#this was brought on bc i was thinking about tumble town. again. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iotona · 4 years

Text

Love

Hey again, I wrote something! And don’t ask why I keep coming up with ideas that include pets bc idk either. It’s Arthur x reader, 1500+ words, and fluff/romance? You won’t cry that’s all I know, I think? Thanks for giving it a look!

Love; a word that Arthur had almost forgotten. A one syllable sound that warmed the hearts of many and for others, indescribable pain. Long were the nights Arthur spent at the pub, downing as much alcohol as his body would allow, and entertaining any pretty skirt that so much as flashed him a darling smile. If he wasn’t out on the streets, then he would recluse to his room at the mansion living off of only bitter coffee and the sting in his back that reminded him of all the guilt and shame he carried over the years.

Recently, Arthur tossed in bed for entirely different reasons, obsessing over the tingling in his belly every time he thought of you. When you walked through the door, love came with. It certainly didn’t make itself prevalent right away, oh no. He didn’t feel it when he had the privilege of meeting you, and he surely didn’t see it when he tried to scare you off. But a slow burning feeling that first took his heart by surprise when you had flashed him a smile. It was a small grin like any other pretty lady he took to bed, why would this be any different? Maybe it was the context of his joke, maybe it was the dim lighting of the mansion at night, or the smell of the food you made just for him after his days of writing in solitude. Arthur couldn’t put his finger on why his chest suddenly felt lukewarm and his stomach tingled, nor did he really try, but soon found himself finding love everywhere he went.

Affection oozed out of every cup of coffee you brought him, seeped into the smell of his clothes that you left folded on his bed, and blinded him with every outburst of laughter you blessed him after each cheeky jest. Time spent in his room became less with each day, the dark demons of his past quickly suppressing under the weight of his newfound feelings. Chasing this high, Arthur spent endless nights awake in bed rethinking every interaction between you two. He often planned his days to conveniently intercept yours and you gladly obliged to have his company. And when you agreed to be his little assistant in your free time, ohh did his heart do a million flips.

Arthur’s interest in you soon became adoration. Reverence ruled his thoughts when he watched you work. Your intelligence to solve puzzles, your empathy to communicate and relate, your drive, persistence, your intuition to know what was fishy and what was not impressed him. With all his playfulness, some days Arthur wasn’t sure he’d get through a case without your point of view, but he’d never tell you that. In fact, the one instance you made a small comment about the look of frustration on his brow, he fixed himself with a handsome smile and teased about something or another to deter your focus.

Eventually, your own fondness began to show. Small blushes at Arthur’s praises and nicknames. The way you leaned into even the smallest of touches. How you went out of your way to ensure Arthur had hot coffee and a fresh snack while he wrote. Lending an ear to his stories and giving ample feedback.

Arthur was positive this couldn’t last forever, nothing good and pure ever does. So when the darkness latched onto his legs and held him there, he was sure you wouldn’t come calling, even as it enveloped him once again. He no longer made an effort to leave his room, to eat, to drink, to socialize, or to find you, the precious woman from the future. He was confident that was it, you’d return to through the door soon and he would continue the torturous life he was meant to endure.

Little did the sad man sitting on his overly worn writing chair realize how stubborn you actually were. He had underestimated you, entirely, until the day you came knocking his door down. It was sudden, he didn’t have an ounce of mental energy to understand the earful you were giving him over his astonishment. Something about how cold his coffee must be, and how he couldn’t possibly feel any better in a room so dark. You threw open his curtains and glared at him with a look that had him ashamed and shaking in his Oxford’s simultaneously. And very much like a lost puppy, Arthur agreed to accompany you to the town for bread, something so simple yet so domestic. You swore his wide bewildered eyes never left you that day and ever since then you constantly use that ammunition to your own device.

Then you did something so beyond his comprehension that even now, as he sits in the parlor of the mansion playing a game of chess with Theo, his mind keeps wandering to the night before instead of the bet that lay before him. Like many times before you had accompanied Arthur and Theo to the pub. The night was full of laughs and jokes, drinks to go around, as was per usual. You thought your heart would explode when Arthur suggested a dance and without waiting for your response, tugging on your hand. The music was upbeat, jovial and one too many spins mixed with liquor had you melting into his form when he pulled you close for a slow careen back and forth. You thought, in your inebriated state, how your legs would have probably given out if it wasn’t for Arthur’s hold on your waist and the other holding your hand close to his heart. Buzzing with not only drink but by how captivated you were with the man standing in front of you, you giggled and babbled about how his nose tickled you from brushing so close to your ear. You were so tipsy that when Arthur looked at you with a faint blush and the intent to apologize that you rose to your tip toes and pulled on the lapels of his jacket into a sweet kiss. A kiss that didn’t last long, but enough to deepen the red on his cheeks when you finally pulled away. The rest of the night muddled together, and you hadn’t seen each other since retiring to bed for the night.

Arthur wasn’t afraid of what lay before him now, but his anxiety was evident by the way he bounced his leg up and down during the match, eyebrows furrowed in thought, and eyes boring into the table. Theo thought maybe it was due to the way he was severely losing this game, but when did Arthur ever lose? That itself was incredibly strange, but Theo being the man to not pry did not ask. And thus they continued moving the pieces until Arthur’s inevitable loss.

Again the tiny statues were placed on small white and black squares, to their start. A pawn here, a knight there, Arthur’s gaze was caught by the flash of a bright green skirt out the nearby window. Abruptly standing up, he was completely enamored by the sight before him. Fresh, white, sparkling snow lazily fluttered through the air, remnants of this morning’s storm, adorning every surface outside. The serene and peaceful scene contrasted the way you were running through the mansion’s lower cut bushes and abruptly crouching behind one. If it wasn’t for the spirited look in your face as you peaked around the corner he would’ve thought you were in danger. But who exactly were you running from? Arthur received his answer when two furry four legged dogs came barreling around one side of the building and stopping to smell the air.

Vic was the first to get a scent, and most importantly following your footsteps in the snow. You realized your failure in not being able to cover your tracks and slowly crouched behind another layer of bushes in hopes to throw off the pooch. The crunch of your boots over the fresh snow alerted the bi-colored dog, his small legs immediately running in the direction of the noise, tongue out and ears flapping in joy of the game, just like a certain owner. In an attempt to flee you stood to try and run back, only to find a yellow haired lab blocking your path, foiling your plans. Accepting defeat as both animals ran towards you in glee, you dropped to your knees to deliver many pets and kisses. Little did you know the amount of force King accumulated running towards you, he tried to stop but slipping across the fresh snow until his body collided with yours. If you had learned anything from Isaac’s Laws of Physics it was that a large dog using you as a cement block was not going to end well. You both tumbled into the white fluff, each dog wasting no time in pressing their little wet noses onto your face and neck. The sniffling and small licks had you elated, tickling your sensitive skin, and filling the air with your loud shrieks and giggles.

“Oi, are you going to take your turn?” A particularly annoyed voice sounded from behind Arthur, to which he could only hum in response, give a smooth smile, and hustle out the door to you.

Arthur knew then that any trace of doubt slowly dissolved. He was utterly, completely, and wholly infatuated with you. Every fiber, every bone, every time his heart beat, it was all vibrating with yearning for you. He finally knew and understood the meaning of love. All from you.

If you made it this far, thank you! Feedback is always welcome. :)

tagging: @kisara-16 (thank you for proof reading <3), @nad-zeta

#arthur x reader #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp arthur #ikemen arthur

65 notes · View notes

alias-b · 4 years

Text

Nothing Lasts Forever.

Summary. The town of Derry changes people. Sends them running away. What it draws in is arguably worse. Humans create the hate and evil monsters come to feed off of. Eleanor Baker knew that well at a young age when she stumbled upon a painted figure in the distance. Pennywise never forgot the girl without fear. It’s possible that they haunted each other.

AN: I take no responsibility for this. Me flexing some horror and hopelessness bc I have nothing left to lose here. Wrote this to work through some things and sorta in love with it. TW: Should be obvious. Trauma. CSA mention. Abuse. S*xual references. G*re. S*icidal thoughts. Death. Pennywise F*cks and it’s canon. Sorry, Mr. King.

Pennywise x OC Eleanor Baker ~ Also on my ao3

They say she saw It first.

They say she smelled the circus. Sugary sweet and the rusting of metal.

They say she heard the bells toll soft. Once. Twice for her.

They say she felt no fear.

A branch cracked under pristine shoes, distracting a clown in the midst of hunt. The prey; small and blue eyed, barely five years old, ran into safe arms where their family set up camp for a weekend by the lake.

Body twisting around, It saw her last. Six years old. Curious green eyes shimmered even under grey skies. Pigtails. Feet behind her, father was hunched over to change a tire with mother beckoning from the window. Pulled over to the side of the road near a Derry forest. The Baker family. Well known and beloved because they had money.

“Eleanor. You’ll ruin your new shoes. We can’t be late for your recital. It’s going to rain!” Mother’s voice went under heard. Leaves rustled while the clown made a path to slink toward her. Her lips parted, eyes fixated and unblinking. Yellow eyes faded to baby blue like the pretty jewels her mother wore. Safe.

They were face to face. Drool dripped to hit her once untouched shoes. Those bejeweled eyes surged from that delicate blue back to a hungry orange, glowing brighter and yet he smelled nothing.

She had no scent. No fear. A deep, wide nothing. Vast as the ocean could reach. There was no advancing, no will to bring forth the deadlights. She’d probably think they were pretty stars watching over her. Cinderella wishing for a fairy godmother and a prince to whisk her away. He could only watch her make an utter fool of him. Somehow that charmed.

“Eleanor, now!” Came the shout from her father. A drop of red emerged from the trees. Shiny and terrible. “Where did you get that?”

A red balloon skimmed against the breeze.

“From the clown.” She said, getting into the car. “He gave it to me.”

“Enough playing around, Nell.” Father pressed her inside. The grip was lost along the tangled string. That spot of blood floated up toward the endless sky. Became a floating star too. She wished to float with it.

Eleanor danced her little heart out. Prima Ballerina in the making. Perfection was not everything, it was the only thing. She gazed into the audience beyond the balmy stage lights. Rows and rows of orange eyes. Glowing into her. No fear to be cast. Not for any of them. This world didn’t deserve it.

She saw It again that same week. When they attended a big family reunion. Picnic and all. And her uncle pulled her into the closet full of coats and old board games that were gathering dust. He called this a game too. A secret game.

After he’d decided the game was over, a pang snatched his heart to squeeze. Gushing. Eleanor saw those glowing eyes from the shadows. Thought for a moment it was the old cat who roamed the grounds.

Her uncle asked for help with no breaths left. Tore her frilly dress clutching at her. Hit the hardwood with a finishing crack. Blood pooled.

Nell didn’t want it to stain her shoes or Mother would be upset.

That white face bent down toward her. Spine curving to push out against skin. Utterly inhuman.

“Can you smell the circus, Nelly?” Painted lips full of clustering teeth rumbled. She blinked. White cheeks threatened to tear open with the grin curling.

“Yes.”

Little, pretty bells chimed in the ruffles of his garment as he laughed. Soft and sweeter than any sound in this world.

"Who are you?"

"Pennywise. The dancing clown." He caught her looking at the body behind his feet.

Big eyes full and empty.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, he won’t float.” The clown paused. “You’re a little wonder, aren’t you?”

She said nothing to that.

“Go on, grow and see if the world devours you. Tumble back to the weeds where I'll find you again.” His own curiosity was a growing sickness. This fragile human. Unbreakable.

The thing about Pennywise was he never considered himself the villain. He only came to feed when that evil and hatred humans brought this world was potent. Natural order. Clockwork. Wolves feed on sheep. The worlds spun on.

Predators tore into prey, he wouldn’t apologize for that. He didn’t create the hatred, just fed from it. Didn't stop it either. Little dash of fear did a body good. Gave it a sweeter taste.

Fear was painfully human. A trait that tore us open to display the soft underbelly because it betrayed us down to the core. Granted us something to overcome. A test of endurance. Truly let our true colors pour fresh and obscene. Beautiful. Even when it overcame.

Pennywise gave her head a pat, leaned down to whisper into her ear.

“I see into your blackest heart of hearts, Nelly, deep down you’ll know. You'll always know.”

The door opened. Tiny footsteps away from the dark and the figure there always watching her. Like the stars above in a black sky.

“You’ll know.”

Eleanor walked downstairs. Out into the sunny day full of festivities and family. Asked her aunt for another piece of cake. Frosted with yellow buttercream flowers. They discovered her uncle in that closet at the same time the flies found him too.

They found the cloth clutched into his meaty, stiff hand and began to ask questions. She didn’t want to talk about the secret games he played when she was in that house. They sent a bolt of thunder rattling into her brain. Unraveled the synapses.

Her mother burned the cloth. Vowed to never speak of it in hopes she would forget. Children forgot things all the time.

Nell never forgot. Not for a moment. Not her uncle or her festering relatives who seemed to easily put her in the back of their memories.

She wanted them to always remember too. If anything, they owed her that much.

The pictures her mind fleshed out with crayons were not what children should be drawing. Twisted bodies sometimes. Other days, it was those eyes. Molten lava. Mother and father decided this wasn’t something they could deal with. Seeing her looking so still and motionless around the house like a ghost was too much. Knowing they failed their daughter was just too much. A lock clicked.

They put her in a place that watched over mistakes of all ages from rich families. Paid it well. They told Eleanor it wasn’t her fault and yet, she was the one locked away in a tower for it. She was the one ignored and doped up.

Ten years and she gave them nothing. Years of homeschooling. Counseling. Medications. Years of sticking her tongue out to swear she’d swallowed her pills. Years of giving them nothing. No laughter or tears. She never hurt a fly and she was the monster.

Sometimes, it was easier to become the monster they wanted, she supposed.

Eleanor got out and married the first man who smiled at her. Called her pretty. Just to be away from mother and father. They’d rot in the weeds soon enough. The rest of her family dwindled. Terrible accidents. She vowed to never reproduce to spite them.

Husband played games too when dinner wasn’t just right or when she dressed just a little against his wishes. Seven miscarriages. Too many broken promises. A car accident pulled his body apart. Left her with some money to return home.

Mother and father needed her now, sick and dying in their lavish beds. Life always went on in Derry. Father went still snug in his tomb a month later. Few more weeks and mother’s harsh insults became apologies.

This girl she ignored was all she had left.

“Nell, I hope you can forgive us.” Her mother croaked one day.

“You’re free to do that, mama.” She’d turned and came to sit on the bed.

“Do what, my dear?”

“Hope.” Eleanor tucked some brittle hair from mother’s face. Made room for the pillow she pushed into place. Eight minutes and it was over. Twenty seven years and members of her family dropped like flies. She told herself it was a curse. Or fate.

Bloodlines dying had never been so beautiful. Not built to last forever. Not at all. There was justice in that much.

Both Eleanor’s parents became ashes in two ornate urns. She drove them out to the Barrens and poured them into the festering waters. Stinking of Derry’s rotten bowels. Wind swept. Picking up green and brown leaves. Wading the waters to give them some appearance of peace.

Nell didn’t smell the stink of death. She smelt the circus. Hot buttery popcorn and cotton candy. Twang of metal from the old, rusted rides whirling all directions. A child’s laughter echoed out from the giant pipe ahead. Covered in sludge and moss.

She followed the lively sounds. Enticed. No long holding to this world. Another one awaited. It always had. Marked with two glowing orange eyes.

Reminded her of the lights twinkling every Halloween. Jack-o-lanterns you couldn’t blow out before midnight because it was against the rules and would bring you bad luck.

Through watery rot and dead leaves, Nell went into the pipes. Caught glimmers of light between cracks. Felt her way. Heard the uttering of the seven children she lost beckoning her home.

Down.

Ruined her clothes in the trance. Clawing for more because the world couldn’t hope to deliver. Into a massive nest with a skylight. Candlelight danced. She heard the trill of a music box until the room came alive. Whirled from rust and rot to marble and gold.

Prettier than her wedding day. A church with decorated pews of red taffeta. White roses hanging from every corner. Petals crying into the cherry wood floors.

A man smiled at her who wasn’t Husband. Sharp, brooding face. Swept brown locks slicked like Clark Gable. Pink lips curled and crystalline eyes gave a twinkle. A white suit and one red rose at his breast.

She came to him when he reached. Body heavier because a dress dragged behind her. Full skirt of those same delicate white roses. Tight bodice that twinkled under candlelight. Nell smiled too. Utterly lost and found all at once in this room that smelled like decadent caramel apples.

A gloved hand curled into hers.

“Am I dead?” She asked.

“Oh, yes. For twenty seven years now. You wandered the Earth. But, you're home now.” That voice. All shivers. Chilling until the candles started to snuff out. “That was not life, Nelly. You existed by a thread.”

“Nelly.” She mused in her deepest dream of dreams. The hate and the neglect and the sheer evil brought by humans who were supposed love and protect instead tore her soul far asunder.

The man leaned in near her hair. Inhaled.

“Nothing. Even still.” He recounted the memories. All those times he tried and failed to devour her. “Little wonder.”

"Pennywise." She puffed, barely audible.

“I watched you dance. All those years. You can dance down here too in the dark."

Nell realized as he brought her out for a romantic spin. She’d been seeking him out all her life. All the decay and twisting vines in her soul. Begging to just cross over and stop this pain. But, he wouldn’t finish it because she had no fear. So she danced until the room began to peel. He wiped his cheek on one sleeve. Peachy makeup smeared the fabric to display that red smile upon white skin.

She pushed off him. Watched blood rain and melt the rest of it away. This place. A nest. A stomach. A pile of trash and metal twisted up toward the sky. Gouging. Figures floating around it. Waiting. Sleeping soundly because evil couldn’t touch them anymore. At the very least. They fueled something brand new.

No cry. No scream. Nell succumbed. Stumbling back into a worn mattress as the clown crawled up toward her at some inhuman speed. Slapped his hands on either side of her head. They just breathed.

Existed together in one space.

Sometimes good and bravery didn’t blossom from overcoming fear. Sometimes you still wanted to die because enduring a lifelong ache was not growth. It just hurt. There was power in it, but it fucking ached.

It burned. Plenty of things in her life burned. The scorn of her parents. Her uncle's games. The rotten nurses tossing her around. Husband's hands indenting skin.

But, Pennywise didn’t. He just showed up to watch the fires grow hot and breathless into a black sky. The terrible view was still a breathtaking thing. Something shattering to become a supernova. Rebirth.

Enduring pain was worth it. That sick curiosity that there was something more to life. It was worth it. So, fight. Endure. Ache. Be human while you have the chance in an inhuman world because it needs you.

Gloves opened her dress. Tore layers of tulle and chiffon. Slashed silk. Hands pressed against his chest. Not pushing or pulling. Just holding. Shifting over thick, stitched cotton. Ruffles swayed. She felt a heart beat so hard there under her palm.

He was alive. Something brand new. Not of this world.

“Am I like you?” She begged finally. Years of searching and asking why. He stopped to see her green eyes. Glowered. One blue, one orange.

“Not yet.” Was the truest answer he could form. Fingers gripped his fabric sleeves. Twisted just to hold onto something tangible for the first time in all her existence. Alive at last in this place. Water droplets echoed distantly. “You cannot last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

Except love, she thought. Except desire.

Pennywise seemed to hear it even still. Felt the truth of it carve out his heart that was still beating powerfully. Profoundly.

Something flayed her open. Pushed inside. Made her moan deliciously until two gloved fingers touched her mouth. Bodies connecting. Moving together.

There were hands everywhere. Stroking soft caresses up and down her naked flesh. It felt like a million little pieces of candlelight were swirling up her body. Those same orbs that had been following her around for too many years shined behind his eyes. Resonated. Beautiful.

She made out parts of him between thumps. Orange hair. Pristine paint. His mouth on her skin. A heart that was pumping vigorously. Low rumbling growls. Nell felt she’d been starved all her life and was finally feeding. Finally letting the ache flood out that she’d held onto for too long. Finally alive. Feeling. Deep down and drawing in it.

Her voice came to beg for more of him. Hands grasping to touch him back. To delve into this earth and just feel. He touched her everywhere. Lips and neck. Down her breasts. Between spread legs.

The combined sensations made her cry out for him to never stop. A gloved hand on her jaw brought their eyes together. Hot, wet touch. Boiling. The peak shattered them both. Nell fell to shuddering pieces. Curved up. Moaning and shameless. Weight fell into her body so lips could touch her own. Once. Just once while they were warm.

Pennywise lifted off fully to see her eyes. Inhaled again and got what he’d sought too. Years and it was finally there.

Those green eyes glimmered at him. A waft of sweet candied apples bubbled with heat. Fear. Clear as a crystal, dewy morning. It was the most beautiful thing in the world.

There was finally something found that could be lost. Something she sought out and held and hoped for.

And the fear of losing it was almost too much to bear.

One gloved finger caught a tear that trickled out from the corner of her eyes.

“Please.” She said, unable to find much else. Like she wanted him and nothing else for the rest of these long days. Do it. Just do it. Nell’s hand lifted. Gentle fingers drew lines along his face. "Pennywise. Please."

It was a soft prayer.

He lunged down. Sunk teeth into her tender neck. Tore the scream out before she could hope to give it. Nell choked there. Made an odd sound like she was laughing. It bubbled. Claws grew out from those gloves. Shoved forth into her raging heart.

A squelch.

Her lips were still upturned when it was done. Green eyes pointed on him. Peaceful and bloodied. Naked under the moonlight. Dripping rubies.

He tossed his head back and wailed. Teeth sharp and bared. Bloodied. Lost. A shattering sound that bent time and space apart. Pennywise plucked her up. Climbed high and vast to the very top of the twisting pile. Watched the dead children float like little falling stars. Something to make wishes upon. Peaceful for only a second in this life.

He placed her there in a sheer drape. Closed her eyes. Let the deadlights swelter above them. Spinning all directions.

A scar thickened.

Three days passed. The deadlights danced high and wide. Fluttering like a swarm of butterflies. The world spun on a new axis. Pennywise sat below upon his stage. Curved over in wait. Marble statue.

A low rumble like a purr erupted. Dainty feet came to him with a newfound grace. Little dancer. Deadly ballerina all porcelain and blushed. Blood red shoes made soft taps across the stage.

A white hand touched his shoulder. His little wonder. Bells tolled distantly three times.

“Can you smell the circus?” Her voice poured white hot. Purring louder so he'd feel it vibrate his own chest.

Lips curled wide. Split. Pennywise rose to see her in the light. Perfection. Those green eyes shimmering like emeralds. Haunted. Totally alive and willing.

“Yes.” He hissed. Cupping her face to see the angles. Not ruining the permanent brushstrokes that came with her rebirth. “Yes, I do.” A bond struck.

I do. I promise. We'll float. Always.

Nell smiled to match him. Totally and irrevocably his equal. A pulse of light drew them together. She granted him a single kiss, tasting candied. A new horror in this world hungry for the evil it would always bring.

“We were built to last forever.”

#pennywise #pennywise x oc #pennywise imagine #mine #writing

70 notes · View notes

everyonesawhoregrace · 5 years

Text

Nothing But A Memory

@awesomemikaus: request where reader is Campbell's daughter, but she doesn't know anything, about the reason she came to town and so on, and Tommy plans to use her as a spy, approach her with that motive, but when she realizes that she doesn't know anything , falls in love with her, also that the reader is an angel. And then hell breaks loose when he finds out. very angsty pleaese

An: I'm gonna name my CHILD Sloan. Also , thank u for requesting this bc wow. I loved this. So much. So much that it's 4K words. X

"She can't get hurt, Arthur! Oi! Listen to me!" The brother was clearly upset by how nonchalant Arthur was to his statement. Only once the brothers met each other's eyes did Thomas feel comfortable enough to speak again. "She can't get hurt."

"She's our enemy, what the fuck do you mean she can't get hurt?!" Arthur's eyes widen, he can't wrap his head around Thomas's statement. Not even a bloody week ago, the two were plotting her death.

Thomas grabs a fistful of his brothers shirt and pulls him to his chest. "You lay a finger on her and I swear, Arthur..."

"She's Campbell's daughter." He reminds his brother, just in case he tumbled and took a fall for the worse.

"Please!" Tommy's never pleaded to anyone, let alone his brothers.

But with the weak way Thomas executes his words, Arthur feels a pang in his heart. Thomas falls back to his chair and lets out a shaky breath. He knows that his brothers fell spellbound to the lady.

"Fuckin' hell, Tom..." Arthur takes a step back, swallowing. You've fallen for her, haven't youse?"

3 Days Ago

Sloan Campbell arrived to Small Heath by the luck of the late night train. She was overjoyed to enter Birmingham, the busy, underdeveloped city. As a lover of history, she stayed concentrated in the vast city, occupying her time in libraries, city hall and the museum. Of course she was oblivious that her father, was on a special mission in the very city she was visiting. Alas, twas only Aunt Pol, John, Arthur and Thomas knew about Sloan's visit. It was the Shelby clan who had a plan to mercilessly sacrifice the lady in return for Campbell's injustices to them.

"He's causing chaos throughout the damn city nevermind our own business." Thomas banged his closed fist on the table, during their regular meetings.

The topic of inspector Campbell was brought up. Thomas got upset rather quickly before Polly Grey decided to make the boys feel reassured.

"You don't pay him no mind, we'll get him soon enough." Polly snaps, "Thomas sit down, I've got something to tell you lot."

She watched the colour return to their faces as she told them about Sloan Campbell, the only daughter that stems from the likes of inspector Campbell. She explains Campbell had a love so deep for his only child. He would do anything for Sloan. Anything.

It was Polly Grey who suggested the boys dangle the life of poor Sloan over Campbell, allowing him to flee the city in return for his daughter's life. It was going to be an exchange, simple, harmless. It would only scare the girl.

But it was Thomas who had allowed the darkness to consume him. Once Polly left, he had begun to stir up another plan.

"We need to punish him the way he's punished us." He said after a few drinks were in his belly.

Thomas put down his hat on the table and looked at the blades within the stitching of the flatcap. He was motivated by the idea of killing her.

Polly was discrete, only use her, do not actually harm her. Polly would no allow for the brutal killing of a lady. Especially an innocent one. And innocent she was. And yet, Thomas had different intentions.

Thomas continued. "Like the ones in the war who wanted us dead. We need to kill them before they kill us."

"Fuck yea..." Arthur concludes, after a line of coke. He rubs his nose and grabs a glass of whiskey from the table.

John speaks up. "We ought to blind her Tom,"

"No, worse. We kill her, and lay her body on the same ground Campbell walks so brazen on. This is our city, it's about time we show 'im that boys."

So, it was a plan, the brothers all agreed. Thomas was to be responsible for the capturing of the lady. Arthur and John were going to gut like her a pig and that Inspector Campbell will go running back to Belfast.

There he stood in city hall, awaiting her presence when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Who would've thought the person who tapped him was the lady herself.

Of course, she didn't know who he was. All she wanted was to know where the ticket booth was, after all, she had noticed the stranger had a ticket to the tour.

"Sorry to bother you, but could you point me where the ticket booth is?"

Thomas was frazzled, no, he was rather nervous. Not by the woman herself, nor the fact that the person he was going to shoot dead was standing before him, but rather, her remarkable beauty. She looked nothing like the photograph he was given, no, that was too old of a photo. It was blurry and did not do her justice. The woman before him was breathtakingly stunning, God like. She took his breath away, alongside everyone else within her presence.

He pointed to the ticket booth, she had smiled revealing such a pure soul.

She looked nothing like the awful Chief Inspector Campbell.

Following that dreadful day, Thomas followed Sloan around the city. She was shy, happy, she wore her emotions on her chest. She was unjustifiably beautiful. Petite, brown hair that framed her perfect face. She was the type of woman to use her hair to hide her face, and she smiled, and she laughed. She was goofy, original, she didn't want to please the fucking world. She simply wanted to live. Sloan would always drop a coin into the beggars hat, but more than that, she would stand beside him and ask him if he's alright. She was perfect, the more Thomas studied, the more his cheeks grew hot and his hands grew sweaty.

Yes, that she was, picture perfect.

Finally, Sloan had noticed him peeping one day while she read a book in the library, she raised her head as he ducked his. Pretending to be occupied in a book until she cleared her throat. Sloan stood before him.

"Can I help you?" She asked Thomas, who had looked up at her.

He wanted to run away, feeling his throat dry. He shut his book and got lost in her eyes. "Sorry?"

"You've been watching me from the second I got here. Never mind the fact that I'm nearly certain you're the same lad I had encountered a day ago 'round City Hall."

"I-" He began. Again, she's taken him by surprise. Thomas thinks fast. "I wanted to ask you if I can take you out. I find you beautiful and, yah, will you allow me to take you out for tea or somethin'?" He felt his heart race, his face heating up. He wanted to roll his eyes to the back of his head. Take you out for tea or somethin'? Really Thomas?

She chuckles, narrowing her gaze at him. But the truth was, Sloan was flattered. The man before her was a tall and handsome with great posture and teeth. Hopefully he's got a good paying job too.

No, to Sloan, the man before her was undeniable, most of the men in the world were pretty fucked up from the war. All they do is drink and fight. So, she cracked a smile and replied dubiously, "Alright then. I'm staying at the Midland Hotel, pick me up for eight tonight."

And with that, she spun around and walked her way back to her seat, where she opened up the book she was reading and started where she left off.

Thomas didn't tell the boys that he was going on a date with Sloan fucking Campbell. Instead, he told them that he was going to entertain the new barmaid Grace. They cheered him on, and off Thomas went.

Though it was a fake date, the closer the lad got to the Midland hotel, the more anxious and uneasy he got. Thomas was fumbling with his tie, shifting in his suit. He got feverishly irritated with the cuffs on his blazer and nearly tore them from his suit altogether.

Meanwhile, Sloan readied herself rather quickly. Wearing a navy blue dress and black kitten heels. She had allowed herself to calm down after finishing two glasses of champagne.

She stood before a mirror once finished and beamed at the finished product. "So, you find me beautiful?" Her serious, sexual face makes her giggle.

"Oh Sloan," She turns to her side and runs her hands along her dress. "You do look mighty fine though."

And she did, with her hair in light curls and a touch of makeup on. She put on her favourite perfume and listened to the radio, Sloan was a natural beauty, but she looked especially stunning tonight.

So stunning that when she walked down the stairs to the lobby, two men had offered their hands to assist her before Thomas was able to get to her. He made sure to claim her before any man would.

"Hi." She says, her hand falls into his. His hand is warm, and she flushes. The two are nervous.

Thomas stands tall, "Hi, you look..."

She's taken his breath away, all he does is shake his head. The silk material of the dress is plush around her curves. Thomas notices her décolletage, Sloan's stunning. Thomas quickly concluded and leans down to kiss her cheek.

"You look absolutely mesmerizing tonight, Sloan." He whispers in her ear.

She blushes, and as the two get on with their first date, she can't help but hold her tongue, wanting to tell Tommy the same thing.

He was kind hearted, chivalrous. He took her to a restaurant where people grew rather interested in Tommy and Sloan.

They were numb to it, she discussed her passion of history he explained his passion of horses. They listened to each other in great detail. He explained that he had three brothers and a sister, to which she told him that she was an only child.

"Are your parents alive?" He asks, knowing the answer. But there was something so sweet about listening to her speak. Thomas grew fond of her voice, among many other things.

"Yes, and yours?" She tore apart a piece of bread and popped it in her mouth.

"No. Are you close to your parents then?"

She takes a sip of her wine. "I'm sorry to hear about your parents. Also. Yes and no. My mum and I are very close, but my father and I could have a better bond for sure." Sloan mentions Thomas's full plate. "How come you're not eating?"

He runs his sweaty palms over his pants, "I'm too nervous to eat." He replies honestly. His stomach twists and turns in knots. Somehow, the dinner that was supposed to be a stall before her death, ended up being so much more than that.

She blushes, looking down. "Do I make you nervous?"

Sloan looks at him with big eyes, and Thomas is nearly certain she's capable of murdering him. Right there. At that very moment. All he desires is her lips against his, and her body against his.

You take my breath away, Sloan.

After dinner, the two walked side by side down the street. Thomas has so many good qualities about him, it made Sloan very happy. Even though he was a hard shell to crack at first, he opened up and revealed things to her that he would have a hard time with admitting to anyone else.

Beaming, she up and into his eyes, "Thomas,"

"Yes." He raised an eyebrow, looking down at her.

"The people of the city practically bow down to you, I can't help but wonder what it is that you do."

His mouth twitched, "I own several businesses."

"Business that involve horses? You had told me you love them."

"Yes, something like that." Thomas doesn't want to give much away. After all, he is a no good criminal.

She chews on her inner cheek and Thomas smiles.

"Is there something else you'd like to ask me?" He stood in front of her, preventing the two from continuing their walk.

"No." She reveals, meeting his baby blue eyes. "I just want to tell you I had a great time with you tonight."

He ought to grab that face and kiss her all over. No, he thinks about the plan. How could he forget!? Death to the inspector’s daughter. But as she poured her heart into him, he can't help but put that idea in a cupboard in the deep depths of his mind, and shut the door. Death to the inspector’s daughter, no. Not her.

"As did I," He grins, and is startled when she rests her hand on his chest and leaves a soft kiss to his cheek. Thomas flushes, "Thank you."

She chuckles and mentions the hotel down the street. "Will you walk me to the hotel?"

Fuck. The end already?

Thomas nods and the two of them walk a little closer this time. He puts an arm around her and once they stood in the lobby together, Tommy Shelby willed himself to bent down and kiss her. Though it was a ballsy move on Shelby's part, Campbell deepens the kiss. She hooked her arm around his shoulder and went from a quick peck, to a passionate kiss.

She gives his hand a squeeze as she settles into her heels. "Thanks again for a tonight."

"No," He's drunk off of that kiss. Where did she learn to kiss like that? Holy hell. "Thank you." So much.

The two went their separate ways. Tommy feels as though he's walking on clouds. Sloan doesn't feel an ounce tired as she lays in bed, flattered by the kind words shared tonight.

Once he's home, he doesn't resort to the drugs as a sleep aid, but rather, Thomas falls asleep dreaming pleasantly of Sloan.

The two became inseparable. Thomas surprised Sloan with flowers the following day, he took her to Johnny's Yard, where they spent an evening under the stars. They held hands this time, and he smiled and laughed more. He wanted to kiss her lips again, and she wanted nothing but the same.

"You've brought me to the outskirts of the Small Heath, where there are portable homes and plenty of cow shit to keep a garden alive for years!" Sloan pinched her nose, giving Tommy a silly face as she sat beside him. "I wish you had told me, I wouldn't have worn heels."

The two of them sat under the stars. The soft autumn breeze was welcoming. The women from the homes had prepared a dinner for the young couple. Thomas was adamant on keeping Sloan out of the city. Campbell had harmed Polly just hours ago, and that scared Thomas. He feels conflicted though, with admitting to his family that he fancies the Inspectors daughter. Thomas doesn't quite know what to do.

"I reckon I was conceived here." He whispers, kissing the top of her head.

Sloan laughs, burying her face in his chest. "Well I'm honoured to be here, then. Despite the cow shit."

Thomas flushes. "I want to own this land someday."

"You should." She looks up and smiles at him.

"I've never told anyone that before," Tommy chuckles. He notices the long grass shift in the wind. "I've never really thought about the future like this, before."

"Why?"

"There was nothing really good for me to look forward to until now." He found himself looking at Sloan before admiring. "Until I met you."

Her heart melts, and she lunges at him, covering him in kisses.

Laying together afterward, Sloan had noticed the stars in the sky settle into bright white lights. She smiles helplessly, cuddling into his chest, the smell of him is delicious.

Thomas also gets lost in the night sky, with his lady by his side, what else can he do except take a deep breath and feel like life is complete. That night the two of them made love under the stars. It was slow and soft, yet feverish and passionate.

Sloan had giggled as the Thomas laid on his back struggling to breathe. "What is it?" He asked, oh, he could hear Sloan laugh forever.

"I've never made love outdoors before." She whispers.

"Nor have I." He replies honestly.

The two lay nested together until they fall asleep.

He had been stalling with the boys. Apparently things between "Grace the Barmaid" and Thomas had been progressing. The boys believed it, gullible they are. Polly stuck her nose up as Thomas told the family a lie. But regardless, they agreed, a day after tomorrow, they were to kill Sloan Campbell.

That evening as the two of them laid naked, listening to their soft breaths and the night sky, he had something very important to say. Something that's been occupying his mind since the first time the two of them went on a date.

"Sloan, why aren't your father and you close?"

Certainly she's just as fucked as her father is. It was John who said that as a way to excuse the fact that they were going to kill a woman.

"Well I don't agree with the things my father does, his values, his beliefs, they're...well, they're quite terrible." She reveals, feeling comfortable with talking to Tommy about this. "Aside from the fact that he used to hurt my mum."

He grits his teeth at the thought of young Sloan having to witness any form of abuse within the home.

Thomas cradled her head on his chest, as he tended to do after the two of them made sweet, sweet love. So, John was wrong, she isn't bad like her dad. She's just as loving and good as Thomas knew she was all along.

With that, he goes on to ask her an extremely important question. "Do you reckon you love me, Sloan?"

She stops running her hand over his chest and sits up to look at him. She's red from the sex, or perhaps it's the question he's asked her. "Tommy-"

Thomas sits up and combs through her hair. The loose curls that fall from her bun. "Honestly. Do you?"

"I..." She said, her eyes drift elsewhere. "I do have strong feelings for you but love?"

He swallows, making up his mind rather quickly. "I love you, Sloan. And I'm going to propose somethin' and I want you to listen to me."

Her eyes widen.

"Come away with me. Let's go somewhere only we know, somewhere quiet and freeing and-"

She puts a finger on his mouth. "What are you talking about? Running away?"

He grabs her wrist and Tommy leans in to run a hand over his jaw. He gets lost in her sincere eyes. "I don't much about the world, Sloan. Hell, I feel as though I barely know meself sometimes. But a life with you, I do want. I-I need it, to be honest." He set his lips firmly, his time his thumb runs over her bottom lip. "I'm certain about you."

"We can't run away together."

"Why not? I've got enough money to travel the world-" Please, please, please allow me this!

"I want to stay here." She whispered, watching the colour in Tommy's eyes shift from a soft blue to a the bright sea blue. Her fingers caress his cheek just as he was doing to her. "With you, n-not run."

His shoulders dropped. But he had hope, one last sliver of hope. Thomas noticed the crease in between her forehead and gently kissed it. "Meet me here tomorrow evening. Think about it, Sloan. I'll have my bags packed, and I hope you will too."

She nods, agreeing that she'll consider the idea of running away with Tommy.

Unfortunately, that night, when Tommy dropped her off at the hotel, he didn't receive a goodnight kiss.

Sloan didn't sleep. She paced around with nothing but an occupied mind. The truth was, she was beginning to fall deeply in love with Tommy. But to run away? It was something she didn't want.

It led to so many questions, like why did he want to run away? Why was he so adamant? Sloan felt her heart sink to her stomach as her heart rate lowered, she fell asleep with nothing but an aching heart.

The following morning, Tommy stood before his family. Today was the day Sloan Campbell was to be murdered. Polly still hadn't a clue of their plans so she was not invited to the final meeting. The entirety of that meeting, Tommy was quiet. He had his bags packed at home. He had sent a letter addressed to her to the Midland Hotel, a love letter if you will. One that contains solid information that will hopefully push Sloan into leaving with him.

"Why is he being so quiet?" John had grumbled to Arthur who shrugged.

"I 'ave no fuckin' clue." He whispered back before the doors to the Garrison opened, revealing a shaken Polly. Her eyes are hungry for blood, her eyes set on Tommy.

"Been doin' your job have you?" She asks, hasty and panicked.

"What?"

"Spying on Campbell's child, Tommy, hows that been?!" She’s got her hands on her hips.

Fuck. He's been caught. Before he can confess, or lie, he cheek is met with Polly's hand. She slaps her nephew hard, like when she had caught him stealing from the baker down the street.

"Have you no disregard for this family?! You're fucking his daughter!"

Arthur stood from his seat, his eyes meet Thomas’s. "What the fuck is she talking about, Tom?"

“Oh yea, I’ve heard about the love letter you’ve written to her. The delivery man was practically shaking in his boots, Tom! Soon, Campbell himself will know about this!”

“Listen to me-” Thomas begins, but Arthur lunges forward but John grabs his older brother.

“Enough, Arthur! Sit down!”

“I ought to kill the both of youse!” Arthur barks.

"She's our enemy, what the fuck do you mean she can't get hurt?!" Arthur's eyes widen, he can't wrap his head around Thomas's statement. Not even a bloody week ago, the two were plotting her death.

Thomas grabs a fistful of his brothers shirt and pulls him to his chest. "You lay a finger on her and I swear, Arthur..."

"She's Campbell's daughter." He reminds his brother, just in case he tumbled and took a fall for the worse. John tries to break the two up, but there isn’t a soul that can tame Thomas when he’s passionately angry.

But with the weak way Thomas executes his words, Arthur feels a pang in his heart. He knows that his brothers fell spellbound to the lady.

"Fuckin' hell, Tom..." Arthur takes a step back, swallowing. “You've fallen for her, haven't youse."

"She's happy." Thomas whispers, looking down as he chucked his cigarette on the cold street. "With me, I mean, she's happy."

“Fucking hell!” Arthur slams his hand against the table. “Out of all the girls in the land, you pick her!” Of course Arthur was thrilled for his brother, after all, he hadn’t been with a woman since before the war. But Sloan was too risky.

Polly speaks, "Tommy, you cannot love a woman like that, she, her father is an inspector for the government."

"But I am."

"You are what?" She's afraid to even ask.

"In love with her." He whispered.

“What do you want to do then?” Arthur finally asked after calming down. “Marry her and run off?”

He felt his breath shake, “I honestly don’t know.”

And yet, he found himself in Johnny's Yard at dawn. Thomas stilled as she stood on the grounds. He had wished, prayed and pleaded that she would accept his letter and pack her belongings. He saw her frame at the top of the hill, she stood beside the tree the two had laid in the past two evenings. Sloan’s heart was breaking as she stood by herself. No bags packed, all she had was the letter he had sent her at her side. She had met him here, this was the second time, and like the first, Sloan was quite anxious of what was to come.

Thomas didn’t allow the time or heart to say anything, so, instead, he cocked his gun back and swallowed. With her back to him, be began. "In the bleak midwinter."

She was shaking, and it pained Thomas to see her this way. She dropped the letter, the wind consumed it. Thomas looked up and watched as the love letter soared into the air.

"Thomas," She whispered. Sloan felt her heart in her throat, choking her. She clenched her fists. "Please why are you-"

"Shut up!" He snapped, it tore him apart. "Shut up."

Tears roll down Sloan's cheeks, all she can do is muster the strength to turn around. Her eyes met Thomas's, and when she saw the barrel of the gun, Sloan did feel like dying. Her heart was broken, the man she had fallen so rapidly in love with was going to kill her. This was a devastating love story. A tragedy she had read about in Julius book, Creid Erton.

"You didn't mean any of it then?" Sloan's voice is shaky as she speaks so timidly. "The love, the vow to protect me."

“I told you we should leave together. You should have listened.” His eyes glazed over. “You should have listened!” He shouts, and his fingers rim the trigger.

There is a pop, and a bullet sores between the two. Tommy grabs Sloan and forces her to the ground, she gasps, looking up at Thomas who shields her, “Stay down.” He tells her.

“Sloan!” Campbell’s voice comes from the bottom of the hill. “Shelby, you bastard, give me my daughter!”

Sloan panics. “Let me talk to him” She tells Thomas, “He won’t hurt me if I tell him I’m safe-”

“No!”

“You pointed a gun at me, he thinks you’ll kill me.”

Fuck, she’s right. “Be careful, please.” Thomas allows for her to stand, she slowly makes her way towards her father.

“Dad, I’m alright.” She has her hands up.

“What the bloody hell, Sloan?! What are you doing with Tommy? Do you know who this man is?!” Campbell lowers his weapon.

“I love him, dad.” She starts.

“Love!?” He laughs, and raises his gun. “Yer just as stupid as yer mother.”

Thomas gasps and Sloan lets out a cry before a stray bullet punctures her shoulder, she falls back and sees the beautiful sky. Thomas is on his feet and shooting at Campbell who dies from a gunshot to the head.

He races down the hill and grabs Sloan who is losing more blood every second. Thomas put pressure on it, and she screams in pain. He repeats that he loves her, and he’s sorry. Her world goes dark and the next time Sloan wakes up, she’s in a hospital in Belfast.

And Tommy Shelby is nothing but a memory.

#thomasshelby #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine request #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders request #everyonesawhoregrace

199 notes · View notes

sinfulblueberry · 7 years

Text

Sing Sweet Seraphim

a prologue of sorts to the vague as fuck hint on what im working on that i dropped on this blog the other day, bc what else would i do when i haven’t actually studied properly in the last 3 months and it’s less than 13 hours at the time of editing this until my first exam

[a southern gothic-based fic with a hint of murder mystery]

It was an accident, Mark swears. An accident. An unfortunate incident. An unintentional incident, if a variation in words is an option. He’s not a murderer, he tells himself. He’s not a murderer, he insists, he didn’t do it with the intent of killing. He didn’t intend for anything to happen at all. He’s not a murderer.

The boy he knows from his french class had started yelling at him for being out of dorms after lights out, insisting he go back to his room or Mr Edwards would be informed of his “late night trip”. Mr Edwards always had it out for him for whatever reasons that those in teaching positions do. One more phone call home and Mark would be sent straight to a military training camp.

(What was the boy himself doing out of his dorm as well? It’s not uncommon for people to sneak out after hours, especially with the mistake of the male and female dorms being in the same building. But he’d just been in the corridor as if waiting to catch the ones that do leave their room.)

The last thing Mark remembers after that is the hushed tone he tried to coax the other student into instead of getting them both into trouble, the brief scuffle between them, and the spindly limbs that had flailed rapidly approaching the cobblestone floor below the windowless gap.

“Oh fuck,” Mark’s voice had croaked when the initial shock slithered its way from his stomach to his throat. “Oh fuck, fuck.” He’s an asshole, sometimes, but not a murderer. He’d never purposely wield a weapon against one of his fellow students, never plot their demise for any reason, never push a boy barely scraping 17 years old out a window under the watchful eye of the Lord he’s quickly losing faith in.

He feels sick when he scrambles down the stairs to the raised, short staircase outside. One of the more religious students or teachers at the school would probably wax poetic, unaffected, about the boy’s wine red blood spilling out his skull, compare it to the hard candy his mother used to buy him on a Sunday afternoon. Spill lines about how he fell with grace, if they had witnessed his fall, his murder, his execution, his slaughter, and recite a line from the Bible about the Lord leading them beyond death, calling his death beautiful beyond anything else you could bear witness upon.

Instead, he feels sick from how the blood does spill from his skull, too much of it to let the boy walk away at all. How it mats his hair into sticky, twisted strands and travels thickly onto the cobblestone stair beneath his head, to stain the faded stone. How pale he is already, due to the cold and the brunt of the fall shocking his own body, how his face is tense with an expression of pain yet relaxed with the quick release of muscles. Mark feels sick that this happened under his own hand.

There’s a constant prattle in his head as he numbly drags the body through faded dirt and grass of the unused sports field, a chant of how it’s not his fault, not his fault the boy had fallen to his own fate. How even under the eyes of God, he is forgiven. It doesn’t help the block in his throat and the weight in his stomach.

Despite being a boarding school, natural landforms like the firm ground and pristine grass shifting to a marshy waste devoid of any grass at all during the winter season were something that can’t be helped. This part of the field was only used in summer and autumn when the dirt is piled back over before winter and spring can flood it with constant downpours again. Mark feels his skin crawl when he initially thanks God for the strange tip in the land, where the soaked, slippery mud turns into a drop in on itself and into a slope, leading to a fenced area of a nearby farmer’s land. It’s unused during this time of year and people rarely risk the slip of watery earth to sneak into the field, good for hiding a mistake like this.

The body tumbles, limp and lifeless, down the slope and near the barbed fence of the separated land. It gets packed with mud, previously pristine clothes clumped with the stains of its own blood and dirt. A tense shudder is repressed when he takes a parting glance towards the slope before moving on.

The blood beginning to stain the stone is still there when Mark treks back to the dorm building. (Where would it go anyway? Would God forgive him? Would he make this mess disappear as forgiveness for this admittance of sin?) He has enough dirt on his shoes to cover the whole damn stairs, let alone the two steps the liquid had spread onto. It’s messy and doesn’t help the nausea in his throat, but at least now it’s more suspect to somebody actually wandering after lights out instead of falling from the floor above. (Groundskeepers are tasked with keeping dirt off the stone, and if blood is somehow mixed within the copper-toned mess after being scrubbed down, Mark doesn’t hear a word of it.)

The incident doesn’t slip Mark’s mind once during the next few weeks. The body is still there when he checks it every week - sometimes more than once a week at first when the paranoia and talk of the boy missing from french class is rapidly spreading - and higher authority within the school assure the boy is with his family after a close relative’s passing.

It’s painfully obvious what happened when police from a few towns over are leaving the gates of the school, painful enough that Mark’s throat clasps up when the urge to yell open admittance about how he had killed the boy, pushed him out a window, begged for forgiveness with no answer from the Lord that is ignoring his prayers for the act he had performed. He turns to listen to Tyler’s bitter musing about the missing student instead and tries to swallow down the urge to throw up.

It’s fine. The boy is assumed to have actually ran off somewhere when no body is recovered. It’s fine, nobody goes near the fence in winter, it’s fine. Then suddenly it’s not. Prime suspects gathered from student information are questioned, the slope is fenced off with pegs and rope, corridors are occasionally seen with police officers now. It’s not fine anymore, Mark’s committed murder as much as he denies it and nobody knows who the culprit is but him, only know of the body.

A week comes and goes with the bustling gossip of the investigation. Mark’s on edge almost every minute when he’s not sleeping, and even then he’s plagued with his dreams of consequences, his mother’s disappointment, the boy’s family’s tears shed over their sweet child being murdered ruthlessly by one of his fellow classmates. If Tyler notices how often he escapes to the bathroom to throw up, he doesn’t say. The guilt racks him cold and flushed with a sweat at the same time, invisible needles prickling along his skin and meagre tears slipping down his cheeks when his throat burns and he tastes the bitter acidic remnants in his mouth.

He doesn’t know why they can’t just take the body already and help keep it from racking his thoughts. Surely that’s asking for the guilt of God to be pushed upon their shoulders for not paying proper respect to the dead. (He tries not to think too much about that reasoning.) But investigations are investigations and only the priest from the school chapel has the nerve to speak against leaving the body in the dirt for the wildlife.

Mark’s never felt worse for wear in the whole 17 years of existence and it only got worse - until the constant titters about the boy from french die down to hushed whispers. It was getting better. Forgiveness still wasn’t there, but he felt less queasy when anything but water passes his lips. He could sleep easier and lived without Tyler asking if he’s okay when morning comes.

It’s just getting better and the guilt is finally wearing away from the front of his mind when the uproar of the missing boy is brought back among the students again. The urge to throw up there and then at the breakfast table they’re sat at is becoming more and more of an urgency.

The body was reported missing from the scene at the early hours of that morning, and it’s certainly not like the boy can up and walk out of the situation, as if he can walk at all, can breathe at all, can only lay there in the mud, caked in dried dirt and blood and-so Mark tries not to think about the new information at hand and instead focuses on actually swallowing the mouthful of grainy porridge that sufficing as his breakfast.

9 notes · View notes

not-another-imagine-blog · 8 years

Text

Ready for the Olympics (David Pastrnak)

Anonymous said:

Hello love! Do you mind if I can request a David Pastrnak imagine where it's the family skate and reader is super nervous bc she doesn't know how to ice skate and David didn't really know about that bc it's still early in the relationship and he teaches her? Just a bunch of fluff please. Thank you so much! 😊 I also love your writing especially your recent Auston Matthews one about the Ca vs Az

Word count: 1747

Author’s note: Somebody pls kill me this is just too damn fluffy

When you first started school at Harvard, you were shocked. The classes were fine, the people were easy to get along with, but the big city was a whole different experience. You grew up in a tiny town of about 6,000. The biggest city you had ever been to had a population of about 50,000. Needless to say, the first time your friends had taken you to Boston for a night out, you experienced some of the biggest culture shock of your life. You hated everything about big cities.

And then you met David.

David Pastrnak, a tall, shy Czech boy, had immediately become smitten with you when you had braved going into Boston by yourself for the first time. Your friends had all gone home for the weekend and you were feeling homesick so, instead of studying in one of Harvard’s studious libraries, you decided to go find a nice coffee shop in town. After taking the wrong subway once and going the wrong direction twice, you had finally found a Starbucks. It was packed, which was typical of Starbucks on a Saturday morning. You managed to find an empty table and promptly parked your stuff, making sure people knew that this table was occupied.

And then, right as you had opened your laptop and plugged your earbuds in, your designated study music playing gently, a large figure blocked the light. You looked up to see a tall man mouthing something to you. You had pulled your earbuds out only to hear him quietly asking if he could sit with you.

“Of course!” You had responded, clearing off a spot for him.

“Děkuji.” He had said gratefully, sitting in the chair.

“What language is that?” You asked. And from there, the conversation had took off. In the three hours you had first spent with David, homework forgotten, you and he talked more, and more in-depth, than any of your classmates at school.

You had learned that he, too, was new to Boston, coming from the Czech Republic to play hockey for the Boston Bruins. He learned that you were on academic scholarship to one of the top colleges in the nation. He and you both also learned that they really, really liked the new face in front of each other.

He asked for your number, stating that he wanted to take you out for dinner the next day. From there, your relationship had only grown.

It’s been a month since you and David had started dating, and you loved every second of it. You loved filling in a word when he was speaking English and got confused. You loved how he would whisper things to you in Czech. You loved the kind texts, the coffee dates, wearing his jersey to games and even just sitting on the couch next to each other, you doing homework and he watching a hockey game of some sort.

Today he was taking you on a date, but he wanted to keep it a surprise.

“David, why can’t you just tell me?” You ask as you climb into his car.

“I am trying to be romantic, (Y/N).” He huffs. You adore the little accent he always inadvertently puts on your name.

“That’s new.” You joke. He shoots you a glare, although he’s smiling so you know he’s joking.

“You want to walk, yeah?” He asks.

“You wouldn’t be able to leave me! You’d feel too guilty and turn right back around.” You declare triumphantly.

“You are...absolutely correct.” He sighs as you laugh, savoring your slight victory. David starts driving to the ‘secret’ destination. You make light conversation as you gaze out the window, watching for any landmarks or clues as to where you might be going. Suddenly, as the streets start getting more familiar, you suddenly realize what day it is.

“We’re going to the family skate, aren’t we?” You ask suddenly. David lets out a loud groan and throws his head back against the seat.

“You are too damn smart for your own good (Y/N), did you know that?”

“One of the questions at my Harvard interview was asking if I could guess any secret dates my boyfriend would take me on.” You deadpan. He glances at you quickly, seeing the grin on your face.

“Shut up! They did not!” You grab his hand.

“They didn’t...You really want to take me to Family Skate?” You ask.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want to take you?”

“Well I’m going to slow you down seeing as how I’ve never skated before.”

“What?” You shoot him a curious look.

“Um, yeah? I haven’t told you that before?” David scoffs.

“No, you did not tell me that you’ve never skated before!” You let out a shaky laugh.

“I kind of ruined this date, didn’t I?” He shakes his head.

“You didn’t, don’t worry. Even if I end up having to carry you down the ice, it will still be one of the best dates.” You blush slightly as David turns towards TD Garden.

“It’s not weird that I’m going to be at the skate with you?” You ask nervously.

“Why would it be weird, miláček?” You shrug.

“I don’t know, we’ve only been dating for a month. Aren’t your teammates gonna think it’s weird?”

“(Y/N), I don’t care what my teammates think. You are the only person that matters to me, and I want you at the Family Skate with me. Now,” He opens his door and you do the same. “Let’s teach you how to skate.”

You shakily lace up the white figure skates as David laces his own worn hockey skates. He stands patiently as you tie the last skate, offering you his hands.

“You ready?” He asks. You nod and grab his hands, letting him pull you up. You and David slowly walk towards the ice, David letting you get used to the foreign feeling of ice skates. The Chara family is already on the ice and Tuukka and his family quickly walk past you two, Tuukka ruffling David’s hair.

“Brought the girlfriend with you today, eh David?” Tuukka grins at you. “Nice to finally meet you, (Y/N). David only talks about you all the time.” David goes bright red and lightly shoves Tuukka.

“He’s lying. He’s just trying to look...uh, cool?” You nod, encouraging him. “He’s just trying to look cool around you.” Tuukka sighs.

“‘(Y/N) did this, (Y/N) did that.’”

“‘(Y/N)’s just so great.’” Brad Marchand chimes in.

“‘You’ll never guess what (Y/N) did today.’” Patrice Bergeron mocks. You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen David get as embarrassed as he is now.

“Don’t you have families to skate with?” David asks, moving you towards the ice. The guys all finally go back to their families as David steps onto the ice with ease. “You ready?” He smiles at you encouragingly and grabs your hands.

“You’re not gonna, like, start making me skate right away, are you?” David laughs.

“Of course not! You can take all the time you need, alright?” You nod. “Alright, here we go! Put one foot on,” You tentatively place one foot on the ice. “There you go, you’re doing great miláček! Put your other foot on?” You step on, feeling the slippery ice underneath you. Your ankles are already trying to turn out and you can feel your skates sliding farther apart. David has a tight grasp on your hips, reassuring you that he’s not going anywhere.

“This is so embarrassing, I’m sorry.” You apologize. David lets out a quiet laugh and kisses your forehead.

“Don’t be embarrassed! You’ve never done this before, no one’s going to blame you for not being an Olympian the first try. They’ll expect that on the second try.” You glance at him.

“Don’t be a smart ass.” David grins.

“What’s that saying you Americans have? Don’t, eh, don’t dish it-”

“If you can’t take it?” You finish for him. He nods, satisfied.

“Yes, that’s it!”

“Oh ha ha.” You say dryly, watching as some of the younger kids go flying by. “Ready to teach me how to skate?” David’s face brightens.

“Alright, I am just going to hold onto your hands and tug you along, does that sound okay?” You nod.

“I’m ready to make my debut as a hockey player.” You say seriously as David laughs. He slowly starts tugging you with him. Your ankles keep wanting to turn out and it constantly feels like you’re going to fall, but you’re still skating. You let out a shaky laugh.

“Well, would you look at that? You’re skating!” David grins at you.

“I’m skating!”

“Are you going to be okay if I skate next to you?” Your eyes widen.

“Can you still hold my hand?”

“If I didn’t know any better I would say that you are just looking for an excuse to hold my hand.” You roll your eyes.

“Whatever makes you feel better, love.” You and David start skating around the rink, watching the team skate with their families.

“Thank you for coming with me, (Y/N).” David comments. You look at David and smile.

“Of course David. I’m honored that you even asked me to come to Family Skate.” David shrugs.

“You are my family.” He’s about to continue when suddenly Elliz and Zdeno Chara go flying by. Little Elliz accidentally knocks into you, sending you tumbling to the ice. David just barely catches you, one arm around your waist and the other hand grasping tightly onto yours. You’re almost vertical to the point where you can feel your hair touching the ice, David’s face extremely close to yours.

“Are you okay?” He asks, alarmed. You nod.

“Elliz has a mean cross check on her!” You joke. David grins, slowly pulling you up.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” You look over to the source of the noise to find all of the vets chanting.

“Should we give them what they want?” David asks. Before you have the chance to respond, he kisses you passionately, sending his teammates into an uproar. You both pull away as you grin breathlessly.

“I guess I should go skating with you more often, huh?” You end up tripping over the toe pick on your skate, causing David to catch you once again.

“How about we try and make it one full lap without you falling, okay?” You smile. David kisses you again as you set off on your slow trek around the rink.

#david pastrnak #david pastrnak imagine #boston bruins #boston bruins imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey fanfiction #nhl fanfiction

93 notes · View notes

alias-b · 5 years

Photo

Without The Lights~ Billy Hargrove x OC Camille Harper

Chapter 1: Uptown Girl

Touch with Billy Hargrove often meant getting fresh stitches plucked open. For Camille Harper, he'd risk it. Camille was Queen Bee of Hawkins High School. The teen dream. Billy wanted her for it. No use lying about that much. But, they get more than they bargained for when two messy lives from opposite ends of town intertwine. Secrets unravel between them when one dimension bleeds into another. Camille is a girl just trying to do better when Billy barges into her life and new pieces come together. Maybe not all the ones they wanted. He gets tangled into her lavish existence. Rich girl. Absent parents. A mystery that blooms, threatening everything they built. And three little numbers: 006.

A/N: Also posted on my AO3 :))) I thought I’d conform and start posting here too bc why not!. Warning for mention of past bullying, teens drinking/smoking, and one light mention of forced vomiting. Starts at S2 and veers off into an AU at 3. Thanks!

** ** ** ** ** ** **

It had to be a joke. Hick town. Piece of shit school. Nothing here came close to California. It was all gone. That sweet citrus air. The crisp waves of billowing sea water. Billy Hargrove decided anywhere was better than here. Hawkins, Indiana was a pit. Especially while an office aid with horrid breath prattled on across the counter. He couldn’t even fake the charm this morning.

“Here are your classes, Mr. Hargrove. We tend to pair all our transfers with a student. Make your first day easier.”

“Don’t bother.” Billy clutched an old messenger bag in one hand, snatching his class list to his chest. The secretary pretended not to hear him when the office door opened. A bubble of pink gum popped and Billy grew stunned.

“Ah, here she is. Ms. Harper, this is William Hargrove-"

"Billy."

"-the new transfer. He’ll shadow you this morning.”

“Camille,” her lips lifted in greeting. Hair flicked behind her shoulder when she adjusted her sweater. All dark locks and huge green, hazel eyes. They took a beat to stare. Billy knew instantly the circle this girl was in. Picture perfect. Pretty in pink. Prissy thing. Oh, but, she was a fox. His eyes drew to the tiny beauty mark under her right eye. That voice was lush even for a seventeen year old with such a sweet face. But, those eyes. “Let’s see it, transfer.”

“Huh?” Billy lost his thought when her hand came up to pluck the schedule from his fingers.

“I’ve got it from here, Ms. Krueger.”

“Harper. Hargrove. Har har. Perfect fit,” the woman laughed at her joke and Camille looped one arm in Billy’s to get this boy to move his ass. She wouldn’t let him make her late.

“Good one, Ms. Krueger.” That sweet princess smile dropped the moment they turned the corner so she pulled from him when he fell in stride. Billy was barely two inches taller than her. This girl glided like a ballerina. It was infuriating. Almost. “Shame I didn’t find you earlier, I could have warned you to keep a distance. That woman doesn’t know her way around a bottle of mouthwash.” Camille popped another bubble and peered up at him, lax. “We have first period together. English with Strode.” Billy found his charm again.

“Lucky for you.” He remarked, earning the slightest huff of amusement. Barely audible. Students peered at them both, fascinated with the new boy. Sizing him up. He carried himself higher in response and grew annoyed when his thoughts lingered on Max probably stuck with awkward introductions as well.

“Looks like I’ll also be seeing you in...hm, third period: study hall, lunch, and fourth period: chemistry. Huh...” Those bright eyes lifted and he gave a scoff, grumbling.

“Everything else was full.”

“This way,” she turned the corner and peered up to meet Nancy’s eyes. She’d pulled from Steve and given a slight wave that was acknowledged in turn. Camille passed her and ignored everyone’s staring before she knocked one knuckle to metal. “Your locker. Lucky boy, you didn’t get a broken one.” She leaned against the wall and gave him a moment to stuff books away. “Where did you transfer from?” Camille watched him suck in his cheeks. Jaw clenched. Oh, he was pretty.

“California.” He cocked his head and she caught the slightest dusting of freckles in the light. “Dad decides to uproot the family to the land of manure.”

“You get used to that.” That silent amusement twitched.

“Don’t bet on it.” He smacked the door shut, smooth now. “You the queen bee around here?”

“What’s it to you?” She walked along, gliding still.

“Every school has their royalty.” Billy remarked and she changed the subject without breaking stride. A sort of challenge danced between them.

“This way. Mrs. Strode is easy enough. Just nod a lot when she eyes you and pretend to take notes. You have Gym next. Down the hall all the way to the end, take a left, you’ll find it. Big room with basketball hoops and sweaty boys. Can’t miss it.” Miss Priss liked her dry humor, he noted. "I can meet you and show you where to go after. Keep up and don’t make me late. We clear, transfer?” She tilted her head to one side and Billy studied her.

“Crystal.” He drew out the syllables and she smirked, turning to go off with another flick of lavish hair.

“Welcome to Hawkins, Billy Hargrove.”

** ** ** **

“How did you get the best job in school?” Carol leaned over the lunch table hours later.

“Carol,” Camille sighed with no joy and pulled from her conversation with Heather next to her.

“Showing that fine ass around?”

“Aren’t you still with Tommy? Thought he was ass enough.” Camille earned a snicker from Heather so Carol stood taller.

“Some of us are trying to eat,” Steve Harrington appeared from nothing and Carol shot him a look, going around him and bumping into Nancy on the way off.

“Still bitter,” Camille remarked, sitting back.

“She needs to get over herself. Anyways, I have to drop something off, see you in chem. New lab partners coming. I think I got Robin.” Heather hurried to go with a wave goodbye.

“Can I sit?” Steve waited for a nod and Nancy joined him.

“You two going to Tina’s Halloween party?” Orange flyers where littered all over the school.

“Wouldn’t miss it. Didn’t that guy jump off the roof last year and land in the koi pond?” Steve shook his head

“Rumor had it, he ate one of those fish on a bet.” Camille joked, eyes flicked across the way to see Tina giving Billy an invitation. Flirting.

“So, the new boy.” Nancy began.

"Asshole." Steve was quick to remark. "I have gym with the guy."

“Rough and tumble sort.” Camille bit into an apple slice and shrugged. Year later and it was strange. Being friends again. Or, trying to. Suppose tragedy brings people together.

“Steve and I are going tonight. To the Holland’s.” Nancy began. “You’re welcome again.”

“Not sure I can do it tonight. Last time...and that house.” Camille paused, inhaling. “And my parents are going to be home together for the first time in weeks. They’ll want to do something.”

“Dad still working late at Hawkins lab?” Nancy pretended to be blasé about it.

“That and all the trips. He’s a wanted man, I guess. Mom is absorbed into her fashion thing. But, she loves it and I can’t knock her wanting to work again.”

“What exactly does your dad do there these days?”

“Never talks about it so I stopped asking. Big shot scientists. Can’t be bothered. Making the town a better place, always late to dinner. Whatever.” Camille’s eyes lifted. “Why the interest in my Dad lately?”

“Just all that stuff last year. A lot happened. Fingers were pointed.”

“They pointed wrong, I heard. Not like my dad would ever be involved in these weird conspiracies. He’s painfully normal.”

“He could secretly be a Terminator, Cam,” Steve laughed and Nancy dropped it when Camille reached over to smack her friend.

“Real funny.” She stood with her tray. “He says he helps people. He’s wanted to help people his whole life. I’ve heard every speech possible about it. But, whatever tests they’re running, they can’t exactly flash that all over the news. Small town labs, you know, they’re nothing. They’re glorified electric companies.”

“They certainly can’t flash it.” Nancy tried to smile.

“Tell Mrs. Holland I’m thinking about her.”

“I will.” Nancy gave a nod, resting back while Camille dumped her trash out and couldn’t spot Billy when the bell rang. Huffing, she rolled her eyes and marched out, turning to sneak down the hallway and open a back door to a set of stone steps. Her assigned shadow was leaning into them, hurrying to snuff out a smoke.

“Easy, beach boy, it’s me. You’re making me late for chem.”

“Broke Princess’s rule, huh. How’d you find me so quick?”

“Know the type. All the smokers who think they’re slick slip out this door. It’s the spot. Come on.” She cocked her head and he slipped in.

“Tell me about that Steve Harrington guy. More royalty.”

“Making new friends already. How sweet is that.” She picked up the pace when the bell rang again. “Steve, the hair, Harrington. Probably the most popular boy in school. Even after last year.”

“Hearing a lot about last year.” Billy pretended not to care. Nothing exciting in manure land. So he thought.

“Little boy went missing, it was a whole big thing. Thought he died but they found him. Thankfully.”

“Girl went missing too in our class.”

“Barb. They...haven’t found her.” Camille averted her eyes and he dropped that subject. “Steve ruled the school with the rest of us. Certain things went down and our group split. High school drama and all. Not very interesting. Why the questions, don’t you hate this place? Trying to be the new hair guy with those darling curls?”

“Just like to know what I’m up against.”

“Rough and tumble and in need of a new challenge. Noted. Hurry up.” Camille rushed into class with Billy unbothered behind her.

“Ah, Ms. Harper and you brought the new transfer, how nice. Take the last two seats in back. You’ll be lab partners.” Mrs. West gestured, a younger teacher than his others here. Lovely, Camille turned her eyes to Billy and he looked utterly smug. “Billy Hargrove just transferred from California. See to it, class, that he feels welcomed.”

“So far, so good, teach.” He turned up the charm with a wink and earned several girls sitting forward in response before he sauntered down to join Camille at a high table they would share. Pretty and aggravating, Camille decided. Billy eyed her again while the teacher began and she pulled a notebook out. Sleeves shifted up and he noticed a scar, small and round just an inch or so under her wrist. Looked like a burn. Hazel eyes lifted to see his blue ones and there was...nothing. Nothing there that he’d gotten from every other girl at this school admiring his ass in tight jeans. Billy took note to himself: a stone fox.

** ** **

“How was school, honey?” Noah Harper locked the attic door behind him and Camille pretended she wasn’t trying to see into it. His eyes were intent until the lock clicked.

“Fine. Had to show another new guy around.” She eyed the attic again. The only forbidden room in their huge house. “We still on for dinner with mom?”

“About that...” He saw her shoulders drop. “Something came up and they need me tonight.”

“You promised.” She batted her eyes.

“I know and I’ll make it up to you.” He kissed her head. “Did you take your pills?”

“Yes.”

“New dose is helping, I’m sure.”

“Less nosebleeds.” Camille shrugged, averting her eyes before she turned to go down the steps.

“Camille, honey, I promise that we’ll get dinner next time.”

“I know,” she faked a smile. “I get it.”

“You are...everything to me. I love you and I’m sorry I haven’t been around the last year. You are so important. Trust that.” He came to her, tucking hair aside.

“I love you, dad.” She let herself brighten. Just a little. Noah watched her turn to go off. Her mother was currently in her own studio, light filled the room while she mulled over a drawing and turned to pin pieces of fabric to a bodice on a stand.

“Bow or no bow, darling?” Rosemary, a women growing more beautiful with age, mused and Camille considered it.

“Bow.” She plopped into a cushioned chair.

“Talked to your father, did you?” She watched her daughter nod with a pout. “We can still have our dinner and watch whatever romantic movie we wish.”

“I know. I just...never see him anymore. It’s worse.”

“It’ll get better again, they’re short staffed after those accidents. Your father was lucky to be out of town.”

“He’s always out of town.” Camille tried not to whine. “I see Edna more than I see you two.”

“We certainly have kept her busy with this house. She adores you.” The maid practically raised her.

“I just miss my parents.”

“We just want you to have a better life than us. That’s all any parent wishes for. We work hard and can only teach so much. You’ll understand when you grow older.” Rosemary kissed her daughter’s hair. “How was school? I heard talk of a new student. A boy?”

“Yes...”

“A cute boy?”

“Gorgeous and bad news for certain.” Camille crossed her arms.

“So you like him?”

“Every girl liked him and he loved that.” She stood up. Billy was a bad boy drawn to royalty. “Going to get my homework out of the way.”

“Pasta tonight?”

“Yes, of course.” Camille hurried off, eyeing that attic down the long hallway before she continued on.

** ** **

Camille didn’t speak to Billy much that next day. He sat behind her in English and resisted the urge to tug on loose locks of bouncy hair when she shifted in her seat. Study hall was similar, she sat alone with a book on Latin; completely absorbed. Smart and popular. An entire compact package. He could have wrapped her in a pretty, pink ribbon. The thought was enticing. Camille wasn’t the rich bitch she used to be. Well, still working on that but progress lingered between every little conversation with Nancy. Frankly, it was nice to be rid of Tommy and Carol in their group. She took note often of Steve and Nancy huddling together to whisper these days and stopping when she or Heather walked up.

“Happy Halloween, Cam.” Heather never grew out of her sweet face. Doe eyes to match.

“It is indeed. Want to come over and get ready for Tina’s party? My mom seemed excited about it and it’ll break her heart if we don’t let her fuss.”

“Your house is a mansion, I wouldn’t miss it.” Heather laughed to herself.

“I’ll drive you,” Camille cocked her head when they got outside. Billy’s blue Camaro whizzed loudly out of the parking lot. They caught sight of a little redhead in the passenger seat. “Didn’t know he had a sister.”

“Stepsister, I guess. Seemed pretty short about that. She’s the same age as Nancy’s brother.” The two friends got into Camille’s little grey car to speed off. “Are you going out for gymnastics again this year?”

“Ah, not sure. Might tutor instead, they’ve been asking me.”

“Thinking I’ll stay with cheer-leading. I’m so jealous of your brain.” Heather huffed to herself.

“Okay, weird.” Camille laughed and turned a corner.

“I’m serious. You’re somehow beautiful and you absorb books like a sponge absorbs water. And you’re different… Nicer.”

“Okay, rude...but true.” She’d admitted and Heather smiled.

“Good different like happier. Relaxed. You and Nancy are talking again. We never thought we’d see that day. Ever since…you know.”

“I grew tits early and started dressing better and dropped my two friends. Yeah. Lesson learned.”

“It’s just better now. Never too late I guess even for Queen Bee.”

“Too sappy for your own good,” Camille peered over when they passed the Loch Nora sign and pulled up to her house. Lavish and cared for. Cold on occasion when they weren’t throwing the usual holiday party. “Taking your son out tonight, Edna?” Camille stopped the housekeeper on the way out. She was only in her twenties when she came to their family to look after this house and, admittedly, the daughter within whose parents were never around.

“Yes, he’s so excited. Wanted to be the Terminator this year.” She laughed. “Goodnight, Milly.”

“Night,” Camille looped her arm in Heather’s and led her inside where her mother was waiting.

** ** **

Music boomed, vibrating Tina’s house while every teen inside danced about. Many wandered the grounds with red cups full of stolen booze. Spotting Nancy and Steve, Camille crossed with Heather behind her. Two drinks down into her stomach. Working on the third.

“Aw, couples costume. I have to say I’m impressed.” Camille watched Nancy smile with dull eyes.

“Madonna,” Steve eyed Heather, “best one yet.”

“Damn, I knew I’d have competition.” Heather giggled and pulled Nancy off to get a drink.

“She okay?” Camille asked after a beat and Steve rubbed his head.

“Not sure, she’s been acting weird ever since...ah,” Steve stopped himself. “You know it’s been a year and the dinner, I think...it brought some stuff up.”

“Keep an eye on her, something’s off. Something’s been off...with you both.”

“We’ll be fine. Relax.” Steve ran a hand into his locks and Camille gave him a nod, passing to go outside and escape the pounding music. That’s where she saw Billy again. Clad in even tighter jeans and a leather jacket with no shirt. Fingerless gloves. Terminator, she amused herself. Currently, he was hoisted upside down over the keg, easily beating Steve’s held record, while admirers around him cheered and counted. He spotted her and winked even in his position, causing her to roll her eyes and drink from her own cup.

“Yeah!” He got upright and sprayed beer, earning more drunk cheers. Tommy was an eager lackey, egging him on and nearly shoved up his ass. “That’s how you do it, Hawkins!” He puffed a cigarette as the wild crowds hurried back to join the dancing.

“The new keg king!” Tommy bellowed and Billy paid him no mind, crossing toward Camille leaning near the doorway. Eyes narrowing and deliberate, he stalked like a lion and she was undaunted.

“You’re fitting in.” She commented so he blew smoke the other way. “Nice costume.”

“And you are, ah, some kind of witch.” He gestured with his hands.

“Stevie Nicks.” She chuckled. “As in: Fleetwood Mac. But, honestly, you’re not wrong.”

“Think you meant, bitch. Hey, Harper.” Tommy leaned over Billy’s shoulder, wasted. “Still flying lower with Steve and Miss Perfect?”

“Oh, Tommy. Don’t be like that,” Camille smiled with red lips splitting wide. An expression that cut. “Glad to see you and Carol still going so strong.” She stepped forward, craning her neck to see him behind Billy. A true predator. Slow and calculating. Billy couldn’t help but leer. She acted like he wasn’t even there between them. Princess played up a pout. “Do you remember when you two had that little break and you wrote me that...dirty...nasty...filthy letter. Spelling and grammar problems aside, it was…vividly detailed. Billy, you should have been around for that.” She gave his shoulder a pat and shivers ran his spine, amusement flickered his own expression. “Tommy, here, is quite the writer. I still have it, thinking of getting a chic frame. Something classy.” She gulped the rest of her cup. “Maybe, I ought to get together with Carol. Compare notes sometime. I’m sure she’d adore that.” Camille gave Tommy’s cheek a light smack and pressed her empty cup toward him until he took it. “Enjoy the party, boys. Queen’s gotta buzz.”

“Stay away from that one,” Tommy scoffed, pushing at Billy next to him who only smiled. “Daddy’s girl. Spoiled nightmare. Total bitch.” Billy inhaled smoke again and flicked ashes in Tommy’s direction to get him off his back.

“Rough and tumble girl.” He’d muttered more so to himself. Camille crossed to get another drink when Tommy came in boasting about their new keg king.

“Eat it, Harrington!” Another boy joined in. Chants of Billy’s name died down when the two teens sized each other up. Steve yanked his sunglasses away. Instant disdain. Nancy rolled her eyes and turned to get away from them, crossing to the bowl of punch.

“What’s in this one?” She leaned over to grab a cup.

“Pure fuel!” The drunk boy on Camille’s other side donned a toga and stumbled.

“Rat poison.” Camille was flat, sipping. "And I was so hoping for gasoline, we had rat poison at the last party." Nancy was already dunking her cup in to gulp.

“Whoa, slow down.” Camille touched her wrist. Nancy went in for another and Steve hurried over when Camille gave him a look.

“Take it easy, Nance. Hey...” He put his arm out and she scoffed at him, wiping the punch from her cheek.

“We’re just being stupid teenagers for the night. Wasn’t that the deal?” She was already intoxicated after three full cups. Ruefully, she moved beyond her friends and went to join the dancing with a fourth cup.

“I told you.” Camille pushed at Steve so he went after her. “What the hell?” She'd uttered under her breath, turning to almost run into Billy Hargrove’s bare chest. He enjoyed it a little too much.

“Scare you?”

“Second day in the manure fields of Hawkins and you are the new keg king. Your majesty.” She gave a mocking curtsy and shifted around him to lean against an empty doorway. The air smelled of booze and weed. Billy trailed after to light up another smoke. Intrigued, he puffed and offered it to her. A clear test. Intoxicated, Camille took it and dragged slowly, blowing air aside. “Afraid I only smoke on the rare drunken social occasion.” She offered it back with two fingers only for him to wrap his lips around it, blue eyes lingering when he inhaled. “You think you’re slick, don’t you?” Her hand pulled from him and he ghosted a smile with smoke edging between his teeth around the cigarette. Billy leaned into her space.

“You really think I can’t get a read on you, Harpy?” He was pleasantly drunk too.

“Harpy? That’s a new one.” Did she like it? Perhaps. “And, yes, actually. I do.”

“Got used to all these country boys tripping over themselves. Worker bee drones. But, you know they don’t stand a chance and you love it.” He pressed his palm to the door frame behind her to shift closer. Cologne invaded her senses above the smoke. Ashes flicked. He dragged once more and snuffed it into the wall after. “They all fall down. Can’t read the queen.”

“And you think you’re quick enough on your feet, Billy?” She watched that dear, charming smile cross his face. Hard not to melt at that. Camille trailed her eyes down his sharpened expression. His voice hushed.

“I think that you want to find out.” He leaned into her, eyelashes fluttering. Barely inches from those full, red lips; Billy heard her utter and touch his chest.

“Shit.” Camille came out from him to see Nancy trying to get back into the punch bowl. Billy stilled to lean out too, irritation twitched his brow. Almost had her.

“Nancy, stop, put it down.” Steve tried to wrestle the cup from her and Nancy was accidentally splashed with a full drink. Staining her white costume. The party stilled briefly to see the scuffle.

“What the hell?” Nancy slapped the cup down and hurried away. Camille forgot Billy in front of her and crossed after with Steve behind her. Nancy stumbled down a hallway and tripped with her friend barely catching her.

“Come on, I got you.”

“I don’t need your help,” Nancy pushed off and poked her shoulder. “You can’t just...just pretend to be my friend again because you feel sorry for Barb and I.”

“Nancy...it isn’t like that. I lost her too.” Camille stood taller. Steve drew forward as if to get between them.

“Where were you, then? Huh? Bullshitting with...with all your cool new people. Stuffing fingers down your throat because Carol said to." It only happened twice. "Buying another cool outfit, oh, so p-popular. Impress your asshole friends. We...We killed Barb.”

“Nancy, stop.” Steve tried to get her into the bathroom.

“She needed us. She was always there for us and we weren’t there!” Nancy jerked away and spun on her heel to shut herself into the bathroom. Steve paused to see the girl behind him.

“I deserved that.”

“She drank too much. She didn’t mean it,” Steve touched her arm. “And no, you didn’t. You and I...we made some shitty choices.”

“People were hurt because of them.” Camille offered.

“We can do better. We are.” Steve nodded. “I need to check on her.”

“Of course,” Camille turned and went back into the main room. Jonathan Byers crossed to see her. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“I didn’t either.” Jonathan stuffed his hands into his pockets. “She okay?”

“I’m not sure anymore. Something's been… You guys are friends now, yeah?”

“Friends, I, uh, yes. We...We’re friends.” He’d stammered.

“Look. Have you noticed anything...off?”

“Off?” Jonathan shrugged awkwardly. “No, just-”

“The anniversary. Sure. Look, Jonathan, she likes you. She trusts you. Can you just...keep an eye on her?” She crossed her arms and there was a beat. “We weren’t ever friends and I was...not great to you.”

“You let your friend smash my camera.”

“You used that camera to take pictures of a girl undressing without her consent.” She pressed in an even tone and Jonathan dropped his head to nod. “We’re all stupid ass teenagers, right?”

“Guess so,” Jonathan relaxed when she smiled slightly at him. Steve came barging out to pass them, leaving.

“That isn’t good. Hey, I’m...too drunk to drive. Can you get Nancy home? She’s...not well.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan moved to pass her. “Stay safe.”

“You too...” She watched him go off, dropping her arms. Killed Barb. Nancy’s words. They haunted Camille the rest of that night.

** ** **

Camille stared at her chemistry book in study hall the next day, day dreaming while she doodled along her notebook. Killed Barb. Did Nancy believe that? Did they know more about that night? Those words flashed high like stage lights across her brain. A textbook slapped down across the way and Billy Hargrove was looking at her with those intent eyes. Pleased she jumped in shock, he suppressed a laugh when the librarian hushed him.

“Don’t think she likes me.” He muttered, still entertained.

“Can’t imagine why.” Camille sat back, annoyed. “What?”

“You’re avoiding me, Harpy.” He cocked his head and plopped down across from her. In the corner, they tried to stay hushed. Classic music played on low and Billy groaned to himself. “Not my fault that Strode paired us together for the project.” Camille shut her chem book and stuffed it away.

“Easy project, we pick a book from the list. Read it. Collaborate in a paper.”

“Pick one and sum it up for me.” He earned a silent laugh when she turned from him to peer outside at the crisp, grey day.

“Oh no, Billy boy, you’re going to at the very least skim the book and happily contribute to our paper. You can come to my place after school today, we’ll work on it. After you drop your sister off, I guess.”

“Max is my stepsister.” He corrected while she jotted her address down and slipped it into his hands.

“Be there or face my perfect student wrath.”

“Spitfire, I like it.” He leaned forward, arms crossing over the table. “You live in the rich neighborhood. Mommy and daddy going to be okay when I roll up to see their precious daughter? Oh, can’t forget the maid checking in all hours of the day.”

“They’re both out on business and the housekeeper is off today actually.”

“So, you’re inviting me to a big, empty house in the ritzy part of town...” He had far too many ideas.

“To work...on a project. There’s free take-out of our choosing in the deal if you show. And that sweet face will show.” She barely spared him a glance, clearly distracted still. Billy worked to catch her gaze.

“Worried about college when dearest dad can buy you any single one you want?”

“No, I just like to be the best.” She leaned forward too with a sly grin. “I enjoy school and I’m not planning on staying in a fancy house in Hawkins, Indiana with a husband I’ll never see. Especially when there is a whole world out there waiting for me to explore it.”

“Manure ain’t good enough for you now?”

“Very funny. Hawkins is too small for me. And I have a good brain that I like to put to use. I'm wasted here.” She shrugged. “No crime in that and daddy didn’t buy me everything, I saved for my own car. Now, I think you should use study hall to...study. That chem quiz Friday is going to kick your ass.”

“No use, I’m screwed.” He looked away and changed the subject. “What kind of take-out?”

“Possibly a large cheese pizza.” She quirked her lips while he rubbed his jaw.

“Hard bargain. Throw green peppers on half the pizza and I want a grand tour of your castle. You can put the royal stinger away for one night.”

“You’re just trying to waste time, Hargrove,” her eyes narrowed. Billy bit his bottom lip, entertained with a nod. Another heart melting expression when he gave her those big, blue eyes. “Deal.” She reached out and he curled his fingers around her hand to shake it.

"You won't regret this," his other hand covered hers to draw it out.

"Already am." She produced that honeyed smile a final time. Billy stood with his bag gripped tight, sliding around the table to lean next to her ear.

“I stand by what I said at the party. Just so we’re clear.” Slipping off, he disappeared behind a row of bookshelves. Camille suppressed another grin and went back to her notebook, shading in the petals of a sunflower. She imagined it in a field flooded by sunlight getting kissed by the wind. The smile broke through at the mere thought.

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy x camille #Camille Harper #Without the lights #billyhargrove #mine #writing #stranger things fic

14 notes · View notes