vampire who hadn’t yet learned to control his abilities.

Dina stirred on the floor, making a small whimper of pain that had Ellie flying in her direction, her vampire dad long forgotten.

“Look, Joel, why don’t you try radioing Amy, yeah? You weren’t answering earlier, and Tommy was worried sick.”

“Tommy,” Joel echoed as the lines on his aged face deepened. He spun around to peer out the floor-length windows that showcased the view of our town burning below. “Shit,” he whispered.

Before I could intervene, Joel pulled his pack over his shoulder and grabbed his discarded gun and walkie-talkie scattered on the floor. “Help Ellie carry Dina,” he ordered. “We gotta get movin’.” He made a beeline for the open door, and I already regretted what I was about to do.

“You can’t leave,” I warned, reaching the doorway long before he did and blocking it entirely.

“How did you-” Joel’s question died in his throat as his head swiveled back and forth, looking from where I was only a moment ago to where I stood now, barricading his exit. “How’d you move so fast?”

“I can explain all of that. But first, I need you to promise me that you won’t leave.” There was no way I could allow Joel to leave this lodge and head for the blood and gore that awaited us in Jackson without having fed first. Fed on what, or whom I should say, I wasn’t sure. I wanted to kick myself for burying those bodies so quickly. They could’ve sustained both Joel and me for at least a few days.

Joel observed me for a moment before threatening, “Look, I don't know what’s goin’ on with you today, or myself for that matter. But if you don’t move outta my way, I will move you myself.”

Glancing over Joel’s shoulder, I observed Dina laying her head in Ellie’s lap as the latter whispered comforting words. It was safe to assume she would not be helping me.

“Goddamn it. I ain’t got time for this,” Joel grunted, drawing my attention back to him. He lunged at me; I wasn’t sure if it was to shove me aside or initiate a fight. At any rate, my instincts kicked in, and I hissed at him, fangs, crimson eyes, and all.

Joel’s own eyes widened with fear. “Son of a bitch.” He stumbled back, almost tripping over Ellie and Dina, successfully snatching them from their little world, and they both peered up at us in alarm.

“Wait, wait,” I implored, trying to convince Joel not to hightail it out of here before I could help him. “Please don’t be afraid. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

It was evident by the look on Joel’s features that he didn’t believe me as he planted himself in front of his daughter and Dina; ever the protector.

“Ellie,” he barked, dark and low, “Take Dina and get outta here.”

“Joel, relax; everything is fine,” Ellie reasoned as she helped a very woozy Dina to her feet.

Joel disregarded her as he pulled the safety back on his rifle, aiming it at my head. “You some kinda infected?” He challenged. It was only hours ago that Ellie had asked me the same question.

“No. I’m not,” I said, being careful to stay very still so I wouldn’t give Joel a reason to shoot me.

“Alright, then, would you mind kindly tellin’ me what the fuck you are?” He snarled. “I’ve seen more bloaters than I can count, and none of ‘em hold a candle to how fucked up you looked.”

I couldn’t help but be offended. After all, being told I was uglier than a bloater wasn’t exactly a girl's dream—Vampire or not.

“Isn’t it obvious, Joel?” Ellie sighed, leaving Dina to walk around around him. “She’s a vampire.”

Joel did not like Ellie’s course of action and elbowed her back behind him, not listening to what she’d said.

That wasn’t enough to deter Ellie, though, and this time, she marched all the way over to me, standing by my side confidently, much to Joel’s chagrin. “Show him your fangs again,” she whispered.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I replied.

Ellie scoffed before turning to Joel. “She really is a vampire. I mean, how else could you explain the speed or her crazy sharp fangs.” She flashed her dull teeth and made a hissing sound, trying to imitate my previous actions but looking far more comedic than frightening.

“You get back over here,” Joel instructed, keeping his eyes and gun on me.

“Joel, I’m not going to harm her. I would never.” Deep down, he couldn’t have forgotten how I loved that kid just as much as he did, as if she were my own.

He ignored me as he again told Ellie to retreat.

“Jesus Christ, why won’t you believe us?” Ellie asked, exasperated, flinging her arms out to the side. “She’s a vampire. And you are, too.”

What happened next would surely repeat again and again in my nightmares for the rest of my existence. Ellie drew her knife out and sliced her skin right down the center of her hand. Joel let out a cry of distress as his rifle clattered to the floor, and his eyes grew a vibrant red. His fangs made themselves known, piercing his bottom lip, and his hands clutched his chest as if trying to hold himself back from lurching at Ellie.

I dove between the two of them at the same time that Joel’s resistance broke, and he bounded forward, his gaze set on nothing but Ellie’s blood-covered hand and the red liquid that slowly drip, drip, dripped onto the hardwood floor.

It took everything I had to hold him back as I commanded Ellie, who’d gone pale. “Get Dina, and get the fuck out of here. Go back to Jackson.”

She didn’t move and instead stared at Joel in horror until I screamed shrilly. “Now!”

That sent her bounding toward Dina, grabbing her, and hauling her out of the room, both their backpacks and guns forgotten.

I hissed at Joel, with the intent of spooking him so he would snap out of his blood-thirsty state. It worked, thankfully, and he fell to his knees, gripping the sides of his head in his hands. “What’s happenin’ to me?” He choked out, groaning in what I knew was immense anguish. The feeling of starvation to a vampire was easily the most torturous thing.

“You’re hungry. But, luckily, I can fix that.” I joined him on the floor before biting into my wrist and letting my blood drizzle down my arm. “Here,” I offered, placing my open vein in front of him.

Joel swallowed thickly, looking away from my wrist and up at me. His big brown eyes swam with misery and fear, and I wanted nothing more than to rock him in my arms, soothing him till all his suffering subsided.

My healing was kicking in, so I urged him once more. “Drink before I have to bite myself again.”

Fighting what human instincts were still intact, Joel lowered his mouth to my wrist. His lips closed around my vein as he began to suck greedily.

“There we go,” I murmured. “That’s it.”

I let him drink for as long as I could before cutting him off. It was a struggle at first, one that I understood. It was nearly impossible to stop drinking when you were as malnourished as he was.

“Ok, I think that’s enough. You take anymore, and I’ll have to return the favor and tap your vein next.”

When his mouth parted from my flesh, Joel sat back on his heels, wiping my blood that had dribbled down his chin.

“Feeling better?” I ventured softly.

He nodded, meeting my gaze. “What just happened?” He croaked.

“I think it's best if I start at the beginning.”

♱⠀

Joel didn’t take well to hearing the tale of his death. But who would? Most vampires experienced a gruesome mortal death, and Joel was no exception

He traced the spot on his neck where the golf club had made the fatal puncture as he thought aloud, “It all feels like a dream.”

“That’s pretty normal,” I replied. “After the change, your human memories seem rather dim compared to the ones you have as a vampire.”

Joel looked momentarily alarmed. “I won’t lose ‘em, though, right?” My heart ached at the assumption that the memories he was most worried about forgetting were the ones of his daughters, specifically the elder one, who he lost so long ago. All I knew about her were from snippets that Tommy would spill when he was drunk off Jackson’s homemade moonshine, and I never pushed for more, knowing it wasn’t my place.

“No, no. All I mean is that a human’s senses aren’t as sharp, so their ability to remember things is weaker. A vampire is basically incapable of not picking up every single little detail. Nothing can get past us, and it all stays right in here,” I chuckled, tapping the side of my head.

Joel raked a hand through his hair, which was caked in dried blood. “So, I’m really dead?”

I nodded solemnly.

“Why’s my heart still beatin’ then?”

“You can thank my blood for that. The more blood in your system, the harder and steadier your heart will beat. I suppose you were too preoccupied to notice how slow and weak it was before you fed.”

“Yeah, I was preoccupied, alright,” he grumbled.

He was quiet after that. I had expected more rage from Joel as he learned the truth of his new identity, but all that sat in front of me was a man who was tired, fragile, and defeated.

“Joel,” I pierced the silence. “I did what I did for Ellie.”

His eyes, now back to their usual shade of auburn, bored into mine.

“You were probably too far gone at this point to remember. I don't think you were even conscious, but Joel, her screams. I-“ I took a breath before continuing. “The way she begged for your life to be spared. I just couldn’t let her lose you. I know you guys are on the outs right now, and it’s really none of my business, but she loves you more than you’ll ever know. And I’m sorry for not giving you a choice in the matter, but I knew that if I had the power to, I had to bring you back. For her.”

I waited, with bated breath, for Joel to say something. To say anything. But he pushed himself to his feet, promptly ending the discussion. “We should get back to town. Try to help with the damage and all.”

“Right,” I agreed. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. Joel wasn't one to empty his heart at the drop of a hat, and what I needed to focus on was getting him back to Jackson without another bloodlust episode.

“You still hungry?”

Joel hesitated, adjusting the strap of his backpack, “A bit, yeah.”

“I’ll take you hunting the first chance I get so you can eat again.”

“Huntin’,” Joel repeated. “So you’re not eatin’ people in Jackson, I take it?”

“Oh God no,” I placed a hand over my heart. “I would never. Vampires aren’t the animals that myths make us out to be. I have no desire to feed on my friends and people I consider family.”

“Well, I felt like an animal earlier,” Joel whispered, quiet enough that he didn’t think I’d hear. He coughed awkwardly. “So how does this whole huntin’ thing work?”

“I do most of it on patrol. It was easiest when Eugene was still alive and I could be paired with him. He was so high all of the time that he never noticed when I’d sneak away to find a lone raider to feed on. We can go on patrol together and do the same. Though, I should warn you that, as you know, raiders and travelers aren’t as common on the road during the winter, so we may have to settle for drinking from an infected once or twice.”

“You can drink an infected’s blood?” Joel looked shocked and horrified all at once.

“Yeah, it won’t hurt us. But I should warn you that feeding from an infected is like the human equivalent of drinking spoiled milk or eating hot garbage. But when you’re really hungry, you’ll take it over starving.”

Joel’s look of disgust was almost endearing, and I couldn’t help but tease him. “Don’t worry. If it comes down to it, I’ll let you have the nice fresh, human blood while I drink the moldy stuff. Sound good?”

Joel simply rolled his eyes, muttering about how he just wanted to go home.

And this time, when he walked through the door, I didn’t stand in his way.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

[burntsaltsblog]

‘til kingdom come

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x reader

Summary: Joel comes home to Jackson. Home to you.

Tags: major spoilers for s2, major character death, descriptions of blood and physical effects of death, lots of angst, grief. do not read if this will be triggering!!

Wc: 1.7k

Note: do not ask me what possessed me to write this!!! it’s part of my grieving process. hope it hurts!! 😫 need a fix it fic?! i got you.

You’re still coated in blood.

It’s dried, thick and crumbling over the skin of your hands, black under your nails. 

It’s soaked into the sleeves of Joel’s jacket, the one he’d insisted he give to you that morning as he grumbled about the wind, how the sky looked like it was about to turn.

Don’t argue. Just wear it. 

You hadn’t argued. 

You’d shrugged it over your form with a smile, pulled up the collar, pressed the material clinging to his scent against your nose. 

You’d kissed him, tangled your fingers in his curls, told him to stay safe.

Nothing about that morning would have ever prompted the thought that it could be the last time you see him, warm, yours, alive.

The atmosphere in Jackson is too still now, eerie and unnatural after the chaos of the horde. 

There’s still smoke rising from behind the wall, the fires burned out, nothing left but charred remnants of infected scattered around the place you call home.

Inside the walls, bodies of loved ones are being cleared in silence, blood seeping into the snow, turning it a nauseating, rusty red. 

You and Tommy are at the north watch tower, bruised and barely standing.

A number of patrols still aren’t back, they likely have no idea of everything that’s unfolded here in their absence - the loss.

Nobody can bear the reality of any more loss, so here you wait, like it’ll change any fate that lies before you.

The gate lookout had come down pale-faced ten minutes ago, having spotted two horses riding through the snow towards town, trailing a body behind.

It’s impossible to make out who from here, but something inside of you knows, an instinctual lick of dread that creeps its way up your spine with a ruthless chill. 

The radio had fallen silent on Joel and Dina’s patrol too long ago now, and your chest hasn’t stopped aching since.

Tommy hasn’t said a word since you both climbed the watchtower, his eyes trained to the horizon, hands clenched tight at his sides.

“Could be someone else.”

His voice is broken when he finally uses it, the conviction he tries to lace the words with falling short the closer that the horses get to Jackson.

You can just about make out that there’s two people on one of the horses, not able to tell who’s form is hunched over in front, barely holding on.

The wait is agonising, one that you can’t stomach. 

A sickly twist of anxiety consumes every part of you, it sits heavy in your belly, flows relentlessly through your veins, clings in a cold sweat to the palms of your hands.

You can’t stand here and watch anymore. 

Without a word, you climb down from the tower and sit against the structure of wooden logs that make up the walls of Jackson. 

The snow is baltic, seeping into the worn denim of your jeans, but thank fuck it’s something you can actually feel. 

You’re already too numb to care about the cold, fingers digging into the frozen earth, trying desperately to shift focus to anything but the unbearable ache in your chest.

You hear the moment all hope dies.

It comes in the form of Tommy’s strangled cry above you, splitting the silence and replacing it with a torturous kind of grief.

“No - no, this ain’t real..”

You glance up at him, your blood running nauseatingly cold. 

Tommy stumbles back from the railing, his face crumpled, twisted with complete anguish. He runs a hand over his hair, tearing his eyes from whatever he’s seen on the other side of the wall, like he refuses its existence. 

His eyes fall to you, and his face shifts into something else entirely. Panic, fear.. a tragic, sorry guilt. 

“No.” you breathe.

He moves fast, scrambling down the ladder, practically falling the last few feet. His boots hit the snow hard before he rushes towards you, tears streaking openly down his face.

“You gotta get inside,” he chokes, grasping your arm tightly, desperately. “Don’t look - please, darlin’, you can’t be here - ”

You jerk free, pulse roaring in your ears as your brows knit together defiantly. 

“It’s not him.”

Tommy shakes his head, reaching for you again, pulling you away from the wall. “Sweetheart, please-”

“It’s not - fuck, it’s not him!” you shout, banging your hands against his chest with hot tears already falling against your cheeks despite the persistence of your denial.

He grabs your shoulders hard, forcing you to look at him, wet eyes already heavy with a loss you refuse to accept. “It’s him, it’s… it’s Joel.”

You shove away from him, taking a shaky step back. There’s no words you can conjure, you just stare at him in complete disgust, like you can’t believe he’s got the nerve to say the words. Words that simply can’t be true. 

“You’re wrong.”

Tommy doesn’t fight you. His mouth trembles as he sinks into his own grief while you remain locked in a defiant stand off with reality.

When the gates finally open with a deafening groan, time feels like it stands still entirely. 

Dina walks through the gates first, holding the reins of her horse in tight, shaking fists. 

Her face is drained of all life and colour, somehow devoid of any readable emotion, a numbness that only bleeds sorrow through the redness of her eyes, like maybe the tears have only just stopped falling. 

When her eyes meet yours, her lips press into a tight line, holding back a sob. It’s clear she’d hoped you wouldn’t be here, that she wouldn’t have to be the first person to shatter your entire world. 

She gives the smallest, broken shake of her head, eyes falling to your feet as her footsteps falter, her mouth opening on empty words, a choked sob the only thing that passes her lips as she looks back towards the gate. 

Still, something in you refuses your fate, doesn’t give up yet.

“Darlin’, please, you don’t gotta do this - ” Tommy pleads, standing close behind you with a firm hand on your shoulder, attempting yet again to pull you back. 

You shrug your shoulder hard, brushing him off without a word, hot tears falling into the snow.

Jesse’s horse makes its way through the gate at an agonisingly slow pace, and for the briefest moment, you’re pulled from your own dread, eyes falling to Ellie’s slumped form, clinging to the horse's mane with one bloodied hand, the other wrapped tight around her ribs. 

Her face is swollen, eyes puffy and entirely vacant, clearly in a world of pain. 

It’s instinctual, the step you take towards her, the pull that draws you to protect, to make sure she’s okay - Joel would kill anyone who’d dared to hurt her, and in turn, so would you. 

You’re mid step towards the horse, calling her name when the rope stretching several feet behind the horse finally pulls its cargo into view.

A body, wrapped tight in a white sheet, an unsightly crimson stain seeping through the fabric at its head. 

Every part of you feels hollow as you listen to the way the body slices through the snow in time with the horse’s steps: forwards, pause, forwards, pause.

You lift your eyes to meet Jesse’s, who pulls on the horse's reins and comes to a halt. 

No one has to speak the words, they’re etched into the tight set of Jesse’s jaw, the blank stare he directs at your feet. It’s clear in the sobs that come from Ellie, straining to lift her eyes to find you, to plead with you to stay put. 

Your vision blurs around the edges, the agony that rips through your chest enough to convince you that your heart has stopped beating - because in every way that matters, it has.

You stumble forwards, knees hitting the ground hard enough to bruise, hands clawing through the snow as you drag yourself on all fours towards the body, to Joel. 

Your hands tremble as you reach out to him, fingers brushing the edges of the sheet. The material is stiff beneath your fingers, like even the cold is trying to keep you from him, but the ice cracks as you put any kind of pressure on it.

The breath of air you pull through your nose is shallow, barely enough to reach your lungs, a series of quick inhales struggling to make their way through the tightness of your throat. 

You wrap your hands around where you imagine his arms are, hunching over his body, strangled whines leaving your lips as you find him cold and stiff.

The journey will have taken a good few hours, you almost empty the contents of your stomach at the thought of him being dragged through the wintry snow, all life and heat leaving his body with every sorry mile.

You cling to him through the barrier of blood soaked cotton, shaking violently as you try to imagine warmth where there is none.

He was warm beneath your touch only this morning, your fingers cradling his cheeks as you pressed your lips against his. Warm. 

“Joel?”

His name leaves your lips as a desperate plea.

“Joel, please - don’t do this to me,” you sob, hands roaming over the sheet, a smaller part of you not wanting to touch his lifeless form. 

But the part of you that this unrelenting grief stems from, the part of you that simply loves him with everything you could ever give, clings on to him, needs to curl around him, to not let anyone tear him away from you for good. 

Tommy quietly sobs behind you, for his brother, for being unable to shield you from this merciless loss.

Surely if you hold on tight enough he won’t really be gone.

You scream - it’s inhuman, a sound you don’t recognise as your own. The sound of your own life ending, even though you’re still here, breathing. Not dead, but not alive. 

Jackson stills around you, already under the weight of a magnitude of loss, yet still, those who have gathered lower their heads, their eyes blur with tears.

Because Joel is a loss that reverberates.

He’s a loss that leaves you shattered, holding on to the ghost of the only thing that ever truly mattered.

@joeldjarin @bbyanarchist @cuteanimalmama @jovl-millvr @missladym1981 @mellymbee @picketniffler @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pattwtf @ashleyfilm @goodvibesonly421 @justajoelsreader @pedritospunk @underchaos @shansphotos @rottingr4ven @cherrygirl19 @sophiabarber2001 @vickie5446 @sheweildsmjolnirs @fairylixie0915 @alfiestreacle @untamedheart81 @mani-pedro @churchofjoemiller @morchilluv @ashhlsstuff @mysterialee @joshylanefleet

[burntsaltsblog]

I still think anyone who thinks Joel was wrong to refuse to let a teenager be sacrificed to a shaky science experiment by a group of people stupid enough to want to kill a rare immune person as soon as they got their hands on her would be easily recruited by a cult. That's not even a close call for me.

[burntsaltsblog]

i loved your last joel fic, is there going to be a part two?

aw thank u!! if all goes to plan, there will be several more parts:)

coming soon!!

[burntsaltsblog]

Back from the Dead

prolouge

jackson!joel miller x vampire!femreader fix-it fic

warnings: spoilers for s2 ep2, violence, needles, mentions of blood and death, MDNI

summary: if you were traumatized by season two, episode two, then you’ve come to the right place. if you have ever wanted to read about vampire joel miller, then you’ve also come to the right place

notes: this fix-it fic was inspired by a fake scenario of mine as i tried to cope with the loss of our beloved joel (SIKE HE’S NOT DEAD…at least in this story he’s not…actually technically he is…rip my husband)

hope you enjoy!

vampire joel is loading…

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The abandoned ski lodge was several thousand yards away and a mere speck in the distance when I smelled the blood. It didn’t carry the sour tang that the blood of an infected did, but the raw metallic undertones that only spilled from human veins.

“Fuck,” I cursed, forcing myself to run faster, my vampiric gift causing me to become one with the air. Snow blew harshly against my face, but nothing was going to impede me from continuing my journey.

When I was a mile out, the blood began to intertwine with the unmistakable scent of pine, wood, and ground coffee beans. There was only one person in all of Jackson who carried that aroma: Joel.

My stomach flipped at the realization that he was inside and potentially badly injured. I was thankful I listened to my instincts and abandoned Jackson, even as it burned to the ground, in favor of finding Joel and Dina, who had been missing in action.

The lodge’s back door was locked, but that was remedied when I cranked down on the handle, and the rusty, old thing nearly disintegrated in my hand.

I entered a dimly lit room, courtesy of a few windows, and sidestepped furniture covered in plastic and dust. I closed my eyes and strained my ears to locate where Joel and Dina were, but even a mortal would’ve been able to hear the screams of agony coming from down the hall.

Without a plan or even an outline of one, I sped toward the cries, grateful that I could do it soundlessly as to not announce my presence before I was ready.

I ended up on the other side of a closed door. The screams became evident that they belonged to Ellie, which was a shock considering she was supposed to have taken cover from the blizzard with Jessie.

“Please,” she sobbed, and I braced my hand on the door, preparing to knock it down. “Please don't do this.”

Who was she begging? Boots thudded on the floor, and Ellie’s shrieks grew louder. I didn’t have time to think anything through. I needed to act.

Busting open the door, I was met with a horrific sight. Blood created a sea on the hardwood floor, and in the center of it was Joel, unmoving. Dina was not too far away from him, also unconscious but unscathed.

I attempted to run to Joel when a tanned-skinned man with curly hair stepped in front of me, blocking my path and sneering, “What the fuck do you want, bitch?”

I narrowed my eyes, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

His gun was pointed at me in an instant, but a bullet had yet to win against my healing abilities. So, with little fear, I grasped the end of the weapon and twisted it, resulting in him shooting himself in the face.

I stepped over his body just in time to dodge a knife that another man, much taller and bearded, was clenching. His death was just as quick when I pulled out my own knife and jammed it into his abdomen, letting him crumple to the floor beside his friend.

A door on the opposite end of the room slammed shut, signaling that someone or multiple people had escaped, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to get to Joel. There was just one more person in the way—a woman who stood over him with the broken end of a golf club, panting heavily.

Ellie screamed death threats, and I was happy to bring them to fruition.

The woman knew I was coming for her, so she turned quickly and sank the end of the club into Joel’s neck, earning nothing but a small gurgle from him as blood trickled from his mouth. At that moment, I decided she deserved a special, less humane death.

The murderess thought she could outrun me. Oh, how pitiful a sinful human could be. I was on her in an instant, sinking my sharp fangs into her jugular, wanting to give her a similarly fatal wound that she had given Joel. It was the little bit of justice I could bring him in this gruesome situation. The blood from her vein drained quickly, and she was subdued for good.

In the time it took to take her down, Ellie had crawled over to Joel’s body, laying her head on his shoulder, openly weeping. She hadn’t seen the manner in which I’d killed Joel’s murderer, but she’d soon find out what I was anyway.

I didn’t need to listen for Joel’s pulse to know it was nonexistent, but that didn’t mean he was gone for good. And as much as I hated making this life-altering decision for him, he wouldn’t have a life at all if I didn’t do this. That was reason enough for me to scan the near-empty room for the supplies I needed. There was no way I could get my blood down his throat the old-fashioned way, so I’d have to improvise.

“Ok, ok, focus,” I said to myself. “How can I possibly get my blood into Joel’s system? I need…”

I spotted a used syringe discarded by Dina’s knocked out form and practically dove for it. There seemed to be some watery solution floating around at the end, but that shouldn’t interfere with what I was about to do.

Sinking to my knees next to Joel, I ripped my coat off before rolling up the sleeve of my shirt. I hissed when the need pierced my skin but forced myself to focus on the red substance that pooled at the bottom of the syringe, rapidly rising to the top.

Once it was filled all the way, I yanked the needle from my arm and turned to Joel, ripping open his dark flannel to locate his heart. It was then that Ellie took notice of my actions.

“W-what are you doing?” Her voice was raw from her earlier screams.

“Saving him,” was all I said before plunging the syringe into Joel’s chest, letting my immortal blood flow straight into his heart.

“Is that blood?” She asked in horror, trying to reach for the syringe, but I swatted her hand away, and she stared up at me, genuine fear sweeping across her face.

“Ellie, it’s ok, I promise,” I tried to explain as I slowly pulled the now empty syringe from Joel’s heart. “It’s my blood. And it’s his only chance of surviving this.”

She shook her head as more tears filled her eyes. “What are you talking about? He’s…he’s dead.”

“And if he wakes up, he’ll still be dead. Technically,” I mumbled, rolling my sleeve down as I sat back on my heels, peering at Joel’s swollen and bloodied face.

“You’re fucking sick, and I’m going to kill you before you can do more of your witchy magic shit on him,” she threatened, turning her head to locate her knife on the floor behind her. Even though I knew she was serious, she was in no shape to fight anyone, especially me.

“I’m not a witch,” I clarified as I braced myself to admit my deepest and darkest secret. “I’m a vampire.”

“Shut the fuck up.“

I appeased her by refraining from speaking and flashing her my fangs that grew on command instead. Her eyes widened as she began to scoot away from me and Joel’s corpse. “Are you some form of infected or something?”

“No, no,” I shook my head, holding my hands up to show I wasn’t a threat as I rose to my feet and followed her. “I’m not infected. I promise. A different curse possesses me. Expect I actually have control over my brain and stuff.”

Ellie didn’t say anything, choosing to back herself into a corner, and I sighed, giving her the full picture. “I know it’s impossible to comprehend, but vampires are real. To turn, all you have to do is die with vampire blood in your system. Sometimes it takes a while. Days even. But when you wake up, you’re no longer human; you’re a vampire. That’s what happened to me a long time ago,” I dragged a hand through my hair that was damp from melted snow, “And that’s what’s going to happen to Joel.”

“Have you ever done this before?” Ellie whispered. “Change someone?”

“No. But I’ve seen it done a couple of times over the years. It’s a pretty simple process.”

“He was already dead when you injected him with your blood,” she pointed out, her eyes darting back over to Joel. “How do you know it wasn’t too late?”

“The human body is still alive up to four minutes after the heart stops beating,” I assured her, quoting what another vampire once told me regarding the transition from mortal to immortal. “My blood entered his body no more than a minute after he passed.”

Ellie nodded, standing on shaky legs and eyeing me carefully as she scooted around me and headed back to Joel’s side. Her head found his shoulder again, and she closed her eyes. “He’s going to be real pissed.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” I huffed out a humorless laugh, pivoting away to give them some privacy. I didn’t know how long it would be before Joel woke up, so I decided to make myself useful and dispose of the bodies until then.

I didn’t know how much time had passed as I dragged the deceased individuals out of the back door and buried them in a shallow grave of mostly snow. Infected would surely find them, but that was not a problem of mine.

When I stepped back inside, I heard Ellie’s voice calling my name. I rushed back to the main room and stopped in my tracks at the sight of Joel sitting up on his own.

Ellie glanced at me nervously. “I think he’s awake.”

Yeah, no shit.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

[burntsaltsblog]

healing

jackson!joel miller x reader

warnings: spoilers for that episode, but we fixed. healing. crutches. discussions of pain after injury. wordcount: <600 an: he is saved and now he’s healing. this is how I’d imagine he’d be as someone who has knee bone issues. I’ve had two surgeries under my belt and a shit load more (probably) on the horizon. I have long-term pain, have had so much physio therapy. so this comes from that place only.

He hates the stairs.

Not more than the crutches or the blisters on his hands—raw, cracked, pulsing even when he’s just lying there. They’re cleaned by you each night with a calming care that only makes him feel more useless. Hates the look in your eyes. The one that’s dulled but never really faded. Still there, still circling. Blooming, swelling. Like worry is a part of you now, more than when you’d first arrived.

And coffee. Fuck, he wants it. But the burn on his foot says otherwise. A spill—more on the tile and his skin than in his mouth yesterday. That pulses too. Different to his heart and his hands, knees and head. It’s everywhere now, the ache. From head to toe. Because of course he overdid it and he’d rather burn than let Tommy find him a damn wheelchair. And mornings are the worst, cold, cruel. But the nights are a different kind of hell.

Sitting there for ten full minutes, staring at his boots as they taunt him back. Daring. Reminding him that he can’t reach them. Not without pain. Not without shame. He almost cries.

And then there’s you.

Door creaking open, the cold coming with you. Keys down, coat off, before you pause and without hesitation or words—you’re crouched. Floorboards digging into your knees, fingers tugging gently, easing them off.

Like it’s nothing. It isn’t. He knows it, you know it.

And god, he doesn’t despise you.

You who makes sure there are three placemats for dinner. Sometimes six. Who still calls him an asshole, a grump—and his favourite—a fucking idiot. He likes that you treat him differently, but you don’t actually treat him differently. Just make things easier, move things out of the way, shift them. But you still rip him a new one for not putting his socks away.

You kiss him in the morning. At night. Sometimes at noon, mid-sentence, just because. He doesn’t hate that either.

And Ellie’s still in the garage, that healing slower. But there’s a chance and he holds it like he holds your hand. Under the sheets. In the dark. A month now, he’s made it to bed. A month of waking up beside you. Watching you read. Watching you fumble the page one-handed, because you won’t let go.

He thinks it then—loud and whole and full of every ache in his chest: Thank you.

You glance sideways. Smile. Lips tucked into your cheek like maybe… maybe you heard him.

an: thank you to @goodwithcheese for convincing me to both write and post this. also I’m really showing all my soft spots lately.

[burntsaltsblog]

I get that Ellie's pissed that her choice was taken away but, like... her choice was taken away either way because she was never AWAKE to give her consent. But she's never had somebody care about her this goddamn much. Ever!!! She said, "Everybody I have ever cared about has either died or left me." EXCEPT FOR FUCKING JOEL!!!!!!!!!!! And he didn't leave her again!!!!! HE DIDN'T LEAVE HER!!!!

[burntsaltsblog]

this was healing😭😭

𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | You've patched up Joel countless times before, but this is different.

author's note | i'm taking a little break to work through some series and pre-write but i needed to write a little fix it fic for my own well being. ANYWHO, if you're reading this, thank you <3 and thank you to @chaotic-mystery for the beta read, love you bitch

content warning | hurt/comfort, fix-it-fic, jackson!joel, s2ep2 spoilers, established relationship, medic!reader, wound tending, mentions of leg injury and some face injuries, old man joel using a cane, flirting, fluff, kissing, i'm going to go cry again

word count — 3.8k

He’s breathing. Alive.

You’ve patched up Joel countless times - cuts and gashes that were too far out of reach for him to handle on his own, a busted ankle from a construction project gone wrong, the occasional painkiller to help with his aching bones. He was a regular within the clinic, like most of the patrol team. And he was your favorite, which wasn’t a secret.

But, this was different.

Tommy - as hard as he tried, attempted to shelter you with the rest of Jackson’s women and children, but it was useless.

You spent the last hour patching up the towns wounded and helping lay to the rest some of the less fortunate, but brave people who had attempted to defend Jackson from the impending horde.

In the chaos of cleaning up bloodied bandages and used medical supplies, the front door to the clinic sounds, bells ringing out so deafening it makes your heart stop.

And the sound of Tommy’s panicked voice as he called out your name.

When you turn the corner to catch sight of him, it was Tommy and Jesse carrying a limp, sleeping Joel on a makeshift gurney and equally injured Ellie holding tight to her ribs as Dina and Maria supported her weight, your eyes widening in shock.

“Fuck—I—what happened?” you ask, immediately sliding the supplies off of the only semi-available operating table you had in the office - it used to be a veterinary clinic, but the town was making do with what they had.

“You save my goddamn brother,” Tommy demanded, his tone riddled with an emotional pain you couldn’t fathom, taking the order in stride as you nodded and put your own curiosity aside, slowly accessing the weight of the situation and surmising that this had been an ambush, more or less, “alright?”

You access his knee, jeans matted with blood around his festering wound, his leg tourniqueted by a belt that Tommy explains wasn’t there doing, rather the attackers. His pulse is steady as your fingers over his femoral artery once you’ve cut his jeans open further with the scissors.

“El—Ellie,” your voice shakes slightly, looking over your shoulder to catch her grimace as she hunched over further in pain, “she needs���”

“I’ve got her,” Maria assures you and Tommy, who was understandably only focused on Joel.

You don’t waste another second, working around Tommy on instinct while Jesse followed the girls to the back room, a gentle but reassuring hand on your shoulder as he passes by.

Your hands move gently over his wound, mind racing through every step of triage and trauma care as if your nerves hadn’t already been shot an hour ago. You didn’t know how many wounds you’ve treated today, but Joel’s was the worst—and unspeakably, the most important.

The wound is bad. Deep.

Frayed flesh around the spread of the bullet, a shotgun you can assume, already turning an angry red. The steps were simple, fortunately. You’ll have to clean it out, maybe even dig if the bullet fragments were lodged in deep. 

His face is a mosaic of bruises and dried blood, and he hasn’t stirred once.

That—more than the sight of the injury itself—makes something in your chest clench.

Tommy’s gripping the table tight, white knuckling as his jaw clenched in worry.

“Do I want to know?” you ask softly.

Tommy shakes his head slightly, “Ellie ain’t said much—jus’ know whatever the problem was, it isn’t one anymore.”

“He’s gonna need blood,” you explain to him as you work quietly but carefully on the wound, grateful that most of the issue was at the surface and that with enough time to heal and consistent check-ins, Joel would recover.

Undoubtedly with a limp, but you knew Joel—he’d manage.

The quiet is unsettling, though.

He should be fighting this. Groaning. Cursing. Something.

But he’s still.

Too still.

Tommy stays rooted in place like he’s afraid Joel will vanish if he lets go.

Part of you carries that fear, too.

With the attack on Jackson, everything seemed up in the air.

“I need you to keep your hand here,” you say firmly, guiding his hand to the artery in his leg, feeling the steady pulse underneath your fingertips. “Count the beats, focus. If it slows, weakens—don’t wait, tell me.”

Tommy nods, jaw still clenched tight.

He’s got blood dripping from a cut in his brow, covered in dirt and grime, streaks on his face from the tears he was shedding quietly, it was your only attempt to busy his mind.

You work diligently, more focused than you had been all evening.

Forceps clink against the metal tray as you dig out fragments, your breath hitching every time Joel twitches—barely, like his body’s fighting beneath layers of pain and unconsciousness.

You glance toward the IV stand that was taped to hell, barely holding on.

Just like everything else in Jackson at the moment – like Joel.

“I’m gonna flush the wound,” you murmur more to yourself than Tommy, gripping the saline syringe with steady hands. “Then I’ll stitch it. Antibiotics to be safe. He’ll need pain meds and I need to work on the cuts to his face, but I want his body to rest. We have morphine stored away, but I know Joel will probably refuse…”

Tommy doesn’t respond. Just keeps his hand pressed where you told him, eyes locked on Joel’s face like he’s willing him to wake.

“He still needs blood, Tommy,” you remind him, “but I don’t know his blood type.”

“I’m O-negative,” Tommy interjects.

“That works,” you assure him, nodding for him to sit as you grab the supplies to draw Tommy’s blood, unflinching as the needle slips into his vein.

It’s all rather quick, kneeling to hold the bag as it fills while Tommy stares at his brother, looking briefly over your shoulder to catch his breathing, a slow rise and fall.

“He’s gonna be alright,” you assure Tommy, “the worst outcome here is him complaining about having to use a cane, if it comes to that.

Quietly, you tend to the small head wound that Tommy has and he doesn’t even attempt to argue, eyes flickering to your briefly at the gesture, tilting his head up for better access.

You move efficiently, like muscle memory as you tape up his wound before transferring the blood and prepping the line for Joel. 

The line finds Joel’s vein without much resistance, and you secure it with shaking fingers, your breath held as the dark crimson slowly, mercifully begins to flow into his body.

“C’mon, Joel,” you whisper under your breath. “Not you.”

“He was in and out on the way here,” Tommy comments, holding the cotton ball to use the wound as he stands and you quickly return to him to bandage up and pressure the wound, “but now he’s just…still. That ain’t good,”

“It’s the body responding to the pain,” you remind him, “he’s clearly lost a lot of blood, his face is bruised—the important thing is he’s breathing and his pulse is good. Just…let me work on him. Go check on Ellie.”

Tommy hesitates, glancing back at Joel like his feet were already rooted permanently to the floor. Then his eyes shift to yours—tired, firm, unwavering—and he nods, finally stepping away. 

Just far enough to check on Ellie. 

Just long enough to breathe.

The second he’s gone, it’s just you and Joel.

–

The room feels colder without the presence of Tommy’s worry. 

You stitch slowly, methodically, carefully maneuvering around the skin until you are satisfied, constantly eyeing Joel to gauge a reaction, noticing some of his color had returned, hair damp with melted snow.

If he was awake he’d be grumbling and complaining and part of you hates how much you wanted to hear it as you bandage up his knee, assuring that bleeding was under control before you removed the belt on his upper thigh and grabbing a spare blanket to drape over his body as you move down to tend to his face, riddled with cuts and bruises.

You press a hand against his and pull it to his chest, resting gently against the fabric of his shirt. 

His palm is rough, calloused, and warm—thank god, still warm.

You clean the last of the blood from his face, wiping gently along the arc of his brow, around the corner of his eye that was slightly swollen. A bruise is blooming dark down the line of his jaw, but under it—his face is still familiar.

Still him.

After a stretch of time that feels like eternity, Maria and Tommy return to the front room of the clinic, looking fearful as their eyes land on Joel.

“He’s alright,” you assure them both, “he probably needed the rest, too.”

Tommy chuckles weakly at that, “I—we’re…we’re gonna go pick up Benji, but we’ll be back, alright?”

You nod in response, “I’m not leaving until he wakes up Tommy, I promised.”

“I know, kiddo,” Tommy says endearingly, approaching you with arms open slightly, enveloping you into a short hug that were few and far between, “Ellie’s asleep, too. Dina and Jesse are sticking around until she settles.”

The front door clicks shut behind Tommy and Maria, the heavy silence seeping back in soon after.

You don’t move far, bringing a stool to sit beside Joel.

The clinic is dim now, the lights softened by fucky wiring as the evening crept in.

You can hear Jesse’s and Dina’s muffled voice in the back—low and quiet—and the distant creak of the cot Ellie’s curled into. But here, in this room, it’s just you. 

And Joel, and the quiet hum of his breathing.

You reach up to brush a stray bit of hair from his temple, your hand pausing just above his skin.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you whisper. “If you were awake, I’d be screaming at you,”

And you know he’d only smile.

Joel doesn’t respond, but his breathing shifts. 

Not much—just enough to prove he’s still there, riding the edge of sleep and pain.

“You enjoy it, though. You always laugh, I know it’s pointless and that you’re just stubborn as all hell and I’m willing to put up with it,” you push the few strands of hair away from his face and sigh, “guess there’s a reason why you always ask for me.”

A few hours pass, the night creeping in slowly amongst the storm that roared outside.

You glance at his hand after a thorough check-up and redressing his wound for good measure, still resting palm-up where you’d placed it. Hesitant, your fingers slip into his, lacing slowly. 

You wait. No squeeze. 

But, the warmth is enough.

Then, a shift.

A low grunt, almost imperceptible.

Your breath catches. You look up sharply, eyes scanning his face. One eye twitches. His brow furrows just slightly.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but his mouth moves.

“Ellie?” he asks weakly, squeezing your hand back.

Tears burn your eyes before you can stop them, relief flooding your chest in waves.

You squeeze his hand back again. Tight. “She’s okay—she’s good,” you whisper quickly, wiping your cheek with your sleeve, not that it helps.

Joel breathes out, like the tension’s finally releasing from somewhere deep inside his chest. 

You watch the slow rise and fall of him for a moment, just taking it in. Life.

Then his eyes crack open, albeit one is swollen, but hazy and bloodshot and focused on you.

His brows twitch as he looks at you.

“You cryin’?” he rasps, voice rough but teasing.

Even now, he teases you.

“You worried the hell out of me,” you tell him.

“Did I?” Joel asks genuinely, “M’sorry, darlin’.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Joel grimaces and makes a soft noise, “S’all touch and go, right now. I’m really tired, that normal?”

“I gave you some painkillers,” you explain, “probably why.”

Joel looks around gingerly, noting the mess with an amused expression.

“Cleaned up real nice for me, didn’t you?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you mutter dryly, shifting to adjust the blanket over him. “Next time, I’ll set up some mood lighting and put some music on for you.”

Joel groans low in his throat, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Nah. You singin’ for me would be good enough.”

You snort softly, “I don’t sing.”

“Shame,” he murmurs, barely audible, his eyes slipping closed again. “Bet it’d be real pretty, you got a pretty voice, know you’d sing pretty too.”

Your chest squeezes, caught somewhere between a laugh and a breath you can’t quite take.

“You’re losing it, old man.”

Joel smiles weakly.

“Maybe.”

A long pause and he speaks even soften.

“Still think you got a nice voice, though.”

–

You stay beside him. Even after he dozes back off, you don’t move—not far. Never quite letting go of his hand either. Just shift the stool closer and brace your elbow on the edge of the bed, chin tucked in your other hand. 

The storm outside has softened, now more wind than snow, rattling the windows with every gust.

You don’t realize you’ve nodded off until something shifts. A sound—low, grumbly.

“…you snore a little,” Joel rasps.

You straighten quickly and shake your head, blinking through a sleep haze as you answer him defiantly, “I do not, Miller.”

“Oh—you do, sweetheart,” Joel challenges, a subtle smirk playing at his face, staring at you through his swollen eye.

“Good to know you never stop being insufferable,” you tease him.

“Just like seein’ you laugh,” Joel admits before a silence grows, a look of subtle concern crossing his face, “How bad was it? The horde?”

“We’ve dealt with stuff like that before, maybe not at that level but it isn’t something we’re not prepared for. A couple didn’t make it, got bitten defending the watchtower—Jackson can always rebuild, we mourn, move on, you know? With you, s’different,”

Joel, for once, doesn’t know how to respond.

You see it then—that quiet, careful look he sometimes gives you when he thinks you're not watching. Like he’s cataloguing you. Not in some grand, poetic way. More like he’s memorizing how you look when you're safe. When he needs the reminder of it.

You’re too tired to do anything but meet it.

“I ain't goin' anywhere,” he says finally, voice rough but firm, “You can stop lookin’ at me like I’m about to flatline.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Joel smirks faintly. “You’ve been holdin’ my hand for a while,”

“Oh,” it started to feel like an extension of you, his touch, but you slowly attempted to retract.

“Don’t,” Joel tells you, gripping your hand tighter, shifting his head against the makeshift pillow underneath his head that you had made out of his jacket halfway through the night.

“Thanks for not givin’ up on me,” Joel says gently,

You glance over, unsure how to respond at first.

“You really think I would?”

“Dunno,” he says, voice low, “don’t really think I deserve the effort anymore from anyone…”

He trails off, but it hangs between you anyway. 

The way he says it—soft, raw—like the words snuck out before he could stop it.

You lean in slightly, brushing your thumb just once over the back of his hand.

“I’m not anyone, Joel.”

Joel looks at you again, his expression shifting.

His fingers curl around yours again. Warmer this time. Intentional.

“Five years I’ve known you—I’ve patched your ass up more times than I can count. I’ve had dinners with you, beers with you and your brother. This isn’t my attempt at gaining some good karma. I care about you just as much as the rest of this town.”

“You’re too good to me,” Joel says quietly.

–

Jackson rebuilds, but it takes time.

Eventually, you find out that the assailants were after Joel—but Jesse and Ellie had shown up at a crucial point in the ambush that saved Joel and Dina’s life, despite his extensive injuries.

And Joel, stubborn as he was, began to heal.

The first few weeks are slow, mostly bed-ridden - or office-ridden, leg propped up at his desk as he and Tommy planned out the rebuild process and you rounded your daily office visit to him for assurance that he was taking the antibiotics you had given him and checking on his wound.

It takes a few months, but he does get on his feet again.

He’s resilient, you’ll give him that. An injury that would take no less than six to eight months before the healing was done and Joel was already moving, though with some noticeable pain.

You spot him halfway down the main road on the first name where Jackson was finally starting to feel normal again, walking out of the Tipsy Bison with a pronounced limp.

You sigh to yourself, shifting the object under your arm and start down the road.

“Joel Miller.”

He doesn’t stop walking, but he flinches a little. 

He’s been avoiding you for a couple weeks now, knowing how insistent you had been about him using something to support his leg, just to give it a break once in a while.

“I will chase you down.”

He stops.

You close the distance, holding up the object in your hand.

“If you don’t use this, I’m following you everywhere, barring you from walking, and pushing you around in a wheelchair.”

He eyes the cane. Then your face. Then the cane again.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“It’s exactly what you think it is.”

He scowls. “I’m not usin’ a damn cane.”

“You’re still healing,” you tell him, “and if you care about my worries—you’ll use it.”

“That’s low,” Joel counters,

You had spent a week sanding down the cane to a smooth texture, rounding out the handle to something comfortable to grip, even polished it up. It was extravagant or crazy, but it was clearly made with love.

“Did you make it?” Joel asks curiously.

“Doesn’t matter,” You shrug.

Joel smirks at that. 

You had. He knows it.

He takes it wordlessly, wrapping his fingers around the handle and planting it into the ground.

He tests it out wordlessly, leaning his weight into it and only slightly annoyed at how it eases the weight on his injured leg, looking up at you sheepishly.

“So….should I say it now or?”

“Zip it,” Joel retorts with a faint playfulness, “it…helps, s’real nice of you, you know?”

You raise your brow. “You sayin’ I was right? Knowing you needed it?”

“Don’t push it.” Joel warns

“Say it.” you tease with a flirtatious smile that doesn’t go amiss.

Joel sighs, scratching at his jaw. “You were… not completely wrong.”

You beam, and he rolls his eyes, though the edge of his mouth quirks up.

After a beat, he taps the cane gently against the side of your boot.

“Walk with me?” he asks.

He didn’t even need to ask.

–

There wasn’t any indication of where you were walking to, but naturally you drift to your shared street, homes sitting on opposite sides of the street, but near enough that you were only a short walk away.

The cane clicks softly against the dirt road like a steady metronome to the quiet shuffle of your boots. His limp is pronounced, but less severe than it was a few weeks ago.

The streets are quieter these days. Jackson feels like it's exhaling after holding in a long overdue breath.

Joel walks with his shoulder close to yours. Not touching, but close enough that it would only take a shift. He’s never been one for words, not when the moment matters most—but his silence is full of meaning.

Or, maybe he is just savoring the peace.

“You really made this?” he asks again after a few paces, like he needs to be sure.

You nod shyly, hands shoving into your coat pockets.

He’s quiet for a while, but then, “It’s real thoughtful of you.”

“I was gonna carve your name into it, actually,” you joke, nudging him gently with your elbow, “but Tommy said that was a bad idea.”

Joel chuckles low under his breath. “He’d be right.”

Through your sudden shared laughter, your knuckles brush.

It’s nothing, but it feels like so much.

As you approach your houses, Joel turns to you.

“Do you need anything?” you ask him gently. “I can stop by later if you need some pain meds or anything? Or yell at you for not resting up at home like you should.”

Joel huffs, shaking his head. “Always lookin’ for a reason to yell at me, huh?”

“Only ‘cause you keep givin’ me so many,” you tease.

He looks at you for a long moment, eyes scanning your face in the too quiet dark.

“You stayed the whole night,” he says finally, like he’s been holding it in for a while.

“I told Tommy I wouldn’t leave until you woke up.”

Joel nods once. He shifts his weight on the cane, hesitating just slightly, before adding, “I heard you—talkin’ to me.”

“You did?” you ask, your voice quiet. “Well, that’s…embarrassing.”

Joel’s gaze drops to your hand lingering close to his—he hadn’t even realized he’d reached out until it was too late, his hand dwarfing your own in a gentle hold of your fingertips. 

It’s a small touch, but it grounds him.

You flinch slightly at the touch, feeling the heaviness of the moment

“You can let go,” he says, looking back up at you.

You smile faintly. “I don’t want to.”

Joel hums thoughtfully. “Seems I don’t want to either,”

And in that soft hum between houses, under the stars beginning to peek through the roaming clouds overhead, Joel leans in, his cane shifting a few inches behind you as he leans his weight into it to reach you, his lips pressing against yours in a quiet, tender moment of vulnerability under the dim street lights.

“Never got to thank you properly,” Joel admits.

“Is that your way of saying thank you?” you ask curiously.

“Can be,” Joel responds mischievously, a smirk tugging at his lips as you pull back to look at him.

“I think you can do better,” you challenge him, nose brushing against his own.

“You’re damn right,” he agrees, using his free hand to curve around the back of your neck as he pulls you in, stealing your breath away with the second press of his lips.

When he parts, you can’t help but giggle against him, an indescribable feeling tightening your chest.

“Yeah…that’s—” You breath stutters as you nod, “that’ll do.”

Joel chuckles softly, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“Good, ‘cause I got a lot of thankin’ to make up for.”

[burntsaltsblog]

“death like a black hole” | Joel Miller ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“I spill into the darkness like lard; thick, fleshy parts of me falling into the abyss. And it’s so endless, like an night sky in Austin with no stars. I can’t see a thing but I get the feeling that I’ve broken apart.

A never-ending descent, accompanied by that familiar sick feeling in my stomach. Falling, and, falling, and, falling; eagerly waiting for the impact, but it doesn’t come.

Get up.

I can hear it. Far away and garbled like my head is underwater. I think of trying; placing my hands, palm down and pushing up. I can’t remember how to now.

I get the feeling that I would if I could, that I would do anything she asked me to.

Fucking get up.

My mind splinters beneath her words. Each one comes out like a rock smashing through glass, becoming more and more distorted. Until there’s nothing but this strange rhythmic crunching.

For a moment that I think that I see a shape taking form in the distance. Beads of green dancing amongst all the nothing. And then, it explodes. As if all the darkness had been funneled into a pin hole. Collapsing in on itself and erupting into a million different hues.

It’s silent now and I am warm.

As look on, like I’m seeing for the first time or rather without eyes at all; I get the strangest feeling I’ve been here before.”

[burntsaltsblog]

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

still here with me | joel miller x reader

my masterlist

pairing: jackson!joel x female!reader

summary: you save Joel.

warnings: spoilers for episode 2. canon typical violence, jackson's hoard, angst, lil bit of fluff. Ellie isnt mentioned.

a/n: i love abby but NOT ON MY WATCH. anyway .... how are we feeling ....? 🫂

The sounds of gunfire crackled through the cold. 

The blizzard felt like an entity - roaring, kicking up like ash as the hoard was running toward Jackson’s gates - hundreds of them, more than you'd ever seen. Clickers, stalkers, runners. Screeching. Crawling. Dying in waves, but still coming.

You stood on the wall beside Tommy, breath steaming in the cold as your rifle jerked back with each shot. “There’s too many, Tommy. We need the barrels."

“Fuck!” Tommy yelled, loading another round. “Keep your aim steady!” Tommy barked.

But you weren't hearing him anymore. Your ears were ringing. Joel.

You blinked hard, fired another round. “Tommy,” you muttered, voice tight.

He didn’t turn. “What?”

“I have to go.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“I need to find him. I need to find Joel. Amy said he's at the ski lodge."

Tommy finally looked at her, eyes wide. “Are you crazy?"

 “Something’s wrong, Tommy. I can feel it.”

Tommy grabbed your arm. “You run out now, you’ll die. Its a death trap.”

“Then I'll die trying.” you muttered, his hand still on yours.

He hesitated—just a breath—then nodded toward the watchtower behind them. “Back gate. It’s clearer that way. Take a horse and ride fast. You hear me? Be fuckin safe. Go."

You sprinted to the stables, saddled a horse with shaky hands, and rode like hell—snow blurring your vision, heart screaming louder than the wind, outrunning the hoard. Toward the lodge. 

Every fiber of you wanted to scream Joel and Dina's names to look for them. To cry out. But you had enough experience to know that you couldn’t.

If they were in trouble, if they're hurt —you yelling would only paint a target on your back. Or theirs. It wasn't an option. 

So you rode low in the saddle, head ducked beneath the howling wind, your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might crack a rib.

When you finally reached the edge of the lodge, you dismounted, boots hitting the ground heavy and wet. Snow clung to your coat and lashes. The horse huffed, nervous.

You crept forward, one foot after the other. Fingers clenched around your rifle. No footprints leading away from the door. No sign of anyone leaving in a hurry. Just quiet.

The sky above you was darkening fast, blizzard now in full force. 

You walked in, slowly. . It felt like your body knew something before your mind did, like it was bracing for impact. Weathered wood, furniture covered in plastic. Then, you saw a door. You placed your gloved hand on the knob, the other pressing your body flush to the wall beside it. Then you leaned in, ear to the wood.

Voices.

Muffled.

A woman’s voice.

"where was the last place you saw the fireflies?,” she was saying, her tone sharp but almost distant, like she was trying to keep steady.

Think. Think, think, think.

You didn’t know for certain—It could be anyone. But something in your chest twisted so violently, it was like your body already knew Joel and Dina were in that room, and they were running out of time.

How many voices? Two? Three? More? Your blood roared in your ears. You couldn’t make out words—just tones. Angry. Confident. Like they weren’t worried about being caught. 

You stepped back from the door, trying to breathe past the knot in your chest and move as quietly as possible. You had to distract them. Get them away from him. Make them come to you.

You crept down the hall, eyes sweeping the room. Old furniture, untouched for years. You spotted a rusted kettle on the stove and stealthily, you knocked it off with your rifle. You usually do this tactic with glass bottles, but you needed to think fast. 

It hit the ground hard—clang—echoing through the lodge.

Shouts followed. Heavy footsteps. “What the hell was that?”

You dropped behind furniture just as two came around the corner, both unarmed. 

There was a high-pitched ring in your ears, drowning out everything but your own pulse.

Your hands moved before your mind caught up and you stealthily walked behind them and plunged the knife into the side of their throat, a trail of bodies behind you now. 

You crept back toward that door, heart slamming against your ribs. You kicked it open hard, rifle raised—ready to die if it meant he lived.

Joel. On his knees, arms up, breathing heavily. Dina passed out on the floor. And in front of Joel —a woman. Armed. Blonde. Braid hanging down her back. Gun aimed at his head.

You didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. Bang.

She dropped before she even turned fully.

The other two put their hands up, trying to save themselves. You fired again. And again. You needed to move fast. 

You ran to him. You dropped your rifle, crossed the room in seconds, and crashed into him like you were afraid he might disappear if you let another second pass.

Joel caught you with both arms, pulling you in so tight it felt like your ribs would snap. His eyes were red and teary, his body was shaking. You could feel his heart hammering through his chest, loud and frantic, like it was trying to fight its way into yours. 

Neither of you spoke. Just the sound of your breathing—sharp, broken. His forehead pressed against yours. His hand tangled in the back of your jacket like he couldn’t let go.

By the time you made it back to Jackson, the blizzard had quieted, but the damage was done.

The wall was down. Dead clickers littered the snow, half-buried in blood and snow. Smoke curled from where fires had been. Guards moved slowly through the wreckage, dragging corpses, calling out names.

You rode in with Joel just behind you, Dina slumped between your arms on the saddle. She hadn’t woken up yet, still drugged, still breathing.

Tommy met you at the gate - or what was left of it. His face was pale with ash and blood, eyes going wide when he saw the three of you.

Joel slid off the horse first, then reached up to take Dina from your arms.

You followed, boots hitting the red-streaked snow, gaze locked on the chaos around you.

Jackson had survived, but just barely.

You and Joel sat in the quiet of the house, the kind of silence that only comes after something  that violent. Your jacket was still damp from the snow, but your hands were warm now—held out toward the fireplace in your home. 

Joel hadn’t said much since you got back.

You’d stayed behind, helped with the wreckage. But Tommy had grabbed your arm, eyes heavy, voice low. “You’ve done enough. Take him home. Take care of him.”

So now here you were. Home. With the love of your life. 

He sat in the armchair beside you, elbows on his knees, head bowed like he was still catching his breath from hours ago. The firelight danced across his face, cutting soft gold into the bruises blooming along his jaw. Gosh, he looks so beautiful. 

You walked over slowly, knees brushing his as you knelt in front of him. He looked up—eyes tired, but still Joel. Still your Joel.

“You okay?” you whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. Just reached forward, pulling you into his lap like he’d been waiting all night to feel you close.

You curled into him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands threaded into his hair. He let out a shaky breath against your neck, like he’d been holding it in for hours.

You pulled back just a little, just enough to look at him.

Then you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Slow. Careful. Like you were afraid he might break if you weren’t gentle.

“I’m so happy you’re still here with me,” you whispered, voice thick with everything you didn’t say out loud.

Joel didn’t answer—not with words. But the way he held you tighter, like he’d never let go again… that was enough.

For now, it was enough.

[burntsaltsblog]

Joel taking Ellie to see dinosaurs and space stuff is going to kill me. When I played the game the first time, I had to take a break from playing afterwards. Reliving it will be like trying to catch my breath while an overweight dude is crushing my ribcage.

[burntsaltsblog]

"So whats your type?"

[burntsaltsblog]

yeah <3

sitting on his lap would heal me.

i need to straddle his lap as he tells me i'm his girl, only his, as he squeeze my jaw making sure i understand, then we start to softly making out, his scruffy beard scratching my face, but i like it cause he's my daddy, his thick hands gently groping my body cause i belong to him. i'd grind my hips against his bulge as i call him daddy, which only makes him harder, and only breathy little moans would fill the room<3

[burntsaltsblog]

Look, let’s get straight here.

I don’t ask for much, but there’s one thing I want.

To get scolded and disciplined by Joel Miller when I get bratty.

You know? Like getting sassy on him one day and next thing you know he just pulls you to his lap and smacks your ass shutting that bratty behaviour down

And maybe…. Just maybe, you’re not walking for the next few hours.