theinvisiblewoman73

[theinvisiblewoman73]

Classic

[theinvisiblewoman73]

I don’t think I posted the full video the last time

[theinvisiblewoman73]

As promised Chapter 8….

Joel Miller / female reader

Chapter 8 - Settling In

“Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven't the answer to a question you've been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you're alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully.”

― Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth

The feeling of waking up in a place that wasn’t inhabited by any of your former housemates was like a special kind of liberation. You’d spent most of the previous afternoon in the bedroom that they had given you, needing to spend some time alone. Your new housemates seemed to respect that and you’d only realised that the time had gone by when Ellie knocked gently on your door and you saw that the sun was fading.

You followed her down the stairs and through to the kitchen where Joel was serving up. Finding the notebook, you apologised for not helping. But Ellie told you to sit.

“Dude, you’re our guest,” she said happily, “You are not required to do a thing.” She sat down next to you and nudged you, putting on a french accent, “Besides, it is Joel’s turn to delight us with ‘is culinary expertise!” Joel rolled his eyes and finished serving up, coming to sit opposite you.

“Ellie’s right,” he said, picking up his spoon and stirring his meal. “You’re our guest. For tonight anyway.” And with that, he dug into his meal and it appeared that the matter was closed. Well, that sounded like he didn’t want you around and you could understand why. Joel seemed like a good man underneath his hard exterior, but he was hardly friendly, and the thought of a stranger in his house should have been annoying.

They wouldn’t let you help with the washing up either, Ellie hustling you off into the living room where the fire was lit and making sure that you took the armchair by the hearth. Sitting down, you felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from you, if only for a while. The glow of the flames warmed you and you let yourself relax, taking a deep and satisfied breath.

When was the last time you had enjoyed a small moment of calm like this? It must have been months ago. The thought of it threatened to overwhelm the peaceful feeling, but you pushed it down. You could do that for one night and think about the future tomorrow. You spent the early part of the evening listening to Joel and Ellie chatting, the sound of their conversation lulling you into a warm haze.

Later, while everyone read in companionable silence, you’d looked up a couple of times to find Joel’s eyes on you, but his expression had been unreadable. It wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t exactly friendly either and where you would have probably smiled awkwardly at being caught looking, he didn’t. He wasn’t uncomfortable watching you, didn’t lower his gaze the moment your eyes met, but stayed a second longer than was comfortable for you, before lazily going back to his book.

———

Rising the next morning, you could hear kitchen noises from below and made your way down to find Joel at the stove. The air was thick with a pleasing aroma. He saw you come in and asked if you were hungry.

There was a small pause where you wondered if he expected you to reply; an awkward moment when neither of you seemed to know what to do next, but Joel turned back to the pan he was stirring, gave it a look and switched off the stove. You went to look out of the large window looking out onto the garden. Although still in winter’s grip, there were signs of life out there. A tree near the house had some buds growing on it and there were some stems poking up out if one of the overgrown flower beds. You heard Joel clear his throat.

“Cornmeal porridge?” he asked, indicating the pan, with a look that said you’d be a fool to pass it up. “Not much of a cook,” he said, reaching for a bowl, “but I can make this.” You gave a small smile. Joel told you to sit and spooned some of the steaming mixture into a bowl and placed it in front of you.

As he turned back to the cupboard for another bowl, his movements relaxed and fluid, you watched him, how at ease he was in his own home. He seemed like a different person to the one he was outside. He was certainly unpredictable, but however he was feeling, he was a man whose moods radiated outwards to those around him. A man of relatively few words and yet the power to shift the air around him with the slightest change.

When he turned, your eyes were still on him and you looked down in embarrassment, hoping he hadn’t seen you staring. The last thing you needed was to make things uncomfortable here as well. However, he moved to the table and placed his own bowl down before pulling out a chair.

“Here,” he said, pushing a jar towards you across the table. It had a handwritten label across the front which said Honey, written in pencil with an unsteady hand. It was a beautiful light colour, clear and tempting. You looked up at Joel in amazement. He chuckled.

“All the luxuries here, you know,” he remarked, popping off the lid of the jar and and then searched the table, looking for something, not finding it. He leant back in his chair, reaching an arm behind him, stretching towards one of the drawers. He tipped the chair onto its back legs to pull the handle and as he did so, his t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing a soft stomach, with a smattering of hair across the line where the waistband of his jeans ended. He wasn’t lean, but not overweight either; the sight of that few inches of stomach was enticing and yet also somehow endearing.

This time you made sure to avert your eyes before he could catch you checking him out and attempting to look nonchalant, you picked up the open jar of honey and brought it to your nose. The scent was like being catapulted back through time. Behind closed eyes a rush of emotion and memory - kitchens and toast and breakfasts and childhood. Swallowing hard, you opened your eyes to find Joel watching you.

“You ok?” he asked, seeing how affected you were, “Guess you haven’t had honey for a while.” You blinked and shook your head and to head off the tears that you could feel, you held out your hand for the spoon that Joel had got from the drawer. Dipping into the jar, bringing up the spoon with thick amber liquid, you couldn’t help a smile and while you drizzled it into your bowl, Joel told you about the local beekeeper who had been supplying the town with honey for years.

“I had much the same reaction as you when we first got here and someone handed me a jar,” he told you. “There are a lot of things in this place I never expected to see again, but that one’s special.” He watched you put the spoon in your mouth and it was all you could do not to let out a moan at the taste of it. You wanted to say so much, wanted to thank him and more than that, wanted to be able to say what it tasted like, but the notebook was elsewhere and before you could go and find it he was tucking into his breakfast, hurrying now and you realised that he was probably heading for work.

Ellie stumbled in then, rubbing her eyes and mumbling about being starving. Joel started to get up but you gestured for him to stay put and went to the stove. It took you a moment to locate the bowls, and you could hear Ellie whispering behind you and Joel’s low tone. When you brought the porridge back to the table you patted Ellie on the shoulder and sat back next to her, but you could see her looking at Joel, expectantly.

“I’m going to do it,” she told him, “Ok?” And Joel nodded, settling back in his chair, his arm resting on the table. Ellie looked at you.

“You obviously can’t go back to live with those idiots,” she said, straight to the point. “So I was thinking and I asked Joel and he says it’s ok if you want to go on staying here with us! You can live here. With us! Do you want to?” She smiled then, and looked back to Joel as if to check that she’d done the right thing. And you did the same. Because it struck you that it wasn’t really about what Ellie wanted - she was easy to accommodate. It was about what Joel was comfortable with.

Looking at him, he met your eyes and you raised an eyebrow, asking him with that small expression whether this really was ok for him. You doubted it and you scoured his face for any sign of discomfort or false emotion but he just tilted his head.

“S’alright with me,” he said, pushing away from the table and taking his bowl to the sink. “If you want to stay, you’re more than welcome.” Ellie looked at you again, waiting for your answer and you mimed the notebook, where is it?

“In the other room,” she replied, jumping up to get it, heading out of the kitchen. Once she was gone, your eyes flicked back to Joel immediately, wanting to gauge his real feelings about you staying, but his expression stayed the same.

“Reckon it’ll be good for her to have a woman around,” he was saying as Ellie bounded back in. She rolled her eyes.

“Joel hates the idea of talking to me about periods and sex and stuff,” she laughed, making a funny face at him. He put his hands up in supplication. You had to smile.

“Please, no,” he grimaced, taking that as the moment to head out of the kitchen with a gruff “Get all that sorted out before I get home please….”

You picked up the notebook. I know you want me to stay, but are you sure he does? you wrote.

“Sure, he’s fine with it,” Ellie assured you, but you were almost certain that she didn’t really care that much as long as she got you to stay. You watched her gobble down her breakfast and rush off to get dressed. She had lessons that morning. Soon it was just you in the empty house, and so you set about washing the dishes and finding out where things were in the kitchen.

If you were going to stay, you needed to contribute, and the cooking and cleaning were the obvious choices. Looking through the cupboards and the fridge, you found tins and packets of long life food and containers with dried ingredients. The fridge had some vegetables and milk. And suddenly you felt a small pang of something like joy heating your chest. It only lasted a moment, your head told you to take nothing for granted, but the feeling echoed for a while, as you wiped down the worktops and the table.

That was the feeling that told you to stay on in the house, even for just a while longer. To have that feeling of waking up in peace and safety tomorrow morning again. To enjoy evenings in front of the fire for a bit more. To stop moving and to just stay.

As you cleared up the breakfast things, you picked up the notebook from the table and when you saw it, you decided that if you were going to live here for the time being, your two housemates needed to know a bit more about you. So after the dishes were washed and the kitchen wiped down, you sat in the morning sunshine and started to write.

———

It was dark when Joel got in, but the fire was lit and there was a delicious smell coming through the house. It made him pause for a second, the strangeness of it. Coming back to a house that was inviting, rather than simply a place to rest. He’d always been the one to come into the cold house and light the fire, not wanting Ellie to have an accident. Sometimes she was making something for dinner when he came back, if she remembered, but mostly she would be in her room, blissfully unaware of the evening coming on.

While he hung up his coat and undid his work boots, which were muddy and wet, he caught snatches of talking from the kitchen. Wandering through the living room in his socks, he heard Ellie chatting away and he pushed the kitchen door open to find the two of you there and dinner already waiting. The table was set for three and there was Ellie’s favourite bread.

For a moment he was assailed by memories, how normal it had been before to gather in kitchens. To take for granted that the fridge would be stocked, that food was there whenever you needed, that someone would be there to share it. It suddenly felt like the greatest loss in the world; that feeling of home, of family, and it threatened to overwhelm him.

“Hey,” he said, moving quickly to the sink to wash his hands. You looked at him, and he knew that you had caught his reaction, were watching him gently, questioningly. Ellie rarely caught his moods unless he was angry or laughing and it had been a relief often to be in her company because of that. Great, he thought to himself, not going to be able to get away with that any more.

“Smells great in here,” he said to mask his reaction, and he caught the colour of a slight blush on your cheeks. And before he could stop himself he realised that he found it sweet. Luckily Ellie chimed in.

“I know, I’m starving!” she said, comically drawing out the last word and clutching her stomach. You made a face at her and started to serve up. He saw you getting bowls and cutlery from the right places and noted that you’d obviously acquainted yourself with the organisations of the kitchen.

And suddenly it all became too much. That feeling of everything he had lost came back and this time it was overwhelming. He headed for the hallway, his heart racing, blood pumping in his ears. The same feeling he’d felt outside that old man’s house, seeing the old couple, hearing their banter, interrupting their shared life. The same crippling sorrow he’d felt welling up inside when he caught sight of a woman who could have been his Sarah, if only……

He vaguely heard Ellie asking if he was ok, as he mumbled something about the bathroom and headed up the stairs his legs shaky. In the bathroom he locked the door, splashed water on his face and tried to avoid his reflection in the mirror, but eventually he looked at himself

“Goddammit,” he muttered and looked up at the ceiling. He had to get himself together. You’d think he was crazy. A few deep breaths and another splash of water and he felt his shoulders relax. No use dwelling on it. He dried his face on a towel and flushed the toilet to make his sudden departure less mysterious and headed back downstairs.

_________________________________________________________

Joel looked drawn when he came back to the table, with a terse reply to Ellie when she asked him if he was ok and why he’d suddenly had to go to the bathroom. He wouldn’t catch your eye, and he was clearly uncomfortable, so you distracted Ellie, who was intent on telling you a pun about diarrhoea. What did you learn about today? you wrote in the notebook. And as she started to talk animatedly about Vikings, you saw Joel take a long breath and he seemed to relax. As Ellie talked, he went back to his usual self and started asking her questions.

“Food’s really good,” he said, scooping up the last mouthful onto his fork. “You don’t have to do this every day you know,” he went on. “You’re not a servant.” He seemed uncomfortable with the notion. Taking the pen up again you said that it was a pleasure.

I like cooking, you wrote, and want to contribute. And then you narrowed your eyes and looked from him to Ellie, seeing them exchange worried glances.

Unless, you put, my cooking is terrible? You nudged Ellie under the table with your leg and she gave you a quick glance but cottoned on.

“Yeah, Joel,” she said, tilting her head and giving him a harsh stare, “What exactly are you trying to say about Maggie’s cooking?” The two of you just looked at Joel, who started to try and defend himself, until Ellie snorted and burst out laughing and you pulled your lips tight in an effort not to smile.

“Goddam couple of assholes,” Joel muttered, but you saw his mouth twitch and he rolled his eyes and sat back against the back of the chair. “As long as it’s not a chore and you don’t give me cucumber, I’d appreciate having dinner made for me.”

“Joel hates cucumber with a passion,” Ellie whispered, while Joel got up and put his plate in the sink muttering Goddam slimy, tasteless……

_______________________________________

Now he and Ellie were relaxing on the sofa. He could hear dishes being placed in the sink and water running. His panic had receded and he had a pleasantly full feeling. You were a good cook, so that was something.

Joel saw you appear at the door and hesitate for a moment, before handing Ellie the notebook, open at a page full of writing. You indicated that you were going to wash up and headed back through to the kitchen. He and Ellie exchanged looks and she said she thought they’d better read it.

Ellie and Joel,

If you are still happy to share your home with me, I would really love to stay here for a while. I want to tell you some things about me that I can’t do with my voice.

I wasn’t always like this. I have been able to talk for most of my life, but at the moment I can’t no matter how much I want to. This happened to me when I was a small child. I started school and apparently I stopped talking very soon after - not at home but when I was in my class. Luckily I met a friend who helped me and bit by bit I managed to talk again.

Now it has happened again. I don’t want to be like this. Sometimes I think I’m going to be able to say something, like when Ellie tells a joke. I think I’m going to be able to say something and I even hear the words in my head, something smart and funny. But as much as I try, those words just get stuck, and they won’t come out. Maybe they will again one day. I hope so.

So it isn’t that my brain has stopped working - just my voice. I used it for different things before - I was a camp counsellor and I worked in a shop and sang in a choir at school. I’m not stupid, even though it seems that way sometimes to some people.

Thank you for letting me stay in your home. Until I get given a job, I would like to do the housework and the cooking. If you don’t agree, I will pretend that i can’t understand you and do it anyway.

M

“Wow,” said Ellie, sitting back. Joel didn’t move. The things he wanted to say to you after reading your letter - your eloquence, the way you described, even in passing, what it was like for you. He was stunned.

“Imagine not being able to say things and wanting to,” Ellie whispered, perfectly grasping the reality that you had just described. She looked genuinely distressed.

“Well, she’ll be ok here with us,” Joel assured her, reading over the note again, struck by the simplicity of your words, without any self-pity, even though he would have conceded you at least some. There wasn’t time to consider it more because you came back into the room then and Ellie launched herself at you, wrapping her arms around your waist and putting her head on your chest.

You looked stunned for a moment, probably hadn’t felt a hug like that in a while, Joel imagined, but you folded your arms round her and looked at him over the top of Ellie’s head. He wasn’t sure what to say but told you that you could stay as long as you wanted, watching you nod your head and blink slowly in acknowledgment.

———

Joel never had much chance to think once his head hit the pillow: he was usually asleep in seconds, but sometimes he woke before he needed to rise and his mind drifted in the early dawn. And this morning, after he’d read what you wrote about your mutism, that was what Ellie called it; this morning he thought about you.

He wasn’t a people person; that didn’t even need stating, but there was something that drew him to you. And lying there, awake but tired already for the day ahead, he let himself think about what exactly it was about you that made him feel that way.

The reality was that he didn’t mind you moving into his house. He would have balked at the idea of anyone else moving in, probably even Tommy. He was a creature of habit and he liked the way it was with just Ellie and him. But adding you to the equation didn’t seem to rock things and he got to wondering why that was. Ellie was right that he really didn’t want to be having the kinds of conversations that guardians needed to have with their teenage children. Having you there would hopefully spare him from that. But it was more.

The times he had come home to find you in the house, there had been an air of calm about the place; an air of calm about Ellie. She didn’t have to fight to talk, she spoke calmly, rather than with the anxious way she could, as if she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. And there was no need to make small talk, that was out. Your silence was calming and allowed Ellie and him to be exactly how they needed to be: she talking and him silent.

And he thought about how you were like it was now: the wonderful silence before the dawn. If he listened now he could hear birds and the rustle of leaves in the wind and he could sense the world outside there in the growing light, even if he couldn’t see it. You were like that: there was a world in you that was out of sight, but he knew it was there.

And for the first time he felt gratitude for the way you were, but also a small pang of dismay. Could you be happy with the way things were? Were they taking advantage of you? The image of you sitting by the fire listening to Ellie with a smile on your face came back to him.

He headed out that morning to work on the old bank, going over what he needed to teach the trainee, but in the back of his mind throughout the day was you.

[theinvisiblewoman73]

I’ve been a bit remiss in posting so here are the next two chapters also available on AO3!

Joel Miller / Female Reader

Chapter 7 - A confrontation

“Words are potent weapons for all causes, good or bad." Manly Hall

Late 2023

You woke in the early light to an empty room. Erin hadn’t returned, her bed was still made from the day before. Fingers of unease on the back of your neck; a sense of something wrong. Shaking it off and refusing to give in to anxious thoughts, you dressed and crossed from your block to the main hall, where the smell of breakfast hit you as you pushed open the heavy doors.

There were people already there, heads bowed over their bowls, and the air was heavy with their hunger. Meals were small around here, but nobody had the nerve to complain, they said that the leaders were doing their best to provide for everyone. You hated them all. They’d lost every ounce of courage they’d once had, and though you’d been through the same decades of fear and despair, you and Erin still had some fight in you, even though you weren’t able to express it to anyone but her.

As you stood by the entrance, he arrived, and the murmuring that you had been able to make out before stilled and as he walked through the room, he caught sight of you standing there, making a great show of stopping, his voice clear as it pierced the tension.

“Ah,” he said, putting his hands together like a pontiff, “I was about to come and find you. Please come to my office.” He started to walk away, stopping once to raise an eyebrow at your hesitation, before seeing you reluctantly follow him. Once inside the shabby room, he closed the door, motioning you to sit across from him. He went to put a hand on your knee but you jerked away and this angered him. When he spoke it was through gritted teeth, although he did his best as always to appear benign.

“We had a successful hunt yesterday,” he started, “Found a new member for the congregation.” You couldn’t understand why that was important for you to know, but he crossed his arms over his chest and went on. “I’m afraid, however, there is bad news,” he said, watching you with those raptor eyes, “about Erin.” You froze, holding your breath, the only thing you could feel was the beating in your chest. You couldn’t tear your eyes from his, even though his stare was uncomfortable. And you couldn’t ask him anything. God damn it, you couldn’t even speak to ask about Erin, to find out where she was. Was she hurt? Lost? All you could do was listen.

“Erin was killed last night on patrol,” he said, and his voice tried to be kind, but it wasn’t. Because he wasn’t a man who could be kind. You squinted at him. Surely you had heard wrong? At your frown, he tried again to touch you, to lay his hand upon you, he would have said, but this time you stood to avoid his reach, the chair falling behind you with a crash. And he finally reached the limit of his pretence, the mask of caring finally slipping from his face. He scoffed.

“I think we both know it was for the best. Your friend never really fit in here did she?” he sneered. And as you stumbled for the door, he sat back in his chair, legs apart, arms folded. Palpable arrogance in both his body language and expression. As you opened the door, he spoke for the last time.

“You should decide whether you want a place here,” he stated, flatly. “And what you are prepared to do to keep it.”

Erin would not have let him speak like that to her. Erin would have stood in front of you, would have argued back. But she wasn’t here. And just like that, you knew she was gone. Something cracked inside you and your throat constricted and you knew that you were alone. And that your silence was complete.

———

The weeks passed one after the other, but the winter in Jackson didn’t seem to want to release its grip on the town. Anne, Martin and James had been given work and were out of the house during the day in shifts. You decided to take up the work around the house that you had all been sharing, even just while you were waiting for as assignment, but it hadn’t escaped your notice that while James thanked you for meals you made and tried the same small attempts at conversation that he’d always done, Anne and Martin took their meals with hardly a word.

You’d met the three of them in dense forest somewhere along the way to Jackson, saw them halt and saw Anne raise a rifle at you, the silence deafening in the winter stillness. You’d been walking for about four days, you reckoned, not really thinking much about where you were going. James had been the one to speak first and because you couldn’t reply, and also because by that time you were weak through lack of food, hardly really caring, they seemed to take pity on you.

After they had checked you for infection and rifled through the your belongings, you were surprised to hear James invite you to go with them. You hadn’t missed the look that passed between the other two, obviously a couple, but it was the best chance you had. And when they told you they were headed for a town, you joined them, sharing the rest of their small supplies along the way.

James was friendly enough and Anne and Martin seemed to thaw slightly with time, but they were always wary of you and you never felt completely comfortable in their presence. Now it was clear that they resented the fact that they had to work and you as yet had not been assigned anything. Any pretence at civility had been fast disappearing and it all came to a head one night after the three of them came home from a particularly wet and cold shift.

“Dinner was nice, thanks,” James said, putting his plate down next to the sink where you were washing up the pans. You smiled at him. He was nice, even though he never thought to stand up for you in front of the others.

“Bathroom needs cleaning,” Martin interrupted, slamming his plate down, the cutlery sliding off, leaving a greasy mark across the worktop. Case in point, James gave you a weak grimace of commiseration before ducking his head and making for the door.

Martin did the same and you couldn’t help but raise a middle finger to his retreating back, wishing you just had it in you to tell him to go and fuck himself. Unfortunately you hadn’t noticed Anne standing in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed and her face twisted.

“Oh that’s nice,” she spat, looking you up and down, “Very fucking mature.” She shook her head. “After all we’ve done for you.” You gave her a look of disbelief and held your hands out as if to say what? What had they done for you that you hadn’t reciprocated? But looking at Anne’s face, you knew that whatever you tried, she wouldn’t listen.

A lot of people hadn’t been rational for a long time. Their lives had shaped them in ways that couldn’t be altered. Interactions that had seemed easy when you were young were made impossible by decades of loss and suffering. This woman standing in front of you, her bitterness written all over her face, was someone you could never reach. Not now. And frankly you didn’t even want to try.

You turned your back to her and listened while she muttered some more insults and heard the door slam. You wouldn’t let her see the tears that were welling up in your eyes. Wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

So when moments later the door opened again, you kept your back to it, concentrating on the dishes, until you heard Ellie say hello. You half looked round and indicated for her to come in, while Martin hovered in the doorway.

“Maybe you could get your little friend to tell you what she does to pull her weight around here,” he sneered. Ellie just gaped at him and he turned and left the kitchen.

“What the fuck is his problem?” she asked you and then saw that you were upset. She pulled the notebook out of her bag, asking you what had happened.

It’s nothing, you wrote, idiots. But Ellie wasn’t dissuaded.

“Tell me or I’m going to ask them myself!” she said and made a move towards the door. You grabbed her arm, pulling her back and motioned for her to wait.

They’re pissed that I don’t have work assignment yet.

“Assholes,” she muttered, “They’ve been here for five minutes and they think they know how everything works. Takes time. But they wouldn’t know that.”

It’s ok, I’m a grown up. Can take care of myself. You smiled at her.

“I know,” she replied, “Just don’t like mean people,” she huffed, looking towards the door with an angry look. Her defensiveness was sweet, like the passion of a child who’d been wronged. You felt lucky to have her on your side. But she was still young. She’d seen a lot, you presumed, but did she have the maturity to understand it?

Some people just hurt too much inside, Ellie. Hurt makes some people angry. Silence is the best defence. You gave her a wink.

“So that’s your excuse?” she laughed, and you knew you wouldn’t let anyone else speak to you that way. But from her it was nice. It was during moments like this that you accepted that something in this child brought you closer to the memory of Erin. Not her personality, exactly, but something in the way she faced the world. Something in her stance towards life.

“Want to get out of this SHIT HOLE?” she said, raising her voice to shout the last two words, making you attempt to put your hand over her mouth, but laughing quietly. You nodded, shoving the last of the dishes into the water to soak. The two of you made your way through the living room towards the hallway, Anne and Martin sitting next to each other in stony silence on the couch. As you pulled on your coat and opened the door, Ellie bent back round the door of the living room.

“Later, motherfuckers!” she called merrily and you cringed inwardly about the repercussions even while feeling blessed to have met such a firecracker.

———

The door slammed and Joel waited the five seconds while Ellie made her way to the kitchen and turned to meet her as she pushed through the saloon door, letting it swing violently behind her.

“Evening to you too,” he huffed, raising an eyebrow at her demeanour, wondering what had got her all fired up this time. For the first few weeks of their acquaintance, her spiky responses and intense moods coupled with her near-constant need for interaction had nearly driven him mad. But as he’d increasingly become used to her, he came to appreciate the transparency of her emotions. Wished he could have a little of that himself.

But he’d never been that way, not even before. Tommy would vouch for that. It had been second nature for him to hide behind a facade when the world fell, protect himself from further harm. He’d been that way as long as he could remember.

“Those fuckers,” she growled, throwing her bag onto the kitchen table with a slam, shrugging her coat off. She hadn’t even stopped to hang it in the hallway.

“Ok,” Joel chuckled, wiping his hands on a towel, “that doesn’t really narrow it down now does it? Which particular fuckers are we referring to?” He was surprised by the answer.

“That couple Maggie lives with,” Ellie spat. “They were having a go at her when I got there. She was nearly in tears.” Joel frowned. He didn’t know them at all, and Ellie would defend those she felt close to without a second thought. Back when they’d first arrived in town, shovelling down the first hot meal they’d had in weeks, Joel remembered how Ellie had been. Angry, defensive, confrontational. Part of it was about her, but he could feel her beside him, bristling with the need to make sure of him. That was the moment he realised that they were a pair. And everything he’d done in the time after that had come from that realisation.

“Probably just getting on each other’s nerves,” he said, turning back to the stove to check the stew he was making. He felt her standing there, quietly, and when he looked again she was deep in thought. “Don’t you think?”

She looked up at him, still pensive and he could see the depth of her affection for you and he wanted more than anything to trust her judgement but something made him cautious. The world as he knew it made him want to wrap her in cotton wool and shield her from disappointment.

“Look, I know you get on with her and everything,” he began cautiously, “but I just want you to be careful.” He thought she might be offended, but she just watched him. “I think she seems nice, but…..” he faltered, not knowing how to say what he wanted to say; that you might be unstable, that she didn’t know you nearly well enough.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he added. Ellie came round the table and stood next to him at the cooker. She wasn’t much for physical affection, but this was her way of showing him she appreciated what he was saying. She nudged him playfully.

“I know you worry, but man, if there’s anyone that’s going to appreciate Will Livingston, it’s her,” she smiled. She went back to her bag and got out her notebook. “Look at this,” she said, flicking through until she reached the page she wanted. Joel saw stick figures with speech bubbles.

“That’s me and Maggie running away from Janice. She did that,” she laughed and Joel couldn’t help smiling. It was ridiculous but just the sort of thing that would make Ellie laugh. Maybe he didn’t need to be as worried about you as he thought. It looked like you were going to be part of Ellie’s life for the time being. Maybe he should make more of an effort to get to know you, for her sake.

He thought back to the afternoon reading in the living room. You’d fitted in there, your presence hadn’t felt intrusive. Even if he wanted to think of a reason why you shouldn’t be part of Ellie’s life, he realised that currently he couldn’t. He was sure you were able to look after yourself, even though Ellie was worried about you. He of all people knew that succeeding in Jackson meant getting along with a lot of people you’d never have spent time with in a million years before everything happened.

———

Things went from bad to worse in the house. James slunk around like a shadow, making himself as absent as possible, barely thanking you for the food you still made for everyone. As soon as the others were around, you watched him excuse himself and leave, clearly unable to deal with any sort of conflict.

Not that you were asking for conflict. Jesus Christ, all you wanted was to be left alone, but Anne and Martin just didn’t seem to be able to manage that.

The needling comments were endless and yet they seemed to spend half their time ignoring you. You, in turn spent most of your time in your room, or sometimes out with Ellie. You didn’t let on how bad things had got; didn’t need her getting upset on your behalf and so it was a relief to be out of the house when you met up with her.

After about three weeks, you’d had enough. Martin was loudly complaining to Anne about the weather and how not everybody got to spend the day inside and you threw down the spoon you’d been using to make up a broth.

Searching around for a piece of paper, you realised that there wasn’t one and so you looked for something to write on. Opening the fridge, you grabbed a jar of sauce and opening it, stuck your finger inside and made a mark on the table. Anne swerved to get her sleeve out of the way as you wrote tomorrow on the surface in sticky red sauce. Slamming the open jar down on the table, hearing Martin exclaim in disgust as some splashed up on him, you walked from the room and went to your bedroom, licking your finger on the way.

The next day you went to find Ellie and asked her if she’d go to the job office with you. She wanted to know why and you said that you were bored, but she looked at you with a face that said she didn’t believe you.

The day was bright and the winter chill had faded slightly. One or two of the trees on Ellie’s street had small buds appearing. It seemed like the worst of winter might finally be over and the idea of moving forward gave you a small glimmer of hope, even if the rest of your life was feeling increasingly hard. You’d been with countless people you didn’t get along with over the last twenty years, but somehow here, in Jackson, a place that was really trying to make something for its residents, this meanness, the loathing you felt coming from your housemates was spoiling everything. You’d finally reached a place where you might be at peace for a while and you couldn’t even have that.

The two of you walked along the Main Street and Ellie looked up, waving, and you saw Joel at the top of some scaffolding. He raised his hand and you gave him a quick wave, but your mind was elsewhere. You walked on past towards the job allocation office, wondering what they would find for you to do.

Ellie pushed open the door and you stood behind the man already at the desk, waiting your turn. He was finished nearly straight away however, and you moved up to the desk with Ellie. She was explaining who you were when the door opened again and you turned to see a woman enter and stand in line but as the door swung shut, it was stopped by Martin and Anne. They strode into the office and marched right past the woman behind you. They’d fucking followed you. You spun back round in shock, Ellie seeing your face and then looking behind. But she was too late to stop Anne who started speaking to you before turning her attention to the guy behind the desk.

“So have they given you a job?” she demanded, her face tight with anger. “What did they say?” And turning to the man, she told him exactly how much of a freeloader she thought you were, while Ellie shouted out, appalled on your behalf.

“Shut up, dude,” she yelled, taking a step towards Anne. Martin, who until this point had seemed happy to let his girlfriend take the lead, suddenly decided to get involved and pushed in front of the advancing Ellie, putting his hand on her shoulder to move her back. You were appalled, but even while you were lifting your own hand to Martin’s, a voice cut the noise like a knife, each word ground out with pure menace.

“Get. Your fucking hands. Off her.”

You turned, and so did Martin and what he saw there made him pale and take a gulp and drop his hand from Ellie’s shoulder without a word. Joel was in the doorway, the light from outside casting him in slight shadow, but even if you hadn’t been able to see anything of him at all, his tone was unmistakable.

He took one step forward and his eyes were on Ellie as he asked her if she was alright. Martin stammered out something, but he hadn’t even said three words before Joel’s voice came again.

“Was I fucking talking to you?” he asked, his eyes still on Ellie, until he blinked slowly and shifted his gaze to Martin, who visibly cringed. You assumed you’d seen Joel angry when you stumbled in front of his horse, but this was different. This was cold, not the irritation of someone simply annoyed. His jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed as he took in the man who had dared to lay a hand on Ellie. And you froze because you didn’t know what was going to happen next.

And then his eyes were on you. His whole body tense, his face turned to you and for a moment your eyes locked and there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t tell for a millisecond what he was thinking - was he angry at you too? And then he blinked and his eyes softened, just a fraction, and he blinked again and spoke.

“It’s ok,” he said and you felt like you had been holding your breath for so long. That was it. No questions, no demands, just a statement. His voice was calm, solid and reassuring and you believed it. Tears sprung up in your eyes and it seemed to reignite his anger. Turning back to Martin he took one step closer, and Anne seemed to be about to say something and then thought the better of it.

“Don’t let me catch you anywhere near her again. Understood?” he said flatly, and Martin nodded, swallowing hard. Anne once again looked like she was about to speak but her boyfriend pushed her towards the door, muttering to her to keep her mouth shut and go and the door banged shut behind them.

You turned away then, wiping at your eyes, walking towards the window. You couldn’t believe the meanness of those two. Even after all these years, you hadn’t hardened yourself to people like that and you didn’t know whether it was a good thing or not. You could hear Ellie talking to Joel, telling him that she’d been right about them, hadn’t she? That he should have believed her. You took a deep stuttering breath. What were you going to do now? Frankly you felt like packing up and leaving Jackson. But what good would that do?

You made for the door without turning back but at the sound of it opening, Ellie ran up to you.

“Hey, where are you going?” she said, worried, “Are you ok?” Joel stood at the desk still, his hands in his pockets, watching you. You signalled that you were going and Ellie asked incredulously “You’re not going back there? You can’t!” You shrugged and gave her a half smile, patted her arm and went to leave.

“Joel?” you heard her say, in a small voice as if she didn’t know how to fix things, “She can’t go back there.” You stopped. Joel walked over to join you.

“Well that’s not up to us,” he said to Ellie, though his eyes were on yours. “You wanna go back there?” You paused for a moment, shook your head, two tears running down your cheeks.

“Well, you can stay with us!” Ellie exclaimed, surprised and delighted at her sudden idea. “Right Joel?” She stood there and looked at him, eyes wide, completely unaware that she might be putting him under pressure to do something he wasn’t comfortable with. You backed away and shook your finger at her, trying to refuse without making her feel bad. And you were not surprised to hear Joel reply, even though his response took a minute to sink in.

“Reckon that’s the best idea for now,” he said, to her, but he again wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at you. He tilted his head slightly, shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Even just for tonight. We can decide what to do tomorrow,”he went on, “But Ellie’s right. You can’t go back there.”

You held his gaze, wanting to see him uncomfortable, that he’d agreed to Ellie’s suggestion under duress. But there was no discomfort there. You gestured to Ellie for her notebook, and once she handed it over, you flipped to a free page.

Are you sure? you wrote, your hand still shaky. You passed it to Joel. He took the notebook and looked at it for a second and nodded.

“I’m sure,” he said, and then something in his expression changed a fraction and he handed you back the notebook. You reached for it, expecting to feel him let go but he didn’t, holding on to it so it was held between you like a tug of war. And looking at Ellie he winked. “Seems like the quiet type,” he quipped to your surprise. Joel looked back at you as if to ascertain whether his comment had been too much, but you raised your eyebrow in surprise. Ellie just laughed.

“Joel the joker!” she said, and then turned to you. “Don’t be offended,” she said, “Those kind of jokes were ok when he was young.” Joel made a mock offended noise and pretended to clip her round the ear and she ducked out of reach. It brought a smile to your face for the first time in days.

Joel held open the door. “Ladies, after you,” he said, and the two of you passed through into the sunshine, the late morning street busier than before. Joel pulled the door shut behind you and the three of you headed off along the pavement.

———

Joel had assumed it was just shyness when he saw Ellie waving enthusiastically but you giving a cursory raise of your hand. He was about to turn back to check on the apprentice, when he noticed your two housemates hurrying along the street. His eyes narrowed, thinking back to Ellie’s worried expression as she talked about them. It only took him a moment to decide.

Laying down his tools, he called up to one of the other guys to take over, heading down the ladder and hitting the ground just as you and Ellie disappeared into the job office. He wiped his hands on a rag and waited, watching the other two, only starting across the street when he saw them push past another couple and follow you inside. He knew something was up and he didn’t want Ellie involved in any of it.

He hadn’t really had time to think about you, because as soon as he pushed open the door he saw that piece of shit with his hand on Ellie and he saw red. He knew what he was capable of and had to keep calm, he didn’t want anything to happen here in front of people. Besides, these people weren’t dangerous, they were just assholes.

He deliberately didn’t look in the guy’s direction, but when he heard his whiny voice, he brought his glare round to hammer the point home. And that was when he saw your face. Saw you were scared and didn’t have a way out. It made him hate those assholes even more.

He wasn’t exactly overjoyed when Ellie asked you to stay with them, but you couldn’t go back to that house, even he could see that. It didn’t escape him that they were behaving as badly towards you as he had done only a few weeks before but he tried to quell that feeling. He tried to lighten the situation with a joke and it seemed to work. At least this way he could assuage some of that guilt by offering you a safe place to sleep and maybe you wouldn’t notice he felt a bit uncomfortable.

After you had been back to collect your belongings from the thankfully empty house, Joel walked behind you and Ellie as you made your way home. Ellie linked arms with you as she liked to do and kept your attention except once when you looked back and caught his eye, a small smile on your face.

Later on that evening, after Ellie had hustled you into the other room, he realised that he didn’t mind you being there. Ellie was happy, dinner had been relaxed. It didn’t feel like having a stranger in his home, an intruder. It felt comfortable. And that was a genuine surprise.

While the three of you sat through the rest of the evening, watching the fire burn low, he kept seeing the look on your face in the library. His overwhelming feeling had been that you hadn’t known who to trust; didn’t know who to move to in that situation. And suddenly his only concern at that moment had to make you feel safe. So he had softened his glare, tried to reassure you and saw your shoulders relax and your eyes fill with tears. You looked almost grateful and yet you kept it together. He senses a strength in you he had not imagined before.

For the first time he really wondered what it must be like for you, that powerlessness. And though he rarely cared about people’s stories; didn’t have time for the life story of the dozens and hundreds of hurt people he came across, he started to think he might be interested in hearing yours.

[theinvisiblewoman73]

Big Dick Walking.

Guard Dog Joel does things to my brain I can not reconcile and I need him. Please send help.

Pedro Pascal as Joel Miller, S1E1

🩵 Please use and enjoy my gifs as you please! Reblogs appreciated🩵 Gif requests are open!

G I F N O T I F I C A T I O N S | G I P H Y

[theinvisiblewoman73]

stay awhile (joel miller x f!reader)

summary: you & joel are travelling to jackson, and make the most of a well-needed rest stop along the way.

warnings: age gap (29/56 — if this isn’t for you, that’s fine! you don’t have to read it), canon typical violence, no ellie, cursing, food, alcohol, mention of parent death, unprotected piv (don’t do that), smut, kissing, shower sex, joel miller being in love and not knowing how to say it, soft!joel, anxiety, weapons, insecurity, panic attack, fluff & comfort, 18+ mdni.

notes: my first foray back into fic writing! yay! nothing much really happens in this one: i just wanted some soft, comforting vibes from joel <3 enjoy 🫶🏻

this is a gift for @ovaryacted 🤍 thank you for inspiring me to write again, babe, by being horny about slick-back joel. i love you. as ever, a huge big gorgeous shoutout to my @macfrog, without whom this fic wouldn’t be seeing the light of day. love you forever.

Dirt clings to your shoes, dry and heavy like sun-baked concrete. Shoulders twinging as you shift your pack across your back, your stomach rumbles. Loudly. Joel looks over his shoulder at the sound, ahead on the path as always.

“Not much further now.”

Your sigh of relief is muted, not wanting to show your struggle. You don’t want him to ever think you’re a burden, that you’re just a girl out of her depth. You want to prove you’re worthy out here past the walls you were raised in.

Time has become meaningless since you left the Boston QZ; a rinse-and-repeat cycle of waking up with the dawn, chewing rabbit, walking ‘til your feet bleed, and Joel fucking you under the stars every night.

You can’t recall the last uninterrupted sleep you had; the last night he wasn’t inside of you. It marks the end of another day you’ve both survived, helps you to forget the shit you’ve seen — and undoubtedly will again, the next time the sun raises her weary head over the scorched Earth.

Some nights, it’s Joel who’s works you up: touches you all day, innocently at first, until it isn’t. Most of the time, however, you’re the one pulling at the zipper of his sleeping bag, finding your way underneath his shirt, toying with the buckle of his belt. He’d lit a fire in your belly only he can put out.

You’re always pinned beneath him, rifle next to his hand as it drives into the dirt beside your head. His thick fingers wrapped round your throat, your back arching off the thin material beneath you as he pushes you over the edge, telling you to take it.

Just like Joel takes what he needs, over and over, and gives you more than you’ll ever be able to tell him. Namely, a tiny, jagged piece of his heart: pulled unwillingly from his chest and dumped into your fragile grasp for safekeeping.

You wondered, at first, if it was purely physical. If you were just a body for him to pour his frustrations into, a tight space for his pleasure only. You wouldn’t resent him for it: crossing your ankles over his back to feel him deeper, scratches from your nails adorning his shoulders.

But then, one morning, he held your hand.

His huge, warm palm over yours, his lips at your temple as he thanked you for taking the overnight watch. Joel’s eyes had twinkled, and you knew from that point on you meant something to him. Something undefined, lingering on the tip of his tongue — something he can only convey with the way he takes care of you.

Joel stops, now, and waits for you to catch up. He offers to take your pack, slinging it over his thick forearm and kissing your sweaty forehead; allaying your earlier fears. “It’s just past this clearin’,” he tells you, squeezing your hip lightly. Your throat is parched as you carry on, the township coming into view past the trees.

The street must’ve been nice, back then. It’s obvious someone’s tried to spruce it up here and there; white picket fences and a vegetable patch seemingly out of place with the barbed wire surroundings. Must’ve been Frank, you muse, remembering what Joel had told you this morning.

They’re decent people. Well, Frank is. Stay out of Bill’s way, ‘f you can. They’ll house us for the night — feed us, let us shower, all the good stuff. Then we make tracks for Wyoming.

Jackson, Wyoming. The place Joel’s taking you to.

He’s had word from his brother that they’ve set up a community, which is thriving by all accounts. There’s a place for both of you there, if you could make it. Free of FEDRA, rations and rats. It sounds like a pipe dream — you’ve told Joel as much. He’d responded with a wry smile, and little else.

Whether it’s real or not, you know you’ll follow Joel to the ends of the Earth. You’d rather be pulled apart by a pack of clickers than left behind in Boston to rot without him.

Joel stops at a gate, indicates for you to go on ahead. The house is beautiful: littered with thriving plants and flowers you’d forgotten existed, besides illustrations in old books. The front door opens, and two men emerge: one wearing a wide smile, the other seemingly chewing a wasp.

Joel introduces them both: Frank and Bill, respectively. The latter eyes you both with suspicion; something you’ve already been warned to expect. Frank’s kindness is a strange but welcoming contrast, adding to the absurdity of their picture-perfect home in a town time forgot.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Joel?” Frank grins, and Joel clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Your eyes remain rooted to the lush grass bordering the pathway, unsure of how to aid him. You hadn’t discussed this, hadn’t found a reason to. Until now.

“She’s — uh, she’s my —”

“Your daughter, or something?” Bill’s eyebrow lifts towards his hairline disapprovingly.

Joel’s lip curls. “Partner.”

Bill’s face screws up incredulously, Frank intervening with a hand over his chest. “It doesn’t matter who she is,” he smiles, mostly at you. “Any friend of Joel’s is a friend of ours.”

///

Dinner is an experience you’ll never forget.

A smooth wooden table, elegant candlesticks, polished cutlery. Succulent meat, fresh vegetables, red wine — a night of firsts for you, your eyes widening to take it all in. Life before, with treats and trinkets like these, is hazy to you: nine-years-old when the fungus took over, the next twenty years of your life clouded by trauma and violence.

Joel checks in with you throughout, pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist when the two of you are alone, Bill and Frank bickering in the kitchen.

“Feelin’ any better?”

You hum contentedly, belly full and warm. “Can’t fucking wait for a shower.”

He smiles; small and lop-sided, the one you think might be reserved just for you. Your hosts return, and small talk resumes. Joel empties his pockets, the medications you know are paying for your stay lined up on the table. Bill examines them closely, rattling pill bottles and poring over labels.

Frank takes your hand in his. “The guest bathroom is stocked for you — well, as much as it can be. Use whatever you’d like, and take it with you if you want.”

A lump rises in your throat unexpectedly, tears sprouting to the corners of your eyes. They don’t have to provide anything for you — you’re imposing on them, really. Your parents have been gone for so long, and Frank’s soft voice and quiet kindness makes you ache for them.

“Thank you,” you mutter, squeezing his hand. “I really appreciate it.”

///

As soon as the plates are cleared, your eyelids are drooping. Frank ushers you upstairs, Bill having shut himself away in the garage. “Joel can show you how to work the shower,” he tells you, both of you following his lead up the stairs.

“Any clothing you don’t want anymore — just leave it in a pile. We’ll use them to make cleaning rags,” he grins. “There are boxes in your room, marked with sizes. Take what you want.”

You wring your hands, returning his smile shyly. “Like shopping?”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “And tips for the staff are always welcome.”

Joel is quiet, lingering behind you both for a while. You sense his eyes on you, though. You always can.

“If you need anything else, just ask. Joel knows his way around,” Frank tips his head towards him, squeezing your shoulder lightly. Joel thanks him, and he leaves you both in the semi-darkness, footsteps echoing down the stairs.

“C’mon,” he sighs, holding out his hand. “Shower.”

///

The water is heavenly. Hot and burning across your skin, dirt and sweat disappearing down the drain. Eyes closed, you tip your head back and submerge yourself fully, losing yourself in the sensation, blood rushing in your ears.

A pair of hands on your hips bring you back: Joel’s close behind you, his lips against your shoulder. Stripping off in front of him felt different on this occasion: you’re not dipping yourself in a freezing river, and he doesn’t have a gun close to hand. You took your time, his gaze dark and watchful.

You turn to face him, his cock hard and insistent against your belly. He bends to kiss you, hands sliding across your slippery skin, finding purchase on your ass. Your whole body is relaxed, fluid — the luxury of time meaning you can enjoy the sensation of Joel’s tongue in your mouth, focus on nothing else but the way he’s touching you.

There are no threats here, just the two of you indulging in one another over the clean white tiles. Every movement is languid, determined to stretch the minutes into hours. At some point, Joel lifts you into his arms, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrap round his waist instinctively. He winces in pain as you move, brows drawn together.

You’re not the only one with back problems.

You kiss his nose, droplets clinging to his lashes. “Put me down, old man.”

“Take no notice of Bill,” he smirks, both of you remembering his earlier comment. “He’s never liked me all that much.”

You hum, eyebrows raised, fingers in the grey streaks of his hair. “Well, I like you. A lot.”

You’re not sure what’s made you so bold, if it was Joel’s constant, reassuring touches along your thighs beneath the table all night, or the fact you’ve just washed the soap from his body like you’ve done it your whole life. Like it’s routine for you both to be here: naked and content in somebody else’s shower.

Joel’s lips drag a path of fire down the column of your throat, and you’re whimpering like he’s touching you for the very first time, like he’s mapping every contour and curve of your body and committing it to memory.

“Wanna fuck you like this, baby,” he groans, nosing at your pulse point. “Make you feel it for days.”

You think you could come already just from his words; the way his thick forearms support you, broad chest pressed into yours. Joel lets you beg for a moment, but soon enough, he’s filling you up deliciously, stretching you at a torturous pace to have you feeling every last inch of him.

“Good girl,” he groans, damp forehead against your own as you grind down on him eagerly, his thrusts meeting yours in a rhythm you’d established long ago. Joel’s big — sometimes overwhelmingly so. The sensation of him splitting you open has you clawing at his shoulders, moans caught in your throat. “So perfect f’me,” he reminds you, breathing short and laboured as you both reach the point of no return — your favourite place to be.

///

Joel flicks the light switch, boxes stacked high around the room. You don’t even know where to start; sleepy eyes bewildered by the sheer amount of choice.

“We’ll make this quick.” His hands find your hips again, kiss pressed below your ear. You nod, tugging at the first box you can reach.

A pile of items begins to grow — new jeans, socks, sneakers, and sweaters. Joel finds himself a flannel and packs it away, pulls on a plain black t-shirt and fresh underwear. You sneak glimpses at him as you continue rifling through the clothes; tanned biceps pushing against the fabric, thighs dusted with the same dark hair that spreads across his belly.

Arousal claws at your insides, white-hot and agonising. You’re still reeling from the orgasms Joel had pulled from you half an hour ago; watching his release paint your tummy, washing it away as his chest heaved with the aftershocks. Thinking about it has your thighs clenching, and you busy yourself with your task as a distraction.

The next box in your search is full of pajamas: plaid pants and graphic tees, camisole vests and matching shorts. Dropping your towel, you pull the silk vest over your head, shimmy the shorts along your thighs. “What d’you think?” you ask, adjusting the straps over your shoulders. Joel’s on his knees, distracted by a pair of boots.

“Hm?”

“Do you like this?”

He looks up, eyes wide. You watch his throat bobbing as he swallows, taking in your bare legs, the lace trim. You’ve never worn anything like this before, never had cause to. You like the way it feels against your skin, how it makes you feel in front of Joel, who’s still struggling for words below you.

You approach him slowly, cradling his chin in your hands. You feel powerful; his pupils dilated as his calloused palms drift along the back of your thighs. His hair is combed back from his face, silver waves flat against his head. Your fingertip runs along the curve of his nose and comes to rest on his full bottom lip.

You pull Joel to his feet, his thick thumb sneaking underneath the camisole strap. He plays with it absentmindedly; eyes heavy with tiredness. “You need to sleep,” you murmur, running your hands along his biceps. His brows raise, grin tugging at his lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m serious, Joel.”

“I, uh, don’t mind takin’ the couch, ‘f you…” he trails off, chest slumping as he exhales. “Oh,” you mutter, taken aback slightly. “I mean, I could take the couch, if you didn’t want to — y’know, share.”

Something akin to hope lingers on his features, eyes flitting between you and the bed.

He takes your hands in his, rubbing over your thumbs.

“There’s no way you’re doin’ that with your back.”

///

You’ve never slept on anything this soft.

Back in Boston, your bed was propped up on pallets; blankets scavenged and traded for, pillowcases stuffed with clothing past repair. On the road, the forest floor sufficed. You don’t remember your bedroom from before, although you know it must’ve been nice — soft shades of pink, a story to lull you to sleep, your mom kissing you goodnight.

Joel’s arm circles round your waist, anchoring you to the present. His warm palm against your tummy, you feel his soft exhales of breath over your ear. The moonlight throws shadows across the room: both your packs ready to go in the morning, an assortment of weapons and stores of food, a reminder that this safe haven was only ever temporary.

Tears prick suddenly at your eyes, and soon enough you’re sobbing quietly; tears soaking the mattress beneath you. Joel stirs, looming over you in an instant. “Hey, don’t cry,” he hushes, gathering you into his arms. You go into them gladly, Joel tracing his fingertips along your spine to soothe you.

“Long day,” he murmurs after a beat.

“But a good one.”

Joel kisses your damp cheek, pulls back to check in on you. “You wanna talk about it?”

Wiping your eyes, you curl into his chest: greying hair tickling your face, his steady heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You feel your own begin to regulate as a result, encouraged by his presence. Now you can’t see his face, your tongue loosens.

“I just — I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back out there. Infected, raiders, God only knows what else.. I want us to stay here, with our nice bedroom and hot water and proper fucking food.”

Joel is silent for a moment, digesting your confession. Your earlier fears begin to surface — he’ll think he’s made a mistake. That you’re a burden. He’ll take you back, leave you on the road. Leave you to die.

You’ve fucked up everything for him.

“Breathe for me,” his voice pulls you from the depths of your despair; not even realising your heart rate had spiked again, fists curled into the floral coverlet. You inhale deeply as per his instructions, breathing out as he sits upright, pulling you into his lap.

“I wish we could stay too, baby. But that’s never been the arrangement — n’ trust me, Bill can be meaner’n any clicker when he wants to be.”

You laugh shakily, Joel’s lips at your temple.

“Sorry for being pathetic.”

“Got nothin’ to apologise for. I should be the one sayin’ sorry; I didn’t think about how overwhelmin’ this might’ve been for you.”

Fingers brushing against his chest hair, you sigh heavily. “Do you think Jackson will be like this?”

“Maybe. Not sure about fancy plates ‘n all that, but Tommy’s sure been talkin’ it up.” Joel scratches at his chin, shifting you a little across his thighs. “Been meanin’ to ask you somethin’.”

You loop your arms round his neck, nose to nose in the silvery white light. His hands move to your waist, flex across your ribs. “Go ahead.”

“When we get there —” you notice there’s no if. Joel has no doubt; certain you’ll make it through whatever horrors lie ahead, “— I wanted to know.. ‘f you planned on stayin’ with me. Livin’ together, wherever they put us.”

You swallow, feeling tears threaten once more. The comparison clutches at your heart: the risks and perils that lie in wait on your journey don’t trouble him, but asking you if you’ll remain in his company has Joel averting his eyes, lip caught between his teeth.

“If you’ll have me,” you whisper, kissing him softly. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The kiss that follows is long, both of you breathless when you break apart. Joel’s hand drifts under your camisole, squeezing your breast as he hardens underneath you. The smile he saves for you is back: half obscured by the darkness, but you trace along his lips anyway, feeling it for yourself.

“You got room to pack this?” he asks, voice deep and guttural, tugging gently at the silk.

You push him back into the sheets, pin his wrists above his head. “For you, Joel Miller, I’ll make room.”

[theinvisiblewoman73]

Joel / Reader slow burn

Chapter 6 - The Library

You opened your eyes with a jolt and froze, lying there for a few interminable seconds before you got your bearings and knew where you were. Bed, bedroom, house, Jackson. Just like yesterday. Flashes of your dream came back to you unbidden - smoke, the sound of footsteps in the snow, a boy running away towards the communal house, Erin’s voice becoming lost in the roar of something unearthly. The same dream every night, even though more details were impossible to pin down once your eyes were open.

Mostly you thought of this with relief, because you were terrified of one day recalling the dream in more depth and not being able to get it out of your head. At least this way, once you had risen and started your day, the feeling would ebb away until there was nothing left but the merest shadow of discomfort. That you could cope with.

You were warm under the covers and you knew that it would be cold once you got out of bed, so you closed your eyes, trying to find sleep again, but it didn’t work. Judging by the light coming through the thin curtains, it wasn’t early. You couldn’t make out any sounds coming from the house; it seemed as if everyone was out. The thought of the peace and solitude of the quiet kitchen finally made you throw back the blankets and reach for a warm jumper.

You didn’t really have a particular routine. Sometimes you woke early, sometimes late. Sometimes you dozed on, but mostly once awake, thoughts crowded in and you wanted to be up and about, doing things. Not that you had anything specific to do right now. The town council gave newcomers a month’s grace period to settle in and acclimatise - and used it to find out what skills people had and what they might be best suited to doing in the town. But it was a relaxed process, no one was rushed. You’d seen the others going off to meetings and chats with the town council but no one had yet approached you about what you thought you could do in the town.

You had been told that they would get to you eventually but you strongly suspected it was because they didn’t know how they were going to approach interviewing you; didn’t know where to place you. And you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t a relief.

Part of you knew that you’d have to participate and do your bit eventually, but you were exhausted. The physical tiredness was getting better but you felt like your mind needed isolation. You wanted to interact with people but you just knew you didn’t have the capacity right now. And the people who ran the council all seemed nice but it was like a cross between a kibbutz and the scouts - everybody happy to be productive. You knew you should be grateful, but you felt like being lazy, felt like taking advantage of everything and everyone in the town. Because you’d given everything you had before and it had all been lost.

But at the same time you knew you wouldn’t do that. You’d agree to whatever job they needed you to do, you’d thank them for their generosity, you’d keep all that negativity inside. After all, it wasn’t anyone else’s fault, this. This world, this life. The silence, though, your inability to talk; that was another thing altogether.

A shiver ran through you and you shook your head, trying to get rid of the thoughts that crowded in suddenly. Sometimes you could think about what had happened, sometimes it was just too overwhelming. Pulling on some warm socks, you headed for the stairs, not meeting anyone on the way. The kitchen was warmer, like in Ellie’s house, and while you put hot water on to boil, you thought back to the day you’d spent together the week before.

Thinking about Ellie just gave you a good feeling. You’d never envisioned yourself hanging out with a teenager, but there it was. The person you had connected with the most easily here was fourteen. But there was something ageless about her at times, mixed with something so innocent. Sometimes she talked like a teenager, behaved like one, and then she’d change and be the wisest and most mature person you had met in a long while. And connecting all that was her honesty. She’d never lie to you, you felt, even if the truth hurt. And that was something rare.

How many people had you come across in the last twenty years who had lied, cheated, hurt you? How many times had you lied and stolen and put yourself first at the expense of others? How had the world come to be like this? If you were even vaguely religious, you might have thought of Ellie as something mystical. You shuddered at the thought of how unscrupulous and desperate people would use that aspect of her, but refused to go further down that train of thought. Thankfully Ellie had someone who clearly wanted the best for her.

Which brought you to Joel himself.

The best you could say was that you had mixed feelings about him. The interactions you had had with him hadn’t let you come to any real conclusion. He clearly cared for Ellie deeply and she spoke about him like a guardian; a father, but his angry reaction when you’d stepped in front of his horse had brought you low. The cold feeling of shame that had run through you was hard to forget and his apology had been curt. And yet he had seemed sincere, when he told you he was sorry; had looked you straight in the eye while he said it.

You hadn’t really had time to take much notice of him at the market, except for noting that he was an attractive man, if moody. And all you had seen that day in the street was his anger, harsh and vicious. But seeing him walk into his kitchen, relaxed and at ease, at least until he had seen you - had made you see a glimpse of another side of him.

You had seen then that he was a good-looking man. He was tall and broad, with an interesting face - rugged and weathered but his deep-set eyes were expressive up close. He had moved into your space with assuredness, more physical presence than personality. He gave off the air of a man you wouldn’t mess with, something you’d already been at the receiving end of. You got the feeling that you would need to see him again to fully appreciate the man: he wasn't someone you could easily know.

And his reaction to your scrawled apology and interest in his horse had been intriguing. He’d looked at you as if seeing you for the first time, cocking his head slightly, fixing you with his arrogant stare before looking away.

Then you realised where your thoughts were heading and stopped yourself with a groan. Ugh, Joel was just another fucked up, angry guy who’d probably lost everything and had been letting it eat away at him for the last two decades. You’d seen plenty of people like him. He’d probably lost any loved ones he had in the outbreak or the years after. You’d already seen his anger erupt. Best not to let that happen again. You wanted to keep hanging out with Ellie, but he was someone you’d just have to be wary around.

Remembering Ellie’s enthusiasm about the library got you out of your reverie and you finished your tea in one long gulp. You rinsed out the cup and place it on the draining board before heading upstairs to get dressed, hoping that you could take her up on her offer.

________________________________________________________________

Having a week away from patrol hadn’t really been something Joel wanted but every few weeks it was mandatory to change shift for a few days. He’d been drafted in to help with some repairs, and the skills of his past life as a contractor came back effortlessly to him, even if the energy he’d had then didn’t. Tommy liked to rib him about that - the way he grumbled about his knees and his back - but stuff just hurt more than it used to.

It also meant working with a crew of people and there was always a steady flow of chat and banter back and forth. Usually one of the teenage residents was being trained up, luckily not a job he was ever required to do, but it meant having to keep an eye out in case they were messing up. Back when he’d started out as a rookie on building sites, things had been a lot tougher. You started lowest in the pecking order and did whatever you were told to do. That might have been anything from fetching lunch orders to cleaning out the johns and there was a lot of mostly good natured teasing thrown in.

The young kids who were learning beside them in Jackson could have done with a bit more of that; they were too protected. A part of him could understand that parents here wanted to shield their kids from what they’d gone through, but the world just wasn’t like that any more. Jackson was safe inside its walls, but out there - every adult in the place had seen what was out there and there was no use pretending it didn’t still exist.

This had been his beef with Maria right from the start. She’d hated his negativity and he’d resented her optimism. The change had come when he’d seen her with Jacob; been there when the child came into the world. There had to be some way of looking towards the future or else everything really was lost. And so he had accepted Maria’s optimism, even if he couldn’t bear to feel it himself.

He was half way up a set of scaffolding now, working on a window frame on the old bank. Tommy was up above with one of the trainees, an older teenager who really seemed to enjoy the work. She’d been there before them this morning and eagerly made her way up to the top level with his brother to start work. Tommy liked this aspect of working, had always been able to put people at ease.

He thought of his brother dismounting his horse and reaching out to make sure you had been alright, while he fumed at your clumsiness. The feeling flared up in him again and for a moment he saw that it was something different from anger. But his mind didn’t want to go there and something snapped shut. He focused furiously on the task in hand.

Someone called for Tommy from the ground and he headed down the ladder, muttering for Joel to keep an eye on the rookie and carried on down. The girl was replacing a piece of guttering; Tommy had been teaching her how to remove the rotten piece and measure up for the new section. She would be able to work it out for herself eventually but at the moment she was struggling to fit the new part. He let her work at it for a while and then put down his tools and made his way up the ladder.

“New section’s always difficult to fit,” he told her, not moving to take over, just waiting to see if she wanted help.

“Yeah,” she grimaced, using her bodyweight to try and slot the piece into place, “Am I doing it right though?”

“Yep. On the right track,” he replied, “Just give it another go.” He didn’t want to stand and watch over her shoulder, so he turned away, and his attention was caught by a familiar figure in the street. He could spot Ellie a mile off; knew her form now like the back of his hand, after watching her trek in front of him for months. Her gait, sometimes rhythmical and straight, and then other times jerky and awkward, like she was bouncing with energy.

She was walking like this now, animatedly talking to someone he quickly recognised as you. Intent on listening to her, she made a wide gesture and stopped, so you had to stop too and turn to look at her. He couldn’t hear what she was saying but whatever it was, it made you laugh and you shook your head at her and indicated for her to keep walking. He wondered were the two of you were headed, what you were taking about. He tilted his head slightly, watched in silence as Ellie led you to the library, saw your body language change even from where he was standing.

Ellie had opened the door and walked in, but then turned when she saw you weren’t following her. Joel saw you pull a notebook from your coat pocket and write something, pass it to Ellie. Saw Ellie touch your arm gently and the two of you enter and close the door behind you.

He let out a deep breath, still watching the door. He’d kept a close eye on everyone who Ellie interacted with since they’d come to Jackson, well, as far as he was able. It was just the thing he had to do to make sure she was protected. And he hadn’t got the measure of you yet.

Hearing a stream of curse words from the girl behind him, the corner of his mouth twitched in a controlled laugh, and turned to see if he could help her finish the job. _____________________________________________________________________

The library was really just a shop that had been repurposed with some wooden shelves and a desk in the corner for whoever was on librarian duty that day. Through the back was a larger space with mismatched tables to study at and some threadbare armchairs where people could sit if they just wanted to read for a while. Ellie said that she came in sometime to do her homework, especially in the winter when her house was cold and this space was heated.

She’d been alone at home when you’d called round, not even dressed, even though it was the middle of the morning. But she had sped up the stairs, returning a few minutes later eager to head out. Now she opened the door of the library and headed inside, and you followed, feeling the warmth from the heaters and understanding why people would enjoy spending time there.

The man at the desk nodded to Ellie and she walked over to talk to him. You heard her saying your name and asking about a library card. Memories of Saturday mornings at the local library came into your head. The one in your town had been in an old Victorian building with a large domed entrance and marble stairs leading to the floors above. It had been a place of wonder to you as a child and part of you felt that this makeshift place was sad in comparison.

But that was the way of things now - people tried to replace what had been lost, but it would never be the same, of that you were sure. Still, the fact that people cared enough to gather all these books together to try and rebuild what had existed before, that at least was something. The world now came down to this: a tightrope walk between what was lost and what could be rebuilt.

“Dean’s going to make you a card,” Ellie said, walking back over to join you. “You’re supposed to give a full name, but I explained everything and I said that if you stole any of the books, he could ask me to pay for them but I totally know that you aren’t a book thief. I mean, that would be weird, right? And I know where you live so it would also be a little stupid of you not to return anything!” She finally took a breath and saw that you were laughing.

“Oh man, I babble, don’t I?” she said, rolling her eyes, “I’ll let you look at the books. Peruse the titles.” She headed over to the other side of the room where there were some colourful spines. You had a quick look at the different shelves, getting an idea of what kind of books they had.

You’d loved adventure books as a child. Groups of children getting into danger and solving riddles together. Later you’d been into novels and some science fiction, but these things felt far too serious and dark for you now. There were a lot of thriller novels, and you skimmed over them, and the romance titles with scantily-clad heroines clinging to shirtless men. You actually rather liked those type of books, but couldn’t bear the thought of checking one out while Ellie was with you; you knew you’d never hear the end of it.

Finally you gathered a small pile with some nature books, a science fiction and an old fashioned crime novel. They looked like they might be a nice escape from reality and you’d read the private eye one a long time ago and had liked it. Ellie was already ensconced in one of the armchairs with a comic and you went to join her, settling into the cosy room with a feeling of calm. Thoughts wanted to crowd in, but you opened the book and made an effort to enter the world it presented, and not the one that was in your head.

Ellie clearly also wanted to disappear into a fictional world and managed it almost immediately, her feet tucked up under her. Unfortunately it was impossible for her to disappear completely - every page of her book held something hilarious or astonishing and every minute or so she would guffaw with laughter or gasp or mutter something.

You didn’t care how she read but there were a couple of people trying to read in peace at the other side of the room and after the fourth irritated Sssssh, Dean poked his head into the room and told Ellie that she would have to read without the sound effects, please. Uneasy, you looked up to see his reaction, but he was leaning against the door frame, smiling gently at Ellie, who was still engrossed in her comic.

He turned to you and gave a laugh and a look that told you it wasn’t the first time Ellie had done this and that, although he clearly relished her enjoyment, others didn’t. You got out your notebook.

Why don’t we take our books back to my place. Lunch?

“Great idea,” Ellie boomed, to another chorus of loud Sssssshs from the corner. “I’m famished.”

The two of you checked out your books and Ellie put them all into her backpack while you zipped up your coat. You opened the door and realised that someone was in the way. Pulling up short, Ellie walked into you, pushing you into the back of the man standing in the doorway. You put your hands up in apology, looking away but then heard Ellie.

“Joel! Dude, you are right in front of the door,” she said, and looking up, you saw him take a step back from you, and there was an awkward moment when neither of you knew what to do. Joel cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Were you going in?” Ellie asked and he shook his head.

“Been working on the old bank all morning. Saw you go in before. Thought you might like this for lunch,” he said gruffly, holding up a paper bag. The smell of warm bread hit you and Ellie’s eyes lit up.

“Let’s go before it gets cold!” she said, before obviously remembering that you were heading over to your house. “Oh, we were going to Maggie’s though..” she started and you started to wave your hands, trying to make her see that it was fine if she wanted to go with Joel. But she went on.

“It’s ok if she comes too, right?” she asked, looking Joel square in the face, head and shoulders shorter than him but more than equal to him in intent. You made another attempt to refuse but to your surprise, Joel turned to you looking you straight in the eye. He paused then, as if he was assessing you, the weight of his gaze holding you for a split second until you looked away briefly before looking back to find him still fixed on you. It couldn’t have taken more than three seconds, but the feel of being on the receiving end of Joel Miller’s attention was piercing. You wanted to swallow but found your mouth dry and were just about to turn back inside the library, just to escape that scrutiny, when he nodded his head up, just a fraction, and made a noise that sounded like a grunt of disapproval, but which turned out to be assent.

“Reckon there’s enough for three,” he said with an air of finality that put paid to your attempts to refuse. He turned to walk home and Ellie put her arm through yours and led you along behind him. Not for the first time you wondered if Joel Miller was always the one to decide how things went.

_____________________________________________________

Sitting in the living room after lunch, Joel realised that a feeling of calm had settled over the three of you. Ellie had chattered all the way home, her breath misting the air, arm linked through yours like you were a school friend, and had even dragged you up the stairs to see her room as soon as you all got home.

She seemed relaxed about it, but he knew that showing you her bedroom was a big deal; Ellie was at heart a private person, outwardly gregarious but guarded when it came to more personal stuff. He couldn’t help worrying that she was getting too invested in you as a friend. Decided he would have a chat with her later about getting too close to people too fast.

The meal was relaxed, he and Ellie directed the conversation mostly back and forward between them, but she was good at directing questions to you when they only needed a nod or a shake of the head. Sometimes you wrote things down in the notebook that Ellie always seemed to have on her.

After you had all eaten, he watched you both go through to the living room while he tidied and put things away. When he pushed through the door to join you, Ellie was sprawled out across the sofa while you had one of the ancient armchairs, blankets keeping the chill off as the fire wouldn’t be lit until the evening. You were both reading what he presumed you’d got from the library earlier. Joel lifted Ellie’s legs and sat down, placing her feet back in his lap and letting out a tired sigh. You looked across at him and gave him a small smile before returning your attention to your book.

“You get me anything at the library?” he asked, tapping Ellie on the feet.

“Mmm?” she mumbled, her attention fixed on her book. Joel saw you look over again. Felt you watching the interaction. He tried again, this time tickling the sole of her foot, making her squirm and look up.

“Joel!” she grumbled, “I’m reading dude. What?

“I asked whether you got me a book. You’re both sitting here with new books. Thought you might have something for me.” Ellie pulled a face.

“You have that….that one with the old painter guy and the mysteries and stuff,” she replied. She was referring to a book that Tommy had read and passed to him. A battered copy of The Da Vinci Code, something he’d remembered there being a craze over, before. He rolled his eyes.

“That bad?” Ellie laughed. He nodded.

“Don’t tell Tommy, ok?” He saw your amused expression from the armchair. “You read it?” he asked and made a small sarcastic laugh when you grimaced and shook your head. Looking at Ellie, he indicated you.

“See?” he carried on, “She’s obviously got good taste too.” Ellie didn’t catch the glance that went with the comment, but you did. And he caught your eye before you looked away. Why did he instinctively know you had good taste in books? How did he know you were educated, he thought to himself? What had made him say that with such certainty when only a few weeks ago he’d wondered if you were somehow mentally challenged. He felt himself warm slightly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

This discomfort was interrupted by Ellie who swung her bag into his lap and told him to choose one of hers. Rooting through, he discovered that they were all what he would have called comics and looked up at her.

“Bunch of goddam picture books?” he remarked, pretending to be cross but eyeing her with a wink. Ellie raised a disapproving eyebrow.

“Dude, the term you’re looking for is graphic novel. Take ‘em or leave ‘em.” And then he saw her smile in that way she had when she was about to make a joke. She turned slightly so she could see you better.

“Hey Maggie!” she said, and you looked up from the page, “You know Joel’s reading a book about gravity, right?” You didn’t really have time to react, and he was grateful for that; didn’t want to see any hint of disbelief on your face. He just turned to Ellie and said what he always said when she was about to pull out a pun; what he’d done from the first day.

“Ellie, no.”

“Yeah,” she said, her face beaming, even as he sighed and rolled his eyes, “He’s finding it impossible to put down.” Joel saw you draw in your lips in an effort not to laugh, but fail and as Ellie turned again and asked you if you got it, Joel saw your face break into a smile. Ellie was ecstatic.

“Oh man, I have to get Will Livingston, hold on,” she said, jumping from the sofa and making for the stairs. Part of Joel was amazed at Ellie wanting to share the whole book with you, not jealousy exactly, but wariness. What amazed him more, though, was you. The way the joke had finally broken through something, had made your face light up with a smile that he had never expected - an open and delighted expression that made your eyes shine. Now you had your head back against the chair, still smiling. And while Ellie bounded back into the room, you looked over and caught him looking at you, flinched slightly but didn’t look away. Held his glance until you gave your full attention back to Ellie as she came back down the stairs.

After more cherished puns had been shared from the tattered book, Joel saw you stand and walk over to him. You held out a book, gestured for him to take it. He took the volume from you and turned it to look at the front cover. Farewell, My Lovely by Raymond Chandler.

“This is yours though,” he said, while you stood over him, “Don’t you wanna read it first?” You shook your head and grabbed the notebook from the coffee table.

I’ve read it before. It’s good. But no worries…

You made a move to take the book back but he kept hold of it. Liked the idea of having something chosen for him, not by Tommy, whose taste in books made him wince, but by you. He felt like you would suggest something interesting.

He’d never been a big reader, but had always meant to better himself, especially when Sarah had started high school. The issue had been that he’d usually come in from work exhausted, ready for a shower, a beer and the easy relaxation of some tv show. The irony of the outbreak and the following decades was that because none of that remained, people had been forced to return to the simple things like books, if they could get their hands on them. And Joel could. He’d probably read more in these years than all the time before.

So he nodded, settling into the sofa again, while you returned to your seat. Ellie shifted until she was comfortable again, her feet on his lap. He opened the cover and started to read.

———

Sharing a book with someone always felt strangely intimate. Especially if it was something you had liked and recommended. It felt like a judgement on you as a person, whether the recipient enjoyed it or not.

She’s obviously got good taste. Why did his words give you comfort? What use was good taste in novels in the world that existed now? And yet it made you feel good; it was the first compliment he had given you and you liked it. Surely it was just because it was from one adult to another? Just simple praise which made you feel more than just a person trying to survive. Like there was still room for art and beauty in the world.

And yet there had been something about the fact that this compliment had come from him; from this man. From Joel. You’d sat there, laughing at Ellie’s pun, watched her run up to her room and looked back to find his gaze on you. Not angry, not suspicious, as he had seemed to be up until this point, but just….on you. And he didn’t look away.

You found it hard to name the feeling that this man made you feel in your chest. But you liked it. Goddammit you liked it. Back in your room later that day you just lay down on the bed and groaned out loud. Just muttered to yourself under your breath Don’t fall for a man like Joel Miller, but you wondered if that was really something within your control.

[theinvisiblewoman73]

PEDRO PASCAL as LUCIEN FLORES in a new still of 'THE UNINVITED'

[theinvisiblewoman73]

Joel Miller / Reader

Chapter 5 - Opening Up

“The right people hear you differently, even if you are in silence.”

Ten o’clock came and went and you had just accepted that Ellie wasn’t coming when you heard footsteps outside and a loud knocking on the door. When you opened it, she was there, panting hard, her breath steaming in clouds in the frosty morning air.

“Oh man,” she said in between breaths, “I totally slept in, sorry! But I am a teenager so it’s kinda my right to be late for stuff and as an added bonus at no extra cost I can be grumpy and monosyllabic if you like.” Then she stopped and looked at you. “Oh god I’m sorry, I wasn’t making a joke about you. Shit.”

You looked at her kindly and put your hands on her arms and shook your head. You looked around for something to write on and mimed writing, and Ellie’s eyes lit up and she gestured for you to wait. She dug around in her coat pocket for a moment and produced a small wire-bound notebook and a pencil which had been chewed at one end.

“Thought this might come in handy,” she said, proudly. You took the notebook from her and opened the cover and folded it back on itself.

It’s ok, you wrote, not rude. You’re kind. And you smiled at her again just to reassure her. She was so guileless - you just felt that if she had wanted to be rude to you, she would be, without trying to play games. You liked her enormously already. Grabbing your coat, you pulled the front door shut behind you and followed her into the street

It was another cold morning, but the sky was cloudy and so there wasn’t the bitter bite in the air from the day before. Ellie started by showing you around the residential streets near to your house, manly large detached houses which had apparently been home to some of Jackson’s more wealthy residents before the outbreak. Ellie had done some research on the town in the library when she arrived and recounted some stories from the town’s founding and a bit about its history. She’d had to write a paper on it for her English lesson.

As she talked you were impressed by her ability to retain information. She was certainly clever, and occasionally she rattled off a piece of information as if she was reading something she had learned by rote, but she also had a funny view on things and added her own comments. She was a teenager, but she had no problem talking to you like an adult. She was fascinating and the time passed quickly in her company. You spent time wandering together down the streets of your new neighbourhood, deep in its winter sleep, the trees bare, the ground frozen. You wondered what it would look like in the Spring, and whether you would be here to see it.

Once you’d reached the Main Street, you didn’t feel quite so at ease. It was later than you normally would have ventured out and it was already busy. Ellie seemed to move closer to you and the two of you stepped onto the pavement and she began to point out places you might need to know about.

“This is the shop for material and wool and stuff like that if you can make your own clothes or are a granny,” she told you, “And this one is the library. I like it in there. Maybe we can come here together one day,” she continued. I’d like that, you wrote. “Now this place you will want to avoid like the outbreak!” she whispered, moving her head close to you, “It’s the religious centre.” And she mimed being disgusted and shivered all over, making you laugh. It was then that you saw someone approaching the pair of you, a middle aged man in glasses who raised his hand and said a loud good morning to Ellie. She immediately took your arm, swerved out of the way and picked up her pace, shouting a reply over her shoulder.

“Sorry no time to stop old man, busy today. I’m showing her around!” You tried to stifle a laugh at her brazen refusal to be engaged in conversation, but you had such a warm feeling inside that it just bubbled up and erupted out of you. She pulled you into a small alleyway and peered round the corner to make sure you were out of the man’s range. Then she turned back and gave a laugh too.

You are outrageous, you scribbled, barely legibly, as you laughed.

“Well, just don’t want anyone bothering us,” she said, a serious look on her face. You could see that she had been protecting you and you just didn’t know what to say.

Thank you, was all you could write. Walking back into the street, she carried on pointing out places that you would need to know and reassured you that she would come with you if you needed to go anywhere and you didn’t want to go alone.

“You know you still haven’t told me your name,” she said, looking at you, “I feel kind of rude just saying she all the time. And sooner or later I’m going to make something up and you’re not gonna like what my brain comes up with!”

You paused on the pavement in front of the cobbler’s where you had seen Janine the day before and looked into the distance, at the mountains dominating the horizon beyond the town. The urge to just pack up and walk into those mountains was so strong, the feeling of just having to get away. But you looked at Ellie and realised that for the first time in a while, the first time since you’d been without Erin, you felt comfortable with someone. It hadn’t been that long, but it had felt like a lifetime since you had been able to enjoy someone else’s company. And this town, it was relatively safe and provided for. Where were you going to find a chance like this if you left?

You took hold of the notebook and wrote Not real name, nickname. Ellie’s face lit up.

“Cool! I’ve never had a nickname. Well, kids called me things at FEDRA school but they weren’t very nice names and Joel calls me things but mainly ‘smartass’.” She smiled. “So what is it?”

Maggie

“It’s a nice nickname. But it’s short for Margaret, no?”

You shook your head. Bit your lip in an effort to stay in control. You had revealed something. It felt right but it was like you had been stripped bare. You hated that feeling. The only thing that made it better was now you had a name, and it was name that you loved and that you might hear from people. And that made it feel as if Erin was still with you. That was something you could get used to.

“Ok, Maggie. I like it,” Ellie told you, saying it under her breath to herself a couple of times, like she was trying it out. “So….can I introduce you to people?” Ellie asked and even that action of asking permission was something that made you feel understood. “Just the nice ones, mind you,” she added. You nodded. The two of you walked on and Ellie said that she’d like to show you where she lived and make you some tea. As if predicting your response she added that Joel was out on patrol, so the house would be empty. She led you off in that direction and you felt a warm feeling when she took your arm again without even asking.

__________________________________________________________________________

Joel had been rostered on patrol with Sally that morning. She wasn’t much of a talker either and he was sure that’s why they got paired together quite a lot. She was older than him, but nothing got past her and he appreciated her keen senses while they were out. Over time they had got into an easy way of working together, neither of them trying to engage the other in conversation, simply checking in when they spotted something or heard a noise that needed investigating.

There was a slight wind that day, but nothing that made the patrol tiresome and he had enjoyed being outside, and more, had enjoyed being alone with his thoughts while he covered the familiar route that Lucy knew by heart. The horses were part of the patrol now, as they had done this route so many times that they were also able to alert their rider to changes in the situation. The week before he had felt Lucy stiffen and become skittish. He had signalled to Sally and together they peered into the mass of bare, tangled bushes ahead of them.

After a moment, while Joel carefully and silently pulled his rifle into his grip, a coyote stepped carefully into sight, its head low, its teeth bared. It was probably starving, searching the frozen landscape for something to take the edge off its hunger. For a moment, Joel felt a stab of pity for the creature. He saw its desperation and briefly considered throwing the animal the hunk of bread and meat he’d brought for his lunch. Hell, the thing could probably smell it. But feeding the coyote might make it more dangerous, more likely to return. That they couldn’t have. Everything had to stay away from Jackson, every living creature, to keep the town in the safety of the isolation it depended on.

The standoff lasted a few seconds longer and Joel dismounted, picking up a large rock from the ground and lobbing it at the creature, which turned tail without a thought and fled into the icy day. Getting back on his horse, Sally had just nodded and continued on the way.

Today the rest of the patrol went off as usual. Not a sound apart from scarce birdsong and the call of a hawk or falcon circling overhead. By the time they were walking the horses through the town towards the stable, he was tired and thirsty. He didn’t have to water or brush Lucy down, because there were a group of children learning about the horses. So he handed the reins to one of the grooms and headed for home.

___________________________________________________________________________

Ellie and Joel’s house was not far from yours and the two of you retraced your steps most of the way and then she led you down a quiet street with the same sort of detached townhouses. Like yours, they were shabby and in need of a coat of paint, but the faded appeal they presented was somehow reassuring. They were still standing after all, when a lot of the world wasn’t. Had this been one of the cities or a town less hidden a way, there would have been signs of destruction - from bombings, to looting and vandalism to just pure decay.

You still hadn’t shaken the feeling that this peaceful and functioning place was part of some strange and elaborate dream. Sometimes you felt adrift, like this wasn’t reality. How could this place exist when the rest of the world outside was in ruins? And would that chaos come here eventually - was that just another inevitability? You were brought back to yourself by Ellie’s hand on your arm.

“This is our humble abode,” she said, gesturing to a house with a set of steps up to a dark wood front door. She bowed with a theatrical flourish then scampered up to unlock the door. “That’s what Joel always says,” she laughed. She led you into a hallway much like the one in the house where you were staying - dark wood and a mirror, stairs leading up to the next floor. To the left was a living area with a sofa and a couple of armchairs and past that, you could see the kitchen through another door. It was so like the place where you were living, but somehow it seemed more like a home.

“Come through to the kitchen and we’ll have tea in there. It’s warmer cos that’s where the boiler is.” You followed her through a swing door which you let close behind you. The kitchen was old fashioned as you’d expected, but it was in better condition to the one in your house. You suspected that Joel had done some work on it. But what you were struck by the huge window with a view out onto a garden beyond. The kitchen was full of light, even on a winter’s day and you looked out onto the frozen lawn which flowed down to a group of trees at the end. It was overgrown and in need of some work, you could see that even though it was winter, but it was a beautiful space. Ellie saw you and came to join you at the window.

“It’s big isn’t it?” she commented, “We didn’t have time to do anything before the winter set in, we haven’t been here that long, but I’d really like to make it look nice. Maybe in the spring, although I haven’t got a clue about gardens - they didn’t exactly have outdoor hobbies at FEDRA school!” She laughed and hearing the kettle, turned to make the tea. But you stopped her, pointing to yourself and then the garden.

“You know about gardening?” Ellie asked, her face alight and when you nodded she said, “Cool!” and went to make the tea. When she brought the pot and two chipped teacups to the table she stopped. Looked at you.

“I kind of told a fib,” she said, her face falling, “Joel will probably be back soon.” You looked at her, raising an eyebrow, but not unkindly. “I just wanted you to come back here and I also don’t want you to hate Joel and he’s like a really really important person to me and I know he shouted at you but he’s actually a good guy and…..stuff.” Her words faded away. She was waiting for you to leave, you could see that. Instead, you pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down. Ellie visibly relaxed.

You opened the lid of the pot and smelled the tea, reaching for a spoon and giving the liquid a stir. It wasn’t exactly the tea you had expected, but then it had been a long time since you had had any of that. This brew probably had a small amount of ordinary black tea in it. That commodity was scarce, but like a lot of things in Jackson, something that just seemed to miraculously appear through what nefarious means you had absolutely no idea. The tea had different herbs and things added to it, pieces of dried apple and berries too. It was something that would have taken time and forethought, and that feeling came over you again, that Jackson was like a place out of time, somehow unreal.

Ellie went to get the honey and while she was up, you pulled over the notebook and pen she had left on the table and wrote FEDRA school? While you poured the tea out and added a spoonful of the rich, golden liquid. Ellie pulled up her chair and starting telling you about herself.

“I’m an orphan,” she said, “Always thought that I’d just ended up in that place because that’s where all orphans go. Then I found out that this woman called Marlene put me there. She knew my mother.”

As you drank your tea, Ellie told you about growing up in the government school, the few good parts and the far more numerous bad bits. It made you sad to think of this funny, interesting and sweet girl growing up without parents, being trained for a job that she would hate. She told you about her room and the Walkman she had loved to listen to, laughing when you indicated that you knew all the bands she had listened to.

“And then after I left the school….” she started, but stopped and looked at you. You could see that she was struggling to know what to say. You waited, and the pause went on. You were just about to write that she didn’t need to go on, but she looked out into the garden and back again.

“There are some things I can’t tell you,” she said, “It’s not that I don’t want to, but there are things I’m not allowed to talk about.” You took the pen.

We all have secrets. It’s ok.

“I knew you’d get it,” she smiled. There was a long silence while you drank another cup of tea, relaxed, looking out into the garden. Then Ellie spoke again.

“I like hanging out with you,” she said, “because I don’t feel like I have to fill every moment with conversation. I kind of thought that I’d have to do all the talking. But it feels like we’re just two normal people talking.” She smiled. “Even though you aren’t talking,” she laughed. But it was as if your failure to speak wasn’t a problem or anything strange. She made you feel normal.

Most people don’t feel that way. They think I’m weird.

“They think that about me too. But what if,” she lowered her voice to a theatrical whisper, “it’s them who are weird?” You were just nodding in an exaggerated way as if she had said the most profound thing in the world, watching her laugh, when you heard the sound of heavy footsteps and the front door opening and closing with a slam. Joel.

“I’ll go and tell him you’re here,” Ellie said, starting to rise from her seat, but you put your hand out to stop her. “Aha!” she laughed, “Take him by surprise, eh?” she said, narrowing her eyes, “Crafty.” And then you heard Joel calling her name and the kitchen door swung open and there he was.

___________________________________________________________________

“Ellie, you here?” he called as he pushed the kitchen door open and felt the warmer air and caught the faint aroma of tea. He saw her at the table and was just about to swat her playfully around the head when he caught sight of you sitting across the table. “Oh,” was about all he could get out in that moment. He stopped awkwardly and looked from you to Ellie. Goddammit, she’d probably planned this whole thing.

“Hey Joel,” she said now, her voice happy, “want some tea? I was just about to make a fresh pot.” She got up to put some more water on to boil. You’d met his eyes when he first walked through the door, but now you were looking out into the garden and he didn’t know what to do. Should he introduce himself?

“By the way, this is Maggie,” Ellie went on, saving him from having to make that choice. You turned to meet his gaze again, nodded you head slightly. “It’s not her real name, it’s kind of a nickname but I like it. Then she looked at you. “Maggie, this is Joel. Again.” He could hear the smirk in her voice and he wanted to call her out on it, but it wasn’t the time. He looked at you, saw you give a half smile and he felt himself relax a tiny bit.

“Hi,” he said, trying to make his voice sound not unfriendly, “Not out scaring the horses today?”

“Joel!” Ellie said behind him, her voice chastising, “I’ve just sat here telling her that you aren’t a total dick and you come in and act like a total dick. Dude. Not cool.”

He turned to her and she was standing there waiting for him to speak, like she was the parent and him the disrespectful child. He rolled his eyes at her and turned back to you. “Ok, listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He looked at Ellie and watched her smile and go to fill the kettle. Then he saw you write something in the notebook next to you. You turned the thing toward as him and pushed it across the table to where he could see. He picked it up and read what you’d put.

My fault. Wasn’t looking where I was going. Is the horse ok?

He somehow hadn’t expected that. It took him a second to think and then he saw you waiting for his reply, and you looked worried, genuinely so and it was a surprise. Sitting there, it was as if you had asked him the question with your voice and he thought for the first time that he might have misjudged you. After Tommy had forced him to rethink his first impressions of you, he had somehow formed the idea that you didn’t want to speak, were somehow aloof. But now it struck him fully, for the first time that you couldn’t. And that realisation was both enlightening and deeply uncomfortable at the same time.

“Lucy’s fine,” he said then, “takes more than that to spook her. I’m going to make some food.” He headed towards the fridge. “You ladies want anything?” Ellie said no and he realised that if he wanted to see your response, he’d have to look at you. And so he did, and watched you shake your head with a look that said thank you at the same time.

While he cut a couple of slices of bread and put some ham on a plate, he heard Ellie chatting to you and then saw you rise from the table and make a gesture that you were going.

“You wanna hang out again?” Ellie asked and you nodded enthusiastically, before writing something on the notebook. “Cool,” Ellie replied and the two of you left the room and went out into the hall. He heard the door close and as he bit into the bread, he looked at the words you had written. The library? He nodded slightly, Ellie would love that.

She came back into the kitchen then and sat opposite him. He could see she was happy.

“She’s cool,” she said, “I like her.” She looked at him, waiting for his comment.

“You find out why she doesn’t talk?” he asked, knowing it was ridiculous but playing the part she liked him to play, the grumpy old man was what she liked to call him.

She pretended to search in her pocket. “Yeah, I asked her and she wrote me a four page essay on her traumatic childhood experiences and how it turned her into a serial killer. I know it’s here somewhere…” and she crossed her eyes at him. “No, dude, I didn’t ask. And it doesn’t matter, does it?” In a way she was right.

“You talk about yourself?” he asked warily, “You can’t tell her about…you know.” He indicated her arm where the infected bite had started to spread and then mysteriously stopped.

“I didn’t! Of course I didn’t,” she replied, somewhat insulted that he had even had to say it. But he had to say it. If anyone found out….. “But she doesn’t want to talk about stuff either,” she went on and flicked back to the previous page and pointed to a line - we all have secrets, you had written.

And that was the truth. For him, for Ellie, for Tommy, for anyone and everyone he was likely to come across for the rest of his life. This world had transformed in three days from one where you chatted to your neighbours, where you shared news and stories and intimacies without a thought, into something else. It had descended into a hell where everyone had something in their past that they wanted to hide, something they couldn’t speak of, something they tried to forget.

This was the world now. Probably the world forever. And as he thought of you walking home through the snow, he knew he trusted you just slightly more than he had that morning simply because you knew that too.

[theinvisiblewoman73]

My gorgeous shiny, shiny man 😍

my favorite shots of din djarin per episode: chapter 15 - "the believer"

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Pedro at 68th BFI London Film Festival

[theinvisiblewoman73]

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[theinvisiblewoman73]

Illustrations by Rovina Cai for Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights

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[theinvisiblewoman73]

It's in the Bible, no?