#My Horsie Comic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theplumsoldier · 1 year ago

Text

aftermath 6

summary: a supply run, a dinosaur exhibit, and an old friend

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 4,2k

warnings: vulgar language, companion feelz (horsie), mutual pining, slow burn, horny thoughts. pls let me know if i missed any <3<3

series: aftermath [5] + series masterlist

Ellie had finished her comic book and was bored out of her mind. Joel was cleaning guns in the kitchen, sat on the side of the kitchen table that allowed him to keep an eye on you and Ellie.

She was mindlessly throwing pieces of her granola bar at you as a release of her boredom, but it ended up a competition instead, practicing her aim by shooting for your half-open mouth.

With a nut hitting hard down on your eyelid, you stirred awake, ruining her little game.

"Ellie—what'd I tell you?" Joel barked harshly, the chair legs screeching against the floor as he stood up abruptly.

Ellie paid him no mind, instead waiting for you to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

"You been throwing granola at me?" you asked, puzzled to find traces of nutrition in your hair, mouth, and cleavage.

"Yeah," she grinned cheekily, snorting as she noticed you began chewing the ones she had managed to get in your mouth.

She helped you clean up the crumbs from the couch and blanket, and you said: "It's good to see you, Ellie."

You felt a bit lightheaded from the morphine, but coming to your senses you remembered falling fast asleep on the couch. You hadn't done anything to get comfortable, yet there was a blanket keeping your body warm and a pillow on the armrest.

Looking up, you noticed Joel. Warmth spread up from your chest to your neck.

He smiled down at you and chuckled, "ya dozed right off there, didn't you?"

It was clear he was merely teasing, but you looked down sheepishly, feeling your heartbeat intensify at his voice. You hated the effect he had on you but loved the feeling of it spreading in your body. It made you feel warm and safe.

"Ellie, why don't you show her the guestroom?"

She stands up and waits for you to do the same, nodding you in the direction of the room. You are still weary and have to find your balance as you follow her, wiping the sleep from your eyes. You thought of smiling at Joel as you walked away from his sight but decided against it, your cheeks heating up at the mere thought of looking at him.

Ellie's hands clasped against her sides, watching you as you looked around from the doorway.

The room was the size of your childhood bedroom, with walls painted a dark blue. There was a bed in the corner, a small side table, and a chair in flower-adorned fabric, but the room's current use was clearly for storage purposes.

"So... y'know how long you're gonna be staying?"

You could hear the springs squeak as you sat down on the bed, feeling the plushy comforter on the palms of your hands.

Ellie stood slumped against the wall, hands shoved halfway down her pockets. Her mouth formed a thin line, she looked to be chewing on the inside of her cheek, and you realized your muteness made her feel uncomfortable.

"I don't know," you finally answered, your voice barely above a whisper. You cleared your throat and looked away from her. "My house burned down."

"Oh shit!" Ellie reacted. If you had looked up at her you would have seen the traces of guilt, as if she had been responsible for your situation. "How'd that happen?"

The question sparked something from your memory and you winced from your recollection. The days after the incident, the days hiking through the woodland to reach Jackson had been worse on you than the fight with the Infected, though that pain had been nothing compared to the intense despair you felt over losing your home.

As much as you would like to, you couldn't blame the curious teenager.

You moved to make room for Ellie to sit beside you. She took the hint but sat on the furthest reach of the bouncy mattress, and you wondered if she was aware of your general discomfort with close proximity, or if she was, in fact, hesitant to get too close to you. When she looked at you with those deerlike brown eyes, you decided she had made a conscious choice to respect your personal space. You found yourself liking her a bit more for that.

"On the same day you left, an infected found me. Stumbled right into the fireplace, caught a curtain on fire and before I knew it there were too many flames to put out."

Ellie made a low whistling sound.

"Shit," she murmured.

You cleared your throat once more. "Shit indeed. So I don't really know how long I'll be here, but if there's room for me here in Jackson, I should probably make it a home for myself," you said despondently.

But you didn't want Jackson to be your new home. You wanted your burnt-down house in the woods back. You wondered if there was anything salvageable left, something to hike back for.

Shaking your head at your thoughts, you decided it best left alone. For now, at least, there was not much to do about it. You were in no condition to travel anywhere, you knew that, but you couldn't help but wonder whether anything was left or if all was reduced to ashes.

You would have liked to have brought some weed, perhaps some to plant, but despite your addiction, it had not been your priority then.

Now, it felt like a rookie mistake.

You sighed and stood up with a hearty breath. You ought to be grateful, you thought. If Joel hadn't left that map for you, you wouldn't have made it far, traveling on infection and faltering hope.

Ellie tried to comfort you. "They were eager to have us here, I'm sure they'll be fine making room for a plus-one."

You could only hope so.

Two weeks went by like a passing breeze. Besides eating and sleeping, you hadn't done much of anything, and as you slowly recuperated, you became restless—a result of feeling all the pain at once and then nothing at all.

The painkillers were addicting and you decided to stop taking them before rebranding a bad habit, leaving you to feel every ounce of physical pain.

Everything felt weird; not odd or mysterious, just plain old weird.

You came to learn that Ellie was much more timid than you had initially thought. She was prone to mood swings, which you supposed was normal for her age, but sometimes she would lash out at Joel, give him the cold shoulder as if she suddenly remembered she was mad at him.

However, Ellie's behavior was not the weirdest thing. No, what was weird was the way you got along with them so well. You couldn't find a single thing to complain about. It seemed as if the mere warmth in the home helped you thaw out of your cold exterior. It even made you believe you were not so bad in social settings after all, but when you suppressed your anxiety and finally worked up the courage to speak to someone, make a witty comment as had become part of your banter with Joel and Ellie, it wasn't well received. Perhaps it was a bad joke, wrong crowd, really—it could be any number of reasons, you rationalized. Regardless of the failed interaction, you wouldn't shy away from one blow. After all, you never managed to hone the ability to back down from a fight.

At one point, Ellie observed yet another interaction with your designated victims, a couple of women in the fruit stall. She ditched her friend to rescue you from the sorry situation and decided to help you out.

Looking back, that was probably the catalyst for the rapid bonding process that ensued.

“Start small,” was her first piece of advice. That day, the two of you went to have lunch at the dining hall. You stood in line with your trays, waiting to be served. Ellie beamed up at the cook who splashed soup into her bowl, and said: “hi!” She proceeded to nudge your arm, and you mimicked her reaction as if on command. The cook replied with a curious gaze and a smile and the interaction ended as quickly as it had begun.

It was small, next to nothing, just greeting a person but you felt an immediate flutter in your stomach, like the butterflies applauded your courage with their tickling wings.

It was a win.

Ellie would sometimes come into your room throw herself on your bed and chat you up, before perching her head atop her knuckles to direct her attention to you. After some time you caught on to her pattern, realizing that she made an effort to make you feel comfortable with her, each time as if she had yet to gain your trust, before beginning what might as well be called “lessons”.

Joel sat quietly on the sidelines but he absolutely adored seeing you and Ellie form this sweet bond. He could tell you took Ellie seriously and viewed her as a teacher as she helped you polish your social skills. One night, when Joel got back from patrol, he walked in on you taking notes as Ellie named people she thought might be a good match for you to take your newfound skillset to the next level. Coming back from a rough shift, whatever strain he may have experienced outside of Jackson's walls smoldered, his brow decreasing and his shoulders tensed no longer. Joel thought it was one of the most pure things he had ever witnessed.

Joel and Ellie offered you food and a bed to sleep in; you acted like a family, you looked like a family. It had been a long time since anybody had given you anything without expecting something in return. You had almost forgotten it was possible to live with people without some kind of transaction taking place.

It was weird.

Or perhaps it was nostalgia. The dining room setting with food on the table and a group of people you cared about in one way or another; the evenings spent in the living room, playing cards or a board game. Revisiting these scenarios in your mind in the quiet of the night, you thought you looked like a family.

…

Joel was typically out on patrol around 8 am, so you were surprised to see him sitting at the kitchen table when you finally woke the next morning.

“Mornin’,” he chipped, a sleepy smile tugging the corners of his lips upward.

You returned the smile. “Good morning, Joel. No patrol today?”

He couldn't decide whether he hated or loved it when you would speak his name, something he hadn't felt in so many years it felt unfamiliar.

Joel shook his head, wiping his hand on a dirty cloth, and drank from his mug. “No. I'm supposed to go on a supply run today. If you want you can come with me?"

Alone time with Joel. The proposition ignited something that had become a little too familiar to you lately. Fantasies of laying in a luxurious king-size with Joel brewed in your mind as you poured black coffee into your own mug.

"I thought you were assigned partners for that kind of thing. Refill?"

Joel held out his cup and you poured him some more.

He chuckled. "Yeah, Tommy's been tryna set me up with a couple, but he says I chase 'em away." He sips his coffee. "So f'ya want, I'm free for the takin'. Besides—I'd rather go with someone I know." Someone I'm comfortable with, was implied.

You put back the kettle and leaned against the counter, hugging your arm around yourself.

Perhaps you could use it as an opportunity to tell him why you actually came to Jackson. Although it didn't specifically affect him, it felt wrong to keep him in the dark.

You began wondering how to explain yourself, began wondering why you hadn't simply told him from the get-go. Your home burning down wouldn't change a thing for him.

It hardly mattered now.

“Okay,” you agreed. It would be fun. Just like when you went hunting together. “I'll come with you.”

…

Joel gave you an hour to shower and get ready. You felt yourself getting both nervous and excited to spend some time with him, giddy by all means, and you hated how you caught yourself looking in the mirror one too many times before stepping out. You had never been so vain as you had become over the last month and you suspected it was due to Joel's presence.

It was only a matter of time before you had to admit you had come to develop the fattest crush on him. You supposed it wasn't that odd. He was good-looking and kind and funny and not that much older than you—either way, age difference didn't appear to be the people in Jackson's biggest concern.

Regardless, you decided to suppress whatever feelings you may or may not have for Joel.

Really, it was inevitable. You hadn't seen a man in so long that you barely remembered what they looked like, what they sounded like. Joel's voice was deep and alluring, something you imagined the women in Jackson went crazy over. You couldn't be the only one, that was for certain.

When you had washed up and pulled into enough clothes to keep you warm for the weather, you met Joel in the kitchen where he was scribbling a note, presumably for Ellie, and then headed off to the stalls.

It was around 10 o'clock and the street was bustling. People worked on just about every corner, whether it was chopping wood, selling vegetables, loading horses, or painting their house exterior—they were all busy.

“So where're we going?”

“West o’ here, a camp that's been abandoned recently. They must've left in a hurry 'cause it's stocked with all kinds of goods.”

An abandoned camp. You had read enough horror stories to doubt anything was ever truly abandoned. It made you nervous.

“You've been there before?”

“No,” Joel responded and when he looked at you he understood immediately. “Tommy has, though. Says they've been lootin’ there a couple o’ times now with no trouble. No sign of anyone.” His words did little to make you less ill at ease. But then he added: “I wouldn't take you there if I thought it might be dangerous.”

The warmth that crawled from your chest and up to your neck and cheeks overpowered your worries and you forgot they had ever been there in the first place.

By the time you stepped into the stables, the heavy odor of manure and hay punched the air out of your lungs, the stench so unbearable you didn't care to inhale just yet.

Joel didn't seem fazed. “We need two horses!” he called out.

You looked to where his eyes were fixed and noticed a man hunched over a workbench, his dirty beige overalls providing convincing camouflage.

The man looked up from where he was standing. His face was as dirty as his clothes, hiding freckles and sealing the smiling wrinkles by his eyes.

He started walking closer and you instinctively stepped back, your hand unclenching by the holster at your side. You had opted for guns today, as the weight of your sword would be too much of a strain on your injury.

The man wiped his hand with an equally dirty cloth and held it out with a big smile. “I'm Danny. You must be the newcomer.”

You didn't shake his hand but replied with your name, curtly, undoubtedly coming off rude. You didn't care.

His smile faltered but he quickly put on a new one to mask his discomfort. “It's good to meet you. Y'all going on a supply run?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, and as you looked at him again, you thought he didn't like the man either.

While the man went to retrieve the horses, you became distracted by one. A chocolate brown mare, with a white stripe drizzling down its muzzle. You didn't have to stare at it for much longer before you realized it.

It was your old horse, Wilma.

When you approached her stall, she nodded her head and you imagined she greeted you after all those years. You had once heard horses had an incredible memory and were able to recognize their owners. There was no doubt in your mind she remembered you as she enthusiastically bobbed her head up and down, her feet getting restless.

“Ma'am!” Danny called out, trudging up to where you stood by her enclosure. “I wouldn't get too close. She ain't too fond of strangers.”

You ran your hand down the white stripe on Wilma's head and she leaned into your touch. You had never been much fond of horses until you met her. Once a little speck of sweet life in a barren land. You felt a pang of guilt as you recalled leaving her behind to fend for herself.

Danny sounded his curious disbelief. “Huh. She won't even let me handle her like that.”

“She probably ain't very fond of you then,” you chirped.

Danny looked defeated, puzzled, and intrigued at the same time.

You looked at Joel who had been observing the interaction. “Joel, this is Wilma. She was my horse once.”

“I ‘spose she still is then. Ain't that right, Danny?”

Danny seemed to stiffen up as Joel addressed him, something resembling respect with a hint of fear in his attitude.

He shook his head. “No, yeah—yes, of course she is.” With that, he hurried off to fetch Joel a horse.

You eagerly let Wilma out and took a good look at her. She looked well-fed and clean, her hide beautiful as you remembered. She trusted you to inspect her hooves and they looked fairly new but filthy and you suspected she wasn't let out often.

You cleaned her hooves and saddled up and by then Joel was ready and waiting for you. You then left Jackson and headed west.

…

Clusters of rubble from the demolished town hall diverted the river, and it was beautiful. What you imagined had once been the bustling center of a small city was now thriving with wildlife and nature dripping out of the gaping windows. The river appeared to be the result of the destroyed levee further east, making water fill the underground tunnel and drainage system completely. Vegetation dressed the sign of the apocalypse, the bombing, romanticizing the world of destruction heavily.

"So how are you chasing your partners away?” you quizzed.

"Ellie says it's 'cause I'm a grump. I guess it can seem that way," Joel shrugged, watching his step for branches. "I just don't care talking to people I have nothin' in common with. Guess the lack of chitchat makes me seem grumpy and send 'em runnin'."

You silently nodded along as you led the way back to your horses. So far Joel had been right: There had been nothing to worry about. It was deserted and there were only ruins where a city had once stood, remains of the people who had lived in it.

"I don't think you're grumpy."

Joel didn't know how to respond. He hadn't per se avoided getting along with people, but he hadn't done much to integrate himself into the community, either.

Suddenly you stopped dead in your tracks, a gasp leaving your lips and Joel had pulled out his rifle on instinct in a split-second.

He couldn't make out where to aim though.

Although you would have reacted the same way, you laughed when you noticed and put your hand over the barrel of his gun. Joel shuddered as if it were him you touched.

“Relax, Joel. They're already extinct.”

The smile on your face was impossible to wipe off as you stepped over boulders and rubble to reach the rugged-looking building.

The giant monster with a broken neck gave away the source of your excitement, and Joel read aloud the sign as you got closer: “Walter W. Granger Center of Paleontology.”

He huffed.

“C'mon Joel! You never had a dinosaur obsession as a kid?”

“I don't remember ever bein’ a kid.”

You waited by the entrance, holding open the door with a shattered glass frame as if it would stop anyone from entering, but he nodded thankfully at the gesture as he caught up to you.

“We can't be long. It's gonna get dark soon.”

Ditching your loot at the entrance, you wandered mindlessly into the museum. You had stocked up on all that was needed. Medicine, canned food, batteries, and more. You had secretly been looking for anything to keep yourself entertained in your new home, books or games or anything that might make Jackson more comfortable to you, but with no luck. You supposed there might be a gift shop in here, but you didn't dare hope everything had not already been taken.

Skeletons of prehistoric wonders stole away your focus and you were glad to be here with Joel as he was always wary of his surroundings.

You felt comfortable with Joel and for more reasons than one.

Joel nudged your arm and pointed to a banner hanging from the ceiling, torn but readable.

“Look at that. We just missed the stegosaurus exhibit,” Joel sighed and when you looked back at him, he was already watching you, waiting for your reaction to his joke.

You rolled your eyes and walked on but Joel didn't miss the way your lips curled upward.

The supposed stegosaurus skeleton towered over you as you crept up onto the platform. You were amazed both by the fact that it was still intact after all these years of abandon and its sheer size. Walking under its frame, through its chest cavity, your fingers grazed its bones when Joel spoke your name and you directed your attention to him.

Your grin lingered only in wrinkles from your smiling when you saw his expression.

“Something wrong?”

Joel took a deep breath, stumbling over his words as he tried to find the right ones.

“Joel?” you pressed as you were getting nervous.

"Lookit, uh... Ellie told me—about your house.”

Oh.

On more than one occasion on this outing, you had been wanting to tell him. You certainly wanted to, but it had been difficult bringing it up, difficult to break the silence and whenever you were engaged in conversation, it slipped your mind.

Joel watched you closely and he convinced himself he had come to know you. He thought you looked sad. He wasn't sure whether it was because of your home burning down or because you hadn't told him and him bringing it up made you feel as if you had been lying to him. He certainly wasn't mad and he proved it by resting his hand on yours, his coarse thumb caressing your skin in comfort. Joel had lived long enough to know the difference between lying and not telling the truth.

“Why didn't you tell me?"

If only you had been truthful about it to begin with, you wouldn't have to stand there so awkwardly now, not knowing the answer to a simple question.

Your eyes flickered from the sandy patch beneath you to your hand—to his hand. It was much larger than yours, more rough but comforting in a way. As his thumb pressed on your skin, Joel's hand clutching yours—it felt like a hug; ensuring your safety with him. You felt safe.

“I don't know,” you finally sighed. “I don't know, Joel.”

Perhaps there was a part of you that wanted him to know you came to Jackson because of him—that you wanted to follow him and at the time you convinced yourself it was because you had no other choice. It was a lie, you knew that now. You had survived for so long on your own, found a house, and made it your own—there was no reason not to do it again, to start over.

Except for the reason in front of you, of course. This man, his charisma, something a natural-born leader possessed that made people inclined to follow them, Joel possessed that.

You weren't sure why a choked laugh escaped you but then you realized your vision had become blurry and a teardrop trickled down your cheek.

Joel whispered your name and you sniffled, inhaling shakily.

“M'sorry, Joel… I—I really don't know why I wasn't honest with you—maybe I was embarrassed. I've survived this long and I spend a couple of days with you guys around and suddenly I've lost all ability to take care of myself. Shit.” You laughed again, shaking your head, and walked out from under the skeletal reconstruction.

“There's nothing to be embarrassed about,” Joel did his best to assure you, stepping down as well. You already missed the warmth of his hand. “I'm sorry ‘bout your house, okay? But I hope you'll wanna stay in Jackson. I can tell Ellie likes havin’ you ‘ere. I know I do.”

That warmth returned to you, this time in your cheeks. You didn't do much to hide the blush. “Thank you, Joel.”

He nodded, the furrows still lingering on his forehead as he offered you a smile.

“C'mon. Let's go home.”

#theplumsoldier #joel miller #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #the last of us #joel the last of us #joel tlou

37 notes · View notes