#deputy Hackett

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Train Wreck (Part of A Full Deck Series)

Fandom: The Quarry

Pairing: Travis Hackett/Laura Kearney

Rating: Teen, Mature-ish because subject matter - check warnings.

Summary: Travis at the brink of death.

Warning(s): Guns, violence, being shot, shootings, mentions of drugs (meth), near-death experience, angst

Notes: No one asked for this. I just felt angsty.

Preview:

Travis is forty-one when he gets shot.

Considering he's the deputy of a small, backwater town, it's not a surprise that he hasn't been shot before now - in fact, most of their local statistics showed that it’s more likely to get shot at than it is to actually take a bullet.

After all, this is hunting territory. Every year people come from miles around with permits to hunt deer and the like. Friendly fire is an issue, but manageable. And unfriendly fire was almost unheard of.

AO3 Link

[remembertheplunge]

Is society well served by his death?

“2/6/1995. Margin notes from the Tao of power:

Margin notes from Section 18:

Is society well served by his death? One less pre trial for Thursday. One less crazy on the street. If this is so, why did the jail guard say today ”This is so depressing, this work. I’m in school and will move on.” Was she served by his hanging death?

And, so now, I’m feeling so let down by the system. Wind knocked out. Punch to solar plexus.

Death is is damn final. 

I want to run to him on Friday to say “Don’t do it Andre. Give me a chance." I wish I’d written back to his Mom. I’m so fucking damn cold. Over fucking whelmed.

There is something wrong here. Really wrong. Death. I wonder how the “victim” feels?

Is this what they want? Society? Do they believe this is funny?

You asked me to come and see you. I didn’t. You asked when, when will you come and see me? Overwhelmed.  It’s my fault.

We all hang and sway with you, Andre.

What does your Mom think? I’ll keep my promise to the end. Why couldn’t you wait for me?

I know that they are cruel. But, why couldn’t ya give it a whirl? I mean, you were only 27 and you’d waited all these months. I mean…it was only till Thursday and I’d been working on the DA and I’d hired a psychologist.. We had a shot at time served or maybe a not guilty. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Margin notes from Section 27:

2/6/1995.  On the hanging death of Andre .

I don’t know what to say. I think that in this situation, the significant resource was the DA Court Cop Jail Societal force. It just totally failed . Total, total let down. Dead. Flat. I don’t believe in it. What happened? What went wrong? Who’s fault?

This clearly should not have happened. Clearly. Clearly.

I know, he was not sane. He was troubled. So, watch him. Talk to him. MEDICATE HIM.

DON’T SINGLE CELL WAREHOUSE HIM, ALONE,TO BE MURDERED BY HIS OWN DEMONS.

Was he served by our actions? He is society.

How ironic, they call it the Safety Center. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 2/9/1995

Maybe a big part of my job is to be there with these feelings. Full, fleshed out, absorb the human part of us, feelings.

Notes:

Margin notes  above written in the book “The Tao of Power A new translation of the Tao Te Ching by R. L. Wing.   1986

Andre was a client of mine in February 1995.  I was a Stanislauss County Deputy Public Defender then. When I say I was overwhelmed in the margin note, I mean I was overwhelmed with cases. Andre hung himself the Saturday before his Thursday pre trial hearing. In my margin note, I wanted to return to  Friday, the day before he hung himself.. I wanted to go to the jail and tell him not to kill himself

Time served meant that Andre  could enter a plea and be released and serve no more jail time.

Andre killed himself in a part of the jail called “The Safety Center”. It is located on Hackett Road.

I am not sure what Andre was charged with or what the facts of the case were.

The fact that I wondered what the victim in the case thought about his suicide would lead me to believe it was a domestic violence case. But, I don’t know for sure.

[lilibethdrawsreylo]

Sleep, Water Lily. Chapter 2 preview

Travis jolted awake at the rattling noise of his phone vibrating on the nightstand. God, he hated that thing. Would probably hate it less if he could ever turn it the fuck off.

Raising his head off the pillow, the room was still gray and the sky deep blue—good forty minutes before his alarm, if not more. Travis rolled on his back, swearing under his breath. His hand dwarfed the phone as he blindly swiped his thumb over the cracked screen.

“Hackett,” he croaked, rubbing his eyes with the free hand.

“Uncle T, it’s me.”

“Kaylee?” He was expecting the call to be from one of his deputies, but hearing his niece's voice gave him pause. It was too early to chat; something had happened. Sitting up, he cleared his throat. “What’s up, Honey Bear?”

She didn’t scoff at him using her childhood nickname, speaking fast and quiet:

“Grandpa and Uncle Bobby went to your station. They took silver bullets.”

Coming on Sunday.

[citadelsushi]

im always down to hear more about give to pressure (my beloved)

How about an unedited snippet?

Avory’s eyes narrowed into slits at the woman who entered the door. Tall and slender, her black hair luxurious. So shiny she must bathe, truly bathe, several times a week. A draft followed her in. Avory did not appreciate the way someone else could alter the atmosphere of a room with their presence. And she really didn’t fuckin’ appreciate the way Alenko stiffened.   “Who the fuck are you?” Kaidan looked between the two, then cautiously began, “Shepard, this is-” “Miranda Lawson.” The woman answered in a prim accent. Avory seethed. Her clothes were perfectly tailored and expensive. Her vest, made of silk, was gold. Her eyes went wide. Kaidan spotted her realization.  “Cerberus motherfucker!” Avory was on her feet before Kaidan could hold up an arm, a pointless attempt to stop her, and across the room in a flash. Blade in hand. Vision red. At that moment, nothing existed beyond killing the enemy. Until the woman shoved a thumb into her wound and Avory saw stars. Shaking, she held fast, blade to the woman's throat.  “Shepard, don’t!” Avory couldn’t look behind her. Betrayed. “She’s Cerberus, Kaidan.” “Deputy, I suggest you call off your dog before she gets hurt.” “You fuckin’-” “You’re every bit as charming as reputation foretold. Though you’re shorter than I imagined.” Kaidan appeared at their side. “Shepard,” he was doing his best to be calming, but it sounded patronizing. Her blade pressed a divot into the other woman’s skin. “Ms. Lawson doesn’t work for Cerberus anymore. She came here to help us, she’s on our side.” Avory scoffed, pleasing herself when flecks of saliva hit the woman in the face. In retaliation, she jabbed further into her side and Avory bit back a pained sob. Her body caved in around the pain, but her blade remained still. “So she’s a convincing motherfucker.” “You know, Shepard, it’s a miracle you haven’t been found before now. You’re not very bright.” The dark haired woman drawled on as if she had no fear of the blade at her jugular. “I assume Admiral Hackett is to thank for that. He keeps his connection to you very well hidden. It was hard to dig up. Sheriff Anderson, however-” Kaidan warned, “Miranda.”

[summersnow82]

Somethin' Bad: Part 17

Summary: Travis and Sean square off.

Notes: Hello, my lovelies! Thank you for bearing with me on my hiatus - I really appreciate it! I've been enjoying family time, reading some books on my TBR, watching some shows on my TBW, and figuring out the direction I want to take this story in. I've had an ending in mind for awhile now, but I was debating between two different courses, and one has finally won out.

I appreciate your support, your likes, reblogs, and comments so very much, and I apologize if I take a bit too long getting back to y'all. Now… let’s see how Sean and Travis get on. 😏

Not sure what’s going on, but Tumblr keeps cutting off the last paragraph, and it’s kind of important, so here’s a link to the AO3 chapter.

Part 17

Travis felt the shotgun barrel pressing firmly into the small of his back. “Hello, Sheriff,” Sean said, his voice lacking the friendly tone he normally used. “Where’s Annabelle?”

“Sean…,” he began, but Sean pushed the gun into his back harder.

“Hands in the air, please. I’d prefer not to shoot you.” But it’s not off the table. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air. Travis did as told, grinding his teeth together so hard he thought they would break. “To the cell block, please. I think it’s time we had a little chat of our own.”

Under normal circumstances, Travis would’ve considered fighting back. He was strong, lithe, and quick, but after what he’d seen from Annabelle earlier he was hesitant to act just yet. So he allowed himself to be led to the cell block, biding his time. Sean stopped him at the second cell, and Travis felt his chest constrict. Not this cell.

“Cuff yourself to the bars, please,” Sean said, his voice still devoid of any warmth. Travis hesitated, and Sean noticed. “Problem, Sheriff?”

Travis struggled; he didn’t want to display any weakness. But this cell…“Not this cell. Please.” He closed his eyes, ashamed at his display.

Sean, to his credit, didn’t mock or laugh. “My cell, then,” he replied softly. “Slowly.”

It was so tempting for Travis to reach for his service weapon or his taser, but he reached for his cuffs instead. He clasped one cuff to the bars of Sean’s cell, and then secured the other to his wrist. It was only then he got a good look at Sean. Freshly washed, golden curls slicked back, and he was wearing one of Travis’ uniforms.

Travis hated how good it looked on him. Travis was lithe and lean while Sean was broad shouldered, muscular, and fit. Sean was what his mother would’ve called “classically handsome.” She’d never doted on Travis that way, always focusing on his flaws instead, while she heaped praise on Chris and Bobby for their “Hackett charm”.

Sean levied the shotgun at Travis, and there was no hesitation in his movements. “Remove your utility belt. Gently lay it on the ground, please.”

So damn polite, Travis thought through clenched teeth, but he did as he was told. Moving carefully, but deliberately, Sean kicked it out of the way. Swiftly, he took out another pair of cuffs and snapped them to Travis’ remaining wrist and an alternating bar. He checked the cuffs Travis had secured, nodding once he was satisfied. “Happy?” Travis snarled.

Sean shook his head, his expression grim. “Not at all. You’ve been a hospitable host. I’d hoped it would never come to this.” He sighed, stepping back, and shouldering the shotgun. “But here we are.”

Travis glared at him, subtly testing his own restraints. “Here we are,” he growled.

Sean looked unimpressed. “Why did your brother and father come here while you were gone?” Travis’ eyes widened, and a chill ran through him; Sean arched a brow. “You didn’t know?”

Travis ignored him, more concerned with his own question. “Did they see you?”

Sean shook his head. “I look a bit different in daylight, especially without all that blood.” He gestured to his uniform. “I figured I could pass as your new deputy. They never looked at me too closely while they held me prisoner, anyway.” He grimaced at the thought.

“My family… they aren’t the monsters you think they are,” Travis said softly.

“That’s why they came in here with shotguns, right?” Sean sounded more bitter than angry. He leaned back against the wall, gazing at the middle cell. “Why not that cell?” Travis averted his eyes. Would he shoot him if he didn’t talk? He decided to test the theory, but Sean didn’t move or spout out threats: he just waited.

Travis was good at waiting, too.

Sean arched a brow, finally, clucking his tongue. Travis smirked as the younger man broke the silence, but when he spoke it wasn’t to threaten or concede. “You didn’t look at the file before you gave it to us, did you?” Travis’ brow furrowed. What… “The hikers, the journalist, you had clippings of their disappearance in there.” Damn. Sean was studying Travis the way Travis studied a perp as he spoke, and Travis was torn between fury and admiration. “You did a good job of cleaning the blood out of the cell. Must’ve been tricky with all the cracks and groves in the wall.” His blue eyed gaze never wavered. “But you missed a spot. Were you here when it happened, or did they just leave the mess for you to clean up?”

Travis jerked against his restraints. “Shut your damn mouth,” he hissed.

Sean lifted his chin, giving Travis an appraising glance. “I’m truly sorry for the mess you’ve been dragged into, Travis. Really, I am. I’d like to believe you’re a good man trying to do the right thing, but I’m not willing to risk my life or Annabelle’s for that belief. We’ve been burned before.” He drew his mouth into a tight line, glancing down the cell block. “Once I find her – and I always find her - I’ll have someone come unchain you. Thank you for all you did to help us. I’m sorry this couldn’t have ended better.” Sean looked conflicted, but resolved as he began to turn away.

“You promised!” Travis cried, jerking against his chains. “You promised you would help us.”

Sean stopped, turning back to cast him a hard stare. “Consider my attempted murder the cancellation of that promise.”

He turned away again, and Travis felt desperation clawing at his chest. “You can’t go! The curse will follow you wherever you go, whenever you go. No one will be safe from you.” Travis felt cold at the sudden realization. “She’ll never be safe from you.” Sean rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck to either side as he stood, mulling over Travis’ words. He had to get him to stay – he had to. They were his only hope of ending this nightmare. He couldn’t handle the innocent bloodshed, the look in Kaylee’s eyes the morning after each full moon, or the…

The thought swam to the forefront of his mind unwillingly, but once it was there he couldn’t ignore it, and the realization made his chest hurt: he couldn’t handle losing her. Not now. Not before he could explain, apologize, beg for forgiveness, and bury his hands in her long, dark hair one more time. What had he done? His home would feel so empty with her gone.

He had to stop this now.

“They came when I was on a call,” Travis said, nodding to the middle cell. He was fighting the tremble in his voice; he had to speak, but that didn’t make it any easier. “Shot him through the bars like a fish in a barrel. I watched the tape later, saw him plead, try to back far enough away, but it didn’t matter. My brother will do anything my folks ask, and they didn’t ask.” Sean turned slightly, meeting Travis’ stare. “I didn’t know. Not then, not now.”

Sean was silent for a moment, and Travis had a glimmer of hope. “He had a family, you know. The journalist. A wife, three kids.”

Travis closed his eyes, wincing at the knowledge. Of course he knew. He had their names seared into his memory, knew the kid’s birthdays, knew the widow still hadn’t moved on three years later. Travis may have lacked a tech savvy skill set, but he knew how to stalk social media profiles.

“My family… is at the bottom of a well, and I am trying so hard to pull them back up,” he whispered, hanging his head in shame. “Do you have any idea what that feels like?” Travis heard the shuffle of feet, and when he opened his eyes Sean was standing in front of him, his mouth drawn tight.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.”

—————————-

“Darlene, stop fussing. He’s a grown man.”

“Oh, hush, Frank. No one fusses over that boy, and it shows. Besides, I hate the idea of good food going to waste.”

Annabelle could hear Frank and Darlene through the closed bedroom door, and as kind as they were she wished they would leave, and make this easier for her. She closed her eyes tight, clutching the paperback romance novel in her hands even tighter. This shouldn’t be so difficult: Travis had a crazy family, she’d defended him, and he’d cast her out. She should want to leave, but she was rooted to the spot, sitting on the side of his bed – her bed for the past week or so – wanting nothing more than to curl up, ignore the world around her, and drift off to sleep. Why is this so hard, she asked herself, squeezing her eyes tighter.

But she knew why: he’d kissed her. Unprovoked, without cause. Just a sweet, simple kiss. She’d stopped locking the bedroom door a few nights ago, but he never came in after she resigned for the night. He insisted on doing the dishes, opened her car door for her, and never said a word about her raiding his closet. Each night she woke to his moans and cries, and each morning she found herself carefully placed on the couch, a warm blanket tucked around her. He left Sean and her to chat, but always seemed pleased when they invited him into the conversation. His ears turned a cute shade of pink when she considered his thoughts, listening and reciprocating other concepts or ideas. He was kind to Sean, and unlike many men, didn’t seem bothered by their close relationship.

Annabelle groaned, thrusting the paperback to her face as if it would muffle the sound. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. Of course she had developed feelings for him - he was precisely her type: a man in need of comfort, love, and reassurance of his worth. A man sidelined for too long, overlooked, but deeply endearing, and deeply, deeply in need of a hug.

Or… perhaps a bit more?

Annabelle shook the thought from her head. Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Too many bodice-rippers, too many roguish pirate captains keeping fiesty noblewomen hostage in their cabins, both too proud to admit their feelings while they ached from sexual tension. No, if Travis were a romance novel character he’d be someone like Daniel in “A True Guardian.” It was one of Travis’ more well-worn novels about an ex-lawman turned lonely rancher who begrudgingly takes in the vulnerable and headstrong Bessie, if only to keep her from the likes of her mysterious and tragic past. Daniel had given up his bed, too, just like Travis. Bessie had ached for him to join her, just like...

“There’s something wrong with me,” Annabelle groaned, tossing herself backwards onto the bed.

She must have been louder than she realized, because a gentle knock came from the bedroom door. “Are you all right in there, dear?” Darlene’s called.

Annabelle thunked the romance novel hard against her forehead, groaning again. “Fine. Just having an existential crisis. That’s all.”

A moment of silence ticked by before Darlene replied, “Ah. Yes, well, those are delightful, but perhaps you could have one on the way to our place? I’d like to have you tucked away safely before Connie gets any wild notions in her head.”

Annabelle perked at the thought, moving quickly to the bedroom door, and leaving the romance novel forgotten on the bed. “Well, actually,” she began, opening the door to meet Darlene’s eyes. “There are a few questions I was hoping you could answer.”

________________________________________________________________________

Travis rubbed his wrists, eyeing Sean cautiously as the younger man hoisted the shotgun over his shoulder. “What is this?” He asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes just a touch.

“Consider it an act of good will,” the blonde said, tilting his chin back just a hair. “I believe you. You didn’t know about your family’s visit.” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “Either time.”

Travis exhaled slowly, giving Sean the once over before nodding. A silent understanding passed between the two men, and when Travis knelt for his utility belt Sean didn’t stop him. “So what now?” He asked, once the belt was secured and the two pairs of handcuffs were back in his possession.

“Well, I sure as hell can’t sleep in there anymore,” Sean said, nodding towards his cell.

Travis sighed. “No, I don’t suppose you can.” He sucked on his teeth, drawing his mouth into a thin line. “I could use a drink. How ‘bout you?”

Sean’s lips curled up in the slightest hint of a smile. “I could use a cup of coffee.”

The walk back to Travis’ office was silent and awkward, largely because a part of Travis was tempted to tase Sean as payback; the more rational side told him advised against it. Wounded pride aside, Travis needed an ally, and he’d already put his relationship with Annabelle into question.

“I kicked her out of my house,” he admitted, falling into his office chair, and reaching for the bottle of Jim Bean he kept in his bottom desk drawer. “You know. Since you asked where she was, and all.”

Sean stared down at Travis, blinking at the news. “You… you kicked her out?” The disbelief radiated through his words.

Travis took a swig from the bottle, nodding. “Yup.” He clucked his tongue. “Screwed that up real good.”

Sean’s eyes widened, and he blinked before slowly sinking into the chair opposite Travis. “That’s uh… that’s not going to win you any affection. But you know that, right?”

Travis shrugged, taking another swig. Annabelle would be livid with him for drinking this early. He’d call it dinner; she’d call it a poor coping mechanism. “Not sure how much affection I had in the bank anyway.”

Sean’s eyebrows raised, and he exhaled loudly. “However much you had, I can guarantee it’s at a zero balance now, my friend.”

“I’m not your friend,” Travis shot back quickly, regretting the words instantly.

Sean cocked his head to the side, studying the sheriff carefully. “No?”

The bottle was halfway to his lips, but Travis lowered it, narrowing his eyes at the younger man. “No. Thought you were gonna get coffee.”

“This is more interesting,” Sean said, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees.

Travis’ glare intensified. “I don’t need your psychoanalysis, college boy.”

Sean smirked, maintaining his stare. “What do you need, Travis?” The bottle was interrupted again, and this time Travis placed it on the desk with an audible thunk. “You clearly have an attraction to Annabelle, you seem to be growing closer, and now you throw her out.”

“Shaddup.” The words slurred, and Travis couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol kicking in sooner than expected or the hitch in his emotions that caused it.

Sean tilted his head to the side. “I know what it looks like to push people away, Travis. I’m very good at it myself.”

Travis smirked. “’Cept Belle. You like to keep her close, dontcha?”

“Jealous?” Sean sat back, arching a pale brow.

The sheriff scoffed, reaching for the bottle again. “Please. Jealous of what? It’s clear you aren’t getting any of that.” He wanted it to sound crass, and it did; Sean’s brow arched higher.

“You aren’t jealous about the sex, Sheriff, or the lack thereof,” Sean said simply. “You’re jealous of the affection, the closeness, the trust. You’re jealous,” he said softly, leaning forward, “Because you’ve convinced yourself you don’t deserve to have that with anyone so you push them away.” Sean held Travis’ eyes, and the older man didn’t flinch. “I know,” Sean continued, his tone low and deliberate, “because I do it, too.”

Travis leaned back in his chair, eyeing the younger man carefully. He wasn’t very good at opening up to others, and he didn’t anticipate that changing now, but he was curious where this conversation was headed. So he simply said, “Do you?”

“Who’d you lose?” Sean asked, and Travis pursed his lips. Oh. This was not a road he wanted to travel again. Thankfully, Sean seemed to understand that, and continued, saying, “When I was seven I watched my father kill my brother.” He swung his hand back hard, imitating the motion his father had made all those years ago. “He hit him,” he snapped his fingers, “just right, and he was gone. Just like that. I’ve been pushing people away ever since, so I know the signs.” He leveled his gaze at the older man. “So again, who did you lose, Travis?”

“Who’d you lose?” Sean asked, and Travis pursed his lips. Oh. This was not a road he wanted to travel again. Thankfully, Sean seemed to understand that, and continued, saying, “When I was seven I watched my father kill my brother.” He swung his hand back hard, imitating the motion his father had made all those years ago. “He hit him,” he snapped his fingers, “just right, and he was gone. Just like that. I’ve been pushing people away ever since, so I know the signs.” He leveled his gaze at the older man. “So again, who did you lose, Travis?”

“Who’d you lose?” Sean asked, and Travis pursed his lips. Oh. This was not a road he wanted to travel again. Thankfully, Sean seemed to understand that, and continued, saying, “When I was seven I watched my father kill my brother.” He swung his hand back hard, imitating the motion his father had made all those years ago. “He hit him,” he snapped his fingers, “just right, and he was gone. Just like that. I’ve been pushing people away ever since, so I know the signs.” He leveled his gaze at the older man. “So again, who did you lose, Travis?”

“You aren’t jealous about the sex, Sheriff, or the lack thereof,” Sean said simply. “You’re jealous of the affection, the closeness, the trust. You’re jealous,” he said softly, leaning forward, “Because you’ve convinced yourself you don’t deserve to have that with anyone so you push them away.” Sean held Travis’ eyes, and the older man didn’t flinch. “I know,” Sean continued, his tone low and deliberate, “because I do it, too.”

Travis leaned back in his chair, eyeing the younger man carefully. He wasn’t very good at opening up to others, and he didn’t anticipate that changing now, but he was curious where this conversation was headed. So he simply said, “Do you?”

“Who’d you lose?” Sean asked, and Travis pursed his lips. Oh. This was not a road he wanted to travel again. Thankfully, Sean seemed to understand that, and continued, saying, “When I was seven I watched my father kill my brother.” He swung his hand back hard, imitating the motion his father had made all those years ago. “He hit him,” he snapped his fingers, “just right, and he was gone. Just like that. I’ve been pushing people away ever since, so I know the signs.” He leveled his gaze at the older man. “So again, who did you lose, Travis?”

[letsbreakhearts]

@h-a-unted​​ Laura and Travis - Sheriff AU 

           North Kill, a flourishing small town, due to the quarry and the Hackett family owning most of the land down here, being North Kill’s largest employer. Being transferred to the sheriff's department here, in the middle of nowhere, must have sounded like a punishment for most people. Not so to Laura. She loved nature in all its forms, especially North Kill’s beautiful woods which invited everyone who crossed them for a long hike.            

          She already pictured her future to be quite peaceful out here - patrolling hiking trails, looking after the small community of people living here, as well as potential tourists. 

                                            It sounded like heaven. 

          Therefore she was full of enthusiasm when starting her first day at her new job, entering the sheriff's department beaming like the radiating sun herself and immediately stumbling into the absolute opposite of herself - a dark haired, gloomy looking, middle aged man with a sheriff's star on his chest, which had the name Hackett written on it. 

           “Good morning, Sir. Deputy Kearney reporting ready for duty. Nice to meet you.”, she greeted her new supervisor in the most professional manner she could come up with on the get go, but gold hold back on playfully exaggerate  by saluting, since she yet had to determine, if Mr. Hackett shared her sense humor. 

[talkoftitusville]

From Philly to Florida: "Flasher" Arrested Again, Sheriff Demands Harsher Sentencing

Barrick, known as the "Philadelphia Flasher," was apprehended last night after citizens reported a man exposing himself and masturbating along a bike trail.

Sheriff Wayne Ivey announced the arrest of Steven Barrick, a repeat offender with a history of indecent exposure dating back to 2013 in Philadelphia.  Barrick, known as the “Philadelphia Flasher,” was apprehended last night after citizens reported a man exposing himself and masturbating along a bike trail. Deputy Bradley Hackett responded to the scene, prompting Barrick to attempt a bicycle…

[teamhawkeye]

i know nothing of the quarry so first: what is your favorite part of the game and second: what is cheryl doing during it ✨

So! For most of game events, she is very much a werewolf and offscreen lmao.

She's cured at the end of chapter 5 when Kaylee is killed (since she was the one to bite and infect her) so she only makes an appearance for most of the counselors sometime in chapter 6 or 8 when she comes staggering out of the woods, bloody, naked, and bewildered as to what's happened. And even then, all she can think about is finding Travis and regrouping with him, so she doesn't do more than try to convince them to head for the lodge and lock themselves in while she sets off for Hackett House and tries to defuse the powderkeg that is brewing in there (tied for my favorite part of the game).

Otherwise, she's largely in chapter 7 during Laura's flashback sequences (also tied for my favorite part of the game), since she works as a deputy under Travis and is around the station from time to time. She connects with both Laura and Max and tries to coax them into putting 2-and-2 together about the whole situation they're all trapped in, without outright giving them any of Travis’ secrets, since she is loyal to him first and foremost. She's the one to find and release Travis from the cellblock once Laura and Max escape in August, and tries to help him get the situation under control before she turns that night, but she catches wind of Silas out in the woods and is out in the open when she transforms and is thus just one more werewolf running lose and proving to be a terror and problem for the counselors trapped at the quarry.

She has several different endings, that all vary on character choices, but i won't go into those ahdsklasjdjasdasd.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Okay but imagine Chris Hackett with facial hair! Lie I would have 100% been wrecked if he looked like this.

Side note: I’m still very upset about what happened to Dewey.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Of all the things I was expecting to learn today, this was not one of them quite frankly

[cellard0ors]

Time marches on.

Travis joins the police academy and then the North Kill office. He works his way up from a lowly officer to a deputy. He works under Sheriff Hank (the man insists on being called by his first name) and his life is...good.

Not great, but good. And why it isn't great, he can't precisely say.

It's just-? He's always felt like he's...missing something. He's not sure what, exactly, but something.

Chris, after falling in love at the ripe age of eighteen with his first girlfriend Amelia, swears up and down that it's love.

Travis thinks that's the dumbest thing he's ever heard.

The last thing he needs in his life is another person.

He's tried his hand at dating and it's just not for him. It's not that he doesn't like the women he's been out with or anything (after all, he certainly enjoys the sex he has with them) but he's pretty sure he's just not built for a relationship.

He never had any friends growing up - well, none past his brothers - and his interactions with others outside of his family have always come across as stilted and awkward.

He's just not a people person.

It makes enforcing the law incredibly easy. After all, if people don't like him, what does he care? Again, he's just not a people person.

Chris is the opposite. He marries Amelia, he has two kids - his life is fantastic. Bobby too, seems perfectly happy. He's about as awkward as Travis is when it comes to people and he's also alone, but it doesn't seem as if he's suffering from some indescribable loss.

Travis knows, because he asked him once and Bobby was completely confused by the mere concept. So, Travis let it drop and decided that this is just how it is.

And then Harum Scarum comes to town.

The police office gets sent three free tickets from some anonymous gifter, albeit the tickets are specifically addressed to Travis, which is strange. He seems to recall having helped a woman with a flat tire recently - maybe it was her?

Either way, it's not really his cup of tea, so he gives the tickets to his niece and nephew as well as Sheriff Hank, because the older man seems interested in the venue.

No one could imagine the horrors that would come from it. The fire that took Hank and several others' lives. The bite mark Caleb would receive from the dog boy he helped free. The mysterious fish girl who Kaylee swore up and down had helped Silas escape.

"We were going to help her too!" Kaylee cries half hysterical as she tells him and her father the details of what happened that night, "But after Caleb got bit she just swoops in and runs off with him, with Silas! Saying something about how she has to protect him and cure him or-or something!"

At first they're not sure what that could even mean.

They learn a month later.

Travis gets promoted to Sheriff and the hunt begins. The one to find Silas and his mysterious protector, Laura.

Laura the mermaid, according to Kaylee and Travis is certain the woman was wearing some latex piece that - to his young niece - looked very convincing.

Because mermaids aren't real.

Of course, to be fair, he would have bet on werewolves not being real either, but now he has a family full of them. Caleb bites Kaylee, Chris - he spreads the curse and the Hackett family slowly begins to come apart at the seams from it.

Murder, bribery, embezzlement, theft, vandalism - the list of crimes the family begins to acquire is staggering. And Travis, a once golden scion of the law, falls from grace far faster than he would like.

He does his best though. He tries with all his might to keep his family on the straight and narrow, to keep the blood off their hands. He tries to keep them all from falling further and further down a bottomless well from which there is no return.

For six years, he does this. He does his very best.

Only for Chris's camp and his counselors to snap that rope clean in half. Their van breaks down on the night of the full moon. Chris begs his father and brother to watch over them while Travis hunts.

While Kaylee and Caleb roam free - one theory being that they'll be on the lookout for their sire, a sort of primal instinct within them calling out to him or vice versa...

... considering the six years that have come and gone, Travis puts little stock into that theory, but it's there all the same.

Regardless, they're all playing their parts only for Travis to come across someone snooping in their woods. The lone figure is down by the shoreline of Lake Septimus, investigating something, and he creeps up slowly, prepared for anything.

The intruder must sense him, because they turn and he sees they're holding a shotgun. Travis doesn't wait another second, instead barreling forward with the intention of disarming them.

But whoever it is, they're quicker, side stepping him smoothly and tripping him with one foot. However, he's not to be undone, as he grabs them even while falling.

This results in sheriff and intruder landing with a weak splash in the low end of the lake. Travis curses and struggles with the person only to realize quickly that, whoever it is, they're slim.

Slim and slippery and he's just about concluded he's probably wrestling with a female suspect when she flashes a light at him.

It catches him full in the face, the light burning his eyes with an unexpected intensity, and he lets out a shout - annoyed and aggravated only to hear a choked, "Travis?!?"

He blinks as the light leaves him, eyes adjusting from being blinded to settling back to darkness as he growls, "Who wants to know?"

"I'm...I'm not-?" The girl (she must be a girl, she sounds young) manages and he assumes she must recognize him as the town sheriff, never mind her addressing him by his first name of all things.

He rubs at his eyes and scowls, "Young lady, I don't know who you are, but you should know you're trespassing on private property!"

"...technically, my people were here first." She mutters and before he can even question that, his eyes adjust to see her better.

She's a slim blonde, wearing her hair back in a sleek ponytail. She has on what looks like a biker outfit - fingerless gloves, leather jacket, tank top, jeans and big clunky boots.

While she's lowered the flashlight, he can also pick out that she's sitting on her ass in the water much like he is and he scowls as he rises, doing his best to wipe the lake water oft his clothing.

She, however, doesn't rise and - if anything - looks wildly uncomfortable as she stares up at him. Stares with her one eye, the other patched and he frowns, gesturing to it, "How did that-?"

"It was an accident." She sighs, "I was taking care of it, until you came stomping through."

Then, under her breath, she adds, 'Typical Travis' and he snaps, "Look, do I know you? Because you're certainly acting like-!"

"No." Her voice is soft and...oddly sad, as she adds, "You don't know me. Why would you?"

He's not sure why she sounds sad, but he does know that she's trouble. He can't have her stumbling around in the middle of the night when there's werewolves on the loose - even if she is armed...

...which is concerning.

Again. Trouble. That's what she is and he gestures at her to rise, "Alright, get up."

"Um..." The girl looks at her legs, "Now would be a bad time..."

Not only is she trouble, but she's obstinate. Great. Travis reaches for her, "I'm not screwing around here, you've broken the law and you're in a lot of trouble, now get up!"

She shoots him a look as if he's stupid, "I can't."

"Oh, bullshit!" He scoffs, "You were moving perfectly fine five seconds ago! Now get-!"

Travis reaches down and grabs one of her arms, tugging roughly on it. The girl struggles, complaining that he's hurting her and that 'No, seriously, she can't stand up right now!' and he's really at the end of his rope when it comes to patience.

They're struggling in the water and the light she shone in his face earlier rolls around, revealing itself as a waterproof flashlight, one that highlights the rips in her jeans and that's when he sees it

Travis releases her, alarmed, because she has scales. He saw them. A flash of silver, but he knows they were there and he suddenly goes for the flashlight, takes it, and points it at her legs.

Sure enough, he sees patches of scales where her clothing is torn, and she shoots him a baleful look, as if to say, 'See? I told you.'

But instead, all he can say is, "Wait...I do know you..."

Her eyes go big and Bambi-like and it's almost as if she's holding her breath.

Fair enough, because he's ready to let her have it, "You're the fish girl! The one my niece told me about! The one who helped Silas escape! You tell me where he is right now or else!"

[blackdragonmedicdean]

I did a thing 

[lilibethdrawsreylo]

Sneak peek

I'm working on my next hackearney fic, and while I still have several months of writing ahead of me, I can share a short sneak peek with you. No beta, but very mysterious. ;)

Laura comes to North Kill for a grad school research project. Travis is a supernatural entity (kinda?) that pretends to be a sheriff when he encounters people in the woods. The actual sheriff is in on it; here, Laura comes to see him after a brush with a very human danger.

...Laura kinda hoped she was gonna need an appointment or something—to turn tail and come back later. But the receptionist nods at her after saying Laura’s name into a dated office phone’s receiver and stands up to show her the way, as if getting lost between unoccupied desks was a real possibility. It says Sheriff H. Hunnem right there on the frosted glass door.

She knows instantly this isn’t him. While technically she could be looking for a deputy, her gut has been telling Laura she needs the sheriff, and she’s been… bracing, almost, for coming face to face with him. Why, Laura cannot say—not that it matters at the moment.

Sheriff Hunnem is a stocky, older man—probably well into his seventies—with light eyes and drooping gray mustache tinged yellow from nicotine. And he is not the cop who saved her.

“Miss Kearney,” he grouches, rustling through a stack of paper next to his elbow. Finding a dog-eared sheet, the sheriff squints at it. “You left a message about setting up cameras in Hackett Woods, that right? Thought one of my deputies would’ve gotten back to you about that by now.”

“He did, yes.” Feeling like an intruder now that she realized her mistake, Laura perches on a bare wooden chair in front of Sheriff Hunnem’s desk. “That’s not why I’m here, sir.”

“Oh?” Folding the sheet of paper, he places it to the side and directs her a questioning look. “Well then, how may I help you, Miss Kearney?”

“It’s about the man who died. In the, uh, red truck?” Laura shifts uncomfortably under the sheriff’s weary gaze. “There was an article in the North Kill Gazette….”

“That’d be Andrew Mayfield,” he nods. “Nasty fella—over and done with, thankfully, but if you have something to report—”

“I believe—” Breath catches in Laura’s throat, and she has to curl her fingers into fists to mask the sudden tremor. “I believe he intended to attack me yesterday, on Route 919. But he didn’t because there was a, an officer on, I guess, on patrol?” She inhales sharply through her mouth. “I just— I wanted to….”

Leaning forward, Sheriff Hunnem presses a button on his desk phone. “Rosie, bring Miss Kearney some water, will ya? Got a bit of a situation here.”

A minute later the receptionist appears with a full plastic cup and too sympathetic look of someone aching for fresh gossip. Laura thanks her with barely any voice coming out. She drinks the offered water in small, controlled sips, wildly embarrassed at how over the top a reaction she had, considering that nothing happened to her. As far as she’s aware.

Once it’s just the two of them and Laura has calmed down, the sheriff speaks again. “Miss Kearney… I won’t press you for details right now. However, what I can tell you is that none of my guys came across that Mayfield bastard yesterday. So, either your guardian angel wears a uniform, or that officer of yours simply happened to pass through the county. 919 connects two major highways. We get a lot of strangers here,” he sighs, “good and bad.”

“Guess I met both,” Laura mutters, and Sheriff Hunnem chuckles dryly.

“Guess so.”

She goes to push her chair back but stops. “Sir, if somebody was passing through, they couldn’t be on foot, right?”

“...Excuse me?”

“I… don’t think I saw a police car,” Laura admits. She wasn’t sure of it until the words formed on her tongue, sour. Now that they’re out, she can see it clearly in her mind’s eye: no car where there should’ve been one. 

Christ, she must be going through some sort of a mental break.

To his credit, although visibly alarmed, Sheriff Hunnem doesn’t outright call her a crazy woman. “Look, miss,” he says after clearing his throat, “it’s a tough thing to deal with, a close call like the one you had, but I recommend you don’t dwell on it.” He opens his palms in a pacifying gesture. “You are alive and well—at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”

Recognizing the end of the conversation for what it is, Laura nods in agreement and stands up, feeling numbness spread through her following her earlier outburst. Get it together, jeez.

“Thank you for your time, sir.” She manages a tense smile, ready to flee, but before Laura can open the door to the main office area, the sheriff calls her name again.

“About that project of yours, with the cameras and all. Make sure you’re out of the woods by nightfall.” He looks her in the eye, and a shadow of an elm tree outside the room’s only window cuts through the space as the sun blinks from behind patchy clouds. “We’ve got way more predators who feel at home in the dark.”

[be-side-my-self]

Chapter 2: Harvest Festival

Some more about some Side Characters & Travis and Laura meeting at the Harvest Festival/County Fair because of course they do.

Chapter 3: An outsiders perspective

A chapter from the perspective of one of the deputies.

---

A few years after what happened at Hacketts Quarry, Laura is working at the veterinarian clinic in North Kill, creating something like a future for herself. Laura is now in North Kill for more than a year, her relationship with Travis has become a lot better and it’s time for the Harvest festival again, this time even with a fair attached, the first time after the fire of Harum Scarum.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M Fandom: The Quarry (Video Game) Relationship: Travis Hackett/Laura Kearney Characters: Travis Hackett; Laura Kearney; Original Characters Additional Tags: Slow Burn; slow slow burn; Pre-Relationship; idk if this even still pre-relationship? They are pretty much in a relationship; Implied/Referenced Abuse; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Mutual Attraction; They are attracted to each other and not ready to admit it; Older Man/Younger Woman; Lots of Original Characters - Freeform; they are basically on a date; fair grounds; Laura has anger issues; Bad Puns; more tags will be added; ACAB; Not Beta Read; Cooking; Food; conversation driven; Language: English

[cryptidcasanova]

Hound Dog

Werewolf!Jim Hopper x Reader. 

This is a Hellfire Haunts request from @wh0reforbucknasty​ and I’m using the prompt “You’re the devil in disguise.” 

Summary: The full moon meant more trouble than you realized, but you couldn’t have known until it was too late. But don’t worry, Jim will be there for you.

6.8k words. Warnings: 18+ Content, Possessive!Hopper, Smut, Jim is a tease until he isn’t, pheromones, breeding kink.

You knew you shouldn't have been racing through the woods. 

It was the middle of the night, you were less than sober, and you were hardly dressed for the occasion. But you needed to get to Hopper's cabin. 

It was an emergency. Something was wrong.

Maybe it was because Jim stood you up on your date - which was entirely out of character for him. If anything, he was especially eager on those nights. He usually wore a new button-down shirt, sometimes a little tight, to show off his arms. They even kept a table reserved for you at Enzo's.

Or maybe you were on edge because even when you called the station, he wasn't there. 'Hopper left early' was all the deputy could get out before you hung up the phone. 

You were using the payphone just outside the restaurant, slamming it down with enough force to catch the attention of a couple leaving with to-go boxes in their hands.

You tried to rationalize it; really, you did.

So you tried to wait it out inside, sipping away your worries with a bottle of wine Jim liked to sip on. But one glass turned to two, to three, to finishing the bottle. Your head was in your hands, and as hard as you tried, you couldn't help but think something terrible had happened.

What if he was hurt?

What if something was wrong with El?

What if another gate opened?

You pulled yourself up from the table at that thought. The chair screeching underneath you burned against your ears and the ears of the rest of the patrons. Their stares lingered on your skin, but you brushed them off. You felt dizzy and quickly made your way out to Main Street.

The fresh air was calming, and autumn was rolling in. There was a nip in the air as you tried to focus. You drank entirely too much wine.

Your car gave you a weary expression.

You shouldn't drive, couldn't drive. Jim would be pissed if you even considered it. You were going to have to make it to Hopper's on foot.

The moon looked down at you with sympathy. She was shining, full, and bright as you walked into the night. It cast you in a gossamer blanket, a glowing shadow as you took shortcuts through town. You cut through Hackett's farm and old Missus Wilson's flower garden.

But it wasn't until you were about to cut off the main road altogether that you heard a loud, bellowing noise from behind you. It dissolved into a dark, guttural growl in the night.

You picked up your pace. You were right; something was wrong.

There was something in the woods. 

You could hear it in the shuffling of the brush and the crunch of fallen leaves. You decided to make a run for it. And you didn't look back, even as you swore it was catching up. You were panting, urging your legs to keep moving through the old pathway cut out from the tires of Jim's truck.

If you could just get to him - if you could know he was safe, you could fight it together.

You huffed out a heavy, sad breath.

You needed to tell him how you felt. You had been going on little dates here and there, and more often than not, your house was the place to be for movie nights with the kids. Usually, it was some dumb flick from

Family Video, but it brought everyone together. Even the kids noticed. The lingering stares and careful touches were dangerous. You always danced on the cusp of voicing your thoughts to the illusive, hardened cop.

But Jim was more than that. He was learning to be kind and patient, and his heart was three times bigger than when you first met him. You cared about him more than you could admit. 

You were pulled away from your wilting thoughts by the roar of birds flying overhead. They flew out of a tree on the left side of the road, making a beeline in the other direction. 

You decided to heed their warning. 

You curved around the bend in the path, staying to the right side of the tracks.

It wasn't long before you could see the cabin silhouette between the trees. There was a lonely lamp turned on in the kitchen. Hopper's truck was parked out front. You couldn't help feeling relief as you rushed to the front door.

You spared one brief look behind you, swearing you could feel a pair of eyes staring at you through the trees. 

But there was nothing there. There was nothing in the darkness of the night. 

You turned the doorknob without looking at it and hurried into the house, locking it behind you. Hot frantic breathing filled the air, and it took your mind a moment to remember it was coming from you. You stared at the door, remembering to scold Jim for keeping it unlocked the next time you-

You jumped as you stepped back, your back hitting something warm and firm. Hands on your shoulders steadied you, and you turned in his arms to face him.

"J -Jim," Your voice shook with relief, and you let him pull you close. "Oh, thank god, I thought something was wrong. I thought that-" You were breathless. "There's something in the woods! I needed to make sure that you were okay."

When he didn't say anything, you took a deep breath and looked up at him. 

Jim looked frazzled. 

He was burning up. His hair was out of place, his eyes were dark, and you couldn't overlook how his jaw was locked up. It wasn't until then that you realized he was sweating, shirtless, and his pants were hanging lowly on his hips. The curls of his chest hair were clinging to his skin. To say he was disheveled would have been an understatement.

"Are you alright? Where's El?" You asked quickly, looking around the cabin.

"Hold on," he spoke slowly, staring from your mud-covered shoes to the glimmer in your eyes. "You ran all the way out here?" He asked, his voice tense. "Alone?"

He wasn't happy.

"Where's your car?" Jim huffed, putting his hands on his hips.

It was only then that you remembered just how warm your cheeks were. You were so determined to find Jim that you almost forgot the reason you came in the first place.

He stood you up on your date.

You took a grounding breath.

"'It's at Enzo's." You explained, your thoughts returning to you. They changed from drunken woes to clear concerns as you looked back at him. "I drank too much and couldn't drive. Where were you?"

He looked at you with furrowed brows, confusion dark in his eyes.

"I ordered the red wine. The mozzarella sticks," You recounted, watching his expression fall. "So, where. Were. You?"

You pointed a finger into his chest, trying to balance your frustration. But there was a bitter taste on your tongue.

Slow understanding dawned on Hopper's features. It was slow at first, but then it hit him all at once.

"'It's a Thursday," He realized, running a hand over his face.

"It's a Thursday!" You repeated back at him with a bite but stopped when Jim touched your shoulder. “Thursdays are for date nights.” You whispered, refusing to meet his stare. 

A still moment passed by too slowly, and the tension in the air made your belly ache. 

"You have to go home." Jim huffed, the words sour on his tongue. 

With a hand on your back, he turned you around to face the front door.

"Go. Home." He instructed coldly. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

You went still at his bristly tone. He was sending you away. 

The anxious pit in your belly grew.

"Go home? I trudged all the way out here for you." You retorted quickly, shaking your head. You looked at him well and hard, tracing a path from his neck down to the crux with his legs. His jeans were more than just hanging low on his hips - it was like he struggled to get them on and forgot to button them. 

Jim was hot and sweaty and half undressed. He blew off date night and wasn’t expecting you to show up at his door. 

"I said," he gritted, "You need to go home. For both our sakes, I need to be alone." 

Jim wasn't happy, like the words were forced past his tongue. You assessed him sharply, but your breath stopped short. 

Your thoughts went to the worst-case scenario. In your drunken stupor, you took a sobering step out of his hold.

Maybe Jim wasn't as alone as you thought.

Your eyes fell from his and drifted to where the curtains to his bed were closed tight. 

Your belly ached. Maybe you were right. Something was wrong. Your old, insecure feelings towards Joyce, Sandra, Lindsay, and all of the other girls in Jim's life were pulled to the front of your mind. 

It was no wonder why you were feeling on edge. 

Jim could see the faraway look in your eyes. He moved to touch you, but you flinched out of his grip. 

“Honey-“

“Don’t.” You cut him off, wanting it to sound sharp, but it fell flat. 

Your dejection left a bitter tinge in the air. 

It made Hopper take a heavy breath, and you watched the slow exhale from his chest. His cheeks were hot. Jim was frustrated. 

You didn’t understand. He needed you to understand. 

“There’s no one else here. It’s just you and me.” Jim assured. “El went to Max’s house for a sleepover.”

The lull of his words was slow and purposeful. 

“But it’s not safe to be here. Not tonight,” Your sarcastic, gruff man was exceptionally tender. At your core, they shook the walls you were building up. It almost made your knees weak. “Baby, look at me.”

Your eyes flitted back to his, noticing just how dark they were. 

Jim didn’t look like himself at all. 

He was immense and imposing, looking down at you like he was trying not to scare you away. He was trying to make himself look smaller than he really was. The jealousy bubbling in your veins came out in short, angry breaths. Your mind was having trouble keeping up with the assumptions of your heart.

"There's no one else." 

Jim took a step closer, but you didn't back away this time. 

Good, he thought. That meant something was working in his favor.

"There's no one else." He reaffirmed, taking your hand and lifting it up against his cheek. 

The bristles of his beard scratched your palm. You let him hold it there and realized just how hot his skin was. Hopper's skin was flushed, and he leaned into your touch. Maybe he was sick. Maybe that's why he missed date night.

He sniffed at the crux of your wrist. A slow moment passed, and he placed a gentle kiss there. 

"I'm all yours, angel."

When you looked up at him, his expression shifted. Jim's eyes were softer. They were playful, teasing even. It was a drastic shift from the first moment you saw him.

His entire body language changed suddenly, like he was playing coy. You pulled your hand back to your side. His palm brushed from your cheek down the slope of your neck, tugging on the shoulder of your dress. He was pulling the cloth down your arm as best he could. 

The slow, rumbling noise from his chest made your heart thump. His eyes found yours instantly.

"Come on, you know me better than that. That's not why I missed date night."

"Then what happened?" 

So impatient.

Jim flashed you a slow grin, his teeth a sharp contrast to the low lighting. His dark eyes were raking further down your body than his hands.

"You wore all this for me?" He asked, avoiding your question altogether. "I don't know what I was thinking, telling you to go. You should stay, really you should."

You felt dizzy at his push and pull. He wasn't making any sense.

"Jim, what has gotten into you tonight?" You asked, hardly registering that he was moving forward, leading you back until you hit the door.

His hand rested against the frame, and he was so close, looking down at you with a hungry gaze. Were his hands always that big?

"Jim-" You started but were cut off.

"You're thinking so loud." He complained, his free hand digging circles into your hip. "What's got you so worked up? You thought there was a big, bad monster out there a minute ago. You need someone to protect you? Someone big and strong?"

You blinked, swearing there was a glow in his dark eyes.

"Jim, you're starting to scare me."

He offered with a toothy smirk before lowering his head. He was eye-to-eye with you, his eyes dancing down to your lips before popping back up.

"There's nothing to be scared of. It's just me."

He pressed his body into yours, warming you up against the chill of the night.

"I want to kiss you so bad. You have no idea. It's all I think about," Jim swallowed, tilting his head to the side, "Well, maybe not all I think about."

The moment his hips ground into yours, your thoughts spiraled. The hard ache between his legs left you speechless. 

The Jim you knew was coy and playful but never so forward. He was rocking you into the door, slow and purposeful.

"You smell so good. Can't you smell it?" The sound that rumbled in his chest sounded hauntingly familiar. "Want to tear you apart," He urged, "I could eat you up."

You thought back to running in the dark, running to him for safety from whatever was lurking in the shadows. 

It wasn't something from the upside down. 

The glint in Jim's eye was enough to confirm your suspicions.

"There's no monster outside, is there?" You asked, remembering the haunting noises you heard in the woods. His eyes creased in amusement.

Jim bit his lip seductively as he assessed you.

"Are you going to run? Make me catch you?"

You took a shuddering breath.

"Go then." He taunted, strands of hair falling in his face. "Run for it, honey. Give me a chase." The sly look in his eye made your blood boil. 

You want to kick and fight and be strong, but the back of your mind can't help but drift. What would Jim do if you tried to run for it? 

He watched you with the eyes of a predator, and your stomach flipped at the thrill of it. What was he doing to you? Did he always smell that good? You couldn't think clearly.

"You're the devil in disguise." You faltered, pushing against his shoulders.

Jim pulled back, looking at you with a tormenting smirk. Were his eyes darker? Were his teeth sharper? 

"Not quite," he bit his lip in amusement. 

"Are you gonna hurt me, James?"

You swore you could feel his body shaking. Your question was candid, his eyes locking on you for a long moment before he was broken out of his spell.

You called him by his birth name, and Jim's restraint snapped.

"Only when you beg me to."

His whisper broke you out of his hypnotic hold.

You pushed at his shoulders to get away, and he didn't stop you. You made a beeline away from him. When your brain finally caught up, you realized you were heading toward the closest room in the house - the bathroom. 

You could hear the hint of a chuckle from Jim, but you didn't dare to look back. He wasn't chasing after you. You shut and locked the bathroom door, pushing yourself into the corner furthest corner. You needed to think about this.

For a moment, it was quiet. You looked around to find something to protect yourself. But between El's lipgloss and a stack of towels, you felt lost. You put your head in your hands. You didn't know what to do.

"Despite your best intentions," Jim's voice teased from the other side of the door, "You can't get away from this. I'm not a bad dream, babe. You came to me, remember?"

Usually, you could hear every creak and groan of the wooden floors, but he was silent. Jim was sneaking up on you. You could hear his finger tapping on the other side of the hardwood door. 

It was tormenting.

"Jim," You pleaded, "I just want to go home."

"I think you knew, deep down," he kept going, "I think you needed me; came to me. You knew that I needed you, too." He spoke up now, the timber of his words making your heart ache. "You can't hide in there forever."

No shit.

You didn't know what was worse; the fear of what you didn't understand or the thrill that went down your spine at Hopper's words.

That wasn't your Jim..or maybe it was. It was all so confusing. You paced around the cramped space, the skirt of your dress making the shower curtain sway.

You caught the moon's reflection in the mirror outside the bathroom window and spun around on your heel.

The moon.

Full and bright, it shone down on the cabin. It was a full moon. 

Of all the crazy things you had seen, between the upside down and the soviet spies, your belly ached to think something else could be out there. 

No, no, no.

You didn't want to believe it. The laugh that left your lips was bitter.

"There's no way." You whispered, stepping over to the window sill. "It's impossible."

If you opened the window and jumped out, you could make a run for it. You could run back into town. You could get help. You faltered as you reached for the lock on the window.

Who would help you?

Who would help you against the chief of police?

"You still with me in there?" Jim asked after a pause, and you staggered out a breath. You could almost see his smirk on the other side of the door.

You had fought monsters and conquered bad guys. But could you handle someone like Jim Hopper?

"Still here." You replied, quietly unlocking the window as you spoke. "It's the moon, isn't it?" 

You didn't really think about it before. Jim was a monster of the night. Even after all the crazy shit you saw in Hawkins, you never pressed Jim about the times he would go off on his own. You never questioned him, not once. He was a grown man and was allowed to have his own life.

You were really kicking yourself for letting him slip under your nose.

"Is that why you joined the force?" You called out, slowly pushing the window open. You prayed he couldn't hear you but cursed when it got stuck. "So you can be the demanding, possessive chief of police without anyone ever realizing why? So they'd never question it?" 

You almost let out a cheer when the window was finally opened but stilled when you heard Jim's growl on the other side of the door. 

"You haven't seen possessive, honey." He called out, and the next moment you heard the wood splintering. He was going to break the door down. 

You gasped, watching it shake against its hinges. 

"You're not scared of the big bad wolf, are you?" He teased with a chuckle. 

The sound of it was haunting, but it caused a wave of mixed signals down your spine. You decided not to feed into his game and scrambled up and out of the bathroom window. 

You just needed to make it until morning. 

You went through the window arms first, your weight crashing down into the dirt with a soft thud. When you finally got your bearings, you didn't hear the wood splintering like you would have hoped. Everything was quiet. You stood a little too quickly, peering into the window with blurry focus to see the door wasn't on the hinges. You could see into the open living room. 

Jim was gone.

Your heart sank in your chest. He was playing games with you.

Shit.

You looked away from the house and made a dash in the other direction. Your buzz was long gone, leaving you with dreadful, sobering thoughts. You couldn't hear birds or crickets in the night. You couldn't hear anything aside from the heavy thudding in your chest and how your breath was coming out in uneven puffs.

The game of cat and mouse only got worse when you slipped on a pile of leaves down the incline you had been trudging up.

It was as if the trees knew what you were doing and watched on with little help. But if you knew anything about animals, oh god, you needed to have the high ground. 

Jim told you that.

You couldn't think straight. Thoughts of glowing eyes and sharp canines tearing into your skin made you shiver in fear. If Jim caught you, he wouldn't let you go. You knew his secret. He could rip you to shreds and scatter whatever was left up to the Illinois border. And he probably knew how to get away with it too.

Your fear was building, capitalizing on top of itself. 

You couldn't go home, you realized. You'd never be able to see the kids again. No more movie nights or carpooling. You would have to be on the run to survive, braving the midwest weather on your own.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't hear the rustling in the bushes until it was too late.

Jim was trailing after you.

You turned again, trusting your legs to propel you away from the danger. You had no way of knowing how much time had passed. So you ran until your hands shook, and your legs finally slipped on the uneven terrain. This was missing from the list of all the ways you thought you would go.  

The cold, hard ground dug into your knees, and you turned quickly, looking up and all around. You were scared to death.

"You're still thinking so loud, angel. I could hear you a mile away." Jim's words broke through the silence and made you snap your head in his direction. "I've got to give it to you; you almost made it to Lover's Lake before getting turned around."

As he rounded a tree, his stance was predatory. His eyebrows were knit together, and his shoulders were squared for a fight. 

"This isn't the chase I had in mind. The window was a nice touch." He offered thoughtfully, nodding off in the distance. You craned your head and gasped. 

The lights from a nearby building made you turn. You were running in a circle back towards the cabin.

He was bringing you back to him all along. 

Your heart stammered in your chest. Jim took a step forward, and you flung your body back, almost panting at the harsh movement.

"Please, please, please trust me," you begged, carefully backing away to the front of the house. "If I had known, I wouldn't have intruded-" Your words were choked, and you tried to stand but stumbled back against an overgrown tree root. Running was pointless. "I would have left you alone. I'm so sorry." You begged.

But you didn't want to die.

He stalked forward, and the moonlight shone on him among the shadows. 

"Please, Jim, don't do this." The withdrawal of your words was biting at his skin. 

He didn't even bother to put shoes on. Between his bare chest and feet, he was only wearing his Levi's. And he was as imposing as ever, stalking through the cold dirt.

And when he was finally close, leaning in close enough to snatch you up, your brain switched from flight to fight. 

You weren't going to give up so easily.  

"No, no!" You cried, trying to kick and hit his chest. "What will the kids say? I can't leave them."

You were crying, pounding on his chest, and trying to claw him away. But Jim was calm, swift, and caught your hands in his own as he leaned over you.

"Please, Jim, don't," You choked out, shaking your head wildly. "I'm going to miss them so much."

Maybe it was the tremor in your voice or the words themself, but Jim's teasing smirk softened into a line.

"What's got you so scared for?" 

"I don't want to die."

A pregnant silence fell between you, and you stopped pounding on his chest when he stopped and pulled back on his haunches.

"I'm crazy about you. I'm not going to kill you, angel."

Your gasp fell on short ears as he looked you over for injury. Your knee was scraped, but it was nothing serious.

"I wanted to stay away. To keep them safe. To keep you safe," Jim kneeled down next to you, keeping your hands still. "I don't have the best self-control. But maybe the safest place for you is with me."

"Jim-"

And then the look in his eye stunned you into silence. Longing, wanting. His resistance is at its thinnest. And then you smelled it. The lingering aftershave on his neck, the sweat of his skin. Jim was reeling you in like waves to the shore. And whether or not you knew it, he could see the way your eyes were dilating.

He could have you.

He could take you.

He could take care of you.

"It's still me," He whispered, leaning in as your body started to succumb to it. You were cold but numb to the outside when he let your hands go. You didn't even realize it, holding your arms above your head as his hand traced your collar. "It's still me, angel. You know me."

"Jim-" You faltered, "What did you do?" Your breathing was heavier now, hot against his face. "What did you -"

But he didn't do anything.

It was just him.

Jim was emanating power and protection. He was projecting his need without speaking it. 

He was losing control.

And when he pulled you up and threw you over his shoulder, you couldn't keep your voice down as his hand rested on the bare skin of your thigh under the dress.

It was a split noise of surprise and a moan, jostling you to your core.

What was he doing to you? His smell, his heat. God, he was breathtaking. Your hands rested on his back and down around the hem of his jeans. Your thoughts were blurring together. The skin-on-skin contact was driving you wild. 

Jim was running out of time. 

He trudged back to the cabin through the woods, kicking the door shut behind him. Upside down, you let your eye close for a moment. Jim wasn't going to kill you. He wasn't trying to scare you. He said-

You were pulled from behind his back and dropped onto something cushy, the bedsprings groaning as you realized where he had taken you.

You were back in the cabin, behind his curtain, and on his bed.

You'd barely even kissed the man before.

But you were consumed by his touch; his fingerprints dragging and groping were unforgiving. 

He wasn't the monster you feared at all. 

And when you reached up and touched his chest, the place right over his heart, he knew.

He would never forsake you.

Jim's weight was crushing as he leaned over you, his nose ghosting over your collar and neck before placing a bruising kiss there.

You were his. And the whole goddamned town was going to know it. 

You keened against it, blindly turning your head away to give him more room. His tongue was hot, lathing up and down your skin. Sharp teeth teased at gentle skin.

You were a vision. 

All of Jim's pain, and all his years of anguish, seemed to come to a halt. He deserved peace. He deserved happiness. 

And when he finally gave in and kissed you, you welcomed it willingly. 

His wild, ruthless life was worth the gentle touch of your skin. And he was going to have you. 

He was calming you down and working you up in new ways. 

He shouldn't have pushed you away. He shouldn't have teased you. That poor, fluttering thump of your heart was so loud in his ears. 

And he was so hungry for contact.

Jim's kiss was a poison, the scratch of his beard a saccharine sickness that clouded your thoughts. He was everywhere. You were blind to it. Even as he coaxed himself closer, urging his legs to spread your own, you offered yourself willingly.

Even before you knew what he was, if you dared to say it, you wanted Jim. You cared about him. You hoped he understood that.

His tongue was overwhelming against your own, and you put up a valiant fight.

The air was filled with him. He was everywhere, dousing you in affections so profound you were blind to the rest of Hawkins.

So when he wrestled with the skirt of your dress, billowing around the skin of your hips, you hardly noticed the loud tearing noise in the room. His big, meaty hands tore at it like tissue paper until the material was a rag along your back.

The air was hot with a divine purpose.

Jim was right; he could eat you up.

 So he placed one last kiss on your bottom lip before pulling back on his haunches.

And then he pounced - biting and licking a line up the delicate inside of your thigh.

You jostled with surprise, grabbing hold of his shoulders for any kind of leverage. The heat of his skin and hardness of muscle shifted under your hands. 

It was torture. Your skin was prickling hot.

And when his nose moved, openly bumping over your clothed center, he shuddered with a groan.

He moved you again, pulling your legs up and onto his shoulders. And then he sat up, bringing you with him with your hips in his hands and your ass off the bed.

He was going to tear you apart.

Jim's teeth pulled your panties to the side and snapped. He licked a hot line up your cunt, and you jerked, but he held you in place. A vicious noise tore out from his throat. He dared you to move, his dark eyes glowing against your skin before attacking again. This time it was more than a stripe. He licked and sucked and kissed your weeping cunt. 

You were blossoming before him like a flower in the sun.

And Jim wasn't quiet about it either; every lick, every taste of you clouded his mind and muddled against his tongue. He was lapping up your excitement with grunts and pleased moans. Your legs would twitch, would shake, and he'd praise you for it. 

But he wasn't so far gone to notice how you were writhing beneath him, utterly open to his assault. Your chest heaved, and your back was arching against him, but there was nowhere to go. 

Your mewls and cries were kitten-like. You were crying for him, begging for him. 

You needed more.

Your hands were digging against his knees, your nails only coaxing him to keep going.

So when he finally stopped fooling around and nosed at your clit, he thought he was in heaven. He could feel your legs quake around him.

With one strong hand, he pressed at the small of your back, keeping you up. But the other? He'd have to work you open. He'd make sure you were ready for him.

Jim licked against your clit wantonly, and you didn't realize what was happening until one of his fingers pressed against your opening. He found purchase in your body and was carving out a place for him to stay.

Your skin was flushed, your soft walls coaxing him in. He swore he could feel the beat of your heart in the way you were pulsing against him.

His fingers were splitting you open, and the pads of his fingerprints were taking up residency in a way your body would never forget.

Each curl and drag matched Jim's boisterous lapping at your cunt and clit.

The feverish feeling was too much.

You were begging him for mercy, for an end to your suffering. Jim was knuckle-deep in your heat, hot and warm around you. He was leading you to the end of the line but never crossed it. He'd pull back when your legs would start to shake. He'd stop moving his fingers when your walls were a suffocating vice. He was satisfied watching you squirm.

You were almost babbling against the sheets, shaking and crying with pleasure. 

Jim was going to ruin you.

He finally doubled down on his efforts, letting his own sounds bounce off the walls before shaking you to your core. Your name fell from his lips like syrup. His praises were winding you up and making you tremble. 

White-hot need filled your veins. When you finally came around his fingers, it was with a cry of relief. 

But Jim still held you prisoner, suspended in the air as the aftershocks jostled down your spine. 

And it was torturous bliss.

Jim's eyes found yours once before looking back at the mess he had made. He wasn't finished with you yet.

He pulled away with a nip at your thigh, letting your legs collapse against the bed. 

You were a sticky mess.

Jim didn't even bother to clean you up when he pulled at his own Levi's. They were too tight. The friction of the denim burned against his aching skin, and he fought the overwhelming urge to let his bones snap.

He needed you. He needed to have you.

You'd let him have you, wouldn't you?

The dazed look in your eyes didn't change, not even when he was finally out of his jeans and hovering over you.

"You still with me, angel?"

The gruff tremble of his words made you blink, and you looked up at him with a grin too blissed out to be shy.

"Mhm," You hummed, keeping an eye on his face as he situated himself between your legs. "You scared me."

"Scared you? I got you all worked up?"

"Mhm," You repeated blindly to his teasing, letting him drag you closer to him. And it wasn't until he rubbed his cock against your wet heat that you shuddered back into existence.

He was painting himself in your arousal, sliding down your slit with intention.

"Think you can handle it? Got me all worked up in the woods, coming to see me like that," His words were a whisper of a kiss against your skin. 

He was leaning up now, your throat dry as he hovered there. His face was inches away from yours, his eyes capturing you with a stare. "Maybe I should miss more date nights."

"No," You rushed out, using your hand to hold the side of his face. His chin was still wet.

"No?" He challenged. "You want to show me off; show this town who's yours?"

Your eyes were dark, the idea of anyone else laying their hands on Jim making your blood boil. The sudden jealousy was gone as quick as it came. You arched your hips up to his with a groan. Jim let his own strained noise.

He leaned in quick, a peck against your lips before bracing himself on either side of your shoulders. He was caging you in. 

"You can tell them. You can show them. You can scream my name from Skull Rock if you really want to." He promised, the tip of his cock catching against your skin. 

He wasn't going to be able to play nice for long. His body was tense, muscles all wound up in anticipation. 

"You gonna let this wicked police chief take care of you? Oh, I'll take good care of you." It was torture.

His skin was hot, pulsing against your own. You couldn't let it last.

"Then do it already."

His eyes locked on yours, and Jim smirked something wicked.

"Careful," He warned. 

His hands, like claws, captured the curve of your chest and curled around your sides.

"You. Don't. Know. What. You're. Asking. For," and with each syllable, he breached forward, carving a path into your cunt. 

Invasive. Deeper. Further. Until, at last, he sank to the hilt with a groan. 

You didn't even realize you were holding your breath until he started rocking against your skin. He was staying there, holding you close. Impossibly close. 

You couldn't think. You couldn't breathe. You were lost, paralyzed in Jim's skin, his smell, his sounds. Fuck. Your eyes rolled back as you fell against the pillows.

You were defenseless to it.

You reached for his shoulders for relief, your nails biting into his skin. Jim didn't mind.

You needed to ground yourself but couldn't. He was too big, too much. You called his name but shook. 

He was moving again, selfishly enjoying how your body called out to his own. You were needy, weeping down to the sheets as he snapped his hips forward. It was messy and impatient.

But it felt so good.

Locked in the feel of it, Jim rammed forward, chasing the friction it built. And he didn't stop. 

He couldn't think straight as he drilled into you, his mind flooding with your sinful visage. He could have you any way he wanted. 

He could drag you on top of him and make you bounce on his cock. Jim could tease you until it fit, until you couldn't hold yourself up straight. 

He could spin you around and mount you like a bitch in heat. He could fuck into you with wild abandon, watching your ass shake with each snap of his hips.

He could bend you over the hood of his cruiser, claiming you out in the open. Jim would leave hickies across your skin and make a map of his wildest dreams in bruising kisses. 

It didn't matter how he did it. He'd fuck you until you were dizzy, until you were begging him to take you, mark you, fill you to the brim.

Jim didn't even realize you were shaking in his arms until you were crying out his name. You came with a frightful shout, gushing and pulsing against his cock, sucking him in closer even though you wanted to push him away.

Every sinful daydream he thought of weren't dreams at all. 

Jim had been tormenting you, speaking his fantasies with a growl as he pounded into your skin. It was too much to handle. As hard as you tried to fight it off, his pleasure was bleeding into your own thoughts. 

Your body was ruined underneath his, and Jim snapped out of his revelry. He wasn't going to last.

So he urged your legs up, bending your knees to take him impossibly deeper as he trapped you there. Your half-lidded eyes caught his.

"Honey,"

"Jim," You begged.

“I’ve got you.”

He kissed you then, and all you could do was surrender to it. Spicy and musky, he bled into your senses. Jim was everywhere. Your pulse was uneven, spiking with aftershocks as he moved.

The roll of his hips changed, and you lost a breath in his kiss. Jim was going to be your undoing. And as he chased his own release, his kiss changed. He moved lower, hovering before latching onto the gentle skin of your neck.

Just one bite - just one - and you'd be his.

That thought made his stomach tighten, pleasure flooding through him as he pulsed inside you. With a groan, Jim placed one slow, deliberate kiss on your neck as he spilled into you. 

Your broken, frantic breaths softened into something steady, looking up at him with something akin to yearning.

You wanted him. You needed him.

His wild thoughts couldn’t keep up with the heavy thudding in his chest.

And then, at the last second, he restrained as his teeth danced across your skin. 

Jim pulled away. He conceded. Another night.

He'd have all the time in the world to make you his.

He just hoped he'd find a way to convince El to spend another night at Max's.

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Werewolf Bites and Hot Summer Nights

An AU in which Laura and Max can’t find Hackett Quarry and end up at the Harbinger Motel, before becoming camp counsellors for the summer. Max is moody and secretive and Laura keeps bumping into the grumpiest sheriff with the cutest puppy dog eyes, and when he gives her his number ‘just in case’ a girl can’t help but drunk dial him one night. Cue overprotective and jealous Travis. And shouldn’t the officer get a birthday kiss?

Banter | Enemies to Lovers | Battle Couple | Smut

Start with Chapter One

Chapter Fifteen

“I’m drunk on you,” Laura whispered, a woozy smile on her lips.

She lay on her back on the roof of her dorm building, dressed in a down jacket, ski pants and boots. There was a thick scarf wound around her neck and a beanie falling off her head.

It was below freezing, and Laura’s cheeks stung from cold as she gazed up into the frost-laced heavens. Every star gleamed in the frozen air, but it was the moon she couldn't tear her eyes away from. 

The fat and shining moon, which seemed to swell to ten times its normal size as Laura stared.

She wasn’t a werewolf, and yet whenever the silver light of the full moon lit the sky…

She yearned.

For what, she couldn’t put her finger on. Sometimes she thought she tasted it on the wind. A rich scent she remembered from a dream.

Blood and musk.

Nothing vegetarian, anyway.

It made her hungry, and not for food.

Not for sex, either, though she was plenty horny lately and reached for her vibe night and morning. The fantasies she indulged in were as indistinct as her cravings. Heat. Sweat. Dirt. Teeth. She fantasised about chasing someone down and being chased. Being caught. Pain suddenly seemed alluring in a way it never had before. The delicious ache of being held so tightly by someone that she couldn’t escape and didn’t want to.

If only she could pin down exactly what it was she was craving. A place? A moment? A phenomenon? Whatever it was, it was something so frustratingly intangible that her mind wandered restlessly from person to place to event, her insides aching, She doubted she’d ever find it, let along sink her teeth into whatever it was.

Of course, she thought of him. Of course she did. If it was simple as driving to North Kill and demanding the sheriff take her to pound town and back, she would do it in a heartbeat, pride be damned.

Even if he didn't want her in his life.

He couldn't resist her if she had her mind set on seducing him. But sex with him? As wonderful as it was, that wasn’t everything. That wasn’t enough. 

So she lay on top of her building, drunk on moonlight, gripped by longing until the moon finally set, and her mind and heart were her own for another four weeks.

Mostly.

More or less.  

Because she was still haunted night and day by the memory of a man who’d driven himself inside her only to wrap her in his arms and stay like that, holding on, while he groaned like a starving man in her ear, Laura.

***

The February snow drifts were standing four feet deep when the new deputy got out of his car and grinned at Travis.

“Deputy Sheriff Noah Briggs, reporting for duty, sir.”

Noah had a round, honest face, almost puppyish, with a look in his eyes like he was eager to please. Too bad for him that nothing had pleased Travis since the summer and wasn’t likely to in the near future, either.

Travis nodded solemnly at the boy, his hands on his hips. “Welcome to North Kill, Deputy Briggs. I’ll show you around.”

He turned and walked slowly back into the station, waiting for Noah to catch up.

An amused, feminine voice echoed through his mind. Look at you, showing off to the newbie. Swaggering around like the big bad sheriff.

It had become a bad habit for him to hear a certain person teasing him in his mind.

It had become an even worse habit for him to answer back.

I am the big bad sheriff.

He felt her amusement. This ghost. 

There were so many ghosts in North Kill, yet he was haunted by someone who wasn’t even dead.

As he walked the deputy around the station, showing him the renovations that were being done, the rooms Travis was clearing out and refurbishing, Travis was struck once again by how young this man was. Not in years, because he was twenty-seven. He was wide-eyed in wonder about everything, including the fact that Travis had given him his very own office.

There was a metric fuck-tonne of digital records to be filed and Travis set Noah down in front of his brand-new computer to get started on it.

“Get through that lot first and I’ll consider taking you out on patrol,” Travis told the young man gruffly, and headed for the door.

It was going to take some time before he was used to having someone in the station again after six long years of rattling around in it by himself.

Travis had court documents to file and evidence reports to write up thanks to a car thief from two counties over going on a joy ride through North Kill and crashing into a tree on the east side of the quarry.

Just after six, he stuck his head through the door of Noah’s office to see his new deputy busily typing away, his face lit by the blue glow of the screen.

“How are you getting on?” Travis asked, hearing the drawl in his voice and feeling himself swagger into the room before immediately straightening up and changing to a normal walk before someone could comment.

The deputy was immediately flustered and shuffled his papers. “Oh—ah—good. I think.”

Travis took a look over his shoulder. Noah had got through a huge swathe of documents and had even entered them into the system correctly.

He nodded approvingly. “All right. Tomorrow, I’ll start you on answering the phones and the protocol for dispatching the sheriff’s team.”

“The team?”

“Me.” Travis glared as he saw Noah’s hopeful look. “And, maybe, yourself. Once you know your way around the county. Come on, time to go home.”

As they pulled on their jackets, Noah said, “I’m excited to see more of the county and what sort of policing you do here.”

“There’s not a lot of anything, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“But that’s not true! I’ve been reading up about the county, sheriff. Seems there are some missing persons cases. Hikers, and a journalist.”

“Consider those cases closed,” Travis said firmly, shepherding him out the front door and locking up.

“But shouldn’t we reopen them now that—”

Travis clamped a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward his car. “If and when we look at these cases again it will be because there’s new evidence.”

There wouldn’t be any new evidence. Nothing would tie Bobby to the missing journalist, or Chris, Kaylee, and Caleb to the two half-eaten and very dead hikers. Travis had made sure the remains would never see the light of day.

The Hackett’s had a long history of burying criminal secrets. The tunnels beneath the Hackett house were filled with the paraphernalia of their rum-running past, but the family’s crimes would end with Travis. He’d managed to keep Kaylee and Caleb out of trouble, and it was going to stay that way.

As for Ma, her death was on record as accidental death, and the less he thought about her, the better.

Footsteps were crunching up the path toward them and Travis turned to see his brother Chris, looking a little like the Michelin Man in a overstuffed down jacket.

“Travis, is your new deputy joining us for dinner?” Chris stuck out his hand and smiled at Noah. “Nice to meet you, young man. My brother hasn’t managed to chase you off yet?”

The deputy couldn’t decide who he wanted to please most, Chris by laughing or Travis by keeping a straight face, so he settled for an awkward cough and shook Chris’ hand.

“I was just heading home to…”

“No going home. Come and have a meal with us so we can welcome you to North Kill. I’m sure Travis was just about to invite you.”

Travis was not, but he followed his brother and Noah up the street without saying anything.

As he stepped into the diner, the warm scent of fries and sizzling beef patties washed over him.

Bobby, Caleb and Kaylee were seated at their usual Friday night table. Bobby was drinking a chocolate shake and was the first to spot them, and he waved Chris and Travis over with a grin.

Travis made deadpan introductions, his mind on what he’d order. As if that would ever change. A burger and fries, medium rare, with fried onions and an extra pickle. Kaylee would sneak his fries to dip into her creamed spinach and he’d let her get away with it until he’d finished his second pickle.

He didn’t pay Noah any attention until the young man started stammering and had flushed red.

“N—nice to m—meet you.” Noah was staring at Kaylee like she was an angel who’d tumbled out of heaven.

Travis rolled his eyes. Chris caught his look behind Noah’s back and grinned.

Kaylee got to her feet. “I’ll go wash up.”

“Me, too,” Noah immediately replied, and followed her to the back of the restaurant.

“That’s the last time he’s coming to dinner,” Travis muttered as he sat down, and reached for a menu even though he didn’t need it. The food here had been the same for decades. “Better keep those two apart.”

Chris laughed as he took his seat in the booth by the window. “Why?”

Travis raised an eyebrow at his brother over the menu. “You really want your daughter dating a cop?”

“Hell, no. You’re all miserable bastards and you’re impossible to nail down when you’re needed, but what am I supposed to say to her? The more you’re told you’re not allowed something, the more you want it.”

For some reason, Travis pictured Laura.

He forced his scowl to deepen and replied with, “Hmph.”

“What are you looking so grumpy about, Tee-Tee?”

Kaylee had come back, and she dropped into her seat with an innocent expression on her face, though Travis thought she looked more animated than usual.

Noah was one step behind and had overheard her use the baby nickname she had for her uncle, and a smile hovered around his lips.

Travis narrowed his eyes at his niece, but just then the waitress came over to take their order.

The normalcy of it all finally made him relax. 

As he ate his burger and crunched on his pickle, Travis listened to his family chatter about what they had done this week. He thought he could soak it up forever, this quiet togetherness. No furtive conversations about curses. No new wounds or accidents or deaths.

Dad had passed away in December. He hadn’t been eating right or taking care of himself since Ma died, and he caught pneumonia.

He’d passed away in a hospital bed with his family around him. Travis thought he would never open his eyes again after falling unconscious, but on that last day, Dad’s eyelids flickered, and he’d grabbed Travis’ arm.

“You ever see that girlie again, you kill her, Travis. Do you hear me?” He wheezed the words over dry lips, but everyone heard them.

Later, after the funeral and at the end of the wake, Kaylee had asked him, “The day Pop passed away. What ‘girlie’ was he talking about?”

“I don’t know.” Travis had kissed his niece’s cheek and gone home.

Not to his house behind the police station.

To the Hackett house, with all it’s painful memories, mouldy rooms and hostile atmosphere. It belonged to him now.

The beloved and cherished eldest son.

***

Laura puffed a strand of hair out of her eyes and gazed dispassionately at the illustration of a cat’s kidneys. It was nearly eleven on a Saturday night and she was one of the last stragglers in the college library.

Her eyes slid over to her laptop. She’d been tempted by it all afternoon and evening. One Google search in particular. One she’d made so many times before. 

She glanced again at the kidneys.

You know what? Enough kidneys for today.

Seizing hold of her laptop, she pulled it closer and typed into the search bar, Northkill County Gazette.

It came up right away and she hungrily scanned the headlines. The paper covered the towns of North Kill, Grand Oaks, and a handful of others. Checking the local papers was her way of keeping track of a certain someone, even if he wasn’t often mentioned by name.

But sometimes he was, and she had proof that he was real. His heart was beating. His body was strong and warm and vital.

Three months ago, someone had taken a joyride through the country and crashed against a tree, though they were thankfully not seriously injured.

When asked to comment, Sheriff Hackett called the driver an “idiot” but would say no more on the matter.

Laura had grinned like a fool as she’d read that sentence, able to hear his derision from hundreds of miles away.

Not a lot went on in the county and the main story was that Rose who owned the diner celebrated her fortieth anniversary there. 

A small headline caught Laura’s attention: Mauled hiker across the border in Essex County.

She frowned and read the accompanying text, what little there was of it. Two nights ago, a hiker had been camping in Green Mountain National Forest when he was attacked by a wild animal. He was fine apart from deep claw marks and shock.  

Two nights ago had been the full moon.

Laura sat back with a thump. A werewolf? Or something ordinary?

It had crossed her mind several times that whatever had bit Silas was still out there, possibly rampaging around and killing and infecting more people.

Then there were Laura’s strange, wolf-like symptoms, though she never turned at the full moon.

What if the curse wasn’t broken? What if Laura felt this way because it lived on in her, and it wouldn’t end until she’d killed the wolf who was next up in the chain? The one who’d bitten Silas.

Though could she call herself cursed when all it did was make her restless and drunk on moonlight around the full moon?

And the loneliness. Don’t forget the crushing loneliness.

Laura closed her laptop and packed up her things. She could never forget the loneliness.

As she emerged from the library, a warm wind hit her nostrils and she moaned in pleasure.

The seasons were turning. She smelled summer.

Laura had always been a fall girl. Hot drinks and sweet baked good were her favourite treats, eaten as chilly winds blew and golden leaves blew across the sidewalks.

Now it was summer she yearned for. Summer, with its huge, open skies encrusted with stars, the sharp scent of pine trees, cicada chirps echoing across a serene lake.

If only she could…

Laura stopped dead. Her heart beat faster.

She couldn’t…could she?

That would be stupid.

Reckless.

Everyone would hate the idea.

Laura nibbled on her thumbnail, lost in thought. Weighing up the pros and cons. Well, what else was she going to do, mope around Mom and Dad’s place and get a part time job at the local café? She’d drive herself mad.

She could do it.

Oh, he’d be so mad.

But he wasn’t the boss of her.

A smile tugging at her lips, Laura pulled out her phone and dialled a number. The person on the other end answered right away. “Kaylee? Can you do me a favour? You can say no. I’ll understand.”

Kaylee laughed. “Please, anything for the saviour of Hackett’s quarry. What do you need?”

***

Travis examined the hunter’s permit and ID using his torch, and then flashed the light in the man’s face. The name and ID were all in order. He took one more scrupulous glare at the permit just for good measure, and then handed it back.

“Good hunting. Enjoy Hackett’s Wood.”

“Thank you, sheriff.” The hunter tipped his fingers to his trucker cap, stuffed the permit back in his pocket and got back into his car.

Now that deer hunting was allowed once more, Travis had to get used to seeing strangers in these parts. As long as everyone had their correct permits, camped where they were supposed to and took their litter with them, Travis supposed he could bear it. He and Chris split the revenue and the money was needed if he was ever going to renovate that goddamn family home.

Some days he wondered if it would be better to tear the whole place down and start again. Only the thought of what he might find in the rubble, put there by earlier generations of unscrupulous Hacketts, made him hesitate.

Skeletons upon skeletons, no doubt.

Just as he was going to get back into his cruiser and drive off into the night, a car roared by him at an alarming speed. A little blood red Honda Civic that had seen better days but could still tear up the road.

Goddamn kids.

It wouldn’t be one of the camp counsellors, because camp didn’t open until tomorrow. Someone from out of town no doubt, enjoying their near-empty roads.

Travis got into his cruiser, flicked the lights on with a grim expression and set off in pursuit. As he accelerated, the full moon followed alongside him, racing through the trees, keeping pace with him like an old rival.

Red taillights appeared ahead. It only took one blast of his sirens for the Civic to pull over.

He could see the outline of the driver as he got out of his car, and it was a woman.

As he approached the door, he began, “Ma’am, step out of the—”

But the woman was already opening her door and stepping out of the car. A slender, blonde woman with a proud lift her chin and a bounce in her step.

There was trouble in every flick of her perky ponytail.

She turned toward him, and Travis felt his heart and stomach plummet from his body and rebound up into his throat.

Laura Kearney put one hand on her hip and smiled at him, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, hello, Officer Grumpyface. Are you my welcoming committee?”

His eyes raked her from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.

Hiking boots.

Long, strong and slender legs.

A summer dress that revealed a generous amount of her thighs and was cut low to loosely drape her full...

Goddamn.

At her throat and left shoulder there were scars that shone silver in the moonlight, but it wasn’t them he was focused on in this moment.

It was her.

Laura dropped her hand and walked toward him. She almost prowled as she put one booted foot in front of the other, approaching him slowly.

Did you miss me, baby? she asked.

Or did she? For a split second, had those blue eyes flashed a hungry yellow in the moonlight?

Travis swallowed, feeling his Adam’s apple bob.

Laura stopped right in front of him, gazing up at him as she murmured through a smile, “How have you been? I don’t know about you, but I sure have missed hot summer nights at the quarry.”

His heart pounded in his chest.

His palms were sweaty.

His body tingled at the memory of her pressed tight against him. She was close enough to touch.

Finally, he found his voice and growled, “Laura. What are you doing here?”

He wasn’t even sure she was here. This felt like a hallucination.

Laura blinked long, faux-innocent lashes, and Travis felt his eyes narrow.

The brat.

“Didn’t anyone tell you? I’m a camp counsellor. I’m going to be staying at Hackett’s Quarry all summer.”

No. No one had told him anything, and he didn’t need any cop training or experience to smell that this was on purpose. Laura had hidden her intentions from him.

And now here she was, gift-wrapped in a pretty dress, her cornsilk hair glowing and her soft lips glossy and slightly parted, just for him.  

And she’d be staying all summer?

Oh hell no.

***

Whoop! Time to get back to what the title of this fic is all about, baby. Werewolf bites and hot summer nights. Thank you so much for reading!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN