Patrick Hockstetter Fanart Novels & Stories

My hands still remembered the warmth of his palm yesterday, the way his fingers had laced through mine like it was the most natural thing. I’d spent half the night staring at the ceiling, replaying that moment until my brain felt raw. Protection. That’s all this was. A shield wrapped in his popularity. Nothing more. I spotted him near the big oak tree, leaning against the trunk with that effortless hockey-player stance — shoulders relaxed, one foot crossed over the other. His dark hair caught the weak sunlight, and when he saw me, he straightened, a small nod pulling me forward. My steps slowed as I got closer. He looked… different in daylight. Less guarded than in the hallway.

Seemed like they hadn't been touched for a long time. I picked up the first one. It was a portrait of Boomer, drawn as if it was not an artwork but a real picture. The colors blended with each other so well like some professional artist put their heart and soul in it. The second one was of Doser... then another of the boys together… and one of Karen. At the end of the canvases there were written the letters 'H. K.'. H. K. Hunter King. Hunter drew all these? Admiration filled my heart.

I rifled through my sketchbook, praying he left me alone like everyone else had. "I know you can draw. It's so beautiful. What's that? " he asked pointing at my newest sketch. I shut the book, sliding it out of his reach. I glared at him, not quite used to anyone disturbing me. He met my gaze coolly. " Ah! Where are my manners? " he said. I mumbled, "probably in your half eaten sandwich". He smiled. "Who knew you had a sense of humour? My name is Matthew. L. Henderson." I rolled my eyes, not caring I was sitting next to the mayor's son. He cocked his head, clearly waiting for me to introduce myself like the lady I wasn't.

The series will be called Hidden Legacy. The artist for the cover is Rose Proffitt, a New Zealand artist currently living in Australia. I really recommend checking out her F______k page, Rose Proffitt Creations, where you can see some of the amazing graphics she creates. I feel lucky to have such a talented friend.

Then, I saw it. Rising above the skyline, a massive digital billboard flickered to life. It wasn't an advertisement for the latest mobile technology or a product . It was him. Julian Vane looked back at me with a cold, predatory intensity that physically stopped the breath in my lungs. He was leaning against the plexiglass boards of an ice rink, his Hawks jersey pulled across his shoulders that had grown impossibly broad since I'd last seen him. His face, once soft with boyish charm, was now a masterpiece of harsh angles and lethal symmetry. The caption, glowing in bold, gold letters against the blue backdrop, read: THE GHOST RETURNS: CHAMPIONSHIP RUN 2026.

“They… they know I’m bound to you. They can sense it.” His jaw clenched. “Then we’re going to make sure they never touch you again.” But as he scanned the crowd, his stomach sank. Someone was recording. Not just fans with phones, but someone with intent. Someone who knew exactly what they were seeing. A flash of red hair caught his attention. It was Nolan. Standing in the back, smirking, phone in hand. “You!” Rhett growled, releasing Alina and charging. Nolan didn’t run. Instead, he waved. “Relax, captain. Just documenting your… performance.”

He asked and I stood on my toes and pressed a kiss on his chin. "Yes, take them off," I said as I prepared my canvas down on the floor, it was almost as tall as he was but it was. Bit longer, this would take ages for me to finish, but painting it black did take me around three hours. I took the white paint and kneeled down as I painted his leg from the knee right up to the foot. "Really?" I asked as I looked at his erection that was right in my face. "The paint is cold," he whispered as he covered it with his hands. I giggled as I shook my head. I painted his right hand as well and positioned him on the canvas. Once the paint was transferred onto my canvas, I helped him up carefully and span