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cobrakaisb · 10 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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clockwayswrites · 6 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 · 6 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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latenightdaydreams · 7 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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castiwls · 6 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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majestyeverlasting · 2 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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naffeclipse · 4 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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doo-wop-city · 8 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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munson-blurbs · 5 months ago

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Your date--or non-date--with Eddie was ruined when he dodged your kiss. Or...was it? (5.4k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, Reader wears a miniskirt, drinking, drunkenness, making out, heavy petting, mentions of smut, mention of masturbation (m), idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

chapter eleven: undo, undone

He pulled away.

You leaned in for a kiss, and Eddie pulled away.

The full extent of rejection hadn’t even set in before you felt something cold and wet on your leg. An electric blue liquid dripped down your shin, traveling in winding paths like veins.

Haziness shifted into perfect clarity, flinging you into sudden and unwanted sobriety. The music was too loud, the dimmed lights still too bright. Every conversation was now too loud, the floor sticky beneath your Doc Marten-ed feet.

When you mustered up the nerve to look at Eddie, you saw that he had fared even worse; his entire left pant leg was drenched and already reeked of gin and the cerulean syrup stained his sneakers. His eyes widened as he processed what had just happened, a startled deer in the headlights.

“Oh my God; I’m so sorry!”

The drunken apology snagged your attention, coming from none other than the woman who’d brutally massacred Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. She stumbled forward again, and whatever remained of her drink sloshed over the glass and onto the floor.

Her lower lip jutted out into a pout and panicked tears welled in her eyes as she looked from you to Eddie. “Have you seen my boyfriend?” Her words were slurred; ‘seen’ came out as ‘sheen.’ “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“I’ll help you find him.” Anything to get away from Eddie, to avoid the thundering question: Had he pulled back because of the spilled drink, or did he cause the spill by pulling away?

It had to be the latter. He probably regretted ever offering to celebrate your graduation and would spend the rest of the evening ruminating over how he’d inadvertently led you on. Was it dedicating a song to you? The dancing?

Except…neither of those had been his idea. You were the one who insisted he sing karaoke. You were the one who asked him to dance. He relented to appease you, and you’d completely humiliated yourself by stretching his kindness past its platonic confines.

The woman latched herself onto your arm with one gin-soaked hand and swiped at her cheeks with the other. Up close, she barely looked old enough to legally drink. “His name is Charlie.”

“Huh?” Her boyfriend. The one you were supposed to be locating. “Oh, right.”

Eddie scrubbed his jeans with a wad of flimsy napkins, muttering under his breath when they left a papery residue in their wake. He grumbled something about the restroom before storming off in that direction.

Your new drunk companion rested her head on your shoulder, permed hair tickling your neck.

“What does Charlie look like?” The bar wasn’t big, not even by New York City standards, but having a general idea of who you were looking for would be a massive help.

She just laughed softly, a joke only she knew, head lolling as she spoke. “Y’know…tall-ish. Blue eyes. Has, um, hair with a little woop thing.” Her palm mimicked an ocean wave. Just as you had predicted, the gesture provided nothing of relevance towards your search.

You gritted your teeth in a forced smile. “Okay, right.” Sucking in a harsh breath, you led her to the bar and ordered two waters, practically shoving the condensation-frosted glass into her hand.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” It all came out as one word: Wheresyourboyfren?

“He’s not—” You shook your head; there was no sense in trying to explain the situation to a wasted stranger. “Bathroom.”

The girl’s droopy lids snapped open. “That’s where Charlie went!” She threw her head back and cackled, and you quickly roped an arm around her waist to keep her from teetering over in her too-high heels. “You’re gorgeous, by the way. No wonder your boyfriend looks at you like you’re a fucking goddess.” Her mood rapidly shifted to one of ire as she threw out, “Bet he’d never leave you alone in this skeezy bar.”

Except he had left you alone in this skeezy bar—and he wasn’t your boyfriend.

You could still feel his soft cotton t-shirt beneath your fingers, the way his curly tendrils of hair brushed along your hands. The gentle nose crinkle each time he smiled at you from the stage was forever etched into your brain.

At what point did he realize he’d made a mistake? When did regret tarnish his good deed?

Tears pricked in your eyes as the weight of humiliation now set in. Your mascara would run, but who cared? It wasn’t as though you had anyone to impress anymore.

The TV above the bar flashed with the red and blue of police lights, the colors blurred by your own tears. You blinked them away just in time to read the closed captioning scrolling along the bottom of the screen.

The frontman of an up-and-coming punk band once again finds himself in legal trouble. Caleb Dalton, the lead singer and guitarist for Death’s Echo, was arrested early this morning for disorderly conduct and public intoxication.

The video showed a young man keeping his head down so his shaggy blond hair covered his eyes, his hands cuffed behind his back and rendered unable to shield his face.

This is not the first time Dalton has landed himself in hot water. Just last week, the troubled musician was arrested for allegedly driving under the influence; his court date is set for early next month. All of this erratic behavior has fans wondering how this could impact the band’s first world tour, set to begin mid-June.

A professional photo of Death’s Echo took up the entirety of the screen. There was Caleb Dalton, front and center, shirtless and brooding. To his immediate left and right were two other men, one incredibly tall and lanky with gleaming chains dangling from both his neck and the belt loops of his dark-wash JNCOs. The other was shorter, stockier, wearing a black tank top that was littered with holes. If Eddie’s recollections of swanky hotel rooms and impromptu helicopter rides were true, the holes must have been purposefully designed to heighten the band’s grungy look.

But the member who snagged your attention was the only woman in the group. Her eyes, thickly rimmed with kohl and sheathed in a smoky shadow, bore into your soul. Blonde hair fell in jagged layers and framed a heart-shaped face, her crimson-painted pout simultaneously beckoning suitors to come hither and stay away.

You imagined those lips on Eddie’s for half a second before your drinks threatened to make a reappearance.

The report ended with the obligatory statement: “Dalton’s rep could not be reached for comment,” before shifting to the next story.

Tongue firmly adhered to the roof of your mouth, you gulped down some water in hopes of ungluing it. In hopes of sorting out your thoughts, jumbled from embarrassment and the jolt of alcohol to your system.

If Eddie had seen that…you couldn’t stomach the thought of him watching as his replacement’s lips subtly curled into a smirk as he was shuffled along towards the police car. That was the smirk of a man who knew he’d evaded the law before and would likely do it again. Fame and fortune certainly had their ways of tipping the scales of justice.

The news would almost certainly usher in unwelcome memories of his hometown and the people who took joy in vandalizing his trailer. The people who continuously made his life a living hell and faced no consequences because of their pristine reputations and Eddie’s tarnished one.

You shoved the information deep down and vowed to never let it bubble over. If Eddie found out on his own, that was one thing. But you refused to further ruin this evening for him.

“Dianna?”

A man’s worried voice called out from the back of the bar, his sandy eyebrows pinched together as he scoped out the cramped venue. With his crisp button-down and khaki pants, he could be Eddie’s polar opposite.

“Oh my god! Babe!” The girl yanked herself from your light grasp. You realized that you hadn’t known her name until that moment, though there was a decent chance she wouldn’t even remember it if you’d asked. She stumbled over to the man—Charlie, you assumed—whose concerned expression dissolved into relief the moment she flung her arms over his shoulders.

Charlie pulled her close and let out an extended sigh. His jaw relaxed, lips pressed to her temple as his frenetic energy tapered and his heart rate slowed. “Scared the shit outta me, babe.” He murmured against her ear. “Why didn’t you stay at the table?”

Your heart ached at the way he held her close, a precious commodity that he would protect with his life. Would Eddie ever touch you like that? Would he leave protective kisses all along your shoulders, nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck? Would he panic if he thought something happened to you?

If his rebuff of your kiss was any indication, it was highly unlikely.

Dianna shrugged. “I wanted to get another drink, but then I spilled it all over her boyfriend,” she said, pointing to you.

Charlie looked in your direction as though seeing you for the first time. “That explains the guy standing at the sink, washing his pants.” His fingers sifted through the blonde curtains that flopped right back to his forehead, adding to no one in particular, “Dude looked pissed.”

Your stomach roiled, whiskey and vodka burning at the base of your throat. Between your unwelcome advances and Dianna’s drink snafu, Eddie’s good deed was far from unpunished.

The urge to empty the contents of your stomach only heightened when you imagined the look of utter disgust Eddie must have worn when you leaned in for that kiss and the embarrassment he felt on your behalf. A man bought you a drink, obliged your request for a dance to a mediocre karaoke rendition of a song, and you took that as some grand romantic gesture? Pathetic.

It was just another way that you let people down.

Eddie’s expectations of a night out with a platonic friend.

Mom and Dad’s expectations of you taking over the motel.

Your own expectations of Eddie secretly harboring romantic feelings for you, strong enough to shine through the cloud of insecurity constantly surrounding you.

Once again, you were a disappointment.

The room’s walls began closing in, filling your lungs with wet sand that clung to the muscle and made breathing an impossible task. A fuzzy film blurred your vision and warped the room until it was utterly unrecognizable.

Air. You needed fresh air and to get far away from this godforsaken bar. A wave of heat crashed over you again and again, dousing you in your own perspiration and keeping your feet pasted to the floorboards.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t—

“Heiress?”

Eddie’s voice shredded through anxiety’s haze, his worried tone bursting the bubble with a violent pop. The world began shifting back into place, your mind floating back down in reluctant reunion with your body.

“Hey.” Strong palms clasped your trembling shoulders. He leaned in to ensure you heard him over the pulsing music. “Let’s get outta here, okay?”

Your response was a meager nod. His fingers glided down your bare arm, goosebumps rising in their wake, as he took your hand and led you outside. The burst of night-chilled air was a sweet nectar; your bones drank it up like a delicacy.

Diaphragm loosening, you took one shallow breath, then another that rested a bit deeper in your chest. You anchored yourself in the moment until you once again recognized the subtle press of your lungs against your ribcage.

Home. You needed to get home.

Peering down to check your watch, you realized that Eddie’s hand still clutched yours. The pad of his thumb traced lazy lines along the skin between your thumb and forefinger, steady as a heartbeat.

“It was getting kinda crowded in there, huh?” It was said entirely for your benefit, you knew: Eddie was accustomed to packed arenas and sold-out stadiums.

Another nod. “Y-Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it t-to be…” That was the whole reason why you’d suggested a Monday night, but Karaoke Night must have brought in an influx of new customers. Couple that with the end of the Memorial Day weekend, where people didn’t want the party to end after the family barbecues wound down, and you had the perfect recipe for an overcrowded bar.

Eddie dug into his back pocket as the two of you began walking back towards the motel, procuring a dented box of Camels and his trusty lighter. His eyes, illuminated by The Brink’s dim neon signage, flicked over to yours. “Is it cool if I…?” He raised the cigarette, pinched between his pointer and middle finger, unlit until you gave your approval.

“S’fine.” You watched his thumb glide over the sparkwheel, igniting a tiny flame. The scent of burning tobacco wafted off of the end of his cigarette, the wind blowing a curl of smoke in your direction.

He waved his hand to ward it away from you. “Sorry,” he mumbled. When he took another drag, it happened again. “Jesus Christ. Here.” Tucking the cigarette between his lips, he planted his feet behind you and placed both hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. Electricity crackled beneath his touch, his fingertips the lightning and his voice the gentle rumble of thunder.

Stop it, you reprimanded yourself. He dodged your kiss. You can’t be thinking this way anymore.

He sidestepped to your right, the breeze now carrying the smoke away from you. Another deep inhale had the flame ripping through the paper, ash building up on the cigarette’s tip. The flakes floated down and decorated the tops of his sneakers in a gray snow. A warning sat on your tongue, hampered only by the cool dampness suddenly touching your bare leg.

Eddie grimaced at the way you stumbled and stepped away slightly so the wet denim no longer pressed against your skin. “I got most of the drink out, I think. It’s just soap and water at this point.”

You stopped again, stooping down and pinching the fabric of his jeans between two fingers. The scent of gin still clung to him, though not as strongly as it had immediately following Dianna’s spill. Or maybe it was just the tobacco’s heaviness that overpowered it. That damn cigarette, so smugly perched where you longed to be.

“I’m doing a load of laundry tomorrow,” you managed, shaking off the remaining thoughts of Eddie’s lips as you carefully stood up. The last thing you needed was dizziness spinning you to the ground. “I can throw these in with my stuff, if that’s okay.”

Eddie grinned. It was the first glimmer of happiness you’d seen from him since asking him to dance.

“Trying to get in my pants, Heiress?”

Your feet caught beneath you. You dug your heels into the pavement to steady yourself, sending up silent praise to whatever omnipotent presence kept you from falling flat on your face.

If he was joking with you…he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t unnerved by your attempt to kiss him.

You invited relief in, just enough to loosen a retort from your arsenal.

“Don’t make me rescind my offer,” you quipped back. “And in the meantime, I’ll just tell people you pissed yourself.”

Eddie quirked up an eyebrow. “On the outside of my leg? I can see why you studied psychology instead of anatomy.”

There was nothing you needed to focus on less than Eddie Munson’s anatomy right now, the way it might feel against your own, within your own. Not when the ship had only just begun steering down the right course again.

“That girl found her boyfriend, by the way. Or, he found her, I guess.” It was the first subject your brain latched onto. When Eddie’s reply was a confused stare, you hurriedly elaborated. “The girl who spilled her drink on you.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” He flicked some more ash from his cigarette and took another wistful drag. “This whole night was a blur.”

You forced yourself to choke down the insecurity that had lodged itself in your throat. “Rockstar can’t mix liquor like he used to?” You tutted disapprovingly. “Maybe you’re getting a little rusty. Out of practice.”

“Please.” He scoffed, snuffing out the cigarette on a brick wall. “Did you see my moves tonight?”

You certainly had. Each hip swivel, each pelvic thrust was firmly etched into your memories. And then there was the way he’d danced with you, leading with the confidence of an order but the tenderness of a suggestion.

“Fair enough,” you conceded. The fresh air was working wonders; you stood a bit straighter as you continued walking alongside him, your footsteps in time with his own. “I still can’t believe you sang Elvis.”

“Me either.” Eddie laughed through his nose. “I was going to sing something Ozzy-adjacent, but then I saw Heartbreak Hotel and figured it fit better with, y’know, our whole thing.”

Our whole thing. An invisible and intangible thing, but he felt it, too. Felt it enough to acknowledge it aloud.

A smile blossomed on your lips. “You were easily the best one up there. Singing, dancing…all of it.” Flattery embedded in truth, you noted the tips of his ears tinging red.

“I don’t think anyone would mistake me for a dancer.” He chuckled, hand swaying out just enough to find purchase on your back and pull you an inch closer.

You swallowed back desire and forced yourself to focus on anything but the press of his fingers against your spine. “N-No future career in Elvis impersonation? Or ballroom dancing?”

“Nah.” Eddie shook a stray curl from his eyes. “And I definitely stepped on your toes while we were dancing.”

“You didn’t.” If he had, you didn’t notice, too swept up in the warmth of his closeness to even register any overlapping feet or bumping knees.

Someone barely visible in the inky night lugged a garbage pail across the sidewalk, the scraping of metal bringing your heart into your throat. The noise must have startled Eddie, too; his fingers tensed against your side to hold you in place as he stepped in front of you.

“Shit.” He swore under his breath. Nervous, awkward laughter permeated the air when he realized that the threat was no more than a dented hunk of metal. “Sorry about that. I just thought–”

“S’okay.”

Comfortable silence, as much as the city streets allowed, accompanied you as you walked back, broken only by crickets’ rhythmic chirping and car engines revving down the boulevard. Eddie’s eyes stayed alert to his surroundings and his grip remained tight around your waist, adrenaline still coursing through his veins from the earlier scare. His chest nudged your back; you could feel his heart thumping a protective beat.

A hunger to kiss away that fear, to nuzzle yourself into him until his pulse steadied and his breathing regulated, settled into you. You were starving to restore his lightheartedness.

Eddie’s voice was rife with apprehension when he spoke again. “I, uh, think we got interrupted. Back at the bar.”

He looked away as he spoke, and it took a moment for you to register what he said. Surely he wasn’t referring to the kiss—or lack thereof. He wouldn’t be bringing it into the conversation now that the embers of your embarrassment had finally stopped burning bright.

You shoved the thought far from your mind, temporarily quelling the memory’s intensity and allowing yourself to think straight. The slow dance–he meant the slow dance being interrupted. “The song was almost over, anyway,” you said softly.

“I’m not talking about the dance.”

Oh. So that meant…

“Heiress.”

A hint of a warble clipped his nickname for you. Eddie’s left hand wrapped around your upper arm, fingers barely touching skin, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. You caught the way his tongue flicked over his lip, the way his cocoa irises darkened even under the streetlamp’s flickering light. Fuzziness filled your brain; your breath hitched in some unknown space between your lungs and your throat.

His right thumb brushed your chin, your jawline, memorizing the texture of your skin. He smiled, the gentle upward tug of the corners of his mouth suddenly the center of your focus.

“Heiress,” Eddie repeated, the word a whisper that left your bones humming.

You nodded, your own fingers tangled in his cotton shirt, pulling him an inch closer that still felt like he was a mile away. He would never be close enough, you realized.

His palm slid to your cheek, his fingers tucked behind your ear, beckoning you to take that small step forward and bridge that gap. It was your choice. You could back away and unfurl your fingers from around his shirt. You could ignore the aching need in your core, the one that matched his.

You deserve to be happy, he’d said.

And for once, you allowed yourself to believe him.

You believed him when you stepped into him, your chest against his, rising and falling in perfect synchronicity. You believed him when noses clumsily bumped together as you sought his lips, the lips from which symphonies of music and laughter flowed. You believed him when you finally found them after the agonizing seconds, minutes, hours, days–time both hastened and ceased to exist–and connected with Eddie on a level only ever reached in your runaway daydreams.

Expectations slid down your back and swirled down the storm drains when his tongue sought entrance at your lips. There was no school, no motel, no troubled lead singer. There was only you and Eddie.

A calloused palm clutched your shirt, the fabric bunching between his fingers. The fervor of his tug pulled the neckline down past your collarbone to reveal one white bra strap.

Eddie’s lips danced over your uncovered shoulder, forefinger sliding under your bra strap and toying with it once his mouth returned to yours. The touch was burning, the promise of pleasure sending sparks careening down your spine. The flames spoke nonsensically, whispering to let him undress you right here in the street.

His hunger for you was seemingly just as insatiable. The hand that rested on your cheek dove to where your skirt curved along your ass, wrinkling the stiff denim as he squeezed harshly. You let your own grasp fall from his collar to his biceps, feeling them instinctively flex beneath your touch.

More. You needed more. You needed all of him, needed to give him all of you, until you were wholly unified with no clear beginning or end to you and Eddie as separate beings.

Your hips rolled into him, a soft moan leaving his mouth to safekeep in yours. You let it trickle down your throat, relishing in the subtle hardness that you felt pressed against his fly.

A shoulder collided with his and sent both of you stumbling, Eddie only holding you tighter to prevent a fall. His arms wrapped around you as he scowled at the man who dared to occupy the sidewalk while the two of you were locked in an embrace.

“We’re in the way,” you murmured against him, nose grazing the hint of stubble peppering his jaw.

Eddie said nothing in response. His eyes shone with equal parts determination and desire. In one swift, impulsive motion, he grabbed your wrists and led you off to the side, away from any passersby.

“‘S probably better that we stop.” The disappointment weighing down his words spoke volumes. “Your shift starts soon.”

You shook your head. “We can be fast.” Your lips attached to his neck, sucking lightly as your teeth grazed his exposed skin.

“Look at me, Heiress.” Eddie sighed and leaned against the nearest lamppost. He kept two fingers curled into your belt loop, bringing you with him. “I don’t wanna do this with a timeclock going.”

“It’s fine, really.” Kissing him forever still wouldn’t be long enough.

A chuckle punctuated his breath. “When we do that…” His thumb brushed over your lower lip for a second time. “I’m not gonna be rushed. I’m gonna need hours, Heiress. Because once I have you like that, I’ll never be able to stop.”

Heat seeped into every pore, bringing with it a familiar ache. Needs and wants blurred together until they were indistinguishable from each other, his kisses having siphoned all logic out of your mind.

You allowed a moment for the fog to clear and reality to settle. No, you couldn’t fake illness and burden your parents with an extra shift, just to have sex with Eddie. No, you shouldn’t run your fingertips along his zipper and awaken the beast that he had managed to quell. No, you wouldn’t let lust wield its power like a mighty sword, slicing into all reasoning until it was unrecognizable.

“Y-Yeah.” You swallowed back temptation, your gaze falling to where his arousal was still evident in his jeans.

Eddie’s eyes followed yours, accompanied by an embarrassed huff of laughter. “Don’t worry about that.” The tip of his nose grazed your earlobe as he whispered, “I can take care of that later.”

His admission brought the imagery of him laying back in his bed, boxers haphazardly shoved halfway down his thighs and hand wrapped around his cock. You wanted—needed—to know how he touched himself. Did he tease the head with his thumb? Did he use his other hand to cup his balls? Did he gradually edge himself or did he sprint towards euphoria?

The cold metal of his belt buckle brought goosebumps through your shirt fabric as he kissed you once again, too briefly. Always too briefly. What you wouldn’t give for just a few more moments alone with him to unfasten that buckle yourself.

“Heiress?”

Eddie’s smile lifted you out of your thoughts, the smirk informing you that he knew you weren’t paying attention.

“Hmm?”

Lips connected to the soft skin just below your ear; your body reflexively arched into their butterfly touch. “What time are you doing laundry tomorrow?”

“Oh, um,” You calculated silently, the inside of your cheek trapped between your teeth. If you went to bed at 6 A.M. and then slept until early afternoon… “No earlier than two. I can knock on your door when I’m ready.”

He nodded as he threaded his fingers with yours. A current of protection surged through the lines etched in his palms, wrapping you in a cocoon that kept the rest of the world at bay. The sounds of car horns and pedestrians’ conversations and the subway rattling under the grate faded into the background, too dull to even hear. There was no one except for you and Eddie.

The motel entrance loomed ahead, the dimming sign filling you with ambivalence rather than its usual sense of tranquility. Despite the headaches and heartaches it brought, it was still home.

Tonight, however, you approached it with newfound apprehension. Entering the lobby meant that you had a choice to make: You could keep your grasp on Eddie’s hand and risk your mom seeing, or you could let it go before she noticed.

You reluctantly untangled your fingers from his, anxiety defeating you with a fatal blow. His hand draped over your wrist for the briefest moment before falling unceremoniously to his side. It hurt to look at the confusion pinching his brows together, his mind spinning to determine the miscalculation that caused you to let go.

Telling Mom would be too complicated; you’d basically be subjecting yourself to a lecture on the unprofessionalism and dangers of forming romantic relationships with the guests.

No matter that you’d never pursued so much as a friendship with a guest prior to meeting Eddie. No matter that, with him, you felt more whole than you’d ever been. More true to your authentic self.

Mom looked up before the bell jingled, a product of her maternal sixth sense. There was no missing your smudged lipstick or the pinkish-red marks across Eddie’s mouth that nullified any alibi he might create.

“Did you two have fun?” To her credit, Mom kept her tone nonchalant, but her narrowed eyes saw it all.

“Mhm.” You scraped at the corner of your lip, as if that would conceal the evidence. “Eddie sang Elvis at karaoke.”

That got a smile out of Mom, her posture softening slightly. Still, distrust radiated off of her skin, twisting the knife of inadequacy deeper into your stomach. She glanced between you and Eddie, sizing up the situation. There was nothing she could say at that moment. Not with Eddie standing right there.

“I’m gonna get changed and I’ll be right back.” You couldn’t bear to meet her gaze as you walked to your room.

A piece of you hoped that Eddie would be waiting when you returned. You stripped off your skirt first, the denim dropping to the ground and revealing your panties. They were, in fact, pink and lacy; the kind that one might wear if they planned to show them to someone else. As if you and Eddie would have been able to sneak past your mom unnoticed.

You tugged on a pair of jeans, too worn and wide-legged to be capable of showing off your figure.

The make-up you wore to the bar was too dark for work, and you scrubbed at it until mascara residue stained your white washcloth black. You rinsed, scrubbed, and repeated until your face was bare. Tired eyes stared back in the mirror.

Honesty was a weight in your chest, anchoring you in an abyss of your own shortcomings. It pulled you down, down, down until the waters were too murky and the pressure was too strong to swim up to the surface.

With a deep breath, you pushed off of the sink ledge and headed back to the lobby. Only Mom was there, her disdain no longer hidden now that the two of you were alone.

“Eddie’s in his room,” she said, as though reading your mind.

“Okay. Yeah, he’s probably tired—”

“You know better than to get involved with a guest—employee—whatever he is.” Mom waved her hand in irritation. Her voice was sharp, cleaving through the facade with one cut, yet hushed in case of eavesdropping ears.

You cast your eyes down to the floor. “We’re—we’re not involved. Things just got out of hand, but we’re colleagues. Friendly colleagues,” you added off-handedly.

Mom sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want you making friends,” she started, “but it’s not a good idea for you to get close to Eddie. If you have an argument or a falling out…”

“I know.” It compromised too much. Eddie could pack up and leave at the drop of a hat, and the motel would be without a handyman. You weren’t sure how the place survived before he was around, changing light bulbs and plunging toilets and tinkering with minor electrical problems. Now that he was here, he was an invaluable asset.

“Okay.” Mom looked at you once more, a warning flashing in her eyes. “Okay.” Stepping out from behind the desk, she watched as you took her place.

“Mom?” All of your truths begged and pleaded to be unleashed. Your feelings for Eddie, graduate school, plans for the future.

She stopped, stunned by the vulnerability in your tone. “Yeah?”

Tell her. Stop being a coward and tell her.

“I’m gonna wash clothes around two tomorrow, if you need anything done.”

Failure.

Mom loosened a breath that blew away some of her anger. “I’ll ask Dad, but I think we’re good.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know running this place hasn’t been easy, but we’re really proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Every ounce of your remaining strength was spent on tempering your emotions, swallowing the pit that formed in your throat. “Get some sleep.”

The ugliness of your lies wrapped around you, constricting vines that dug into your skin and severed the flow of blood and air.

The daughter they were proud of didn’t exist. Maybe she never did. And the daughter they had was surely nothing less than a disappointment.

It wasn’t until the silence settled in, swallowing you whole, that you realized you’d never bid Eddie good night.

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@fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin @hellfire--cult

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roanofarcc · 2 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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sweetenerobert · 1 year ago

Text

𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄

DAY THREE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

dean winchester x vampire!male reader

genre: vampire au, explicit, minors dni

prompt: vampire au + "i can see how badly you want this, so i'm going to make sure you get it."

summary: trying to remember the last five hours of what happened after your transformation, you suddenly remember having sex with a stranger and you try to retrace your steps

warning: strong language, mention of blood, mention of dying. unprotected P in A, dirty talk, oral (m giving/m receiving), pet names, spanking, choking, creampies

word count: 2.3k

a/n: TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY?? yep! if this seems rushed my apologies.

The night sky cascaded down on you as you were shivering. The night was beautiful, but it was cold as each step you took made everything feel like you were walking closer to death.

Your blue work shirt is coated in your blood — near where your collarbone and shoulder blade rested. Your black and white canvas shoes have drops of blood on them. Tears running down your face had dried up. You hated this feeling — you felt the after-effects of coming back alive after getting your throat ripped out. This process was painstakingly slow. And you were scared — scared that you may never be the same again, scared that you might do something to hurt someone. You needed guidance from someone — anyone could help you forget about the stressful night you had.

You hear a car engine behind you, and you want to hide from the person driving behind you, but you are too weak to even jump into the bushes next to you, so you keep slowly walking. Your emotions wanted to come out; you wanted to cry a river right now. And you didn't understand everything currently, and it freaked you out how bad you wanted to cry.

The car’s engine was slowly creeping behind you, and you snapped your eyes shut, hoping that it would pass you; you didn’t want to be around anyone at this moment. You just wanted to walk — you had no idea where you were going, and you didn’t care as long you were away from everyone.

You slowly opened your eyes and saw the car driving past you, and you exhaled a breath you were holding. But then you felt the wind get knocked out of you as you saw the car approaching you in reverse. Feeling a mix of confusion, sadness, and rage all at once, you wanted to throw up, but you managed to keep yourself calm as the car slowly drove next to you and the passenger window was down.

“Are you okay?”

You glance to your left and see a dirty-blonde-haired man sitting in the driver's seat and glancing at you. You had to admit he was attractive, but you could be near. Your emotions were all over the place, and you didn't want some totally stranger being in the middle of that.

“Um—” You almost jump about how normal your voice sounds. It doesn't sound raspy or gruff, just your normal voice.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” You dismissed.

“Are you sure? I mean, I could take you back to my room and make sure you are safe— It’s no —”

“I’m okay, sir. Just a little out of it.” As persistent as this guy was, you didn't want him to be in the middle of this experience; you needed to be alone, not held up in some guy's room.

You suddenly hear his car screech as he stops and gets out, jogging towards you. He steps in front of you, and you halt your walking.

“Let me help — you need it. Whatever you are going through, you shouldn't go through it alone.”

You couldn't tell if the man’s tone was genuine or commanding, but you wanted to cry either way. You nodded your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

The man guides you to his car and opens the passenger door for you. As you slip into the passenger seat, he closes the door. He was walking around the car and returning to his previous position — closing his door and looking at you. You reluctantly smile at him.

“Is that blood on your shirt?”

You glance at your shirt and look back at the man. “It’s mine?” You shrug.

You were in a motel bathroom shower, letting the water hit the top of your head as it dribbled down your body. The sadness you felt eventually disappeared as the drive here calmed you down. You found out what the name was — it was Dean. And that he was looking at his brother — younger brother, and has a love for rock music.

You weren't feeling the sadness, but you were feeling another feeling, and you couldn’t figure out what it was, and it was bugging you a bit.

The hot water weaved around your body almost like a dress made of water, and it was the heat you needed. You were sick and tired of being cold; you miss feeling warm. The soap leaving your body made a creek of bubbles and water. It almost looked majestic in your eyes, and you appreciated how it looked for a second that you were fine, but how you felt wasn't okay.

Turning the faucet off and letting the rest of the water go down the drain, your feet hitting the porcelain tile ceramic flooring as you walk towards the mirror — grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your waist. Bringing your hands towards the mirror, wiping the condensation, and seeing yourself in the mirror, hands on the porcelain sink.

You start to sniffle because of the steam messing with your nose, but you catch the scent of something you’ve never smelled before. You look around the bathroom as you try to find the source of the smell, and you can't seem to see it, but the smell intensifies as you look at the door. Whatever the smell was coming from behind the door.

You open the bathroom door, and the steam above you rises and travels along the ceiling. You see Dean looking at something in his duffle bag. You notice he’s not in the same jacket as before. He’s now wearing a flannel shirt. But with each step toward Dean, the smell becomes more intense and almost deafening in a sense.

Dean hears the floorboards creak behind him, turns around, and sees you in nothing but a towel. “Oh, hey. How was the shower?”

“It was good,” You nod.

“That’s good. I can see you're doing a lot better,” Dean nods.

“Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

“I don't know. But It’s almost intoxicating.”

“Huh, I wouldn't know what you're smelling. That’s how I am with pie though,” Dean chuckles.

You crack a smile and walk around Dean, and that's when the smell draws behind you. You turn your head as Dean walks towards the small table in the room.

“It’s you,” You mutter.

“What?” Dean questions.

“The smell — It’s you.”

“I stink?”

“Well, no, You smell intoxicating, and a sense a strong desire from you and — It’s lust.”

“What’s lust?” Dean asks, confused.

“What I’ve been feeling and this stupid smell and — are you horny, Dean?” You ask.

It was like a teenager who hit puberty. Dean looked defensive and scared at the same time. He didn’t know how to answer your question, so he looked at you.

You walked towards him, wanting to hear his answer, but you couldn't ask him again. You needed him to tell you. “Sorry If I overstepped my boundaries, Dean. But I would like to know.”

Dean scoffed, crossing his arms. “So what? I’ve been horny for the past couple of days. My hand isn’t helpin’ as much as I think it is.”

“You need help?”

“From who? I’ve been so busy. I can barely find the time for anyone.”

You unwrap your towel, and your cock sprung out hard as a rock, walking toward Dean, who can't seem to stop glancing at your cock. “From me, you could use me any way you want.” Days ago, you would’ve never had the confidence to tell anyone this, but this feeling sent you into overdrive, and you needed to get rid of it one way you could only think of.

Your hand finds Dean’s denim-covered cock already hard. As you rub your hand against the material, Dean inhales a breath and exhales a shaky breath. You unbutton Dean’s jeans and slide them down to his ankles. His cock leaps from the constriction his pants were torturing with. You were on your knees, and you took the tip of Dean’s cock in your mouth.

Dean slowly made his head go back as he enjoyed your warm mouth on his throbbing cock. He forgot how this felt; he hadn’t felt this relaxed in so long, and you provided him with a number one muscle relaxer.

His hips slowly start going back and forth into your mouth. You lightly gag on the tip as his thrusts hit the back of your throat. You notice Dean breathing through his plump lips; your cock throbs seeing him like this.

“Damn, baby. I’ve missed this so much,” Dean groaned.

You slip his cock out of your mouth, lick the slit of his dick, and he moans. You could taste the light pre-cum forming from it.

“Such a fuckin’ tease. I should fuck you just for that,” Dean seethed.

“I did say you could use me, so why not?” You shrug. You attempt to slide Dean’s cock inside your parted lips. He lifts you from your armpits and makes you stand up. Dean glances down at your cock and sees pre-cum leaking from your cock.

“I can see how badly you want this, so I'm going to make sure you get it." Dean kisses you passionately as his height makes you feel safe and protected, feelings you never thought you would feel again.

Your calves hit the back of the bed frame. You sit down on the edge of the bed — breaking the kiss. “Head on the pillows, now!” Dean commanded.

You comply with his command, and on your hands and knees, you crawl towards the pillow on Dean’s bed — Dean smacking your ass as you crawl to the pillow.

Dean takes his jeans off around his ankles, boots, and flannel. As he sees you lying on your back in the middle of his bed, his cock twitches, seeing the beautiful sight before him. He crawls after you and kisses you passionately, your cocks rubbing together, making this moment more intense than it already is.

Dean’s kisses trail down from your lips to your jaw and neck. Dean starts to nibble on your neck, and you whimper in retaliation — gripping the sheets, you feel your teeth getting outstretched — making you scared a little bit. Releasing your grip makes your teeth go back into their original shape.

Dean’s lips travel to your nipples as he sucks on them and pinches your nipples as he sucks the other one.

His kisses trail lower as his mouth makes contact with your hole. His tongue becomes an explorer, and he wants to explore you more. Your moans sound like music to Dean’s ear as he grips your thighs. “You taste like fuckin’ heaven, baby boy.”

You could cum hearing Dean call you a baby boy again.

Dean crawls up back to your face and adjusts his cock. You exclaim in pleasure as Dean slides his cock deep inside you. With each inch pushing deeper inside you, your moans became the sweet song Dean yearned for. You could feel your walls getting looser and looser; your hole was aching in pleasure.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby boy. Just what I needed,” Dean grunted. Dean was clenching his teeth. It was a sight that made your cock happy. Dean’s thrust became faster and more intoxicating with each passing moment.

“Fuck, Dean. You’re hitting so deep.” Your pre cum was rubbing against your naval. “Your pussy wraps around my cock so well, baby. I can't get enough of it,” Dean breathed. Dean leans his head closer to yours and kisses your lips more rough than gentle like last time.

Dean slides his cock out of you and flips you to lay on your stomach. You grip the pillows as he slides his cock in you — slowly.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” You moaned.

“Only the best for my baby boy.”

Dean’s thrust becomes more intoxicating as you feel his balls clap against your ass. Dean makes a handprint on your ass — you yelp in response. You bring your head up, Dean wraps his arm around your neck, and you both share a passionate make-out between thrusts. You moan into each other’s mouths as you feel Dean’s cock twitch inside you.

“Baby, I’m going to overflow your ass with my cum,” Dean growls. Dean lets your neck go but pushes your head onto the pillow. You roll your head to the side to avoid suffocating. Your body starts to slide down, and you stop at an absolute point. The tip of your cock starts rubbing against the sheets, and you feel the lust almost shoot out of you.

“Dean, my cock — you're making my cock rub against the sheets,” You whimpered.

“Good, we get to cum together then, baby,” Dean growled.

You feel Dean’s cock get bigger inside you, and the throbbing intensifies. Dean’s thrust becomes more demon-like, and you're enjoying every thrust. You didn't want it to end this soon. Your teeth were feeling outstretched again, but you ignored it. You left your teeth stretched, and you bit down on the pillow.

“Fuck, baby boy. I’m cumming. I’m cummin’, baby boy!” You could feel his cum shoot inside you as you shoot strings of cum on the sheets under you. Dean clashes his hard chest on your back. “Thanks for that, baby boy.”

“Who said it has to end there? I told you that you could use me. I didn't specify for how long.” You turn your head to see a smirking Dean. “Well, then, you better get that pretty ass up. I’m going to fuck you against the wall.”

“That’s what happened hours ago?”

“Yeah?” Theo, your vampire “trainer” friend.

“Wow, does that happen to a lot of new vampires?” You ask.

Theo nods. “But, you should’ve seen me when I first turned.”

“Is that a story for another day?” You question.

“Hell yes.” Theo laughs.

“I would love to hear it then.” You smile.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x male reader #dean winchester x vampire!male reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x male reader #dean winchester supernatural #dean winchester smut #haunted hoedown

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ofstoriesandstardust · 3 months ago

Text

can't take the home out of oklahoma - iiii. (k.c.)

a/n: dear God the behemoth of the crossover fic is finally finished. please remember to be kind in my comments, but of course i'd love to hear what everyone thought :). if you're new here, you can check out the other three parts here

summary: Two years after leaving California, Tyler hears from Jake, asking him to come to his engagement party. With an offer of putting the whole crew up in a hotel for two nights and an off-season lull, Tyler accepts. Two years after leaving California, you finally have to confront Javy.

warnings: background iceman and hangster, happy ending, alcohol, swearing, please remember we are all the villains in someone's story thank you

word count: 13.2k

“So, I was thinking-”

“Dangerous thing.” Kate mutters around a bite of waffle, prompting a fit of giggling from the two of you as Tyler narrows his eyes.

“-I was thinking, instead of heading out to Arkansas straight after the end of the season, we take a road trip.”

“Where you thinking T?” Boone asks as you pick up your coffee cup.

“San Diego, California.”

You freeze, eyes flickering over to the blonde over the rim of your coffee cup, thankful you hadn’t taken a sip of the hot liquid yet.

“What the hell, Owens?” You ask tersely, setting the mug down harder than you intend to, the brown liquid sloshing over the side.

Tyler is pointedly avoiding your look as he sighs, shoulders deflating. “Look, my brother called. He- He’s getting married.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “To Bradley?”

He nods, confirming. “Anyways, they’re having an engagement party out at Brad’s godfather’s. Jake’s invited us, all of us. Offered to put us all up in a hotel for two nights. I was uh- thinking about going.”

“I think I’ll sit this out.” You say quietly, pushing your chair out.

“Yeah, I ain’t so sure it’s the best idea to throw her into all of that.” Dani says, Lilly nodding alongside her.

The girls had been told the story of your fiery departure from your hometown one night this past season, motel beds pushed together, wine drunk and cheap pizza forgotten. You’d told Dexter a week later, while you remarked on your ex-boyfriend’s love for a Louisiana crab boil, after you all had crossed into Louisiana to follow a storm.

“Jake asked specifically about you.” Tyler admits quietly.

You sigh, glancing up at the ceiling. “I don’t think the rest of them care to see me.”

“We’ll make it work, okay? I ain’t gonna let anybody come at you.” Tyler pleads and you sigh again.

You look at him for a moment but that’s all you need. It’s clear that Jake reaching out, asking him to come to this monumental event, means a great deal to him and you know as his family, it’s only right to step up to the plate for Tyler, no matter how uncomfortable it might make you.

You know Tyler would do the same for you in a heartbeat.

“Okay, T. I’ll go with you guys.”

His grin is splitting as Boone whoops, already chattering about the beach.

“I ain’t promising to be nice to them.”

Your words don’t even phase Tyler.

“Wouldn’t even dreaming of asking that of you, kid.”

The blue water sparkles as you peer out the window, the golden sunlight making it shine.

“Jesus, I forget how blue it is.” You whisper to yourself as you take in downtown.

The skyscrapers peer down back at you, the boats in the bay dotted across the docks. In the distance, you can see the outlines figures of the USS Midway and the Star of India.

“How you feeling?”

You shake your head, looking back at Kate. “It’s weird, kind of. Disorientating. I remember the first time I came home from college, it’s kind of like that. It all looks the same but the world kept turning after you left. Life kept going even though you’re not there to witness it.”

She reaches out to squeeze your hand from the back of the truck. “I get what you mean.”

Tyler glances at the two of you from his position in the drivers seat. The group had elected to take the van and your car, the SUV you’d bought last winter after you’d gotten sick of sharing Kate’s own storm chasing truck.

Tyler’s red truck and Kate’s pickup had just not suited themselves to a cross country road-trip, which led you and Kate to driving most of the way. Tyler had finally corralled you into giving him the keys, under the condition you would sit passenger seat and give him directions.

“Hey T, can we stop and get food before this thing?”

Boone’s voice crackles over the radio and Tyler grabs it. You hadn’t really needed a radio of your own, but Boone and Tyler had insisted, outfitted the whole thing themselves. It sort of made you feel like a kid again, shouting across the room with your siblings in lieu of having walkie talkies while you played — everything followed with an OVER.

“I think they’re gonna feed us there Booney.”

“Tyler, I am a starved woman. You rushed us out of breakfast this morning and we’ve been up before the sun was. It’s almost three in the afternoon and California already said we’ve got a decent drive across the city to get to this place. We’re stopping.” Dani’s voices comes through and Kate lets out a laugh from her seat.

“Know any good places California?”

You light up at Boone’s question, reaching for the radio but Tyler holds it just out of reach.

“If you suggest In-N-Out one more time, I will drive this car into the ocean, so help me God.”

Niall Horan’s voice floats softly through the speakers as the car creaks to a stop in front of a familiar house.

Your stomach flips as the barbecue from a locally owned joint near your Mom’s threatens to resurface. You distantly recall telling the group you’d been friends with the owners daughter in high school in a sad attempt to drown out Boone’s loud voice saying it would never be as good as Cathy’s.

“You good California?” Javi asks and you startle, not even having realized you’d pulled yourself from the car. “You’re looking a little queasy there.”

“Nerves.” You breathe and Kate takes your hand, squeezing it.

“Thought you said they were nice.” Lilly says.

“They are.” Just not to me.

“This is quite the affair.” Dexter comments, glancing around the street as you walk up the road. “There’s hardly any spaces left.”

“Bradley’s family is big.” You blurt out. “Lots of retired pilots who are probably thrilled to see their Baby Goose get married. Lots of friends from the service too I’m guessing.”

“I wouldn’t want to be footing the bill for that wedding.” Dani whistles.

The group begins to chatter and you wince, feeling your stomach roll as you step onto the grass.

“You got this.” Kate whispers as you follow Tyler to the front porch. Tyler reaches out to press the doorbell, only to pull back at the last second.

You raise your eyebrows. You don’t think you’ve seen the Tyler Owens cower back down from anything, much less a doorbell separating him from his twin.

“You do it.” He says to you, stepping back.

“Me do it?” You ask incredulously. “You want to be kicked out before we ever step foot inside?”

“I’ll do it.” Kate volunteers. She rings the doorbell, a short buzz followed by the sound of an I got it Mom! from somewhere inside behind the closed door.

The door opens a few minutes later, revealing the now-taller daughter of Penny Benjamin. She blinks at the rag-tag crew. “Can I help you?”

“Hi. I’m Kate and this is Tyler, we’re here for-“ Kate cuts herself off under the rather impressive stare of Amelia. Kate tugs on your arm, pulling you into view. “Here, you talk to the scary teenager.”

“Hi Amelia.” You say softly.

Amelia’s face lights up at the sight of you, exclaiming your name, drawing the attention of Tom as he rounds the corner to see who was at the door. Tom appears over her shoulder, nudging the girl back inside the house.

“Tell Jake his brother’s here!” Tom calls after her before turning his attention back to your crew. “You must be Tyler and his crew. Jake mentioned that you guys would be stopping by. They’re all out in the back playing dogfight football.”

Dogfight football? Tyler mouths to you as you all step inside the foyer. You shrug at his confused look.

Long story you mouth back.

“Anyways, I’m Tom, I’m one of Brad’s godfathers. I can take you all out to the back to meet the group?”

You let your friends filter in front of you, hanging by the entrance to the kitchen and living room area.

“I’m just gonna…” You mutter, letting your friends file out the glass door after Amelia and Tom. Penny gives you an unimpressed look from where she catches sight of you at the kitchen island and you give a sheepish shrug, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Selfish self-perseveration, sue me.”

Pete glances up at you from one of the cabinets at the sound of your voice, lighting up as he does. “Well kid, I do have to say we never expected to see you again.” He holds out his arms and you grin, taking the invitation for a hug.

If there was anything you’d learned about Pete Mitchell in the two and a half years you’d spent around his pilots, was that he offered Dad hugs to anyone at any chance he got. And boy, were they some of the safest hugs you’d ever had.

“Hi Pete.” You say into his shoulder as he squeezes you.

He pulls back, studying you. His thumb ghosts over a new scar on your cheek (thanks to an ill-timed rocket from Boone) and taking in the new piercings. “You look good kid.”

“Thanks.” You breathe, unable to stop the genuine smile at earning his approval.

His hand rests on your shoulder, guiding you farther into the kitchen. “Nick and Carole are outside with Coyote’s Dad and brother getting all the fixings grilled up. Do you want anything to drink?”

You pause, stopping next to Javy’s Mom Lydia. You swallow, unsure of how she’ll react to you as you tell Pete you don’t want anything. He nods, grabbing his glass and nudging Penny towards the back patio after her daughter.

“Hi Lydia.” You say softly. She studies you for a moment before pulling you into a tight hug. You melt into her touch, knowing you had accepted you may never get it again.

You think of all the times you’d gotten the same hug from her, the innate soft care and compassion the woman had offered you, the same one she’d passed down to her son.

You pull back, smiling at Javy’s sister-in-law (it seems like James had finally put a ring on it) and the little boy she holds in her arms. “Hi Scarlet.”

The girl gives you a big grin. “How you doing?”

“I’m good.” You answer. “Yeah, I’ve been good.”

She smiles. “Good to hear.” She glances over Lydia’s shoulder. “Would you want to hold baby Jameson here for a minute while Dia and I go grab something from outside?”

Your eyes grow wide. “You want me to hold your baby?”

She shrugs. “I trusted you enough back then, I doubt I can’t trust you now.”

You swallow, nodding. “Yeah, yeah of course.” You take the boy gingerly from her arms as he grins up real big at you. The boy only has two teeth but it looks like the nub of a third is growing in. “You and James make really cute babies.”

“I know.” She says smugly, before heading outside with Lydia.

You bounce the baby in your arms gently, cooing at him softly.

“I sort of feel like I’m watching some alternate version of my future right now.” You gasp, whipping towards the sound of the voice.

Leaning up against the doorjamb is Javy.

The same Javy you’d fallen in love with all those years ago, a fond and yet pained smile on his face as he sticks his hands in his pockets.

“Self preservation doesn’t work if you’re not outside with all your friends.” You breathe out as Jameson starts making grabby hands for his uncle. Javy walks towards the boy, letting him take his finger. It quickly becomes his new favorite chew toy as he shrugs.

You snort as Javy smiles down at the kid. “Wanted to change. Scarlet knew I was in here so now I’m kinda figuring she left him here with you so we’d have to be civil.” You swallow, all humor leaving you as your eyes dart around the kitchen.

In all the years you’d been gone, the Mitchell-Kazansky house hadn’t changed all that much. Maybe there were a few more pictures on the fridge, a coupon for a new pizza place, new throw pillows on the same worn couch, but the small beach front property that was inherently them had remained the same.

“I don’t- I never expected- How are you here?” Javy asks, finally landing on words after a minute of silence and restarted attempts.

“Jake’s brother.” You say quietly. “I’ve been working with Tyler in Oklahoma.”

Javy reels back, Jameson letting go of his finger as he does. The toddler is quick to shift his attention to your hair, tugging on it. You wince. “Okay, I probably deserve this.” You mutter after a particularly hard yank from the toddler’s fist.

Javy snorts, and you think it surprises him as much as it does you as a shy, goofy smile flickers on his face. “In another life, you were probably his auntie.”

The words are meant to be light-hearted but they’re like an iron punch as the breath gets knocked clean from your lungs.

“Javy-“

“Sorry, that wasn’t funny.” He dismisses as he crosses his arms. “So- Oklahoma huh? You liking it? The countryside is the last place I expected you to end up but you, uh- you look like you’re doing well.”

You swallow around the lump that’s growing in your throat at the grief you’re having to confront earlier than you had anticipated.

“I- Yeah, I like it out there. I’m good. Happy.”

“I’m actually uh, not surprised to hear it. That you’re in Oklahoma. Just surprised at finally getting the confirmation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, about a year ago, Fanboy had one of their streams on. He was just a casual fan, you know, background noise. The camera couldn’t have been on you for more than thirty seconds but I swore it was you. I made him go back and replay it a hundred times, I pulled up a hundred examples from other videos on the channel. The team was so convinced I was starting to lose it that Fanboy got banned from playing those streams anymore. Your hair was shorter in that first video, but I just- I knew it was you.”

You hum, thinking to yourself. You’d appeared in the background of streams and edited videos countless times, but there had only been one haircut in two years. “It must’ve been after the rocket incident.”

His eyes go wide. “The rocket incident?”

“Boone still feels bad and Ty won’t let anyone really bring it up because it makes his blood pressure rise but imagine my surprise when I’m fiddling with something on top on the truck and Boone leans over on the console and accidentally sets off a rocket.”

“That would only happen to you.”

You snort. “I know. Most of the hair on one side was singed off anyways so I took the kitchen shears we have and chopped it all off in the back of the RV after we left urgent care.”

A beat passes as he drums his fingers against the countertop. “Hey, how long are you in town for?”

“We’re supposed to leave sometime tomorrow, we’re gonna stop off in Vegas. Why?”

“I was gonna see if you wanted to stop by the house. I’ve still got, actually quite a lot of your stuff. Like keepsakes and stuff your Mom tried to get rid of. If you wanted to swing by on your way out and pick through it.”

You nod. “Yeah, I should be able to fit that in.” You reach a hand out, nudging his shoulder. “Hey, how was Bob and Sophia’s wedding?”

“The kind of classy country you can only imagine. It was so them.”

“Did you cry?” You tease and he ducks his head.

“Maybe shed a tear or two.”

“Hey, how’s your Mom?” You ask softly.

You remember all too well Javy getting that phone call.

Four days before you were meant to defend your Masters thesis, Javy had gotten a call from his Mom, telling him that she had been diagnosed with DCIS — breast cancer.

It had been non-invasive, thankfully, and after a quickly scheduled surgery, Lydia had expected to have a full recovery.

Still — it had been a terrifying few weeks for Javy and you’d written out and deleted a hundred text messages to him on each anniversary of the diagnosis.

“She’s good.” He says softly. “Still no signs of a return. Thanks for asking.”

You nod. “I think about her a lot. And you, you know. How you all are doing. If she’s healthy, if you’re safe.”

His eyes shine with a feeling you can’t quite name, but can describe only as a response to hearing words he never thought he’d hear but mean more to him then he’ll ever admit.

“I think about you too. If you’re happy, if you’re happier than you were with me. If you found what it was you had been searching for.” He shakes his head, clearing your throat. “Grieving someone who was still alive-“ He lets out a low whistle.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. You know he hears you but he doesn’t say anything, letting the two of you exist in silence as baby Jameson babbles nonsensically.

“I can’t help but ask — you dating anyone?”

The questions feels so stilted as you swallow. You knew he was trying to play at some cool nonchalance but he missed by a mile; it was obvious your answer meant a great deal to him. “I am.” He raises his eyebrows, clearly waiting for more information. “I have a girlfriend.”

“What’s this girlfriend’s name?”

You shake your head. “Don’t think it’s appropriate to bring her into this.”

He sighs, letting his weight rest against the kitchen island. “I guess that’s fair. You were always more mature than me about stuff.”

The two of you sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes, the hollers of his friends from the back patio coming closer. You have a hundred questions for him and he probably has a thousand more for you but you both know you can’t ask them in this moment. His team must have come up off the beach and would probably be headed inside soon. His eyes flicker towards the back door, probably making the same assumptions as you.

“Hey, do- do you think we could talk sometime tonight?” Your eyes flicker over to him, seeing the pain in them so clear. It feels unnatural to not reach out and smooth out the lines in between his eyebrows. “Now’s not the time but I- uh-“ He cuts himself off, shaking his head.

You nod. “Yeah, we can. Just- later, okay?”

You owed him closure. After the way you’d left, with the way you’d burned him, you owed him that at the very least.

Kate would understand.

The backdoor slides open, the pilots shuffling in. Behind them, you can see the Wranglers, save for Kate and Tyler, take hesitant seats on the couches. It looks like Dexter’s still outside.

“Holy shit!” Omaha yells, sliding his sunglasses up. The pilots turn, a bunch of oohs being tossed up.

“Does anybody else get the weird feeling we walked into some weird alternate timeline where her and Coyote got married and had kids?” Payback asks and Javy lets out a low groan.

“Aliens.” Fanboy breathes out and his pilot tosses him a strange look.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Natasha comments.

“Yeah, a really bitchy ghost.” Omaha adds and you turn sharply, plopping the toddler into his uncle’s arms.

“Would you look at that, some things really do never change. I still really hate your friends.”

“Can I have a hug?” Jake blurts out, silencing his friends.

You raise an eyebrow as you give him a once-over. “Um, I guess. If you put a shirt on first.”

Mickey hits his pilot as Jake disappears around the corner. “My alien theory isn’t so weird now, is it?”

Payback winces, rubbing his stomach where Mickey had smacked him. “Nice to see you too Mickey.” You say, rounding the kitchen island.

The boy gives you a nervous smile. It’s an odd look on the boy who’d always greeted you with a wide grin, home-cooked food, and a picture of his new Lego set. It’s an odd look for the kid who’d probably been your favorite of Javy’s friends, and definitely the closest to you, so long as no one said that in front of Bradley. (Bradley Bradshaw had taken it upon himself to name his role in your life as unintentional big brother). “Hey.”

Jake reappears, having tugged one of Bradley’s old Top Gun shirts over his head. “Hi.” He says softly, stopping in front of you. “Can I have a hug now?”

You sigh. “Fine, I guess.”

You’re not sure what you’re expecting from Jake (a hug certainly wasn’t on the table) but his hug is tight, borderline painful as you hesitantly and awkwardly wrap your arms around his much larger and taller frame. You step back as someone clears their throat. Jake lets you go willingly as Boone reaches out for your wrist, tugging you to sit down in between him and Dani.

Jake turns, facing the person who’s just walked into the house.

“Knock knock.” She says and your head turns, catching sight of Lainey’s blond hair. Javi reaches around Boone, nudging your back, reminding you to breathe as Jake’s face lights up. “Wait, there’s two of you?”

“Lainey! Didn’t think you’d make it! Yeah, uh, this is my twin brother Tyler. We, uh don’t talk much.”

“Oh, we know.” You say under your breath, only loud enough for your friends to hear, and Boone spits out a laugh, Javi having to cough into his fist to cover up his own laughter.

Tyler snaps, eyes narrowing, turning to you. “I thought you’d agreed to being on your best behavior.”

“I didn’t say anything!” You defend, which elicits a loud laugh from Dani as Lilly throws out a “Stop being so hard on her T!”

Tyler huffs, his hands fall to his waist and you have to bite back a giggle that eventually falls out anyways when you see Kate doing the same thing.

“You’re such a Dad, T.” You say through a laugh, shaking your head which elicits laughter from the whole group.

Lainey turns as you talk, face softening. “I didn’t think any of us would ever see you again. Where you’ve been?”

“Oklahoma!” Javy shouts from across the kitchen. It sends his friends into an uproar, reeling from the fact.

“See, my aliens theory is looking more and more true!”

Kate doesn’t want to admit that her stomach drops at the sight of your ex quietly slipping out the door after you but she knows it’s warranted given the way all his friends notice.

“What’re the odds she gives Javy another chance?” Jake’s fiancé asks Jake. Jake lets out some discontented noise from the back of his throat before pushing himself off his seat on the floor and meandering into the kitchen.

“I will put money on her coming back. I’m so Team Javy, you know this.” One of the other pilots (Fanboy, her brain recalls).

“I’m team her staying in Oklahoma with her girlfriend. She’s earned that quiet life.” One of the girlfriends (Kaycee, she’s dating Phoenix, you’d run through all the possible attendees with her and Tyler in the car this morning in the quiet calm, dawn barely peaking over the horizon) pipes up with.

“Of course you’re on her side.” One of the others says. “You always liked her more than the rest of us.”

Kaycee’s eyes slide up to the man. “Well yeah, Payback, I was the one consoling at her at every group event when Hangman came down on her and made her feel unwanted. So of fucking course I don’t want her to get back together with the guy

whose friends made her feel like shit.”

“You take that too seriously, K. We were obviously just fooling around, not our fault she’s too sensitive.”

The girl’s eyes narrow at the man. “Omaha, so help me-“

“She’s not your piece of meat to fight over!” Dani finally bursts. The in-fighting stops abruptly as the attention turns to them. “I’m just saying- if she’s happy, can’t you just leave her be? She’s a person, not some object for y’all to fight about.”

The group all but forgets Dani even said anything when the one with the glasses turns back to Bradley. “You really think she’ll take Javy back?”

“A hundred percent. You remember how she used to look at him. And he was ass over teacups for her. Remember that year she bought him the Saints jersey with his last name on the back and he near lost his mind the first time she stole it to wear?”

“Dude, he wasn’t half as bad dating as he was before. Remember the first time he brought her to the Hard Deck and he insisted he buy every drink for her?” Mickey chimes in.

“I remember when they came to the house for the first time to watch a movie and Mickey kept teasing her about not doing anything on the couch, I thought Coyote was gonna drown Mick in the pool. He was so desperate to impress her and yelled at us for potentially making it so she never talked to him again.” Bob adds through a laugh. “Which she totally did, she fucking loved him from the first time they matched. Remember how his hands used to start sweating cause he got so nervous around her?”

She glances at Javi and Boone next to her, glad to see her own unease is mirrored on their faces. Lilly’s reminder from earlier resurfaces in her mind as she plays with tab on her soda can.

She loves you Kate. She wouldn’t go anywhere in the world you ain’t.

“Coyote’s always had a way with words around her. He’ll say the right thing, tell her he’ll miss her, and she’ll come back just like she was always meant to.” Phoenix comments and she swallows, looking down at her jeans.

Javi and Boone both stand up next to her, a whispered conversation happening she doesn’t care to try and hear as their exit goes unnoticed. The discomfort and unease in her stomach grows, feeling her whole world tilt at the thought that someone may say something to make you realize you’d been wrong to come to Oklahoma, wrong to love her, and that you’d go back to the place you had belonged this whole time.

She catches Tyler’s eye, a stormy look growing on his face.

I don’t like this, it says.

She didn’t either.

“See, I’d ask if you’re just taking a breather, but I know you, so you’re definitely hiding.”

Your eyes shoot up at Javy as he gently shuts the front door to the house, moving to sit down on the porch swing across from where you’re resting your weight on the porch railing.

“Yeah, well, when they start eating my food straight from my hands I think I have to bow out.”

He grins at the memory.

Just half an hour ago, you’d been trying to shove Boone off of you as he attempted to take a bite of your burger, crowded up into Lilly and Dani’s space more than they probably ever wanted you to be. Javi had leaned over, taking a huge bite of burger as it had been sitting in your hand farthest away from Boone’s reach and you’d frozen in shock when you’d seen what he’d done out of your periphery.

Dexter had tried to save face, over the sound of Dani yelling about how foul the move was, by saying that usually the lot of you were much more civilized but Tyler and Kate had immediately refuted it with a unified no, we ain’t. It had been all the encouragement you needed to plop what was left of the burger in Javi’s hand and to disappear outside.

“They seem to really like you. That one, Boone, was telling me we weren’t allowed to have you back. You’re theirs now.”

You sigh, crossing your arms. “They’re- they’re really good to me. They’re family.”

“I’ll admit that’s kind of hard to hear. Rooster and Fanboy kinda seem to be under the impression that you still might come back. Mav too. If I play my cards right.”

You let out another sigh, looking away from him. “Javy, don’t even go there. Please don’t start that with me, cause you aren’t gonna like what I have to say.”

He shifts, bending to lean on his knees as he does his best to catch your eye. “What can I say to fix this? What can I say to convince you to come home?”

“Oklahoma is my home!” You insist, feeling frustration begin to tighten in your chest.

“No the hell it isn’t. How many times did you say your heart belonged here? How many times did you say you were meant for city living by the beach? And now you’re telling me that you live on a farm in the middle of buttfuck nowhere Oklahoma and you just what, love your life? I don’t believe that. Not for a minute.”

A whimper of frustration slips out as your hands come down to scrub your face. “Javy.” You say shakily. “I am happy to have any kind of closure conversation you need to have to find peace and move on. But if this is going to be about you trying to convince me to come back to a life I don’t want anymore, then I will go back inside.” You say, mustering up a calm tone you don’t feel and he reels back as if you’ve hit him.

“I just don’t understand.” He says softly and your shoulders deflate. “I love you. You were my whole world, I wanted everything with you. I don’t understand. Help me understand.”

His voice cracks and the lump in your throat from earlier reappears. “I was- I was unhappy for a really long time Javy.”

He immediately shakes his head, cutting you off. “No, no that’s bullshit. I know that’s bullshit. C’mon, was there someone else?”

“Are you insinuating I fucking cheated on you?” You near shout, straightening up.

“Well!” He matches the raise in voice, standing up from the porch swing.

“That’s bullshit.” You say. “If I recall, I was 25, working a dead end barista job because the masters degree I went into thousands of dollars of debt for proved to be useless with a boyfriend who let his friends walk all over me! I didn’t just wake up that day and decide I was miserable Javy! It was a slow build, a build you contributed to!”

The front door opens and shuts and you spare a glance to see Boone and Javi lingering by the front door.

Later, they’ll confess to you that the only reason they’d ventured outside to interrupt the conversation is because the pilots inside had gotten so smug in their surety that Javy would convince you to leave Oklahoma to be with him, they’d started to worry about you being alone on the porch.

Javi had hastily assured you that they didn’t think you couldn’t handle yourself, but he was afraid he’d hit all your guilty spots, Boone sure he’d say all the things you’d wanted to hear back then, and you’d leave the Wranglers without so much as backwards glance. They’d wanted you to know they had your back.

They’ll admit it was selfish of them and Dani will tell them they’re stupid for not remembering how much you love your life here, and you’ll tell them that you’re not angry, that their intentions had been good.

All their presence does now in this moment though is piss your ex-boyfriend off as he throws his hands up. “Can’t even have one conversation without your little fucking guard dogs, huh? Little side pieces behind your girlfriend’s back?”

“Stop it.” You say sternly. “Stop going there. You know I was never unfaithful to you, you know that I never would’ve done that.”

“I don’t know if I ever knew you at all. Not really. So yeah, who’s to say if you aren’t a cheater if you were quietly miserable enough to dump me and run halfway across the country.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “God, you��re not listening to me. You didn’t listen to me then, you don’t listen to me now.”

“All I ever did was fucking listen to you! You never shut up!”

Boone lets out a “Hey man!” alongside Javi’s “Whoa there.”

“Don’t talk to her like that man.” Boone says. “Have some respect, that there’s a lady and she was a lady you cared a lot about, so be nice.” Boone drawls.

Your ex fixes him with a glare that would’ve made a weaker man whimper, but Boone isn’t one to back down. He drives into tornados and shoots rockets at them for fuck’s sake.

Unintentionally or not, Boone’s intervention gives you the pause you need to take a deep breath and collect yourself. “Javy.” You start, softer this time. His eyes snap over to yours. “I understand the anger and frustration and the confusion. I know that I left rather suddenly and I never gave you any explanation as to why. But you have to know, we were fighting all the time and I was so unhappy, not just in my relationship with you, but in my job and myself. And after Texas, I snapped. It was a catalyst event that permanently altered the course of my life.”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “The fuck does Texas have to do with anything?”

You sigh. “You keep saying that you still love me, yeah? The problem with that Javy is that you’re in love with a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore. That girl that you loved died in Texas and she’s never coming back.”

“I still don’t understand.” You sigh, licking your lips as you glance at your friends. Javy’s voice is rising again but you know that you’ll never be able to get him to understand the truth without blowing up Jake’s spot. And truthfully, maybe it’s long past due. “We were in love, we were happy, you were my best friend. We go to Texas for Bob’s bachelor party and three days later, you’re dumping me to go hop on a plane to Oklahoma to never be seen again. That doesn’t make any fucking sense! What the hell does Texas have to do with anything?!”

You move faster than you let your brain think about it, sliding through your friends as you push open the front door, striding through the foyer. You catch Bradley’s eye as you do so and he straightens. “Where the fuck is Jake?”

Jake comes into view as he shuts the fridge, turning to face you. “What?” He asks tiredly, but judging by the look on his face, you think he already knows.

“I want you to be honest.” You say, every bit of the calm you’d tried to collect slipping through your grasp as you inch closer to Dani and Lilly. “Tell them the truth about what happened in Texas.”

“Are we really doing this?” He asks, plopping down on one of the bar stools by the kitchen island.

“You owe me, Seresin. After everything you put me through, you owe me.”

Jake sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face as Javy’s head swings wildly between the two of you.

Just when you’re about to turn and accept the villain narrative these men had decided for you, Jake sighs again. “I asked her to lie about the rodeo.” He says quietly. “We never made it to shelter.”

“So? A little wind, a little rain, that’s your excuse for going off the deep end?” Javy snaps but Jake isn’t finished.

“We watched Steven die.”

The silence that follows is one you never want to experience again as the whole room tunnels in on Jake. Lilly stands up, Dani not far behind her, nudging you towards the door and silently talking over your head to your friends but you feel rooted to your spot.

“What?” Lainey asks first, pushing her self up as she takes shaky breaths. “You- you saw him die? And you never told me?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that Jake?” Bradley asks quietly, a quiet concern and cool anger laced into the words.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t know if I was trying to protect her or me but I did it anyways. It’s why I gave her Tyler’s number.” He says, finally raising his eyes to meet the room. “I’m the one who gave her Tyler’s info. When she dumped Coyote that day, I knew she was a serious flight risk in more ways than one and I- I knew if I could get her to Tyler, he’d take care of her. I knew she’d be safe with Ty. And I mean obviously he did.” He says, waving a hand at his brother and Kate. “I owed it to her after all this times I said those things about y’alls sex life, all those times I made fun of her behind your back. I mean, everything I said about her age or about how you guys wouldn’t work long-term so you guys would break up-“ Jake cuts himself off, sniffing. “I was awful to her under the guise of trying to be a good friend but I was a rotten friend and a rotten person and I’m sorry.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You expect it to be Javy but it’s Tyler and you think you can see his hand shake as he pulls himself off of the couch.

“Genuinely, you haven’t changed a day. You’re still that same piece of shit you were then, when you couldn’t bother showing up to our grandparents funeral, the people who raised us, because of some stupid little trophy. You’re out here a decade later making a poor girl in her twenties who was simply trying to exist with the guy she loved feel like her life isn’t worth living anymore, that she doesn’t offer anything of value to this world.”

“But, I mean- it worked out right? she’s been with you guys and she’s happier than she’s ever been in her whole life.”

“Oh, sure no, it worked out.” Javi intervenes. “If you discount the irreversible trauma and her inherent belief that she would always, eventually, force the people around her to see her as a burden, then yeah, it totally worked out.”

“Which we’re still working on undoing, by the way. Thanks for that. ” Dani comments dryly.

“Okay, hey, hold on- that’s not all on Jake.” You interrupt and Bradley’s head swings towards you.

“Are you seriously fucking defending him right now?”

“I’m defending him because that’s wrong! What Jake did didn’t do anything other than reinforce an idea I have held about myself my whole life, Bradshaw! But you don’t get that, just like you never got it back then! You had two parents who loved you unconditionally and friends and all the support in the world! I’ve never had that! I grew up with a piece of shit family, I grew up with awful friends and an even worse ex-boyfriend, and you people refused to ever understand the life I came from! Don’t pin that all on Jake!”

Lilly tugs on your arm, telling you to breathe and it’s the first time you realize you’re even crying.

In a flash, you dig the keys for one of the cars out from Lilly’s pocket, turning on your heel. Your friends call out after you but you don’t listen to them as you wipe tears from your eyes, vision blurry as you make your way towards the car.

And then someone’s there, wrestling the keys from your grasp.

It’s Javi.

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” He says softly. “I just- don’t want you driving right now.”

You nod, climbing into the car passenger seat. Once you’re in, Javi reaches over the console to give you a hug. It’s at an awkward angle and you can’t stop crying, but it’s warm and safe and all you need in that moment.

“You’re gonna be okay, California. We got you.”

“Where did you guys go?”

Boone asks from his spot on the couch. He’s leaned up against Lilly, feet on Dani’s lap as Dexter putters around the kitchenette in your two bedroom suite Jake had paid for.

“The beach.” Javi says, setting the keys on the entryway table.

“Where’s Ty and Kate?” You ask.

It goes eerily quiet. “Um, they had to run an errand.” Boone says after a long minute.

“I’m too tired to even unpack that.” You say, running a hand down your face. “I’m going to go shower.”

You slip inside to the bedroom you and Kate had been sharing with Dani and Lilly, walking into the bathroom. After shedding your clothes, you step into the hot water. It soothing against your skin as you bite back a yawn.

You’d told Javi to pick a beach, any beach, and the two of you had found a picnic table over looking the shore as you looked out at the moonlit waves.

It had been a quiet, grounding peace that had settled over you as you had reviewed the events of the night. Javi’s quiet voice mixed with the crashing of the waves, soothing you as he talked about Miami, and the Tornado Tamers, and the military, and a hundred different things.

Now though, in the lull of noise, save for the quiet murmurs of your friends through the wall, guilt prickles at you underneath your skin, heavy and all consuming.

It’s second nature, autopilot, climbing out of the shower and tugging on Kate’s sweatshirt, blindly pulling out a pair of sleep shorts from one of your bags. The bed that had once looked so appealing no longer looks comfortable as you have to work considerably to swallow around the rapidly growing lump in your throat.

You open the door right as Kate and Tyler return to the hotel room. Tyler gives you a grin as he waves a bag in the air. “Look where we trekked to. Surprise.”

Normally, you would’ve grinned and laughed and said I’d pay good money to see the Midwesterners in an In-N-Out but now all you can do is shrink into Kate’s sweatshirt as you get the overwhelming feeling that you don’t deserve this.

You don’t deserve Kate, you don’t deserve this team. Not this job you loved so much, not this life you’d carved out for yourself.

Kate’s face falls as she closes the distance between the two of you. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so tired of feeling guilty.” You gasp out, a sob you hadn’t expected coming out. It leaves you scrambling for breath, coming in ragged pants. “I’m tired of feeling guilty for being happy, for having this job, for tricking all of you into thinking that I’m- that I’m worth something. I’m so tired of- of feeling guilty for leaving him and- and I’m tired of feeling guilty for living.”

Kate’s hug is tight, almost as if she lets go, you’ll slip right through her fingers. “Sweetheart.” She whispers into your shoulder as you hesitate to wrap your arms around her.

“I don’t feel like I deserve it. I don’t feel like I deserve any of it. I didn’t feel like I deserved it then and I don’t feel like I deserve it now.”

Kate lets you go, a soft look coming over her face as her hands find your face. You feel like you look worse than you ever have, tears sliding down your face, choking on your own words and sobs and snot.

“Baby…” She says, so soft and tender, in that way that’s all Kate and usually makes you blush, makes you feel more seen then you ever have in your entire life. “You’ve had one hell of a go at life, I’ll admit you got a rough set of cards. But you- you went through something traumatic and you made the only decisions you could at the time. Those people- they’re angry at you because they feel bad for their friend cause he got hurt. And maybe we’re all a villain in someone else’s life but you shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what you need to do for you.” She takes a deep breath. “You didn’t deserve to die for him any more than I deserved to die for my friends. And for the first time, I really mean that. We don’t deserve to suffer or feel pain for the rest of our lives because of it, you know? It’s okay for us to continue to live and laugh and love — our mistakes, they don’t define us. We don’t have to live there.” Kate’s eyes are pleading, begging you to hear her and understand her; to believe her.

You nod as she swipes a thumb to wipe away a tear.

“You would never blame me for what my happened to my friends. You’d never say I should suffer in pain or in a life of exile because of it. You’d tell me for what it is — that it was a freak accident and it was out of your control. You can’t spend the rest of your life in those haunted what ifs and I know you’d never want that for me either.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is gravely, raw, but you can’t even focus on it as Boone’s lanky arms wrap around your frame. “Yeah, I hear you.”

“Sides, even if it were your fault-“

“Boone!” Lilly chides, even as she wraps her own arms around you.

“I ain’t saying it is! You people, you always assume the worst outta me-“

“Get to the point!” Javi’s exhausted voice comes from the kitchen. You snort, leaning your head into Boone’s shoulder.

“Get on with it, Booney.” You whisper.

“‘M just saying, even if it were your fault, it don’t change that your part of our family now. Always gonna be, no matter where them wind or tornados take us. Or what some stupid Navy guy says about you for that matter.”

Boone squeezes you before he steps back. Lilly lets you go, albeit hesitantly and you wipe your nose on the sleeve of Kate’s sweatshirt. Javi’s hand finds your back, wrapping you into a tight hug as you turn.

“You gotta start letting yourself believe you’re worthy of good things.” He mumbles into your sweatshirt. “Trust me, I- I get it okay. It was just as rough for me when I left StormPar, but Boone’s right. We’re a family.”

You nod into Javi’s shoulder, squeezing the man before letting him go. You wipe your eyes, taking a breath. “Okay, okay, I think I’m good. Just been a hell of a night.”

Javi nods and the room breaks into quiet chatter as the bags of food get passed around, burgers getting split up among the group.

Tyler grabs your arm as you pad over to sit on the couch next to Kate. His hug is tight, the smell of cedar and campfire lingering on his flannel a far cry from the smell of jet fuel and whiskey that followed his brother.

“You saved my life T.” You say quietly, even though no one would be able to hear you through the conversation at the couch. “The Wranglers saved my life. I hope you know that.”

He squeezes you. “Nah, kid. We just loved you enough for you to see why you should stay. The saving part was all you.”

“I need to go run an errand.” The table looks up at you, pausing around mid-conversation, breakfast plates forgotten. “So you guys can head out on the road ahead of us.”

“What’re you up to?” Boone asks.

You shake your head. “There’s just something I gotta do before we head out.”

“Some unfinished business?” Javi asks.

“Something like that.”

The weather is unusually dreary, rain drizzling down on and off as you make the drive over the Coronado bridge. You park in front of the boys house, turning the key in the ignition as you turn to face Tyler and Javi in the backseat.

“I’m not sure how long this is gonna take, but I’ll be back.”

“Man, what am I supposed to do to entertain myself?” Javi moans and Kate turns, giving him a sharp glare.

Late last night, after everyone had fallen asleep, you’d admitted to Kate that you didn’t think you could leave things with him like that, that you couldn’t live with yourself if you never gave him the closure he so desperately needed.

Kate had told you, voice muffled, that she understood. That she’d stand by you in whatever conversation you wanted to have with him.

“Go take a walk for all I care. It’s a nice neighborhood.” You say, before wrenching the car door opening, cutting off Javi’s bemoaned But it’s raining! as you slam it harder behind you than you normally ever would’ve allowed it to.

You wince, already hearing Tyler scold you in your head as you stride up the expansive driveway, saying a silent thank you that Javy’s beat-up truck is sitting in the driveway.

You force yourself to take a deep breath as you knock on the door. The blue paint is peeling more than ever you note, before it swings open, revealing Mickey. He’s donned in basketball shorts and a muscle tee and must’ve just come back from a run, based on the sweat and rain accumulated on him.

He almost doesn’t seem surprised to see you.

“Hey.” He says, leaning against the door.

“Hey.” You respond. “Is Javy here?”

He nods, opening the door enough to let you inside and the oak shuts firmly behind you as you follow him through the familiar foyer to the couches in the living room.

“You guys are not much for redecorating.”

Mickey groans. “Kid, the fact that we’ve gotten anything on the walls as long as we lived in this place is a miracle in and of itself, you know that.”

Despite the situation, you snort, recalling when the boys had enlisted you to build Mickey’s desk one time two years into them living here. “Oh, I remember.”

“Coyote!” Mickey shouts up the stairs as you arrive next to the couch, nudging Jake. He gives you a soft smile, pushing himself up to give you a quick hug.

“I’m really sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

Jake shakes his head. “‘S my fault. You and I both know there was probably no other outcome than that.”

The fabric of his Texas sweatshirt is soft as he squeezes you, letting you go as you hear footsteps on the stairs.

You sigh, turning catching sight of your ex turning the corner. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of you and he tugs on the edges of his Saints sweatshirt.

He’s nervous, you realize. The taste of that truth is bitter and acrid on your tongue.

“We need to talk.” You say with more stern bravado then you feel and you force yourself to soften as Mickey lets out a low whistle. “And you, uh, said you had some of my stuff.”

“We have all of your stuff.” Mickey comments into his protein shake. “It’s all in Bob’s old room.” He points with a finger over his shoulder, but you still know the way.

You head in the direction to Bob’s room, tugging on the sleeve of Javy’s hoodie as you do.

He follows you, shutting the bedroom door behind him as you scan the room. “When did Bob move out?” You ask as you pull a box out, sifting through the books.

“Like two or three months after you left. Think he had plans to move out earlier but uh-“ Javi pauses and your eyes flicker up to study him. “I think they were concerned I’d do something stupid to myself if it was too much change at once.”

You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you squat and brace yourself against the box. “Javy.” You breathe out.

“I’m really sorry about how last night went.” He says as he leans up against one of the taller stacks of boxes. “My Mom’s pretty pissed at me for how I handled myself. I’m mad at myself too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. Drinking or not, you didn’t deserve it. I was just- confused and frustrated and so hopeful it made me scared. I guess I never prepared myself for what it would be like to see you again, even though clearly-“ He says, gesturing to the room. “I always let myself keep that door open.”

“Why did you keep this shit anyways?” You ask. “You coulda let my Mom toss all this shit out.”

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t have. I- I always thought maybe you’d come home. That when you did come home, you’d roll your eyes about your Mom and want your stuff back. Fools hope I guess.”

You let yourself fall to the floor in a cross-crossed position, scrubbing a hand down your face. “Javy, I am so sorry about how I left. You deserved a lot better than that from me, after everything you did for me. But I was scared and I ran and you got caught in that.”

“Every day since then, I’ve wondered what it was about me that wasn’t enough to make you stay. Did I not love you right? Did I do something to hurt you? Did I not stop when I should’ve?” He takes a sharp breath at the thought that he might’ve pushed you too far while being intimate as being your reason for running. “Every night for two years, I’ve laid in bed at night, going over every single detail. But last night, after hearing that it was Jake’s fault, I’ve gone over every what if. What if he had listened to you? What if he hadn’t taken you? What if I hadn’t gotten drunk that night before or- or had convinced you to stay? What if you had stayed home from the trip; what if Sophia had never asked you to be a bridesmaid? What if-“

“Javy, stop.” You stay sternly, pushing yourself up off the floor. “You can’t live in those what ifs. They’ll drive you fucking crazy. You can’t keep living in the past. And it ain’t Jake’s fault, much as we would all, himself probably included, like to lay the blame on him. We can’t go back and change it and we can’t live in that history neither. What happened, happened.”

He lets out a breath. “You’re handling this better than me.”

“I’ve had two years to process it. I’ve had two years in a new town with a new job and a new partner and new friends to heal from all of it. You haven’t even had two days to grapple with the truth.” You say as you pop the lid on the box. Your eyes scan the room as you let him process the information, trying to catalogue all that he has, what you need and what you don’t.

“My Niall Horan shirt!” You exclaim, wrestling a box out of the corner of the room. “I’d been wondering what happened to this!” You pop the lid off, subsequently discovering your American Girl doll. “And Julie! I remember that year I went as her for Halloween and brought her over here. She was the highlight of the party for all the drunken idiots.”

“That was the year of the dolls.” He comments from behind you.

“Yeah, yeah, cause you guys all went as Ken dolls, except for Mickey, who went as Carlos from Big Time Rush, and I finally had to explain to you who they were after I made that joke, that they were the greatest boy band of our generation, on our second date.”

“It’s crazy to think about now, how the yahoos could all see how I felt about you and I was still insisting we were just friends.”

“Oh, enough time has passed. We can admit now that we weren’t just friends. We made out too much, in public no less, for that to be anywhere near platonic.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute and you turn, worried you’ve gone too far. His eyes are glassy, a fond smile on his face.

“I really loved you, you know that?”

“Javy…”

He gives a half-shrug, looking down. “You can say what you want about being unhappy, about needing to leave, but I hope you know that I really loved you. I really cared about you and I really thought some day you’d come home to me. You were my best friend and I wanted to grow old with you. It just- it just feels like it didn’t mean anything to you.”

A lump grows in your throat as he wipes a few tears away from his cheeks. You look down, unsure if you should admit the truth.

“Javy, I found the ring.”

“W-what?”

“The night we got back from Texas, I accidentally found it. But it- it freaked me out. I was already walking such a fine line those days, so afraid and so mixed up from what happened, already so unhappy and I knew it was over then and there. Because I found it and pictured you getting down on one knee and tried to think of what I’d say and when I knew I’d say no, I knew I needed to end it.”

He lets out a choked sob as you work your throat around the ever-growing lump, knowing you have to finish this conversation, as much as it pains you.

“Javy, of course it meant something to me.” You say, unclenching your hand from where it’s fisted in the dark blue material of the t-shirt. You set the objects down back in the box, taking a few steps towards him. “Javy, I did love you. Really. You were my first real boyfriend, my first serious boyfriend, my first. I thought the world of you and you were my best friend too. Okay, my favorite times were when we would stay up all night laughing or- or all those times we just existed together. But both things can be true — you can have hurt me, I can have been unhappy, and we both can still have loved each other the best we could’ve at the time.” You say, taking another step towards him. “But that’s what I keep trying to tell you. That girl that I was with you, that person you fell in love with, she doesn’t exist anymore. I’m not that version of me anymore.” Javy only looks at you as he cries as you cling to the hope that this time he’ll finally listen.

“Can I have a hug?” He croaks. You nod, reaching out for him and he’s quick to tug you into his embrace, as if you might change your mind waiting a hair of a second longer.

His hug is tight, and you can feel the way his tears wet your pale yellow Oklahoma crewneck, the same way you know you’re soaking his Saints hoodie.

It’s weird, because hugging him doesn’t feel like coming home like it used to.

It’s weird, because it feels like the door on this part of your life is finally shutting behind you.

You think you’re at peace with it.

“You sure you won’t come back?” His muffled voice sounds.

“You know I can’t.” He whimpers as you shake your head. “I’d be coming back to a place that isn’t my home anymore, a life that isn’t mine. Javy, you have to let me go. If not for me, then for yourself.”

“I don’t know how.” He pleads into your shoulder.

“It takes time.” You whisper. “But one day it won’t hurt so much. I promise.”

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stand there, but finally he lets you go, stepping back as his back hits the wall, sliding down. You take that as a sign that you can get back to sorting.

“Hey, you’ve asked me a lot of questions about what’s changed since you been gone. Can I ask you questions about what you’ve been up to?” He asks, voice watery and raw.

“Seems only fair.” You say, squatting down to rifle through a box full of high school memorabilia.

“Are you dating Kate?”

You swallow, glancing at him as you pull out your yearbooks. “Yeah, I am.”

“I figured.”

“How’d you figure it out?”

“She looks at you like how I used to.” He says with a shrug as he stretches his legs out in front of him. Upon seeing your dubious look, he lets out a wet laugh. “She just- she always found a reason to be next to you last night. She always brought you into conversation, looked for you when you weren’t with her, looked for you even when you were with her. It was obvious she cared a great deal about you and I sort of guessed she was who you didn’t want to bring into this.”

You shake your head. “This isn’t her fight. She’s got my back, I know that, but this didn’t need to involve her if I could help it. It was between me and you.”

“She seems cool.” He finally comments after a minute.

“Freaky genius and all the wit to match.”

“Like you.” Your cheeks warm at the compliment as you untangle the honor cords. “She make you happy?”

“Honestly?” You say and he nods. “I see my whole life with her in a way I’ve never seen it before. She’s my best friend and my partner. I love her to death and there’s nowhere in this world I wouldn’t follow her.”

“You guys have any pets?”

“Two dogs and a cat.”

“Jesus, is this farm you live on really a zoo?”

“I think her Mom feels that way sometimes.” You say with a chuckle. “No, the team has Buttons, but he’s really Boone’s if you want to get into it. Ty’s taken on a dog I named Enid by sheer force of will from this dog. And Kate and I adopted a kitten named Peaches about this time two years ago. Ty and I are getting horses in October too.”

“So… you and Kate living together?”

You shake your head. “No. Not yet, anyways. Technically, I got a small two bedroom apartment in Tulsa I rent with the other Javi but he’s almost always somewhere in Arkansas with Boone in the off-season and I spend all my time with Kate on her farm when we aren’t out on the road.”

“They seem like really good people.”

“They’re some of the best. Hey, are you still in touch with Elle?”

Javy’s eyes widen. “Your friend from grad school? Some, why?”

“You should ask her on a date.”

“No- No, I couldn’t.”

You fix him with a look. “Why not? I bet that girl is still enamored with you.”

“She was your best friend, that would be wrong.”

You shrug, setting aside a snow globe. “We ain’t together anymore and Elle and I ain’t friends anymore. And trust me, if you and I hadn’t been what we were when Elle came into my life, Elle would’ve a hundred percent gone after you. And I wouldn’t be mad you know. You deserve to move on.”

“Not with one of your friends.”

You click your tongue. “I’m just saying…”

Kate’s drumming her fingertips on the edges of the door as the minutes tick by, the gnawing in her stomach resurfacing as the time drags on. Javi huffs for the millionth time, blowing a stray curl away from his face as a blue Bronco passes them, pulling up to park in the driveway.

Javi leans forward, peering over the center console to study the two men climbing out of the Bronco through the windshield. “Hey Ty, isn’t that your brother’s fiancé?”

Tyler looks up from his phone, glancing out his window. When he finally responds, his voice is impossibly tight, making her wince. “Kate, where exactly are we right now?”

Upon her non-answer, Tyler pulls himself from the car, a colorful swear leaving his mouth as Javi follows right behind him. She scrambles out of her door, tugging on the two men’s arms. “Stop it.” She pleads, causing them both to turn. “Look, I don’t like it either but I gotta respect the fact that she wants closure. I’d do anything to have that, you know that.”

Tyler yanks his arm back, striding across the lawn towards the two men as they let themselves in the house. Bradley’s eyes are wide as he catches sight of Tyler, shouting into the house.

She groans when Tyler shoulders past Bradley and Pete, Javi still hot on his heels. “I am so sorry about them.” She apologizes to the two men as they shut the front door.

“Tyler.” Jake growls, yanking on his brother’s arm. “I will sit on your head like I did when we were kids.”

“I am not gonna let you do this to her again. For two years, my team has been putting that girl back together, putting together pieces of her you broke.” Tyler snaps, poking his finger into Jake’s chest.

“Yeah? And he’s waited two years for this conversation, to finally get closure. They need this. And if you interrupt it, so help me God.” Jake says as he pushes his brother towards the couch. Jake takes the hint, sitting as Javi hesitantly follows suit. After a few moments of awkward silence, Kate clears her throat, catching Tyler’s eye. She jerks her head to his brother and he shakes his head. She does it again, causing Pete to glance up at her.

“Are you okay, kid?”

“Tyler.” She crosses her arms. “You know she doesn’t want you to leave it like this.”

Jake’s eyes flicker up at her, giving her an eery sense of deja vu. It had been a strange adjustment, seeing a carbon copy of a person they all knew and loved, but yet acted so different. Whereas Tyler was rough around the edges, thick cowboy country accent and swear words that would make milk curdle and friends with everyone, ever the life of the party, Jake had kept a lot to himself the night before. He held himself together, never in anyway that would indicate cracks in his well-maintained image. She saw him let loose a few times with his friends, eager to hear about your and Tyler’s lives, and always polite to the Wranglers but there was a certain detachment from it all that Tyler lacked.

“Tyler, I am sorry.” Tyler grunts, crossing his arms. Jake sighs before trying again. “For all of it. Genuinely. I know you’re thinking I’m real selfish right about now and I’m thinking it too. I’m sure she didn’t let up to the worst of it and I’m really sorry about all of it. But I didn’t call you for some sick or twisted reason of hurting her. I called you here because you’re my brother and I want you here. I want you to see this life that I’ve built for myself, cause I’m finally happy, and I- I want to share it with you.”

“Oh, you mean the life you were too busy building to come to our grandparents funeral? Some life.” Tyler scoffs.

Jake’s shoulders fall. “Ty, I’m sorry.” He whispers. “You’re my brother, you were my best friend, and there hasn’t been a day that goes by that I don’t regret stepping up when it mattered. No stupid trophy or promotion was ever worth losing you.”

Tyler swallows, letting out a deep breath but doesn’t say anything further and Jake clearly accepts that that’s all he’s going to get out of him. He turns to Kate. “Is she happy? With you?”

“Yes.” Javi blurts out. “So happy.”

She peers down at her friend, who has a rapidly growing sheepish grin on his scarlet face. “The way you say that makes it sound like we aren’t happy.”

“Just have to make the point.”

She gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” She turns back to Jake and Bradley. “Yeah, yeah she really is happy.”

“Does this mean I can go back to watching the Wranglers streams now or am I gonna get yelled at again? Cause now that you think about it, we all kinda gaslit Coyote.” Fanboy calls from across the kitchen. Tyler turns, giving the boy a curious look.

“What?”

“Mickey used to watch your guys streams until I started appearing in them.” You comment, appearing next to Kate. She jumps a little, taking you in. Your face has the remnants of tears, voice raw, but there’s a lack of weight in your body she’s been seeing you carry ever since she’s known you. You wrap your arms around one of Kate’s leaning your head on your shoulder after setting a plastic tub on the ground. “They all convinced him,” You say, jerking your head towards your ex. “That he was losing his mind. Also, how come my errands never get to just be my errands? What part of stay in the car until I got back did we not understand?”

“I tried to stop them, really I did.” Kate protests. You let out a quiet laugh, hiding your face in the back of her shirt.

“Have T and Jake made up?” You say quietly. She shakes her head and you sigh.

“Tyler-“

“No, and we’re leaving.” Tyler says, cutting you off as he pushes himself off the couch. “With the way Boone drives they’re probably halfway to Vegas by now.”

“That’s physically not possible.” Kate mutters and you snort.

“Tyler, I don’t want you to leave things like this.”

“That’s not your choice.” Tyler says gruffly, stalking to the front door. Both you and Kate wince as he slams it.

“I don’t know where he thinks he’s going, I still have the keys.” You say, finally letting go of Kate. “It’s my car anyways.” You mutter under your breath before sighing. “Anyways, we should really be on the road because Boone’s probably stopped at the alien tourist stop in Bakersfield by now.”

“If Tyler complains about traffic again, can we take a group vote to leave him on the side of the road?” Javi asks as he cranes his head up at you.

“We’re not leaving Tyler on the side of the road.” Kate says with a tired sigh.

“Even if he walks to Vegas?” Javi protests earning a tired laugh from you.

“Okay Kate, will you drive?” She nods as you hand her the keys, Javi standing up from the couch. “Javi, take that.” You say, pointing to the box. “I’m going to be out in just a minute.”

You wait for the door to shut behind them before turning to Jake. “Okay Jake, you can have your real hug now.” He grins as you pull him into a hug. “Don’t worry about him. It’ll take time.”

“I’m sure with a couple hours trapped in a car with you, he’ll cave and call.” Jake says softly, forced humor in the words.

(It would take three weeks, an incessantly annoying three weeks on your part, before Ty got so frustrated with you he’d called Jake while sitting on top of his truck on the ranch in Arkansas. You’re still not sure what they talked about, what was said, but by the end of the week, Tyler walked into the house with a wedding invitation on fancy card stock Tyler teased Jake endlessly for.)

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, though.” You say, squeezing him. “Let bygones by bygones. I have.”

He hums. “Take care of yourself.”

Bradley gives you a brief hug. “I’m glad you’re happy and safe kid. That’s all I would’ve ever wanted for you.”

“Hope you weren’t too hard on Jake.”

“No more than the normal amount.”

“The normal amount is zero.”

Bradley laughs. “You’re being more fair to him than he deserves, hope you know that.”

“Something something time space therapy.”

You reach your arms out for Pete and he stands up, giving you a grin, as Bradley laughs harder. “Don’t do anything out there that I would do.”

You laugh. “No promises.” You pad over to Mickey, giving him a tight hug. “If you ever decide you get tired of the pilot life and want to become a storm chaser, you let me know.” Mickey laughs.

“You’ll have to unblock me first.” You cringe at the reminder and pat his back.

“Done. You take care of yourself.” He gives you a two finger salute, letting you step back.

You turn back to Javy, who’s mostly kept to himself through the whole conversation. “Come here you.” He looks surprised you’re offering him another hug, but he returns it nonetheless. “You be safe out there, you hear me.”

“Yes ma’am.” He whispers. “Don’t get sucked up into a tornado.”

“I’ll try my hardest. And uh, really do think about my Elle suggestion.”

You both linger for a minute longer before eventually he pulls away. “You sure that’s all you want to take?”

You shrug. “Yeah, I got what I need out there. Sell the rest of the stuff, make a quick buck off of me. It’s the least I can do.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Sounds like a deal. Uh, can I walk you to the door?” You nod and he trails behind you quietly. “So this is uh, really goodbye.”

“Seems like it.”

“I’m uh, really happy you found what you’re looking for. I can only hope I’ll find it someday.”

“You will.” You say quietly. “I’m really sorry it didn’t work out between us.”

“It’s for the better it seems.”

You nod. “Well-“ You clear your throat. “Goodbye Javy.”

The door shut behinds you with a soft thud. You sigh, padding across the wet grass as you slip in the seat next to Kate. As she pulls away from the curb, Javi asks how you’re feeling.

“It’s stupid.” You mumble. “But I keep thinking of this Taylor Swift lyric.”

“Not this again.” Tyler mutters and through the rear view mirror you can see Javi flick his ear.

“What is it?” Kate asks softly.

“It’s just this one line — what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye. It’s just odd, I think. I did really love him at one point and I did really think maybe I’d spend the rest of my life with him, that those would be my best days. And it all just kind of ends here.” You sigh, settling back into your seat. “But- I don’t know. I’m not mad about how it all happened, I guess. It lead me here.”

Tyler lifts his chin, giving you a soft yet sincere smile through the rearview mirror. “And we’re happy to have you here.”

“So,” Kate starts from the balcony of your Vegas hotel room. Your friends are fast asleep inside, all piled somewhere on the beds pushed together. You’re pretty sure when you left, Boone had pushed himself in between Tyler and Javi and was snoring. “I’ve been sort of- I kind of have something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

You glance at your girlfriend. “Yeah?”

She nods. “Last night, when Javi and Boone left cause of the bad feeling they got- they weren’t the only ones who felt that. It kinda made me sick, hearing them talk about you like that, and thinking about the fact that you might actually do it. That you might remember that you liked your life there better and leave Oklahoma.” She takes a sharp breath. “Leave me.”

“Kate-“

“I know I’m not really the best at- at always showing you how much you mean to me, that sometimes I get caught up in chasing the storm, in actually making it all mean something, that I forgot about how great of a thing I have. I’m trying really hard not to take it for granted, because I did once and I can’t- I can’t go through that again. To lose you would be one of the greatest losses of my life.”

“Kate, I love you. You aren’t gonna lose me, I’m not going anywhere. I only want to be with you, there isn’t any other life for me except for the one right next to you.”

She reached up, brushing away an eyelash that had fallen onto your cheek. “I think I’m sort of starting to understand that now.” She reaches out for your hand. “Listen, I‘ve sort of- sort of been keeping my eye on some places going up for sale in Sapulpa. I know my Mom doesn’t mind having us around but I think maybe it’s time we give her back her peace and quiet.”

“Kate…”

She reaches a hand up, tucking a hair behind your ear. “We can keep the barn as home base but I found this really cute place for not too bad of a price while we were driving out here. I sort of scheduled a tour with the realtor for the day after next.” She’s wearing a soft, cautious smile.

“Kate,” Your breath hitches. “Kate Carter, are you asking me to move in with you? Are you asking me to buy a house with you?”

She gives a sort of nonchalant shrug. “If that’s what you want.”

“I- Yes, of course that’s what I want!” You exclaim, belatedly realizing you may wake your friends. Well, not Boone at least, who sleeps like the dead. Your voice drops considerably. “Yes, yes I would love that.”

Kate gives you a grin, reaching out to tug on the elastic band of your pajama pants to bring you closer to her. You laugh, colliding into her. Your hands brace yourself on her shoulders as Kate smiles wider than you think you’ve ever seen her.

“I love you so much.” She whispers. “How lucky am I.”

“I hope it’s like this forever.” You say softly. “I know, there’s no guarantee and eventually, they’ll find other things. But I hope it’s always this easy, you know? Not just with us but with them too you know? They might not be the Wranglers forever but I hope they’re our family forever.” You say, turning your head to look at your friends through the glass.

You feel the outline of Kate’s smile on your cheek. “They will be. I promise. No matter where we all go, they’ll still be here. Can’t take the home out of Oklahoma, right?”

#twisters #twisters fic #kate carter #kate carter fic #kate carter x reader #kate carter x female reader #can't take the home out of oklahoma

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