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deansbeer · 1 month ago

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diet pepsi ⎯⎯ DEAN WINCHESTER.

⎯⎯ you and dean finally cross the line from best friends to lovers, giving in to the undeniable passion between you.

YAP SESH! this is dedicated to my girl BREEZY @titsout4nicholas <3 i know i know, it took me 4ever to get it out, but it's here !!! i wanted it to be a soft smut type FIC, so i'm sorry if it isn't the usual filthy smut yall were expecting.

୨ৎ JENSEN'S LIBRARY.

୨ৎ gif creds @sensitivehandsomeactionman !

YOU WATCH THE RAINDROPS RACE DOWN the impala's window, counting each one that reaches the bottom first. the gentle patter of rain against metal and glass creates a soothing rhythm that matches your heartbeat. dean pulls into an empty rest stop, the headlights cutting through the darkness and reflecting off the wet pavement.

"wait here, i'll be right back," dean says with that signature smile of his before stepping out into the rain.

you pull dean's worn brown leather jacket tighter around your shoulders, breathing in the familiar scent of leather, gunpowder, and his cologne. he'd draped it over you earlier when you'd started shivering. being dean's best friend means knowing all his little gestures of care — the way he shares his jacket, checks the salt lines twice around your motel room, brings you your favorite snacks.

through the foggy window, you watch him jog to the vending machine, his boots splashing in puddles. the blue glow illuminates his face as he feeds quarters into the slot. a few moments later, he's sliding back into the driver's seat, water droplets clinging to his hair and eyelashes.

"here you go, sweetheart," he says softly, pressing the cold diet pepsi can into your hands. "your favorite."

"you remembered," you smile, touched by the simple gesture. dean remembers everything about you — how you like your coffee, your favorite songs, the way you scrunch your nose when you're thinking hard about something.

"'course i did. what kind of best friend would i be if i didn't?" he winks, starting up baby's engine. the familiar rumble surrounds you both.

dean drives down empty backroads, streetlights casting intermittent golden glows across his face. you share comfortable silence broken only by quiet classic rock from the radio and occasional sips of your soda. these are the moments you treasure most — just you and dean and the open road.

"you're special to me, you know that?" dean says suddenly, glancing over at you. "my baby."

your heart flutters at the endearment. coming from anyone else, it might feel patronizing. but from dean, it feels like being wrapped in warmth and safety and belonging.

"you're special to me too," you whisper back.

dean reaches over and squeezes your hand gently. you lace your fingers through his, marveling at how perfectly they fit together. maybe someday you'll be ready to cross that line between friendship and something more. but for now, this is enough — sharing quiet moments in his beloved impala, drinking diet pepsi, and knowing that no matter what supernatural threats you face, you'll face them together.

the rain continues as baby carries you both through the night, towards whatever adventure awaits. but in this moment, you're exactly where you want to be — by DEAN WINCHESTER'S side, his best friend, his baby.

as the downpour continues, creating a steady rhythm against the impala's roof. dean turns onto a secluded side of the road, the trees creating a canopy overhead. he kills the engine and turns to face you, his eyes dark and full of longing. next thing you know. you're both in the backseat of baby.

you swallow, your heart pounding in your chest as he leans in, gently brushing his lips against yours. you part your lips, letting out a soft moan as his tongue explores your mouth. your hands find their way to the short spiky strands of his hair, tugging softly as the kiss deepens.

dean pulls back, his forehead resting against yours. "you sure about this?" he whispers, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.

you nod, looking him in the eyes. "yeah. i want this. i want you."

he kisses you again, his hands roaming over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. you arch into him, your body on fire with need.

dean breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy. "we can stop anytime you want," he says, his voice gruff.

you shake your head, your hands pulling at the hem of his shirt. "i don't want to stop. not now. not ever."

he helps you out of his worn brown leather jacket, your shirt and expertly unclasps your lace bra, his eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of your bare upper body. he leans down, his lips finding your breasts, his tongue teasing your nipples. you gasp, your back arching as pleasure shoots through you.

dean's hand travels down your body, his fingers finding the waistband of your jeans. he looks up at you, waiting for your approval. you nod, biting your lip as anticipation builds.

he slowly removes them, his eyes never leaving yours. he kisses you deeply, his hands exploring your body. you moan into the kiss, your hands gripping his shoulders as he touches you in ways you've only ever dreamed of.

dean's fingers find their way inside your tight pussy, your body clenching around him as he finds your sweet spot. you gasp his name, your body trembling as pleasure builds.

"oh, de," you moan softly, a little out of breath from the intensity of it all.

he increases his pace, his thumb circling your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. you cry out as you come undone, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

dean waits until you come down from your high before removing his own worn out faded jeans. he quickly rolls on a condom, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he wanted to devour you whole. he entered you slowly, carefully, giving you time to adjust. you let out a soft gasp, your pussy clenching around him.

you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer as he starts to move. he moved within you, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. the impala rocked gently beneath you, the rhythm of your bodies matching the rhythm of the car, and the sounds of soft skin slapping fill the air. you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

you cried out his name as you come undone, your pussy convulsing around him. dean follows soon after, his body trembling as he releases deep inside you. he collapsed on top of you, but made sure he wasn't crushing you underneath his body. his breathing was heavy, holding you close, and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

the two of you lay there for a long time, tangled together in the backseat of the impala, the silence broken only by the sound of your breathing. the world outside the car slowly came back into focus, the dark trees blurring in the distance. you looked up at dean, his face softened in the dim light.

he smiled down at you, a gentle, loving smile. "y'okay?" he whispered, pressing gentle kisses all over your cheeks, nose, and eyelids.

you wrap your arms around him, nodding. your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. "'m perfect," you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear.

he kisses you softly and pulls back to admire you again, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. "you're amazing, baby," he whispers back, his eyes full of love and adoration.

you snuggled closer to him, his body warm and comforting. in that moment, in the backseat of the impala, surrounded by the quiet still of the night. you both lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the rain continuing to pour outside. and for the first time in your life, you feel truly content, truly happy. you know that no matter what comes your way, you'll face it with dean by your side.

you're finally his. his baby. his girl.

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nochedie · 1 month ago

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sleepless | dean winchester 🌙

pairing: dean winchester x reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 689

summary: after a night of staring at the ceiling, drowning in your own thoughts, dean helps you fall asleep

a/n: actually wrote this at 3am last night because i couldn’t sleep! i haven’t written for dean yet and i really wanted to show him love so here’s a short little drabble! listened to simulation swarm by big thief while writing 🫶🏼

2am.

your bare feet lightly padded across the laminate of the motel room floor, and you felt around to help you navigate the poorly lit room.

you flinched as your hip bumped into the table, making a bit of noise. you turned to look in the direction of the bed you got out of to grab a drink of water, and through the slight illumination from the moon through the sheer curtain, you could see dean stirring slightly and you hoped you hadn’t woken him.

the motel you were staying in had a small kitchenette with a refrigerator, and you had put a water bottle in there earlier in the day to cool. you grabbed the water bottle and savoured the feeling of the liquid on your dry throat, instantly refreshing. you took the bottle back over to the bed and placed it on the bedside table before trying your best to get back into bed without making any noise.

“you okay, baby?” dean spoke, voice even deeper than usual with sleep.

“yeah, i just needed a drink. go back to sleep, love.” you placed a hand on his hair, brushing your fingers through until you heard his breathing deepen as he fell back into a peaceful slumber.

you stared up at the ceiling, willing your eyes to shut.

3am.

you were still wide awake, having not slept a wink. you turned to dean, still fast asleep. you could just about see his silhouette in the darkness, and you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

3:30am.

dean began to stir beside you when you moved to grab the water bottle from the bedside table.

almost instinctively, and still half asleep, he reached out an arm to drape across your waist.

you paused your movements, frustrated with yourself for making too much noise and disturbing him.

“c’mere.” dean tugs your form slightly, prompting you to put down the water bottle and slip back down beside him.

“can’t sleep?” he tries to suppress a yawn.

“not really.” not at all, in fact. you hadn’t slept a wink all night and you didn’t even feel close to falling asleep.

one of dean’s hands found yours, and he placed a gentle kiss to your neck. “anything i can do?”

“no.. it’s alright.” you turned your body to face him, shuffling as close as you could as dean wraps you up in his arms.

“have you slept at all tonight?” he questioned.

“no…”

“baby…” dean brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “is there something wrong?”

“there’s nothing wrong, really. it’s just… i don’t know, i guess i’ve been a bit more stressed than usual lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” his tone was soft and concerned. he wasn’t berating you, but rather worried that he had done something wrong or that you didn’t trust to tell him about any of your worries, big or small.

“i didn’t want to bother you with it…”

“you couldn’t bother me if you tried, sweetheart.”

“i worry about you. i worry about sam and cas. i worry about everybody we’ve ever known. i don’t think i could cope with losing anybody else…” your brain was full and it wouldn’t turn off. countless scenarios playing in your head on a constant loop.

“i worry about that too, baby… but you need your sleep. you must be tired.” truthfully, you were exhausted. but everything was just so loud.. it wouldn’t grant you peace.

dean knew you loved to hear him sing, even though he would only do it once in a blue moon and never in front of anybody but you. feelings of content smothered you as soon as the first note left his lips.

“i close my eyes… only for a moment, and the moments gone…”

after a few moments, the sound of his voice, his touch, his scent, him, muted the sound of your crushing thoughts.

it didn’t take you long after that to finally allow sleep to engulf you. by the end of the song you were fast asleep, your breathing deepening with each passing moment.

“sweet dreams, baby.”

comments, feedback etc always appreciated! thank you for reading!

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #supernatural fic #jensen ackles #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x you #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #spn x you #spn fic #fluff #dean winchester fluff

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cobrakaisb · 11 months ago

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always an angel, never a god

summary: the aftermath of luke’s failed quest to the garden of the hesperides includes a dirty motel, a new wound, and sharing a bed with his best friend.

word count: 2.8k

featuring: ONE BED TROPE, set pre-tlt, luke and reader both have crushes on each other, lowkey hurt-comfort, mentions of injuries/getting injured, death, angst with a tiny bit of fluff

“let’s just stop here for the night, then we can keep moving,” you begged, standing in the motel parking lot. luke was weary, eyeing the property distrustfully. “it doesn’t look safe,” he mumbled, hand fisting the strap of his worn blue backpack so tightly that his knuckles were white. “please,” you whispered, eyes shining with tears. it had been a rough couple of days, especially with the major losses you’d both suffered.

“just until tomorrow morning,” you begged. he sighed, but nodded his head. you exhaled a breath of relief, as your forehead came to rest on his shoulder. he stiffened, but relaxed under your soft touch. your lips ghosted against his shoulder, as you planted a soft, barely-there kiss on the faded green cloth. luke’s fingers gently brushed against the back of your hand, wrapping around your wrist. you lift your head from his shoulder, lacing your fingers together, and lead him towards the motel lobby.

it’s clearly rundown; the carpet floors are dirty and the room reeks of mildew and sweat, but neither of you complain. you're just happy to have access to a bed and a shower. luke walks up to the check in desk, ringing the small bell to alert the employee(s) that someone was here. a few minutes pass by, but then an older man comes out from the back room. he looks hesitantly between the two before asking, “can i help you folks?”

“we’d like a room please. just for tonight,” you explain, squeezing luke’s hand a little tighter as the man continues to stare you two down. you can’t imagine what you look like to him: bruised, battered, bleeding, and crying. not to mention luke’s face; the wound was still open and dripping blood every few seconds. you’d done what you could on the road to help stop the bleeding, but the only real way to heal it was going to be with stitches and deep disinfectant.

“just your luck, we have one room left,” he smiles, inputting something in the system before handing you a key. you smile tightly at him, feeling the tension in luke’s shoulders seeping into your bones. why would there only be one room left if the parking lot was empty? “thanks so much,” you replied, leading luke out of the lobby and towards your room on the second floor.

“i really don’t like it here,” he grumbled, setting his bag down on the floor once you entered the room. you toed off your worn out black converse, locking the door behind you as you rolled your eyes. “it’s just one night. besides we need to rest and regroup now that…” you started to say, but ended up pausing. it hurts to mention her; the wound in your heart is still fresh. you swallow, taking a deep breath before turning to luke, “let’s take care of your face.”

he nods, wordlessly following you into the bathroom. he watches as you grab the first aid kit from the backpack and turn on the hot water. he waits patiently, occasionally admiring you, while you wet one of the few provided face clothes. “this might sting,” you whispered as you began to clean away at the blood and grime caked onto his cheek. he winces, gripping onto you for support.

“it’s okay. you’re okay. i’m almost done,” you said, trying to soothe him. instead of watching your motions, he looks at your face. your eyes, ones which normally shone bright with joy, were dull; the vibrant colors muted by your sadness. he wondered if you felt pity for him and his failure, or if you were still coping. this quest wasn’t meant to be a three person one, but you refused to let him partake in the challenge alone. he couldn't help but blame his dad for your sorrows; everything always came back to the gods.

“can you sit down on the toilet for me? i want to clean the cut, and i need a better vantage point,” you explained, putting the towel on the side of the sink as you opened the first aid kit. he complied to your orders, taking a seat on the closed toilet. he waited with bated breath, as you dug around in the kit, looking for whatever it was you needed. finally, you made eye contact with him, a small smile on your face as you held up a cotton ball and bottle of peroxide.

luke groans, throwing his head back in frustration. “no, absolutely not,” he mumbled, moving his head away from you. he froze, however, when your palm rested against his uninjured cheek. “please luke, i don’t want it to get infected,” you whispered, voice soft and thick with emotion. his brown eyes meet yours; they’re swimming with worry. “okay,” he relaxes, rolling his shoulders back to release some of the tension in them. you smile softly, trying your best to be reassuring as you remove your hand from his cheek to pour a small amount of peroxide onto the cotton.

“this is going to sting,” you warned. luke takes a deep breath, and subtly nods for you to continue. as gently as possible, you begin to clean the deep wound running from his eye to his jaw. luke hisses, his right hand gripping onto your thigh. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” you mumbled, but you continued your ministrations. luke doesn’t answer, simply gritting his teeth and keeping a hold on your thigh. after a few more swipes, you pause to inspect the wound. your hand grips his jaw, and you turn his face to the right; satisfied with your work, you throw the used items in the small garbage.

he watches as your attention focuses back on the first aid kit. you’re digging through the small red box, searching for the required items to stitch up his face. despite his dire situation, the crushing weight of worthlessness and embarrassment, and his most likely infected wound, he couldn’t help but feel serene. being here with you was exactly what he needed; you were all that he needed.

“okay so i have the needle and thread. do you want to shower first? otherwise you won’t be able to,” you explained, moving back to stand between his legs. luke’s hands came to rest on the small of your back, fingers creeping under the hem of your tee shirt. “i’ll shower, then you can stitch me up,” he agreed, humming softly as you absentmindedly twirled one of his black curls around your finger. “perfect. i’ll be right outside,” you whispered, trying to step out of his hold, but his arms just tightened around you.

“stay,” he pleaded, brown eyes widening. you sighed, a conflicted look in your eyes. “i can’t lose you,” he whispered. “i won’t lose you,” he continued, resting his head against your abdomen. you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. everything was getting to be too much, on the both of you. “i’m not going anywhere angel, i promise,” you replied, fingers carding through his hair in a feeble attempt to soothe him. he lets out a shaky breath in response, and you can feel his tears seeping through your tee shirt.

“it’s okay. i’m right here,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice from cracking. your fingers still card through his hair as you lean down and plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. this whole quest has been a pot of emotions, and it seems like it’s finally boiled over the edge, for both you and luke. you want to let your guard down, and crumple to the floor and sob, but you don’t. luke needs you right now.

a few minutes pass by, but he calms down. he sits up straight, arms still holding you in a vice grip. “i’m sorry,” he mumbled, and you aren’t sure what he’s apologizing for. “there’s nothing to apologize for. i’m here to support you, whatever that looks like,” you explained, cupping his jaw with a small reassuring smile on your face. “will you just sit outside the door? i need to know you’re there,” he said, reverting back to the original conversation. “whatever you want,” you answered. once the words leave your mouth, his arms unravel from your waist. you step back, giving him room to stand. he pulls you right into his chest. “we’ll talk later,” he promised, waiting for your hum of agreement to let go.

“shower. you reek,” you teased, trying to bring some joy back into the depressing atmosphere. he finally cracks a smile as he pretends to smell his underarms. “a shower is a good call,” he agreed, lightly pushing you towards the door, a sign that he wants to get changed. you obliged, leaving the room just as the sound of gushing water arises.

luke takes his time in the shower, letting the water drip down his clean body. he knows you’re sitting right outside the door, just like you promised, because he could hear your soft humming and mutterings. he was angry, and he refused to let that anger out on you. instead, it stews inside of him; all the resentment, annoyance, and disappointment. he was supposed to come back a hero, they all were. instead, he’s returning a failure, and with one less friend. he thinks about his father, who recycled a quest from the history lessons at camp and refused to help. he thinks of you, his pillar of strength. he thinks of beth, hoping that she reached elysium, where she belonged. his mind wanders back to camp half-blood, and the faces of his siblings and all the unclaimed children fill him with dread. what will they think, now that they’re head counselor failed?

“are you almost done?” you asked, pulling him from the depths of his mind. he shakes his head gently, water spraying from his soaked curls. “just finishing up,” he answered, turning the water off. “i put your pajamas on the sink,” you replied, closing the door so he has some semblance of privacy. “thanks,” he answered, and the sound of the opening curtain muffled your reply. he takes a couple extra minutes to dry off and pull on his pants, purposefully leaving the shirt to the side.

“okay i’m decent,” he shouted, and the door cracked open. he sees you standing there with your eyes closed, and he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “i told you i was decent!” he laughed, and you opened your eyes with a giggle. “i just had to make sure,” you replied, your usual smile encompassing your cheeks. he playfully shakes his head at your words. “whatever you say,” he said, and reclaimed his seat on the toilet lid.

you took your spot between his legs, and his hands found their home on your waist. “this might hurt, and take a while because i have to go slow, but it’ll help you heal,” you said, holding up the needle with a shaky hand. luke grabbed your wrist, steadying the shaking. “hey, it’s gonna be fine. i trust you,” he mumbled, placing a soothing kiss on your palm. “i know, but i hate seeing you hurt,” you answered, taking a deep breath. finally, once you’ve calmed down, you begin stitching up the wound. luke remained still through the entire process, but you could see the pain in his eyes. in a matter of minutes, and with the quick snip of the scissors, you tied off the stitches.

“done,” you announced, tapping on his forearm. luke thanks you, and gets you from his spot, admiring his reflection in the mirror. “handsome as ever,” you whispered, heat creeping up your cheeks when you realize he heard you. he blushes at your words, but still manages to throw a cocky smirk your way. he doesn’t comment on your words, instead he pushes you towards the shower. “get cleaned up so we can sleep,” he mumbled, closing the door on his way out. you’re frozen, forgetting how to function, but once you regroup, you take the time to shower.

it’s longer than usual, but you deserved it after everything this quest has put you through. while you’re standing under the showerhead, letting the water wash over you in waves, you can’t help but blame yourself. everything that went wrong could be pinpointed back to you. you and beth were supposed to take care of the dragon, but you were distracted by your worry, turning to check on luke. in that split second, everything went downhill from there. you should have just remained focused, followed the plan, and none of this would have happened.

“i think you should get out of the shower now, before the motel sends us their water bill,” luke whispered, opening the door to the bathroom. you clear your throat, blinking harshly. were your cheeks wet from the water or tears? “i’ll be out in a minute,” you promised, and luke agreed. once the door closed, and you were back in the privacy of the bathroom, you stepped out of your sanctuary. it’s when you dried yourself off that you realize you forgot to grab your sleepwear, but thankfully luke had you covered. sitting on the bathroom counter were a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, along with your hairbrush. you felt yourself smiling gratefully at the gesture, and started your nightly routine.

he heard the sound of the door opening before he saw you. you were wearing the clothes he’d laid out, and your hair was dripping wet, despite your efforts to dry it. you threw the towel on the floor, letting it sit in a sopping wet heap, before climbing into the bed. he didn’t think you’d comment on the fact that the motel manager seemed to be playing matchmaker, and he was right. you lied down silently, pulling the covers up to your chest as you turned to face him.

“it’s all my fault,” you whispered, eyes glossing over as you looked at him. luke’s eyebrows furrowed, and a confused look took over his previously serene face. “what?” he replied, uncertainly. “everything with beth, your scar, the quest. it’s all my fault,” you continued. he was baffled by the fact that you genuinely believed that. something of this caliber, of his undoing, was not your fault. “why would you think that?” he asked, genuine curiosity present in his tone. “i was supposed to distract the dragon, we both were, but i was nervous. i looked away for just a second, and the dragon maimed beth. then came for you,” you answered, voice cracking and shaking. luke’s hand cupped your cheek, wiping away at the lone tear before it could drip down the bridged of your nose.

“beth died a hero, she knew what she was signing up for,” he whispered, thumb rubbing over the apple of your cheek. he wanted to reassure you that none of it was your fault, that nobody would blame you for what happened, that he didn’t blame you. ��the blame doesn’t fall on you,” luke continued, staring softly into your eyes. “never,” he finished, kissing the tip of your nose.

“but she’s gone. and your quest…” you trailed off, more tears brimming at your water line. “my quest was stupid anyway,” he replied, pulling you closer to him. “it was never serious. not to him,” and luke didn’t need to specify who the him was. “but it was important to you,” you said, finally meeting his brown eyes, “so it was important to me.” luke sighed at your words, his eyelashes fanning his cheekbones. “you’re the most important thing to me angel. i’ve stopped craving his approval long before this,” luke explained.

he wished that he kept his closed so that he didn’t have to see the shocked look on your face. or the pity flashing behind your eyes. he knew, deep-down, that you didn’t pity him, you just felt bad for everything he’s faced. you felt guilty for the relationship with your parent, when he had none.

“he loves you luke, you must know that. maybe not as much as i do, but there has to be some compassion there,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled your foreheads together. “nobody can love me as much as you do,” luke whispered, lips ghosting over your skin from the proximity. “of course not, angel,” you answered, closing your eyes. he knew the stress of the quest and day was taking over you, so he let you fall into the arms of hypnos.

when you were really asleep, he whispered the words he’d been dying to say: “i love you.”

the way i am not strong enough to be your man // always an angel, never a god

#luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #pjo luke #percy jackon and the olympians #cobrakaisb writing

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castiwls · 8 months ago

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Come home to me - c.n

Paring; castiel x reader

Synopsis: Getting hurt on a hunt was expected, but this was different. This left your life on the line

Warnings; mention of death and injury

Requested;anon

Notes;so sorry this took so long! also not wrote for castiel in a minute so I apologise if its kinda occ :) reqs and inbox are open

Masterlist

Pain was something you were used to. It wasn’t often you found yourself walking away from a hunt unscathed but this…this was something you’d never felt before.

White hot pain pulsed through your side as you tried to remember how to breathe again. You couldn’t even remember what had happened. One minute you were standing and the next you were looking at the barn's roof.

You weren’t even sure if you’d finished the hunt. The only thing you knew was that you were in pain. A hand on your chest pulled you back to reality. The car jostled slightly causing you to wince as pain shot up your side.

“Is it bad?” Your voice was strained as you looked up at met a pair of blue eyes full of concern. Castiel was quiet his eyes trained on your face. “You're going to be okay.” He nodded before moving his hand over your side.

His voice was passive but you could tell by his eyes that he was scared and you couldn’t tell if he was reassuring himself or you. Taking a sharp breath you reached a hand up towards him. One of his hands quickly wrapped around yours and squeezed it.

“M’tired Cas.” You mumbled watching as his eyes widened slightly. He shook his head before saying something you didn’t catch. Your ears seemed to fill with water as the voices in the car blended together to make one muffled mass.

The pain continued to pulse through you as quiet mumbles left your lips. Your eyes continued to droop as you watched him stare down at you.

Truthfully you had no idea if you were dying. The thought left a small pinch of fear rushing through you. What if you were dying? What if you died in this car? What if you died and never got to tell him?

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Castiel watched in near horror as your eyes finally closed and your body went limp on his lap. Placing a hand on your shoulder he shook you gently, careful of your wound. “Hey.” He could feel Dean’s eyes on him from the mirror as he continued to shake you.

The sound of the engine revving faded into the background as he continued calling your name begging for your eyes to open again.

Until now fear had been something he’d never felt. The idea alone was so alien to him that for a moment he had no idea what that cold feeling that seemed to chill his body was.

For the first time, Castiel was genuinely scared. He knew healing you wasn’t an option until you got back to the motel. The car was too shaky and he wasn’t willing to risk causing you any more pain.

“You're gonna be okay.” He mumbled pushing your hair off your face. Staring down at you he found himself slowly mapping your features. He’d always known that there was something about you. Something which left him constantly looking for your attention. Your smile alone could brighten his day and the thought of never seeing it again left him feeling sick to his stomach.

Losing you was maybe his worst fear, and now that might actually be a reality.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Castiel didn’t know how long it had been. Both Sam and Dean had begrudgingly retired to their own motel room leaving you both alone a few hours ago.

Even after being healed you continued to lie lifeless on the old bed while he sat quietly at your side. Letting out a breath he leaned forward on his knees looking at you for a moment. Your clothes were still bloody and torn but your side now showed no memories of the gash that had been there only hours earlier.

Running a hand through his hair he leaned back into the chair, his mind still going a mile a minute. Castiel had never had the words to tell you how he really felt. He’d become so accustomed to being your ‘best friend’ that the idea of being anything more had slowly faded away.

He knew he was in love. He’d been in love since the first day he’d met you and now he’d waited too long and may never get the chance to tell you.

A small pained groan broke through the silence and his head shot up. Another small noise left your lips as you stretched out your leg, feeling the stiffness on one side of your body slowly lessen.

“Wha..what happened?” You asked turning your head to where he was sitting. “Cas?” His hand shot out grabbing a hold of yours, his eyes wide. “How do you feel?” His voice was laced with concern.

You thought for a moment trying to piece together your foggy memories of what had happened on the hunt. The pieces slowly slotted together and you let out a worried breath immediately reaching for your side.

Feeling the now untouched skin you looked over to the angel. “Stiff but…much better.” You smiled weakly, fatigue still clouding your mind. “Thank you.”

He nodded a small smile growing on his lips. Relief rushed through him as you slowly moved to sit up against the pillows. “I’m glad.” He was quiet for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Can I…can I tell you something.” Castiel felt his gaze fall onto his hands as you tilted your head watching him. “Of course. You can tell me anything.” You answered trying to reassure him.

He nodded before falling quiet again. You watched as opened his mouth a few times before stopping himself and shaking his head. “Cas, come on you can tell me.” You laughed gently patting the bed beside you.

Taking the hint he came to sit beside you. He felt the bed dip slightly as you moved closer a smile on your lips. Part of him was so relieved still that you were alive that it took him a moment to realise that you’d placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m in love with you.” He said suddenly. The confession seemed to shock you both as you stiffened slightly and he sucked in a breath.

The air seemed to grow tense for a moment before he turned to face you, his breath catching in his throat as he mentally prepared himself for the possibility of you rejecting him.

Instead, you were smiling brightly, a small dusting of red on your cheeks. “You're not just saying that 'cause I almost died right?”

He shook his head reaching for your hand which wasn’t on his shoulder. “No. No of course not. I really mean it.”

He looked down to where your hands were intertwined. “Well.” You moved your hand from his shoulder to gently tip his chin up.

“I guess it’s a good thing I feel the same.”

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clockwayswrites · 7 months ago

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Constantine & Danny, Cyan & Magenta, Walking through a puddle & Rumble of thunder. @jacksnervesofsteel, @ayzenigma

Gotham was miserable tonight.

This wasn’t a surprise to John. Gotham was always miserable. It was damp and muggy, smelling faintly of the sea no matter where you were and of death if you were in the wrong area.

John was often in the wrong area. It came with his business. He was sure that by the end of the night every pore would be rank with the smell of death. There were lemons already waiting in his shoddy motel room for him.

(John had learned through experience it was easier to by the lemons before he smelled like death.)

It wasn’t that John liked smelling like death, but like he had said, it came with his business. From everything that he had been able to gather, his business tonight was a cult and a nasty one at that. To make everything worse, it had it had set up in Gotham. Location didn’t always mater, but Gotham was one of those special places like the Bermuda Triangle or the Paris Catacombs; it was bathed in history and mystery and blood. He tried not to think about Gotham unless he had to.

Tonight he just hoped he’d get out of there without calling the attention of the Bats.

John found an awning to duck under to get out of the rain for a bit as another low rumble tore through the sky. The metal grate across the door rattled, as if echoing the thunder, as John leaned into it. The whole street was shutdown already even though it was hardly past ten. That suited John. Easier to not have witnesses. Much easier to not have easy sacrifices.

The cigarette was reassuring as it settled between his lips. Course his damn lighter wouldn’t light. He flicked futilely at the wheel.

Someone was getting close.

John could hear them.

There was that telltale squash of rubber soles through water, the sound different enough to stand out past the drizzle of rain. John readied a spell on his fingertips, cupped behind his palm keeping the damp off his cigarette. If he was lucky whoever it was wouldn’t even see him and just move on by.

“Looks like you need a light.”

But when was he ever lucky.

“Yeah, lighter is being a right bastard,” John answered casually. He glanced up over his hand and into blue eyes so deep they felt endless.

“Here, take mine.”

“Naw, mate—”

“Take it, I’ve gotten my use out of it.”

Refusing gifts was often unwise. “…sure, thanks.”

Constantine glanced down at the silver lighter sitting in the guy’s hand and then past it and down into the puddle under the stranger’s feet. From the reflection of the water, a skull grinned back at him. There were no more deep, blue eyes, just green glowing out from the skull. Sometimes it was eyes. Sometimes there was skin and muscle and eyes. Crackling electricity scattered over the bone, rending the flesh from it as quick as it grew back.

John jolted as a too flesh hand pressed the lighter into his.

“Take it, Laughing Magician,” the skull said. John’s gaze jerked up to the stranger who just grinned at him. “You’ll need it tonight.”

“What—”

The strange man backed up a step. The skeletal reflection backed up with him and was out of sight.

“Try not to die, John. That would be messy.”

“Ta, mate,” John said half on auto pilot.

He watched the man until he was out of sight.

Gotham was miserable tonight.

#prompalomp #dp x dc #danny fenton & john constantine

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vashwoo · 8 months ago

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additional feature

pairing: vash the stampede x afab! fem!reader content: smut (MDNI!) cw: questionable usage of this man's prosthetic fingers, c.lit play, tristamp coded vash because of the arm color but the others can have some coochie as a treat a/n: been in my notes app for forever. i cannot believe my first fic in awhile is smut and it's even my first trigun fic. ashamed. shaking out the dust and sand from my brain just like vash shakin' out the sand from his arm.

brad is a genius and knew the blonde would gunk up his masterpiece with sand at some point... so he provided a neat lil feature to help shimmy out the granules from the tiny crevices!

On the desert planet that was Noman’s Land, sand was a cruel devil for mechanical bits and bobs. Constantly eroding the cheap lacquers and choking up the gears in more intricate machinations made being an engineer a more annoying task. Hence why Brad, genius that he is, had equipped the blonde gunman’s arm with a little special something to rid the little granules from the intricate joints that made up the malachite arm.

“This is the annoying part; gets... so… gritty– Eep!”

The blonde man squawks as he flails his left arm around, jerkily stretching his lithe fingers. The dual suns’ rays reflect off of the flat planes of his limb, occasionally blinding you as you watched him fumble around. Speckles fell from the crevices as he slapped his other hand against the jewel toned forearm, but the grimace on his face told you that it wasn’t quite fixed yet. Before you could offer to helpfully brush it down with a random paintbrush you picked up from the previous town, he fiddled with something at his inner bicep and the teal arm buzzed to life.

Sand granules vibrated and seemingly shimmied out of the tighter spaces of his arm and fingers, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he happily wiggled his digits again. A clear lack of stuttered arcs in their movements told you the sand battle was won.

Distantly, the others in your ragtag group argued about the lack of water and supplies for the next few hours, but your brain wanted nothing to do with that conversation. In fact, the mechanical whirring of his arm mimicked the static of your empty skull. Not a single thought was between your eyes at that moment.

Words died in the back of your throat and were replaced with absolutely salacious thoughts. Those thoughts raced through your mind and the blood pumped wildly in your ears (and between your legs). You fiddled with your fingers nervously as you cleared your throat to grab the blonde's attention.

“Say, Vash,” you coughed, and his eyes darted to yours in interest at the awkward tone you’ve suddenly adopted, “I’ve got an… idea.”

Those big blue eyes blinked owlishly at you as he curiously tilted his head.

“What’s up, Mayfly?”

As soon as the group stumbled into town, divvied up the keys, and parted ways, the door of your motel room was barricaded by a splintered chair because the lock didn’t live up to its namesake.

“Curious about this, huh?” Vash’s teasing murmur against the shell of your ear snapped your attention back to the present. “Were you wondering how it would feel… against… your–”

The tip of his cool, jade finger floated down and graced the swollen bud between your legs. Before you could snap a little jab in his direction, the droning mechanism whirred to life again, except this time, Vash wasn’t trying to rid himself of sand. With a yelp, you curled in on yourself, plush thighs caging the broad man’s hands. Your body jerked and he laughed breathlessly, cooing as his flesh-and-blood hand pried your legs apart. This man was teasing you! Turning the buzzing fingers on and off? How cruel–

“So lewd of you,” he cooed your name, delighted by your body’s honest reactions.

Tease. Bastard. Where’d this confidence come from?

He tenderly pressed chapped lips against the back of your neck, pecking you three times over. When you embarrassingly squirmed against him and curled in again, he fussed. “M-Mayfly, don’t hide,” he breathes, his voice laced with poorly masked desperation. Your attention was taken and you ceased your squirming at the breathlessness of the man holding you. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

For Vash the Stampede, succumbing to hedonism was a transgression against his moral code. Yet, when it comes to his precious Mayfly, your happiness and pleasure were equally his own, and he was a selfish sinner learning to indulge.

He would never come to you with this... idea. But he won’t lie that it came to mind once.

Well, twice.

Okay, maybe a few times before the two of you had become entangled in each other.

For every stuttered gasp you released, he mirrored it. For every choked moan you bit back, his hips bucked in response to wordlessly beg you to let go in his arms.

It made you wonder who was going to finish first. It made him wonder why he took this long to do this. It was all for you, after all. Your pleasure was his.

The gunman’s ragged back rested against the chilled wall of the dim motel room, pulling you taut against his warmth. He protected your back from pressing uncomfortably against the metal over his heart, shifting your body to lean on the rightmost side of his chest. His soft hair tickled you at times, constantly adding ammo to the reasons to squirm in his lap.

Vash’s touch was grounding, yet it also sent you straight for the clouds. His initial hesitant ministrations were gaining confidence the more you sang for him and arched so prettily in his grasp; his index and middle fingers moved at a languid pace, playing you like a seasoned musician performing their magnum opus.

At the start, he expressed concern over the idea of using his arm’s ugly, brutish, and utilitarian functions on your soft body. He sputtered in surprise when you first mentioned it earlier in the day; he had frantically gestured to his shining arm, babbling and asking you to confirm what he thought you had said. Crimson heat rose to his ears and it was not from the suns beating down on his neck.

Vash was certainly surprised by your proposal, but again, it wasn’t necessarily the first time it came to his mind.

Even as the two of you first settled against the musty sheets on the mattress, his hesitation spoke volumes with the way his fingers ghosted your core. After much coaxing and promises to stop him if it hurt, he finally, cautiously, pressed his strong fingers where you needed them most. The jade fingers weren’t vibrating though. Only when you complained with a whined cry of his name did he turn it on with bated breath.

Well, Vash quickly learned the tremoring metal was not too much against your core, and hearing your stuttered gasps? The practiced gunman was delighted to find out his body could serve you even better than before.

Currently, each time your legs twitch inwards, he’d whine with pouted disagreement and sweet talk your body to open back up to his touch by nudging your thighs apart again. His petulant huff raced past your ear and your attention would wrap around his next words. “So wet, Mayfly,” he breathed, awe lacing his voice. “Is it that good? Am I doing okay?”

Genuinely, Vash wanted to be nice, so he stopped his flicked motions to let you answer. His fingers rested on your clit, but didn’t cease the vibrations. With trembling, yet practiced fingers steadily pulsing against you, your head flew back onto his shoulder as you choked out your pleasure, “S-so good, Vash!”

Oh god, you sounded wrecked and beautiful to this man’s ears. The man always loved how his name was uttered from your lips. Your compliment held an unsaid cry for him to continue, so he hummed happily as his fingers sped up their strides, flicking up and down, and occasionally chasing well-practiced circles. The vibrations from his hand seemed to amp up in strength and your hands flew to his strong legs, digging your nails into his skin. His hand was suddenly drenched and his breath caught at the back of his throat.

His loving pace faltered for a beat at the sting of your grip as he groaned, mindlessly nuzzling the back of your neck with his nose. The crescent marks on his legs would never scar like the others on his body because you’d never harm him in such a way, but a ruined part of his mind prayed you did. Vash’s free hand trailed up from your tummy to cup one of your breasts to gently toy with the swollen nubs, pulling you close against his body.

“You’re so wet,” he moans brokenly and gingerly nips at the juncture of your neck. His fingers were starting to clumsily slip from the slick drowning his fingers, but he was determined to be so good and do well. That’s all the Humanoid Typhoon ever wanted to be for you, after all. If he was blessed to touch an angel and make her sing with his erred hands, the least he would do was give her a glimpse of heaven, right?

“A-are you getting close, Mayfly? Can feel her throbbin’ f’me…” he slurs, his fingers working overtime as he flicked and massaged you. You wailed softly as he seemed to establish a steady rhythm after your sudden deluge from earlier. Before he can moan out yet another nose-bleeding-inducing whimper, your hand shoots out and halts all of his progress. You yank his arm away and a confused ‘bwuh?’ slips from the blonde angel in the room. Before he can protest, you awkwardly crane your head around and stare him down; his voice, worry, and confusion fizzle away at the dazed gaze you grace him with.

Although the room was dim this late at night, the lantern illuminated your silhouette well; every curve on your body was highlighted by the warm light. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath from his little onslaught of pleasure.

‘Wow.’

You laughed; did he say that aloud?

Kind of embarrassing, but–

Desperate want painted your pretty little face as you pant at him. His grip on your body loosened as he felt your legs twitch, letting you rearrange the two of you however the hell you wanted.

He’d follow you anywhere.

When you lifted yourself from his body to shakily turn and face him, a hum bubbled in his throat before your fingers coyly traveled down your front, spreading yourself under his gaze. His cerulean eyes had followed your fingers’ dance and he swallowed dryly.

Wet.

So wet.

He did that.

Your thighs were quivering as you balanced yourself on your knees, and if he stared hard enough and long enough, he was sure he’d see you drip onto the sheets.

What a waste that would be, though.

Dumbly, his jaw slackens he stares at your lower half glistening with the obvious sign of your love for him. Distantly, his left hand continued to buzz against your flesh and you laughed at the tickling sensation as you placed your hands on his tense shoulders to steady yourself.

His brain was going to short circuit like the very first time you allowed him to even see an inch of your bare skin. The hardworking pink thing in his skull cheered over and over as his eyes continued to glaze over at the gift in front of him.

Your plump lips were mouthing salacious words down at him but were only partially registering in his clouded brain.

Something about ‘being inside’ and ‘finishing together’–

His wide eyes snapped back up to yours when you planted your hips firmly against his. Oh god, his pants were so ruined but he didn’t care. Not when you were looking down at him with all the love in your eyes as you sighed out his name in bliss.

It sounded so pretty from your lips.

The Humanoid Typhoon felt dizzy, oh so dizzy…

You purred when his hands shakily found their home on your hips, “c’mon Plant boy. Let’s get those pants off of you, huh?”

Vash the Stampede had never clumsily unbuckled his ruined pants so fast in his life. Can’t blame the guy though. His pretty litte Mayfly laughing and sitting on his lap made it really difficult.

#vash smut #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun #trigun reader insert #vash the stampede reader insert #vash the stampede smut #vash x reader smut #trigun stampede

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majestyeverlasting · 4 months ago

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𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐰 | 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞

Pairing Frank Castle x Reader [friends → lovers]

Summary A fresh start with no more loose ends—that’s what you promised yourselves. But when a quick outing stretches longer than expected, dread creeps in and reveals how deeply you care for Frank when he’s finally back by your side [3.7k]

A/N First time writing for Frank. Deeply appreciate Jon Bernthal’s embodiment of the character ♡

The rain hasn’t stopped by the time the van eases into the parking lot, where the water on the ground reflects the cherry-red motel sign shining against the night. It makes no difference to you—lips parted, head tilted against the passenger side window—until Frank gears into park and taps your thigh with two thick fingers.

Your eyes flutter open to tiny droplets pattering on the outside of the cool glass. That’s when you notice how still the world has grown. No more potholes, smooth turns, or periodic swells of acceleration to pass other cars who thought they had all the time in the world.

After cutting the engine, he runs a heavy hand down his face and tips his head back, disheveling the back of his dark hair against the headrest. It’s gotten longer. So has the coarser hair of his beard. He never asked for your opinion, nor had you mustered the courage to give it, but the look suited him, as if it was innately right. As he briefly closes his eyes, he misses the way you turn to study his profile, noting how the bridge of his nose catches the glow of the lights outside.

A satisfied hum escapes you as you stretch out your legs, drawing his attention back your way. He blinks observantly, eyebrows set in that eternal furrow that makes him hard to read. But you know he’s alright—content. There’s no other reason not to be. A couple hundred miles ago, he’d tied off one final loose end, and the world went silent for the first time in a while. It was over. No more living ghosts breathing down your necks. You and Pete Castiglione were free to start a new life, be whoever you wanted to be. That’s what you told yourselves.

Clearing his throat, Frank shifts in his seat and reaches into the cup holder, tossing the room key into your lap. “Room 103. There’s two queens,” he tells you. “I’ll grab the bags.” The finality in his tone suggests he won’t entertain any alterations to the plan.

You reach down to grab your crossbody. “Can I get this one, or is it too much?” You’re trying to be funny. He waves you off, mumbling under his breath, but there’s an undeniable flutter in his gut when you smile at him before hopping out of the van.

He purses his lips when you break into an amusing little jog, eager to escape the rain and key into the room. A muted yellow fills the space as you flip on the lights. No sooner does he watch you peek through the curtains like a groundhog popping up from its burrow. It’s hard to make him out, but you swear you can see him chuckling from behind the windshield.

It’s impressive how he manages to carry both your belongings in one trip. He hums in appreciation as you hold the door open for him. Rather than dumping everything in the main walkway, he trudges the extra few steps to where more space opens up, and a small bench rests beneath the full length mirror hanging on the wall.

The air is thick, as it always seems to be at motels, but the citrus undertones suggest recent cleaning. You stake your claim on the bed closest to the bathroom, ready to settle in. The wrapper of a meal bar crinkles as you dig it out from your purse.

Frank’s own mattress squeaks as he plops down onto the foot of the bed and lays back, tucking his hands behind his head. The movement makes the hem of his hoodie rise up just enough to reveal the light trail of dark hair leading down from his belly button. It’s not the most comfortable bed in the world, but you’d be back on the road in the morning headed for central Virginia.

A modest house in the Blue Ridge Mountains awaited, courtesy of one of his buddies who lived further north in Quantico. Of all the other options, it seemed like a promising place to find your footing away from the endless bustle of New York City.

“Frank?” He looks over at you. “Thanks.” For everything, you want to add.

“No worries,” he says. A few moments pass of the rain slowing down outside. It’s a lulling sound that masks the quiet gurgle of your stomach.

Eyes closed, Frank hears you begin to peel open the bar you’re holding. It’s one of the protein-packed ones that are supposed to taste like chocolate, but always end up too chalky. It’d been a while since the late lunch the two of you had.

“I’ll go get you something hot.” He sits up. “Passed a few places coming in.”

You can see how drained he is from driving. It’s in his voice, the slump of his shoulders. “This’ll tie me over for the night,” you insist.

He looks at you with partial belief. Frank was the type who could get caught up in the task at hand and go without eating, if it wasn’t for your reminders. Earlier, he’d brushed over his hunger, only to sit down across from you in that cramped diner booth and inhale his hamburger and fries as you watched with amusement sparkling in your eyes. That look often spurred him into a spiel about how he could get by on a handful of nuts every few hours if he really wanted.

But there was no such talk this time around. The food was good and hearty, and he enjoyed sitting down and sharing a meal without having to look over his shoulder. There was also something special about the way the sunlight streaming through the windows caught your eyes.

“Really, Frank. It’s been a long day,” you say as he stands and makes his way to the door. There was no stopping him when he made up his mind. “I can come with you.” That earns you a disapproving look, and you sigh your defeat. “Drive safe, okay?”

“Yep.”

The rain subsides shortly after he slips out the door. To avoid the risk of falling asleep, you decide to take a shower, considering yourself lucky that the warm water doesn’t run out after the first five minutes.

By the time you dry off, moisturize, and change into old pajamas, Frank hasn’t returned. When you peek out the window at the sound of an engine, it ends up being construction workers. Despite how much you try to will it away, a familiar sense of dread settles in your gut. It only roots deeper upon realizing that he’d left his BlackBerry behind on the bed.

Time continues passing by.

•••

Red and blue police lights appear blazing in the distance in a showy glow. Frank watches from the inside of a family-owned pizzeria, where beautiful candid pictures adorn the walls. The air is rich with the scent of parmesan and garlic, but his face is fixed in a scowl. There’s bruising beginning to develop on the apple of one cheek, and a thin bleeding slash on the other. A few chairs are overturned while tables are askew.

Under different circumstances, maybe in a different life, he would’ve been able to appreciate the homey charm of the place without trouble finding a way to fall at his feet. The universe had deemed him as the only alter fit to handle it.

The woman behind the counter, stout with a long ponytail, nearly collapses in relief as the wailing sirens draw nearer. Frank’s jaw ticks in irritation at the whole ordeal. Other customers who were once inside have either left or are now standing watch from the parking lot.

Frank turns to look down at the two young men sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall. The masks have been ripped down from their faces, and it’s clear they’ve been roughed up. Despite feeling Frank’s gaze, they refuse to meet it.

Off to side stands another employee who’s around the same age as the men on the ground. He’s holding a wad of napkins to his bloody nose and can’t keep his eyes from flitting to Frank with reverence and gratitude.

“Hey,” Frank barks to the seated men. “When they bust up in here, you don’t run, you hear me? Cause I’m gonna be out there and you won’t even make it to the next lot over,” he says. “If you wanna come in here and be tough guys while your buddy’s trying to make a living and do better for himself, then you own it.”

Their nostrils flare in frustration, but they don’t dare open their mouths. He can see the misplaced anger of his own youth coursing through them.

“Whatever’s going on between you…you talk it out, yeah?” He looks between all of them. “One bad decision, and your folks will be crying and snotting in a courtroom while some guy with a gavel calls the shots.”

As the police cars turn into the parking lot, Frank walks over to a table and picks up the carry out bag of food he’d ordered.

“How do I get outta here?”

Both the long-haired woman and the young employee point to the back hallway where the bathrooms are, watching him disappear as if he were never there at all.

Frank makes it to his van as the police enter the pizzeria. In the rearview mirror, he can see the two men standing from the ground with their heads hanging low. Sighing, he pats down his pockets for his phone with the intent to call you. Nothing. All he can do is curse under his breath and start up the engine.

The No Vacancy sign is switched on when he makes it back. He sees you staring out the window, but you slink back into the room as if the sight of his return was all you needed. A mix of guilt and frustration stir in his chest when you don’t let him in. He has to dig out the key and do it himself with his free hand, the carry out bag crinkling with his efforts. When he slips in and shuts the door behind himself, you’re standing a few yards away. There’s a palpable intensity as you study the afflictions on his face.

Your body wants to fuss over him and push him away all at once—for leaving his phone, for scaring you, for coming back looking like he’d sought out yet another fight. Most of all, you feel foolish for believing that there was ever a chance at normalcy. There was no rewriting the curse that all the trouble in the world fell at Frank Castle’s feet so he could set things right.

Unlike eight months ago, when you thought he was bad news, you can’t imagine losing him. You wouldn’t survive it. That magnitude of that fear cloaks itself in anger and puts a target on him when it’s the last thing he deserves.

“What the hell, Frank? You can’t be serious right now.”

Your piercing gaze is muddled with a myriad of emotions, and he can see them all. He stops the knee-jerk reaction that almost makes him raise his voice and go on about how he didn’t ask for anything that transpired within the past hour. How happenstance wasn’t within his control. How the whole idea of the two people like you finding a sense of normality was probably closer to a fairytale.

He doesn’t get into it because he loves you. Even though neither of you have ever said it aloud. It was an unspoken truth, written between the lines of the fact that you worked each other’s nerves, but knew how to sooth them even more. Chasing after a fairytale would be worth it with you.

“Let’s just eat, yeah? Can we do that?”

He brushes past you to put the food on the small table. You track his movements, watching as he takes out a few small boxes. There’s wings, garlic knots, mozzarella sticks—a variety so you can take your pick and get your fill. It was never really too late for pizza, but he knew you would complain about the layers of cheese grease so close to bedtime. You’re not even sure you have an appetite anymore, but he motions for you to come sit and you can’t say no. Your eyes follow him as he goes to wash his hands, wishing you had it in you to scream.

There’s only two chairs and your knees knock beneath the table when he sits down. As you nibble on a garlic knot, you stare at the dried blood on his cheek and the forming bruise.

“Please tell me what happened.” Your tone is lighter than before.

Frank squints briefly then wrinkles his nose, gears turning in his head. Similar to when he walks into a new room, his gaze tracks around different points of your face, as if he’s trying to piece together what he wants to say as he assesses where you are. His thoughts are always written in his expressions even if they aren’t entirely clear.

“It was nothing,” he says.

“Nothing, Frank?”

Nine times out of ten, him coming back to base camp bearing signs of a fight meant that he’d either taken care of everything or it was time to bounce—no in between. There’s no urgency that suggests the latter, so he must be telling the truth. The events of the night have pissed him off more than anything, like a side quest he couldn’t avoid. As much as he dreaded playing it over in his head for the sake of relaying it back to you, he can see that you need it.

“Alright, look.” Frank waits for your attentive nod to continue.

“It was a couple of kids. Came in all loud, making a scene,” he starts. “Long story short, they gang up on their buddy who works there.” Your eyes drift to his lips as he talks, watching the way he wets them every so often. “Everybody starts freaking out, some suit who looks like Mayor LaGaurdia calls the cops.”

He shakes his head like it was all a big mess. “And I’m not about to sit there and watch this kid get the snot beat outta him, so I get up and do somethin’ about it.” The righteous indignation in his tone stirs an admiration within you. He notices the shift in the way you’re looking at him.

“What?”

You shake your head and bite your lower lip. “So you broke them apart?”

He nods. “One of ‘em got a lick in, pulled out a pocket knife,” he says. “Then I shook both their asses up and made ‘em sit ‘til the cops came.”

“You pulled your punches.”

“I pulled my punches,” he confirms.

This wasn’t the story you were expecting, but you’re grateful for it nonetheless. Frank breaking up fights and setting kids straight was something you could live with—better than dealing with crime rings, crooked feds, and personal vendettas.

A wave of rowdy laughter soon erupts from somewhere in the distance. When you look down, you realize the two of you have made your way through more of the food than you were expecting. Frank wipes his hands off with a napkin and leans back in his chair, watching as you do the same.

The silence is intimate. Frank’s knees are still pressed against yours. He looks like he wants to say one thing but changes his mind to another at the last minute. “I’m gonna go grab a shower, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you mimic the quick, New York way he always clips the word onto the end of his sentences.

He’s never minded your teasing. Every time he thinks he’s gotten away with masking his amusement, you always catch a tell that gives him away. This time, it’s the twitch of his nose as he stands up to throw his stuff away. You file it away in your memory.

“Hey, Frank?” He looks over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was scared.”

“I know.”

Later, the lights around the mirror provide a Hollywood-esque glow as you stand at the sink brushing your teeth, one hand braced on the counter. The rest of the bathroom is sectioned off behind a door, so you feel the lingering steam from Frank's shower as he steps out in his sleep clothes, drying off his hair. The air smells like the complimentary soap, light and fresh. You absentmindedly shift to make room for him as he drapes the towel around his neck and leans close to the mirror to assess his face.

Now that the blood is gone, the cut looks less imposing. Unphased that you’re bumping shoulders, he reaches for his own toothbrush.

You’ve never paid any mind to how heavy-handed he is while he brushes, but it stands out now that you’re right beside him sharing the same sink. Perhaps it only appears that way, but you force yourself to bite back a teasing comment as you move on to floss. Frank just stares at you in the mirror with a soft, tired look in his eyes that makes your insides feel all fluttery. You’re sure he’s not even aware he’s doing it—or maybe he knows perfectly well.

After he’s ditched the towel and the two of you are making your way to your respective beds, you bring a halt to his movements by wrapping your arms around him. It’s an awkward angle at first because you come at him partially from the side, partially from behind. But he adjusts himself so that your chests are pressed together as he wraps an arm around you—just the one initially, taken aback by your embrace.

“Okay. Oh, boy,” he chuckles in that low way of his that playfully denotes trouble.

You’re not sure why you made the move. As he adds his other arm, it occurs to you that there are too many motivations for there to be just one. Affection seldom looks like this between the two of you—maybe once every blue moon during notable partings or close calls. The seamless way you melt into him says otherwise. It’s as if relishing his warmth and the steady constant of his frame was all you were made for. The possibility doesn’t even offend you. You keep holding him and he keeps holding you.

“You okay?” he asks after a while, smoothing his wide palm up your back.

You nod before slowly pulling away. “Sorry, I’m just…” You touch a gentle finger to the center of his chest as he looks at you with that familiar furrow between his brows. “Glad you’re back.” Glad he’s still alive.

“Where else would I be, huh?” He taps your chin with his knuckle. “I walk out any door without you, best believe I’m making it back some way somehow.”

You nod because you don’t trust your voice anymore.

He gives your chin another affectionate tap. “Alright then. Bedtime.”

•••

A small sliver of light slips in through the slit in the curtains, casting itself onto the lower portion of Frank’s bed right over his feet. Even after staring at it for what feels like forever, you can’t bring yourself to close your eyes and surrender to the grasp of sleep. Yet the steady rise and fall of Frank’s chest continues on like some sort of miracle. You wish you were close enough to feel it for yourself, and when that pull doesn’t go away, you push the covers off and tiptoe over to his bed amid the dark.

When the other side of his mattress dips, he thinks it’s one of those half-waking dreams until your leg brushes against his in your attempt to join him beneath the sheets. He immediately shifts to accommodate you, tugging more covers over to your side even though there’s already plenty. As he moves, you can smell the familiar scent of his skin and feel the weight of his proximity.

“Thought you were—thought I was dreaming,” he rasps.

With the way your heart has begun hammering in your ears, you’re surprised you can hear him. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, you’re okay, sweetheart.” His voice is thick, but not from tiredness this time.

Both of you remain still after you’ve settled, scared that moving would shatter this sweet reality that had been woven together by fate. The warmth of his body calls out to you, but you don’t indulge even though you want to. That hesitation doesn’t last long. The moment he reaches out, you press yourself back against his chest. He lets his hand come to rest over your stomach as he tucks his nose into your head, breathing you in. When you relax further into him, his fingertips venture just beneath the hem of your shirt to grace the soft skin above your waistline. The gesture is achingly chaste. The two of you fall asleep just like that.

Morning seems to come soon, sunlight spilling into the room around the closed curtains. The light is tender in the way it bathes the charming color palette of the room. Frank’s eyes flutter open to find that neither of you had shifted much during the night. You're further away, but his arm remains draped over your middle. He doesn’t know that you're awake—that you’ve been awake.

The first thing your gaze fell on was the alarm clock nearing nine o’ clock. You’d slept in way longer than usual, especially for what was meant to be another day on the road. You can’t bring yourself to mind.

It isn’t until Frank withdraws his arm that you finally allow yourself to shift. The sheets rustle in a tell-tale sign that he’s stretching, and you roll over in time to see him on his back with his arms extended, knuckles brushing against the headboard. You scoot closer, resting a hand on his chest after he lowers his arms and tucks the one furthest from you behind his head, bicep flexing.

Neither of you say anything, but there’s a quiet sense of acknowledgement—of seeing and being seen. With a lone finger, you draw lazy shapes over his pecs through the fabric of his shirt as he slowly blinks down at your hand. And as Frank turns to press a kiss to your forehead, he reckons he could get used to mornings like these.

♡ Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castle x reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #the punisher #jon bernthal #friends to lovers fic #friends to lovers

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doo-wop-city · 9 months ago

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Snow Day in Doo Wop City, Part 2

Spring is here! Doo Wop City has come alive. The boardwalk s open, and vacationers on Easter break have made their way to the island. We’ll take a look at what they all missed while they were away. These photos were taken on January 22nd, 1968. (…Or, was that 2024?) At Wildwood Crest’s Centennial Park, the winter sun reflects its rays off the glistening white snow. Here at Sunrise Park,…

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latenightdaydreams · 9 months ago

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Omg girl please do part three for the trucker!!!

Love your writing

Here it isssss!!!! Thank you!🥹

Trucker!König x Stranded!Reader Part3 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1, Part 2, Part4, Part5

Master List

Hello again🥰 Like parts one and two, three requires a strong trigger warning. I love you all and hope you're having a good day. Stay safe and take care of yourselves🩷

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, oral, breeding, drugging, p in v

2.3k word count

It’s been two months that you’ve been with König, 10 weeks to be exact. You’ve gotten into the routine of gas station breaks and over nights at the motel. You’ve learned to not fight him after a few bad incidents. He lets you wash yourself now, but he has to watch. He’s traded zip ties for soft handcuffs while you sleep. When you do bathroom breaks, he lets you go into the woman’s side alone, without the cuffs and during the day time. A small taste of freedom.

You sit on the bed in the back of his truck's cab, arms bound and looped through the metal on the bed so you can’t move. König stopped at a gas station to fill up. You sit and look at all of the people walking past. If only they knew you were here. If only they could help.

König buys you a honey bun, turkey sandwich, water, and a soda. He has become soft on you, in his own twisted way. He enjoys treating you, and he’s learned that you have a sweet tooth. He pays at the register and smiles at the young woman. For once he doesn’t look at someone like her in a predatory way, he has you. You fill the hunger.

König walks to the side and opens your soda. He pours two crushed up sleeping pills into the bottle, knowing that you’ll probably drink this first. He has a drop off coming up and he refuses to take any chances of you escaping.

He walks back to the truck and you perk up. He smiles down at you and holds up the bag of goodies.

“I got treats for you Maus.” König sits in the driver’s seat and takes things out of the bag before standing to take your hands away from the bar so you could eat, still handcuffed though.

“Thank you…” You say in a weak voice.

“When you’re done with that, I have a soda and honeybun for you.” He sits and begins to open his own food and eat.

You smile, food has become your only form of comfort throughout all of this. Just sweet things. It’s almost like you get to be back home for those few moments while you’re eating. The better you behave, the more treats König buys.

You both sit in silence as you eat. He hands you the soda to take drinks from. You thank him as you finish your sandwich.

“Ready for your honey bun?”

“Yes, please.” You look to his blue eyes as he smiles at your submission.

You continue to drink your soda as you eat. You zone out and look out the window, starting to feel tired. You yawn, shaking your head to try and wake yourself up. Looking back at König, you’re blinking slowly. Realizing you were drugged you begin to panic.

“Why?” Your eyelids have become insanely heavy and it’s hard to focus.

“Just for a stop, Maus. I just don’t want you to run away. You’ll be safe.” His voice was oddly soothing.

“I- I wouldn’t.” You begin to struggle to stay awake, your speech slurred and body heavy. You simply can’t fight the pills.

König approaches you and grabs the almost empty soda bottle out of your hand and the half-eaten honey bun; he wraps it up to save it for you. He gently lays you back on the bed and covers your body under the blanket. He hides your hands under so no one could possibly see that you’re handcuffed.

After his drop off, König sits in the driver’s seat using his phone; the truck is blocked off and locked for sleep. He’s moving money from his subscription page, where he has been posting your videos, to his bank account. He looks over at you occasionally, admiring how adorable you look asleep.

He is planning on taking a long break and bringing you to his house. He wants to show you your new home, your new life. Plus, he’s always wanted to settle down and have a family. You seem like you’d be a perfect mom. At the very least you’d make beautiful babies for him.

Standing, he approaches you and speaks softly, “Y/n, you awake?” He shakes your leg slightly. He’s just making sure the sleeping pills are still working.

Grabbing his phone out of his pocket, he drops his pants to the floor. His erection springs from his boxers. He kneels next to the bed and pulls your sweat pants down and looks at your stubbly pussy, brushing his fingers over the texture before pulling your bottoms off all the way.

Spreading your legs apart, he gently kisses down your soft thighs. Kissing over the bitemarks he left from the last time he was down here. Deciding to not record this, he wants to make it a more intimate moment. He is starting to fall in love with you, and sex isn’t just for profit anymore.

He continues to kiss your soft thighs; it’s been two days since you’ve showered so your pussy smells divine. As he gets closer, he takes deep breaths through his nose to completely breathe you in. Finally, his lips meet your sweet warmth. He kisses gently up and down before pressing his face in, burying his nose deep into your lips.

“So süß…” He mutters to himself.

He pulls back and rubs his fingers up and down your pussy, listening to the mushy wet sound. Slipping two fingers into your cunt, he moves back to your pussy and begins to lick your clit gently. He knows you’re asleep, but he still wants to pleasure you. His other hand on his cock, stroking it quickly. He’s been waiting all day to feel you.

Once your pussy becomes creamy wet, he pulls his fingers out and licks them. Your natural musk all over his face. Grabbing your panties, he wipes his face off on them and keeps them in his hand. He pulls his pants off his ankles and moves on top of you. Moving your left leg with his hand to give himself space to rest his body on top of you. The space is very small for a normal sized person, for someone 6 '10, it’s almost impossible; but he finds a way.

Sliding his cock inside of you easily, he’s learned the right ways to touch your body and to make you relax enough to take him without struggle. He whimpers pathetically as he feels your wet cunt wrap around him. He rests his full weight on you and wraps one of his arms around you tightly, burying his head into the crook of your neck and bringing his hand holding your panties up so he can continue to breathe you in.

“I’m going to cum Maus.”

As his hips begin to thrust quickly, he moans out your name. His body enveloping yours completely, moving his head from your panties to kiss your neck. Moaning into you as his pace picks up. His balls slapping against your ass hard as he squeezes you tightly in his arms. He lets out a loud moan, shoving your panties into his mouth to muffle the sound as he cums deep inside of you.

Panting hard, he continues to just rest there; not wanting to let go of you. He pulls your panties from his mouth and kisses your cheek softly. Lifting his body off of you, he pulls out, savoring the little pop sound your cunt always makes. König looks down at his cum leaking out of you and uses a finger to shove it back in. He dresses you again and then himself. Putting his phone away, he gets ready to go to sleep.

When you wake up König is already driving again. Your head feels groggy from the pills he snuck into your drink. You look out the window and have to squint because of the sun shining brightly through the windows.

Hearing you stir, König looks over his shoulder and smiles at you. “Guten Morgen, meine Liebe.”

“My head hurts,” you say in a sleepy voice that makes his heart warm. “And I have to pee.”

König chuckles and nods his head, “We will be stopping soon. You can get out and use the bathroom. We can also get you a treat, whatever you want.”

“Thank you…”

“So, I’ve been thinking, maybe it’s time we take a break from the road and I take you home.”

The thought of being taken to his home makes your stomach drop. Everyday on the road you see small chances of possibly running away, an odd sense of freedom when you go to the rest stop. What if you never leave the house again? That would be your final stop.

“And maybe it’s time we think about children, I’ve always wanted a big family.”

His voice shatters your internal thoughts as you look up at him with panic. Technically, you’ve been having unprotected sex already, but he never cums in you, so you think. The thought of having his children, let alone this mans, makes you feel terrified and sick to your very core. Death would be kinder than being his breeding slave. You don’t respond, just zoning out and it catches König’s attention.

“Something wrong Maus?”

“N-no,” you think quickly on your toes, “I guess I just never saw myself having kids.”

“No? You’d be a wonderful mother. You’d make beautiful children, especially with my sperm.”

That just grosses you out.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be a good father.”

How can you be when you’ve kidnapped and assaulted their would be mother? You think to yourself trying to suppress the new waves of anxiety this talk is giving you. You decide to try and change topics.

“I’m sorry to be whiny, but I really have to pee.”

“Ja, ja, okay.” König drives on just a little while longer before turning off into the first rest stop he sees. He parks the semi before standing and approaching you. He grabs your shoes for you and kneels down looking at your beautiful face. His Maus.

“Remember the rules. Eyes down, don’t talk to anybody, in and out. Then we can pick out a treat and head back home.”

Home. Hell.

“I remember.” You nod your head as he helps you put your shoes on.

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the key to your cuffs. He unlocks you and the scars from the zip ties are still visible. He combs your hair back with a small purple comb to make sure you look presentable. There are always odd people here, so not many questions get asked anyway.

You finally step out of the truck, König’s fingers intertwined with yours as you walk. The hot sun on your skin makes you feel so alive, like you’re real. König stands there for a while and lets you take in its warmth before he tugs your arm for you to follow him.

You both walk inside and an older woman greets you both. König responds, but you keep your head down like you were told. He walks you to the bathroom and whispers in your ears.

“Remember, in and out. Quick.”

You nod in understanding and step into the restroom. Freedom. You rush into a stall and begin to pee hard, letting out a sigh of relief as you relax your shoulders and slump forward. You linger for a while before you wipe, any little small thing that you can do to extend your time alone you do.

Stepping out to wash your hands, you hear the door open and see an old lady with a cane walk in. She smiles at you kindly and you smile back before she goes into a stall. You want to ask for help, but she’s so old you’re scared she wouldn’t understand.

You dry your hands as the bathroom door opens again and as it lingers open, you can hear so many voices talking. You wonder what’s going on as you leave the bathroom.

Opening the door, you’re surrounded by a sea of older people waiting to go in. They just got off a bus for a rest break. You look over at König and see him a little bit away from you as the rude older people push their way past him. His eyes on you like a hawk. You stand there for a while, between the door to freedom, and going back to König. You could ask for help here, but what if he really kills all these innocent people?

König is currently cut off by at least 5 people, meaning he would have to go around then to hurry to you. You saw buildings on your way here, so you could possibly just run until you reach safety. Run and lose him so you can safely call for help.

This feels like it’s been an hour of thinking when really only five seconds pass. Looking at König still, you turn and run. The fastest you’ve ever ran in your life, catching the attention of everyone, not just König.

Running out of the door and heading towards the road, you just let your fight or flight carry you away.

König’s heart sinks as he sees you do that; you’ve been so well behaved he almost can’t believe you’d do this to him. With no care, he barrels through the line of people and goes out the door after you. Everyone at the stop is confused as they watch two people run in what looks like a chase.

König’s massive body is running after you at full speed, trying to catch up to you quickly before anyone can call for help or you can reach safety.

“MAUS!” He shouts after you.

You can hear his booming voice as you run, you don’t stop. You know if you do, he will catch you. There is no telling what an angry König would do. Tears begin to stream down your face as you run, your heart beat pounding in your ears. A little voice telling you to just keep going, don’t stop.

Part 4

Tag: @nachofriess

#please read the warnings #tw: noncon #konig #konig x reader #konig x y/n #könig #konig cod #könig x reader #könig smut #konig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig x reader smut #konig x you #konig x reader smut

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naffeclipse · 5 months ago

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Desert Light

Cryptid Sightings/Signs of Life Crossover

Commission Info

My dear friend @jackofallrabbits commissioned me for a darling little crossover of Cryptid Sightings and their fic, Signs of Life, with @maudiemoods's permission, of course. If you haven't read Signs of Life, you really should and you can find it right here! I had so much fun writing both the cryptid hunter and the scientist interacting, and both monster boys are delightful here! I hope you enjoy <3

———

At nightfall, the desert is dipped in inky blues under a starry sky spilling over the entire expansion over your head. You forget how big the desert feels without trees or mountains to cut into its horizon as if the very heavens are staring down at you with twinkling eyes. The dry ground becomes darkness littered with muted sagebrush. The road is cracked and sunbleached, rocking your dark green truck and airstream. Along the lonely stretch of road, a convenience store with fluorescent lights cuts through emptiness like an oasis of gasoline, candy bars, and potato chips.

Moon hunches low in the passenger seat. Pale eyes gaze at you through the dimness within the truck's cabin. Patches along his nightcap catch on stray starlight, winking on the stitches you sewed by hand.

“It’s late,” he rasps in a low voice.

“I know, sweetie,” you sigh and rub your eyes while keeping one hand on the wheel. “We’re almost there.”

“You’re tired.” His hand strays across the seat to rest on your leg. His cool digits jolt you gently back to alertness.

“It’s only half an hour more,” you give ruefully. “Let’s stop here. I’ll grab a soda then we’ll be on our way.”

He grumbles, vibrating his animatronic vessel with displeasure. A word against caffeine is surely on his tongue, but the jostling from pulling the truck and airstream onto the cracked pavement underneath the almost neon-white light of the gas pumps cuts him short.

The desert hosts paranormal encounters ranging from the chupacabra to aliens. The latter is why you ventured here. Without F.E.I. providing you exact intel and evidence, it’s up to you to conduct your research and discover possible sightings but what you’ve unearthed so far has been solid.

This one in particular speaks of an alien. A towering but thin, long-limbed being spotted around a motel just as remote and lonely as this convenience store. You throw the truck in park and hop out. A lone car is parked alongside the building and another is parked further away, as if trying to hide away from the lights.

Soundlessly behind you, despite the bells tied around his wrists with ribbons, Moon appears like a metallic shadow. Hopefully, the convenience store attendant isn’t against animatronics in their store. He tilts his head for a moment towards the outermost vehicle, his pale optics narrowing before he follows after you.

If he sensed a heartbeat hiding in the darkness, he would have told you.

You pull open the door with a quiet jingle announcing your entrance. A small sign, old and worn, on the checkout counter promises the attendant will be back in a few. You deflate slightly. You had hoped to ask someone in this area about the sightings.

“There’s someone here,” Moon murmurs close to your ear like a breath from a ghost.

Quiet footsteps echo back beside the fridge section of drinks, concealed by shelves of beef jerky, peanut butter cookies, and chocolate bars. Curious, you strive forward. You might still have a chance to speak to the lone employee who may be restocking the cases of beer or soda, but when you round the corner with a cool presence at your back, you stop still.

A person straightens, clutching a few water bottles to their chest, their eyes immediately landing on you, framed in glasses. You look down to the hoodie they wear: dark fabric with a green alien face; a charming, stereotypical depiction of extraterrestrials. Do they sell those here?

“I like your hoodie.” You smile. “Do you work here?”

The person immediately fixes their glasses and beams. “Thank you. It’s a bit too warm for this climate but it’s cute. No, I don’t work here. Is that an animatronic with you?”

You blink but turn back to allow Moon more of an audience with the curious stranger. He regards them with a coolness but no malice. You give a slow nod.

“This is my friend, Moon.”

The stranger steps closer, studying him with vim and vigor before adjusting the many water bottles in their arms. Underneath their arm, tucked into their armpit is a notebook. They lift a hand towards Moon.

“What model are you?” they ask, eager. “How long have you gone without maintenance? Your wires are exposed and your endoskeleton could use a polish.”

Moon stares. A slight twitch runs through his limbs. You step back between Moon and the stranger, your pulse jumping slightly at the spew of questions—many that have no good answers. Could they be familiar with where Eclipse found their half-burned, abandoned vessel?

You introduce yourself quickly, keeping Moon behind you and out of reach of the stranger. “What’s your name?”

They slowly lower their hand, disappointed. “Ah.” They’re silent for a moment, and you can see the gears working in their mind before decidedly saying, “You can call me Doc.”

That’s funny. Surely it must be a nickname though you have no qualms with a stranger giving you whatever moniker they please, but Moon’s hand falls to your shoulder. His digits curl slightly over your collarbone, as if in warning. Right.

“Alright. Doc,” you smile.

They smile back. “Is your animatronic—”

“I’m sorry,” you say, very apologetically but firmly, “but I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about happenings in this area.”

Doc grows still, their expression guarded. You catch their eyes flickering towards the door and then landing back on you.

“What are you referring to exactly?” they ask tentatively, almost nervously.

“There have been reports of unusual occurrences in this part of Nevada.” You wish you bought your book of cryptid information with you. If they’ve seen anything, you will need to write it down. Instead, you focus on slowly bringing them into your question. If you went around asking any person if they saw aliens right off the bat, no one would take you seriously. “Have you seen anything strange or simply unexplainable?”

“UFO sightings in Nevada are very common,” they say so bluntly, it causes you to blink. They set the water bottles down on a shelf occupied with chip bags and shift the notebook closer to their chest, holding it like a shield. “Did you know that Nevada has the highest rate of UFO sightings per capita in the U.S.?”

“I did know that,” you say, impressed that they know it as well. You lean closer in your curiosity. Do they believe in cryptids? “Have you researched such things before?”

They fix their glasses and lower their hand back to their book only to lift it again and fidget.

“Recently I have,” they admit.

A coolness radiates behind you. In the corner of your vision, Moon tilts his head. The bell on the end of his nightcap falls over his shoulder. What doesn’t he like? Surely they can’t be a rulebreaker. Moon would have reacted much less pleasantly to such a person.

They touch their glasses again, and the frames fall slightly askew on their face. “Have you heard anything about an alien?”

You brighten with the question. At last.

“Yes. That’s why I’m here,” you hold a hand to your chest, “to locate any confirmation or evidence about an alien sighting near a motel a little ways from here. Nothing has been reported as violent, but it’s most likely an incident will occur soon unless properly dealt with.”

Their hands furl and unfurl, anxiously touching their glasses, pushing them up the bridge of their nose, and shifting. Are they alright?

“Most of the time sightings of cryptids, including aliens, are just everyday objects seen from a weird angle,” they ramble slightly.

You pause, watching them. Are they afraid to tell you what they saw? You’ve encountered poor, terrified people who fear even speaking a word of what they’ve experienced will mark them as unstable and insane. Even worse, it might somehow lure the presence that frightened them in the first place back.

“Yes, that’s true,” you admit, but only half of the time. There have been a plethora of hoaxes, pranks, misunderstandings, and of course, misidentifications of objects that have been spun into debunking the cryptic world, but you carry the scars from a true encounter at the base of your thumb. “But have you witnessed anything you would consider to be unearthly?”

Do they know something they can’t seem to tell you about?

Doc shifts again. Their hand strays to the notebook they carry, and touch the well-worn spine. Is it as important to them as your cryptid book is to you?

“No,” they fidget a few times anxiously, “Is there anything I can do to help you with your animatronic? I am an engineer.”

Moon twitches behind you. Their eyes immediately fall to the movement and frown.

“Are you experiencing a malfunction?” they ask, and start to reach out again. Moon clenches your shoulder tighter.

“No, no!” You hold up your hands defensively. “That’s very generous to offer, but Moon is fine, thank you.”

They frown. Unconvinced, they continue to pry around your person to stare at the cryptid possessing a vessel. You’ve never had this problem before. So many people are put off by the strange, inexplicable presence of a demonic cryptid—a sixth sense warning of danger, but Doc heeds no such deterrents.

“He is experiencing micro spasms which may be a symptom of a conduction failure in his wires or a deeper issue within his processor.” They face Moon entirely, and he stares back unblinkingly. “When was the last time you went in for routine maintenance?”

“We don’t need maintenance,” he rasps. You cover his hand as it clenches you tighter still. A coolness swells around him and you hope Doc mistakes it for the coolness of the fridges.

Confusion twists their brow. Doc parts their lips to offer a rebuttal to a clear inconsistency with their framework and the fact of the matter, but Moon twists behind you. His grip never leaves your shoulder, his fingers digging into your collarbone as the jingle of the bell at the front of the store rings.

Then the lights flicker. A sharp fade of every light bulb overhead and even the light within the fridges drops the convenience store into darkness. Your heart tumbles in your chest. You didn’t bring your crossbow or your detector. Only a knife sits strapped to your hip, hidden by your patched, green jacket.

Your eyes flash to Doc. You take them by the arm and their expression shifts to alarm behind their glasses.

“Move,” you whisper sharply. “Stay with me and be quiet.”

“I need to leave,” they say, strangely focused, but they don’t struggle when you guide them down the row of fridges to the last column of shelves in the back of the store. They don’t understand. Something else is here. Something not of this world. You must protect them from it.

Moon follows quietly behind you, his fingers spasming as they curl like claws. His pale eyes dip into crimson, alert and vicious.

“Not a heart,” he mutters, and you glance at him. “Something else… Something strange.”

He stands between you, and your entire body clenches. A towering being begins to prowl under the flicker lights, slipping in through the door. You used to fear your dear friend placing themselves between you and the threat, but they are far more terrifying than any cryptid you have hunted.

The sharp contrast of the fluorescent light bulbs and the sudden darkness spears a sharp ache into your eyes. Carefully, you place Doc behind you, but they offer another protest again.

“Be quiet,” you murmur firmly, “It’s going to be okay.”

“Ah, you don’t understand.” Doc’s eyes fall past you, towards the frosty doors of the fridges. “He’s—”

A sharp scratch of nails cutting over glass causes your shoulders to hunch up and a grimace to twist your face. You free the knife from your hip. It is the only defense you have for you and Doc. You should have been prepared for the alien to strike here, so close to the original sighting site, now creeping in close to find more precious victims to devour.

Doc reaches out, past you.

“You have to let me pass,” they say calmly. “He wants me.”

You turn to look over your shoulder, confusion painting you in flickering lights.

“Who does?” you ask.

The glass scratching stops. You stiffen, reading your knife as Moon tenses. Creeping from the row of fridges, a figure straightens. Tall and spindly, but with an unnerving aura of strength to his long limbs, an alien stands before you. Deep red and galaxy-speckled skin coats him, and you catch a strange symbol on one of his hands, like the moon eclipsing the sun. A dark hoodie with an alien ship covers his lanky form poorly—not unlike Doc’s. A sharp crown of jutting adornments sits upon his head. A waving veil of starlight falls behind his skull.

His three eyes, bright and glinting, like a predator about to bounce, immediately find the person behind you. One eye is dark. His grin splits into a wide, hungry thing with razor-sharp teeth.

“My light,” his voice is low and dangerous, “I have been waiting for you.”

Behind you, Doc looks up at the towering, otherworldly beast, but there is no fear in their eyes.

“Stay back,” you immediately brandish your knife. Moon spreads his arm, ensuring that there is no passing him without going through him.

A dark chuckle falls from the creature.

“You dare think you can keep my light from me?” He spreads his arms, four limbs of sinew and bone, claws flashing with a desire to rip flesh from a body. “I will give you one chance to let my light go.”

Moon stands tall between him, silently gauging him like a proper opponent. Is the alien taller than your sweetie in their true form? You’re afraid he is.

“No,” you breathe, “You’re not taking them.”

A soft sound arises behind you, distress mingling with breath. Doc must be terrified of the abrupt encounter. How could they have ever known an alien would mark them as his quarry?

A snarl rips through his chest, deep and vicious. His hands grope the surrounding shelves, fitting between cookies and candy bars. His hand swipes a few basic camping supplies, spilling ropes and canisters onto the ground. He catches a stainless steel one in his lower set of hands. In effortless brutality, the alien concaves the metal before his claws pierce the container entirely, crumpling it as if it were a soda can. Your gut clenches.

“I will paint this tasteless floor in your blood,” the extraterrestrial growls, gnashing his teeth.

In response, a sharpness erupts from the sides of Moon’s chassis. Shadowy appendages, seeping black ooze over bony limbs with hands and claws of crimson, stand at the ready. You suck in a sharp breath.

“You will not touch a hair on our heart’s head,” an abysmal sound leaves the animatronic, layered and demonic.

The alien tilts his head, eyes widening at the challenge.

“My, my, and what are you? No matter, I will tear you apart.” He laughs again, echoing with chilling amusement. Dread hooks deep into your belly.

“Eclipse, it’s okay.” Doc moves underneath your arm.

Your knee-jerk reaction is fierce. You catch them by the back of their hoodie, scrunching fabric in your fist to keep them tethered close to you. They stop and look back at you. When they smile, it’s heavy. Guilt touches their edges, anchored by worry.

“Ah. I know he’s frightening, but he’s not going to hurt anyone.” They tug on their hoodie, trying to loosen your grip. “You can let me go.”

“Yes, let them go,” the alien licks a dark tongue over his teeth, “and I might spare you all.”

“What—no, he’s…” you stumble over your tongue then stop, confused. “Do you know this cryptid?”

“Ah. Alien,” they correct you. “Yes. Eclipse would like me back now, please.”

Moon glances at Doc. Confusion pulses in his crimson gaze. The end of his nightcap falls over his shoulder.

“They’re not afraid,” he rasps. He stares down at Doc’s chest. He can sense a heartbeat, the rhythm of it, and how fast it gallops in a person’s chest.

Your lips part wordlessly.

There was a time when you believed cryptids were only monsters. Machines capable of great destruction and horror. You never dreamed a demonic cryptid would be capable of kindness and goodness, and care so much for little ones.

Your fingers slip from the fabric. Moon allows Doc to sweep underneath his arms. Their eyes fall to their shadowy limbs, and their hands shift to their notebook. Your heart clenches, caught in the camaraderie urge to take notes of your sweetie’s true form and fearing what Doc would do with such information. F.E.I. is still out there. There are other cryptid hunters.

But they stop themselves. Fixing their glasses, they quickly step back into the alien’s reach. You clench the knife tighter, afraid as four pairs of hands descend upon them.

“We need to leave quickly,” Doc says as the alien kneels and hunches lower to look over the human, combing for harm or mistreatment. “We’ve already made a mess and stayed here for too long.”

“This isn’t a mess. Yet,” the alien answers, his voice murmuring like a lover in the night. The threat is not lost on you as Moon growls a warning. The alien flashes a smug smile, all teeth, and arrogance before he concludes his checkup on Doc. “Let’s go, my light.”

Doc nervously looks back at you, almost as if they would look to say more, explain, or even ask you about Moon’s extra, shadowy arms. Instead, they weakly wave, like this is a goodbye they wish didn’t have to happen.

The alien lifts them into his arms as if they weighed as much as a feather.

“Wait,” you step closer. Two arms, one metallic and blue, one shadowy and crimson, stop you. He keeps you back from the otherworldly being. “Are you safe?”

The alien scowls at you. Doc only smiles softly.

“Yes, friend.” Their eyes linger on Moon. “You’re so impressive. I would love to know more about you.”

A ripple of what you think is jealousy takes over the alien. He turns away with a flash of teeth, and steps quickly, sweeping through the store and out the door with a sharp jingle. In moments, the alien carries the small human out into the night. You stand there, stunned.

Moon straightens. “Their heart is still steady. They feel safe with him.”

Oh.

Moon slowly faces you, two arms touching your sides and holding you close. You lean into his embrace.

“I hope they are,” you murmur. The lights stop flickering in the gas station and the stars outside shine brighter in the darkness. A car speeds away, down the desert road.

#naff's writing commissions #cryptid sightings #signs of life #cryptid!eclipse #alien!eclipse #these two y/ns are friends btw #sources: dude trust me #naff writing

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calimanc · 14 days ago

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POANG Pals Secret Santa 2024 Fic Recs

For my Secret Santa, @unremarkablehouse who loves lighthearted and comfort MSR set during the original run. I have combed through my secret Ao3 bookmarks to give you a fic rec list for the next year. 52 in total, one for each week. They don't all fit the brief exactly, there are touches of angst and UST and more than a few go beyond Requiem. But they are all wonderful stories that I hope very much that you will enjoy. With thanks to @lilydalexf , whose format for fic recs I have used as the gold standard.

For @unremarkablehouse , a fic about life in your namesake.

Title: Home, Home

Author: onpaperfirst @onpaperfirst

Summary: post-the truth, pre-iwtb, weirdo domesticity

where seldom is heard a discouraging word, and the skies are not cloudy all day

Length: 4,699

Classification: MSR

Rating: Not Rated

Spoilers: post original run

Favorite line: He came back with a Charlie Brown Christmas tree, a red and green tree stand in a box, and some candy canes. There were eleven in the package and one in his mouth.

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Leading Conversations

An oldie but goodie that isn’t on Ao3. Does what it says on the tin!

Title: Chess

Author: Cecily_Sass @cecilysass

Summary: Friday night. Mulder and Scully play chess.

Length: 4,300 ish

Classification: UST, MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers:

Favorite line: "Scully," he said. "Are we lovers?"

---------------------------------

A conversation about hypotheticals evolves. Very lovely getting on the same page fic.

Title: A Perfect Storm

Author: ChaneenW

Summary: Inspired by their undercover assignment as a married couple, Mulder tries to find out what Scully wants in a husband.

Length: 3,000

Classification: MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers: Arcadia

Favorite line: “I did think of that, Scully, but she doesn’t seem to like my kindergarten antics much, either—hypothetically speaking, of course.”

---------------------------------

A great fic from Thursday that sees them talking their way towards each other.

Title: in conclusion

Author: thursdayinspace @thursdayinspace

Summary: “What were you thinking about?” she asks

He lets out a small laugh. “I was thinking about…you know. Human connections. What they are and how we define them. And why we need to put them into neat little categories that we specifically make up for them. Don’t you ever just wonder what makes relationships – any kinds of relationships – what they are?”

It's the middle of the night in a freezing cold motel room and they both haven't slept. The best time and place to figure out how relationships work -- theirs in particular.

Length: 3,370

Classification: MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers:

Favorite line: “You want to have an ontological discussion about romantic relationships at almost 1 a.m. in a freezing cold motel room after we both haven’t slept for a week?”

“Yes.”

"Any chance I can talk you out of it?"

"How long have we known each other?"

"I withdraw the question." She lets out a long breath.

---------------------------------

A much more recent conversation from Cecily, talking themselves into getting there.

Title: Negotiation

Author: cecily_sass @cecilysass

Summary: “You know, I hear they’re more than just partners,” Mulder offers in a conversational tone.

“Who?”

“Gillis and Perez,” Mulder says, cracking open a sunflower seed, gesturing out the front windshield. “That’s the water cooler gossip, anyway.”

Surprising conversation waiting in a car.

Length: 1,894

Classification: MSR

Rating: NR

Spoilers:

Favorite line: She lifts her head, and there are indeed tears pooling in the corners of her clear blue eyes. “Don’t you know me at all? Haven’t you been paying any attention?”

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Really lovely fic imagining that Scully’s reeling off of “magic” terms on the phone in Chinga was actually her quoting from a published article of Mulder’s.

Title: Upon the Yearly Renewal of JSTOR Accounts

Author: viridianvelvet

Summary: Mulder knows what it means to memorize someone's work. Post-Chinga.

Length: 1,184 words

Classification: MSR

Rating: G

Spoilers: post Chinga

Favorite line: If anyone deserves to hear the words aloud, it is Fox Mulder. Mulder, whose sharp edges ought to exist, but which have been burnished by the sheer, utter regard he has for all that is Good and Right in the world.

---------------------------------

Sweet fluffy fic, Scully gets hurt and Mulder gets hit by just how much he loves her.

Title: A Minor Inconvenience

Author: spooky_nerd @spooky-nerd

Summary: In which Scully gets hurt on the job and Mulder loses what's left of his sanity, probably.

Length: 2,045 words

Classification: MSR, hurt/comfort

Rating: G

Spoilers: none

Favorite line: "If this causes any temporary memory lapses, I apologize in advance," she says. Last month she'd forgotten his birthday and, unrelated, the fact that he did not like sausage on his pizza. That realization had come once she'd fully recovered, and she'd made it up to him by taking him to a viewing of 'The Thing' at a small art house theater and treating him to a 16-inch, sausage-free pizza afterwards.

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Post-ep First Times

A very sweet, soft post Pilot first time fic.

Title: Lost Together

Author: MarjorieWilliams

Summary: Scully and Mulder come together after Bellefleur, lost but not alone.

Length: 1,803

Classification: MSR

Rating: M

Spoilers: Pilot

Favorite line: She turned her hand in his, and their fingers laced together like pieces of a precision-made puzzle.

He stood, tugging her with him, and guided her to his bed.

---------------------------------

Hoo boy. Extremely hot Ice replacement for the inspection scene.

Title: what does it take (to get you off)

Author: coppersunlight @mulderno

Summary: Anyone else would likely regard her resulting gasp as nothing more than an expression of surprise, but this is Fox Mulder—star profiler, and prodigious interpreter of all things Scully.

“You liked that?” he asks quietly, dangerously—a skilled observation disguised in the tone of a question.

Inspired by the question, "How does Scully feel when he bends down like that to get directly in her face" during the supply closet scene in Ice, and by Scully's highly incriminating gasp in Never Again.

Length: 3,353

Classification: MSR, first time

Rating: E

Spoilers: Ice

Favorite line: He nibbles at the lobe of her ear. “You like this,” he repeats, his tone cocksure, definitive, fascinated.

---------------------------------

I’ve got this bookmarked as a great post The End first time with Gibson being a little chaos agent.

Title: Enders Switch

Author: gypsymuse

Summary: What do you do when everything you are lies in ashes at your feet? Post-ep for The End (5X20).

Length: 14,046

Classification: MSR, adventure

Rating: M

Spoilers: The End

Favorite line: He drove easily, left hand on the wheel, right hand fiddling with the radio, a soda bottle, my knee. Still rumpled from our abortive romp, his hair was spiky, his shirt wrinkled, in all resembling the unmade bed we left behind. Nothing and no one has ever looked better to me. My feeling for him was so enormous I wondered that I could contain it.

---------------------------------

Hot off the presses, an absolutely lovely post-ep first time for How the Ghosts Stole Christmas. Roz blesses us with fic as well as art!

Title: O Holy Night

Author: rosenkranz_isnt_dead @rosenkranz-isnt-dead

Summary: When Mulder decided to go ghost hunting, being insulted by said ghosts was not what he had in mind. But they were right, he had dragged her into a haunted house with him, and he had stolen her car keys. Instead of spreading holiday cheer, she nearly died because of him. Again.

Length: 3,075

Classification: MSR

Rating: M

Spoilers: How the Ghosts Stole Christmas

Favorite line: Scully, he thinks, all coherent thoughts abandoning him except for her dear, familiar name. Scully.

---------------------------------

First time fic post Monday. Beautiful day by day build up until he finally kisses her and the dam breaks.

Title: The Next Week

Author: SlippinMickeys @slippinmickeys

Summary: She’s placid in his bed. Warm, willing. She has a sleepy smile on her face and the morning sunlight coming through the window catches on her carmine hair, practically burns his eyes.

Length: 2,962

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: post-Monday, pre-Arcadia

Favorite line: “I…” He starts, but how do you tell your partner of almost 7 years that that you’re insanely in love with them and have been since almost day one and would they mind terribly if you fucked their brains out because that’s all you want to do whenever they’re within a foot of you?

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Post Milagro first time fic, he takes care of her and she lets him.

Title: Hearts Entwined

Author: Donna

Summary: In response to a challenge

Length: 3,429

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: Milagro

Favorite line: "Shh. Just lean on me." He stepped into the shower wearing only his boxers and let the warm water envelop them. She rested her head on his chest and made no protest.

---------------------------------

She counts their kisses and it leads to their first time in this absolutely lovely post Millenium fic from Sagan_Starstuff.

Title: Counting

Author: sagan_starstuff @sagan-starstuff

Summary: What happens when Mulder and Scully leave the hospital after New Years 2000?

Length: 7,338

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: Millenium

Favorite line: Sometimes he's so obtuse she wants to shake him. “I love you. Don’t tell me I don’t need to say it - I get to decide that, and you , Mulder, deserve to hear it. You deserve love.”

---------------------------------

Beautiful first time all things, acknowledging the depth of want and feeling as well as the inherent complications in their relationship.

Title: Stay

Author: Samantha1013

Summary: Mulder and Scully's first time together, from Scully's POV. Takes place between the closing and opening scenes of all things.

Length: 2,573

Classification: MSR, first time

Rating: E

Spoilers: all things

Favorite line: “Is this going to work?” He asked halting, brow furrowing.

It took her a second to comprehend. She responded flatly “Yes Mulder, the vagina is one of the most malleable and fastest healing organs in the body, second only to the tongue and cornea.”

---------------------------------

First Time Somewhere in Time

When I first read Regular People, I didn’t know there was a sequel and I was distraught. There’s something very quiet and beautiful here, when they have the space to breathe.

Title: Regular People and Regular People Still

Author: Chimerical1975

Summary: Thwarted Christmas plans, impulsive decisions, and unexpected visitors make two extraordinary FBI agents into regular people.Set in December, 1998. For the purposes of this story, HTGSC didn't happen.

The sequel to the story started in Regular People. We're back in 1998 where Mulder and Scully are continuing their sojourn. This leads to issues and discoveries large and small, lots of sex, some laughter, some sadness, and a touch of urgency as they are fast running out of time to be regular people.

Length: 16,724 and 36,760

Classification: MSR

Rating: M

Spoilers:

Favorite line: "I did get to go home to my family for Christmas, Mulder," she whispered.

"Scully--" Mulder started, but then he just settled on a single word as he nodded. "Yes."

---------------------------------

Scully comes over after painting her mom’s study and Mulder tells her she’s beautiful. Diz knows what she’s doing.

Title: She Tastes Like Candlelight

Author: mizdiz @xf-cases-solved

Summary: Mulder isn’t sure when exactly he fell in love with Scully.

It’s possible that there wasn’t a specific moment at all. Maybe the transition from friendship was so smooth that one day he just woke up and realized he’d been looking at Scully the same way he looked at the night sky—like an intricately tangled mystery, full of beauty and questions and Truths, of which he may never know the extent of. Somewhere along the way, she had become his greatest X-File.l

Length: 8,596

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: post Millenium

Favorite line: Scully smiles slyly, leaning in even closer to Mulder now, and says, “so I’m hot now? I thought I was beautiful.”

“Please,” says Mulder, surprised by how low his voice registers. “You’re the smart one, you should know that the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

---------------------------------

Mulder has to go to three therapy sessions and it ends up pushing him into truly communicating with Scully.

Title: Normal Conversations

Author: Soronia

Summary: It always bothered me that Mulder had a degree in psychology but only seemed to use it on other people. Also I know it was the 90s, but everybody in this show needed a minimum 400 years of therapy. And yes, there’s eventually sex.

Length: 10,785

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers:

Favorite line: Her face was always so transparent, and he watched it fill then with an emotion he couldn’t place at first. Not contempt, or hesitation. Her whole expression filled up with glory.

---------------------------------

Cute first time after they've been undercover and Scully is used to holding hands so she grabs his hand in a meeting which leads to hot first time sex later that night.

Title: Record Scratch

Author: Skinfull

Summary: After spending a month undercover posing as a married couple on a farm in Iowa, Scully is struggling to get back into the non married view of her relationship with Mulder.

Length: 12,156

Classification: MSR, first time

Rating: E

Spoilers:

Favorite line: I do the only thing a self respecting modern day woman who is desperately in love with her best friend would do. I ignore it completely.

---------------------------------

I love this writer, she delivers on very hot smut with lots of lovely happy feelings. This was the first of hers I read, I hope you like it as much as I do.

Title: I’m on Fire

Author: Spark_a_Flame1013

Summary: A casual night out turns into everything.

Length: 5,754

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers:

Favorite line: “Agent Scully?”

They both turned and there stood an agent from white collar crimes. Agent Jones? Johnson? Jordan? Mulder couldn’t remember but figured it would be in the police report after he broke the guy’s jaw for probably destroying the moment. All the man said, though, was “Don’t forget your bag.” He nodded to the table where Scully's purse and suit jacket still sat. She went to get them, leaving Mulder and Agent J-something alone.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Agent J said, mildly, “You lucky fucking bastard.”

---------------------------------

Emily But Not Tragic

One of the author’s tags is “speedrunning two whole seasons of mulder character development as one does” so there you have it.

Title: the driver’s side door and other affairs of the heart

Author: cabbagesandqueens @benoitblanc

Summary: There is no casket full of sand, and Mulder gets out of the car.

Length: 2,970

Classification: MSR

Rating: G

Spoilers: Emily

Favorite line: The X-Files, his X-Files, have always been about lost little girls and the people they leave behind.

---------------------------------

Oh so sweet scenes of Emily in their lives. Read when you need to fill your heart with some joy.

Title: close to knowing

Author: o666666 @o6666666

Summary: Vignettes about Mulder and Emily, and Mulder and Scully, in (mostly) nonchronological order.

Length: 8,831

Classification: MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers: Emily AU, Kitsunegari

Favorite line: As they return to the car, Scully watches a toddler girl across the street trip on the pavement. The baby cries, and her father picks her up.

“Mulder, pick me up,” Emily asks, having followed Scully’s gaze. “Pick me up, please?”

---------------------------------

William, At Home

This was from Fictober this year. Four separate stories, all of them lovely. She hooked me with the first one. For when you need warm fuzzies.

Title: “That was good work.”

Author: Sammie1million @youreneverjustanythingtomescully

Summary: Fictober 2024

Length: 3,352

Classification: MSR

Rating: G

Spoilers: William Scully, post series kid

Favorite line: Mulder handed her the plastic submarine. "Want to help me find Nessie?" he teased, and Scully couldn't resist the playful invitation. She dipped the yellow sub into the water, watching it dive and resurface with a grin. William's eyes followed it intently, his laughter echoing off the tiles.

---------------------------------

I cannot express to you just how beautiful I find this fic. This is their family, the way it might have been.

Title: like real people do

Author: chasingfictions @chasingfictions

Summary: in which mulder is a stay at home dad, and scully is getting used to the idea that they’re allowed to be this in love.

“You know, you could run out and get diaper cream too, Mulder.”

“Ah, no can-do, Scully. We’re deep in blanket fort construction over here. And the boss is real uncompromising on the schedule. If I don’t get us to story time under a fuzzy blanket soon, my head’s on the chopping block.”

Length: 4,347

Classification: MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers: Season 9 AU where they keep William

Favorite line: But then she remembers that they are in their bed, in their home, that their son has woken up in the other room, but they can hear through the baby monitor isn’t crying yet, is only gurgling, cooing softly, she remembers that he is touching her, holding her, that he was gone and he was dead and now he is alive and warm in her bed, that he will never leave her bed again, she won’t let him. She remembers, from the way he is kissing her now, warm and hungry and loving her, his mouth on her neck, her clavicle, her shoulders, her mouth, that this is theirs. That he is hers.

---------------------------------

On the Run

I’ve got it bookmarked as “an absolute stunner.” Just a beautiful look at a period of their time on the run.

Title: A Cabin In The Woods

Author: leiascully @leiascully

Summary: Mulder and Scully, on the run, stay for a while in a cabin in the mountains in Montana. A series of interlacing vignettes.

Length: 13,768

Classification: MSR, domestic fluff

Rating: T

Spoilers: post original series, on the run

Favorite line: When they wake and dress and stretch to the extent the tent allows, frowsy with sleep and disheveled and staticky, she looks at him and feels a pang of pure, unadulterated happiness, the joy that cuts like a knife. After everything, she can still be happy, if mostly in moments like sudden beams of light on a cloudy day, Jacob’s ladders set against a backdrop of storms.

---------------------------------

Wonderful old school series where they get William back and are able to rebuild a life together as a family while fighting the future. A real comfort read for me.

Title: Ghosts series

Author: Anjou

Summary: An early December 2002 tale, originally supposed to be a drabble, totally spun out of control. A post-series 'what if' where Mulder was irrevocably altered, replicants were the new reality, and the clock was ticking down to 2012.

Length: 33,710 words over three works in the series

Classification: MSR, character death (not our main family, but there are ghosts)

Rating: G, T, M

Spoilers: Post original run

Favorite line: Mulder could feel the love pouring out of him in waves and knew he was barraging William with too much emotion, but couldn't seem to pull it back; he had never consciously acknowledged how much he wanted this, to be a family with Scully and their child. Now that he was actually confronted with what he had long hoped for, he was overcome.

"Oh," William said. He giggled, as if Mulder had tickled him. "Hi," he said to Mulder.

---------------------------------

Reunion sex that matches the wallsex gifs

Title: shaking all over

Author: kittenscully

Summary: Below her chin, the expanse of his skin is warm in the growing light. He is bedding down in her, his leg shifting to cover hers, and she knows that he could sleep, now, for awhile. But there is so much of him, heavy and beautiful and unmarked, and it’s been so long, and she doesn’t want to let him drift away.

Length: 2,222

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: post The Truth

Favorite line: Tugging his head to the side, Scully latches onto his neck, thick tendons and the beat of his pulse. He groans, surprised. Before, he’d never liked pain, hissing even at the drag of her nails down his back. But they have both changed, and as she nips at him, his cock twitches against her leg.

---------------------------------

Original Run (and Beyond)

Charming pair of stories from the POV of Mulder’s neighbours who get extremely invested in the relationship between “agent Smolder” and “Sally” over the years. It’s a lot of fun.

Title: Kevin & Devin series

Author: admiralty and DanaScullyMakesMeFeelAutopsyTurvy @admiralty-xfd, @scullymakesmefeelautopsyturvy

Summary: *There was something going on between these two, or else there was something not going on, when there clearly ought to be.*

There’s never a dull moment when your neighbor is Special Agent Fox Mulder.

Length: 48,789 words over two works

Classification: MSR, humour, original characters

Rating: T, G

Spoilers: Follows along with the original run

Favorite line: Devin leaned his ear against the wall in a brazen absence of shame.

Kevin took another surreptitious glance behind him. “Devin,” he said. “That is such an invasion of-”

“I can hear them.” Devin interrupted.

Kevin’s ear was against the wall almost before Devin had finished his sentence.

---------------------------------

This is such a gem of a fic, wtfmulder has tagged it as “crack but kind of not” and as goofy as it sounds (they are literally looking for a big bird) it is beautiful and dreamlike and everything good. The sunglasses are a thing throughout and I just love it.

Title: big bird

Author: wtfmulder @wtfmulder

Summary: Our duo are on a journey to see a huge fucking bird. Drabble series.

Length: 11,468

Classification: early MSR, UST, casefile

Rating: G

Spoilers: season 2, post abduction arc

Favorite line: The sun touches Scully’s hair and the effect is magnificent. But it also touches her eyeballs, because Mulder is still wearing the sunglasses.

---------------------------------

This is just so much fun. I had the best time reading this fic. It’s season 1 so it’s not MSR as such but there is vulnerability and care.

Title: vulpes mulder

Author: eggschiptune @eggschiptune

Summary: Mulder and Scully set out to attend a conference in Oregon: simple, easy, and a chance to get away for a weekend on the FBI'S dime. Mulder has other ideas-and Scully winds up with those complicated feelings about her father resurfacing, a woman who swears she was transformed by God into a German Shepard, and a little red fox following her around with its nose in a bag of sunflower seeds.

Length: 32,630

Classification: casefile

Rating: G

Spoilers: season 1, post Beyond the Sea

Favorite line: “I don’t think I need to tell you this, but you’re a little shit. What were you thinking?”

Significantly less gentle than she could have been, Scully set the fox on Mulder’s desk. He scratched his head idly with a black foot.

“You bit the assistant director.”

The fox rolled his eyes and made a very small biting motion with his front teeth.

“What do you want me to say? You nipped the assistant director? Like that’s better?”

---------------------------------

This isn’t straightforward MSR, it’s a post-ep for Paper Hearts that sees Scully reflecting but for me it’s there between the lines. Just like the show. It might sting a bit but it’s beautiful and worth it.

Title: Paper Thin

Author: saintscully @therealsaintscully

Summary: She doesn’t know which scares her more: that he’ll never find the answer, or that he might.

Length: 5,167

Classification: character study, loneliness

Rating: G

Spoilers: Post Paper Hearts

Favorite line: Gone for reasons as natural as they are cruel—another casualty of a world that shows no mercy to little girls and offers no answers to those who love them.

---------------------------------

Short but packs a punch. They’re thick as thieves, up to shenanigans.

Title: hall of mirrors

Author: seek_its_opposite @seek-its-opposite

Summary: “Come on, Scully. Who doesn’t want to be Tom Sawyer at his own funeral?” (early season 4)

Length: 956

Classification: UST, Fluff

Rating: G

Spoilers: set in early season 4

Favorite line: Scully puts her finger to her lips and continues, “His ego is so visible I can almost watch it grow.”

Mulder feigns being shot through the heart.

---------------------------------

Don’t be put off by Diana! Anika makes sure everything is as it should be. I absolutely adore the detail about not wanting Mulder to be cold after their experience in Antarctica.

Title: Making Progress

Author: Baroness_Blixen @baronessblixen

Summary: Takes place during "Arcadia": Scully gets up one night to give Mulder a blanket and she catches Mulder talking to Fowley.

Length: 1,080

Classification: Fluff with a whiff of angst

Rating: G

Spoilers: Arcadia

Favorite line: He took a pillow with him, but he forgot the blanket. Whether he did it deliberately, or simply didn’t think of it, she doesn’t question. No matter how irritated she may be with him, she doesn’t want him to be cold. Even now, so many months later, she sleeps with more than one blanket herself. The fear of cold now ingrained in her bones. She doesn’t know how Mulder feels about it; one of the million things they haven’t talked about after Antarctica. She doubts they ever will. But she knows she can’t let him shiver and freeze down there on the couch, no matter what.

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Absolute married behaviour here. And a love confession. And a thwarted first kiss.

Title: Laughing Gas

Author: thatfragilecapricorn @thatfragilecapricorn30

Summary: Mulder gets dental surgery.

Length: 1,306

Classification: Humor, fluff

Rating: G

Spoilers: none

Favorite line: Mulder appeared deep in thought and then exclaimed, “The most beautiful president America has ever elected!”

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Really lovely. Five ways Triangle could have ended. The last one takes us back through FTF and sends them through Australia which gives them time to deal with the hallway.

Title: The Congruence of Triangles

Author: LibbyT @libbytxf

Summary: The final scene of Triangle, told five ways.

"It is at this moment, the moment of having felt the truth and the succor of her belief in him, that he realizes he is in love with her. He has felt every constituent part of this feeling before, the friendship, the attraction, the excitement, the certainty, the desperation, the almost irresistible urge to kiss her, but never all at once. It coalesces in a sharp and sudden realization, the obviousness of which is almost insulting to him, in a certain light. How has he never managed to articulate it to himself in this way? How has he resisted this so long?"

Length: 5,373

Classification: MSR

Rating: G

Spoilers: Triangle, FTF

Favorite line: A new nurse is on duty. “Are you family?” she asks.

“I’m his partner”, says Scully, nodding, wilfully participating in a campaign of misinformation. She does not feel the lie in it.

---------------------------------

Mulder gets trapped with Scully and Diana and realises he’s able to read their minds.

Title: Dissonance

Author: suilven @suilven19

Summary: Canon divergence during Biogenesis. Mulder and Scully find themselves in an elevator with none other than Diana Fowley just as Mulder's burgeoning abilities begin to manifest.

Length: 4,471

Classification: UST, jealousy

Rating: T

Spoilers: Biogenesis

Favorite line: It was simply the whispered thought of his name, but he was very sure she’d never said it aloud quite like that before. The warmth radiating from her as she squeezed his fingers back made his heart stutter in his chest. Sure, he’d been a little loopy from the drugs they’d given him when he’d stupidly blurted out that he loved her, but damn if he didn’t feel the same way in that moment as Scully appeared to be feeling right now.

---------------------------------

I love this one. Mulder gets drugged and there’s an axe and he feeds her a banana.

Title: instinct

Author: light_loves_the_dark @queeenpersephone

Summary: “Move,” Mulder orders, his voice low and gravelly, wrapping a large hand around Scully's bicep and pulling her aside.

She struggles against him, mentally reviewing the profile, desperate to think of a way to stop this. The other victims hadn’t been violent for violence’s sake. Reduced to their basic instincts, they had fallen back to protect what they had considered theirs.

She needs to get Mulder out. And as much as she hates appearing weak, she knows exactly how to do it. She knows exactly what Mulder considers his.

aka the one where mulder is drugged and reduced to his basic instincts, and no one needs three guesses to figure out who those instincts get directed towards

Length: 15,401

Classification: MSR

Rating: T

Spoilers:

Favorite line: She exhales, trying to give him a shaky smile, when he steps into her body and presses his mouth against her temple. Her hands reflexively clutch at his shirt. He breathes in, wet and close and primitive; he’s not kissing her skin, but the open mouthed press of his lips is almost more intimate. He inhales once more, slow and deliberate and long, his free hand coming up to cup the back of her neck. His hand is large enough to cover her skin from her first thoracic vertebrae to her hairline, and she shudders at the sensation. It feels primal. Possessive.

---------------------------------

Wonderful look at what it might have been like when Mulder could read minds.

Title: The Restless Heart, The Promised Land

Author: incidental @incidental-ao3

Summary: Someone on twitter wondered what Mulder would've heard in Scully's head during The Sixth Extinction when he was still able to read minds. This is my take on that. Could be canon compliant, since we have no canon answer to a lot of the timeline of their romantic relationship. Inspired by twitter and The Killers.

Length: 5,100

Classification: MSR love confession (unintentional)

Rating: T

Spoilers: The Sixth Extinction II: Amor Fati

Favorite line: I love you so much, she thought, and he smiled again, truly amazed. He didn’t think he was hallucinating this. God, I’m so glad you’re alive.

---------------------------------

An explanation for Mulder’s terrible season 7 haircut.

Title: Unscrupulous

Author: Narida Law (sarea)

Summary: Mulder's haircut is, quite simply, the result of one woman's possessive nature.

Length: 2,424

Classification: MSR UST

Rating: T

Spoilers:

Favorite line: She didn't need to walk anything off. She just had to keep those women at the requisition desk from ogling what was hers.

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The prompt from fragile vixen includes the words voyeurism is encouraged... I love it when they can't help themselves.

Title: Blind Spot

Author: alienqueequeg @alienqueequeg

Summary: After a long day working on a pointless assignment, Mulder and Scully start to get frisky in the records room of the FBI Headquarters.

Length: 3,580

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers:

Favorite line: Mulder bends his neck down, pressing his lips to her neck. A quick study to all her favorite spots, he executes his move with the precision of a predator going in for the kill. She clenches her thighs and mentally curses him.

---------------------------------

Very sweet destined-to-be-together fic following the path laid out by the lyrics of Taylor Swift’s song Mastermind.

Title: Mastermind

Author: Katy_KT_Katie and tofuttiM @katy-kt-katie and @tofuttim

Summary: What if we told you none of it was accidental? That once Dana Scully met Fox Mulder she knew she had to force them into a partnership, a friendship and a relationship. Fic looking at their relationship from first meeting through the Revival. Canon Adjacent.

Length: 19,836

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: runs over the course of the whole show

Favorite line: She reflected on how much she had changed while working with Mulder. Her mind was more open but so was her heart. She’d never loved anyone as fiercely and completely as she loved him. He was her perfect opposite and the pull of them towards each other made them both better, made them both whole people. Even if their relationship never progressed, she didn’t care, she needed to be with him, needed him by her side always.

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Does what it says on the tin. Extremely lovely look at mornings they share over the years.

Title: days sweetest moments are at dawn

Author: catharsisxf @catharsisxf

Summary: A glimpse at various mornings they spent together from Arcadia onward.

Length: 8,304

Classification: MSR

Rating: Not rated but some chapters are explicit

Spoilers: Arcadia on

Favorite line: She notices Dana hovering with a nervous energy, her hands fidgeting like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. As she puts away the last of the leftovers Maggie turns to her with a smile then freezes. Glancing towards the living room she spots a black leather jacket tossed on the back of the sofa. Looking a little more closely she spies a man’s shoe under the coffee table and a silk blouse hanging off the armchair.

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This happens to be a beautifully written look at them together discovering more about one another, enjoying the closeness that they've found as they've entered into a romantic relationship. Chapter 2 also happens to be "extremely hot monkey sex" as Mulder puts it. I love how Darwin writes them.

Title: Close through the Dark

Author: Darwin_xf @darwin-xf

Summary: A long time ago in a galaxy much like our own but with no smartphones, Mulder and Scully explore the vicissitudes of family, the metaphysics of sex, the intersection of desire and power, the motives of Skinner, the confines and conventions of gender, the inadequacy of language, a deep dark secret or two, and—most importantly—each other. Basically, nothing happens.

Length: 9,193

Classification: MSR, E

Rating: E

Spoilers:

Favorite line: “Maybe we should close the windows,” she said.

“It doesn’t bother me. For once I’m about to curl up with my favorite warm body and someone else is acting like a lunatic and going home alone.”

---------------------------------

Really beautiful and gentle story of their love for each other with a bit of a gut punch at the end. But it's OK! Num said: Just know in this universe Mulder does make it back and William isn't put up for adoption. It's just a bump in the road

Title: Handfesta

Author: numinous_mysteries @numinousmysteries

Summary: He wants to marry her in a primeval fashion that transcends man and law and God.

Length: 5,056

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: Season 7

Favorite line: “Oh, Mulder,” she sighs. “A pagan ceremony preceded by a mysterious seven-hour road trip with a 5 a.m. wakeup call is the only way I would ever expect to marry you. Truly, if you got down on one knee with a diamond ring after a candlelit dinner I’d probably immediately order a CT scan to check you for a cerebral hemorrhage.”

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I am obsessed with this fic. Every time I read it I am staggered by the prose. Absolute stunner. Beautiful love story from Scully's perspective over the course of season 7 with sharp edges. Rings so true and is heartachingly good.

Title: ālea iacta est

Author: brenayla @brenayla

Summary: For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, and for Scully so loved Mulder that she’s cracked his ribs to restart his heart and dug bloodied fingers into his mangled thigh to slow the gush of his femoral artery.

If her unfettered belief in Mulder was enough to give him eternal life, the sun would burn out first.

Length: 11,628

Classification: MSR

Rating: E

Spoilers: Season 7

Favorite line: They are all my favourite line so here's one of them: Sometimes when he looks at her, Scully is struck with the staggering realization that that greedy, sweet thing she feels for him? God, he feels it right back.

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Something Different

Something truly magical here. The world as they know it ends and they find a little girl who is something more. Don’t want to spoil too much, they do absolutely go through it but it still has that sense of magic to it and ultimately feels hopeful.

Title: the sprite universe

Author: audries @audriesfic

Summary: On the last and final day, God created little girls. On the last and final day, from Scully’s true rib on her right side, God created daughters without mothers and mothers without sons and so on and so forth. Amen Amen Hallelejuah.

prompt from @enigmaticdr on tumblr: AU post-2012, dystopian, a hardened Mulder and Scully find an abandoned child at the side of the road.

Length: 5,114 over two works

Classification: Post series AU

Rating: G

Spoilers:

Favorite line: “She’s just a child,” Scully is saying, almost too quiet, and he has no idea why she’s saying it at all, except for the careful way the woman had stepped away, her eyes on the Sprite and not the gun. Like there was only one thing she was scared of and Scully wasn’t it. “She’s just a little girl.”

The woman grins, dazed and toothless, as she backs into the crop of trees off the side of the lot, away from them. “Beg your pardon, ma’am,” she sniffs, wipes her wrist across her mouth, leaving a hard line instead of a smile in its wake. “But you have no idea what she is.”

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Heavy Hitters From OG Writers

This fic is a stone cold classic. I spent decades away from the fandom and this fic and Lydia Bower stuck with me as the ultimate in xf fanfic.

Title: Dance Without Sleeping

Author: wonderland/Lydia Bower @amplifyme

Summary: Scully learns to live with her cancer and take back control of her life. Meanwhile, Mulder works on fulfilling a wish list.

Length: 30,621

Classification: MSR, cancer arc

Rating: M

Spoilers:

Favorite line: He peers down at me, his eyes dark and sleepy. He sighs, a deep, shuddery sigh and pulls me tighter against him. "If you had any idea what you mean to me," his voice drops to a gravely whisper, “you wouldn't have to ask."

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There’s nothing I can say about this fic that will be sufficient. It’s Penumbra writing as The_Mythopoeic. It is poetic and epic and bracing and absolutely gorgeous.

Title: Heuvelmans' On the Track

Author: The_Mythopoeic/Penumbra @mashnotesofthemythopoeic

Summary: In which Scully becomes a Consortium doctor, and Mulder moves heaven and earth.

Length: 81,392

Classification: MSR

Rating: M

Spoilers:

Favorite line: It’s Penumbra so all of it, but this really stuck with me: Keagle, who had said nothing until now, turned and studied Scully openly. She lifted her chin slightly, and their equally blunt gazes exchanged a grudging recognition.

Keagle nodded. 'She would have got out,' he said.

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This is a post Never Again fic that sees them working a very compelling case with a great original character. There is conflict and MSR and it’s just fantastic.

Title: The Common Fate of All Things Rare

Author: Aloysia_Virgata and Scarlet

Summary: Ever wonder what happened between the silence of Never Again and the flowers from Memento Mori? Ever wonder if Scully's night with Ed Jerse affected her relationship with Mulder in any way? Ever wonder what pushed Scully to go to the hospital and find out about her cancer in the first place? Ever wonder how her illness might have affected her work or if she ever thought about Leonard Betts' words?

Well, we did...

Length: 46,702

Classification: Casefile, MSR, cancer arc, angst

Rating: M

Spoilers: Never Again

Favorite line: "Now, listen to me very carefully. You two clearly have some personal problems that are interfering with your focus on this case. So here's what you're going to do: you're going to drive to your hotel and fight or fuck or snort an eight ball of blow - whatever you do to get functional - and then we're going to find this guy. You come back here with a game face or you go home. Do you understand me?"

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JET is such a unique, gifted writer. Her voice is entirely her own. An all time great. Small Lives Awaken is a banger but this one– a case after Amor Fati where they meet star crossed lovers, one of whom can read the other’s mind– is a thing of beauty too.

Title: Silence Waiting

Author: Jesemie’s Evil Twin (JET)

Summary: "I saw old Autumn in the misty morn stand

shadowless like Silence, listening to silence..."

Thomas Hood

Or, The First Nine Days.

Length: 18,600ish

Classification: MSR, Oddness

Rating: E

Spoilers: Through Amor Fati

Favorite line: He said some things a few days ago, but they were just words in that cloaked, measured way he always seems to be speaking to her in his hallway -- if he can hold her in his arms for thirty seconds at a time, once every two or three years, if he can say 'saved' and 'touchstone' and 'whole person,' eventually, decades from now, he might also finally string together enough of those words to fully explain what she means to him.

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Listen. I don’t like to pick favourites because we are so incredibly lucky to have some of the best writers in the world writing xf fanfic, but this one by Revely might just be it for me. Definitely top 5 of all time. Mulder is returned in Oregon after a year. This is their drive back across the country. It is utterly beautiful.

Title: The Unfinished Universe

Author: Revely

Summary:

Length: Around 17,700

Classification: MSR

Rating: Not rated

Spoilers: This is an alternate post abduction Mulder universe

Favorite line: She writes, "I do not want to be buried without you. Who will hold my hand?"

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Another all time favourite of mine. This is a great casefile but what I really love about it is how realistic the balance of their romantic and working relationships feels here. It’s satisfyingly mature and very recognisably them.

Title: Seeds of Synchronicity

Author: mountainphile

Summary: Six years after the events of "Aubrey," Scully and Mulder revisit the Missouri town to confront old demons and lay new ones to rest.

Length: ~92,350 words (as per @lilydalexf here)

Classification: MSR, casefile

Rating: E

Spoilers: Aubrey, Emily set in season 7

Favorite line: "This is different. New game, new rules..." Sighing, she knows her words sound cliched and inane in the warm heady space they inhabit on the bed.

"No, no games." His eyes so close, commanding her gaze, he the only one alive who knows her best. "Just reality. The truth."

"Which is...?"

"That we love one other, no matter what."

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Happy holidays @unremarkablehouse!

#txf fanfic #fic recs #fic rec list #poangpresents2024 #poangpals #unremarkablehouse

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roanofarcc · 4 months ago

Text

FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER

pairing: boone x fem!reader

summary: years spent in a mediocre relationship with your “highschool sweetheart” comes to an abrupt end. instead of the heart break you thought would consume you, you feel free. and that freedom leads you right to boone’s front door.

warnings: sad boone, relationship issues, unrequited love (or so one thinks!), a curse word or two, mentions of drinking (brief). I am a firm believer of buying boys flowers :)

word count. 2.7k || masterlist

“Welcome, everyone, to my humble abode,” Boone said, dramatically gesturing to the small house at the end of a dirt road. The place was decorated in a very Boone-like fashion with odd scraps of metal loitering the side yard, junk cars they oftened used for scrap parts when any of their vehicles broke down, and some wildflowers that his mother had sprinkled around the front steps when he first moved in a couple years post-high school.

His road consisted of three other houses, miles away from anything besides corn fields. The houses had all changed, but Boone kept his the same considering he wasn’t there for much of the spring and summer months, and he spent the winter holidays in Florida with his retired mother and father.

“Thanks for letting us crash at your place,” Kate said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t think I could’ve slept in one more motel.”

Javi nodded. “I’m still scarred from the roaches.” The last couple of places they’ve stayed had been less than ideal. They were grimy and bug-infested. All of the Wranglers were excited to stay at an actual home for once.

They all hopped out of the truck, meeting up with the rest of the crew who pulled in right behind them. Boone enjoyed his home more when there were others inside of it. He didn’t like the quiet and he hated his clear view of his neighbor's home.

The darling little blue house had stood there since Boone had moved in. The porch had been painted and the landscaping changed a hundred and two times, but the house was still sky blue and always decorated for the seasons.

He made the mistake of looking at the house for a beat too long. It was like the universe was looking down at him, laughing and serving up some karma alongside his arrival. The front door swung open, and you walked out. He should have looked away and followed his friends inside, pretending like he never saw you, but he couldn’t. You looked up after locking your door and your gaze fell right on him. For a moment you looked at each other from across the street before a smile broke out on your face and you hurried across your front yard, right towards him.

“Oh, man,” Boone muttered under his breath, hands reaching to fix his hair and smooth out his wrinkled cutoff.

“Boone?” Tyler said, clapping his shoulder before his eyes fell upon you. “Oh.” Tyler didn’t need to say more than that. He knew about Boone’s stupid crush on you since the moment he moved in. And as many times as he tried to shake it, you made it impossible to let it go.

You’d been in a long-standing relationship, not married nor even engaged, but dating for as long as Boone could remember. It was awful of him to like someone who was already dating someone else, but there was something about you that made it impossible to rid his brain of it. Every time he saw you, it only made it worse because you were the epitome of neighborly. You baked him cookies and remembered his birthday. You offered to water his flowers and mow his lawn when he was away. You waved at him from the mailbox and told him stories and invited him over for coffee. You always asked about his storm-chasing adventures and listened with so much intent it drove him crazy.

It was a pathic thing, he knew that, pining after a taken woman, but he couldn’t help it. And he’d never act on it, despite how much he loathed your boyfriend. Boone didn’t find himself around your boyfriend that often, for many reasons. But the times he had, he noticed how lackluster he was in comparison to you. Bland and boring with a touch of douchy-ness that rubbed Boone the wrong way. He knew most of his opinion was formed in jealousy, but the rest of it was the little tidbits of information you offered up to him. You didn’t necessarily complain but rather vented. Like the time he forgot your anniversary and tried to apologize with some lousy dinner at his friend's bar. Or all of the times he brushed off your excitement for certain things. The biggest thing though, that you had only admitted to Boone once on a winter’s night after you had wandered over after drinking a couple glasses of wine, was how he never wanted to talk about marriage. Every time you brought it up, he shut you down and left you waiting for some kind of sign of forever.

Boone was pretty sure you didn’t remember telling him that, but he did. He couldn’t imagine someone being with you and not wanting to settle for forever. And sure, not everyone wanted to get married, but it was clear that you did and were waiting for some kind of initiation from him that never seemed to come.

“Boone!” you shouted from the edge of his driveway, a bright smile on your face that twisted his gut into knots. He waved and walked forward just as you gave him a hug. You were always warm and smelled sweet, and you never failed to hug him when you caught him returning home.

“I didn’t know you were due back yet?” you said, pulling away but staying close.

Boone cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Y-Yeah, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing; no one wanted to stay another night at a motel.”

“Can’t blame ‘ya there.” Your eyes sparkled in the sunlight, captivating. “Why don’t y’all come over tonight for some drinks?”

Dani and Lily cheered from behind Boone and everyone aside from Tyler nodded their heads.

Boone couldn’t say no; he had no reason to other than spending time with you was certainly going to make his affection worse. Tyler looked at him, unsure and sympathetic, but Boone ignored him and offered you a lopsided smile. “Sure thing.”

You clapped your hands and bid them a good afternoon as you strolled back to your home. It wasn’t until Boone turned around that he dropped his head in his hands.

Tyler whistled, slinging an arm around Boone’s shoulder as they all headed towards his house. “You’ve still got it bad, huh?”

Kate turned around, curious. “Got what bad?”

Boone said nothing as he unlocked the door and ushered everyone inside. Tyler answered for him as he pulled off his boots in the entryway. “A bad crush on the neighbor.”

A gasp sounded from Lily. “No way! I didn’t know you had a hometown honey!”

“I don’t,” Boone sighed, plopping down on the couch that was a little dusty from lack of use. “She’s got a boyfriend.”

“Oh, man,” Javi said with a slight wince. “That’s rough.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

Later that night, Boone shook off his nerves as he led the group of Wranglers over to your house. It was an uncomfortable mix of feelings that twisted around inside his gut. He always liked seeing you and catching up with you, but at the same time, he always found himself flustered and hit with the brick of guilt for liking you. He thought about moving to avoid his achy heart, but that seemed a bit extreme considering he was hardly home anyway. And he wasn’t sure he could give up seeing you, even in passing. You were a friendly face above all else, a calmness to his otherwise chaotic life.

He knocked on your door, and you opened it with a wide smile, ushering everyone into your backyard. In the dim light of the evening, a fire was cracking in the pit and different beverages were resting in a small cooler.

Boone ended up sitting beside you, your knees knocking against his. He fiddled with the tab of his beer and worked up the courage to ask, “What’s James up to tonight?”

You seemed to hesitate before answering, “He’s out for a work thing.”

There was an itch for him to ask more, but he decided against it and resorted to sipping his beer and listening to his friends start to recant their chasing stories to you. It all was in good fun, a nice night despite the close proximity to you. The fire crackled and smoke danced upwards, melting with the deep blue sky peppered with stars.

The conversations flowed like you had been a part of the Wranglers since they started. You were easy to get along with, sweet and talkative. Boone wasn’t even sure what the time was before the group started stifling yawns. Finally, Tyler made the decision to head back, prompting everyone to tiredly agree.

They offered you a mix of hugs and handshakes, a nice goodbye while you offered them a ‘come around any time.’ Boone lingered behind, picking up trash while you smothered in the fire.

“Your friends are nice,” you said.

Boone smiled lightly. “Yeah, they’re pretty great.”

You grabbed a couple discarded cans and hugged them to your chest as you double-checked that everything was picked up. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you looked conflicted. A crease sat between your brows, something worry-filled or upsetting, he couldn’t quite tell. Maybe he wasn’t as close with you as he was with the Wranglers, but his ever-growing feelings led to him becoming extra observant whenever he was around you. Subtleties in your actions were as big as wild gestures in his mind.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, not wanting to pry or overstep.

You met his gaze for a second before you sighed. “I’m…I don’t really know.”

He made a bold step forward, lessening the gap between you just slightly. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“You asked about James earlier,” you started, suddenly fascinated by the grass under your feet. “I lied.”

“About what?” he scrunched his face in slight confusion.

“He’s not out for work. We…we got into a fight, actually. A big one. He said he needed to cool off but…that was three days ago.”

The confession caught Boone off guard. He nearly lost his balance. “O-Oh,” was all he could mutter.

You let out a shaky laugh, but not a humorous one. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you continued. “It’s just…I haven’t really talked to anyone about it. And then you showed up and I…Well, I like talking to you.”

Boone tried not to think about your words too hard, but his heart beat a little quicker inside his chest. He couldn’t muster up the right words before you started talking again. “You know the worst part about it? I’m not even that upset. I should be, right? If we were so in love, I should be upset that he walked out without even trying to talk things through. But I’m not. I should feel different, but I don’t. I don’t even miss him.”

You groaned loudly and dropped down onto the old log that had been fashioned into a bench. You let the cans tumble into a pile on the grass as you held your head in your hands. “I’m sorry,” you rushed out.

“Don’t be sorry,” Boone said, slowly lowering himself beside you. “You can’t really help how ‘ya feel, or so I’ve been told.”

“We’ve been together for ages,” you sighed. “It should hurt but it doesn’t. I think we’ve just been, like, stuck and too scared to admit that things don’t feel the way they did back when we first got together.”

Boone felt like he was treading into dangerous territory without proper equipment. Like he was barreling right into a twister without anything to keep him grounded. But he knew he couldn’t think of himself, he had to think of you. You were upset; he didn’t like that. He couldn’t fix it, but maybe he could offer some generic, Hallmark advice and it would be okay.

“Maybe he does just need time to cool off,” Boone suggested. “Space isn’t always a bad thing, right?”

You shrugged. “We’ve fought before, but this felt different. And if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I want him to come back.”

Boone let out some air from his cheeks, unsure of what to say and unsure of what you wanted him to say. Luckily, you spoke before he had to come up with something.

“Gosh, I’m sorry, again. You should get back to your friends. I’m just rambling.” You laughed nervously, standing up once more and recomposing yourself. But he noticed the way you brushed your hand under your eyes and ducked your head.

“You should do whatever makes you happy,” Boone said, quietly. “If you're not happy with him then…you know…”

You smiled softly and nodded, and Boone took that as his moment to leave. He hurried back to his home, his heart racing inside his chest underneath the moonlight.

You chewed on your nails nervously, pacing your kitchen for what felt like the millionth time that morning. After sleeping on your split feelings to Boone, you felt a weight grow heavier and heavier on your chest, a crushing feeling that tried to break your bones every time you saw the storm chaser on his brief visits home. It was wrong, you knew that, to feel something towards someone else while in a committed relationship. You’d never act on them while dating your boyfriend, but you subconsciously found yourself thinking of Boone.

For a while, you thought maybe it was just a rush of intense friendship that you hadn’t felt in ages, and you confused that with romantic feelings. But the less and less you and your boyfriend felt like a real couple, the more you started to think about Boone beyond the bounds of friendship. It was all fantasy, something to keep your heart occupied while your boyfriend drifted further from you each time you desperately tried to pull him back in.

The truth was you weren’t working anymore. Whatever spark you’d both been trying to fan for years finally gave way and left you both cold. But for some reason, you both were scared to end the first real relationship you’d ever known.

After your fight, the absence of your boyfriend didn’t make you miss him, it made you comfortable in the quietness of your home and your freedom. So, you made the call. After trying and failing to bring your relationship back from the dead, you called it off and he agreed with a heavy sigh full of relief.

Your heart was still tender and jumping into another relationship right away wasn’t what you wanted, and spring was still young. Boone left with his team to finish out the rest of the season chasing, and you worked on yourself until you found yourself in a place much better and brighter than you’d ever been in before. You felt lighter, a newfound sense of life in your veins.

Once the months started to turn into crisp breezes and shorter days, you found yourself on the front porch of Boone the day after he returned home.

He swung open the door with a smile and polite, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you greeted, pulling out something from behind your back. It was a small bouquet of flowers picked from the patch in your backyard. “These are for you.”

He blinked in surprise. “For me?” Boone chuckled and took him with a carefulness, like he was scared the breeze would take them. “Why in the world are you bringin’ me flowers?”

You couldn’t stop grinning; your cheeks hurt. “I came to ask you a real important question.”

He looked beyond confused but nodded for you to continue.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Boone looked like he had short-circuited, eyes bulging out of his head and body frozen for a stretch of time that made you start to second guess your bold proposal. It took several moments for him to shake himself loose and ask, “Are you serious?”

You nodded, heart beating nervously against your chest. His face broke out in a grin almost as wide as yours had been and he lurched forward, picking you up by the waist and spinning you around in front porch light. You threw your head back laughing, nerves subsiding in a moment of bliss.

He sat you down but kept his hands on your hips, a little breathless and shinning. “Hell yeah I wanna,” he replied, as if his reaction didn’t tell you everything you needed to know.

#twisters #twisters fanfic #boone twisters #boone x reader #boone twisters x reader #tyler owens #kate carter #javi rivera

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