#but it's very much Shalaska once she gets there

[aqmarion]

wip wednesday: sometimes I write something other than Witney edition

Showing the judges versatility with some Shalaska. It’s been almost two months since I’ve worked on this holy shit my sense of time passing is so fucked but this is at the top of my to-write list once I finish Pros and Cons

Most of the time, Sharon was happy that she was still friends with her ex. Now was not one of those times.

“I’m telling you, Sharon,” Willam said from behind her desk, “you need to take a break from all the CSI shit for a night and get fucked.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Fucking isn’t going to get me out of being stuck writing about celebrity gossip for the rest of my life.”

She looked incredulous, but didn’t bother to argue. They’d had this conversation before. While Willam had grown plenty comfortable with her position at the newspaper that they worked for, Sharon had grown antsy with her own position. Editing with a side of giving bad advice might be enough to keep Willam happy, but Sharon did not suffer through years at college just to use her degree in journalism to report on who’s fucking who or the latest keysmash of a name given to a child that already had a trust fund with more money than she could ever hope to make in her life, even including the money her parents left her.

[artificialqueens]

Hyacinth (Shalaska) - Freyja

A/N: hello!!!!!!!! remember when I said I wasn’t ready to let wild flower go? Yeah. This is that. You can read this without much confusion if you haven’t read WF, especially if you’re like me and just want fun times with jealousy, but there’s a few spoilers in here, just fyi. I have at least one other spin off in the works - stay posted for more. I also want to thank @aqcitrus for writing the actual, you know, smut scene in here. They’re a real one and also a complete talent. Thank you to Frey for betaing on her first day off 💖 

I hope y'all enjoy!!

Summary: Sharon won’t stop flirting with Willam. Alaska can’t quite keep her jealousy under control. Sharon thinks this is very amusing - and, just a little bit hot. Fluff & smut. 4k.

🌸

Alaska adores their family dinners.

It’s something that had started the week they got Sharon back, when everyone had functioned as a single unit with Sharon as the very annoyed, very grumpy epicenter. They’d actually been eating dinner together for the first time, instead of everyone grabbing something from the stewpot throughout the night, and they’d had so much fun laughing and talking, that the behavior had stuck even after Sharon’s burns were long healed.

The dinners make Alaska feel warm, happy - with everyone gathered around and laughing at jokes that she makes, or listening to ideas she suggests, they soothe her still persistent urge to belong. She loves the proud, pleased gleam in Sharon’s eyes that appears whenever they first sit down together, loves to cuddle her by the fire and listen to Alyssa’s rambling with her eyes half-shut.

Alaska adores their family dinners. She just doesn’t love the ones where Sharon and Willam sit next to each other.

She’s made the mistake of sitting with Detox tonight, in the hopes of continuing their conversation about the dresses they’d seen in town earlier. Even as Detox discusses it, though, Alaska finds her attention drifting towards Sharon and Willam more often than not, Detox’s voice fading almost entirely into the background.

They’re not doing much, just giggling together like a pair of idiots, but Alaska hasn’t quite been able to brush away the jealous possessiveness that springs up whenever Sharon does so much as smile too softly at the other woman, Willam’s wistful retelling of their affair wedged in her mind like a bullet stuck between her ribs.

“I’m no one’s bitch, Willam,” Sharon is saying, laughter in her voice. “You can get your own bowl. Second bowl, I should say.”

“That was mean,” Willam says, surprised, lips quirked into a half smile. Alaska resents the way her eyes never leave Sharon’s. “For that, you have to get me some.”

“Nice try.”

“What if I told you I’d owe you one?”

Sharon’s smirk curls in the way that means she’s terribly amused, and Alaska’s agitation makes her tap her toes a little. She tells herself she’s being ridiculous, and she tries to turn her attention back to Detox, more than willing to distract herself from Willam’s coy smile and Sharon’s glittering eyes.

She falls back into Detox’s rant about bustles with only a little difficulty, making sure her eyes are on Detox’s expressive gestures rather than Willam’s subtle ones. Off of the way Willam had touched Sharon’s arm with that expression on her face–

Again: she’s being ridiculous.

She manages to listen to Detox for around two minutes before Willam’s voice grabs her attention again, a little louder, now that Sharon’s making her way towards the pot of stew. Evidently, she’s given into Willam’s pleas. Alaska has to push down the jealousy that immediately starts bubbling at the idea.

“Hate to see you leave,” Willam says, her crooked smile firmly in place as she watches Sharon bend over the stew, “love to watch you go.”

“Miss this ass, Willam?” Sharon calls back, filling Willam’s bowl without so much as a glance behind her. Alaska’s heart does a little jab in her chest.

“Every goddamn day,” Willam says. “Miss mine?”

“You wish.”

Alaska doesn’t think her blood pressure has ever been this high, up to and including when she’d shot Solomon in the span of less than a second.

“Shar,” Alaska calls, and miraculously, her voice doesn’t shake. She can only wish that shooting someone would solve her problems right now. “Ready for bed?”

“I don’t know,” Sharon says, and she straightens up, turning back to look at Willam. She raises an eyebrow. “Is Willam?”

“Only if you’re in it,” Willam says, and Alaska suddenly stands, possessive anger making her a little jumpy. Irritation flashes hot in her chest at Willam’s cocky smirk, and she starts speaking before she can really think about what’s coming out of her mouth.

“She’s not going to be,” she snaps. “Sorry, you’re out of luck.”

Willam raises her eyebrows at her, smile falling, her mouth parted with surprise. Alaska bristles as Sharon speaks from behind her, her voice soft with confusion.

“Lasky, what–”

“Forget it,” Alaska says sharply, a little embarrassed by her outburst, but too angry to do anything other than run away. “I’m going to bed.” And with that, she starts towards their tent without a glance behind her, eager to get away from Willam and her flirting and her stupid affair with Sharon.

She looks back only when she’s reached their tent, half expecting to see Sharon only a few paces behind her. She jolts a little when she turns to find nothing. Sharon is still by the campfire with the rest of the women, her lips twisted in thought. Alaska rolls her lips between her teeth as Sharon walks over to hand Willam her bowl, the two exchanging small shrugs and laughing slightly, Sharon’s brow drawn together in a sort of goofy confusion.

Alaska is on the edge of committing her second murder.

She rips the tent flap open with more force than necessary, and she ducks inside, jealous anger and hurt granting her the strength to kick her boots off so hard they go flying to the other side of the tent, hitting the canvas with sharp taps and making it waver with the impact.

She stands by the entrance in her stockings, glaring at the canvas, crossing her arms over her chest and resisting the urge to march down to the fire pit and drag Sharon back with her. She can only imagine what she and Willam are saying to one another, and it has her gritting her teeth.

It’s probably better that she wait for Sharon. Better than starting a fight in the middle of the fire pit.

She’ll be here soon, anyway - if she knows what’s good for her.

Alaska sits down in their mess of blankets, anger still itching under her skin, and she waits, picking at her nails to pass the time and watching the light outside turn from a warm orange to a grey blue to pale moonlight, listening to the distant laughter by the fire slowly trickling away. It’s only around half an hour, but Alaska can feel herself getting more upset with every minute, images of Willam and Sharon in various stages of intimacy flashing through her mind relentlessly.

Alaska lies down, glaring at the tent’s ceiling. She clenches her hands into fists, and she tries to tell herself that she’s being ridiculous. It doesn’t help. She’s just starting to wonder if she should go back to the fire pit to see what’s going on when she suddenly hears Sharon’s voice growing louder as she approaches the tent.

Alaska relaxes, letting out a breath of relief. Sharon is coming - Alaska can just-

“You can’t say you haven’t missed this.”

Willam.

Alaska immediately tenses again, irritated beyond belief and a little betrayed. What the hell is Sharon doing with Willam? Inviting her to fucking sleep with them?

Alaska would rather eat glass.

“I can say whatever I want,” Sharon says, and Alaska can hear the smirk in her voice. She clenches her fists harder.

“I used to be able to make you say anything if I tried hard enough,” Willam says, and Alaska’s breath gets caught in her chest. Judging by the brief silence on Sharon’s end, she’s not the only one. The idea that Willam is able to take Sharon off guard has her sitting up, her anger once again making her restless with the lack of an outlet.

“You certainly had your job with Raja for a reason,” Sharon eventually says, and that smirk is still coloring her words. Alaska huffs, disbelieving. What the fuck.

She listens as they come up in front of the tent and stop, the smell of cigarettes wafting in as Sharon stomps hers out. “True,” Willam says. “You sure you don’t wanna invite me in?”

Alaska bites back her own immediate ‘yes’, crossing her arms over her chest for lack of anything to do, her fingernails digging into her palms as she continues to squeeze her fists.

“I’m pretty sure,” Sharon sighs, and Willam laughs, the sound of it grating on Alaska’s ears. God, if she would just shut up–

“Your loss,” Willam says, cheeky, and Sharon snorts.

“I’ll cry into my pillow,” she says drily. “Night, Wills.”

“Night, Shar,” Willam says, and Alaska rolls her eyes at the nicknames, jealousy threatening to burst out of her at any moment, an absurd possessiveness curling itself around ‘Shar’. That’s Alaska’s - Willam can stick to “Shaz” or whatever else comes out of Jinkx’s mouth.

Alaska makes sure she’s standing when Sharon ducks into the tent, the crisp night air and cigarette smoke coming in with her. Alaska wants to melt at the familiar smell, wants to lie down and curl herself around Sharon like she would normally, but Willam’s ‘you can’t say you haven’t missed this’ has her anger snapping back quickly.

“Took you long enough,” Alaska says, crossing her arms again, and Sharon blinks at her tone.

“Jesus,” she says, tugging her gloves off as she gives Alaska a strange look. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Obviously,” Alaska says, and Sharon frowns.

“What’s with this attitude?” she asks, taking her hat off and tossing it onto one of the crates. “Did I do something?”

“Did you do something,” Alaska repeats, her voice flat with incredulity. “Yeah, you fucking did something.”

Sharon’s eyes widen, and she takes a step forward, looking concerned. Guilt can already be seen in the set of her mouth, and Alaska thinks she has to know that what she was doing with Willam was wrong.

“What did I do?”

“Please,” Alaska snorts derisively.

Sharon makes a frustrated sound. “Alaska, I can’t fix it if I don’t even know what you’re angry about.”

Irritation pops in Alaska’s chest sharply. “What do you think I’m angry about, Sharon?” she snaps. “Think about it!”

Sharon’s gaze drifts off to the side as she thinks, her brow still furrowed in confusion. “Was it something Willam s– oh.” Sharon cuts herself off with a sudden huff of realization, and Alaska waits for her to fall to her knees, begging for her forgiveness.

Instead, Sharon looks at her like she’s trying to hold back a smile. “Did you get jealous, Lasky?”

Alaska feels a blush rush to her face before she can even try to stop it, bristling. “She was flirting with you, Sharon. And you were flirting back.”

Sharon shrugs, trying and failing to keep the corners of her mouth from curving up. “We do it all the time, Lask,” she says. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Then stop doing it,” Alaska shoots back. “You’re mine.”

Sharon’s eyebrows raise, and her smile turns into a smirk, a new expression flickering across her face too quickly for Alaska to read. “Oh, am I?” she asks, and possessiveness flares up in Alaska’s chest.

“Of course you are,” she snaps. “Obviously.”

“Is it really so obvious, though?” Sharon asks, rolling her eyes up like she’s thinking. Questioning. She even taps her chin for good measure. “I don’t know, doll.”

On some level, Alaska knows she’s being teased. This doesn’t stop her anger from sparking in her stomach, and she takes a step forward, arching an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” she asks, and Sharon shakes her head.

“I’m just not sure,” she says. “I think you might just have to show me.”

Oh.

Realization clicks in Alaska’s mind, and it doesn’t take long for her to warm to the game, the urge to do something about the jealousy licking at her heart nearly overwhelming. “Fine,” she says, and she takes another step forwards, so that Sharon is pinned against one of the tent posts.

The smirk on Sharon’s face is infuriating, and Alaska is determined to wipe it away. She closes the gap between them and kisses Sharon roughly, teeth pulling at her bottom lip until she lets out a little whine. Alaska kisses down her face, nipping at her jaw and pushing Sharon’s hair away from her neck so she can suck at the pale skin hard enough to leave a dark, angry mark. Sharon is short of breath already, and Alaska makes another mark, pulling back to admire her work.

Willam won’t be able to ignore them - they’re red now, but Alaska knows they’ll turn purple and stand out against Sharon’s complexion. Everyone else in the camp will know who made them, and the thought makes her smile to herself.

“That all you got, doll?” Sharon teases, but it’s a little more breathless than before. Alaska kisses her again, breathing in the smell of cigarettes on Sharon’s skin, and takes the liberty of unbuttoning Sharon’s shirt until it’s hanging open. She slides a hand up Sharon’s warm sternum, then moves sideways to grasp her breast and squeeze it lightly, thumb circling over her nipple.

Sharon moans, trying in vain to flip their positions, but Alaska grabs her wrists just in time.

“I don’t think so,” she murmurs, pulling Sharon down and away from the tent post. She overshoots it a little, and the two of them end up falling on top of the mess of blankets on the ground, Sharon’s wrists still stuck in Alaska’s grasp. Alaska hesitates, unfamiliar with being on top, and Sharon locks eyes with her.

“C’mon, baby,” she breathes, her voice a little more high-pitched than it usually is, “I thought you wanted to show me who I belong to?”

It’s enough to spur Alaska into pinning Sharon’s hands over her head, her free hand tracing down Sharon’s naked chest. Her shirt has fallen open completely, her torso bared for Alaska and Alaska alone. She ducks her head down to swirl her tongue over Sharon’s nipple and hears a soft gasp that motivates her to continue.

When she’s sure that Sharon won’t move her hands from above her head, she lets her wrists go and uses her newly freed hand to unbuckle Sharon’s thick leather belt. The button of her trousers is next, and then Sharon is lifting her hips so that Alaska can slide them down her legs and toss them in the direction of her bedroll.

Sharon is wet, wet enough that there’s a small patch on her underwear that’s darker than the rest. She spreads her legs shamelessly, and Alaska admires her for a moment. She feels a flicker of pride at the sight, knowing that she’s the one who made Sharon this wet. Not Willam, not anyone else - just Alaska.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers, and the hint of a blush appears on Sharon’s cheeks. Her fingers press against the wet spot on Sharon’s underwear and she caresses it lightly, making her hips buck up in frustration. Alaska feels no shame in drawing it out for Sharon, feeling just the slightest bit vengeful as she teases her lover for longer than is probably necessary.

“Just - touch me–” Sharon chokes out desperately, squirming beneath Alaska. She’s never acted like this before, never let Alaska completely take the lead and drive her crazy the way she drives Alaska crazy most nights. There’s something beautifully intimate in her submission, and Alaska’s heart swells.

She takes mercy on Sharon and draws her soaking underwear down her legs, settling between her thighs. Sharon’s fingers immediately tangle in her hair, pushing her forward, and Alaska bites back a smile at how needy the motion is. Alaska closes the distance, licking her slowly, and Sharon gasps.

“‘Laska….” The soft moan of her name awakens something in Alaska, and she licks Sharon again before speaking, her own arousal making her voice a little breathless.

“Louder.”

Sharon shudders, and there’s a flash of recognition on her face as she realizes Alaska’s aim. Alaska remains motionless between Sharon’s legs, waiting for an answer. If Sharon wants fulfillment, she has to do what Alaska wants.

“A- Alaska,” she moans, louder this time. Alaska rewards it, tongue working against her, slow and teasing, and Sharon’s fingers tighten in her hair. Sharon whimpers as Alaska changes the pace at random, never quite keeping one tempo for too long. It’s a far cry from the first time she was between Sharon’s legs - now she knows exactly what Sharon likes and what will drive her to the edge. The thought has satisfaction blossoming in her stomach, adding to the heat of everything.

Her arms wrap around Sharon’s strong thighs, pulling her closer as her tongue laps at her wetness, and Sharon’s back arches like a strung bow. She’s close, hips stuttering against Alaska’s mouth, and Alaska smirks as she pulls away. Sharon lets out a broken whine.

“Louder,” Alaska says again. She’s breathing heavily. “Let her hear you.”

It’s clear from the look on Sharon’s face that it’s the last thing she wants to do, and Alaska can’t blame her - Willam will, no doubt, tease her mercilessly for it. Alaska also can’t quite bring herself to care. She flutters her tongue over Sharon’s clitoris for a brief moment, and Sharon’s moan goes up a pitch.

“Alaska…” Her breath catches in the back of her throat. Alaska knows she’s close. “Alaska…” Alaska redoubles her efforts, showering Sharon with affection and pleasure. Sharon’s thighs close around Alaska’s head, trapping her exactly where she wants to be.

“Let her hear you, baby,” Alaska repeats, the words muffled against Sharon’s thigh. “You’re mine.”

“Alaska!”

It’s a long, desperate cry, and Alaska wouldn’t be surprised if it echoes across the entire camp, Sharon convulsing with pleasure. Alaska licks her gently through her release, grinning when the vice of Sharon’s thighs finally releases her with a little twitch. She pulls herself up to kiss her, fingertips dancing over her bare skin, and Sharon greets her eagerly. It’s sweeter than their previous kisses, Sharon completely spent and Alaska too smug to be anything other than happy, and Alaska collapses next to her when they part, still grinning from ear to ear.

Sharon laughs softly, flushed and sweaty. “I almost didn’t think you had it in you,” she says, teasing, and Alaska gives a gentle swat to her shoulder.

“I’ve got a lot in me that you don’t know about,” she tells her, and Sharon chokes on a laugh.

“Yeah?”

Alaska frowns. “What– oh my god! I hate you!” A laugh bursts out of her without her permission, warmth creeping across her cheeks as she swats at Sharon again.

“I would hope not,” Sharon says, a goofy smile on her face as she shifts a little closer. “That would give five minutes ago a whole new context.”

Alaska’s stomach dips. “Was I too rough?” she asks worriedly, looking into Sharon’s eyes for any sign of upset. “Was I–”

“No,” Sharon interrupts, laughing a little. “No, doll, you were perfect. Maybe a little cruel at the end there, but I might have been asking for it.”

“‘Might have’?” Alaska repeats. She sits up to look at Sharon properly, raising an eyebrow. “Do the words ‘show me’ ring a bell for you?”

Sharon flattens her lips into a thin line, biting back what Alaska knows is a shit-eating grin. “Possibly,” she says, and Alaska rolls her eyes.

“You literally asked for it,” she says.

“Fine,” Sharon relents. “I asked for it. It was worth it, though.”

“I’m glad you had so much fun,” Alaska says drily.

“Me too,” Sharon says, smug.

“I hate you,” Alaska says, but she can’t quite keep a straight face. Sharon grins.

“Please, you love me.”

“That, too,” Alaska says. “Worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious,” Alaska says, as seriously as she can manage, which is not very much. A cool breeze blows through the tent, coming in through the flap that Sharon hadn’t tied properly, and Alaska shivers. “Jesus, it’s cold.”

She lies back down, searching for a suitable blanket to pull over the both of them. Sharon laughs. “It’s not that bad, Lasky.”

“It is.”

“I’m the one lying in the nude, here.”

“You have a shirt on,” Alaska says teasingly, pausing in her search to poke Sharon in the stomach. Sharon slaps her hand away.

“Barely,” she snorts, motioning to how it’s completely fallen open. She then shimmies it off, tossing it in the vague direction of her coat with a pleased smirk. “There. Fully nude.”

“You’re an idiot,” Alaska tells her. She doesn’t hesitate to take Sharon in, however, transfixed by the expanse of pale skin before her. Sharon smirks.

“You don’t seem too upset,” she says, and she plucks at Alaska’s shirt. “This should come off.”

“So you want me to suffer too?” Alaska laughs, but she raises her hands to the buttons anyway. “I’m cold already!”

“That’s why we have body heat,” Sharon says, snuggling closer and making the process of taking her shirt off much harder. Alaska can’t quite bring herself to push her away, however. “And a lot of fucking blankets.”

Alaska hums in response, flinging her shirt at the set of drawers and starting on her pants, rolling them down towards her ankles and kicking them off. Sharon props herself up on her elbows as she watches, a sinful sort of smile curling its way across her face.

“Sex,” she adds, eyes raking over Alaska hungrily, “sex warms you up, too.”

Alaska laughs, but heat is beginning to pool in her belly, the sight of Sharon laid out next to her like some goddess a little too much to handle. She ignores it, however, in favor of her heavy eyelids, and she shakes her head, smiling at Sharon’s pout.

“It’s late,” she says, turning back to the blankets and willing the butterflies to stop fluttering around in her stomach. “And I think everyone’s going to have enough to talk about tomorrow.”

Sharon’s resulting groan makes her giggle, and when she turns to pull her chosen blanket over them, Sharon’s lying down again, her hands covering her face. “Definitely a good mood killer,” she says, her voice muffled, and Alaska laughs.

“Maybe you should think twice before you start mentioning Willam’s ass,” she says, and Sharon scoffs.

“Willam’s ass is hardly worth this,” she says, and Alaska yanks the blanket over them, lying down and snuggling into Sharon, perhaps a little more vigorously than she would have before Willam had been brought up. The twinge of jealousy is small, however, so she finds it easy to lapse into a comfortable silence, closing her eyes and just listening to Sharon’s steady breathing, relishing in the way their legs intertwine so perfectly.

They lie like that for a while, Alaska drifting further and further into sleep, contentment a comforting weight in her chest. She’s so far from the domestic life she’d been raised for, sleeping in a tent in the mountains with a woman wanted by all 48 states, but she doesn’t think she’s ever felt more at home. The strange domesticity she has with Sharon is special, and her heart swells at just the thought of it - this is hers. Theirs.

“You really don’t have anything to worry about,” Sharon whispers suddenly, sounding sleepy. “With Willam, I mean.”

Alaska lets out a breath, tracing vague patterns onto Sharon’s ribs. “I know. I think I know,” she amends, when Sharon makes a skeptical sound. “You just haven’t told me your side about you and Willam, and when she told hers, it just seemed like… well. I’m prone to jealousy.”

“I’ll tell you soon,” Sharon murmurs, burying her face into Alaska’s collarbone. “And I can’t say I’m complaining about the jealousy.”

“I can’t believe you would take advantage of me like that.”

“Well,” Sharon sighs. “That’s me. Deal with it.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

She can feel Sharon’s smile against her skin, and the feeling making her toes curl.

“I love you too.”

[narcoleptic-drag-queen]

47. Shalaska 👀

👀👀👀 thank u sm this prompt is so adorable - also I got to live my early ghost hunters au fantasy

-

In hindsight, Alaska really should have seen this coming.

Meaning, she should have expected to end up in a condemned, supposedly haunted house in the middle of nowhere with only her girlfriend for company sooner or later, and she should have expected Sharon to break something while in said condemned, supposedly haunted house.

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Alaska tells her, once they’ve gotten Sharon’s foot out of the collapsed pile of wood that was once a stair step. They’re now sitting against the safest-looking wall in the parlor room, Sharon’s ankle bent at a nauseating angle and Alaska trying very hard not to panic.

She’s never letting Sharon watch Ghost Adventures again.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Sharon groans, letting her head thud against the wall. 

“Sorry, I thought I was,” Alaska says harshly, panic making her voice sharp. “Do you understand how fucked we are?”

Sharon shrugs, pressing her lips together and glaring at the opposite wall. “Does it even matter how I answer? You’re just gonna review everything anyway.”

Alaska bristles. “Maybe because you don’t seem to get it,” she says. “Your ankle is broken, because you’re an idiot, we’re locked in this fucking piano room, possibly with ghosts, because apparently I’m just as stupid as you are, and we have no signal, because the fucking haunted house you chose is apparently right next door to Purgatory.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Sharon says drily. Alaska raises an eyebrow, swinging the flashlight so that it’s pointed at the side of Sharon’s face. 

“You’re welcome,” she says. “And let’s not forget how we had to walk the last quarter-mile here because you forgot to fill up your truck. Or how you dropped the camera before we even got inside, rendering this whole trip completely useless. Or how you insisted we go in any–”

“Alright!” Sharon snaps out, swiping at the flashlight. It clatters to the ground, Alaska too focused on her list to tighten her grip. As it rolls away across the floorboards, the light flickers once. Twice.

It goes out.

They’re plunged into darkness, the only light coming from between the slates of the boards nailed to the windows, creating long, pale stripes across the furniture and Sharon’s thighs. There’s a long beat of silence.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sharon,” Alaska snaps, frustration and a new kind of fear bubbling in her gut. She hasn’t forgotten the horrifying story of axe murderers and the innocent children they slaughtered Sharon had told her on the forty-five minute drive here, and the shadows suddenly stretching behind the piano are making the hair raise on the back of her neck.

“Alaska, I get it,” Sharon shoots back, her hands coming up to cover her face, fingertips digging into her temples. “It’s all my fault. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Alaska sniffs. “Maybe–”

“I’m the one with a broken ankle, Alaska!” Sharon interrupts sharply, jerking her head up from her hands to motion down at her leg. With the way the light is shining on it, it almost looks like it ends just above the ankle. “You’re not the only one that’s freaking out!”

Guilt twinges in Alaska’s gut at the mention of Sharon’s ankle, and she deflates, letting out a small sigh. She scoots over so that their thighs are nearly touching, skin sticky with humidity, and she takes Sharon’s hand in hers. Her guilt only heightens as Sharon immediately relaxes into her, her head falling to rest against Alaska’s shoulder. She swallows.

“You’re right,” she says, softening her voice. “I’m sorry. You’re being punished enough, I guess.”

“You think?” Sharon snorts, and Alaska smiles. She’s still tense, eyeing the pitch black that covers the corner behind one of the chairs, but the weight of Sharon against her has her feeling a little bit braver. 

“I’ll be mad once we’re out of here,” she says, squeezing Sharon’s hand reassuringly.

“How diplomatic.”

“I try my best,” Alaska says, and then she narrows her eyes in the darkness, trying to get a good look at Sharon’s ankle. “How’s it feel?”

There’s a pause, and then Sharon sighs out what sounds like all of the air in her body. “It really fucking hurts,” she says, and her voice is significantly quieter. Alaska’s heart aches at it.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she says, and Sharon hums.

“It’s also making me nervous,” she says, and while her tone says she’s joking, there’s an undercurrent of truth to it. “I’m not gonna be able to run if any ghosts come out of the woodwork.”

“Sharon,” Alaska says, the glee that comes with the opportunity to tease her girlfriend curling into her chest. “Are you saying you’re scared?”

A pause. “Shut up.”

“My girlfriend?” Alaska continues, heedless of Sharon’s pouting. “Spooky Needles? The girl who made fun of me for screaming at the jumpscares in The Shining?”

“Hey!” Sharon says, but she’s giggling, and Alaska’s chest is warmer than it has any right to be when she’s sitting in the middle of a condemned, possibly haunted house. “This is completel–”

A loud creak from upstairs cuts her off, and they both freeze, Sharon’s hand squeezing Alaska’s so hard she’s a little afraid her fingers might break. Another creak occurs just after the first, this time a little further away, and Alaska finds herself holding her breath in fear.

They sit in silence for a long while after, waiting for another sound, too afraid to speak for fear that something might hear them. Alaska can hear Sharon taking fast, shallow breaths next to her, her grip unyielding on Alaska’s hand even as Alaska inches towards relaxation again, confidence returning the longer they sit in the quiet.

“Baby, I’m scared,” Sharon whispers after a while, still breathing far too quickly. Alaska scoots again, so that she’s pressed right up against Sharon.

“You don’t have to be - not as long as I’m here,” she murmurs, and Sharon lets out a weak huff of a laugh.

“No offense, pumpkin, but you’re not gonna be able to do much.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge,” Alaska says airily. “I’m wearing my Dickies today. And I brought my taser.”

“Load of good that’ll do to a ghost,” Sharon says, skeptical. Alaska feels a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, affection welling up in her chest. Her girlfriend is adorable.

“I think we’re fine, baby,” she says, and she presses a kiss into Sharon’s bleached hair. It’s still new, and Alaska loves it too much, considering how shitty of a job Sharon had done. “Willam should be here soon, anyway.”

Sharon lifts her head up to stare at Alaska. It’s hard to tell with her face backlit by the moonlight, but presumably, she’s frowning. “Willam?”

“I told her to come and get us if I didn’t text by one.”

“You mean you didn’t trust me?”

“We were going to a house that’s been condemned for fifteen years, Sharon,” Alaska points out. “I was practically required to text her just in case the whole thing collapsed on us. And, oh look, it did.”

“More like I collapsed the stair step,” Sharon mutters, and Alaska rolls her eyes.

“Does it really matter?”

Sharon huffs, laying her head back on Alaska’s shoulder. Alaska rubs her thumb over the back of Sharon’s hand, comforting her teasingly. “I hate you,” she says, and Alaska grins, pressing another kiss into Sharon’s hair.

“Love you too, baby.”

send me a pairing and a prompt!

[writethehousedown]

i’ll be yours (if you’ll be mine) [Trixya, Shalaska] - pinkgrapefruit (6/7)

[ february the thirteenth: sharon needles and the black rose]

Sharon calls her in late January to set up an appointment for February 1st. It’s a system Katya rarely uses now, with majority of the people not planning flowers too far in advance, but she still appreciates it when someone calls ahead.

Sharon is a stickler for the rules. As much as her tattoos, dyed grey hair, and multiple facial piercings may try to convey otherwise - the woman is a CEO, a business professional with no time for messing around. So, naturally, she calls three weeks in advance, turns up ten minutes early, and has an action plan lined up before Katya can say hello.

“How do you feel about colouring Roses?” Sharon comes straight out with the question, as she avoids letting her dark green pantsuit touch anything that has been in contact with soil.

“It depends on the colour,” comes Katya’s reply, the woman cradling a Red Bull like it’s the most precious thing on Earth. It’s seven a.m.

“Black,” is the straightforward answer, and it leaves Katya reeling to come up with all the connotations. She knows the woman in front of her well enough to know this colour is a premeditated choice. “I would use natural Black Roses, but we both know white is stronger,” she pauses for a second, reaching into the Birkin held in the crook of her elbow. “It needs to be able to hold this.“

Everything slots into place in Katya’s head the minute she sees the small red ring box. It could only hold one thing, from the care it is being handled with, and as it pops open, she comes face to face with an engagement ring. It’s gold with an emerald set into the mouth of the snake, it’s fangs holding it in place.

“I suppose we’re going black for big life changes, as opposed to grief,” Katya jokes, but her eyes stay trained on the ring.

“We could grieve for my bank account when Alaska starts to plan the wedding,” Sharon returns, letting her stony demeanour relax a little, now that her big plan has been unveiled. “Now, back to the question?”

“Ah, yes,” Katya hums, mulling it over. “I know a guy that can get me some good water soluble black ink in a few days - should take twelve hours for the inking and…” her thoughts trail off but she catches up to them again with a noise reminiscent of ‘eureka’. “We could wet it if you want?” She asks hesitantly but with enthusiasm.

Sharon raises her eyebrow at the thought, but motions for her to continue.

“Clear Epoxy in a thin layer will preserve the rose, and we can bend the inner petals to hold the flower.” Katya pulls out a pad from the top draw and a pencil from the messy bun in her hair, sketching in fast fluid movements, until she’s got a solid plan in front of her. She looks up expectantly.

“Yes,” Sharon answers simply, collecting herself once more. “I take it you can have this ready for the thirteenth?”

“You can leave it in my very capable hands,” Katya responds with a nod of her head.

“I know.” The smile is warm, but suffices perfectly in reminding Katya that this is really fucking important.

It goes off without a hitch and Sharon, Katya’s first investor, calls her to thank her a few days later. It means the world.

tags - rpdr fanfiction, trixya, trixie mattel, katya zamolodchikova, shalaska, sharon needles, alaska thunderfuck, flowershop au, lesbian au, i’ll be yours (if you’ll be mine), pinkgrapefruit, be mine 2020, hella fucking gay

[purecamp]

"i almost lost you" for shalaska, please?

It took a moment for Sharon to register what had just happened - Alaska, her legs flailing wildly in the air, and then the sound of her plummeting towards the ocean. Alaska, who was terrified of everything. Alaska, who couldn’t fucking swim.

She jumped in immediately after her, cursing the sound of Alaska screaming. It was horrible, high pitched and filled with fear and tugging right on Sharon’s heartstrings. Fuck, she was an idiot.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Sharon raved, her arms wrapped tightly around Alaska’s struggling form. Her hair was slicked against her face, obscuring her version, but for all she was thrashing and writhing, she was alive and not drowning. Once she realized Sharon was holding her and she wasn’t going to slip under, she relaxed.

“Are you insane? You can’t fucking swim!”

Alaska heaved and panted. “I’m sorry! The-The basket was rolling off and I know you love it so I-”

Sharon shook her head. “I don’t give a damn about any fucking basket! I almost lost you!”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, you’re a fucking idiot.” Sharon told her. “This water is freezing, too. Grab onto me and we’ll swim back to shore. And then climb that fucking cliff again to get to our car. I don’t need all this cardio, thank you very much. There are better ways to get me to exercise.”

Alaska giggled weakly as they made their way towards the sand. “I’m sorry... Still love me?”

“I think so. We’ll have to see, though.”

“What if I carry you the rest of the way up?”

Sharon laughed. “I’d like to see you try. Doll, just don’t be stupid again. It’s sweet, but I’m too young to have heart problems.”

“I don’t know about too young...”

“Watch yourself. You keep talking like that, I’ll throw you back in.”

Alaska shrugged. “Gimme a kiss so I know you still love me.”

“Ugh. Fine. Stupid.”

[aqdragrace]

Sharon’s Case

Hey guys! This fic seems to have disappeared from AQ, but thankfully, I managed to recover it - it was having a party by the gates of smutty mommy kink Shalaska hell. Enjoy!

Sharon was tossing and turning under the covers. It was almost 4 am. She should have fallen asleep by now, but nothing helped put her to sleep. She tried counting imaginary spiders, relaxing her limbs and feeling the weight of her body disappear, sinking slowly into the bed. She even attempted cuddling Cerrone, hoping that the cat’s presence will calm her down, but apparently, he was not in the mood for cuddles. He hopped off the bed with a discontented ‘meow’ after just a couple of minutes.

Sharon knew what would help her relax and let go of the thoughts that whirled around in her head. She knew the solution. But she couldn’t. Alaska forbade Sharon to touch herself while she was away on her important business trip. “Be good for me, baby,” she said before she left. “I want you to wait for Mommy, so when I get back I can reward you for being such an obedient girl. Maybe I’ll even bring you a gift.”

Sharon let out a long sigh, slowly feeling her will to resist temptation weaken and fade away as thoughts of Alaska came running through her mind. She ran her hands up her stomach and her breasts. Feeling her nipples, she realised they were already hard. As she started pinching them softly, she let her mind wander. She imagined her Lasky’s touch on her as she slid one of her hands down her thighs. If she was going to disobey, she will at least take it slow and make it worthwhile. She teased herself, pinching the skin on her thighs, kneading the soft flesh.

Sharon felt warmth spreading in her stomach, and she knew she would not be able to stop herself now. She knew she was being bad and as the blood rushed to her cheeks, she embraced the thrill of disobedience; somehow it made all this much more exciting. She turned to lean on her side, tossing the covers off her body for better access. She pushed the hem of her nightgown up to her stomach and gently scratched her way towards her ass with her nails the way Alaska so often did. She felt exposed as the air hit her naked skin and she loved it. She delivered a couple of firm slaps to her butt, moaning and putting on a show as if somebody were watching. She imagined Alaska’s eyes on her, imagined how cross she is going to be when she finds out about this. She whimpered softly and let out a quiet moan. “Mama, watch me,” she whispered as she spread herself out on the bed.

Her pussy was wet and throbbing. She slowly traced her folds, enjoying the way her body reacted to the images on her mind: Alaska standing in between her spread legs, talking down on her, asking her if she really thought she is going to give Sharon what she wanted, no, needed so badly. Sharon felt her pussy clench, and she willed herself to wait a little longer as she focused in on the desire taking over her body before she slipped a finger inside herself.

Sharon let the moans spill freely from her lips as she slowly worked herself. She wanted to go faster, she wanted to go to town immediately and rub her clit until she cried, but she held herself back. She felt a pressure on her chest as her breathing grew more erratic, her head fell backwards and her back arched as she slowly fucked herself into the mattress. The suspense felt deliciously torturous. Her thighs started trembling as her finger brushed against her G-spot every time she slid it in and out.

“Mommy, I’m so close,” she whimpered as she started touching her clit with her other hand. She spread her wetness on her fingers and wiped it all over her folds. “Please,” she begged, the words spilling from her lips almost involuntarily. As she felt her walls clenching faster and faster, she upped her pace while rubbing her clit roughly. She came yelling Alaska’s name and soon fell into a sweet, sound sleep.

***­

Alaska stepped out of her car with a concerned look on her face. Her Sharon was awfully quiet on the way home from the airport. What could possibly be wrong? She made a couple of remarks in the car, but Sharon only shook her head and avoided eye contact when she was asked. She cast her eyes down as if she were ashamed of something.

As they stepped into the elevator, Alaska decided that things cannot go on like this. She missed her wife the whole week and she had to get to the bottom of the problem. She softly put a finger under Sharon’s chin to lift her face and looked deeply into her eyes. “Sweet pea, what’s the matter?”

Sharon’s lips trembled. “Mommy,” she whispered as she tried to look away. “I… I…”

“What is it, baby?”

“I touched myself while you were away,” Sharon finally confessed in the smallest voice.

The door of the elevator opened with a ding and Alaska stormed into the apartment leaving a guilty-looking Sharon behind. Her figure reflected in the two wall mirrors of the elevator, and it looked as if infinite Sharons were standing there, eyes carefully studying the metallic floor.

“Come inside,” Alaska gestured finally, turning her back to Sharon. She locked the door and started walking up and down in the kitchen placing and replacing random objects in a not so gentle manner. Sharon sat down on a barstool, but squirmed uncomfortably. “Mommy…” she tried quietly. When she got no response, she tried again. “Mommy, I am so sorry.”

Alaska slowly turned around, leaning on the counter behind her. “Sharon, I only asked one thing of you when I left, is that right?”

“Yes, Mommy.” Sharon said, flushing with embarrassment. She felt that she was getting wet, and she knew Alaska could tell how flustered she was by the way she was looking at her.

“What did I tell you?” Alaska asked in a stern voice.

“Not to touch myself. To be a good girl and wait until you come home.”

“That’s right, baby. And you disobeyed my orders.” Alaska was merciless. She always spotted when Sharon misbehaved, and she always made her tell.

“Did you put your fingers inside your little pussy?”

Sharon hung her head in shame. “Yes.”

Alaska looked very disappointed. “Did you cum?”

Sharon blushed even deeper. If Alaska keeps interrogating her in this manner, her dress is going to get soaked entirely. “Yes, Mommy. I’m so sorry.”

Alaska drew in a sharp breath. “You’ve been so very bad, baby. You know what happens to bad baby girls?”

“They-they get punished.” Sharon stuttered, unable to tell embarrassment from arousal anymore.

“Ask me.”

“W-what?” Sharon looked at Alaska in disbelief.

“You heard me, doll. Ask for it. Or I won’t know that you want to be forgiven,” Alaska explained, looking almost disinterested.

“Please, Mommy.” Sharon whispered, nearly choking on her own words. “Punish me.”

Alaska pushed herself up from where she was leaning on the counter and neared Sharon. She looked very serious, and Sharon had to clench her thighs together because of the sight in front of her. Alaska looked so hot when she was mad she made her mouth water. Sharon swallowed painfully. Her pupils were so dilated her blue iris almost disappeared, and this was not lost on Alaska.

“I didn’t hear you, doll. What did you say?”

“Mommy, please, I need you to punish me, I was such a bad girl. I need you to teach me a lesson, please…” Sharon babbled.

“Alright, then. Strip,” Alaska ordered, watching her wife expectantly.

Sharon stood up, eager to please. She kicked off her heels and slipped down the zipper of her leather jacket. Underneath, she was only wearing a short, nude dress that hugged her curves tightly. She hastily discarded it onto the floor, rendering herself completely naked and vulnerable under Alaska’s gaze. Through the great windows, sunlight spilled inside the room, and Sharon winced from the sudden exposure.

Alaska looked her up and down. It felt like she was studying her body, looking for marks betraying Sharon’s misbehaviour. Finally, she tsked and shook her head in disapproval. “Lean across the counter, doll, hands above your head.”

Sharon did as she was told, and soon she felt Alaska’s nails digging into her ass. “I need you to ask for every strike, baby. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mommy. Please, spank me,” Sharon almost whined. She thought she was going to die of embarrassment right there, but when Alaska’s hand landed on her ass, her walls clenched violently. She repeated her words once, twice, who knows, how many times, until her cheeks were bright red and her juices were dripping down her thighs and onto the floor. Sharon did not dare ask to be touched where she wanted it the most, but she craved the stimulation so desperately, she begged over and over again for Alaska’s hand to come down hard on her bottom.

After the last, faint “please, Mommy,” the awaited blow did not come. For a short while, Sharon felt nothing but the intense pulsing at the place where Alaska’s hand landed just moments ago.

“I think you have had enough, baby girl”, Alaska said as she caressed Sharon’s ass gently. Sharon jumped from the unexpected touch but soon relaxed into Alaska’s hands. “I am not done with you yet, though. Wait for me in the bedroom, baby.”

Sharon stood up, her knees a little wobbly, and made her way into the bedroom. She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and waited for Alaska to enter.

When she finally did, her hands weren’t empty. In them, she held what must have been the belt of one of Sharon’s silk robes that Alaska bought for her. “I am going to tie you up, baby,” she announced in a calm voice. “Now, this rope is not very strong, so I need you to do what you have so disappointingly failed at while I was away: behave and control yourself. Lie on your back for me, darling, hands against the headboard.”

Sharon obeyed wordlessly. She was not sure she would be able to utter a word even if she was asked; her life was flashing right before her eyes.

Alaska climbed next to her and secured her hands to the bars. She gently petted Sharon’s hair, brushing the curls away from her face to get a nice view for later. She slid her fingers down Sharon’s cheek and put three into Sharon’s mouth. “Be careful, baby,” she warned Sharon. “If you try to get free to touch me or yourself, you are going to be in even bigger trouble than what you already got yourself into.”

Sharon whined around Alaska’s fingers, but nodded in agreement. She wanted to touch Alaska so bad, she missed her so much… but she has been bad, and she only has herself to blame for this. She’ll take what she can get, she decided, as she sucked on Alaska’s fingers.

She felt her wife’s nails tracing her sides, down to her hips and her inner thighs. “Did you touch yourself like this, baby?” Alaska asked, scorn in her voice.

“Yes, Mommy. I was so wet. I was thinking of you, I imagined you watching me,” Sharon confessed. “I missed you so much and I couldn’t” –

Suddenly Alaska lowered herself to suck roughly on her nipple. “This has you shut up, babydoll, hasn’t it? Did you imagine Mommy doing this to you?”

“Y-yes,” Sharon gasped as Alaska suddenly bit down on the nipple she was licking. “This feels so good, Mommy, please” –

“Please, what, baby?”

“Please, touch my pussy,” she pleaded desperately, squirming under Alaska’s gaze.

“Do you think you deserve to be touched? After being so bad?” Alaska straightened up a bit and dug her thumbs into Sharon’s soft hips to punctuate her words. “Not listening to Mommy, even though you knew the consequences?”

Sharon averted her gaze, trying to escape Alaska’s strict glare that made her feel like she stared right into her soul. “No, Mommy,” she whispered finally.

Alaska looked down at Sharon, eyeing her thoughtfully. “I must admit baby, I missed you even if you misbehaved. Maybe you can make it up to me somehow.”

“Please, I will do anything, I promise,” Sharon begged. “I will be so good for you, Mama.”

Alaska smirked and swiftly pulled down her pencil skirt and panties. She positioned herself on top of Sharon, lowering herself on her face. “Be careful now, baby girl. You can only use your tongue, or I will not put a single finger in your little pussy.”

Sharon felt her opening clench at the dirty words. “Use me, Mommy,” she begged before Alaska sunk down on her face entirely. She licked a long stripe up between Alaska’s folds, making Alaska moan on top of her. She repeated her motions swiftly, letting Alaska’s walls open up for her every time before pulling out of her to circle around her clit. It did not take long until Sharon’s face was covered in Alaska’s juices, and her wife’s cries echoed across the room. After Alaska came, Sharon licked her until her pussy was clean. Alaska lifted herself off Sharon with a sigh, and for the first time since the airport she cupped her face with her hands and kissed her.

Alaska’s kiss was long and dirty. She practically fucked into Sharon’s mouth with her tongue, and Sharon felt the throbbing in her lower stomach intensify at the sensation. Her pussy clenched again, so ready for Alaska’s fingers. She spread her legs in anticipation and tried to buckle up against Alaska’s thighs, but once again, she felt Alaska’s fingers pinning her down by her hips. She let a small whine escape her lips as she looked up to her wife with pleading eyes. “Lasky… Mommy… I want you so bad.”

“It is okay, angel, you have been very patient. You only have to wait a little longer, I promise.”

Sharon relaxed and leaned back into the bed with a small sigh. Alaska petted her thighs gently, drawing soothing circles into Sharon’s skin. “I thought that you’d be a good girl while I was gone,” she remarked. She was shaking her head, but her words lost most of their previous sharpness. “And I bought you something pretty, babydoll. Do you want to see?”

Sharon’s eyes lit up with hope. “Yes, Mommy.”

Alaska stood up and walked out the room. When she returned, she held a small red box in her hand. “Do you want to open your present, darling?”

Sharon nodded feverously. Alaska untied her hands, and gave her the gift, planting a small kiss on Sharon’s forehead in the process.

Inside the box, there was a long double-ended toy. Its middle looked like some cable made of a silicone-like material that was easy to bend, while its two ends widened into a bulbous shape. When Sharon’s thumb pressed against the ‘on’ button, the toy started buzzing quietly. Sharon let out a small “oh,” and wordlessly handed the toy to her wife.

Alaska smirked. “You’ll have to say something, baby, unless you want me to use this alone. Tell me what you want me to do with this.”

“I’d like to be fucked, Mama. Please,” Sharon breathed and hid her face in the blouse Alaska was still wearing for some inexplicable reason. She inhaled her sweet, flowery perfume, and something that could only be described as the scent of sun and dust from the streets of LA. Alaska held Sharon’s face for a minute, kissing her deeply, then pushed her back onto the bed and climbed on top of her.

“May I touch you now, Mommy?” Sharon asked.

“Yes, doll, you may.”

Sharon’s hands started roaming on Alaska’s body, tugging on the collar of her blouse, slowly unbuttoning it and sliding it down her shoulders. When her lacy white bra dropped to the floor to be forgotten immediately, Sharon took one of Alaska’s nipples in her mouth, licking and sucking it gently. Alaska moaned deeply, and Sharon felt a fingertip teasing her entrance, finally pushing inside her. She whined around Alaska’s nipple and spread herself more, inviting another finger.

“You are being so good, baby,” Alaska praised as she started stretching Sharon with two fingers. “I have almost forgiven you.” The tone of Alaska’s voice was sweet enough, but the subtle threat in the word “almost” did not escape Sharon. She whimpered aloud at the prospect of Alaska fucking her mercilessly out of spite and started rocking down on Alaska’s fingers in a silent plea for more.

Alaska’s fingers slid out of her, but as soon as they were gone, Sharon felt one end of the toy tracing her folds, collecting her wetness. Alaska held Sharon’s trembling thighs down with one hand, caressing them as she slowly pushed into her. Sharon let out a loud, slutty moan as she felt the toy being enveloped inside her warmth, its movement completely controlled by Alaska. She raised her legs and flung them around Alaska’s waist.

Alaska kissed her stomach as she turned the vibrator on at the lowest speed. Sharon drew in a deep breath and clenched her thighs around Alaska more tightly, willing her to give her more. “You are so wet, baby,” murmured Alaska into Sharon’s belly, turning the speed up. “So pathetically wet and horny for me.”

Sharon threw her head back into the pillows, unable to form any words. Tears started gathering in her eyes from being teased for so long. Her hips tried to buckle up to chase the feeling, but Alaska held her down as she started sliding the toy in and out of Sharon’s opening. She planted kisses on her baby’s stomach, tracing her soft hips and her abdomen, going lower and lower, finally sinking down between her legs.

When she started sucking on Sharon’s clit in sync with the movement of the toy, Sharon yelled out brokenly. “Are you ready to cum for me, baby?” Alaska asked. Sharon nodded silently, tears streaming down her face. Alaska turned the vibe to its highest setting and fucked into Sharon until her broken cries ceased and her thighs stopped trembling.

Kissing Sharon’s clit one last time, Alaska gathered up Sharon’s cum with her fingers. “See what a good, obedient girl you were for me, baby,” she said, petting her wife’s thighs and slipping the wet fingers into her mouth. As Sharon sucked on them, she presented a perfect picture of submission.

In her post-orgasmic haze, she barely noticed Alaska sliding two fingers into herself, soon to be followed by the other side of the red toy. She only realised what Alaska’s actions meant when her wife climbed on top of her, straddling her hips and pressing up the toy that has just been inside her barely minutes ago against her folds. “Mommy?” She gasped in disbelief.

Alaska switched the toy on again, moaning loudly as she felt it buzzing against her walls, hitting her sweet spot as she started moving on top of Sharon, scratching her thigh lightly with her free hand. She carefully slid one of her legs under Sharon’s other thigh so she could rub herself against Sharon’s folds, the toy vibrating between them. Their moans mingled together as they moved in tandem.

“Mommy, I’m close again,” Sharon sighed, her head falling back. Alaska took her hand and upped the speed, pulling Sharon up and pressing their bodies together. “Cum with me, babydoll,” she whispered into Sharon’s ear, kissing and sucking on her neck, hitting the spot where she knew Sharon was the most sensitive. They came together, shuddering heavily and feeling each other’s pleasure.

As soon as they settled down, Sharon curled into her Lasky’s lap, resting her head in the crook of her neck. “I am so glad you are home, Mama,” she told her as she hugged her tightly. Alaska smiled into Sharon’s hair and kissed the top of her head lovingly. “Me too, my beautiful girl. Me too.”

[fortheloveofpearlet]

what about shalaska getting into s04 together and making their separate entrances into the workroom (failing at pretending they don't know each other)?

Thank you darling! Currently not taking requests.I honestly really wasn’t all that sure where to go with this so it’s just short and fluffy :) Alaska-centric. Sorry if this is terrible it’s not my favourite pairing 🙊

‘Hieeeeee!’ Alaska stripped off her horse mask as she walked into the werk room and addressed the other queens. There were a lot of confused looks as the Pittsburgh queen entered in her trash bag couture. Alaska had expected this reaction, queens didn’t always get her. She was ok that with that though. She came over to the table the other queens were gathered around.‘Hieee! I’m Alaska.’ She spoke in her deep drawn out voice and waved at them with her gloved hand. Some of the queens exchanged a look before turning back to the blonde.'Chad Michaels.’ An older queen spoke up first and came to Alaska, giving her an air kiss on each cheek.'I’m Latrice.’ Another queen stepped forward. Large in every sense of the word but absolutely fabulous Alaska thought. Latrice air kissed her like Chad had done. The other queens introduced themselves one by one and then suddenly another queen was entering the werk room.

More confused looks were exchanged and one queen even laughed a little as their new competitor entered. She wore a long black wig, short black dress and a witches hat. She snarled at the camera as she entered and then turned to the other queens. The snarl was still on her face for a second before it turned into a small smile.'I look spooky but I’m really nice!’Alaska couldn’t hide the giddy smile that came to her lips when Sharon Needles entered. She tried to play it cool. She tried to pretend she’d never met the queen before. Sharon came over to the table, her eyes briefly met Alaska’s but then she looked away.'I’m Sharon. Sharon Needles.’ She told the girls. Introductions were exchanged, she deliberately left Alaska until last.'I’m Alaska. Pleasure to meet you.’ Alaska still had the giddy smile on her lips. Sharon gave her a look as if to say, be cool. The two queens did the standard air kiss before Sharon pulled away. Their eyes met again and Alaska could feel herself blushing, she always did when Sharon looked at her, but she hoped it wasn’t obvious under her layers of make-up.

One by one the other queens made their entrances until the werk room was full to bursting. As the queens started getting to known each other, Alaska kept stealing glances at Sharon. She couldn’t help herself. She tried to ignore her presence but it was no use. Alaska’s eyes always found Sharon. She didn’t notice that one queen in particular had noticed the longer than necessary glances Alaska was giving Sharon. They’d noticed the way Alaska laughed a little too loudly at anything Sharon said. Alaska wasn’t subtle, not by any stretch of the imagination.'Pittsburgh’s drag scene is very up and coming.’ Sharon told the girls.'Yeah but it’s getting there.’ Alaska added. All the queens turned to look at her. 'I mean…so I’ve heard.’ She shrugged. Sharon subtly rolled her eyes.'You from Pittsburgh too?’ Latrice asked her.'Me?’ Alaska tried to laugh. 'No, no not me.’Sharon should have known Alaska would blow this for them.'Where are you from?’ Chad asked her now. It felt like there was a hundred sets of eyes on Alaska and she felt her head spinning. She looked at Sharon briefly who gave her a look to encourage her to speak. Alaska swallowed.'LA?’ She didn’t mean it to sound like a question but it did. Sharon wanted to hit her head against a wall.

There was a lull in the conversation and so someone decided to speak up.'There’s something going on here.’ Willam looked between Alaska and Sharon stood on opposite sides of the table. The two queens exchanged a look and Sharon decided to speak up before Alaska had a chance to ruin this for them.'Something like what?’ Sharon raised a painted on eyebrow at Willam and put her hand on her hip.'You two know each other.’ Willam stared at Sharon.'What?’ Alaska gasped a little more loudly than she’d meant to. Sharon and Willam turned to her. Sharon was trying to subtly shake her head to tell Alaska to keep quiet but the blonde was already speaking again. 'Us? Me and Sharon? You think we…oh god…I’ve never met that bitch before in my life!’ Alaska started laughing but it was the most fake laugh any of them had ever heard. Sharon pinched the bridge of her nose. Willam looked between them.'So that’s a yes then. You do know each other.’'Now you mention it we might have met that one time. In LA right Alaska?’ Sharon gave her a look to tell her to play along. It wasn’t lost on Willam.'Yeah…yeah maybe.’ Alaska shrugged, knowing the less she said the better.'I call bull.’ Willam folded her arms. 'Spill the tea, how do you know each other?’Sharon sighed, she knew the jig was up.'We’re…together. Alaska is my girlfriend.’ Sharon was met by a lot of shocked gasps from the other queens.'Were we that obvious?’ Alaska pulled a face.'I wasn’t.’ Sharon scalded her a little.'Is that even allowed?’ Phi Phi looked unimpressed.'I don’t know.’ Sharon shrugged.'I tried really hard Sharon.’ Alaska whined, a large pout on her face. Sharon sighed again and came around the table to her girlfriend. She wrapped the blonde in her arms and stroked her back.'I know you did baby. It was too big of a secret for you to keep.’ Sharon cooed. Alaska wasn’t good with secrets, the queen was too honest for her own good. The other queens watched on as Sharon continued comforting Alaska. She placed gentle kisses in Alaska'a wig.'I’m sorry Sharon.’ She whined again, her voice muffled by Sharon’s shoulder.'It’s ok.’ Sharon cooed again.'What happens now?’ She looked up at her girlfriend and Sharon stroked her unruly wig back off her face.'I don’t know sweetie.’ She kissed her softly so their lipsticks didn’t smudge. 'I guess we wait and see what mama Ru has to say.’'There’s always season five.’ Alaska said with a tiny hint of a smile on her lips. Sharon squeezed her arm.'That’s the spirit baby.’ Sharon kissed her once more while the other queens just watched, wide eyed and slack jawed. Alaska rested her head on Sharon’s shoulder and Sharon put her arm around the other queen.'So…’ Sharon addressed the others. 'That’s our secret.’ She shrugged once again. She should have known asking Alaska to try and keep a secret like this was too much to ask. Alaska was honest through and through. That was just one of the many reasons Sharon loved her so much.

[artificialqueens]

(Your Body Is) Out of this World (Shalaska) - Citrus

A/N: thank u to Mistress for beta-ing and subsequently bullying me into posting this

Summary: Dr. Sharon Needles is assigned to examine the newest alien arrival on their interstellar compound. Things do not go as she planned. Smut, 3.9k words.

Sharon had never seen a specimen like this before, and she’d been working at this facility for six years. Sure, the infinite expanse of space was filled with any number of cosmic horrors, and she’d seen quite a few of its offerings, but she’d never encountered anything like this.

Looking through the shielded glass of the MRI room for the first time, she’d been astounded. Inside was a humanoid that resembled Sharon’s own race in all of the fundamental ways, but was decidedly different in others. This alien looked like, well, what an alien in a video game would look like; a feminine figure with impossible proportions, yet still enough to appear human to an extent. She was long-legged and a little gangly, but not skin-and-bones; clearly there was strong muscle and soft fat beneath her shimmering blue-green skin. Her eyes were almost completely black, and when the alien had turned to make eye contact with Sharon, she’d looked away.

A Glamtr0nian. Their planet was shrouded in mystery, its people renowned for their incredible beauty, but not much was known about their physiology. Their concept of gender was beyond the realm of human imagination, but this particular one had disclosed an identification somewhere close to the human concept of womanhood, and had expressed consent toward being referred to as a “she.”

Now it was exam day. Sharon would be conducting a physical examination of the facility’s first Glamtr0nian specimen. She adjusted her glasses nervously as she stepped in front of the exam room door, pressing her palm against the scanner and waiting for her entrance permissions to clear. The doors slid open to reveal a second set of doors, a security measure in the event that specimens attempted to make an escape. It didn’t happen often, but it was a nice precaution to have. The outer doors would be secured by armed guards as well, if Sharon needed backup or found herself in a volatile situation.

The doors opened, and Sharon stepped inside. The alien was waiting for her, sitting on the exam table and showing no signs of distress and looking, for all intents and purposes, fairly comfortable. Her long, silvery-blonde hair was no longer piled into two buns on the top of her head like it had been when she’d arrived, but was now brushed back into a sleek, shiny ponytail. Her eyes were still black as night, but her makeup was definitely toned down, as if she was barely wearing any at all. A little hesitantly, Sharon stepped forward to conduct her first test: ensuring that the alien’s translation chip had been upgraded when she arrived at their facility.

“Can you understand me?”

Turning her head at the sound of Sharon’s voice, the Glamtr0nian looked at her and nodded.

“I was getting bored in here. It’s kind of unnerving to have all of these medical instruments around me, you know.”

“I understand, sorry about that,” Sharon smiled. “My name is Dr. Needles, I’ll be performing your examination today. Do you use a name?”

“Princess Alaska Joanne Elizabeth Thunderfuck 5000 of the planet Glamtr0n. Alaska is fine, or Your Highness if you’re kinky. So what’ll you be doing to me today, Doc Needles? That’s a fitting name, by the way.”

Sharon flushed, but tried not to let it affect her. “It’s just a routine physical exam. Making sure you’re healthy and figuring out what you need in order to design an ideal habitat.”

“You make me sound like a zoo animal,” Alaska grumped. “You’re not gonna put me on display, are you?”

Sharon shook her head, taken aback. “Not at all. This is just protocol while our engineering team works on repairing your spacecraft. It would be rude to stick you in a hotel room that was badly-suited for your particular needs.”

“Oh, that’s fine then,” Alaska said, sounding relieved. “I got kinda worried when they made me do all those MRIs and x-rays and stuff. The translation chip upgrade was cool though, I needed the newest language expansion. Thanks for that.”

“I’ll let Dr. West know you appreciate it,” Sharon smiled. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Do your worst.”

They went through a few of the simpler tests, like necessary air components and temperature preference, before moving on to diet and physical activity requirements. It turned out that Glamtr0nians were incredibly adaptable, to an extent that Sharon had never seen before, and their ability to shapeshift made it much easier to assimilate to any environment that they needed to.

“Are you comfortable if we move on to a more… private portion of the exam?”

“How private are we talking, Doc?” Alaska asked with a smirk. “You gonna probe me?”

Sharon blushed. “Not quite. If you’re comfortable doing so, I’d like to ask you to disrobe and allow me to record your body’s reactions to some simple tests.” Alaska’s robe was gone before she’d even finished her sentence, and she blushed even deeper at the sight of what was essentially a naked blue-green woman in front of her, covered only by a flashy silver thong.

“I thought you’d never ask. That thing was driving me insane.”

“Really? Was the fabric uncomfortable to you?“ That would be an interesting thing to make note of, for the sake of future patients.

“The fabric was fine, it was just so loose. I prefer to wear things with a much tighter fit, or nothing at all. Personal preference. Now you can test away.” She crossed her legs and leaned back on her palms, those dark eyes looking right at Sharon with such intensity that she thought she might melt. But she had a job to do, and dammit, she was going to do it.

Sharon took a reflex hammer from the table and checked Alaska’s reflexes, which were a little faster than a normal human’s but generally pretty normal. Taking her stethoscope from around her neck, she placed it on Alaska’s bare chest and waited, trying not to be a perv by looking at her perky breasts, though they were difficult to ignore.

“Very weak heartbeat…” she mumbled to herself, and Alaska giggled.

“It’s on the other side. Here,” she said, placing her hand over Sharon’s and guiding it to the right side of her chest. Sharon tried her hardest not to blush.

“Right. Is this a normal resting heart rate for you?"

"It’s a little higher,” Alaska answered, and Sharon looked at her, curious.

“Is this exam making you nervous?"

"Sure,” the alien replied, “Let’s go with that.”

Seemingly oblivious, Sharon continued. “I hate to ask this, but how’s your sexual health?”

“I’d say it’s just fine,” Alaska purred. “I assume this is all protocol?”

“Yeah, I have to go through this part just to make sure there’s no risk of any kind of outbreak in the compound. Who you choose to engage with isn’t our business, we just don’t want anything to spread– Not that I’m implying that you have anything,” she added, blushing. “It’s just precautionary.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Alaska said. “As far as I’m aware, I’m not carrying anything. I get tested regularly.”

Sharon copied that down in her notes. “That makes my job a lot easier. Are you sexually compatible with members of species outside your own?”

“Very.” Alaska smirked. “I’d say almost universally.”

“Really?” Sharon found herself blushing again. “You have that in common with humans, then.”

“Oh, I know,” Alaska answered, giving her gorgeous doctor a once-over. Were humans exceptionally dense, or was this one just not catching onto her advances? She was beginning to get frustrated with Sharon’s apparent lack of interest. Then again, she was doing that thing where her cheeks turned all pink and she radiated warmth, which was kind of adorable. “I’ve been told that humans are the most compatible species with my own. Sexually, at least. Especially the brunettes.”

“Why is that?”

Alaska bit her lip, gazing into the doctor’s eyes. “You know, for a doctor, you’re really kind of dumb.”

“Why would you think th– oh. Oh.” Sharon took a few steps back, blushing even harder than before. “Have you been-”

"Hitting on you this whole time? Yes. Kinda wish we’d met under different circumstances, not as a doctor and patient, because you’re very attractive and I’d like to have wildly kinky interspecies sex with you.”

This was, surprisingly, not the first time an alien had hit on Sharon during an exam. However, she’d be a liar if she said she wasn’t attracted to this particular alien, and it had taken her much longer than usual to catch on to Alaska’s flirting. Come to think of it, she’d been feeling rather warm since she first entered the room… Had she just been repressing her desire this entire time? It definitely sounded like something she would do.

“You know, I think I’ve written down everything you need to be comfortable in your section of the compound,” she said slowly, looking into Alaska’s inky-black eyes. “We could always save the regular checkup for another time.”

Alaska’s eyes widened as she realized what Sharon was doing, and her cheeks turned a delicate shade of turquoise. “You’re right. After all, they’ll probably be repairing my ship for a while…"

"I’d say a few weeks at least,” Sharon agreed.

"Right. Complex craft, that one is.”

“We have plenty of time for a follow-up exam.”

“Plenty.”

“I’m sure both of us have other things we could be doing with our time.”

“Oh, I can think of a few.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. And if you don’t put your mouth on my mouth in the next ten seconds, I think I’ll explode.”

They had been inching closer to one another throughout this exchange, but when Alaska begged to be kissed, Sharon’s composure was finally broken. She leaned against the exam table, capturing Alaska’s lips with her own and letting out a surprised whine when Alaska’s tongue was much longer than she’d expected. Fuck, she’d give anything for that tongue between her legs…

“You’re so sexy,” Sharon mumbled against the alien’s plush lips, her hands moving from the exam table to rest on Alaska’s thighs. They were slightly cooler than Sharon’s own body temperature, and impossibly soft and smooth; her skin was almost comparable to silicone in its texture, but wondrously alive. “God, I want you so bad.” As her right hand moved to Alaska’s inner thigh, her fingertips brushed against the thin strap of her thong. “Can I touch you?”

“Fuck yes,” Alaska breathed, her dark eyes half-lidded with lust. When Sharon cupped her and then froze, she looked up at the doctor with confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, I-” Sharon blushed and withdrew her hand. “I didn’t think to ask what… what you had going on down there. I guess I just assumed it was as humanoid as the rest of you.” She bit her lip, trying not to turn an even deeper shade of red as she looked up at Alaska. When she’d touched her, she’d felt a distinct bulge, and she was both curious and turned on by whatever was hidden by Alaska’s silvery underwear.

The alien smiled coyly. “Do you want to see?” Wordlessly, Sharon nodded and took a step back to allow her patient-turned-paramour to stand. Alaska hooked her fingers under the straps of her flimsy undergarment and pulled them over her hips, sliding her panties off completely and setting them on the exam table. She hopped up onto the table once more and spread her legs, giving Sharon full view of just what she was working with.

It was like nothing Sharon had ever seen. Confirming her suspicions that Alaska was completely hairless from the neck down, the alien was bare and wet, her dewy folds all but dripping with a bright blue fluid that seemed to give off a light of its own. It looked remarkably like what Sharon expected from an alien pussy, but the star of the show made itself obvious in the place where Alaska’s clit would be, had she been human. Though blue-green like the rest of her skin and shaped somewhat oddly with a tapering tip, it was unmistakably a penis, and it was leaking the same luminous fluid as her pussy– or perhaps it had dripped down, Sharon wasn’t sure.

“Fuck. Wow."

Alaska’s external member twitched and she bit her lip, flustered. "Is that a good ‘fuck, wow’ or a bad one?"

"Definitely good,” Sharon breathed, “Holy shit.”

“Do you still want to-"

”Yes,“ Sharon interrupted her, stepping between her legs again. "I want you. Fuck.”

Alaska smiled, clearly relieved. “Y'know, Dr. Needles, you’re wearing an awful lot of clothing right now…” She tugged at the lapels of Sharon’s labcoat, teasing. “C'mon, I showed you mine…”

Sharon grinned at her and began to undress, taking her time as she stripped down to her bra and panties. With every article of clothing she removed, she watched Alaska’s member grow a little stiffer; by the time she unclipped her bra, Alaska had grown several times her original size and was dripping all over her thighs and the exam table.

“You’re so hot, come here,” she whined, reaching out for the doctor and letting out a soft moan when Sharon moved closer, one hand skimming the alien’s slender waist. “Fuck, I didn’t think a strip tease could make me so wet.”

“That’s what that is, huh?” Sharon smirked, gesturing to the little luminescent mess Alaska had made.

“Whaaat, you’ve never seen Glamtr0nian precum?” Alaska whined, clearly desperate for some kind of action. “You wanna touch me, or are you gonna make me suffer forever?"

Sharon eyed Alaska’s pulsing member, a little apprehensive. "It’s not corrosive, is it?"

"Not to humans. I’ve been told it tastes like candy, too.”

“Well now you’re just lying to me so I’ll go down on you,” Sharon laughed. “What do you call it, anyway? Your… external part, I mean.”

“Same as you,” the alien shrugged. “On Glamtr0n we all have a pussy and a cock. It’s super easy for us to fuck,” she added with a giggle. “We’re kinda stretchy and can take a lot more than it looks like. But that’s not really relevant here.”

“And why’s that?” Sharon challenged.

Alaska gave her a look, and she withered almost immediately. “Because it’s so obvious that you want me inside you,” she answered as if Sharon had already known. And, to be fair, she had a point. Sharon definitely wanted Alaska’s alien cock to rearrange her gastrointestinal structures, but she wasn’t going to admit that out loud. Yet.

“You think so?” Sharon teased, stealing a kiss. “You’ve already made a mess of yourself, and you expect me to believe that you won’t blow your load the second you’re inside me?”

Alaska chased the doctor’s lips, running her hands down Sharon’s chest and squeezing her breasts. Fuck, she was so warm and soft and human. “I guess that’s up to you… Are you gonna let me fuck you so you can find out?” She trailed a palm down Sharon’s body to cup her over her panties, and smirked when she felt that they were wet. “You’re a bold talker for someone who’s dripping just as much as I am, Dr. Needles.”

“I think you owe me a favor for making a mess of my exam table,” Sharon breathed, her eyes dark and wide as Alaska’s long fingers pressed against her. “Don’t you?”

“Oh, you’re right, I’m terribly sorry for that,” the alien princess smirked. Just like that, her fingertips had grown talon-like nails, and she used them to slice away the straps of Sharon’s panties; as soon as the wet fabric hit the floor, Alaska’s hands were back to normal, pressing between the doctor’s folds and feeling how wet she truly was.

“Could’ve warned me before you did that,” Sharon said, but it was clear from her tone that she wasn’t upset at all, and rather more turned on because of it. “Oh, fuck.” Alaska’s fingers had found her entrance and a long, slender digit curled inside her, deeper than she’d ever been touched before. Alaska smirked, cupping Sharon’s cheek with her other hand and drawing her in for a kiss.

“You’re so warm… and Goddess, so fucking tight…” Her voice was low and sultry, even more so than before, and Sharon felt weak in her embrace. “I’ll have to be nice and slow with you… Make sure you can take me…”

“You’re evil,” Sharon whined as a second finger joined the first inside her, “You shouldn’t be able to make me feel this fucking good.”

Alaska laughed. “No? Would you like me to stop, then?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Sharon growled, clenching down on Alaska’s fingers and enjoying the alien’s soft gasp of surprise. “God, fuck, you’re so good.”

“You swear a lot,” Alaska grinned, feeling blindly with her thumb for the little bud that she knew resided in the place where her own cock would be. When she found it, Sharon all but whimpered, falling forward to lean against her lover’s chest for support as she worked her magic.

“Holy shit.”

“Should we change positions? I don’t want you hurting yourself,” Alaska asked, a wicked glimmer in her eye. Sharon nodded, and allowed the alien to gently maneuver her body so that she was leaning against the exam table, her legs spread just enough for Alaska to kneel between them.

“Fuck.” Sharon had wanted Alaska between her legs, and now it was happening.

The alien kissed Sharon’s thighs, remembering that humans liked it when their skin was marked up, and sucked a hickey or two into the soft flesh. Her long tongue flicked upwards, tasting the wetness that had gathered on Sharon’s folds and stifling a moan at the taste of her. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of human pussy,” she mumbled into Sharon’s thigh, causing the doctor to giggle and blush. “You’re so fucking wet.” Her tongue slid between Sharon’s lips again, lapping at her pussy eagerly as she listened to her soft moans of pleasure. Daringly, she teased at Sharon’s entrance before darting inside and tasting her deeply, and the human woman let out a cry.

“Oh my fucking god!” Alaska was every lesbian’s wet dream, and Sharon could hardly believe she had such a gorgeous and talented woman between her thighs. “Shit, you’re so good,” she whined as that impossibly long tongue fluttered over her clit and curled against her aching pussy. If she didn’t slow down soon, Sharon was going to make an embarrassing mess of herself.

“You taste so good, baby,” Alaska moaned, taking a moment to breathe. Sharon looked down at her, brushing a silver-blonde lock of hair away from her face where it had escaped her ponytail. Alaska’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes were half-lidded, and she looked absolutely debauched, like there was nowhere in the universe she’d rather be than on her knees between Sharon’s legs.

Sharon bit her lower lip, feeling her own face heat up. “You look so good like this.”

“Hardly royal behavior, is it?” Alaska breathed with a little chuckle. “On my knees pleasuring a commoner while I’m soaked and unfulfilled.” It was clear that she was being playful, but once glance at her dick made it obvious just how badly she needed to be touched.

“Come here,” Sharon said, pulling the alien princess to her feet and immediately wrapping her fingers around her weeping cock. Alaska gasped sharply, her hips thrusting against Sharon’s touch of their own accord as the doctor stroked her carefully. “Is this good?”

“So good,” Alaska whined, and Sharon tightened her grip, moving a little faster. She learned quickly that unlike humans, Alaska had more than one deeply sensitive spot; her base was just as sensitive as her tip, and when Sharon slipped two fingers into her pussy, she keened and squirmed. “You are fucking incredible,” the princess praised her, doing her best to fuck herself on Sharon’s fingers while also thrusting up into her hand. “You’ll kill me before I can cum.”

“Who says I’m going to let you cum?” Sharon teased her, laughing when Alaska let out a pathetic whimper. “I’m kidding, I promise. Although this angle is kind of awkward, so…” She pulled her fingers out of Alaska despite soft protesting from the alien, and settled for kissing her deeply instead.

Alaska’s fingers found Sharon’s clit, and their lips met once more as they pleasured one another. Sharon came first, whining and shaking against Alaska’s delicate touch, and the princess slipped out of her grasp to kneel between her legs again and clean her up. Sharon was almost painfully sensitive, so Alaska took care to be gentle with her, and kissed her hip sweetly before coming back up to kiss her on the mouth.

“You don’t have to do anything for me,” she breathed, batting Sharon’s hand away. “I’ll take care of myself.”

Sharon frowned, her mind still a little foggy from her orgasm. “You sure? I want you to feel good…”

Alaska smiled. “It’s okay. I’m kind of messy when I cum…”

“I think we’ve made a mess already,” Sharon laughed, looking around the exam room at the disarrayed tables, piles of clothing, and little puddles of fluid (mostly Alaska’s). “I’ve never seen a girl get as wet as you do.”

The alien blushed. “It’s just how our bodies work… We’re really sexual beings, we like to be ready for anything.”

“I don’t mind the mess,” Sharon smiled, stealing another kiss. “You sure you don’t wanna finish inside me?” she asked, trying to tempt her lover into another round.

Alaska bit her lip, clearly considering the offer. “I don’t think you wanna risk an interspecies pregnancy this early in our relationship,” she grinned. “I’ll try not to make too much of a mess, I promise.”

“God, just let me touch you,” Sharon pleaded, and Alaska laughed aloud. She turned her back on Sharon, leaning against her chest as her hand moved down to begin pumping herself. “How’s this?” The question came out breathier than she’d meant it to, but she could hardly be blamed for being so fucking close already; Dr. Sharon Needles was magic.

Sharon’s hands roamed over her waist and hips before moving up to knead her breasts, peppering kisses over her shoulders and neck. One hand slid between her legs, fingers pressing up inside her and moving in time with her sloppy hand movements. “This is perfect. Cum for me, baby.”

Alaska let out a low cry, cumming into her fist and around Sharon’s fingers in an explosive release of that luminous fluid, now thicker and glowing even brighter than before. Sharon’s hand, Alaska’s thighs, and the floor of the exam room were a mess, but Sharon really couldn’t bring herself to care when she had a panting, writhing alien princess pressed against her, letting out silent sobs of pleasure as she came down.

“T-told you I was messy,” Alaska managed to say, all but collapsing against Sharon’s chest. The doctor smiled, pressing a warm, liquid kiss against Alaska’s neck.

“Yeah. You’re so pretty when you cum.”

Alaska blushed cerulean. “You think so?”

“Well, you’re pretty no matter what you’re doing. But even prettier when you’re like this.” Sharon pulled her fingers out of the alien princess and turned her so that they were facing one another. “We should probably clean up, huh?”

Alaska smiled, leaning forward to kiss Sharon deeply.

“Yeah. We probably should.”

[artificialqueens]

Wild Flower, Chapter Eleven, (Shalaska) 11/11 - Freyja

A/N: Guys. We’re at the end. I literally still can’t comprehend it - my brain is still planning on beginning the next chapter tomorrow like it has been for the last two months (please don’t ask me how I wrote this in only two months - quarantine is a special time).

It’s really bittersweet - I’ve finished a multichap! It’s as long as a novel! But, I’m going to miss writing this story and this world so, so much. It’s my favorite thing I’ve ever written, and I’m sad it’s over. I’m going to miss everything about it, but I’m really damn proud of it, too. My baby’s going to college, you guys :’)

I want to thank Frey for betaing this entire fic - I love her so much and she’s the best. It’s just facts, people. Here’s hoping she doesn’t drop me like a hot potato before I can get anything else out (because this isn’t the end of me - just the end of my niche cowboy fic that I’m grateful even one person read).

I want to thank everyone for their comments and asks and messages - I love every single one of them, and they really did get my ass into gear. If any of y'all want to shoot me ( @narcoleptic-drag-queen ) asks about this fic (headcanons or questions or anything) or really anything else, I welcome it all. If y'all want an epilogue or any sort of spin off stories, let me know about that as well. I’m sentimental, and I’ll take any excuse not to leave this fic alone just yet.

And now, to top it all off: the playlist, previous chapters (in order), AO3, and the playlist @barbiehytes made (which is better than mine). Thank you for reading, everyone - I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart. <3<3<3

Summary: Solomon has Sharon, and the girls go to get her. Alaska will do anything to get her back. Anything.

🌸

“Most of those he did kill deserved what they got.” — A Lincoln County, New Mexico resident talking of Billy the Kid

🌸

For a moment, all Alaska can hear is the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, the world tilting dizzyingly as soon as Phi Phi’s words hit her.

Solomon has her.

Her stomach churns, nausea rising to the back of her throat. Solomon has Sharon. The man who’d killed Chad Michaels in cold blood, seemingly just for fun, has Sharon. The same man who now has reason to hate Sharon, can now do whatever he wants with her. Lawrence Solomon, the man who’s name sends a shiver down Alaska’s spine, has the woman she loves, and he very likely wants to kill her.

All she can do is stare at Phi Phi, unable to form any of the questions she has, shock making her mind numb and her body detached. She hears Willam call for the other women, but it feels like a memory already, like it’s happening far away.

She watches as Roxxxy arrives, a large shotgun in hand, to take her place next to Jinkx’s pale figure. She watches Morgan run towards Willam like a bullet had never been in her thigh, exchanging quiet words with the blonde that Alaska couldn’t hope to hear even if her ears weren’t ringing deafeningly.

She watches Morgan nod at Willam before marching up to Cerrone, reaching Phi Phi’s side with a sneer. She grabs Phi Phi’s shirt and pulls her down violently, and she collapses on the ground in an ungraceful heap. Phi Phi’s sharp cry of pain succeeds in jerking Alaska back into her body, adrenaline flooding through her instead.

“Someone get her to the post,” Willam orders, her voice betraying nothing. Her face, however, is completely drained of color. “We can’t have her running on us.”

Phi Phi doesn’t cry out again when Morgan jerks her arms behind her back, but she grimaces, glaring at Willam with bloodshot eyes. “I didn’t do this,” she snarls, and Morgan shakes her a little, making her sentence end with a whimper of pain.

“I don’t care,” Willam says coldly. “It doesn’t even matter that I don’t believe you.”

“Fuck you,” Phi Phi says. “I came to warn you, I–”

“Exactly,” Willam says. “And that’s suspicious as fuck.”

Phi Phi opens her mouth again, but Morgan cuts her off with another shake. “She’s not interested,” she sneers. “Didn’t you hear?”

Phi Phi doesn’t respond, gritting her teeth, and Willam takes the opportunity to pat her down for weapons. Surprisingly, she comes up with nothing. Alaska is just as confused as Willam looks - surely, Phi Phi would have at least a knife.

Maybe, Alaska thinks darkly, she’s trying to trick us.

“What the fuck?” Willam asks, and Phi Phi glares.

“You took all of my weapons, remember?” she snaps.

“No,” Willam says simply. “But I don’t mind skipping to step two.”

“If you tie me to that post,” Phi Phi says, growing panicked as Morgan tries to march her forwards. She digs her heels into the dirt, stopping Morgan and displaying more strength than Alaska had expected. Her voice, however, is strained as she finishes her sentence. “I won’t tell you anything.”

“Sure,” Willam says dryly, but Alaska feels a thrill of panic run through her at the threat. Even if they manage to crack Phi Phi, it will take too long. She needs to know now.

She steps forward to stop them, to tell Morgan to just shake it out of Phi Phi here and now, but Jinkx beats her to it, raising her voice for the first time since Phi Phi’s grand entrance.

“Stop,” she says, and her voice is wobbly. “I don’t want to make things more difficult than they already are. Not when Sharon’s in danger.” Her voice breaks on the last word, and Alaska’s stomach dips as well, worry rising in her throat.

“How are we supposed to know she’s telling the truth?” Willam asks, flicking her gun lazily at Phi Phi, making her flinch. “I don’t trust her. Wild animals need to be restrained.”

Another flash of panic runs through Alaska like a shock. “Restraining her isn’t going to do anything but make getting Sharon harder,” she says, but Willam’s sharp look silences her from saying any more.

“I think I know what I’m doing,” Willam says, glancing at Phi Phi with something like disgust. “She deserves to be tied up for this.”

“Alaska’s right,” Jinkx says, and Willam’s eyes roll up towards the sky. “I don’t trust her either, but I think we’re going to get the truth a little faster if she’s in the mood to cooperate.”

“Or we’ll get whatever lie she’s got cooked up,” Roxxxy sneers from beside her, and Alaska resists the urge to snap at her to shut up. Phi Phi snarls.

“I’m not lying!” she says, voice loud. “I’m done lying for that bastard!”

“Now that’s interesting,” Willam says, peering curiously down at Phi Phi’s scowling face. “I thought you said you would die for him.”

“That’s when I thought he would die for me,” Phi Phi says, and her voice cracks. “I’m not trying to trick you. Just - please, don’t tie me up.”

“Sharon does always say you’re bad at lyin’,” Willam says, frowning a little. “She says she likes it when he brings you along, because all you do is give him away.”

Phi Phi laughs bitterly. “Makes sense,” she says. “I guess it’s easier to trick me and get shit done that way.” Alaska pauses at that, once again taken aback, the frustration that comes with confusion clenching in her chest. What the hell is Phi Phi talking about?

There’s a beat of silence, and Roxxxy creeps forwards a little, her gun still trained on Phi Phi’s face.

“How do we know she’s not just stalling?” she asks. “How do we know this isn’t all one big ploy to lead Solomon up here to get the rest of us? How do we know Sharon’s not already dead?”

Alaska feels the world tilt again, her stomach plunging with sudden fear. No.

“Because Sharon wouldn’t let that happen,” Jinkx says harshly. “That’s - that’s impossible.”

“Roxxxy,” Willam says, her eyes on Jinkx. Her voice is surprisingly gentle, and Alaska follows her gaze to find Jinkx on the brink of tears, her cheeks flushed an angry red. She feels her own pressing against the back of her throat. “Make yourself useful and go get Kameron.”

Roxxxy frowns. “I’m not saying–”

“Just do it,” Morgan cuts in, and Roxxxy turns without further question, making her way up to the tent nearest Sharon’s. Alaska watches her go, nausea still high in her throat and her heart pounding so hard she can feel it in her fingertips. Even with Roxxxy gone, her words are still a shard in the center of Alaska’s chest, something she doesn’t think will go away until Sharon is back and unharmed.

She tries to ignore the doubt creeping into her mind, choosing her anger instead of her distress. Sharon will be alright - if she isn’t, Alaska will do anything to make sure no one else is, either.

“Spill.”

Willam’s piercing voice tugs her out of her thoughts, and she turns her gaze back to the situation at hand, surprised to see anger making itself known in Willam’s expression as she continues, “And if I even get a feeling that you’re lying, Morgan will twist your arm until you start crying for your mother.”

“Luckily for me,” Phi Phi mutters, glaring up at Willam, “I don’t plan on lying.”

“Congratulations,” Willam says, voice flat. “Maybe you’ll get to keep your arm.”

Alaska thinks Phi Phi is lucky that she isn’t the one holding her, panic and anger making her desperate to hit something - desperate to hit Phi Phi, who isn’t as repentant as Alaska thinks she should be. She should be groveling. She should be begging.

“What were you doing with Sharon?” Jinkx asks after a moment, her voice still shaky, but her expression determined. “Let’s start with that.”

There’s a pause as Phi Phi clearly gets her thoughts in order, frowning as her eyes drift towards the ground. She takes long enough that Roxxxy has time to return with a grave Kameron, and the sight of them has impatience snapping in Alaska’s chest.

“Well?” Alaska snaps, and Phi Phi glares at her.

“Be patient,” she snarls, but her expression softens after a beat, her scowl turning into a slight frown. “It isn’t – It wasn’t my idea,” she starts, “so don’t blame me.”

“I think we’ll decide who to blame when you finish the story,” Willam says, like she’s putting off choosing what she wants Alyssa to cook for dinner. “Which better be the next thing out of your mouth. Otherwise, we’re tying you to the post whether you like it or not.”

Phi Phi scowls, but she takes a deep breath, pressing her lips together. “Sharon decided she wanted to accept Solomon’s peace treaty,” she says, and disbelieving shock once again has Alaska’s organs turning to liquid. Roxxxy clearly feels the same, because she cuts in before Phi Phi can continue.

“She’s lying,” she says, but Willam puts a hand up before Morgan can jostle Phi Phi again. Alaska doesn’t miss the way Willam’s eyes glance towards her, and her heart stutters at the implication.

“Let her finish,” Willam says, looking back at Phi Phi, and Phi Phi waits another moment before continuing.

“I told her that she was lucky, because today is the day that Solomon wanted to meet with her,” she says, and her voice is still, strangely, bitter. “Sharon took me with her in the spirit of the treaty, to give me back. But Solomon didn’t seem very interested in me - just in talking. Stalling.”

“It was a trap,” Willam says, realization dawning in her eyes. “There was no peace treaty.” Alaska’s stomach jolts, her breath catching on an inhale. If Sharon had been right before, but had listened to Alaska’s naivety anyway–

She’s an idiot, Alaska thinks, her heart hurting. But so am I.

“No,” Phi Phi says darkly. “There wasn’t. Solomon’s a good actor - he even had me fooled. He got Sharon to shake his hand. He didn’t let go, and Sharon was trying to reach for her gun when suddenly, men were swarming us. They got Sharon pretty fast, and when I tried to help her - well. They didn’t hesitate to shoot at me.” She pauses, hurt flickering across her face before anger settles back onto her features, the emotion clearly easier to handle. Alaska feels her own rise in response. “They shot my horse, and while I was grabbing Sharon’s, another bullet went through my arm. I ran before they could do any more damage. I don’t know what their plan is with Sharon - all I know is that Solomon likes to play with his victims. And Sharon’s certainly one he won’t want to waste.”

There’s a deafening silence as she finishes, and Alaska stares in numb shock before anger starts to pool within her, Phi Phi’s story slowly unfolding within her mind.

Sharon is in danger, very likely already hurt, and it’s Phi Phi’s fault. It makes Alaska clench her fists, the feeling of her nails cutting into her palms only making her angrier.

“So,” she says slowly, her anger forming a typhoon in her chest. “It’s your fault.”

“Alaska–” Jinkx starts, her voice gentle, but Phi Phi beats her to the punch.

“I wasn’t the only one pushing for the peace treaty,” she snaps. “And I’m definitely not the one that convinced Sharon.”

Alaska feels the accusation like a punch to the gut, hurt and regret sharp in her stomach. “How did you–”

“Sharon likes to talk,” Phi Phi sneers. “I don’t think that’s news to anyone here.”

Alaska itches to hurt her, but she stays back, shaking with anger. “You abandoned her,” she says, her voice growing louder. “You left her there to be taken and you stole her only–”

“They were shooting at me!” Phi Phi shouts over her, leaning forwards like she wants to get closer. “My own camp - my own– argh!” She’s cut off with another cry of pain, having pulled a little too hard against Morgan.

“Get her to Katya,” Willam tells Morgan, but Alaska isn’t finished.

As Morgan begins to march Phi Phi towards the med-tent, Alaska steps forward, opening her mouth to snap back, but before she can form any words, a hand closes around her wrist, stopping her from going very far. She flinches, and she whips her head around to find Jinkx looking at her with a worried expression.

“Alaska,” she says, “it wasn’t her fault.”

Anger flashes through Alaska like lightning, and she jerks her hand away, betrayal mixing in with the hurt. “Are you kidding? She–”

“Alaska,” Jinkx repeats, her voice soft, too soft, and Alaska stares at her, her chest heaving with anger, worry, hurt, regret, shock, guilt–

She bursts into tears.

Jinkx immediately pulls her into a hug, and Alaska can only resist for a brief moment before she gives in, melting into Jinkx and sobbing into her shoulder. She might not get to fix her mistake - she might be to blame for Sharon’s. Right when she had been about to start a new life, to confess her love and her devotion, it had all been ripped away from her. It’s unfair, and it feels good to cry, to let all of her anger and fear out onto Jinkx, who holds her so tightly that she actually feels something like safety.

“Sharon–” she chokes out, and Jinkx shushes her.

“She’s going to be fine,” she says, but Alaska hears the way her voice wobbles. “She’s always fine. We’ll come up with a plan.”

Alaska nods, desperately clinging to her words with a hope that she can only pray isn’t foolish. She sucks in a shaky breath, slowing her sobs. They’ll get Sharon out of this. They have to. Sharon just has to be strong enough to wait for them, and Alaska has no doubts about that.

She pulls away, still sniffling, and she takes Jinkx’s hands in hers, squeezing them as hard as she can. “Thank you,” she whispers, and Jinkx smiles, her own face streaked with tear tracks.

“It’ll be fine,” she tells her again, and resolve steels in Alaska’s gut at the words.

“We’ll get her out,” she says, and she believes it.

She has to.

🌸

“We’ll be no good to her dead,” Willam is saying, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands. Alaska wraps Jinkx’s shawl around herself a little tighter, shivering despite the fire roaring in front of her, her face uncomfortably warm compared to the rest of her body. “So, sorry, Katya, but storming the place isn’t going to be very successful.”

They’ve been making plans for four hours now, each woman throwing out an idea only to be shot down by Willam or Morgan, both more suited for strategy and logic than any of the other women. The sun set around an hour ago, and impatience is threatening to burst out of Alaska in unfriendly ways.

“Why not?” Katya asks, throwing her hands up. “Brute force is a surefire way to get in there!”

“Did you miss the part where Phi Phi said Solomon is camped out in an old mansion?” Willam asks. “We can’t storm a house like that - it’s too defended.”

“When did we decide to trust Phi Phi, again?” Detox asks, eyeing Phi Phi warily. Phi Phi glares back from her place next to Morgan, her hands and feet both bound with rope. She’d been given two options: the post, or to have her hands and feet restrained. She’d chosen the latter, but she’d still been pissed about it. Alaska can’t find it within herself to have any sympathy for her.

“Stop acting like we haven’t answered that question already, Detox,” Jinkx says, clearly annoyed. “She’s the only person who’s actually seen Solomon’s hideaway.”

“She’s the only person who’s ever been aligned with him!” Roxxxy argues, and Jinkx’s lips flatten.

“For once, can you two not be difficult?”

Roxxxy gives her a dark look. “For once, can you not be–”

“Ladies!” Alyssa interrupts from between them, stretching her hands out to either side of her. “This isn’t a time for arguing, bickering, or hollering! This is why we’ve been sitting here for four hours freezing our asses off!”

“And our tits,” Willam adds. “Can we get back to shooting down everyone’s idiotic plans?”

Katya shrugs, seemingly unbothered. “I never said I was a battle strategist,” she says, and Willam snorts.

“I don’t think we ever thought you were,” she says, and Alaska loses grip on her patience, growing tired of the meandering everyone seems to be doing.

“Are we trying to make a plan?” she asks, her voice sharp. “Or are we just waiting until there’s no reason to make a plan, anymore?”

“We’re making a plan,” Morgan says. “But it’s not like we’re going to ride out as soon as we have one. We need to wait until daylight, so we can scout the camp. It isn’t far.”

“According to Phi Phi,” Roxxxy mutters, but Alaska seems to be the only one that hears it, the others instead training their eyes on Willam, who’s clearing her throat.

“I still think the best plan is to just sneak in, and sneak out,” she says. “We have rifles around the camp, and two of us sneak into the shed to get Sharon out.”

“No doubt there’s a guard,” Morgan says, and Willam nods.

“I can take him out without too much trouble,” she says, “I’m good with a knife.”

“I am too,” Kameron pipes up, her Tennessee drawl practically dripping off of her words. She hadn’t spoken much during the discussion, but when she had, it was only good points. Alaska finds herself trusting her judgement more than some of the other women, despite her unfamiliarity. “Just in case there’s more than one.”

“Good,” Willam says, and Detox makes a displeased sound.

“Revenge can’t be the goal, Detox,” Jinkx says, and it sounds like she’s treading lightly, trying to avoid another fight. “This is the safest way we can get Sharon out. Alive.”

“Solomon needs to pay,” Roxxxy says, and Alaska would be amused by her and Detox’s back and forth routine if a dark part of her wasn’t agreeing with their need for violence. “To let him get away with this unscathed is cowardice.”

“You’re acting like we can’t just return to him with bigger guns,” Katya says.

“If he manages to move camp, we won’t,” Morgan says. “But even if it is one or the other, Sharon’s safety comes first.”

“There has to be a way of getting both, though,” Roxxxy says, and Alaska rolls her lips between her teeth.

“Let’s take a vote,” she says, her heart thrumming beneath her skin, shaky with nerves. The feeling hasn’t ceased since Phi Phi had rounded the corner on Cerrone. “Since clearly, we’re incapable of making any progress by talking it out.”

“Good idea,” Willam says, and she raises her hand, hindered only slightly by her corset. “All in favor of keeping Sharon safe, say ‘aye’.”

“Do you want to be fair, or do you want to be a bitch?” Roxxxy snaps, unamused. Willam shrugs.

“Fine. All in favor of not making things worse, say ‘aye’.”

Katya lets out a wheeze, and Alaska has to hold back her own snort, reluctantly amused. Roxxxy looks murderous.

“Why can’t you just–”

“It’s fine,” Detox says, although she looks annoyed as well. She puts a hand over Roxxxy’s in an attempt to calm her down. “It’s just Willam. It would be pointless to argue.”

“It is me,” Willam says. “And it’s pointless to argue because I’m right. Now, raise your hands up where I can see them.”

Alaska raises her hand without hesitation, although anger does churn in her gut at the thought of Solomon getting away with what he’s done. Sharon comes first - and she’s certain that Sharon would like her own piece of revenge, as well.

Alaska resolves to find Solomon again, if he does escape. With the law off of the table, she’s comfortable serving her own justice. She’s comfortable enacting her own vengeance.

It feels good.

She counts the hands raised, and is surprised to count Detox and Roxxxy’s among them. Willam seems to realize this just a few moments after Alaska, because she puts her hand down with a certain degree of smugness, a small smirk at the corner of her mouth.

“What made y’all change your minds?” she asks, and Roxxxy takes a deep breath.

“We want revenge,” she says. “But not more than we want Sharon safe. It wasn’t a hard decision.”

“Thank you,” Jinkx says, and although Roxxxy avoids looking at her, Detox mirrors her smile easily.

“We’re not always difficult,” she says, and Jinkx’s smile grows.

“Only twenty three hours out of the day,” she says.

“Only when Sharon’s the thing we’re arguing about,” Detox corrects, and the reminder casts a silence over them all, Willam’s plan cementing itself in their minds.

“So,” Katya says, after a few moments, “who will be going tomorrow, and how many bandages should I be prepared to use?”

“Hopefully no bandages,” Willam says, and then she casts a thoughtful glance around the circle of logs, her face almost ghoulish in the firelight. “It’ll be me, Roxxxy, Kameron, Morgan, and Alyssa. Detox still can’t move well, and we need some people at camp just in case it really is a trap.”

“I’m going,” Alaska snaps, panic once again making her stomach dip sickeningly.

“Alaska–”

“I’m going,” she repeats, meeting Willam’s gaze with as much determination as she feels. She’s going. There’s no other way. She’ll sneak out of camp to follow them, if she has to. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to sit here worrying about what’s happening. I’m coming with you.”

“You can’t shoot,” Willam says. “You haven’t proven any loyalty, you–”

Anger abruptly bursts in Alaska’s chest, the accusation a spear shooting through her body. “I love Sharon more than you could ever know,” she says, and she means it. God, does she mean it. “Don’t talk to me about loyalty - I have given up everything for her. I’m not about to lose one of the things that I got in return.”

There’s a beat of silence as Willam looks at her, her eyes thoughtful. “Alright,” she finally says, and Alaska thinks that her expression might be a little softer. “But you still can’t shoot.”

“She’s sneaky, though,” Roxxxy says, and Alaska stares at her, surprise briefly knocking her anger out of its place. Roxxxy meets her gaze with something like amusement, like she knows her generosity is unexpected. “She got past Detox and I the first night she was here, and I woke up today when Detox shifted just a little too violently. She can help get Sharon out of whatever hole they have her tied up in.”

Alaska finds herself puffing up a little, pride swelling in her chest and hope threading through it as she looks at Willam expectantly. Willam holds her stare for a long moment, impassive, before she suddenly sighs, relaxing a little with exasperation.

“Fine,” she says, and Alaska lets out the breath that she’d been holding.

“Thank you,” she breathes, and Jinkx takes her hand, squeezing it. Willam rolls her eyes.

“If this is some stupid attempt to get back at me–”

“It’s not,” Roxxxy interrupts. “I think she’s a good addition. And I think she needs to be there - God knows I know what it’s like to worry over someone you love.”

“She’s right,” Alaska says, and she believes it. “I know what I’m doing. And we’re going to get Sharon out.”

🌸

Alaska can’t sleep.

It’s her second night without Sharon, and the empty space beside her feels like ice, like Sharon’s warmth had been the only thing standing between her and the cold darkness. She curls up on Sharon’s bedroll to help fill the emptiness she can’t stop feeling in her chest, burying her face into her pillow to breath in the other woman’s scent, but she still feels her absence like a bullet wedged between her ribs.

She can’t stop thinking about where Sharon is instead, her heart pounding so hard that she feels like she might vomit. Her stomach churns as she thinks about Sharon tied up somewhere, about Sharon getting hurt, about Sharon getting tortured, about Sharon getting killed–

She squeezes her eyes shut, a few tears spilling over her cheeks and onto Sharon’s pillow. There’s no point in thinking about it - they’re leaving as soon as they can, and they can’t help whatever happens before that. Even still, nightmarish images continue to flash behind her eyelids, and she gives into the little sob that crawls up her throat.

Jinkx had invited her to sleep with her and Alyssa, but Alaska had refused, the thought of Sharon’s tent standing empty making her heart ache. It was an irrational feeling, but it had felt dangerously symbolic, so she had told Jinkx that she’d rather be alone.

She regrets it, now.

Sharon’s tent feels dark and unfamiliar without the fury that had clouded her thoughts the night previous, and it makes her jumpy as well as distressed, every snap of a branch or sigh of the wind making her tense up. Jinkx had lent her a revolver once again, telling her that Alyssa’s sharp aim would be enough to cover her if something happened, but it still feels strange in Alaska’s hands, the trigger too close and the handle too thick.

She still doesn’t trust Phi Phi. Her hurt does seem real, and both Willam and Sharon have cited her as a bad actress, but Alaska can’t bring herself to forgive Phi Phi’s part in how Sharon was taken. She may have been innocent, but she’s the one who knows Solomon best - she should have seen through his lie. She should have known that peace was never on his agenda.

That said, Sharon should have as well.

Alaska would be lying if she said a tiny part of her wasn’t also upset with Sharon’s role in this disaster. She had been so resistant to it when Alaska had asked, when they had been on good terms (and the thought that they still aren’t makes Alaska’s stomach twist) – what had made her decide to go against her own judgement? To forget about his previous betrayal and give him a second chance? It seems so stupid, and Alaska wants to take her by the shoulders, ask her what had made her act so foolish so suddenl–

It hits her like a ton of bricks.

Sharon was trying to apologize.

Alaska can recall their fight almost to the word, but this time, it’s not Sharon’s words that work their way under her skin - instead, it’s her own.

You expect me to make these changes for you, Sharon, but you aren’t even willing to budge for me!

Sharon must have been making an attempt, some stupid, grand gesture to entice Alaska back into camp. She’d just picked the wrong thing to bend on.

Warmth flutters up in Alaska’s chest, love and pleasure briefly settling the torrent of emotions still running through her, but guilt snuffs it quickly. She’s just as culpable as Sharon and Phi Phi - perhaps even more so. If she hadn’t been so selfish - if she had just taken a moment to think about how Sharon has changed for her - if she had thought about her words before she spit them out–

She inhales when she realizes that she’s holding her breath, breathing in more of Sharon’s scent as she does. She comforts herself with the thought that Sharon was trying to make amends - clearly, Alaska hadn’t broken their relationship beyond repair.

Sharon hadn’t told anyone where she was going - she was likely expecting to be back before Alaska left. Or, she hadn’t expected Alaska to leave at all.

Guilt once again drops into her stomach like an anchor, but she wipes it away the best that she can, already nauseous with fear and anger. Sharon had told her to leave. Sharon should have been smart enough to talk to her, rather than leaving without telling anyone why.

God, she misses her.

Alaska wraps her blankets around herself more tightly, curling further into herself. She needs to sleep, she needs to be sharp for tomorrow, but she doesn’t think her heart rate is going to slow anytime soon. She can’t sleep when she knows Sharon probably isn’t either - when she knows that Sharon probably can’t.

We’ll save her, she tells herself, clenching her fists into the blankets. We can do it.

She trusts Willam - she trusts that she knows what she’s doing. Willam knows how to play the game, how to navigate this world even better than Jinkx, and she cares about Sharon. The thought soothes some of Alaska’s anxiety.

She trusts the women at camp. It’s not a sudden realization, but one that’s been coming for a long time, creeping in like fog down the mountain tops. It’s comforting to be able to finally trust, to finally feel like she belongs amongst these women that she had once found so frightening and alien.

She trusts them to get Sharon back. She trusts them to protect her while they do it. She trusts them.

She finally drifts off, clinging to her realization with a desperation she doesn’t think she’s ever felt before, the idea comforting enough that she can allow herself to let go of how her stomach twists at every thought.

They will save Sharon, and Alaska will see her again.

She has to.

🌸

Solomon’s camp can hardly be called a camp - it’s a house, nestled in the foothills of the mountains and abandoned (no doubt) due to a poor foundation, with a barn and a tool shed not far from it. Men mill around the place like ants, and Alaska has to squint to see them with any clarity, their vantage point just far enough that binoculars are required.

She’s exhausted - she’d been woken by nightmares throughout the night, and it had felt like she’d gotten only five minutes of sleep before Willam had nudged her awake, the toe of her boot sharp against Alaska’s side. She’d worried over the headache that had been pressing against the backs of her eyes as they’d all reviewed the plan, but now, as she looks down at the shed that Sharon is being kept in, she feels more awake than she’d been since Honard, adrenaline making her headache vanish and her body wired with energy.

“There isn’t a guard by the shed,” Willam says, her binoculars pressed up against her eyes. “Was Phi Phi a hundred percent on the shed being where hostages get tied up?”

“She was,” Morgan says. “Someone’s probably inside with her.”

Alaska feels nausea leap into her throat at the implication, turning from Morgan’s face to look back down at the shed, hatred boiling in her gut. She wants to run to it, sprint to Sharon and get her out as fast as she can, but she forces herself to relax. They were scouting first for a reason - running down only to be apprehended by a man hiding in the bushes wouldn’t be much use to Sharon.

Willam heaves a sigh. “Shit,” she mutters, and she’s silent for a moment before she speaks again. “Well, that’ll make him easier to kill.”

Alaska glances at the wicked knife at Willam’s hip, and she thinks about it in someone’s back. It doesn’t make her stomach dip with dread, and the satisfaction of knowing that it will be going into someone possibly hurting Sharon doesn’t scare her. Instead, it makes her more anxious to put the plan into motion, to speed things along faster. She’s willing to kill if it means that Sharon won’t be. Anything to make sure Sharon isn’t hurt any more.

“Looks like Kameron, Roxxxy, and Alyssa are in position,” Morgan says, and Willam nods.

“Good,” she says. “Let Alaska borrow your binoculars, so that I can tell her exactly where we’ll be going.”

Morgan passes her binoculars over wordlessly, shifting into a shooting position as Alaska takes them, her rifle pressed right up against her cheek. Alaska takes a deep breath at the sight of her before raising the binoculars to her face, turning back to the shed. They’re doing this. Nerves shoot through her at the thought, but she steels herself against them, nothing but Sharon echoing through her mind.

She’s ready.

“Alright,” Willam starts, as soon as Alaska finishes adjusting the binoculars. “We’re going to keep at least a hundred foot difference until the shed is between us and that ugly house. We’ll creep up the side facing us right now. I’ll go in first, while you stand guard. I’ll kill whoever’s in there, and I’ll grab Sharon - be prepared to help carry her back up here, the same way we came. I don’t know what kind of - what kind of condition she’ll be in.” Her voice dips a little as she stutters over the words, and fear runs through Alaska in response, crawling under her skin like ants.

“Alright,” Alaska says, trying her best to keep her voice from warbling. She succeeds, mostly. “Got it.”

“You can’t fuck it up,” Willam warns, her eyes serious when she turns to look at Alaska. “We can’t afford that right now.”

“I won’t,” Alaska says, and she means it. She’s never been good with following instructions, but she thinks that for Sharon, she’d do anything. “You can trust me.”

“I have to, at this point,” Willam says, but Alaska sees her relax somewhat. She takes a breath, taking one last look over the shed before she sets the binoculars down. “Are you ready?”

Alaska copies her, sucking in a deep breath. She draws up her anger, her worry, her love. “Yes,” she says, and she lets some of her emotion shine through. Willam nods at her.

“Morgan?” she says, and Morgan grunts. “Flash the mirror. We’re going.”

Morgan looks back at Willam, her eyebrows raised. “Good fucking luck,” she says, and Willam starts crawling back down the little hill they’d been on.

“Good fucking luck,” Willam repeats grimly, and it sounds rehearsed, like it’s an old joke that’s suddenly gone sour. She stands as soon as the top of their small ledge is at eye level, dusting off the pants that she’d changed into for this. Alaska is grateful for her own as she follows Willam’s lead, going a little further down to accommodate for her height.

Willam waits for Morgan to take a small mirror out of her pocket, using it to flash the bright sunlight at the other side of the camp, signalling to Alyssa and Kameron that the plan is being set in motion. Then, she turns to Alaska.

“Draw your gun,” she says. “They’ll be on their guard now that they have Sharon, but don’t shoot unless it’s absolutely necessary. Follow my lead.”

Alaska obeys, pulling the worn gun that she’d found at the bottom of one of Sharon’s drawers from the holster at her hip, the grip comfortable in her hands. For the first time, wielding a gun feels natural, and she doesn’t know if it’s because she’s held one enough times, or if it’s because this one belongs to Sharon.

They creep along the path that Willam had planned out earlier, low to the ground and on the lookout for any eyes turned their way. Alaska’s heart stutters a couple of times when a member of the camp turns towards them, but there are enough trees that their eyes skip over them each time.

It’s hard not to sprint towards the shed, her instincts screaming at her that running is the safest route, that the less time they can be seen in, the better, but she forces herself to match Willam’s slow crawl, the logic of moving too slow to be noticeable winning. It seems to be working, judging by the lack of trouble they’ve run into so far.

As they near the shed, however, a voice far too close makes them freeze, Willam glancing panickedly over at Alaska, who can only stare back with wide-eyed fear.

Fuck.

“–yeah, he’s in with Needles.”

“Vanhern?”

“Yeah. For his brother.”

Willam waves her arm desperately at Alaska, silently urging her to come closer. Alaska does, as quickly as she can assume is safe, and Willam grabs her wrist, yanking her down so that they’re both crouching behind a particularly thick bunch of bushes.

Almost a second later, they hear the sound of spurred boots approaching, the voices growing louder. Alaska imagines that they’d only gone unnoticed because the two men were too wrapped up in each other to even think to look out for anything.

“Good,” the man with the higher voice sneers. “He’s wanted revenge for a while now. That bitch deserves whatever he’s doing to her.”

Alaska freezes, still with overwhelming anger. Her heart starts pounding so hard it hurts, and she tightens her grip on her gun, squeezing so hard her knuckles turn white. What the hell are they doing to Sharon?

“You gonna go for a turn?” the deeper baritone asks. “I was thinkin’ about it.”

“Me too,” the other man says. Alaska can hear the grin in his voice, and it makes her stomach churn. “It’d be the most fun I’ve had in years. I heard she’s real pretty.”

Alaska sees red.

She goes to stand, ready to fire at them point blank, but Willam’s hand over her own has her jerking to a stop. She glares at the other woman only to be met with a warning stare, but it’s the way Willam’s chest seems to be heaving with a similar rage that has Alaska backing down.

Sharon’s safety is priority - she can’t fuck it up before they’ve even seen her.

“A real pretty bitch,” the baritone laughs. “Perfect. I think I might just have to ask Dutch for some time with her, too.”

“You think Dutch’ll get in trouble for how often he’s leaving his post?”

“Sounds like Dutch’s problem.”

Vomit rises to the back of Alaska’s throat as they laugh, her anger only making her stomach twist harder. She can’t even feel the relief she should as she hears them start to walk away, her fury making her hands shake uncontrollably as she stares resolutely at the leaves on the bush she and Willam are crouched behind.

Willam grabs her wrists, steadying them with an unyielding grip. Alaska looks up at her to find an intense expression looking back at her, Willam’s impenetrable facade finally cracking to reveal more anger than she’d expected.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Willam whispers harshly, shaking Alaska’s wrists a little for emphasis. “We’re getting Sharon out, and we need you on your best game. Put your anger in a box for now. Focus.”

“What is that, your morning routine?” Alaska sneers, but regret instantly plunges in her stomach as Willam’s face flickers with hurt. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I know you’re trying to help.”

“I’m trying to help Sharon,” Willam says, her voice hard. “Don’t forget that. You ready?”

Alaska sucks in a deep breath, nodding. Willam nods back, and she immediately starts towards the shed again, after a quick, cautionary look around them for any other surprise visitors. Alaska follows without hesitation, her eyes trained on the shed, Sharon her only goal.

They don’t have much farther to go, and soon they’re pressed up against the splintered wood of the shed, the sound of a man talking bleeding through the panels. Willam looks back at Alaska from her place in front, raising a finger to her lips. She fingers the knife at her belt, and Alaska follows her as she slides along the wall, close to the edge.

The shed, luckily, marks the outskirts of Solomon’s camp, with the mansion, the firepit, and the men around it on the other side of the shed, the barn acting as the marker for the opposite end. Alaska spots the two men that had passed them earlier walking just ahead, circling the perimeter, and she knows Willam has spotted them as well.

They wait an eternity for the men to disappear behind the mansion, Alaska growing sweaty from the baking sunlight and the man’s voice inside droning on and on. She tries not to think about how there’s no one responding to him.

The moment the two perimeter guards are out of sight, they curve around the edge of the shed, Willam taking one side of the crooked door, and Alaska the other, both still pressed flat against the wall.

Willam begins counting with her fingers, mouthing the numbers along with them.

One, two, th–

The man suddenly begins shouting, making both Alaska and Willam jump. Alaska’s heart stops beating for a moment, frozen with fear as the man’s words echo out of the shed with disturbing clarity.

“Don’t got a response for that either, bitch?” he shouts, and Alaska shivers at the raw anger his voice holds. “How about now?”

There’s a horrifying moment of silence, before a sob of pain bursts out, the voice clearly Sharon’s.

Alaska’s blood turns to ice.

She’s moving before she can think twice about it, wrenching her wrist away from Willam’s desperate attempt to stop her with surprising ease. All she can hear is the blood rushing through her ears, and she kicks the door open, the adrenaline rushing through her making it feel like no more than tissue paper.

Both occupants of the room jump as the door bangs against the wall, and Alaska takes in the scene before her quickly, the room strangely warm. Her eyes hone in on Sharon immediately -  pale, gasping for breath, and her head bent, dark hair like a curtain in front of her face - and the man crouching in front of her, the back of his shirt drenched with sweat.

He holds a red hot poker in his right hand. Alaska sees the matching burn mark on Sharon’s shoulder, the edges of her shirt blackened from being burned through. Her heart stops at the sight, tears blurring her vision as an uncontrollable anger washes over her.

“Sharon,” she chokes out, and Sharon lifts her head, her eyes widening.

“Alaska?” she breathes out, chest still heaving. Tear tracks stain down her cheeks, flushed from the heat. Alaska can see her shaking from where she stands, and anger makes her want to sob. “What are you–”

“What the hell?” the man interrupts, standing abruptly. Alaska meets his gaze with a protective fire in her veins, and she raises her revolver, both hands gripping the handle like a lifeline. The man’s eyes grow huge.

Clarity is a sharp accompanist to her fury: she understands, now. She understands what it’s like to choose between protecting those you love and society’s moral code. The decision is easier than she’d expected.

“Alaska,” Willam says from behind her, her voice sharp. “Don’t–”

Alaska pulls the trigger.

The recoil rattles her a little, the gunshot ringing in her ears, and she watches as the man collapses, clutching his stomach and screaming bloody murder.

“Goddamnit, Alaska!” Willam snarls, pushing past her into the shed and slamming the door shut behind her. Shouts can just barely be heard over the man’s screeching. “Great fucking work!”

Alaska stumbles with the force of Willam’s shove, unable to do much but stare at the man writhing on the floor, thick blood coating his fingers as he holds his torso. She’d done that. Nausea rises in her throat at the sight of his face, twisted with agony. She’d done that.

She feels satisfaction spreading from the core of her out to her fingertips. She’d done that.

Her attention immediately snaps to Sharon, Sharon, who’s staring at her like she’s just grown a second head, her eyebrows raised and her jaw slack.

Relief rushes through Alaska so fast that her knees nearly buckle beneath her, and she stumbles towards Sharon, falling to her knees before the other woman. She cups Sharon’s face with both hands, taking her in - her blue eyes, her flushed cheeks, the arch of her eyebrows. “Sharon,” she breathes, the word nearly a sob, “thank god.”

She hears Willam shoot, but she barely registers the gunshot, the man’s sudden silence more comforting than disturbing. Sharon gives her a wobbly smile, the gap between her teeth just barely visible.

“I’m never tying anyone up again,” she says, her laugh sounding more like a sob. “This sucks.”

“I love you,” Alaska says, her voice breaking. “Sharon.”

She lunges forwards, pressing her lips against Sharon’s desperately, love and affection and worry and relief all swirling in her chest as Sharon kisses back. It’s salty from tears and sweat, but Alaska can’t bring herself to mind, enjoying the feeling of Sharon’s warmth beneath her, the other woman solid and finally in her arms.

It feels like a weight being lifted off of her chest, and she suddenly wants to say it again. And again, and again, and again. She pulls away, brushing Sharon’s soaked curls away from her face. “I love you,” she says, her voice wobbly. “I love you, Sharon Needles. Thank god.”

“I love you too,” Sharon tells her, her voice raspier than usual. Her eyes are bright with emotion. “Alaska, I–”

“Later,” Alaska interrupts, rubbing a thumb over Sharon’s cheek. She’s alive. “We need to move fast.”

“I assume shooting Hamilton wasn’t a part of the plan?” Sharon asks as Alaska slides her hands down to mess with the ropes binding her ankles to the legs of the chair, her fingers frustratingly shaky with adrenaline.

“Killing him was,” Alaska says, guilt beginning to trickle into her gut. She can hear shots firing outside of the shed, and Willam shooting back, shouting insults and taunts through the large hole that had been in the side of the door. There had been two rules to the plan: be quiet, and don’t be seen. Alaska had managed to fuck both up royally.

The rope holding Sharon’s left foot loosens, falling to the ground. Alaska immediately starts on the left one, ignoring the way her fingers throb with rope splinters.

“Well,” Sharon says, her voice light. Alaska realizes, with a pang, that she’s trying to comfort Alaska. She thinks, vehemently, that it should be the other way around. “I’ve never been good at the sneak attacks Willam’s so fond of, so I can’t blame you.”

“I never would have guessed,” Alaska shoots back, and Sharon lets out a faint laugh.

“Doesn’t sound very like me, does it?”

Alaska’s fingers slip on the knot for what feels like the third time, and she curses, panic bubbling up in her chest. If she doesn’t get this done quickly enough–

A knife suddenly clatters down beside her, and she flinches, whirling around only to see that Willam had been the culprit.

“It’s a knife,” Willam says, her voice calm as she quickly reloads her rifle. “Use it.” A bullet cracks through the wood a few feet to the left of her, and Alaska startles violently. Willam doesn’t seem phased, turning to poke her rifle through the hole and shouting something unintelligible out at their assailants.

Alaska grabs the knife, her eyebrow twitching a little at how heavy is it, warm from where it’d been against Willam’s hip. She carefully slides it between Sharon’s leg and the rope, sawing with as much force as she can muster. It snaps within seconds, the rope splitting into three sections as it hits the floor.

She lets out a breath. “Thank fuck,” she breathes, and she stands, rounding Sharon to work on the rope binding her hands together. She’s taken aback by what she finds, rage making more tears spring to her eyes.

The rope is double layered around Sharon’s wrists, and Alaska can see the rope burns peeking out beneath it, painful looking blisters rubbed raw from a day’s worth of struggle. “Jesus,” she says, anger and concern making her voice harsh, and she begins cutting at the rope, sawing with a new fury.

The rope falls to pieces, and Sharon gasps with the sudden relief, bringing her hands around to cradle them against her ribcage, flexing her hands as she does so. Alaska sucks in her own breath, moving to kneel in front of Sharon again.

“You definitely have a fever,” she says, glancing at the blotchy red spots high on Sharon’s cheekbones. “Rope burns, and a fucking burn on your shoulder. Anything else?”

“I’m fine,” Sharon says, but she’s shaking, and she hasn’t made any attempt to stand up. She’s still babying her wrists, and Alaska takes one of her hands, squeezing it as panicked concern races through her like lightning.

“You’re not,” she snaps. “We don’t have time for you to lie to us. What else did these bastards do to you?”

Sharon presses her lips together, her lower lip wobbling. Alaska feels like sobbing at the sight of her. “Two burns on the palms of my hands,” she says hurriedly, and Alaska turns the hand she’s holding over, her stomach twisting at the sight of a large welt in the center of Sharon’s palm, bright red and cracked with recent stress, bloodying her hands. “That’s the most of it. I’m pretty sure my ribs are bruised.”

Alaska takes a shuddering breath, pressing her lips to the heel of Sharon’s hand, just below the burn. “I’m glad I shot him,” she says, anger like she’s never felt before rushing through her. “I’m glad he suffered.”

She looks up at Sharon’s face, her chest heaving, and Sharon looks back at her with something like pride, although her eyes are sad.

“Alaska–”

“Guys,” Willam says suddenly, and Sharon’s eyes immediately snap to behind Alaska. Alaska turns, something about the timber of Willam’s voice setting her on edge. Willam stares back at them, her face pale. “Solomon’s just stepped out. He’s calling off his men - he’s asking for a ceasefire.”

Sharon’s face slowly hardens, the vulnerability that had been so visible now hidden behind the mask of a woman who’s murdered more men than Alaska can count. Alaska doesn’t think she’s ever been so relieved to see it.

“Do it,” she says, determination coloring her voice. “Let’s see what he wants.”

Alaska frowns at her, a bad feeling making her heart twist. “Sharon,” she says. “Don’t. Whatever you’re doing–”

“If he wants what I think he wants,” Sharon says, her eyes sparking with anger and resolution. “Then I’ll let him have it. I want it, too.”

“What?” Alaska snaps. “What could he possibly want?”

“Revenge. Fair and square.”

The world outside falls silent, and Willam slowly pulls the door open, sliding her mirror back into her shirt pocket. From the doorway, they have a good view of the mansion, from which a man in denim jeans and a dusty jacket is strolling, his hat tilted proudly back from his face.

Lawrence Solomon.

He’s older - in his sixties, if Alaska had to guess. Clean shaven, with black hair that’s mostly gone gray. His eyes are deep set, and the blue of them is empty like a coffin waiting to be occupied.

Alaska doesn’t think she’s ever felt hatred like this before.

She watches, nausea churning in her gut, as he walks towards the shed, his hands free of any weaponry. A gun glitters at his thigh, however, catching the sunlight, and Alaska readjusts her grip on her own revolver at the sight of it.

“Stop there,” Willam says as Solomon nears them, and he stops without question, around thirty feet away. “What do you want?”

“Needles,” he says, and his voice is deep, gravelly. It makes the hairs on Alaska’s arms stand on end, and she glances at Sharon, protectiveness surging through her. Sharon looks disgusted, an intense fury lying just behind her eyes.

“I want to do this the old fashioned way. Me and Needles, twenty paces apart, one shot each. This is between us.”

“You’re just upset that we have the upper hand,” Willam calls back. “Of course she’s not–”

“I’ll do it,” Sharon says, and Alaska’s breath gets caught in her throat.

“No,” she says, as Willam turns to stare at them. “You won’t.”

“I will,” Sharon says, but as she makes to stand up, she nearly falls, her legs unsteady beneath her. Alaska grabs her wrist as she rights herself, breathing hard. If Sharon goes out there like this–

“You can barely stand,” she says, her voice thick with frustration and tears. “You can’t even use your hands. You’re not going out there.”

“I’ll manage,” Sharon grits out.

“Sharon–”

“Just try and stop me,” Sharon snaps, and Alaska lets out a desperate breath, squeezing Sharon’s wrist to try and make her understand what a bad idea this is.

“I’m waiting!” Solomon singsongs from outside, and Alaska sucks in another breath at the sound of his voice.

“You’ll die,” she whispers in an attempt to keep her tears at bay. It isn’t working. “Sharon, you can’t die, not when I just got you back. Please.”

Sharon’s face softens, and she pulls Alaska into a soft kiss, the hand Alaska isn’t holding coming to rest against her jaw. Alaska kisses her back pleadingly, her gut twisting as Sharon pulls away with a grim expression.

“I need to do this,” she says, and it’s with such finality that Alaska can’t bring herself to stop her from pulling her wrist away, her heart in her throat. “I’m the fastest draw in Colorado,” Sharon tells her as she slowly walks towards the door, smirking confidently. “I’ll win. Don’t worry.”

She grabs her holster from where it was hanging by the door, slinging it across her hips. Alaska feels another tug at her stomach. No.

“Sharon–”

“I love you,” Sharon says. And then, before Alaska can say it back, she steps out of the shed and towards Solomon, who greets her with a grin.

Alaska hates him.

She walks up to stand next to Willam in the doorway, watching nervously as Sharon and Solomon exchange quiet words, Sharon’s face hidden with her back turned to them, but Solomon’s face betraying narrow eyed anger.

“You know how this works?” Willam asks, her eyes never leaving the two leaders. Alaska nods, watching as they stand, back to back, their profiles serious and their guns safe in their holsters.

“Yeah,” she whispers. She thinks she might vomit.

She’d read about duels often as a child, the tradition clogging her history lessons and her favorite novels despite its illegality. The opponents stand, backs touching. They each take ten steps forward, on the count of three. They turn around. They fire.

To win requires a delicate balance of talent and luck, and Alaska can’t stop thinking about Sharon’s condition, about the burns scorched into her palms or the fever burning on her cheeks.

She’s seen how quick Sharon’s draw is, experienced how terrifying it can be. She just doesn’t know if she’ll live up to it after being knocked down so hard.

They begin taking their steps, and Alaska unconsciously tightens her grip on her gun, her finger coming to rest on the trigger. A horrible dread prickles down her spine, and she keeps her eyes on Solomon, despite how his proper posture and his neat steps say otherwise.

One.

Sharon’s chin is up, her expression resolute.

Two.

The buttons on Solomon’s jacket catch the sunlight like flashes of lit gunpowder.

Three.

Sharon’s hair blows in the summer wind, startlingly soft against what she’s about to do.

Four.

Solomon’s hand moves to hover at his hip.

Five.

Solomon stops, glancing behind him towards Sharon. Alaska’s heart leaps into her mouth.

Six.

Solomon turns, pulling his gun out of his holster with wicked speed.

Seven.

A gunshot echoes off of the mountains, deafeningly loud. It leaves Alaska’s ears ringing.

Eight.

Everyone freezes.

Alaska stares at Solomon as he falls to the ground, silent, a bullet hole through his temple. She feels nothing, watching a thin plume of smoke rise from her gun. She feels everything, watching Sharon turn, her own gun already in her hands, and stare at Solomon’s body with expressionless shock.

Willam looks at her, a new appreciation in her eyes. “Good fucking job, bitch,” she says, and Alaska lets out a relieved laugh before vomit suddenly crawls up her throat, and she stumbles out of the shed to puke into the grass, her gun falling uselessly out of her shaking hands.

Everything erupts into chaos.

There aren’t many men left, but the ones that are start shooting immediately, and the sound of gunshots fill the clearing once again. Alaska can hardly bring herself to care, shock still numbing her, distancing her, and she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, still shaking violently.

She’s just killed a man.

She doesn’t regret it.

She takes in a shaky breath. She doesn’t regret it. It was his life or Sharon’s. He’d broken the rules to kill the woman she loved. He deserved it.

She looks up when everything falls quiet again, looking around at the dead men littering the ground. She can’t see Sharon, and she’s just beginning to panic when a hand suddenly touches her wrist.

She startles, whirling around to find Sharon beside her, her brow furrowed with concern and her eyes filled with pride. She lets out the breath she’d been holding, and it comes out more like a sob.

“Wanna explain to me what just happened, back there?” Sharon asks gently, and Alaska wants nothing more than to just hold onto her and never let go.

Alaska falls into her, shaking, and Sharon’s arms come up to hold her tightly. Alaska buries her face into the crook of her neck, relief coming over her in waves.

Sharon is safe. Solomon is gone.

Sharon is safe.

“I love you,” she whispers into Sharon’s skin.

“I love you too.”

🌸

The road back to camp is a rough one, but easy enough, all things considered.

The afternoon sun beats down on them as they pick their way back, moving slowly to accommodate for Sharon’s ribs, unwilling to make anything worse despite Sharon’s insistence that she can take more than the slow gait they’ve settled into.

Sharon rides with Alaska, unable to grip Cerrone’s reins on her own due to the burns in the center of her palms, her back pressed to Alaska’s front, her head resting against Alaska’s shoulder. She’d made a lewd comment or two about ‘riding with Alaska’, smirking and being generally obnoxious, but her eyes had fluttered closed after around a half hour of riding, exhaustion and fever ultimately taking over. Alaska kisses the top of her head, affection swelling in her chest and relief still coursing through her veins.

Sharon is safe.

The thought keeps echoing through Alaska’s head, and she wraps the arm she has around Sharon tighter, relishing in the feeling of her weight pressed against her. Emotion is a ball in her throat still, relief and love palpable on her tongue, but she also feels pride in her fingertips, in the corners of her mouth.

She’d saved Sharon.

She’d killed Solomon with one shot, adrenaline and the strength of her urgency making the world slow down, allowing her to line up her shot without hesitation and pull the trigger. She’d shot before he could, shot faster without thinking than he had with forethought - she’d won.

She’s proven her worth. She belongs amongst these women, these hardened criminals with kind eyes and even kinder hearts. She belongs to Sharon, who’d put a bullet in more than one man to protect Alaska, who’d sworn to always shoot for Alaska.

I’ll protect you, Alaska - I keep my word, and even if you shoot like a goddamn gunslinger, I’ll shoot before you have to.

Sharon had never broken her promise. Love is warm in Alaska’s belly as she glances down at her, her own promise curling itself around her heart.

She will always protect Sharon, no matter how high the cost.

Always.

🌸

That night, Alaska sleeps as close to Sharon as she physically can.

She wraps her arms around her lover’s waist, careful of her bruised ribs, and she buries her face into her dark hair, breathing her in. Emotion balls up in her throat, and she squeezes her eyes shut, tears making her eyelashes damp.

Sharon shifts against her, touching the back of her forearm with her hand.

“Lasky?”

Their arrival at camp had been joyous, Jinkx, Katya, and Detox all running towards them as their horses rounded the corner, abandoning Phi Phi and their game of poker by the fire pit. It had taken them three hours to get to Solomon’s camp, and with the way they’d picked their way back, careful of their injured cargo, it had taken twice as long to return. Evening light had tinged everything with an orange glow as they’d slid off of their horses, shaky with relief, and the fire had been lit, the smell of stew wafting towards them tantalizingly.

It had felt like coming home.

Detox’s screeching laugh had been familiar, and Katya’s odd beratements as she and Alaska had helped Sharon down from Cerrone had been comforting, her lighthearted notes about ointments and bandages soothing Alaska’s worry almost completely. Jinkx’s smile was bright, relieved tears in her eyes as she tugged Sharon into a long embrace, and Alaska had watched them with affection, warmth spreading from her chest down to the tips of her fingers.

Sharon had bragged about Alaska, pulling her in for another deep kiss for the entire camp to witness, and Alaska had blushed into it, her fingers coming up to thread through Sharon’s hair. Katya had whistled, Willam had called them ‘disgusting’, and Alyssa had given them a sly look as they’d broken apart, like she knew exactly how badly they’d wanted to take things further. Sharon had given her the middle finger, grinning like a loon, her own cheeks flushed with fever and exhilaration.

It had felt like coming home.

“Alaska?” Sharon repeats, her voice louder with concern. She turns over in Alaska’s arms so that they’re face to face, their noses just inches apart. Her brow is furrowed. “Are you alright? I thought I heard a sniffle.”

Alaska feels love well up within her, and she laughs, her voice wet with emotion. “I just–” she cuts herself off, her voice wobbling dangerously. The stress of the past two days is suddenly catching up to her, her relief abruptly overwhelming. “Thank god you’re okay.”

Sharon gives her a sad smile, raising a hand to brush some of Alaska’s hair out of her face. Her bandages are a bluish white in the filtered moonlight, thick around her palm and wrist. Alaska’s heart aches at the sight. “Still on about that, are we?”

“Yeah,” Alaska says, the joke feeling something like salt in a wound. “We are. Sharon, you were kidnapped. Solomon was doing god knows what to you, and no one knew for half of that time. All we had was fucking Phi Phi to go off of, and all I could think was that the last thing I said to you was that I didn’t love you, and it was killing me, Sharon.” Tears are flowing freely, now, and Alaska’s voice cracks as she continues, cupping Sharon’s face desperately, searching her expression in the darkness of the tent. “I could have lost you.”

“You didn’t,” Sharon says softly, wrapping her hand around Alaska’s wrist, holding her hand in place. “I’m right here. I’m sorry.”

They lapse into silence, Alaska trying her best to calm herself down and Sharon stroking her wrist with her thumb, lowering their hands so that they’re resting between them. Alaska can hear the crickets chirping outside, the wind softly whistling around the canvas of the tent.

Sharon takes a deep breath after a moment, breaking the quiet that had surrounded them like a bubble. “That fight was all I could think about,” she whispers, looking into Alaska’s eyes with something like regret. “I thought for sure that you had left, that you would be too far for me to chase after you by the time I managed to get away. I’m just so goddamn stupid - I felt like such an idiot. I kept going through all of the things I said, all of the things you said, and I–” her voice breaks, and Alaska’s heart breaks along with it. “I’m sorry.”

“I did leave,” Alaska tells her, and the hurt that flashes across Sharon’s face makes her heart twist painfully. “I was so angry. I thought you’d broken your promise, I felt like– I was betrayed. I thought I didn’t belong here - that I couldn’t. But then I realized just how badly I was wrong - thank god for that.”

Sharon is shaking her head as she finishes, looking at Alaska beseechingly. “Lasky, I didn’t break my promise. I was just so angry–”

“I know,” Alaska interrupts, and she laughs a little at Sharon’s surprised expression. “I promised Willam not to fuck things up, today. You see how that went.”

Sharon gives her a warm smile that slowly spreads across her face. “That’s my girl,” she says, approving, and Alaska flushes with pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have - I didn’t know what I was talking about, that night. I was stupid, and scared. Scared of how much I’d changed, scared of how much I loved you–”

Sharon cuts her off with a kiss.

Alaska melts into it, love and affection threatening to burst from her chest. She slips her hands into Sharon’s hair, her thumbs resting on the corners of her jawline, delightfully warm. She sighs as Sharon deepens the kiss, heat pooling in her belly.

She breaks the kiss as Sharon attempts to slide on top of her, gently pushing her back down. She smirks at Sharon’s wide eyes, excitement flickering in her chest. God, she loves this woman.

“Not tonight,” she says, raising herself up to straddle Sharon’s hips, cupping the sides of her face. She leans down so that their lips are just centimeters apart, unable to keep from smiling at the new heat in Sharon’s gaze, at the smirk that’s beginning to curl at the corner of her mouth.

“No?” she asks, and Alaska gives her a smirk of her own, shaking her head.

“No. Tonight,” she says, “I’ve got you.”

She pulls Sharon in for another kiss, meaning the words with every fiber of her being. She belongs to Sharon, and Sharon belongs to her. They have each other.

Always.

[artificialqueens]

In Sickness and In Health Ch7 - shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - It’s been a looong day without you my friend…

Oops. I’m sorry. I am a busy busy bee and I love you all!!

Last time: Under Yvie’s control, Alaska forced Sharon to leave without her. She starts an ill-advised plot to feed her a taste of her own medicine.

This time: That won’t happen (CEO of changing ur mind xo)

“I need your help, urgently. I cannot do this alone.”

Three pairs of eyes. One narrowed slightly, almost squinting, silver-blue and filled with desperation. The other two curious, eyebrows furrowed, calm and yet intrigued.

“What an odd greeting. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“No one has. But I need you, both of you. Please.”

A pause. Two pairs of eyes regarded the first, each watching for something different. Nothing but sincerity lay within them, the pain and honesty laced within her voice.

“I had heard you were unwell, is it true? You seem to be in good health now.”

“It’s true. I’m well again, at a terrible price. I have lost something dear to me, and I have every intention of getting it back, but I can’t do it alone. I have a feeling I’m not the only one to have suffered this fate.”

Sharon sat rigidly straight as she spoke with the other two women, her hands folded in her lap to keep them from shaking. Ever since she was a little girl, she had been taught not to express emotional extremes to anyone outside of the palace, just in case they should turn against her. Even some of the palace staff should be spared from such moods, she was told, in case they might gossip. Only Miss Michaels knew the true extent of her temper. The thought of bearing her heart in front of two different kingdoms - it was scandalous. Her father would’ve thrown a fit, ironically, if he could see her behaviour.

There was a certain level of respect that the other women needed, Sharon knew that. Their three kingdoms were not currently the greatest of allies, but Sharon was working on it and planned to even more once she had been crowned. An allyship would be greatly beneficial to all three of them, and Sharon saw no harm in starting early, even if she was still just a princess whilst they were queens. Never mind that it was highly unorthodox for Sharon to even ask two queens for a personal favour.

Queen Brooke was very charitable and a pleasure to talk to at a ball, but in the setting of a meeting between three royals in her own parlour, she was a little intimidating. Her blonde hair was swept into a neat bun, silver tiara resting atop, and her cold grey eyes stared impassively forwards. In front of her, an ornate teacup sat on a dish, undrunk. 

Queen Scarlet was a totally different story. Her coronation had been more recent than Brooke’s, and whether formal or informal, she was a calamity of a person. Sharon’s father had warned her that partnering with Scarlet’s kingdom was a no-go, given that they were ruled by a young woman who had once been incarcerated and treated for hysterical madness, but Sharon had always quite liked the strange queen. Having recovered from her insanity, she was a fairly successful and friendly ruler.

“Your letter was distressing. I thought perhaps our kingdoms were on the brink of war, and we needed to negotiate.” Brooke’s voice was level, measured. Sharon decided she would be a fantastic person to emulate once she was a leader.

“No, not at all. I’m here about something much more serious. Her name is Yvie.”

At once, the atmosphere shifted. Previously in control, Brooke’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly and she drew in a sharp intake of breath. Next to her, once carefree and kindly concerned, Scarlet looked as though she had seen a ghost.

Thank fuck, Sharon thought to herself. A reaction. If any of her research and guesswork had been incorrect, she might as well have kissed goodbye to her kingdom, her alliances, her family and her life.

“What… What about her?” Scarlet winced, the terror in her voice painfully evident. It was clear that she didn’t want to hear that name, or she hadn’t for a long time. Something about it arose memories that she had most likely tried to forget.

“She cured my sickness. She brought me back from the brink of death so that I can sit here before you now as healthy as I ever was. Not a single physician could cure me, but she did in an instant.”

Brooke’s eyes were glassy. “At a price.” The words left her lips without a thought, drawn out as though in a trance, or by force. She swallowed roughly and hardened her gaze.

“What price?”

Sharon closed her eyes, her mind filling with hazy memories. A sweet common girl with her hand stuck firmly in the air, stood up in front of everybody. Alaska, with her joyful laugh and fighting spirit. The feeling of safety as she slept in her lap, her arms, by her side, comforted with the knowledge that if she died, she would have died alongside somebody who really cared.

“The price of a loved one.” Sharon equalled Brooke’s stare, confident now that she was armed with facts that would ensure Brooke’s cooperation or the ruin of her kingdom. “I believe you wanted prosperity for your kingdom in the midst of a crisis. Your commerce and trade had dwindled to almost nothing. Your people were dying, it was necessary. You needed Yvie’s help and the price was Vanessa.”

There was no stopping her now. “Vanessa, a commoner who worked as a lady-in-waiting for you whilst you were a princess, and continued when you became queen. The two of you were in love and so she accompanied you on what appeared to be a perilous journey. Yvie demanded her as a commodity and you gave her up.”

Perhaps her attack was a little harsh, but Sharon had no time to worry about that. Brooke’s face was flushed crimson, though with anger or shame, she couldn’t be sure. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white, and it seemed the more stoic queen was losing her propriety with every word that came out of Sharon’s mouth.

“How do you- How do you know about that?” She demanded. “I never told a soul.”

Scarlet was watching the exchange with an expression of sheer melancholy, saying nothing. Sharon knew her turn would come, but she needed to focus her attention on Brooke, and it seemed that Scarlet was content to listen and say nothing for the time being.

“Gossip, rumours, and a little bit of research assistance from a kindly witch. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is, I can help you or hurt you. You can have your lover back, or have the reputation of your kingdom shattered. It seems like an easy choice.”

In hindsight, delivering such an outright threat to a powerful Queen when Sharon herself was still only a princess… was a little risky. But there was no time to back out, and judging by the way Brooke’s nostrils had flared, her face pinched in abject fury, the damage had already been done.

“I don’t know who you think you are, Princess, but I-”

Sharon prepared herself to be sentenced to execution, or to be exiled from her land, or to have a cup of hot tea thrown at her, but instead, Brooke was cut off by Scarlet, who placed a gentle hand on her leg and looked forlorn.

“Yvie… She didn’t want them to take me away. She wanted to help me herself.” Her gaze dropped into her lap. “I went crazy. It’s not fake, it’s not rumours. I was insane. The facility helped me. But Yvie…” Scarlet blinked, her eyes filling with tears. “She was so angry that I went with them. I wasn’t in control, but she felt so betrayed by it… Is this what she’s been doing? Taking people’s loved ones?”

The story started clicking into place, and Sharon’s heart sank. She had questioned Max within an inch of her life about everything relating to Yvie, naturally, but she hadn’t made the connection that Yvie’s hard bargains were inspired by her perceived betrayal.

“Yvie has been doing these kind of deals for years, that always come at a price. My sickness was my parents’ price. But it seems people are the currency now, since she lost you, Scarlet. We need to go to her, get them back, and… Scarlet, maybe you and Yvie can work something out.” She paused. “My family don’t know I’m here. They think I’m still on the journey to the witch who can heal me, or perhaps still with her being treated. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

Brooke frowned, her eyebrow furrowing. “Your kingdom?”

“It’s not mine yet.” She shrugged. “I don’t even want to rule it without Alaska there. I don’t think I can.”

A silence settled over them. There was nothing else to be said - three noblewomen having shared their sorrows in the unlikeliest of situations. After a moment, Sharon picked up her teacup and held it before her, offering a solemn, unspoken toast. Brooke and Scarlet joined her.

“Please.”

-

Alaska folded her arms and flopped back down onto the ground, where Vanessa lay beside her. They had schemed a million times by now, it seemed, and nothing would work.

“You were right. It’s not like we can trick her into drinking her own truth serum that she made us brew! She’s not that stupid.”

Vanessa puffed her cheeks out. “She’s fuckin’ smart, it’s the worst. I’m startin’ to think I’m never gettin’ outta here, and maybe I shoulda figured that out a while ago.”

Alaska shook her head. “Yeah. This might be it, for us. But at least we have each other, right?”

“Sure. You’re all I got, now.” She hummed. “Your princess seemed pretty set on coming back here, though. Must be nice.”

A grimace made its way onto Alaska’s face; it was the only thing that could hold her tears back. “I hope. I hope she’s fighting for us.”

In the beginning of her time with Yvie, Sharon had been all she’d thought about to get through the day. Those few minutes that she had been able to see her in full health and beauty again, when she had seen a flicker of the righteous anger of a queen instead of the feeble protestations of a princess. Even dwelling on the way her eyes had filled with furious tears and heartbreak was better than nothing at all, as something of a comfort to remind Alaska that once, she had known her.

Still, the memories got more painful as time went on, and she soon decided that perhaps it was best to not think about her. As much as she wished Sharon was out fighting for her, amassing an army to storm Yvie for her return or maybe bargaining and charming her way back, she doubted it. Princesses had to adhere to strict rules.

She missed Willam, and Courtney. It had been forever since she’d thought about them, and she wondered if they were anxiously waiting for her to come home. What she wouldn’t give to see their faces again.

“Let’s just get back to work.” Alaska sighed, feeling miserable. “If we haven’t cleaned up Yvie’s mess by the time she comes back, we’re done for.”

Vanessa nodded. “Alright, Blondie, let’s go. We got fuckin’… books to shelve, or whatever. I didn’t listen to what she asked.”

Reluctantly, Alaska pulled herself up and made her way into the centre of the cottage. The room was cluttered and messy from Yvie’s musings, and she had ventured out into the surrounding forest a short while ago, leaving her two servants to clean everything up. At least it was a distraction from the boredom, Alaska thought, even as the spilled potion she wiped up with a rag started to burn her hand. It was better than nothing.

Yvie returned with a bag slung over her shoulder and an irritated expression, meaning that no doubt, she would take out her anger on Vanessa and Alaska.

“That’s the last time I listen to Raven, stupid fucking creature.” She hissed, throwing her bag down upon the newly-swept floor. “And now this isn’t even done! Do I have to do everything myself, you imbeciles?”

Alaska bowed her head. “We’re working on it.”

“I’ve a half mind to-”

Yvie trailed off abruptly, freezing in place. Vanessa stared at Alaska in confusion, the both of them watching Yvie to see if there was a reason for her unusual behaviour.

“The wards.” Her voice came out hardly a whisper above silence. “She wouldn’t dare…”

She turned suddenly. “The two of you, out. Now.”

As before, they were all but shoved back into the small room they shared. Vanessa scrambled towards her small pile of belongings and produced two strange-looking opalescent lenses. She handed one to Alaska and pressed it against the wall.

“I took these fuckin’ forever ago because I thought they looked pretty, but you can see through shit with ‘em. I wanna know why she’s so fuckin’ rattled.”

Alaska did the same, shuffling as close as she could to look through the wall. The lens focused just in time, as Yvie graciously opened the front door and offered a chilling smile.

“Sister.”

Yvie laughed. “Ha! You have a lot of nerve to walk down my path, let alone to address me as your sister. Most inferior witches tend to avoid associating themselves with superior witches, do they not?”

Max stood, tall and unwavering in the doorway, her short silver hair moving in the wind. “Perhaps they do, sister. You know I care little for which of us is better or worse. But I have been incited to care about which of us is good or bad.”

“A truly wonderful philosophical concept. I’d invite you in to debate it over some tea, but I don’t trust myself not to poison yours with belladonna.” Yvie’s voice was dripping with sickly sweet venom. Alaska shuddered at the sound of it. “Why do you dare to come to my door?”

Max remained still. “See for yourself.”

Almost at the exact same time, Alaska and Vanessa sprung backwards from the wall and darted towards the door, seemingly sensing the same thing. Anticipation and fear wrestled angrily in the pit of Alaska’s stomach, but she had to see if her hunch was right. The two all but fell over each other as they stumbled into the centre of the cottage once again, gazing open-mouthed out of the front door.

The sight that met them could’ve been an illustration from the beautiful book Sharon had read to Alaska in the carriage. A few feet behind Max, two proud stallions pawed the ground, their riders equally as dignified and powerful. Alaska didn’t recognise one of them, a pale blonde wearing regal purple riding gear, but the other was a face she could never forget, even in the deepest of nightmares.

Sharon’s face was resolute, her body language firm and unmoving. Like the other rider, she wore jodhpurs and a shirt, an outfit unbefitting for a queen or a princess but perfectly suited to a courageous storybook heroine. The other woman held Sharon’s hand and lifted their arms into the air, at the same time as Vanessa and Alaska clung to each other in disbelief.

“Oh my god. That’s my Brooke.”

Alaska couldn’t muster speech, but she didn’t need to. Behind the two, cavalry reinforcements waited for their command, leaving Yvie well and truly outnumbered.

“Let them go.” Sharon climbed off her horse, Brooke doing the same. As they approached the door, where Yvie looked dumbfounded and furious, she shot Alaska a brief, reassuring gaze. “That’s an order.”

Yvie kept her cool in spite of the army facing her. “Oh dear… someone seems to have forgotten that we made a deal.”

Brooke smiled. “Do you have it in writing? What happens if we take them?”

“This.”

Yvie snapped her fingers, and in an instant, she and Vanessa were hoisted into the air, suspended by thorny vines. Alaska could feel that one of them had drawn blood, but regardless she strained and struggled against the bonds. They had to win this. Freedom was so close. 

“We thought you might do something like that.” Sharon crossed her arms. “Your Majesty?”

Brooke stepped closer. “Another deal, then. Make a new deal with us to overwrite these previous ones. We have something you won’t wanna miss out on, and your sister here as a witness in case you try to fuck us over. It’s that, or we take them by force and destroy our offer to you.”

Yvie snorted. “Sure. A failure of a Queen and what, some pathetic little Princess have something I would want? I have power, the more you’re indebted to me, the better. Why should I agree to this? Why shouldn’t I just…”

She snapped her fingers again. The vines tightened, smaller ones creeping their way around to Alaska and Vanessa’s throats. They choked and coughed, the vines only squeezing more as they tried to resist. Tears came to Alaska’s eyes, the pain and fear overwhelming her. Whatever this power play was, it needed to work.

Sharon’s glare was murderous, but her jaw was firm and resolute. “Fine.” She unsheathed the dagger hanging from her belt, which Alaska immediately recognised from their visit to the palace from what felt like years ago. “I was loaned this dagger by another kingdom. We could wage another several wars by me desecrating this blade with the blood of another royal, thus pitting kingdom against kingdom against kingdom, which surely means a lot of deals made in your favour…”

With a tiny nod, both Sharon and Brooke stepped aside at the same time, allowing a third woman to step forward between them. Her head was held high, regal, but her pretty face was marked with disgust.

“But that also means killing Queen Scarlet here. I’m sure you won’t have an issue with that if you get so much power from it, right?”

She levelled the dagger at Scarlet’s throat, just below her chin. All three royals stood defiant, while Yvie’s face went slack. Without warning, the vines receded and disappeared, and Alaska and Vanessa hit the ground with a thud. It hurt, and Alaska’s hands went straight to her neck as she tried to catch her breath, but her gaze remained firmly on the spectacle in front of her. It was unparalleled - Yvie, silent, dumbfounded.

“Sc… Scarlet?”

She nodded, and Sharon lowered the blade, sheathing it. “It’s me. But I’m not sure you’re you. I don’t remember the Yvie I knew being this cruel.”

Yvie swallowed thickly. “They took you away. I could’ve fixed you but they took you away and you let them!”

“I needed to go!” Scarlet grabbed Yvie’s shoulders, steadying her. “But I’m back, and I’m fine, and I’m successful. You don’t have to do this. The old you would never do this.”

“She wouldn’t?”

“She wouldn’t. Don’t forget how well we knew each other, Yves.”

“I couldn’t forget. You’re unforgettable.”

“Let them go.” Scarlet’s voice was gentle, but commanding. “You have to let them go.”

Yvie whirled around, her eyes landing on where Alaska and Vanessa were crumpled on the ground, recovering. They still clung to one another, and her eyes seemed to widen at their desperation, as though she had no idea that she had caused it.

“How can I? Give them over, face trial, go to the dungeons, lose everything?” She was growing frantic.

Scarlet held out her hand. “No trial. No dungeons. I’m taking you home. Let them go.”

There was an ever-so-slight inclination of Yvie’s head, but that was enough. Both girls got to their feet without wasting a second, and whilst Alaska was sure Vanessa had run straight into Brooke’s arms, she didn’t bother looking to check. Every fibre of her being was pulling her towards Sharon, some kind of invisible magnetic connection forcing them together. She gave in to the impulse, almost throwing herself into her lover’s waiting arms.

“I’m so sorry it took so long I’m so glad you’re safe,” Sharon rushed out in one breath, her lips pressed against the top of Alaska’s head as she buried her face in her blonde hair. Alaska could hardly breathe, pressing herself into the crook of Sharon’s neck, just letting the feel of her skin against her own say everything that she couldn’t articulate.

“You came back.” Alaska’s heart was pounding. “You really came back.”

Sharon clung to her. “Of course. I could never leave you behind. You risked everything for me.”

It felt like centuries ago that Alaska’s only motivation had been the money. The reward was still a tantalising offer in the back of her mind, but almost all of her other thoughts were consumed with nothing but bliss. She had taken on a seemingly impossible task to find a cure for a cursed princess who wanted nothing but to die, and would return with the princess alive and well, and madly in love.

Willam and Courtney were going to lose their minds.

“How do we proceed from here?” She asked, her voice muffled against Sharon’s skin. “What happens now?”

Sharon tensed for a moment, but she relaxed again so quickly that Alaska thought maybe she’d imagined it. “Well, Her Majesties Queen Brooke and Queen Scarlet will come to the kingdom with the two of us, as they deserve equal credit and respect for removing the witch problem. You’ll receive your reward. I’ll deal with some business and then… I don’t know what. But I want you to stay in the palace, if you accept. You don’t have to, if you’re more comfortable in your home with your friends, I just thought maybe-”

Alaska silenced her with a kiss, and then smiled. “I’ll think about it. Let’s get home, yeah?”

-

The journey back to Sharon’s kingdom was pleasant, and uneventful. Scarlet and Yvie left together in a carriage, already discussing plans for a formal pardon and perhaps even to instate her as an apothecary in Scarlet’s kingdom. Alaska wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea, but she knew better than to argue with a queen, and since it didn’t affect her own kingdom, she held her tongue. Brooke and Vanessa took a carriage together too, seemingly too wrapped up in each other to really notice anyone else. As Alaska helped Sharon into their carriage, she was pleased to find that the dread that previously filled her chest was gone. 

It was still awe-inspiring, how miraculous her recovery had been. Alaska swore her hair had never been so dark and glossy, her eyes so bright, her lips so pink. She could spend hours just looking, taking her in, if only she could resist the urge not to kiss her whenever the sunlight hit her face.

With Sharon’s life no longer hanging in the balance, the journey seemed to pass much faster than it had before, although the days and nights stopping and starting still grew a little bit tedious. By day, they did everything they could to distract one another - Sharon had been reading fairytales with her again, and Alaska felt shyly proud of being able to muddle her way through a couple of pages at a time. Sometimes they sang, Alaska showing off the lewd, patriotic, and always drunk songs that people sang in the tavern to make them both laugh. Or they would just talk; endlessly, for hours, with comparisons of their lives and general excitement for the future.

But at night, things were different. They would both curl up to sleep, often leaning against one another, but Alaska kept noticing how Sharon’s eyes would stay open long after she’d fallen silent, staring out as if in thought. She didn’t probe, but it concerned her. She sincerely hoped Sharon hadn’t sacrificed anything for her - she couldn’t think of anything worse than the whole cycle repeating again.

As they approached the edge of the kingdom, Sharon drew the curtains shut around the carriage to give them a little more privacy, and they made their way into the centre, towards the palace. Brooke and Scarlet had stopped for a few days in another kingdom, and would be following in a week or so once life had settled back into a normal pace with Sharon’s return. Excitement was starting to take hold; Alaska’s life was about to change forever.

She still hadn’t decided what she would do, yet. A life in the palace sounded tempting, but she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to get mixed up in all the politics of royal life. A part of her wondered about taking the money, buying a decent sized home somewhere nice in the kingdom, and living with Willam and Courtney, working only because they wanted to, not out of necessity. Sharon could visit anytime as an escape from the difficulties of being a leader, and they’d be in love just the same.

Alaska loved Sharon, but she didn’t know if the palace was somewhere she’d thrive. After all, she’d spent her entire life humble, or in other words, dirt poor. She wondered if it would be too big of a change.

When the carriage came to a stop, Sharon took a deep breath, and started to laugh.

“My god. I just realised I have so many apologies to give. I was such an asshole when I was sick.” She giggled nervously. “I hope Laila forgives me. Being her age is rough.”

Alaska nodded. “Honestly. I know they’ll all forgive you, though. It wasn’t like you could control it.”

It didn’t feel like Alaska’s place to intrude into the palace, or even to step out of the carriage first, so she smiled and waved her hand, allowing Sharon the first glimpse of her home since they’d left. For a moment, just briefly, Sharon hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure, and then drew the curtain back and moved to step down. It struck Alaska right in the chest - she hadn’t expected to be coming home. When they’d departed, seemingly forever ago, she had been on the very brink of death and expecting it to take her. 

A part of her wondered if the reason she had even agreed to go on a treacherous journey to find a witch had been solely to allow her family the privacy to mourn her without having to witness her death within the palace walls. It was a dark thought, and she shook it out of her mind. The what-ifs didn’t matter, not anymore. Sharon was safe and well, and she glowed with life.

The palace was much less intimidating without the entire royal family welcoming her into it. Around her, members of staff were busily cleaning and scurrying and working, almost paying no attention to their special arrival, although Alaska swore she could see a few nudges and smiles as they undoubtedly gossiped. Sharon made to start walking inside, only to stop in her tracks as a woman ahead of them did the same thing.

Miss Michaels was working by the palace gates, sweeping the leaves and dust from the ground, but the moment she locked eyes with Sharon, the broom fell from her grasp with a clatter. Her face twisted with a mixture of sorrow and relief, an expression that could only reflect a mother’s love. She all but ran towards them, enveloping Sharon in her arms.

“My girl… my sweet, gorgeous girl…” Alaska could hear the thickness in her voice, in turn making her well up at their reunion. She pulled back only to hold Sharon by the arms, taking in as much of her as she could before resuming the embrace. “Oh, look at you! You look like a summer’s day! Oh, darling girl…” 

Sharon sniffed, not too good to hide her tears. “Mother Dust… were you worried I wouldn’t come home?”

“Not at all,” Miss Michaels told her. “Just infinitely glad that you did. Come on, we have to get you inside this instant. Your family will be overjoyed, dear. And you too, Alaska! The hero of our story.”

Alaska blushed, pretending to herself that it was from the compliment, and not from how easily Sharon took her hand as they started walking. “Oh, I can’t take all the credit.”

“Yes she can,” Sharon butted in, “And she should. She gave me a reason to keep fighting.”

Miss Michaels raised her eyebrows, a small smile playing on her lips. Alaska felt as though her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.

“Oh, she did?”

Sharon laughed. “I didn’t say you could tease me.”

“My dear. I’ve changed you, bathed you and fed you. I don’t need permission to do a little light teasing.”

“I love you, Mother Dust. So… let’s go console my grieving family, right?”

Sharon’s hand slipped into Alaska’s so naturally as they made their way up the palace steps, and yet it almost took her breath away. She didn’t know what the royal family would make of this - hell, she didn’t know how Sharon was going to play it. They were in love, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a complicated situation. Future queens were rarely seen marrying commoners, let alone female commoners.

Once they were stood just outside of the doors into the throne room, they came to a stop. Miss Michaels had tears in her eyes.

“You’re crying?” Sharon sounded perplexed, but her expression was kind. She pulled her maid into a hug. “Why are you crying?”

“It’s - It’s a real life mir-miracle, seeing you walk so far without losing your str-strength.” She managed, her voice wobbling. “Standing upright… not coughing at all…”

Being back where it all began, Alaska wondered about who had been hit the hardest by the illness. Miss Michaels was doing everything she could to swallow back her tears, overcome by the sight of Sharon healthy and flushed with life. She had cared for the princess ever since the onset of her sickness; she had most likely watched her rapid deterioration with a heavy heart, and sent her away in a carriage feeling sure she would never see her alive again. Hell, beyond that, she had raised Sharon since she’d been born, and what a horrible way she’d been led to believe it would end.

“I’m not ready to do this.” Sharon faltered. “I don’t- I don’t know if I can go in there.”

Alaska squeezed her hand. “There’s nothing you can’t do.”

“You’re right. Especially when I have you by my side.”

tags - purecamp, in sickness and in health, shalaska, sharon needles, alaska thunderfuck, yvie oddly, brooke lynn hytes, vanessa vanjie mateo, scarlet envy, scyvie, branjie, chad michaels

[artificialqueens]

Case Closed (Part 1/2) - Shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - So… guess who watched Brooklyn 99 and then decided to… make something… 

It was me. I did that.

So, to preface - I made this inspired by (as you’ll see when you read) Jake and Amy, but not entirely because I like to make my own characters. Anyway, here’s the one where the gang are detectives.

(Also, this will be submitted in two parts consecutively. It was intended to be a oneshot, but it’s… you know… 18.5k words. I really don’t know either. Happy quarantine and much love to any key workers, affected students or teachers out there <3

It was a perfectly normal day in the precinct and Alaska was forty minutes late to work.

In some of her previous jobs, such as waitressing in that horrible little restaurant or working as a store clerk as a teenager, being forty minutes late would almost certainly mean being fired. However, Alaska revelled in the fact that she would most definitely not be fired for her tardiness, and she grinned proudly as she was met with polite applause.

The gentleman who she led in with cuffs behind her didn’t seem quite so receptive to her hero’s welcome.

“Check out this punk,” Alaska announced to the room. “Busted with two hundred kilos of cocaine in his storage unit and found to be the asshole behind that huge drug ring we’ve been tracking. Proud of yourself, bud?”

As expected, her roughed-up drug dealer said nothing, staring fixedly at his reflection in the handcuffs.

“Good work, Detective Thunder.” Captain Tidicue nodded, impressed. “Take him to the holding cell, meeting in five minutes in the break room. Dismissed.”

It was a perfectly normal day, Alaska’s perp was in the holding cell, and as she stepped into the break room, she bumped shoulders with Jinkx.

“Detective Tsunami.”

“Detective Lightning.”

Jinkx’s smile, as always, seemed to stretch from ear to ear and her lipstick was eerily red. Captain Tidicue had tried a few times to get her to tone down the brightness of her makeup, but eventually she had gotten so fond of Jinkx that she let the matter go entirely. Jinkx seemed to get away with a lot of things in that way, and Alaska loved her for it. As a matter of fact, so did the rest of the squad.

Captain Tidicue closed the door behind them and took her place at the front of the room. There was absolutely nothing extraordinary about a normal morning briefing, even if Alaska had been forty minutes late. That happened sometimes and nobody minded. Everything was normal.

“Good morning everybody. I wanted to let you know that we’ll be welcoming a new detective to our squadron beginning today. She’s experienced and smart and she just moved into the area, I think she’ll be a good addition to our team. I want you all to welcome her.” Tidicue smiled. “I know you will. Let her adapt to our ways, yeah? Make her one of us. Anyway, Detective Needles is on her way now. Dismissed.”

She headed off, leaving the rest of the team to break out into excited discussions, with zero intention of running straight to their desks. Jinkx turned to Alaska with a loud laugh.

“Short, sweet, concise. Never thought I’d see that from a New Yorker.” She quipped.

Alaska chuckled. “Okay, Chicago, calm down.”

“Whatever, Pennsylvania.” Jinkx paused. “Fuck, that isn’t nearly as insulting even though we’re just naming states.”

From across the room, Sergeant Royale beckoned the two of them over, where she was chatting with Detectives Velour, Coulee and Michaels. Inexplicably, Willam, the notoriously work-shy secretary, had also managed to sneak her way in and was perched on the table, right in the midst of the conversation.

“So! New detective, huh? Things are getting exciting round here.” Latrice fought back her laugh as Alaska, rising to the bait despite knowing it had been laid there just to get her, opened her mouth.

“Hey! I literally just busted a massive drug trafficking ring! Is that not exciting?” 

The squad laughed, and Alaska acquiesced with a giggle. “But seriously? Detective Needles? Do you think she’s just really good at drug cases or what?”

A new voice appeared suddenly. “Well, yeah. But unfortunately that’s my actual name.”

Alaska whirled around and promptly smashed foreheads with possibly the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. The woman in question reeled backwards slightly and started to rub her head, but offered her hand and a charming smile regardless.

“Detective Needles. Your story is pretty impressive, I’m sorry that my name is stealing your thunder.”

Alaska started to giggle in spite of herself. “Oh my god, this is brilliant. Hi, Detective Needles, I’m Detective Thunder.”

“You’re shitting me. That’s such a fucking cool name.”

“And Needles isn’t?”

“Yours is cooler.”

“No way!” Alaska faced her colleagues again. “Am I really arguing with someone about whose name is cooler and I’m not on my own side? Jinkx, slap me.”

Jinkx raised her hand. “Gladly!”

Before she could deliver what was sure to be an almighty sobering smack, Latrice butted in with a calming hand and her ever-diplomatic ways. “The only way to solve this is by first names. At the same time, go.”

“Alaska.”

“Sharon. Fuck!”

Sharon crossed her arms over her chest as Alaska celebrated her victory. “God, I hate my parents right now. They gave me the most suburban white mom name ever.”

Thus began Alaska’s first triumph over Sharon Needles. Sharon Needles, who was a detective, who would be working a few feet across the room from her now, who was surprisingly tall and with dark curls that really suited her face and eyes that were surprisingly sparkly even though she seemed like she would be quite intimidating in the interrogation room and a leather jacket that made her look so badass and-

Detective Needles made quite a strong impression on that perfectly normal day.

-

It turned out that Detectives Thunder and Needles worked together like a dream. Alaska called them thick as thieves, once, and Sharon proceeded to double over in incredulous laughter that her partner hadn’t even noticed her own hilariously unintentional joke.

Usually, Captain Tidicue would assign Alaska to work with Jinkx, given the close nature of their friendship, but seeing Sharon’s arrest numbers at a similar rate to Alaska’s, she had decided they could work the case together instead. It was almost like she didn’t know they had an unspoken bet about who was going to get more, and that it was actually a very spoken bet that was being monitored daily by tally marks on the whiteboard and was currently tied. 

And she almost definitely did know about the bet, because there was no way Latrice hadn’t told her.

“Okay. I think, when we catch this guy, we both add a point to our list of arrests since we did it together. That cool?”

Sharon laughed. “Ooh, feeling nervous? You want to keep us on an equal playing ground, huh?”

“No, I just don’t wanna hurt your feelings,” She teased, “I know you’re a little sensitive. You need these arrests to make you feel cool.”

“I’m already cool.”

Alaska snorted. “Right, sure. I did some sneaky detective work and found out your favourite show is Jeopardy.”

Sharon frowned at her, the mirth evident behind her eyes. “You mean, you followed my Twitter? Also, Jeopardy is a great show, and if I was straight, I’d go for Alex Trebek in a heartbeat.”

They were nestled in a discreet car to help them blend into the city, dressed casually to avoid arousing suspicion. When Sharon rocked up in leopard print and leather, Alaska had first mercilessly mocked her before admitting that she was highly impressed by the choice of attire, and wished her jeans were quite as bold. Naturally, Sharon gave as good as she got. 

Still, they had been getting bored waiting for their suspect to turn up around town, and had taken to mindless conversation. It was beginning to get… interesting.

“Alex Trebek?! Sharon, he’s like ninety.”

“He’s seventy nine!” Sharon shrugged, and then chuckled and conceded. “He’s a total zaddy, okay, you wouldn’t get it. Anyway, he’s a man so I’m not actually into him, and no one will believe that I told you this so you have zero leverage.”

Alaska leant back in her chair, keeping her eyes on the street. “Well, if you can hold that against me, I can do that too. I used to be terrified of Marilyn Manson as a child, but then when I was a preteen - so before I was gay - I had a crush on him. There. Something no one will believe.”

Sharon gasped. “You monster. I’m dying to use that against you!”

“Well, you can’t.”

“I can’t believe you’re aroused by scary people. Do you jack it to Freddy Kreuger or something?”

“This is getting weird.”

“Agreed.” Sharon held up her hands. “In all fairness, you took it there, not me. So, we should quickly go over the plan because the asshole just turned up for his shift at the store, fifteen minutes after it should’ve started.”

She pointed. A tall, balding white man was entering the run-down convenience store, his bright employee vest halfheartedly tucked into his baggy trousers. Alaska looked down at their case file and nodded.

“Alright. Darren Jones, you’re going down. Sharon, tell me your fake name and invent a story to go with it, I like a bit of storytelling. Adds some pizazz to the case.”

Sharon rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re the world’s most immature detective. We don’t need to go undercover for this.”

Alaska raised an eyebrow. “It’s fun, Needles. Much more fun than watching episodes of Jeopardy.”

“Rude, but fine. My name is Sarah Anne Jefferson and I’m visiting from Iowa, I have an addiction to cigarettes and I need the store clerk to search all the way at the back of the shelf for the good ones, because I may be desperate but I’m still picky and that bullshit fake excuse means he’ll have to face away from us so we can surround him. I also happen to be very conversational and may casually ask him about his weekend during my rambling about my dumb boyfriend Brad, who’s from California.”

Alaska shuddered, snapping the case file shut. “I don’t know what’s worse, California or Iowa. Gross.”

Sharon winked, and Alaska maybe found it a little bit hot. “Iowa. I grew up there, it’s terrible. The town I lived in is famous for dryers and meth. A great combo.”

“I’d argue California is still worse.”

“You’re right.” Sharon undid her seatbelt. “Okay. Detective Thunder, you’re heading to the back of the store so that you can search for the milk and sneak round so we got him on both sides and he can’t run. You ready?”

Alaska winked back. “Born ready, baby.”

So what if Alaska became a detective just to pretend she was one of those badass cops from a movie? It was worth it - she could protect civilians, take down bad guys and pretend to be a cool movie cop, all at the same time.

She browsed the store idly, waiting until she heard Sharon enter the store and began listening for her cue. Darren Jones was connected to a series of robberies around the area, and despite his penchant for breaking into places without witnesses, the guy was a total dunce. Each of his crime scenes had several valuable items stolen, all of which had been recovered in his apartment earlier that day, and he was stupid enough to leave fingerprints all over the items and the crime scene.

He was a terribly unskilled criminal, that was for sure. Whilst Alaska loved cracking the difficult cases, this one had been pretty fun. It was like watching a child blundering their way through college. He had no idea what he was doing, and it was an easy arrest. 

“Hi there! My name’s Sarah Anne, sweetie, y’all got cigarettes in here? Oh, perfect, thank you so much. Listen, I know this is an odd request, but do you mind digging for the ones at the back of the top shelf? They’re always better when the air can’t get to ‘em, you know?”

Alaska held her breath, fighting not to laugh as Sharon exaggerated her Iowan accent. There was nothing… objectively funny about the accent, just that fact that it was Sharon’s but stronger and the fact that Sharon seemed to work so hard to convince everyone of how much she loved Pittsburgh when she had lived there. She almost always sounded like she was born there, except for now.

Nobody else would find it funny. But Alaska knew her and Sharon would laugh about it later, because they had great banter and no one else could stop them. She crept further along the aisles, inching closer to the cashier desk, listening.

“-asshole boyfriend Brett convinced me to smoke them like that years ago and I always do now. He was here all weekend, driving me nuts. Did you get busy this weekend?”

Alaska readied herself, the signal having been sent. The idiot cashier/criminal kept his back turned as he responded, allowing Alaska to position herself behind him on the other side of Sharon.

“Oh, not really, just hung out at home…”

He trailed off when he saw their police badges glinting in his direction.

“NYPD, you’re under arrest for three robberies. Darren Jones, you did have a busy weekend, huh?” 

It was highly unprofessional, but Alaska still offered a high-five on the way back to the car, dragging the cuffed Darren behind them, and Sharon still accepted it.

“I thought your asshole boyfriend was Brad? You said Brett.”

“Did I? Oh, I’m cheating on Brett with Brad. They don’t know about each other.”

“Depth! Nice, I love it. Real fleshed out character.”

“Shut up.” Sharon started the car. “So, one more arrest for me since I said the words, so that’s 25 to Needles and 24 to Thunder-”

Immediately, Alaska had to protest. “What?! No, we agreed to split it. A point each, he was an easy one.”

Sharon fiddled with her badge, deep in thought. “Okay, fine. We need some stakes, though.”

“I’m vegetarian.”

“No, not steaks! Stakes!”

“The things you kill vampires with?”

“No! Like, a reason for our bet.” Sharon’s eyes glinted dangerously, and Alaska sucked in an excited breath. “Something that we want from each other. Personally, I want to crush your spirit.”

Alaska nodded. “Alright, nice. I also want to crush your spirit. Maybe we should be more specific.”

An idea started forming in Alaska’s head, and for once it felt like a pretty good one. Naturally, Alaska loved to embarrass and humiliate people, and she loved for people to bring her up in conversation all the time, and her idea would work perfectly for that. Plus, it would be hilarious, particularly for her, and it would make for one hell of a story.

“I got it. However, judging by the slight inclination of your head and the beginnings of a smirk on your face, you’ve got an idea. Hit me with it.”

Predictably, Sharon grinned. “Okay, Detective Alaska Thunder. When I win this bet, you have to watch reruns of Jeopardy with me, and you have to play along. No sitting and saying it’s boring, or dorky-”

“It is dorky.”

“-Didn’t ask - you have to answer questions or rag on the idiots who answer the questions wrong with me. Full involvement, it’s my favourite show.”

As she resisted calling Sharon a dork for the second time (she really was a complete dork beneath her incredible cop/badass persona), Alaska hissed outwardly. She really didn’t want to watch some stupid quiz show, not when there were so many better things on TV these days. For example, Golden Girls reruns. 

“Fine.” Alaska smiled. “I think it’s adorable how you used when and not if. So, when I win this bet, you…”

She held her breath for dramatic effect, watching as Sharon playfully rolled her eyes.

“…Will go on a date with me. And it will be the worst date of your life. I will make sure of it.”

Sharon made a disbelieving face. “Yeah, right. I had a date once where the girl spilled her entire glass of red wine onto my dress and then cried for two hours about her ex, who it turned out she had invited to the restaurant so that she could beg her to get back together. Nothing can top that.”

Alaska sucked in a breath. “Oooh. One, that’s terrible, and two, you just set the highest bar for this date and that is going to be your downfall. I will humiliate you, Needles. You just wait and see.”

“You’re on.”

-

A few weeks passed. Alaska took a considerable lead, and swanned into the precinct every morning with the arrogance level of, according to Captain Tidicue, a peacock who had stumbled into a Las Vegas dressing room. No one had been quite sure about whether that was a compliment or not, judging by her stony, passive face, until it suddenly morphed into a cartoonish grin and they swiftly left the briefing room amid terrified laughter. 

Then, Sharon’s arson case took an interesting turn and Alaska watched, green with envy and competitive spirit, as she made six arrests in one day and started closing the gap between them.

“That’s how you do it, Thunder.” Sharon mimed injecting into her forearm, which in hindsight was probably a little inappropriate, but only Alaska saw it, and she didn’t give a shit.

“Do what, Needles? Get a crippling addiction?”

Sharon shrugged. “I guess I’m just addicted to justice, baby. You better start reading up on your trivia.”

She took off with an infuriating amount of swagger, even worse than that of a Las Vegas peacock.

“That was a fucking fantastic line, Alaska.”

“Shut up, Jinkx.”

-

“Ladies and gentlemen of our squad, no need to be alarmed, but this is just a reminder for Detective Sharon Needles to clear her calendar for our deadline, because she’s looking at a brilliant officer who just took her total up to 41, dwarfing your measly little 37.”

Latrice high-fived Alaska, and Sharon groaned. “Seriously? What the fuck, how?”

“Simple theft case turned murder investigation, naturally. Gang crime. Boom!”

At Detective Michaels’ stern face, she deflated slightly. “Okay. Gang crime and murder isn’t cool nor acceptable to celebrate in the workplace, however, I am winning.”

-

It was 11pm, which meant that Sharon had definitely missed that night’s Jeopardy episode, and yet Alaska noted that it didn’t even seem like she cared. Maybe that was her professionalism, given that they were on a short stakeout waiting for a drug deal to go down so that they could rush in and arrest the guys, but whatever. She hadn’t even mentioned it, and they had been talking a lot.

Jinkx had been Alaska’s best friend ever since she joined the precinct as a new officer. They had connected so well, and it almost felt like they were easy best friends within a week or two. But it wasn’t quite like that with Sharon.

If anything, it was totally the opposite. They got along extremely well, but it wasn’t the kind of easy-going friendship that she shared with Jinkx, not at all. Of course, they talked personally the same way, and argued and laughed and cooperated the same way, but being around Sharon didn’t feel easy. It felt… exciting, almost. Invigorating. 

Perhaps it was the thrill of a new friend, coupled with an exciting job and a fantastic work relationship.

“It’s getting late, I hope this drug deal happens before three in the fucking morning. I’d love to get some sleep tonight.” Alaska groaned, sitting down on a plastic chair beside Sharon. She had perched on an overturned storage container, as apparently the roof of the building they were staked out on didn’t have much in the way of garbage removal.

“We can take shifts, if you like? If it gets real late and we’re exhausted, I mean. I’d happily take first watch.”

Sharon tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and Alaska watched her with a soft smile. “I can’t let you do that, Needles, that’s not fair. But, I did bring snacks, so that should give us some energy. How do you feel about…”

She dug into her bag. “Uh, off-brand chocolate counter things? I hear they’re pretty good… probably.”

In the moonlight, Sharon’s skin looked almost blue, like a nymph. Her quiet giggle was mesmerising after the awkward silence of an abandoned industrial site.

“I won’t turn them down.”

They kept watch, determined not to miss any minor discrepancies that would reveal their perpetrator in the midst of the darkness. All they needed was one damning deal, some incriminating photographs, and they could make their arrest and still get a good night’s sleep.

In the meantime, they had their ways of entertaining themselves. Namely, telling horrific jokes, and attempting to catch chocolate counters in their mouths, at which Sharon was awful.

Yet another victory Alaska could laud over her.

She doubled over in laughter as Sharon kept trying, missing by miles and in turn, collapsing into giggles. Her head was bent at all kinds of strange angles as she kept going, the counters flying everywhere but her mouth, even pinging off the edge of the roof. The closest she came was landing smack on the middle of Sharon’s forehead, which she counted as a win, and Alaska counted as a complete and utter fail.

“I can’t fathom someone being that bad at catching them in your mouth! It’s so easy!” Alaska wheezed. “Look, let me show you.”

Sharon stood up. “Fine, fine, you gotta teach me. As soon as I throw it, I can’t see it anymore! I don’t get your game, Thunder!”

Alaska stood in front of her, close so that Sharon could watch. She quite liked being taller than her partner - it meant Sharon had to look up to her, just like she would be when Alaska won their bet. It must’ve been a humbling feeling, Alaska assumed. 

“See? Watch.” She flicked the counter into the air and caught it deftly on her tongue. “Easy. Challenge mode, throw me more than one. Get a good handful or something.”

Sharon’s hand was already reaching into the bag. “You’re never gonna get all these. Nobody’s that good.”

“Try me.”

The handful rained down out of nowhere, and needless to say, Sharon’s cackles of delight made the meagre one counter that she managed to catch seem a little better. A good amount of them had fallen onto her face, anyway, so by Sharon’s standards, that must count as a win.

“I concede, you’re the chocolate champion. Congrats.” Sharon grinned. 

Bowing, Alaska offered her most dazzling smile. “Told you I’m amazing.”

“And you have chocolate on your face. Real dignified.”

“Ha! You’re bluffing.”

“No, I’m serious!” Sharon’s eyes sparkled with humour. “Let me get it.”

She closed the tiny gap between them and stepped closer, Alaska again noting the slight height difference between them and how kind and sweet the moonlight made Sharon’s features appear. Her eyebrows furrowed and then relaxed as she reached an admittedly cold hand towards Alaska’s lips. Everything seemed to happen agonisingly slow, as she gently brushed her thumb over the corner of Alaska’s mouth and her expression softened. In the background, Alaska heard a car door shut. She never wanted to take her eyes away from Sharon in the moment, but regrettably found herself doing so.

“I think that’s our guy.”

She sighed, internally cursing herself over and over as they each took a step backwards, Sharon coughing and righting herself with a nod. “Right. Armed and ready?”

Alaska nodded, confused about why she felt so disappointed. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

-

They caught the guys red-handed. Alaska said the words, so she took credit for the arrests. 

Sharon rewrote the scores on the board and blew raspberries at her. Detective Velour suggested that Sharon had sunk to Alaska levels of childishness, to which she received a high-five from most of the other detectives, some laughs of agreement, and one outraged huff followed by a much louder raspberry than Sharon’s had been.

-

When Alaska got to her desk, Jinkx was already there waiting. She held a case file between her fingers and she tapped her foot impatiently as Alaska sat down and looked at her.

“Tidicue just thanked Sharon for the two of you offering to take that drug stakeout and rejecting the backup offer.”

Alaska shrugged. “That was nice of her.”

Jinkx pressed on. “She seemed a little confused. Almost as if she didn’t know that the two of you volunteered, or that there was a backup team. I didn’t pry, but I saw her face. Just wondering when you were planning on admitting that you like her.”

Something about the accusation made Alaska feel a little hot under the collar. What the hell was Jinkx trying to imply? That she liked Sharon? It made no sense. Alaska took comfort in how absurd it was.

“Of course I like Sharon,” She chose to respond, deliberately ignoring the obvious implication. “She’s a great detective and a good friend. We didn’t need backup, so I didn’t ask for it.”

Inexplicably, Jinkx’s eye roll was almost audible. “Or you were just enjoying your alone time…”

Alaska looked at her screen. Her computer was open and unlocked, as she’d left it, and there was a form that needed filling in before she got started on some of her paperwork that had been piling up on her desk. Really, she needed to get a move on with it all. Jinkx was highly unprofessional for interrupting her. Alaska had never done that to anyone before, of course.

“I have work to do, shut up. It wasn’t alone time, it was a stakeout! We were literally working together, as colleagues.” Alaska sent back an eye roll of her own. “I don’t like Sharon that way, she’s not my type. Don’t make it weird.”

From behind her, someone cleared their throat. Alaska spun in her chair and found Sharon having just approached, tucking her hair behind her ears and smiling awkwardly. “Tidicue said we should split the paperwork. I just came to pick up my half.”

She gathered some of the files from the desk in a few seconds and left with another brief smile. Alaska watched her go, then turned and met eyes with Jinkx, who was nothing if not a picture of smugness.

“See? We’re professionals.” Alaska retorted.

Jinkx shrugged. “Sure. Okay. I believe you. Just putting it out there that you seem so determined to win the bet and make the forfeit the worst date ever, you’re putting a lot of thought into this. But fine, I’ll leave you to it.”

As she slunk away, back to her own desk, Alaska swore she heard Jinkx humming a wedding march. 

-

“Hey, Sharon! Hey, glad I could catch you. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

The roof had quite the scenic view of the city. It wasn’t particularly high, but it gave a perfect vantage point of everything that Alaska considered essential to make up her home - graffiti, pigeons, dodgy food vendors and an every-man-for-himself attitude wrapped in an aura of grey bleakness. That being said, grimy and dark as it could sometimes be, there was a lot of life and colour and excitement in the city that could always be relied on to keep things interesting. As she joined Sharon by the edge of the brick wall, where she was absent-mindedly tapping off cigarette ash, they watched as passersby went about their days.

“I know you probably overheard a little of what Jinkx was saying to me, which was totally out of line, but I just wanted to make sure that I didn’t hurt your feelings or anything with what I said.”

Sharon looked pensive for a moment, then she took one final drag from her cigarette and stubbed it out before throwing it into the trash. Alaska felt strangely nervous as she waited for a response - apologies and humility were not really her style.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Sharon replied, amused. “I wasn’t hurt. My type isn’t really cocky, arrogant and goofy, so…”

Alaska laughed. “Right! Like, I’m just not into… I mean, you look like a nerdy dork who tried to reinvent herself as a biker chick by just wearing leather. Different personalities.”

“Exactly!” Sharon agreed with a smile. “You’re too blase for my tastes.”

“And you’re really Type A. Too strict for me. I don’t know what Jinkx is seeing, but she should get her eyes checked.”

Sharon giggled. “Alright, I’m going inside. You coming?”

Alaska watched a pigeon chase a man halfway down the street. “In a minute, you go ahead. I’m getting some fresh air.”

So, progress. This was good. Alaska had proved Jinkx wrong, and clarified in no uncertain terms that she didn’t like Sharon and that Sharon didn’t like her. But at the same time… cocky and arrogant. That struck a nerve, somehow. It wasn’t like her nature hadn’t been commented on before - hell, it was open game to everyone in the squad. They all knew that as a detective, and in general, Alaska was pretty lax and carefree and chilled out. But the fact that those qualities made her unattractive in Sharon’s eyes…

It wasn’t like Alaska wanted Sharon to like her, not in that way. It just… stung. It stung, and it had never stung before when others said it.

-

It was late. The shift was almost over, the clock edging towards midnight, and Alaska overall thought her day had been pretty good. There had been a long, tedious interrogation, but that had kept her entertained for long enough that the rest of the shift was pretty much smooth sailing. She had even had time to harmlessly prank Detective Coulée by covering her computer monitor in googly eyes, during which Latrice, her superior, and Detective Michaels, her moral superior, watched her with disapproving but amused stares.

When Sharon walked in, at two minutes to midnight, her smile lit up the room.

“Thunder, you got a pen? I need to update our arrest numbers.” She asked with a wink.

Alaska shrugged. “I never have a pen, Needles, but I know for a fact that you have one, so I see right through your little power-play.”

Sharon smirked. “Right. Just wanted to make you sweat a little, that’s all.”

She sauntered into the other room, pen in hand. Jinkx got up from her desk and scuttled across to Alaska’s, practically bouncing with excitement. Looking around the room, Alaska noticed that the rest of her colleagues were all watching her with anticipation, knowing what was about to happen. In response, Alaska just offered a grin and held her finger to her lips.

“You’re not gonna tell her?!” Jinkx scream-whispered.

Alaska shrugged again. “She can read, she’s a smart girl. Anyway, I want to hear how she reacts when she-”

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

As the room erupted into laughter, Alaska stood up in the midst of the desks and opened her arms wide. Perfectly on cue, when Sharon stepped out of the briefing room, Jinkx, Sasha and Latrice started releasing party poppers whilst Willam gladly helped Shea unfurl a banner proclaiming Alaska a champion. Detective Michaels, loathe to take part in the childishness of it all but still wanting to offer her support, broke into polite applause.

“Why the fuck is your count one higher than mine? We were tied, I was about to beat you, I-”

Sharon’s eyes fell on the parade and she shook her head. “How?! How?!”

As if rehearsed - although it wasn’t, as Alaska had asked and Captain Tidicue had insisted it would be funnier if it was entirely natural - Tidicue stepped out from her office and shook Alaska’s hand.

“Working with a bunch of children is definitely a challenge, but I enjoyed this little bet. It made two of my best detectives work harder than ever and, Detective Needles, you’ve helped to increase Detective Thunder’s productivity massively. She’s willingly completed paperwork because of you.”

Sharon’s jaw dropped. “But-!”

Alaska’s carefully timed alarm ticked over, and celebratory music cut Sharon’s protest off before it could even start. Deciding to add insult to injury, Alaska performed the most obnoxious victory dance she could think of.

“You see, my dear, dear colleague and close friend, whilst you were out today working your little detective socks off on your case, arresting your one suspect…” Alaska trailed off, leaving the room in gleeful suspense as she wheeled the whiteboard with their scores in, “I put away two guys. And now, since the clock has hit midnight, the bet is over and I have won. Ladies and gentlemen, the amazing Thunder wins again!”

Jinkx joined Alaska’s enthusiastic dance, but they stopped in unison when Alaska held out her hand for silence. “Now, I believe first of all you have a statement to announce?”

If looks could kill, Alaska would have happily died under Sharon’s murderous gaze. “You’re a great detective and you’re hot.”

“Hmm… a little louder. Also, that’s not what I texted you to say, so…”

Sharon shook her head. “I’m not saying it again, nor am I reading your horrendous text. It was scarring enough when I had to read it in my own head.”

Alaska raised her eyebrows in mock sympathy. “Aww. Listen, your terrible date starts now, and our first port of call is for you to do what I say in every humiliating way possible. Would you like a chair?”

“A… chair?”

“To stand on, so everyone can see and hear you.”

This had to be the best day of Alaska’s life. Nothing would compare to the pride and glee that she felt at dragging a plastic chair into the middle of the police station at midnight for Sharon to stand on. Every part of her indignance only made the experience more enjoyable. The rest of the officers rallied around Alaska in a crowd, palpably excited that the bet had finally come to its end.

Sharon read from her phone, and sighed audibly at the content. “I really don’t want to say this.”

“Come on, date-o-mine!” Alaska cajoled her. “Tell everyone what you really think!”

There was a long pause, and then Sharon began speaking in a loud, flat voice. “Attention, everyone! I have… an announcement to make. Alaska Elizabeth Joanne Thunder - that’s really your full name? - is the greatest detective known in this world, and in comparison to her, I am… I am a helpless misguided child. This… wonderful influence on my life will now take me on a date and teach me her mastermind ways.”

She paused and groaned. “I don’t wanna - I also would like to confess to the room the deep and embarrassing nature of my feelings for this heroic woman. She makes my pan- fucking hell I’m not saying that!”

“You can say basement.” Alaska interjected, as unhelpful as possible. “Keep going.”

“She makes my… basement flood, every day. It will be difficult to keep my hands off her tonight. Goodnight everyone.”

The room burst into laughter again, and Sharon stepped down from the chair and whacked Alaska’s arm with a nearby folder. It hurt more than she expected, but something about Sharon’s glare told Alaska to just laugh it off. Instead, she offered a charming smile and handed a plastic bag over.

“Feel free to do your hair however you like, but I’ve packed a beautiful date outfit for you and a lipstick colour that I think will look gorgeous. Meet me out here when you’re done and we’ll head off.”

Naturally, Alaska’s planning for the Worst Date Ever had been meticulous, in possibly the most un-Alaska behaviour of hers ever. Since they had started the bet, she kept track of little bits of information that she could use - things that annoyed Sharon, things that she hated, offhand comments she made that indicated her opinions on things.

For example, she now knew that Sharon hated pink lipstick, claiming it made her look like a man. She thought anything off-shoulder was stupid, and pale colours didn’t flatter her skin tone, and long strappy shoes were dumb because the ties looked weird wrapped around people’s legs.

Her face when she reappeared was something Alaska never wanted to forget.

In the time Sharon had been changing, and likely cursing herself for not winning the bet, Alaska had slipped into something a little nicer in the bathroom too - just a ripped jeans and button-up combo that she would usually wear on a date, which had been made to feel twice as good by Jinkx’s compliments. Alaska suspected her friend was hoping for a romantic connection to blossom on the date, and inwardly laughed at the idea. One, they weren’t into each other like that, and two, this was not the kind of date that would make a girl fall in love.

Sharon emerged with a scowl, but even so, Alaska couldn’t deny that she looked pretty. It was abundantly clear that she hated her outfit from head to toe, which was a great start. In all fairness, the skin-tight pink minidress, off-the-shoulder style with long sleeves, actually looked pretty good on her. It clung to her curves in a somewhat intoxicating way, showcasing a figure that Alaska never knew had been hiding under her detective uniform and leather jackets. 

“I look ridiculous.” She sulked. “I hate these shoes, and this lipstick makes me look like a man. Are you happy?”

As soon as the question was out, Sharon rolled her eyes as she predicted Alaska’s gleeful response. “Thrilled.”

Latrice walked past and stopped to marvel at the outfit, before bursting into infectiously loud laughter. “Damn, Needles, I ain’t never seen you dressed like that before! You look like Angelyne!”

Sharon crossed her arms over her chest. “And you’ll never see it again! It suits Angelyne, it doesn’t fucking suit me! Can we get this thing started already?”

Alaska offered her arm, ever the polite, charming date. “Since you spoke so sweetly of me earlier, of course. You’re going to love my date.”

Sharon was not going to love Alaska’s date.

There were very few restaurants that were still open and serving food past midnight, but that was fine - Alaska wasn’t in the mood for a restaurant. What the city had a plethora of, however, was exactly what she wanted. Even in the darkness of the city streets, lit only by street lamps and the jarring white light of the food stalls, Alaska saw Sharon’s face drop.

“Fuck off. No. You can’t do this to me.”

By far, the worst street of the city was the one they stood in, lined as far as the eye could see with various unsanitary or just plain unusual food trucks. Even drunk Alaska knew better than to search for something edible from them after a night out, which meant it was perfect for her terrible date.

“You get to pick!” Alaska beamed. “I’m a great date partner, so it’s up to you. Of course, I’m paying.”

Sharon tugged at her dress and huffed. “Thunder. You can’t be serious. If we eat from any of these places we won’t shit solid for a week. I am not subjecting myself to food poisoning because of you.”

Eventually, they settled on what seemed like a fairly inoffensive option, a small truck selling wraps and burritos. Sharon took about two bites of her ‘vegetarian special’ before spitting it onto the ground, disgusted. It turned out a cold wrap filled with lukewarm lettuce, tomato and sour cream wasn’t the most appetizing meal. Once she’d thrown it away, she leant towards Alaska and playfully barged into her.

“You’re an asshole! I hate this. I hate you.”

Alaska winked. “Oh, you think you hate me, but trust me, things can only get worse from here. I promised you an awful date and I will deliver because I am a woman of my word. Now, how do you feel about mud, loud noises, and smashing vehicles?”

Sharon glanced down. “In these shoes?”

To be completely honest, Alaska didn’t see the problem with lace-up heels. In fact, she thought they looked quite good wrapped around Sharon’s legs. She had nice legs.

“Come on, let’s go.”

To make the date even worse, on the way to a monster truck rally that some dumb kid Sasha had arrested a few weeks ago had mentioned, Alaska chose a ride-share, subjecting Sharon to twenty minutes in a car with a bunch of hammered straight girls. Every five minutes or so, they whooped loudly and demanded the driver play some Dua Lipa.

Sharon looked murderous, but in a sort of amused way. Alaska figured she was surprised at quite how horrific the date was turning out to be. It was quite a shock, really.

It quickly became apparent that the truck rally, however, was a pretty big mistake on Alaska’s part.

Unsurprisingly, it was just as terrible as she had planned it to be - floodlit, loud, dirty, and full of raucous drunk people thriving off destruction and chaos. They were perched on the edge of shaky metal benches, disgusted at the filth of the place.

“This… is disgusting.” Sharon almost seemed impressed. “I thought the food choice was bad, but the activity is so much worse.”

Alaska could barely hear her over the noise, but she nodded. “I told you I’m good.”

Sharon laughed and conceded. “Fuck. Something about this place feels very illegal, and I don’t even know why. I’m just going to ignore my surroundings.”

Behind them, a greasy-looking man wearing a beer-stained vest and sagging jeans clicked his tongue. “Hey, ma, shake that thing on over here. That’s right, I’m talkin’ to you, hot stuff. You look good in that pink.”

Sharon stiffened, and Alaska bit her lip. “I… forgot about the existence of gross men in a place like this.”

In spite of the comment, Sharon cracked a smile. “So caught up in the fun of humiliating me that you forgot about sexism. I love that. We should leave.”

“Fantastic idea.”

Luckily, there was a decent bar not too far from the site of their awful date, so they hastened away from the chaos of the rally as quickly as they could and made their way inside. Alaska reasoned that maybe a good bar would act as a little bit of a reprieve from the bad date and vile comment, and figured she could still ruin it tactfully by ordering the grossest drinks they had available. Straight tequila would do, probably.

“Can we get six shots of tequila? Thanks,” Alaska handed over the money and laughed at Sharon, who sat on the barstool and groaned exaggeratedly loud. “This is what happens when you lose the bet, Needles! Maybe you should be better next time.”

“I tried so hard!” Sharon defended herself, laughing. “I held the lead for at least three weeks in a row! Stupid fucking criminals working alone instead of together.”

When the shots arrived, Alaska barely had a chance to gloat about how horrible it was going to be before Sharon had downed her three, wincing but persisting nevertheless. Alaska quickly caught up, taken aback and tickled by how fast she had knocked them back.

“Listen,” Sharon giggled at Alaska’s stare, “I look dumb, I ate gross street food, went to a fucking monster truck rally and got catcalled. I need to get shitfaced, you succeeded. Your date is terrible.”

Alaska pumped her fist into the air. “Yes! Succeeded and the night is still young! Although I can’t help but feel like the catcalling was my fault because of the outfit, so I will offer a rare Alaska Thunder apology.”

Sharon smirked. “Oh, thanks, I appreciate that. I’d look better in a body bag.”

Checking her phone, Alaska saw that it was just coming up to around two in the morning. She ordered two double whiskeys and winked at Sharon. They still had plenty of time before she would call the date finished and let her go home.

Sharon could hold her alcohol incredibly well, Alaska discovered, but also that she became a heightened and twice as hilarious version of herself the more she drank. Or maybe Alaska just saw it that way, as she matched her drink for drink. She found herself doubled over, howling with laughter at something that one of them had said, with no idea what had been said or by who. 

They even danced a little, with drunk Alaska unashamed to show how terribly uncoordinated she was. Sharon was by no means an expert dancer, but drunk Alaska was more than a little open-mouthed and amazed at how close drunk Sharon danced against her. There was hardly space between them to breathe, and Alaska found it difficult to tear her eyes away from Sharon’s hips.

It wasn’t like it mattered anyway… finding someone physically attractive didn’t mean you liked liked them, or wanted to date them or have sex with them or engage in anything other than a friendly professional relationship with them… Jinkx was stupid. There was no such thing as ‘chemistry’ or anything like that. There was just Sharon, who looked good, and Alaska, who had drank a lot, and a dance floor and some loud music, and that was enough.

Alaska didn’t remember when they decided to leave the club, but at some point they had made the decision to. Her phone read four in the morning, not that she could really register that either. The ground was cold and a little bit stony - she looked down and saw she was walking barefoot, holding a pair of heels by their straps, and Sharon was wearing her flats. 

Perhaps she’d offered them to her. How kind.

Both girls stumbled down the street, presumably towards the Uber they had probably called that would be arriving in ten minutes or something along those lines. Alaska’s head was swimming, and a bubble of laughter escaped from her for no reason, triggering Sharon to do the same.

She was really kind of beautiful, in the darkness. But that sounded bad - Sharon was pretty in the daylight, and in the moonlight, and through the lens of drunk, smug Alaska. She had successfully created the worst date, and she’d had so much fun.

“This is so fucking fun…” Sharon slurred, wobbling as she clung to Alaska’s arm and laughed. “I’m counting the worms on the street. I’ve seen like five, and they’re all called Joe. They’re my sons now.”

“You’re a mother!” Alaska exclaimed. “How exciting for you! Congratulations!”

She almost tripped, grabbed onto Sharon for balance, and started howling with laughter. “Oooops, I might be a teensy bit drunk.”

“Good! So am I!” Sharon declared proudly. “I’m ha-having so much fun. This is definitely not the worst date ever. I’ve been- I’ve been on worser- more worse - badder dates than this. One time, this girl left me for her ex! At the table! Was fucking bad, Lask. But funny.”

Alaska gasped. “Aww, shit. You told me that! Now I gotta plan a w-worse date?”

Sharon smiled, her expression dopey. “I like hanging out with you! I’ve had so much fun tonight. Also, you’re waaaay pretty! Even though you’re a goof! A goofy goofball dummy head.”

“That’s me, baby!” Alaska puffed her chest out. “OH! I think that’s our car. It is! Let’s go, pretty pretty girl. You’re pretty too. Let’s gooooooo!”

-

No amount of alcohol was worth the raging headache that Alaska woke up with. Her memories were hazy but nevertheless still there, and as she tried to think back on the events of her night, her head spun. Where did Sharon end up?

The reluctant opening of her eyes soon solved that mystery. Alaska’s bedroom door was wide open, and if she squinted to try and focus her blurry vision, she made out the shape of Sharon’s body passed out asleep on her couch, one arm thrown up in the air and one leg stretched out. 

With a groan and an extreme amount of effort, Alaska shifted herself up and into the kitchen, overlooking the living room. She needed coffee and she needed it now. Thank god neither of them had work - there wasn’t a chance in hell that either of them would’ve been able to make it in.

“I feel like Satan’s asscrack right now.” Sharon’s voice came weakly from the couch. “I’m so tired.”

Alaska smiled, though Sharon couldn’t see her from where she was lying. “Coffee? I just brewed some… gonna fucking need it.”

“Oh, please. Black, no sugar, and toss in a Redbull if you got one. I need the caffeine more than I need a steady heart rate.”

Alaska poured the two drinks and brought them into the living room, the two of them laughing weakly at each other in their hungover, exhausted states. She handed over the mug and recalled how her drunken self had dwelled on Sharon being pretty as they walked together.

Sharon’s eyes were puffy and rimmed with smudged black makeup, her lipstick smeared across her cheek but mostly on her hand. Her hair was loose and stuck up wildly from the way she’d slept, not that she seemed to care. As she sipped her coffee, Alaska realised she must have offered her something to sleep in, as the offending pink dress had been discarded halfway across the room, and instead she wore an old Golden Girls t-shirt of Alaska’s. She looked a mess, as they both did. 

Alaska was sober, it was daylight, and she still thought Sharon looked beautiful.

Fuck. As much as Alaska hated the thought of it…. Jinkx might’ve been onto something.

-

Jinkx was onto something. 

Her case had suddenly had this amazing new lead, and within a day of hard field work, she had enlisted Alaska to join her for the arrest and taken down a guy she’d been hunting for months. It was obviously an amazing feeling, and as a celebration, she invited her friend over to spend the evening.

It soon became clear that Jinkx had an ulterior motive, because the questions began the moment that Alaska’s second glass of red wine had been refilled.

“So… no work talk tonight, we did a good job. How was your date?”

Alaska rolled her eyes and giggled, feeling relaxed in the comfort of Jinkx’s home. When she’d joined the force, she hadn’t expected to become such good friends with her colleagues, but Jinkx in particular had assumed the position of best friend in no time. Her home was slightly kooky and unusual, but the little touches of her personality made the whole place endearing and safe in Alaska’s eyes. In the soft lighting, a glass of wine down, she found herself more open to talk.

“I thought you said no work chat,” Alaska teased.

Jinkx coughed expectantly. “That wasn’t work and you know it. Spill, bitch.”

“Fine.” Alaska lazily sipped her wine. “I took her out and tried to embarrass her, succeeded, and we ended up having a really good night. Sharon’s pretty fun.”

“You could’ve stopped at pretty.”

Alaska laughed. “Are you sure it’s me you’re trying to imply liking her? You seem into her.”

“Har, har, har,” Jinkx shot Alaska a meaningful look, going as far as to push her glasses further down the bridge of her nose to make eye contact away from the lens. “She’s good looking, of course, but she’s not my type.”

“What makes you think she’s mine?”

Dangerous territory. Alaska still couldn’t shake the thoughts she had woken up sober with after their night out - that Sharon was pretty, even when she looked and felt like death. Sometimes, she’d walk into work in the morning and see that Sharon had tied her hair up or worn something different or just looked the same, and would internally note that she looked nice. It was like all of a sudden she couldn’t not notice her colleague’s appearance.

“The way you look at her.” Jinkx shrugged, matter-of-factly. “You have to admit there’s an element of attraction there.”

Alaska swallowed. She drank some more wine and thought for a moment - it wasn’t like she couldn’t trust Jinkx, but admitting it would feel so humiliating. Still, she supposed, there was a reason they called it liquid courage…

“To be honest, I feel like I’ve been looking at her differently since the date. Nothing happened, but I guess I’d never considered looking at her romantically before that. I mean, why would I?” She stared off into the distance, not quite wanting to look Jinkx in the eye. “She’s obviously pretty. It’s just that… I notice it now, you know? She’s this badass detective and that’s attractive, but then it’s like… she’s also this dork who likes dumb shit and it’s funny to me when she talks about it.”

Alaska’s gaze flickered over to Jinkx, who seemed to be masking her smugness in order to hide her judgement. Her face was so perfectly still that she burst into laughter, prompting Jinkx to do the same.

“I knew you liked her. You give her this look sometimes, I don’t think she ever notices it, but you smile with half of your mouth and then laugh at things she says. Almost subconsciously, I would say.” Jinkx wrinkled her nose and giggled. “I’m a love expert, just saying. I have a PhD in love.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Alaska deadpanned, and then spluttered into laughter. “I can’t keep a straight face. Look, I just… don’t know how to proceed with these new… observations, alright? I wouldn’t make a move on her, it’s not like she sees me the same way.”

Jinkx’s gaze somehow seemed wise, like an owl’s, and knowing. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure?” Alaska repeated, confused.

Jinkx got up and started walking into the kitchen, her back to Alaska so she couldn’t read her expression. Dammit, social cues! Alaska was going to go crazy.

“Jinkx, wouldn’t be so sure?”

-

They texted a lot. Even sometimes at work, when they were only across the room from one another. Alaska would text something dumb that she knew would make Sharon laugh, and watch as she looked down at her desk and then smiled to herself, privately.

No one else got to see those smiles of hers. Just Alaska, who had caused them.

[narcoleptic-drag-queen]

If I may ask, 45 for Shalaska 😇

Ask, and you shall receive, anon

-

“Has the acting in Clueless always been this bad?”

“Yes,” Alaska says, not tearing her eyes away from the screen. “That’s half the point.”

“Hmph,” Sharon says, and Alaska rolls her eyes fondly at her. “I still think Sleepaway Camp would have been better.”

“And you want to talk about bad acting?” Alaska cries. Sharon motions vaguely to the stack of DVDs they’d piled up while choosing what to watch, where Sleepaway Camp sits at the very top.

“In a fun way!” she says. “This is just boring.”

Alaska snorts. “Whatever,” she says. “It was my night to pick, and you have to deal with it.”

“Actually, it was Willam’s night to pick, but she decided to go and ‘watch movies’ with Courtney instead,” Sharon says, her tone mocking as she quotes Willam’s flimsy excuse. “Like we don’t know they’re not just going to ignore the movie and fuck instead.”

Alaska laughs nervously, trying not to think too hard about how that could very easily be her and Sharon. If Sharon were interested, of course. Which she’s not.

If Alaska had known she was going to be alone with Sharon tonight, she would have canceled for the sake of her mental health.

As if on cue, Sharon shifts a little closer, enough for Alaska to feel the warmth radiating from her. Alaska swallows, determinedly keeping her eyes glued to Alicia Silverstone and ignoring the blonde she actually wants to be looking at. She can get through this. She’s just got to trust and believe.

She’s been through worse - hugs that last a little too long, Sharon brushing an eyelash off of Alaska’s cheek for her, Sharon snuggling into her when they’re all crammed onto Willam’s gigantic, rich person bed. She’s been through intimate moments alone in Sharon’s car, waiting for Willam, and through Sharon’s offer to shotgun her when Alaska had joined her and Willam’s smoking sessions for the first time.

Her crush on Sharon has been a harrowing experience.

“Blanket?” Sharon asks, and Alaska nods without thinking, still lost in thought. Sharon grins, and she gets up to go retrieve a green blanket from the box in the corner of the room. Alaska has just enough time to wonder why she’s only getting one when Sharon flops down next to her, so close that their thighs are touching, and spreads the blanket across them both.

Alaska tries not to tense, forcing herself to remain pliant as Sharon snuggles into the couch, leaning her head on Alaska’s shoulder.

This is fine.

Alaska doesn’t know what she’s done to deserve this, but it’s fine. She’s fine. Totally fine.

She stares at the TV, watching Cher and Dione eye up Tai and discuss the merits of adoption, but then Sharon mutters something that sounds like ‘gay’ and suddenly, Alaska can’t focus on anything other than the warm body sitting far, far too close.

She sneaks a glance, her heart twisting at Sharon’s messy dark hair and her for once makeup-less face, and quickly looks back at the movie before Sharon can notice. Her heart thuds in her chest as Cher and Dionne wash the pink dye out of Tai’s hair, and she thinks she might have to kill Willam for making her too stressed to watch her favorite movie.

Alaska has been friends with Sharon for years - she shouldn’t be nervous to be around her by herself, she shouldn’t have to use Willam as a buffer between them after five years of friendship. She hadn’t thought about it much before, the three doing everything together, anyway, but with the introduction of Courtney and senior year and college plans, they’d all been too busy to get together often. Friday night movies have always been a staple, however, and for Willam to ignore that, especially when she knows about Alaska’s crush, is a hate crime.

Sharon probably isn’t stressed. Sharon clearly isn’t stressed, if the way she’s lazily alternating between her phone and the movie is any indication.

Sharon’s phone lights up in her lap, and Alaska glances at it, her attention anywhere but the movie and the bright lock screen distracting in the darkness of Sharon’s living room. She feels a jolt of shock at the sight of it, her world briefly tilting a little as she stares in disbelief.

Sharon swipes her lock screen quickly, enough for Alaska to second guess what it had been. But she’s pretty sure she recognizes that selfie as one she’d sent into their group chat a few months ago, the one where she’d poked her tongue out and Willam had teased her and Sharon had remained suspiciously silent.

“Hey, can I see your lock screen again?” Alaska asks, her voice a little breathy but otherwise miraculously steady. Sharon’s thumbs freeze over her screen mid-text.

“Why?” she asks, a strange edge to her voice. Alaska’s heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s in her throat.

Alaska hesitates. “I just thought I recognized the picture,” she says, and Sharon scoots a little further away, giving Alaska a strange look.

“You wouldn’t have,” she says. “It’s - you wouldn’t know what it is.”

“I just want to see it,” Alaska says, and a new kind of panic makes her feel wired, full of energy. What if it isn’t Alaska - what if it’s some other girl? Her need to know only gets stronger as the thought crosses her mind, and it takes all of her willpower not to just snatch the phone from Sharon’s hands and look for herself.

“Maybe later,” Sharon says, and Alaska feels a flash of irritation. 

“We’re best friends, Sharon,” she says. “Just show me.”

“No.”

“Don’t make me take that phone from you, Sharon Needles,” Alaska threatens, and Sharon’s eyes widen.

“You wouldn’t,” she says, aghast. “That would be an invasion of privacy.”

Alaska lunges for the phone.

Sharon puts up a good fight, leaping off of the couch with startling swiftness and running around the coffee table, Alaska giving swift chase. They’re both giggling like little kids, racing through Sharon’s empty house so fast that Alaska can feel the wind in her hair, and Alaska briefly loses the intensity of her feeling as she traps Sharon on the couch, straddling her waist and pinning her wrists to the cushions as she wrestles the phone from her hands.

“Alaska, please,” Sharon says, trying desperately to wriggle out of Alaska’s hold, fruitlessly trying to grab her phone back from where Alaska is holding it high above her head. “Don’t--”

Alaska presses the ‘on’ button, and sure enough, her own face greets her, her hair ratty and her mascara clumped horribly. Sharon collapses back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling and refusing to meet Alaska’s eyes when she looks back down at her.

“I’m your lock screen?” she asks, even as the proof stares her right in the face. Her heart is beating so hard that she can feel it in her stomach, a new hope making it race even faster.

Sharon lets out a distressed breath, covering her face with her hands. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” she says, voice muffled, and Alaska puts the phone to the side, gently grabbing Sharon’s wrists and pulling them away from her face, now bright red.

She’s adorable.

“Care to tell me why?” Alaska teases, preemptive joy and Sharon’s clear embarrassment making her feel bold, her own insecurity miraculously fading away. She feels like she’s going to burst with happiness.

“No,” Sharon says, her face still bright red, and Alaska leans down to kiss her in an uncharacteristically brave move.

Sharon freezes underneath Alaska, her wrists still in Alaska’s hands, and Alaska’s heart drops, her confidence fading within the span of a second. She goes to draw away, letting go of Sharon’s wrists like she’s just been burned, but Sharon chases her, pulling her in again with her newly released hands.

Alaska melts.

Sharon tastes like the Pepsi she’s been drinking and she smells like her mother’s cigarettes and her hair is soft between Alaska’s fingers, and Alaska sighs into the kiss, affection and euphoria making her insides feel wobbly and a grin spread across her face, ruining the kiss.

Sharon draws back, a matching smile on her face. “I think it’s safe to assume you’re not mad?” she asks, and Alaska laughs.

“Pretty safe,” she agrees, and she leans in for another kiss, Sharon greeting her eagerly. On the TV, Josh realizes he’s in love with Cher, in her little white dress and smug smile. Alaska doesn’t think this moment could be more perfect.

She’s never been more thankful for Willam’s absence.

send me a pairing and a number!

[artificialqueens]

wild flower, chapter two (shalaska) 2/10 - freyja

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support chapter one got! Thank you so, so much to frey (aka Thorpe) for betaing!! This wouldn’t be where it is without her. I also thought I would share the playlist I made to listen to for inspiration!

Anyway, chapter two: in which Alaska realizes she is a little more than stuck with Sharon.

🌸

“I have acted fearless and independent and I never will regret my course. I would rather be politically buried than be hypocritically immortalized.”

— Davy Crockett

🌸

They ride for what could be minutes or hours in silence, Alaska never taking her eyes off of the horizon even long after the orange blaze surrounding her uncle’s mansion is gone. She barely registers the blessedly cool wind against her face, or how hard she’s gripping the horse’s saddle, deep in thought and very confused.

She’s not scared.

She knows she will be, once she has the time to really comprehend what happened, but for now all she can feel is guilt. Guilt, because her reaction to her uncle’s house burning, after the initial horror, was relief. How could she? Her uncle’s livelihood is gone, her uncle is gone and likely in danger, she’s been kidnapped - likely in order to be tortured for information - and all she can fucking think about is that she doesn’t have to find a husband anymore.

Sharon flicks the reins, and her horse suddenly jerks into a higher speed, forcing Alaska to grab onto Sharon’s waist in fear of falling off and breaking her neck. Sharon cackles at her, and Alaska flushes, embarrassed and suddenly feeling heated. It makes her angry.

Anger feels a hell of a lot better than guilt, and she gives into it without hesitation.

“Fuck you,” she snarls, right into Sharon’s ear.

“Sorry, what was that?” Sharon shouts, voice nearly whipped away by the wind. “‘Thank you?’”

It is entirely plausible, maybe even likely, that Sharon hadn’t heard her. But the presumption - the fucking nerve–

You can’t hear me? Alaska thinks viciously, glaring at the sharp angles of Sharon’s cheekbones. How about now?

She sucks in a deep breath, and she screams straight into Sharon’s ear.

It’s childish, but Alaska has never been afraid of being childish, especially when it gives her such great results.

Sharon jumps, cringing away violently, jerking the reigns and making her horse jerk along with them. For a second, Alaska allows herself to hope that they would slow enough for her to safely jump off of the horse, but Sharon corrects him too quickly for her to even have a second of the time she’d need.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Sharon snaps, her tone a startling contrast to the gentle way she pats the horse’s neck. “What the fuck?”

“Can you hear me now?” Alaska asks, sneering. She relishes in the anger on Sharon’s face, gratified by her ability to take the other woman down a peg, but it fades away too quickly for her liking. Instead, Sharon’s pressed lips turn into a smirk, and she doesn’t even grant Alaska a glance when she says,

“Surprised you didn’t do that back at the house - the lawmen might have heard you in time to help.”

Alaska looks at Sharon incredulously. “Town is three miles from – oh, fuck you!” she grits out, the realization dawning with Sharon’s laughter.

“Don’t you mean thank you?” Sharon shoots back, and Alaska desperately wants to hit her, rage nearly overwhelming her.

“Why - how would I ever thank you?” she snarls. The apathy in Sharon’s expression only makes her blood boil more. She tears her eyes away from the other woman, instead staring stubbornly out at the Rockies. She can feel tears welling up in her eyes, and she curses them. She needs to be strong for this. “You - you kidnapped me, you burned my home, you killed-”

“Your home?” Sharon says sharply.

“Does it matter?” Alaska spits.

“Yes,” Sharon says bluntly. “That wasn’t your fucking home. Don’t accuse me of that. That was the last place you wanted to be - I could see it in your eyes. You were at the stable for a reason.”

Alaska flushes at the reminder of their first meeting, suddenly aware of the way their bodies are pressed together - the way Sharon’s waist feels firm under her arms. She almost pulls away, but her sense of balance forces her to remain attached.

As if reading her mind, Sharon places a hand on Alaska’s wrist, which rests against her ribcage. “Got a good grip?” she says lowly, and Alaska jerks her wrist away, cheeks burning. Sharon laughs, letting go easily, and Alaska replaces her arm with less reluctance than she should have felt.

“I loved it there,” Alaska says petulantly. Sharon ignores her point, hand returning to the reins.

“I saw something else in your eyes as well,” Sharon continues softly, and her tone sparks an uncomfortable squirming in Alaska’s belly, the places she’s touching Sharon too warm. “You want something more.”

“Don’t presume to know what I want,” Alaska says, voice shakier than she would like it to be. She feels seen - exposed.

“You want more than a man, but a man is all a woman’s good for in society,” Sharon says, and a new bitterness colors her normally gleeful laugh. Alaska frowns at it.

“A man is what I need,” Alaska tells her, trying to work her anger back up and failing. She’s falling into Sharon’s intrigue again, fascinated by the mystery of her.

“Not out here,” Sharon says, and her voice is softer than Alaska’s ever heard it. It startles her; frightens her, even.

“I’m not like you,” she says quickly. She resents how close they are.

“Oh,” Sharon says idly. Alaska can just see the edge of her brow quirked up from the angle she’s at. “You’re wrong. I’d say stop lying to me, but I think you’d have to stop lying to yourself first.”

Alaska lapses into silence, unsure of how to respond. She feels raw and vulnerable in a way she didn’t expect to feel in the presence of a bandit.

Sharon doesn’t scare her the way Alaska thinks she should, and she hates her for it.

They spend the rest of the ride in silence.

🌼

Alaska uses the silence to plan her escape, and by the time they start slowing down, sliding off of Sharon’s horse - “Cerrone”, she’d heard Sharon call him - and running immediately upon arrival is out of the question.

They’re over four hours away from Coady, at least half an hour more from the house, and she has no idea where she is. They hadn’t passed any signs, or at least Alaska hadn’t seen them in the dark, and they’ve been weaving through thick pine trees for longer than Alaska could keep track.

She suspects Sharon had avoided roads, or at least stuck to those less traveled, and the fact that she has no real way of knowing is terrifying.

She’d end up lost in the woods if she took off on foot, and probably dead because of it.

The only other option would be escaping on horseback, and that takes a little more forethought than leaping off of Cerrone and running as fast as she can. She needs the time to figure it out, but she doesn’t know if she’ll get it.

Stories of the tortures people go through when kidnapped by bandits crowd her thoughts, the tales concerning women even worse, and she’s just beginning to work herself up back into a panic when Sharon speaks suddenly, snapping Alaska out of her spiral.

“Welcome,” she says, voice warmer than Alaska expects it to be, “to Silverbar Overlook.”

They round a curve in the dirt path to reveal a small camp of about six tents and wagons, a decent fire lit up in the center of it. Women fill the space with talk and hoots of loud laughter, and Alaska can’t help but stare at them as Sharon pulls Cerrone to a stop by some crooked posts. Where are the men?

Sharon swings down with ease, taking Cerrone’s reins and tying him to one of the posts. She smirks at Alaska as she does so, making no attempt to prevent her from running right then and there. Alaska hates that she doesn’t need to.

“Like it?” Sharon says, dusting off her hands. Alaska sneers at her, fear and fury a fire in her stomach.

“No,” she says shortly.

Sharon seems unaffected. “Time makes the heart grow fonder,” she says, holding out a hand for Alaska to take, “and you’ll certainly be spending a lot of it right here.”

Alaska resists the urge to slap the hand away, remembering just in time that Sharon has a gun and the quickest draw she’s ever seen. Instead, she ignores it in favor of sliding down herself, relieved when she lands solidly on both feet.

Sharon grabs her arm none too gently as soon as she’s on the ground, even her arrogance not so hubristic to leave Alaska with both arms free. Even so, she gives Alaska an appreciative glance.

Alaska flushes under her gaze, keeping her eyes stubbornly ahead.

“Went to the stables often?” Sharon questions, and Alaska presses her lips together at the insinuation.

“Fuck off,” she says sharply, and Sharon laughs.

“Jinkx Monsoon!” she calls, not bothering to respond to Alaska. An old affection colors her tone, and a red-headed woman by the fire stands up, grinning.

“Fresh meat?” she asks, approaching them. She’s pale, with sad eyes and a crooked smile. Her hair is down, tangled like Alaska’s gets if she leaves it down for more than two seconds, and she sports loose pants that bunch up where they meet her boots.

“Not quite,” Sharon says, jerking Alaska a little to emphasize her point. “More of a hostage.”

Jinkx frowns, clearly taken aback. “Hostage?” she asks, examining Alaska closely, squinting in the dim light cast over them from the fire. Alaska glares back, meeting her gaze as defiantly as she can muster. Jinkx raises an eyebrow in response. “She’s in with Solomon? She’s in a brand new dress.”

“I am not with him,” Alaska snaps, disturbed at the very idea. “I hate him.”

“Enough to give us the information you have?” Sharon leads, and Alaska presses her lips together.

As much as she hates Solomon, she hates Sharon that much more.

Both of Jinkx’s eyebrows are up, now. “Want me to tie her to the post?” she asks, and Alaska’s stomach drops somewhere around her ankles. Jinkx jerks her head back to a post at the edge of the clearing, where a pile of ropes and a poker in a bucket of water sit. Alaska freezes up at the sight.

“No,” Sharon says, but her eyes don’t leave the post for another moment longer.

“So she is a new recruit,” Jinkx says, and the suggestion sparks the fear in Alaska’s chest into anger.

“I’d rather be tied to the post than a new recruit,” she spits out, and Sharon’s grip tightens around her bicep. She stills, heart pounding.

“No,” Sharon clarifies, ignoring Alaska. Her silent warning is frightening enough, and Alaska has no desire to see how it might escalate. “I don’t tie civilians to the post.”

“She needs to sleep somewhere,” Jinkx says. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t want her unguarded.”

There’s a brief pause. “She’ll have to sleep in a tent,” Sharon says, and Alaska just barely keeps a protest from escaping her lips. Jinkx voices one, anyway.

“In a tent?” Jinkx asks incredulously. “Where people sleep? Where they’re most vulnerable?”

Sharon snaps her fingers, seemingly ignoring Jinkx. “Detox and Roxxxy,” she says.

Jinkx gives her a skeptical look.

“Alaska isn’t a threat,” Sharon says, and Alaska nearly jumps at the sound of her name. She hates the false intimacy that the use creates, and she never wants to hear it said again. Her skin crawls at the idea of Sharon knowing enough about her to use her Christian name. “Detox could break her in half if she wanted to.”

Alaska very much does not want to sleep in Detox and Roxxxy’s tent.

“Why not the post?” Jinkx asks again. She looks worried, and it’s clearly getting on Sharon’s nerves.

“Because I created this camp, and I said so,” she says, an edge creeping in on her tone.

Jinkx is unmoved.

“Jinkxie,” Sharon says, and Alaska glances at her for an expression, unable to read her tone. She seems urgent, pleading, maybe, but it’s hard to decipher.

No matter the expression, however, a silent exchange clearly occurs between the two, and Jinkx’s expression softens. She looks at Alaska, who sneers.

“I’ll take her to their tent,” Jinkx says after a moment. She looks back at Sharon. “Willam wants to see you. Something about a letter?”

“Shit,” Sharon swears, and she lets go of Alaska’s arm. Alaska nearly takes off immediately, but she stops herself, eyes catching on the gun slung at Jinkx’s hip and thoughts returning to Sharon’s own. She’d have to be patient, even though she’s never been good at it.

“I completely forgot about that,” Sharon continues, although it sounds like it’s more to herself than the other two. She looks somewhere to their right, and Alaska follows her gaze, spotting a young blonde woman in a low cut dress giving Sharon the finger, leaning against the post of one of the tents. Sharon looks back at Alaska, lips pressed together, and Alaska quirks an eyebrow.

“See something you like?” Alaska says, and Sharon’s eyebrows raise. She pointedly glances at Alaska’s arm, where she had been holding her.

“I do,” she says, and Alaska flushes. She grits her teeth, frustrated with the way Sharon can render her speechless. Sharon’s smug smirk isn’t helping matters.

“Alright, take her to Detox and Roxxxy. Make sure they know what’s going on,” a thoughtful look at Alaska, “and make sure they know they need to be on watch.”

Alaska tries and fails not to be flattered that she warrants a watch, even though it makes her plans for escape that much more difficult.

“Got it,” Jinkx says, and with a nod - Sharon leaves, heading towards who must be Willam with a sheepish grin on her face. The expression would be endearing, if she hadn’t just kidnapped Alaska after destroying her uncle’s life.

“So,” Jinkx says, smiling startlingly sweetly at Alaska. Alaska doesn’t quite know what to do with the sudden change of pace. “What do you think of the camp?”

Alaska gives her a deadpan stare. “It’s dirty,” she drawls, feeling more confident with Sharon’s absence. She feels above this woman, with her short stature and sweet smile, and it’s easy to let that leak into her tone. “Small.”

Jinkx’s smile shrinks, fading into something that screams ‘unimpressed’. “You’d think a wealthy woman would have better manners,” she says, and Alaska blushes a little.

“Ladies don’t initiate,” she says, willing the blush to go down. “They reciprocate.”

Jinkx is quiet for a moment, expression sympathetic. “Jesus. I’m glad I’m away from that.”

Alaska falls silent, something like shame turning over in her gut. She’s thought the same thing before, but only in her fantasies, and not for a long time. The reminder of her own lack of freedom, compared to these women’s abundance of it, is startling - it’s something that she hasn’t thought about in years. The disparity is embarrassing, and for a moment, Alaska wonders what right she has to feel superior to these women. What is money when compared to freedom?

She tries to scrape the idea away from her mind, reminding herself that the law is powerful, that it isn’t freedom when you’re being chased, but the thought sticks like glue.

“Come on,” Jinkx says after a few moments, frowning at Alaska. “It’s just over here.”

Alaska follows her quietly, still a little shaken, and Jinkx looks back at her with a strange expression on her face. “Alright,” she says. “Maybe Sharon has a reason for treating you special.”

“You mean she doesn’t do this often?” Alaska asks. Jinkx laughs, a soft sound that fits strangely on someone deemed a criminal. They come to a stop in front of a tent, but Alaska hardly notices, she’s so wrapped up in the conversation.

“Let’s just say, she must like you. Sharon’s had no trouble tying people to that post, even in the middle of winter.”

“No,” Alaska says, rejecting the idea with a vehemence that surprises even her. “She’s trying to entice the information out of me, and it isn’t going to work.”

“The day Sharon Needles chooses enticement over violence is the day pigs fly,” a new voice says, and Alaska immediately tenses up, phantom aches blossoming along her arms where they’d been held back.

Detox emerges from her tent, an amused quirk to her mouth, and the blonde woman who’d slid in through the window during the ambush comes out after her. This must be Roxxxy, but Alaska is far more concerned with Detox.

“Guess you’d better get your binoculars ready,” Jinkx says dryly. “Because they’ll be taking to the skies any second now.”

Detox looks at her, confused. “What?”

Jinkx lets out an exasperated breath, placing a hand on Alaska’s back in a reassuring manner. It doesn’t work, and Alaska shrugs it off as quickly as she can. “She’s sleeping in your tent tonight. Please don’t ask me why.”

Detox looks even more bewildered, but she doesn’t protest, which Alaska supposes is a good thing. Or maybe not - maybe she could have ended up in someone else’s tent if Detox had thrown a fit, someone with warmer eyes. That, or someone much worse.

Most things, Alaska is realizing, are going to be a game of roulette. She’s just going to have to roll with the punches, because gambling has never been her strong suit, and now is certainly not the time to be practicing.

“Alright,” Detox says slowly, and Jinkx relaxes into a smile.

“Thank you,” she says, eyes darting to Roxxxy, “for not being difficult.”

The expression on Roxxxy’s face suggests she spoke too soon.

“Why not the post?” she asks, clearly annoyed.

“I don’t know,” Jinkx says, and Alaska can hear the suppressed frustration and exhaustion in her voice. “Sharon doesn’t like to share, and despite popular belief, I can’t actually read her mind.”

“Try,” Roxxxy shoots back. “You know her better than anyone else here.” She makes no attempt to hide the bitterness underlying the words. Detox shoots her a look, but Roxxxy appears not to notice.

Alaska finds herself wanting Jinkx to come back just as quickly, to put up a fight, but the slump of Jinkx’s shoulders tells her that she’d rather avoid it. “Maybe she wants to try enticement and see if it works better.”

“Sharon’s never needed to cajole anything out of anyone.”

“Jesus,” Alaska blurts out, frustrated and defensive. “Maybe she just isn’t up for beating the shit out of anyone today. It must be exhausting work.”

All three women stare at her, and she shrinks down, suddenly afraid. Years in society have taught her to only speak when spoken to, and while she’s always chafed under that rule, the potential consequence for breaking it has never been quite so high. She shouldn’t be snapping at bandits like this - especially in the company of three, all with loaded pistols.

Detox’s delayed scream of a laugh makes her jump three feet into the air.

“Jesus Christ!” she says, and the other two women crack smiles as well. “She’s got nerve for a hostage!”

“A hostage sleeping like she’s one of us,” Roxxxy corrects, a tinge of the argument still there, despite the smile on her face.

“She’s sleeping here,” Jinkx says. She’s looking at Alaska thoughtfully, something twinkling in her eyes, and Alaska relaxes despite it. She’s still in the clear, somehow. “But just so you know, Ms. Needles usually waits a few days before really going in on ‘em.”

“She’s patient,” Detox agrees. It’s lighthearted, but Alaska still spares a glance at the post, eyes lingering on the poker stick. Clearly, Sharon’s patience runs out. She doesn’t know if the fact that she’s patient at all is really that comforting.

“I’m tired and I’m going to bed,” Jinkx says. “Sharon wants you two to take turns watching her.” Detox nods. Jinkx turns to leave, giving Alaska a reassuring smile. “Have fun,” she says, ominous, and she starts off towards Sharon and Willam, who can be seen just inside of the tent Willam had been waiting in.

Alaska is sorry to watch her leave, not quite understanding the comfort she’d provided until she was gone.

“I think you should lie between us,” Detox says, glancing at Roxxxy, who only looks slightly less sullen from her argument with Jinkx. “Makes watching you easier.”

Alaska nods, heart sinking at the idea. She feels like all of her confidence left with Jinkx, and her plan to escape feels impossible to execute. With each of them taking watch, and having to sneak out from between them, it seems improbable that she can leave the tent without detection. And if she was caught - she knows how strong Detox is, and Roxxxy certainly hasn’t proved herself to be friendly.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Roxxxy says, ducking into the tent. Detox motions for Alaska to follow, and she does, after a moment of hesitation. “I’m not tired yet.”

As Alaska lays down, she steels herself. She has to make an attempt, all of the risks be damned. She owes it to her uncle.

She owes it to herself.

🌸

Roxxxy falls asleep two hours after they all lie down, and it’s like the universe is telling Alaska to get the hell out of there.

It’s been a struggle not to do the same herself - it has to be around three in the morning by now, give or take a few, and she is exhausted.

She takes a moment to just stare at the roof of the tent, feeling all of the aches and pains of the night throb. Her first meeting with Sharon feels like it was weeks ago, not hours, and Cassidy’s visit to her uncle even further away. She almost doesn’t want to get up, heart and head heavy with exhaustion.

But she has to.

She understands fully well that this is, truly, her only shot at getting out of this unscathed. By some miracle, Sharon had been foolish enough to leave her loose, taking her lack of physical strength as a sign of weakness, as a sign that she wouldn’t run. But Alaska has always been wily, and she can snake her way out of most things.

Most things were usually balls and formal dinners with suitors, but she’s pretty sure she can get out of being the hostage of bandits just as easily.

Again: she has to.

Detox is snoring, so Alaska’s watching Roxxxy’s face for any signs of wakefulness as she slowly gets into a crouch, listening for a change in Detox’s breathing. She’s careful not to knock aside Detox’s pistol, which lies in her loosened grip.

She has no doubts that Detox would be glad to shoot her the moment an excuse was given, and the thought only pumps more adrenaline into her veins. She’s shaky with nerves, and she takes a moment to breathe in and out, eyes on the tent flap not three feet away. She can do this.

Alaska steps daintily over Roxxxy, holding her breath. She freezes once she’s over her, cringing at the light sound her boot makes when it lands.

She waits.

She lets out a long breath after ten seconds pass with no movement, and she takes the last step forward, carefully curling her fingers around the canvas of the tent flap. She lifts it painfully slowly, hardly daring to breathe, and the moment there’s enough room, she shoots out of the tent, exhaling harshly as soon as she’s out.

For a moment, she feels a sort of giddy relief. She made it. She snuck past the guards. For a moment, she fancies herself able to escape from federal prison, but one thought of being in a chain gang brings her back down to Earth.

It’s not like she’ll ever be in a position to escape from federal prison, anyway.

She looks around, looking for the horses and at every single tent, watching for activity. The fire is now just a few glowing embers, so she relies on the Moon to tell her. She doesn’t see anyone, and she allows herself a moment to admonish herself for jumping out of the tent without looking, before she starts towards the horses, which are hitched near the mouth of the path into the camp.

Maybe she’ll even ride away on Cerrone, and take something from Sharon in her escape. Convinced of this plan, her heart starts beating with anticipation, and she’s about halfway to the first of the horses when a voice makes her heart stop in her chest, and the rest of her freezes along with it.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Alaska says, and without thinking, she starts to run towards the horses, all thoughts of Cerrone flying off the table and the first horse she can grab her only destination.

She barely makes it two steps before Sharon jerks her back by the bustle of her dress, and Alaska realizes just how strong the other woman is. It would be frightening, except she’s more used to Sharon than she has any right to be in this amount of time, and she has just heard a ripping sound.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Alaska hisses, jerking away from Sharon and turning to face her. She backs up a few steps, drinking in Sharon’s surprise. “This dress is pink satin. Do you understand what that means?”

There’s a beat of silence, before Sharon lets out a disbelieving laugh. “I had to stop you somehow,” she says. “The information you have is a little more valuable to me than pink satin.”

“Well, now that you’ve ripped it, sure,” Alaska sniffs, fingering the fabric. “It was my favorite, too.”

“It’s a dress,” Sharon says, exasperated, and something in Alaska snaps.

“It’s the only thing I have left!” she cries out, clenching her hands in her skirt, arms stiff at her sides. She feels a strange sense of loss over the dress, even though the skirt is still functional and, in all likelihood - easily mendable. It feels like Sharon’s just ruined the last thing tying her to her home, her life, and it’s maddening.

“Fine,” Sharon says, voice now quiet. “Fine. But the information is still more important.”

“Two more of these dresses and I guarantee they’d be worth more than Solomon’s entire operation,” Alaska shoots back. “You could have had more if you hadn’t burned the rest.”

“It’s more personal than money,” Sharon says, and Alaska frowns.

“What’s the point of ‘personal’ if there’s no money in it?”

Sharon laughs again. “You are so goddamn suited for this!” she says, and Alaska feels her chest warm at the praise before she shuts it down, confused at the feeling.

“I’m not,” she snaps. “I’m meant for a life worth living.”

“What?” Sharon says dryly. “Like marrying a man you feel nothing for and spending the rest of your life kept somewhere you don’t want to be? You want to die having accomplished nothing other than a couple of kids?”

It’s like she’s been stripped naked, all of her thoughts and feelings seen by someone she doesn’t trust, and it makes anger well up inside her like a balloon. “Don’t act like you know what my life is like,” Alaska snarls. “Don’t act like–”

“Alaska,” Sharon says, and Alaska deflates.

“Of course I don’t want that,” she admits, and it’s simultaneously a relief and an effort. Baring herself to a criminal is hard, but letting her feelings out into the open is so incredibly freeing. It’s addictive, and she finds herself sharing more, nearly tripping over her words in her haste to get them out. “I’ve never wanted that. But it’s necessary. My father - he needs me. His newspaper is struggling. We need money.”

“And marriage is the only way to get it,” Sharon finishes, and Alaska stares at her, fighting back the lump of tears that has lodged itself in her throat.

“He needs me to do this,” Alaska says, Sharon’s sympathy giving her hope of release, but Sharon’s expression hardens.

“He can get himself out of his own mess.”

“I’m his daughter.”

“Being a daughter has nothing to do with it,” Sharon sneers, and Alaska stiffens defensively.

“Being a daughter has plenty to do with it,” she snaps. “I have duties I need to uphold. I don’t have a choice.”

“Don’t you see?” Sharon says, eyes earnest. It’s attractive, and despite herself, Alaska finds herself listening rapturously to the passion in her voice. “You don’t need to do anything. This is a choice.” She spreads her arms at the camp, at herself. “Be here, with us. We don’t - society hates us. Society favors white men, and the rest of us are just there to make life better for them. We can be who we want out here. You don’t have to marry a man you don’t want to. You don’t have to be with a man at all.”

Alaska hesitates, allowing herself a second to imagine a world without responsibilities, without rules or eyes that watch her every move. It’s a dream.

It doesn’t exist.

Sharon is lying. To make it seem like an easy option isn’t fair - to be ‘free’ comes with a cost, and Alaska isn’t willing to pay it. Not when it involves taking money, taking lives.

“Fuck you,” Alaska says venomously, and she spits on the ground. “You’re full of shit, and you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Clearly, this is the wrong thing to say.

“I’m sure I will,” Sharon says coldly, expression suddenly closed off. The reaction knocks Alaska off balance - she had expected another smart comment, somewhere on the edge of playfulness, but Sharon had clearly taken Alaska’s words to heart. Alaska knows she should be glad that her words have finally had an effect, but all she can feel is guilt. It’s not something she wants to be feeling, but her emotions have never bothered to listen to her.

“I’m sure I will,” Sharon says again, drawing herself up to her full height. She’s still shorter than Alaska by a good few inches, but she still manages to look intimidating, with her long black coat and mean expression. “But I think you should take a turn first.”

“What?” Alaska asks, and then suddenly Sharon has both of her arms twisted behind her back in an iron grip, frog marching her clear to the other side of camp. Alaska stumbles with the forcefulness of it, startled into silence up until she catches sight of the post, a coil of rope waiting innocuously beside it.

“Fuck,” she says, trying and failing to struggle out of Sharon’s grip as they reach their destination. Sharon slams her against the pole, pulling her arms to the other side of it, but Alaska can’t help but notice that it’s not nearly as violent as she’s sure Sharon is capable of. “Sharon–”

“You want to be the unwilling hostage?” Sharon asks, tone heated. “Here you go. Now you can tell everyone how evil we were, and you won’t even have to lie about it.” She finishes tying Alaska’s hands with the rope, tightening it aggressively. She rounds the post to look Alaska in the face, lips pressed tightly together. Alaska glares back.

“Thanks,” she drawls, giving her wrists an experimental tug. “I won’t even have to fake the rope burns.”

Sharon’s expression falters, looking vaguely concerned, before the wall goes up again. Alaska wants to poke at it, intrigued, but Sharon suddenly leans forward, resting her hand against the post just above Alaska’s shoulder. It puts their faces far too close together, and Alaska’s heart starts beating a little faster.

Sharon doesn’t hesitate to look Alaska straight in the eyes, and Alaska glares back, refusing to back down.

“Give me the information, and I’ll let you go,” Sharon says, and Alaska keeps her mouth stubbornly shut, staring definitely into Sharon’s eyes. She does not think about how blue they look in the moonlight.

Sharon presses her lips together in annoyance. “Have a nice night,” she says coolly, turning to walk away and disappearing into the tent nearest the post.

Alaska sinks down into a sitting position, all of the tension in her body leaving along with Sharon. She gives the ropes one more tug before sighing, defeated. At least it’s a pleasant night, she thinks, staring up at the stars.

She feels her face crumple, exhaustion and fear catching up to her all at once, and she lets out a sob before stopping herself from crying any more, concerned that Sharon might hear her. She has to toughen up if she wants to get through this. Crying isn’t going to help her.

She needs a plan. She can’t outsmart Sharon, and that means she can’t escape. She’s going to have to give them the information she has at some point, before things escalate more than they have. Sharon has proven herself to be somewhat volatile, and capable of treating Alaska as less than a civilian, despite her previous reluctance. Alaska doesn’t want to push her into treating her as an enemy.

The thing is, if she gives away her information, she gives away her only protection. She doesn’t trust the welcoming hand Sharon had extended her before - she doesn’t even know if it’s still extended. The situation feels hopeless.

She’s going to have to think of something, though.

The thought is an exhausting one, and she decides that she’ll think of it in the morning, after a few hours of rest. She doubts anything she comes up with in this state will be viable, anyway.

She wills herself into an uneasy, much needed sleep, the pole hard against her back, and the mud soaking into her skirts. She tries not to mind - the dress is already ruined. It’s better than sleeping next to Detox and Roxxxy, at any rate.

She never thought she’d long for her uncle’s mansion, but there’s a first time for everything.

[artificialqueens]

wild flower, chapter four (shalaska) 4/11 - freyja

A/N: If you will turn you attention to the title, you will notice that the _/10 has jumped to an 11. This chapter got wildly out of hand and morphed into two. Someone please save me from myself. Again, thank you thank you thank you to my wonderful sweet beta Frey. I promise all bullying is out of fondness.

And as for chapter four: Alaska fights with Sharon (nothing new), Alaska gets a bath (very new), and things very quickly turn for the worse (more of a matter of degree). Have fun :)

🌸

“I love it. It is wild with adventure.” – Henry Starr describing the bandit life in the Old West shortly before he was shot to death in a gunfight in Arkansas.

🌸

Sharon’s clothes don’t fit quite right.

It’s to be expected - Alaska’s spindly frame doesn’t quite suit the concept of sharing clothes - but she still finds herself desperately smoothing the places where the shirt bunches at her skirt, nearly half of it already tucked into the waist. She steps back to see most of her torso in Sharon’s cracked hand mirror that leans against the middle of the tent frame, and sighs. She’s unused to seeing herself without a corset, and she doesn’t think she likes it. She feels like some pioneer woman, someone who doesn’t know how to dress well, nevermind afford to. The faded pink of the skirt and the cigarette burn on the sleeve of the shirt bother her - no doubt these clothes are old. She stares at herself for a long time in the flickering candlelight. She hardly looks like herself.

She hardly feels like herself.

She wonders, vaguely, at the age of the clothes as she tugs on the too-short sleeves of the shirt fruitlessly. They have to be at least several years old, judging by the old fashioned look of the skirt fabric, and probably from a poorer family. Whoever had owned these had worked the clothes into a wearied thinness.

She realizes, with a jolt, that these probably came from Sharon’s life before becoming an outlaw.

She’d known, logically, that Sharon wasn’t born a bandit. But to see evidence of a former, civilized life… it intrigues her. Rather than help to complete the mystery of Sharon Needles, it only helps add to it.

Alaska runs her fingers over the skirt with a new reverence. What did Sharon do in this? Work a farm? Serve a bar?

Fantasies start to build in her head, and suddenly she’s wondering what had made Sharon turn to a life of crime, or if nothing had happened, if she was predisposed to it, or if–

“I know outlaws are supposed to ride by night, but I would like to sleep while it’s still dark out,” Sharon calls through the tent flap, and Alaska jolts, feeling like she’s just been caught doing something naughty.

“Sorry,” Alaska calls out reflexively, and then immediately regrets it. She has the right to take up a little bit of Sharon’s time, considering the wrench Sharon had thrown into Alaska’s life. She’s tempted to wait an obnoxious fifteen more minutes just to prove it, but she ends up only taking the time needed to roll the sleeves up to hide their awkward length, irritation fading quickly.

She takes one last glance into the mirror, under the spell of some ridiculous urge to look good for Sh– the camp, and unclasps the first button of her shirt before she can talk herself out of it.

Why not take advantage of the lack of society she’s been forced into?

She smooths her shirt once more before ducking out of the tent, spotting Sharon sitting in the grass, a lit cigarette between her lips.

Alaska thinks of the burn on the shirt sleeve, and her heart does a strange flutter at the thought of it pressed against her skin.

“I’m done,” she says impatiently when Sharon doesn’t immediately look at her, eyes pointed up towards the stars. Alaska follows her gaze, and she manages to pick out Orion when the sound of Sharon’s voice brings her back down to Earth.

“Great,” Sharon says sarcastically, her eyes twinkling. “It only took you twenty five years.”

“Really? It felt more like fifty,” Alaska says dryly, and Sharon smirks. She stands, surveying Alaska with something like pride.

“You look good,” she says, taking a draw of her cigarette. “The shirt fits you great.” She looks pointedly at the place where Alaska’s collarbone is on display, and Alaska just barely stops herself from covering it, instead meeting Sharon’s eyes steadily despite the blush in her cheeks.

“It’s a little warm,” she says by way of explanation, despite the very real chill in the air, and Sharon cackles, sounding a little too much like an evil witch on a broomstick.

“I get it,” she says, and Alaska’s gaze wanders down to Sharon’s half open shirt, her usual overcoat still in the tent, before she can control herself. She snaps her gaze back up to Sharon’s face quickly, but Sharon’s smirk tells her that she’s been caught.

They stare at each other for a moment, Sharon’s smirk fading in favor of something softer, Alaska entranced by the glow of the cigarette reflected in Sharon’s eyes. The silence and the familiarity of the stare embolden her to ask the question that has been on the tip of her tongue since the moment she arrived into camp.

“Who were you?” Alaska asks quietly. The wind blows softly. “Before all of this?”

The warmth in Sharon’s gaze flickers away, wariness and distrust shuttering her expression almost instantly.

“Does it matter?"

The message is clear: drop it. But Alaska wants to know, and Alaska is used to getting what she wants.

“Come on,” she says, voice verging on a whine. “The occasion for this skirt isn’t a robbery.”

Sharon doesn’t smile at the tease. “Drop it, Alaska.”

“Why pink? I see black as more your color.”

“I said drop it,” Sharon says lowly, voice full of barely restrained anger. Alaska feels a spark of irritation at the tone.

“I think I deserve to know at least a little bit about the woman who kidnapped me,” Alaska snaps, dropping her smirk. “At least to be polite.”

“I’m not exactly known for being polite.”

“You know who I am,” Alaska starts, raising her voice. “You know what I come from, you–”

“Anything you’ve told me has been of your own choosing,” Sharon snarls, her cold expression breaking into something sharper. “I have never forced you to share anything but the information that you shouldn’t have had anyway.”

Alaska scowls. “Please, you’ve been trying to nose your way into my life since day fucking one. You didn’t have to force me.”

“You think I actually care about your life as a rich woman in the big city?” Sharon sneers. “You think I want to know how hard it is to find the prettiest dress on the market? You think I want to hear about how difficult it is to figure out exactly how much more money you want to marry into?”

The words sting, and Alaska steps back, surprised. She’s hurt, and tears well up in her eyes along with her anger and her embarrassment. “You have no fucking idea what my life is like,” she says, nearly yelling. “You don’t get to sit there and speculate on how easy my life is compared to what? What did you do? Milk cows?”

Sharon just stares at her, face blank with anger. “I’m sorry,” she says eventually. “From what you said, I thought I knew everything about you.”

“Fuck you,” Alaska says. To her horror, a tear escapes her eye, running down her nose and onto her cheek. She wipes it away angrily, embarrassed.

Sharon deflates, letting out a long breath. “So you’ve said.”

They stand in silence for a long time, the cool air whipping their hair and clothes around. Alaska tries to focus on it, imagining it cooling her anger.

Her temper has always been quick, to her detriment, but it’s also always been quick to cool. Even with Sharon’s words still stinging, she finds it in herself to calm down enough to look at Sharon without immediate irritation, and she counts it as a win.

She can only hope that Sharon doesn’t hold onto anger like her father does.

“Come on,” Sharon sighs. She looks tired, but there doesn’t seem to be much anger left in her. “I’ll take you to your tent.”

Alaska nearly protests that she can find her way back on her own, but she bites her tongue. The air between them is tense, and Alaska knows that one careless remark could start another argument like a lit match to gasoline.

“I’m going hunting tomorrow morning with a couple of the girls,” Sharon says as they walk. “But I should be back before noon. Try to stay with Jinkx.”

“What, the other girls a little too dangerous for me?” Alaska says archly.

“Yes,” Sharon says bluntly, and Alaska feels a small pinch of fear at her serious tone. Alaska must look the way she feels, because Sharon laughs a little when she looks at her. The tension seems to fade almost instantly at the sound, and Alaska allows herself to relax an increment as Sharon opens her mouth to say something else.

“They won’t shoot you - probably. They’ll just be….” she trails off, frowning slightly.

“Mean?” Alaska suggests, and Sharon laughs again.

“Sure!”

They fall into silence again, this time a comfortable one, and Alaska tries to decide how she feels, being left alone at the camp. Despite Sharon’s laughter, she’s paranoid about the women she hasn’t quite met yet. She trusts Jinkx, at least as much as she’s willing to trust anyone here, but she’d seen how Roxxxy had reacted to Jinkx’s authority. What if these other women were worse?

“Take me with you,” Alaska blurts out, panic making her decisions for her. “To hunt.”

Sharon laughs a little, bemused. “Why?”

“I want to learn to shoot.” She says it because she doesn’t want to admit that she’s afraid of the unknown women, but as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she finds herself meaning them. She wants to learn how to defend herself - she wants to take as much control in this new situation as possible.

“Very funny.”

“I’m being serious.”

The smile fades away from Sharon’s face. “Alaska, I’m not giving you a weapon.”

Alaska frowns. “It’s not like I’m going to shoot you.” Unless I find it necessary.

“It’s not happening,” Sharon says. “You’re under our protection, and that’s enough.”

“I didn’t tell you it was for defense,” Alaska says, as they reach her tent. Sharon smirks.

“If you’re not going to shoot me, there’s only one other option,” she says, turning to walk away. “And that is to shoot Solomon.”

And with that, she’s gone.

🌸

When Alaska wakes up in the morning, Detox and Roxxxy are gone.

Alaska is alarmed for a brief moment, before she remembers the planned hunting trip, and then she relaxes, spreading her arms out and enjoying the sensation of being alone for the first time in two days.

She lies there for some time, enjoying her chance to relax, but the smell of meat cooking and Jinkx’s soft voice carrying through the canvas of the tent has her getting up eventually, her stomach growling.

She fixes her hair the best she can in a small hand mirror she finds, and she tries not to linger too long on the bags under her eyes. She takes a final moment to take a breath, steeling herself for another day amongst outlaws, possible danger, and stress, and walks outside.

Detox and Roxxxy’s tent is probably the closest to the fire pit, so Jinkx and a brunette woman covered in freckles beside her see Alaska almost immediately after she emerges.

“Aw, she’s cute!” the woman says, and she sounds like she’s eaten Texas for breakfast. “Y’all didn’t tell me she was cute!”

Alaska blushes, smiling back at Jinkx when she grins apologetically from beside the woman. “I don’t know why,” Alaska says, sitting on a log and flipping her hair back. “It is my defining feature.”

“Oh, and she’s funny too!” the woman cries, her green eyes wide open with exaggerated shock. “Where’d Sharon pick this one up? New York?”

Alaska hesitates. “Well….”

The woman throws her hands up, nearly knocking over the pan she has on the fire. Jinkx stills her arm, shooting her an exasperated look. “I swear, I’m a psychic or somethin’.”

“You’re not a psychic,” Jinkx laughs. “Alaska just oozes ‘New York’. Alaska, meet Alyssa - Alyssa, Alaska,” she introduces, and Alyssa bows her head in acknowledgement, lips pursed. The expression sparks something in Alaska’s memory, and in another instant, she’s gasping in recognition.

“Not Alyssa Edwards?”

Alyssa grins crookedly, clearly pleased at the recognition. “The one and only, baby.”

“You disappeared years ago - I was supposed to see your show two weeks after you vanished. Everyone looked for you for months - you’ve been here the whole time?”

“Some birds weren’t meant to be kept in cages, darlin’,” Alyssa says, and Jinkx shoots her a fond look.

“You were perfectly happy shooting for show,” she says. “It wasn’t until Sharon came and told you there was money in being an outlaw that you finally came with us.”

Alyssa laughs. “You’re right, girl, you’re right,” she says. “I miss it sometimes, but I’d miss y’all more if I went back to it.”

“And you’d have a tough time usurping Coco Montrese,” Jinkx says. Alyssa’s face darkens.

“Don’t you ever say that name to me again,” she says, but Jinkx’s giggles take away any of its intimidation.

“Sorry.”

Alaska sits back, watching the exchange and staring in disbelief. Alyssa Edwards, the most popular show in North America, the sharpest woman shooter in the West, the woman who’d disappeared one night, never to be seen again - is hanging around Sharon Needles and cooking breakfast.

It was enough to make Alaska’s head spin.

Alyssa, being a young woman with deadly aim, had been an obsession of hers at the age of eleven, a result of her fascination with the West and its outlaws. If this had happened to her thirteen years ago, she’s sure she would have fainted with delight.

Now, she’s starting to suspect eleven years old Alaska had poor taste.

“Alaska,” Jinkx says, jerking her out of her reverie. “Why don’t you go take a bath in the stream? This won’t be ready for another half hour, and the rest of the girls aren’t even up yet.”

“Unless you want to ask me any questions, of course,” Alyssa says, and Alaska laughs, standing.

“I need a bath. Desperately,” she says. “But I’ll compile a list for when I’m back. I need to know, though,” she looks at Jinkx, raising her eyebrows, “are cougars a problem?”

Jinkx looks like she’s trying to hold back a smile and is failing miserably. “You’re fine. I probably wouldn’t be able to draw fast enough to shoot one, anyway, and if Alyssa goes I’ll burn breakfast.”

“Glad to know where your priorities are,” Alaska says dryly. “I thought the agreement was to protect me?”

“It’s fine. Go take a bath. It’ll do you good.”

“Thanks,” Alaska drawls, but she saunters down the dirt path towards the stream, keeping to her word and compiling a list of questions for Alyssa, some childhood excitement still making her heartbeat quicken.

She feels a little awkward undressing in the middle of the woods, knowing that anyone can see her if they pass, and she gets into the water as quickly as she can.

It feels amazing.

She sighs at the chill of it, a relief in the hot morning sun, and doesn’t hesitate to duck her head under, loosening the pins in her hair and throwing them in the direction of her clothes crumpled on the shore. Giddy with how amazing the water feels on her bare skin and feeling almost rejuvenated with the cold, she swims around a little, floating on her back and letting the Sun warm her face.

By the time she’s finished, the majority of the dust has floated away from her body, and she’s just beginning to scrub it out of her hair, when the sound of horses galloping past makes her pause.

After a few moments of still silence, she begins scrubbing again, making sure to keep her eyes and ears open. Sure enough, a few minutes pass, and she hears a shout echo down the path from the camp. The intensity and urgency behind it makes her heart drop, and she freezes, listening urgently.

Suddenly, more shouts, loud and distressed, can be heard, the words barely distinguishable, but the emotions clear. Alaska’s just beginning to move out of the water when she hears Sharon’s voice, disturbingly desperate, join the others.

Something within her jumpstarts, and she shoots out of the water, pulling her clothing on as quickly as she can. She decides to forgo her boots and their laces, instead grabbing them and flying up the hill, no plan in mind other than to help somehow, some way.

She runs into the camp to see mass chaos.

Alyssa is running across camp, full skirt hitched up nearly to her waist, with Sharon shouting at her to “Get Katya, now! Hurry!”

Roxxxy is echoing her sentiments, sobbing, supporting Detox over her shoulder. Detox’s head lolls against her chest, and a dark, wet patch on her shirt over her ribs glistens gruesomely in the sunlight.

Willam, holding a piece of cloth in her hands, is running from one of the tents towards Jinkx, who stands near Cerrone. Morgan is slumped over the horse’s neck, clearly unconscious, and Jinkx presses her hands desperately against the other woman’s thigh, her hands covered in blood.

Sharon stands in the midst of all of it, shouting orders and face even paler than usual, stark against her dark hair.

“Fuck,” Alaska says helpfully, and she rushes forward.

She goes to support Detox’s other arm, taking some of the weight off of Roxxxy, who looks at her gratefully.

“Alaska, thank fuck,” Sharon says, placing a hand over her ribs in relief. “Help Katya when she comes– she’s coming now, thank fucking god.”

“What happened?” Katya says, sprinting over with a speed much faster than Alaska would have previously expected, Alyssa close behind. “What’s going on?”

“Morgan’s shot in the leg,” Jinkx says, wrapping the cloth above the wound. “Detox has a bullet between her ribs, so get to her first.”

Katya is at Alaska’s side in an instant, taking Detox’s arm from her. “And why isn’t she on a horse?”

“She insisted she was fine,” Roxxxy says tearfully. “I tried to stop her but–”

“Detox is too willful, I know,” Katya says quickly. “Let’s get her to my tent. Quickly.”

Sharon looks at Morgan, worry clear in her eyes. “Jinkx–”

“I’m following,” Jinkx says, leading Cerrone behind the three women.

Alaska lets out a breath, the situation seeming to calm with Katya’s presence and her expertise. She looks at Sharon, who looks the opposite of okay.

“Are you okay?” Alaska asks tentatively, walking over.

Sharon grimaces. “Peachy,” she says sarcastically, but her voice is strained oddly.

Alaska frowns. “Are you sure you’re–” her eyes catch on Sharon’s hand, still pressed against her ribs, and her heart stops at the wetness of the coat around it, nearly invisible against the dark fabric. “Fuck.”

“It’s just a graze,” Sharon says quickly, following her gaze. Alaska glares at her, suddenly angry.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” she snaps. “Katya was right there!”

“Detox was shot in the fucking ribs!” Sharon shoots back. “Morgan was bleeding out. Fuck!”

“We’re going to Katya. Right now.”

“Oh, did you become the boss while I was gone? I can take care of myself.”

Alaska presses her lips together. “Sharon–” But Sharon’s already taking a step towards her tent, and Alaska instinctively grabs her arm to hold her back. It must jostle something, because Sharon suddenly goes weak at the knees, and all Alaska can do is slow her descent.

“Ah,” Sharon says, expression twisted with pain. Her hand comes up to cover her wound again, the other supporting her position on the ground.

Alaska doesn’t know what to do, kneeling beside her and placing a hand on her back. “Jesus, Sharon,” she says, more concerned than she would like to let on. Sharon sucks in a breath through her teeth.

“Get Katya,” she says, and then she faints.

🌸

Alaska waits nervously outside of Sharon’s tent, Jinkx hovering close beside her and unsuccessfully trying to comfort the both of them.

“She said it was just a graze,” Jinkx says, and Alaska raises an eyebrow, irritated.

“She fainted.”

Jinkx looks like she’s about to cry, and Alaska can’t bear to look at it. She instead glues her eyes to the front of the tent, waiting impatiently for Katya to emerge.

She’s sure Sharon is fine.

But what if she isn’t? What if she’s dying? She should be grateful at the thought - she should celebrate. But something like fear shoots through her like a bullet instead, and putting it towards losing her protection doesn’t feel quite right. No, she thinks, bemused. I just don’t want Sharon to die.

It’s called being a good Christian, she tells herself, and Katya’s coming out of the tent allows her to get away with the lie without much more thought.

Both Jinkx and Alaska rush forward, and Katya holds up her hands to ward them off, giving a tight smile. She looks exhausted. “It really is just a graze,” she says to Jinkx, and the other woman slumps in relief.

“Really?” Alaska says, her own relief sparking more irritation rather than soothing it. “Just a graze?”

“Sharon is known for being dramatic,” Katya jokes, but her smile fades quickly. “No, she probably fainted more from blood loss and pain than the actual wound. She only needed three stitches.”

“So she’s okay?” Jinkx asks.

“Yes,” Katya laughs. “Don’t you trust me?”

Jinkx finally smiles, although her eyes are still worried. “Yes,” she says. “Of course. Thank you.”

“One other thing,” Katya says, a little more seriously. “Morgan is staying in the medical tent because I don’t want her sleeping in a crowded tent. I’ll be taking her place with Adore and Willam. As for Detox…”

“You don’t want her sleeping in a crowd either,” Jinkx finishes, and Alaska can’t help but feel a little pleased with the news. Even with Roxxxy’s grateful look to her earlier, the pair still frightened her, with Roxxxy’s clear anger and Detox’s strength. To not have to sleep with them would be a blessing.

“Alaska will have to find another place to sleep.”

Jinkx nods, looking thoughtful. Then, suddenly, her eyes widen. “Oh my God, she’s going to have to sleep with Sharon.”

Alaska colors at the phrasing. “What? No,” she says quickly, glancing at the tent. She can see many ways in which this could go wrong. Very many ways. Suddenly, Roxxxy and Detox seem like the best option.

“Why not with you?” Alaska sucks in a breath as the words escape her, belatedly realizing how rude they might seem, especially to Sharon’s best friend.

There’s a horrifying beat of silence.

To her relief and confusion, Jinkx looks at her like she’s trying not to laugh. “You don’t want to sleep with Sharon?”

“No, that’s not what I–”

“I don’t blame you. She’s a nightmare,” Jinkx says, smiling, obviously swallowing her laughter. Alaska still doesn’t see what’s quite so funny, but she lets it go. “But my tent is already too small with only me and Alyssa.”

“Perfect,” Katya interrupts, clearly over the conversation. She looks at Alaska. “You can look after her. Here-” she presses a wet piece of cloth into Alaska’s hands, along with a small bottle of whiskey. “Clean her wound with this. I didn’t have time to properly disinfect it - I need to be with Morgan. She was still bleeding when I came for Sharon.” And with that, she hustles away, leaving a stunned Alaska to look at the supplies in her hands and Jinkx to let out some of the giggles she’d been holding back.

“Sharon’s going to love this,” she says, grinning maniacally at the whiskey. “It’ll teach her to be more careful.”

“She’s reckless?” Alaska asks, examining the whiskey label. She wonders if it was included in Katya’s medical supplies budget, and the thought of using it against open flesh makes her cringe.

“To an irritating extent.”

Alaska takes a step towards Sharon’s tent, heart pounding for seemingly no reason. She’s been alone with Sharon before - she should be fine. She can hold her own.

Her palms are sweaty where they hold the bottle and the rag.

She stops just before entering, turning back towards Jinkx, who raises an eyebrow.

“Hurry along - I’d like to talk to Sharon about something.”

“What happened?” she asks. “Do you know?”

Jinkx’s expression turns solemn, and Alaska is surprised to see a hint of anger flicker across her normally sweet face. “Morgan said they were ambushed,” she says. “She guesses by Solomon’s gang. She can be paranoid, but….”

“He seems the most likely,” Alaska finishes, the news only adding to her nerves. Solomon is a real threat, and an active one. She can only hope that any news about her presence at her uncle’s meeting died with Solomon’s men.

She feels her gut churn at the thought, disgusted with herself, but there’s no point in it. They’re dead, so she might as well acknowledge the benefits.

Jinkx must see something on her face, because her voice is soft when she next speaks. “Take your time with Sharon. I’ll come back later.”

Alaska can’t possibly see how this is a favor to her, as Jinkx’s tone suggests, but she can’t bring herself to ask. She instead forces a smile and a ‘thank you’, and she ducks into the tent before she can come up with another excuse to prolong her entrance.

Sharon looks awake and aware when Alaska first sees her, lying down on her back and looking irritated about it.

“Alaska?” she asks, raising her head slightly and frowning. Alaska hovers at the entrance, feeling awkward in a way she hasn’t ever felt around Sharon. It’s a strange realization.

“I’m here to take care of you,” she says after a moment, and Sharon groans, letting her head flop back against her pillow.

“Great,” she moans. “Now I know who they care about the least. Would have been nicer if they’d just shot me in the head.”

"I’m not going to kill you,” Alaska says, offended, despite just moments ago thinking that it would be beneficial for Sharon to die. Currently, Sharon looks a little too pathetic for her to be thinking those thoughts. “I’m not like you. I don’t kill people just because they’re vulnerable.”

“I’m flattered,” Sharon says dryly. “But I feel like you’re purposefully misunderstanding who I am.”

“Don’t care,” Alaska says, moving to kneel beside Sharon and feeling bolder with Sharon’s humor. Had Sharon looked more like an invalid, it would have continued to feel strange - she would have had to be nice.

Sharon rolls her eyes.

Alaska unscrews the lid of the whiskey, ignoring her. Sharon eyes her warily.

“Please tell me that’s for drinking,” she says, voice bordering on a whine. Alaska is surprised to hear it.

“You know it’s not,” she says. Sharon groans, and she raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Don’t tell me you’re a bad patient.”

“You can talk after you’ve had a bullet wound,” Sharon shoots back, and Alaska flattens her lips, unimpressed.

“Katya was right,” she sighs, dampening the rag with the whiskey. “‘Dramatic’ is the perfect word for you.”

“Like you’d be much better.”

“I’m a spoiled, rich girl, remember?” Alaska says lightly, putting the bottle on the ground beside her. “Dramatics are to be expected, if not encouraged.”

Sharon’s face softens a litte. “I’m sorry about that,” she says, and the apology startles Alaska. Apologies were hard for her to admit to - she would have expected it to be worse for an outlaw. “I didn’t mean it.”

Alaska snorts, but she can’t quite get the edge she wants behind it. “Yeah, I’m sure you actually really want to hear about my latest dress.”

Sharon’s lips twitch up in a smirk. “Only if I get to see you in it,” she says, and Alaska flushes at the ‘and out’ that lingers, unsaid.

“Well,” she says, irritated that even injured and on her back Sharon seems to have the conversational upper hand, “right now, I get to see you out of this.” And with that, she tugs up Sharon’s shirt without warning, making Sharon flinch.

“Jesus!” she snaps out, voice tinged with pain, and Alaska’s heart drops with worry.

“Did I hurt you?” she asks, running her fingers over Sharon’s bandages worriedly.

“A little,” Sharon admits, taking deep breaths. “I know it’s already been a few minutes, but I tend to heal slowly.”

“I’m sorry,” Alaska says, stomach twisting with guilt. “I was just trying to–”

“Get back at me?” Sharon suggests, and she grimaces.

“Yes,” she says, taking a moment to look at Sharon’s face instead of her bandages, which are already spotted with red. She’s smirking, and Alaska immediately understands what she meant by ‘get back at’. She’s right, Alaska had tried to twist the conversation into one she controlled, but her guilt still vanishes instantly. “But I’d say you deserved it.”

“The attempt, maybe,” Sharon says. “But not the result.”

“Oh,” Alaska says lightly, finding the knot tying Sharon’s bandages and untying it. “I don’t know about that.”

Sharon doesn’t respond, so Alaska begins to peel up her bandages, trying to be as gentle as she can and ignoring Sharon’s winces as she tugs some of them off, the blood acting as some sort of glue. She bites back her urge to apologize. This needs to happen, and Sharon’s already gotten an apology today.

As she removes the last of the bandage, Alaska examines the wound, trying to gauge how bad it is, despite Katya’s reassurances. Doctors undersell things. Her dead mother could tell you that.

It’s about four inches long, stretching diagonally from just under Sharon’s chest to the end of her ribcage, and the fact that Katya has put stitches into it tells her it’s deep. She sucks in a breath through her teeth in sympathy.

“Looks like it hurts,” she says quietly.

“Well, I was shot,” Sharon says, and Alaska raises an eyebrow.

“You’re right,” she says dryly. “Which is why we need to clean it.” She dampens the cloth again, this time with intent, and Sharon puts a hand over her eyes.

“I hate my life,” she groans, but it quickly devolves into a hiss as Alaska touches the alcohol to the edge of the wound.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Alaska tells her, and she tries to rub a little bit of the dried blood away, jumping when Sharon yelps a little.

“Fuck you,” she snaps, and Alaska gives her a look.

“That’s my line.”

“God, you know you’re wealthy when you can own a phrase in the English language,” Sharon says, breathing a little heavily. She’s still smiling, though, the small gap in her teeth just visible. “Especially one so common.”

Alaska wipes a little more blood as punishment, and Sharon makes a pained sound.

“Gently, please,” she says, and Alaska feels a small twinge of guilt at the way her voice wavers. “I might faint on you again.”

“And you think I’m the princess,” Alaska mutters, but when she begins again, she’s as gentle as she can possibly be.

“I wasn’t the one in the pink silk dress,” Sharon says, and Alaska raises her rag threateningly.

“This could be a lot worse,” she warns, and Sharon falls silent, though her mouth is still twisted into a slight smirk. “Thank you,” Alaska says primarily, and she resumes her work.

The process takes a long time, especially with how slowly Alaska has to go in order to be gentle. Sharon stops talking around halfway through, trying her best to muffle her pained noises as Alaska gets closer to the center of the wound. Alaska nearly wants to cry herself, resisting the urge to go faster to end the small sobs Sharon tries and fails to hide.

She’s sweating by the end of it, the evening Sun baking through the tent walls, and she’s breathing almost as hard as Sharon. She lets out a breath of relief, hanging the rag over the whiskey bottle and picking up the bandages.

Sharon opens her eyes as Alaska starts to cover the wound, obviously exhausted. “You’re done?”

Alaska glances at her, trying not to linger on the tear tracks leading down the side of her face to her temple. “Yes.”

Sharon sighs, closing her eyes again. “Thank fucking god,” she mutters. “I could kiss you right now.”

Alaska stills, shocked and hardly daring to breathe. She waits for Sharon to continue, but she never does. “Sharon, wh–”

“Alaska?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of a new voice, much louder than she and Sharon had been talking, and whips her head around to find Katya poking her head in. Katya raises her eyebrows.

“Sorry to interrupt your little, uh, свидание,” she says. “But I need you.”

“I don’t think I want to know what that word means,” Alaska says dryly, glancing back at Sharon. She seems to be out cold, and Alaska can’t help but feel intrigued by her face, strangely peaceful. She’s gotten so used to Sharon’s hard and sharp expressions - has the curve of her brow always been so lovely?

“It’s an appropriate word, I’ll tell you that,” Katya tells her. Alaska quickly looks away from Sharon, blushing to be caught staring. Katya’s eyes are twinkling at her when they meet eyes again, however, and Alaska almost thinks it’s worth it if it means getting rid of the seriousness that sits so strangely on Katya’s sharp features.

“You need me?” Alaska leads, and Katya startles like she’s just remembered something.

“Yes!” she says. “I need your help with Detox.”

“Not Roxxxy?”

“All Roxxxy can do is cry,” Katya says, clearly unimpressed.

“Have some sympathy,” Alaska says, standing up. Katya’s clear distaste strikes a nerve within her, and her next words are a little more heated than she’d intended. “That’s her friend.”

“A little more than that, I’d say,” Katya grins, eyes sparkling, and Alaska is suddenly reminded of how they’d parted before.

Strangely enough, Alaska doesn’t feel that same knee jerk fear she’d felt before. Her stomach still twists, although more guilty than fearful. Maybe that fear has faded in the face of Sharon’s wound. But, really, it’s faded in the face of Sharon’s latest proclamation.

Thank fucking god. I could kiss you right now.

It’s a phrase. A saying. Sharon had been half asleep, drunk with exhaustion. She’s proven herself to be a fan of innuendos, but Alaska would still be surprised if she were that forward. No, it had to have been a joke.

But still. The thought of Sharon kissing her sends a thrill through her body, and she isn’t quite sure she knows how to crush the feeling.

She isn’t quite sure she wants to, and she hates herself for it.

“Wrap her back up,” Katya says, eyes flickering between Alaska and Sharon. Alaska resents the knowing look on her face. “And meet me outside of my tent. Hurry - I’ve got the bleeding down, but we’re in the woods for as long as that bullet is in her.”

Alaska grimaces, nodding, and kneels back down beside Sharon as Katya ducks out. The tent flap closes behind her, and the afternoon sun vanishes, leaving them in the flickering candlelight of Sharon’s lantern. It’s strangely silent, Sharon’s soft breathing and distant voices outside the only noises filling the space.

Alaska’s heart beats quicker at the intimacy, feeling as though she shouldn’t be seeing Sharon so vulnerable, her expression so open. She feels simultaneously like she’s being watched closely and like she’s completely alone, and, with Sharon’s words from earlier still echoing in her ears, she finds herself taking advantage of it. She’s fascinated by Sharon’s face and the way her chest rises and falls slowly with her breaths, the way a strand of hair lies dark against her forehead. Alaska’s eyes trail down her face, her neck, her collarbone, and it’s not until her eyes catch on the bright red of Sharon’s injury that she’s jerked back into herself. A strange wave of tenderness suddenly washes over her, and she picks up the bandages without a second thought.

Sharon doesn’t move as Alaska spreads the salve over her stitches, keeping her fingers light, and she doesn’t even twitch as Alaska tightens the fresh bandages around her torso, tying the ends into a neat bow.

Alaska looks at her face after she finishes, drinking in her heavy, dark eyebrows and equally dark eyelashes, something fluttering in her stomach at this newfound ability to stare openly, to be with Sharon while also being entirely alone. It makes her brave.

Emboldened, she brushes the strand of hair lying across Sharon’s face to the side, hand almost going to cup the other woman’s cheek as she does so, like it was the next natural move. Sharon’s expression flickers for just a moment at the feeling, and Alaska snatches her hand away like she’s just been burned, blushing so fiercely she can feel it in her ears.

She doesn’t think she’s blushed this hard in her life, and Sharon isn’t even awake to tease it out of her. She’d gone along this path all on her own.

The thought makes her stomach dip strangely, and suddenly, she’s furious with herself - furious with Sharon. It’s so tempting to be herself here, to be free, but she isn’t staying. She can’t go back once she grants herself the freedom to break the law, and to stay here isn’t an option.

Sharon is not an option.

Sharon doesn’t awaken, but still fearful of somehow being caught red handed, Alaska gathers Katya’s supplies as quickly as she can. Nearly dropping the whiskey in her hurry, she practically runs out of the tent, something unpleasant squirming in her gut.

Sharon is not an option.

🌸

Surgery is not for the faint of heart, and after about two seconds of helping Katya, Alaska nearly collapses, black creeping in on the edges of her vision.

She’s sent to get Willam after that.

Katya asks her to wait, because she needs to check on Morgan still, and she would like someone to watch Detox while she’s gone, and apparently Willam is liable to wander off if left with any responsibility.

Alaska has been waiting outside of the med tent for over an hour when Willam comes out, her hands covered in blood and a nonchalant expression on her face. The image is a little disconcerting.

“Katya’s ready for you,” she says. “I’d be insulted that she trusts the new girl over me, but honestly I don’t blame her.”

“I’m not the new girl,” Alaska says, though she finds herself faltering in her words. “I’m just here until Solomon is dead and I can go back home.”

“Oh,” Willam says, shrugging. “Sorry.”

Alaska feels guilt twinge a little in her stomach, and she rushes to apologize. “I mean, not that I don’t want to - well, I don’t, but - it’s not that–”

“Alaska,” Willam interrupts, raising her voice only a little. “Alaska, right?”

Alaska nods, frowning a little.

“Listen. I don’t really care whether you stay or not. Just because Sharon likes you, doesn’t mean the rest of us find you interesting.”

Alaska reels back, shocked. “Well, I’m not,” she says. “And Sharon doesn’t - doesn’t like me. It’s just - we made a deal.”

“Don’t care!” Willam sing-songs, turning around and walking away. “Have fun with Detox!”

Alaska flips her off when she’s certain she can’t see her, and then she ducks into the tent only to be greeted by Katya’s blinding grin.

“Oh, Sharon likes you,” she says, bangs plastered to her forehead with sweat. “She doesn’t make deals on the first day of capture for just anyone, you know.”

Alaska ignores her, excusing her blush to herself as one from the heat, and she sits down on the crate next to Detox’s head, across from Katya. “Warm in here?” she asks instead, motioning to Katya’s bangs. Katya lets out a wheezing laugh, running her hands through her hair. When she’s done, her bangs stand up like they’re the points to a crown. Alaska doesn’t bother to hide her smile.

“Just a little,” she says. “I’m sure it was worse for Detox.”

“It was,” Detox groans, eyes fluttering open, and Alaska startles.

“You’re awake?”

Detox smirks. “I’ve been through this before.”

Katya rolls her eyes, letting out a breath of long suffering as she packs her small medkit. “You see this, да?” She points to a curved scar right below Detox’s belly button. “She got it in a knife fight. And she’s been shot before-” she points to two spots on Detox’s right arm. “-here and here. We spend a lot of time together. I hate her.”

Detox lets out a squawk of indignation, grimacing as it jerks her injury. “I hate you too, bitch!”

“I will see you next week, when you tear your stitches,” Katya tells her, grabbing one final needle. “Goodnight.” And then she’s out of the tent, making a beeline towards Morgan’s tent in the early evening light.

“I love that bitch,” Detox sighs after she’s gone, staring up at the tent ceiling. “I really think I’d be dead without her.”

“This kind of thing happens often?” Alaska says, raising an eyebrow. Detox snorts.

“Yeah. Glad you didn’t come?”

Alaska looks at her. “Sharon told you I wanted to come?”

“She did. I thought you didn’t want to be here.”

“I don’t,” Alaska stresses. “I can’t. I just thought–” she cuts herself off, suddenly embarrassed. Detox frowns.

“Thought what?” she asks, voice slightly softer than before.

“I just thought - I thought I would learn to protect myself,” she says. “I wanted to learn to shoot.”

“Oh, come on,” Detox says, expression disbelieving. “There’s more than that.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Alaska says, defensive.

“We’ve all been where you are!” Detox says. “You can’t tell me you didn’t want to break the rules, at least a little!”

“I didn’t–”

“Alaska,” Detox says, and Alaska tightens her lips. There’s a long period of silence.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know everything I need to know,” Detox tells her. “I was you. Really, we all were, at some point.”

Alaska stares at her. “What do you mean?”

Detox rolls her eyes, obviously losing patience. “What, did you think we were all born outlaws?”

“No,” Alaska says. “Of course not, I’m not an idiot.”

Detox grants her a look that tells her she disagrees, and she scowls at it. “I’m not.”

There’s a long moment in which Detox just looks at Alaska, her expression slowly softening. “I was pretty rich,” Detox begins. The bluntness of her tone takes Alaska aback. “My father died and the heir, of course, wasn’t me. A cousin of mine inherited everything I could possibly call home, except for my clothes and a few books. I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

“There are places,” Alaska starts, but she falters at Detox’s cold, unimpressed look.

“You mean the places where I would never talk to anyone again? The places where women without husbands or money go to die, alone and unwanted?” she asks harshly, and Alaska doesn’t have a response. A familiar dread makes her stomach cold, the fear of what might happen if she never could bring herself to marry wrapping itself around her again. “Long story short, I met Sharon at a bar. We hit it off. She saved me.”

Alaska frowns at that word: ‘saved’. It seems dramatic, but the more she thinks about the apartments in Brooklyn, or the small houses littering the outskirts of the city, the more it seems to fit. She’d always thought of the people living in those places as ones who’d gambled their money away, or something equally condemnable.

What had Detox done wrong?

“I don’t need saving,” she says quietly, despite the ball of icy dread that still sits in her stomach. Going back home would mean going back to that dread, she’s starting to understand. Being at this camp has been like a vacation from her responsibilities, and suddenly, the idea of going back to them doesn’t seem appealing at all.

Detox looks at her for a long time before she raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

The ‘no’ gets stuck in the back of her throat.

“Yes,” Alaska says.

[artificialqueens]

wild flower, chapter three (shalaska) 3/10 - freyja

A/N: I keep trying to post once a week, but I also keep forgetting that AQ is one day ahead, so we’ll just have to deal with an odd week-and-a-day schedule. Thank you once again to freykitten for betaing - you are the best and I adore you.

Anyway, chapter three: in which Alaska is forced to realize that outlaws are… tolerable, I suppose.

🌸

“I was happy in the midst of dangers and inconveniences.” – Daniel Boone

🌸

Alaska wakes up to a bucket of water being thrown into her face.

She jolts into consciousness with a gasp, shaking with shock and the cold of the water. She attempts to open her eyes in her haste, but she immediately has to squeeze them shut against the rivulets of water streaming down her face.

“Morning!” Sharon sounds cheerful, a smile clear in her voice. Alaska hates her.

“Fuck you,” she croaks out, throat dry. She’s starting to feel a bit like a broken record, but she’s never been a morning person and Sharon’s wit is hard to keep up with five seconds after waking up.

“Maybe later,” Sharon says, but the response sounds almost automatic. “We’ve got something for you.”

Alaska frowns skeptically. “I’m sure.”

Sharon sighs, and Alaska wants to look at her so badly.

She forces herself to blink her eyes open, now that the water is done running down her face, and takes in the scene, a few droplets clinging to her eyelashes.

Sharon is crouched down next to her, holding a mug of water. A tin plate of eggs and beans sits next to her on an overturned bucket. Alaska’s mouth waters at the sight.

“See?” Sharon asks, raising an eyebrow. “Something. Start talking.”

“You’re denying me food and water to get information,” Alaska asks flatly, disbelieving.

“At least until they’re completely necessary,” Sharon says, shrugging. “We can’t have you die on us too soon.”

Alaska’s mouth feels drier just looking at the water, and she has to swallow several times to speak without coughing. Her stomach growls. It’s only a mild hunger - she hasn’t actually missed a meal yet - but it makes her realize that she’s never missed a meal in her life. She doesn’t know how well she’ll stand against this, and she doesn’t want to be reduced to begging. Her pride won’t let her, not when she knows she can come up with a better proposal.

She just needs to think.

“It won’t work,” she tries, but Sharon just smiles wryly.

“I’ve done this more times than you own dresses,” Sharon says, standing up. “I know what I’m doing.”

The reference is a deliberate dig at her dramatics the previous night, and it hurts a little. “So at least two times,” Alaska drawls, determined to seem unaffected. “I’m impressed.”

Sharon snorts. “Please. I’m sure you have more dresses back wherever you came from,” she says. “Get up.”

Alaska glares up at her from the ground. “I’m a little tired,” she says coldly. “I think I’ll pass.”

Sharon presses her lips together, and Alaska deems herself successful in getting under the other woman’s skin. She gives Sharon the most saccharine smile she can muster. Sharon is unamused.

“Fine,” Sharon says. “I can always come back tomorrow.”

“Thank god.”

It clearly isn’t the response Sharon had wanted, judging by the flicker in her otherwise impassive expression. “I can do this for a long time.”

Alaska raises an eyebrow. “But you can’t, can you?”

Sharon’s eyebrows creep up to her hairline. “I’m sorry?” She grabs Alaska by the arm and pulls, forcing her to stand up. Her arms prickle painfully at the movement, having fallen asleep due to their position behind her. “You know something I don’t?”

“Well, obviously,” Alaska says, and Sharon scowls.

“Do you have a point, or is this just you being a brat?” she snaps, and Alaska meets her gaze as confidently as she can, despite quite literally shaking in her boots. She is the one in control of the situation - the one with the information, and thus can decide where the conversation is going to go - but Sharon is still terrifying. She’s gotten too used to the other woman’s amused attitude - her anger is something else entirely.

“They know you’re onto them,” Alaska says, voice miraculously steady. “You know that. They’re trying to leave, and pretty soon even the escape routes I know will be useless.”

“The last thing you want to be is useless,” Sharon tells her, anger seeming to cool down a little with Alaska’s clarification.

“And the last thing you want is to be knocked back to square one,” Alaska says, thinking fast. She has somewhat of an idea, and she can only pray that Sharon thinks it’s just as good as she does. “I think I have a way to avoid both.”

Sharon steps back, crossing her arms. “Alright,” she says slowly, suspicious. “You’re smart. Tell me.”

“If I tell you what I know,” Alaska says, even as her stomach turns at the thought of betraying her uncle. She tells herself that she betrayed him the minute she memorized the map he’d wanted her to burn - this was going to happen eventually, somehow, some way, and that’s why she’d done it. The damage is already done. “If I tell you what I know, I want to stay here until Solomon is no longer a threat.”

“You want us to protect you?” Sharon asks, surprised.

“If I tell you, I’m on your side,” Alaska says, heart pounding with what she is about to do - what she is about to commit to. “I’ll be a target for Solomon, and I’d rather be here than back home as a sitting duck.”

“Deal,” Sharon says without hesitation. “This is absolutely a fucking deal. But - you’re sure you don’t want to go back?”

“You burned it down, remember?” Alaska says, knowing that Sharon meant New York. She just can’t - she can’t face her father right now. She doesn’t know if she can take his false concern, only to be presented to different men every night like some prize dog just days later.

Living with bandits seems more bearable than that.

Sharon gives her a look, but she lets it drop, the deal seemingly making her merciful. “Just know - we can’t let you leave until it’s all over, not when you can give to Solomon what you’re giving to us.”

“Understood,” Alaska says, and Sharon’s face breaks into a smile.

“Then we have ourselves a deal,” she says, eyes roaming all over Alaska’s face with something like appreciation in her eyes. Alaska wills her blush to go down.

“Something on my face?” she asks, calling back to their first meeting, when Sharon had been the one to catch her staring. Instead of blushing and spluttering out an excuse, however, Sharon just tilts her head.

“Actually,” she says, leaning forwards, “there is.” And suddenly, her hand is on Alaska’s face.

Alaska flinches sharply, startled, but Sharon pays her no heed, gently wiping Alaska’s damp cheek with her thumb. Her hand is gone as quickly as it came, but her touch still lingers, warm against Alaska’s chilled skin. Alaska holds her breath throughout the entire affair, only daring to relax when Sharon steps back, seemingly unaware of the effect she’s having.

She raises her hand for Alaska to see, a piece of grass pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “Piece of hay,” she says, flicking it to the ground, and Alaska exhales harshly.

“How-?” she asks, racking her brain for when that could have appeared. She’s a little embarrassed, feeling disheveled and unseemly because of it. It’s ridiculous, considering who Sharon is, and the fact that her hair and dress are already beyond hope, but something about Sharon’s touch had rattled her.

“We used the horses’ water bucket to wake you up,” Sharon says, eyes twinkling mischievously. Alaska recoils, all memory of Sharon’s touch vanishing in favor of complete disgust.

“What?”

“It was the closest one,” Sharon says, and Alaska narrows her eyes at her, suddenly very aware that her dress is completely soaked with the now warm water.

“The horses are on the opposite side of camp!” she snaps, and Sharon laughs. “Ugh!”

“You can take a bath as soon as you tell me everything,” Sharon says, almost teasingly.

“In what?”

“There’s a creek just off the path.”

“That’s not much better.”

“Well, it’s what you’ll be drinking. Better get used to it.”

“Can’t I at least eat first?”

“I’m not untying you before we can be sure you won’t be difficult,” Sharon says, “and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to be spoon fed, despite the silver one you were born with in your mouth.”

Alaska rolls her eyes at the jab, and Sharon laughs again, before her smile fades into something more serious, although her eyes still hold their perpetual amusement. She smirks a little with her next words: “Now. Spill.”

🌸

“Jesus,” Jinkx says as Alaska and Sharon duck into the main tent, which is really just a piece of canvas strung out over a wooden platform. “What did you do to her?”

“It’s called interrogation,” Sharon says, and Alaska tightens her lips. Her skirts are still wet, having barely dried in the time it took for her to tell Sharon everything and eat the breakfast she’d brough for her, and she’s found a few more pieces of hay on her chest and in her hair. She isn’t in the mood to forgive.

“It’s called being cruel,” Alaska shoots back, plucking another piece of grass off of her corset. Her back is beginning to tire from being in it for so long, but she’s been successful in ignoring it so far. She just needs to keep it off her mind. She flicks the grass at Sharon, pulling the corners of her mouth down to show her disgust. “Unnecessarily so.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, and Jinkx frowns at her.

“And she’s untied because….” Jinkx leads, although she doesn’t seem very alarmed. She leans against the table to the right, a piece of paper in her hands. It looks like a letter, but she puts it to the side before Alaska can get a good look at it.

Alaska looks at Sharon for her response, but she instead goes straight to a rickety desk opposite Jinkx, opening one of the peeling drawers and rustling through it. After a few moments of silence, Alaska looks at Jinkx.

“We’ve come to an agreement,” Alaska says, still a little unsure of her place and surprised that Sharon seems to expect her to fill in Jinkx. She’s staying in the camp for protection, but she’s still unclear on how welcome she is in doing so. Being treated as one of them seems strange, and besides, she isn’t sure she wants to be treated as one of them. “My information for your protection.”

“Our information, now,” Sharon says, pulling a blank sheet of paper out of the second drawer down. She puts it on the desktop, pulling a fountain pen from its stand and holding it out to Alaska. “You can draw a map, right?”

“I can,” Alaska says, a little dryly. “But I already told you everything.”

“A map can’t hurt,” Sharon says, a piece of hair falling into her face, freed from her hat upon entry into the tent. Alaska pretends that her desire to tuck it behind her ear is one born of tidiness and nothing more.

She takes the pen from Sharon after a moment, moving to sit down at the desk. As she bends down, her bun tilts on her head painfully, and after a few tries to correct it she decides to take it down and redo it.

She pulls out the pins, allowing her hair to fall down her back. She runs her fingers through it, wincing as her fingers catch on the tangles.

“You should keep it like that,” Sharon says, just as Alaska begins to gather her hair back up into a bun. “It suits you.”

Alaska looks at her, a smart comment on the tip of her tongue, but it vanishes at the expression on Sharon’s face. It’s thoughtful, warm, the look in her eyes suddenly intense. Her breath catches, face growing warm.

“It tangles,” she manages, quickly looking back down at the map.

“Look at Jinkx’s!” Sharon argues. “She doesn’t care, and it doesn’t even look good.”

“You’re one to talk,” Jinkx snorts, and Alaska bites back her immediate objection.

“Yeah, because it’s tangled,” she shoots back instead, cheeks still flushed. She looks back at Sharon to find the expression gone, but instead of relief, her stomach dips in disappointment. “Half up,” she finds herself saying, just to get that expression back again. She’d seen it before, on the men her father had brought through the house, but it had never brought the flush of pleasure that all of Alaska’s friends had giggled about. To see Sharon look at her like that is rewarding, and it’s so pleasantly surprising that Alaska lets herself feel it without repercussion.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of Sharon’s mouth, her gaze warm. “Perfect,” she says, and Alaska finds herself smiling back, her chest growing warm with the praise.

“Are we drawing a map?” Jinkx says suddenly, jerking Alaska back into reality. “Or are we doing Alaska’s hair?”

“Can’t it be both?” Sharon says, pouting a little, but Alaska feels too flustered to brush it off, quickly looking back down at the desk.

She’s disgusted with herself, for her enamour with Sharon and letting her feelings get the best of her. She can’t - Sharon isn’t an option. She cannot be, for more reasons than one.

She stares hard at the blank sheet of paper, berating herself and battling the lump of tears that has suddenly sprung up in her throat. She rolls her lips between her teeth, trying to bring herself out of the spiral and back into the present, but ironically, the thing that does it is Sharon herself.

“Alaska?” she says gently, and Alaska jumps at the hand that suddenly touches her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” she grits out, jerking her shoulder away from Sharon’s touch. “Just let me focus.”

“Alright,” Sharon says after a moment. “Alright. We’ll be quiet.”

Her response takes Alaska aback, and she nearly looks back at Sharon in her surprise, stopping herself just in time. Again, she wonders what her place here is, if the gang leader herself falls silent at Alaska’s command? She shakes her head at the thought, immediately dismissing it as dramatics. But still. It isn’t quite that drastic, but the fact that Sharon respects her enough to listen is enough to ponder over.

Maybe it’s all in an effort to get the best information possible, even if that reasoning doesn’t fit very well.

As Alaska makes the first line on the paper, she wonders if Sharon sees it as a deal being carried out, or a member just doing her job.

🌸

Almost immediately after Sharon gets the map, she leaves Alaska alone with Jinkx, moving quickly across camp to ‘get this shit started as soon as possible’.

It’s clear why Alaska isn’t in Sharon’s tent with Detox and Willam - her loyalties fresh and wildly self serving - but the fact that Jinkx is the one standing next to her and not someone else is strange, considering how close she and Sharon seem to be.

“Come on,” Jinkx says, her lethargic tone making it clear that she doesn’t share Alaska’s confusion. “I’ll give you a tour of the place.”

Alaska nods, curious to see the other bandits and eager to see the entire camp with fresh eyes, ones not blurred by panic and darkness. She follows Jinkx to the entrance of camp, Jinkx speaking cheerfully.

“We’ll start with the horses - but I suppose you already know where they are.” Jinkx laughs a little, still sounding sleepy and relaxed despite the gravity of what Alaska had tried to do just hours before.

Alaska fights back a blush, even though she really shouldn’t be surprised that Sharon told Jinkx about the previous night, or that Jinkx would tease her about it. The thought just makes Jinkx’s exclusion that much more odd. “So,” Alaska drawls, falling into step besides Jinkx as they reach the horses. “Why are you showing me what I already know, instead of planning over the information you don’t?”

Jinkx looks confused for a moment before her eyes light up in realization. “Well, I betrayed one of our girls to the law a couple years back for money,” she says calmly, patting a chocolate stallion’s neck almost absentmindedly. “Sharon forgave me, but I haven’t had her trust since.”

Alaska stares at her, slack jawed.

Jinkx holds her stare for a few moments, Alaska’s shock and horror growing with every second, before she suddenly breaks into laughter, making Alaska jump.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” she says, and Alaska has to take a moment to process what she’s saying before she’s frowning at the other woman, exaggerated to show her good humor.

“I’m sorry,” Jinkx says, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. She smiles at Alaska good naturedly. “You just looked so suspicious, I couldn’t resist.”

“But I think there’s still some truth to it,” Alaska says, smiling back despite herself. “I don’t think I can trust you after that.”

Jinkx rolls her eyes. “Like you were going to trust me from the start,” she points out, and Alaska shrugs.

“If I had to choose someone to trust,” she says, “it would be you. You’re probably the most trustworthy one in this camp.”

Jinkx sighs, grin fading into something smaller, teeth hidden behind her lips. “That probably has something to do with why I’m not with Sharon right now.”

Alaska quirks an eyebrow in a silent request for Jinkx to continue, and Jinkx smirks a little, turning to stroke the stallion’s nose as he turns his head towards her.

“I love this life,” Jinkx says. “I love Sharon and these girls to death. I really think I would die anywhere else from pure heartache and misery. But I’m not suited for it. I did mess up a mission a while back - I’m the reason Detox even has a wanted poster. I offered to leave out of guilt,” Jinkx’s voice wavers just slightly, “but Sharon begged me to stay. Don’t get me wrong - I’m not here without doing anything. I just tend to stick to the domestic side.”

“How did you mess it up?” Alaska asks, enthralled, and Jinkx gives the stallion a final pat before turning to Alaska, smiling slyly.

“Let’s just say I can’t aim for shit and I ain’t got the stomach for shooting guns anyway,” she says. “Now, let’s go see where we keep the food.” And with that, she starts towards the wagon closest to the entrance, leaving Alaska no choice but to follow.

Alaska wants desperately to probe more, painfully curious about what happened and why Sharon had forgiven her, but it’s clear Jinkx doesn’t want to share. If Alaska had to guess, she still feels guilty, and Alaska is the last person she’d want to confide in about that.

She barely pays attention to Jinkx’s presentation on their food supply - “Canned beans: a real delicacy!” - as lost in her thoughts as she is, which is why she jumps three feet into the air when a heavily accented voice suddenly chimes in.

“Jinkx! Tri– who is she?”

The question is blunt, and Alaska can’t help but feel like it’s a rude way to ask. She turns to face a woman with sharp cheekbones, wild blonde hair, and sparkling eyes. Alaska raises an eyebrow at the bright red lipstick she’s wearing. “I could ask the same question,” she says dryly, but instead of the glare she’s expecting, she gets a wheezing laugh and an insane grin.

“I am an odd one, no?” the woman says. If Alaska had to guess, she would suppose the woman’s accent to be Eastern European, although it’s unlike anything she’s heard.

“This is Katya,” Jinkx says, voice warm. “She’s our doctor and, yes, a bit of an odd duck. Katya, this is Alaska, she–”

“Alaska!” Katya cries, throwing her hands in the air. “So this is our hostage!”

“Actually, we cut a deal,” Jinkx says, looking at Alaska as she says it. “She’s under our protection until Solomon’s no longer a threat.”

Katya’s eyebrows raise, her expression dimming a little, but not completely. “So we know where they are,” she says, and then she snorts. “I guess I’ll start stocking up on supplies - we have the money, right?”

Jinkx laughs, although there’s something like concern in her brow. “I’m sure Sharon will get it somehow,” she says. “Whether she’s smart enough to get it before getting herself hurt is the real question.”

Katya wheezes again, waving her hands with glee. Alaska reluctantly finds herself charmed by such openness.

“Where are you from, if you don’t mind my asking?” she asks, wondering if she even needs to be polite with this group. Katya’s eyes light up.

“Russia!” she says. “Родина! I miss her like I miss my own mother. Which is not at all.”

“So you left to get away from her?” Alaska asks, amused despite herself.

“And to be a doctor,” Katya says eagerly. “I thought I could make a career out in the American west, and I ended up getting picked up by Sharon. Which speaks for my skills, I’m sure.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a positive or a negative,” Alaska laughs, and Jinkx snorts.

“Definitely a negative,” she says. “Sharon just likes picking up strays, and she’s gotten good at coming up with excuses to keep them.”

“No,” Katya begins, mock-offended. “She keeps people who are skilled, and, dare I say, vital to her operation.”

“Oh, come on,” Jinkx groans. She waves at Alaska. “Alaska is living proof!”

Alaska stiffens, all good humor draining out of her body at the implication that she was just another “stray” for Sharon to keep, that she was anything like these criminals. That she’s going to stay longer than completely necessary. “I’d say I’m here for a pretty important reason,” she says, snappier than she intends. “And I doubt Sharon intends to ‘keep’ me.”

Jinkx looks a little surprised. “You’re right,” she says, after a beat. Her expression softens. “I’m sorry.”

Alaska nearly corrects her, a ‘No, I’m sorry’ on the tip of her tongue, but she bites it back. The thought of apologizing for her anger feels too foreign still - she has the right to be angry. Just because she’s starting to like Jinkx doesn’t mean she isn’t running around with the woman who’d burned her uncle’s house down and taken her away from everything familiar.

Just because the anger isn’t as hot anymore doesn’t mean she can’t still feel it burning.

She looks at Katya, slightly embarrassed at her little outburst, to find the smaller woman frowning at her, although it’s not ill-tempered. For a moment, she fears she’s going to ask more questions and Alaska won’t be able to reign her temper in, but instead she grants them all a small mercy by changing the subject.

“Anyway,” she says airily, poking fun at the tense atmosphere. “I came here for your services.” She looks at Jinkx as she says this, who immediately breaks out into a smile.

“Something to do with the letter in your hand?” she asks, tone teasing.

Katya blushes slightly. “I can’t write very well,” she says. “Not in English, and–”

“It needs to be perfect for a certain someone?” Jinkx finishes, and Katya’s smile is small and soft, a stark contrast to her usual blinding grin.

“I was thinking, I could speak it out for you, and you write what I say.”

Jinkx looks hesitant. “My handwriting isn’t great, but if no one else is willing…” She trails off, looking at Alaska thoughtfully. “You had a proper education, right?”

Alaska raises an eyebrow. “My handwriting is good, yes.”

“Could you?”

Alaska takes a moment to think, before shrugging and nodding. She’d done something similar for her friends back home, and she doesn’t see any harm in doing it for Katya.

Katya grins. “Excellent. Thank you - follow me!”

They trail after Katya to a covered wagon, filled with crates, a few loose rolls of bandages lingering in the crevices between boxes. A tarp is stretched out from the roof of it over two bedrolls and a crate serving as a counter, again filled with medical supplies. A few framed pictures litter a smaller crate next to the large one, along with a pen and some papers.

“So,” Alaska says, leaning against the wagon as Jinkx flops herself down onto one of the bedrolls, yawning. “Tell me all about him.”

“Who?” Katya asks, heading over to the desk.

“The guy who’s getting the letter I’m going to slave over,” Alaska says, teasing. “I think I deserve to know at least a little.”

“Oh! No, no,” Katya laughs. “Her name is Trixie, and she’s the prettiest woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

Alaska feels the shock like a punch to her gut, and she just barely manages to school her expression into betraying nothing. She shouldn’t be surprised - these are criminals, outlaws. It makes sense for them to engage in crimes other than violent ones. She shouldn’t be surprised that - that–

“Do you want to read it?” Katya asks, oblivious to the turmoil churning in Alaska’s gut. “She has the loveliest writing. Though yours is wonderful too, I’m sure.”

“Thanks,” Alaska says vaguely, taking the letter without thinking. She looks down at it, reading the first lines.

Dearest Katya,

I suppose this is the place where I tell you all about the man who pissed himself yesterday because he was too drunk to find his way to the outhouse, or about the woman who dragged her husband out by his ear (only thirty seconds after he walked in, too - frankly, I’m impressed), but right now all I can think about is how much I miss talking to you. You don’t have a wife to drag you out of the saloon. At least, I’m pretty sure. I miss the way–

Alaska tears her gaze away, heart pounding. This is too much, too intimate–

“I’m sorry,” she says, straightening abruptly. “I have to go.”

Katya frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” Alaska says again, and sparing a glance at Jinkx, who’s fallen asleep, she walks away as quickly as she can.

The letter was sweet. Romantic, touching, whatever. It doesn’t matter because it is wrong.

She can’t stop thinking of Sharon.

It doesn’t make sense. She hates the woman - hates her. But her face seems to be burned into the backs of Alaska’s eyelids, her strange expression from earlier haunting every word of that letter.

Alaska heads into the woods without thinking, following a little dirt path downhill to a small stream trickling through the trees. She sits down by it, removing her socks and shoes and sticking her feet in, sighing at the blessed cool.

Maybe she doesn’t hate Sharon. Maybe she hates the way Sharon makes her feel, the strange thrall she seems to have over Alaska even despite the burning anger she can still conjure up when she thinks of the fire her uncle’s house had made.

These feelings aren’t new - she’s felt them before, despite the countless men that had evoked nothing more than a tinge of affection. She’d felt them for the girl at the fabric shop, with her curly dark hair and playful smile. She’d felt them for her best friend Courtney, before they’d faded in favor of a suitor’s older sister.

She hated herself with each woman, asked herself why she couldn’t just make life easier and love men. She’d accepted it after a small affair with the older sister, something about knowing people like her existed knocking the self-hatred out of her, but things hadn’t improved in the slightest.

She accepted that she would be miserable for the rest of her life somewhere around the age of twenty.

Nothing had changed that expectation in four years, until fifteen minutes ago.

With Katya’s unabashedness about sharing her letter, sinful in the eyes of the law, came a sort of permission. As an outlaw, it doesn’t matter what she does. She’s already broken one law - what more is a few?

It sends a fission of hope through Alaska, and no matter how hard she tries to squash it, it won’t go away.

These women have the freedom to be who they are, to do what they want. She’s known that - but she’s always associated it with violence and with anger. She’d thought of it as a relief for the things society creates so deeply within the soul.

She’s never thought of the freedom it gave love.

Despite herself, she allows a brief moment to picture herself staying. No more men. No more pressures. The privilege to have something real like Katya has, something that Alaska had resigned herself to never having.

It’s overwhelmingly tempting.

But something in her still resists, her principles and her pride keeping her from fully falling into the opportunity lying before her.

She reminds herself of what she’d have to do to get this freedom. Reminds herself of what Sharon did just to get her to this point.

This last thought succeeds in sparking rage within her, and Alaska vows to run as soon as Solomon hits the ground. She will not be this. She will not steal - will not murder - to serve herself. That’s what makes a criminal, and she refuses to become one.

She’s better than that.

🌸

Jinkx finds her just as the sun starts to set.

Alaska jumps as fingers touch her shoulder, and Jinkx whispers an apology.

“Katya told me what happened,” she says. “Are you okay?”

Alaska resents the lump of tears that immediately arises at the question, touched by the concern in a place where she feels so alone. She swallows it back. “I’m fine.”

“How long have you been here? Sharon’s pissed.”

“A few hours,” Alaska says, standing. “And she’s the one who told me about this creek.”

“I’ll be sure to remind her,” Jinkx says, smiling a little. “Come on. Alyssa’s got dinner going. Also, we need to get you out of that dress.”

“Thank god,” Alaska says, following Jinkx back up the trail. Her ribs are aching now, along with her back, and she’s pretty sure she’ll have some bruises once she finally gets it off. “I need this corset off now.”

“Demanding, aren’t we?” Jinkx says lightly, and Alaska snorts.

“You should see me back home - I’m a monster.” The thought of home tugs at her heart and whatever makes that lump of tears appear in her throat returns with a vengeance. Despite all its restrictions, she finds she still misses her home.

“I don’t doubt it,” Jinkx says.

They make the rest of the five minute walk in silence, Alaska shaking off the homesickness like  she would a small chill. There’s no point in missing home, when she knows she’ll likely end up back there by the end of the summer, when she would have returned even without all of this.

But then why does she feel like she’ll never see it again?

She has no reason to think Sharon won’t uphold her end of the deal, and, despite herself, she trusts the other woman to stay honest with this. She puts it toward the fact that she’s just impatient for it all to be over, and then she drops the train of thought before she can overthink it. Overthinking never got her anything nice.

They emerge from the woods and head straight for the fire flickering in the middle of camp, where a lone figure sits.

As they approach the warmth of the fire, welcome on Alaska’s chilled skin - she hadn’t realized how cold Colorado could get at night, even in the middle of June - the lone figure reveals itself to be Sharon, who stands up as soon as they get close enough to see her face in the fire light.

“Where were you?” she demands, expression more intense than Alaska thinks is necessary. Jinkx hadn’t exaggerated - Sharon is clearly upset with her.

“The stream,” Alaska says, trying not to betray her surprise at Sharon’s less than warm welcome. “You know - the one you told me about?”

Sharon clearly isn’t charmed. “You shouldn’t go there alone,” she says. “I meant that I would take you there.”

“I think I can manage a stream on my own,” Alaska says, bristling. She may not be a gun wielding outlaw, but she isn’t helpless.

“Do you?” Sharon says, something sharp entering her tone. “Is that why you wanted our protection? So you could manage on your own?”

“Sharon,” Jinkx says, pressing a warm bowl of soup into Alaska’s hands. Alaska’s stomach growls at the smell - she hadn’t even realized how hungry she was.

“Jinkx,” Sharon says mockingly, and Jinkx rolls her eyes.

“If Solomon is lurking that close to camp, I think you might have some bigger things to worry about,” Alaska says, and Sharon’s eyebrows creep up her forehead.

“Oh, is Solomon himself all I have to worry about?” she asks, tilting her head. “Guess I’ll save my bullets on the cougars that live around here.”

Cougars. She hadn’t even - she suddenly feels stupid, like she’s started an argument she was only going to lose, and it makes anger flare red hot in her chest. “Guess that saves you a lot of trouble,” she snaps, and Sharon laughs bitterly. When she speaks next, there’s a dangerous edge to her voice.

“Jesus, if that’s the case, I’ll–”

“Sharon,” Jinkx says, and this time, Sharon falls silent, mouth snapping shut. She visibly takes a deep breath through her nose, closing her eyes, frowning.

“Just-” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Just, tell me if you leave camp, alright? Eat your fucking stew.”

Alaska finds herself softening, albeit unwillingly. “Yes, ma’am,” she says, tone light, and she feels a rush of pleasure when the corner of Sharon’s mouth twitches into something like a smirk. She turns away, and Alaska is granted the wherewithal to wipe that pleasure away quickly, cheeks flushing.

“So,” Jinkx says from her place on a log, “how soon should I expect to be worried sick, now that you know where Solomon’s got himself wedged?”

“Not for a while - we’ve still got to come up with a solid plan,” Sharon says, letting out a long breath, hands on her hips. “It’s hard, with all the escape routes they have planned.”

“How long until they use one of them?”

“Not for at least a week - they think I don’t know where they are, so they won’t be in any rush. Preferably, when we attack, it’ll be easier with half their shit packed.”

Jinkx still looks worried. “It’ll be easier if you just don’t attack at all.”

Sharon laughs the suggestion away, sitting down next to Jinkx and giving her a quick hug. “I do love my Jinkxie,” she says, resting her head briefly on Jinkx’s shoulder before pulling away. She glances at Alaska as she does so, and Alaska quickly looks into her bowl of soup - this conversation clearly isn’t for her, no matter how fascinated she is by this new side of Sharon, so she takes the opportunity to eat.

The taste isn’t nearly as good as the smell, especially after her first few bites. The meat is stringy and hard to chew, and the vegetables are mushy. She tries not to gag, her stomach not allowing her to throw away food when she’s already had so little, but she still makes a face.

She’s most of the way through her bowl when the mention of her name grabs her attention.

“Alaska needs some clothes,” Jinkx is saying, leaning against Sharon’s side. “I can’t imagine what that corset is doing to her.”

“Jesus,” Sharon says, a little surprised. “I haven’t been in one for so long, I–” she cuts herself off, and Alaska wants so badly to hear the rest of the sentence. What does Sharon not want her to hear? “She’s not going to want to wear a corset for a little while, so Willam’s dresses are out.”

“And Alyssa’s will be too big.”

Sharon suddenly looks at her, and Alaska startles a little, feeling a little like she’s just been caught eavesdropping, despite the conversation being about her.

“Stand up,” Sharon orders, and Alaska obeys before she can think better of it.

Sharon stands with her, eyes running over her body in a way that makes Alaska grow too warm, and she shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. “You’re just so fucking tall,” Sharon bemoans, and Alaska grimaces.

“It’s been a problem,” she admits, and Sharon raises her eyebrows.

“Jesus, I’m sure. Well, I’m the tallest in the camp, so your best bet is with me. You’re finished?” she points at Alaska’s bowl.

“Yes.”

Jinkx yawns, stretching as she stands. “I’m heading to bed. You can handle her on your own?” she asks Sharon, and Sharon smirks.

“I’ve done it before.”

Alaska blushes. “If that’s wh–”

“Follow me!” Sharon interrupts cheerfully, and she’s heading towards her tent before Alaska can recover enough to continue her sentence.

Alaska fumes most of the way there, annoyed with Sharon and reluctant to spend any more time with her, but her anger fades as they near the tent, a small thrill running through her instead, heart pounding.

She’s about to get a glimpse into Sharon’s life - is she messy? Neat? Frugal? Extravagant? Are the walls lined with money? Does she keep some of the jewels the gang steals?

Sharon lifts the flap into the tent, and disappears inside, flap falling shut behind her. Alaska hesitates, unsure if she’s meant to follow.

“Well?” Sharon says, poking her head out. “Are you coming in, or are you planning on changing out here?” She holds the tent flap open for Alaska without waiting for an answer, and Alaska ducks inside, her wariness forgotten in the name of her curiosity.

It’s a tent.

Alaska nearly laughs at herself for building a fantasy in her head and expecting it to be reality, but it’s still disappointing to see two crates pushed together to create a messy table, a small set of old drawers, and a flat bedroll when the expectation was the grandeur of a queen.

“Now, don’t get too jealous,” Sharon says, shedding her overcoat to reveal a loose white shirt, partially unbuttoned. She tosses it carelessly to the floor, her hat quick to follow. “I came by it honestly.”

Alaska quickly averts her eyes, suddenly feeling warm when before she’d been chilly. A woman’s collarbone isn’t anything she hasn’t seen before, but something feels too intimate in the dim candlelight of Sharon’s tent.

The fact that it’s Sharon feels too intimate.

“Two jokes in one go,” Alaska drawls, trying to disguise her fluster by examining a compass with deep interest. “I’m impressed.”

“I’m flattered,” Sharon says, digging into the set of drawers. “But I did come by this shit honestly. It’s hardly worth stealing a bunch of empty crates.” She pulls out a white shirt and a long skirt. She tosses them at Alaska, who catches them instinctively.

“Here,” she says, smirking. “As much as I want you in pants, I don’t really see you in them.”

“Thank you,” Alaska says, and she really is grateful. To give up her dress feels like a surrender already, a way of giving in to this lifestyle, but to wear pants would have sealed the deal. Wearing pants is just another way for Sharon to stick it to the law, and Alaska has no desire to do the same.

But as she watches Sharon run a hand through her dark hair, her lips seemingly in a permanent pout when she’s not smirking, breaking the rules is starting to sound better and better.

Alaska jerks herself out of her thoughts, tearing her eyes away from Sharon’s face and shoulders and hips and landing somewhere around her boots.

“Thank you,” Alaska repeats, because her brain stopped working at some point within the last thirty seconds. “I think I’m ready to change.” She waits for Sharon to leave, to wait outside for her to change, but Sharon doesn’t even shift in that direction.

“Great,” Sharon says, and to Alaska’s horror, she starts coming closer.

“What are you doing?” she snaps out, stepping back. Sharon stops, and when Alaska looks back up at her face, she’s giving her a strange look.

“I figured you needed help with your corset,” she says slowly. “Unless they’ve changed the design sometime in the last six years.” Her tone is dry, teasing, but there’s a hint of uncertainty hidden within that has Alaska’s heart softening, and her curiosity piquing.

Not for the first time, she feels an unbelievable need to know this woman, but she hasn’t got a clue on where to start.

“No,” Alaska says, embarrassed. “They haven’t. Thank you.”

Sharon smirks, and she slips behind Alaska, nearly silent. Alaska shivers.

“Here,” Sharon says, and suddenly her hand is grazing the nape of Alaska’s neck, brushing her hair out of the way. Alaska jumps a little at her touch, goosebumps raising up all over her body. She mouths sorry wordlessly, the air suddenly electric, and she moves her hair so that it lays over her shoulder.

Sharon hums her thanks, and her hand moves to the top button of Alaska’s dress, touch never leaving her skin. Alaska takes a deep breath in through her nose, trying to calm her pounding heart as Sharon unbuttons button after button, fingers painfully slow.

She can feel Sharon’s breath ghost along the skin of her newly exposed back, and she miraculously holds back another shudder.

She feels Sharon tug at the knot at the bottom of her corset a few times, and a huff of frustration soon follows.

“Who tied this fucking knot?” Sharon whispers, seemingly to herself, but Alaska can’t resist replying, relieved at the break from the tension.

“It’s on purpose,” Alaska says, voice quiet. An owl hoots somewhere in the woods. “My uncle’s maidservant was convinced I was going to sleep with every man that my uncle had over, so she did everything in her power to prevent it.”

Sharon laughs softly, still tugging at the knot. “Doesn’t she know the only thing you need is the strength to lift up a skirt?”

Heat crawls up to Alaska’s cheeks, but she laughs despite herself, the shock of the remark blasting past any sort of reserve she had within her. “Jesus Christ!”

Sharon laughs again, and with one final tug, the knot comes loose. “Thank fuck,” she murmurs, loosening the rest of the ribbon. Alaska can’t help but moan at the relief it gives her, and Sharon’s fingers stutter strangely for a moment.

“You okay back there?” Alaska asks, and Sharon snorts.

“Fine.” She sets a hand on Alaska’s back, making her breath catch. “Done,” she says, and then Alaska feels the heat of her lean closer, next to her ear. “I’ll leave you to it.” Her voice is low, sultry, and it makes Alaska’s stomach dip. “Though I’ll be sorry to miss the show.”

She’s out of the tent far too fast for Alaska to even turn around, and Alaska is left to change alone.

If she unbuttons her corset with more vigor than usual, it’s because she’s pissed.

No other reason.

[artificialqueens]

Withstanding The Test Of Time Ch6 - Shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - Yes it has been a long time and yes, I’m still writing all my fics! Hang in there, any old fans, I haven’t given up on you.

Last time: Sharon and Alaska had a fight on the way home from the party, and Sharon was given an opportunity to express her views.

This time: Wait and see…

When a society is on the precipice, moments away from falling off the edge, it is nearly impossible to tell. Any act of defiance - any protest, any argument, any kind of resistance against the social norms - any of them could be the proverbial straw on the camel’s back, the tipping point that throws everything into chaos. Sometimes it can be a call for change, a new leader, a shift in the ways of thinking. 

Sometimes, it can be something as innocuous as an article, written by a newly-promoted journalist, desperate to use her degree and have her voice heard all at once. Sometimes, it can be as little as one woman’s fury to send the media into a frenzy.

That’s right. I didn’t want to get married. In fact, I was pretty much dragged to the registry office kicking and screaming, for all I didn’t want to be there. My childhood plan, to run away with my best friend and live as a fugitive for as long as possible, never came into fruition. I kept tape over the accusing numbers on my arm, and when the name appeared and I had to face facts, I did so with my own mortality at the very back of my mind. When a car wasn’t enough to finish me off, I knew a marriage to someone I didn’t even know definitely would be.

Alaska had gone to work before Sharon left the house, as usual. She had a habit of eating a disgustingly healthy breakfast and then going for a run before changing at the office, so the two had very little interaction within their shared home. It was better that way, Sharon mused. To live like distant flatmates, rather than actual married women. 

It had been a very slow morning after the whirlwind of Alaska disappeared through the front door. Sharon dragged herself up for a sleepy shower, did her best to make her face presentable if nothing else, and had left for work after possibly the slowest bowl of cereal she’d ever eaten.

Even the lingering grey clouds above her were dull. The world seemed to move in slow-motion, everything listless and unimportant. Despite the dreary weather, it was a little too warm for the long sleeves Sharon had opted for, but she shrugged her shoulders and tried to pretend that she wasn’t overheating on the way to the office. It was always freezing in there anyway, and she much preferred to sit and be too warm than to advertise the name of her wife to the world around her.

Just as she got to the lift, praying for a somewhat quiet morning, a familiar face appeared. Sharon reminded herself at the very least that it wasn’t one of the bitches, so she couldn’t be rude.

“Morning, superstar!” Sasha greeted, her mane of hair fluffed and curled messily around her shoulders. Her eyes were glittering with excitement, and she seemed to bounce as though she couldn’t keep all her energy in. 

“Uh, morning, Sash.” Sharon replied, still half-asleep. She was sure that at some point that morning, in an attempt to keep from falling back asleep, she had blinked too hard and smudged mascara everywhere. Hoping that wasn’t the case, she rubbed gingerly beneath her eyes and tried to muster a little more enthusiasm to match her friend’s, at the very least.

Sasha didn’t seem perturbed. “How are you feeling this morning, huh?”

“Tired?” Sharon suggested, growing confused. “I don’t get what the purpose of this interrogation is.”

All of a sudden, Sasha’s eyes grew wide and, if possible, even brighter. She seemed to be completely unsure of what to do with herself. Shrugging, Sharon walked a nearly-speechless Sasha to their desks. Her friend didn’t regain the ability to speak until she had thrown herself into her chair with a loud sigh.

“Have you… you haven’t been online this morning, have you?” Sasha’s tone was leading into something, but Sharon had no idea what it was. She shook her head. “Okay, um… Go on Twitter, I guess that’s probably the best place to go. I’m surprised your phone hasn’t blown up yet.”

Still baffled but choosing to trust Sasha’s judgement, Sharon pulled out her phone and tapped impatiently, waiting for it to respond to her touch. Before she could even reach for the Twitter app, however, she had accidentally tapped on one of the rapidfire notifications that were appearing at a seizure-inducing rate at the top of her screen. As it materialised and grew large on her screen, she did a double-take.

‘Stupid fucking liberal cunt, doesn’t know what the fuck she’s saying DO YOU @sharon_needles!! People like you who claim that soulmate love isn’t real should be EXECUTED! DISGUSTING!’

She blanched, not at all hurt by the bizarre statement but completely dumbfounded at its existence. As far as she was aware, Sharon didn’t know a @BillDewinski1956, let alone tweet anything that would catch his attention. At her expression, Sasha grabbed her phone and then gasped.

“Jesus! Some people are so charming, aren’t they… But I mean this! This is what you need to see.”

She handed the phone back on the list of trending news. The list was as she expected; something about the President’s latest fuck up, some viral tweet about girly movies, a singer making an apology for something dumb. But the banner at the very top was what caught her eye - a photograph of herself.

Media  .  16 hours ago

Controversial ‘timers’ article divides the internet with an unheard perspective on the law

97k people are tweeting about this

As soon as the words registered in her mind, Sharon’s stomach twisted into knots. She wasn’t sure if it was a pleasant sensation or not; all she knew was that her heart was hammering in her chest, her mind was racing, and she didn’t have a single idea what she was supposed to think.

Did this mean she was successful? Did this mean she was going to get fired? As disgusting as some of the replies to the article were, people were definitely interested. At least half of the responses seemed somewhat supportive of her - Sharon scrolled through replies of people who said they had cried when realising they weren’t the only ones, or explained how they’d managed to get past it, or simply commented that she had opened their minds to something they hadn’t considered before.

For the first time in her life, Sharon’s anger was powerful. For the first time, she had the power to influence how people thought and how people felt, and it was a very strange power to possess.

“Well?” Sasha prompted, pulling Sharon out of her introspective silence.

“Well…” Sharon answered, not nearly as eloquent in person as she was in writing. “Shit. That’s all I have to say.”

Sasha was practically beaming, and despite all the confusion and conflicting emotions Sharon felt about the whole situation, her friend’s glowing pride made her feel incredibly uplifted. It was rare that Sharon ever felt so supported and cared for.

“I always knew you would take the world by storm once they let you.” She praised, Sharon waving her off so that she didn’t end up blushing unattractively. “The website is down this morning so there’s not much we can do until maintenance fix it. Too much traffic from everyone trying all at once to read your article. You really swept everyone off their feet.”

Sharon shook her head, unable to accept the compliments. Sure, she’d caused a stir, but controversy always did. It wasn’t like they were praising how it was written, or the language and composition of the piece… no, had it been the usual lovey-dovey drip of an article about timers, no one would bat an eyelid. It was controversy, not skill, that had brought her notoriety.

“Trinity isn’t in this morning, but Peppermint wants to see you.” Sasha finished gently, noticing the slight embarrassment she’d caused. “No doubt to assign you another task to blow out of the water.”

For the first time since entering her job as an underpaid intern, nobody yelled, clicked at, or insulted Sharon as she walked through the office. No one demanded a coffee, or sent a scathing look in her direction. In fact, not a single head turned in her direction at all - possibly the closest thing she could get to a success.

Peppermint, or Agnes, as Sharon supposed she should call her, was the more forgiving of her two bosses, and as she made her way towards her office she prayed that nothing bad was going to happen. After all, she knew they couldn’t fire her for how the article was written, as she had taken the time to ensure it all made sense, but that didn’t mean her audacity couldn’t be the reason she got fired. As much as was her own thoughts, the content was a little outrageous given how few companies were willing to give platforms to voices like hers.

Thankfully, she was greeted with a smile. “Ah! Morning, Sharon. Just thought we could have a chat about that little article of yours.”

Oh god. Here it came. The pointed smile, the cold eyes, the flat tone of voice as she was told that they had taken a gamble on promoting her and it was clearly the wrong decision to make, and that she would need to be fired completely to avoid the humiliation of a demotion and for the good of the company overall, and she would have to rescind her article along with a grovelling apology for daring to be so forthright with her opinions in a society that didn’t want to hear them-

Agnes leaned forwards. “I loved it.”

Sharon was so taken aback, she nearly fell right off her chair. “I- What?”

“Look, Sharon…” She admitted, her voice low. “I’m a trans woman, I know all about causing a stir. There’s bigoted people out there who say I don’t deserve everything I have, simply because I transitioned. So even if we disagree, I want you to do more of this. Share your voice. Angry women change the world, and I can see you have some fire in you.”

Never in her life had Sharon expected to be praised for her boldness. It was something that people in her life had always endeavoured to change about her; the conviction with which she held her beliefs was dangerous. But someone, for the first time in what felt like forever, was encouraging her. Someone, even if it was Agnes alone, believed that what Sharon had to say was valuable, and wasn’t trying to silence her voice.

It was a strange feeling.

She wandered back to her desk in a daze, baffled enough by the meeting and sudden influx of attention that she felt slightly light-headed. Ignoring the swathe of notifications still flooding her phone from all apps, she opened her Twitter once more and decidedly, absently, to briefly address it and then move on. After all, she had more controversy to cause.

Sharon Needles - @sharon_needles

Angry women change the world ..

“She wants more.”

Sasha blinked. “Huh?”

Sharon shook her head, trying to mentally pull herself together and wrench her mind away from the absolute chaos she had somehow managed to cause. She switched her phone off, overwhelmed by the constant notifications, and wheeled her chair around to properly look at Sasha with a little more clarity.

“Peppermint… Agnes… whatever… She wants more from me. She wants me to keep doing what I’m doing, and not issue an apology, and I’m not fired, I don’t have to clear my things…” Sharon muttered, mostly to herself. “She- She wants to keep me here?”

Practically squealing, Sasha kicked the desk and propelled herself backwards in her chair, spinning gleefully. Her enthusiasm was strangely contagious, and within a couple of seconds, Sharon felt the same unbridled happiness bubbling up inside her. It was utterly euphoric.

“I didn’t get fired!”

“You didn’t get fucking fired!” Sasha repeated, her eyes squeezed shut in excitement. She had shuffled her way over to Sharon, and begun spinning her chair so that the both of them were racing round in circles, giddy and giggling.

Sharon laughed at the absurdity of it all - spinning around in her desk chair at work, rapidly promoted, a sudden success in a short amount of time. It was as if her luck was finally beginning to balance out, the bad making way for the good to start shining through.

“Okay, I… I need to start my next one. Or plan it. Or do something, I don’t know.” She babbled, skidding to a halt back at her desk and fumbling with the keyboard. “There’s so much I could touch on… God. I finally get to use my degree, huh?”

Sasha winked at her, the pride emanating from her bright eyes. “Get writing, bitch. Go and knock ‘em dead now that they’re all listening. I know you can do it.”

Now that was something she’d never tire of hearing, something new to her ears and like music every single time. People - a select few, but a rapidly increasing amount - believed in her.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of writing, planning and numbing excitement. It was no secret that Sharon had a lot to say, and she had been trying for years to get people to listen to her. All the protests, the arrests, the candid photographs of a young teenager with a sign in her hands, desperate for some kind of change to protect her from the uncertain future that gave her nightmares… they had to be worth something. Sharon had a voice now, and she couldn’t throw it away.

Time seemed to escape her, each second sliced away by the rapid clicking of keys beneath her fingers. There was so much to be said, so much to do, and before long, Sasha’s hand was gently shaking Sharon’s shoulder, wrenching her from her writing-induced stupor. It was beginning to darken outside, and the majority of the office were leaving or had already left.

“Fuck,” Sharon hissed, stretching and wincing slightly at the cracking of her bones. “I’m gonna go blind if I look at that screen for any longer. Thanks, Sash.”

Sasha smiled kindly. “Anytime. You’re doing great, just make sure you don’t burn yourself out. Try to relax tonight, yeah? Just take it easy, chill a little. I’d invite you over for drinks to celebrate, but I can imagine you’re exhausted.”

Her mood lifted from such a productive, surprising day, Sharon found herself in higher spirits than she expected. “Aww, maybe I’ll come see you and Shea tomorrow. You’re right, though, I think I need a night in to just relax and be by myself. And maybe mute my Twitter, seeing how crazy it was earlier.”

Her friend laughed appreciatively. “I’ll get some red wine in for the weekend, you’re welcome to come over anytime. Now get out of here, freak. Go home.”

Absent-mindedly, Sharon wondered if her slightly later-than-usual exit from work meant that she could claim for a little bit of overtime, or if it would affect which bus she got home on. The elevator music provided the perfect mindless background music for her thoughts, her brain having checked out of work-mode the moment she logged off her computer. As it dinged, the little noise always sounding before Sharon expected it to and making her jump, she walked out into the car park and started towards the bus station. Then she stopped.

Alaska’s car was parked next to Sasha’s, which was quickly pulling away. She was sitting behind the wheel, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes staring straight forward. When she spotted Sharon, her gaze only lingered for half a second before she turned away again, her expression completely, eerily blank. Somewhat apprehensive, Sharon approached.

The car window rolled down. “Alaska?”

“Thought you might want picking up. The buses around here aren’t very safe.”

Sharon lingered awkwardly. On the one hand, she didn’t really feel like spending time with Alaska, given the tension between them that seemed as though it would never go away. A fucking soulmate marriage counsellor, after all, and a fierce anti-timer law advocate, were hardly a match made in Heaven. On the other hand, Sharon had witnessed her fair share of bloody fights and drunk, leery men on her bus rides home.

Reluctantly, she opened the door and got into the passenger seat, glancing furtively at Alaska before lowering her gaze. This was weird - everything about all of their interactions was weird. At least this time, she supposed, Alaska wasn’t begging Sharon to like her. She just started the car without a word.

They drove in silence for a few excruciating minutes. Sharon didn’t usually mind awkward silences - she was usually the cause of them, after all, and would relish in the suffocating misery and discomfort that followed. But this silence wasn’t her own doing, and all of it sudden it wasn’t so nice to get a taste of her own medicine. She flexed her hands, unsure of what to do with herself, as Alaska sat rigid and drove seemingly without blinking. In a last-ditch attempt to break the tension, Sharon reached out toward the radio.

“It doesn’t work.” Alaska told her. “Don’t bother.”

“Oh.” Sharon stopped in her tracks, slowly retracting her hand. “Okay. Sorry.”

Alaska shrugged, barely. “It’s fine.”

They lapsed into silence again. This wasn’t right; Sharon was the one to sit and make others feel weird and strange, not Alaska. Her wife was supposed to be the one who wanted approval, not Sharon. The loss of power was unsettling.

When they came across a queue at a traffic light, Alaska huffed out a breath, as though she was irritated about something. “Want to get something to eat before we go home?” She asked, rather curtly. 

Her tone of voice knocked Sharon for six. It took a few moments for her to register the words, let alone come up with a response. “Uhh, no. Let’s just go.”

It seemed Alaska wasn’t having it. “Well, I think we should celebrate. There’s a good Thai place down this street, it has lots of vegan options too.”

Out of everything, the weirdest part was Alaska’s cold exterior. Sharon had to admit, begrudgingly, that as much as she didn’t like Alaska, she was always inviting and kind and willing to give a second (or third, or fourth, or fifth, or sixth) chance. She always offered little acts of kindness that Sharon turned down, her good intentions clear all the time. But this… whilst her words seemed kind, the chilling voice with which she spoke them were anything but.

“I don’t want anything, I just want to go home.” Sharon shot back.

“Or there’s a good pizza place, too.” Alaska ignored her. “Pretty cheap, but the garlic bread is super good. Special occasions call for special dinners, I think. We should celebrate your success at the very least. It’s only a ten minute drive extra from home.”

Sharon scowled, growing more annoyed by the second. “Why the fuck are you being nice? Shut up, fucking hell.”

Alaska snorted derisively. “The question is, why aren’t you being nice? You don’t have to be a cunt all the time, you know that, right?”

“I didn’t ask for you to fucking pick me up and start trying to buy dinner when all I want to do is get home and be on my own!” Sharon exploded. “Like fuck, girl, take a fucking hint! I can make my own goddamn way home!”

Alaska slammed on her brakes as the traffic came to yet another stop, jolting them both forward. “Why don’t you then, huh? Get out of my fucking car and walk home if you hate it so much. Go on, hurry up.”

Sharon recoiled, as though she’d been slapped. “What the fuck?”

“You heard me!” Alaska seethed. “Get out now while it’s not moving, or else I’ll fucking push you out whilst I’m driving. I’m sick of you, I’m fucking sick of you, and I don’t want to deal with your ass anymore. Get out of my car.”

The light turned amber.

“Gladly.” Sharon opened the door and slammed it shut, just in time. Alaska sped off as the light turned green, leaving Sharon in her dust.

It took a minute for everything to connect in Sharon’s head. What the fuck had just happened? Alaska had snapped. Everything that Sharon had done to torment her and make her life difficult had worked, and it had culminated in a burst of anger, which was exactly what she wanted - tangible proof that the soulmate business was a load of shit, and they just weren’t meant to be.

And yet… why did it feel so awful? Sharon walked faster than she thought she ever had before, her furious strides rivalling that of a yoga mom in a park. A mixture of rage and… was that guilt? wrestled in the pit of her stomach, festering and bubbling in a way that made her nauseous. This was exactly what she wanted, after all, for Alaska to stop fucking trying and accept that, no matter what, Sharon was never going to love her.

It seemed that her anger and hurt weren’t quite linked, and she couldn’t work out where they were coming from.

It was surprisingly cathartic to walk home in the brisk cold, the weather cooling off her angry heat as she walked the rest of the journey home. She had almost gotten over it completely when Alaska’s home came into view - and everything seemed to reignite at just the sight of it. No doubt Alaska had slammed the front door and stormed inside, judging by her haphazard parking job.

She pounded on the front door and waited. Of course, today had to be the day she forgot her key.

It swung open almost violently, revealing a pissed-off Alaska. “Oh, it’s you. I was hoping it was going to be a door-to-door serial killer. I should be so fucking lucky.”

Sharon shook her head in disbelief. “Okay, what the fuck is your problem? 

“My problem?” Alaska asked indignantly. “No, this isn’t my problem, Sharon, this is yours.” She all but yanked Sharon inside, shutting the door with an almighty bang and beginning to pace up and down the corridor. “You’re the one with the issues, and I’m tired of being nice to you only to get treated like shit in response. Willam told me to be patient with you, and fuck, I’ve tried, but you’re giving me nothing and I’ve had enough. So what, please tell me, did I fucking to do you?!”

Fuming again, Sharon shrugged off her coat and stormed into the kitchen, Alaska hot on her heels. She could practically see the steam coming out of her reddened ears.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Alaska? I don’t have time for your stupid games.”

Alaska almost growled. “You! I’m talking about you, Sharon, and how you seem to have no fucking regard for other people. I don’t care if you don’t like the laws about timers because fuck, tons of people don’t, and they’re fucking excessive and I understand that. Hate the system all you fucking want, but don’t take your anger out on me when I did nothing to you. I’ve done everything I can to make you comfortable here and then you- you-”

Sharon stood still and seethed, listening to Alaska’s rant with her jaw clenched. “Communication is key for a healthy marriage, you of all people should know that. Get to the fucking point.”

“I’M GETTING THERE!” Alaska screamed, and the force of her shout shocked Sharon into silence. Her face was distraught, pulled tight with fury and rage that seemed entirely uncharacteristic for someone like her. She was rational, collected, measured - someone who was pragmatic and logical. She didn’t just explode in emotional outbursts, or at least, Sharon had never thought she would.

“All I want to know,” She breathed, her tone dangerously calm, “Is what I did to make you hate me, and what I can do to make you like me. Because this- this-”

She held up her phone, the screen flashing in Sharon’s face - a screenshot of her newly-viral article. 

“I don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve this, okay?!”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Oh please. I had the freedom to write about what I wanted, and so I wrote about what no one gets to hear, because sycophantic bitches like you who love the taste of government boots sit here all day and tell us how wonderful it is that we’re forced into marriages! Well, fucking newsflash, I don’t think that!”

“And you’ve made it quite fucking clear, from the day I met you!” Alaska cut in. “But for one fucking second, did you think about how this would affect me? How this would humiliate me?”

Tears were beginning to gather in the corners of Alaska’s eyes - hot, angry tears, threatening to spill over her scarlet cheeks and flared nostrils. In the midst of their blazing argument, seemingly a battle of attrition with hurled insults as their ammunition, Sharon started to feel… bad.

“What do you mean? It’s not like I fucking named you. You don’t need to be so sensitive.” She cursed.

Alaska shook her head, and Sharon sensed that if she pushed her any further, she would explode like a grenade. “I have been ridiculed all day - by my co-workers, even by my fucking clients. I walked into work with your name visible on my arm, so everyone knows that the Sharon Needles who wrote the scathing article is the same one that I’m married to.”

As she ranted, tears spilling over, Alaska kicked off her heels, ignoring how they flew across the room and likely damaged something of hers. The resulting clatter seemed to only exacerbate her fury.

“I’m a marriage counsellor, Sharon.” She stressed, leaning over the worktop. “My entire livelihood is helping people come to terms with their relationships and live out long, happy lives together in whatever way suits them best. All fucking day, I’ve had people laughing and sneering in my face, my own fucking clients telling me that if I can’t fix my own marriage, how the hell am I supposed to fix theirs?”

She swiped away her tears in a vicious motion. “Humiliated and ridiculed, all fucking day, because you made your goddamn think-piece into more of an attack on me than you did an attack on the system that you’re actually mad at. I just- I can’t take this anymore, Sharon.”

With mounting guilt, Sharon mustered as much disdain into her voice as she could. “Can’t take what? Enlighten me.”

“You!” Alaska’s eyes were shining, her chest heaving with the effort of yelling and crying all at once. “You’re spiteful, you’re mean, you’re bitter and nasty and cruel and I have noidea why that is, but I wish I fucking knew so I could something, anything! I’m not asking you to love me, Sharon, because I don’t think you have it in you to love. I’m just - fuck, I’m asking you to try and not be a cunt all the time because maybe if we could be respectful to each other, something could grow out of that. We could be friends. But you’re just fucking horrible.”

A thousand insults sprang to the forefront of Sharon’s mind, her brain working overtime to provide her with harsh, cutting remarks that could stop Alaska in her tracks and effectively win the argument. Each and every one of them halted at her tongue, disappeared, and Sharon deflated.

“I know.”

Alaska faltered. “You- what?”

“I’m a horrible, terrible person, Alaska. I don’t think about anyone else because the only person I can rely on is me, I don’t fucking want anybody else. A soulmate goes against absolutely everything that I stand for as a person.” Sharon found herself suddenly bearing her soul in front of her furious wife, more vulnerable than she had felt in a long time. “I should’ve thought about what this would all mean for you. But I don’t think about others, ever. I get hurt when I think about others.”

Little tear droplets clung to Alaska’s eyelashes, clumping them together as she regarded Sharon with a gaze far gentler than her previously stony glare. All at once, her anger seemed to dissipate.

“I’m never gonna hurt you, Sharon. At the end of all of this fucked up shit, I’ve got your back. I’m your soulmate.”

Sharon shook her head, faster than she meant to. “There’s no such thing.”

Alaska softened. “I read that true hatred can only come from something you once loved. I don’t know if that’s true, but-”

“I don’t want to get into it.” Sharon answered, quietly. “Can I just apologise and try and be better?”

Biting her lip, Alaska nodded infinitesimally and sighed. “Yeah… But if something’s hurting you, and I can help-”

“I can’t talk about it.” Sharon replied curtly, then apologised. “Sorry. I just… I can’t.”

“That’s okay.” Alaska promised, her teary eyes suddenly holding tender sadness in the place of her former rage. “Do you… Can I give you a hug? Just to… consolidate a truce, I guess, and give you a little bit of comfort.”

The words got stuck in Sharon’s throat, but it didn’t end up mattering. At the slightest inclination of her head, Alaska rushed forwards and wrapped her arms around Sharon, the both of them melting against one another in a moment of sheer exhaustion and weakness. There were tears beginning to well up in Sharon’s eyes, too, but she did her best to blink them away, determined not to cry in Alaska’s embrace.

It was nice… nicer than she’d expected. Alaska was warm, and welcoming, and at heart she was a good, loving person. Sharon was selfish and rude and petulant and she didn’t deserve the love, let alone the friendship, of someone like Alaska. But something about the tightness with which Alaska held onto Sharon told her that, somehow, this was someone who would give her infinite chances. Alaska had never waited for Sharon to fuck up, not like everyone else. She had gotten angry, and then her angry had been pushed aside completely in favour of a sweet embrace.

It felt so good to be held by someone. Sharon lifted her own arms to squeeze Alaska and buried her face, hoping that her wife couldn’t tell that she had started sobbing.