i see the moon livin’ in the rearview mirror (travis hackett x gender neutral!reader, the quarry)
no excuses for this one. i just think he’s neat ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
“Cuttin’ it close.”
You glance up from your mug. “Twenty four hours to go,” you return, voice barely above a monotone. The coffee tastes like crap, but you take another swig of it anyway.
Travis slips into the seat across from you, gesturing for another coffee from the waitress. She’s familiar with the both of you by now, and drops off an identical mug before leaving the two of you to your own devices.
“Didn’t go far.”
You eye Travis over the rim of your mug. “Never do.”
He’s watching you. Always is. You don’t know what he’s looking for - a sign of aggression, probably, but you’ll have to disappoint him. You’re too fucking tired to fight.
“And why’s that?”
“Because I learned my fucking lesson, alright?” Oops, spoke too soon - there’s some definite aggression in your tone, and judging by Travis’ face - and the subtle movement of his hand toward the gun at his hip - you wouldn’t be surprised if a hint of yellow had stolen its way into your eyes.
Fuck. You drop your mug on the table a little too forcefully, adding another chip to the cheap porcelain, and turn your eyes to the window. The parking lot is nearly empty, save Travis’ police car. The moon peeking through the clouds is almost full, and you shiver at the sight of it.
“Three months and this is as far as you ever go.” His voice is even, slightly curious, but there’s a hint of caution to it, too. He’s on edge, and your little outburst hadn’t helped. You can’t blame him, really - you can already feel the beast stirring, its hunger gnawing at your belly.
“Far as I can go,” you mutter. Outside, a light rain begins to fall. You glance at the sheriff. “Not many cages I can hide in further out, you know.”
Travis scoffs, taking a gulp of his coffee. He looks tired, drawn at the edges. Unsurprising, considering the time. Less than twenty-four hours now, until he’d need to be rounding up his family for the long night ahead. You didn’t envy him that task - Chris was easy, but his kids weren’t so keen on staying locked up all night. They liked to run free.
Your fingers tighten around your mug. You longed for that too, on nights of the full moon - running wild through the trees, the wind at your back, dirt and grass beneath your feet.
And yet you marched yourself into that dank, cold cell every month, allowing Travis to drape those heavy chains around your trembling form, and you spent the night alone, angry, howling.
“Why do you do it?” Travis glances at your face, eyebrows arching in question, and you elaborate with an impatient sigh. “Letting me run. It’s been months. Why haven’t you tossed me back in that cell for good?”
He’d kept you there for a while. You’d kicked and screamed until the first full moon, and then you’d woken up naked and bloody with claw marks etched into the walls that hadn’t been there the night before.
Travis had shown you the video when you begged for proof. You’d never forget the sight of it, blood and flesh bursting from your skin until a monster stood in your place, all gaping maw and rolling tongue and wild yellow eyes.
You could go nowhere, tell no one, and the worst part of it, worse than the isolation and the fear and the surety that you were a fucking monster, was how little it took to get you here. A wrong turn - the wrong choice - and here you were, sitting in a stained booth in a hole in the wall diner miles away from a home you’d probably never see again, with the only person you could call a friend watching you like you were about to break in two.
You almost scoff. Travis Hackett, a friend? Your jailer, certainly. Your protector, to an extent - protecting you and others from yourself, staying through each full moon to make certain you didn’t escape, didn’t hurt someone, didn’t do something you’d wake and regret in the morning.
But a friend?
“Because you never run far.” His eyes find yours, dark over the rim of his mug. They make him look older than he truly is, those eyes of his, like they carry the weight of lifetimes behind them. “Because you never will.”
You open your mouth to rebuff him, to snap that he doesn’t know you, so he should quit goddamn acting like it, and then you realize how foolish that would be, how insincere.
Don’t let me hurt anyone, you’d told him - begged him - all those months ago, the image of your bloody jaws and yellow eyes fresh in your mind. Please, don’t let me.
I won’t. He’d swore it, his eyes tight and his lips thinned into a fierce line. And you’d believed him.
You still do.
“Take me back?” The fatigue was setting in now. The itchiness beneath your skin, the painful, gnawing truth of what was to come in a few short hours - it was all setting in.
Travis nods, tosses a couple of bills onto the table to settle your tab, and leads you out.
The rain has increased, a cascade of steady droplets pelting the parking lot and the top of your head. You shiver, skin erupting in gooseflesh at the chill, and blink in surprise when Travis’ jacket is tossed into your arms.
“Just take it,” he tells you, forestalling any protest. You shut up and push your arms through the sleeves.
You’re quiet in the car, head tilted against the window as you watch the rain fall beyond the glass. The radio is on, but low, and Travis’ jacket is warm.
It smells like bark, like camp smoke and damp earth. There’s the faintest trace of cologne too, or deodorant - something woodsy, and you almost smile. It’s fitting. It’s… nice.
Comforting.
God, when had that happened? When had Travis Hackett - gruff, severe, take-no-shit Travis Hackett - become a source of comfort to you?
When he showed you that video, maybe - when you’d stared in horror at the thing you had become, when he’d wrapped a hesitant arm around your shoulder to keep you upright when you’d collapsed against him, sobbing and afraid. When you’d finally tired yourself out and he’d left you in your cell, but left the door unlocked. The look on his face then… that angry, hopeless look. You hadn’t then, but you knew what it meant now.
He wanted to save you, to save his family, and he’d dash himself to pieces to do it.
“Thank you.” It’s barely more than a murmur, muffled against the collar of Travis’ jacket, but he hears you.
“For what?”
“For the jacket.” You turn to him, head lolling lazily against the headrest. Travis’ profile stands out in sharp relief to the darkness of the sky outside. He’s not a handsome man, not really, but you feel comfort at the sight of his face. You feel a sense of safety in his presence that you’d never thought you’d feel again after that first full moon. “And for everything else,” you finish quietly, and there it is again, that angry, hopeless look on Travis’ face, tempered by some softer emotion that you can’t identify.
Travis glances at you - a quick look - and turns back to the road. Clears his throat. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Not ‘til it’s over.”
You laugh. It’s not much, soft and barely there, but it’s the first time you’ve felt true joy in what feels like years. “I’ll thank you then, too,” you tell him.
Travis scoffs, as derisive as ever, but his face tells a different story.
You only see it for a moment before it slips away, as fleeting as the days between each full moon, but it had been there, and it had been real.
day 31 of @flufftober: sweet treat
the quarry
gn!reader x travis hackett
note: takes place sometime after camp starts but before it ends.
It was another hot Sunday afternoon, and there wasn’t a better day to set up shop and serve iced tea, lemonade, and popsicles to the campers and counselors. Chris agreed to go in half with you on the supplies, so you shut down the bed-and-breakfast for the day and headed up to spend time at Hackett’s Quarry.
It was the early afternoon but most of the kids already grabbed their drinks and popsicles from you and headed down to the lake, with Ryan trailing behind to talk with Chris and Kaylee. You pulled out a book to read on your well-loved camping chair while you waited for the kids to get tired and come back for more refreshments.
You were a few pages from the next chapter when a shadow was cast over your table. Lifting up your sunglasses, you saw Travis still in his sheriff uniform, hands on his hips, surveying your chalkboard menu. It had been awhile since you’ve seen him, longer than you hoped, but you understood that the responsibility of small town sheriffs was time consuming. Regardless, he looked good, despite how hot it was. “Hey, sheriff.”
“Travis,” he looked to the side as he said it, trying to give an air of nonchalance to the request.
“Mm-hmm, Travis then.” You put your book down and got up to lean against the table. “What can I get you?”
“Do you take off-menu requests?”
“Not usually,” you pause for effect, a grin sneaking its way onto your face, “but for you, I’ll do it.”
Travis looked away again with a smile, and when he looked back to you, he looked tired but happy and it was infectious. You don’t know what changed in the months since you first got here, but he wasn’t the drab, irritable guy you met when your tires got stuck in the snow.
“Alright, do you know Arnold?”
“Arnold Palmer? Of course. Is that what you’re drinking?” you asked, already grabbing a cup and turning to fill it with ice.
“Yeah. And whatever you’re having.”
“Whatever I’m having?”
“Yes,” he paused, and you resisted the urge to turn around immediately and spill the iced tea you were pouring into his cup everywhere. “I was thinking we could go for a walk. If you want.”
You felt your face heating up, the butterflies filling up your stomach in excitement. You tried to focus, pouring lemonade to fill the rest of the cup, throwing in the straw, and presenting it to Travis. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you smiled at him, trying to catch his dark eyes but they were evasive, never resting on you for too long. “I’ll make it a double then.”
You quickly made a second Arnold Palmer while Travis asked Kaylee to help make drinks for the kids while the two of you were gone. You saw Chris say something to his brother, clapping him on the shoulder and laughing, then waving him off towards you.
“You two have fun,” Kaylee teased as she took a seat in your chair. You shook your head and rolled your eyes, jogging ahead to catch up to Travis.
“What did Chris think was so funny?”
He took a sip of his drink instead of answering immediately. “This is really good.”
“Thanks. Zested and squoze the lemons myself.”
Travis was quiet for another moment as you walked through the sunlit forest, it really was perfect here. Except for all the bugs that feasted on your unprotected skin.
“Chris laughed because this is the first time I’ve visited the camp in a long time. Especially during a lunch break.”
“You heard there was lemonade and iced tea and you had to get down here, is that it?” you offered with a laugh.
“Something like that.”
“Well, you can come to the B ‘n’ B anytime you want, and I’ll make us some Arnold Palmers.”
“Lemons are hard to find in Northkill.”
“Don’t I know it? I guess we’d have to make a day of it.” You tried to catch his eye, to help imply your meaning. You wanted to spend time with him, time where he wasn’t wearing his uniform, where he could just be Travis and maybe you could pry open his shell just a little bit more.
“Careful what you ask for,” it sounded a little strangled coming out of his mouth, like he was forcing himself to say it.
You stopped suddenly and grabbed his free hand so Travis would turn to face you, to have nowhere else to look but you. “I know exactly what I’m asking for. Look, I’ve been single for a while, but I can’t be that out of practice. There’s something here, isn’t there?”
“It’s not that simple.” He looked despondent and dark again, the way he was when you first met him. You wanted to grab his shoulders and shake it out of him, he can’t just close up and hide away when he was the one who came here. He was the one who asked you on a walk. He must want this at least as much as you, right?
Travis looked down at your hand in his and he ran his thumb across your fingers, so you did the same. When he didn’t move away, you pulled him forward so you could keep walking, trying to collect your thoughts and put them into words.
“We can keep it simple,” you said after a few minutes of silence. “We each have our own lives, you’re the sheriff, I run a bed and breakfast by myself, but there’s no reason we can’t spend our downtime with each other. Even if it’s only once in a while.”
He sighs, a range of emotions crossing his face. Frustration. Resentment. Guilt, maybe? You weren’t sure what to make of it, so you squeezed his hand in reassurance.
The trail broke way to a small clearing and a rocky outcropping that dipped into the lake. Travis steered you toward a large boulder you could both sit on in the shade. In the distance you could see where the campers were hanging out, wading into the water, and sitting on the small pier.
“How long do you have?” you questioned, sipping the last of your drink and setting it in the gravel beside you.
“Not long.” This question seemed to spur him on, he only had so long with you, afterall. And if you two left this in uncertainty, it might never happen. He leaned forward so his elbows rested on his thighs, his hands clasped together. “Sometimes I get pulled away for long periods of time. For work. For family.”
You nodded, mirroring his position so you could look at him while he spoke.
“And sometimes you’ll have questions I can’t answer.”
Well, that was a new one. You gave him a puzzled expression, but he didn’t elaborate any further. You weren’t fond of secrets.
“And I suppose I can’t ask what kind of questions.”
He shook his head.
You stared out at the water in front of you, the way it quietly lapped at the shore. It was consistent, like a heartbeat. Not even the children who disturbed it a few hundred feet away could interrupt its steady rhythm. You didn't know what Travis was talking about, and it sounded like you never will, at least from him. But if you two could share something steady and strong like waves in the lake shore, then maybe it was okay. And if it ever got to be too much, then you could break things off. It would be okay. You've always been okay.
You gently laid a hand on his knee. "Let's try it."
Travis backed away until he looked at you and saw the seriousness in your face, and maybe the hope there too. He covered his hand with yours and smiled as you scooted closer to him. "Yeah?"
no light like the dawn (travis hackett x gender neutral!reader, the quarry)
yep, it’s me again. you guys knew i couldn’t stay out of this tag for long :P this is the sequel to i see the moon livin’ in the rearview mirror, so i suggest checking that one out first. and, as always, enjoy!
“Are you sure about this?”
It isn’t the first time you’ve asked; probably won’t be the last.
Travis gives you a look - nothing more, nothing less, and you slump back down into your seat.
“Alright, alright,” you mutter, turning your head to stare out at the lake. The water reflects the fading sunset, purples and blues and reds shimmering on the surface like an oil slick, and it’s eerily silent save for the gentle rocking of your boat.
You feel like shit. It’s nothing new, and though you hate to say you’ve gotten used to the feeling - how could anyone get used to this? - it’s at least somewhat of a comfort to know what to expect.
Chills. Muscle aches. The horrible sensation of your skin stretched too tightly over your bones. And heat.
So much fucking heat.
You would roll yourself into the lake if the sight of the water didn’t fill you with such primal fear. You’d been skeptical that it would, even after Travis had read you that damn poem, but even the act of stepping into the boat had taken every last shred of your willpower.
Stranding you on the island for the night should be a pretty foolproof plan, then. You’d still be contained, but you could run free.
You didn’t know why that mattered to Travis, or you for that matter. It had been a passing thought, a muttered confession while he was driving you back to the police station a month ago, how envious you felt of the Hackett siblings who ran wild on the nights of the full moon, and how miserable you felt in the morning to wake naked and bloody, wrapped in chains.
“Necessary evils,” you’d called it, resigned to the efforts that needed to be taken to keep you in check while the full moon held her sway.
Travis had said nothing, but had stopped you from marching down into the cell block earlier and offered you a compromise instead.
You wonder if it’s pity that had moved him, or guilt. Wasn’t his fault you were what you were - wasn’t his fault Chris and the kids were the same - but that didn’t seem to assuage him of any of it.
The boat rocks gently as Travis guides it alongside the dock. You’ve started to sweat, your brow and the hollow of your throat wet with perspiration; it won’t be long now.
“Pick you up at sunrise,” Travis says as you clamber out of the boat. You feel better with your feet on solid ground. “Here.”
You stumble beneath the weight of the pack he tosses you. “What’s this?”
“Clothes, for morning.” You glance inside the bag; sweats and a sweater await you, and while they’re nothing glamorous you appreciate the gesture all the same.
“Thanks, for - “ You gesture somewhat lamely to the clothes and the island at your back. You’re still not used to this lack of hostility between you, this weird sincerity.
Travis waves away your gratitude. He’s not used to it either. “Just do me a favor, would you? Stay out of trouble.”
The sun disappears beyond the horizon. Your spine, your legs, your everything aches. “No promises,” you croak out around what might have been a smile in a past life.
Travis huffs out a breath, pushing the boat free of the dock just in time for you to sink down onto it, trembling like a leaf in a storm. The pain comes in waves, stronger and sharper than before, and then it just doesn’t stop, and as agony rockets through your gums, your muscles, your head, you keep your eyes on Travis. You expect him to head straight to the other side of the lake, but he lingers in the middle, boat bobbing, his eyes on you.
It helps, somehow, to have him there. To not be alone. Doesn’t take away any of the pain or the fear, but it means something. You almost smile, even as your body twitches in the first throes of transformation.
And then the darkness comes rushing in.
*
You wake to the brilliant light of dawn flooding over you.
Your cheek itches, flattened against the cold ground, and you shiver against the chill of the early morning. It takes a moment for the disorientation to subside, and then you’re pushing yourself up on unsteady arms.
Something slides off your back, and as you reach for it, you realize with a start exactly what it is - Travis’ jacket, the same one he’d given you a month before, tossed at you almost as an afterthought, but with clear intent to bring you comfort on the night before the full moon.
It smells the same - wood smoke and aftershave, and your lips tremble as you gather it in your arms and rise to your feet.
You quickly take stock of yourself. You smell like the forest, like earth and pine and wet moss, and you feel…
Different. Tired. Good.
It takes you a minute to find the pack Travis had given you, and another to shrug on the clothes. They feel strange against your skin, cumbersome after hours spent sprinting around the forest in nothing but fur. You compromise by forgoing the shoes, enjoying the feel of the grass and dirt beneath your feet, and as you make your way towards the dock, you breathe in the scent of dew and wet bark.
Travis is sitting at the dock’s edge, long legs dangling over the water. You slow to a stop, caught off guard - not by his presence but your reaction to it. Something shakes loose at the sight of him waiting there for you, even as his shoulders bow with exhaustion from the long night before, and as you approach him, your limbs feel unsteady for a different reason.
There are claw marks on the dock, long and ragged. You wonder if you had perched there after you’d turned, saliva flecking your jaws, growling at the sheriff floating just out of reach. Had you howled at him? Gnashed your teeth?
Had you scared him?
You’re silent as you settle beside him, taking note of his appearance - a little bedraggled, traces of blood on his cheeks - before glancing out over the expanse of the lake.
“Long night?” He takes a long pull from his thermos - coffee, most likely, or something stronger, depending on how the night ended. He hands you an identical one.
“Long night,” you confirm, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. You can’t remember much of it, honestly, only flashes - branches scratching along your flank as you sprinted through the trees, the panicked yips of a rabbit you’d chased into the brush, and the fierce yellow glow of the moon above your head - but your body sags beneath the weight of your exhaustion. “You?”
Travis grunts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “More of the same. One of the kids bit a deer, spent the whole damn night tailing it.”
You grimace. The infection is bad enough in you, in Chris, in the kids. You don’t want to imagine what havoc it might wreak on a wild animal.
A crisp breeze blows over the lake. You watch it stir up the water, the spray tickling the bottoms of your feet. Your sweater is adequate enough to ward off the chill, but you find yourself reluctant to relinquish Travis’ jacket, and so you don’t.
“Shouldn’t we head back?” You’re surprised he hasn’t ushered you into the boat already, and while you don’t mind the respite from all that exists on the other side of that shore, you’re curious about the delay.
Travis gives you a look over the rim of his thermos. “You got somewhere to be?” he asks, lip curling in that acerbic way that used to really piss you off. Used to. Huh.
You blow out a breath, tilting your head to feel the warmth of the morning sun on your face. “Guess not.”
Silence falls between you - an exhausted silence, but a companionable one, too. You haven’t felt much of that since you’d gotten bitten. Haven’t felt much of anything except fear, and terror that you would hurt someone while you were under the moon’s spell.
And loneliness. You never knew how alone you could feel, until you’d woken for the first time on the floor of your cell with your body caked in blood.
You don’t feel so alone now.
“What’s it like?”
You glance at Travis. He’s looking out over the water, a pensive expression on his face. You don’t have to ask him what he means.
“It’s… “ You try to put it into words. “Disorienting. Hot. And it fucking hurts.” You chew on your bottom lip, uncomfortable. The sensations are still far too familiar, too close. “And you’re so hungry, and angry, and nothing helps. Like… like you could swallow the whole world, just rip it all to shreds, and you’d still feel empty.”
You paint a bleak picture, and you know it. You don’t know if Travis has ever asked this of his brother, or his niece or nephew. Judging by the look on his face - the tightening of the skin around his eyes, his furrowed brows, and the downturn of his lips - you’re guessing he hasn’t.
And so you continue, “It’s hard to remember much, after it’s over, but uh. I think I ate a rabbit last night.”
Travis huffs out a laugh, and it seems to surprise both of you. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” you agree, and then breathe out a laugh of your own. “Fuck.”
You scrub at your face. There’s a smile on your lips, and it’s like a stranger you haven’t seen in a while, unfamiliar but well-missed. The slight ache in your cheeks, that burst of warmth in your throat - it’s a nice feeling. A welcome one.
“We’ll figure it out,” Travis mutters, and there’s steel in his eyes now. “We’ll put an end to it. We will.”
We.
You know he’s talking about his family - isn’t he? - but for a moment, it feels like he’s talking about you. About the both of you, together.
