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meet-me-backstage · 22 hours ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ꥟ Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ꥟ It had been years since you ran away from Joel Miller, a hunter, frightened for your life and of who he had become. Before the infected roamed he was the grumpy single father of a chirpy little girl who lived across the street from you and kept himself to himself… until he didn’t, not with you at least when you began watching over Sarah while he couldn’t. He became someone who you could talk to, a friend dare you say, a silly little crush and your lifeline at the beginning of the apocalypse.

Now you are residing in Jackson, a slice of heaven in a cruel world, the perfect distraction from your past and the hell you went through to get away from it. However, you realize that the past really does always come back to haunt you when all too familiar faces arrive at Jackson and you have no other choice but to face Joel again, who makes it his mission to fix your broken friendship.

Unable to fight your heart, feelings resurface and lines blur when it becomes clear that you are just as much Joel’s lifeline as he is yours.

𝑨 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ꥟ Horror themes, not strictly following the first game/season + not at all following the second season/game so kinda au, reader can sing and play guitar, weapons, bad language, death, grief, angst, mentions of pregnancy and stillbirth, blood, mention of vomit, violence, nightmares, PTSD, a lil smidge of dark!Joel, Jackson!Joel, soft & protective with a bit of a dad bod!Joel, unrequited love until it isn’t, jealousy, mutual pining, age gap (reader is 36 and Joel is 56) and smUUUUT (‼️) so you must be 18+ to read❗️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ꥟ 12.6K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ꥟ Bad language, mentions of pregnancy and stillbirth, mention of death, angst, horror themes, (very brief) mention of smut, another Platonic (with a capital ‘P’‼️) reader x Joel pre-apocalypse flashback / reader having a lil unrequited crush on Joel, mention of weapons, grief, parental neglect, mention of nightmares and PTSD symptoms.

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 ‘𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞’ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭! <𝟑

⇜ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

NOW

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

You watch on as Joel and the teenage girl, who you'd just found out is named Ellie, trotted towards the stable’s exit with Callus, who's white stripe along the centre of his forehead bounced in time with his movement. Tommy is walking alongside them with Callus' lead in his gloved hand while the three of them have a conversation that you aren't involved in - you're stood by Old Beardy's stall again with a broom in your hand, sweeping away at excess hay that has creeped its way out through the stall’s half-doors.

Joel, as he walks past you, nods - his way of saying 'goodbye' or 'I'll be back' before his eyes land on the stallion next to you... it's like you're watching Joel look in a mirror. Joel feels the intenseness of Old Beardy's stare on him while his head is protectively peeked over the fence of his stall facing you.

To your surprise, when Joel stops walking and reaches out to stroke his hand over Old Beardy's muzzle, the usually difficult horse complies with the man's silent command and leans forward to be petted.

All that time it took for Old Beardy to open up to you, to Rick... and he opens up to Joel in just one fleeting moment, instantly recognising him to be the human equivalent of himself.

Ellie observes too with a curious look on her face which is mostly directed at you rather than Joel and Old Beardy... probably because of the way that you and Joel's hands slipped from each other’s and flinched at the sound of her and Tommy walking into the stable. She was packed and ready to leave Jackson just as Joel had told her and his little brother to the night before... but alas, he was here waiting for her and looked to be in the middle of a rendezvous with the stable hand who fainted at the sight of him yesterday.

'It's too late to make things right', your mouth had opened to scream at the top of your lungs, but couldn't - then all in one second, both you and Joel jumped a step away from each other, your survival instincts kicked in in sync which earned you both dumbfounded looks from Tommy and Ellie.

You looked like a deer caught in head lights.

Joel slipped his gloves on, avoiding their stares.

'You came here to say goodbye or something?' The girl asked Joel, not at all content to have bumped into him.

That made the two of you.

'No - I came to steal one of these horses and go.'

'We already gave you one?' Tommy chirped.

'I know - anyway, I was - stopped.'

He'd lied about Rick's approval and you couldn't help the small gasp in response, which caught Joel's attention while he nervously fiddled with Callus' saddle.

Joel also noticed Ellie and Tommy's heads had turned to face you too.

'Who are you?' Ellie asked before Joel could stop her.

'Ellie,' he scolded her like a father would.

The possibility of her being his daughter crossed your mind like a wrecking ball to your brain.

'I'm just askin'. Does everyone land up on the floor cause of your smell when they meet you Joel or just us two—'

'Ellie.'

Not his daughter, but she looked up to him like a daughter would, like Sarah did.

'Seriously, do you two know each other or what?'

You stayed silent while Joel hesitated before nodding, 'we go back a long time.'

'Oh shit - what's your name?'

'I'm - I gotta get back to work,' you stuttered, avoided all three pairs of eyes on you, hastily grabbed the broom that rested on the fence of Callus' and retreated as far as possible from the trio while still being in the stable.

'What's her problem?'

'She don't like me very much.'

'Well then I don't blame her - you're an asshole.'

'I know.'

'What're you still doing here, Joel?'

'You deserve a choice—' from afar you'd watched them interact, how Joel approached Ellie with his proposition, 'still think you'd be better off with Tommy—'

'Let's go,' Ellie dropped the bag she'd packed into Joel's arms.

'Okay.'

Joel looked at you the way he is looking at you now with his gloved hand still rested on Old Beardy's muzzle... his dark whirlpools for eyes flicker frantically over every inch of your face over and over again, studying all of your features while he can, like he'll never see them again, like he hadn't just told you that he'd be back whether you wanted him to be or not.

All of a sudden he didn't seem so confident about going out there and risking his life again as if he hadn't done exactly that for the last twenty years.

It’s because of her; Ellie.

She depends on him like your baby depended on you, a weight that planted a seed of doubt within you out there too.

You recognised that look all too well, it was one that had been plastered on your own face all the way from Boston to Colorado with Charlie - when each milestone became less safe - when you ran out of supplies because you'd both underestimated how long it'd take to get to the mysterious female voice you'd heard on a radio that Joel had taken from one of his victims on a hunt with Tommy and Tess - when the possibility of dying became so much higher after Charlie crashed the car you found and had to hike the rest of the way to your destination, eight months pregnant, injured and exhausted, as there were no cars or gas to be found in the snow… when the possibility that you'd lost your baby became clearer with how still he was inside you - when snarls of a horde could be heard behind you and you couldn't run any further, then Charlie sacrificed herself so you could give bir—

You almost choke on your own saliva, diverting your focus back onto Joel's fingers soothingly stroking through the hair draped over Old Beardy's forehead, causing the horse to snort softly in response.

"H-he likes bein' scratched under his chin - like this," you rest the broom you'd been holding against the fence of Old Beardy's stall and reach under Old Beardy's chin, raking your fingers through the short beard that named him.

Joel blinks at you before copying your own actions, sliding his hand under Old Beardy's chin and scratching it at the same time you are; Old Beardy makes content little sounds and pouts his lips, showing his large teeth... he has never looked happier.

"'S a fine horse," he chuckles breathily and you can see that the pesky seed of doubt within him is momentarily gone, he's just as content as Old Beardy is.

You nod in agreement, giggling with him while timidly admiring the interaction between Joel and the stallion. "His name is Old Beardy."

Joel's directs his gaze at you, doing the same thing as before, flickering over all your features. It's the first time he'd seen you smile since he'd arrived in Jackson, albeit it doesn't last, it fades almost as soon as you notice his eyes on you, "Old Beard-y?"

"'Cause of the beard."

"Coulda guessed that."

"I didn't name him - Rick did."

"He Rick's?"

"Sorta—" you ignore the glint of confusion that flashes across Joel's face, though the intenseness of his stare is still unwavering, "he's - sorta mine too."

"Hm." He awkwardly glances downward in front of him and his scratches under Old Beardy's chin halt for a millisecond before he continues, but his eyes stay trained on the black buttons of his checkered green flannel shirt peeking from under his coat.

"Joel—" the girl, Ellie, interrupts impatiently, "are you taking me or not?"

Joel briefly looks over his shoulder and nods before turning to fix his eyes on you again, the doubt in them present when he drops his hand from Old Beardy's chin to his side, "I'll er - see you in two weeks."

You find yourself nodding apprehensively even though you'd been shaking your head at his proposition just seven minutes ago. You're still adamant that the past that you shared is something that could never be mended, a time that cut into and sliced you open, leaving a wound that Joel could not just appear out of no where after almost two decades, stick a bandaid on it and pretend it's not there anymore... but after last night, this morning, you're too exhausted to fight against him, "see you."

Joel inches forward instinctively. Slowly. His hand lifts slightly in line with your own and you find yourself responding subconsciously to his presence too by reaching for him just to feel the burning sensation of his touch - the touch that gave you endless comfort before. You remember how he'd held you close whenever you were cold - how he'd hold your hands in his tightly to reassure you that he'd be back with more supplies - how he'd caress your swelled stomach - how the only touch your baby would respond to was his. Before your fingertips touch your breath hitches and you back away at the same time he retracts his hand and turns away to join Ellie and Tommy.

You shake your head, internally reminding yourself:

It's too late to make things right.

You follow close behind until you reach the stable doors, watching the scene from a distance because whatever they were talking about, whatever business that Joel needed to 'take care of' involving the girl - it is no business of yours.

Nothing to do with Joel concerns you...

Not now.

Joel boosts Ellie up onto Callus, passes her the rein attached to his bridle and instructs her to hold it with both her hands.

It's too hard to block out the image of the boy you imagined your son to look like if he'd made it to Silverton with you all those years ago. A dimpled smile he'd inherited from his father that had the ability to paint gloomy clouds with sunshine hues during winter and eyes like yours that'd fondly observe Joel's every movement, teaching him the ins and outs of riding a horse and your son clinging onto him, afraid to fall while Joel laughs but after reassures him sincerely with a confident and endearing 'I've got you'.

"Mornin'," you hear Rick's voice from behind you and approaching footsteps that dissolve the clear image playing inside your head from in front of you.

You blink profusely and scrunch your nose, trying to wipe away all evidence of glossiness in your eyes and sniffling away the sudden drop in temperature after picturing a warm moment in time that could never be.

"Didn't think I'd find you out here."

"Oh - hey," your eyes are still glued ahead, but Joel, Ellie and Tommy are no longer there - they're gone. By now you can't even catch a glimpse of them, it's almost as if they'd never been there, but Callus' horseshoes had left a 'u' shaped trail in the thin bank of snow that needed clearing this morning before the remaining horses could be let out into the pasture to graze. Rick is standing beside you now with a shovel in his hand, also looking ahead, but you drag your eyes away and admire the way his chiselled jaw clenches at the cold suddenly hitting his face, "Rick, I - I know you said I should take it easy today and I still am - I just - I'm better off doin' that here than at home... and I was gonna sign in but—"

"I get it, there's no need to explai—"

"Joel tried to make a break for it on Callus—" Rick looks at you, his blue eyes piercing into your soul which causes you to gulp and lower your voice to a mutter, "I stopped him."

"Where is Callus now then?"

“He's borrowin' Callus to get to a university in Eastern Colorado—" Rick gives you a dumbfounded look, "they'll be gone for two weeks I thought you knew - didn't Joel—"

"Didn't Joel what?"

Your jaw drops at his impatient tone. It's not like you'd never been on the receiving end of it - Rick has the tendency to be harsh with his workers but that is what makes him such a good leader, his dedication and seriousness towards his role is why Jackson Ranch usually runs so smoothly - no one wants to let him down, including you, but you have a feeling that his frustration has more to do with Joel Miller than Callus going missing. "Didn't Joel already tell you all this?"

"Is that what he told you?" He raises his brow and tilts his head in question, "that he did?"

You nod meekly, "so he didn't?"

"If he did I'd have told him not to come back," Rick confesses with no trace of uncertainty on his face or in his voice.

"Even if it meant losing Callus?"

Rick exhales. There is sincerity in his eyes now, "even if it meant losing Callus."

"Oh."

"Does that - bother you?"

You ignore the singular pound from your heart as much as you possibly can, "n-not at all."

But god it does, it bothers you so much and you can't even admit it to yourself.

It gnaws at you knowing that Joel had lied, and if you hadn't have stopped him then he would've stolen Callus and you'd have never seen him again, just as you wanted. It bothered you that he was going to leave even though it was exactly what you told him to do hours before, and you convince yourself that your blood is boiling only because you were the one that stopped him, not because he was on the verge of taking the easy way out like Tommy always did... Joel was not like that, Joel was stubborn and determined, he didn't just run away from the people he cared about with his tail between his legs when things got hard.

Is that what sixteen years had done to him?

Is that what you had done to him?

No - nothing to do with Joel concerns you anymore.

"I'll see you later then?" Rick asks, noticing the worry that had plagued your system - you never were a very good liar.

"For our - um - date?"

Rick's thin lips twitch up into a side-smirk that could have the entire population of Jackson on their knees in a heartbeat if they got to see it right now, "yeah, what else?"

Your cheeks flush, though you're not sure whether it's because of the date tonight or the thought of being on your knees for Rick. Since leaving Joel in 2007 you'd not let your imagination run wild or get carried away in any kind of sexy fantasies - it just felt... wrong, juvenile. For a long time you felt stupid to think of how many times you'd dreamt of all the things you wanted to do with Joel, to just spend one night under him on the damp and cold floor of your gross tent, to feel the slow drag of his cock filling you, to have him feel the same way. All of those silly fantasies invaded your mind for years out there, but the reality of it came crashing down on you when you landed up here... alone - and without a hope of having those fantasies again...

Until you'd stumbled into the ranch-owning hunk that was Rick.

"I - I dunno - I had a long night so forgive me if my head is a little foggy," you giggle shyly between words.

He awkwardly chuckles in response before smoothly turning on his heel, his hips twisting and swaying as he starts to walk backwards into the grazing grounds, facing you - stop ogling his hips - you meet his eyes instead, "I'm gettin' off at six—"

"Six?" You express shock, playfully widening your eyes and dropping your bottom lip. You recall the late hours you'd left the stable since you started this job, but never had you ever left after Rick - he always found something to do. You're convinced he doesn't even sleep he's just that committed to his work, so the surprise you felt when he asked you on a date in the first place had been valid and entirely genuine, "that's not like you."

"I know—" about two metres away from you, Rick bends his knees and lifts the shovel before diving it into the snow in front of him with a grunt, scooping and chucking it towards the stable's exterior walls, "but Jean told me she'd take care of lockin' up tonight so—" he repeats his last action, scooping up even more snow this time and staring at you with hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, "I'll be at the Tipsy from seven if you're still up for that drink," the snow he flings towards the pile makes a thudding sound similar to the way that your heart is beating with anticipation.

The sight in front of you alone is enough reason for you to still be up for it.

You nod, casually pouting your lips and directing your attention elsewhere before your insides combust.

The beauty of your surroundings.

The delicately intricate patterns of the snowflakes falling around you.

The yellow rays of sunshine threatening to impale the white sky above you.

The speckles of vibrantly green grass peeking through the snow below you.

Anything.

Those arms - those veins - those hands.

It's not working.

"Err - where is Jean anyway I haven't spoken to her in aaages?"

Rick stops shovelling for a moment, keeping the spade buried in the snow to focus on you, amused with a sceptical look in his eyes, he also puts the hand that isn't holding the shovel on his hip, "you spoke to her yesterday?"

You did.

Fuck.

Your mouth is stuck in the form of an 'o' shape, unable to find an excuse for your attempt at diverting the conversation to avoid giving Rick a final answer.

Rick's smile only widens at your gobsmacked state, "she should be with Pearl and Shimmer - how about you go check on 'em for me."

He's giving you an out. "Oh - okay," you nod, making patterns in the snow with the tips of your boots before unsurely turning in the direction of the maternity barn. Something doesn't feel right, leaving him without a proper answer and him appearing to be okay with it, like he doesn’t care whether you stand him up tonight or not… maybe he had heard too much of yours and Joel’s back and forth last night, maybe he’d heard too much about your son too. To clear the air, you decide in the moment that you’ll try and tell Rick all about him tonight - about your baby boy. "Rick?" You call, looking over your shoulder, he'd already resumed shovelling.

Your name leaves his lips after another grunt.

“I’ll see you later,” you assure him before heading towards your favorite place in Jackson with a skip in your step.

As you near the half-door of the barn you aren’t greeted by Shimmer, but you assume that she’s already being preoccupied by the excitable Jean as you can hear the filly’s high-pitched little neighs inside.

Shimmer is galloping and jumping circles around Jean when you enter the barn, and Pearl - she’s watching over her baby like always, but she also looks like she hasn’t caught a break from the noise for a while. Pearl’s tropical blue eyes thank you when Shimmer’s attention is diverted to you. The filly hops towards you, completely abandoning Jean, at the same time you drop yourself to your knees and outstretch your arms for her to burrow her head into your chest.

You really needed this - a Shimmer cuddle, a specialty of her’s.

You smile with your eyes closed and engulf Shimmer in your arms, being careful not to squeeze her young and brittle bones while she nuzzles her muzzle against your collarbone with her eyes closed too. She stays content in your arms for a little while longer than she usually does, like she’d especially missed you, or understood that you’d not caught a break since you disappeared on your way to feed her and her mom yesterday.

“Oh, Shimmer - I love you,” You mumble into her silky brown mane. Pearl snorts between taking large mouthfuls of hay from the rack in the corner of the room, when you peek an eye open you see that the mare is side-eyeing you expectantly, “you know I love you too, Pearl.”

“And what about me? You love me too right?” Jean chimes from behind Shimmer.

“Debatable,” you mumble.

“What about Rick?”

Your eyes fling open and your arms open for Shimmer to go to her mom, who beckons the filly over with a neigh to eat beside her. “Too soon, Jean - wayyy too soon,” you breathily laugh, falling into a sitting position on the floor and hugging your knees to your chest.

Jean takes a few steps towards you before dropping down to her knees in front of you, shuffling for a few seconds until she’s comfortably ready to make your palms sweat with embarrassment. “If you did I wouldn’t blame you - he’s seriously hot I think I could be in love with him too,” she teases with a playfully sly grin tugging at her lips.

“Jean—”

“Do I hear wedding bells in the distance?” Jean brings her palm up to her ear and dramatically pushes her neck forward, squints her eyes and bites her lips together in order to listen closely to the sound of… nothing. Nothing but the repetitive munching of hay from the mother and daughter to your left.

The overly dramatic sight before you is familiar, triggering a vague memory, though you quickly shake it off, amused at the absurdity of Jean's question. "Jean - he asked me out on a date, he didn't ask me for my hand in marriage."

"So he did ask you on a date," Jean's eyebrows rise and fall quickly.

You lift your hands up in surrender... she'd got you exactly where she wanted you, and you had to hand it to her - you walked yourself right into that trap. "How'd you even find out?" You tilt your head as you ask, furrowing your brows too.

"I heard it straight from the horse's mouth," she states proudly, crossing her arms on her lap.

"What?" You blink.

"I figured there was something going on between you when he valiantly rescued you from that other seriously hot guy yesterday - Tommy's older brother I think - what was his name? Jason? Joe? Jeremy?" the words fly out of her mouth in a tangent that gets louder and she gets more out of breath. Then she stops and looks at you, worry written all over her face, "I'm a terrible person I haven't even asked how you are - is your head okay?"

"'S fine. I can hardly feel it - the pain, I mean," you wrap your arms back around your legs, squeezing your knees under your chin - she lets out a sigh of relief in response. "And it's Joel," you mumble against the flat part of your knee.

"What's Joel?"

You fight the urge to spring back up onto your feet and run a mile from here. The pads of your fingers dig into your calf muscles, "the other—" your throat bobs up and down before lowering your voice to a murmur that sends a buzzing sensation through your leg, "seriously hot guy." You clear your throat and lift your mouth away from your knee, "his name, it's - Joel," your voice falters, cracking when you say his name.

Jean shuffles closer to you until her knees are brushing your shins and she rests her head on both her palms, the entirety of her attention on you, "Joel," she hums, then silence falls between the two of you - the eager look in her eyes tells you that she expects you to fill the void with any information that you're willing to give her.

You're internally battling between two sides of you.

One half is telling you to stay silent. As friendly and kind Jean is, her mouth is dangerous and you're wary of the possibility that anything you say to her will accidentally spill out of her mouth to everybody... and by everybody, you mean everybody - Jean is bubbly and makes friends by just entering a room she's that lovable, you're convinced she knows all the residents of Jackson by name.

The other half wants to tell her everything. Everything that transpired between you and Joel this morning, last night, sixteen years ago and even to the very first day you met twenty years ago - all of it, every single tiny detail.

You decide on meeting both parts of you halfway, telling some of the story, enough to keep her satisfied otherwise she’ll refuse to leave you be.

Besides, who better is there to tell than someone who you hardly know, who cheers for your singing occasionally at the Tipsy Bison, who doesn't pretend to be someone she is not. Jean could be annoying, loud - a constant ball of energy, and, rightly, she is unapologetic about it… it's another reason why everybody loves the twenty odd year old.

She knows that she is not perfect, so she wouldn't care if you're not either.

"You know him from - somewhere?" Jean barges into on your thoughts.

You take a long breath, hesitantly nodding after, "I - I knew him before all this."

"By 'before all this' you mean the - outbreak?"

"Mhm - the outbreak—" you admit and if it's even possible, she shuffles even closer before urging you to continue. "He was my neighbor... My dad was on a business trip overseas so I was with him and Tommy—" and Sarah, "when shit hit the fan."

Jean consumes every word that you say, looking only more intrigued after you stop talking. "I don't remember anything from outbreak day. I was only five so all I remember was being dragged in all directions by my mom and dad until we got to a safety zone - I think," she explains unsurely. You see sadness in her brown eyes for the first time, but her curly blonde hair still flows elegantly.

"What happened to your parents - if you don't mind me askin'?"

She shrugs her shoulders, "I lost them - there were so many people - my mom let go of my hand for one second... I never saw either of them again—"

"Jeez - and nobody helped you find them?"

"I guess there were more pressing problems like the world ending - people didn't care about helping a little girl find her mom and dad." With the ruthlessness of the soldiers, the desperation of the civilians and the viciousness of the infected, it isn't difficult to imagine - a mini Jean alone, crying out for her parents and nobody listening... you realize how lucky you’d been, to have had Joel and Tommy get you through the nightmare that was outbreak day. Jean peeks at you through the glowing strands of her hair, "did they - Joel and Tommy let you out of their sight too?"

"Not for one - damn - second—" a short and quiet laugh escapes you, "I was with them for four years and they were protective as hell, especially Joel - back then I thought it was kinda annoying... but I wouldn't have made it without them - him." Joel.

"You're lucky—" she notices the blank look that you give her at those two words, "to have had someone stick with you like that - for better or worse, that’s gotta count for something."

You hum half-heartedly, but in agreement - she's right, it just didn’t feel like it.

Jean lifts her head up, "do you love him - Joel?"

You feel your organs squirm, mostly your heart, at being level to her attentive stare, it's almost like she can see through you - there's no point in hiding anything from her now, you realize and mutter, "I did."

No more - you can’t tell her any more than that.

A small smile forms on her lips at your admission, "and the plot thickens," her voice is laced with anticipation like those exaggerated voiceovers for movie trailers.

"You almost sound excited about it."

Jean shrugs, giggling, "that's because nothing ever happens in Jackson."

You scoff, "plenty happens in Jackson." You'd know because, like you’d been avoiding Tommy, you'd also been avoiding all social occasions recently, all the Christmas festivities... The mere thought of having to join in and watch everyone play happy families was enough for you to not get involved.

"Oh yeah, like what?"

"I dunno - oh - like Tommy and Maria's wedding? I heard the ceremony was nice?"

"Yeah, it was - they didn't have a party after though."

"But you got to be a witness right?"

"Only because you didn't want to be one."

Your lips are pressed together into a line while your nails continue to dig into the skin of your calves but harder. When Jean energetically jumps back onto her feet, nudging your legs with hers as she does so, you un-claw yourself and examine the curved indentations that your nails had left on your skin. "Hey - hold up - where're you goin'?" You ask, turning your upper half after letting your bent legs fall to the side, watching worriedly as Jean skips towards the barn's exit.

Jean looks at you over her shoulder, holding onto the half-door, "I'm going to go find Maria and Hannah and tell them that we won our bet."

"What bet?" You aim a deadpan expression at her.

"You and Rick," she giggles out.

"A bet on me and Rick? Seriously?"

"Dead serious—" she states with a grin from ear to ear before she swings the half-door open, "and don't you even think about trying to get out of telling me all the gory deets about the date tonight - I put a fridge-worth of trades on that bet so it's the very least I deserve." Jean leaves the barn with a devilish cackle.

You're alone with Pearl and Shimmer at last.

THEN

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑

"Do I hear wedding bells?" Sarah giggles, pouting her lips and making kissy noises. She pauses while she scoops some of her dinner and stuffs it into her mouth, then resumes once she has swallowed all of the food down.

Like most evenings since Joel and Sarah had invited you over for dinner and a movie a month ago, you're sat once again on one of the cushioned wooden dining chairs that match the circular table carved from hickory in front of you.

The dinner dynamic was the same in the Miller household:

Sarah and you would set the table.

Joel would either bring back dinner from one of the local restaurants or ingredients to cook after work - sometimes he'd forget and order a takeaway over the telephone instead.

You'd help Joel cook if it was the latter.

Joel would say about three or four words during dinner... he wasn't so mean to you anymore at least, only because he didn’t want to upset Sarah again.

Sarah would talk both your ears off, making up for her dad's muted state.

After dinner Sarah would pick a movie to watch.

The three of you would watch it.

You'd go home.

Repeat.

A few times a week.

It's a routine that you easily accustomed to - a place at the table where you feel like you belong, more or less.

Joel is sat in his usual, rightful place in between you and Sarah - the head of the table.

Sarah is directly opposite you with a hand cupped around her ear and a concentrated but mischievous look on her face, which lights up suddenly after, "I hear 'em!"

"Sarah—" a nervous giggle escapes you as heat flushes your cheeks.

"I can hear 'em!"

"He called—"

"I can't - hear you - the wedding bells - are so loud!" She interrupts you again, laughing between words.

"Actually he um - he called to make sure we'd broken up," your voice is quiet but it slices clean through Sarah's laughter.

The room is dead still... except for the sound of Joel's knife and fork scraping against his plate. His neck is bowed and his face is practically in his dinner that you helped make to drown out the sound of a conversation he didn't know how to contribute to - either that or he is just so exhausted that he only has the energy to eat and not talk.

Sarah's jaw drops, "w-what? Why?"

"He wants to date some girl he met at school."

Joel's fork scrapes harshly against his plate. Metal dragging along porcelain. The sound is like chalk to a chalkboard, a squeak that creeps under your skin and alerts you. Your eyes flicker to his hand that is tightly grasping the silverware, then to his eyes, which are now on you and not his dinner, his neck had sprung his head up at your news.

"Oh—" Sarah slowly lowers her hand from her ear and fiddles with the corner of the placemat underneath her plate, "that sucks - I'm sorry."

"It's okay—" you shrug your shoulders, ignoring the dull pain in your chest and sheepishly dragging your eyes from Joel's intense ones - you notice that they stay on you while you address Sarah with a reassuring smile. Without words, you let her know that there is no need for her to feel guilty in any way for joking around. "It was never gonna work out," you add, looking down at the remaining food sat on your plate.

Sarah frowns, awkwardly grabbing hold of her plate and taking it into the kitchen just metres away from where you and Joel are sitting. "I'll go pick a movie out," she announces, attempting to lighten the mood as always, sprinting in the direction of the living room.

Joel sets his knife and fork down onto his empty plate all while keeping his stare on you, then he clears his throat to grab your attention - he has it, immediately, "this boy - he have a name?"

You blink, astounded that six words have left his mouth, let alone the fact that he is actually talking to you without you having to talk to him first, "mhm—" you nod, then he raises his eyebrows, "Max."

"Max," Joel mutters under his breath and you can hardly hear it. "For what it's worth, Max sounds like a real dipshit—"

Max is a real dipshit.

It was too bad you didn't realize it when you first met him in class three years ago. You'd been paired up for a science project, started it off as strangers who glanced at each other from time to time from your desks, being blatantly obvious about your crushes on one another, to a couple. You thought it was forever, you really did... until your dad told you about this new job opportunity in Texas.

That's when it all went downhill. You and Max agreed that a long distance relationship probably wouldn't work on the day that you left with your dad - that wasn't what you had been upset about. When he called today, he'd told you how he'd gotten close to your closest friend at your old school, Chloe, and wanted the 'go for it' from you so he could take the next step with her without feeling bad about it.

As nonchalantly as you could, you told him to 'do whatever you want', then hung up the phone.

"You dodged a bullet there," Joel's voice brings you back to reality. He makes a few grumbly noises as he stands up and the chair screeches against the floorboards, then he reaches an outstretched hand out towards your general area at the table, "gimme your plate."

You blink up at his form leaning slightly over the table, "oh - no, it's okay - I can d—"

"Hand it over," he gestures with his fingers until you place the plate in his hand.

"T-thank you, Mr Miller," you smile up at him shyly, your stomach doing those somersaults that make you feel all giddy around him.

"Joel," he corrects you, stacking his plate on top of yours and taking them to the kitchen, just as he had done all the other times since the first dinner...

'Thank you for dinner, Mr Mill—'

'Joel.'

'Oh - sorry, Mr Joel—'

'Just Joel is good.'

"Joel," you correct yourself, observing Joel, a creature in his natural habitat - you could still watch him like a hawk for ages and you wouldn't get bored - even stuff like washing the dishes, one of the most mundane every day chores.

Your gawking is cut short when a light appears beside the sink on the counter and an agonisingly loud melody rings throughout the room. Joel had set his mobile down over there before dinner and is now cursing under his breath after having jumped out of his own skin. "Fuckin' Tommy," he mumbles, picking up the device, flipping it open, pressing a few buttons with the large, rough pad of his thumb and placing it to his ear, "what is it now, Tommy?"

Tommy, Joel's younger brother and Sarah's uncle - you'd seen him around, you'd not met him yet but he often appeared out of nowhere at Joel and Sarah's home and Joel would always look disgruntled whenever he opened the door to find the younger man who resembled him stood outside... Tommy seemed to irk Joel more than you ever did.

You figured it was just playful sibling rivalry that had escalated into their adulthood, but with every phone call that Joel got from his little brother during dinner or a movie with you and Sarah, he looked more and more deflated. Joel would sink back into the couch, pinch his nose and scrunch his eyes shut as if he were trying to shut out the reality of a situation or trying to wake himself up from a bad dream.

Sarah didn't notice, he tried to hide it from her as best as he could, but you did... you noticed. You knew all about the art of shutting everything and everyone out - everyone but Sarah and Joel.

Tommy's voice on the other end of the line is muffled, but you can hear that it's him - that same Texan drawl so alike to Joel's that you could hardly tell the difference between them, except that Tommy's sounded desperate and Joel's sounded disappointed.

"I ain't a goddamn bank, Tommy - I put you in charge of this one 'cause I thought you could handle it—" Joel grumbles, side-eyeing you and then turning his back on you in attempt to have more privacy… you can still hear every word, "we're treadin' on real thin ice with this business already - if you fuck up one more time we're done, you know that? We're screwed." Joel slams his spare hand down into the countertop and keeps it there. He leans all of his upper body onto his arm and audibly sighs, "yeah - yeah, I'll take care of it I just - this'll be the eighth late payment we've had this month alone 'nd - could be too late for us to fix it - hm - I'll come and get 'em right now," Joel lowers the mobile from his ear and tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans. He stays still for ten seconds, hunched and resting his forehead against the small windows in the cupboard doors fixed to the wall.

As soon as he pushes his weight back onto his feet and turns to face you again, you quickly shuffle out of your chair and pretend to be occupied with collecting the placemats.

Joel grabs his door and car keys from a bowl placed at the end of the counter, stuffing them into his back-pocket. "I gotta go get somethin' from Tommy. Would you mind watchin' over Sarah f'me?" He sheepishly glances at you like he's ashamed to ask.

"Sure," you answer with a smile.

He nods, exhaling at the same time. "Tell her I won't be long - please," he adds, speed-walking past you so fast that he's a blur and before you know it, you hear the creak and slam of the front door.

"No problem," you mumble sarcastically, taking the placemats into the kitchen and glancing at the clock on the wall painted cream yellow, an inviting and warm color that served as a background to all of the things that Joel and Sarah had collected over the years during simpler times: concert tickets, posters, postcards, framed photographs of an adorable baby Sarah, a younger Joel and Tommy - a proud Joel watching Sarah take her first steps, your favorite photo of them, art of animals and drawings that Sarah had done... Wholesome memorabilia that made you feel content to know that they were happy even with the trials and obstacles that had been sent their way, you'd seen first hand how Joel and Sarah found a purpose in each other over the last four weeks... You know it is none of your business, but this whole vague Tommy situation - it worries you on Sarah's behalf, that your best friend's dad would shut her out like your own father does to you.

You shake your head, focusing your weary vision on the clock the second time.

It's 7:43pm.

꥟ 𓃗 ꥟

"Hey, trouble," you hear your two new favorite words from Joel, who no longer greets you with an 'it's you'. Your eyelids flutter open, seeing his silhouette while he gently nudges your shoulder, "I'm takin' Sarah to bed so you're gonna need to - move a little."

"Huh?" You whisper sleepily, opening your eyes to see that you're still on Joel and Sarah's couch, you feel it under you, the foamiest couch to exist, and Sarah, who is still asleep, is latched onto you like a baby koala from behind with an arm slung over your front and a leg over yours. "Oh," you realize that you must've both fallen asleep during the movie.

You manoeuvre yourself, cautiously untangling your limbs from Sarah's grasp so that Joel can step forward. He scoops her up into his arms while being careful not to wake her, tenderly cuddling her motionless body into his chest and kissing her forehead. Once she is settled into his hold Joel lifts his lips from her head and sends a nod your way, "I'll be right back."

You nod back lazily, rub your eyes with balled fists and sit yourself up.

The television's static whirring can be heard as well as the old dvd player underneath it.

The movie had finished.

You and Sarah had missed a good chunk of it.

It wasn't the best anyway, just some cheesy horror with vampires that you don't remember the name of.

10:13pm, you read the time from the corner of the television's neon blue screen.

Joel had been gone for over two hours.

Had he really been at Tommy's all that time?

Things must be bad-bad - like the highest possible level of bad - like there's going to be an alien invasion kind of bad.

The creaking of the stairs make his presence known to you, causing you to stop staring, hypnotised by the dark abyss of blank blueness that the square frame of the television contains in front of you while your back is pressed into the cushioned back of the couch.

For some odd reason, with each step Joel takes towards the living room, the pulse of your heart gets faster and louder until it feels like it stops entirely when Joel is standing at the edge of the couch.

You can only see half of him, the large piece of furniture covering most of his legs.

Only now have you realized that you've never had a proper conversation with him without Sarah being there - the idea of it intimidates you to no end, probably because on the one occasion that you had caught each other alone, he'd joked about your dead mom and you ran home crying.

"The movie that bad?" He questions with an amused glint of a smile that doesn't reach his sunken eyes.

"I dunno - we talked through most of it I think," you speak quickly and quietly, focusing on fiddling with your fingers rather than on him - an instant cure that calms the fast pace of your heartbeat.

"'Bout what—" He sighs out, stepping around the couch and falling backwards onto it with a grunt, filling the space at the other end of it which leaves only the space in the middle - where Sarah usually sits, cuddled into her dad. "That old flame o' yours?" He chuckles lightly-heartedly, peeking over at you with his eyes half-closed.

"Nope," you blurt with disgust, popping the 'p'.

"'Bout what then?" His head is now leaning back and to the side, facing you.

"Your birthday actually - Sarah said it's in a couple weeks," you glance at him for a millisecond, afraid that your mouth will catch flies if you stare at him any longer than that.

You silently thank the lucky stars when he settles his gaze on the ceiling, then brings both his hands up and over his face, rubbing, "jesus—" he speaks into his palms. You fight the urge to laugh when his hands drop down to his sides and his eyes widen, searching yours frantically, "please tell me she's not got anythin' crazy planned f'me."

You figured Joel wasn't a birthday party kinda guy already, not for his birthday anyway... Sarah told you he'd pull out all the stops just to give her the perfect birthday without fail every year... it's where she gets her selflessness from - from him.

You didn’t believe it until tonight - it became crystal clear to you, how selfless he is, with how quick he left to go and help Tommy with whatever it was.

"I don't think she'd forgive me if I gave anything away," you cross your arms, pressing your fingers into your biceps, internally battling the temptation to just put him out of his misery and tell him that she wanted to get his watch fixed, to eat cake and watch 'Curtis and Viper 2' - the ideal birthday for a guy like Joel Miller, who appreciates the small things and quality time with his little girl.

He hums in agreement, settling his breathing down and looking back up at the ceiling, "you got a point there."

You admire his side profile, the way that his nose perfectly slopes downward and the plumpness of his lips shaped to a frown... you wonder to yourself, how can someone look so drained and so beautiful all at once? "Are you - okay?" The question leaves your lips at the volume of a whisper, so quiet that Joel debates whether he'd even heard it and why you’d even care to ask in the first place…

When he discovers that he had heard you right, he lifts his head, revealing the messiness of his hair at the back of his head from moving it around so much since sitting himself down on the couch with you... he looks so shocked, like the question you'd asked was so out of pocket, so absurd that he had to turn his entire body to face yours, his eyes showing the most tenderness you've ever seen in them, "I got no other choice but to be okay."

You bite your lips together - don't say it - don't say it - it's not your business - you say it anyway, "that phone call, it sounded pretty tense—"

"Don't worry 'bout it."

"I am worried about it—" stop. "About Sarah—" seriously stop. "About you—"

"'Bout me?"

"You're Sarah's dad whether I like it or not so I got no other choice but to be worried," you mimic his words in an exaggerated grumble with an impassive expression on your face.

You'd stunned him into silence. He sinks back into the couch, again, staring up lifelessly.

"You errr—" you blink, mirroring his action, sinking back and staring up at the ceiling in intrigue - what is he finding so fascinating about up there? "Wanna talk about it?"

There's a long pause after that.

Your mind races, telling you that you'd overstepped over and over again when it came to Joel and Sarah - being in their home, eating their food, watching their dvds, nosying in on Joel's phone calls—

Joel exhales a nervous breath, "'S Tommy - he fucked up - he keeps fuckin' things up."

"What things?"

"Everythin'—" he admits after a forced laugh, "right now it's our business - 's on its last legs 'cause of him—" silence, you both just stare upward while he figures out his words. "The people we're workin' for, they got us on a high budget project a few months back 'n' - the thing with contractin' work through an independent business is that it's my money - Tommy's money goin' towards it until the people we work for pay us back in installments... these people, they keep backin' out of makin' payments 'n' Tommy keeps lettin' it happen, believin' whatever bullshit their tellin' him - we just keep losin' money 'nd makin' no profit." He shakes his head and places a hand over his heart, slowly rubbing over the fabric of his gray t-shirt. "A decade's worth of time, work 'nd money I put in to make our business work - 's all goin' down the drain."

"Is there still time to save it?"

"'S too soon to say - I only just picked up the damn paperwork he was supposed to be managin' while I was doin' the buildin' - I just fear this time it's too late to play the hero big brother 'n' save the day."

You close your eyes.

"Fuckin' Tommy," you hear Joel growl through gritted teeth - a sudden slam of his balled fist sounds from the space between you on the couch, causing your eyes to fly open and you entire body to flinch. You stare down at Joel's large, tensed fist denting the leathery cushion, which he immediately notices, rests the side of his face on the back of the couch and tiredly slurs out your name as he unclenches his hand, "sorry—" you relax upon realizing the noise had been made by Joel and not some meteor crashing through the roof, "I appreciate you listenin'."

"It's okay," you hum.

"Really I do—" he draws out a sigh, "I know I ain't been the nicest to you—" you raise your brows and side-eye him, to which he chuckles, his dimples peeking through his dark facial hair, "'s not much of an excuse but 'm just exhausted all of the goddamn time - 'nd I don't deal too well with it, Sarah always says I'm too cranky."

"No kidding," you giggle, resting your hands on your stomach now and pretending you're stargazing with Joel, except you're both just spotting all the patches of paintwork that needed re-touching above you both. "Does Sarah know - about the business?"

"No - she's been through enough as it is, I wouldn't want to put somethin' like this on her when she's been so happy - since you been comin’ over," Joel reluctantly admits, and a smile threatens to upturn his lips, showing how relieved he really was to see that Sarah had finally found a friend in this quiet neighborhood.

After his divorce he wanted to make sure that Sarah would grow up to have a normal childhood, and so he put in the effort of two parents combined to make that happen and gave up so much for Sarah to have a better chance at achieving her dreams... but nothing could've prepared him for the loneliness that Sarah felt as she got older. Joel started to second guess every decision he'd made when it came to building a life for themselves, starting a business that required so much of his time, staying in a home that held memories of a strained marriage to a woman who left him and baby Sarah out of nowhere in the middle of nowhere being just two of many decisions.

Then you moved across the street and Sarah wouldn't shut up about it.

Sarah had been so shy about approaching you for the first time, often resorting to giving you a wave or smile from the other side of the street, only for it to lead to nothing and to Sarah overthinking the simplicity of approaching you and saying 'hi' - she just didn't want to mess up a chance at gaining, in her eyes, the perfect friend - you.

You had been her target all along.

Joel gave her as much advice as he could, and like any loving dad would, he told her 'don't be no one but yourself'... which is exactly how she got you.

Her kindness towards Connie, Danny and Nana - then it was her silly, but witty humor that sealed the deal.

"I'm real glad she's got you—" you take another sneaky glance at him, he keeps looking up blankly and mumbling almost to himself, "you got each other."

"Yeah, me too—" you sigh your words out, your eyelids fluttering up until they close as you scrunch your nose, suddenly feeling so at fault, cringing at your own behavior towards him when he opened the door to you the first time - it's funny how your own words have a way of coming back to bite you on the ass— "and I'm real sorry I called you an asshole—"

"I deserved it."

He did.

A little bit.

"Maybe - but I was having a shitty day and I took it out on you too."

"You - wanna talk about it?"

You blow out a puff of air through your pouted lips, "not really."

Joel stays silent, allowing you time to change your mind, to rant at him, to reiterate how much of an asshole he'd been, to call him all the curse words under the sun - he'd accept it if you did, if you needed an outlet.

"It was my mom's birthday," you state timidly, figuring that it would only be right to be as honest as he had been with you tonight. "It would've been her birthday," you add in a whisper, closing your eyes... you'd been doing that a lot recently, speaking about your mom as if she was still here.

Still with you.

Still alive.

Talking about her with Sarah, and now with Joel - she is, it keeps her alive in your memory and you're grateful to them for it because you couldn't with your dad, you couldn't heal... with him you couldn't even say her name let alone celebrate her memory.

Joel's entire face scrunches up like yours had done when he recalls his words to you that day, how they made you cry...

'You kiss your momma with that mouth?'

"Shit—"

"You didn't know—"

"Feel free to call me an asshole again."

"Don’t tempt me ‘cause I will.”

“Go on then.”

“No.”

“C’mon I’m givin’ you a free pass.”

“I’ll pass - and don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re an asshole - I’m just sorry I said it to your face."

“Ouch.”

The two of you end your back and forth by laughing - you try to enjoy the moment without getting too distracted by the fact that you'd made Joel Miller laugh - actually laugh, a real genuine laugh. It is deep, coarse and perfect, just as you imagined it to be, and your stomach is doing those backflips again - a sickly-sweet rush that reminds you of never ending loop the loops on a rollercoaster during a summer's day... it's getting harder and harder for you to deny that you have a stupid little crush on him.

Your laughing fades in harmony with his.

"You - do anythin' to celebrate your momma's birthday?" He asks in a cautiously shy tone - a rarity for him.

"Not much." You vividly remember sobbing for a couple hours after what happened at his doorstep but he doesn't need to know that, then your breath hitches, "I played on her old guitar - it's about the only thing I've got left of her's."

"She used to play to you?"

"Mhm - all the time." It was true, she did, she even taught you how to play and encouraged you, giving you the confidence to sing with her. When she died you didn't want to let any of that go, even if it was hard to even touch the instrument sometimes, especially when memories of her holding it in her lap clouded your brain. "When I play she's with me - I swear she's listening—” you stop, surprised that you’re even admitting all of this to him, but the words are just flying out of your mouth without any thought at this point.

Joel hums, looking like he is in deep thought. His lips pop open, "would you bring it over here sometime - her guitar?" You give him a confused look. "I'd let you borrow mine but some'o the strings snapped 'n' I ain't had time to fix 'em."

You imagine Joel picking up his guitar after work, another day of having to right his little brother's wrongs, and plucking some strings, getting more frustrated by the minute because his fingers cannot cooperate with them, strumming way too forcefully and then... snap.

"Why?"

"Sarah's gotten to the age where she's apparently too cool to be doin' duets with her old dad so - I was thinkin’ maybe you could take over f’me?" He asks while peeking one of his shutting eyes open at you.

"Me?"

"Yeah you - I figure you're cool enough."

You smile toothily, "okay - sure."

"You take song requests?"

"I only know twoo—" you yawn, stretching your legs and arms out from the couch - you'd been feeling the need to do that the last few minutes and couldn't hold it off any longer. Heat rises to your cheeks before continuing shyly as if you hadn't created such a noise, as if it wasn't a natural, human thing to do when you're sleepy, "off by heart."

You seem to pass the yawn onto Joel... as you suspected, like everything else that he does, he makes it look so captivating. He looks at you through half-lidded glossy eyes after, "ones your momma taught you?"

“Mhm,” your manage to mumble out while you start to flag, your eyelids close without you controlling them.

“Hey - trouble—” he lazily reaches an arm towards you, resting it on the back of the couch because he’s so tired by now that he doesn’t have the strength to hold it up, and pokes your sweater clad shoulder with his fingertips to wake you again… it works instantly again too as his fleeting touch has the effect of an electric shock on you, “I think it’s ’bout time you head on home now - I got an early start tomorrow ‘nd ‘m sure your dad’ll be wonderin’ where you are.”

Ha - yeah right.

He probably hasn’t even realized how long you’ve been gone.

You nod anyway, avoiding his eyes as you skittishly stand yourself up, tread your way to the front door and slip on your already messily tied shoes. Joel had been following closely behind, his steps much slower than yours and once you’re done taking your jacket off the coat rack and slipping your arms into it, he opens up the front door and stands aside for you to walk past him.

He gently calls your name when you’ve got your back to him, skipping down the steps of his porch - you immediately freeze, “thank you - for the talk.”

When you look over your shoulder he’s scratching the back of his neck, still holding onto the edge of the door with his other hand. You smile and the stars beam down on you from where you’re standing, now exposed to the night sky, but the twinkle in your eyes is all because of Joel, “goodnight, Joel.”

“G’night.”

You don’t need to look over your shoulder again on your short journey back to the house you call home, but doesn’t feel like it, to know that he’s still stood at the door looking out for you until the very last second that you’re outside, until you’ve closed your front door.

Often coming back to a house that’s completely still, you’re startled to hear shuffling coming from the living room, your mind instantly resorts to the possibility of the noises being burglars… but there’s no mess, no broken glass and everything is in it’s rightful place.

The thuds of your increasing heartbeat get quieter as you drag your zombified limbs towards the noise.

It sounds like items being stashed into something and then a zip being done up.

You peek past the doorway into the room and an audible sigh of relief slips past your lips when you see your dad… he’s hunched over a packed suitcase that is laid on the couch, closing it.

“Hi,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes and walking into the room without looking where you’re going.

Your dad jumps back, almost knocking the back of his legs against the coffee table, upon hearing your voice, “darlin’ I - I thought you were out?”

‘Why do you care where I am? You don’t usually’ You want to say, but stop yourself before you do. “I was - I was at Sarah��s,” you answer, only for him to respond with a quiet ‘oh’ before slyly looking down. You furrow your brows, following his eye-line back down to the suitcase, “what’re you doin’?”

“Nothing much.”

“Oh really - ‘cause it looks like you’re packing to go somewhere,” you extend an arm out towards the suitcase with an open palm.

He bites his lips together and shakes his head, shiftily moving his figure so that it covers as much of the most blatant piece of evidence to prove a point that you’ve ever seen. He looks confused, like he doesn’t even know why he’s hiding it because he knows you’ve already seen the darn case.

Is he taking you on holiday?

Is he making you move again?

“Please tell me we’re not moving again?”

“No - no, we’re not moving,” he answers as if it’s preposterous that you’d even thought it to be a reason.

“Then what is it, dad?”

His eyes move erratically, looking everywhere but you - he is about to burst, you can tell. “I’ve been chosen for a business trip to meet a few clients—” he doesn’t take any breaths between talking, then pauses to glance at a dumbfounded, but relieved you, “it’s overseas.”

“For how long?”

“A month.”

“A freaking month?!”

“I was going to tell you in the morning—”

“No you weren’t - you never tell me anything - I don’t even know where you work or what you do ‘cause you’ve barely said a word to me since we moved here—” you blurt between loud, whiny breaths and flailing your arms, “since m-mom died.”

His eyes are teary, full of pent up emotion that you didn’t think him capable of feeling anymore because he hadn’t let you see it… before now he was dead behind those eyes, no anger, sadness, happiness, fear, worry, concern - nothing.

You finally feel like you’re getting through to him.

Maybe all it took was mentioning her - your mom.

He sniffles and blinks away the tears in his eyes at the same time the glimmer of hope in yours fades away. “I’m going to leave you some money - enough to last you a month—”

“I don’t want your money I want to talk—” ‘I want you to look at me, I want you to spend time with me, I want to watch movies with you and I want you to love me again!’

“There’s no time,” he tells you with the tiniest hint of a croak in his voice, hastily turning his back on you, “it’s an early flight so I’ll be gone by morning.” He picks up the suitcase by it’s handle and sets a bee-line straight for the front door to place it there, ready for his departure.

You watch him vanish before your eyes as he departs not only for this business trip, but from your life too.

You never see him again.

NOW

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

‘I don’t talk about him much, but I think about him.’

‘I understand.’

‘You do?’

‘I lost a son too.’

‘You did?’

‘Yeah… he got bit while huntin’ for rabbits around eleven years ago - happened not long before I found Silverton.’

‘I’m so sorry, Rick.’

‘His name began with a C - like your son’s did. I dunno if that’s meant to mean somethin’ - I’m just glad you decided to show up tonight.’

‘I am too… What was it - your boy’s name?’

‘Carl - he was a good kid.’

Your first date with Rick… it went as well as you’d hoped a first date could go.

As did the second.

And the third.

You’re stood on your dimly lit porch with Rick’s jacket hung over your shoulders, the brown one with fur on the collars that he always wears to work. He is beside you and had walked you home at the end of your fourth date like the charming gentleman that he is - he had done the same on all three other dates which had ended with you giving him a kiss on the cheek because you didn’t know how to escalate any further without making a fool of yourself.

You’d been terrified of inviting him inside and upstairs to your bed - to the bed that you had blood-curdling nightmares in every night.

What if you woke up with him in a chokehold?

What if you didn’t wake up in time?

What if you accidentally killed him?

What if Joel came back and started knocking on your door again like he did last week?

What if the unbelievably stubborn image of Joel out there risking his life would never leave your head?

What if he never comes back for you?

What if he’s dead?

Your grip on the white fence that runs along your porch gets tighter by the second as all of these ‘what ifs’ circle around your mind at this moment in time - a moment you wanted to be picture perfect after an evening filled with awkward small talk, drinks, glossing over your past, avoiding the feelings you once had for Joel and getting to know Rick for the fourth time at the Tipsy Bison.

It frustrates you to no end that even when Joel is not here, an image of him still looms over you, clings onto you, lingers beside you no matter how hard you tried to shut it out, no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself with another man who you like more the more you spend time with him - a nice, good, patient man who just seems to get you… plus he cleans up real nice.

What if Joel could make things right between you again?

Pfft - you shake your head in denial - that’s at least one ‘what if’ you don’t have to worry about.

Rick leans his head forward so that he can see your face which is turned to face the ranch, opposite your home and slightly to the right. You found it comforting to know that the horses you’d gotten to know and love are not just your friends, but also your neighbors - if you listen closely enough their muffled neighs can be heard when you eat, wash up, watch tv, read, lay in bed and when you sing… they’re always there - you can hear them now.

“You seem miles away.”

When his face suddenly comes into your line of vision and his voice interrupts your thoughts you blink, startled. You half turn to face him, letting one of your hands slip away from the fencing and slide down the cleanest clothes you could find in your closet, “no i’m right here with you,” you tell him with the sweetest smile you can give, shaking your head, which comes across a little too desperate for him to believe you.

“You nervous about your big day tomorrow?” He pushes, unconvinced.

You furrow your brows at him, “big - day?”

“Yeah, the open mic—” he chuckles after reminding you, “you were tellin’ me all about it the other night - remember?”

“Oh - yeah, it’s about - that.”

At least you’d practiced a few times, you even sang in the shower before heading to the stable every morning since Joel had left with Ellie and Callus for Colorado… which also meant that he wouldn’t be there to see you singing - you’re pretty sure you’d faint in front of the microphone and fall off the mini stage Seth would set up, now that would be a whole lot worse than fainting on a few hay stacks… you might have to take the walk of shame and leave Jackson for good if that happens.

It won’t - Joel told you ‘two weeks’ - they’re probably still miles off from returning to Jackson, your brain repeats to stop you from having a mini heart attack, freaking out and pushing Rick out of the way of your front door to hide away in your house for what would probably be the thousandth time by now.

No, you are not doing that again.

You are going to start living your life.

You are going to sing at the Tipsy Bison tomorrow.

You are going to keep dating Rick.

You are going to fuck Rick.

Whether Joel comes back to Jackson or not.

It doesn’t matter.

Nothing to do with you concerns Joel anymore.

Your eyes glide up Rick’s solid frame, the spotless blue shirt that perfectly matches his irises, the fair chest hair that peeks from underneath the few undone buttons at the collar and the way the cotton strains around his biceps - you knew how soft the fabric of it was from brushing arms with him at the busy bar… it was typical for a Friday night at the Tipsy Bison and boy were you not complaining if it meant you had the excuse to be closer to Rick.

“What’s going on in that head o’ yours?” He presses teasingly with an amused smirk, holding onto the porch fence with both hands.

“Nothin’!” your eyes widen when you realize how long you’d been staring at his chest without blinking. You blink a few times before focusing on his pupils, now all too conscious of getting distracted by the effort he’d put into his appearance tonight: his neatly styled hair, his plump and pink lips, his trimmed stubble, his skin that had not a speck of mud on it. “‘m just a little nervous I guess,” you mutter, timidly giggling after admitting the half-truth about your reasoning for being so spaced out.

Rick removes one hand from the fence and carefully reaches for your arm, sliding it down slowly along your skin until he stops at your forearm. Your bodies are facing each other now and his eyes search yours, “you’ll be just fine - I know it,” he emphasizes his words with a squeeze of your skin and his touch doesn’t burn like Joel’s does.

And Rick always knows exactly what to say to calm you down rather than riling you up.

“I was thinkin’—” you nibble on your bottom lip before continuing, “you could come tomorrow night - be my date?”

His smirk morphs into a full out grin, “‘course I’ll be your date - I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Really?” You ask as if it would be the first time he’d been your date, not the fifth.

His hand slides down further to hold onto your hand, squeezing again, “really.”

You take a tentative step towards him, almost closing the gap between you… but not quite. His cologne invades your nostrils, that same one you’d smelt each time you kissed his cheek over the last week - a bold blend of leather and tobacco.

Then you pucker up your lips and lean forward, inches away from his skin, about to kiss his cheek for the fourth time.

At the very last second, Rick brings the hand that was holding onto the fence up to the side of your face, it’s freezing on your frost-bitten cheek, but again, it doesn’t burn - it does make you open your eyes though, and it stops you from proceeding to press your lips against his skin.

Your breath hitches when you see that Rick is right there, you’re face to face and so so close.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. Hushed. His eyes gaze intensely into yours and his breath fans your closed mouth.

You take a long breath through your lips which creates a short whistling sound at the end of it - you slightly nod at the same time you manage to voice your answer: “yeah.”

Rick’s calloused thumb swipes gently over the tail of your eyebrow, nodding slightly with you as his eyes slowly blink down to your lips before closing them fully. He closes the gap between your faces, catching your lips in a gentle but firm kiss that lasts only for a second, it’s so short that you hardly register that it even happened and he’s already pulling his neck back…

“Wait—” you pull your hand out of his to grip onto his solid shoulder, digging your fingertips into the blade of it and stopping him from moving away any further, “it doesn’t have to end here - I mean—” you anxiously clear your throat, it’s so obvious that you hadn’t done this in a long damn time - not since Boston, so all of it feels so foreign and overwhelming to you. You can’t remember how to even show how much you want the man in front of you - how much you want to kiss him, hold him… but you’re willing to try, and to ignore the way that your heart pounds just at his close proximity, “I - don’t want it to - if you don—”

He captures your lips with his again, cutting your words off while he slides his hand that’s on the side of your face to your hair, tangling his fingers in it. His other hand wraps around you and nudges you closer, completely closing the gap between your bodies, earning a gasp from you into his mouth. You move your hand to his cheek for a moment before grabbing onto his shoulder again - you decide to keep it there for stability purposes, otherwise you’re sure that you’ll stumble, fall over your fence and into the snow together.

You notice the faint taste of strong whisky on his lips and tongue, and your blood runs especially hot at your cheeks when you think about what you taste like to him… you seem to be doing okay because he pulls you impossibly closer by sliding his arm over his jacket on you until it is resting behind your neck. His stubble tickles around your mouth even more and it’s that sensation which subconsciously sends your mind wandering to the way that Joel’s patchy beard felt against your lips… leading you to unwillingly reminisce on everything that you felt when you kissed him instead: the sparks that ignited within you when Joel’s pillowy lips pressed to yours, the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach when Joel slipped his tongue into your mouth, the warmth that consumed you when Joel pulled your body into his…

You’re so torn between wanting to kiss Rick even more and wanting to stop entirely.

Your body chooses for you when you wrap the arm that had been pressed to his chest around his waist, pulling him into you just as he had done to you. You find yourself desperately seeking all of those same toe-curling sensations you felt with Joel in Rick’s kiss.

They never come.

You keep searching while Rick is unsuspecting and lost in your kiss.

Still, they never come.

You blame it on the shouting coming from the distance which cuts yours and Rick’s make-out session short - your lips break apart to whip your heads in the direction of the commotion… The main gates of Jackson are being swiftly opened and closed by guards on their night-shift. You’re still holding onto each other, but there is now a gap between your bodies that allows the chilly air that comes with evenings at winter to creep through and make you shiver uncontrollably.

You see a traumatized horse being coaxed to simmer down by two guards while the third grabs for it’s lead, but it’s no use, it frantically kicks and screams - you’d never seen a horse so distressed… a horse that looks an awful lot like— “is that—”

“Callus,” Rick confirms with squinted eyes and a nod.

A riderless Callus… and no sign of Joel or Ellie.

⇝ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 (𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞) 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 <𝟑

𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 / 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲? 😭

𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟑 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 😅😅😅😅😅 - 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐥.

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞’ 𝐨𝐫 ‘𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒

@eaterof-concrete @exzidss @pedrosgrogu @whirlwindrider29 @ccmoonshine @wheatmaze @hayleynott @peelieblue @senoratess @sunnypeachdream @puddles221b @kirsteng42 @piercethevic03 @bardot49 @maybe-a-bi-witch @xwackk @mellymbee @aurelialou @hjzghi-blog @dendulinka6 @hhjhgdaiqoqoan @holmesblogger @areyoutheretoru @dailyobsession @youusunshineyoutemptress @deansgirlsworld @orcasoul @merz-8 @levislegislation @aliastrinity @buckys-endoftheline @nandan11 @keenducklandbear @peedrow @pedrosonlygirl @jadedlavendergemini @mystickittytaco @windsweptarmadillo @darknight3904 @missladym1981 @wencontre

𝐽𝑜𝑒𝑙 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟

𓃗

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defututus · 4 hours ago

Text

Baggage Claim Reunion

modern!rockstar!eddie Munson x reader

masterlist

summary: Corroded Coffin is finally home after their first supporting tour in the UK and you get to pick them up.

word count: 5.3k

content warning: established relationship, fluff, more fluff, some language, references to sex and a dom/sub relationship that I'll explore at some point, overall you and Eddie are just happy to be reunited.

author's note: this came to me as I was waiting for @corroded-hellfire to pick me up from the airport when I visited her. I stewed on the idea for a little bit before deciding to write it and I'm really happy with how it turned out!

Also, I'm starting a general taglist if anyone is interested 👉👈

Indianapolis International Airport was buzzing with people in the evening. Most of the individuals walking by look like they’d rather be anywhere else right now as they slump over in the chairs waiting for their luggage or lean against the handles of their carry-on bag. It was amazing to see how some people dressed there. You saw people dressed from head to toe in new Disney merch, in their pajamas, suits, the whole nine yards. Indiana was finally blessed with a few warm days around this time of year so you drove to the airport in a sweatshirt and some pajama pants. The occasion was exciting but did not warrant dressing up since you’d be going to bed right after. You even tried to nap earlier in the day but the anticipation for today’s events kept you wide awake. Hell, you’re probably the only one at the arrivals gate full of energy as you anxiously bounce on your slippered feet waiting for the passengers of an 11-hour flight from Helsinki to return home.

Corroded Coffin had finally made it and was invited to open up for another band on the European leg of their tour. Everyone was so ecstatic when they got the call from the band's agent and began preparing. Eddie quickly got the necessary time off from work approved (one of the perks of Wayne’s new promotion to shop manager), passports were renewed, visas expedited, and before you all could even process what was happening you waved goodbye as Corroded Coffin flew off to tour for the next month. It was hard for you to adjust to your apartment being so quiet. Eddie was always coming over to stay the night to the point that you’d joke he should just move in. Maybe you’d suggest that after dropping everyone off when they arrived home. The band would have weekly hang outs every Saturday night at your place and would sometimes culminate in a sleepover with you all sprawled out across the living room. Your head more often than not would end up on Eddie’s shoulder and his arm draped across your shoulder. It was weird to go so long without him humming a tune or tapping his fingers against something. It almost didn’t feel like home without him.

Eddie would call you after every show and you’d spend as much time as possible catching up on each other's day before he had to go help with loading up the van and promise to call again the next day. There’s the usual back and forth about who should hang up first until one person gives in, or in some cases one of the band members takes the phone and hangs up for you guys. They don’t do it to be mean, but they all know that if they don’t do it then Eddie will make them late for load out almost every night.

You miss Eddie’s warmth, his contagious laughter, the way he always had a corny joke or compliment when you were in a bad mood. Hell, you even missed when he was trying to be annoying. You missed every part of him and as proud as you were to see Corroded Coffin get the attention they deserved, you also wanted your best friend and boyfriend back. The distance made you realize how hard it was to function without him. Sure, he had done other tours before, but the time difference left you two with little time to chat and it made you feel lonely. Your other half was missing.

You get to the baggage claim earlier than expected, having looked up the map of the airport the night before to avoid getting lost. The universe must have sensed your desperation because there was barely any traffic during rush hour. Once you strode through the glass doors, you find the carousel everyone’s luggage would be dropped off and park yourself on a bench facing the gate. According to the boards plastered around the airport, Corroded Coffin’s grueling nonstop flight had landed and their luggage was being delivered to the baggage area, meaning your boys would be arriving soon. There’s a small food court near the baggage claim and still had plenty of time left before the guys come out, so you take the opportunity to get some food for yourself. It’s not much, settling for a quesadilla and bag of tortilla chips with queso. You’ll eat that and let the boys fight over the bag when you drive them all home.

Your phone nearly died earlier and you needed it to get home from the airport so you resort to the age-old activity of people watching to make time pass by easily. You watch exhausted families carrying their sleeping children, pilots and flight attendants heading to and from work, and count at least four adorable dogs that make you want to abandon your post waiting for the band so you can say hello to them. There was even a man who sat near you with what was possibly the funniest, most wrinkly English Bulldog you had ever seen. His name was Hank and you were so excited to tell Eddie about him when you two were finally reunited

You were so excited to see everyone – mainly Eddie – that your heart began to pound every time you saw a group of people approach the baggage claim, but found yourself immensely disappointed every time when you learned it was not Corroded Coffin. There was a surprising amount of tall white men with long brown hair. Were you being tortured? It sure felt like it.

Twenty torturous minutes later and you finally see a familiar group of people approaching the baggage area. Leading the pack is Jeff, who is chugging the last of his water and shoving it in his backpack. Grant and Gareth are passionately arguing about something with Gareth enthusiastically jumping as if the added height would help prove his point. Behind those two is a drained looking Eddie with a can of Monster in his hand and his guitar slung over his back. Eddie insisted he take the guitar as a carry-on because he didn’t trust anyone to handle it with care. The rest of the band’s equipment was being shipped back to the States and would arrive in a few weeks.

He had changed his hair a bit before leaving for tour by getting an undercut and you never realized how much a change in hairstyle could affect his confidence levels. His self-esteem got a big boost once Corroded Coffin began to take off, but this new haircut really helped him.. The longer portion of his hair was tied back into a loose bun to show off the shaved back. You joked that he did it solely to show more of his neck to you since you had a habit of biting it. He had headphones on and wasn’t really paying attention to the argument going on in front of him, looking as exhausted as everyone else in the building, but with little more curiosity about this part of the building and the amenities that surrounded them. He wore a faded Corroded Coffin hoodie (he insisted on repping the band whenever possible) with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his tattoo sleeves and a pair of gray sweatpants, your personal favorite. Eddie was definitely dressing for comfort in this case, although you’d make the case that he looks good no matter what. He looked tired, the long flight most likely taking whatever energy he had left before the show, but somehow he looked as perfect as ever.

Grant is the one to spot you first and waves in your direction. You throw your half-eaten meal down into the large to-go bag it came in and drop it on the floor to dart in their direction. Eddie doesn’t see you barreling over to them, instead taken by the large sculpture near the elevators. It’s not until he hears you yell, “Welcome back!” that he realizes his favorite person is finally here to take them all home that he tugs his headphones off his ears. The metalhead pushes through to the front of the group and meets you halfway to pick you up and twirl you around. He had never looked happier, all semblance of exhaustion wiped off his face the second he had you in his arms.

You’re both smiling at each other and start giggling when he spins you around. Your reunion is like something out of a movie. The world slows down around you as your attention lies solely on Eddie, his eyes, his smile, his everything. The rest of his band watches from afar to allow you both to have this moment. Eddie had a smile on their face that they didn’t see often - it was usually after a great show or whenever you two were apart and he finally saw you again. They collectively decided to keep their mouth shut about how much he’d complain about missing you. Always moaning about how he wished you were there with them, how he wished you saw what he did on stage (you have social media, you saw every second of every show), and how he missed talking to you. Eddie called you every day yet he acted like he hadn’t spoken to you in years. It was easy to just let him have his moment with you while they all waited to collect their luggage at the appropriate carousel as it began dropping out of the chute.

Eddie’s spinning slows down until he’s just standing there with you in his arms.. He loosens his grip enough to place you down on the floor but immediately pulls you in for a tight hug. If there was one thing about Eddie that you liked to share with people, it was the fact that he gave the most amazing hugs. He would hold you so tightly you felt that he might actually break something if he were any stronger. Years of working odd jobs and later at the mechanic led to him building enough muscle so he finally filled out his shirts and could lift anything with ease. Hauling gear was easy for him, and he particularly took joy in throwing you around like a ragdoll, whether during sex or just to wrestle around and get you to laugh. Right now, it felt like he was trying to squeeze the air out of your lungs. All the love he had for you was fueling the hug’s strength. You reciprocated the embrace as much as you could, still feeling a bit giggly because your boy was finally home. Your face is buried in his neck to take in his scent. It was intoxicating. You had started using some of his shirts as pillow cases to tide you over while he was gone. Your bed usually smelled like him since he slept there most nights, but without him visiting the sheets began to lose their comforting smell. Thankfully, he already had a drawer for his stuff so you didn’t even have to ask him to give you anything. You even took one of his shirts the last time you visited his place so you could have something new.

Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead before resting his head on top of yours, almost whispering against your hair, “Oh honey, my sweet girl…,” he presses his nose to your hair to breathe you in and continues with a smile, “I missed you so much.”

His hands move from your waist to cup your cheeks after pulling away from you. There’s a moment where you two don’t say anything, just taking each other in for the first time in a month. Then, he pulls you closer to press a soft kiss to your lips. It’s not the passionate kiss you were craving all month, but you were happy to finally feel his soft lips against yours. You’re leaning into the kiss as the world disappears around you, at least until you hear someone clear their throat and you remember Eddie did not arrive here alone.

“Um, sorry, do we get a hello too?” You pull away from your boyfriend and look over to Jeff who was speaking and laugh at his request. Eddie’s gaze follows yours and he cocks a brow at his bandmate, looking absolutely pissed that his bassist dared to interrupt your moment with him, but also that Jeff wanted to take you away from him. Yes, you were good friends with the rest of the band, and yes he was sure you also missed them, but you were Eddie’s girlfriend. He wanted to hold onto you for as long as humanly possible. If he could, he’d sit in the driver’s seat and use his arms as your seatbelt when you drove home. Despite his protests, you fully let go of Eddie (to which he lets out a sad whine and follows you to the others) and give each member a greeting and a hug, asking how the flight was and making general small talk. Without any warning besides the quiet thud of his footsteps on the tile floor, Eddie moves to stand behind you and wrap his arms loosely around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. One of your hands reaches up to scratch the back ofhis scalp and he lets out a content hum, happy to just stand here all night as long as you never stop touching him.

“So…” you begin, turning your attention to the group as a whole, “how was the trip? Did you guys get to sleep for a little bit?” You feel Eddie shift a little bit behind you, unaware of the look he’s giving his friends who just chuckle.

Grant looks Eddie directly in the eyes and replies, “Oh, definitely. Eddie was especially quiet so it was pretty easy.” You cock an eyebrow at Grant, a little suspicious of the claim since the Eddie you know, the Eddie who sleeps in your bed most days, is a known sleep talker and never shuts the hell up when he’s awake. There was never a quiet moment with him. This was especially the case now, given how Eddie hasn’t spoken since he held you. Usually he’d be going on and on about every thought that went through his head during the plane flight or things that happened between your last phone call and now.

“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t aware that Eddie had a mute button. Where is it? Does he have a new secret freckle that I don’t know about? ” You point a finger in your boyfriend’s face while questioning the others. Eddie, taking the opportunity to get another laugh out of you, leans in and tries to playfully nip at your finger but you just move your hand away when he does so. He’s still silent and you’re becoming more suspicious of him by the second.

Jeff walks over, having gone to the nearest trash can to dispose of his empty bottle. He adjusts the backpack on his shoulder before replying, “Well, someone lost their voice last night at the end of the show.” The other two boys laugh and Gareth pulls his phone out to seemingly provide evidence for Eddie’s actions as Jeff continues on, “He was invited on stage for the last song of the night with the headliner It was fucking sick. The gutturals? Disgusting. ”

Gareth hands his phone over to you with a video from Tiktok pulled up. You kept TikTok open throughout the night to watch everything unfold live, but somehow missed this part of the night. Maybe this was when you were trying to sleep or went on a cleaning spree.

Like Jeff said, it was the last song of the night and they called Eddie on stage. The metalhead is sweaty from his previous performance but looks like he could go on all night if he had the chance. He has a smile on his face that fills your heart with pride, his joy only growing when the audience begins to cheer even more than they were before once he came on stage. Eddie is still in his stage outfit and makeup, some smoky red eyeshadow, wearing a half buttoned up button-down shirt, distressed jeans, and his favorite combat boots. The unbuttoned shirt revealed sections of his tattoos and his two necklaces - one with your first initial on it and the other was his new lucky guitar pick. His original has been hanging around your neck for around two years now. You were sure the comments were flooded with people fawning over his looks, they always are.

The two walk up to center stage as the band plays the first notes. You can almost feel the energy of the room just by watching the video. Everyone in the audience begins cheering. Everyone knows the lyrics and they all scream along with the two men on stage. The first notes of the song begin to play and the two vocalists make it to center stage before they start singing. Eddie has one foot up on the stage risers as he belts out the lyrics.

All in with a losing hand

The sun sets on a wanted man

No spine, born without a backbone

Two-faced, too late for a tombstone

His screams are most akin to a deep growl from the back of his throat. He tried his best over the years to improve his guttural screams without damaging his throat, but maybe last night he got so excited that he forgot to take all the precautionary steps he took to prevent any damage.

Eddie nods at this and speaks up as much as he’s able to and says, “I got carried away and fucked up. I could feel the damage happening maybe halfway through the song but there was no way I was gonna stop.”

Jeff nods, muttering under his breath, “And you’re the one always lecturing us about proper technique…” Eddie huffs and raises a ringed middle finger to his bassist who did the only reasonable thing and gave Eddie one back.

You take a little pity on Eddie because he’s clearly annoyed at himself for doing this and how he hurt himself. You turn to him to peck his lips while soothingly rubbing his shoulders. Your touch is already making him feel better. All he wants to do is go home and snuggle up to you in order to make up for lost time. From behind you, there’s some muffled comments being made by the boys, including a sarcastic ‘I can never get over how whipped he is for her…’ coming from Gareth. Eddie tears his eyes from you to Gareth and hoarsely remarks, “At least I have a girlfriend.” It’s barely audible to them, given the condition of his voice and the overall noise levels of the airport, but they’re able to decipher what he said by lip reading. The reactions are mixed. Grant fakes offense, Jeff scoffs, and Gareth flips him off. Then, the younger man gets an idea.

“You know…”, Gareth says, readjusting the bag hanging off one shoulder with a sly smile on his face, something you notice right away when you turn to look at him, “I’ve actually been acting as his interpreter. I’m pretty good.”

Your boyfriend scoffs and croaks out to Gareth, “No the fuck you’re not.”

Instantly, Gareth replies, “What’s that? You’re indefinitely appointing me as the new frontman? Aww, thanks man! I really appreciate that you trust me with the band!” Eddie shakes his head and is about to walk past you and try to knock some sense into his drummer, mainly because he’s tired and just wants to go home, but you’re still holding onto his shoulder so he stays put. He’s pursing his lips and is clearly ticked off by Gareth, which seems to have been his goal. Most of the time, Eddie could put up with Gareth’s shenanigans, but you swore that every time they went on tour Eddie would come back needing a break from him. He needed a break from everyone, really. That’s what was so great about this job. You’re stuck in a tiny van with them with zero time by yourself and once you get home you can just avoid them until you can bear to look at their faces again. They didn’t schedule a Hellfire session next week for this exact reason. Eddie didn’t want to hear any of their voices or look at them for a while. Hell, he wanted to forget the guys even existed. His plan was to spend time with you, spend time in you, and spend time catching up on his sleep… with you

He’s sick of standing here, he’s sick of the clothes he’s wearing, he’s sick of being awake. Eddie grabs his suitcase from the small pile of luggage that made up their belongings and said to you, “I wanna go home.” He pulls the handle up and takes your hand to begin walking towards the exit. You couldn’t understand what he was saying seconds ago and found the perfect opportunity to poke fun at him.

“Oh yeah, I’d love to watch Titanic when we get home! We can do a fun romance movie marathon!.”

Eddie stops in his tracks and spins to look at you. Did you not hear him correctly? Is his voice that messed up? It’s only when you’ve got the same shit-eating grin on your face that Gareth is wearing that Eddie realizes you’re just messing with him. He gives you the same glare he previously gave the rest of the band and lets go of you before turning to leave the building. You let Eddie take a few steps by himself before shouting out, “You’re going in the wrong direction!”

Eddie groans and turns around again. You and the boys are laughing and all decide it’s finally time to get going. Your boyfriend strode in the other direction to the other exit, one hand on his luggage and the other grabbing your hand again as he passed. You’re laughing even more now and follow him to the elevator leading to the parking garage. Everyone else follows behind and you all make your way upstairs and to your car.

All the bags are packed into the back and the boys into the seats. Eddie immediately claimed the front passenger seat to avoid being sandwiched between the other three, but it gave him the opportunity to hold onto you more. Once everyone was buckled in and ready you began the hour long drive from Indianapolis to Hawkins. There was some chatter at the beginning, but as time went on the chatter morphed into a loud conversation about god knows what. You kept your focus on the road in order to get everyone home as fast as possible. Your patience was beginning to wear thin so you couldn’t imagine how Eddie was feeling. Their loud comments were almost enough to drown out the car radio and the other vehicles whizzing past you on the highway.

The entire time, Eddie kept one hand on your thigh. Neither of you had the energy for sex right now, but you couldn’t deny that his touch wasn’t getting you a little hot and bothered. You were used to satiating each other's urges whenever you had the chance so you had a month's worth of desires and urges to let out with him. When the time came for him to leave for tour, he made you promise not to touch yourself because ‘you can’t play with something that belongs to him’. You could have easily gone against his wishes, it was all for fun, but it just made his homecoming all the more exciting. His hands were warm and the heat went right through your jeans. He would squeeze your leg sometimes when you stopped and sometimes rub the inside of your thigh with his thumb.

You drop everyone off at their respective homes and heave a sigh of relief once it’s just you and Eddie in the car. You love those guys, you really do, but sometimes when they’re all together in the same room (or in this case, car) they all start acting like lunatics. Your only saving grace was the fact that they all wore seatbelts and Eddie, the usual instigator of their chaos, was quiet and drained of all his energy.

As you begin the drive to your apartment, you lower the radio volume until it’s merely background noise. Eddie takes his hand away from your thigh and crosses his arms as he makes himself more comfortable. He even pulls his hoodie up to keep warm

You lived two towns over so the drive would be twenty minutes until you both could finally go to sleep. Out of the corner of your eye you see Eddie moving to recline the passenger seat a little bit and shut his eyes.

“Get some rest, baby. We’ll be home soon.”

There was never a discussion about where he’d be staying the night, you just assumed he would be sleeping here. It was a peaceful, quiet drive. A few minutes after he got comfortable you heard his even, heavy breathing and smiled at how quickly he fell asleep. He tired himself out after that last show. Eventually, you roll into your complex’s parking lot and slow to a stop in your designated area. Once the car is off, you take one of Eddie’s hands and give it a squeeze to wake him up. His eyes flutter open and you give him a warm smile. He blearily rubs his eyes and slowly ambles out of the car. You grab his luggage and he picks up his guitar case to sling over his shoulder. Once he’s out and all his belongings are out of the car, you go over to him and hold your hand out which he happily takes. It’s a short walk from your car but takes a little longer than normal thanks to everything you two are lugging and how sluggish your boyfriend is moving. Thankfully, the temperature wasn’t dipping too low so neither of you were in a hurry. Eventually you get to the front door of your apartment. Neither of you speak on the walk over, but it’s a comfortable silence so neither of you try to fix that.

The door finally opens after you fight the lock for what feels like an eternity. Eddie sighs when he steps inside. He sets his guitar case down on the sofa and you put his luggage down next to the front door. You kick off your slippers as he leans against the couch to bend over and pull his sneakers off. Once those are off, he begins stripping down in the living room without saying a word. Eddie pulls his hoodie over his head and is followed by the Metallica shirt he wore underneath. Then, he pulls off his sweatpants to reveal… nothing else.

“Ed, honey, did you really take an 11-hour flight without underwear?”

Eddie turns to you as he takes his hair down out of the ponytail he was wearing. He runs his fingers through his hair and scratches at his scalp to relieve the tension from having his hair up for that long. Your beautiful boyfriend stands in the middle of your living room, completely drained and fully nude in front of the open living room window. Eddie looks at you and tiredly answers, “I didn’t feel like wearing them” like it’s completely normal. He’s beyond the point of holding a regular conversation. The dim lighting doesn’t help to hide the bags under his eyes. This would be a conversation to be held in the morning.

You sigh and shake your head at him. He’s bending over to pick his clothes up and you get a full view of his ass, and you won’t complain. It’s a great view. So great that you go over and give it a little tap. You don’t have the energy to give it a full-on smack, something else to tackle tomorrow. Eddie turns and has a small smile on his face. He takes the shirt in his hand and throws it at your face. You hate to admit it smells amazing - it’s a little more sweaty than the shirts he usually gives you since he was stuck in a cramped plane for eleven hours, but that was what somehow made it smell better. He picks up his laundry (minus the shirt) and carries it into your room. Your eyes are scanning his body as he walks inside. The only light source in the room is your bedside lamp, so there’s even less light in there. He’s half hard despite the exhaustion over the past 24 hours and you make a mental note to yourself to wake him up with a blowjob, he always loves that. All his dirty clothing is tossed onto the designated laundry chair, now a mix of your dirty clothes and his, before he flops down onto the bed on his stomach. He’s sprawled out like a starfish and groans when he hits the bed, burying his face in your pillows. It gives you the opportunity to ogle him more, the skeleton wings on his back and the bite mark that you gave him that he permanently tattooed onto the side of his neck. It’s the closest thing you guys had to matching couple tattoos - he had a bite from you on his neck, and you had his on your inner thigh. He was perfect.

You take the time to remove your clothing and strip down like Eddie did earlier. He turns his head a bit to watch you. His eyes trace your curves as the clothing falls off and is placed on the growing mountain in the corner. Once you’re properly undressed, he turns his head back to your pillows so he could take in your fragrance again. The mix of your shampoo, soap, and natural scent was better than any drug.

“God, I’m fucking exhausted…”

You tiptoe over to the side of the bed and sit down next to him, moving a lock of curly hair away from his face so you can look at him more. He has a sleepy smile on his face, and it’s obvious that he’s on the verge of falling asleep. You reply, “Mm, I bet. Did you have fun?”

The metalhead nods his head and takes your hand in his to kiss the back of it. Eddie missed a lot of things. He missed the smell of your bedsheets, your warmth when he woke up to your body curled up next to his, the long nights spent in bed just laughing and talking until one of you fell asleep. With his lips pressed against your hand, he mutters, “Yes, but I’m happy to be home…”

He called your apartment home. There was already a mix of his belongings in here besides his clothing so it would make sense that it felt like home to him. The question keeps flying around in your head, but again, it’s a conversation for tomorrow. Your blankets were calling your name, especially with this angel of a man under them. You reach to your bedside table and turn the light off with a soft click, the streetlights outside barely illuminating the room now. Eddie holds the sheets open for you as you tiredly climb inside. The last of your energy leaves your body the moment your head hits the pillow. A pair of strong arms encircle you again and pull you close so your chests are pressed together. You nuzzle him and give him a little kiss before whispering, “Goodnight, Eddie. Get some sleep.”

You two are both out within ten minutes.

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@ainelantv

#I meant to just proofread it before posting but ended up adding an extra thousand words #im scheduling this before going to bed goodnight everyone ily #also in case anyone is like hey those lyrics sound cool...... tombstone by wage war #they're cool check them out #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #scripsi

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