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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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t-shirt

Day 8, Story #1 is by @accio-broom

Title: t-shirt Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Ron Weasley / Hermione Granger Prompt: Cuddling Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None

In the morning when you wake up, I like to believe you are thinking of me And when the sun comes through your window, I like to believe you’ve been dreaming of me.

Hermione Granger isn’t the kind of girl who struggles to get out of bed, especially when there are pressing Head Girl duties to attend to. Her to-do list is as long as her arm, she has five essays to write and a whole raft of other bits and bobs she needs to see to.

But right now, with the sun peeking through the edges of the heavy curtains surrounding her four-poster bed, she wants to bask in the aftermath of her dream just a little longer. Even as her dorm mates start to clatter around the room, getting ready for the day, she snuggles deeper under her duvet and shuts her eyes, trying her best to get back to her own little world.

Is Ron doing exactly the same thing right now? He loves his bed, and always complains when she forces him out of it earlier than he wants. Is he having the same lovely dreams as her? Probably not, he’s been away on an extremely secretive training mission for the past five days, and he isn’t a fan of sleeping on the floor. Still, she likes to think that even the memory of her has been keeping him warm at night, even if he isn’t comfortable wherever he is.

Dreaming.

Her dreams last night were amazing.

They were in the Gryffindor common room, sprawled across the comfiest sofa next to the fire. He’d untucked her blouse, and one of his hands was under the white material, massaging her bra-clad breasts whilst he buried the other somewhere underneath her school skirt. He was only wearing his plaid pyjama bottoms, which were doing nothing to hide his growing excitement, and the faded orange Cannon’s t-shirt he often wore to sleep.

She loves that top. It’s threadbare and far too small for him, accentuating his muscles, and exposing patches of his skin. She likes to wind her fingers through the holes, count the freckles she can see as they explore each other’s bodies. Dream Hermione couldn’t get enough of Ron’s skin; she licked and sucked at his neck while her hips lifted to press against his, grounding into his erection and causing the delightful friction she can never get enough of.

Despite their public position, there had been no panicking about being caught or interrupted. She was consumed in Ron, and he in her. The most perfect dream.

But it was all a dream. Hermione is still at school and Ron is in the Auror Academy, and they are facing months of separation. If he does well in his mission, he’ll pass his assessments and move on to the next stage. There will be no passionate make-out sessions, heavy petting, or sex anywhere until her Easter holidays at the earliest, and it definitely won’t be happening at school.

I know, ‘cause I’d spend half this morning, thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in I should know, ‘cause I’d spend all the whole day, listening to your message I’m keeping.

With a heavy huff, she rolls onto her back and reaches under the mattress for the pristine parchment she has hidden there.

Over the years she’s known Ron, she could safely say that he was rubbish at writing to her. Summer breaks and Christmas holidays passed without a single word from him. But their newly fledged relationship, combined with her leaving in September, seemed to inspire a completely different side to the boy. If he was at home, she could now expect Pidwidgeon almost every morning, and each letter the owl delivered was soppier and longer than the last.

It is clear that Ron misses her.

She finds her wand under her pillow and pulls it out, tapping it against the paper before discarding it again. It begins to unfold, revealing a whole pile of messages from her beau, Ron’s familiar unintelligible scrawl decorating every inch of them. If she hadn’t spent the last six years deciphering his essays, she might have struggled to read them, but now she devours every word, the familiarity somewhat easing her home-sickness.

In his first letter he reminds her that she has to keep these letters secret, to hide them safely away from prying eyes. Ron doesn’t want anyone getting their hands on them, a panic magnified by the fact that Hermione is sharing a dorm with Ginny this year.

“Just imagine what they’d say,” Ron writes, and Hermione can picture the tips of his ears turning bright pink as his quill scratches against the parchment. “I don’t want them to take the piss.”

She’d written back, assuring him that his letters were safe and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of his ability to express his feelings. It’s the sign of a mature man.

Plus, she finds the confidence in his words sexy.

Letting her fingers trail over the paper, Hermione allows herself to get lost in the things he tells her. There’s the boring, mundane things, like how work is going and pleading with her not to get riled up over her latest marks (which ended up being perfect, of course). Next, come the promises and their plans for life post-Hogwarts. They want to get a flat together and go on a lovely holiday, where they can be alone for a whole week. Each sentence makes the smile on her face grow even bigger.

She takes her time, savouring how close to Ron they make her feel. She misses him like crazy. When she packed her trunk last September, she couldn’t even imagine how hard being apart from him would be. She’s an independent woman, a war heroine, in fact, but the yearning and pining for the guy drove her mental on occasion. She hates that she’s so reliant on him now.

Still, there are only a few more months left of her school year, and then they’ll be together forever.

The words run out, and Hermione lets out a heavy sigh. She sits up, tapping the paper again with her wand before stowing it safely back in its hiding spot. Feeling ready to face the day, she swings her legs out of bed and throws back her curtains, catching Ginny by surprise.

“Good morning!” Hermione smiles as she springs out of bed.

“Is it?” Ginny complains in return. “It’s snowing, which means no Quidditch.”

Hermione collects her things and heads for the shared bathroom with a chuckle, not letting the thought of bad weather affect her good mood.

⁂

When I saw you, everyone knew, I liked the effect that you had on my eyes But no one else heard the weight of your words or, felt the effect that they have on my mind.

Today’s Head Girl duties include monitoring the monthly visit to Hogsmeade. As a seventh-year, Hermione is allowed out of the castle anytime she wants, as long as she tells her Head of House. But the younger children always need supervising. Even with the war over, and the threat of Voldemort over, they still need to be cautious.

It’s her favourite part of the month. Being cooped up in the castle is so oppressive after a year spent camping in forests and hiding on cliff tops, so being out in the village helps clear her head.

If she gets five minutes, she may even be able to pick up Ron’s birthday present. There’s still a week until the big day, and chances are, he’ll probably still be away for work, but she wants to collect it now, just in case. She’ll wait until she sees him face to face before she gives it to him.

The late February snow is trying to melt, but the keen Scottish wind keeps the last of it lingering around. Hermione stands in her usual spot outside Honeydukes, watching as the students enter the shop then leave with their arms full of treats. Her parents would have an aneurysm if they saw the number of sugary treats devoured by the children in the school. Just the amount Ron consumes would set them off.

The thought of her boyfriend brings another smile to her lips, though it does nothing to stave off the cold. What she wants right now is to be cuddled up in Ron Weasley’s strong arms, a mug of Molly’s delicious hot chocolate and a roaring fire, and in that particular order, too.

A loud pop distracts her as someone apparates at the bottom of the lane. Over the heads of raucous students, a tall stranger appears, bundled up warm against the cold. She finds her gaze drawn to the newcomer, and she immediately recognises the bounce in his step as he walks past the rows of shops and hordes of students.

Hermione’s heart beats in an unsteady rhythm against her ribcage, her eyes widen, and the air disappears from her lungs. As the man draws closer, she catches a peek of red hair under a bright orange bobble hat and the long, thin nose that so often grazes against hers as they kiss. But what draws her to the man is his deep blue eyes, which she can see shining up the street from a million miles away.

It’s Ron.

With an uncharacteristic squeal, she takes off from her spot, trying her best to keep her balance in the ice as she throws herself at her boyfriend. Arms and legs lock around his long, gangly body with such force he’s almost bowled over. He compensates with long fingers clinging on to her as she buries her head against the crock of his neck. Her senses ignite as she takes a long breath, drinking in the smell of him—clean, with a hint of sandalwood and eucalyptus.

“What are you doing here?” she mumbles against his skin, her lips finding a path between his knitted scarf and stubble up his pale neck.

Ron moans at the assault from her kisses. “Missed you, is all.”

Hermione Granger has always been an intelligent girl, so it’s a surprise to her that a handful of words can turn her mind to mush. Right now, despite the fact she’s supposed to be on Head Girl duty, all she can focus on is the handsome man in her arms, and the fire blazes through her skin at their contact, even through layers of clothes.

Falling.

Forgetting that they’re in a public place, Hermione’s mouth seeks his, and they fall into a hungry kiss. Teeth clash, noses bump together, yet after weeks away, it’s the best thing in the world. The taste of peppermint and chocolate frogs spreads across her tongue, taking her straight back to lazy summer days spent snogging out by the lake at the Burrow.

Just as her lungs feel like they might explode, Ron tears his lips away from hers, and he flashes her one of his patented lop-sided grins. If she didn’t have her legs firmly wrapped around him, she might have gone weak at the knees.

With a chuckle, he teases, “Guess you missed me too?” All Hermione can do is nod in reply, overwhelmed by his sudden appearance. “Good! I missed you so fucking much. My mission finished early, but Harry is still away, and I didn’t know what else I could do to distract me from worrying about the results.”

“Oh, glad to see I’m your second option,” Hermione chides, although her massive smile does not falter. “How did you know I was here?”

“Ginny has been sending me your Head Girl schedule for months. Not that I’m keeping tabs on you,” he adds. “Just wanted to make the most of any opportunity I might have to see you.”

Impressed by his cunning plan, she presses one final hard kiss against his lips before removing herself from their reunion embrace. “Well, since it’s your birthday in a week, I guess I better start spoiling you.”

She tangles their fingers together before starting to lead him down the lane.

“But what about your duties?” he questions. “I didn’t think your slot finished until lunchtime?”

“It doesn’t, but I don’t think it will matter if I skive off a little earlier. Especially given the circumstances.”

With her back turned, she misses the look of glee that passes over Ron’s face before his eyes turn dark. She’s too absorbed in her mission to buy him all his favourite treats, cavities be damned, then curl up in a cosy corner by the fire in the Three Broomsticks so that she can do some serious catching up with him.

Their palms press together as they walk, filling her body with warmth. Ron is back where he belongs, and even if it’s only for a few hours, this feeling is a hundred times better than any of the letters he sends while they’re apart.

I know, ‘cause I’d spend half this morning, thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in, I should know, ‘cause I’d spend all the whole day, listening to your message I’m keeping,

Not that she plans on ever getting rid of them.

and never deleting.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #romione #ron x hermione

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the-slasher-files · 4 years

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Hello there! I’m back with another request. Can you write some headcanons of Michael, Jason, Bo and Bubba if their S/O was an artist? I’m an artist and I would love to see their reaction if I showed them one of my latest drawings.

Yay.. ok so I’ve got a few requests for this (from a shy s/o to a confident one) so I kind of mixed them together :) also btw I don’t write for Bubba but I will write for all the others, plus more! hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

SLASHERS WITH S/O THAT LOVES TO DRAW OR IS AN ARTIST

INCLUDES JASON, MICHAEL, BO, VINCENT, and CHROMESKULL

JASON VOORHEES

First of all living where you do at the cabin there is so much inspo from deer, to the lake, to changing of the seasons.. It is honestly the best place for an artist

Jason always noticed a black notebook lying around with pens and pencils on every other surface, and you were oddly protective of the book, so he left it alone respecting your boundaries

Sitting with him in the quiet cabin Jason loved the sounds of the pencils scratching along the paper, and he loved to watch the soothing motions of your wrist going to work

Slowly he will become more and more interested in what you're doing and he needs to see. Sneakily inching himself closer to you as you work away and stretching his neck as far as he can, catching a glimpse then feeling guilty

Jason wants to respect you so much but it kills him that you’re not showing him. So when you were in the shower he quickly ran to the book and gently ran his fingers over your work, amazed at how good everything was and how you brought the nature/animals to life in the book from around the camp

Flipping a page then he is met with sketches of himself, with the mask and without, his hands, some of his wounds with the bones sticking out... it was beautiful and he couldn’t look away until you walked into the room pushing him away from the book but seeing his expression made you melt, he loved it so much and slowly brought out confidence in you, making you show him your work all the time

A few times he had brought some art supplies home from a group of teens that came along

One day he came home to canvases all over the floor and red paint splattered all over your old t-shirt Jason freaked out thinking it was blood in the dim lighting, he stepped on your canvases with muddy boots and held you up making you yelp... “Baby it’s just paint”... well now he feels foolish and upset for stepping on your art

The next night he still felt bad but you showed him what you had created from “the incident”... Bright colours framed the bootprint and brought out the muddy tones, some of the canvases had pressed flowers along the details of the print and it was so beautiful Jason immediately hung them on the wall

Just an fyi he wants to always do crafts with you lol so make sure you help him

MICHAEL MYERS

Now this guy is pretty indifferent to everything but something about your art brings out a new side in him

You can say a lot of things about Michael but you cannot say he isn’t observant, he sees everything and knows everything

Like Jason he notices your many notebooks and various art supplies around the house, but he is far more intrusive than Jason and will rip the notebook from your hands holding your neck if you protest as he flips through it

Watching his face nothing changes, he just scans the pages then throws the notebook down walking away leaving into the night

The next morning notebook, paints, pens, brushes and other supplies litter the kitchen counter... wonder who got those???

Michael loves watching you work on your art, watching your facial expressions, the way the pens run along the paper and how the paint coats the canvases.. oop you just gave him an idea

One night he came home gruesomely cover in blood a little more than extra, and Michael moves above you and the art you are working on, whoops he is dripping blood on the canvas, then smearing it, then moving his knife along it using it as a brush, I guess

You yelled at him at first but watching how he seemed to enjoy the colours mixing together and the way the blood dried was sort of.. cute

You knew Michael had a funny and creative side just by the way he walked into the bedroom one night with a sheet over himself and sunglasses on, and the way he leaves marks on your body in a certain pattern or framing his favourite features of you. Michael’s art was his kill you realized

He really loves your pieces, even though he would never say so and Michael’s favourites were the sketches of himself you did and he would paint blood along them

You weren’t gonna lie it made the portraits more interesting and honestly beautiful, they quickly became your favourites as well

I’m sorry but my horny self just wants to see Michael in an all-black suit at an art gallery admiring the masked portrait of himself covered in blood... sorry but it’s hot lol

BO SINCLAIR

So Bo is not really observant so it might take him a while to notice the art supplies around the house but even then he thinks it’s just Vincent’s

You will probably have to do just do the art in front of him before he gets that its your art supplies.. man sucks lol

Bo really enjoys your company when he is in the shop, you just sitting there working away in your notebook and him under the hood of his truck

He doesn’t necessarily push to see what you’re drawing but Bo teases, the harder you hide it the harder he teases... “what ya got in there sex drawings?” “Fuck darlin’ let me be your model”

If you don’t want him to see what you’re doing never leave your notebook behind because the man is a snoop in every sense of the word

Bo 100% supports your art even though he isn’t very interested in it and doesn’t really get it, if it makes you happy he will steal supplies from his twin and if victims have notebooks or pens he will bring them to you immediately

On a day where you decided to spend the day at the shop, sitting on your chair sketching away while Bo was organizing his tools, he kept catching your glances and smirked “Baby, you need somethin?” he would ask smugly.

“Nope” a simple answer not stroking his ego “gonna grab a beer from downstairs you want one?” Bo nods as you make your way to the mini-fridge. Quickly the man strides over to the notebook, opening the page where you had placed your pencil. He knew it, sketches of himself, it makes his ego skyrocket.

“BO!!” pushing him away and he grabs the book holding it just out of your reach smirking “Momma always said I’d be a good model” “Don’t flatter yourself Sinclair, you’re the only man around for miles that doesn’t wear a mask or look like a trash man” you laughed as him smirk fell... run

He honestly loves your art even though Bo gives you a hard time... His favourite thing is falling asleep to the pencil sounds against the paper when you’re laying in bed together

VINCENT SINCLAIR

SAAAAAAME... lol

The man notices right away that he begins to lose his an unused notebook and some of his best art pencils

It made you very nervous to show Vincent what you sketched and painted since he was just so good at art in every way. It was unfair

His favorite thing to do with you is make little sculptures from wax or clay, he could tell you were very creative and good at what you made, and he would always be super supportive

Vincent’s praise and support made you more comfortable with doing your art around him and even showing him. The man loves it and loves all of it

Different from his brother, Vinny respects you a lot and is fine with not looking in your notebook until you’re ready to show him. He hates when people see his unfinished work and flip through his notebooks as well

The good thing about dating him is Vincent’s art stuff is now yours

Also he is a very good teacher, somehow though he cannot talk, Vinny never makes you feel bad about your art and if you need help he is more than happy to support

Art date nights!! Getting the idea from your phone, you lit all the candles and brought down all the paint you could along with the large unused canvases you had found. When Vincent strolls downstairs his eyes go wide, seeing you in just your bra and underwear “I’m ready for art class Vin” you giggle

When he finds your paintings or sketches of himself without his mask Vincent’s heart melts, finding someone like you to love him, let alone see his destroyed features as art kills him

CHROMESKULL

Jesse is a very watchful human, even when he isn’t at home the guy has cameras literally everywhere

When he was gone on a "business trip" you had all the free time in the world, plus you had picked up some new art supplies, so why not work a large piece when Jesse isn't around to distract you... When you had worked on for a few hours you got a text 'How's the painting coming along?' And that's when you realized cameras are everywhere!

If you are a shy person with your art he basically doesn’t allow you to be, he’s a pushy spoiled man but he is also very supportive and it makes you more confident in showing him

Jesse honestly loves art and has many expensive paintings in his large home, so when he sees your art you better believe he will have Preston frame the art and put it on the walls, with special art gallery lights really making it look perfect

If you need any and I mean any art supplies no matter how expensive Jesse supports it *hands you his gold credit card*

"Oh.. renovations? To the already perfect mansion?" "Yup.. it's your new art studio"

Art, wine and cheese nights... the perfect date

Feeling uninspired? alright time to change the scenery, let’s go to a tropical destination or a wintery cabin. The man wants to spoil you and put your passion at the top of his priority list, plus he just wants a vacation and see you in your swimwear

It doesn't matter if you're shy about your art or confident Jesse will say he is taking you to an event, get you all dolled up and take you to an art gallery event that is just your art... surprise! Dumb rich bastard loves your work and flaunts it to everyone he can

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

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Shotgun - m. tkachuk

And here is 8.7k of a road trip with Matthew Tkachuk, which honestly, is the real dream. Let me know what you think of it, reblog (I love looking at tags!!) and pop into my inbox if you’d like!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a nice brut rosé - crisp, fruity, bubbly. Plus, I like the vibes.

It all started with a text. What are the chances you can get the week after next off? Matthew had sent. Madison’s brow furrowed. Doubtful, but I can try. Are you going to tell me what this is about? There was a week left in the season before playoffs started, and with the points spread in the Pacific being what it was, the matchups were all but locked in. It took less than a minute to get a response. No :) I’ll let you know once you get an answer. She got approved for the time off two days later. Her phone rang as soon as she texted him the news. “How do you feel about road trips?”

---

Maddy had met Matthew about a little over a year prior, soon after she moved to Calgary from her hometown of Toronto. Having finished her first week of work as a computer programmer, there was nothing Madison wanted more than to let loose and enjoy a few drinks with her friends. She was sharing a two-bedroom with her best friend Emily, who Maddy would swear up and down was the sunniest, warmest, most kind person she’d ever met. Not like Maddy wasn’t a nice person — she was — but where her idea of relaxing meant going out bouldering, or camping, or a last-minute road trip, Emily was more of a homebody.

But going out meant going out, and so Emily was happily dragged along to a bar downtown; which one, she couldn’t really say. Madison walked up to the bar as soon as they entered, catching the bartender’s eye and ordering a Tom Collins. She tapped her fingers on the counter as she waited, glancing around the room. It was ten o’clock on a Friday night, so it was plenty packed. “What are you getting?” Madison asked Emily curiously.

She held up her Molson. “I’m a woman of simple tastes. Plus, I didn’t feel like waiting around for the bartender to actually make me a drink,” Emily added dryly.

Maddy rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of going out to a bar when you’re just going to be drinking something you could get at the liquor store?” Emily stuck her tongue out. The bartender slid Maddy’s glass over, taking her card and swiping it through quickly. “Thank you!” she chirped, whipping around to head over and snag a free table she had seen a few minutes before.

She never ended up getting to the table. Instead, she ran straight into 6 feet, 2 inches of pure Midwestern beef. “Woah!” Matthew said, steadying her as she watched her glass fall to the floor, thankfully not breaking but absolutely spilling its entire contents over the wood. “You good?”

Madison nodded, grabbing a rag from the bartender. Matthew followed suit, joining her on the floor. “Got a little on my shoes, but it’ll be fine. They won’t stain.”

Matthew nodded, giving a final wipe before taking her rag and handing both back over the counter. “Did me spilling your drink all over you ruin my chances of getting your name?”

“Madison St. Pierre,” she said, laughing and sticking out a hand for him to shake.

“Matthew Tkachuk, but—”

Maddy cut him off. “I probably already know that?” Matthew ducked his head sheepishly. “I may be a long-suffering Leafs fan, but I don’t live under a rock.”

He took a sip of his beer, leaning up against the bar. “Not from around here, eh?”

Maddy shook her head. “Just moved a couple weeks ago. I’m from Toronto, moved here for a job. I do computer programming,” she said by way of explanation.

“A smart girl.”

She tilted her head. “You could say that.”

“Well,” he said, “I feel bad about spilling your drink on you, let me buy you another.”

Maddy laughed. “If you insist. It’s really the least you could do.”

Matthew nodded at the bartender, ordering her another Tom Collins and putting it on his tab. “You and your friend are more than welcome to join us,” he gestured behind him to where the rest of his group was sitting, “we were playing a drinking game and could use a few more players anyway.”

And that was how Matthew met Maddy.

---

Day 1

Ten days later, Madison was hefting her duffel bag into the trunk of her Nissan. It was 7:00 on a Tuesday. Normally on a day off she’d be taking advantage of every possible minute of sleep she could get, but lines to cross the border could be long and they wanted to get to Montana by lunch. She waved goodbye to Emily, hopping in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Matthew had initially suggested they just get a rental car, since it would save Maddy the 20-hour drive back. But a quick Google search let them know that the chances of finding a company willing to let them drop off a Canadian car in Nevada were slim to none. Plus, Maddy had always liked driving, so it wasn’t really an issue for her. They weren’t going to be alone on the trip; Matthew had invited Elias and Rasmus along. She felt a little bit like a school bus driver, stopping at Elias’s complex to pick him up, then Rasmus’ condo, finally pulling into the underground lot of Matthew’s apartment building. Holding one hand up in greeting, he wheeled his suitcases over to her car.

Maddy unblocked her seatbelt, hopping out to help him. “Why on earth did you need so many bags?” she huffed, turning one on its side and wedging it in between hers and Elias’s.

He shrugged. “I’ve got a bag for the trip, a bag of actual clothes and workout stuff for the series, and the suit bag.” He hung the offending article on a hook. “Did you think I’d be able to set my vanity aside for a whole four days?”

“I should have known that would be too much to ask.”

Matty threw his head back, laughing. “Anyone ever told you how funny you are, Mads?”

“Once or twice, Ratthew,” she said, slamming the door shut.

Maddy hopped back in the driver’s seat, jamming the key in the ignition and turning the engine on. “Next stop, boys, is America.”

---

Well technically, the next stop was a gas station off of Highway 2, about twenty minutes from the border. “Wait, wait,” Matthew said, a conspiratorial grin on his face as Madison took the pump out of the gas tank.

She raised one eyebrow. “What?”

He made grabby hands at her keys. “Let me drive.”

“Why?” Madison asked. “I’ve been driving for like what, two hours? I’m not tired yet.”

“I’m the only American in the car.”

Maddy put the pump back. “And?”

Matthew looked sheepish. “Someone said that the border patrol officers will tell Americans ‘welcome home’ when they’re coming back. It’s never happened to me flying so I wanted to see if it would be different in a car.”

“If it means that much to you?” she said, tossing the keys over the hood of the car. Matthew caught them. Maddy rounded the back of the car before she could see him ducking his head, blushing.

They arrived at the Piegan/Carway crossing shortly after. With exactly zero cars in front of them, Matthew pulled straight up to the booth.

“Purpose of your visit?” the officer said, looking into the driver’s side.

“Three of us play hockey, we’re road tripping down to Las Vegas before our playoff series starts in a few days,” Matty answered easily.

He nodded. “And how long will you be in the States for?”

It was clear either this man had never watched a series of professional sports in his life, or he was just following a standard script. “Depends?” Matthew said, fully aware of how questionable that sounded.

Maddy piped up from the passenger seat. “I’m driving the car back, so I’ll be back in eight days.”

“Right,” Matthew nodded, “But this trip to the US, we’ll be back in seven days. We’re flying back on the team plane, so it’s not a land crossing.” He decided to forego mentioning that, barring a sweep, they’d be back again in two weeks.

The poor officer looked bewildered. “Team plane?”

Matty shrugged his shoulders. “We play for the Calgary Flames, the team charters a plane to fly us from Calgary to wherever we’re playing and back. We decided to take the scenic route this time.”

“Okay,” he said, but Madison still wasn’t convinced he actually understood what Matty was saying. If the border officer thought anything of the American, Canadian, and Swedish passports he was handed, he didn’t say anything. Giving a cursory glance, he handed them back. “Welcome back,” he nodded to Matthew, waving the car through the gate. Matthew pumped his fist.

---

An hour later, Matthew pulled into a dirt parking lot on the edge of Glacier National Park. “WE MADE IT!” he exclaimed, putting the car in park and throwing his hands up.

“We drove three hours,” Elias said from the back seat.

“And?” Matty challenged, opening the door.

Maddy grabbed her backpack, stuffed with sandwiches and snacks that they had gotten on their way in. “If you guys brought hiking boots or good tennis shoes, now’s the time,” she said, lacing up her own boots. “There’s a loop around here that’s a little under four miles long, doesn’t sound like it’s too difficult but there is some elevation climb, so better safe than sorry.” People typically didn’t peg her for it, but Maddy was a very outdoorsy person at heart. She had taken up rock climbing in high school, and was a regular at the bouldering gyms back in Toronto until she moved. She’d found a climbing gym she liked well enough in Calgary, but with Banff just over an hour away from the city, the park had become her go-to for climbing and hiking. Matty had come with her on more than one occasion, and had surprised her with a long weekend camping for her birthday in March. The snow hadn’t all melted yet, and waking up to the powder-dusted fir trees outside of their tent had been one of the most beautiful sights of her life.

“Everyone’s got a full water bottle?” she asked, tying up her hair. The last thing anyone wanted was to get heatstroke in one of the most remote parts of the park with only one phone that could even connect to an American cell tower.

The group started off at a leisurely pace, wandering off-trail to check out anything and everything that caught their interest. The edge of the St. Mary Valley served as the perfect backdrop for lunch, Maddy pulling the sandwiches out from her bag and doling them out. “Oh thank God, I’m starving,” Elias said, grabbing his food from Maddy practically before she even had it in her hand.

“Did you not have breakfast?” she asked incredulously.

He nodded. “I did, but I’m still hungry. Should have brought snacks.” Off to his side, Matty snickered.

Day 2

Elias had volunteered to take over from Matthew to drive through the night, switching off sometime around sunrise with Rasmus. “I 100% have a crick in my neck,” Maddy grimaced, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and checking her phone.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Matthew smiled. Maddy groaned, leaning into his side. Almost instinctively, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, taking a few gulps before setting it back down on the floor of the car, where it promptly rolled away.

“Who do I have to blow to get a decent cup of coffee around here?” Maddy groaned. Matthew almost choked on his water. He had to get his mind off of the idea of Maddy blowing anything or he was about to have an issue. He pulled out his phone, jumping on Google maps.

“There’s a little coffee shop a few miles ahead, off of the Spruce Drive exit?” he asked tentatively.

She yawned. “As long as they sell caffeine, I’m game.” They did indeed sell caffeine, and after inhaling two cappuchinos and a small mountain of pastries later, Maddy hopped back behind the wheel. “You sure bear claws and muffins are on the meal plan, boys?” she asked, a smile playing on the corner of her lips.

Rasmus waved her off. “It’s not like you’re going to rat us out, are you?”

She shrugged, wiggling her phone in her hand as she pulled up at a stoplight. “Bold of you to assume I don’t have Coach’s number in my phone.”

Matty plucked her phone from her hand, placing it back by the center console. “Be that as it may, sweet Madison, you neglect to remember that I’m the only one with coverage in the U.S.” He might not strike most people as a particularly sentimental person, but Matthew loved his family, and decided that the extra charge was well worth being able to call his parents and sister whenever he was missing them.

She stuck her tongue out at Matthew. “You ruin all of my fun, you know that?” All he did was grin. The drive to Mesa Falls wasn’t long at all, they had just finished their food — Matty popping bites of muffin into Madison’s mouth as she drove — when she pulled over to the curb by the sign. Maddy threw the boys’ backpacks to them, pointing to the single bathroom stall in the tiny rest area. “Go change, I’ll use the car.”

“Why can’t we have the car?” Matthew complained.

She looked at him. “Three full-grown men, all over six feet, in one car. I know you see each other’s dicks all day in the locker room, but I’d really rather not have that in my car. Think.”

Matty made an “o” with his mouth. “Gotcha.”

Swim trunks were much easier to get on than a wrap bikini, Madison was finding, and the boys were finished changing well before she was done figuring out her top. She bit her lip, poking her head out of the door. “Matty?”

He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Could you help me tie this?” she asked, gesturing to the halter top. “I think it’s stuck or something.”

Matthew swallowed hard, his eyes widening as he tried to stutter through a sentence. “Uh, yeah. I can do that. For sure,” he said, shuffling over to the car. He gently untwisted the straps, gathering them into a bow at the base of her neck and trying very, very hard to not think about how soft her skin felt underneath his fingers. This was one of his best friends. And best friends weren’t supposed to think about that kind of stuff. Right?

Behind them, Elias and Rasmus shared a glance. They had expected something was going on between them, really ever since the party in November, but this was something new. They had never seen Matthew gone this far for a girl before. And they liked this side of him.

“Thanks,” she said, squeezing his shoulder before disappearing back into the car to throw on a coverup. “How long is the walk to the actual waterfalls?”

“Not long,” Elias responded. “Ten minutes or so?” It was an easy walk to the falls, which were mercifully empty when they got there. They kicked off their sandals, leaving the bags under a nearby bush. Matthew knew Madison was pretty. She wasn’t a nun and he wasn’t a saint; she had seen him shirtless more times than he could count and he had seen her come out of his guest room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt of his after she stayed the night. His thoughts hadn’t exactly been innocent. But as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her clad only in that damn red bikini, he was convinced he’d never seen a more gorgeous sight.

She turned around just as Matthew tore his eyes away, looking mischievously at him. “Last one in?” They sprinted to the water. Matty let her win.

---

About half of their stops had been planned in advance; the others were pulled from websites or Google suggestions or whatever their waitress’ recommendation was for a local must-see. The Idaho Potato Museum fell into the latter category. Rasmus had floated the idea shortly after they had left Mesa Falls, and seeing as how nobody had anything better to suggest, they ran with it.

“Free taters for out of staters,” Matthew said, reading off of the pamphlet they had been handed at the welcome desk.

“Will they give me extra since I’m Canadian?” Madison wondered aloud. “For all intents and purposes they think you live in Missouri, Matty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, she didn’t even think twice.

He passed the paper to her, the tips of their fingers barely brushing together, but Matthew could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t get greedy, Mads.” They walked down a dimly-lit hallway lined with black-and-white photos.

“Did you know that the first potatoes grown in the United States were planted in Londonderry, New Hampshire, by Scotch-Irish immigrants?” Elias read off of a placard, his voice sounding like a disinterested radio announcer.

Maddy shook her head. “I didn’t, thank you so much for imparting on me this most important knowledge, Elias.”

“My pleasure,” he replied.

“Did you know that you could survive off of a diet of only potatoes and butter?” Rasmus chimed in, reading another sign.

“Really?” Matthew asked, leaning in to read. He turned to Madison a moment later. “Really, apparently.”

Half an hour of wandering later, Matthew and Madison had stumbled into the “artifacts” portion of the museum. “What kind of artifacts does a potato museum have?” Maddy asked, looking supremely confused.

Matthew wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Why don’t we see?” For some reason, he decided it would be a good idea to hold his hand out for her. And for some reason, Maddy took it.

The “artifacts” turned out to consist of some old farm tools, dusty burlap sacks, and the world’s largest potato chip. Elias and Ramsus were on the other side of the museum, leaving Matthew and Madison to drift through alone. “Crisp, actually,” Matthew said, reading the card under the glass case. “Because I guess they’re worried about people stealing it?”

“There’s a difference?”

He shrugged. “Apparently it’s only a chip if it’s a slice of potato. This was made from dehydrated potato flakes, or something like that.” Maddy wasn’t sure if it was the sepia-tinted lighting, or the lingering memory of how Matty’s fingertips burned like fire against her back as he tied her bikini, or if there was something particularly romantic about dehydrated potato flakes, but they were alone in the room and suddenly she was looking at him a little bit differently. Matthew looked at her, gaze soft as his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly down towards her lips. Her lips. His body leaned in, and just as she closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers, wondering if they were really going to do this in the middle of the Idaho fucking Potato Museum—

“We were wondering where you guys had gone off to!” Elias’s Swedish accent cut through the silence. Matthew threw his head back, silently cursing his teammate’s timing. If Elias and Rasmus realized anything was off, they didn’t say. “The lady at the front said it’s closing in ten minutes, so we thought we should head out and get something to eat.”

Maddy nodded in agreement, her cheeks burning. “Sounds good. I could go for some food.” They made their way back outside, Matthew settling behind the wheel as he steered the car back onto the highway. He tried to shake the almost-kiss from his mind, but the more he tried to forget it, the more the memory stuck.

Elias looked down at his phone. “Yelp says there’s an Indian place coming up on the left if that sounds good to you guys,” he said, shaking Matthew from his thoughts.

Maddy scrunched her nose. “All due respect, I don’t trust this town to make good Indian food. Potatoes, burgers, meat, sure. I buy it. But I haven’t seen a single person of color since we left Glacier.”

“Fair.”

The burgers were good; nothing to write home about, but Maddy was honestly thrilled to eat something that didn’t come out of a bag. The plan had originally been to drive through the night again to reach Salt Lake City by the early morning, but Maddy made it clear her back didn’t take too well to sleeping in the car, and the others agreed. “Rasmus, mind finding a hotel nearby? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just somewhere not too far off of the freeway,” Madison asked. He nodded, pulling out his phone. They had gotten tired of passing around Matthew’s phone anytime they were out of Wifi range, so after a little complaining and one of Maddy’s puppy-dog eye looks, he finally relented and turned his hotspot on.

“There’s a Holiday Inn up off of the next exit if that sounds good to you guys,” Rasmus said. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Post Malone song that Matty had plugged in. They switched the aux every few hours.

“Yeah, works for me.” Madison hummed her agreement; Matty nodded. Rasmus flicked on the blinkers, gently cruising down the offramp, pulling into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn about half a mile down the road.

Madison bit the inside of her cheek. “They’re going to have rooms available, yeah?”

“Mads, it’s May in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. I don’t exactly think they’ve got business lining up out the door.” Matty said, looking at her from the side as they walked into the hotel lobby.

The whole trip was Matthew’s idea, so he insisted on footing the bill, handing his credit card and license over to the receptionist. Maddy snickered behind her hand. Matthew turned back to look at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Something you’d like to share with the class, Madison?”

“Missouri licenses look weird,” she commented.

“And Alberta’s any better?”

She scrunched her nose. “We have a dinosaur on ours. Beat that.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” Matty said, the corner of his lip twitching as he thanked the receptionist, tucking the cards back into his wallet. She handed over the room keys, Matthew passing two to Rasmus and Elias and one to Maddy. “I had us together, if you don’t mind.”

Madison shook her head. “Fine with me.” It wasn’t unusual for her to stay over at Matthew’s apartment, either after going out or when their movie nights ran a little long and she woke up to Matty tucking her into the bed in his guest room. She had a toothbrush in his bathroom, a change of clothes in the dresser. She had offered to take her stuff back a few months ago, not wanting any girl he might bring over to get the wrong idea. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he had said when she asked, waving her off. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t brought any girl home — that she knew about — since sometime around the beginning of the year.

They waved goodbye to Rasmus and Elias, promising to wake up bright and early to get the first crack at the breakfast buffet when it opened at 7. Matty swiped his card, holding the door open when the light turned green and the knob twisted. “After you, m’lady.”

“Why thank you, good sir,” Maddy giggled, ducking under his arm into the entryway. She stopped at the end of the hall, eyes flickering into the room.

Matthew stopped behind her. “What’s up?”

“There’s only one bed.”

His head jerked around the corner, not like he doubted her word or anything, but he needed to see it for himself. There was only one bed. One big bed, one very comfortable-looking bed, but one bed. Matty dropped his bag on the floor. “Uh...D’you want me to call down? I can see if they’ve got another room if that would make you more comfortable.”

Madison pursed her lips for a second before shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. We’re adults, we can share a bed without burning the house down.” It wasn’t like Maddy was lying for Matthew’s sake; she really was fine with it. Maybe a little too fine. But they had slept together — in the innocent sense of the word — before, and everything had turned out okay. His arm draped over her shoulder as she cuddled into his shoulder on a late night, her legs tangled in his when some of his friends from St. Louis were visiting for the weekend and took the guest room. He had offered to take the couch that night, but Maddy didn’t want to relegate him to a night of back cramps and drafty breezes, especially when he had an early practice the next day. Nobody ever made it weird, so it wasn’t weird.

She took her bundle of clothes into the shower, relishing in the feeling of hot water raining down on her aching muscles. Maddy was loving the trip, genuinely, but being in a car for twelve hours out of the day took something out of a person. Slipping into an old college t-shirt, Madison thought for a moment about putting on a pair of sweats. It wasn’t particularly cold — the opposite, in fact — but she didn’t know if it would make Matthew feel weird if she wasn’t wearing pants. Fuck it, she thought, pulling up her boyshorts. If he had an issue with it, it was his problem. Throwing her hair up in a towel to dry, she turned the doorknob, poking her head out the door. “Shower’s open if you wanted to hop in,” she said.

Matty nodded, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t be too long, why don’t you find something for us to watch?” he asked, tossing her the remote. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and while she was tired, Maddy knew if she tried to go to sleep she’d wake up well before dawn, and that wasn’t something anyone wanted. Madison climbed up onto the bed, tucking her feet underneath her and grabbed the channel guide. True to his word, Matthew was in and out in under ten minutes, rubbing his hair with a towel as he walked out. Athletic shorts. Shirtless. Maddy couldn’t help but give him the once-over, having to jerk her eyes back up to his face the moment she realized what she was doing. Matthew met her eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face. “I can put a shirt on if you’d like…”

“No! You’re good,” Maddy replied, maybe a little too quickly to avoid suspicion.

He ducked back into the bathroom, throwing the towel over the shower curtain. “So, what did you settle on?”

She looked back at the TV. “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives?”

Matty jumped onto the bed. “Guy Fieri. What a legend. Awesome. Where’s he going?”

Three and a half episodes later, it was almost eleven, and Madison’s eyes were starting to droop. Sometime midway through the second episode, when Guy was visiting an Asian fusion restaurant in Colorado, her head had drifted onto Matthew’s shoulder, where it had stayed ever since. His arm wrapped loosely around her, Matty brought his hand up to brush away a stray piece of hair that had drifted into her face. “Getting sleepy, Mads?”

She yawned, nodding and trying to push herself up. “‘M looking forward to a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

Matthew laughed softly. “Let’s get you in bed, then.” He threw back the comforter, Madison crawling under, and reached over to the nightstand, turning off the lamps and TV. “Give me your phone,” he said.

“Why?” Maddy asked, her brow furrowing.

“You always forget to charge it overnight, and I don’t want you to be grumpy when it dies at 10 AM.” She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a concession, handing over her iPhone. Matty plugged it in, clambering beneath the sheets. “Sweet dreams, Mads. Good night.”

“Night, Matty.”

Day 3

The first thing Madison noticed when she woke up was the warm, unfamiliar weight slung around her waist. It took her a moment to realize that it was Matty’s arm, who hadn’t woken up yet. For some reason that she couldn’t quite identify, or maybe didn’t want to confront quite yet, it wasn’t unwelcome at all, and she savored the last few minutes of physical closeness before he woke up. And he did, wake up, that is. His cheeks reddened as he opened his eyes, pulling his arm away to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

Maddy ducked her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t mind.”

Matthew yawned. “What time is it?”

“Uh, just before seven,” she said, rolling over to look at the alarm clock. “I’d love to stay in bed a little longer, but we did promise the boys we’d meet them down at breakfast soon.”

He nodded, making a very concerted effort to not read into her statements any more than he absolutely had to. “Yeah, good idea,” he said, tossing the covers off and walking into the bathroom. “I’ll sit on you if you’re not up by the time I get back out there.” Maddy took the opportunity to change, threading a belt through her jeans and half-tucking a t-shirt. “I like the look,” he said when he walked out, as Maddy was twisting her hair up into a bun. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Matthew to compliment her; she had accompanied him to more than one charity event for the Flames as his date, but she had always been dressed up. Dress, heels, makeup that she probably stressed way too much over. Dressed to the nines, never in jeans and a t-shirt before. But she didn’t really notice, the compliment meaning just as much to her as if she’d been in a floor-length gown.

“Thanks,” she said, stuffing her clothes from the night before back into her duffel. “I packed the rest of your bag while you were in there, figured I might as well.”

It was Matty’s turn to thank her, squeezing her hand appreciatively before giving the room a quick look. “We didn’t forget anything, then?”

Madison laughed. “We really didn’t stay long enough to unpack, but yeah, we’ve got everything, don’t worry.”

---

Elias had volunteered to do the drive down to Salt Lake City. Matthew’s inner six-year-old had returned, insisting that the group stop at a dinosaur park in a rural part of Utah. What “dinosaur park” meant, Madison wasn’t sure, but it made Matty happy, so she didn’t fight it.

The museum was mostly outdoors, with life-sized dinosaur models dotting the massive field. “Were you much into dinosaurs as a kid?” Matthew asked Madison.

“Kind of?” she replied noncommittally. “I always loved learning about them, but never had like a ‘dinosaur phase’ like David or Cody,” she said, referring to her older brothers. “My family used to go to the Canadian Museum of Nature a ton when I was a kid, since it was only a few hours away in Ottawa, and it has like a billion fossils in it.”

“Which was your favorite?”

“Pachycephalosaurus,” she said easily.

Matthew blinked. “Pachycephalo-what?” he asked in confusion. He thought he knew all of them?

Maddy laughed. “Pachycephalosaurus. They had these really spiny heads. But secretly, I think I was a little bit of a teacher’s pet who just liked saying the name. Pretty sure they were actually native to Alberta?” she added. “What about you?”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Oh, come on,” Madison said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“Fine, fine,” Matty gave in, “it was the brachiosaurus.”

“How come?” she asked curiously.

“I liked the long necks.”

They spent another hour or so at the park, Matty grabbing a keychain on the way out. “They didn’t have a brachiosaurus,” he muttered, half-angry, picking up a T-rex one instead. It wasn’t a long drive to the actual Great Salt Lake, and for some reason, they had trusted Elias with the aux. Much to Maddy’s chagrin, he didn’t end up playing ABBA, and they were instead led to cruise down I-15 to the dulcet tones of J.S. Bach.

Madison looked down at her phone. “Anyone want to go see the Joseph Smith sphinx?”

“Joseph Smith?” Rasmus questioned.

“Sphinx?” asked Elias.

Matthew laughed. “You know those Egyptian statues of like the cat ladies? Where they have cat bodies but the faces of people?”

“Joseph Smith was the founder of the Mormon church,” Madison explained. “Well, technically it’s called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but—”

“Know-it-all,” Matty said in a sing-song voice. Madison shot a glare at him from the back seat.

“But most people still call them Mormons. And apparently they made him into a sphinx.”

Elias looked at her, still dumbfounded. “But why?”

Maddy shrugged. “Honestly? Beats me.” The weather had dropped too much by the time they had reached the lake to make swimming very practical, so the four of them settled for taking off their shoes, rolling up pants, and wading into the shoreline.

Matthew bent down, picking up a chipped white rock from the ground, the water just lapping at his fingers. He handed it to Madison. “For you.”

She took it gently, running her hands over the jagged surface. “Aren’t you not allowed to take anything from a national park?”

He winked. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” They stopped at a Chipotle just as the sun was beginning to set, Matthew taking over driving duties from Rasmus. The plan was to drive for another two hours or so, stopping somewhere in southern Utah for the night to spare themselves from another night spent in her Nissan.

They drove in silence for a while, Elias and Rasmus drifting to sleep in the back row, before a road sign caught Matty’s eyes and he spoke. “I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon, you know,” he said as they continued down I-15.

Maddy looked over at him. “Do you want to go?” She didn’t know where the suggestion came from, but it was out of her mouth before she could take it back, and after a moment, she realized that she didn’t even want to.

His eyebrows raised as he glanced over at her before turning back to the road, the car’s headlights the only thing in sight. “You mean it?”

Madison shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” She quickly popped the directions into her phone. “It’s only a few hours out of the way, if we drive through the night instead of stopping somewhere we should have more than enough time.”

“But didn’t you say sleeping in the car made your back hurt?” Matty asked curiously.

She smiled softly. “I don’t mind, really. I’ll drive. You’re more important.” Honestly, Maddy surprised herself with her boldness. She wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, but it hadn’t escaped her that the dynamic between her and Matthew had changed in the past few weeks and was about to come to a boil. Matty wasn’t exactly the type of guy Madison expected to have a lot of friends who were girls. And a part of her hated that, hated that because of his reputation she automatically assumed when they became friends that all he wanted to do was get in her pants. There had only been one time in their entire year of friendship when they’d even done so much as kissed, and it wasn’t exactly what you’d consider normal circumstances.

---

It was November of the previous year, about six months after Matthew and Madison had met. Matthew had been even more in his head than normal; he hadn’t scored a single point since midway through their East Coast road trip over two weeks ago, and the disappointment was really starting to rag on him. It might not have been something he outwardly showed all that much, but those who knew him knew that Matthew was actually a deeply sensitive person, who took pride in his wins and carried losses with him well after they had faded from the minds of the rest of the hockey world.

When it had gotten to the point where his frustration was starting to affect his game, Maddy knew it was time to do something. “You’re so much more than your stats, Matty,” she had said, calling him right before she left for the Saddledome. “I know you take this personally, and you feel like you’re letting down the team, but that’s bullshit and somewhere deep down, I know you agree.” Matthew grumbled something that might have been an agreement. “Your team trusts you, they trust you with the puck and with the A, and you’re never going to disappoint them as long as you’re giving it your all. And if you’re the Matthew Tkachuk I know, there’s never a time when you don’t. And win or lose tonight, there’s nothing you could do to change the fact that your family loves you, and your friends love you, and I love you too. Okay?” Clearly, something in her little pep talk had flipped a switch in Matty, because he returned in spectacular form that night, scoring a hat trick in a roaring 5-1 win over the Coyotes. And he didn’t throw a single punch all game.

A good game without a travel day following usually calls for going out, and a great game with your best friend scoring a hat trick definitely calls for going out, so she dragged Emily along to the bar that Matthew had told her to meet the team at. Matthew had pulled her into a hug the moment she arrived, kissing her cheek and trying his damndest not to spill the beer in his hand on her shoes. An hour and a half into the night, Madison was four drinks in, well and truly drunk, and Emily had wandered off and appeared to be flirting with an extremely oblivious Noah Hanifin.

“How are you doing, Mads?” Matthew asked, coming up from behind her barstool and resting his hand gently on the small of her back.

She looked back at him, a goofy smile on her face, and took another sip of her drink. “I’m good, I’m realllly good,” she giggled. “Did I ever get a chance to tell you how good you were tonight?” Matthew shook his head, very poorly concealing a laugh. He had had more than one beer, sure, but he was nowhere near as gone as Madison. “Because you were really good. A-ma-zing,” she added, punctuating each syllable. Her eyes softened as she leaned in. “I know the points drought was starting to weigh on you, and I’m really glad you were able to do this for yourself. I’m always proud of you, Matty, but I was a little extra proud of you tonight. People sometimes write you off as just another good player without any real subsistence,” she paused, correcting herself, “substance, off the ice, but I know the real you, and the real you is even more incredible than the you that plays hockey. It’s my favorite thing to see.”

“It is?” Matthew asked softly, leaning into the hand that had begun to caress his cheek a little bit imprecisely, but that somehow communicated every kind of unsaid word between them.

Madison nodded, touching his forehead to hers, and then she tilted in. And then she kissed him. Her lips met his, and she tasted like lime and spearmint chewing gum and his favorite kind of tequila. Her lips met his, and it seemed like the room stood still; he barely heard his teammates’ wolf-whistles or Emily’s elated gasp in the background. Her lips met his, and he drank in every second of the kiss until she pulled away.

---

Maddy hadn’t been drunk enough to black out that night, and she came to the next morning with a roaring headache and the pang of regret in her heart. She thought it was shame at her behavior, embarrassment that she could act so impulsively, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized. The fact that she kissed Matthew wasn’t the issue, not to her, at least. It was the fact that she was drunk in a bar after a hockey game and that wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. She pushed her feelings to the side, trying desperately to focus on work and supporting Matty through the rest of the season, but they always tended to flare up when they were least welcome. Like at the Idaho Potato Museum.

Which of course meant that Matthew would choose this moment, driving down I-15 with two sleeping Swedish hockey players in the backseat, to bring it up. “I remember when you kissed me, you know,” Matty said softly, reaching up to brush his fingers over his lips, like if he tried hard enough he could remember what it felt like to have Maddy’s pressed against his.

Madison froze, which isn’t exactly what you’re supposed to do when you’re driving. She thought he had forgotten. He had never brought it up, so she really had no reason to believe he would have remembered. “You do?” she asked, swallowing.

She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. “Mhm. I hadn’t thought about it in a couple weeks, but back in Idaho, in front of the World’s Largest Potato Crisp…” He let out an airy chuckle.

Maddy breathed in sharply. So she hadn’t imagined that. Her fingers tapped nervously against the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Yeah…” She trailed off nervously. “I was drunk.”

“Oh, you were hammered,” Matthew agreed. “But do you regret it?”

There it was, the million-dollar question that she somehow actually had the answer to. A long moment passed before she answered, figuring it would be best to just rip the band-aid off. Worst case, Matty would hate her and she’d only be stuck in a car with him for ten-odd more hours. No big deal. “No,” she whispered, voice so small he almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m glad, because I don’t either,” Matty said. Madison hazarded a glance to her side; he looked almost nervous, and nervous wasn’t a look Matthew Tkachuk did all that often. “I had wanted to for a few months, but it always seemed like it was never the right time, or something interrupted us, or I didn’t know how you felt about me. But you made the first move, and I’m glad you did.”

“How come?”

He sighed. “I don’t know how long I would have waited to do something, or if I ever would have done anything. I feel like sometimes…,” he searched for the right words, “the confidence that I have on the ice can be misleading. Hockey is about reflexes and instincts and knowing the game, but it’s also thinking three steps ahead, anticipating every possible outcome and preparing for them. And that’s the part that I carry off the ice. I think I was worried if I ever brought it up with you, if I ever mentioned that I so much as remembered the kiss, you might clam up and tell me it was a stupid, drunken mistake, and I don’t know what I’d do if you said that. Because I don’t know how you feel about me, not like that”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to force the words out, as scared as she was about admitting them. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” Matthew had never seen Madison like this before, unsure and worried and downright vulnerable, and it meant so much to him that she was letting him see her like that.

Matthew let out a watery laugh. “Only pretty sure? Hurts my ego a little bit.” Maddy opened her mouth, but he waved her off. “Because I’m definitely sure I’m in love with you.” This wasn’t ever how she imagined telling him, and it wasn’t how Matty thought he’d tell her, on a freeway in Southern Utah on their way to the Grand Canyon, but sometimes life throws unexpected things at you and you have to roll with the punches.

“When did you know?” Madison asked curiously.

Matthew bit his lip. “Few months ago? I knew I liked you as more than a friend probably since you kissed me, but it was after that game against Vancouver that I really understood I had fallen in love with you.” Maddy remembered the game. It had gone terribly for the Flames, a 4-0 shutout with more than one fight and the bench racking up penalty minutes. What she didn’t know was what made that one special. Matthew looked over at her, answering her unspoken question. “Why that one?” She nodded. “I think it’s because it was such a shitty game. I wouldn’t have blamed you at all if you had just skipped out after the end of the third, I know I can be hard to deal with after a loss. But you didn’t leave, you stayed. I remember seeing you outside the tunnel, swallowed by my jersey because it’s three sizes too big for you and you refuse to let me buy you another—”

“I don’t want another because it’s yours, and I love it,” Maddy said quietly.

Matthew smiled. “Your call. But when I turned the corner and saw you, I realized three things at the exact same time. You were there for me when you didn’t have to be, and I wanted to be able to do the same thing for you. Second, you’re who I wanted to come home to. And last,” he gathered his thoughts, “I realized if I never saw another girl in my jersey for the rest of my life, that would be fine with me.”

“I think I knew when you introduced me to your family, when you flew me down for the All-Star break?” He nodded in recognition. “Just seeing you with them, how much you love your parents and adore Taryn. You even managed to not chirp Brady for a whole dinner.”

“My mom threatened me.”

Madison laughed. “Even so. It just gave me a whole new side to you. I had seen you with your friends, and with the boys, and with me, but it wasn’t the same. How deeply you cared about making sure I fit in with them, and had fun, and felt included. It was the last piece of the puzzle, really.” Her hand rested on the center console after she downshifted.

“So, are we going to do this? Do you want to do this, Mads?” Matty asked, wrapping his fingertips gently around her free hand.

Flipping her hand around, she interlaced her fingers with his. “I’m all in if you are.”

Matthew bent down, kissing their hands. “I’ve been all in since the moment I met you.” He glanced behind him to the backseat, where Elias and Rasmus were still fast asleep. “What do you think they’re going to say when they wake up?”

“I’m not sure,” Madison said, laughing. “Probably tell us it’s about time. Pass me my phone, will you?” Matthew pulled out her phone from where it was charging on the passenger side.

“What do you need to look up?” he asked curiously as she pulled off of the freeway and into a gas station; the directions were already programmed into the car’s navigation system.

Maddy gave a coy smile, gently putting the car into park. “I’ve got to text the girl’s chat, tell them they’ve got to make me a jacket. They’re going to go wild.”

Day 4

The chat did go wild, even more so after she sent a picture of her kissing Matty’s cheek. After about a half-dozen “we called its” and a promise for her jacket to be ready by the first home game of the series, she turned her phone off, leaning over to ruffle Matthew’s hair; he had taken over driving sometime around four o’clock. “I like that I can just do this now,” she mused, playing with his curls as they crossed the border into Arizona.

“Please, no PDA in front of the children,” he said playfully, gesturing to the backseat. Elias flipped him off.

The entrance to the Grand Canyon was only an hour past the state line, and there were more than a few cafés to grab a quick breakfast at. Most of the day was spent walking around the vast expanse of the park, marvelling at its natural grandeur, and taking more than a few incredibly aesthetically pleasing Instagram pictures. A few minutes before they had to pack up and leave for the last leg of the drive, they had hiked over to the South Rim.

Matty leaned on the barriers overlooking the canyon. “It’s so big.”

Rasmus snickered from behind them. “Duh, Tkachuk. That’s why they call it grand.”

He ducked his head, blushing. “Yeah, I mean, obviously. But it’s just kind of surreal, you know?” Madison nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and if either of them had turned around they would have seen Rasmus and Elias sharing a very “I-told-you-so” look. “Kind of reminds us how small we are in the grand scheme of things.”

It seemed like only a few minutes later that they were pulling into Las Vegas, Rasmus steering the car into the underground lot of the team hotel. None of the boys were expected at practice until the next morning, and they had decided before leaving that the easiest thing to do would just be to book the rooms for the one night.

“Anyone feeling up to going out?” Maddy asked as they walked down the hallway to their adjoining rooms. “I found a tiki bar a couple blocks away, great Yelp reviews.”

“Sounds good,” Rasmus said. Elias nodded.

“I’m in,” Matthew added, unlocking the door. “Meet out here in ten?”

The break allowed Madison to get a much-needed change of clothes while Matthew hopped in for a quick shower, emerging in a T-shirt and very, very nice-looking pair of black jeans. Maddy bit her lip, looking him up and down. “You like what you see?” Matthew asked, expression cocky.

She shrugged. “I don’t have to hide it now.” Madison slipped her phone into her back pocket, grabbing her jacket from where it was slung over the lounge chair. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Matthew said, poking his head out the door. “Boys are already out.”

The walk to the bar couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it felt like twenty in the best way possible. She was holding hands with Matty, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the top of her hand, the twinkling lights of dozens of Vegas casinos in their view. Two and a half mai tais and an hour later, the group sat at a table in the corner as Maddy giggled, retelling a particularly embarrassing moment on her high school volleyball team when she tried to make a dive that instead ended up with a ten minute pause in gameplay and the worst nosebleed of her life. She finished the story to raucous laughter, leaning into Matthew’s side. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What is it, Matty?” she asked, pulling away to look at him.

Eyes soft, he tucked a piece of her hair back behind her ear before speaking. “Just thanking God I invited you on the trip. And for the Idaho Potato Museum.”

Madison laughed, the sound like music as it reached his ears. “We should write them. Thank them for helping to get us together. Maybe they’d give us season tickets.”

“Who needs season tickets when I have you?” Matty chuckled, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Sure, Madison was a few drinks in when she kissed him. And sure, it wasn’t like Matty was exactly sober either. But this kiss was different. This kiss was the start of everything.

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #matthew tkachuk #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl writing #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk writing #rat king

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rootbeergoddess · 3 years

Text

Candle on the Water

First, thank you to the amazing and wonderful @positivelydetectivecomics�� for not just editing but also being my #1 fan girl and fellow Tom Hiddleston/Thomas Sharpe groupie. Second, this has to be one of the longest things I’ve ever written. It’s like twenty pages. I’m so shocked I managed to write this much! Anyways, this is a Little Mermaid AU for Crimson Peak because I want Thomas to be happy goddamnit.

The title is from the song Candle on the Water from Pete’s Dragon.

~*~

The ocean had always fascinated and terrified Thomas. It was vast, deep and endless. There was no way humans would ever be able to search the entirety of it. It offered up many beauties but also horrors. That didn’t mean he didn’t find it beautiful. He just preferred to enjoy it from the beach, not on a boat.

Boats made him nervous. Being an engineer, he could appreciate the beauty of a design but he didn’t think humans were meant to float. Plus, he got seasick. Why had he agreed to this forsaken cruise? Lucille was nowhere to be seen but he honestly preferred to be alone right now. Her presence had become smothering. He had known that sooner or later this farce of a relationship would have to end and he could see the end in sight. Avoiding her wasn’t his best strategy but he still needed time to think. How could he tell his sister that he was done with her?

I'll be your candle on the water

My love for you will always burn

I know your lost and drifting,

But the clouds are lifting

Don't give up you have somewhere to turn

Thomas lifted his head, scanning the ocean. Singing, someone was singing. It was a song he had never heard but it was the most melodic thing he had ever heard. But he was confused. The voice was coming from the water. That was impossible unless it was a really talented manatee. There were no islands for miles and they weren’t even remotely close to the shore. Was this a trick?

I'll be your candle on the water

Till every wave is warm and bright

My soul is there beside you,

Let this candle guide you

Soon you'll see a golden stream of light

Confusion was replaced with curiosity. Thomas scanned the ocean, desperate to find the source of the song. He walked along the deck, his eyes never leaving the waters. Then, he spotted it. Sitting on a rock, he saw a woman with her eyes up to the sky and her mouth opened.

A cold and friendless tide has found you

Don't let the stormy darkness pull you down

I'll paint a ray of hope around you

Circling in the air, lighted by a prayer

The boat was getting closer and Thomas gasped when he got a better look. It wasn’t a woman, it was a mermaid. She had no legs but a dark, blue tail of scales. Her long hair was in a braid with seashells and starfish. Around the rock were a group of fish and a few other sea creatures, all listening to her song. He wasn’t sure why he did but Thomas stood on the railing. Her voice was so pure and rich, he had to hear more.

I'll be your candle on the water

This flame inside of me will grow

Keep holding on, you'll make it

Here's my hand so take it

Look for me reaching out to show

As sure as rivers flow,

I'll never let you go

Her song was done and Thomas’ heart felt heavy. Then, she looked away from the sky and their eyes met. Thomas wanted to say something, anything but at that moment, he lost his footing and fell into the water.

~*~

You dove right into action when you saw the human hit the water.

Humans were not born natural swimmers like mermaids were. They had to be taught how to swim and some of them never learned the skill. They also didn’t possess gills or any means of breathing underwater. This human could drown without your help and as you dove under the water, you could see him struggling. The poor thing was terrified.

You swam to him and when you reached him, you saw the fear in his eyes. Instantly, you felt bad. He had been listening to you, that was why he was standing on that large, metal thing and he had slipped. How foolish were you? Without wasting a moment, you grabbed him and swam back up to the surface. He gasped for air, desperate to fill his lungs.

“Easy, easy,” You rubbed his back.

The humans on the metal contraption were in a tizzy; they were searching for him, you suspected. There had to be a way to get him back to where he belonged without you getting spotted. As you thought, you felt the human’s eyes on you and you turned to face him. His fear was gone and was replaced by adoration. It was odd but you felt a bit shy suddenly.

“You’re a mermaid,” He said.

“Yes,” You said. “And you’re a human.”

“You’re beautiful.”

You felt your face flush. Other merfolk had told you that you were beautiful, you were the king’s daughter after all. So, why did this human make you feel weak? The thought was pushed to the back of your mind when you came up with a solution to your predicament.

“Oberon,” You said.

“What?” He asked.

Around your neck was a shell necklace; in the middle was a small, blue conch shell with holes drilled into it. You placed the tip of it into your mouth and then blew into it. The human watched you, entranced by everything you did.

“What is that?” He asked.

“It’s how I call my friends,” You said. “Oberon should be here any minute.”

“Is he a friend of yours? Is he a merperson like you? How did you meet him?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” You said, smiling.

“I’m sorry but---I thought mermaids were a myth,” He said. “And I’ve never met such a captivating creature before in my life.”

Again, familiar words but your heart swelled at this.

“Do you have a name?” He asked, his eyes scanning every inch of your face.

“Y/N. Do you have one?”

“Thomas. Thomas Sharpe.”

Before you could ask anymore questions, a large tentacle poked out of the ocean. Thomas screamed but you quickly covered his mouth.

“No, it’s okay,” You told him. “This is Oberon. He’s going to help you back onto your---floating island.”

“You can talk to a giant octopus?” Thomas asked. “That’s incredible I---wait, you mean you’re leaving?”

He sounded disappointed. Guilt returned to you but you knew you were doing the right thing.

“I have too, it’s too dangerous,” You said. “If someone else were to find me, they’d gut me like a fish or worse.”

“Will I ever get a chance to see you again?” He asked.

“It’s probably better to forget about me,” You gave him a sad smile. “Goodbye, Thomas.”

You placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and dove back into the water. Oberon wrapped a tentacle around Thomas’ waist and soon, he was gone. Sighing, he delved deeper into the depths towards your home, thinking he’d forget about the experience completely.

~*~

Thomas didn’t forget.

When Y/N had swum away, he was ready to go after her He was no match for Oberon though; the massive octopus placed him back on the boat as if it was nothing. He watched as the tentacles receded into the water, leaving him behind. He wanted to throw himself back into the water to swim after her but it was a foolish idea. Y/Nwere faster than him, how would he catch up to her?

Lucille had found him and she was furious, blaming everyone from the captain to the cook. Thomas let her fret over him but his mind was elsewhere. A mermaid; he had met a real life mermaid named Y/N. The fairy tales he had read as a child hadn’t done Y/N justice; she was a million times more beautiful than anything in any book. The rest of the trip felt like a blur to him. Lucille didn’t let him out of her sight. This would have annoyed him but he was more focused on finding Y/N again. Each day was spent on the deck, praying and hoping he’d hear her golden tone again. Lucille pestered him, asking him what he was looking for but he never told her. Would she believe him? Who cared about that, he was worried about Y/N’s safety.

“If someone else were to find me, they’d gut me like a fish or worse.”

Lucille was the or worse. Thomas longed to see Y/N again but he couldn’t stand the thought of Lucille discovering her. She would take such joy in destroying the beautiful maid. Even if he ever saw her again,he would do all in his power to make sure Lucille would never find out.

They returned to land two days later. Lucille was doing everything in her power to get Thomas’ attention back.

“Thomas, you need to stop daydreaming and focus again,” Lucille nagged. “I don’t know what happened that night but it seems to have affected you more than you’re letting on.”

“I’m fine,” He lied. “I wished you’d believe me.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying,” Lucille grabbed his hand. “I know you too well.”

She was right but that didn’t change anything. Thomas couldn’t remember how or when he realized the relationship he had with his sister was wrong. No, not wrong; twisted. Loving his sister in that way had been wrong but he hadn’t stopped it or even tried until now. Meeting Y/Nh had just made him want to distance himself from Lucille even more.

When they reached home, Thomas still found himself distracted. He tried to work on his machine but it was impossible. He was dying to see Y/N again. The only issue was he had no idea how to find her. He felt hopeless; would he ever be able to find her again? Thinking of being unable to reunite with Y/N filled him with dread. For days, he felt aimless. Two weeks after the trip, he decided to take a ride to clear his mind.

Thomas found himself drawn to the beach. It was hopeless but he thought that maybe he’d be able to spot a glimpse of her again. He had the carriage stop and he popped out, surveying the land before him. He stopped when he saw something on the beach; a body. Confusion filled him as he headed down on the warm sand and walked towards the unmoving person. His heart nearly stopped when he realized who it was.

“Y/N?”

Carefully, he turned the woman on her back. Yes, it was Y/N. He caressed her face and her eyes fluttered open. When she saw him, she managed a weak smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to forget,” she replied.

~*~

Thomas wrapped you in his coat and helped you walk towards his carriage. You stopped when you saw the two huge, black creatures.

“What are those?” You asked, scared.

“They’re just horses,” Thomas said. “They’re beasts of burden we use in our day to day life.”

“They’re so big,” You said. “They look like they want to eat me.”

“It’s alright,” Thomas assured you. “Watch.”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue and the horses looked his way. He reached out, rubbing the snout of one. You watched with awe, amazed that such large creatures would bend to him. The horse noticed you and you shrank away but Thomas took your hand in his. Then, he carefully placed it on the horse’s snout.

“It’s soft,” you said, “I thought they would vanish. They look like they’re made of shadows.”

Thomas chuckled at this and you smiled. You ignored the looks of the driver as Thomas helped you into the carriage. Fascinated by this new mode of transportation, you sat down and ran your hands over the cushions of the seats. Thomas sat down next to you, watching you as you felt the fabric.

“Y/N?”

You looked at him.

“How---how are you here?” He asked.

“It’s a rather long story,” You said.

“I’d love to hear it.”

So, you told him. You told him about how after meeting him, you kept thinking of him. No matter what you did, you couldn’t forget him and it was driving you mad. Your sisters had noticed and asked what was wrong but you lied, telling them you were thinking about how you wanted a new seashell necklace. After two weeks, you decided enough was enough and you had to do something about it.

You had to see Thomas again.

Under the cover of night, you snuck off into the deepest, darkest waters to the home of Morwenna, the sea witch. After explaining your problem, she told you she would help you but she warned you it was dangerous.

That part you didn’t tell Thomas. You didn’t want him to know what giving up your tail would potentially cost. Or that if he didn’t feel anything for you, you’d turn into seafoam.

Morwenna had one of her anglerfish take you towards the surface along with a potion and a sack full of jewels. According to the witch, humans had to ‘pay’ for things. The jewels would help you do so. Once you drank the liquid, your tail started to split and you felt imessnese pain. It was so bad that you blacked out. You think the angelfish pushed you towards the shore but you weren’t sure. As you told Thomas this, he never took his eyes off of you.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” he said, “These past two weeks have been such a nightmare.”

“They have?”

“I’ve done nothing but think of you,” he admitted.

“Then I made your life miserable.” You felt awful.

“No, don’t think that! I can’t explain it but meeting you--it’s changed me,” Thomas turned your face to look at him. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here.”

“So you’re not upset?”

“No. Although I wish you had been able to contact me,” Thomas smiled. “I could have brought you a dress.”

“A what?”

You soon learned what a dress was. The carriage arrived in town and once you saw other people, you pressed your face against the window. There were so many people, dressed in such odd fabrics. Thomas stopped the carriage and told you to wait for him. You pouted at first but he promised you’d be able to leave the carriage soon. Not wanting to upset him, you agreed to wait. A few minutes later, Thomas returned with two women.

“Hello!” you greeted them happily.

“Oh you poor thing!” one of them said, “Look at the state you're in.”

“I’m not poor or a thing,” you said but they ignored you.

“Come here dearest, we’ll get you cleaned up and we’ll find something proper for you to wear.”

You were confused and looked at Thomas. He gave you a small nod. Well, if he trusted these humans, you trusted them. They helped you out of the carriage, making sure Thomas' coat covered all of you and ushered you into a building. They took you towards the back and gave you a simple ‘dress’ to wear. You stared at it, wondering what to do with it. It was such an odd thing, why did humans wear them?

“Here dearie,” One of them said. “Let me help you.”

You were thankful for the help. Once you were dressed, they began to ‘measure’ you. Measuring involved some long, yellow thing and a lot of notes. Curious, you grabbed at the yellow item and tugged at it.

“What is it?” You asked, holding it up.

“A measuring tape dear. Poor thing, your amnesia must be terrible. You don't remember anything.”

“I do remember things! I remember my name, it’s Y/N,” You said. “And who are you?”

“I’m Miss Chatterly and this is my daughter Elizabeth,” The elder of the two said. “Now stand still darling. We’re going to get your measurements and find you a dress.”

“Must I wear a dress?”

“Of course dear, you want to be a proper woman, don’t you?”

You thought about this for a second.

“If I’m a proper woman, will Thomas like me?” you asked.

“I think he already likes you, my sweet,” Miss Chatterley chuckled. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, he’s obviously smitten.”

Smitten: you liked that word. You tried to be obedient and not move but everything was so interesting! Thankfully, Miss Chatterley and Elizabeth were patient as well as they were kind. After taking your measurements, Elizabeth went to start working on some dresses while Miss Chatterley found something for you to wear in the meantime. It was a gorgeous deep blue with white pearl buttons and black, lace detail on the back. While you didn’t understand the point of dresses, it was pretty.

“It’s beautiful!” You said. “I love it!”

You needed some help walking out to Thomas. Walking was already hard enough but the dress made this difficult. Why did the women on the surface torture themselves like this? But you had to be proper. Only a proper lady could win Thomas’ heart. Thomas smiled when he saw you.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“I feel beautiful if not a bit strange,” you replied. “The colors remind me of the ocean.”

“Now be careful dearest,” Miss Chatterley said, “It seems like you’ve forgotten how to walk too.”

“I’ve never walked before! I can’t forget something I never learned,” you said.

“You were right, Sir Thomas,” Miss Chatterley tutted, “That bump on the head must have really scrambled her noggin.”

“Indeed it has,” Thomas said, taking your hand, “I found her passed out and naked on the beach. I have no idea what happened to her but I vowed to make sure she was taken care of.”

That wasn’t a total lie but you were confused. Why did everyone keep talking about your head? You took the bag of jewels Thomas had been holding and reached into it. You pulled out a large sapphire and placed it in Miss Chatterley’s hand.

“Thank you for my first dress,” you said, wrapping your hand around hers. “I’ll cherish this forever.”

“My dear, this is too much,” she began to protest.

“Please, take it,” you smiled, “I cannot let your kindness go unrewarded.”

“Oh goodness, thank you love,” Miss Chatterley grinned at you.

Thomas led you back out of the building, keeping a firm grip on you as you tried to walk. This was frustrating; Thomas made it look so easy.

“Here, watch my legs,” he said. “It’s one foot in front of the other.”

“It still feels peculiar,” you said, “It’s not like swimming at all. How come it’s so easy for you?”

“Well, I had to learn as well,” Thomas said, leading you back to the carriage. “You see, when humans are babies, we can’t walk at all. We start off by crawling, then we push ourselves up and start to toddle.”

“That’s fascinating! Tell me more,” you said. “Please? I want to learn more about humans. And I have questions too. Why did you tell Miss Chatterley I bumped my head?”

“Into the carriage first and then I’ll tell you more,” Thomas said.

You obeyed and got back into the carriage. It started again but instead of staring out the window, you leaned against Thomas. He tensed a bit before putting an arm around you.

“I remember you said that it was dangerous if anyone were to find out that you’re a mermaid,” he said. “So in order to not arouse suspicion, I told them you had bumped your head and gotten amnesia. It’s a condition where people lose their memory. That way no one would think you were odd for not understanding certain concepts.”

“Like dresses?”

“Yes, like dresses,” he chuckled, “Do you really dislike it?”

“No but it’s hard to move in,” you said. “But it’s what a proper lady does so I must wear one. What else does a proper lady do?”

“In all honesty, I prefer you just the way you are,” he said.

His words made your heart soar. There was so much you wanted to tell him but you remained silent. Was it proper for a woman to declare how she felt for a man or should she stay quiet? This was all confusing; why couldn’t relationships be easier?

“But what do proper ladies do?” you persisted.

“I suppose I’m the wrong person to answer that,” Thomas said with a smile. “But I suppose we could find someone to help you learn.”

“Like Miss Chatterley? She was so kind. And her daughter,” you said, “How sweet of them to make me dresses!”

“I suppose you could ask them your questions,” Thomas said as the carriage. “Alright, so this is where you’ll be staying.”

You looked out the carriage to see a large building. It was bigger than the other one and there were so many more people. As Thomas helped you out, you couldn’t stop looking at everything. Thomas led you to a human behind a large piece of wood who greeted you both.

“Hello good sir, I was hoping you would have a room for rent,” Thomas said. “I’ll be paying upfront and it’ll be for this young lady.”

“Of course sir,” the man said.

You were given a key and led to a room. Instantly, you were drawn to a large item in the middle of it. You walked over to it and touched it. Oh, it was soft. You got on top of it, finding it was also bouncy.

“What is this?” you asked Thomas.

“A bed,” Thomas said, “You sleep on it.”

“But it’s not made of coral,” you said, “And where are the fish?”

Curious, you crawled over to the edge of the bed and looked down. No, you didn’t see any fish.

“Do mermaids sleep in coral reefs?” Thomas asked.

“Yes and the fish keep us company,” you said, turning back to him, “Will I like a bed?”

“I think you will,” Thomas said smiling, “Will you be content here?”

There was something about his tone that felt off.

“You aren’t going to stay here with me, are you?”

Thomas’ smile vanished.

“I want to stay with you but--I need to keep you safe,” Thomas said, “I can’t explain it right now but there is someone in my life who wouldn't like you.”

“Why?” You asked.

How could someone dislike you if you hadn’t even met them yet? Surely you couldn’t have made this person angry without having done something to them. You waited for Thomas to say something, growing a tad frustrated. Crossing your arms, you sat on the bed and turned your head away from him.

“Y/N,” he said gently. “I have to keep you safe. I promise, I’ll come to see you everyday but for now, please stay here. Where it’s safe.”

“Fine,” you said, not looking at him.

Were you being petty? Maybe, but you came all this way for Thomas. You were risking everything. There was a chance you’d never see your father or sisters again. If Thomas didn’t love you, you’d turn into seafoam and never be able to swim again. Why couldn’t he understand that?

“You can leave now,” you added, still feeling angry.

Thomas walked to you, getting down on his knees.

“Y/N,” he said, taking your hand, “If anything were to happen to you, I'd never forgive myself.”

You stole a glance at Thomas; his blue eyes were shining with sincerity. It was hard to stay angry at him when he looked at you that way. While you wished he’d stay with you, you had to trust him. Thomas was the only human you knew.

“Alright,” you said, “But you’ll come visit me right?”

“Of course,” Thomas said with a smile, “I promise to come back later for dinner but for now, stay put.”

“Okay Thomas.”

~*~

Thomas was enamored and worried at the exact same time.

Of course, he was enamored with Y/N. She was so different from the women around him. She was sweet, friendly and so curious. Constantly, she was asking questions. Other people seemed to fall under her spell as she became interested in everything around her. When he was with Y/N, all the she did was talk about the wonderful things the surface had to offer. Thomas was thankful that he could answer most of her questions.

He was worried because he knew it was only a matter of time before Lucille found out. Lucille’s anger was terrifying. Thomas had never been on the receiving end of it thankfully but he had seen it. She was also a possessive woman; if Lucille saw him with Y/N, he’s not sure what he’d do. Run? Hide her? All he knew was that protecting Y/N was of the utmost importance.

“Thomas, what are they doing?”

It was a nice, sunny day and the pair were walking along the busy streets of England. Y/N stopped to point at a four piece band, playing some music.

“They’re playing music,” He said.

He should have realized she would have been interested and Y/N walked towards the men, completely engrossed. But then she started to sing.

Ah Danny boy, the pipes,

The pipes are calling

From glen to glen,

And down the mountain side

People stopped what they were doing and started to listen to Y/N’s melodic voice. It was amazing how one voice held such power. Thomas beamed as people surrounded her to listen to her perfect voice, his heart almost bursting with joy. The more time he spent with Y/N, the deeper in love he fell. He wanted to tell her so badly how he felt but he kept stopping. He’d have to deal with Lucille first, then he could tell Y/N

Applause rang out once she finished singing. After thanking the musicians, Y/N ran back over to Thomas.

“Oh Thomas, wasn’t that wonderful?” She asked.

“Of course it was,” Thomas said. “Anytime you sing, it’s wonderful. But how did you know the words?”

“I just do,” she replied smiling, “Mermaids have the ability to know all songs but we each have a special one.”

“Like the one you sang the first night we met?” Thomas asked.

“Yes,” she smiled again, making his heart giddy. “We’re each born with a song in our heart. Candle on the Water is mine.”

“It’s a beautiful song,” Thomas said.

“Well,” she blushed, “It’s also a special song. You see---oh nevermind.”

“What? Don’t become shy now,” Thomas teased, “Tell me.”

“Merfolk find their soulmates through song,” she continued, “Our special song is supposed to connect to our soulmate and lead us to them.”

Thomas felt his heart stop. He took hold of Y/N’s hand and she stopped walking.

“By any chance, does the song work on humans?” he asked.

“I---I don’t know,” she replied, fidgeting slightly, “Is there a reason as to why you’re asking?

Thomas swallowed, staring into her eyes. He felt heat course through his body as Y/N closed her eyes and inched closer. Thomas was about to do the same when someone called his name.

“Thomas?”

Thomas’ blood went cold as he turned to see his sister. Lucille said nothing at first, staring at Y/N with a cold, calculating look. Lucille was analyzing Y/N, seeing if she was a threat. Thomas prayed that Y/N would appear weak and helpless; that was the only way she’d be safe. With a tight lipped smile, Lucille looked back at Thomas.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“Oh, this is just an old acquaintance of mine,” Thomas said, laying a protective hand on Y/N. “Y/N, this is my sister Lucille.”

“A pleasure,” Y/N said curtly.

Maybe it was because their romantic moment had been ruined or she sensed Lucille’s venom but Y/N’s usually sunny dispotiston vanished. Thomas wasn’t sure if Lucille bought Thomas' lie but she continued to smile, acting as if everything was fine.

“You’ve never mentioned her before,” Lucille continued, “I would think you’d mention such a good friend of yours.”

“I’m sorry, I must be going,” Y/N said suddenly, “Good day.”

Thomas watched as Y/N bolted down the street. His heart told him to chase after her but his brain told him to stop. If he made a scene, Lucille would realize Y/N was more than a friend. It hurt him to do so but Thomas let Y/N slip away. She looked back once but her eyes were sad.

“Thomas,” Lucille said, “I thought you said you had a meeting today.”

“I did,” Thomas lied, “But the meeting ended early and as I was heading back home, I happened to run into Y/N. We were just talking, remembering the old days.”

“Thomas,” Lucille stepped closer to him, “I know when you’re lying to me. Tell me, who is she?”

“No one you need to worry about,” Thomas said. “Let’s go home.”

~*~

Thomas had mentioned Lucille to you before. She was his sister but Thomas didn’t talk of her lovingly, andhere was something off about their relationship. Thomas hadn’t stated it out right but you weren’t going to push him to talk about it. If he wanted to tell you, he would. Meeting Lucille confirmed your sucsopions about her; she was evil. There was a bad aura around her, you could feel it. Thomas had tensed up when he had heard her voice.

It had been two days since you had last seen Thomas and your heart was heavy. There was only one day left before you’d turn into seafoam. You were standing by the window, looking out towards the ocean. You missed Oberon and regretted not saying goodbye to him when you had the chance. The shell you used to call him was still around your neck, but you hadn’t used it in days. Maybe you could go say goodbye tonight. With another sigh, you grabbed your coat and headed to the door.

You were shocked to find Lucille standing there.

“Lucille,” you said, stepping back.

“Y/N,” Lucille’s voice was icy, “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Oh,” you touched the shell around your neck, “I’ll be leaving town soon. I was going to say goodbye to a friend.”

“How quaint,” Lucille smiled but there was no warmth to it, “And what of Thomas?”

Your heart clenched.

“I don’t want to bother him,” you said, stepping past Lucille, “Excuse me.”

Lucille grabbed your arm, twisting it and making you wince.

“Yet you’ve been bothering him,” Lucille sneered, “Instead of working, he comes here to visit you, doesn’t he? I knew he was hiding something. I know him better than he knows himself, you see. I’ve been with him since the beginning.”

“Lucille, please let go,” you said.

“He needs me,” Lucille continued. “I’m the one who has always protected him. I protected him from mother and everyone else. They tried to take him away from me but we’re meant to be together.”

“What are you talking about?” you tried to get free, “Let me go.”

“You’re a distraction, a commodity, something to entertain him,” Lucille’s eyes looked mad, “But he always comes back to me. No one loves him the way I do.”

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

“That’s disgusting!” You managed to get your hand free. “You’re his sister!”

“Who are you to judge us?” Lucille stalked towards you, “You’re a little nothing with no name, no family, no title. You’re just a mysterious whore who has bewitched my brother. How long do you think you’d hide?”

“I’m leaving,” you said, trying to get to the stairs, “I’ll forget about Thomas and never come back.”

“That’s not good enough!”

Lucille grabbed you and turned you around, a knife in her hand. Fear seized your body as she pointed it towards your neck.

“You’re coming with me.”

The streets were barren as Lucille marched you down towards the pier. Tears streamed down your face as you obeyed, your heart twisted and body hurting. Tomorrow would come and you’d be no more. Your father, your sisters and Obreon; you’d never get to see them again. It all hurt but what hurt the most was not being able to see Thomas again. What a fool you had been; all this time and you hadn’t been able to tell him.

You stumbled as you reached the docks. Lucille grabbed you by the hair, forced you up. Your legs felt weak as your bones began to fade. Tears continued to roll down your cheeks as you marched towards your fate. Even if you jumped into the water, you couldn’t swim for long before you transformed into seafoam. How you wished you could call Oberon but with Lucille at your back, you were afraid to make a move.

“You’re going to jump into the water and drown yourself,” Lucille commanded, “In the morning, I’ll tell Thomas that you’ve left. Saddened and heartbroken, he’ll be mine once more.”

Anger filled you; how dare she treat Thomas like an object. This wasn’t love, it was obsession. Maybe you’d die or turn into foam but you wanted to take one more risk. Just one more. Sighing, you opened up your mouth and began to sing.

I'll be your candle on the water

My love for you will always burn

I know your lost and drifting,

But the clouds are lifting

Don't give up you have somewhere to turn

“What are you doing?” Lucille pressed the knife to your back, “Stop that.”

But you didn’t stop. You kept singing. IF the legends were true, Thomas would hear you wherever you were. Even when Lucille pushed the knife into your back, you continued to sing through the pain.

“Lucille, stop!”

You turned around to see Thomas standing behind the two of you. You smiled but Lucille pushed the knife in deeper, making you cry out.

“I won’t stop until she’s dead!” Lucille shouted, “You swore you’d never fall in love with anyone else.”

“I’m sorry Lucille,” Thomas took a step forward, “I---I heard her song.”

It was true. Thomas was your soulmate. Your song had reached him and he had used it to find you. Lucille looked confused but only for a second. Enraged, she took the knife out of your back and you slumped down, unable to stand. The loss of blood and your body changing was too much to bear.

“Are you saying you love her?” Lucille asked.

“Yes,” Thomas got closer, “Lucille, I fell in love with her the moment I heard her song.”

Lucille stared at Thomas, bewildered. Her grip was still on the knife and you realized something; once you were dead, she’d kill Thomas. With what little strength you had, you grabbed the shell and placed it to your lips. Lucille knocked the shell out of your hand and raised the knife to stab you again. You heard Thomas shout her name but it was no use; she was in a blind rage.

“This is all your fault!” she shouted.

Closing your eyes, you braced for impact. Then you heard bubbling in the water. The knife fell from Lucille’s hand and you opened your eyes to see a familiar tentacle. Lucille backed away, terrified as Oberon came out from the depths, his golden eyes filled with anger. The octopus lashed out and grabbed her by the waist, tossing her up like she weighed nothing. Thomas ran to your side, watching as Oberon broke Lucille’s waist. Once she was dead, Oberon threw her into the ocean and got closer to the dock.

“Oh, Oberon,” you said sadly, “I missed you. I’m so sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

“No,” Thomas grabbed your hand. “Y/N, please don’t talk like that.”

“I’m sorry Thomas,” you said, pressing your head to his. “I’m too late. I never told you that I love you.”

“Too late? What do you mean?”

“She’s talking about the price for her legs,” a familiar voice said.

You turned around to see Oberon held Morwenna the sea witch on one tentacle. The crab woman stepped onto the dock and walked over to you.

“Morwenna?” you asked.

“You see,” Morwenna crouched down, “For a merfolk to stay on the surface with their human love, they must confess their feelings and those feelings must be recioprated. If not, they turn into seafoam.”

“What? Y/N, why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Thomas asked.

“I didn’t want you to fake your feelings,” you said, “But it’s okay. I made peace with what is going to happen to me.”

“Oh, you needn’t be dramatic dear,” Morwenna reached into a pouch around her waist, “You won’t be going anywhere. Here, eat this.”

Morwenna offered you a pearl and you popped it into your mouth. It burst, releasing a bitter liquid into your mouth. You gagged.

“What was that?” Thomas asked.

“For her wound,” Morwenna said. “Now, stand up dear.”

Your confusion was growing but Morwenna seemed so calm. Thomas stood up and offered his hand. You took it and found your legs were working. In fact, they felt firm.

“I don’t understand,” you said, “I was too late.”

“No, you weren’t,” Morwenna grinned, pointing to Thomas, “His confession saved you.”

“It did? So, can I stay?” you turned to Thomas, “With you?”

“Y/N,” Thomas caressed your face, “From the moment I saw you, I adored you. I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I loved you for days but I was too afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” you asked.

“Afraid of rejection, afraid Lucille would find you,” he said, “But now she’s gone. Please Y/N, stay with me. I love you.”

Oberon suddenly burbled, his big, round eyes tinged with sadness.

“Oh Oberon,” you smiled at him, “I’ll never forget you, how could I? You saved us both. I will visit you, I promise. But my home is on the surface now.”

Oberon reached out his tentacle and rubbed your face. He then playfully grabbed Thomas' hat, pushing it down on his face.

“He’s saying he trusts you,” you told Thomas.

“Well then,” Thomas fixed his hat, “Thank you Oberon. I promise I’ll keep her safe, no matter what the costs.”

“Happy endings all around,” Morwenna said, “I’m so happy things worked out for you dear.”

“But it wouldn’t have been possible without you,” you said, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“No thanks are necessary,” Morwenna walked back towards the sea, “I’ll tell your father you're safe. He��ll probably come to visit so be on the lookout. Farewell you two.”

You waved goodbye as Morwenna climbed onto Oberon’s head and they departed. When they were gone, you turned to Thomas.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you too,” he returned.

And finally, you kissed him.

#Rootbeer Writes #Crimson Peak #Crimson Peak AU #Sir Thomas Sharpe #Thomas Sharpe #Thomas Sharpe x Reader #Female Reader #Self Insert #tw: incest mention #mermaid #AU

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jeonggukingdom · 4 years

Text

splinters of love • day VII (m) [jjk]

pairing ⟶ jeon jeongguk x fem!Reader

summary ⟶ a collection of drabbles (one for each day of April) based on prompts by an online prompts’ generator site. Specifically ⟶ • day VII ↳ in which you went for a night of stargazing but things get kind of romantic and passionate and all of a sudden it’s raining cats and dogs but you don’t want to stop.

genre ⟶ smut

rating ⟶ 18+

word count ⟶ 1.873 words

warnings ⟶ graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, soft and mushy sex because apparently I’m a romantic at heart.

series masterlist ⟶ here (links on mobile may not work, if you’re looking for all the works in this series, you can click on the “!splintersoflove” tag and you’ll find them all there!)

A deep blue cloak of endless night sky stands before your eyes, soft grass embraces your bodies as you link your limbs together however possible while keeping your eyes fixed on the beauty before you.

Stargazing before meant climbing up to the rooftop of your home when you were little and spend most of the night hugging yourself up there.

Now, it means deserted hills and mountains that go for miles and miles with nothing to hold back your gaze or disrupt the peace and quiet of the night.

Now, it means holding hands with your boyfriend, whisper about the most mundane things or the most abstract ones and laugh with each other about it all.

Now, it means belonging to someone and somewhere and feeling whole like looking up at the stars it’s just a plus and not a way to try and find the missing piece of your heart up there.

Jeongguk’s palm fits perfectly against yours, his fingers wrap nicely around yours and they tug a little on you from time to time, squeezing a little whenever something funny crosses his thoughts and he has the incumbent need to share it with you at once.

Right now, though, that little squeeze gathers your attention because he is pointing up to the sky with his other, his mouth slightly agape as a falling star crosses the sky, reaps it in half for a whole second right before your eyes.

You used to make all the wishes on falling stars when you were a kid but lately you have realized that you are lucky and there isn’t much you’d wish for, especially when the warmth of his body is right there next to you.

So you look at him instead, take in the soft curve of his lovely nose, the thin lips that are still outstretched in that soft gasp of surprise, the onyx eyes that seem to hold the entire galaxy in them, the raven hair that fall a little behind his ears, revealing his forehead in a way that makes your insides churn.

Maybe you have been staring for too long, maybe he has noticed your silence or maybe, just like you, he can’t last for more than a few minutes without inevitably shifting his gaze to your features.

That’s when he notices the way you are looking at him, the warmth behind your gaze, the little smile gracing your lips and his cheeks seem to turn darker under the moonlight and you can almost picture them being dusted with rose petals in that adorable way that has you melting on the inside.

He is smiling now, scrunching up his nose a little like he always does when he’s embarrassed or utterly amused. You can’t tell if it’s the first of the latter but you suspect it might be a fine mixture of both.

“You’re not doing much stargazing right now,” he utters in a hushed tone as he chuckles at the way you keep staring at him, going so far as to actually shift so you can turn completely towards him, disregard altogether the gorgeousness above your heads.

“Well, I may or may not prefer the sight that is in front of me right now.” That confession deepens the smile on Jeongguk’s face and in your head you imagine his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink and damn, do you want to kiss him silly.

Maybe he can read your mind or he can see it in your eyes, maybe he just shares your same deep desire because next thing you know he is leaning forward, one of his hands coming to your face to pull you towards him and then, you are kissing under the moonlight and every piece you’re made of suddenly fits together.

Kissing Jeongguk is always like the very first time, it always feels magical and perfect and like he both breaks you and fix you at the same time, almost as if he rearranges your soul with every single touch of his lips atop your own.

You kiss for long endless minutes and until your lips are swollen, your lungs are burning and the air has turned somewhat chilly all around you.

Those minutes almost felt like an eternity and maybe they were because now you are looking at the sky and the stars seemed to have disappeared, dimmed by something you can only assume to be clouds.

But you do not care, especially not now when Jeongguk is standing right above you, his arms trapping your head between them as he stares down at you with love and lust in his shining gaze.

“I want you so badly,” he whispers and the words imply something lewd yet the tone in which he speaks them couldn’t be more soft and endearing and it immediately brings warmth to your lower abdomen, tugs at your heartstrings and desire in equal ways that leaves your mind spinning with thoughts.

You have done something like this before, inside his car, but out here in the open? Not even once.

And you had never thought you were into sex in public places but Jeongguk brings so much out of you, helping you discovering yourself every single day a little bit more.

So you silently wrap your arms around his neck, pull him towards you and kiss him anew. It is raw and passionate and heated and it leaves you breathless.

Your eyes are firm shut as he starts kissing your jawline, slowly inching towards your neck while one of his hands travels between your legs, unbuttons your jeans and finds the hidden treasure with rather ease.

Jeongguk has mapped your body countless of times before and it’s amazing how easily it comes to him to touch you like this, elicit moans and mewl out of you with the simplest touch of his lovely fingers.

The press of his digits on your cotton panties has you shivering under him, arching your beg in a silent request for more and Jeongguk always, always complies.

His fingers explore you softly, they savour every little inch of your sex in a way that makes you burn from the inside out and in the simplicity of his touch you mewl for him with only the grass, the stars and the flowers as your witness.

You can feel him grow hard on top of you, his erection pressed against one of your thighs in a way that has you salivating at the prospect of feeling him deep inside you, wrapped up nicely by your eager walls until you are calling each other’s name to the moon.

Jeongguk must read it in your eyes again because he grunts and hastily pulls your underwear down your thighs along with your jeans. He is panting as he lifts himself up just enough to unbotton his on pants, get rid of the confinement of his underwear and get exactly what he desires the most. You.

Your hands are quick to reach the sliver of naked skin atop his navel, brush against the firm muscles and inch downward along the fine trail of hair that leads to his bountiful erection.

You hum in appreciation at the way his muscles contract under your touch, at the way his cock twitches slightly under your eager gaze.

You’d love to taste him, look into his eyes as you pleasure him in ways he swears he has never experienced before but then your eyes catch a glimpse of lightning up in the sky, the purple hue startling you long before the sound of thunder reaches your ears.

You curse under your breath as the sky turns violet, ripped apart by an incoming storm that menaces to fall on you at any given moment and Jeongguk turns rigid on top of you, doubt crossing his features to match your dread.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whimper, your hand inching down to grasp his turgid member, give it a generous pump that has him quivering on top of you, gulp down heavily with the need to have more, to reach the blissful high he had been craving since he placed his lips on top of yours.

“I don’t want to stop either,” is his low response before he is inching forward once more, trapping you between his body and the hard ground.

His erection throbs inside your hold and the sensation of it pulsating so much for you even when you are barely touching him has your walls contract around thin air, your arousal dripping down your thighs as you guide him towards your sex, ready to wrap him with your sleek lips and welcome him back deep inside of you.

The slow inching of his cock inside of you has you holding your breath, closing your eyes and tilting your head back.

The first stroke it’s always the best. The feeling of being stretched and filled to the brim drives you crazy every single time.

And then he is sighing for you, panting in your ears as he rolls his hips in and out of you as if you had all the time in the world.

You flinch as the first droplets of rain touches your skin, infiltrates through your clothes and makes you shiver deeply underneath him.

Jeongguk grunts, curses and rolls his hips into you faster as you call his name, as you wrap your fingers around his neck, tug on his hair and arch your back for him.

His lips find the soft curve of your neck, attach there as he drives into you deeper, the sound of his balls slapping your bottoms only slightly covered by the sound of the storm raging all around you.

Thunders and rain and moans and sighs all mesh together in a beautiful symphony of cries of nature and pleasure.

He calls your name, stutters inside of you and your walls wrap around him tighter, menace to make him crumble as you fist his hair harder, as he suckles on your skin harder.

You come calling his name, your voice as loud as thunder and he quickly follows, painting your walls in pearly white just like the moonlight, still somewhat shining over your half-naked bodies.

You are panting, cursing, your ears are ringing and you are running, running to cover yourselves, running to the safety of his car with soaked clothes and contented hearts.

You kiss once more then, heat turned on high to dry your clothes, bring some warmth to your suddenly freezing limbs, stop them from the incessant quivering as you laugh onto each other’s mouth with the exhilaration of your shared high.

“I love you,” you whisper on top of his mouth as he places a hand on your face, caresses the soft skin with his thumb while looking into you with all the love in the entire universe.

“Love you too,” he whispers before kissing your nose, a little smile stretching on his thin lips as he takes one of your hands into his to hold while he drives you back to your place with the silent promise of making love to you again and again until the sunlight is shining through the closed curtains, tinting everything with orange.

#bangtanhq #ksmutclub #btsghostie #ficswithluv #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts ff #bts react #!splintersoflove

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justahopelessssromantic · 4 years

Text

Finding Hope: Part 3

A/N: Hey guys here’s another update for you ❤️ I’ve honestly had this like 99% done for a while now so I thought I’d finish it up and get it posted. I hope you all enjoy and as always thank you so very much for reading, it means the world to me 🥰💖

If anyone would like to be added to the tag list or removed please let me know

Finding Hope Masterlist

Thank you so much @carlaangel86 for making me another wonderful and beautiful collage 😘

*credit to the original owners of the pictures*

Warnings: Angst; violence and mentions of drug use

Word Count: 4933

Daniella had spent the first few weeks of living in Santo Padre while working at Romero Brother’s Scrapyard just getting acclimated to her new life outside of prison and this crazy new role as guardian to Hope. She took to her job quickly, picking everything up with ease. The work wasn’t exciting but it was a job and most importantly a chance to get to know Bishop better. Plus she had a great view of the guys while they worked. If she was going to be around men so much she might as well get to enjoy it a little bit. She had spent the past three years surrounded by women. She deserved a little bit of eye candy. And boy were they easy on the eyes. Especially Ezekiel Reyes with his incredibly buff biceps.

For her EZ was the safest option. He was attractive, had a body built like a god and she had no feelings or urges to pursue him in any way. He was simply just a pleasant view. Nothing more.

Daniella rested her head against her arm as her other hand fidgeted with the pen between her fingers. Her focus was currently on EZ as he did the scut work around the yard. Just behind him was Angel, his sponsor, watching him as he worked and he had a cigarette break. Angel looked up catching Daniella’s eyes as they flicked from EZ to him.

She bit her lip, quickly looking away and back down to the schedule which she was supposed to be filling out for the next month. She prayed he would not come her way but of course with Angel that never worked.

“Working hard?” Angel asked as he stepped into the small office smelling strongly of cigarette smoke. Fuck Daniella could really use a smoke right now.

Daniella ignored him as she tried to focus on the schedule. “Is there something you need? If you want time off you have to run it by Bishop fist.” It was best to keep things curt with Angel. If she gave him an inch he’d take a whole fucking mile.

Angel also ignored her comment continuing with what he wanted to say. “I see you’ve been checking out my baby bro.” He wasn’t stupid, he saw it. How could he not when he was always watching her? He’d watch her watch EZ and feel that familiar resentment towards his younger brother. Of course Daniella wouldn't give him the time of day but would ogle over Ezekiel, the golden boy.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Daniella asked, finally looking up at him.

“Don’t you?”

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” Daniella set her pen down giving up on getting anything done here.

“Looks like you were too busy drooling over EZ." Angel leaned back against the wall. "I don’t think that’s in the job description.”

“And you drooling over me is?”

"Well you're much better looking than all those assholes I've seen everyday for years." Angel stated matter of factly.

Daniella rolled her eyes. She was about to ask Angel to leave when Chucky came in behind Angel.

“There’s a man here for you.” Chucky said, ignoring Angel as he addressed Dani.

“A man?” Angel asked, looking between Chucky and Dani. Who the hell was this man looking for her?

Daniella’s mind began running around who all could possibly be here for her. She didn’t know enough people in Santo Padre for it to be anyone here which meant only one thing. Whoever it was was from her past. “Did he say who he was, Chucky?” She asked him, also ignoring Angel.

“No, just said he was looking for you.”

“Well what did he look like?” Daniella was trying to figure out if whoever it was was someone she should face or if she should bail out the back.

“Tall, muscular, blond hair, very handsome.” Chucky smiled describing the man.

Angel did not like the description of this guy at all. He hadn’t even seen the guy but the mother fucker sounded like a real douche. And handsome? Fuck that.

“Fuck,” Daniella muttered standing up from her chair. It was Reilly, her ex, had to be. Sooner or later someone was bound to find her. She was not surprised at all that it was him.

“Everything okay?” Angel asked as he watched her head for the door. She was already in a mood as she always was when Angel was around but she seemed even more upset, almost caught off guard by the surprise visitor.

“Yeah, just fucking peachy.” She mumbled before stepping out past Chucky.

Angel and Chucky watched her walk away from the office towards the front gate. “Who the fuck is this guy Chucky?” Angel asked, not taking his eyes away from Dani.

“I think he’s Hope’s father,” Chucky informed Angel watching Dani as well. Based off of her reaction and the picture the man had showed him he was almost certain that’s who he was. “He showed me a picture of him and Daniella. They looked good together, happy.”

Angel didn’t like this one bit.

Daniella made her way to the gate where she found Reilly waiting. Her blood was boiling as she stared him down. He just grinned at her smugly, his dimples showing. She wanted to smack them and that smile right off his stupd face.

“You look good.” He said looking her up and down. It was true, she looked better than he had ever seen her. Prison was hell he knew that but it also got her out of her toxic life. If she wasn’t going to let him help her at least she got out somehow.

“What are you doing here?” Daniella asked, crossing her arms. She wanted to make it very known to him that he was not wanted nor welcome here.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah? Well you’ve found me.”

“Your mom sent me to find you. She’s in rehab. They found her in her home after she OD’d.” Reilly watched Danilla’s expressions carefully looking for anything that may give her away. “They also found Billy at the bottom of the stairs in rough shape. He’s in a coma, for now.”

“And?” Daniella raised her eyebrow. “Is there a reason you’re telling me all this?” She already knew all this although the part about her mother and Billy being alive was new.

She was there afterall.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Rowena asked looking at Daniella as she stared at the home she grew up in, the place that held so much pain for her.

“I’m sure. Thanks Ro, but I have to do this alone.” Daniella looked back giving Rowena a smile before exiting her vehicle and making her way up the cracked sidewalk to the front door.

Without knocking she opened the door entering the house the stench almost knocking her out. She stopped in the doorway, her body filling with dread. She hoped to never step foot in this place again but here she was.

Just get in, get your money, and get the fuck out she reminded herself.

She pushed through making her way down the hallway. She tried to push the memories to the back of her mind. She didn’t want to remember the time her mother first shoved the needle in her or the time when Billy broke her arm or when Reilly told her he loved her. She didn’t want to remember any of it. The house held pieces of her she wished were dead, things she longed to forget.

The TV played faintly from the living room, she could hear the Price Is Right’s theme song. Cigar smoke billowed out from the room. She assumed Billy was in there. He was a creature of habit. Every day he’d watch his show getting high. If she was lucky she could make her way past him without him even knowing.

Unfortunately she wasn’t lucky.

“Daniella, is that you?” She heard his gruff voice call out.

She should have ignored him. All she had to do was keep walking but no she stopped to entertain him. “Who else would it be?”

Billy smirked spreading his legs open as he leaned back into his recliner. “Come sit on Daddy’s lap.” He said, patting his leg. “If you’re a good girl and do as I say I might just give you a treat.”

His smile was sickening.

She gulped, swallowing the bile that creeped up her throat. How many times had she heard that before? No she wouldn’t think about that right now, couldn’t. She wouldn’t go there. “Where’s my mother?”

“How the fuck should I know?” He snarled, putting out his cigar. “Doesn’t matter. She never minded sharing before.”

Daniella squeezed her trembling hands into fists. Just breathe, she reminded herself. She should have never come here. She wasn’t going to do this. She made her way further down the hall and to the kitchen.

The smell was much worse there.

The small room was filled with used dishes, trash, and needles. How anyone could live like this was beyond her. She couldn’t believe she used to live in these very same conditions.

Never again, this wasn’t her life anymore. This wasn’t who she was.

She opened the drawer beside the sink that was filled with dirty disgusting water. She scrunched her nose up at the sight before pulling all the junk out of the drawer.

“It’s not in there.” Billy was now standing in the doorway watching her, his eyes on her ass. She really had grown into quite the woman.

Daniella tried to ignore the chill that ran through her body as the hair on the back of her neck rose up. Of course she should have known that they would have found her hiding space eventually. Taking a deep breath she turned around to look at him. “I want my money Billy. I earned that shit.”

“After everything your mother and I did for you, you come in here expecting more?” Billy took a step towards her. If she wasn't already backed into the counter she would have taken one herself. ”You always were an ungrateful little bitch.”

“Just give me my money and I’ll be out of your hair.” Daniella said through clenched teeth.

“You should have been out of my hair already if only the stupid bitches had done their job,” Billy smiled as he approached Daniella loving how she instinctively tried to make herself smaller as if she could disappear. “You know what they say. You want a job done well, you gotta do it yourself.”

Billy lunged for Daniella. Daniella barely dodged him before he caught her slamming her against the counter before shoving her head into the sink full of water holding her under. Daniella gasped and sputtered as the water filled her lungs. She grasped onto the side of the sink desperately feeling around for anything. Her hand finally felt something. She grabbed a hold of the handle swinging the object back colliding it with Billy just enough to get him off of her.

Daniella gasped and coughed as she clutched onto the sink. She had never been so thankful for fresh air in her life. She didn’t nearly have enough time to gather herself. Before Billy could have the mind to try again she quickly fled past him where he had been clutching his head.

“Get back here bitch!” Billy called out coming after her.

Daniella frantically made her way through the house stealing a glance back every now and then. Billy wasn’t far behind. She quickly rounded the corner and rushed up the stairs taking them two at a time. She was just at the top when she felt Billy’s large hand grab her shoulder yanking her back. Daniella grabbed onto the railing to keep herself from going down. Her back slammed against it as she heard the loud thud from Billy going down, tumbling down the stairs.

Looking back she stared at his still body for a moment in shock. The adrenaline was pumping through her body as she tried to determine if he had been breathing or not. She really hoped he fucking wasn't.

She stared a little longer in disgust before heading back up the rest of the stairs. She was here for her money and she'd be damned if she left empty handed.

She made her way down the hall before she reached the second to last door and stopped. She looked at the beat up door. The paint was chipping and the handle was still busted from Reilly.

Just more shit she didn't want to remember.

There was no time for taking a trip down memory lane.

Daniella finally made it to her mother’s room. It was quiet and no one came out after Billy so she assumed she was either not home or just so out of it she didn’t hear or care about the noise the two created. Slowly Daniella opened the door peeking in. She cursed as she saw her mother’s figure across the floor by the foot bed with a needle still in her arm.

She nudged her with her foot once and got nothing. Next she leaned over looking for any signs of life but didn’t find any. “I told you that shit would kill you one day.” She spat glaring down at her mother’s lifeless body.

Stepping over her mother she opened the closet in search of Billy’s money. What she wasn’t expecting to find was the soft brown eyes of a small girl who couldn’t be any older than three.

“Jesus Christ,” Daniella muttered, squatting down to be level with her. Hope just stared back at her, thumb securely in her mouth with her bear wrapped in her arms. Her eyes were puffy and full of tears. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” She told her, reaching out towards her. It took a moment but eventually Hope removed her hand from her mouth and took Daniella’s hand.

Daniella couldn’t just leave her there, so she did the only thing any decent human being would do. She got herself and Hope the hell out of there.

Reilly sighed running his hand through his hair. “I’m telling you this as a friend.”

Daniella scoffed. Reilly had some nerve coming here and claiming to be her friend. He didn't care about her and never would. He proved that a long time ago.

“Don’t be like that Dani. You don’t exactly have a lot of friends right now. If I were you I wouldn't drive away the few you do.” He warned her. She may not be able to see it but he loved her. Everything he did was for her, to protect her.

“I don’t need anyone and I certainly don’t need you Reilly. I’m just fine on my own.”

“And you’re on your own?”

“Are you asking if I’m seeing anyone? Because our ship sailed the fuck away a long time ago and it’s never coming back.” She wasn’t stupid. She knew Reilly was still hung up on her. In his mind he was just the hero, rescuing her, but at the end of the day he fucking used her and Daniella does not forgive easily.

“No, fuck no.” Reilly chuckled. He knew there was no one. Daniella wouldn’t let anyone in enough to enter her life like that and certainly any poor sucker she did wouldn’t last long. “I’m asking about Hope.”

“Hope?”

“Don’t play dumb Dani. I’m not stupid.” Reilly stuck his thumbs in his belt loops switching his weight on his feet. “Look Joselyn doesn’t know she’s gone yet but when she does she’s going to come looking for you first and Billy, well you better just pray he never wakes up and finds out about the missing money.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Reilly nodded seeing right through her. Daniella was stubborn, he knew that better than anyone. “Just so you know I’ll be around for a while. I like Santo Padre. It’s a good change of scenery.”

“Do whatever it is your cold dead heart desires. I don’t care.” But she did care. The last thing she needed was Reilly around watching her.

“I’ll see you around Dani.”

“Hopefully not.”

“Who the fuck is that?” Bishop asked nodding towards Dani and the man who was talking to her. He squinted his eyes trying to see him better in the bright sunlight.

“No idea,” Creeper said leaning forward onto the picnic table. All the guys were outside watching, trying to get a read on the guy and the situation.

Angel came over to the guys with Chucky just behind him. Pulling out his pack of cigarettes he looked back at Daniella and the man before addressing his brothers. “Chucky says he’s the father. Dani didn’t seem too happy to have him here.” Although Angel was sure he was more upset by the surprise visitor than her.

“The piece of shit?” Bishop asked, staring down Reilly. “Did he tell you anything Chucky?”

“Nope. Just that he was looking for Daniella.” Chucky watched the tense expression on Bishop’s face and then looked over to the two as well. There was something there Chucky just wasn’t quite sure what yet.

“What are they saying?” Angel asked leaning down next to Coco who was watching intently as well.

“Does it look like I can fucking read lips to you?’”

“I don’t know. You’re the fucking sniper.” Angel shot back. “You’re supposed to have good eyesight and shit.”

“Maybe if you two idiots would shut up we could hear.” Hank told the two taking a smoke from Angel.

Taza patted Bishop on the shoulder leaning down to his ear. “You okay brother?”

“Just fucking peachy.” Bishop muttered, not taking his eyes off Reilly who he could see just past Daniella whose back was to the men. If looks could kill he’d be a dead man.

Daniella watched Reilly leave until he was completely out of sight. She finally relaxed a little having him gone but she couldn’t shake the gnawing anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Her mother and Billy were supposed to be dead. Everything would be so much easier if they were dead. Now she was really fucked.

Why couldn’t they just fucking stay dead?

Daniella shot a quick text to Letty telling her to stay in today and keep Hope home. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to do now with Reilly here. She couldn't hide Hope forever but she couldn’t trust him to not betray her again.

Shoving her phone back in her pocket she turned around to find all the guys looking her way. Just as soon as she caught them they all turned away pretending to be preoccupied by anything at all, well all except Bishop, Taza, and Angel. They didn’t care if they got caught watching.

Daniella’s eyes met Bishop’s for a second. There was something there, something that made her uneasy. She wasn’t threatened or put off by him. He just looked caring, loving, protective even. He made her feel all the things a father should and that made her nervous.

Fuck she was making things up in her mind. It was a terrible idea to work for Bishop. She should have gone somewhere else, anywhere but here.

She didn't feel like talking to any of the guys right now. She knew what they would have a million questions and she needed some time to clear her head before she talked to any of them. She headed back towards the office and sure enough before long Angel was beside her.

"You okay?" He asked her. He watched her face as she kept her eyes dead ahead refusing to look his way. "Who was that guy? Was he bothering you?"

“Not now Reyes.” She snapped, slamming the door to the office behind her. Leaning back against the door she ran her hands over her face. She wanted to scream but was afraid that would draw even more unwanted attention to her. Instead she just muttered another fuck plopping down in her chair before burying her face in her arms on the desk.

Of course when she finally felt like she was settling down, like her and Hope could make a home here, that’s when everything had to go to shit.

Daniella looked up as she heard the door to the office open. She was sure she would see Chucky or Angel but to her surprise it was Bishop.

“That guy giving you trouble?” He asked her, walking up to the desk.

“No he’s harmless.” It wasn’t Reilly she was most concerned about right now but her mother and Billy. They were the real threat. Reilly was just a pawn to them. “Do you mind if I go home early? I got everything done for the day.”

“Go ahead, take the rest of the day.” He gave her a smile. Even though she said Reilly wasn’t a threat he could see she was rattled by him or whatever it was he said. “Chucky can handle the rest. I’ll have Angel escort you home. Just to make sure there are no problems.” Angel had already approached Bishop about taking her home.

Daniella couldn’t believe he was sending a babysitter with her, especially Angel. “That’s really not necessary. I’ll be fine.” She insisted.

“He’ll just make sure you get there alright then head back here.” Quite frankly he didn’t care if Dani wanted this or not. He didn’t like that asshole out here today. Maybe he couldn’t protect her all those years ago but he sure as hell was going to do all he could to protect her now.

“Why? I can handle Reilly.”

“Because that’s what we do around here Dani. We look after each other.” Yes there was a little more to it because of their connections but he wasn’t doing anything he wouldn’t do for anyone else who worked with them or were a part of their family. “Just do this for me. It’ll give me one less thing to worry about.”

Dani didn’t have the energy to argue right now. She weighed her options a moment thinking of any other possible person who could escort her home but she assumed that if Bishop suggested Angel that he already went through the options himself. “Okay, fine.”

“You know you really don’t have to walk me all the way to my door.” Dani told Angel as they climbed the steps to her apartment. She was annoyed enough that he had to follow her all the way home. She figured he would keep going as soon as she parked in front of the building but nope he pulled in behind her and here they were now.

“Yeah, well Bishop will have my ass if I don’t make sure you are inside safe and sound.” He said smugly. It was more for him than Bishop but it was a good enough excuse. Really he wanted to make sure that asshole from earlier wasn’t waiting there and he wanted to know exactly where she lived. “How’s Hope?”

“She’s good.” Dani smiled a little thinking of Hope. Hope still hadn’t completely warmed up to Dani but they were getting used to having each other. Dani had learned a lot about the young girl. She learned the things that Hope liked and disliked, she learned how to understand her more even though she still wouldn’t really talk, and she learned how to comfort her on those heartbreaking nights when Hope had nightmares.

She was getting used to having the little girl around. She was all in with her. Dani had never loved as deeply for another as she had Hope. That’s what made Reilly being around, having Hope’s parents alive so much scarier. If it was just her that would be one thing but now she had Hope. She couldn’t let anything happen to Hope.

“Are you okay?” Angel asked her again, noticing how her smile turned to a frown.

“I’m fine. It’s just been a day.”

Angel didn’t really care if he was prying. He had to confirm what Chucky had told him. “That guy today, is he Hope’s father?”

Dani was taken back a moment. She wanted to laugh at that but it wasn’t a bad assumption. Reilly was going to be around anyways. “Yeah, he’s the one.”

"What's he doing here? Is he giving you trouble about Hope?" Angel stopped behind Dani as they reached her apartment.

She turned around looking up at him. "A little, but he's harmless. Trust me I can handle him." It wasn't a complete lie. He was asking about Hope. "Now is this good enough or are you going to have to do a whole sweep of my apartment?"

"I mean it wouldn't hurt anything." Angel shrugged.

"I was being sarcastic.” Dani crossed her arms. Angel smirked, he loved when she did that. “I’ll see you tomorrow Reyes.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I see you get inside safely. Orders are orders.” Angel smirked. She was stubborn but so was he.

Daniella gave him a cheesy smile before turning back around and opening her door. Once inside she looked back at him and held her arms out. “See? I’m inside safely now so goodbye.”

Angel glanced back past Dani to Hope and a young girl on their couch watching a show. The girl looked over at them furrowing her eyebrows at him. She looked like she could be related to Dani. The two had matching attitudes and all. “Call if you need anything.” He said seriously. As much as he enjoyed flirting he was more concerned for Dani and Hope’s well being right now. “Someone will always be around if you need them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, goodbye Angel.” Dani watched as he turned around and headed back down the stairs. She stepped out the door so she could see him leave completely.

Angel smirked, feeling her gaze on his back. He turned around the smirk still all over his face. “See ya tomorrow little mama.”

Fuck did he irritate her.

“Who was that?” Letty asked from behind Daniella startling her. “He’s hot.”

Dani turned around giving her a look. “He’s too old for you so don’t even think about it.”

“Does he have a brother?” Letty passed Hope to Daniella following her into the house, closing the door behind them.

“Also too old for you.” Dani rolled her eyes. “Look we’ll find you a boy. A boy your own age.” She stressed. Letty didn't need to be messing around with any older men.

“Do you like him?” Letty pried following Daniella into the kitchen. Her mind was stuck on the hottie with Dani. There was definitely something there and Letty wanted to know everything. Dani set Hope on the counter before going into the fridge pulling out the leftover take out they had from the night before. “Is there something going on there?” Letty smirked hopping onto the counter with Hope handing her the blue sippy cup full of orange juice.

“What? With Angel?” Daniella placed the food on the counter and pulled out a couple of forks. “No, absolutely not. There is nothing there. You’re crazy.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Letty teased. “He obviously likes you and you’d be crazy to not find him attractive. You can at least fuck him. I bet he’d be really good in bed.” Letty opened one of the containers grabbing a fork to dig in.

Daniella glared back at Letty. “Would you please just shut the fuck up and eat your damn food?” Daniella picked Hope off the counter, settling her on her hip.

“Come on after so many years locked up with no dick you deserve a little something... or a big something.” Letty smirked thinking about Angel. “He’s definitely packing.”

“Oh my god Letty. Shut the fuck up.” Daniella laughed pushing Letty playfully.

“I’m just saying.” Letty hopped off the counter grabbing the food before walking after Dani towards the living room. “Would it really be so bad?”

“With Angel? Yes.” Daniella set Hope on a pillow in front of the coffee table. She then settled next to her dishing some of the food onto a plate for Hope. “That's exactly what a man like him wants. I can't give in."

"So you do want to fuck him?"

Dani glared at Letty. "I never said that."

"You haven't said you didn't want to either." Letty pointed out with a smirk. She leaned forward grabbing the remote as she ignored Dani's stare. She figured she'd drop it for now. "What do you want to watch?"

"Anything." Dani shrugged as she turned her attention to her food. It’s not like her mind would be all there to enjoy a show anyways. She smiled down at Hope as she watched her pick the carrots out of her food to eat.

"Okay." Turning on the TV Letty decided on Friends. She sat back enjoying the light show as she dug in herself. Anything was better than being at home. As long as Dani didn't mind her hanging around she would often stay a little longer after Dani got home. At least here she felt welcome and safe. With Dani she felt accepted. It was something Letty wanted to enjoy but also not get too comfortable in. For now though she wasn't going to worry about it.

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#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes x OC #Mayans MC #mayans mc fanfiction

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atmilliways · 4 years

Text

On the 2nd day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 14 - Kissing under the mistletoe (or office party shenanigans)

Charles gets roped into the role of Santa Clause at the holiday office party.

Charles/Pickles

The dreaded Dethklok Inc. office Christmas party was coming up—dreaded not by the band or most of the employees, who typically had a blast, but by the CFO who had to arrange and organize everything before and after, up to and including the inevitable handful of resulting funeral arrangements.

Charles was looking forward to it even less than usual, because the band had thrown an absolute shitfit to get him to agree to play Santa this year. He didn’t know why they wanted him to do this. The party didn’t even normally have a Santa. His first thought was that it was Toki’s idea, but on second thought Toki tended to lack the charisma to get the rest of the guys to throw in with him on niche interests like that.

But fine. Whatever. He’d agreed to do it once, and next year he could simply point to whatever came of it this year as an argument against repeating the experience.

He kept telling himself that right up until donning the red and white Santa suit, the iconic hat, and the fake beard. (The damn thing was so big that practically all he could see of his own face in the mirror were his eyes. At least they were letting him keep his glasses.) Then he took his seat in a throne-like chair that had been special ordered for the occasion, specially decorated with carvings of presents, the most unsettling depictions of Christmas elves that he’d ever seen, and skulls with real candles balanced on them, lit and already beginning to dribble red and black wax . . . and immediately felt that somewhere in life he must have made a grave, grave mistake to have ended up here.

The band took the stage in the center of the hall, half the room away from where Charles sat, and went into a jumbled “Merry Christmas, go fuck yourselves!” sort of speech. He mostly tuned it out until—

“And hey, errybody,” Pickles slurred into his mic, “don’t ferget ta sit on Santa’s lap and tell ‘im what you want fer Christmas!”

That had not been part of the discussion, let alone the agreement, but at this point what was he going to do about it? Besides hope that grown men and women hired for their professional abilities would have no interest in sitting on the lap of the man who signed their paychecks.

“You can’t have a pony,” Charles said flatly. “There isn’t space for one in the employee barracks, and even if there were it would be both impractical and unsanitary.”

The Klokateer perched on his lap, crushing the feeling out of his legs, tittered and took another sip of his holiday punch through a straw poked up under his mask. “Oo-kay Mr. Grinchy-claus, no pony for me then. Aren’tcha going to say ‘ho ho ho, Merry Christmas’?”

“Ho ho ho. Now go away.”

Laughing drunkenly, the man lurched up and made his way off the Santa podium to get a refill of punch. The next Klokateer in line had an Online Division pin on one shoulder and a spiked eggnog in her hand. Charles braced himself for yet another request for fewer blocks on searching for porn using company computers.

“Hey look, it’sch Schanty Clausche!”

Charles grimaced behind his beard. “Hello, Murderface.”

The first of the boys to visit him, Murderface seemed to be in unusually high spirits. His ass landed on Charles’ knees like a ton of bricks. “Wow,” he crooned with exaggerated delight, “Schanta really does know all the namesch of the good little boysch and girlsch!”

“Very funny. Would you mind telling me whose idea this was?”

The bassist shook his head. “Hey man, I’m not here to narc on my bandmatesch, I’m here to tell Schanta what I want for Chrischtmasch. ”

“Alright. Fine. What would you like for Christmas.”

Murderface looked around furtively, then leaned in and whispered, “A dischguische kit.”

“A . . . disguise kit.”

“Yeah! I’m tired of being mobbed whenever I go out in public, scho I need it. For camouflasche. ”

Charles couldn’t remember a single incident of a fan mob forming for just Murderface; it only ever seemed to happen when one or more of the other band members were with him, though there were probably a few people who did wander up and ask for an autograph. There had been one unfortunately memorable band meeting a few months ago where Murderface had bragged about someone wanting to touch his penis for good luck, pleased at the recognition but at the same time calling said fan an ‘incredibly fucking gay regular jackoff.’

“I’ll, ah, make sure that’s added to the list,” Charles assured him, and breathed a sigh of relief when Murderface nodded in satisfaction and stood to leave.

“Hey, knock knock.”

Charles sighed from the depths of his soul at this second Dethklok visitation. “Who’s there.”

“Nathan Explosion,” said Nathan Explosion, dropping unceremoniously onto his lap.

Luckily, the beard hid Charles’ wince at the impact. He was probably going to have a lot of weird leg bruises tomorrow. “Nathan Explosion who.”

“Nathan Explosion, here to tell you you’re the party ho ho ho! ” Nathan broke into riotous laughter and clapped Charles good-naturedly on the back, causing him to accidentally inhale a mouthful of fake beard.

After a moment to catch his breath, Charles nodded along. “Very amusing. What would you, ah, like for Christmas, Nathan?”

“I need new pants.”

Well, that was unexpectedly straightforward. “New pants. You got it.”

“One hundred pairs. Exactly one hundred.”

“Okay.”

“Just, uh. A couple inches bigger in the waist. For the holiday weight that I am definitely going to lose in January.”

He couldn’t feel his legs; this was not the time to point out that Nathan wouldn’t have time to wear all one hundred pairs of new pants between December 25th and the start of January, nor that January as a deadline for such a drastic fitness undertaking was probably an unrealistic deadline.

“That’s fine, Nathan. One hundred pairs of pants. I’ll make sure, the, ah, elves get the message.” Maybe he would throw in some math flash cards while he was at it.

Toki weighed less than the first two, but was unfortunately so excited that he landed on Charles’ lap hard . Definitely, definitely going to have bruises.

“God Jul, Charles —I means Santa!” the guitarist chirped, bright-eyed and swaying slightly. Charles fervently hoped he wasn’t about to throw up; he didn’t even think being covered in vomit would do much to get him out of this holiday circle of hell. “Merries Christmas!!”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Toki. What do you, ah, want to ask Santa for this year?”

He didn’t have a watch, but he estimated that Toki’s list, plus miscellaneous excited chatter, took at least half an hour and mentioned many things he knew for a fact that Toki already owned.

“Eeuyghh, looks, it ams everys-ones favorites butler,” Skwisgaar said, then folded himself gracefully into a sitting position. After an hour or two of being sat on like this and having plenty to compare it to, Charles wondered if the man was eating enough.

This was in spite of the fact that Skwisgaar was toting around a small plate loaded with various cheeses, fruit, and greasy finger sausages skewered on toothpicks. Party food. To Charles, who hadn’t realized that this gig would take so long and therefore hadn’t eaten in advance, it smelled wonderful.

The Swede must have noticed him eyeing it, or perhaps heard the growl of his stomach over the noise of the surrounding party somehow, because he smirked and held it out in offering. “Pickle says for you to haves this. Gots to keep yous strengths up, you knows.”

Pickles, Charles noted as he balanced the plate off to one side on one of the less obvious and candle-less Christmas skulls. He also pulled one of the sausages free of its toothpick and reached under the beard to jam it in his mouth. Still warm.

“Thank you, Skwisgaar,” he said once he’d finished chewing. “Now, what can I get for you? Ah, as Santa. Ho ho.”

“Everyones know it ams three ‘ho’s, dildo.” Skwisgaar steepled his fingers. “But I woulds like five ins mine room to enjoy ons the Christmas morning. You know the kinds I likes?”

Charles didn’t know what he’d expected. “It’s my job to know, so . . . yes.”

“Greats.” The guitarist patted him on the shoulder of his Santa suit. “Glads that ams sorted outs. Keeps up that good works, yous.”

Then he got up and wandered away, leaving Charles to realize that he hadn’t had a chance to ask him who was behind this whole Santa idea.

Charles finished the plate of food before Pickles made an appearance. He also realized that he could persuade his increasingly inebriated employees to bring him more food, and also drinks, by threatening them with cleanup duty after the party. (He was not in a generous mood; the ones that tried to weasel out of it at first would get cleanup duty regardless of whether they eventually caved or not.) There was no way to escape the alcohol content in the drinks—even when he asked for water it came spiked with vodka or peppermint schnapps, because everyone wanted to see the company’s CFO hammered.

At least they knew better than to roofie him, because Charles would have them killed.

He saw Pickles coming from a mile away. Maybe it was because Charles knew that once all of Dethklok had a chance to visit with “Santa Clause” he would be allowed to escape this torment; maybe it was because he really wanted to know if Pickles was, indeed, the mastermind behind this whole thing; and maybe it was just a tiny bit because he was annoyed the drummer had forgotten to wander over earlier.

But being annoyed at any of the guys was a nonstarter. Putting up with their antics was just part of the job.

“Heeeeeeeeeeey,” Pickles greeted him as he swayed his way over and plopped onto Charles’ lap. Unlike everyone else who had visited Santa this evening, he didn’t stick to perching closer to Charles’ knees but scooted in as close as he could until they were practically nose to nose. Mingled notes of every kind of booze available at the party wafted the short distance from the drummer’s mouth (and shirt, and hands, and dreads), until all Charles could smell was Pickles. “Lookin’ hot in that suit, dood. Is the temp in here okay? Gettin’ a little warm in there?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Charles said, trying not to be too aware that Pickles seemed incapable of sitting still and his ass was rubbing against . . . things. “Ah. Merry Christmas.”

Pickles snickered. “Did Nat’en make that ho joke?”

No one could see for the beard that Charles’ lips twitched toward a smile at that. “Yes, he did.”

“‘M glad yer not a ho, Charlie,” Pickles slurred affectionately. “A'least, not no much'a one. That’d be a bummer.”

“Ah . . . okay.” He didn’t know what to make of that, or the continuing subtle lap dance, so he said, “What would you like for Christmas this year, Pickles?”

“Weeeeell. . . .” Grinning, Pickles waggles his double-pierced eyebrows. It seems like he’s trying to be suggestive, but Charles has no idea what that’s supposed to suggest. The drummer leaned even closer, lips brushing against Charles’ ear as he murmurs, “I kinda already got my present right in front’a me, chief. Just gotta unwrap it.”

All of this was sending shivers and goosebumps down Charles’ spine under the (admittedly warm) Santa suit, but for heaven’s sake, it was just Pickles. When wasted, which he was more often than not, man oscillated between being a destructive drunk and clingy one. Apparently tonight it was . . . very much so the latter. Not a good time to ask about the Santa plot, really.

He had dealt with this before, just not with Pickles literally draped over and inconspicuously grinding on him. Come on, Offdensen, pull it together . Do not get a boner at the holiday office party. No matter how long it’s been!

“Well, ah, sounds like you’re all taken care of then,” Charles hazarded. “All that’s left to do is, ah, enjoy the party. Why don’t you go do that.”

Pickles chuckled, a low, sultry sound that just made the situation even more difficult. “Workin’ on it dood, I’m workin’ on it.” He shifted thoughtfully again, then bit his lip through a grin. “And it feels like we’re gettin’ there, huh chief?”

“I. Ah, what?” At least the big fake beard was concealing his blush better than he’d been able to contain his body’s mounting interest in the increasingly distracting ass squirming around on top of him. This is a public place , he wanted to protest, but didn’t want to risk pointing out something that might be completely unintentional. After all, it was Pickles , who did this sort of thing fairly regularly.

But the next murmured words out of Pickles’ mouth stopped every single one of Charles’ thoughts in their tracks.

“Fuck, even in this stupid suit yer sexy. How d’you do that?” A brief nip, teeth closing and tugging on Charles’ earlobe before releasing with a soft wet pop .

Nothing but overwhelmed static on the other side of that ear; the quiet gasp was completely involuntary.

“C’mon Charlie,” Pickles all but whined, “you don’t have to do this anymore. Jest call it a night and meet me in the bathroom or somethin’, okie?”

The amazing thing, Charles thought distantly, was that from a distance, it wouldn’t look like anything was happening. Just a grown man, swaying drunk off his ass, sitting on Santa’s lap to whisper what he wanted for Christmas. Regular office holiday party shenanigans for a laugh. But under the surface, Charles was starting to feel like a shaken champagne bottle.

“You, ah,” he managed. “You do realize that you, ah, seem to be prepositioning me for, ah. Sex?”

Pickles leaned into him with a laugh. “Like I said, dood, that’s what I’m tryin’ ta do. Fer like, fuckin’ forever. For a smart guy you can be pretty stupid, y’know that?”

“Ah.” Charles shifted awkwardly and nearly choked when Pickles very pointedly pushed into it at the exact right moment. “There’s . . . a chance I’ve been told that before,” he hedged, already vowing to himself that he would never admit how many times. This isn’t something he ever would have looked for, but mistaking Pickles hitting on him for god only knew how long for just being an affectionate drunk? That was pretty fucking funny if you thought about it, and he'd consumed just enough alcohol so far to really give it some very serious thought.

And . . . his job was to keep everyone in the band happy.

“So, ah. There are several bathrooms off this hall. . . . Which one did you have in mind?”

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #chuckles #12 days of dethmas

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dothwrites · 4 years

Note

i love your writing! i would love to see you write a Dean/Cas "getting together" fic with maybe... #15 *Don’t tempt me* :D :D

---

google doth, always taking prompts!

---

It’s been four days since the moving van appeared on the street like a mirage, and Dean has yet to see the poor sap who bought 401 Kripke Drive.

The house is a damn eyesore and it’s been that way for years. Dean’s complained about it to the homeowner’s association, along with several others, but he never got any answer other than a vague The owner appreciates your concern and something will be done about the property soon. Meanwhile, the shutters were rotting and the grass in front of the property was tall enough to play a game of Jumangi in. Dean’s seen a few intrepid raccoons slithering around the property and he’d be willing to bet that there are snakes in that tall grass. Snakes. He shudders as he finishes the touches on his own (pristine) lawn.

Not that he’s become a Stepford Smiler whose only concern is his lawn, but...Look, it’s good to have a nice lawn. It gives the right impression, plus it boosts property values. And what’s the point in having a house if you’re not getting equity out of it?

Which is why Dean is so excited that finally someone’s bought the dilapidated two story at the end of the street. Finally, he can stop wincing whenever he invites Sam and Jess over. He waits, in eager anticipation, to catch sight of the person who Dean’s come to think of as his personal savior. Failing that, he waits to see the taming of the lawn or the painting and re-siding of the house or...anything.

He waits. And he waits.

After a week with no progress, he’s tired of waiting. He quickly whips up a non-offensive lemon cake (no pie; pie is for people who mow their lawns and don’t ruin his property values) and treks down the street to greet the new neighbor.

“What do you have there?” his neighbor, Jody shouts. She’s being a good neighbor and planting her yearly marigolds in her front (landscaped) lawn. “You going to see the new guy?”

“Yeah. Why, have you seen him?” This is good. Up until just a few minutes ago, Dean didn’t know that it was even a guy who had moved in.

Jody smiles. Everything about her screams I know something you don’t know. What’s worse is, from experience, Dean knows that she’s not going to share. “Sure have,” is all that she says. She smiles a Cheshire cat grin at him.

“Yeah, thanks for nothing,” Dean mutters as he heads over to 401.

The walk towards the front door is a perilous prospect. The sidewalk is pitted with holes and loose gravel decorates the surface. Grass and weeds tenaciously rip at the concrete, making the surface uneven. Dean has to watch his step in order to avoid tripping, which is probably a gift in the long run. It keeps him from noticing how the rotted shutters dangle from the windows, held on by a single, dedicated screw, or how the ugly grey paint is peeling away from the house, like it can’t bear to be there a second longer. The front steps creak alarmingly under his weight and Dean quickly makes his way up them and across the front porch. He tries to keep light on his feet, not wanting to crash through.

No doorbell. There’s just an ominous, lion’s head door knocker. Dean takes it in hand and lets it fall several times. The sound echoes.

After a few minutes, Dean’s ready to give up. It’s possible that the mysterious neighbor isn’t here. There’s no car in the driveway. Maybe he came all this way for nothing.

The door (wood chipped in several places, paint coming off of it in long, jagged stripes) creaks open.

Wow, that’s some pretty strong hash, is Dean’s first thought followed by Oh shit, because those are some seriously blue eyes looking back at him.

Then Dean gets a look at the whole package and Oh shit starts to war with Of fucking course. Blue Eyes’ owner is just as unkempt as his house, in a loose linen shirt that hangs off of his frame just enough to tease at the existence of rock hard muscles without ever revealing any. His pants look similarly like they’re a size too big, clinging to his hips by nothing more than sheer willpower. Dark hair hangs loose over the man’s forehead and the whites surrounding those arresting blues have a fine spiderweb of red running through them. Dark stubble scruffs up a jawline that, given the right circumstances, looks sharp enough to cut glass. Everything about the man is rumpled, like he went one too many times through the wash and no one bothered to hang him up to dry afterward before shoving him in a forgotten drawer.

“Can I help you?” The voice that rasps from the body takes Dean aback--It’s deep, hoarse, like he...Well, maybe like he smokes a fuckton of weed every day.

“Dean. Hi. I’m Dean. I’m your neighbor. I live down the lane at 416? I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” The cake is cumbersome in Dean’s arms. Having seen the derelict who bought this house, he’s not sure whether he wants to take himself and his cake screaming back to his house or to drop to his knees right here on the man’s front porch. Welcome to the neighborhood indeed.

The man blinks, like he’s taking the time to parse every word for hidden meaning. It could just be that’s stoned out of his mind, but Dean doesn’t think so. Behind the haze of the weed, there’s a sharpness in his eyes that Dean doesn’t often see. The man taps his chin, his eyes flicking up and down Dean’s body. Dean doesn’t think that he’s imagining it when they linger on his lips. “I see. Hello Dean.”

Something warm and pleased curls in Dean’s belly at hearing his name spoken by that voice. He does his best to push it aside, concentrating on the reason why he came. (Weeds, jungle lawn, peeling paint, wonder how he tastes, wonder how he sounds) “Yeah, anyway, friendly advice? I just wanted to let you know that our Homeowner’s Association are a bunch of hardasses (lies), and they’re going to get on you for the way that your lawn looks (more lies). If you want, I could pop over one Saturday morning and help you take care of it (where the hell is this generosity coming from?).”

The man looks at his lawn and then back at Dean. A vague sort of smile creeps across his face. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d think that he was being laughed at. “Well, I thank you for the offer, but I have no interest in mowing my lawn. Uninhibited growth encourages local bee populations, as do many of what you would call weeds. So thanks, but no thanks.”

The rejection is delivered so pleasantly that it takes Dean a while to realize that he’s been shot down. When he finally makes that connection, he sputters. “You can’t...” He points one finger at Blue Eyes (asshole didn’t even tell him his name, and now Dean is forced to use one of his best physical attributes to describe him?) and spits, “You need to mow your damn lawn!”

On that rejoinder, he stalks down the stairs, jumping when one creaks underneath his weight. Asshole (Dean refuses to think of him with any sort of admiration) calls after him, “Don’t I get my cake?”

Dean whirls around, narrowly avoiding falling flat on his ass. “Cake is for people who aren’t dicks!” he shouts, before he stalks towards home, through grass so thick that it clings to his ankles.

---

The lawn at 401 Kripke Drive remains uncut. The house remains unpainted. The shutters continue on their slow journey towards the earth. Asshole (Castiel, Dean discovers, through the truly formidable stalking talents of one Becky Rosen) continues to allow his property to languish in a state of neglect, as he...Dean’s not sure what he does exactly. Keeps to himself and doesn’t spend a second thinking about the rest of these poor bastards who have to live with the sight of his ungodly property.

When the grass becomes a height that Dean would estimate as ‘mid-calf’, he acts.

Saturday morning, he putters down the street with his mower and pretends like he doesn’t see several curtains flicking back to watch him. Let them stare. Cowards. He, Dean Winchester, is personally going to save the property values and curb appeal of Kripke Drive.

His mower isn’t quiet, nor does Dean make any attempt to lessen his noise, so it’s really remarkable that it takes Cas a good forty-five minutes to stumble out of his house. By that point, Dean’s already finished up with the front and side yards and is happily working his way through the back yard.

“What...What the hell?”

Dean glances over to see the source of the complaints. When he does, his step stutters and falters. It’s almost enough to knock him off of his stride, which is impressive, seeing that he was fairly single-minded in his mission.

Castiel is clad in nothing more than boxers and a threadbare robe, which flutters open whenever he moves, revealing miles of tanned skin. His hair sticks up at odd angles and his stubble could best be described as aggressive. His eyes look clear, but they also look angry.

Swallowing hard, Dean settles for giving Castiel a cheeky wave, as he turns around to make another pass of his lawn.

This does not have the desired effect (Castiel thanks Dean for performing a necessary function of homeownership and goes inside to make a heaping breakfast, which they will consume together while discussing their plans for wedded bliss). Instead Castiel marches across the lawn in his bare feet and stands in front of Dean. Dean, not so focused on yard work that he can’t appreciate when he’s about to take off a man’s toe, releases the kill switch on the mower.

Castiel takes the opportunity to advance on Dean (it is not hot the way that he does that, or the way that he pushes himself up on the balls of his feet to erase the scant inch or so difference in their height, not hot at all). His finger pokes into Dean’s chest. This close, Dean can smell him. He still smells like weed, but instead of being eye-wateringly overpowering, it’s just a comfortable, earthy scent, mixed with something sweeter and brighter--his shampoo maybe?

“I said, what the hell are you doing?”

Dean looks at the lawn and then back at Castiel. He makes a valiant effort not to look at Castiel’s chest, specifically where the robe has opened to reveal the edges of one, dusky nipple. He fails, but he thinks that he should be commended for making the effort to begin with.

“I’m doing you a favor,” Dean says, wincing when Castiel digs his finger into his chest further. He was right--there are a lot of muscles in that frame.

Castiel goes still with rage. “A favor?” he finally asks, voice soft and dangerous. “I specifically said that I wasn’t interested in having my lawn mowed. The bee populations--”

“Oh what the hell Cas,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “Look, if you care that much, we can go to Home Depot later this afternoon and pick out some bee friendly flowers. Hell, I’ll even help you plant them.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything to this, though his eyebrow does quirk up in what appears to be interest. Dean takes this as his opportunity. “If you want, I can even help you build a place where you could keep a hive. If you want.” (He’s never built an apiary in his goddamn life, but surely there are videos on youtube that tell you how to do that?)

“You mowed my lawn,” Castiel says, but he doesn’t sound angry about it. More...considering? He tilts his head to the side. “Were you planning on painting the house as well?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Dean answers. The shudder that shakes through his body is only halfway exaggerated. “It’s a whole fucking disaster Cas.”

Castiel hums. This time, when his eyes land on Dean’s lips, he lets them linger.

Dean doesn’t do anything to stop him.

(After Dean finishes mowing the lawn, Castiel greets him with a mug of coffee. He’s still dressed in his robe. Dean brings the coffee mug inside. It takes him a while to find his way out of the house. They don’t make it to Home Depot that day, but they do manage to make it to a dinner the next morning for breakfast. Dean does eventually help Castiel plant his flowers, though zoning regulations prohibit apiaries.

Painting the house takes a little longer because Castiel persists in looking so damn good in a pair of jeans that Dean gets distracted. A lot. After blood, sweat, and other bodily fluids are shed, the house gets painted, but by then, it’s time to fix the front steps. After that, the whole damn porch needs to be replaced. Dean keeps on finding chores to do around the house, so many in fact, that he eventually just moves in.

Was this your plan all along? he asks, lying on the floor with Cas as he stares up at the (newly finished) ceiling.

Cas lets a plume of smoke escape from his nose and smiles. Yes, it was always my plan to seduce you with unsolicited yard work. I always knew that a madman would come mow my lawn and I just wanted it to be you.

Don’t fucking tempt me, Dean says, and then there’s not a lot of talking for quite some time.)

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #neighbors!au #enemies to lovers #kinda #dothwrites

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Strangers (Shalaska) - pureCAMP

A/N - inspired by the halsey song, my brain, and sponsored by lesbians

Summary: Sharon’s not gay. Maybe.

Alaska had missed her best friend way too much. As she walked towards the front door of her condo, the music already thumping in her ears from halfway down the street, she had to laugh at the decorations. A huge banner was strung up around the front of the house, with crudely spray-painted letters and glitter spelling out “WILLAM’S HOME!” Beyond that, all of the windows were lit up with whatever expensive lighting systems Willam had rigged; bright purple and blue flashing in all directions.

It was so Willam.

She slipped inside and found herself oddly relaxed in the midst of all the drunk, high, reckless bodies around her. She was already a little tipsy from pre-drinks, and it was such a Willam Belli party that the weeks she’d been gone suddenly disappeared from Alaska’s mind. She threaded her way through, knowing she’d find the blonde by the pool, probably out of her expensive outfit by now and in some kind of elaborate strappy bikini doing body shots.

“Laska! Ah, guys, Alaska’s here!” Willam called out, spotting her as she made her way outside. Naturally, the pool was filled with obnoxiously large pool floats, a minibar was stocked with drinks in the corner, and almost everyone was in some state of undress. Willam, to her credit, was wearing a one-piece, although it was more like a string of fabric just about covering what it needed to. Her wet hair suggested to Alaska that she had already gotten a little wild, but her skin at least was dry, though covered in glitter. She enveloped Alaska in a huge hug.

“I’ve missed you!” Alaska squeezed back. “How was Europe?”

Willam had been away on tour - she was starting to make it big in her music career, and that meant all of a sudden, she was miles and miles away, in weird time zones, living her best life. Alaska was proud beyond belief, but her absence had highlighted just how much she loved her best friend. Plus her parties - they were pretty legendary.

“Amazing! Bitch, get in here and try some of this!” A drink was all but shoved into Alaska’s hand, making her grin and start chugging as she knew she was expected to. Willam and the group surrounding her - no faces that she really recognised, but that was characteristic of a Willam bash - cheered and screamed.

Alaska laughed and sputtered. “That was fucking disgusting. You have the worst taste.”

“I know, right!” Willam grinned and pressed a sloppy, smudged lipstick kiss to the top of her head, undoubtedly getting lipstick and glitter in her hair. “Oh! You should go see Courtney too, Courtney’s here! I think she’s in the kitchen, but I don’t fucking know. Missed you, doll!”

Blowing air kisses, Alaska managed to extricate herself from Willam’s sweaty, chlorine and alcohol-scented grasp, winding past the slippery edges of the pool and the drunken party goers to make her way back inside. She’d stay a little while to catch up with Willam and Courtney, having not seen them in forever, but hopefully she wouldn’t have to stay too long.

It wasn’t that she didn’t wanna get drunk and party with her friends. It was just that… there was someone else on her mind. Someone she was hoping would text soon, and give her an excuse to leave.

The kitchen was busy, but with no sign of Courtney’s perfect curls anywhere. She’d dyed her hair pink a couple of days after her cousin’s wedding in Australia, and Alaska was dying to see it in person. But for the most part, the people in the kitchen were just blindly offering drinks and coke to people - the kitchen island looked like it had been dusted with flour.

“Want some?” A very drunk girl offered, her eyes dazed and unfocused. “I don’t mind sharing!”

Alaska shook her head. “Not really my poison. Thanks, though.”

The girl beamed, and Alaska headed out. Maybe Courtney had moved on to the living room, and was charming the drunks with her tan beauty and her Australian charm and her stories about good vegan restaurants. For someone who didn’t drink often, she was bizarrely good at fascinating crowds at parties.

Just like the rest of the house, the living room was packed with people, dancing to the music or chatting in groups or pressed into various sofas and chairs, making out. A quick scan of the room seemed to indicate that Courtney wasn’t there either - but someone else was.

She was wearing a black dress that clung to every inch of her body, highlighting every delicious curve. Her hair was curled, bouncing at her shoulders, and her lips plush and full and painted red. One of her hands was wrapped around a bottle of beer, while the other was pressed flat against some guy’s chest. Her body was draped over his, and from afar, Alaska could see a sickening, simpering smile on her face as she laughed at, presumably, one of his awful jokes.

It felt as if every breath of air had been knocked right out of Alaska’s lungs. She paused, winded, unable to stop staring and simultaneously wondering why the sudden pain in her chest refused to go away.

She knew that body. She knew it like she knew herself, knew it drunk or sober, knew it in the dark, knew it by touch and mouth alone. She knew the different types of gasps and moans and ragged breaths that she’d make when Alaska went down on her. She knew the whines and satisfied hums she’d make when Alaska’s tongue circled her nipples, when her hands palmed her breasts. She knew the taste of her favourite chapstick, how it felt to thread her hands through those curls.

Sharon was laughing daintily at some guy, and for an inexplicable reason it made Alaska’s blood boil.

As if burned by her gaze, Sharon looked away for a moment and immediately locked eyes with Alaska, her whole body freezing in shock. She seemed to falter for a few seconds, unable to do anything but stare - and then she turned back to the guy she was practically on top of, and smiled apologetically. Alaska caught her mouthing “one second,” and “an old friend,” in a coy, flirty manner, before she all but raced towards her.

Within seconds, she had grabbed Alaska’s arm and pulled her out of the room, leading her into the empty foyer and shutting the door behind them. Alaska half expected her usual sultry, lidded gaze, her eyes to be clouded with lust, but instead she was met with a furious glare.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She rushed out.

Alaska blinked, confused. “I’m friends with Willam.”

“Since when?”

“For years. We go way back, to like, middle school.”

Sharon scoffed. “She’s never mentioned you.”

“Maybe you don’t have that kind of friendship.” Alaska shot back, then wondered why she was even bothering defending herself. “Anyway, what does it matter?”

“Have you told her about us?” Sharon’s eyes were blazing, her bottom lip quivering as she spoke. Maybe it was the alcohol, or something she’d taken - or, as Alaska sincerely hoped it wasn’t - just the extent of her anger.

She shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”

“Have you told anyone about us?”

“No!”

Sharon seemed to relax, if only infinitesimally. She leant back against the wall, as if to catch her breath, and started to rake her hands through her hair, messing up the curls. Finally able to get a good look at her, Alaska noted her chest rising and falling rapidly, the slight swaying of her figure. She was drunk and panicked and Alaska’s chest was still permeated with a deep, horrible ache.

After a few seconds, Sharon looked up and regained her composure - or at least, pretended to. She stuck her chin in the air and, noticing Alaska’s gaze flitting towards the closed door leading into the living room, sneered.

“You know we’re not lovers, right?”

Alaska swallowed. “Right.”

“We’re strangers.” Sharon’s voice was cold, detached. “I don’t even know your name.”

The ache worsened, but Alaska didn’t give in to it. “Oh really?”

“Really.” Sharon’s gaze hardened. “We’ve never met. Just because we’ve had a couple of drunk hookups-”

Part of Alaska wanted to laugh. A sick, hurt part of her that longed to hit back wanted to laugh, to scoff, to roll her eyes. It was as far from the truth as it could possibly get. Sure, maybe it had started that way, with Sharon drunk and Alaska equally as inebriated, hooking up in someone’s room and then making out in the taxi home only to continue where they left off in Alaska’s apartment. But things had changed; the texts arriving earlier and earlier, the scent of alcohol on her breath fainter and fainter, the tight party clothes and heavy makeup lessening. There had been nights when Sharon had simply texted “Are you in?” and Alaska only had to respond with a mere “Of course” for her to arrive, barely made up, in jeans and a leather jacket that they both knew would be discarded the second she walked inside.

Of course Alaska had got herself entangled with the girl deep in denial. Of course she was catching feelings for someone who, apparently, was nothing short of repulsed at the idea of anyone knowing.

“Drunk?” Alaska repeated, unable to keep the derisive, almost offended tone out of her voice.

“Yes, drunk.” Sharon stressed, her mouth set in a hard line. “A couple of drunk hookups doesn’t mean I’m a… a lesbian.”

It made sense. Alaska nodded, hurt but a lot less angry. “Right. I didn’t imply anything, but-”

“I just don’t want you spilling to the wrong person. Or anyone for that matter.” She crossed her arms, and Alaska forced herself not to glance down at her cleavage. “Okay?”

“Fine.” Alaska paused. “You should know… there’s nothing wrong if you are. You don’t look all that comfortable with him.”

Sharon looked away. “Don’t act like you know me. You don’t. I think he’s cute.”

As if Alaska didn’t know Sharon. As fucking if. She wasn’t convincing at all.

“Okay. Well, I was looking for my friend Courtney - not to talk all about how much you love my tongue in your pussy, don’t worry - but I don’t think she’s around, or maybe she’s in another room. So I’m gonna go look for her, and you can go back to your overgrown man.”

Sharon scowled. “Are you trying to convince me I’m gay? Because I don’t think that’s fucking-”

“No.” Alaska cut her off. “I’m not. I’m wondering why you won’t even entertain the possibility of liking girls, given our history, but since you won’t, I expect that when I leave here tonight - pretty early, because I don’t usually stay long - I won’t get a text from you begging for me to come over and fuck you?”

She wasn’t trying to be rude, but even so, Alaska couldn’t quite hold her tongue. Whatever issues Sharon had, it still wasn’t fair for her to be treated like the experiment. Especially when she could see in Sharon’s eyes, when they rolled back in her head, or when she leaned in for a kiss that lasted far longer than the supply of oxygen in her lungs, that to both of them, it was so much more than an experiment.

Sharon’s lips were parted, her expression angry and ready to hit back with another retort, but at Alaska’s words, she simply closed them and looked away.

“Go find your friend.”

She turned away, and Alaska smiled sadly. They both knew where this was going.

“I’ll see you later, Sharon.”

There was a pause.

“Probably.”

Alaska waited until Sharon was gone to let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. In all honesty, Sharon had turned her life upside down the past few weeks. Her texts were pretty much the only thing she’d had to look forward to in her loneliness, and she knew in her heart that it had become so much more than a hookup. The times that Sharon had come over and explained how awful her day had been and listened as Alaska did the same, and then lapsed into slow, soft kisses that escalated until they took it to the bedroom - those times hadn’t been hookups. It had been several weeks since she’d woken up in the bed alone, Sharon having grabbed her clothes and scarpered the moment she’d woke up. These days, she would normally stay, and leave in the morning with at least a half-smile and a nod.

She suspected that tonight, if Sharon came over, she wouldn’t let herself stay overnight. At the very least, she hoped she wouldn’t force herself into anything with the guy she was fawning over that she didn’t want to do. In spite of everything, Alaska was still there to take care of that need.

Courtney was in Willam’s as yet unused study, a glass of wine in her hand, wowing a group of stoners with stories about the wildlife of Australia. She’d done an exotic tour, and seen some apparently horrific yet fascinating sights. Alaska watched from the doorway, willing the ache in her chest to subside, listening to her friend’s melodic voice.

“So Australia was as perfect as you remember it to be? Even with the big spiders and shit?” She joked, moving closer to bump shoulders with her before pulling her into an embrace.

Courtney giggled. “It was brilliant, babe. I keep saying you and Wills need to come with me next time, I mean it. Girls holiday!”

“Right. Because we can all afford a vacation right now. Actually, scratch that. You and fucking Bill can, but I can’t. Who’s paying for me?”

It was weird. Alaska was laughing at her own words, and the alcohol was certainly helping, but it still felt so feigned. She didn’t feel like laughing. She felt like curling up on her bed and trying to sort through her feelings as she waited for Sharon’s text.

“Me!” Courtney suggested, bubbly as ever. “Or you could get a rich girlfriend, I don’t know. Oh, speaking of! I meant to ask if you’re seeing anyone, because Wills said I’m better to ask than she is. Are you? It’s been so long since we’ve caught up!”

She shook her head. It didn’t matter that Sharon had hurt her - promises were promises. “Ha, no. Solitary as ever, gorge.”

“Aww, we’ll fix you up with someone! Can’t imagine someone like you doesn’t have girls falling at her feet. With legs like those?”

Sharon had commented once, possibly during one of the actual few drunk hookups, that Alaska’s legs were killer. She didn’t usually talk a lot in the midst of it, but even recently, Alaska loved the way she would trace her hands over her thighs and her pupils would be blown as she looked up at her. Whatever she claimed, it wasn’t true.

The stoners started dissipating as someone in another room shouted out about edibles in the kitchen, leaving Courtney and Alaska alone in the study. It was an oddly comforting atmosphere, being surrounded with unread books and dark wood furniture and Courtney’s kind eyes. Something in Alaska snapped, but she held back the tears and the heaviness gathering at the back of her mouth.

“I’ve kinda been sleeping with someone, but she’s not… I don’t think she’s ever gonna commit to me. Maybe she’s closeted or just not ready to accept herself yet… whatever it is, I’m sort of caught in the crossfire. It’s my own fault. I just bend to her whims, you know?”

Everything about Courtney was so gentle and sweet, right down to the creasing of her brow. “Oh… and you love her?”

“I don’t know about love,” Alaska backtracked, slumping, “But I like her, I guess. But she’s not all about me. And that’s fine, except I don’t think I’m ready to let go of her yet.”

“I understand. You should talk to her.”

“Ha, no. That’s not gonna work. She’s not the most receptive, I tried. Whatever, you know?” She forced a laugh. “We’re at a party! I should just get drunk and forget her, right?”

Courtney frowned. “I can tell you wanna go home, babe. That’s okay too.”

Alaska deflated. “No, no, I’m here to catch up with my best friends. Some girl messing with my head doesn’t matter, not tonight. Gimme a little kiss? Take my mind off it?”

“Fine, slut. Just don’t expect it to become a regular thing.” Courtney joked. It was nice, but it was a small comfort - Alaska knew she wasn’t kissing Sharon, and that was enough to leave her unsatisfied. There was only one girl she wanted to be wrapped up with, and it definitely wasn’t Courtney.

It didn’t last long, but the sound of the study door made them break apart, belatedly giggling at each other before turning to face the disturbance. Sharon looked shellshocked, a red solo cup in one hand, her cheeks flushed bright red. The words had already left her mouth before she could control them, immediately apologising, “Sorry! Didn’t mean to barge in, but I was just looking for-” then she abruptly cut off, and stumbled, “Uh, Willam.”

Alaska felt her own face colouring, but Courtney was none the wiser.

“Oh, I think she’s by the pool!” She replied brightly, raising her glass in a friendly cheers. Sharon did the same with her cup, but her smile was strained and tight-lipped. She exited as quickly as she’d entered.

“Well, I’m gonna mingle.” Alaska lied, hoping Courtney wouldn’t connect the dots. “Also, we should get lunch next week. Bye!”

She needed to follow Sharon - and fast. God knows where she was going, because she was pretty sure the Willam excuse was a total lie, and if her instincts were right…

Maybe she was just hoping. She wanted Sharon to be looking for her.

The living room was still full, but a quick glance at the space that Sharon and her random guy had been occupying told her that they had moved on, presumably together. Even the thought of it had her heart squeezing uncomfortably, and she secretly prayed they hadn’t left to go and hook up. With only the silent admittance from Sharon’s face in their argument to spur on her hopes that maybe they hadn’t, she tore through the house, pushing past groups of people to make her way outside.

Just before she got through the patio doors, she spotted the guy Sharon had been hanging off of earlier. She had to be next to him, somewhere out there. She immediately made to dart through the doors, only to collide full-force into someone standing nearby.

“You!” They replied. Alaska’s heart sank, but at the same time, her hopes rose a little.

“You!” She responded, then whirled around. The closest room was the bathroom - fine, that would have to do. “Well, this is happening. My turn, I guess.”

She grabbed Sharon’s arm and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them. The bathroom was smaller than she’d anticipated, leaving barely enough room for the two of them to stand comfortably, but it was fine. All she wanted to do was demand some kind of answer, and then maybe covertly take her home and forget this whole mess after a couple of orgasms.

“Looking for Willam? If you knew Willam in the slightest you’d know that she always hangs by the pool.”

Sharon didn’t even protest to defend her lie. Her eyes narrowed, but she faltered before speaking. “Are you hooking up with her, too?”

It took Alaska a moment to realise what she meant. “Courtney? What does it matter?”

Sharon had burst in and happened to see the two of them kiss. As hostile as she was being, Alaska couldn’t stop her heart from leaping at the thought that she was jealous. Surely jealousy meant there was something else going on?

“Well, I don’t know anything about her. I don’t wanna catch anything.” Immediately after she’d spoken, her tone fast and filled with disgust, Sharon’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean that. I don’t know what I’m saying, I’ve been drinking a ton since I noticed you were here-”

“It’s fine.” Alaska gave in to herself and showed a little sympathy. “Look, Sharon, I get it. You have some kind of issue with being attracted to girls and so you’re taking it out on me because- whatever reason you have. But if you’re so insistent that I don’t mean anything to you, and that we’re strangers, why should it matter if I hook up with someone else? You’ve been throwing yourself at that guy all night and I haven’t complained.”

Sharon clung to the sink behind her, her breath ragged. “Because- because we’re something different! We’re just two people, who don’t know each other, who have some kind of weird fucking connection, okay? I feel like,” She swallowed desperately, looking at the ceiling to avoid eye contact, and then at the floor, “Like we have the same… hunger. The same needs. And this… arrangement, that we have… it works. No one knows about it, no one needs to know about it, and we both end up getting what we want. Do you have that with Courtney?”

Alaska sighed. “I’m not sleeping with Court, Sharon. She’s my friend, I just asked her for one dumb kiss because I was upset.”

“…Because of me?”

“I mean… you came up to me and told me I don’t mean anything to you after weeks and weeks of us sleeping together, sober. We both know that neither of us have been drunk for a while now. It kinda hurt me.”

Sharon frowned. “That’s my problem, not yours… God, I made it an attack on you, didn’t I? I’m such an asshole. I really shouldn’t drink.” She tipped back the rest of her cup and pursed her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m just scared.”

“I wish I could tell you that you have nothing to be scared of, but I can’t.” Alaska could feel her heart shattering. She remembered that feeling all too well - the fear, the inexplicable feeling that true, real love and acceptance were lightyears away. It had been a long time since she’d been there, and she never wanted to go back. “But I can promise you that you don’t have to be scared of me. You don’t have to kid yourself that you need alcohol in order to want me. This… us… it means something to you, doesn’t it?”

She looked beautiful, even as she lowered her head and refused to answer. She’d been drinking enough to either not notice or not care that her dress was all bunched up, and Alaska was hit with two completely opposite urges. She longed to tug it down and gently fix it for her, and also to push it up completely and take it off her.

She ended up doing neither, as in lieu of an answer, Sharon cupped Alaska’s face and brought her close to kiss her. Alaska immediately took charge, pushing Sharon up and onto the counter behind her. The change in her demeanour was instant; Alaska could feel Sharon’s body relaxing, her tension and reservations melting into the embrace. She was pliant and soft in Alaska’s arms, happy to let her take the lead.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled between kisses. “He was just a cover… I’m just so afraid-”

Alaska hushed her. “No more talking.”

“No. We should.” At her tone, Alaska moved back, not wanting to overstep, but Sharon pulled her close again, wrapping her legs around Alaska’s waist. “I’m sorry, and I mean it. I’ve been so horrible to you all night, and for no reason. You’re amazing to me… I like your company. A lot. I’m not gonna mess this up.”

“Don’t force it.” Alaska told her, grabbing Sharon’s hands. “Tonight has been rough. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I feel terrifyingly comfortable with you.” Sharon told her. “It doesn’t make sense. It’s so certain and it’s so real and I can’t understand it. Why can’t - why can’t I like him?”

Alaska knew exactly what she meant - how could she not? She remembered thoughts like that, ones that used to make her heart ache and fill her diary with rambles of confused wondering. It was something she could only learn through time, and something Sharon would have to learn on her own, too.

“Some people just aren’t built that way,” She replied softly. “Doesn’t mean you’re wrong.”

She was still perched up on the counter, Alaska in front of her. Her expression was blank, trying to remain calm, but behind her heavily made-up eyes, she looked pained.

“I feel wrong. Not wrong… because it’s still right… but wrong. You know?”

Alaska nodded. “Trust me, you’re speaking my language.”

Sharon lowered her head. “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

Alaska tried to ignore the way her heart sank. “Oh, I can g-”

“Can we leave?”

We.

She stopped in her tracks, searching Sharon’s face for any kind of confirmation that she was serious. She looked almost guilty or ashamed, but her eyes were firmly fixed on Alaska, waiting for a response. Alaska took her hands and smiled.

“I’ll go say goodbye to Willam, then we can go.”

Sharon faltered.

“You can go stand out the front and wait for me there, you don’t have to come.” Alaska said gently, sensing her nervousness. “We can be strangers for a little longer.”

The way that Sharon winced at the reminder of her own words didn’t matter; her kiss was apology enough, her lips soft and her hands gentle as she brought Alaska close to her once more. Alaska could hardly remember how she’d been angry earlier.

“Don’t take too long.”

#rpdr fanfiction #purecamp #shalaska #lesbian au #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #willam belli #courtney act

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ikevamp-shrine · 4 years

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It’s a match up baby

hi, i'd like a matchup if they're open! i’m a female aries, ISFP, 5'3, and a hufflepuff! i’m kind, soft-hearted & cheerful, & i’m pretty smiley unless i’m upset, then i tend to withdraw, falling silent and retreating somewhere quiet in case i might cry. i can be kind of childlike as well; i get excited easily! i’m clumsy too, and my legs are usually covered with bruises and scratches. i’m pretty introverted around strangers, but i become more open and hyper around friends and family! i’m an affectionate person, i’ll hug or cling to friends (especially if i'm scared)! i like baking whenever i have free time (baked goods will be shared with my friends)! i knit scarves; i like writing, reading, listening to music and watching movies. i get mood swings sometimes, or i’ll feel sad suddenly (plus i get anxious and stressed, overthinking and assuming the worst), so reassurance is appreciated! i also hate thunderstorms and loud noises, since they scare me! thank you so much! 💛💛💛

Thank you @3rdgymbros for requesting, I hope you enjoy. Have a good rest of the day.

I MATCH YOU WITH...

Arthur Conan Doyle

at first he would be absolutely terrified to come near you, besides to flirt obviously, because he would think the moment he touched you- you would disappear from his arms just like everyone else in his past

when I say this man’s heart would melt when he saw how kind you were and how soft your heart is- I mean it.

If he happened to see you go an extra mile to help someone he wouldn’t be able to stop just looking at you with that soft boi smile and love in his eyes

And when you smile at him- my lord- it’s like he can feel all his darkness he keeps in his heart just float away from how bright you look

when he first saw how you reacted to being upset or hurt he was angry honestly, and a little sad

angry because the thought that, normally, the people who shut down when sad are the people who have been hurt by someone else telling them that their emotions make them weak, that you should just get over it, or they had their emotions used against them, wouldn’t stop running through his mind

and sad because he wants nothing more to help you and hold you in your moment of need, but he knows that if he pushes you too far you will never open up to him. So all he can do is make you a drink, give you tissues, and fudge, and tell you he is a great listener if you ever needed an ear

if he happens to catch you crying, and you are okay with being seen at that moment, he wouldn’t hesitate to grab you and hold you close while either humming an old tune he knows or distract you by telling you a wonderous tale of great adventures

this man notices everything so when he noticed your childlike excitement even towards the tiniest things he can’t help the devilish smirk that just spells trouble that appears on his face

he would take so much advantage on this fact. I mean- surprises, gifts, sugary sweet words, basically anything that makes you smile he’ll do it- just to see that excitement of yours one more time

Clumsy and constantly has small injuries or bruises? No problem! Doctor Doyle to the rescue. He would constantly carry around a few first aid supplies just in case you happen to trip over air and scrap your knee, or bump into a pole in the middle of the walk way that any normal person could see and get bruised

of course working in a few sweet, flirty words while he bandaged you up

while you being introverted towards strangers was definitely a problem at the being of your relationship, Arthur would always find a way to bring you out of your shell and do something with you that you enjoy

he honestly thought it was adorable how you were so quite and shy at the beginning

and whenever you felt comfortable enough to show the hyper and excited side of you he loved seeing it just as much

basically this man would love every inch of you

one time you two were sitting in his room, he was writing and you were doing your normal thing to entertain yourself, when the sound of the originally distant thunder crashed loudly right above your heads

the screech you let out shocked Arthur, yes, but the moment he felt your trembling arms wrap around him and you hide your face in the soft fabric of his clothing, he thought he heart would stop from how fast it was beating

he would be terrified of the feelings he would have for you- the way you keep him on his toes, guessing what you will do next makes him weak to you and you alone

if you ever baked him a treat he would definitely lick his lips and stare at the treat with big puppy eyes before digging in and making a dramatic scene by picking you up, twirling you in his arms, and go on and on about how you’re the best baker he has ever met

you made him a scarf once.... and now he won’t take it off. Worships it like it’s gold honestly.

Once he would find out you’re a writer too, the teasing would not stop

he of course would read over what ever you allowed him too- pushing his glasses up every once in a while, while poking his lip out, and mumbling how you just ended his career

you better bet once he finished another book you would be the first one he shows it to

I can just imagine it now... you would be doing... whatever you shall please and he would appear out of no where- skipping towards you- with his writing in his hand

he would shove it in your hands and smile at you- not saying a word- and glance down at his writing then back at you... once again with puppy dog eyes

he would know you like music, just by the way he caught you humming one of Mozart’s pieces, so he would always take you gently by the hand and dance with you whenever you two heard music (if you like to dance)

when- if ever- he saw one of your ‘mood swings’ (as you call them) and saw how sad you were, he would do everything in his power to 1- make you smile and 2- to be prepared the next time it happened

you had a hard day, a very hard day, one time and your anxiety and stress was just rolling off you in big, old, fat waves. I mean the whole nine yards- shaking, playing with your fingers, looking side to side constantly, breathing fast, you name it

he would whisk you away, take you to a quiet room away from everyone else, and just hold you while you cried (if you would cry in a situation like that) on his shoulder- no questions asked

his hand would not stop petting you gently, his humming would not stop until you calmed down, his encourages he knew you loved hearing would not stop, his compliments, whispers of love, small kisses on your forehead would not stop

once you had settled down he would pull away from you while still keeping his hands on your shoulders, just to reassure you he was there, and ask who he needed to beat up

OTHER MATCHES INCLUDE:...

Wolfgang Mozart

I might ship you with him a tiny bit more than Arthur (I’m not too sure) I just think that your kindness and soft heart would break through the wall he places between himself and others. When he first saw your childlike excitement his stone cold façade about dropped by how shocked he was at the emotions he was feeling, witnessing you bounce around like a toddler. The first time he saw you walk away, to hide, tears brimming in your eyes, the guilt and self hatred he felt was so overwhelming. He had said a nasty comment that went too far, obviously hurting your feeling, and he loathed himself- like wanted to punch a wall loathed himself- and you know his hands can’t take any damage or his career and passion is over. This man would practically be on his knees, face red as a tomato, looking everywhere but your tear filled eyes, begging for you too stop your unnecessary crying and get over it because he had... feelings of regret (his way of apologizing lol).

Your introverted reactions towards strangers both brought him closer and pushed him away. Closer because you reminded him of Jean and he thought it wouldn’t be too bad to get to tolerate your presence, some. And it pushed him away because ya know... both of you are introverts that don’t look for conversation or human contact at the beginning. When there would be a thunder storm and you grabbed onto him he would tense up at first and tell you to get off but once he saw how bad you were shaking he sighed, shook his head, rolled his eyes, and awkwardly pat your head until you calmed down. You like baking, he likes chocolate BOOM! ultimate couple. Mozart is not the best with words but he would encourage and reassure you in his own way (you're job is just to notice it and accept that, that is just how he is). He is also not good with emotions or people touching him but whenever you get stressed or anxious he’ll allow you to rest your head in the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around him (Jean would be sooo disappointed knowing you two do premarital hugging *sigh* the shame)

MASTER LIST

#Ikemen Vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire mozart #ikevamp mozart #ikemen vampire match up #ikevamp match up #match up #ikemen vampire

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slashhinginghasher · 4 years

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Social Engagement for Misanthropes: Jesse Cromeans x Marena Polunochnaya

Jesse Cromeans cleaned up nice, and he damn well knew it. It was one of the first skills he’d cultivated after leaving his shithole hometown. One of the best ways to get money, he’d found, was to look like you already had it. The looks he got from women (and some men) were a welcome (some would say unnecessary) boost to his ego, and a sharp suit could always be counted on to draw the piggies out of their pens. The first few times he’d worn designer had felt strange, like a kid playing make-believe, though after a while it became as natural as breathing.

Now, as he stood in front of the mirror in his walk-in closet and fiddled with a tie he hadn’t touched in over three years, he felt a bit like that broke, backwater kid again.

He didn’t particularly want to attend this event, but it was, unfortunately, somewhat necessary. Spann had called it “proof of life” when she handed him the invitation, an actual, physical piece of paper that had been calligraphed and embossed within an inch of its life. It contained phrases like “humble gathering” and “the pleasure of your company” and had, apparently, been mailed with an honest-to-god wax seal.

Pretentious prick.

Jesse had been to his fair share of “humble gatherings”; you couldn’t conduct real business without them. They were mind-crushingly boring affairs, a slow-moving social dance of caviar, expensive booze, and pathetic attempts at wit. If nothing else, the people-watching was usually interesting. For all their “good breeding”, wealthy families could be far more dysfunctional than the most slovenly of small town homes. Upper class socialites didn’t blink at multi-million dollar checks, but flash a bit of ink and they’d fall over themselves to choke on his cock while their husbands talked golf in the next room. He’d even picked up a piggy or two at a few events, though you had to be extra careful with that (chain of association and all).

But he hadn’t shown his face in public since it had been ripped off and reattached, and some of his business contacts were getting suspicious. Spann’s iron-clad assurances were no longer enough to quell the rumors that Jesse Cromeans had died, or been deposed, and that someone else was running the company under his name. And that just would not do. He’d RSVP’d immediately, memories of Preston’s failed takeover flushing his system with old rage.

At least he’d be guaranteed some interesting company tonight, he thought, smirking at the garment bag draped over the stool next to him as he tapped out a quick text.

💀🖕: COME UPSTAIRS, I HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU

Macarena: IF IT’S YOUR DICK I DON’T WANT IT

Jesse chuckled and went back to his tie, certain that either Marena’s curiosity or the urge to insult him to his face would bring her up shortly. He knew bow ties were traditional for black tie events, but wearing a fucking bow around his neck was a concession he’d never been able to force himself to make. Besides, he had a reputation for being… unconventional, and reputation was everything. Satisfied with the crisp Windsor knot, he shrugged on his black waistcoat, secretly pleased with the way it showed off the breadth of his chest.

“You look like a goth pirate,” came Marena’s voice from the doorway. “What the fuck.” As usual, he hadn’t heard her approach. She was the only person he knew who could sneak up on him, which was fun. Made things exciting.

“Haven’t you ever heard of ‘black tie’ before?” Jesse signed with a grin.

“Call me surprised then. Are we done?” In lieu of a verbal response, Jesse tossed the garment bag at her. Marena unzipped it enough to peek inside, then immediately re-zipped it.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Nyet.”

“Can’t go to a gala wearing that,” Jesse replied, looking pointedly at her worn t-shirt and jeans. Marena threw the garment bag back and crossed her arms.

“How sad. Guess I won’t go.”

“Sure you will. I can think of a few things to make it fun.”

“So can I. Like not going.”

“Not an option.” Jesse was struggling to smother his laughter. The stubborn furrow of Marena’s brow was too cute to keep a straight face around.

“Why are you going?”

“Business.”

“And that has what to do with me?”

“You’re my plus one, little wench.” Marena visibly cringed.

“If we’re being pirates, I want a fucking sword. And I don’t mean your dick,” she snapped, cutting him off before he could sign a single word. Jesse’s shoulders shook with a full-body laugh, composure completely shot. He cupped Marena’s face in both hands and kissed her forehead, which he knew she hated, before pressing the garment bag into her hands once more.

“Try to look a little less like a corpse,” he advised, stepping around her to grab his dinner jacket. A litany of Russian curses followed him.

***

Marena’s concession to not resembling a corpse was a violently red lipstick that made it look like she’d been eating human hearts for every meal, which Jesse immediately wanted to smear across her face. The dress was black, of course, with a high collar and long sleeves. It would have covered her neck to toe had she not hiked one side of the skirt nearly up to her hip while she slipped a set of throwing knives into the holster around her slender thigh.

She made a compelling argument for ditching, Jesse thought, feeling a familiar tightening in his slacks. He couldn’t resist smoothing a hand along her exposed leg, fingers coming to rest just shy of her underwear.

“Once this dress comes off, it’s not going back on,” she warned.

“Noted and appreciated. You still have to come to this party.”

“Fuck.”

“Later.”

Marena said nothing, just glared at him through her curtain of hair - which she had brushed just enough that the messiness looked intentional - and let her skirts fall back down to her ankles. Jesse quickly ushered her out of the room before he could do something ingenious like cancelling all of his commitments for the next month and spending the entire time in bed.

The ride in the Bentley was tense and silent. A sick pit of nerves was brewing in Jesse’s stomach, all too similar to the way his boyhood self felt on the way to school, and that was ten kinds of bullshit. He was a grown man. He was motherfucking Chromeskull. He should not be feeling like a little kid about to face a playground bully. But he was finding it very difficult to push the feeling away. His face looked a damn sight better than it did several years ago, but it would never go back to the way it was before, and he was about to walk into a room full of people who treated a minute blemish like a national scandal. He wanted his mask. He wanted to say fuck it and just keep driving until he hit someplace tropical. He wanted to kill something, to drown his insecurities in blood and adrenaline.

He half-wished he’d flown Asa out to rig the whole venue beforehand in case things went south.

Beside him, Marena was deathly still, one white-knuckled fist gripping the fabric of her skirt. She looked a million miles away, lost in whatever personal hell her own brain was conjuring for her. Jesse reached over and squeezed her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. It was his version of a concession; a silent expression of gratitude. The fact that Marena didn’t push his hand away was a testament to how anxious she was.

“I still want a sword,” she grumbled. Jesse smiled and chucked her under the chin, which she also hated, and felt the knot in his chest loosen a bit.

***

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. People stared, of course, but they were too “polite” (which was money-speak for “two-faced”) to say anything to his face. There were far more eyes on Marena, which Jesse both loved and loathed. The women’s jealous eyes tracked her every move like sharks scenting new prey, which was admittedly hilarious to watch; but the barely-concealed desire on the men’s faces sent prickles of possessiveness down Jesse’s spine. He kept his hand glued to Marena’s lower back, low enough to skirt the line of what their current company would consider decent.

If there was one thing the rich understood, it was possession.

“Cromeans!” the host bellowed, arms spread like they were old friends. “Still alive and in the flesh, I see! Some of the lads were getting worried!” A few of the “lads” murmured noises of agreement while the host gave Jesse an overly enthusiastic handshake. Jesse could feel their gazes catching on the eyepatch and the new curl of his lip, and he almost wished one of them would say something, just to give him an excuse to lash out. But the host’s attention wandered over to Marena, whom he foolishly deemed to be a safer topic of discussion.

“And who might this lovely creature be?” he asked, ignoring the sinful glances his wife was casting Jesse’s way.

“No one of consequence,” Marena replied sweetly with a tight, close-lipped smile. The man tipped his head back and guffawed, trying not to wither under the combined weight of Jesse and Marena’s unimpressed stares. He forged ahead anyway.

“You always did have a penchant for… unusual company, Cromeans, I’ll give you that. Tell you what,” he rubbed his hands together eagerly, “I’ve got a bottle of Lagavulin with your name on it in the gentlemen’s lounge. I’m sure Genevieve here can handle your lovely companion for a bit while we talk business.” He beamed benevolently at his wife, who looked as though she’d rather eat glass.

“Of course, dear,” she said, pasting a megawatt smile on her botoxed face. “It’s such a treat to see a new face around here. I’m sure the other girls would love to meet you.” She swept away towards a group of tittering young women draped in diamonds and pearls, Marena following with the stiff spine of a person walking to their execution. Jesse felt much the same way as “the lads” filed into the oak-paneled gentlemen’s lounge.

“Business” was code for the same inane bullshit being discussed in the ballroom, with the addition of whiskey, cigars, and complaints about wives and mistresses. These conversations were usually a goldmine for Jesse. As a mute, he was rarely expected to be an active participant, and the number of weaknesses people revealed when they assumed they were surrounded by allies was astounding. Tonight, though, he was twitchy and bored, distracted by thoughts of Marena stabbing one of those debutante brats through the eye with the stem of a champagne glass. As if on cue, his phone vibrated.

Macarena: I’M GOING TO KILL EVERYONE IN THIS BUILDING

💀🖕: DON’T START WITHOUT ME

Macarena: IT’S CUTE THAT YOU THINK I WON’T TAKE YOU OUT FIRST

💀🖕: AWW YOU THINK I’M CUTE?

Macarena: I WILL RIP YOUR SPINE OUT AND BEAT YOU WITH IT

💀🖕: DON’T TEMPT ME WITH A GOOD TIME BABY ;)

Macarena: THIS FUCKER KEEPS TRYING TO GET ME TO DANCE

Macarena: CAN I KNEECAP HIM

Macarena: I’M GONNA KNEECAP HIM

The little bastard’s kneecaps were spared when a staff member scuttled into the lounge to inform the host of some dire emergency, effectively breaking up the little gathering. Jesse strolled back into the ballroom and spotted Marena at a table near the exit, cornered by a little bitch with slicked-back hair and a greasy smile. The waves of irritation coming off of the girl were palpable and her smile obviously fake, and Jesse couldn’t decide if the guy was too stupid to notice, or was ignoring it because he had that effect on every woman he spoke to.

“Come on, baby,” he goaded, and Jesse could have broken his neck just for that, “it’s just one dance. Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

Marena’s smile froze on her face, and Jesse could practically hear the Kill Bill sirens going off in her head. The barb would’ve worked on any other woman in the room - horror of high society horrors, to be considered ill-mannered! - but for people of Marena and Jesse’s backgrounds, it hit much harder and much deeper.

“No,” she said, rising slowly and deliberately from her seat. “She didn’t.” She turned on her heel, leaving the idiot to gape at the failure of his clumsy manipulation tactics. Jesse grabbed her elbow and she passed and made a beeline for the exit. Not that he didn’t relish the prospect of a bloodbath, but initiating one right now would make future business dealings… complicated.

He memorized the fucker’s face on their way out, though.

***

Marena spent the next few days in a well-deserved sulk, resulting in the destruction of two punching bags and a serious case of blue balls for Jesse. He’d really been looking forward to ripping that dress off of her, damn it. He distracted himself with work and few more personal arrangements. At the end of the week, he tracked her down on the rooftop deck.

“Say your piece and fuck off,” she growled as he stood silently next to her chaise lounge, hands behind his back. She sounded exhausted and looked as though she hadn’t slept in at least two days. Affecting an air of mock seriousness, Jesse moved in front of her and bowed, offering her conciliatory gift on open palms.

“You did not.”

The shashka’s scabbard was a deep midnight blue, with subtle patterns of tree branches embossed in the fine leather. The hilt was smooth, black horn. The blade gleamed in the afternoon light as Marena unsheathed it with a fluid schnick.

“You are the absolute worst fucking person in the world,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching dangerously close to a smile. A glint of wicked delight sparkled in her eyes as she gave the sabre a few experimental twirls and slashes.

“Only for you, baby,” Jesse replied with a cheeky grin. “Want to test it out?”

***

All it took was a pair of handcuffs and a dark warehouse to really bring out the bitch in some people. The asshole from the party (Jesse really needed to come up with a term for male piggies if this was going to be a recurring thing) had been tied up for barely a day and he was already a sniveling mess. Jesse, on the other hand, was in a great mood. He had his mask, his camcorder, and his favorite knife, and judging by the way Marena was practically purring as she traced her fingers around the shashka’s hilt, he was for sure getting laid tonight.

The rich bitch didn’t recognize Jesse with his face covered, but his eyes went wide and he started screaming obscenities into his gag when Marena stepped under the light. She yanked the fabric out of his mouth.

“You fucking cunt! You’ll fucking regret this! Do you know who I am? Do you-” All the blood drained from his face when Marena drew the sword and held it to his throat in a lightning-fast move. He swallowed hard, the tip digging in just below his Adam’s apple and drawing a bead of blood. She really was a natural with that thing, Jesse thought as he circled the tableau with his camera. It was hot as fuck.

“Hi,” Marena said.

The man sweated in silence.

“I wanted to go back to our conversation a few nights ago,” she continued. “About my mother.” She let the sword drop to her side and the man relaxed fractionally.

“See, she did not teach me manners, but she did teach me a lot of other things.” She pushed the gag back into place and patted him a couple times on his quivering, tear-soaked cheek. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a black butterfly knife.

“Lesson one: bleeding.”

#@slash-em-up: *calls Jesse a stupid name once*#me: *filing it away to use forever*#marena gets a sword because she deserves it #marena's name is ''macarena'' in jesse's phone because autocorrect kept changing it and he gave up #my writing #jesse cromeans #chromeskull #marena polunochnaya

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musutofu · 5 years

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【 In The Dead Of Night 】 Drabble

The skyline is an acidic shade of yellow, streetlights and fumes flowing over the horizon in a culminating cloud of yellowed light that sets the spaces between towering buildings on fire. It’s a wavering sort of glow that keeps the night sky from brightening beyond its muted shade of slate blue. The slightest dapling of stars–one winking between white and red; a plane–dot across the sky like freckles behind bruised clouds. It’s night, or morning, the yawning expense of hours between twilight and dawn that seems to blink by in an instant with the skyline turning from gold to amber as the sun rises on a new day. Though it isn’t late–no–early enough for to be lamenting the premature start of another day. It’s still dark enough, only a meager two in the morning. Calculations of how many hours you’ll have left to sleep once you make the trek back to your shabby apartment on the seedier side of town slows your hands as you tug the heavy security door to the other side of the frame. It bangs and scrapes on its runners, patches of rust catching the steel grate every few inches until it finally meets the other side. After a clumsy fumble with fingers numb from hours of bartending and minutes of fighting the gate make the keys drop from your fingers. It takes longer than expected to fit the key in its lock, the whole ordeal shaving a few precious minutes off of your beauty sleep. The cold metal bites at your hand when you punch it in annoyance, even the softest hit seeming to bruise your tense fingers. Your huff of annoyance hangs cold in the air, a grey cloud before your face that fades to the smoke of a cigarette. You’d be more alarmed if you didn’t recognize the man leaning against the flickering lamp post. The buzzing light surrounds him with a sputtering halo of sticky orange light that cuts his eyes into shadows, censoring most of his face. It’s the telltale flutter about his neck as his gills wheeze out clouds of smoke like exhaust pipes that gives away his identity. Yukio has a decidedly amused look on his face as he steps into the light of the next street lamp as you turn to walk home. Whether from watching you struggle to close the gate or your little temper tantrum after dropping the key you’re not certain and you don’t really have it in you to care, or do much of anything besides faceplant into your mattress. Yukio doesn’t seem to mind your lack of enthusiasm. He’s chipper enough for the both of you as his footfalls patter after you. There’s a slight swagger to his steps as he moves to walk in front of you, back to where he’s trying to go but eyes towards what he’s trying to see. His fanged teeth peek out over his lips in a charming smile as you scoff at his blatant staring. The blue of his eyes swims with mirth as he watches you tuck your chin to your chest as if the ground is more interesting than he is. With each step you toe through glass shards and cigarette butts, getting closer to the only safe haven you have left in this world and even if Yukio is nice enough to look at you really don’t want him to see where you live. “Get lost.” You huff after a while, still not close enough to your apartment to be concerned but thoroughly tired of him staring at you. There’s nothing to see as far as you’re concerned. As a bartender uniforms are key; not too promiscuous, conservative in a sexy way. Plus your bulky jacket swallows your body whole. It’s big and not yours but it’s warm and you’ll be damned if you catch a cold because you have an aversion to oversized clothes because it was either the coat or frostbite. If Yukio notices you swimming in it he keeps it to himself. “I want to walk you home.” He grins, finally flicking away the butt of his cigarette. It bounces into a gutter and you lament the litter but don’t move to grab it. “Why?” You know why. He wants to get you home safe, and then get you to bed safe, and then, and then, and then, but you aren’t about to give him the inch that he’ll stretch into a mile. “Just making sure my favorite bartender gets home safe.” “I’ve done it plenty of nights before you became a regular, I’m sure I can manage a couple minutes in the dark.” It’s true, but every night you think about the wad of cash stuffed down the front of your pants so no one will snatch it from your pockets. If you got mugged they’d be less likely to find it and if they wanted to be more physically demanding a stack of cash might be enough to ward them off. It’s never come to that but if it does you have a hell of a right hook and a pretty iridescent butterfly knife in your pocket if all your safeguards fail, plus they have no idea what your Quirk is. Protection hasn’t been an issue as of late. Yukio pouts at your retort anyway. “Seriously, I’ll be fine, you can go.” You’re getting dangerously close to your apartment and the thought of walking past it until Yukio fucks off makes you want to wail but you’ll do it to keep your secondary location hidden. Because truthfully you work more than you sleep and you’ll be damned if you lose sleep over Yukio’s petty flirting. An eight hour shift on top of your morning shift at your second job only to go back later tonight to do it all over again won’t look pretty on a few hours of sleep and Yukio’s is really pushing it. Each of his flirtatious quips is both mildly entertaining and incredibly annoying and you can feel your mouth trying to form a scowl and a smile all at once. It’s probably an ugly expression but Yukio–now walking beside you like he’s your boyfriend–hasn’t mentioned it, perhaps he’s on the side that’s smiling. The other half is about to curl up in a full fledged grin at something he said but all the amusement drains from you like water from a bucket when your eyes lock on something in the distance. The building spilling warm light onto the street from the lobby is yours but you’re less worried about it than you are the car parked on the curb. Truthfully, it's just a car, but it’s familiar and strikes an unearthly amount of fear into you. Your voice shakes as you cut off whatever joke Yukio was telling. “Get out of here.” “What, are you home?” He asks, surveying the building so he can memorize your address. You aren’t so worried about that right now. “Yukio-kun, I’m being deadly serious. Leave. Right now. Walk away and don’t look back.” The haunting tone of your voice has his smile fading fast. His hand is reaching towards you to soothe away your worries when it’s struck by an arrow. Not an arrow from a bow but a distinct grey white minute hand. The look in Yukio’s eyes says that he wants to grab his hand and hold it to his chest, to see what just slashed his palm open, instead he falls to the concrete; frozen. “Who are you touching?” It’s Chrono. You know it is even before you see him. He was standing in the alley beside your building where the dumpsters are, probably watching you awkwardly accept Yukio’s playful affection. His mask is in place but if it weren’t his eyes would be engulfed in flames of rabid rage. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to touch things that don’t belong to you?” Yukio twitches and Chrono pauses on his way over to you, a dead giveaway that he’s going to strike him again. You catch the arrow with your ankle, buckling before falling into his waiting arms. “Only I can touch. Right, darling?” You can’t move. You can’t speak. You can’t do this again. But you are, whether you like it or not. Chrono still strikes Yukio again, this time with the hour hand then thinks better of it and stabs it into you, too. “Next time you should listen when someone tells you to fuck off.” Chrono growls at Yukio’s prone form, already folding your pliant body into the backseat of his car. You won’t stay still for long, movements only slowed but not halted. Still with the hour hand working against you it’s hard to do anything of value while trapped in a moving vehicle and by the time you reach the Shie Hassassaki base the time for fleeing has passed. But if you were a quitter you wouldn’t have gotten away all those months ago. Chrono simply finds your refusal to comply endearing “You’re so cute when you’re struggling, baby. I missed you. Why’d you run off on me?” He knows exactly why and your jaw sludges through the syllables to say as much but they come out as unintelligible groans. “You’re still upset about that?” He’s gathered the gist of your words by the frown of your brows and sighs. “Honey, I said we could wait a bit. You didn’t have to go running off on me. But your back now and it’s been months! I think you’ve had more than enough time to get all those last hurrahs out of your system.” He’s laying you out on his bed, stripping off the coat you’d stolen from him and setting aside your knife and cash to be dealt with later as he works off the rest of your clothes. “After all, Kai is getting antsy for a new labrat. What better parents to make him his new test subject than us?”

#chronostasis #kurono hari #mha chronostasis #bnha chronostasis #mha chrono #bnha chrono #shie hassaikai #chronostasis x reader #chronostasis drabble #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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maerose-late-at-night · 5 years

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Everything (comes back to you)

THIS FIC ON AO3

He’d been sitting there for about an hour, very intently not watching Callum on his date. Instead he sat at the bar with shoulders hunched and folding in on himself. Watching as the line indicating how much beer he had left sunk lower and lower toward the bottom of the bottle. Mick sent him a worried glance every now and then, before sending an equally worried look over Callum’s way. At least, that’s what Ben told himself.

He’d passed tipsy-but-alright miles ago. His head was now filled with smoke and fog and no way out, occasional wisps of Callum’s voice cutting through it like a piercing blade (or maybe like a ray of sunshine). Heard him huff a quiet laugh at something the other bloke said – and it hurt, it hurt – but he couldn’t help but feel a little vindicated. See, Ben knew every possible nuance to the vast repertoire of Callum’s laughs and this… this was just being polite. Because Callum would never leave someone hanging, too afraid to offend their feelings.

Ben… well, Ben could ease a proper full-body laugh out of him, head thrown back and eyes watering, nearly cracking his skull against the headboard after a particularly intense round of hanky-panky. Callum loose-limbed and sated, Ben the happiest he’d ever been, drawing lazy circles on his boyfriend’s chest. He knew that if anyone had taken a close enough look at him, they’d have found actual stars dancing in his eyes.

His fingers travelled to the bottle once more, tracing the path of a droplet of condensation falling down. He swiped at it, pressed it into the paper label that had become a little bit soggy from time passed. He started picking at it, annoyed when it didn’t come clean off, leaving sticky residue against the green and on the tips of his own fingers.

He should let this happen.

Give Callum a fresh start and a clean break – a break he’d forced himself, mind you. Pushed at Callum, pushed at him some more. Try to blink away the tears in his eyes and the knife in his heart and the look on Callum’s face. The feeling of safety and belonging that had engulfed him just a few days ago, pressed close together in the portacabin. He’d wanted to disappear forever, leave everything behind. He’d vaporize, and just stay nestled in the crook of Callum’s elbow or the ticklish spot behind his left ear. In the dip between his thumb and index finger, stroking Ben’s cheek tenderly.

He ventured a glance to where they were sitting. Callum’s date was leaning closer to him than he’d been before, but he – of course – remained completely oblivious. Even after all this time, Callum still didn’t understand the effect he could have on people. It was one of the softest things about him. Ben loved it so much, he needed to protect it, and every other little inch of him. Even if it meant killing himself in the process.

So he couldn’t really explain why he suddenly found himself at their table. “Right, we need to talk.”

Callum looked at him, a little confused and a lot fed up. “Now’s not really a good time, Ben.”

“Oh, no, now’s the best time.” He threw a dirty look in the direction of Callum’s plus-one. “Terribly sorry, needs must and all that. Callum?”

“Hang on,” the stranger said. “Who d’you think you are?”

Not able to bear being labeled ‘the ex’, he bit out “I’m his mate, alright?”.

Callum huffed at that, bit his lip and looked the other way. Shook his head almost imperceptibly, then pushed from his seat and stormed out, Ben following at a leisurely pace. A lot of eyes watched their actions unfold, no doubt wondering as to how Ben would mess it up even further. Though some, he hoped, might be rooting for him, just a little, too.

Callum’s features made a stark contrast to the night air and what little light shone down from a half-waxed moon. He was pacing excitedly, right in the middle of the street. It made Ben worried for him, but mostly it was making him dizzy, the alcohol in his system catching up to him in a swift rush.

He closed his eyes briefly. “Sorry, would you mind stopping for a second?”

Thankfully, Callum did, though the action seemed to shifted his mood as well. He went from anxious to angry in the blip of a heartbeat.

“So you’re my ‘mate’ now, that it?”

Ben chuckled at the way Callum had used those gorgeous long fingers to add pressure to his words. “Those are some pretty intense air quotes, babe.”

Callum deflated at the endearment, all the air and all the fight going out of him in the second it had taken for Ben to unthinkingly use it. He blinked slowly, averted his eyes. “You can’t keep doing this, Ben.” He looked at him, trying to make him see – some sort of sense, he supposed. Futile. “You can’t keep pushing me away then making some claim on me when...”

“I know,” Ben said, taking a step forwards, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender. “It’s just… I know I’m not good enough for ya, but that idiot in there ain’t come close either.”

“Right.” Callum nodded, his eyebrows pulling together. “And you can tell just by lookin’ at him, can ya?”

Ben gave him a look that said it was perfectly obvious. “He don’t know ya.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t -”

His head was still spinning. Surely the alcohol should’ve dissolved by now? “No he couldn’t.”

“Right.” Callum said again. He was so close to Ben now; both of them were shouting. When had that happened? Ben couldn’t remember. “So you’re not good enough, he’s not good enough. Anyone ever going to be?”

“No, they ain’t.” Ben said, placing his hands to either side of Callum’s face, cradling it softly. It was the best prize in the world, and he couldn’t have it.

“No they ain’t, Callum. Because you’re beautiful and kind and amazing in just about every way. And I’m completely in love with ya. And there’s never gonna be anyone in the world that actually deserves all the stuff you give out.”

Callum stilled. “Hang on, say that again?”

“Orright, calm down big ego.” Ben rolled his eyes. “You’re beautiful an’ kind and amazing. And I know for some reason that still comes as bloody news to ya..”

“No…no, not that.” He smiled. “The part you said you’re in love with me.”

Panic rose in his chest. His hands dropped immediately. Damn beers. “Errr… don’t think I said anything of the kind, mate.”

“Yes you did.” Callum was beaming, a grin so wide it would no doubt split his face apart if he kept it on for too long.

So Ben told him just that.

“You know if the clock strikes your face’ll freeze that way.”

He felt defeated. “Look, even if I did, it don’t change anything, do it?” He balled his hands into fists by his side to keep from shaking. “You’re still too good, Callum, I’m not gonna ruin ya.”

“You’re wrong,” Callum said. “ it changes everything. It proves I was right, you’re just scared. But I’m not letting you go.” His hands closed over Ben’s, Callum’s fingers caressing them until they unfurled from their clenched position. “I’m not letting you go, Ben.” He repeated. “Whatever it is you’ve done.. I’m not sayin’ I don’t care, but we’ll get through it. You can’t deal with this on your own, it’ll break ya.”

Ben bit his tongue, turned away. “Well, whatever you’re thinking, it’s worse.”

“Your dad punched out Jack ‘cause he though he was the baby’s dad, yeah? I don’t imagine he’d let Keanu breathe when he realized.”

Ben raised his eyebrow at the matter-of-fact way the words’d been spoken. Like it was no more than a fact. With no consequences or blame or possible jail time.

“Copper like you can hardly have a boyfriend with that on his record, can he?”

Callum gave him a small and private smile. “See, the thing is…I’m not gonna be a copper no more.”

That was even worse. “Giving up your dream to be with…”

“Nah, see..” Callum interrupted him. “I’ve been thinking these past few weeks, being away from ya. ‘Bout why I wanted to be a copper in the first place. And I just… I want to help people, Ben. Be ‘of service’, like. I’m not doing that at the parlour where I just apply balm after the wounds, I wanna stop the hurt from happening in the first place.” He squeezed Ben’s hand. “I don’t wanna save people from criminals, Ben. I wanna save ‘em from themselves.”

His eyes were wide and trusting. “Like when I talked Bobby down. Or who I was before I met you. Or who you’d be if it wasn’t for ya dad. I’ve been there, I know. I think I might be good at pulling people out.”

“And I’m not perfect like you think, Ben. I’m broken same as you…”

When Ben started to protest this, he shushed him. “No I’m not. D’you wanna know how many times I still wake up from nightmares ‘bout what I did in the army?”

What? “You never…”

“Never when I’m with you.” Callum acknowledged. “Wanna know why that is, Ben? It’s ‘cause you make me feel safe. I’m not scared when I’m around you.” He smiled at him. “You do that for me.”

“Callum…”

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” Callum said, without even the slightest tremor in his voice. Only confidence and – Jesus Christ, so much love shining through. “We’re going to forget these past weeks ever happened.” He gave Ben a cheeky smile. “And you’re coming home with me tonight.”

Ben grinned. “Bit confident, are ya?”

“Got every reason to be,” Callum told him, taking the smaller man into his arms. Ben suppressed a shiver as Callum kissed the top of his nose, nuzzled the tender spot between his eyes, before pulling back. “This guy I like just told me he loves me back. Don’t need to know anything else, really.”

He paused.

“Now come ‘ere you big grizzly bear.”

The statement was followed by small laugh.

This, Ben knew, this was one of the good ones. He’d treasure the sound forever.

(Later, there’d be a discussion about how Ben in NO WAY could qualify as a ‘big grizzly bear’. Callum would tease him, attempting every pet name within the realm of possibility. He was thinking something along the lines of a fuzzy, cute koala bear. But they didn’t need to settle on anything just now, he said. They had years and years and years.)

#ballum #ballum fic #fix it fic #13.01.2020 #okay so this is how I imagine the whole date-scenario thing #my boys #ee #eastenders #ben mitchell #callum highway #benxcallum

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canid-slashclaw · 5 years

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The Outliers - A Guildwars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

The following week, Kaleb was assigned the task of managing the supply line. As he was busy offloading some crates, Brad and Cynthia were off the distance observing his actions from afar. Both were currently taking a short break from the grueling task of maintaining the fortifications.

"That boy seems to go non-stop. How does it do it in this heat?" Cynthia asked as she unwrapped a sandwich then split it between her and Brad.

Snatching the piece from her hand, Brad quickly wolfed down his share. "You got me. Something seems to keep him going. But whatever it is, I'm not complaining."

"He's so eager to take assignments whenever they involve going into town for supplies. Each time he comes back, he's always coming up with some new recipe for the cooks," Cynthia noted.

"Like I said. I'm not complaining. But it does seem a little odd that he enjoys going to that butcher shop so much."

"I second you on the odd part. Somehow I just can't imagine a guy like him being interested in frequenting an establishment run by a couple of charrs."

Brad flung his hands up in the air and grinned. "He's his own fellow. Even though we've known each other since we were knee-high to grasshoppers, that boy sometimes acts like he's a thousand miles away from everyone."

Hours later, after the work had been completed, Kaleb joined up with his two closest comrades in the mess hall. Shuffling between the tightly packed masses of sweaty troops, he managed to find an open bench slot just opposite of Brad and Cynthia.

"What's up?" Kaleb scooted towards the edge of his bench nearly pushing a much smaller soldier off his seat.

"Sorry about that."

The solder only grumbled then proceeded to eat, pretending that the incident never happened.

"Glad you could join us on this fine occasion," Cynthia commented.

"Occasion? Do tell!"

Brad chimed in. "Haven't you heard? Centaurs are pulling back. Supply lines from other routes are now open. That means we won't be needing to make trips into town all the time."

Kaleb looked up rather stunned. "Nobody ever told me about this. When did this happen?"

"Captain announced it yesterday. Starting next week, our supplies will be coming via the east road directly from Divinity's Reach," Cynthia stated.

"So I'm guessing that means we won't be needing that meat market for our supplies anymore," Kaleb said in a downtrodden voice.

"The market was used due to a wartime emergency. Now that emergency has been lifted and the Queen’s gold can be spent financing our own people. Don't try to burst with too much excitement," she quipped.

Brad looked at his friend. "You oughta be happy, bro. All this shuttling back and forth plus putting your time in on the front lines is going to catch up to you sooner or later."

"Don't worry. I'm fine. Besides, that means there is still one more supply run left for me to make before the changes take effect."

"I'll come with if you would like," Brad offered.

Kaleb shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but no. I can do this run myself. You just see that Cyn is taken care of."

"Um, excuse me?? I'm a big girl yanno. If anyone needs taking care of it's you two losers. Oh. And congrats on making corporal, Kal... you deserved it!" Sergeant Waterstone smiled as she gave him a salute.

The newly minted corporal returned the gesture then quickly chowed down on his rations. Realizing just how bad army food tasted whenever anyone else did the cooking, Kaleb would make it a point to put in some extra KP time whenever possible. Since he no longer had to make the forty mile round trip to Triskell, he would now have more time to put towards satisfying the stomachs of his unit.

As the trio was in the process of departing from the mess hall table, one of the field operatives approached the sergeant then handed her a folded envelope. "Ma'am. Scouting reports indicate that centaur activity has increased along the roads during the past two days. Advise extra caution for all convoys that travel the south roads."

"Thanks corporal. I will relay those orders. Dismissed."

Cynthia then grabbed Kaleb by the arm then looked him in the eyes. "Hold up. I know you are scheduled for a supply run today. But due to the centaurs, I would feel better if you had an escort."

"Sarge. Having someone else would put an extra person at risk. I'll bring some extra pistols along just in case things get hairy. Don't worry. I'll be fine."

Sergeant Waterstone let out a heavy sigh. "As much as I am tempted to order you an escort, your logic does make sense. Our troops are stretched thin and having one extra person would really not make much of a difference anyway. Okay. Fine, then. Move out, but be sure to carry some extra shots and powder for good measure."

"Will do, sarge."

As Kaleb left to prepare his supply wagon for another run, Brad approached Cynthia with a questioning look on his face. "So are you just going to let him go out there by himself? There are bands of centaurs roaming those hills. If Kal happens to run into one, he's done for."

"Don't worry, corporal. He's not going to be alone."

"What do you mean?"

"Get your quiver ready and make sure your axes are sharpened for battle. You and I are going on a little reconnaissance mission."

"Spying on a friend is more like it," Brad chided.

"Not exactly. We are just going to hang back near the edge of town just to make sure he doesn't run into any unpleasant surprises. Trust me. Whatever business he has with the shop owner is his own. I just want to make sure he's safe, but I also don't want to have him watched over like a mother hen either."

The corporal nodded in agreement then gave Waterstone a swift salute before leaving.

Kaleb had loaded up the supply wagon with an extra box of powder and shot. Tucked under his jerkin were four pairs of nine-inch muzzle-loading flintlocks. He was hoping the trip would go off without a hitch, but wanted the extra firepower just in case.

***

By the time he arrived in town, the midday sun had begun to shine intensely overhead. The moisture from the lake-effect air helped him cool off a bit, but it also made him sweat even more.

When he arrived at the meat market, he reached around the back of the supply wagon and lifted up a large, ten-gallon tin container. Milk supplies were beginning to run low and having a few buffer rations was never a bad thing.

When he opened the door, the familiar steam whistle went off letting the owner know that a patron had entered. As usual, Ludrick was standing behind the meat counter busily setting out various fresh cuts of meat.

"Hi, Kaleb. What's it gonna be today?" He asked in a seemingly cheerful tone.

"Good news and bad news, sir. Good news - it's a light order. I only need some fresh milk. Bad news - supply routes are now open and the army has decided to take their supply line business elsewhere," Kaleb said with a frown as he set the empty tin container on the floor.

"Bah. That doesn't surprise me. Sooner or later the crown was going to favor a supplier that was governed by your people," Ludrick said as he finished up with the last of the meats in the display counter.

"I do hope the Queen has paid you handsomely for all the goods you supplied our troops. Even though I'm not an accountant, I still have receipts from every transaction that was made on the armys' behalf," Kaleb said as he pulled out several copied bills of sale.

"Queen Jenna was true to her word. We have been paid in full up to last week's shipment, but I expect that one will clear also within a matter of days. For what it's worth, thank you for giving us your business," the old charr veteran said with a respectful bow of his head.

"Glad to do business," Kaleb returned the bow, "anyway, where's Amalthia?"

"Funny thing you should ask... she's out back milking the cows."

"Mind if I go say hi?"

"Suit yourself. Just watch where you step. If you track anything in, you get to clean it up."

Kaleb nodded then proceeded to work his way through the hallway adjoining the door that led out to the back of the lot. When he opened the door, he noticed a large cow pen and a row of stalls just off to the side. Further out lay a field lined with a row of straw-thatched dummies. He deduced that it must be a target range of some sort.

Only charrs would have gunnery ranges in their own backyards, he thought musingly.

"Kaleb! Over here."

He heard Amalthia's pristine voice coming from just behind the furthest stall. When he saw her poke her head out from the wooden barricade, he immediately rushed forward. She was sitting on a milking stool, her hands clasped on the bovine's udders moving them in an alternating fashion. As she was performing the procedure, streams of the pearly white substance spurted down into a large metal tub that rested between her feet.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you. I just needed to pick up an extra order of ten gallons of milk."

Amalthia stood up then wiped off the excess milk from her silken fur hands. "You have a knack for being at the right place at the right time. Because, I was just in the process of gathering a batch for purifying."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Kaleb asked.

"Have you milked a cow before?"

"Never."

"Well, there's always a first time. Go ahead, give it a shot." She got up then gestured for him to have a turn at the udders.

With trepidation, Kaleb carefully grabbed hold of the elongated appendages and tried a series of gentle squeezing motions. To his dismay, nothing came out. Undeterred, he hunched over then pointed one of the udders towards his face hoping to see if any milk would be forthcoming. But as he was massaging the teat, a long stream of pearly white liquid spat directly into his face.

Upon seeing the event, Amalthia let out a long laugh. Kaleb then turned to her as streams of raw milk ran down his face then onto his collar.

"You pathetic little mouse, that's not how you do it. Oh my. That look is just... priceless!"

When he saw Amalthia laugh, something hit him inside like a hammer. He couldn't quite explain it but the pitch of her voice and the nature of her fanged smile just made his heart skip several beats.

She grabbed one of the sanitary towels that she had brought out during the milking session then walked over to Kaleb and began to dab it across his face. With fluid strokes of her hand she wiped the offending milk off of his face.

"I gather you are too civilized for farm life," she said as she tossed him the now dirty towel.

"Uh. Like I said, I've never done this before." Kaleb used the towel to wipe up some of the residue that managed to work its way into his dark brown hair.

"That's obvious. Come sit down and I'll show you how it's done."

Amalthia gestured for him to sit on the stool and to use his feet to stabilize the milking pan. She walked to the other side of the cow then knelt down as she opened her large clawed hands.

"Grab hold of the two longest udders. Now, follow my motions."

She gently clasped hold of his hands, and then began a slow rhythmic massaging motion. The leathery pads on the palms of her furred hands felt pleasantly warm when they met the backs of Kaleb's own hands. Her warmth felt soothing, comforting even.

Within moments, jets of the pearly white liquid began spurting out. Along with the cyclic motion of the udders, he could feel Amalthia's warmth coursing through his hands. The undulating motion caused his body to tingle with pleasure. And to his chagrin, he could feel a pleasurable sensation in another part of his anatomy as well.

Oh gods. What's happening? What am I thinking?

"Kaleb. Are you alright? Or is feeling cow tits giving you the willies?"

He choked on the question for a moment.

"No. I'm fine. I think."

"Your face is red, I know. What causes that anyway? And what's that smell coming off of you?"

Kaleb immediately pulled his hands away then quickly wiped them with the towel. He took a few deep breaths then ducked his head down trying to get the blood rushing back into his brain.

"I'm done with this for now. I just... I just wanted to get some milk and be on my way that's all."

"It will take at least an hour to purify. So, in the meantime, what will you be doing then?" She asked as she stepped around to see him.

Kaleb quickly rose up from the stool while turning away from her. He didn't want to embarrass either of them by revealing what was going on inside his pants.

"Sorry. I just felt light-headed that's all. Hey! I still remember my promise. Did you want to...?"

"You have my permission..." She interjected.

"Permission? Whadda mean?"

She gave him a fangy smile while he was still turned away hoping his raging manhood would subside.

"You may call me Amalthia."

Upon hearing the news, the rage in his southern region came back with a vengeance once more.

"There you go emitting that funny odor again."

After they had gathered all the pails of un-sanitized milk and placed them in the purifying vat, Amalthia beckoned for Kaleb to come around the side entrance. Leading up to a door on the second story, was a flight of stairs.

"Would you like to come up?" She asked.

"Is that your place? Where you live?"

"No. It's a dungeon. Just remind me to kick you down the stairs once you reach the top for asking such a stupid question!" She said in her typical laconic fashion.

"I thought you didn't want me to go up there. You know - personal stuff, not business-related."

"We have over an hour to kill before the milk's even ready. In the meantime, what are we going to be doing? Trading insults and driving my sire to our last keg of mead?"

When she opened the door to her room, Kaleb was immediately blown away at all of the military equipment that was lying about. He could see suits of armor, mortar tubes and various types of weaponry that adorned nearly every square inch of space. Next to her bed was a heavy wood table with a variety of welding torches as well as other soldering tools strewn about on its surface.

"Wow. This stuff is amazing!"

He walked over and saw an emblem of a gear cog on a large spiked shield. From its design, he immediately knew what it represented.

"So you were Iron legion, right?"

"Still am and proud of it too!" Amalthia said beamingly.

"So where's your warband?"

"I no longer have one. I'm currently a gladium."

Kaleb was taught enough charr history to know what that meant. "Sorry to hear that."

"I'm not. Like I said, there are some things about me you would not want to know. Now what was it about that dessert you had promised?"

"You don't mind going out? I mean... to get a bite to eat, that is."

"Of course not! The fresh air does me good every once in awhile. Just give me a few to clean up and we'll be on our way," Amalthia said as she began removing some of her outer garments.

Kaleb saw what she was doing and started to blush profusely. When he watched her removing all of her clothing, the lump in his throat made it very hard for him to breath normally.

Amalthia removed the last pieces of her clothing then crouched on her bed covered only in her luxurious pelt. Like an overgrown feline, she began to groom herself, contorting her body in ways no ordinary human could possibly manage.

When he saw her graceful feline form managing itself, his heart pounded hard against his ribcage as the base of his jaw began to ache from the muscle tension. He could not take his eyes off her.

"Was there something you wanted? You've been staring at me since I started taking a quick bath."

"So sorry... it's just I'm not used to anyone...uhh." Kaleb immediately turned around hoping he didn't embarrass her too badly.

"Let me finish it for you - taking their clothes off? What is it with you humans and clothing anyway? It's like stripping is an invitation to screwing. For your sake, I hope that's not the impression you're getting." Amalthia said as she gracefully bounded from the bed then reached into her dresser for a fresh set of clothes.

"I'm sorry, Amalthia. I didn't want you to get that impression. It's just being around one of your kind is a new experience for me. There is so much about your people and culture that I don't understand. But I would like to know... I would like to know you more," Kaleb said with a heavy exhale.

"As I would like to know more about you and your people. Granted, it's been historically at the point of a blade, but there are things both of us could learn from each other. I know a good pastry shop and cafe located just down the road. We can go there if you like," Amalthia said as she put on a mauve crop top and thigh-hugging miniskirt.

The pastry shop lay just a couple of miles from their location. Amalthia and Kaleb walked together side-by-side as they both took in the sights and sounds of the local atmosphere. Along the way, they received the occasional odd stare from people walking by. The prospect of seeing a human and charr tagging along together was a very unusual sight indeed.

Kaleb and Amalthia sat across from each other over a wrought iron table. Soon afterward, a waitress walked over then handed each of them a menu of the daily specials.

"Hoelbrak Hohos? Brazen butter battered bunt cake smothered in legendary lava chocolate. So where's the cream filling?" Kaleb questioned as he looked over the menu.

"Are all humans as picky as you? Isn't it true that your women go into murderous rages if they don't eat sufficient amounts of chocolate?" Amalthia said while perusing through her own menu items.

"No hun. We kill if our men don't give us any during special occasions," the waitress commented.

"And here I thought your mere presence would scare off all the customers. She even called you 'hun'. See, there still is hope between our peoples," Kaleb jested.

The waitress looked at him with a dumbfounded. "Listen sweetie. This is a port town. We get all kinds. Besides, she's a regular here. So if you know what's good for ya, you had better treat her with respect."

Amalthia stuck her tongue out at Kaleb then closed her eyes in a fangy grin.

"Fine. I'll take the Durmond Priory Dumplings. Easy on the cinnamon, it gives me acid something terrible."

Kaleb folded the menu then handed it to the smarter-than-he-expected waitress.

"And for you, darlin?"

"Azuran blintzes with Krytan puree and Maguuma nuts on the side; shells on, please."

"Drinks?"

"Latte, please," said Kaleb.

Amalthia handed the waitress her menu. "Ascelonian coffee - black."

The waitress wrote their orders down then promptly darted out.

"I heard Zaitan used that stuff to make the risen. How do you drink it and still have any taste buds left?" Kaleb asked jokingly.

"When you do battle with a ninety-proof hangover, it's not the best option; it's the only option," Amalthia replied.

"I never took you for a drinker. The only ones I know who soak in suds are norns and very unhappy humans."

"I'm neither, so it doesn't count."

"So why do you drink?"

Amalthia let out a sigh. "Let's see - one of only two charr in this entire town; exiled from my warband and now a gladium; my mother; a sire who is chronically disabled and drinks too much; my mother; a talented engineer who is waiting for an Iron Legion warband to take her under their wing, but thus far, nada... oh... and did I forget to mention my mother?"

Kaleb sighed too. "I'm so sorry, Amalthia. That's gotta be hard not having any of your people around. I guess I can understand why you stay holed up in your room so much. There aren't many people here you can relate to."

"Now you understand the reason why I need coffee to counteract the strong drink. Welcome to my life."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Sure. Grow horns and fur, act real mean so we can start our own warband and make litters of cubs in the process." Amalthia smirked.

"That stung, Amalthia. I didn't expect that to come out of your mouth."

"Well, it is what you've been thinking, right? Look, even though I don't know your peoples' courtship rituals, it didn't take much for me to figure out what was on your mind."

The waitress came back with their orders. Amalthia immediately dug into her meal while Kaleb just sat for a moment staring at his plate.

"Eat, you!"

"I'm not that hungry... now," he replied as he shoved his dish to the center of the table.

"Look. If it makes you feel better, I honestly do wish we were both the same kind. It would make life so much easier for both of us. But the fact of the matter is, we’re not. We can still be friends. And yes, I do consider you a friend as you have earned that from me. But this other thing you desire simply cannot happen."

"Cannot or should not? There is a huge difference between the two. Anyway, I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself. You are a really amazing person, for lack of a better word. I've never met anyone quite like you and I would never willingly do anything to jeopardize that."

Kaleb then extended his hand. "Friends?"

Amalthia reciprocated. "Friends!"

"Now eat your meal before you get a headache," she said with a smile.

While he was eating, Kaleb suddenly felt a sharp sting to his right forearm. As he looked over his arm, he saw a Maguuma nutshell zing across the table, landing straight into his lap. Less than a second later, another one flew by, only this time it smacked into his Adam's apple then rolled down his shirt.

"Why you fleabitten..." Kaleb said in a mockingly angry tone as he attempted to stoop over to recover some of the husks in order to return the favor.

Amalthia just laughed as she flicked more shells at him. Her aim was impeccable as each one pegged some sensitive part of his body.

"Dang, woman! You could put somebody's' eye out with those things. This means payback, you know!" Kaleb said as he attempted to return fire with the shells he had scavenged from under the table.

"Get it straight, mouse. I am charr! Cower before the ferocious fusillade of my mighty Magumma nut barrage!"

"Hey! What you're doing isn't helping. This is the kind of stuff that turns me on even more," Kaleb responded with uncontrollable laughter.

Upon those words, Amalthia immediately stopped. "Okay, okay. Treaty signed. Ceasefire in effect."

Kaleb looked at the angle of the shadows and realized that time, once again, had passed all too quickly.

"I think we had better get back. Judging by the length of the shadows, it's a little more than an hour."

"That's fine. I'll go on ahead and get your milk prepped. Don't try to kill yourself trying to match me at full gait. It'll never happen," Amalthia said just seconds before she dropped to all fours then bounded off towards the shop.

Kaleb saw her graceful gold and white form glide across the cobblestone pavement. He thought to himself how could such a savage creature be so beautiful at the same time. For the first time in his life, he knew exactly what he wanted... and more importantly whom he wanted.

Her father's shop was just around the corner as she bounded across the sidewalk. Her mind raced thoughts of the human she left standing at the cafe.

Be patient with me, Kaleb. There is so much I want to say to you. If the world cannot accept us for who and what we are then maybe we should just not accept the world with all its stupid rules.

As Amalthia headed to her father's shop, she saw two humans in Seraph battle armor standing in front of the doorway. When she stood back up to greet them, one of them took off their helmet revealing the face of a female.

"I am Sergeant Waterstone of the Thirty-first Brigade. Do you know the whereabouts of a Private Kaleb Grimwald?"

"He will be here within a matter of minutes. I went on ahead to prep the supplies for him in advance," Amalthia responded.

"Centaurs have been raiding our caravans. We've been assigned to act as his escort," Cynthia stated as she placed her helmet back on.

"Those dingleberry fly farmers? Give me five and I'll have his supplies ready... plus a whole lot more!" With the speed of a cat, she dashed through the door.

Within less than five minutes, Kaleb was sprinting towards the two soldiers. As he approached, the taller one gave him a hearty wave.

"Do you ever stop running?"

"Brad! What are you and Cynth, I mean, Sergeant Waterstone doing here? You promised that neither of you were going to be mothering over me," Kaleb said gruffly.

"Change of plans - caravans are getting hit hard by centaur raiding parties. Roaming without an escort is not an option," Sergeant Waterstone said flatly.

The door to the shop suddenly opened followed by a loud clanging noise. As she stepped out, everyone noticed that Amalthia was clad from head to toe in charr battle armor. Slung diagonally across her back was the longest rifle Kaleb had ever seen. Affixed to the advanced weapon, looked what appeared to be a sniping scope.

"Would someone mind giving me a hand with this milk container?" She said as she tilted the container on its side then rolled it towards the cart.

With Kaleb's help the container was hoisted up. Soon afterward, Amalthia herself loped up into the back of the wagon.

"I'm sorry, miss whoever you are, but we aren't allowed to transport non-combatants," Cynthia said in an irritable tone.

"Um. Better brush up on those history books some more, human. Charr are combatants by default."

"She's got a point," said Brad as he fastened his sword around his waist.

Cynthia looked at Kaleb as she pointed to Amalthia. "Are all her people this snarky?"

"She is in a class by herself. Trust me on this one," Kaleb said with a laugh.

Moments later, the shop door opened and another much larger charr stepped out.

"Amalthia. What the hell are you doing?!" Ludrick roared as he tried to steady himself on his cane.

"Just getting some possible shot practice in, sire. I've been meaning to perform a live-fire exercise using this new scope anyway."

"Don't worry about a thing, sir. I'll make sure your baby girl gets home safe and sound," Kaleb said as he opened his overcoat revealing the several pairs of pistols that he had concealed.

"You had better!" Ludrick said as he rested his massive paws upon his sturdy wooden cane.

Be safe, cub. Please come home safely, my most precious treasure.

With the tug of the reins they were off. The soldiers knew that if centaurs accosted their wagon, their only hope would be to fight their way out. Even at top speed, a pack dolyak could only manage fifteen MPH tops; centaurs, on the other hand, could manage twice that speed.

Within the span of an hour they were at the halfway juncture when they reached the crest of the road that led towards the base camp. But as the wagon lurched over the top, Kaleb noticed a large bonfire in the middle of the road.

As the dolyak got closer, the stench of burning flesh pierced their nostrils. To their horror, the bonfire was not a wood bonfire at all but a smoldering mound of corpses from a recently ambushed convoy.

Observing the gruesome scene, Cynthia told Kaleb to swing the cart around the burning mass and to not stop.

"Those poor souls," Kaleb commented as they slowly rode on by.

Within seconds, Amalthia's sensitive ears began to twitch.

"Something is coming this way. I can hear it coming from the ground."

"I can't hear a thing," said Brad who was in the process of stringing up his bow.

"Charr can hear low frequency sounds. We can't," Cynthia commented.

Kaleb looked to the side then noticed movement.

"Forget what she can hear. I see 'em over on the east ridge. Centaurs, incoming!"

Scores of the quad-footed beasts surged over the crest descending upon the hapless travelers like angry locusts. Their battle cries echoed across the plains as their hooves shook the very grown beneath them.

With lightning reflexes, Amalthia loaded then primed her sniper rifle for firing. When the first centaur came into her sights, she rested her longarm upon a bipod, held her breath then gently squeezed off a shot. Within a fraction of a second, the round found its mark then detonated inside the creature's skull causing it to explode like an over pressurized balloon.

"Nice shot!" Kaleb shouted.

"Don't thank me just yet..." Amalthia replied.

Two more high-velocity explosive rounds found their mark on the vanguard chargers. Like the one before them, their craniums also met grizzly, fragmented ends.

"Okay. Now you can thank me," the charr smirked.

The three human soldiers were amazed at the charr's impeccable marksmanship. But in spite of Amalthia downing an impressive number in such a short amount of time, there still remained at least a hundred more of the marauders to contend with.

Brad Pendragon knew his turn would be up next. As soon as the first wave came within range, he lofted several arrows into the air in rapid succession. Seconds later, three more centaurs crumpled over as their broken bodies rolled down the hill.

The gap closure was rapid. It would be only a matter of seconds before they were in range of their shortbows. Sergeant Waterstone told them to abandon the cart then ordered them to tip it over using it as a barricade.

Out of the group, the drum of milk was the first causality. Upon looking at the spilled contents, Kaleb commented. "I promise not to cry."

"Stay behind cover and try to lay down as much suppressing fire as possible. I have an idea," Cynthia said as she looked at the contents that were trickling from the narrow spout at the top of the container.

"Centaurs, fifteen meters. Kal, get ready!" Brad said as he nocced another arrow in his bow.

Kaleb unbuttoned his overcoat revealing six pairs of pistols he had tucked away.

"Spot me, bro. Cynth - get ready to catch load," Kaleb said as he cocked the hammers on all his pistols then pulled the ones from his uppermost pockets.

"Right flank, clear. Go!"

Like a crazed norn charging towards the last keg on a battlefield, Kaleb feinted to the left of the cart. Catching the closest centaur off guard, he fired point blank right between the creature's eyes. As soon as his pistol's only round had been spent he quickly tossed it to Sergeant Waterstone who promptly began repacking it with a new round of shot.

Kaleb fired off his second pistol, felling another of the six-limbed beasts. Each time he finished a shot he repeated the process with Cynthia. Like a deadly ballet dancer he whirled in amongst the clamoring herd dispatching them one by one with carefully choreographed shots to the craniums.

Amalthia was completely mesmerized by the level of agility displayed by the human. In spite of the incredibly inefficient weapons he had been given, he was able to turn them into a deadly work of art thanks, in no small part, to his teammates.

For the moment, the hoofed beasts had fallen back. Obviously in shock by the number of casualties they had incurred at the hands of such a small group.

As soon as a break in the battle occurred, Kaleb made a mad dash for the partially empty milk container.

"Kaleb! What the hell are you doing you witless human! The next round of milk will be for free. Just get back here!"

"No, Amalthia. I think I know what the sarge's plan is. It's all about the fire."

Cynthia then tossed him one of the burlap blankets that had been folded up in the overturned cart. Suddenly, she noticed the centaurs were regrouping for another assault.

Adrenalin was surging through Kaleb's muscles as he made a mad dash towards the blanket while still carrying the half empty container across his back. As soon as he grabbed the burlap item, he headed towards the smoldering wreckage then began pouring the rest of the contents onto the fire.

Almost immediately, the smoke became thick and black from the burning milk. Kaleb threw the blanket over the pyre then rapidly pulled it away using a series of choreographed movements.

"It's okay, miss charr. He's using the milk and blanket to create a smoke signal to alert our troops to our situation," Cynthia said as she saw the centaurs rapidly closing in once more.

Amalthia understood the situation as she unleashed another volley upon the advancing attackers. Brad fired off several more arrows as well.

"Swords everyone. Swords!" Cynthia shouted the command to draw melee weapons as she un-holstered her short sword.

Within moments the hoofed fiends were overrunning the group. One centaur bore down on Amalthia with a heavy hatchet but just as quickly, the beast realized its arms had been reduced to flailing bloody stumps courtesy of Kaleb's longsword.

"Amalthia. May I introduce you to my old friend, Bob. Bob - say hello to my new friend, Amalthia," Kaleb said as he waved his sword around.

"Of all the heroic, glorious names there are in Tyria and you had to call your weapon, Bob??"

"Well, everyone I know names their favorite weapon something. I heard even your people do the same. Me - I just figured I'd pick something out of thin air."

Several more centaurs fell to Kaleb's might (and Bob's sharp edge).

The melee attackers fell back, but the centaur archers advanced. Once they were within firing position, they unleashed volleys of arrows that nearly darkened the sky. Instinctively, Brad and Cynthia grabbed their shields then hunkered down to brace for the arrow storm.

As they were pinned behind the now-heavily arrowed cart, Kaleb noticed that Amalthia's lower back was not covered by any armor. The sky darkened once more and with no time to think things through, Kaleb acted on instinct and threw his body over her vulnerable region.

Just then, a flurry of warhorns sounded. As their noises trumpeted throughout the land, a crescendo of panic began to arise from the centaurs. Within a matter of seconds the remaining herd of marauders galloped in full retreat.

Brad was the first to emerge from the aftermath. He saw a land littered with broken and bloody corpses from all of the centaurs the four of them had slain. He then immediately checked to see the condition of his friends.

"Is... is everyone okay?"

Sergeant Cynthia Watersone coughed trying to clear the dust from her throat. "Fine here. How about the rest of you?"

"I'm alive. Wait..." came Amalthia's voice as she felt an eerie warm sensation running down the right side of her neck.

"Injured? Hold on... It's not me. Oh no... Kaleb??"

She craned her massive neck muscles to see Kaleb resting on her back as blood poured from his nose and mouth. With an agonizing wail of anguish, Amalthia immediately, but carefully pulled him off.

"Oh gods no. Kaleb!" Cynthia said as she helped Amalthia lay him down.

Amalthia cried out as she pulled off part of her jerkin to wipe the blood from his face. When she reached around to put her hand on his back, she could feel the shafts of at least three arrows that had gone into him.

"Oh man. This is so not good, Cynth. We gotta get him to the infirmary now. Otherwise he'll bleed out," Brad said.

"Our boys are here! Brad, you and her try to stabilize him. Use the fire over there to cauterize those wounds. I'll try and find a medic. You hang in there, Kal. Y'hear?"

"He... he didn't have to throw away his life for mine," Amalthia said as she found that she could no longer hold back the tears.

The medics soon arrived as they bound Kaleb's wounds and made sure he lost no further blood. Off in the distance, Cynthia could hear some of the other soldiers in the unit commenting as they saw Amalthia weeping over Kaleb.

"Is that thing actually crying? I didn't know charrs had feelings, especially for humans."

Furious with rage, Sergeant Cynthia Waterstone confronted the two heckling soldiers. "That 'thing' has a name. Her name is Amalthia and she was responsible for saving our lives. Kaleb risked his own to save hers, as any good soldier would have done. Can the same be said for either of you??"

She was only greeted with silence.

"I didn't think so! Get back to your posts and be thankful I don't assign you two to cannon fodder duty."

Brad walked over to Cynthia to give her some more promising news. "The doc said the wounds aren't as bad as they appear. He's got a partially collapsed lung, hence the blood in the mouth and nose, but they said that's easily fixable thanks to some of the Asuran alchemy remedies."

"That is good news. Brad - I'll take Amalthia back into town. You may come with me if you'd like."

Her friend and lover nodded then smiled as he gave her a reassuring hug.

"I'd like that very much."

Amalthia spent her time grooming her body in an attempt to clean off as much of the blood as possible. Even though her fur was clean, for the most part, her gear still was a bloody mess. At this point, she was too tired to even care about what happened with it so long as she wasn't constantly reminded of the horrors that had just transpired.

"Are you ready to go back?" Cynthia approached as she placed a hand on the charr's left shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"I am leaving my armor. Do with it as you wish. But otherwise I'm ready whenever you are."

As they headed back to town, only this time under the protection of a heavier escort, Cynthia turned to Amalthia and asked, "I hope your father will forgive us for what happened. Try not to blame yourself for what happened to Kaleb."

Amalthia drew in a deep breath then exhaled. "I am to blame, partly. But I also blame the inferior technology your people possess. I blame the centuries of senseless bloodshed our people had wrought upon each other over issues that could have been worked out through logic. But most of all I blame the one thing that I wish to say but cannot..."

Twilight was approaching by the time they arrived at Amalthia's home. Without further words they dropped her off then waited until she had made her way to her upstairs abode.

Brad looked over and commented. "What a world we live in to see the day when a human would be willing risk his life for a charr."

"Did you see the look on her face, Brad?"

"Of course I did. I've never seen one of them up close. Well, alive that is. I finally figured out what differentiates the males from the females. It's the size of their teeth. Y'ever notice that?"

"You men are as dense as ever!" She shook her head as she prodded the dolyak forward.

"Yeah. So what is it that I'm missing?"

Without saying a word, she turned to Brad and smiled.

She’s in love with him, you idiot!

#gw2 fanfic #tyriaslibrary #the outliers #charr and human #kaleb and amalthia

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years

Text

Under Pressure (The Eighties Blasts Collection, Part 10.)

Description: Jim Hopper died as a hero. But with that, one certain problem rises up - who will now lead the cops of Hawkins? Hopper thought of that - he decided to write a letter, naming his niece, nineteen-year-old student of Indianapolis police academy, Y/N Hopper as a sheriff deputy in a letter. But anybody in the town doesn’t have a clue that being a cop in Hawkins is way more dangerous than it might seem.

Part Summary: The Shapeshifter is after the reader and it is ready to hunt her down at any chance it gets. Friendships are getting more valuable than ever before.

A/N: Sooo, we are getting into the motion! Inspired by the Stranger Things Vol. 1 Score (The Upside Down) and season 3 soundtrack (mainly by Mirkwood, In the Void and Find the Source).

Word Count: 2.6 K

Tagging: @charmed-asylum @nemodoren

Master list: The Eighties Blast Collection

You've slept through the whole day while everyone was leaving, one at a time. You've passed the test on A+. Whatever Mind Flayer and Shapeshifter wanted from you, they didn't make you their spy. The air in the room was boiling hot, you were sleeping under three blankets and yet, you didn't move you at all. You just slept through it.

By seven o'clock in the evening, there was only Steve remaining in the cab with you. He was watching the TV and taking a nap in Hopper's armchair, just ten minutes ago, even though he was shoving some sandwiches down his throat. He knew you would tell him that he looks like a duck, not even chewing the food.

You slowly woke up and yawned out loud, stretching your back. You were sweating like hell, you even smelled - and truly, there was nothing to wonder.

You didn't wake him up, just let him sleep through the episode full of tension and dead people while you took a shower. The bruise you had on the arm was nothing but scary. Shapeshifter could crush your bones if it wanted to.

It was nice knowing that someone was with you in the cabin, especially after what happened just that very afternoon. Demogorgons were real - and there even was a shape-shifting one.

When you hopped out of the shower, you put some comfy old clothes on and finally decided to wake Steve up. He almost threw all the food to the ground as he freaked up.

"Jesus, can you calm down?" - You cried at him and caught the plates before they fell down. Steve sat straight and pulled the armchair so his feet were no longer in the air.

"I'm sorry! I had some pretty wild dreams about the things that happened today and you touch me in the middle of Demogorgon just stretching for my face! What did you expect?" - He said back as you both put the food on the coffee table.

"Come on then, I'll catch you a ride home. Time to wake up, Sleeping beauty." - You answered back a bit ironically and threw an old jacket on. Steve nervously stood up and straightened his jeans since they were crinkly from his very vivid nightmare.

"Are you sure?" - The boy hesitantly came after you with his palms in his jeans, putting his jacket on as well. - "Do you really want to stay here all alone? In this cab? We have a pretty comfortable couch." - Steve asked quietly with a serious worry in his voice.

"I'm more than positive that I'll stay home today, Harrington. This is a completely safe zone, don't worry." - You locked the door and walked to the car, playing with the keys between your fingers. You didn't know where Steve learned to be so nice. That was actually sweet, you needed to say.

"Give me the keys, I will give you a ride." - Steve reached out his palm, but you only laughed a bit. - "You were attacked and you're sick. It will be better if I drive." - Steve said when you were still watching him with an interesting face.

"Steve, even if you drove me to your house, I will have to drive myself back here. I'm feeling fine, I swear. The Shapeshifter didn't hurt me that bad. I can still take care of myself." - You swore on your dear life, climbing behind your pickup's steering wheel. Steve sat next to you with a dumb grin on his face.

"I haven't thought that far, sorry." - He excused his need to drive you to his house, immediately taking a deep breath before he continued. - "Are you sure you can do it on your own here? The whole night? The Shapeshifter might be anywhere right now and it showed you some pretty wild images."

"Steve, listen." - You turned your face to him, letting the started engine running. - "I can survive a night in my very own home. The thoughts won't throw me off the rails. The Shapeshifter could be anywhere, yeah, so what would it do at my house? Don't worry, man, it's going to be alright. Thank you for caring, I greatly appreciate all of it, but you're taking it a bit too far."

After that, you started the radio, letting the station play some of the blast jams - like Wham!, Police or Bonnie Tyler. You enjoyed every song, drumming to it, but it was almost awfully quiet inside the car. When you stopped the engine in front of Steve's house, it was almost midnight.

“Last chance, Hop.” - He said quietly, opening the door.

“Sleep tight, Harrington. I will call you in the morning and you'll see, everything's gonna be just fine.” - You answered with a smile, telling him to finally go home and take some rest. After that, you finally drove home, having much to think about. It was Hopper. It had to be him - if it wasn't him, you would be completely destroyed and thrown off the rails. This gave you too much hope just not to be true.

But where was he and what was he doing there? Was he alright? Or was he in danger? You closed your eyes as you turned back to your driveway, exhaling out loud. That was a fucking wild day and you slept through the most of, so you didn't feel the need to relax.

You planned to write everything down and to try to think about it, so you could come up with a plan eventually. Just as you slowly parked your old Chevy on the spot, you noticed someone standing in the woods, watching you. That sent chills down your spine, you wouldn't lie about that.

But that didn't exactly mean it was the Shapeshifter. It couldn't track you down, it didn't know where you live and it ran off to the woods. It was hurt and it surely needed some time to recover. Plus that just looked like a little girl standing in the moonlight.

Slowly, you got out of your car, taking your flashlight with you, pointing at the small figure. When you got close enough, the chills were gone. You relaxed and told yourself that it cant be the Shapeshifter. That was just impossible.

“Hey!” - You yelled at the kid who was still watching you getting closer. Their clothes were torn, their face looked awfully pale. Could it be a kid lost in the woods? - “What are you doing here so late at a cold night? Is everything alright? Are you lost?” - You were still coming closer to that small child, smiling at them and slowly getting on your knees. They were more than thirty feet away from, it was still considered a safe distance.

The blood stopped running in your veins when you watched the kid get on their hands, walking on all four now. The Shapeshifter. It did find you and it did track you down. Thirty feet now seemed to be just a few inches as you got on your legs and raced to your cabin, the flashlight going suddenly off. You locked yourself in and hid behind the couch, but you could hear it lurking around the cabin, searching for the entrance.

The monster was making deep noises, surely by their mouth, which sounded like silent growling. You could hear the terrace wood shrieking under its weight as it slowly made its way there. You would swear that you haven't been more scared in your whole entire life. Slowly, you managed to crawl without making a sound through the whole cabin, taking your revolver from the kitchen counter. For the love God, at least it was loaded.

Then, you noticed its fingers on the window, barely touching it, yet it made so unpleasant sounds that your ears hurt. It was still growling - and in the next second, it jumped to the cabin. You were fucked. The monster smelled your scent instantly, pointing its head to your direction. Its right shoulder was still hurt, so one of its limbs wasn't working as it should.

Before it could jump on you to bite your head or something else off, you ran to the door, unlocking the lock in a harshly, almost ripping the lock out of the wood. You made it out, yes, but that barely meant anything. The Shapeshifter was just behind you, trying to get through the wooden barrier.

You ran to your car as fast as you could, thanking God that you barely locked the door. You were in at no time, but another thing was coming - the engine was struggling to start and the Shapeshifter just made a whole-ass hole in your door. There was no time left to spend, do you locked the car and prayed for the motor to start.

The monster was following you on all four, growling, walking at a slow pace, its head pointed to your car. You felt uneasy, but you managed not to give up. You heard as it jumped on the trunk and you almost felt that you're as good as dead - that was the moment the engine started and roared through the whole, quiet forest around your cabin. The lights were on and you pushed the gas so hard you felt the pedal touching the floor.

With the sudden outburst of speed, you heard the monster falling down, hitting the locked door on the back of the trunk. You hit the breaks violently and the Shapeshifter fell flat on the driver's cabin back. After that, you turned right, leaving the driveway and rode towards Hawkins. If any cop would've stopped you, you had no excuse to drive almost fifty miles per hour.

When you passed the first lights that included you’re inside Hawkins, the trunk suddenly straightened as the monster jumped off, making the car jump a bit. You slowed down and looked back just to see it running inside the woods again.

Right you stopped and heavily breathed out, leaning your forehead to the steering wheel. Right, what were your options? You definitely couldn't be your cabin anymore - the Shapeshifter was not dumb, it would you there again in no time. Plus, it was in a kind of unusable state at the moment. Police station? YOu had a day off and you hadn't keys and the alarm code. Karen’s? Not an option this late at night. Dustin's? No way. Harrington’s. That was your only remaining option. Steve had a big house back in your day and it was fairly easy to climb into the window of his room.

With that, you drove through Hawkins at the speed of light. You needed to be inside of a building as soon as possible before the monster could come for you again. You stopped a street away from his house, ran to it and climbed the fence to get into their garden. You snatched a few stoned from Steve’s mom’s garden, standing under his window. You just hoped that the idiot isn't already asleep.

You started to throe the windows at his window, not missing a single one. They were only goddamn loud when they fell down on the roof of an extension. The light in the room lightened up and you almost started to cry with happiness. In the next minute, you were facing Steve, who was standing in the open window.

“Who’s that? Wait for a second. Hop? Is that you? What are you doing here, goddamnit? It's one in the morning!” - Steve whisper-shouted at you, watching your silhouette in the light coming from the pool. - “If this is meant to be a great romantic gesture, I swear to God...”

“Can I have a sleepover at your house? Please?” - You whisper shouted back at him. You saw his face harden before he nodded, taking at least a t-shirt on before he climbed on the extension to help you climb it. You made a lot of noise, but at least, you felt a bit safe when he closed the window.

“Have you changed your mind? You look terrible if you ask me.” - Steve chuckled cockily, still whispering, but when he saw your face having any color and your arms trembling, he figured out that you're completely serious.

“The Shapeshifter. It tracked me down, it knows where I live. I can’t come back to my cabin since it smashed my window and made a huge-ass hole in my door.” - You sat down on his bed as well and only after that, Steve was completely serious again. - “When I drove you home, I was thinking that it might need some rest to cover its shoulder, and I thought that I will be thinking about what I saw. But I stopped and it was just standing there, watching me.”

“Couldn't you tell right away? It looked like the old lady, why couldn't you recognize it?” - Steve asked back, standing up to give you one of his old t-shirts with Hawkins’ High logo printed on it. You gladly accepted it, having at least something to change into.

“That's the joke. It didn't look like that lady anymore. It was a small child, I would probably say a boy? I don't know?” - You asked yourself, looking at Steve.

“Wait? Was the boy this tall and had ashen hair? A red jacket with a clown on his back?” - Steve asked and gasped. You closed your eyes, re-imaging what happened, before nodding. It was the boy Steve was talking about.

“The small kid was Alex. He went missing just a week before you came to the town, he nor his corpse were found. I think you just figured what happened to him - the Shapeshifter killed it and dragged it to the woods to look like him.” - Steve exhaled quietly, looking down on his feet.

“I have an idea. We will stop at the police department and I will go through the missing person cases, so we would know how it could be looking like. I'm sure that it won't feed on the small boy anymore. I've seen it. It knows that it has to change identities, it isn't dumb, after all.” - You whispered to Steve and he nodded instantly as he started to lay a sleeping bag onto the ground, locking the door.

“This is all fucking crazy.” - You whispered when Steve turned away so you could change your clothes and crawl under his blanket. The bed was still warm when you laid there.

“But we will manage to catch it and kill it, I swear to you. We've done this three times already and we won't let the Shapeshifter get you. Believe me. I will face it myself rather than seeing it having you.” - Steve wowed when he was turning the lights off. YOu nodded and smiled, even if he couldn't see you for shit. Before he left to lay down for the night as well, you caught his palm.

“Thank you for everything, Harrington. I mean it.” - You whispered, holding his palm in yours. He squeezed it back and he was glad that you cant see him blushing like a fifth-grader.

“As long as you keep your ass safe, there's no need to thank me, Hopper.”

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