Mar 22
"Keep an eye on Commander Zero. He appears to be… regressing."
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"Keep an eye on Commander Zero. He appears to be… regressing."
Time in a Bottle
The day Joel Miller played guitar on his porch was the best day of your post-apocalyptic life. You had found a great friend who shared your love of music.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Male!Reader Word count: 3˙900 words
Warnings: SMUT!, MDNI!, ANGST, ALCOHOL, SPOILERS!!! (for season 2 of TLOU), Outbreak AU, no use of Y/N, mentions of death, top!reader, bot!joel, dry humping, lots of touching, unprotected p in a
Dividers by: @saradika-graphics
You’d never really paid much attention to Joel, only having talked to him on a couple of occasions in the years he’d been living in Jackson. He always kept to himself and his only care in the world seemed to be about having his family around, even though a seemingly important part of it had gotten really distant to him lately.
On one particular warmer winter afternoon, when you walk past his place, you see him sitting on the front porch to his house, playing the guitar. The song he's playing doesn't sound too bad, but you can hear that the guitar is definitely out of tune.
When the whole outbreak happened you had been working as a music teacher, and you used to play classical guitar concerts, so a weird sense of nostalgia washes over you as you stop to watch him play. He's leaning back in his chair, his left leg crossed over his right, supporting the instrument a little better.
Joel keeps playing for a bit longer, until his eyes look up a little, since he felt someone around. He notices you staring at him from afar and asks in a rumbling voice, “You want an autograph or somethin’?”
“I would if it sounded any good,” you tease with a smile on your face, “Your guitar's a bit out of tune.”
“Bullshit,” he mumbles before reaching for the knobs on the top of the guitar to tune the strings, and tilts his head slightly to the right. He plays two strings at once, starting with E1 and E6 and making his way from the outside to the inside strings. They are attuned to each other, they're just tuned too low for the song he was playing before.
You step onto the porch and join him, nodding, “Mhm, it's tuned too low.”
“What do you know about guitar playing anyway?”
“Well, I used to teach music to folks and play some gigs, so I guess it's okay to assume that I know a little bit about it.”
He holds the guitar out to you, “Hah, I'd like to hear you play then.”
You reach for it, but he pulls away just as you're about to take it.
“Not here though, I wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself in front of others,” he teases as he stands up, his knees cracking.
You hum a tune before tuning the guitar, trying to find the right note, turning the knobs as your thumb brushes over the first string, the metal sending tingles through your fingertips. A warm feeling washes over you as you keep tuning each string until it sounds just right.
“Alright, it should be good now,” you try to hand the instrument back to Joel carefully, but he shakes his head.
“You were bragging so much before, I wanna hear you play something.”
A laugh escapes your lips as you rest the body of the guitar on your leg. You lift your left leg a little higher so that the neck is pointed upward. This allows you to wrap your left hand comfortably around the neck. Your fingertips automatically find the right fret position to start playing one of your favorite songs from back in the day. You start plucking the strings and play the intro to Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce. The metal strings dig into your softened fingertips from not playing for years. Your fingers move with weight, but they still vaguely remember which strings to play, everything just moves a little slower than you were used to. When you get to the chorus, you can't remember the next chords, and you repeat the last few notes you played, trying to figure out how to keep playing in your head.
“It sounded pretty good so far. Did you get stuck?” Joel asks as his seat creaks when he sits up.
You stop playing and sigh, unable to remember the rest of the song, “Yep. It's been a while since I last played.”
He holds out his hand, and you hand him his guitar, which he gently sets down next to him.
“Well, you seem like a pretty decent player, for a beginner,” he jokes.
“Har har,” you laugh sarcastically as you raise an eyebrow and get up to leave.
“ All jokes aside, we could have some lessons together sometime if you'd like. I shouldn't keep this beautiful instrument to myself. And I'd like to learn some new songs, too.”
Your eyes light up, but you try to hide your excitement by walking towards the door and not facing him.
“What do you say?” he follows you, stopping in the doorway.
“I'd be delighted. But I'll need some payment for the lessons, of course,” you grin at him as you turn to look at the slightly smaller man.
“I think using my guitar is payment enough,” he chuckles, shaking his head, “but if I find anythin' good, I might share it with you.”
You decide on two evenings to come over and play guitar together, with Joel teaching you his favorite song and you teaching him yours. Some time goes by and you start to warm up to each other, even though the weather outside is only getting colder and colder.
For the first few lessons, your fingertips would hurt like crazy after just half an hour of playing, but after a few weeks, your fingers became more agile and the tips became calloused. This allowed you to play longer sessions and spend more time with a good friend.
One night after a long lesson, Joel pulls out a closed bottle of whiskey and holds it up to show you, “Here's your payment, by the way. I told you I'd share when I found something.
Since it was snowing like crazy outside, you weren't in a hurry to leave, and to be honest, you were in excellent company.
“Oo, goodie, I won't say no to that,” you rub your hands together as he pours some into two whiskey glasses. You sit up straight on the couch and take one of the glasses.
“Oo goodie?” he teases you as he grabs his glass.
“Let's have a toast. To our friendship,” you smile as you raise the glass to Joel.
“To our friendship,” a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips as the glasses clink together.
The whiskey burns as it runs down your throat, warming you from the inside and making you feel more relaxed.
Joel picks up the guitar and starts to play a little, not really trying to play a song, just for fun. Seeing him look so carefree in this moment makes you wish you could hold on to this moment forever, enjoying the music, the drink, and the sight of him playing the guitar. You could watch him forever. He had everything he needed to become a famous singer in the past. His voice was deep and smooth and made your heart race when he sang.
Time flies and soon the bottle is empty and you both are drunk.
Joel had moved out of his chair and was sitting right next to you on the couch, after he had closed the blinds, because it had gotten so dark outside that you could only see into the room.
“So, is Jim Croce your all-time favorite musician or what?” his question comes out of nowhere, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Hah. No, I just really like the one song,” you drink the rest of the whiskey left in your glass, now resting your elbows on your legs as you lean forward.
“Why, who's yours?” you continue, turning your head to look at Joel, who is leaning against the back of the couch, his left arm stretched across it behind you.
“Well, I don't really have just one musician that I like, but I'd have to say that Jim Croce is in my top five,” the couch creaks under the shift of weight on it as he sits upright, his arm bumping against yours. You smile at his answer, finding it amusing.
“I swear, I would have taken you for a big country music fan.”
“You're not too far off, I do like country, I did grow up in Texas. But I'm still interested in what you liked to listen to back then.”
“Hm, that's the problem, I listened to a lot of music and didn't really have a genre that I hated… I used to love System of a Down, though. Don't know if you know them.”
“Nah. The name rings a bell, though.”
“They were this… Armenian — I think — heavy metal band.”
He laughs at your description, “I didn't take you for a heavy metal fan, Mr. Classical Guitar.”
“Oh shut up. You can play metal songs on classical guitars too,” you protest before adding in a whisper, “although it sounds a little weaker.”
“I bet you could play anything and make it sound good, you're my favorite musician, after all.”
You turn to face him, moved by what he just said. His smile fades as his eyes meet yours.
“Sorry, was that too much?” he asks and puts his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently.
"N... No, not at all! You just sounded so genuine out of nowhere..."
"I mean, I really meant what I said."
You sit up and shift in the seat, your eyes still locked with his, your mind racing. The alcohol has hit you hard, your limbs feel slightly numb.
"Joel, I gotta go home," you mumble as you try to stand. Your legs feel like they're made of jelly, you don't have the strength to walk home. As you stumble to your feet, Joel stands up with you, holding onto you for support.
"No, you're stayin' here tonight," he says loud and clear as he slides his arm under yours to keep you upright. The whole world feels like it's spinning around you.
"Okay, lemme sit down," you sit back on the couch, pulling Joel down with you.
He almost lands in your lap as you violently sit down, his face now awfully close to yours. You blink as your eyes find themselves once again locked in those deep, brown eyes of his. His lips are slightly agape, twitching a little at the corners before he leans in and connects his lips to yours.
This is a terrible mistake. The feel of his lips against yours makes your stomach sink, but your heart doesn't want to pull away, so you just close your previously wide-open eyes. The alcohol in your system makes it a little difficult to pull away. His hand touches your cheek, his thumb rubs over your lips as he turns to look at your expression. You open your eyes to look at him, his thumb still on your chapped lips.
"Joel," you whisper, trying to avoid what's coming next.
He shushes you before pressing his lips to yours again, your body melting back into the couch cushions as he presses himself against you.
His hands slowly unbutton your shirt as you deepen the kiss, tilting your head slightly to get a better angle. Your hands grab his sides, squeezing gently as he finishes unbuttoning your shirt. He helps you take it off without breaking the kiss. You moan into the kiss as his cold hands slide under your shirt, making you shiver.
Joel pulls away from the kiss to remove your top before taking off his shirts as well. You watch him in silence, heavy breathing escaping your lips as you feel your pants getting uncomfortably tight. His torso is covered in a few scars, but he still looks amazing for his age.
“Fuck… c'mere,” you reach over to pull his neck closer and kiss him again. He seems to enjoy it, as a slight roll of his hips causes him to grind against you again and again. You moan into the kiss before pushing him down on the couch and kneeling between his legs.
Joel looks up at you, his face flushed as he wraps his legs around your hips, rubbing your clothed erection against his. You prop yourself up on your arms and close your eyes as you continue to dry hump him, your hips moving on their own. His breathing gets heavier as you continue, the need for release growing in both of you. Joel begins to move his hips as well, creating more friction between the two of you.
Your heavy breaths mix as you continue to move, and you lean down to kiss him once more. His cock, though still covered, feels extremely hard against yours. A soft grunt gets caught in the back of your throat, your orgasm creeping closer.
You rest your weight on him, wrapping your arms around him as your humping becomes more erratic. His heavy breaths brush against your ear as you finally reach the high you were looking for and come inside your own pants.
Joel chuckles when he realizes you've just come and caresses your head before kissing your temple. Your heavy breathing calms down after a while, and you don't move as you enjoy the moment.
“Did you… come at all?” you ask in a hushed voice.
“No, but that's ok,” he answers, looking up at you as you push yourself up to look down at him.
“No, it's not. Wait. Just a second,” you kneel down to scoot further back on the couch, stopping when you can comfortably unzip his jeans.
“Really, I can wait,” he shifts underneath you, grabbing the top of the backrest with one hand to pull himself up as he touches your hand that's unzipping his jeans.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I'd rather continue in the bedroom anyway.”
“Ok. That sounds like a better idea.”
Joel manages to sit up and caresses your cheeks, pulling you in for a soft kiss.
“If you keep kissing me like this, we'll never get to the bedroom,” you murmur against his lips, your arm wrapping around him to rest on his lower back.
“Fine. Get up. I need to get you out of those pants,” he raises an eyebrow in curiosity as he sees the wet spot on your jeans, his fingertip brushing over it.
Once Joel is up, he leads you into his bedroom and the adjoining bathroom, helping you out of the rest of your clothes before you step into the shower.
“That really helped, thanks Joel,” feeling refreshed and with a towel wrapped around your waist, you step out of the shower to see a completely naked Joel standing in front of you.
“Of course. Go ahead, wait in bed, I'll be right there.”
As you walk past, you kiss him and head into the bedroom to lie down and wait. You are nearly asleep when he comes out of the bedroom, the sound of the door opening jolting you awake. He's wearing a towel around his waist, one of his hands holding on where the cloth is tucked in to keep it from falling.
He lies down on the bed next to you, “Did I wake you up?
“Nah, all good,” you pull him to face you, resting your hand on his hip, “you ready… to carry on?”
He looks a little unsure at first, avoiding your gaze for a second before nodding, “Yeah, I am.”
“Good.”
You don't wait long to throw both towels off the bed and pull Joel to lie on top of you. Almost all of his weight is on you as he begins to kiss you in the sweetest way anyone has ever kissed you. His stubble feels rough against your upper lip, almost tickling you. It's a tender moment, the heat slowly rising between the two of you. His skin against yours feels a little cold from just getting out of the shower, but that changes quickly with each caress and touch you share.
As the air around you gets hotter, so does each shared kiss. His tongue plays with yours to deepen the kiss. You feel yourself getting hard again, Joel's erection pressing against your side as he turns into a more comfortable position.
He hums into your mouth as you roll over to change positions, your hand slipping between the two of you to begin stroking his cock. The tip leaks a little pre-cum into your fist, making you smile. You kiss his lips desperately as he touches you, his hand hot and making you want more.
“Fuck, Joel,” a pathetic moan echoes through the room, his hand feeling amazing.
“Mhm,” his deep voice excites your whole being. You stop stroking his cock and press your face into the pillow next to his head, trying not to be too loud as your head begins to feel lighter.
Joel shifts underneath you, thrusting into your hand as he complains, “Don't stop, boy.”
Less than a minute later, you have him pushed down, stomach first, as you finger him to stretch his hole. You didn't expect him to turn you on this much, but here you were, impatiently fingering him with some cooking oil while he curses under his breath every time your fingers brush his sweet spot. The squelching sounds your fingers make when you twist them inside him make you want to rub yourself, but you hold back.
It doesn't take long before he's sweating beneath you, breathing hot and heavy as you pull your fingers out to replace them with your cock. You push in slowly at first, not wanting to overwhelm him, but soon enough the pleasure overtakes you and you begin to thrust deeper into him, your hands pushing his cheeks apart as you watch your dick enter him.
As he turns his head to press his face into the pillow, his moans become muffled. Your fists dig into the mattress as you continue to thrust into him, his breathing getting heavier each time you brush against his prostate. The view of his back is beautiful, his breathing visibly rapid. His moans and groans are stifled by his face being pushed into the pillow as you continue. His hands grip the sheets. His knuckles are white from holding on so tightly.
A frustrated grunt escapes your throat as you lean down to kiss his nape. Joel turns his head to the side, his eyes half open as they turn to look at you.
“I'm so close, Joel.”
“ C'mon… hah… you can do it, keep going,” his words are hushed as he keeps his moans of pleasure inside.
Your thrusts become slower as you try to last a little longer. Your own release can wait, you have an urgent need to get Joel over the edge.
With a heavy breath, you whisper into his ear as you slow down further, “No way. I can't come before you. Not again.”
Before Joel has a chance to say anything, you pull out of him. You flop down on the bed next to him, trying to catch your breath before returning to him. He doesn't let you wait for too long and gets on top of you. He brushes the head of his cock against yours before wrapping his hand around the base of your cock to position it at his entrance. You sigh when you're fully inside him again, his insides warm and tight around your cock.
“Jesus - you're gonna be the death of me, Joel.”
He chuckles in response and begins to ride you, now with his eyes closed. You begin to stroke his cock, slowly and gently at first, but as he goes faster, you tighten your grip and pleasure him faster. Joel's lips, now parted to gasp for air, twitch a little before he bites his lower lip, his head growing lighter as he finally gets closer to his release. Your other hand finds itself cupping his cheek, moving it faster as you thrust into him.
With only three or four deep thrusts, Joel finally reaches his high, hot strings of his release painting your chest and hand.
“I'm almost there too…” you exhale as you thrust faster, soon climaxing yourself, deep inside him.
A few weeks had passed since then. You'd met up at your usual times, and you'd had your guitar lessons just like before. There was just a bit more going on after each lesson. You never mentioned what the two of you had together, but it was hard to hold back when you met or saw each other. Even when you had to go on patrol together. Sure, work and safety came first, but once that was done, you couldn't keep your hands off each other.
One day, when you go looking for supplies with another group of people, you find a pitch pipe, a kind of tool that helps you find the right tune for the various guitar strings that, thankfully, doesn't require batteries. You bring it up to your lips and blow into it to hear if the brass inside hasn't worn out over the years, but it still sounds pretty solid.
It's basically just a harmonica with a limited ability to play songs. The plastic it is made of was probably white at some point, but the slight off-yellow tint gives it character. It would be a great “thank you” gift for Joel, since he doesn't hear too well out of one ear, and it could help him find the right note when tuning his guitar.
I'll give it to him the next time we get together to play. You probably won't see him for another two days, since he's supposed to be on patrol the next day. You put the pitch pipe in the little case it was in and put it in your pocket.
The day Joel died, the joy of making music died with him. You stare at the pitch pipe, running your finger over the plastic pieces sticking out of the centerpiece. You found out when Tommy came back from patrol. He had found you while you were waiting for Joel. It felt like everything had just come crashing down. Your happiness, your hope, your peace.
It was unbearable to say or do anything, so you just stood outside, silent, motionless, showing no emotion.
“They set up a grave in front of his house,” the voices pass you by as you stare at the sky. The air, ice-cold and harsh against your skin, sends a shiver down your spine. You rub your arms over your jacket. A distant memory of a wish floats in the back of your mind. The wish to play music with Joel forever. Wishing that you could hold on to the time you've spent together.
As your feet find their way to his house at the usual time and day you'd meet to practice guitar together, a sickening feeling creeps up your stomach. There, in front of the house where you'd spent countless hours together, was his grave. Next to it were various mementos. You grab the small box in your pocket, pull out the pitch pipe, get down on one knee and place it beside the grave.
You open your mouth to quietly utter the words, “If I could make days last forever. If words could make wishes come true. I'd save every day like a treasure and then, again, I would spend them with you.”
[TO PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS X READER MASTERLIST]
chapter 16.2 will be uploaded to ao3 asap!!! please keep an eye out for it!
BODY HEAT - HUCKLEROBBY FF - SURVIVAL AU - AO3 1 - 16.1 POSTED - COMINGABACK
Life doesn’t stop when everything changes. It begins with overcrowded waiting rooms, failing systems, unanswered questions, and people insisting everything is under control. When a violent infectious outbreak shatters PTMC and the U.S. Dr. Michael Robinavitch and Dennis Whitaker are forced into an environment that is changing faster than anyone can understand. As hospitals fail, cities unravel, and winter closes in, survival becomes less about saving lives and more about enduring the impossible choices left behind because of it. But it's in loss, endurance, and hope that keeps them moving long after reason tells them to stop.
CONTENT WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, GORE, MEDICAL TRAUMA REALISM, BODY HORROR, INFECTIOUS DISEASE, DEATH, MORAL INJURY, PSYCHOLOGICAL DISTRESS, REALISTIC SURVIVAL SITUATIONS, WINTER WEATHER HAZARDS, DISCUSSIONS OF FAITH, MENTIONS OF HOMOPHOBIA, SUICIDAL IDEATION, AND MATURE ADULT THEMES THROUGHOUT.
SLOW BURN, MUTUAL PINING, HURT/COMFORT, EMOTIONAL DEPENDENCE, FOUND FAMILY, LONG FIC.
Sometimes saving a life means taking another…
She isn’t special - she isn’t a Shield, or a Visionary - and she didn’t ask for the world she now finds herself in. She was just a girl with a medical degree and a love for bringing life into the world. But the end of the world has robbed her of so much and now she’s got a reputation for being a woman who ends lives.
Because the infected might be dangerous, but those who survive know that their fellow humans can be worse.
And those who threaten what little she has left, will wish the little g0d of de4th had taken them first instead.
☣︎ the little g0d of de4th by @call-sign-shark
☣︎ Reckless (A Quiet Place 2)
Accepting grief
paring : Joel miller x reader
Summary: In which reader struggles to accept the loss of Joel, letting grief and trauma take over, desperate to find solace.
warnings: Mentions of blood, Angst, drinking to conceal emotions, PTSD, death, No y/n mentioned, Reader accepts the loss and heartbreak at the end, no description of reader (if anything is missed please let me know and i’ll add it💖)
Word count: 2.3k
A/n: It’s been quite some time since i’ve written something, crazy things in life happened so this may be a little rusty. but enjoy (i cried writing this)
Divider by: @cafekitsune
“Joel!” The loud wind from the snowstorm made it impossible to understand what words were being spoken. The distance is barely visible, huddling to yourself trying to keep some warmth inside your body. You left Jackson twenty minutes ago, with the deep urge to go out and find him.
Thoughts of losing Joel makes your heart race. Both having a somewhat normal life now to experience meant everything to you.
Just ahead you see a cabin almost looking abandoned. Carefully sliding off your horse, grabbing your pistol, and quietly walking around for the back door. Noticing fresh footprints and a cracked door puts your guard up even higher than it was.
The sound of grunts and cries allows your feet to move faster. Approaching the door, leaning against it, listening for anything.
“Please dont do this!” ellie begged.
Thoughts ran through, body still as a stone statue. Possible outcomes of how to handle the situation ran through your mind. Taking deep breaths in and gripping your gun, you opened the door, shooting anyone you saw standing up.
Aiming for anybody until you were pushed down onto the floor by a man fighting him, desperately trying to get out of his grip, kicking, wiggling, anything to escape the hold. But by the grace of God, you managed to grab a shard of glass, cutting him right through, pushing him off; his blood was now on you.
After looking at the man who just attacked you, your head turned to Joel… just barely missing the sight of the girl.
His face, his body, barely even there. Blood covered every part of his face. You were stuck, unable to move. Breathshivering, stuck. Until suddenly a loud sound happened, breaking you out of the frozen trance. Noticing the girl right before you fall onto the wooden floor.
Blinking, You turned and saw Ellie, gun raised. Watching her go to Joel, crying for him to get up. He never did, and you feel your own heart break into thousands of pieces. It wasn’t until now that your own body broke down. Falling onto your knees, tears flowing down. Nothing could ever prepare you for this.
_________________________________
It has been weeks since Joel has been gone. Which means you’ve been without him for longer than you ever have been without him. He’s not there when you wake up, he’s not there when you go to bed, and he’s not even there to visit your dreams.
‘Damn you, Joel.’ You thought. ‘you leave me, but can’t even visit me in my sleep.’
Taking a sip of the drink you held didn’t fully give you what you wanted, but it was enough for now. People’s words of sympathy and advice are all you’ve heard the past few days. You knew they were trying to help, but words never bring people back, so you just thank them and walk on off.
Many people were worried about you, though, taking to the bottle more than usual, avoiding them, and staying home. The only place you had never visited, though, was Joel’s grave. It hurt knowing he lays six feet under, looking the same way he looked on the day of. His scars and wounds still on him.
It sickened you never being able to visit him; you wouldn’t see him, only his stone. That’s why you never left to see him on the day of his funeral; you never showed. Never liking the thought of burials and how their lifeless body stayed there forever. Nobody told you how it was; they knew you didn’t wish to know.
Every topic leading to him you avoided like the plague, but the only person you ever spoke about him with was Ellie. Knowing she was just as hurt as you, allowing her to open up to you if needed. But for others, his name never existed. The fear of talking about him allows flashbacks to appear. swarming back, reliving it once more.
You’ve worn some of his clothes for his smell, but not every day due to the fear of it going away so quickly. But right now it’s eleven pm. You planning to head to the bar for a drink and wash the pain and hopefully get a good sleep tonight later on.
Slipping on your own boots, along with his coat, you begin to make your way to the bar for a drink. The quiet sound of snow crunching beneath your feet along with the wind howling calms you down. Never have felt calm before he passed. Almost like the earth’s way of trying to soothe you and convince you to turn back home. But you never turned back home; you just kept on walking.
Once you had arrived, you took your place at one of the stools. It was quiet aside from the small chatting from the few left behind. It’s what you needed after everything: nobody telling you they were sorry for your loss and that they were there if you needed anything. It was almost as if it was a script given to everybody for them to rehearse just for your own ears.
Memories fled back to old parties taking place, small and soft ones that were held very dearly in your heart. sharing drinks with Joel and teasing him on how he should join the others for a dance, but of course that always ends with him rejecting the idea. But the most special part of that time was when he agreed, but only if it was with you instead.
Thinking about it, that was the best dance you ever had with him. The way his one hand lay around your waist as the other held your hand, never wanting to leave the moment you felt finally safe here in Jackson with him. Wanting to spend the rest of your entire life with him, perhaps your own family, if not, then you’d possibly own a couple of dogs and cats.
Lost in your own thoughts, a tap brought you back to reality, a reality where Joel no longer existed. Looking back, you noticed one of your friends. Not really a close friend but somebody who can relate to your own pain and suffering, Lily. She too had lost somebody she loved dearly, her husband gone for about four years. She’s never said how he passed, saying it was too brutal.
“Hey, how have you been doing lately?” She asked with sincerity in her face. It felt nice knowing she too understood that hearing words of sympathy over and over can be tiring and that wanting to be asked how you were is something you wanted more.
“Not sure, really. It could be better, though.” It was all truth. You weren’t really sure how you were at this moment, but you know it’s not how you normally feel. All the mental pain that clouds over your body drains everything from you, not being able to stand or even eat at times. It kept eating at you. Nothing could help, not even tears. You refused many times to accept that Joel was gone forever.
Lily just looked at you, examining your body and face, reading you like an open book. She knew what it felt like, and she saw that somebody just like her at one time needed help just like she did. Gently she put her hand over yours, her thumb softly stroking your hand, comforting in a way you thought.
“It’s hard, I understand. You refuse to acknowledge that somebody you love deeply is gone forever, and it ruins you for days, weeks, and years.” Each word Lily spoke was filled with honesty, careful to pick the correct wording but still comforting.
Listening to her words was hard to hear, but by some means, you listened.
“If we continue to ignore what pains us, scares us. It ruins our mentality even more than the actual death, and no matter how hard you try to hide from it, it never goes away.” She was right. You tried to hide away from the facts and fear. But deep down, it was nagging at you constantly. Evening affecting your own dreams.
Taking a sip of the drink you held, you then looked at her, eyes watery, drained, and tired. “So how do I fix what pains me? What do I need to take or do so that I may get rest from this?” The desperate need to get help is what you needed the most. That day is the only memory of him that clouds you endlessly.
“It’s not easy, but you have to face whatever bothers you most. Perhaps something he owned or anything. Confronting it slowly helps you fully grasp and understand that it’s alright to move on.” Those words were all you needed to hear to realize what you had to do. Needing to visit his grave and process he’s no longer on this earth.
“How long do you think it would take for me to accept?” The fear of never accepting the loss laid upon you. Hoping if there is an afterlife, you secretly beg the spirits to help you along.
Lily softly smiled at you. “That is up for you to decide when you’re ready to accept him being gone and let it help you continue growing into somebody better than you were before. Who knows? You may accept it after a few hours or even months.” Her words processed in your brain for a moment before you understood. You realized she was giving advice to you that she was never given back then, hoping to make yours go by quicker and easier.
“I understand. Thank you, Lily. I’ll keep your words in mind and maybe try it out.” With one last sincere smile and hug, you left. It was going on at one in the morning, half of the town away and sleeping safely. While walking, you noticed you were right by the cemetery where he lays. Everything was quiet and still aside from the wind, almost as if it was telling you to enter. Perhaps it was a sign to try it out now?
Perhaps with nobody around and just you in the night and the calm cold, it would help you. As if on cue, your body automatically began its way inside the cemetery. You saw nobody aside from headstones and flowers and letters everywhere. It was almost as if everything left you inside, leaving ultimate peacefulness within you. As if you had just passed on as well.
Even though you weren’t there to see him buried, you knew where he was. You walked right up to read his headstone. “Joel Miller.” Standing there in silence, you just observed, taking in the detail of how the wood was carved. Slowly sitting on your knees, your eyes look at the flowers that lay on his spot. From so many people that may never have known him like you did but still felt the pain just as you, Tommy, and Ellie did.
Not knowing what to do, unsure if you should just look or talk, emotions overwhelming your body, tears begin to flowdown. Not a sobbing cry, a quiet and simple one. “Damn it, Joel, why did you have to try to be a hero and save somebody?”
Even though you tried to sound angry, you couldn’t help but crack a smile out of it. He always would try to save somebody he never knew, and that’s why you loved him dearly. “You know I’ve been crazy since you’ve been gone, Joel. I’m not really sure how to act without you by my side every day.” It was the truth, hating waking up every day and not seeing him right by you still asleep.
“You go on and die without me and yet can’t even visit my own dreams. What’s up with that, Joel?” A smile still lays upon your face, the wind blowing more, moving the trees. Perhaps it’s a way of him showing you that he is laughing? Whatever sign it is, you’ll take it. Comfort from him in any form possible is what you need the most right now, and you’ll take this one too.
“Joel, you know I miss you dearly and still love you. You were the only person I’d ever want to grow old with and die with.” Silence. Nothing but your own breathing and the wind could be heard, but it was almost like a blessing. Something you’ve never had for a long time. Peace.
Peace at last laid upon you, and it felt like you were being hugged. Maybe this was a way for Joel to let you know that everything would be alright. Perhaps you finally accepted the truth that he would no longer be with you physically but still with you mentally. Cherishing this moment, you closed your eyes, picturing Joel just as he was before he was taken.
You knew now that it was time to accept him being gone, to let his spirit rest so that you both can go different ways in different universes. Before leaving, you left one of your rings that you wore every day; it was one of his favorites. commenting on how he loved how it looked on you. It was time for you to give him something to take with him on his new journey.
Slowly getting up and turning back and making your way home, you felt cleaner, calmer, and at full peace. Perhaps now Joel can be at peace now that you released your own pain. It was time to start anew and join back with others and maybe guide others who had lost someone they loved.
That night as you got ready for bed, getting all comfortable and situated, you enjoyed the feeling of being able to go to sleep like you did before, with no fear, anger, or sadness. Comfort is all you felt, and as you drifted off, you felt like Joel was right with you. And that night you had a dream with him in a beautiful garden, sunny and calming. That’s when you knew.
You’d finally accepted your own grief.
✨Crimson Ties✨
Vampire! Joel Miller x fem! reader
Masterlist Part 2
A/N: I was listening to “I’m Not A Vampire (Revamped)” by Falling In Reverse, and this angsty one shot just slipped inside the keyboard. I love love love writing in Joel’s POV, especially when it is filled with angst 🩵
Summary: Joel was a creature of the night, a monster who begged to be released from his curse. He wasn’t a good man, didn’t think he deserved anything that shined light on his dark soul. But there was you, the girl he so desperately wanted to stick around, if only for one more night.
“And whiskey seems to be my holy water. And mothers better lock your doors, and hide your daughters. ‘Cause I'm insane, I can feel it in my bones.Coursing through my veins. When did I become so cold? For goodness sakes, where is my self control?If home is where my heart is then my heart has lost all hope.”
-“I’m Not a Vampire” by Falling In Reverse
Word Count: 3.6k
Rating: Explicit (18+ only MDNI)
Tags: Angst, fic in Joel’s POV, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, feelings, pining, smut, oral receiving (female), unprotected p in v, creampie, vampire! Joel, outbreak AU
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Another night of lying on the cold floor, another full bottle of amber whiskey chugged and thrown to the ground, glass littering the dirt covered wood, blood staining the blue flannel that’s wrapped around his tired body. He’s worn out, exhausted from the endless feedings, the mind numbing displeasure of having to drink the blood of the living again and again and again.
Wild animals could only tie him over for so long, humans were the only things that remotely silenced his cravings. But you. Well, you’d be the only thing that kept the unrelenting hunger from ever dissolving from his dead body.
You. The woman he could never truly have. You were a fragile particle of sunlight in his midnight clouded black nights. You were… exquisite, something he never should’ve lured into his lonely, monstrous life.
How many times has he had you? Over a dozen, each time risking your life with how dangerously delicious your blood smelled to him when you writhed beneath his naked body, the silhouette of your sensuous curves and delicate skin glowing under the moonlit skies.
He always came so close to nipping at your neck, biting into your sweet flesh each time his fingers were curled up into the soft walls of your dripping core, your melodic moans filling the room with every stroke of his thick cock inside you, each quake you gave from him running the blood soaked lips down your soft skin, begging to be let in, to taste the perfect rush of blood that coursed through your supple breasts.
It’d take just one bite and he’d be gone, not able to detach himself from your glistening skin, getting blood drunk off your crimson red life beneath your muscles. He can see it now, ripping the flesh from your perfect neck, nails digging into the meat of your skin, so fucking gone that he’d turn into the blood thirsty monster that he was, that he is.
Maybe he should end it, drive a wooden stake through his own non-beating heart, stop the endless cycle of whatever the two of you keep doing with each other.
He wants to end it, needs to keep you away, but he can’t. He has no strength, no ounce of restraint from you. So he lures you back into his king sized bed that’s donned in crimson red velvet sheets, the one where he fucks you relentlessly until you have nothing left to give but your own shaking breath that blows down the dip of his neck night after night.
He holds you tight in his arms, watching you slip from his grasp while you fall asleep on his broad chest, soft breaths breathing in and out after he takes control of your whole body against the damp sheets that are filled with the smell of you.
He almost can’t stand it. The smell of your rose scented hair, the feel of your buttery soft skin against his jagged nails, the taste of your sweet, drenched pussy as his tongue parts your folds and laps up the sticky slick that he gets so drunk off. The taste burns against his tongue, even hours after he’s finished, making his cravings deepen with every flick and taste of you on his lips.
He fights the monster that begs to be released when he’s clawing at your back, his sharp fangs hidden from view when his lips glide down your neck, sucking the taste of your syrupy skin, drowning in the smell of your rosemary perfume, fighting himself to not sink his sharp incisors deep into your jugular veins.
He distracts himself when he’s slotting his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your pretty little moans that slip out of you each time he thrusts his cock deeper and deeper into your core, eliciting the most insatiable moans that he will never tire of hearing. He feeds into your desires, caging you against his broad chest, flexed arms hugging your body, making you cum time and time again until he’s right on the edge himself, throwing back his tousled curled head, extracting his fangs as the blood rushes through his cock, threading his eyebrows together in a tight line until he’s calling your name and spilling warm ropes of cum deep inside you, claiming you as his own.
He always feels the guilt after watching you sleep in his arms night after bloody night, his eyes never leaving your pretty face, his hand stroking light circles into your delicate skin. He hates it, hates having to leave you before the sun rises. All so he can go hide in the dark shadows where the blazing sun won’t burn him alive.
He fights himself day after day, tormenting his mind from holding back what he really wants to say to you. He wants to tell you. God, he wants to. The way he never stops thinking about you, the way your hand fits perfectly into his calloused palm, the way he can’t ever shake the way you feel beneath his skin, the way he loves the way your eyes sparkle in the moonlight as the white curtains blow against your flawless face. The way he…. loves you, even though he shouldn’t because he’s a monster. A fucking blood sucking demon that should be dragged to hell where he belongs. At least there you wouldn’t be able to reach him, even though it kills him to think about losing you.
He sits in a heap on the cold floor, clawing at the fraying wallpaper, tears staining his eyes as the crimson blood soaks through his blue flannel. He couldn’t hold it any longer, his thirst for blood. He had to feed. Another deer wouldn’t do. He smelled the stench of fresh blood and pulsing veins in the forest, attacked with his sharp fangs before they even knew what hit them. He didn’t stop. Not when they screamed, not when they fought with white knuckles and strained cries that were silenced by the weight of his fangs that were sunk deep in the unknown stranger in the middle of the night.
He sucked them dry, hollowing out their bleeding body while he bathed in the delectable crimson that stained his clothes dark red. He didn’t care at the moment, was too drunk on the blood to even realize what he did, until it was too late.
When he was finished feasting he stumbled back, wiping his bloody mouth on the back of his hand, dark eyes growing wide with every step taken after breaking the spell of the hunger that drove him to this. He gasped at the sight, violent red staining the dirt crimson, mind twisting into sheer horror from what he did. This wasn’t the first time, wasn’t even the second time, but it never got easier to realize just how monstrous he had become over the years.
He ran all the way back to his empty home, tears spilling down his dark eyes, muffled cries for help fleeting from his lips, but who exactly was listening? He was alone, forgotten, a broken monster that sunk his sharp incisors into the world, spilling bloodshed all around whatever he touched. That’s why he was so afraid for you, his perfect girl, the one he could never truly make his. He was afraid, so scared of hurting you one of these nights. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, but that didn’t mean accidents couldn’t happen. He’d surely kill himself before he killed you, though. Not his precious rose, your soft petals cushioning the blow of his fucked up life. You were never supposed to enter into his life, but you did. And god, he loved you so fucking much that it hurt.
The smell of fresh blood is everywhere, covering his flannel, his hands, his chin, even the tips of his grey threaded dark locks. His body shakes beneath him, anger and turmoil crashing over his system until he buries his face into the corner of the wall and hides his hideous face from the world. He’s a monster, nothing more and nothing less, only a mere speck of dust in the corner of the room that begs to be taken away from the darkness that encapsulates him.
His blood stained lips quiver, thinking that could’ve been you in the forest. He could’ve fucking ripped your throat apart until you were nothing but a ghost left in the dirt, fangs tearing you apart until your gorgeous eyes shined no more.
He claws at the wall, warm tears pricking the backs of his eyes as he bares his teeth, body clinging against the wall until he feels like he could split it in two. His body is so cold, lifeless, haunted by the cries of fallen victims and innocent bloodshed spilled. He should get up, run far away, somewhere you’ll never find him again. But that might kill him more than anything, leaving you without one last goodbye.
He clenches his jaw and lets a fresh tear slide against the side of his dark beard, body barely holding on to life while he clings to the memory of your sunlit face, your pure essence, your soft, lilty voice that haunts his sleepless nights. He’s so in love with you that it physically hurts, but he could never tell you. Never bear to burden you with those words, those goddamned three words that haunt him day after day.
He’s just a worthless, blood shedding monster, but you’re the only one that knows how to tame the fangs. The only one that can remotely cure him of the sickness that invades his eternal body. You were pure sunlight, and he couldn’t even begin to describe how much you meant to him. His sunflower in the bed of nightshade that made up his body. You were eternal sunlight, so how could he turn away from that?
He gets lost in his thoughts, doesn’t even notice the creaking footsteps against the hardwood floor until he hears the whisper of your shaking breath.
“Joel?” you call, voice quaking against the sight of the blood doused flannel.
He freezes, not daring to turn around when he’s a mess on the floor, eyes averted from your wandering gaze. “Go away,” he shivers, his voice rugged and broken, just like his tired body is from the loss of the life he stole.
“Joel,” you try again, taking one timid step in his direction.
He clenches his jaw, his fingers digging into the crimson stains in his dark jeans as he fights another sharp response. “I said go away.”
He smells the fear on you when you see the dark red stains that coat the front of his flannel, cringes at the repulsing feelings that must be flying through your head right now. You’ve never seen him like this, right after a fresh attack, the blood clinging to every fiber of his clothes. It kills him, it fucking kills him.
“No,” you whisper, taking another slow step in his direction, your breath faltering with every motion you take.
He cringes with every step you take, having you so close in such a vulnerable state. He can’t fucking take it.
He shouldn’t have ever pulled you into the reins of his hands, should never have lured you into his bed chambers. You’re too good, too delicate, too soft. One taste, that’s all it took to keep you coming back for more. It was almost resentful how he was so selfish to keep you, even though he never intended to. You were too special, a rare rose in a sea of thorns that made up his life, but you stayed. You stayed. And he’ll never understand why a rare flower like you would stay for him. A monster that only shreds and devours pretty flowers.
“Why won’t you ever fuckin’ listen? Jus’… go.” His voice is defeated, gravelly tone breaking on the last syllable as he hangs his head low, across the stained shirt that reminds him of what he did.
“Because. I… I don’t want to leave,” you mutter, your voice catching on your shuttering lips. “You need me. You need…”
He growls in your direction, turning his body so you can see just what kind of monster he really is, scowling your way as his eyes darken to black pits. “This is what you need?! A killer of the night? Look at me, I’m a goddamned monster! I KILLED someone tonight, I MURDERED ‘em in cold blood because I couldn’t control myself!”
You look taken aback, eyes wide and teary as he snarls up at you, demanding with his big teeth that you turn and leave, run away so you won’t have to look at the blood that covers him and marks him a murderer.
You just stand there unmoving, waiting for god knows what. And that makes him angry, so fucking angry that you won’t listen to a goddamn thing he says. “Well! What’re you standin’ there for? I said LEAVE!” His words come out pained, tears licking the corners of his saddened eyes while you just stand there speechless staring at the man that could never keep you safe, not really.
“Joel,” you whisper, words failing you as a tear streaks down your crimson cheeks. It makes him cover his head, hide his face from the girl he can’t stand to show himself to at this moment in time. He’s broken, so fucking broken, and not even you could take away every sliver of pain he’s felt in all his worthless years. He regrets ever bringing you here, drawing you in till you didn’t want to leave.
“Jus’… stop. I’m not good for you, I never was. I’m jus’ a monster. A goddamned bloodsucking vampire. Now jus’ go. Please…” he begs, hiding his face in the shadows while you stand there in a puddle of sorrow.
You inch closer, tip-toeing the floorboards until you’re crouched down beside him, pulling on his blood stained flannel, begging him to just look at you. “Joel, please. Look at me.”
He shakes his messy mane, trying to pull himself away, but you thread your fingers through his greying scruff and turn his head towards you. He fights your touch, finally giving up when your soft fingers dig into his soiled shirt, one hand delicately skimming the side of his jaw, your thumb rubbing off the blood that stains along his tainted lips.
He watches you quietly brush away a teardrop that escapes his watery eyes, mesmerized by how soft you are with him, even in the rough shape he is, after he just murdered someone in cold blood.
He can’t take it, the guilt that eats him alive. So he breaks, shedding another tear while you so gracefully wipe it away with the flick of your finger. “I killed someone tonight, I did that. I…”
You silence him, quietly shushing him while he bites back another whimper. “It was an accident, only an accident,” you reply softly, no taste of bitterness or fear in your voice, only something that’s so you. Soft, you’re so soft, so lovely, something that he never deserved. Not after all he’s done, after all he’s killed.
He tries to pull away, tries anything to get you to pry your fingers from his button-up, but you don’t. You just stay right there, coiled around him while you smooth a tousled lock of hair back in place, eyes never leaving his.
“I’m a monster. I watched them die, I didn’t stop, I didn’t have the will to. I jus’ drained them. And that could’ve been you. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if…”
“Shhh,” you say soothingly, fingers dancing down his greying scruff, glistening eyes reflecting that he’s okay. He’s home, safe in the shadows, safe with you. “It wasn’t me, Joel. It was just an accident. You didn’t mean it. It’s alright now. I’m here.”
Something in your soft words soothes him like a distant lullaby, calming his fears, but eliciting more tears from his wide eyes, staring at the girl that started a fire in his dead heart long ago, revealing a way to get his heart pumping just by looking at your beautiful smile, your kind soul, your very essence.
Something breaks in him when you flick your eyes over his bloody clothes and don’t even cringe, only giving him those soft puppy eyes that he can never say no to. He crumbles into your arms, pulling you flush against his chest as he cries into the crook of your neck. He feels your fingers comb through his hair, the other clinging to your back as it draws lazy circles up and down his spine.
He can’t hold it in any longer. It slips from his tongue, an elation of words that he never thought he’d ever say again. “I love you…”
You sigh into his broad chest, lips brushing against the fading material as you muster up the words you too had been holding back. “I love you too, Joel Miller. I have for quite some time…”
He brings his head up and cups the sides of your face, his dark eyes brightening by the swell of your teary eyes, your sweet smile curling up towards him, pure love screaming from the pits of your beautiful irises. He wastes no time and crashes his lips down on yours, fusing his lips to yours like a sworn oath. You melt into his chest, circling your arms around his neck while you slot your lips and allow him to enter. He licks slowly into your mouth, tongue finding yours while they dance together in unison, bodies entwining until you're pressed beneath him on the sheets, completely naked while you toss and turn in the massive bed.
He marks his way down your body, caressing your supple breasts, splaying your legs open for him to lick and suck you dry, tongue pressing meticulous circles over your aching clit until he gets you right where he needs you to be. You spill, covering his tongue in your sticky slick while he laps you up and drinks you down feverishly. He drowns in your sweet taste, swears nothing has ever tasted better than being between your legs. He could make you cum all night long, hearing your pretty moans fill his ears while he takes it all from you, leaving you with pure ecstasy running through your sweet veins.
When he’s finished tasting you he takes you slow, sliding his cock between your slick folds while he gently bottoms out inside of you. He takes his time and rocks back and forth, swallowing your moans as he kisses you deeply, sensually. He doesn’t stop either, not even when you’re right at your next release.
“Joel,” you moan, body writhing beneath him while your walls squeeze his thick length, causing him to groan over you.
“Attagirl. That’s it, my love. Takin’ me so fuckin’ good,” he praises while he ruts deeper inside you, chasing his own release which doesn’t take him long. He throws his head back, knits his eyebrows together and calls your name, spilling his hot cum inside you just how you like it.
He slips out of you, crashing down on the opposite side of the bed while he pulls you into his chest, kissing the top of your head softly while his fingers trace circles over the back of your shoulder soothingly.
He’s quiet for a minute, reminiscing on everything that happened tonight. The way you chose to stay. For him, you did it all for him.
He whispers, a ghost of a breath lingering over the shell of your ear. “You stayed… you weren’t afraid?” he asks nervously, biting his bottom lip while he waits for you to answer.
You nuzzle deeper into the side of his neck and murmur sweet words against his jawline. “No, Joel. I was only afraid of losing you. I was never afraid of you. Not even when you showed me your fangs. I guess I just saw past all that. I saw a man that was dying to be seen, to be heard, to be known. You were so… lonely. And I just couldn’t bear to leave you alone. You’re not a monster to me, Joel. You’re the man I fell in love with. You’re mine. Just as I am yours,” you whisper, settling closer into the side of his chest.
“Mine…” he repeats breathlessly, eyes locked on the beauty that never ran away. You’re his. His.
“Mhm. Yours…”
A few seconds later you’re out cold, face nuzzled into the scruff of his beard, one arm slung around his broad chest. He lies there staring at you, running his calloused fingers up and down your back, gently carding them through your beautiful locks. He stares wide-eyed, a tear falling from the side of his eye as he looks at the beauty that saved him from slipping away into the shadows forever.
He’s got you, forever, as long as you’ll stay with him. He hopes it’ll be for eternity.
All he’s ever wanted was someone to stay by choice, all these years waiting for nothing to happen. But then there was you. You who chose to stay. You stayed, and that’s all he ever wanted.
You. The love of his life that chose him when no one else would’ve. Love. He’s so in love. Maybe he’s not all teeth and darkness anymore, maybe he’s more. You made him more. The moonlight that lights the way out of the darkness forever. His guiding light home.
Tagging some mutuals 🩵 @msjarvis @alltheirdamn @mountainsandmayhem @sawymredfox @littlevenicebitch69
@yxtkiwiyxt @magpiepills @jasminedragoon @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape
@survivingandenduring
Sharing a fag at the end of the world
(alt version under the cut :D)
outbreak au so serious to me one day i’ll figure out how to draw consistently.
WOAH WOAH WOAH! AUS INCOMING!
Oops did I forget to mention that we already have AUs too? Here's the list that already has been built on!
Band AU
Miraculous Ladybug AU
Transmute AU
Actor AU
Fantasy AU
Zombie AU
Outbreak AU
Alien Stage AU
Idol AU
Is there more? Im not sure! But like, I'm sure my moots will tell me if I did lol bc yeah