#sleep tips for truck drivers

[artisticdivasworld]

Managing Stress on the Road: A Guide for New Truck Drivers

If you bought it, a trucker hauled it. As we celebrate National Truck Driver Appreciation Week, it’s important to not only acknowledge the hard work and dedication of drivers but also to address the challenges they face on the road—especially the stress that comes with the job. For new drivers, adjusting to long hours, unpredictable schedules, and the isolation that comes with being on the road…

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Too Easy

Request: Anonymous asked: "okay i have a tyler owens request!! him and reader are both tornado wranglers and they’ve always had a somewhat flirty relationship, but at one point they’re out chasing and the motel they stay at that night doesn’t have enough rooms for all of them so Tyler and the reader decide to share and reader has a nightmare? or just some kind of angst or hurt/comfort with a happy ending? love ur work!"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: PTSD, trauma, tornado mention

A/N: I changed it from flirty to an enemies to lovers-type relationship, just because i've been craving to write that type of banter. as always, comments & replies are super appreciated!!! thanks for reading :)

As soon as you saw the familiar red Dodge truck parked outside the motel you groaned. 

“Is this guy everywhere, all the time?” Halle, one of your crew members, mumbled from the driver’s seat. She pulled your SUV into the only empty spot in the parking lot. 

She was referencing Tyler– another local storm chaser and absolute pain in your ass. His Ram truck was like a symbol all around Oklahoma. Everyone in the midwest knew his name– and what he did. You, on the other hand, knew him as a self-absorbed jerk that constantly put his and his team’s lives in danger for a few hundred thousand views on YouTube. He was cocky and obnoxious and arrogant. And you couldn’t stand him. 

Unfortunately for you though, Tyler Owens and his entire team went where the storms went. Which meant that you were stuck dealing with him– especially during tornado season. 

“Let’s just get a room, maybe we missed him,” you mumbled before turning to the backseat. “Anna, could you pass me my bag?” 

“Sure thing,” she replied, grunting as she handed your duffel over. 

“How about two rooms tonight?” you suggested. “I feel like I haven’t actually slept since we were in Austin.”

“God, I’ve been waiting for you to suggest that,” Halle mumbled. The bags around her eyes suggested she was just as eager for a good night’s sleep as you were. 

Together, the three of you dragged yourselves towards the motel lobby, exhausted and desperate for both a shower and a bed. 

“Why don’t you guys wait with all the gear? I’ll go in and book the rooms,” you offered. 

“Two of them,” Halle said with a relieved smile. 

“Two rooms coming up,” you promised. 

They nodded in agreement and settled in on the curb while you wandered inside. The bell above the door rang loudly as you stepped inside. As soon as you did, you realized that, to your absolute dismay, a familiar someone had already beat you to the front desk. You’d recognize those stupid, broad shoulders any day, even if you were sleep deprived.  

“Evenin’ m’lady,” Tyler’s little sidekick said teasingly. He tipped his baseball cap towards you.   

“Hey Boone,” you greeted back curtly.   

“What’d ya think of that beaut earlier, huh? Not too often we get two storm cells like that.”

“Yeah it was somethin’,” you replied absentmindedly. Honestly, you didn’t dislike Boone. He was friendly– maybe a little overzealous for your liking, but overall a nice guy. It was a shame he was always around Tyler– otherwise you might not always be so annoyed with him, too.  

“There she is,” Tyler beamed. He approached you and Boone while he tucked a few room keys in his wallet. “Were you fillin’ Boone in on why you picked the wrong storm to chase today? Because that’s a story I want to hear–” 

Your gaze fell to the floor, chest tightening the same way it did in the field earlier. “The winds changed last minute– I didn’t catch it,” you muttered, although you shouldn’t even have to explain yourself to this hillbilly. 

“Ah, I see. Man, you’re off your game, sweetheart. Usually it’s me missin’ those signs. What do you got cloudin’ up that pretty little mind of yours?” 

Anger began seeping into the corners of your mind. “Why do you even care?” you asked icily. “Thought you’d be happy to have that storm all to yourself.”

“Oh, I was sweetheart,” Tyler winked. “But I don’t mind sharin’ with you.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him towards the front desk. A younger girl with short, red hair offered you a smile. “How can I help you?”

“I need two rooms please,” you requested, it took about all the energy you had left to smile back. 

The girl sucked in a breath of air. “Oh, I’m so sorry– this gentleman here just rented three rooms. All we have left is one.”

“One?” you asked in disbelief, mouth falling open. 

She nodded. “There’s two beds, though, if that helps.”

“Shit,” you grumbled. Your team was exhausted– and you knew that you couldn’t just take back your promise for them to have their own beds. 

“I’m sorry–” the girl repeated, but you shook your head. 

“No, it’s okay. Not your fault,” you said quickly, trying to remember your manners.. 

“Somethin’ wrong over there sweetheart?” Tyler asked teasingly.  

“Yeah, you took all but one of the rooms. Now my team doesn’t have enough.”

“C’mon, I’ve seen you guys cram into one room before.”

“Yeah, but they’re exhausted. We haven’t had our own beds in weeks and I promised them…” your voice trailed off. Why the hell were you even explaining any of this to him? “You know what? Just forget it–” you turned back towards the receptionist. “I’ll take the one room, please.”

After passing your card over and paying, you turned and pushed back past Tyler and Boone. But before you could reach the door, Tyler’s voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“What are you just gonna go back on your promise? That’s really gonna disappoint your team–”

“I’ll sleep in the damn truck,” you snapped, zero patience for any of his sarcasm or feeble attempts at a joke. “Happy?”

“Hey–” he said, voice softening instantly. “I was just kiddin’ around.”

“Really funny,” you said, sarcasm dripping off your tongue, now more than usual, Tyler was getting on your nerves. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and disappoint my team.”

Without waiting for whatever retort Tyler could come up with next, you finally pushed your way through the door without looking back. 

You found Halle and Anna in the same place you left them– still sitting on the curb, slouched over and exhausted-looking.  

“Hey guys, bad news–” you began, guilt already spreading through your stomach. But before you could, the bell to the lobby door rang out, causing you to groan.  

You took a deep, steadying breath to calm your nerves, just in time for Tyler to speak. “Now I have an idea– how about we share? I got three rooms for my team, but that’s six beds… we only need five.”

You spun around so fast, you were surprised you didn’t get whiplash. “Look Tyler, as much as you know I love your antics, can we not do this right now? Please?”

“Who said anythin’ about antics?” he pressed. “I’m bein’ serious here. Your two can have their beds and you can take one of ours.”

“No way,” you spat quickly. “I’m sleeping in the car.”

By now, Halle and Anna had seemingly picked up on the situation. They stood up and crossed their arms disapprovingly in unison. 

“You can’t sleep in the car, that’s ridiculous,” Anna said. 

“Yeah, why don’t you and Anna take the room and I’ll share with Tyler’s crew,” Halle offered. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I promised you guys a good night’s sleep tonight– I’m not letting you crash with them.”

“Well we’re not letting you sleep in the car,” Halle argued back. “It’s like… eighty-five degrees out here.” 

You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, trying to think. But the truth was, you really were just so, so tired. You wanted everything about today– the storm cells you got wrong from earlier, the endless hours of driving, and lack of sleep, over with. And if bunking with someone from Tyler’s crew was the only way to make that happen, well then, so be it, you finally decided. Better you than Halle or Anna. 

“See– even your team isn’t as scared of us as you are,” Tyler chuckled. 

“Fine,” you snapped, shaking your head in disbelief. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Who am I sharing with?”

Maybe you’d get lucky and get to room with Dani or Lilly–

“That would be me,” Tyler chirped, eyes glistening under the streetlamp. 

Well fuck me, you thought. 

…

You curled up in the double bed closest to the wall. By the time you got up to the room, Tyler had already claimed the one closest to the door.

You heard the water snap off in the bathroom, followed by the sound of Tyler peeling back the shower curtain. That was your cue to feign sleep, if only to avoid any further conversation with him for the night. You rolled over and pulled the blankets up to your chin. 

After a few minutes, he emerged from the bathroom– the noise from the fan growing louder and a sudden whiff of his shampoo washing over you. You’d never admit it– but the way he smelled was actually one of the few things you liked about Tyler. 

“I know you’re not sleepin’,” he said as he began rummaging through his bag. 

“How the hell would you know that?” you groaned. 

You heard him chuckle softly. “Because you wouldn’t have answered if you were.”

This fucking cowboy. 

“Well I’d like to be sleeping,” you said, still not rolling over to face him. 

“And here I was hopin’ we’d use our little sleepover to get to know each other a little better.”

“You can lay off the act,” you said suddenly, all of your anger and exhaustion just melting into a pool of unfiltered irritation. 

There was a brief pause before Tyler replied, “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s no audience in here– no team members watching, no YouTube subscribers viewing us. You don’t have to pretend to be all sweet and charming.”

“I wasn’t aware I was pretending–”

“Oh cut the shit, Tyler. You love to drive me crazy me– just admit it. And it's probably my fault for letting you get to me so easily. But I mean, c'mon, was it your plan all along to just get me to share a room with you so you could keep me up all night getting to know me better?”

He let out a huff of air that sounded frustrated, as opposed to his usual amusement. “You’re something else, Y/N, you know that?”

You were caught off guard by Tyler’s use of your actual name. He always resorted to nicknames– either sweetheart or the town he knew you were from. In fact, in the few years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever repeated your name was the first time you told it to him. 

You sat up in bed and finally turned to face him– trying to gauge his demeanor. 

“I offer you a room– I didn’t have to do that, you know? And believe it or not, I didn’t offer it to you just to make your life miserable. I did it because I didn’t like the idea of you sleepin’ in your car alone–” he shook his head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Goodnight.”

Before you could even think of a reply, Tyler was peeling back the covers of his own bed and crawling in. He laid on his left side, back facing you.

You stayed in place for a moment, too stunned to move or speak or do much of anything.

Eventually, you laid back down, trying your best to deny the pool of guilt spreading through your stomach.

… 

With one arm you held on to your sister's hand as hard as you could– feeling the muscles in your shoulder strain and pop as you did. 

“Hold on!” you shouted, pleading with her not to let go. 

With your other hand, you were clinging to the handle on the storm shelter door. Somehow it had managed to pop open after the two of you had escaped inside. 

She looked down at you, her body suspended in the air– nothing but sheer, unfiltered terror reflecting in her round-rimmed glasses. 

“C’mon!” you screamed. 

“Please–” she gasped. “Please don’t let me go!”

“I got you!” you screamed, but you could feel that your grip on her clammy hand wasn’t as tight as it needed to be. “No–” you yelled. 

“Don’t let me go–” she repeated, nails digging into your skin desperately. 

But you didn’t even have time to adjust your grip before she was slipping away– in the end, the winds won. 

In the blink of an eye, her body was being sucked away from you– further and further into the dark storm clouds barreling your way. 

“No!” you screamed, reaching for the spot her body was moments before. “No!” 

But then you felt your own grip slipping on the door handle and you knew you needed both hands to hold on if you wanted to survive. So, using all your strength– you dragged yourself to the bottom of the storm shelter. You found the safest corner– next to some old piping to curl up. 

The whole time the storm raged on above you– you couldn’t stop screaming. So, you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead against your knees, making yourself as small as possible. And then, with everything you had left, you wound your arms around the piping and held on like your life depended on it… because it did. 

…

Your name sounded so distant when you heard someone calling it– like it was miles away. Then, vaguely, it came more into focus as it was called again. 

The third time, it was right next to you– and it was familiar… but you didn’t dare to look up. What if the storm was still raging outside? What if it took you next? 

Hands gripped your shoulders– causing you to jolt awake. 

Your eyes shot open as you pulled yourself from your nightmare. Tyler was sitting on the edge of your bed, his mouth hung open, like he was out of breath. 

“Tyler?” you croaked, attempting to sit up from the mattress. 

“You’re okay,” he said instantly. “You’re okay– you’re safe.”

Once you had managed to sit up, you studied Tyler’s face for a moment, trying desperately to gauge if any of this was real. Despite the darkness around you, you could still make out every feature– every crease, every freckle, every single piece of stubble that made up his shaved beard. And as much as you’d admired Tyler’s face in the last few years, even you knew that you couldn’t have been that detailed in your imagination.   

You wanted to ask what the hell he was doing there– how he had gotten in her room, when all of a sudden, the same memories that had plagued you in your dream resurfaced in your mind.

The sight of the EF4 tornado that destroyed every inch of your childhood home. The image of your sister’s terrified face– right before she was ripped from your grasp. The sound of her scream, dissipating with the raging winds. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Tyler soothed. 

You turned to face him– Tyler was here because he’d let you share his room… because he was way kinder than you ever gave him credit for. And now he was here– witnessing you completely falling apart.

Tyler’s lips began moving– he was talking. But despite the vague comfort from his tone of voice, you couldn’t really make out what he was saying. It was like the winds were still raging around you– muffling everything. 

You felt like your heart might just beat out of your chest– maybe that was the tornado working to rip it from your skin. 

“Hey–” a voice… no, not a voice. Tyler’s voice, said. “You gotta breathe.”

What was he talking about? You were breathing– of course you were breathing. Unless... unless the tornado ripped out your lungs instead of your heart. And now that you thought about it, no, actually, you weren’t breathing. You tried to inhale in, but the air wouldn’t come. You gasped, chest tightening while you began to tremble. 

Your lungs weren’t in your chest– your lungs flew away– just like your sister.

Firm, rough hands cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look forward. You were met by Tyler’s green eyes, currently blown open and wide with worry. 

“Breathe, baby,” he instructed. “With me– look.”

Baby, you thought. That was a new one. You didn’t hate it nearly as much as you hated sweetheart. 

You watched desperately as Tyler inhaled and exhaled exaggeratedly, like he was hoping you’d follow along.  

You tried. Really, you did.

Your wide, desperate eyes met his. But instead of following along, all you could do was imagine what your sister’s body had looked like after being struck by debris and tossed halfway across town–

“With me,” Tyler repeated firmly, his thumb stroking across the surface of your cheek gently. You leaned into his touch, craving comfort. 

Tyler continued producing loud and deliberate, slow and calming breaths. After a few seconds, you latched onto the sound, mimicking it, and following along the best that you could. 

Your shoulders relaxed slightly when you realized that you could actually breathe– which meant that EF5 hadn’t actually ripped them out of your chest. 

Tyler’s brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “There you go,” he whispered.

“Did I wake you up?” you asked quietly, feeling even guiltier than you had for snapping at him all night. 

He hesitated– like he was actually debating on lying to you or not. 

“Was I screaming?” 

“I mean, a little bit–”

You nodded before letting your gaze fall to your lap, where you began picking harshly at an old hangnail, a feeble attempt to distract yourself. 

“Do you–” Tyler began. “Do you have those nightmares often?”

Now it was your turn to contemplate lying. But then you remembered what an absolute jerk you’d been to Tyler all night, and figured you at least owed him the truth. 

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s partially why I wanted to sleep in the truck.”

Tyler smiled softly. “And here I was thinking it was because you hated me so much.”

“I’m sorry–” you began, voice shaking slightly. “I know I can be a jerk.”

One of Tyler’s eyebrows shot up like he was surprised. 

“What?” you asked. 

“No it’s just… that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you apologize.”

“What can I say?” you mumbled, trying to make light of things. “You seem to always see the worst versions of myself.” 

Tyler’s gaze softened, like he knew you were talking about more than your lack of apologies. After a moment he sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Glancing up, you hesitated. Your heart had just stopped pounding in your chest, but the thought of talking about what had happened in your home just a few short years ago made it speed up again.  

“You don’t have to–” Tyler said quickly. 

“No– it’s just…” your voice faltered. “I just haven’t really talked about it.” 

Tyler was patient. He stayed still on the edge of your bed and waited for you to be ready. After you sorted through some of the thoughts in your head you whispered, “You know I’ve been chasing in Oklahoma since I was a teenager?”

Tyler’s face lit up in surprise. 

“It’s true. I took a few years off… and when I came back, I was upset to see Oklahoma had a new storm chaser. One that everyone seemed to like more than me,” you admitted. You weren’t sure why this was all flowing out so freely, but even you had to admit that it felt nice to be honest. “That’s why I’ve been so mean to you, I think. It felt like you were encroaching on my turf. And then you showed up with your fancy truck– and all your gear, and I suppose I just felt a little jealous.” 

Tyler nodded in understanding. “Why’d you take a few years off?”

Your voice caught in your throat. Only when you hung your head did you feel confident enough to answer. “Remember that EF5 that hit Logan County a few years back?”

Tyler nodded. 

“My family’s farm was in Logan County. My parents were away– on a weekend trip to Colorado to see family. But I’d convinced my sister to stay home with me, because I didn’t want to go,” the words that were your mouth suddenly didn’t feel like yours. And the trembling hands in your lap didn’t feel like yours either. 

“The storm turned last minute. We barely had any warning. But I grabbed my sister– and we ran to the storm shelter. We made it, too– but then the door ripped open. When she went to shut it…” your voice trailed off. “Well you can use your imagination for the rest.”

You finally gathered up enough courage to glance up at Tyler. His eyes were fixated on you– sadness and sympathy plastered all over his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said genuinely. 

“Yeah, well…” you said weakly. “The worst part is– I think I remember locking the storm shelter door– but I wonder every single day of my life if I accidentally forgot. Which… I mean, convincing her to stay home already makes it partially my fault. But I can write that one off– and remind myself I didn’t know what was going to happen. But forgetting to lock the storm shelter?” you sighed. “That would be a harder one to forgive myself for.”

Tyler scooted closer towards you on the bed. He raised his hand– he was reaching out to comfort you. But then he pulled back, like he thought better. You were surprised by how disappointed that made you. 

“It’s not your fault–” Tyler assured you. 

It was the same thing your parents had said your whole life– so why couldn’t you believe it? 

“I guess it doesn't really matter whose fault it was,” you said. “She’s gone and I’m not. I took a few years off from chasing because I just couldn’t… I couldn’t get myself in the right headspace for it. Every time I saw a cell forming, I’d panic– and I’d want to run from it, not chase it. Things are better now… but every once and a while, I still run. Like today,” you admitted. “I knew the winds changed. I knew the one to the east was gonna die out. That’s why I chose it.” 

Tyler sighed. “And then I gave you shit for it,” he said, remorse in his tone. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you admitted. “And I’m really grateful you let me crash in your room. I think if I’d been screamin’ like that in my car, it would’ve caused quite the scene.”

Tyler’s lips tugged into a gentle smile. “I told you I didn’t mind sharing when it came to you. Plus, I learned more about you during our little sleepover than I have in the last few years chasin’ next to you.” 

“Yeah, well…” you mumbled. “Don’t get used to it.”

Tyler smirked. “Does that mean you’re going to go back to hating me tomorrow, when we’re no longer roommates? Or have I finally cracked through that tough ole shell of yours?”

“You keep offerin’ me motel rooms for free and I’ll be an open book,” you laughed. 

Tyler nodded, like he was storing that offer for later. 

“Hey, I don’t know about you,” he said, suddenly clapping his thighs before standing up. “But all that screaming got me wide awake. You hungry? I’m buying.”

He held out his hand– waiting for you to take it. 

“Are you offering me a room and dinner in one night?” you teased. 

“And all you had to do was reveal your deepest, darkest secrets and traumas to me,” Tyler smirked. 

“Tyler Owens, you’re too easy,” you said, gladly taking his outstretched hand.

[drewsprincessy]

LATE NIGHT DRIVES

warnings: 18+ smut! wrap it before u tap it!! fingering, female receiving, p in v sex, squirting, creampie, fluff, pet names, lmk if i missed any!!

summary: reader texts Rafe late at night, not able to fall asleep.

It was a typical Friday night, you were at home in bed. you had on one of Rafe's tee shirts he had recently left over your house one of the times he came over this week. He loved when you wore his clothes so it didnt really concern you whether or not he would be mad you wore his shirt to bed.

It was 10pm. 11pm. then 12.

you were tossing and turning for hours on end, thinking about Rafe. you hadn't seen him since Wednesday, and you both have had a busy week. Rafe fell asleep somewhere between 8 and 9pm. While you were tossing for hours, trying to get an ounce of sleep. You finally had enough and reached over to your nightstand and unplugged your phone to text him. You find his contact name and click it, beginning to type out a message.

imessage:

Y/N: rafe are you awake ??

*a few moments later you receive a text back*

Rafey🤍: yeah baby i just woke up to use the bathroom. whats wrong princess?

Y/N: i cant sleep. can we go for a late night drive?

Rafey🤍: yeah sweetheart. im omw, be ready in 5

~

after you read that text, you slide your feet into some soft slippers you had laying by your vanity. you grab your phone and head out when you hear his truck pull in.

you head outside and he gets out to open the passenger door for you, and circles around back to the drivers side.

"hey princess, you okay?" he says, a hint of concern lingering in his tone.

"yeah baby im okay, just couldn't get myself to sleep. and i missed you"

he presses a lingering kiss to your lips. "i missed you too princess."

Rafe can see the curve of your tits thru the thin fabric of his tee shirt on your body. he looks back up at your eyes for as he speaks "y'know, i can help you fall asleep baby." he says, obviously hinting at something suggestive.

you and Rafe haven't had sex in about a week, due to the busy schedule you two had alongside everything else, so you were obviously horny as ever.

~

a few minutes later after you two quit prodding around the subject, you crawl into the backseat after him, and he presses his lips onto yours. the only sounds that can be heard in the car are the sounds of you adjusting your position on his lap, and your lips smacking together. As you two continue to kiss, you undress each other and one thing lead to another.

he lowers his head between your thighs and he licks a stripe up your cunt. he pushes two of his lengthy fingers inside your pussy and starts to thrust them in and out as his tongue works overtime on your clit. "mm, rafey! 's so good daddy." he smirks against ur clit and he doubles his efforts. "yeah? you gonna cum on daddy's fingers baby?" as he says that, the band in ur stomach is about to snap until he pulls his lengthy fingers out your cunt.

"rafey!!" you whine. "i wan' you cumming on daddys cock okay baby? you gonna be a good girl and do that, hm?" you nod frantically, and then shift a little, as he lines his tip up to your entrance. "ready f'me baby?" he asks, and then when you nod, he pushes majority of his length inside your tight walls. he rolls his hips a few times at a decent pace, then when you adjust he moves frantically, then bends down to connect your lips together. you cant even speak the way his fat cock is moving in and out of you, all you can do is whimper and moan; your mouth hanging open. "good girl. taking my cock so good baby" you can feel the band in your stomach about to snap, and the pleasure is becoming all too much, rafe can tell your close by the way u tighten around him and your eyes roll back. he moves his free hand in front of him to your clit to rub circles on it gently "cum for me princess." thats all it took for you. then the band inside you snapped, and you felt a warm liquid gush between your legs as you orgasm. "yeah thats it baby, squirt on my dick. jus' like that baby" he helps you ride out your orgasm and then he paints your tummy with thick white ropes of cum.

he pulls out of you with a pop, and then helps you adjust your sleep shorts and puts his shirt back on you, then tucks himself back in his sleeping pants.

he then drives back to your house, and helps you out the car and tucks you into bed, getting in beside you after he's dimmed the lights out.

you two fall asleep listening to each others heartbeat and slow breaths.

~

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝

[vncannyvalleygrrl]

Charlie Dompler Headcanons

includes general, dating, and nsfw headcanons in that order (mdni)

General

He had an interesting childhood. His mom and dad weren't in the picture a lot, so most of the time he stayed with his batshit Uncle or his grandparents. His grandpa died when he was young, but the memories he does have with him are very fond ones.

Him and his Uncle are super close to each other. When he was a kid, he would go dirt biking, hunting, fishing... all sorts of stuff with him. If they weren't family, they would 100% be friends. Only recently though has his Uncle found his love of cars (and hitting pedestrians).

Charlie used to be a massive smoker/stoner all throughout high school. He quit recently, but he occasionally lights up a cigarette or a blunt just to calm down after a stressful day of work.

One of the things his grandma taught him was how to crochet, and while he isn't very good at it he can crochet the hell out of granny squares.

Holds a grudge against every peanut company because peanuts killed his grandma. Straight up glares at any bag of peanuts he sees in a store or in public.

Whenever he sleeps his arms and legs kick around like a dog. Wakes up with random bruises and in the weirdest positions because of it.

Originally joined up with Smiling Friends while he was trying to stop smoking all the time. In high school, he wanted to be a semi-truck driver, but he changed his plans when he went through a massive depressive episode. He decided from then on that he wanted to help others as much as possible to improve their life, using the tips and tricks he gathered to improve his own situation.

He originally met Pim seven years ago when he first started working at Smiling Friends. This is the longest friendship he's ever held, and he secretly wishes they met sooner.

Thunder thighs *chews him up like gum*

Total sleeper build. When he's standing normally and just chilling he looks like a blob of yellow fat, but when he flexes his bicep or his thigh you can really see the muscles.

Charlie is the kind of person that hates being in drama of any kind, but will gladly watch someone else's drama unfold in front of him from a distance. This man cannot mind his own business for the life of him.

Snores like a chainsaw.

He was raised religious, but now he's only catholic when it's convenient. When he's in a life or death scenario, he'll pray and ask for forgiveness, but we all saw where he went in the season one finale.

Dating Him

sorry zoey

Dating him feels like that moment when you wake up with your partner's arms around you. The air around you is cold but you feel comfy under the covers and you juusstt want to sleep for five more minutes... He's just a super chill guy to be around, and that only multiplies when you date him.

Charlie is a portable heater. Puts an arm around you when he sees you're cold. Use his hands as a glove PLEASE he will fall in love with you again.

Loves it when you wear his clothes. Bonus points if it smells like him.

He wants to cook for you! He can only cook mac and cheese but he's really good at it.

Dates at fast food joints, chilling at each other's places, watching movies on the couch, etc. Gifts things like jewelry, video games (if you like playing them), and clothes. Prefers to give things that are practical to your life.

Like stated previously, Charlie tends to kick and shift around the bed when he's sleeping alone, but when he's taking a nap with you he holds onto you like a monkey.

If you sit down on the couch, he lays his head on your shoulder. If you're sitting down on a chair, he leans by your side. Super affectionate but denies it at every chance. The most PDA you'll get out of him is hand holding, maybe a few smooches if he's feeling frisky.

Gets confrontational when he feels jealous. He sees a guy staring at you in public? Either hold him back or hold the camera because it's not ending pretty.

His apartment is literally so pathetic. His mattress is on the floor in the corner, the only table he has is reserved for his gaming laptop and a place for food, his microwave barely works. For the love of God please help him improve his living space.

Has you two together as his phone background, can't help but smile when he gets a text from you.

🚨 NSFW 🚨

Poor guy gets horny so easily. Accidentally brush your ass against him trying to get something? Already semi-chubbed. Start kissing him when you're cuddling and you're a little too firm with your kisses? Hard as a rock. Wear one of his dirty shirts and nothing else? You might as well just bend over.

That being said, he's super into fucking you while wearing clothes. He likes seeing you naked, but something about having sex while wearing clothes makes him feel dirty and he loves it.

Absolutely fucks while wearing his cross necklace. Sorry but it's hot.

Lowkey into semi-public stuff. Obviously wouldn't want to get either of you into trouble, but he wouldn't mind a quick blowjob in a bathroom stall or a car.

Uncircumcised.

One time he tried to shave his balls and it did not end well. Still cringes every time he looks at a razor because of it. Has an absolute bush but he'll trim it when it gets bad.

Prefers to have actual sex and receiving head. Doesn't mind giving you oral, but be patient if you have a dick. He has a bad gag reflex. Besides that he's up for almost anything.

Super sensitive nipples when aroused. It took you awhile to realize this (mostly because he's embarrassed about it), but now it's like your secret weapon. Gets him going when you kiss them.

Gets rougher when he's pissed, leaving bruises and hickeys on your body. Feels bad about it but internally loves it.

Less lenient on using protection, especially if you take birth control. He's had a vasectomy, so he doesn't really think about it much. He will use condoms if you get nervous about it though.

He is a proud ass and thigh man. Especially loves stretch marks, he thinks they make you look hotter.

[nikkisheep]

Crave

Rick Grimes x reader

Warnings: SMUT, arguing, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, hate fucking?, sex on a run, rick's mouth, Rick (he a warning in general), oral (m), cursing, degrading, SWITCH!RICK, tension, Rick is covered in blood, dirty smut (literally), Rick looks hot with blood, mentions of walkers

Summary: Rick Grimes is the bane of your existence but also the man you crave most.

Can be read as male reader as well

Got way too long lol

Hunger eats you up inside before anything else. Thirst makes your throat beg for water. Your muscles plead for relief. Your thoughts are asked to be silent. Everything craves to be around the man you hate the most.

Rick Grimes, the leader of Alexandria, orders everyone around. Who appointed him to lead the group? It wasn't just that. Yes, he is a smart man but the main reason that you hate the southern man is because of his mouth. He would be so cocky with his words and you would want to slap him. You wanted to make his mouth to be put to better work than yelling orders. You wanted to be the reason that he can't speak. You wanted to be the reason that he is speechless. You wanted him to be consumed by you and only you.

But, you hated the tall man. You hated the way that he consumed your every waking thought. You hated the way that he could get you to do anything. All he had to do was smile at you or tip his head in your direction and you hated it. You mostly hated yourself for finding the man attractive yet so cocky. He was the reason that you could barely sleep at night.

You pressed a hand to your forehead, begging the headache to go away but then another headache came by on two legs.

"Morning," Rick called.

"Fuck you," You grit.

He smirked.

"You missed the morning meeting."

"Fuck the meeting. I don't even care."

"You are on run duty today."

"I'm on lookout today, Rick." You finally look at the man. He was wearing a white shirt and those damn jeans that made him look like sex on legs.

"Not today. You are going on a two week run with me and Daryl."

At least Daryl would be there. The two of you were best friends. Ever since you stood up to Rick and his orders, Daryl had taken a liking to you and you were glad that the two of you grew close. The thing was, Rick got jealous of the closeness that you and Daryl had. He wanted that with you but more. Oh, but he hated your guts. He hated you so much.

He hated how you would challenge his authority and how riled up you make him. He hated how much you were on his mind. He hated how every time he tried to jack off in the shower, the picture of you under him came to mind. He hated that it was the best orgasms he ever had. He hated how you would smirk at him when someone agrees with you rather than him. Yes, Rick Grimes hated your entire being. He hated how much he craves you.

You jumped on the motorcycle with Daryl and smiled at his joke about Rick being upset. Rick actually looked jealous when he saw your arms wrapped around Daryl's chest. He saw the way you would laugh at his jokes, squeezing the archer a tad bit tighter.

"Get in the truck," Rick ordered.

"Why?"

"Because Daryl may need to have room on the bike if anything happens."

"I'm fine," Daryl said.

"Rick, lets just go." You mentioned.

"Get in the truck," He ordered again.

Daryl patted your thigh and you got off the bike. You were pissed. Rick never made you ride with him. You walked over to the driver's seat and got in.

"Get in Rick."

"I'm driving," He scoffed.

"Get in the truck, Rick."

He got in with a huff and a sigh but then you were off. The tension in the truck was so thick, you were suffocating. Rick was reading the map and gave you the directions.

---

A week had passed and you were ready to strangle Rick. He was arrogant and never left you alone. Getting everything that you needed, you were planning on going home early. That was until a fucking storm hit you and the truck slid off the road into the woods. Daryl had lost sight of you and it was just Rick with you. The man you hated.

"This is why you don't drive," Rick shouted.

"Fuck you, Rick. I knew what I was doing."

"So that's why we're in the woods with walkers anywhere?"

Rick was seething and wanted to kill something. He needed to get out of this truck. He grabbed his machete and left. You followed him and watched as he stabbed any walker in his path. Your lower stomach became hot with arousal with every flex of Rick's body. You watched the blood splatter on his face, his shirt, his body, every where.

You grabbed his arm, pulling the machete away from his hand once all of the walkers were dead. He looked at you, seeing that your eyes were blown with lust. You were turned on at the sight of him killing the dead. You were attracted to him.

Tension builds between you. The air stilled with your breaths. You looked up at Rick, wanting him to get closer. He was still covered in blood and grime but you didn't care. You wanted him. You craved the bane of your existence. You wanted him. You needed Rick Grimes.

Rick's mind filled with thoughts of taking you right then. What would you sound like? Would you moan for him? Would you scream his name? Would you let him touch you?

Your hands moved up to his bloody face, wiping the blood from his cheeks. You shook slightly with excitement as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him, feeling his warmth. Your eyes flicker back to his and ask for his permission with your touch. He closes his eyes, wanting nothing more than this to not stop. He wants this to happen. He wants this to be real. He begs that this is real. He hated you, yes, but he desire for you burned with fiery.

A snarl from within the woods is the only sound other than your breathing. The two of you look into each other's souls and just when you go to graze your lips against his, a walker slips right from behind a tree. Rick steps back and grabs the walker and snaps the neck. Blood splatters on your face. You look at Rick and he then grabs your face and kisses you with fierce passion. The walker wasn't even dead but it did not matter right now.

His tongue slides into your mouth, begging to taste you. Hands run through Rick's hair, pulling when you moan at the feeling of pure sexual tension flowing between your bodies. Rick's hand slips down your back and squeezes your ass. Your hips rut against his thigh and you throw your head back with the sensation that courses through you. Rick smirks at your moan. He knew you would sound beautiful when he touched you. He grabs a rag from his pocket and wipes the blood off of your neck before he starts to kiss there. He sucks on your skin while wiping the walker blood from your face. You smile at how he is trying to get you clean.

"Rick," You step away from him to take off your tank top and wiping the blood completely off of your body. He groans and moved to nip at your chest. The only issue is that he still has a little bit of blood on him. You realize that it was actually his and you melt at the sight. You grew to love it when Rick was covered in blood. It didn't matter if it was human, his, or walker. Something about Rick with blood is hot.

Cleaning the little bit of blood off his face and neck, you kiss him deeply.

"Get on your knees," Rick said. You slip down to the ground.

He smiles at your eagerness but he doesn't realize that you have been waiting for the man above you to ask you for this. You have daydreamed about what is under his pants and belt. He moans when you press your face to his crotch. You unzip his pants and pulls his dick out. He watches you when you kiss his tip.

"Look at you, practically begging me to take you in my throat." You taunt him.

He groans and pants when you finally take him fully. All at once. You hollow your cheeks as you pull back and go back down on him. Rick's whines and whimpers send shivers down your spine. Here was the big bad leader of Alexandria, falling apart under your mouth.

''I should have done this a lot sooner if I knew that it would shut you up," Rick moans at your words.

You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the man's flavor.

"Sweet and salty. My favorite,'' You smirk at his glazed over eyes.

"Fuck, sweetheart."

You stand up, leaving him to teeter over the edge. You grin at the whine that leaves his lips.

"I'm not your sweetheart.''

You pump his cock in your hands.

"Fuck me, Rick.''

A switch flips in his mind and he has you pressed against a tree. Rain starts to fully fall around you. The water soaks your clothes while Rick plows into you. He presses against you g-spot and has you wanting to scream at how good it feels but Rick covers your mouth. You beg him with your eyes to fuck you harder. Begging him to fuck you like he hated you.

"I.fucking.hate.you." You moan into his mouth, kissing his lips with hunger.

Your core was burning. You bit his lip, blood spilling out the wound. You kiss him again, this time, not letting up. Your hands grasp at his hair and shoulders while his held you up against the tree that he fucked you against.

"Wanna feel you better," He said before having you wrap your legs around his waist so he could lay you on the wet, muddy ground. The rain made the ground soft and wet, causing Rick to slip as he fucked you. His thrusts were rough and deep. He didn't stop as you slid on the muddy surface. Your hair was caked with mud, leaves, and twigs but it didn't matter. Not with how good Rick was making you feel.

"Make me cum, Rick."

"Shut up," He groans.

"Why?"

"Because if you keep talking, I will not be able to-" He stopped when he heard something.

"To what?"

"To continue hating you."

"Then fuck me like you hate me, Rick."

His thrusts became faster, more punishing. You wanted to scream as the tears poured. You dug your head into the mud, pushing your hips against Rick's. You wanted to fill everything that he could give you. But, within the hate and desire, there was passion in his thrusts and touches. He gripped your hips with a tight grasp and all you could think about was never letting Rick leave you.

You look into his eyes, watching his pleasure show on his face. He moved slower now, softer. Your hand goes up to his face, swiping a thumb across his lip which he takes it into his mouth to suck. One sharp thrust is all it took for the two of you to cum together, lips crashing onto one another as pleasure floods your bodies. The two of you shake in the rain, Rick thrusting slightly and your hips meeting them.

No, there was never hate. You had never hated Rick and he never hated you. All there was, was lust and craving. The two of you had a fire of passion that people mistook as hate. You both even took it as hate. No, it was love. A love that was burning so bright, that not even the two who felt it could have known what it was or how to control it.

So with Rick laying on top of you in that mud, you had never been so happy before. He continued to kiss you, passion slipping in and you were happy to receive it.

"I don't hate you."

Rick looked at you as if you were crazy.

"I actually care deeply for you and I thought it was hatred. I was wrong." You said once you had made it back to Alexandria.

"I care about you as well.''

No, you had never hated each other. You craved each other too much to understand your feelings. So, you let the passion burn and light everything else with your lust. You were both consumed by love, lust, passion, and just craved each other.

[eiightysixbaby]

i’ll be home for christmas

PART THREE: No Place Like Home For The Holidays

previous part || series masterlist || next part

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 7.3k

summary: eddie arrives back home, battling with the things that have changed in his absence. you have a heartfelt conversation with jonathan, and try your best to get out of your funk. the annual christmas eve party rolls around again, and it’s going to change everything.

cw: switches between past and present, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’, angst, jonathan being the best bff in the world.

December 25th, 1988.

The airport was shockingly empty, most folks at home with their loved ones in celebration of the holiday. Eddie’s eyes scanned the building as he walked, rolling his small suitcase full of his belongings behind him. His free hand clutching his guitar case as he walks along. He’d packed everything he could over the last few days, though he truthfully didn’t have all that much. Honestly, he was grateful for the light load. The mental burden he was carrying felt excruciating enough on its own.

It had been a teary goodbye with Wayne, Eddie promising to call and Wayne promising to come visit whenever he could afford to spend the money. Eddie assured him he’d be paying for his plane ticket whenever he wanted to come out, and not to worry.

The conversation he’d had with you the previous night wouldn’t leave his head, your tears as your voice screamed at him was a scene that played on a loop in his mind. Sleeping was no use; the second he’d gotten home he’d laid in bed and cried, every moment of the night spent tossing and turning and thinking about you. As hard as it was, though, he wanted you to be able to move forward and be fine without him. He hadn’t meant to hurt you so badly and he hoped that in time you’d see that, too.

He blinks a few times, forcing the sleep from his eyes as he sits on a cold plastic seat, waiting for his gate to board. His foot taps aimlessly on the shiny linoleum floor, his hands wrung together between his knees as he sits hunched over in thought. The clicking of heels takes him out of his daze, his head glancing upwards to catch the person that walks by. From behind, it looks just like you — the girl even has the same coat as you. His heart thumps in his chest as he cranes his neck to get a better look, his legs ready to stand and chase you down and hold you tight. But then, the figure turns around, and he catches sight of a face that isn’t yours. He slumps back onto the seat, exhaling a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding in. Maybe this was all wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t do this. And then:

“Flight 157 to Chicago now boarding, please report to Gate 2A,” a voice comes over the loud speaker, sounding crisp and nearly robotic.

Eddie sighs, wiping his clammy palms on his jeans before he stands, turning and walking to his gate. He steps onto his flight, sinking in his seat and glancing out the window at the snow that covers the Indianapolis airport. The last glimpse he’ll get of Indiana for who knows how long.

He pulls out his Walkman, slipping the headphones over his ears and sinking into the music as the plane takes off. This is goodbye.

Present Day: December 21st, 1989.

The airport is bustling with people; strangers from god knows where coming to visit god knows who for the approaching holiday. Eddie weaves his way through the crowds, pushing his bags on a cart that serves as an easy way to part the seas of travelers. Doors are held open for him by a passer-by as he exits the building, pulling his hat down further over his ears as he braces for the cold chill of the Indiana air.

Stepping onto the concrete outside of the building, his eyes squint slightly as he scans the pickup lane for a familiar vehicle. He doesn’t spot one at first, standing on his tip-toes and peering around the heads of other people, trying to find who he’s looking for.

And then, he sees Wayne leaning out the driver side door of his truck. A hand is held high in the air, waving with a stoic smile on his face. Eddie runs. He doesn’t care if he looks silly, doesn’t care if he bumps someone on his way, he runs to Wayne. His bags sit a few feet away on their cart, but he’ll grab them in a moment. Right now, his arms pull his uncle into a tight hug, his body easing up when he feels Wayne patting him on the back.

“Missed you, son,” Wayne says, pulling back to look at Eddie with the vaguest hint of tears in his eyes.

“Missed you too. Don’t go crying on me now, old man,” he says, laughing when Wayne tugs his hat off to ruffle his already-fluffy hair.

“Go get your bags, let’s go on home.”

Home. Eddie loves the sound of that.

•

“I feel like I’m broken, Jonathan,” you stress, setting your coffee down on the table. “Everywhere I go, everything I do, my mind is just like… laser-focused on Eddie. It’s pathetic,” you shake your head, curling your lips inward.

“Hey, stop. It’s not pathetic,” he reassures, reaching out a hand to cover one of yours. “You just… miss him. It’s normal.”

“Nothing about this is normal,” you retort, sorry for snapping at him but unable to control the bubbling frustration. “I should be able to move on, it’s been a fucking year just about!” you say, raising your voice and grabbing attention of other patrons in the cafe. Your eyes avert Jonathan’s gaze, looking down at a stray thread from your sweater in embarrassment. “I saw a van that looked like his. A van! A vehicle — a common, average vehicle and it sent me into a spiral the other day. Something that stupid shouldn’t make me feel like I’m losing it.”

“Sunny, come on, you’re so hard on yourself,” he says, his honey eyes sympathetic as they try to break through to you.

“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m always such a downer, it has to get annoying to deal with. You’re always left to pick up my pieces.”

“Don’t say that, you’re not annoying,” he cuts in, brows furrowed.

“Oh come on, Jonathan. You can be honest with me,” you insist, turning away from him.

“I am being honest. Do you remember what I told you last Christmas? When you told us all that he’d left?”

Do you remember, he asks. As if you could ever forget.

December 25th, 1988.

To be honest, you were surprised you’d even managed to get yourself to Steve’s house. You drove here on autopilot, a robot operating your vehicle instead of a person — navigating the snowy streets with ease only because you know this town like the back of your hand. You sit in your car in the driveway for what feels like a century, trying to steady your breathing. You had wanted to prepare yourself — to have a plan when you walked in and to break the news calmly to everybody. Though now you’re realizing that may not be possible, with the way you feel like you can’t even speak at all. Your chest is tight, your breathing erratic as you finally walk up to the large front doors, pushing one open without so much as knocking.

The conversation inside lulls, everyone excitedly looking to see who’s arrived. You’ve never seen a group of faces change expressions so quickly, Nancy hopping up off of the sofa to run to you. In a split second, you’ve drained all of the holiday cheer from the room. Tears run down your face like they had been all night, your body slumping into Nancy’s when she collects you in her arms.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on? What happened!?” she asks, trying to stay calm for your sake but concern creeps into her voice anyways. You can’t blame her, you know you look a wreck.

No one else dared move further than simply standing from their seats, not wanting to crowd you. It’s like everyone knew a bomb was about to drop.

“I-it’s, it’s E-Eddie,” you sob, having at least enough mental clarity to realize you need to finish that sentence before they think he died on the way here. “Eddie left… h-he left Hawkins, he f-ucking left,” you choke, your voice raw as you get the words out. You’re bawling into Nancy’s sweater, tears and snot surely soaking the wool as she holds you impossibly tighter.

“What?” Steve asks, “What… what do you mean?”

“He’s going to Chicago, he’s… not c-coming back,” you cry, heaving between words as you try to fill your lungs with air.

The whole room freezes, everyone looking at each other with no idea what to do. As sad as they all may be, each and every person realizes how much worse this is for you. And you know it. They all know what you had with Eddie was special. Was.

You look up at them, watery eyes scanning the room and taking in their mutual devastation. Dustin sits back down on the couch, his head in his hands as he absorbs the information. His role model, the big brother he never had, gone.

And then you look at Steve, watching the way he starts to pace the floor. His closest male friend since Tommy, left for another state. Another person leaving his life.

Your eyes scan over the rest of the kids, over Robin, Jonathan, then circling back to Nancy. Their upset makes it worse for you, and your stomach twists in knots over the fact that you had to be the one to tell them this news. You, in the midst of your anguish, had to break it to all of them. Too caught up in your own feelings to break the news gracefully, it makes you want to vomit.

That’s when you’d pulled yourself away from Nancy, out of her gentle grasp, and hurried down the hallway to one of Steve’s bathrooms. You heard the concerned calls of your name as you shut the door behind you but it didn’t matter, you couldn’t take watching everyone process the information. You brace your hands on the vanity counter, fingers gripping the marble as you look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes and lips look puffy, snot drips from your nose — it makes you feel pathetic. You watch as your whole body shudders when you inhale, trying so hard to calm yourself down, at least so you can go back out there and actually talk to your friends without heaving on the floor.

A knock on the door makes you wince.

“I’m fine,” you croak. “Just give me a minute.”

“It’s Jonathan,” his soft voice says from the other side. “Can I please come in?”

You weren’t expecting him to come chasing after you, out of all of them. It’s not unwelcome, just unexpected. Your fingers wrap around the doorknob, twisting it and pulling the door open a crack. Jonathan slips inside, his slender body fitting right through the narrow opening you’d provided.

“I’m sorry,” you start. “I know I need to explain everything more and—”

“Don’t. That’s not what I’m here for. No one’s rushing you out, it’s okay,” he soothes you, his voice as gentle as always.

For some reason, his comfort only makes you cry harder, and he immediately accepts your form with open arms. You don’t typically get this close to Jonathan, he’s shy and introverted and you can confidently say you’ve never shared a moment this raw with him. His chin rests atop your head, holding you against his chest as you tremble.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, Sunny.”

“How do you know that?” you sniffle, mouth gummy as you talk.

“Because we’re all here for each other. We’re all here for you. I know you and Eddie were… close,” he says, debating on his last word before speaking it softly.

“He kissed me,” you say — blurting it, really.

“What?”

“Like a week ago. He kissed me. And now he’s gone.”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but it’s okay with you. You don’t know what he could say that would make any of it better. ‘I’m sorry’? You don’t want to hear that. The kiss with Eddie was the best kiss you’ve ever had. I’m sorry would just make the grief of him being gone feel more real. He just holds you a little bit tighter, sighing into your hair.

“If you could… keep that between us, for now…” you say, realizing you don’t think you can handle questions from the group about that just yet.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

It’s silent for a few moments after that, neither of you saying a thing. But then he speaks up again.

“Listen,” he says, pulling away from you slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders as he looks at you. “I’m here for you, if you need anything. You can vent, scream, cry… it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t as close with Eddie as you were, or as Dustin was, or Robin… the point is, I’ll be okay through this. I’ll miss him, of course, but I’ll be okay. It’s you I’m worried about,” he pours all of this out at once, his eyes flicking back and forth between each of yours, studying your face. “I just want you to know you can tell me anything, always. I promise.”

Your lip wobbles, your eyes glassy as they stare back at him. You realize, then, just how much Jonathan observes. He might be quieter, more reserved, but he notices everything. His tone of voice tells you he knows more than he might share out loud.

“Thank you,” you say, impossibly quiet. “Thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it, but…”

“No, you don’t even need to thank me. I just want you to promise me that you won’t hide away and bottle this all up.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Present Day: December 21st, 1989.

You kept that promise, confiding in him when the weight of it all felt too heavy to hold. He kept his word, listening every single time you needed him to. You’re suddenly upset with yourself for even doubting his honesty, his willingness to support you.

“Of course I remember. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude,” you sigh. You pitch your voice deeper, then, mocking him. “Don’t apologize, Sunny, you never need to apologize,” you tease, knowing exactly what he’ll say before it can come out of his mouth.

“Wow, am I that predictable?” he laughs, raising an eyebrow at you.

You just nod, laughing a little bit with him.

“You know, you’re still the only person I’ve ever told about the kiss.”

“I know. I definitely would’ve heard about it from one of the girls if word had gotten around,” he says, smirking.

There’s a pause. The humor of the moment is gone.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, sensing the shift.

“I just… it’s getting closer and closer to the day he left. And I don’t know how I can handle knowing it’s been one full year. I just want things to be easy again,” you sigh, chewing on your bottom lip. You don’t want to meet Jonathan’s eyes, feeling like you’ll cry if you see the sincerity you know will be there.

“I know it’s hard. And I know Christmas isn’t going to be easy for you this year. But just… take it a day at a time. A minute at a time, even,” he says, calm and steady as always. “Even though this year has been hard for you, you’ve gotten through it. You’ve made it through every single hard day. You can get through the holiday, I promise,” he gives you a gentle smile, the creases at the corner of his eyes showing how genuine it is.

His words bring the tears you had tried to warn off to your eyes, sending a couple droplets running down your cheeks.

“Are you sure I can do this?” you ask. “Will it get better?”

“I know you can do this. And I think it will.”

You stand, your chair squeaking against the floor as it pushes out. He stands with you, knowing what you’re going for without words. He pulls you into a tight hug when you round the table to his side, his hands rubbing your back in a way that soothes you.

“Thank you for everything, Jon,” you sniffle, your face smushed against the thick knit fabric of his sweater.

“Of course. ‘S what I’m here for,” he says, resting his chin on your head before placing the softest, most chaste kiss to the top of it.

It’s nothing but platonic. Simply a comforting gesture, you’d never question otherwise. You pull away after a moment of letting him hold you, the strange feeling that someone had been watching you creeping up your spine.

•

Pulling in to Forest Hills Trailer Park had simultaneously made Eddie’s heart sing, and made him feel like he was going to vomit. He was excited, so excited to be out of Chicago, but he’d be lying if simply leaving that city eliminated all of his worries. There’s a lot of… baggage in Hawkins. He left for a reason. It’s scary and inviting and anxiety-inducing and wonderful all wrapped into one package.

Wayne helps him unload his stuff, and Eddie nearly cries when he steps into the trailer again. The bedroom is all made up for him, his old posters and flags still hung on the walls. Like Wayne always knew he wasn’t truly gone for good, or maybe he just didn’t want to fully let him go. A knock comes on the open door, making Eddie turn from his spot on the floor where he unpacks his suitcase.

Wayne stands in the doorway, holding Eddie’s Garfield mug — his favorite — in his hands.

“Made you some coffee, figured you might need it,” he says, and Eddie accepts the warm mug gladly.

He looks at the paint on it, Garfield’s nose chipping away a bit, and there’s a crack on one side, but it’s Eddie’s. It’s home.

Unpacking doesn’t last long, he gets through one suitcase of clothes before deciding everything else can wait. His dresser drawers are packed full once more, having been largely empty save for some of Wayne’s things. Sitting cross-legged on his floor, he takes a moment to just absorb every detail of his room. His Slayer flag, that he’d left here in favor of taking his Corroded Coffin one with him. His spare amps, his old sketchbooks and a box of D&D dice. The stupid handcuffs he’d stolen as a teen, and then had a few good nights with. Chuckling to himself, he stands. His heart longs to see more of Hawkins, to see what’s changed since he left, if anything at all. He puts on his coat and a hat, grabbing the keys to his van that he surprisingly missed way more than he had thought he would.

“I’m going in to town, just want to walk around a little bit. Take everything in. You wanna come?” he asks his uncle, slipping his shoes on in the doorway.

“Nah. Go on by yourself. I’m sure you could use the time to get readjusted.”

Eddie nods, giving Wayne a soft smile and receiving a softer one in return. He tosses his keys in the air once, catching them with a metallic clank before he’s out the door. Wayne had taken great care of the van, as good of care as you can take to a shitbox vehicle, and as Eddie slips into the tattered driver’s seat he lets out a sigh. His hands run over the steering wheel, putting the key in the ignition and letting the engine roar to life.

He missed this. He truly missed this.

It’s funny how you can be away from a place for so long, yet still remember every detail like it’s engraved in your brain. Sure, a year isn’t that long in retrospect, but still. The way Eddie drives the streets of the small town with complete ease, never second guessing a turn and knowing where each stop sign is makes him smile a little bit. He drives past your apartment complex, taking in a deep and shaky breath as he glances in its direction. The realization hits him that he has to face you, face everyone, for the first time in a year. He doesn’t know how he’s gonna do it, but he’ll figure it out.

For now, he pulls his van into a parking spot beside the curb in the center of town, stepping out and waiting for that signature creak of the van’s door as it opens, which doesn’t come. Dammit, Wayne. Keeping her in good condition.

To be honest, Eddie knows he’s taking a bit of a risk walking through town. He could run into you, he could run into one of the kids, or Steve or Robin or anyone. He could be spotted by Mrs. Wheeler or Hopper. All of whom would spread word that he’s back in town. He’s flying by the seat of his pants here, so to speak. If he runs into someone he knows, he’ll figure it out. If he runs into you, well… he’ll probably shit himself. But he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there.

The streets and shops of downtown Hawkins are perfectly decorated for the holiday, a sight he knows you always loved to see. He hopes it still makes you happy, to see the town wrapped in red and green and silver and gold. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walks the snowy sidewalks, a cleanly shoveled path guiding his way. It’s snowing lightly, a few flakes clinging to his hair and melting on his coat. It’s so unlike the hustle and bustle of Chicago, and while those busy streets were exciting for maybe a week, he grew weary of them after that. There’s less of a sense of security in a city that large, whereas Hawkins’ small population and quaint streets feel stable and safe. Maybe he took that for granted, maybe he thought he was more unstable here than he really was.

He passes Melvald’s, peeking inside and sure enough catches Joyce Byers passing off a large paper bag of goods to a customer. He keeps on walking, smiling to himself nonetheless over seeing a familiar face. He passes RadioShack, The Hideaway, the record shop. All places he has memories tied to, and they come rushing to him in a flood of varying emotions. Nervous butterflies flutter in the pit of his stomach, his whole body adjusting to being back home as he walks.

The coffee shop is up ahead, he can see the sign dangling above the door. He turns to glance in through the windows as he approaches, but he does a double take at what he sees. Stopping dead in his tracks, his shoes scrape against the pavement. It feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him, every ounce of oxygen punched from his lungs. He swears his head is spinning, or maybe the world is spinning. Every single moment of heartache and yearning over the last year has led him here, back to Hawkins. And now, for the first time in months, he’s finally looking at you.

His mouth hangs open slightly, tunnel vision directing him right to you, where you stand approaching Jonathan. He’s undetected, neither you nor the other man have noticed him. The first thing he notices is that you’re crying, he can see the puffiness of your face and the way its features contort. It reminds him all too much of the way you looked the night he left you. A twinge of pain prods deep in his gut; seeing you cry has always been one of his least favorite things. He watches as Jonathan pulls you into a tight hug, rubbing your back and squeezing you so close to him.

That’s weird, he doesn’t remember you ever being so close with Jonathan. He usually just kept to himself, for the most part.

And then, something happens that makes his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach. Words he can’t hear are exchanged between the two of you, and then Jonathan’s face tilts down, and a kiss is pressed to the top of your head.

He just kissed you. What the fuck. This can’t be happening.

Eddie knows he’s been gone a while, but he certainly hasn’t been gone long enough to forget the different dynamics in the friend group. He’d certainly remember if Jonathan kissed you frequently a year ago.

Are you…. with Jonathan?

Nausea creeps up his throat as he stands there, alone in the cold. He watches his own breath leave his mouth in icy puffs as he stands there gawking. You and Jonathan begin to pull out of the hug, and he kickstarts himself to move the fuck away before you both catch him staring like an absolute buffoon.

It all makes sense, he thinks to himself as he staggers away. It all makes fucking sense.

Of course you’d distanced yourself. Of course you wouldn’t want to talk to him on the phone if you were dating Jonathan. Of course the general topic of you was awkward for your other friends to talk about, because they didn’t want to tell him what was going on! Heading quickly back in the direction of his van, he feels blindsided, his mouth gone dry. He really thinks the contents of his stomach might see the light of day once more as his mind races with thoughts. You don’t want him anymore, you don’t need him anymore, you have Jonathan. And he can’t even be mad, because he wanted you to do better than him. He wanted you to find someone else.

If he could kick his own ass, one year ago, he would.

The urge to cry overwhelms him, but the tears won’t come. It’s like he can’t think straight, too many thoughts yet no thoughts all at once. How can he face you — admit his feelings to you and tell you that he doesn’t think he’s stopped yearning for you for even a single moment of the last year — when you’re with Jonathan? He can’t. That’s not right, and it’s not fair. It makes him sick to think about.

He doesn’t take the time to admire the Christmas decorations anymore, doesn’t take note of the shops he passes that he hasn’t seen in a year. He just hurries to his vehicle, and starts driving towards the only place he can think to go right now.

•

Knuckles rap impatiently on Steve’s door, bone against the wood over and over. Eddie’s not in any mood to wait, needing to know when and why and how this all happened. Why no one bothered to tell him you started dating a mutual friend. This isn’t exactly the way he wanted to announce his arrival back in Hawkins, but oh well. He didn’t make a great departure, who cares if his return sucks too?

He can hear shuffling from inside the house, Robin’s voice coming closer to the door.

“I’m getting it, Steve, holy shit!” she calls, the door knob twisting and the whole thing pulling open.

Eddie stands there, watching her face as she processes the fact that it’s him in front of her right now. He really missed her face.

“Oh my god,” she says, standing there blinking at him like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “Eddie!? EDDIE!” she yells, her eyes going impossibly wide. “Guys, Eddie’s here!” she screams into the house, eager, before attacking him in a bear hug.

The voices of Steve and Nancy shout “What?” in perfect unison, before their figures appear in the doorway.

“Eddie?” Nancy says, laughing in disbelief as she does, followed by Steve’s half-confused half-amused “Dude!?”

He doesn’t even get the chance to say anything before Nancy’s surprisingly strong grip is yanking him from Robin, her tiny frame squeezing him as tight as she can. Eddie’s heart swells, tears finally threatening to spill from his eyes. The pure happiness of seeing his friends again overwhelms him, but it rivals the sick feeling that resides in his stomach after seeing you with Jonathan. It’s a strange juxtaposition of feelings, and he feels like he might crack.

Steve yanks him away soon after, giving him a firm, welcoming hug and a pat on the back. “I fucking missed you, man.”

Eddie gives him a soft smile as he’s ushered into the large house, Robin’s mouth moving a mile a minute.

“Okay, so what the fuck is happening right now? Are you back for good? When did you get here? Does anyone else even know you’re here?” she bombards him with questions, her arms flailing as she talks.

“Rob, Jesus, slow down,” Eddie says, and he can’t help but laugh lightly. “Yeah, I uh, I think I’m back for good,” he says, letting the information sink in. “Wayne knows I’m here, but that’s it other than you guys.”

Everyone stares at him, sensing the feeling that something’s not quite right. It must be radiating off of him.

“Okay, so… what’s wrong? You haven’t cracked one of your usual jokes and you’re like, mysteriously quiet,” Steve speaks up, and Nancy shifts awkwardly where she sits beside Robin.

Eddie takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know if he truly wants the information he’s about to receive. But not knowing doesn’t help him, either.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me Sunny started dating Jonathan?”

The room goes silent, varying expressions on his friends’ faces. Nancy’s eyebrows raise as she lets his words roll through her head, Robin turning to give her a confused look. Steve’s mouth opens and closes and opens once more.

“I’m sorry… what?” he asks, amusement tugging on the corner of his mouth. Nancy giggles a little, and Robin nudges her with her elbow.

“Sunny… and Jonathan. I literally just saw them at a coffee shop and he kissed her on the head so please don’t try to make me feel crazy—”

“Woah, Eddie, slow your roll there,” Robin butts in, holding up her hands. “Sunny and Jonathan aren’t dating. Or, if they are, it’s news to us, too.”

He blinks. The skin between his brows crinkles as he stands there, dumb and silent.

“But… then why did he, when did… why did he kiss her?”

“They’ve gotten really close, but just… platonically. It’s not anything else,” Nancy says, trying to reassure him with a soft smile.

When he doesn’t seem convinced, she keeps going. “Eddie. We wouldn’t lie to you. I mean, you’re back in Hawkins. What good would lying do? If they were together you’d be bound to find out eventually.”

He thinks about this, and then decides to pull his head out of his ass. He’s seeing his best friends for the first time in a year and instead of being thrilled he’s being difficult.

“No, you’re right, Wheeler. As always,” he smirks a little. “I really fucking missed you guys,” he adds, a lump forming in his throat as he smiles at them.

“We missed you so much, Eddie,” Nancy says, the other two echoing the sentiment.

“Not to ruin the moment…” Robin cuts in after a pause. “But, uh… how are you going to tell Sunny that you’re back?” she asks, hesitance clear in her tone.

“I, uh, I’m gonna be honest. I don’t really have a plan. I don’t know how much she even wants to see me.”

Three heads nod at the same time, sharing glances as they consider the subject at hand. “She really misses you, Eddie,” Nancy says, her eyes getting softer, sympathetic. “We aren’t the only ones who did.”

“She does?”

“Yeah… did you not know?”

“Okay, to be completely fucking fair right now, I love you guys but I haven’t been able to speak to her once since I’ve been gone,” he says, trying to defend himself even a little bit. “I haven’t heard one thing from her… I— I really didn’t know what to think.”

“It’s been hard,” Steve says, and the look in his eyes shows Eddie how true that statement is. “She’s been… kind of a wreck without you.”

This statement loads in his brain, his heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach.

“It’s been worse lately, I think with the holiday coming up it’s just reminding her of last year. She’s been like, a completely different person. We never wanted to tell you over the phone and worry you…” Robin adds, her bright eyes flitting nervously around the room.

Eddie nods, lips pressing in a flat line. “So, what do we do? How do we do this? I want to make this Christmas so, so much better for her than the last one.”

There’s a pause, before Nancy speaks. “I have an idea,” she says, nodding decisively. “We have to keep it a surprise.”

This year, Eddie isn’t going to fuck things up. This year, he’s going to get his girl.

Present Day: December 22nd, 1989.

The Wheeler home is immaculately decorated for Christmas. Faux-candles flicker in each of the windows, delicate white lights lining the roof. You watch as the perfect wreath on the front door slides out of view, replaced by the face of Mrs. Wheeler as she greets you.

“Please, come on in,” she welcomes you, offering to take your coat and your scarf. “The girls are in the kitchen already.”

You thank her, letting her leave to hang up your garments, slipping off your boots before you head straight back to your friends.

“Sunny!” Robin says cheerfully. Her hair is pulled back into a tiny ponytail, her hands already busy gathering ingredients for the cookie dough.

“Hi, guys,” you smile. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

“It’s no problem at all. Rob and I were just starting to get everything ready,” Nancy assures you, coming over to give you a quick hug.

You welcome it gladly, inhaling her sweet perfume as you lean in close. You were happy to be here, hoping that maybe it would help you feel a little bit lighter; give you some of that holiday cheer you’d been searching for. You were less optimistic on the front of it helping you not think about Eddie, but you could still hope. After your conversation with Jonathan the day before, you were trying to be a little more hopeful about everything. Key word trying.

“So, what kind of cookies are we making?” you ask, moving to wash your hands in the sink.

“We’re thinking classic sugar — obviously — peanut butter, and maybe those ones with the raspberry jam?” Robin says absentmindedly, eyeing a recipe as she pours cups of flour into a bowl.

“Raspberry? The only people who ever eat those are Steve and… Eddie,” you say, slowly turning off the tap.

“Oh, uh, yeah well. You know how much Steve likes them, we should be nice to him this year,” Robin rushes out, a nervous lilt hinting in her voice.

“Okay…” you say, catching the piercing look Nancy gives her girlfriend.

Unbeknownst to you, the girls, Steve, and Eddie had come up with a plan for Eddie’s grand entrance at the party on Christmas Eve. They weren’t going to tell you — or anyone else — that he was back home, wanting it to be a surprise. Mostly, they just didn’t trust anyone else not to spill the beans to you.

Robin and Nancy had previously talked about making the third kind of cookie for Steve and Eddie, but, well… Robin wasn’t supposed to tell you that. They were going to make them without you, so as not to make you suspicious. But, sometimes Robin’s brain works on autopilot. She looks as though she wants to grab the words out of thin air and stuff them back down her throat.

Thankfully for them, you don’t overthink it. You don’t really have a reason to. Choosing to move right along, you ask them what they need your help with so you’re not standing there aimlessly all afternoon. Nancy hands you a rolling pin to roll the dough out once Robin’s finished mixing it, and you get right down to it.

The three of you make quick work of the whole process, you rolling out the dough and Nancy cutting shapes into it as Robin mixes up the icing. The longer you’re there, though, the more the energy starts to feel… off.

They keep looking at you weirdly, for starters. Staring at you a little too long, looking like they want to tell you something but they never do. It’s nothing you can’t brush off, but it just feels different in a way you can’t explain.

You’re all singing along to Christmas music, laughing and dancing around the kitchen when the phone rings.

Nancy pulls the phone off of the wall, cradling it between her shoulder and her ear as she attempts to continue icing a few cookies. “Hello?” she asks into the receiver.

Her eyes go wide, then, her casual demeanor slipping away as she fumbles to hold the phone fully with one hand, backing closer to the wall.

“Uh, hi. I’m with Robin and Sunny right now. This isn’t really a good time,” she says, stressing the last part a little too hard and making you look over in her direction.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“It’s, um, it’s just Steve.”

“Oh! Can I talk to him for a second? I have something I’ve been meaning to ask him,” you say, walking over to her.

She hesitates for a moment before slamming the phone back on the hook without a word, pressing her lips into a thin line. “He had to… go. Sorry,” she says, furrowing her brows. Robin looks up at her with an arched brow, and you’re simply stood there with your mouth slightly open, utterly confused.

Nancy forces a tight-lipped smile on her face, feigning coolness, as she walks back to the counter to continue decorating the cookies.

“Okay. What is going on?” you break the silence. They’re acting strange. Like, really fucking strange.

“What?” they both ask in unison, only heightening your suspicions.

“You guys are acting so weird. And why did you just hang up on Steve like that?”

“I…. it… it wasn’t Steve. It was Eddie that called,” Nancy admits, and you don’t miss the way Robin shoots her daggers. “I’m sorry, Sunny. I just didn’t want you to start thinking about him. I want this day to be fun for you!” she covers, skirting around the fact that Eddie is very much in Hawkins and was calling about something regarding the party.

“Oh…” you say, thinking this over. “It’s okay, Nance. I can handle the truth,” you continue, not angrily.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied, it was silly of me,” she admits, shaking her head a little. You can sense Robin’s posture relaxing beside you. She’s still being a little weird….

You don’t want to press the issue, simply telling Nancy it’s fine and continuing on with your work. It does make you think about Eddie, but then again, when aren’t you thinking about him? Nothing has truly relieved you of the weight of his loss, and it’s certainly not Nancy’s fault that he called at a bad time.

The cookies are completed within the next few hours, the girls behaving much more calmly than they were before and during the phone call. You’re tired by the time all of the sugary treats have been put aside in tins, and you’re more than ready to go home and sink into your warm bed. Tugging your coat back on, you prepare yourself to face the cold.

“Thank you guys so much for inviting me over, I had a lot of fun today,” you smile, making them return the expression. “Honestly, it’s the first day in a while where I’ve felt kind of… normal.”

Nancy squeezes you in a hug, rubbing your back with gentle hands. “I’m so glad to hear it. We’ll see you at the Christmas party, then?” she asks as she pulls away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys then. Steve better eat all of those damn raspberry cookies, since we made a huge batch just for him,” you joke, and Robin laughs a little too hard before Nancy elbows her in the side.

You pause in the middle of tugging on your second boot, glancing at them with piqued interest. You guess they’re both just weird today.

Present Day: Christmas Eve, 1989.

Fluffy white flakes fall down around you, landing on the fuzzy surface of your black coat as you step out of your car. Popping open your trunk, you start gathering the presents you’d brought for everyone. Steve’s front door opens, light from the inside of his home illuminating the darkening driveway as he steps out, jogging down to you.

“Hey, let me give you a hand,” he offers, squeezing your shoulder.

“Okay, thanks,” you smile, your cheeks and nose already chilled from the cold weather.

“You excited? You always love my Christmas Eve parties,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh a little. Easing the ache in your chest.

“Of course I am,” you assure him, even if you don’t know if you really mean it.

Between the two of you, you’re able to carry all of the presents inside — a blur of red and green and gold, pretty bows and shiny wrapping paper, stumbling through the front door. Everyone has already arrived, except for Robin and Nancy. You’re sure they’re scrambling to get all of the cookies in the car along with their gifts.

Max helps you lay the presents around Steve’s tree, a tall and sparkly thing that makes the living room feel more warm. You can feel yourself defrosting, the ice caging in your heart melting slowly as you try to soak in the Christmas spirit. After another minute the girls burst through the door, Nancy carrying two tins of cookies with gift bags hanging from her arms. Robin follows closely behind, carrying the third tin of baked goods and as many presents as she could stack on top of each other.

Steve’s hurrying over to them in an instant, scolding Robin for not asking for his help. He eases their load, bringing the cookies into the kitchen where you offer to plate some of them. Jonathan’s mixing up a spiked eggnog, passing you a shot glass half-full to give it a taste test. The hustle and bustle feels good today, or at least as good as it can.

Everyone’s starting to settle in, chatting amongst one another with a type of giddiness that only comes this time of year. You see the snow still falling outside from the large windows, thankful to be warm by the fire.

You’re about to pour yourself a drink when there’s a knock on the door, stopping everyone in the middle of their conversations.

“Sunny, can you get that?” Steve asks you nonchalantly, laying out a spread of mini-sandwiches on the kitchen island.

“Who else are we expecting?” you ask, looking around you at your friends.

“Can you just grab it, please?” Steve tries again, making himself look as distracted as possible.

“Okay, okay, I’m going! Jesus,” you mutter the last part to yourself, crossing your cardigan over your chest as you hurry towards the door.

Who it could possibly be, you have no idea. The usual group was here. Maybe a parent, dropping by to say hello? You pull the door open, a rush of frigid air whooshing past you. You aren’t sure who you were expecting to see, but you know who you weren’t. The person on the other side of it stops you dead in your tracks, your heart honest to god stopping for a moment. You stand there, staring at each other in heavy silence for what feels like a century before you finally speak.

“Eddie?”

taglist: @hellfirenacht @writethrough @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @likedovesinthewnd @tlclick73 @mrsjellymunson @idkitsem @svbrbnlegends @eddiesxangel @munsonzgf @hereforshmut @eggo-segual @joannamuns9n @lavendermunson @leenameh @micheledawn1975 (closed)

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

Part 14: The Drama You've Been Craving

summary: this chapter is sexy and intense! You and Eddie both have obsessive exes on your heels just as the entire Coffin Kings MC is given a reason to take down Craig. You and Eddie are glued at the hip until work and life split you apart and you realize you aren't as safe as you thought. Steve takes his new benefactress to a wedding, but you and Robin show up to warn him--even though it might be too late. wc: 10.3K

Series Masterlist

18+ONLY, mature themes, smut, angst, mention of a consensual bdsm relationship, typical series violence, a stalker, high speed chase, a death, mention of sex with someone other than reader, reader is threatened, everyone is a possible target.

authors note: I want some things to be a surprise, but if you've been following this story---you know the vibe to expect. That being said, this chapter and the next are VERY fast paced, full of angst, tension, and a sense of everyone on edge. If this is not your thing, I totally understand. This story started out as a tow truck driver who just happened to be in a Motorcycle Club, but it has morphed into a full-blown biker drama. A new character is introduced at The Velvet Hammer who will be Steve's love interest in a side fic I'm working on! I love you, enjoy the ride ❤️

"You feed it once, and now it stays

Now, it stays

You tear me open but beware

There's things inside without a care

And the dirt still stains me."

-- Until it Sleeps, Metallica

---------

Eddie stayed with you that night, knowing that Craig had broken into your place, and Katie went to be with Robin, so the two of you had the duplex to yourselves. Eddie put the deadbolt on both of the doors and blocked under the doorknob with kitchen chairs, and then the two of you took a shower together. He soaped your back with care, and it wasn’t long before you felt both of his hands at your hips as his hard length rocked back and forth along your slit from behind.

“Again?” You gave him a glance over your shoulder, a bit in disbelief. This would be the fourth time in less than two hours.

“You’re right,” he mumbled, continuing to saw his hips slowly while the water sprayed and the steam rose. “I should stop, huh?” He wrapped an arm around your throat and pulled you back to suck your earlobe into his mouth while his other hand found your clit.

“You’re a maniac,” the last word was a gasp as his tongue twirled in your ear and your hand skidded down the wet tile wall.

You were so stressed about Craig, and letting Eddie fuck you senseless was the only thing that gave you a bit of relief. The orgasms wiped your mind clean, if only for a few moments, and you wondered how many he could give you before the night was over and you could succumb to sleep. Craig was always there, in the back of your mind now, creeping around your place, stalking your house from across the street---god forbid he was stalking your friends.

Just as Eddie had you bent forward to slide his tip in, and you begged for him to go deeper, the phone rang.

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. The shower stream blasted against his neck, dripping down his nose and hair as he watched his cock stretch you out.

Your eyes shot open and you stiffened. “Wait, I need to get that,” you straightened, reluctantly forcing his cock to pop out.

On any other day, under any other circumstances, Eddie would have coaxed you to ignore it, but the current Craig situation had everyone on edge. His nerves were fried with how bad he wanted to hammer the nails into your stalker’s coffin, but he was doing all he could to remain calm for you. He didn’t want you to see him frazzled and amped up and storming through town kicking down doors like he wanted to.

Plus, he also didn’t want to let you out of his sight.

Eddie swatted your bare butt as you stepped out onto the mat and pulled a towel around you.

“Hey,” he yelled as he finished washing your conditioner out of his hair. “That ass is mine.”

“Sure, sure,” you mumbled, snorting at his constant eagerness. Your feet made wet imprints on the carpet as you crossed over to the phone on the nightstand by your bed.

Eddie was just about to ask if he should turn the water off or if you were getting back in when he heard your voice crack. “Baby? It’s for you.”

Eddie jerked the lavender curtain back and wiped his eyes. Your face was pinched with worry, your legs still dripping wet below the towel.

“Who is it? Steve?” But then his stomach dropped as he asked it, knowing it was something bad just by the look on your face.

You shook your head. “I didn’t catch her name, but she’s really upset,” you came in close to whisper to him as he turned the shower off, your eyes searching his.

“She said that someone named Jester was just murdered.”

------

Eddie sat down on the couch with a huff and bent over to tie his boots furiously, hair dripping wet, heart racing with adrenaline.

Goddamn it, Jester, Eddie murmured under his breath. He should’ve called Eddie, he should’ve waited, like Eddie fucking asked him to. Shari said the guy at her motel matched the description of Craig, and Jester went over there to check it out; two hours later, his Coffin King brother was found in the parking lot with a broken neck. Jester was just a kid, barely 23, and he’d just patched over from being a Prospect only a few months ago.

Fuck, Eddie was pissed. The anger pumped so hot in his veins that he had to shake his head a few times so that he could see straight.

You were dressed now, but haphazardly so; your tee shirt was on inside out and the first pair of sweats you pulled out of the drawer had a blue paint stain on the thigh. You were biting your pinky nail down to the quick as you stood back against the kitchen island watching Eddie. You knew Craig had something to do with this---you knew it in the depths of your soul---but Eddie wouldn’t tell you any of the details. He said he needed to go down and check it out for himself.

He said he’d be right back.

He told you to keep everything locked and lodge the chair under the door when he left.

But you didn’t want to let him out of your sight, not with your maniac ex on the loose. You weren’t even worried about yourself, you were more concerned with Eddie riding out there in the dark to the motel all alone. 

You’d met Jester once; his real name was Aaron, and he was young but he was big and strong, and one of the guys who ran the fights said he had the skill to be the next War Machine.

“Should you call Hopper?” You watched him lace his other boot while you gnawed another nail off.

Eddie frowned. “What the hell is he going to do about it?” He spat. “Besides, he’s probably already down there, making shit harder for me.”

“You think it was Craig, don’t you? The one who murdered Jester?”

Eddie took a long breath and sat there bent over for a second, eyes on the carpet. “I don’t know anything right now baby, that’s why I need to---”

You bent down to put your shoes on.

“Hey, I told you to wait here, please,” Eddie stood up, adjusted his belt and wallet chain, and came over to take you by the shoulders. You tried to shrug away, but he found your eyes, grabbing you by the chin so you would look at him. Piece of hair were sticking to his cheeks, still wet from the shower.“I don’t know what I’ll be rolling up on down there. I can’t risk it being a situation where you might get hurt.”

Your eyes were hot with defiant tears. “Well, what if this was just a ploy so you would leave me here alone, did you ever think of that? Hmm? These chairs blocking the doors are cute, but they won’t stop him, I think you know that.”

Fuck, he hadn’t thought of that. Eddie’s blood rage was making him sloppy; he had to get his head on straight.

You could tell that your words had nudged him and the gears in his head were clicking in your favor.

You continued to pull the bill up on your converse to slide your foot in. “Like you said, the cops will be there, and probably a bunch of other people rubbernecking, and he’s not going to do anything out in the open, even if he does see me.” You squatted down to tie them as quickly as you could.

You stood up, breathless, and swallowed hard. “I’m not staying here like live bait. If you leave without me, I’ll get in my car and follow.”

Eddie’s nostrils flared, assessing you from under hooded eyes, but in the end—-he knew you were right.  You snatched your helmet from the dresser in your bedroom and went out to straddle your man on the bike like a pro as it yielded to your weight.  Eddie smiled a little to himself as you adjusted  yourself behind him, remembering how shy you’d been about riding in the beginning.   With your arms secure around him and your chin pinned at his shoulder, the bike growled out onto the main road from the street.  You glanced around in the bushes on the sidewalk, expecting to see Craig’s face looming in the shadows.

—---------

The police had the area between the motel and the gas station taped off, protecting the crime scene, and Jester’s body was gone, but his bike was still there by the gas station, tipped over onto his side, his helmet was a few feet away.  There were 3 patrol cars, the Sheriff’s bronco, and an ambulance, plus a crowd of people from the motel, and one woman was crying while the other one held her.  A few of the Coffin Kings including the patch President Bones, and Thumper were already there, hanging back, arms crossed, wondering who would do this, and how they could find him before the police did. 

You checked around, squinting into the crowd as you dismounted the bike.  Eddie opened his hand for you to pass him your helmet once you took it off.  

Hopper waved off one of the other officers and approached Eddie right away, removing his hat to slick back his hair as he strolled over.  

“Eddie,” he nodded.

“Hop,” Eddie returned. He called you his “old lady” when he introduced you, which made your smile twitch up in a weird way, having never been referred to as that before.  It sounded like an insult, but apparently it meant that you were his pride and joy.

Hopper got Eddie up to speed on what they knew, which was almost nothing.  Jester was found face down on the pavement with a broken neck, legs trapped under his bike.   His girlfriend Shari who worked at the motel is the one who found him, and she didn’t see or hear anything unusual during the time when it happened.  Of course they’d questioned her as if she had something to do with it, which was ridiculous since Shari was maybe 90 pounds soaking wet.

You were doing a spin around in a circle to take everything in when your eyes landed with a screeching halt on the hunter green SUV parked in front of room 11 on the far side of the lot.  A squeak escaped your throat and you stumbled back against Eddie.  Was he inside the room watching you right now? 

Hopper raised his eyebrow at Eddie. “Any issues with retaliation that I should know about? Has Jester had beef with anyone lately?”

Eddie lifted his chin, bracing his hands at his hips.  Hopper knew damn well that, even if this had to do with a rival gang, Eddie sure as hell wouldn’t talk about it to the cops.  He’d take care of it in his own way, which was exactly what needed to happen in this case.

There was usually some polite banter between the two of them, but the mood that evening was much too somber.  

“What about people staying at the motel?” You blurted.  “Have they been questioned yet?”

Eddie curled his arm around you and pulled you closer, almost as if to shut you up, but Hopper paused to meet your gaze. The only people staying at the motel that night were a husband and wife with their newborn, an elderly couple on their way to visit grandkids, a business woman representing Mary Kay cosmetics, and a highly decorated war veteran who had been injured in the line of duty.  The vet was on his way home from a conference in Pennsylvania—Hopper had yet to confirm this, but nothing about the guy felt concerning.  

“You think someone staying at the motel wanted to kill Jester?” His tone had an edge of mocking, but he was also genuinely curious why you would ask that.

Eddie squeezed you tighter, silently reminding you not to share too much with the police.

“Well I—” you stammered, checking over your shoulder at the SUV, and then back up to Eddie. “I was wondering if there were any witnesses, that’s all.”

Hopper nodded.  “We’ll be checking with all of them early in the morning, but my guess is they were asleep.  Whoever did this was quick and sneaky.”

That description made a shiver run down your spine.  Even as you stood there in a crowd, you could feel an imaginary blade slice across  your throat.  

Hopper was good at his job, but he was letting himself be blinded by the people Jester chose to associate himself with.  You run with a ruthless MC, you get hurt, that’s a given.  

Hopper questioned Shari, but she also knew not to talk to the police, and kept quiet about the way Jester came there to keep an eye on the creepy guy in room 11.  She told Bones, though, and the second Hopper strolled off, you pulled Eddie aside.

“Look,” you motioned with your head to the SUV across the parking lot.

Eddie rolled his bottom lip through his teeth, checking to make sure Hopper was far enough away.  “I saw it, baby,” he grabbed the back of your neck and massaged it.  He worked his jaw as he stared at the motel room in question, hoping that fucker was peeking through the curtains and could see him holding onto you.  If the place wasn’t crawling with pigs, he’d kick the door down right then and there.  

Steve rolled into the lot on his chopper and gave a two-finger wave to Bones and the rest before making his way to a halt near you and Eddie.  He had clear, utility glasses on to keep the bugs out of his eyes when he rode at night, and he pushed them up into his messy hair as he dismounted.  He wasn’t wearing his helmet, which was an illegal and risky thing to do right in front of law enforcement—but Steve was notorious for making up his own rules.  

There were also two mean looking hickeys on his neck. Even mixed in with his tattoos, they were hard to miss.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” Eddie raised an eyebrow at the aggressively bruised mouth bites. One was positioned dead-center on his adam’s apple.  Something about them felt familiar to Eddie, but he shrugged it off.  

Steve reached into the front pocket of his cut for his lighter and smokes, popping one in his mouth.  “What did I miss?”

Eddie filled him in on Jester getting whacked, and Steve blew smoke out of his nose, thoughtfully, his brows knitting together.  

“Bones wants to take it to the table,” Eddie told him, meaning their MC would get together at the clubhouse at Munson’s Garage and discuss what they wanted to do.  His eyes lingered on room 11 again. “But I want to take care of this guy myself.  It’s personal.”

“If it’s personal for you, it’s personal for me,” Steve told him, letting Eddie know he had his back, even though he had no idea about the gravity of the situation and who Craig actually was. 

You sniffed the air.  “Hold on,” you stepped closer to Steve, taking another long whiff.  He exchanged a curious look with Eddie over your shoulder.  “Is that Chanel number 5 I smell?”

Steve lifted the collar of his white tee to his nose.  “Um, I dunno. Maybe.  I guess?”

“Expensive taste,” Eddie mumbled, and another cog clicked in his brain, another piece falling into a puzzle that he didn’t know he needed to solve.  He was about to open his mouth, to ask Steve where he had been—but then he remembered that who his friend was fucking was none of his business.  There were plenty of wealthy, horny women in the area who wore Chanel number 5 and gave aggressive hickeys.  He was sure of it.

You stayed very close to Eddie and Steve as they walked over to get as close as they could to where the body had been, so much so that you tripped over the back of Steve’s heels twice, and he teasingly asked if you were drunk.  “No, but I wish,” you admitted, constantly looking over your shoulder at the motel.  You kept expecting Craig to appear, to step out of his room with his hands in his pockets and a smug look on his face, enjoying the chaos he caused.  

Eddie made a point to ask for Jester’s cut-off leather vest, with the Coffin Kings insignia on the back and his nickname patched on the front.  Eddie folded it with great reverence, knowing they would give it to his mother at the funeral.  Eddie also wanted to talk with Shari, but now was not the time to interrogate her.

Hopper told everyone to disperse, including the group of Coffin Kings that were lingering, but none of them were going far.  As much as they weren’t afraid of the law, they also had to pretend to abide by it from time to time so that they weren’t getting their feathers ruffled constantly and thrown in jail over stupid shit.  

They positioned two of the Prospects across the street in the park with a clear view of the motel. After what happened to Jester, they weren’t taking any chances with snoozing on the job, and both were packing serious, illegal heat.  

You asked Steve how Oliver was while Bones clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.  The man was average height, but all gray, with a bandana on his head, and a thick mustache; he reminded you of Sam Elliott.

“You think this is the guy? The one stalking your old lady?”  Bones’ already gruff voice was accentuated by years of smoking. 

Eddie’s gaze flicked to one of the patrol cruisers that was leaving the scene, and he nodded. “This one is mine, brother. I need this.”

“We all need it,” Bones agreed, gripping Eddie’s shoulder.  He leaned in, “If you want to drag that guy out of there right now, we’re with you.”

“No,” Eddie appreciated the offer but, “I want to catch him on the move, away from all of this protection,” he added, hitching his chin in the direction of the police.  “I can’t risk us getting locked up while he roams free.”

Eddie also didn’t trust the Prospects to keep a close enough eye on him, so he planned to take you to Steve’s and come back; there was no way he’d be able to sleep knowing Craig would be up and about in a few hours.  

But you weren’t so crazy about that idea.  Sure, you’d stay the night at Steve and Robin’s if that made him feel better to know you were all in one place, but Eddie needed to stay with you.

Robin and Oliver were asleep, and Steve was in the shower washing off his Chanel number 5 when Eddie shut the door to Steve’s bedroom so you could talk.  Steve’s room was little else than a tv, a dresser, and a futon sofa that folded out into a bed.  There was a chair next to the window and an ashtray full of cigarette butts on the sill.  He usually slept in the extra twin bed in Oliver’s room down the hall, though, and that is where he would be that night so that you and Eddie could have the futon.  You knew that not much talking needed to be involved to get him to stay and you quickly dropped to your knees, working his belt off and unzipping his jeans.

“Wait, baby, I—” Eddie began to protest but by then you’d already pulled the top of his boxers down and were wrapping your soft lips around the head of his cock.  “---oh fuck that feels good,” he whispered, dropping the back of his head to the wall.

You kissed down the smooth shaft and felt it grow against your lips, and then swirled your tongue around the head again, knowing by the sounds he was making that you had him right where you wanted him.

“Stay here with me baby,” you coaxed, gripping his cock in your fist, lapping at it with your tongue a few times like it was an ice cream cone, looking up at him.  “I need you.”

He put a hand on the back of your head and pushed his hips forward ever so slightly, so the tip made its way to the back of your throat.  It was growing to full-size fast, and you made a humming noise, vibrating on it while you caressed his balls through his boxers.

“Shit, oh fuck, I love it when you do that,” he breathed.  God, he loved watching how well you took care of him, especially the way a string of saliva would stretch out between your mouth and his tip when you pulled back; your mouth was so wet for him.

“Mhmmm,” you nodded.  His tip was already leaking, and you pulled his boxers down further to take one of his balls into your mouth before coming back up to lick the drops clean.

There were a handful of times when Eddie let you give him head from start to finish, but more often than not—he always wanted to finish inside of you.  It wasn’t a breeding thing, it was more of a “I need to be as close to you as I possibly can” kind of thing, and his balls ached for it.

After making sure the door was locked, speaking exclusively in hushed whispers, it wasn’t long before you were both naked and Eddie had you on the bed with your legs straight up over his shoulders.  He ran his cock along your slippery slit, and then he tapped your hole with the head a few times, like a vow.  He braced his hands at your hips and sank in, making you both bite back a cry of pleasure.  He pounded you with fierce urgency before slowing it down to long strokes, turning his face to kiss your leg.  The open futon had the cushion of a cement block, and so there were no pesky springs or hinges to make curious noises.

“I’m so full baby,” you whined. “You’re so deep.”

“Fuck,” he bottomed out a few more times, clapping his hips against you.  You heard the shower across the hall turn off and worried that Steve might catch the wet smacking noises.

There were no lights on in the room, but enough illumination from outside for Eddie to be able to watch himself slide in and out of you, growling low as he did so, loving how the skin of his cock glistened with your arousal.  

You were swiping at your clit with the pads of your fingers, and your hand sped up when he started fucking you hard again. You met his eyes, your brows knitting together.  “Oh fuck Eddie…just like that.” 

Eddie knew that, if you said you liked something, that was not time to switch things up, and he ached to hear you get loud.

“That’s my girl,” he hissed.  “Cum on my cock baby, I want you to cum so fucking hard, oh shit—” he could feel his own release mounting as your walls rippled around him.  His strong fingers dug into your thigh as his thrusts became erratic, long hair hanging down his strong, tattooed shoulders and chest. 

You arched up, mouth opening only to mouth a curse word as you felt Eddie buck and release inside of you, biting his lip so hard it almost bled as he moaned deep in his throat. Your cunt milked his dick as you came, twitching, breathing hard from the adrenaline rush of trying to keep quiet.

The bathroom door opened, there was the sound of footsteps in the hall, and then a knock at your door.  You mirrored Eddie’s wide eyes, and then he pulled out of you, reluctantly, semi-hard cock bobbing in the air, and stepped into his jeans while you covered yourself with the Harley Davidson blanket.

Before Eddie could get his jeans zipped, Steve tried the doorknob. “Yo, the bathroom is free,” he let you both know, as any roommate would if there were only one shower and toilet in the house.  

“Thanks man,” Eddie paused, waiting, wondering if that was it.

But Steve rapped his knuckles softly on the wood again.  “Let me in for a second, dude, I gotta get something out of my closet.”

Eddie shot a look back at you, as if to make sure you were covered up, while simultaneously wondering if he wanted Steve to see that you were obviously naked under his blanket.  He adjusted his cock in his denim and reached out to pluck the lock open on the knob.

“Took you long enough,” Steve blew in with a Snoopy towel around his waist, exposing the wash of colorful tattoos covering his torso that you’d never seen before.  He had “FTW” inked in big letters in an arc over his stomach, and after consulting with Eddie later, you learned it stood for “fuck the world”.  Your eyes also landed on Oliver’s name tattooed over his heart.  He usually slicked his hair back, so this was the first time you ever saw it so messy and wild.

Steve slid the closet door open, yanked something off a wire hanger, and was about to walk back out the door when he stopped and turned on his heel to give you both a wiggle of his eyebrows.  “Hold up—did I interrupt something?”

Eddie didn’t say anything, he just blinked a few times, and you plastered a tight smile across your face that made your cheeks squeak.  

“If you need me to stay, I could—” Steve teased, offering a few exaggerated winks.

“Get the fuck out,” Eddie pushed his shoulder, snorting a muffled laugh as he did so.

—-----------

Earlier that evening, when you and Eddie showed up at the crime scene near the motel—-Craig was not in his room.  He hadn’t been there for almost two hours, since he killed Jester.  He got out through the window in the bathroom, and that poor kid never saw it coming.  After that, he hotwired a car from the grocery store parking lot a few blocks away and waited across the street, in plain sight, watching the whole thing. He gritted his teeth and mumbled under his breath when Eddie put his arm around you, and when you left together—he followed.  

He already knew where your friends Steve and Robin lived, and it was not a shocker that your biker boyfriend took you there. You didn’t need protection from Craig, though, you needed protection from the world, and metalhead scum like Eddie Musnon.  He knew you would thank him one day, for finding you and bringing you back to your senses.

It took him a while to figure out the exact spot where you would be in the house, but once he did, he found that the window was cracked open, like a gift.  He hadn’t expected the sounds of you getting fucked to turn him on, but the way you whimpered…oh god…those noises you made.  He put his head against the side of the house, closed his eyes, and pretended it was his cock inside of you.  He came into the bushes, mumbling your name with the additional, “you fucking bitch, you fucking whore” before adjusting himself and making his way back to the motel.

—-------

The next morning, Craig’s vehicle was still there, and it didn’t appear like the guy had even moved a muscle or pulled back a curtain.  

At around 8:00, the two Prospects stationed on watch across the street got a phone call from the payphone on the corner.  It was Bones, letting them know they were both needed down at the abandoned steel mill.

Both were tired of waiting, but Van, the one who’d answered the phone, couldn’t mount his bike fast enough, while Devlin worked through some internal struggle.

“Hold on,” Devlin said, taking a second to absorb what Van just told him.  Both had long hair tied back in ponytails, each similarly tall with lanky muscles.  Van was sleeved with tattoos, though, while Devlin only had a Celtic design on his bicep.  “He needs both of us? What about this guy?” He tossed his chin in the direction of the motel.   “Eddie said not to let him out of our sight.”

“Do you want me to call Bones back so you can give him all these questions?” Van offered snidely, knowing that the last thing a Prospect would ever do is question the President of the MC. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, I gotta piss.  If Eddie wants this guy so bad, he can come babysit him.”

Devlin pulled his leather gloves on, flexing his fingers as he stared across at Van.  There’s no way in hell he’d talk that way to Eddie’s face—he’d get rocked into next week.  Devlin noticed that Van was jittery, like an addict jonesing for a hit of something.  “It’s your ass,” Devlin assured him as he strapped his helmet on under his chin.  

—------

When the boys swung by to talk to the Prospects a bit later, the two were nowhere to be found, and Craig’s SUV was gone.   

“Son of a bitch,” Eddie spat, motioning for Steve to follow him to circle around to the motel. 

“What the fuck?” Steve barked, looking around as they each dismounted their bikes. He had on a red tee with the armholes cut open wide to expose his tan ribcage and scattered tattoos.“Where the hell are Van and Devlin?”

Eddie didn’t have time to solve that mystery, he was too focused on the way the door to room 11 was cracked ajar, suggesting that the occupant had left in a hurry.

Both boys stood back on either side of the door, each with one hand on the hilt of their holstered knives.  Not only was Craig dangerous, but he was a sneaky coward who didn’t have the guts to face Eddie like a man.  

Eddie pounded the door the rest of the way open with his boot.

The room appeared to have been vacated—the guy even took out his own trash, as if someone would want to sift through it.  The bed had been made, with the sheets tucked so tight, you could bounce a dime on it, and on his way back from checking the bathroom, Eddie saw a matchbook from The Golden Lion Hotel and Resort sitting on the desk.

“Maybe the guy gave up,” Steve looked around the dresser under the tv, pulling the empty drawers open.  “Tucked his tail and ran like the scared puppy he is.”

Eddie shook his head a few times before he said anything, turning the matchbook over in his fingers. “Oh,he’s still around,” Eddie concluded.  “And I think he left us a breadcrumb.”

Eddie wasn’t stupid, he knew the guy hadn’t left it there by accident.  Craig seemed to get off on slipping through their fingers and mocking them around every turn, but he underestimated what Eddie would do when he actually got a hold of him.

—-----------

When Eddie called to tell you what had happened, a cold chill ran down your spine.  It was late morning, and you were at your Saturday “bloody mary brunch” shift at the Velvet Hammer while The Drama You’ve Been Craving by Sleater-Kinney played from the jukebox.  The b-movie on the tv mounted above the bar was The Killer Shrews. Your shift was 9 to 4, but you planned on asking if you could work a double and stay as late as possible, because it felt safe to be in a crowd; staying busy also kept your anxiety at bay.  The only downside would be that Eddie was out of your sight, and you had a feeling that both the boys would be trying to track down Craig for most of the day.  You weren’t doubting that Eddie could handle himself against Craig in a fist fight—but that wasn’t the type of combat Craig excelled at.  There was always some element of manipulation and psychological fuckery.

And then Steve was off to be a bodyguard for some wealthy, country club wife later that night, leaving Eddie completely alone.  You weren’t sure of the details, but you knew he was being forced to go to take whoever it was to some wedding.  All you could do was serve alcoholic beverages and hope the world outside figured itself out without anyone you loved getting hurt.

You overheard the new server ask Shana if Steve was working the door that day.

“He’s only here after 6,” Shana replied, digging a metal scoop into the ice to make a mint mojito.  There was about an inch of platinum stubble growing in on her shaved head.  She wore a dark red choker with a cross dangling from it, and a low cut, velvet shirt to expose the roses and thorns tattoo that covered her chest.  “But, he asked for the night off,” Shana wiggled her eyebrows at the girl.  “I think he has a hot date.”

To your surprise, you watched the new girl’s face drop.  She’d only been there for a week, and it seemed like she and Steve were always in the middle of a lover’s spat.  Some of it was playful banter, but also, the more she pushed him away and teased him,  the more he sought her out to tease her more, and she wasn’t afraid to give her rejection harsh and swift.  

“It’s not a date,” you corrected, walking side by side, carrying drinks to your table.  “Some lady is paying him to be her escort slash bodyguard for a wedding tonight.”

A smile twitched on her lips; she looked relieved as the two of  you set the drinks down black cocktail napkins coasters.  After you finished at that table, Lily tapped your elbow.

“Who would need a bodyguard at a wedding in this town?” She asked, frowning quizzically. “Is she famous or something?”

Her question brought a sudden avalanche of memories down on you.  You remembered that day at the gallery when you first caught sight of Charlene, and the second time you ever met Eddie.  He was there as her “bodyguard” that night, according to Jeff, and you recalled how ridiculous it sounded.

That night several months ago, you teased Eddie for being on your “turf” on the sidewalk outside of Moon River Gallery, and just the thought of those early days made your heart flutter.  

It dawned on you then, like a smack to the forehead, who Steve was escorting to the wedding that night, and you leaned across the bar to ask Shanna to pass you the phone.  

—--------

Robin answered as she spun cookie dough in a mixing bowl with a wooden spoon, her hair in a scrunchy on the top of her head.  She’d offered to watch one of her friend's kids for a bit, and both the boys were giggling at cartoons in the living room.  The smoke alarm just went off because she burned the first batch and was determined to try again.

You asked if Steve had checked in recently, or if she expected him home any time soon.

Pinning the phone between her shoulder and her ear, Robin opened the window above the sink to try and wave some of the burnt cookie smoke out with her hand.  “He was just here to grab something, but then he took off again,” she kicked the oven closed with her foot.  “Why, what’s up?”

You figured there was always a chance he’d stop by The Hammer even though he wasn’t working—you hoped so anyway.  “You know if he’s still doing that escort thing tonight?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty excited about it,” there was a tiny voice in the background and Robin held her hand over the receiver to tell Ollie she’d be there in a second.  “Well, he’s excited about the money.  I got invited to the same wedding, but Katie’s visiting her mom and I don’t want to be lame and go by myself, even though Paul’s mom did offer to babysit.”

“Oh, that’s right,” you considered the implication of what she was saying.  If you could duck into the wedding long enough to warn Steve and let him know his “date” is the reason Eddie got stabbed, then at least Steve would have fair warning for what he was getting himself into. 

Robin stopped stirring and held the phone with her flour covered hand.  “Hey, do you want to be my date? I know you’ve got this creepy ex breathing down your throat, but until the Kings grab him, I think it would be fun to take your mind off of it. There’s an open bar at the reception and I’m always a fan of free food.”

You were nodding, but realized there were no words coming out. “I think that might be a really good idea,” you sucked in your top lip, almost wishing Eddie hadn’t ripped the dress John bought you.  “I was going to try and pick up another shift, but yeah, I could be your date.”

You already told Eddie you’d be working, so you’d let the new bouncer at the Hammer know where you were in case he came by.  Since Eddie was usually impossible to get a hold of during the day, you’d leave a message on his machine, too, just in case.  

Meanwhile, as Robin spooned dough onto an aluminum sheet, she remembered the gun that was locked back in the safe.  For some strange reason, the hair stood up on the back of her neck and she wondered if she would need it.  

—-------

Right before you left your message on Eddie’s machine letting him know where you would be, there was another message that came through:

(machine clicks) “It’s me, Melanie.  Wow, I guess you really don’t want to talk to me. (long pause) It’s been five years, I figured we could at least try to be friends or something, but I am reading your silence loud and clear. (heavy sigh) I went over to visit Wayne and he said you have a new girlfriend now, and that you’re happy, so, congratulations, I guess.  You deserve all the good things.  This is the last time I will try to contact you. Have a nice life, Eddie.”

Later that day, just as the sun was setting, the phone rang again.

(machine clicks) (shuffling, muffled cursing) “You know what? Fuck you, Eddie Mussin.” Melanie slurs. “Fuck you for making me fill like a peas of schit for even trying to be a part of your life. (hiccup) Your new whore is here at this wedding, where are you?  I don’t fuckin deserve this.  I need you to come down here right now and tell me to my face that you don’t love me anymore before I come to you–” (loud click)

—------

Back at the Munson’s Garage, Eddie did not go up to his apartment, but he did meet with Bones and a few of the other members inside the clubhouse.  Eddie told Bones about how Van and Devlin had disappeared, and he was just as confused as anyone.

“I don’t know shit about them leaving,” Bones assured from one of the bar stools, silver hair brushed back off his face, wearing an old school denim cut-off with the club insignia on it, and a thick wallet chain hanging down the thigh of his dark denim. “I told those fuckers to stay put until you got there.”

Eddie put his hands on his hips and worked his jaw. The door that led in from the garage opened then, and the two idiots in question appeared.  Eddie didn’t wait to ask questions, he just walked over, took the first one he could catch by the throat, and pinned him up against the wall with a hard thwack that sounded like he almost broke the wood paneling.  

Van choked and wheezed against Eddie’s hold. “Where the fuck have you two been?” Eddie spat through gritted teeth.  

Devlin started talking fast, waving his hands.  “We’ve been over at the abandoned steel mill, waiting where you told us to for the past couple hours,” he said to Bones in a rush.

Bones and Eddie exchanged a frown.  Bones shook his head, scowling at Devlin.  “What the hell are you talking about? Nothing’s going down at the steel mill today.” There were several abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town where the Kings conducted the shady side of their dealings, but so far, the weekend plans were tame.

Devlin shot a look at Van, whose face was beet red above Eddie’s grip, and then turned back to Bones.  “So, if you didn’t call us on the payphone this morning to tell us to go to the steel mill, who did?”

Eddie released Van so that he could talk, waiting for him to catch his breath and cough a few times.  “It sounded like you,” Van sputtered so hard that saliva dripped from his lip.

Bones sat back in his seat, smoothing out his mustache, while the other members around him mumbled to themselves.  “You really are just as stupid as you look.”

And then Eddie’s fist came in tight, landing flush with his Van’s jaw, and he stumbled back against the wall and slid to the floor, accepting his punishment with a curse.  

The door from the garage pushed open abruptly, and there stood Josh, one of Eddie’s mechanics wearing smudged overalls.  He threw a thumb over his shoulder.  “Yo, Thumper has eyes on that hunter green SUV you’ve been looking for.  It’s headed for Highway 22 off of Deer Park.”

Eddie pushed himself off the wall with the side of his fist, pounding it there, on his way outside to jump on his chopper.  The rest of the guys followed, including a woozy Van, stumbling as he got to his feet..  

Chrome pipes roared to life one right after the other as the eight of them rumbled out of the parking lot.

—------

While Eddie and a handful of the Coffin Kings were blowing down the highway in the hot summer sun in pursuit of Craig, Steve was sipping champagne, getting his sleeves marked to be adjusted last minute by Charlene’s personal tailor. They were in her master bedroom overlooking the pool as beige curtains billowed in along with the soft echo of Joey by Concrete Blonde from the radio down near the jacuzzi.  Charlene had a see-through coverup over her zebra print bikini as she watched from her chair.  She liked to touch herself whenever the tailor wasn’t looking, and to be fair—Steve liked it too.  She plucked at her nipple and ran the tip of her tongue over her teeth, making his cock twitch in his pants as he gnawed vigorously on his Wrigley’s Spearmint gum.  

He’d been with a few batshit crazy chicks in his day, but this one was up there with the battiest.  Honestly—he didn’t hate it.  The problem was, he’d started to have this crush on one of the new servers at The Velvet Hammer, and two things were wrong with it: one, he didn’t have time or room in his life for romance, and two, she kind of hated his guts.

She acted like she did, anyway.  She told him that his reputation preceded him, and that he’d never get in her pants, no matter how hard he tried.  

Bet.

Charlene helped him to take his mind off of that, even though she did treat him like some sort of life-sized Ken doll.  Her sexual appetite was insatiable, and that afternoon, before the tailor got there, was the second time she’d asked him to choke her while she came until she almost passed out.

Steve was afraid of those torture kinks though; afraid he might not know his own strength one time and take his anger out on his partner.  He had a switch inside of him that was either on or off, and he didn’t know how to idle in between.  

The tailor walked away to the vanity to grab something, and Charlene sauntered over to pretend she was fixing Steve’s collar.  She leaned forward to whisper in his ear: “I want to feel your cum drip out of me all night,” and it gave him a shiver.  He would definitely have to fuck her again before they left, and maybe again in the towncar on the way there.

—------

The thing that surprised Charlene the most was not how attracted she was to Steve, but how she was starting to not miss Eddie anymore.  This all started as a way to get closer to Eddie, and to get back at him at the same time, but now all she could think about was being naked with Steve—to have him rip her suit off with his teeth.  

He’d left marks on her, because she asked him too, and there was some slight bruising around her throat that she loved to admire.  John wouldn’t ask about it, he didn’t care what she did. Eddie always refused to indulge her in that way—he would fuck her rough, sure, but he didn’t like the idea of introducing pain, and none of her other lovers had the right touch until now.

She watched Steve’s jaw muscles work as he chewed his gum, and then he winked at her after the tailor asked him a question.  She was down bad in a way that made her want to be 15 years younger, to start completely over with someone like Steve. Maybe it would’ve made her a different, softer person, maybe they would’ve had a son together.  But then she remembered her situation and how that wasn’t an option, and then the bitterness flooded back in, rising like bile at the back of her throat.  

While Steve was just trying to make it through the evening, Charlene was trying to think of ways to keep him with her forever.

—-------

You showed up at Robin’s with the only dress you had that qualified as formal wear—the style was possibly outdated by ten years.  You brought your Caboodles makeup case too, because you knew how much Oliver loved to watch you put makeup on.  Robin never wore makeup, aside from some lipstick now and then, so she always appreciated it when you or Katie indulged him.  You had a polaroid back at the duplex of the makeup Oliver put on Steve once; wide, outlined red lips, bright green lids from lashline to eyebrow, and a dusting of glitter.  

“Which color do you think?” You asked, gesturing to your eyelids, in front of the bathroom mirror while Ollie stood on a step stool next to you.  He had on a pair of bright yellow swim trunks and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tank top.  

“I think this blue for one eye,” he scratched his head, tapping the hard plastic shell over a sparkly turquoise with a tiny finger.  He paused his hand as his eyes moved around, and made a serious face, concentrating.  “And this color for the other eye,” the other color was a dark red.

He looked up at you with those big, honey brown Steve eyes, waiting for you to start applying them, rubbing his lips together.  “Ollie, my love,” you chuckled.  “One day, your artistic genius will be appreciated, but I don’t think Hawkins is ready for it quite yet.”

“What if we do these,” you showed him a few things including eyeliner and blush. “And I’ll let you put some of the mascara on me.”

He nodded, eyes widening at all of the options scattered around the sink, wanting to put it all on your face at once. 

Suddenly, there was a pounding at the front door that made your heart stop.  

You told Oliver to wait in the bathroom and shut the door while you went to check it out.

Relief flooded in when you realized it was only Robin. She’d gone out to close the garage and accidentally locked herself out of the house.  Who else had you expected? Craig? Surely, he had no idea where Steve and Robin lived.  

Paul’s mom Raina was running an hour late to pick Oliver up with promises of ice cream and Scooby Doo, so you missed the wedding itself, but the two of you decided you’d still make it to the reception; shame to waste all the time you took getting ready. While you had a glass of wine in the kitchen and helped Robin zip up the back of her navy blue, strapless dress, you kept looking at the phone, and glancing out the living room window to the street, waiting to see Eddie, or at least hear from him.  On your way out the door, you tried his apartment one more time, but hung up before you could leave another message.  

—------

The Coffin Kings zoomed along the highway, weaving in and out of cars, keeping to a tight, intimidating pack as much as possible with Bones out in front and Eddie right behind him, hair flying in the wind. Thumper caught sight of them from a road crossing and joined, spitting up a cloud of dust as he went.  

Up ahead, there was a bottleneck in traffic as two lanes converged, and the line of cars were beginning to slow down.  Eddie spotted the SUV in the distance and waved the group to the side of the highway to bypass all of the vehicles at a standstill.  

Eddie’s arm muscles were tight and flexed, the sleeves of his Pantera tee exposing his tan, inked arms.  His face was locked in a permanent frown as he braced against the wind.  Four of the other guys went around the opposite side of the highway, ready to box in the target.  

The windows of the SUV were tinted, but Eddie could tell that the guy must’ve seen them coming in his rearview mirror because the vehicle lurched, wheels cranking, trying to get out on the lip of the road to escape.  

Eddie sped up, twisting the throttle on the right handlebar, weaving in through the cars again to rage down the dotted yellow line.  

The SUV bolted out from the line of cars, dove into the ditch, and then corrected itself before swerving onto an unpaved road that led out through the trees.

The gang followed; Eddie and Thumper got up behind it, eating dust from the tires, and once they were away from the traffic cluster, Thumper reached down for his handgun, aimed it at the back tire and shot twice.  

The vehicle swerved and kept going but slowed down enough for them to get along each side, and then Bones raised his gun and blew out the back window.

The SUV turned so fast that Thumper lost control and flipped his bike into the dirt, but motioned for the others to keep going.  

There was a dead-end curve with metal railing, and that is where the vehicle finally screeched to a halt sideways.  A few of the guys stayed on their bikes and aimed their guns at the driver’s side door, while Eddie dismounted and waited to see if Craig would step out, but he didn’t, so Eddie went over and yanked it open for him.  

“Please please please don’t kill me!” The woman behind the steering wheel screamed, holding her hands up. She was in her early fifties, highlights of gray hair in her brunette bob, wearing an orange corduroy jumper over a floral shirt.  

The woman was in tears, and Eddie stepped back in disbelief.  He jerked open the side door only to realize it was the same make of SUV, but it did not belong to Craig.

“You can take my wallet,” the woman stammered.  “It’s in my—”

“We’re sorry, ma’am,” Bones told her, motioning for everyone to lower their weapons as a dust cloud settled around them.  “There’s been a terrible mistake.”

Eddie started to walk away but then let out a violent curse at the last minute and punched the side of the SUV causing it to dent.  

—------

Steve ran the tip of his tongue over his gold incisor and buttoned his jacket as he came around the passenger side of the Jaguar to take Charlene’s hand at the entrance to the Golden Lion Hotel & Resort before he tossed the keys to the valet.  The tats on his hands and throat were an interesting pairing with the fancy suit he had on, and it took all of Charlene’s willpower not to kiss him right there.  She knew what everyone whispered about—she knew that the infidelities both her and John exercised were well known in town—but it was important to continue the facade.

It was a strange arrangement in more ways than one: Steve escorted her inside to where a group of her friends were, but then was told to wait out front like a guard until the ceremony and dinner were over.  Steve took a walk, smoked half a pack of cigarettes, talked to some of the other drivers, and sat in the lobby, bobbing his knee restlessly. Charlene came out to check on him a few times, like someone would a dog, even brought him a plate of food.  He planned to wait until the music for the dancing started, and then he’d go and find his benefactress to ask how much longer they needed to stay.  He didn’t mind Charlene—he thought she was hot as hell—but the only thing motivating him to stick around was feeling that wad of cash in his pocket once the evening was over.  

He saw Eddie’s ex Melanie at the bar taking shots with her friend, and he ducked behind a collection of imported palm trees so that they wouldn’t see him. 

______

“Steve!” You called across the parking lot as your heels clapped up the pavement with Robin close behind you.  You were relieved to see that he was alone, if only for a moment.  

He was afraid to look up at first, his head bent down as he finished the last of his smoke, not sure if it was someone he wanted to ignore.  But, when his eyebrows finally lifted the rest of his head up, his face beamed with a mix of relief and confusion.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” His surprised expression landed on Robin; it was only the third time in his life he’d seen her in a dress.  He almost didn’t recognize her.  

Robin scoffed.  “I wanted to go to this wedding in the first place, remember?”

“Oh shit,” Steve balked. “Is this Scott’s wedding you were telling me about?”

Robin shook her head and snorted a laugh out her nose.  “You are unreal.”

“Damn, I wasn’t paying any attention,” he jerked the corners of his mouth down in an oblivious frown. 

“Hey,” you took Steve by the elbow, leaning in.  “The woman you’re here with, is her name Charlene?”

Steve’s ADHD was getting the better of him.  “Yes, why? Where’s Eddie? Is he coming? Did they catch that freak who broke into your place?”

You stammered, trying to choose which one to answer.  “I’m not sure, but I—”

And that was when Charlene showed up in the entranceway behind you—in the flesh—and beckoned for Steve to come inside.  You could almost feel her there, even without looking, and it made all of the hair on your body stand on end. 

You turned to face her in all of her Sharon Stone glory, and in that moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a flicker of fear flash over her face as she recognized you.  

“Stevie,” she said it louder, clearing her throat.  “Come have a drink with me?”

“Be right there,” Steve threw her a lift of his chin and grin, and then he turned back to you, running a hand through his hair.  “I have to go do this for a bit longer.  See you in there, though, yeah?”

But before you could say anything else, he patted your arm and strode over to greet Charlene, offering his elbow for her to take.  You could hear the music start up from the dancefloor: Good Vibrations by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch.

Robin pushed tight to your side. “Is that her?” She asked. “The one who got Eddie stabbed?”

“That’s her,” you said, watching them through the glass as they disappeared around a corner. 

“Hell no,” Robin pushed off with a huff. “I don’t care how much money she’s giving him, he needs to know,” and then she charged fullbore into the building, getting stuck in a crowd of people exiting, pushing her way through while trying to be polite.

“Robin, wait!” You blurted, still weary of Charlene’s reach and power.  You hustled after her, stopping to hold the door open for an elderly couple as people poured in and out to get some air, music vibrating in your chest.  

You broke free into the lobby, scissored your way through the line for the bar, keeping your eye on the back of Robin up ahead.

That was when a strong arm snaked around your waist from behind and a mouth pressed against your ear, hissing at a whisper: “Try to fight me or make a sound and I’ll hurt your friends,” the voice promised.  

It was Craig.

You could feel the stubble on his chin and smell the familiar Altoids and whiskey tang of his breath.  

“Come with me?” He asked it as a question, but he knew you would nod, swallowing hard and then he grabbed your arm with one hand and rested the other on the small of your back, guiding you back and to the side, into the shadows.  

You didn’t say a word, you just kept pace with him, knowing that his threats were never idle.

—-----

Eddie sent two of the guys ahead to bring a tow truck to take the woman’s SUV back to the shop, and he let her know that all of the repairs were on him, apologizing for the “mixup”.  But then Bones had to step in and have a serious conversation with her about how she shouldn’t tell anyone about what happened, especially the police—that it would be bad for her “health”.

It was dark by the time Eddie got back to his place.  He was angry and frustrated and fucking exhausted, but finding you was now his priority.  You told him you’d leave a message on his machine letting him know if you did a double shift at The Hammer, and so he went up to wash his face and see if you’d called.  His boots clomped wearily on the steps, tired shoulders rolling, his neck cracking.  

With his shirt off, he dried the water and soap from his face, wet bangs brushed off his forehead, and then hung the towel around his neck as he played the messages he had.

The first one was from Melanie, and he deleted it as soon as it was over with a weary sigh. 

He snatched the matchbook he found in Craig’s motel room from the nightstand and spun it in his fingers as he sat down on the bed, lips jerking up in a smile at the sound of your voice in the next message.

You’d decided to go to a wedding with Robin.  He stopped twirling the matchbook and let that sink in.  But, Steve would be there too, you assured him, and you asked him to join you if he was in the mood.  You said you’d call when you got back to Robin’s if you didn’t see or hear from him.  You told him you loved him, and he whispered, “I love you too,” at the machine.

The only problem was, you forgot to mention where, exactly, the wedding was.  

He spun the matchbook again as the next voice clicked on:  Melanie. Again.

But, this time her words made an uncomfortable lump form in his throat.  

Melanie was at the same wedding? Fuck. 

The end of her message sent fireworks through his blood, and he put the matchbook down to go over and search through the pile of papers on his desk for the invitation that he got.  It was still sealed in the envelope, and he ripped the corner open with his teeth, spitting out the paper, cringing as confetti fluttered to the ground when he pulled out the buttercream invitation with lace corners.

Golden Lion Hotel and Resort

His mouth went dry as he circled back around the bed to pick up the matchbook again, realizing with a buzzing in his ears that it was from the same place.

And it had been in Craig’s room.  The only trace left of him in an otherwise immaculate space.

Eddie squeezed the matchbook so tight in his fist, he crushed it, and then he went to find you.  

Part 15

I cherish you all, and please remember that your comments, especially your reblogs, mean the absolute world to me.

------

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[guess-my-next-obsession]

Breaking Up Slowly: Chapter Two

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

chapter rating: E (18+ only, TLOU spoilers sorta?, breakups, angst, cold!joel, arguments, accusations of infidelity, dom!joel, brief dirty talk, talk of unprotected piv, nightmares, anxiety, thigh riding, soft ending)

word count: 5.2k

series masterlist

It had been three weeks since the motel, or somewhere near it, at least—it was hard to tell when you were this exhausted. After a very hard fought win, Joel had scored the three of you a truck with the help of Bill, his…interesting acquaintance that lived in his own town outside of Boston. Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of nothing.

Until tonight.

Joel had been up driving for the better part of the day, his eyelids growing heavier with each blink. You watched him from the passenger seat, Ellie fast asleep in the backseat thanks to the old country playing on a cassette she’d found.

“Joel,” you started, secretly hoping that you wouldn’t have to say anything more to him than that.

God only knows what would come out if he got you on a roll.

“Yep?” he rasped, voice scratchy with exhaustion.

“Let me drive,” you pleaded. Joel glanced over at you with a scowl, and although you could tell he wanted to say no, he was beat. “C’mon.”

“Alright, just for a couple hours,” he sighed, pulling over onto the side of the road. The two of you took a quick scan around before exiting the truck, the dark night making it difficult to assess the danger. “Here, just—“ He waved you over, silently demanding you crawl over his lap and trade seats without having to get out. You bit your lip as you assessed the risk—climbing over his lap meant you’d have to touch him, perhaps even feel his hand on your hip guiding you. Could you really risk opening that can of worms after weeks of relative peace? “What are you—“

You opened your door and quickly made your way around in the light downpour to his, opening it up and patiently waiting for him to get over himself and climb out.

“You’re ridiculous,” he hissed as he stepped out of the car, his shoulder bumping into yours as he passed you. Insults you could take, but the look in his eyes? That look of sheer disdain could’ve killed you if you were a slightly weaker woman.

Climbing into the drivers seat, you tried to blink away the tears that had begun to blur your vision while Joel seemingly took a bathroom break by a bush. You didn’t mind the delay, it just made it easier for you to rid yourself of your tears in peace.

“You okay?” Ellie’s voice from the backseat startled you, making you jump as you wiped your eyes dry. Clearing your throat you nodded, looking in the rear view mirror at her with a weak smile.

“Yeah. I’m good.” She gave you a skeptical eyebrow raise as Joel finally climbed into the passenger seat, still wearing his scowl.

“Hurry up and get on the road,” he demanded.

“She was waiting on you,” Ellie chimed in with an irritated tone, surprising Joel. He turned to look back at her, and although you were oblivious to it, Ellie gestured to you and mimed crying, tipping Joel off to your sensitive state.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat and softened his tone, reaching over to touch your arm but it only caused you to jerk the steering wheel. “Jesus! Are you sure you can drive?”

“Would you—“ you snapped but stopped yourself from saying anything else, the clench in your jaw a sign of the inner strength it took to stop yourself from laying into him. “Just get some rest.”

“I’ll be able to rest when you get us there in one piece,” he huffed, crossing his arms and shifting in the seat so that he was more comfortable.

“Maybe if you sleep you’ll wake up less of an ass,” Ellie mumbled to herself and pulled a soft chuckle from you.

Although the two of you tried to keep all this drama between yourselves, you knew Ellie wasn’t dumb. She could see the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you, the way you quieted in his presence, the way he grew mean in yours. You didn’t want her to pick sides, but in all honestly, Joel wasn’t making it easy for her to root for him with his quick temper and no-nonsense attitude.

It wasn’t long before the sounds of the road lulled Joel to sleep, his familiar soft snores shattering you in ways you’d never confess to out loud.

“So…how did you two meet?” Ellie asked after a couple hours of silence, leaning in between the gap between the two front seats to talk to you, her voice kept low as to not wake the grump beside you.

“El, I don’t really wanna—“

“Please? I’m going crazy thinking about everything…give me something less scary to think about,” she pled and you were sighing, caving to her.

“We met in Boston. I was one of the ‘lucky’ ones, I guess. Born there, raised there, was fifteen when the outbreak happened,” you started, eyes constantly flickering over to Joel to make sure he was still asleep. “For a while, the zone was…chaos. You were just a little kid, you probably don’t remember, but it was a war zone between the military, infected, and the hunters. That’s how I met Joel.”

“Yeah, he mentioned something about that.”

“Five years or so ago we were properly introduced—our groups sort of ran with the same crowd, I guess. Me being a smuggler and trader and him being…him.” You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face as you thought back to simpler times, when his existence didn’t mean so much to you. “After a particularly bad incident that split him and his brother up, I managed to convince him to leave the hunting behind and do what I do.”

“And what was that?”

“Trading ration cards, supplies, meds…smuggling stuff in and out of the zone. Not exactly doing the Lord’s work, but…”

“Not hunting people.” You chuckled.

“Exactly.”

“So when did it…change?” Ellie asked with an awareness that shocked you, leaving you speechless for a moment.

“Eventually, you know, we grew from acquaintances to friends, then from friends into…something more. But there was a lot going on. I was head over heels for him since day one.” You kept your eyes forward, feeling your throat swell with hurt. “Tess was my friend, originally. But then she started to spend more time with Joel, and they eventually became closer than I was to either of them anymore. So, I gave him the choice to pursue her, and he did. That’s…that’s really all there is to it.”

“So…if he hurt you like that, why do you still want him?” Ellie’s questioning had finally become too much, your posture straightening as you breathed in a slow inhale. Your hand reached for the dial to turn up the cassette, desperate for a bit of silence.

“I think that’s enough talking for tonight.”

Ellie seemed to be emotionally intelligent enough to back off, sitting back in her seat and staring out of the window rather than pushing you for more answers to her endless list of questions. Answers you weren’t even sure you had.

You had all but five minutes of silence before Joel was breathing in deep through his nose, his eyes batting open and his posture adjusting.

“Shit, how long have I been out?” He turned to you but you couldn’t chance a glance at him, not after you and Ellie’s stroll down bittersweet-memory lane.

“Uh, a couple hours,” you replied in a weak voice, turning the music down. “We should find somewhere to pull over. I’m getting tired.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine. I’ll take over,” he offered, rubbing his palms over his face until all the leftover drowsiness had faded. “Just pull over and we can switch seats.”

“We need to sleep and eat and fucking pee, Joel. We can stop for a while.” You finally turned to look at him, expecting that narrowed look you’d become familiar with over the last few weeks, but he didn’t look angry. He looked…concerned?

“It’s too dark out…ain’t safe right now,” he whispered, his voice as gentle as his the look in his eyes. “Just let me take over.”

You hardly had time to manage a response before his hand was reaching over, his palm warm as it hesitantly rested on your knee. You let out a shaky breath and cursed yourself for being so weak for him, shaking your head at yourself.

“Ellie, tell the woman to pull over so she can get some damn sleep,” Joel spoke up, looking into the backseat.

“Pull over so you can get some damn sleep,” she repeated, earning a chuckle from you.

“C’mon, darlin’…pull over.” You sighed at his use of a pet name, wanting to scold him for using it so flippantly, but you found yourself pulling over anyways. This time, you and Ellie switched seats so that you could lay down in the back and actually try to get some decent rest.

You felt a pair of hands run up and down your bare sides, warm and strong and so large. Just one of them was the size of two of yours, and even through the haze of sleep you could tell who they belong to. With a sleepy grin and eyes still closed, you reached up to his neck as he hovered over you, pulling him down until his face was buried in your neck. Arching your back into him, he slipped his arms underneath you and hoisted you back onto his lap, his lips pliant and wet against your pulse.

“Missed you,” Joel husked as he started to guide your hips against his clothed cock, hands gripping the globes of your ass over the cotton of your underwear. “Mm, wake up, darlin’. I wanna see those eyes.”

Leaning back, you still carried a smile as you blinked your eyes open, Joel’s concentrated look earning a soft gasp from your lips as the bulk of his zipper rubbed against your throbbing clit. A smile grew on his own face as he reached up and ran the pad of his thumb over your lip.

“So damn beautiful,” he praised with a look of awe. “I hate havin’ to leave this bed. Especially to go out there.”

“Hard day?” You purred as you leaned in to pepper his neck with kisses, your fingers making quick work of the buttons of his flannel.

“Robert’s up to somethin’…Tess and I tried to snoop around but—“

“Tess?” You immediately felt your stomach flip with jealousy.

“Yeah,” he replied, lifting your head from his neck to inspect the sour look on your face. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” You snapped defensively, already having shut yourself away internally. Joel gestured at your face, now irritated.

“That! You get all…worked up over nothin’,” he scolded. You mumbled a sarcastic apology and climbed off his lap and off the bed, feeling his hot gaze on you as you searched for your t-shirt. “How many times do I gotta tell you, Tess and I are friends. That’s it.”

“Yeah, Joel. So are we,” you reminded, the ill-defined nature of your relationship leaving plenty of room for interpretation even after two years of being together.

“I’d just like to have one god damn day where you act like the woman I met,” he snapped, standing up and following you out into your apartment’s living room.

“I’m not the one who’s changed!” Joel watched you as you turned the sink on and poured yourself a glass of shitty tap water, one hand on his hip and a look of disbelief written on his face. “If you would just admit that there’s something going on between you two, we could figure something out! We could…share you or something.”

“Like it’s a damn custody battle?” He guffawed, shaking his head and turning to look out of the window. “You’re delusional.”

“And you’re fucking her!” You shouted, causing him to whip his head around. His eyes were pointed, the kind that you’d seen hundreds of times before but had luckily never been on the receiving end of. In just a few steps he was in front of you, backing you against the counter behind you. Your breath hitched as you stared up into his eyes, all the anger and insecurity leaving your body under the heat of his stare. With a weaker, broken voice, you asked, “Are you fucking her?”

“No.” He shook his head, his voice strong with sincerity. “And don’t you ever accuse me of it again unless you see it with your own damn eyes.” His hands gripped your hips again, his touch less revering but still just as needy and desperate. “You are the only person in this god damned world capable of making me this fuckin’ angry…and this fuckin’ hard.”

He ripped your panties at the side-seams, the cotton falling to the floor as he spun you around to face the counter and kicked your legs apart. Next came your shirt, quickly peeled off you and thrown across the room before his calloused hands ran up and down the expanse of your bare spine and around to your stomach until he was gripping your breasts with both hands.

“Maybe I just gotta fuck this jealousy outta ya,” he proposed as his lips traveled up your shoulder blade to the back of your neck, biting a soft mark into the skin there. You whimpered and nodded, sticking your ass out for him even more than he’d already arranged it, earning a smack to the plump flesh. “All you need is a little reassurin’, don’t ya? My jealous fuckin’ girl.”

The sound of his belt coming undone had you dripping with need, but right as he started to slip into you, you were bolting upright with a plea for air, a cracked gasp leaving your lips as you focused on reality. Joel and Ellie were startled by the sound as they sat in the front seats of the truck, both of their necks craning to glance at you.

It had just been a dream. A bad dream. A fucking good dream.

“Jesus, you okay?” Ellie asked, turning in her chair completely to face you as you sat in the backseat covered in sweat, your chest heaving as you tried to calm the aching arousal between your thighs. You felt completely embarrassed, especially given the racy nature of your dream. Had you said anything out loud in your sleep that gave your subconscious’s deepest desires away? Could Joel tell that you were dreaming about him? The way he avoided your eyes in the rear-view mirror did little to reassure you otherwise.

“Yeah,” you panted back to the teenager. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” she chided, tone laced with disappointment? Frustration? You weren’t sure.

“Ellie, knock it off and turn around. Put your damn seatbelt on,” Joel scolded, much to both of your surprise. Feeling the need to clarify his defense, he spoke again, “We’re almost to Pittsburgh.”

“Pittsburgh?” You gathered yourself enough to object to the plan. “You didn’t say anything about us going through Pittsburgh.”

“Well I didn’t know until about a hundred miles ago,” he responded with a curious tone. “There a reason we shouldn’t?”

“I’ve heard it’s littered with hunters. We should find another way around,” you advised, meeting Joel’s eyes in the mirror.

“I don’t know that we got the gas for that.”

“Joel…you know what hunters do to people. I’d rather us run out of gas in the woods and have to walk than to run into them.”

He took a moment to think about his options, his jaw ticking and thumbs drumming on the steering wheel before he was turning the truck around.

“Alright. There was a small town a few miles back,” he rasped. “We can try to get a night’s rest there and hopefully even some gas.”

You offered him a small smile, silently thanking him for listening to you when he easily could have ignored your advice. Joel didn’t smile back, simply nodding at you once through the rearview mirror, but it was enough to have a frenzy of butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“Place is clear from what I can tell,” Joel pointed at an abandoned house he just cleared in a small, quiet town about an hour outside of Pittsburgh called Somerset. “Long as we stay quiet and keep our eyes open, I think we’ll be alright out here for the night.”

You stared up at the two-story colonial home, it’s red brick half-covered with kelly-green vines, the white of the doorframe and gazebo now a murky grey. Still, even in it’s withered state, it looked like a nice place to call home. Maybe in another life you’d be living in a home like this with a family you helped create, a cat or a dog to curl up in your lap, a husband that loved you and let you love him.

But that world is simply a fantasy.

The world you found yourself in was grimy, murky, overgrown with weeds and left uncared for. There was no place for a family, no time to sit curled up with a pet, no men left who could give or receive that type of love—that type of luxury.

You needed to learn to let go of these delusions and fantasies if you wanted to stay alive out here. Joel seemed to do it easy enough, after all.

“C’mon,” Joel urged you forward with a small voice, nudging his head towards the house while Ellie was already heading in. You cleared your throat, embarrassed that he’d caught you deep in your thoughts, but as you went to walk past him, his hand gently grabbed hold of your wrist. “Hey, you alright?”

No. No, I’m fucking not. Not with you holding my hand like this. Not with you looking at me like that. Not with you.

Your lips parted to speak but nothing came out. Instead, you gave him a quick nod, your response seemingly not adequate enough for him because he refused to let go of you.

“I’m fine,” you tried to reassure him again, this time mustering more sincerity.

“You can fool her all you want, but you can’t fool me,” he whispered earnestly, shaking his head at you, eyes looking into yours tenderly, almost longing. “What can I do?”

“Joel, you can’t fix this mess,” you gestured to your head. “I’ll be alright.”

“Will you? Because from what I can see, you can’t stay out of your damn head for five minutes,” he continued his whisper yelling, not wanting Ellie or any possible infected to hear. “Tell me what I need to do to help you.”

You stood there looking stunned or stupid, you couldn’t tell by the look of irritation on his face. What were you supposed to do? Beg him to love you again? Beg him to leave you again? No. You’d find a way to be okay on your own. You needed to find a way to be okay on your own.

“I’m not your problem anymore,” you finally decided on.

“The hell you aren’t,” he snapped at a normal volume as you started towards the house. He called your name, clearly not finished with the conversation, but you didn’t stop or turn around. “Baby, please—“

“Do. Not.” You turned your head around, eyes welling with tears instantly as you pointed your finger at him. “Do not call me that. You have no right to call me that.”

“I’m worried about you,” he almost whimpered, his voice cracking with raw emotion as he walked to meet you on the front step. “And you’re right. I have no right to care this much ‘bout someone I’m not with, but…I. Can’t. Help. It.”

“If I have to find a way to be okay without you, you can find a way to stop caring about me,” you argued, fighting the urge to lift your hand to his perfectly rugged face. “I’m tired. Can we go inside now?”

“One last thing,” he begged. “What were you dreaming about in the truck?”

“That’s private,” you snapped.

“You said my name.”

“Yeah, well…you’ve given me plenty to dream about in our time together,” you shrugged. “Good and bad.”

“You’re killin’ me,” he shuddered, shaking his head at you. You watched as his hand raised up, his palm ghosting over your cheek, wanting to cradle it but refraining from making contact. Holding your breath, you tried to will him closer, pleading to some unseen force for him to make a move, to make him try, but no one seemed to be listening. He dropped his hand to his side and sucked in a slow breath, his eyes bouncing between yours. “Just…be okay. Alright?”

“Yeah…I’m working on it.”

You grabbed the doorknob and walked inside, hearing Ellie’s gasps and stunned laughter as she checked out the home.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed as she came walking down the stairs towards the two of you. “This place insane!”

“Keep your voice down,” Joel scolded dryly, dejected from your conversation. “It’s clear, but that don’t mean it’ll stay that way.”

“Sorry,” she sassed under her breath as she reached you, following the two of you into the living room. “How much was a place like this back then? Like a million dollars?”

“Nah,” Joel started as he inspected the cabinets for any sign of spores. “Round here it was probably only ‘bout two, maybe three hundred.”

“Dollars?”

“Thousand dollars.” He corrected.

“How much was your house?” She inquired as she hoisted herself up onto the kitchen island beside you, your eyes and hands busy unloading a can of beans to settle your rumbling stomach.

“Ya know, that woulda been a rude question to ask somebody back in the day?” Joel grumbled as he turned around, your eyes missing the way his scanned over your concentrated face.

“Well, we’re not back in the day anymore,” Ellie retorted. “How much?”

“Three fifty,” he caved and answered her, too busy watching you to continue this back and forth. When you finished peeling the lid open, your eyes met his on accident, and you watched as he quickly turned to look at Ellie. “Three-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars down the drain, that is.”

Joel left the room abruptly, mumbling something about going upstairs to look around, leaving you and Ellie standing there with creased eyebrows.

“What’s his deal?” She whispered to you as you handed her a spoon, offering to share the can of room-temp black beans with her to which she accepted.

“I think that’s my fault,” you sighed, spooning some beans into your mouth.

“How’d you put up with him for so long? You two seem so different.”

You chuckled, shaking your head and shrugging. “It wasn’t like this back then. This is…new territory.”

“I can’t imagine him being any different,” she chuckled. “What’s he like when he’s not so…grumpy?”

“Well, he’s always a little grumpy, but that’s a part of his charm,” you smiled. “I don’t know, he was funny and sensitive and sweet…warm, gentle…soft.”

“Joel is soft?”

“Was,” you corrected with an exhale. “Joel was soft. Not…anymore, apparently.”

Joel laid awake downstairs on the sofa, trying and failing to will his eyes closed for the last hour. Through the window shined a midnight blue glow, casting dark shadows across the hardwood floor. It was silent, no outside force to be blamed for his restlessness, just his aching heart.

He couldn’t sleep knowing that you were right upstairs, clearly aching for him the same way he was for you. He could see how being around him was beginning to eat you alive and how you tried your best to fool him. But he knew you better than he knew himself, your eyes having been his safe place for two damn years. He could see that you were always lost inside your own head and he craved to be able to let you out, to help you come back.

Rolling onto his side, he stared ahead at the long-forgotten fireplace, it’s red brick now blackened with coal black soot. He had half a mind to believe that’s how his heart looked these days—it’s how it felt, at least.

His introspection was cut short by a blood-curdling scream from upstairs, the voice to adult to be Ellie. Joel grabbed his shotgun and raced up the stairs, bursting into your room ready to kill something, but instead being met with the sight of you, freshly awake and panting. You were sat upright on your blanket on the floor, your hand over your heart, eyes squeezed shut, shaking breaths filling the room.

“Just a nightmare,” you offered a bit of explanation in hopes of ridding him of his worry, his face still screwed in terror. “I’m okay.”

“Stop that.” The sternness in his voice woke you all the way up, your eyes widening as he stomped over to you. For just a split second, you feared him, the look in his eyes dark with rage and emotion.

But then he was kneeling down, dropping his gun to the floor beside your makeshift cot, his hands lifting to your cheeks to cradle your head in his hands. You hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until his thumbs were wiping away the stream of tears running down your cheeks. Your throat began to swell at the warmth in his touch, a sob threatening to break free as he stared at you like you were the only thing in this world he cared about.

“Let me be here for you,” he begged in a barely audible whisper. “Let me help.”

“It’ll just hurt more,” you cried, tears flowing again. Joel threw caution to the wind and pulled you into his arms, laying down with you on the floor, your face buried in his neck while he pet the back of your head.

“Is this helpin’ or hurtin’?” he asked in a whisper, his hand on your back rubbing soothing circles to calm you. When you didn’t respond, he tried to let go of you, not wanting to force his comfort upon you that if you weren’t comfortable with it.

As soon as his hands left you, though, you hugged him tighter, a silent demand for him to stay put. You’d almost forgotten how good it felt to be held by him, the way his strong arms wrapped around you like you were something precious, his warmth, the feeling of his body beneath his clothes, even the musk of his natural scent—it all soothed the ache that had been plaguing you since he left. Since the last time he held you like this.

“Talk to me,” he demanded softly, his fingers now lightly scratching your scalp. “What were you dreamin’ about?”

“It’s…embarrassing,” you confessed, your words muffled as you kept your face buried in his neck.

“Darlin’,” he cooed, his fingers lowering from your head to run up and down your bicep in featherlight strokes. Sitting up a bit so that you were looking into his eyes, you hesitated before speaking, not wanting to ruin this moment with the truth.

“Dreamt I was…” you sighed, exhaling all your anxiety and melting back into him, your cheek resting on his chest. “Dreamt I was dying…clickers feasting on me, and you were just…watching. You were just standing there, no emotion, no fear, no…grief in your eyes. Like it meant nothing—like I meant nothing.”

“Look at me,” he tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to his gravely serious ones. “If anything were to ever happen to you…I promise you, it would shatter me. Would be the end for me, too.”

“Why can’t you just let me love you?” You asked, your voice breaking with emotion as you reached to hold his face, tracing your thumb over lines and freckles that you’d memorized by heart. “It’s all I want…just to love you.”

“Love me,” he rasped back, his eyes dropping to your lips. “Love me.”

You moaned softly, so hushed that Joel had to question whether or not he actually heard it, but your hands tugging him by the collar of his jacket to roll on top of you shooed all doubt in his mind. He let out a soft moan of his own as he slotted his thigh between yours, his hand stroking your hair out of your face as he laid half on top of you, eyes worshipping you in the pale blue of the midnight moon shining through the window.

“We can’t…not with Ellie in the next room,” he warned as he hovered his lips over yours, your lips chasing his. “Don’t let me get carried away with you.”

“Just kiss me,” you breathed out as you pulled him to your lips, a gasped moan spilling from his lips into yours as he gripped your hip so tight it might leave a few bruise marks. You swiped your tongue over his lips and he growled, rolling his hips into yours. You whimpered into his mouth, your fingers tangled in his slowly greying locks, your teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

“God,” he groaned, his hand slipping lower to squeeze your ass. “I missed you so much, my pretty girl…missed you so much.”

“I want you,” you begged breathlessly, grinding yourself against his thigh in hopes of finding some relief. Joel shook his head as his lips found your neck. “Please,” you begged again even more desperately. “I can be quiet.”

“We both know that ain’t true,” he smirked against your skin, seemingly lost in memories of the past when the two of you were free to go at it like wild animals. “But…you can get yourself off on my thigh. Long as you save all those pretty sounds just for me.”

“Fuck,” you moaned into his ear, continuing to roll your hips against his tree-trunk of a thigh. The seam of your jeans caught deliciously against your hyper-sensitive clit, your body buzzing from having the man you lived back in your arms after so long. “Gonna cum,” you warned, earning a squeeze of his hands on your ass and his teeth biting at your neck. “Joel…fuck…I’m…oh,” you spoke through pants until you broke, your hips stuttering against his thigh as your orgasm hit you hard enough to hurt, the violent aftershocks of your euphoria almost too blissful to take.

“There you go,” he praised, kissing your pulse and running his hand up and down the curve of your body. Completely spent, you felt yourself falling back to sleep underneath him, Joel’s warmth and weight your new favorite blanket.

Joel kissed your temple before moving to get up, needing to go back downstairs in order to watch the front door for any intruders. Feeling his warmth leaving you, you tried to reach out and grab him but quickly gave up, your exhaustion triumphing over your desire. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at you, sleeping peacefully with a glow still on your cheeks from your orgasm. You looked so beautiful and delicate, this world failing to get to you, failing to turn you cold and worn down like everybody else. Though he knew this was dangerous—you and him tiptoeing over the line he drew between you—he couldn’t bear to keep himself from you anymore, not now that he got the chance to hold you again.

Leaning down to press one last kiss to your cheek, he pulled your blanket over your body.

“Sleep well, honey,” he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear as he debated speaking the words he’d long been withholding from you. But here, with you fast asleep, he couldn’t stop himself from confessing the truth. “I love you more than anything in the world. I’m sorry I never showed it.”

As Joel grabbed his gun and turned to leave, he heard your voice, soft and husky with sleep.

“I love you, too.”

taglist: @uselsshuman @joelmillerscoffee @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @harriedandharassed @trickstersp8 @trinkets01 @jlmaddinson @laureliciousdefinition @oh-no-a-whovian @buoyfriend @chorraich @extraneous-trip @oliviajdjarin @wumpsquill @love-affair-with-fandoms @graciexmarvel @amb11 @t0fudaddy @reigndropss @wondeerfull @multifand0m-gal0re @bfences @hypnoash @chronic-aly @wheresarizona @pedropascalsx @xocalliexo @myswficlist @untitledarea @lexloon @bbyanarchist @alwayslurkinginthebackground @rocketrhap3000 @fishingforpike @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @echoshxdows @sunshytea @janedartist @supernaturalgirl20 @know-that-its-delicate @forresway @kanyeasap @inlovewfictionalmen826 @jaspaddjarin (sorry if your tag isn’t working! and let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[snippetsoferin]

Imagine...a life with Kit Walker

(romance + smut)

I love waking up in his arms. I love making us pancakes for breakfast and snuggling close to him on the couch. We have a nice life, in our small country house, surrounded by green pastures and majestic oaks. Summers are beautiful on our farm. I love taking care of the garden, eagerly waiting for him to get back from work. And when he’s back, I jump in his arms and kiss his lovely face, so happy to see him. 

On weekends, we go swimming. I pack the picnic basket full of our favorite treats and jump in the driver’s seat of our pick-up truck. He knows that I love to drive, so he never offers to do it himself. We spread the blanket under a tree. Nothing is better than spending an entire day by his side, falling in and out of sleep, as he gently runs his fingers through my hair.

We swim in the shallow water, we bask in the summer sun, our sun, here, away from the city, away from the noise and the chaos, secure in our little paradise, not wanting the day to end. 

I read to him from my favorite poetry book. He smiles and kisses me between strophes. It’s peaceful with him. The house, the garden, the lake, him - the only things I need.

We jump in the cool water. I hold on to his shoulders as I kiss the water off of his lips. 

Will you ever get bored of me?, I ask.

Never, he assures me with a kiss. What is there more to desire than this? 

I smile and pretend to swim away from him, only for him to follow closely. He knows that I can’t swim well, so he never leaves my side. I wrap my legs around him and rest my head on his shoulder, floating in his arms. 

Once we’re back home, I start planning dinner, while he finishes some yard work. With the fresh tomatoes in our garden, I make a delicious cream soup with fresh cheese and home baked bread.

I find my way in his arms on the couch. He kisses the tip of my nose. I rest my head on his chest and he runs his fingers up and down my back. He rests his hands on the small of my back, drawing shapes on my skin. I kiss the warm skin of his neck. 

Easily enough, his fingers start moving lower, on my buttocks, on my inner thigh, lifting my dress and pushing my underwear down. He grabs my leg and moves it to the side. The heat starts to grow inside me, knowing all too well where this is heading. I keep still on top of him, allowing him to continue. He pushes two fingers inside of me and I can’t help it. I moan and lift my hips. 

You are so wet, he whispers as he kisses the top of my head. I press my mouth to his chest and tighten my arms around his torso. He starts pushing his fingers back and forth in my vagina and I can’t compose myself. I am panting on top of him, unable to remain quiet. I start moving my hips against his pelvis, feeling his bulge growing under his briefs, causing him to groan.  

The pressure is becoming too much to handle, my body is overwhelmed by pleasure. Waves of ecstasy hit me as I let go on top of him, unable to control myself while my pussy throbs around his fingers. 

He starts rubbing my back as I struggle to compose myself, my abdominal muscles still spasming. 

Once I stop panting, he flips me on my back and starts caressing my breasts, kissing and sucking on my nipples. He relaxes on top of me, enjoying the intimacy as I run my fingers through his hair. But I instinctively widen my legs, wrapping them around his hips. 

He lifts his head and gives me a mischievous smile.

Already?, he asks.

He gets up and settles himself between my legs, taking his briefs off, his penis nudging against my thigh, teasing me. 

I need you so badly, I beg as I spread my legs wider, looking into his eyes. He grabs my hips and pushes himself inside of me.

He moans and leans down to kiss me, my nails digging into the skin of his back. He starts thrusting slowly, but soon picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming so rough that I have to grab the sides of the couch to keep myself balanced. 

As his thrusts become deeper, his pelvis starts hitting my clit and I cry out. 

We’re on the right path, baby, he moans. 

He keeps going at it, the pressure is building up inside of me yet again, this time even stronger than before. 

I finish, moaning, my back arches as the pleasure engulfs me. He gives me a few moments, his swollen penis still inside of me, enjoying the throbs of my vagina. Suddenly, he begins thrusting again, this time even more violently, until I start hurting. I gasp, pain combines with pleasure, as he is drilling me, not giving me enough time to recover. He finishes with a groan, shooting his load and collapsing on top of me immediately, his body shaking, my vagina still pulsing. He doesn’t pull out. I don't even think he can with how hard my vagina clenches around him. We lie in silence for a while. I’m dazed and unable to move, my legs wrapped around him, his body heavy on top of mine. He lifts his head and caresses my cheek, giving me a soft kiss on the lips. 

I love you more than anything, he whispers, his face red and sweaty. He rolls over to the side, pulling out from me, making my nerves tingle. I wish he never had to pull away. He wraps his arms around me and I snuggle close to him, pressing a kiss to his throat, missing him inside. I'm exhausted.

I wake up the next day on the couch by myself.  He’s already left for work, but I find a note on the table.

I love you forever. 

(pictures are from Pinterest)

[blueicequeen19]

Charter Ch. 5

Warnings: angst, smut, oral, protected sex

It’s Sunday and we’re closed so I find myself at the beach with my pit/lab mix Bo. We’ve engaged in a long game of keep away and fetch, my legs and lungs screaming when a familiar laugh catches my attention down the beach. My heart nearly bursts in my chest at the sight of JJ and Summer building a sandcastle together. He mentioned Sundays and Mondays were their days so I turn to give them space when Bo darts past me and straight for the sandcastle.

“BO!” I yell frantically, taking off after him but it’s too late. Summer screams with joy and JJ is momentarily stunned as Bo tramples their work during a case of the zoomies.

“Puppy!” Summer squeals with delight just as JJ’s eyes find mine. I expect him to cringe away or act like he doesn’t know me but he just chuckles.

“Daddy, look! It’s a puppy!” Summer chases after Bo and JJ hops to his feet.

“She’s going to be begging me for a dog again, you know.” JJ chuckles as we stand and watch them both play along the waters edge.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I admit, looking up at him. My heart was racing just taking in his shirtless appearance and his casual attitude.

“No, you’re fine. I can only build so many sandcastles.” We both laugh just as Summer runs up and straight into JJ’s arms. He holds her on his hip and turns to face me with a proud smile.

“Daddy, who’s that?” Summer asks.

“Sum, this is my friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Summer.” I smile at her as Summer looks at me questioningly before looking back to her dad.

“Daddy, is she your girlfriend?” My stomach knots with nerves at her question but JJ only chuckles.

“She’s a girl that’s my friend.” JJ counters, distracting her with tickles until she’s placed back on her feet and chases after Bo.

“Sorry, kids don’t really know boundaries on the personal questions.” JJ smirks, not hiding the way he’s checking me out. My body heats and I can’t help but smile back him.

“It’s fine. She’s adorable.”

We fall into comfortable conversation as we watch Bo and Summer play. By the time they were done, both were exhausted and hungry so we stopped at a beachside shack to get lunch. JJ and Summer didn’t know a stranger. Women gushed over him and her while guys chatted to him about the Charter. It wasn’t until I walked them to his truck with Bo at my heels that I started to feel sad about our time ending. I hadn’t realized how much fun I was having. How natural everything came with him.

JJ tucked a sleeping Summer into her car seat before gently shutting the door and turning to me. I thought for a moment he was going to touch me but he pulled back, tucking his hands in his pockets. I wanted to touch him and be touched.

“She’s got a sleepover tonight with John B’s kid if you want to come over.” JJ offered, cocking his head at me and checking me out with those fuck me blue eyes.

“Oh yea? Need someone to keep you company?” I tease, biting my bottom lip.

“Maybe. I don’t think I can wait until Tuesday.” JJ winks and my insides turn to jelly. I wanted to kiss him so bad.

“What’s in it for me?” My lips tip up in a smirk and he takes a warning step forward, making me suck in a breath.

“Food. Orgasms. What else could you need?” His eyes burn with every word and I know without a doubt that if I looked down he’d be hard right now. That’s what makes me want to tease him further. I want to torture him knowing he won’t or can’t do anything in public.

“Yea? You miss being inside me?” I lower my voice and his eyes widen.

“Which hole you want this time, boss?” He makes a noice deep in his throat like a warning just as Bo nudges my hand, ready to go.

“You’re in for it. I’ll text you my address.” JJ says, looking me up and down one more time before rounding his truck to get inside the driver seat. I lean down to scratch Bo’s ears as JJ drives away, my phone going off with a notification I know is no doubt from him.

By the time I get to JJ’s that night, I’m a nervous and horny mess. I didn’t want to think of this as a date but what if it was? Would I be disappointed if it wasn’t? I don’t get a chance to dwell because the front door of his little house out in the marsh opens and he yanks me inside by my shirt.

“About fucking time.” I smile against his lips as he slams the door and hauls me up his body. He’s shirtless and the feel of his skin against mine sends me into a frenzy as our tongues tangle together. He drops me on my back on the couch, frantically yanking my shorts and panties down.

“I thought you promised me food?” I tease, as he shoves my legs apart and settles between them.

“I got something you can eat.” Mischief shines in his eyes as he leans in to lick a slow stripe up my slit. I groan, my back arching off the couch as he keeps up a slow and steady pace. Now I wanted nothing more than to suck him off.

“Fuck, I missed this.” JJ moans against my clit, making me buck against his face. I can’t stop the orgasm that bursts from me even if I wanted to. Or the next one. Or the one after that.

I’m a wet, trembling mess by the time he makes his way up my body to plunge his tongue in my mouth. I suck my taste off his tongue, reaching between us to stroke what I crave so badly.

“I want you in my mouth.” I moan, his teeth sinking into my bottom lip as he thrusts in my hand. JJ pulls back swiftly, yanking a condom from his pocket and rolling it on within seconds before he’s on top of me again.

“After this.” He all but growls, reaching between us to fist his cock and notching it at my entrance. I suck in a breath at the initial burn and stretch before he plunges in deep. I swear I see stars, my body arching into his as we moan loud and long.

“Wrap your legs around me. Hold on.” JJ rasps against my lips, his hands and rings biting into my hips. I wrap my legs tight and hang on for the rest of the night.

We end up fucking on in every position on every surface of his house before moving to the shower to clean up… where we go at it again. He holds up to every filthy promise he made and I’m left deliciously sore and bruised. Now we’re in his tiny kitchen heating up hotdogs at three in the morning because we’re starving.

“What time do you have to pick her up in the morning?” I ask, watching him brown the hotdogs in a skillet. My eyes keep finding the thin trail of hairs leading into the waistband of his shorts and I momentarily picture what I know is in there.

“Whenever she calls. They don’t mind. Summer is practically theirs too.” JJ pauses, his eyes focused on his cooking. “I uh, had a lot of help from them when it came to Summer. I couldn’t have done it without them. Sarah showed me how to change a diaper, how to burp her, potty training, you name it. Their daughter is only a few weeks older than Summer so it helped.” JJ moves the hotdogs to a plate and turns the burner off.

“Cousins and besties?” I smile and his eyes light up, a smile reaching his own lips.

“Yep. Just like their dads.” I’d only ever heard JJ mention John B a few times since he’s always been so private but I could tell by the look in his eyes how much he loved him.

“I bet you guys got into so much trouble growing up.” I watch as JJ piles four hotdogs on his plate and two on mine, loading his down with ketchup and mustard.

“You have no idea.” JJ smirks before biting off half of one of the hotdogs. Time slips away as we talk and eat until we’re both blurry eyed and ready for bed. I didn’t plan to stay the night but I’m too tired to protest especially when I climb into the comfiest bed I’ve ever felt and I’m dead to the world.

I wake up to blooming heat between my thighs, on the brink of an orgasm as my back arches and my toes curl without even opening my eyes yet. I’d never had someone touch me while I was unconscious but that just goes to show how much I already trust him because I’m in blissful heaven.

JJ’s tongue lashes harshly at my clit before sucking it into his mouth and pushing two fingers inside me. I cum with a throaty cry, my body trembling and shaking as I start to come down when he plunges his cock inside me.

“Fuckkkkk.” JJ growls on top of me, his hands holding him up on either side of my head. I reach down to dig my nails into his ass, needing him closer as he pistons into me.

“God, you feel so good. Don’t stop.” I moan, my body ready to explode again.

“Don’t cum yet. Don’t you dare.” JJ rasps, pulling out long enough to roll me onto my stomach then he’s fucking me even deeper. His cock is a thing of magic. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I didn’t realize dick whipped was a thing.

“J.” I gasp his name into the pillow, which he throws and lowers his weight to my back as he slows his pace to nothing short of torture.

“You’re close. I feel your pussy fluttering around my cock.” JJ groans from behind me, slowly trailing his tongue up my spine and over my tattoo.

Oh fuck. Reverse psychology. Don’t let him win.

“I can get myself off better than you can.” I huff, hearing him growl a moment later before his hand pushes down on the center of my back. Just as he’s about to deliver on the pounding of my fucking life… there’s a loud honking noice coming from outside.

“What the fuck?” JJ snaps, crawling off me to check the window.

“Who is it?” I breathe, my body aching with the denied orgasm.

“No idea. Anyone else would’ve called me.” JJ yanks on a pair of boxers and shorts before disappearing out the bedroom door. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I’m overcome with a bad feeling. Something isn’t right.

I throw on one of his shirts and shorts before following after him. I find him glaring out the window with his arms crossed over his bare chest, his back marked by my nails, and I stop at his side. I follow his line of sight just as the honking starts again.

It’s his ex. Chelsea. And she’s brought company.

[artisticdivasworld]

Staying Healthy as a Long-Haul Truck Driver: Straight Talk

Hitting the open road as a long-haul truck driver isn’t just a job; it’s a lifestyle. And let’s be real, it’s one that comes with its fair share of health challenges. With the long hours and endless miles, staying healthy might seem like a battle. But with a bit of know-how and discipline, you can keep yourself in top shape. We talked about this before here, but feel it bears repeating because…

[fromasgardandback]

getting breakfast at midnight

•

masterlist | stranger things summer

the diner Eddie and I frequented stays open 24 hours, which means multiple times we’ve gone late at night or really early in the morning

no matter what we did to try to sleep, nothing worked. our insomnia was too strong and that meant the diner would be the result.

Ms. Betty always worked the late night shift to help her daughter through college, so whenever we could we would tip nicely. not enough to break the bank, but enough for her to feel welcomed and wanted

this time Eddie wanted breakfast food items and so did I. waffles and berries, or with chicken was definitely my go-to while Eddie went for the whole platter. he sometimes would go sweet and get french toast stuffed with cream and fruit

we walked in and sat ourselves at our regular booth. It was kind of tucked into the back corner with the best view of the parking lot. Eddie and I joke about that all the time.

there was only one other customer here, and that was the local truck driver who would always come in around this time to get a late-night dinner from his long day

we sat in comfortable silence during our meal. Occasionally Eddie would lean over and kiss the back of my hand

summer days that consisted of nothing but pure love and enjoyment of food and questionable hours made time somehow slow down for a little while

that was until reality clocked in and work was going to start soon made me realize that it would be harder than i thought to tell him my choice…

[renecdote]

how about "this reminded me of you" if it sparks? <3

Hi Kate ily I hope you don't mind that I took some creative liberties with the dialogue here <3 It also got way longer than expected oops so enjoy 4.4k of these two being ridiculously in love.

Also for @starlingbite who requested the same prompt.

[Read on AO3]

The package shows up on the doorstep on Wednesday afternoon. Eddie is supposed to be at work—the last shift in the cycle before their four days off—but instead he kissed Buck goodbye at the door, made him promise not to do anything too dangerous, then stayed home to look after his sick kid. He’s expecting groceries when the doorbell rings just after five p.m., not the lumpy grey package left by a USPS driver who is already climbing into his truck and driving away.

Eddie skims the label as he shuts the door—sent to: Evan Buckley; description: boyfriend hoodie—curious because he doesn’t remember Buck mentioning anything he ordered recently. He doesn’t open it, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He pulls out his phone instead and types boyfriend hoodie into the search bar, only hesitating a moment before he hits enter. A dozen links pop up, but none of them are all that enlightening. Eddie is left with no clearer idea of what a boyfriend hoodie is and a vague disgust at how expensive they are to buy. He’s pretty sure that if Buck ever put together a budgeting spreadsheet it would look something like:

Food $200

Data $150

Rent $800

Hoodies $3,600

Utility $150

And Eddie knows he’s so, so far gone for his boyfriend. He knows he has been for a long time. But damn he’s got it bad because he knows that if Buck put a budget like that in front of him, he’d never be able to talk him out of spending a fortune on all his cosy, tempting hoodies.

The doorbell rings again, cutting into his thoughts, and Eddie leaves the package on the dining table to collect his groceries. Milk and eggs and the deli bacon Buck likes go in the fridge, oranges in the fruit bowl, crackers and pedialyte left on the table, everything else in the pantry. He checks on Chris—sleeping, no warmer than he was an hour ago when Eddie brushes a hand over his forehead—and somewhere between folding laundry and ladling chicken soup into a cup, the mystery of the package slips to the back of his mind.

****

Buck tries to sneak in when he gets home, but Eddie is dozing on the couch, half awake in case Chris needs him, and he hears the rumble of the Jeep’s engine before the door is unlocked.

“Hey,” he greets sleepily, “you’re early.”

He’s not really: it’s twenty past eight. Eddie is just so used to calls taking them overtime, or lingering in the station at the end of a shift, or the hell beast that is LA traffic in the mornings. Their shifts end at eight, but he rarely sees the inside of his house any earlier than eight forty-five.

“Hey,” Buck echoes, yawning. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Eddie shakes his head, swallowing back his own yawn. “Nah, I’ve been up for a while.” Sort of up, anyway. “How was work?”

“Busy,” Buck answers. “I missed you.”

He looks tired, which means he probably didn’t get much sleep in the bunks. Hard to tell whether that was because of the busy or the I missed you though.

“How’s Chris?” he asks before Eddie can question him further. “Is he feeling any better?”

It hits Eddie sometimes, in the moments he least expects it, that he’s been coparenting with his best friend for far longer than either of them realised. Buck letting himself into the house, asking how Chris is when he’s been sick—none of it feels new. They could have had this conversation just as easily three years ago as they are today. The only difference is that now, after Eddie has reassured his partner that Chris seems to be on the upswing, he can tip his head back against the couch and Buck will lean down and kiss him; first on the forehead, then, when Eddie pouts upside down at him, on the lips.

“Hi,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling with his smile, and Eddie can’t help smiling back at him.

“Hi,” he echoes. Thinks: I missed you too.

Buck starts to straighten up and—it’s fine, he’s not going to go far, but—a sound of protest catches in Eddie’s throat and he reaches up and snags his boyfriend by the hoodie string and—

Oh. The hoodie!

“You got mail,” he blurts, sitting up so fast he almost smacks Buck in the head.

“Mail…? Oh!” Buck’s eyes light up as he grabs the package. “I didn’t think this would be here until next week.”

“You bought another hoodie?” Eddie asks, trying to sound casual and probably failing. He hopes it’s a nice blue that will bring out Buck’s eyes. Or the kind of pink that makes his lips pop. Or that burnt orange he looks so good in. Or green, or white, or maroon, or purple. He’s pretty sure Buck doesn’t own a purple hoodie yet.

“Actually,” Buck is already ripping open the packaging, his grin bright and unrestrained, “this one is for you.”

Eddie frowns, confused. Why? he almost asks. We both know I’d just steal it from you anyway. And then Buck gets the hoodie out of its packaging inside the packaging (Eddie mourns the environment) and holds it up, the material unfolding to show a grey-blue hoodie that says I stole this from my boyfriend on the front. He blinks. Reads it again.

“Doesn’t it defeat the whole purpose if it’s for me? I mean, if you give it to me, I didn’t really steal it from my boyfriend, did I?”

Buck rolls his eyes, but his grin hasn’t faltered. “I can wear it a few times first, if that helps.”

“I think you should,” Eddie agrees, reaching out to run his fingers over the white letters. They’re embroidered, thread bumpy under his fingers, not the plastic feeling of writing that will flake off after a few too many washes, and when he dips his fingers under the hem, the inside is so soft and cosy he almost shivers just thinking about wearing it.

“Dad?”

They both turn—and Eddie’s heart thumps, a pain that doesn’t really hurt, at the way Buck responds just as easily—to find Christopher making his way towards them.

“Hey, buddy,” Eddie says. “How are you feeling?”

Christopher shrugs, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m thirsty.”

Buck’s hand presses against Eddie’s shoulder just for a second—I’ve got it—and then he’s moving into the kitchen while Eddie fusses over Chris, checking his temperature and getting him settled on the couch and convincing him to try a piece of toast.

“Buck,” Christopher says between nibbling bites of toast, and Eddie watches Buck shake himself back to attention, the long shift starting to catch up with him. “Do you really need another hoodie?””

Buck blinks, slow and cat-like in his confusion, and then his face twists into such exaggerated affront that Eddie has to bite his cheek on a laugh. The packaging is still scattered on the dining table, the new hoodie hanging over the back of a chair, and Chris couldn’t have seen who it was addressed to, but he didn’t even question that it would be Buck.

“There’s no such thing as too many hoodies,” Buck tells Chris mock-seriously. Mostly mock, anyway; Eddie knows there’s a part of him that really believes there is no such thing as too many hoodies.

Christopher’s teeth poke out with his smile. “But we live in LA.”

“LA gets cold,” Buck insists, the same way he insists whenever anyone brings up his absurdly large jacket collection (“it’s not just me! why does no one ever talk about all Hen’s sweaters?”). He looks at Eddie for help, but Eddie just shrugs.

“Kid has a point,” he says, as if he doesn’t spend half his time stealing from his boyfriend’s side of the closet.

Buck grasps his chest in mock betrayal, but there’s a smile pushing at the corners of his mouth.

“Now I know you’re feeling better,” he says, tousling Christopher’s curls while Chris giggles and ducks away.

It’s overwhelming, sometimes, how much Eddie loves them both. His heart is doing that thing again, that hard thump that makes his breath catch, and when Buck glances at him—you okay?—he just shakes his head, smiling back: I love you, I’m okay.

Buck reaches out to take his hand, tangling their fingers together: I love you too. His eyes in the morning light are a pale, glittering blue and Eddie leans over and kisses him, just because he can.

****

Eddie has been expecting to be taken out by the germs from the moment Chris first pushed his food around his plate on Tuesday night and said he wasn’t hungry.

Somehow, it’s Buck who catches the bug next. He crashes for four hours while Eddie putters around doing housework, sleeps right through lunch, and when he wakes up in the afternoon, he’s achy and shivering.

“I’m okay,” he still tries to insist, slumped at the kitchen table while Eddie watches him warily, putting all the sandwich fillings that were offered and rejected back in the fridge. Christopher and Buck are more alike than they both know, their appetites always the first thing to go when something is wrong.

“You’re sick,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “I don’t know why you’re denying it, it was bound to happen.”

Buck grumbles. “I was fine earlier.”

Eddie thinks back, tries to remember if he missed any sign, but Buck really did seem fine earlier. It doesn’t really reassure him; Chris seemed fine when they picked him up from school on Tuesday as well. 

“Go lie down,” he suggests. “The sooner you give in, the sooner you’ll be able to kick this bug.”

More grumbling, but Buck goes to lie down on the couch. Eddie mentally files that under feeling worse than he’s willing to admit. He stands by the table for a moment, listening to Buck and Chris through the open doorway (a muted “hey buddy,” and, “sorry I got you sick, Buck”), the sound of a cartoon explosion on the TV, a funny line of dialogue that should get twin laughs from the couch but doesn’t.

Definitely feeling bad, Eddie thinks, and it’s not like it’s the first time germs have been shared around between the three of them—he’s lost count of how many times they’ve huddled on that couch and taken care of each other—but it still makes his heart squeeze.

When he checks in on them fifteen minutes later, Christopher is fast asleep at one end of the couch and Buck is huddled under a blanket at the other, eyes closed but not sleeping. His face is flushed with fever heat, but even under the blanket, he’s shivering.

“Are you cold?” Eddie frowns, checking Buck’s temperature with the back of his hand.

Buck shrugs, lethargic. His face is half hidden by the blanket, but there’s a tight little scrunch between his brows that means he probably has a headache as well.

“Okay,” Eddie says, quiet. “Hang on.”

He heads for their bedroom, but the dryer beeps so he backtracks to the laundry instead. He pulls out the clean clothes, dumping them all in a basket to be dealt with later, then fishes out the new hoodie that he threw in with the load earlier. It’s warm in his hands, feeling even softer and cosier than it did coming out of the packaging.

“Here,” he says, smiling as he drops it in Buck’s lap. “The sooner you wear it, the sooner I can steal it.”

“You might not want to steal it if I throw up on it,” Buck mumbles, but he puts the hoodie on, struggling for a moment with the left sleeve before his head emerges, curls sticking up in every direction. Eddie runs a hand through his hair, then kisses the top of his head.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t throw up on the hoodie,” he agrees, “but I’d still love you.”

“You always love me.”

Buck blinks up at him, pale and miserable, and even after all these years there’s a persistent thread of wonder in his voice, like he can’t quite believe how much he is loved. Like he can’t quite believe that they made it back here, together, after everything. Eddie can’t blame him because he still can’t believe it sometimes too. He doesn’t know what to do except kiss Buck again, holding him close and hoping that some of his warmth will soak through the layers between them. Buck sinks against him, boneless, and Eddie thinks they could stay like that forever, just holding each other, until Buck pulls away with a low groan.

They spend a while on the bathroom floor after that.

“You’re going to get sick,” Buck tries to protest, but it’s half-hearted; getting sick has pretty much been an inevitability since Christopher brought the note home from school a week ago warning parents that the stomach flu was going around. Once Buck was taken out, it became a certainty. It’s not like Eddie is going to move out of their bed until the germs are gone, after all.

“I’ll risk it,” he says, rubbing Buck’s back. He’d risk a hell of a lot more than a virus for his partner, but it doesn’t feel like the time to say it.

Buck shakes his head, but it’s not really a denial, just, “You don’t want this, Eds.”

Eddie kind of wants to shake him sometimes. To take him by the shoulders and say: I want you, remember? all of you? But he’s pretty sure it would be labouring the wrong point, right now, and it doesn’t really matter anyway because Buck is scrambling to get his head over the toilet again and Eddie can only grimace sympathetically and rub his back. Buck is right: he doesn’t want this bug. But he does want Buck and Chris, so. Germs are a pretty small price to pay.

****

He tosses and turns, sleeping fitfully, and by three a.m. they’re both sick and miserable together.

“Is this what they mean by ‘in sickness and in health’?” Buck asks the ceiling, and Eddie’s sluggish brain has to think through that for a long moment before he remembers:

“We aren’t married.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Buck’s voice sounds far away. “Should we get married?”

Eddie thinks about that for a long moment too.

“Probably,” he decides. And then his stomach twists again and it doesn’t really matter if they’re married or not because he’s too busy throwing up to think about anything except how awful he feels.

****

When Eddie does steal the hoodie, it’s mostly an accident. He wakes up freezing, desperately thirsty, and when he staggers up in search of water, he grabs the hoodie that has been tossed onto the end of the bed without thinking about it. It’s already over his head before he realises that it’s the one Buck was wearing when they crawled into bed.

The next time he wakes up, he’s too warm, Buck a long line of heat pressed up against his back, and he has to wriggle free to wrestle the hoodie off again. It’s damp with fever sweat and he tosses it on the floor in disgust. He just did laundry yesterday, but he’s already thinking about how they’ll need to do it again.

“Okay?” Buck asks, still half asleep.

The answer is yes but also no, I feel like crap, and I hate how never-ending housework is, which is all too much to explain. Eddie just groans and buries his face in his pillow. A sound catches in Buck’s throat, something vague and sympathetic, and he slips a hand under Eddie’s t-shirt to rub his back. Eddie shivers, pressing back into him.

“Your hands are cold,” he mumbles, but it doesn’t mean stop.

Buck shuffles a little closer and kisses the back of his neck: I’ve got you.

Eddie still feels awful, but he thinks he’ll feel a little less awful as long as he has Buck there rubbing his back. He knows this isn’t what either of them meant when they promised to have each other’s backs all those years ago, but it feels inevitable that they ended up here anyway. Buck’s hand moves over his skin, warm and solid and familiar, and Eddie wonders—lets himself wonder, the way he doesn’t usually dare—how it might feel with a ring on his finger. He’s pretty sure it would feel just like this; like home.

****

The hoodie spends two days waiting for someone in the house to have enough energy to do another wash cycle, then three more days at the bottom of the laundry basket waiting to be folded and put away. Buck is the one who finally puts it in the closet, his hands moving restlessly when they get home from a busy shift, jittery from too much caffeine and too little sleep.

“I love you,” Eddie says when he pulls oven cleaner out from under the sink next, “but if you’re going to deep clean our whole house, I’m going to nap without you.”

He’s exhausted, slumped at the kitchen table because even sitting up feels too hard right now, and Buck’s energy is starting to make him a little dizzy. He doesn’t think twenty-four hour shifts used to be this exhausting, maybe he should be more worried about getting old?

“Twenty minutes,” Buck bargains, already reaching for a cloth to scrub the oven with. “I just want to do this and then I’ll join you.”

Eddie considers insisting—he knows Buck is just as exhausted as he is and if he lies down for ten seconds he’ll probably crash—but compromise is the foundation of all good relationships, or so Bobby keeps telling him. It’s a foundation, Eddie is willing to concede, but he’s pretty sure the foundation of all good relationships is trust.

“Twenty minutes,” he agrees. “I better not wake up alone, Buckley.”

Buck smiles, like he can see right through the faux-stern Buckley to the heartfelt honey underneath, and ducks in to kiss Eddie on the cheek on his way to the oven.

“Twenty minutes,” he says. “I promise.”

****

Eddie is out as soon as his head hits the pillow, so he doesn’t know if it is twenty minutes, but when he wakes up and rolls over, he finds Buck sprawled on the bed beside him, dark green hoodie rucked up around his waist, one leg sticking out from under the covers, breath whistling faintly between snores. He smiles and closes his eyes. Chris is at school, the house smells vaguely like lemon disinfectant, he’s warm and comfortable and they have nowhere important to be. He can spare five more minutes before getting up, he thinks.

Half an hour later, they’re still in bed, wrapped up around each other, and Eddie has forgotten why he ever wanted to get up at all.

****

“Uh, isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?” Chimney asks, pointing between them.

Eddie glances at Buck, I stole this from my boyfriend embroidered right over his heart.

“Looks fine to me,” he answers, shrugging.

Buck grins. “You think I look fine?”

Eddie opens his mouth, a dozen answers to that on his tongue, half of them straying dangerously close to NSFW, but Hen beats him to it was a drawn out, “Oookay, save it for when we don’t have to stand here and listen to your foreplay, boys.”

Eddie can feel his cheeks turning pink, but Buck is as unrepentant and shameless as always.

“You could stand somewhere else,” he suggests, and he’s laughing when Hen smacks him in the arm.

****

The hoodie is traded for an LAFD one instead, relegated to Buck’s locker for the duration of their shift. Eddie isn’t fussy; he’s just as happy to watch the LAFD material stretch over Buck’s arms and chest and broad shoulders as he is any other kind of clothing.

Buck goes home with the hoodie tucked into his bag the next morning, but somewhere between walking in the front door and leaning against each other in the kitchen while the coffee maker works its magic, Eddie ends up wearing it. It’s like wearing a hug, he thinks, but that might be the way Buck’s arms are wrapped around his waist as well, a solid wall of heat at his back. Eddie doesn’t want to step away when the coffee machine beeps, but the lure of caffeine is strong enough to get him one step, two, three, cold as soon as his partner’s arms are no longer around him.

“Thanks,” Buck murmurs when Eddie hands him a mug.

Eddie kisses him, a quick peck on the lips, you’re welcome, and Buck catches him by one hoodie string to kiss him again when he starts to step away. The coffee mug in his hand dips and Eddie takes it from him, setting it aside without looking. The space the movement put between them is only there for a second before Buck hooks his hands in the hoodie pouch to pull Eddie closer, deepening the kiss.

“Have I told you lately,” he says between kisses, “that I love when you wear my clothes?”

Eddie hums, busy working his hands under the hem of Buck’s shirt so he can touch as much warm skin as possible. It takes him longer than it ordinarily would to string together the words to say, “I thought you bought this hoodie for me?”

“I bought it because it reminded me of you,” Buck agrees, his own hands under Eddie’s hem now, hot enough to brand everywhere he touches, “but you’re the one who said it doesn’t make sense unless it’s my hoodie.”

“And you said you’d just wear it a few times first,” Eddie reminds him, distracted enough now to frown, hands stilling on Buck’s waist. “Hang on, are you trying to steal my hoodie?”

Buck’s next kiss is more like a bite, teeth nipping under Eddie’s jaw; the promise of a mark that will sit just above where the hoodie might cover it.

“Right now,” he says, the same kind of promise in his voice, “I’m just trying to get you out of it.”

Eddie is more than happy to help with that. He lets Buck take him by the hand and pull him down the hall towards the bedroom, coffee forgotten on the counter, hoodie tugged off and quickly forgotten on the floor. Buck lips press against his skin right over this heart, right where the embroidered words would be, and Eddie feels like there is a mirror image of them etched into the beating muscle beneath his skin: my boyfriend stole this from me. He would have given it—has given it, a dozen times over—but every time he reached into his chest, he found Buck’s name already there.

I love you, Buck presses into his skin with his lips.

And Eddie holds him close and kisses it right back: I love you, I love you, I love you.

****

“Our hoodie.”

“Huh?”

Buck pushes himself up on his elbow and Eddie blinks up at him, his brain still feeling a little melt-y.

“It can be our hoodie,” Buck says, idly tracing a pattern over Eddie’s ribs, just because he can.

“Like a timeshare?” Eddie asks, musing, the start of a smile breaking through. “You steal it this week and I’ll steal it next week?”

Buck flicks him and Eddie grins.

“I take it back,” Buck says, rolling away onto his back. “It’s my hoodie now.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to push himself up on an elbow, going far enough to lean over Buck and kiss him, cradling his face in one hand. It’s just supposed to be one kiss, but Buck kisses back readily, arms wrapping around Eddie’s back, and it’s easy to lose themselves in it after that, the thread of conversation unravelling as they make out.

“Okay,” Eddie says eventually, the word quiet and breathy in the space between them. “Our hoodie.”

It gives him a thrill, the same way it always does, whenever he refers to the two of them as an our. Our home, our family, our hoodie.

Buck’s smile is a brilliant thing. It burrows in through bone and blood and tissue to reach the heart underneath, making itself at home.

“I love you,” he says, so sincere Eddie feels it in his chest.

“I love you too,” he replies, punctuated with a kiss. “You know Hen and Chimney are going to give us so much shit about this hoodie for the rest of our lives, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Buck agrees. “Maddie too. Don’t tell Chris, but she thinks I already own too many hoodies as well.”

Eddie laughs. God, he’s so, so far gone for this man.

“She might have a point,” he says, but he’s pretty sure it just sounds like there’s no such thing as too many hoodies.

Buck rolls his eyes, still crinkled with his smile. “See if I ever buy you a hoodie again.”

It’s an empty threat. And it doesn’t really matter anyway because—

“That’s fine,” Eddie answers. “I’ll just steal yours.”

He can’t be sure, really, which happened first: that first stolen LAFD hoodie, or Buck stealing his heart. He tried once, wine drunk with Hen and Karen, to answer their question about when he knew he was in love, but the only answer that came to him was I’m pretty sure I loved Buck before I knew him.

“I don’t think it’s stealing if I let you,” Buck tells him.

“You’re going to let me, huh?”

“Yeah.” Buck nods. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but I kinda like it when you wear my clothes.”

Eddie grins. “I might have had some idea.”

The proof is on the bedroom floor, or whatever that saying is. He never did understand why it was always in the pudding. It’s on the bedroom floor, and in the way Buck is smiling at him, and in the laundry all mixed up in the basket. It’s the way Buck kisses him, soft and lingering, and the way Eddie’s heart thumps once, twice, a pain that doesn’t really hurt. It’s our home and our family and our hoodie. It’s I love you and I love you and I love you.

It's the fact that they’re here, together, despite everything. Because of everything.

It’s kissing Buck again, and again, and again. Just because he can.

****

(Eddie wonders—lets himself wonder, the way he doesn’t usually dare—how it might feel with a ring on his finger. He’s pretty sure it would feel just like this; like home.)

[roxygen22]

Timothee having a nightmare during a thunderstorm and wakes up in a panic needing all the cuddles. 🥺 plz?

A/N:

Hope a Timmy character is ok - I've been wanting to try my hand at a Lee fic.

When I say "vocal panting," think of Paul's noises after he was stabbed in Dune 2.

C/W: Reference to past abuse

Thunder

The weather man on the radio said a severe storm was coming as you and Lee pulled into the state park that would be your home for the night. The wind was already picking up by the time you made your way to your campsite, so you both decided to sleep in the truck instead of the tent.

After a long day of traveling, the two of you were easily lulled to sleep by the gentle rain pattering on the windshield and the thunder that rumbled in the distance. Lee slept upright in the driver's seat, his curly red hair acting as a pillow against the window. Your position mirrored his on the passenger side, aside from your feet curled up in the seat.

A sudden clap of thunder shook the truck's windows and wrenched you from your slumber. You jerked upright as your heart raced and looked around to get your bearings. Beside you, you heard Lee's vocal panting. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, trembling and wide-eyed like a cornered animal. He turned his eyes toward you but remained unfocused as he tried to get away from some invisible phantom.

"Lee, love, look at me. Focus on me." You gripped his face between your hands and rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs.

"[Y/N]? Wha- where?" He blinked owlishly as he looked around.

"You are here with me in the truck. Where were you?" you replied softly, assuming the thunder pulled him from a nightmare.

"I was in the b-barn back home. M-my father w-was coming after me," Lee explained between rapid breaths.

You rested your forehead on his. "You're okay. He's gone. He can't hurt you anymore. Breathe with me, okay?" You took in a deep breath through your nose and let it out slowly through your mouth, exaggerating to encourage him to emulate you. He copied you and slowly calmed down.

"Thank you," he said sheepishly.

You kissed the tip of his nose. "Come here." You leaned back against the passenger door and opened your arms to invite him over. He shuffled over and laid against you as your legs and arms cocooned him in a safe embrace. You rested your cheek on the top of his head and held him like that until morning.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag list:

@croatianprincess

@bluizh

@jindongdongie

@groovyqueer

[lainekyuu]

~Lost~ Optimus Prime x (platonic) human child reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Summary: Reader was un aware of her mother abandoned her and decided to take a walk around the city but eventually got lost. Reader then stumble upon a Truck who is patrolling the area not knowing its a robot.

Warning: Child being abandoned

Part 2 ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Optimus have been thinking for the past few minutes if he could take the child or not, but knowing that she was abandoned and people these days have no care for a little girl who has been abandoned. He finally Decided to take her in, maybe Cade could have her as another daughter seeing Tessa was now in College. Optimus transform in to his Alt form.

"y/n get on, we will have a long ride to go" Optimus said with a gentle voice. "Okay.." reader didn't answer him with her usually high pitch voice as she was getting tired, She then climb the stand carefully so she wouldn't fall. After a few minutes of struggling to climb the stand she finally sits on the driver's seat, and as for her bunny bag she didn't put it in the other seat but cuddle with it her best friend. Optimus had close the door of the truck and said.

"y/n if you're tired go on sleep I'll have someone to carry you when we arrive." Optimus said but not knowing reader already fall asleep the time she cuddle her bunny bag. Optimus just sigh and finally drove back to the base where his fellow comrades are staying.

Optimus could have just leave the child alone but seeing a child on the street alone in a cold weather, she could have died of starvation or worse... Not to mention the child was too young to be alone maybe about 5 to 6 he was lucky the child was not very loud or annoying but still irritates him on why he brought her. Optimus was not interested on getting a Sparkmate let alone raising a child who is a human, that's non of his concern now as he will ask cade to take care of her simple as that because she was human and he probably miss his own daughter.

When Optimus arrived, everyone was already asleep except for cade who is above the roof again waiting for the radio signal to contact his daughter. Optimus drove near cade and carefully speak to not wake up the child sleeping inside his Alt mode.

"Cade...I have a request for you.." Optimus said and cade raise a brow to let Optimus know to continue his talk. "I found this child alone on the streets..she was abandoned by her mother...is it okay for you to raise her cade?" Optimus said Cade was shock a little that Optimus have brought a child with him but never questions him as he knows better than to do it. Cade still haven't answered Optimus but went down to take a look at her, she was in an uncomfortable position but still cuddling her bunny bag. Cade sigh and carefully carry the child out of the truck careful not to fall while doing it, once he succeeded on getting down without harming or waking the child he cradle her a little.

"well we should rest first prime.." cade is now feeling tired after seeing the child he doesn't know why. Optimus just agreed and drive off in his cabin.

<in the morning>

Reader woke up by the sun light through the small window, she also realize that she was laying on a bed that she didn't remember sleeping on until she look to her side seeing a man with long hair. Since she didn't know the man she carefully take her bunny bag and wore it on her back and carefully tip toe her way to the door. She successfully went out without waking the man on the room, when she went out she found a big green robot (Crosshair).

"WOW! another robot!" reader shouts at a big robot in front of her with a big smile. Crosshair turn around from the unknown voice only to see a child with a wide smile, he couldn't believe on what he was seeing. "what the- why is there child here".

[whatsnewalycat]

Passenger / Chapter 3

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Chapter Three: IL -> WY

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Chapter Summary: Charlie graduates to the front seat. Din reluctantly buys donuts. They both continue to think they're way smarter than the other.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 4.2k+

Content / Warnings: modern-day au, alternating pov, second person pov, slow burn, vagabond ofc, dog grogu, enemies to lovers, bounty hunting, drug mention, being held captive, swearing, lack of privacy and autonomy, animal neglect mention, tip-toeing around having to take a dump, food mention, death threat, knife mention, gun mention, police mention, playing guitar and singing, targeted extermination (crimes against humanity??) mention, deathwish

Notes: You look cute today. Hope you like it, thanks for reading!

For almost half his life, Din woke up in his rig alone each morning. The bray of his alarm started at 7:00am, saws against his bones jolting him conscious.

Since the dog has joined him on the road, Din’s alarm has been preceded by whines for attention, sometimes even before the sun rises. If he tries to ignore the noise, it escalates to wet laps against his face, which serves as a pretty effective snooze button.

Today it’s not the alarm or the dog that wakes him, but the mellow resonance of an acoustic guitar. It creeps at the edge of his sleeping state and gently nudges him out of dreamland, back into the driver’s seat of his truck. His eyes blink open to find the world outside still steeped in blue left over from nighttime. It suits the melancholic chords you strum from behind him. 

You start to sing in a voice so quiet, he’s not sure whether you’re singing actual words or just vocalizing. Either way, his chest sinks. He lays there, heavy-limbed and fuzzy-headed, watching wispy, dreamsicle clouds suspended in the atmosphere. 

The dog joins in with a drawn out, dramatic groan, which you react to with bubbling laughter, asking, “Are you trying to sing, too?” 

“Boof.” 

“What a lovely singing voice you have, little pup,” you coo. The strumming ceases and there’s a hollow thunk as you set the guitar aside to give all your attention to the dog. 

Din looks at the tablet on his dash and reads the time as 6:12am. He sits up straight in his seat, stretching his frustrated spine before sliding on his sunglasses and turning to the sleeper cab. 

The dog is nestled into the cradle of your crossed legs, happily accepting belly scratches. Your glowing, rosy-cheeked smile falters a little when you glance up and see Din rising to his feet, and you remark, “Look at that, we made it through the night with no bloodshed.” 

He nods in response, unsure what to say. 

The dog notices his presence and starts flopping around until he successfully makes it onto all fours, then jumps onto the floor and starts pawing at Din’s boots. When he crouches down to pet him, the dog jumps up and starts licking his face. 

“Hey now, four on the floor,” Din grumbles, pushing him back until he resigns to a sitting position with a huff. He rewards the dog by scratching between his big ears, “There we go. Good boy.” 

“Where we headed today?” you pick your guitar back up and absentmindedly play a gentle melody, “My certain fate?” 

When he doesn’t respond right away, you just keep talking. 

“How long does it take to get to Portland? That’s where you’re taking me, right?” 

This time, you stare at him and wait for an answer. He meets your gaze, then drops it to your guitar, reading a few of the sharpied signatures on its face as he says, “Nebraska to deliver this load. Then head West, see where we end up. We won’t get to Portland until tomorrow or the next day.” 

“Ah,” you wince down at your guitar, then sigh, “Well, rule number five.” 

“Rule number five?” 

“Live in the now.”

Din stands there, expecting you to say more, almost wishing you would say more about what you mean by rules and your certain fate. But you don’t. 

So he shifts forward onto his knees and reaches under the bed, typing the key code into the safe while you twist the little knobs at the head of your guitar and give each string a few test plucks. 

You start a new song, and a dim sense of nostalgia creeps up his neck. 

He pictures the apartment he lived in as a kid. Windows cracked open to release the lemon-scented cleaning solution fumes. This song broadcasting out from a record player, his mom singing along from the kitchen as she scrubbed the floor, the same lyrics you sing now: 

“Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door—”

“That’s enough,” he snips.

The music stops abruptly. 

“Not a big Guns ‘n’ Roses fan?” 

He grabs his keychain from the safe and slams it closed, “Bob Dylan.” 

“Touché,” you watch him as he stands and turns to unlock the ratchet strap, “You know, that’s actually the version I was playing, but I figured you’d think—“ 

“Look, I just want some quiet, ok?” 

A few moments go by before you scoff and mutter under your breath, “Not a morning person. Noted.” 

Well.

There’s good news and bad news.

The good news is your captor let you keep your notebook and pen. You were also able to play your guitar and sleep in a bed. And while this man’s mattress is not a luxury by any means, it sure as hell beats sleeping strapped into an adult-sized booster seat. 

Which brings you to the bad news. 

You’re strapped into the aforementioned adult-sized booster seat again. Also, the man has reverted to ignoring every single thing you say. And, of course, there’s the looming threat of Portland…

But you think you might have a way out. 

Your captor doesn’t seem to be as horrible a person as you thought. Which is to say that he hasn’t tried to sexually assault or murder you yet. A very low bar, but still. 

While it’s clear to you that his only goal is to complete the job he took by turning you in, he didn’t have to let you keep your switchblade. He didn’t have to let you sleep in his bed. In fact, you suspect he did those things because he felt bad for you being in this shitty situation.  

Which tells you one crucial thing about him: He has a heart. 

This is your way out. 

Getting strangers to trust you is a song and dance you have to perform frequently. The unbroken overnight truce between you and the man may only be a small building block of trust, but you think you can work with it. And you’re not sure where, or how, but you believe that if you can get him to trust you, even a little, the opportunity to escape will present itself. 

RULE #7: Keep your options open. 

So this time, when he backs up to the receiving warehouse to offload the trailer, you pull the switchblade from your bra and toss it into the open space between the driver and passenger’s seat. You show him you understand the rules and you’re willing to comply. 

The man gives you a nod of thanks before grabbing the blade and tucking it in his pocket. 

Pen to paper, you pass the time while he’s gone scribbling about your journey these past few days. The dog whines and ping-pongs from the driver’s seat to the passenger’s seat, his flat snout fogging up the windows. You try to soothe his worry by cooing reassurances to him and giving him scratchies when he comes within your reach, but he mostly ignores you. 

When the man returns from offloading the trailer, he shoos his excited friend over to the passenger’s seat and swings the door closed with a thunk. 

“How’d it go?” you ask.

“Fine.”

He pulls off his aviators and scrubs his gloved hands over his face. The dog jumps onto his lap and starts licking his mouth. The man grimaces and blocks the ambush, but laughs, “Ugh, yeah, hello.” 

This is the first time you’ve witnessed a smile across his face. It digs out dimples in his cheeks and brightens his features tenfold. And, as a result, you find yourself smiling, too. 

“He was nervous when you were gone,” you tell him, “Just ran back and forth between the windows trying to see where you were.” 

The man nods, dimming his smile a tad, but scratches the dog’s head and rubs his big bat-like ears. 

“Ok, that’s enough,” he declares, then plucks the dog off his lap and drops him in the passenger’s seat.

Certain things are inevitable in life. 

Included among these are: Death, change, failure… and, unfortunately for you, bodily functions. 

After lunch, while your captor pours dog food into a bowl for the pup, then starts to prepare the cabin for the next leg of its journey, your guts clench and twist. Heat floods your cheeks as its meaning dawns on you. 

“I have to go to the bathroom.” 

“Give me a moment,” he says, not looking up from the tablet mounted from his dash, “Then I can leave.” 

“I, umm… I don’t wanna go in here.“

Your voice comes out uncharacteristically timid, getting all high-pitched at the end. He glances over his shoulder and furrows his brow, while you just plead with your eyes for him not to ask more questions. It takes a moment before the lightbulb goes on over his head. 

“If you let me use the bathroom inside, I promise I won’t talk to anyone or try to take off—”

The man looks around the cabin, then sighs, “If you try anything—”

“Yeah yeah yeah, you’ll kill me,” you wave him off and tug on your harness, “I get it, can we go?” 

“Fine,” he concedes, “You’re not to leave my side except when in the bathroom, understand?”

Din walks at your side, hand grounded between your shoulder blades as he guides you through the gas station’s brightly lit aisles. 

“Do you like donuts?” 

He ignores you. 

“That’s a silly question. Everyone likes donuts, right? We should get some.” 

The women’s restroom draws near and you rush ahead of him to push through the door. He calls after you, “Be quick,” as it swings shut, then leans against the wall opposite the bathroom, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Doubt nibbles away at his nerves with each passing second. 

When you emerge, wiping your damp hands on your pants, he straightens and resumes his position at your side, palm pressed against your back, and starts walking. 

“Did I do good?”

He glances over to see you looking up at him, a bright smile dawning your face. Words get tangled in his throat for a moment, but he regains his footing and nods, “Yes.” 

“Good enough to get a donut?” 

He doesn’t respond, but as the two of you pass a donut display, you halt, “Please?” 

His jaw clenches. He looks between you, your big brown almond-shaped eyes all sparkling with hope, and the clear cabinet stocked with a variety of donuts, then sighs, “Fine.” 

“Yessss,” you clap your hands together and practically bounce over to the display, yanking a parchment paper bag from the counter before clicking the tongs a few times, “Which one do you want?” 

“I don’t want one,” Din props his hands on his hips. 

You pull the display’s clear plastic door open and raise an eyebrow at him, “I find that hard to believe. Look, they have long johns, cake donuts, apple turnovers, jelly-filled donuts, bear claws—”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” you roll your eyes, “If you don’t tell me which one, I’m gonna pick it for you.” 

He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, trying to figure out why the hell he agreed to this as you nab a glossy, o-shaped donut. 

“These are my favorite: glazed. Sweet ‘n’ gooey on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside,” you drop it into the parchment paper bag and click the tongs at Din, “What’ll it be? Wait—Can I guess?”

Din throws his arms out at his sides, “Just pick one.” 

“Let’s see,” you narrow your eyes and tilt your head at him, “You seem like a ‘just the basics' kind of guy. No frills. Maybe a little repressed. And for that reason, I guess that you favor… an old-fashioned donut?”

You grin as you wait for his confirmation. He shakes his head and snatches the tongs from your hand, plucking a raspberry bismarck from the lineup. 

“Interesting choice,” you nod as if you’re impressed, “Huh. I had you pegged all wrong, big guy, my apologies.” 

Din smirks and drops the donut into a bag, “Let’s go.” 

After he pays, the two of you exit the gas station and start towards the rig. Din returns his hand to the space between your shoulder blades, watching for the telltale signs that you’re about to bolt. A frantic glance around, or a stutter in your pace. 

Sure, you’re being cooperative, but he’s not naïve. 

Considering how scrappy you obviously are, he has no doubt you’re still plotting to escape before he delivers you to Portland. Your temporary compliance means nothing. In the end, you’re going to fight tooth and nail against him, and you will fail. This is how it goes every time, and you are not an exception. 

You tear off a piece of the donut and pop it in your mouth, groaning as the pastry melts against your tongue, “Fuck, that’s good.” 

Something primal pulses inside him. 

Din shakes it from his head and stares up at the idling truck, pulling the door open for you to hop inside. You do so without protest. He buckles and locks you into the sleeper cab’s harnessed seat, then goes about finding a new work order. 

While your captor is hooking up the trailer and all that entails, you hum to yourself and doodle french bulldogs into the margins of your notebook. 

Your muse whines at the driver’s side window, then jumps down off the seat, onto the bed beside you. He stomps a few loops, then throws himself to the mattress  with a, “Humph.” 

“Preaching to the choir, pupperoni,” you mutter, “I can’t believe driving for over 10 hours a day isn’t the most boring part of trucking.” 

The dog blinks at you, which you consider an agreement on his part. 

“I wish I knew your name,” you pout, rubbing his velvety ear between your fingers, then sigh, “Well. Maybe it’s better I don’t know. Rule number nine: Don’t get attached.” 

It’s quiet for a while as you pet the dog, soothing his agitation. 

“Can you keep a secret?”

His eyes start to drift closed. He releases a deep breath. 

“I am terrified of what will happen when they take me,” you whisper, then scratch the top of his noggin and sigh to yourself, “Fuck.” 

The dire reality of your situation finally begins to sink down onto your shoulders. A dark blue ache pools in your diaphragm. For a split second, you think about the switchblade in your captor’s pocket and wonder how sharp it really is. 

The driver’s door swings open, and for once, you’re actually glad to see it. 

Beside you, the dog perks up, waiting until the black baseball cap and shiny aviators of your captor come into view before hurdling himself towards the front of the truck. The man pulls the door closed with a loud thunk and drops onto the driver’s seat. 

He tugs the gloves off his fingers with his teeth and tosses them on the dash, glancing between a packet of papers on his lap and the tablet, tapping the screen a few times before turning to the sleeper cabin. 

You follow his movements and ask, “On the road again?” 

The man grunts in response, kneeling down beside the bed to access his safe. 

Six little beeps ring out as you tap your fingers against your thigh, “Where to now?” 

“Utah,” he yanks the safe open, stowing his papers inside, then slams it shut. 

“Portland tomorrow?” 

He leans back on his haunches, digs in his pocket, and hands you your knife, “Yes.” 

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking it from him. While he rises to his feet and dusts off his knees, you frown in contemplation, then ask, “Can I sit up there?”

The man stills. 

You look up and meet your reflection in his sunglasses with a shrug, “I just wanna see the world a little more before… you know. I can’t.” 

His shoulders seem to slump the tiniest bit when you say this, but he corrects it quickly and says, “I’m still turning you in.” 

“Of course.” 

He studies you, jaw working from side to side, then sighs and crouches down again to unlock your harness. 

Din regrets the decision almost the second your seatbelt clicks into place beside him. 

All your little noises and attempts at conversation were subdued when you were in the sleeper cab. With you just two feet away, he can hear every hum, every question, every pointless observation, every single godforsaken tap tap tap of your pen keeping time on your thigh. 

He has considered throwing it out the window more times than he can count, but knows you would just resume the motion with your fingertips against all of your surroundings: notebook, window, legs, face, seat, door, anything, everything. 

Tap tap tap tap tap

Worse yet, he can see you in the corner of his eye, always moving. Always. Fiddling with your hair, twisting it into braids, undoing them, redoing them. Jotting things down in your notebook. Wiggling in your seat. Bouncing your leg. Every ten minutes he has to scold you to get your feet off the dash, and each time you scoff and roll your eyes like he’s the one being unreasonable. 

Your presence eats away at his nerve endings, leaving them frayed and hot. 

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. 

“Does your dog have a name?” you ask somewhere in the middle of Nebraska, where it seems like all that exists are cornfields. Dried out stalks, golden and ready to harvest, line the highway for miles on each side. Every once in a while, he spots monstrous combines, eating up rows at a time, spitting out beige clouds behind them. 

“Not sure.” 

The answer flees his mouth before he has time to consider the consequences. They are immediate. 

“How are you not sure, what does that mean?” 

Din sighs and keeps his eyes on the road as he tries to forge an explanation. You take his pause as him dropping the subject. 

“You can’t just say that,” you scoff, staring at him, “What, did you find him abandoned or something?” 

He shakes his head and parts his lips, but you push onward before he can get out a word.

“Did you steal him?” 

His mouth snaps shut and his traitorous throat gulps, thick with guilt. 

“You stole him?!” You gasp, “You hypocrite. Wow. Why would you steal someone’s dog?” 

He glares at you, “They didn’t take care of him.” 

“How do you even know that? Did you just assume you can do a better job—”

“They had him crated alone for at least a day before I got there to load their furniture—”

“What, is this thing a moving service too?”

“Christ, will you just shut up and let me explain?” he snaps. 

Your head jerks back and face pinches into a scowl. But you do as he asked, rolling your wrist away from your body as if to say: Proceed. 

“I do all kinds of jobs. Mostly this, long hauling freight for manufacturers and distribution centers, but sometimes, yes, I take moving jobs.” 

“And bounty hunting on the side?”

He shoots a sharp glance your way, and you mutter, “Sorry, go on.” 

“His owners hired me to move their belongings from Pittsburgh to Albany. The work order didn’t say anything about a dog, but when I got there, he was alone and scared. No food or water,” Din pauses and watches in the side mirror as a pickup truck swings out from behind him and speeds to get ahead, then he continues, “When I got to Albany, they weren’t too happy about my refusal to hand him over. I didn’t get paid, but I couldn’t leave him there.” 

You nod and stare out at the road, “So you’ll do that for dogs but not people?” 

The question jolts him. He swallows hard and shrugs, “Dogs are put in their circumstances and unable to escape. People have a choice.” 

“I disagree,” you look over at him and study his profile, “What are people supposed to do when the only circumstances that allow for their escape lead to something like this? Is that supposed to be a choice?” 

He wants to ask you to explain, but he knows the less information he has, the better. And he already knows too much. So he says nothing.  

You release a deep sigh and lean back in your seat, rolling your head to look at the passing cornfields. 

Your captor decides to stop for the night at a rest stop between sleepy Wyoming towns along I-80. 

As he did the night before, he locks the rig down like it’s Fort fucking Knox. 

There’s this whole system he has worked out, with straps and locks and keys and his little safe under the bed.

His vigilance seems to be the only thing he keeps in excess. Which you could relate to more if you weren’t the “asset” he’s so vehemently trying to secure. 

An asset. 

Your stomach churns as you realize that’s what you are to this man. Not a human, but a pawn to trade for cash. You hoped to garner his sympathy throughout the day, but seem to have gotten nowhere in that respect, while each mile brings you closer to Portland. 

After completing his nighttime routine and tapping around on his tablet a little, the man shuts off his overhead lamp and reclines the driver’s seat all the way back. 

The only light comes from a streetlamp outside, casting a green fluorescent glow across the empty passenger’s seat. You roll on your side and make way for the dog, who jumps up and curls into a ball against you. He lets out a content sigh when your nails rake the short, white fur along his ribcage. 

“Can I tell you about where you’re taking me?”

No response. 

“I know you’re not sleeping,” you say, “Don’t pretend.” 

“I would rather not know.” 

“Yeah, well that makes two of us,” you mutter, then shake your head, “But I can’t let this be buried with me. I need someone to know.”  

Nothing.

“Please.” 

A brief silence follows, but you wait, and eventually he says, “Ok.” 

“I was staying with my friend, Joey, in Portland for a few weeks while I did temporary work there. One night, he was biking back to the apartment and saw these cops stop and talk to an unhoused man, then put him in the back of the cop car. No lights or anything. Joey thought this was weird, so he followed the cruiser. It went into this warehouse, not back to the police station. They brought the guy in but left without him. 

“The next day, Joey talked to a friend, who looked into property records of the warehouse and told us it belonged to an LLC. We traced back to this guy named Tom Boucheron. Do you recognize that name?” 

“No.” 

“Oh. Well, he owns all these property companies out there. I thought it would have been him that put out the bounty for me.” 

He doesn’t say anything. 

“Anyway,” you frown at the now abstract green glow of the passenger’s seat, “We should have figured we were in over our heads. But, whatever was happening seemed shady and we wanted to check it out. A few of us broke into the warehouse. The place had a few security guards posted and, I don’t know, it got out of hand. Some of us—me, I—held them at gunpoint while the others looked around. They found pharmaceuticals and street drugs, large quantities of them.”

You pause for a moment and listen to the hum of the truck, then ask, “Are you still listening?” 

“Yes.” 

“Ok,” you take a deep breath, then say, “The cops showed up quick. They caught our lookout and arrested him, but the rest of us were able to get out. And…”

The words catch in your throat for a second. You shake your head, “And one of my friends… I mean, I didn’t see it myself, but… she said she saw people in cages. All fucked up and strung out, barely able to move. She thought some of them might’ve been dead.

“I know it sounds crazy. I didn’t even believe her at first, but a few days later, our friend who was arrested turned up dead from an apparent overdose. He didn’t use hard drugs. That was enough for me to get back on the road, but the others… Portland is their home, you know, they were insistent on staying to find out more.” 

A heaviness falls over you. It surrounds you on all sides, suffocating the flame of hope that kept you going all day. Your eyes burn like hell but you can’t seem to bring yourself to blink. The vague glow of the streetlamp holds you in a trance. 

When you speak again, you try your hardest to keep your voice steady. 

“So I just need you to know… that is what’s ahead of me. I will go missing. They will keep me in a cage like a fucking animal, drugging me and god knows what else, until I’m fucking dead. My grandma and brother, if they ever discover my death, will think I overdosed and died on the streets of Portland. They will think I died with no dignity,” you pause here and let out a sad, watery chuckle, “And they will be right.” 

Silence. 

You swallow the thickness of your throat and muster every ounce of courage in your body as you tell him, “If you have any mercy at all, you will kill me in my sleep tonight and hand them my dead body tomorrow.”

More silence. 

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“Alright,” you breathe, “Well… goodnight, then.”