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orangesunsets12 · 2 years

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Stranger Things WIP...general idea? First chapter? Word dump? I have no clue what this is honestly...enjoy?

Eddie wakes up in the Upside Down, bat wounds wrapped tightly in bandage, yet alive and well. He doesn't know where he is, why he's still alive, or even if this is all a dream. Someone comes in to greet him, and he reels back in shock, seeing Chrissy walk towards him, a bright smile on her face.

"Eddie! You're awake!"

Eddie doesn't respond, because Chrissy is dead. But, here, she wasn't, was she? She wasn't the same, either, that he could tell.

Her eyes, blue eyes that were usually so bright, were black. Her skin was pale, bark veins shining under it, and her clothes were dirty and tattered. Eddie wasn't sure if she was human. Was she a zombie? Was he going crazy?

"You're...you're dead.''

Her smile faltered, but she didn't hesitate to come to him, passing him a cup of water.

"Yes...and no. I'm not here, not really."

Eddie's eyes grow wider and wider as she explains what happened, what she is, and he's left with more questions than answers.

Chrissy explains how, her and her friends, found him after chasing a swarm of bats through the Upside Down, and healed his wounds, using a plant native to the other dimension to revive him.

She explains that she, and everyone else in the civilization Eddie woke up in, weren't human. As someone called The Leader shared when she began living, they were copies of the real people from the real world. Upside Down copies, if you will. They could still live and breath, but they survived in the Upside Down, living there, because that's where they were born. They looked different, and had a hunter-gatherer society that Eddie barely understood. Survive, hunt, help the injured, gather food...over and over again.

When Eddie asked why the copies were made, and how, Chrissy shrugged.

"We don't really know. The Leader says that, when something in this dimension affects the real us, the copy is made. Like, if we encounter a monster, or die because of one. I just woke up, with basically no memories except what made me come here."

"What...what made you come here?"

She frowned, tears in her eyes as she looked to the dirty floor. "I...I remember having headaches, nose bleeds, visions, then coming to you, going to your trailer....and then nothing."

Eddie swallowed back the emotion that threatened to drown him. "You...you died. Vecna killed you."

Chrissy nodded. "That's how a lot of us came here. The real us died, and then the copy of us began living."

Eddie wasn't really surprised by that. After what everyone had told him, he knew that the death count was high.

"But, we're not all alive today." Chrissy added after a moment, "Some of us died on arrival, not knowing how to survive, while other died after a while. Many people who were copied over didn't survive for very long."

"Like who?" Eddie asked.

"Nancy Wheeler, Jim Hopper, Joyce Byers, Bob Newby...they came over, affected by the this place somehow, but they all died really quickly. I think Nancy was eaten by a dog? Heather Holloway, Billy Hargrove, Jason...those three were killed by bats."

Eddie didn't really know what to say to that. "I'm...I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. We can't help but morn, yet we have to survive. We quickly learned how to survive here, and now death is rare. Thankfully. If it weren't for The Leader we would all be dead."

And, Eddie was left to wonder again who this "Leader" was. Was it Vecna? Was Chrissy, and all of the other people she talked about, his little minions? Was Eddie imprisoned by him?

"Oh, he would want to know that you're awake! Do you want to meet him?" She asked brightly, and Eddie didn't know what else to do but nod.

Chrissy smiled at him, taking his hand and helping him to his feet. He was a bit shaky, but after a moment he could stand unassisted, his wounds hurting but not as bad as before, and he followed her lead.

His eyes widened as he left the house and was greeted with a society, homes and roads under a rocky sky, telling him that they were underground.

"It's the safest place for us." Chrissy explained, her black eyes showing nothing, but her smile giving him comfort. "We tried to live above ground, but that's when most of us died. Those monsters don't really come down here much."

Eddie nodded, mouth open in shock as he saw Barbara Holland help Fred Benson pass some food to a little girl, all having the same pale look to their skin, black eyes, and dark veins. The little girl had blond hair, and beamed as a bit of canned food was passed to her, despite the dirty state that she was in.

"Who's the little girl?" Eddie asked, and Chrissy frowned.

"Holly Wheeler. The poor girl saw a monster and was copied over here. No one knew that she was here, and she was nearly dead until The Leader found her. Ah, here he is!"

Chrissy began running, and Eddie struggled to catch up. As soon as the teen noticed that he was in pain, she slowed down. Eddie could see two people talking with their backs turned to him, both with dirty brown hair and wrecked clothing.

"Try the grocery store again," One said, and Eddie couldn't help but find the voice familiar. "There may be some food in the extra storage that we missed."

"You got it." The other said.

"Hey, guys! Guess who's awake?" Chrissy butted in, her cheery voice odd coming from her pale lips.

Eddie gasped as the two turned to him, the faces of Steve Harrington and Jonathan Byer's staring back at him with those dark eyes, that pale skin.

He knew that he shouldn't have been shocked, they had both encounter the Upside Down years ago, yet he was. Steve and Jonathan, here? Sure, they were copies, but this seemed impossible...wait, was Steve dead? Had he died fighting Vecna, or was he here because of the events of '84?

Jonathan smiled, giving him a gentle nod, and gave Steve a pat on the back before walking away, gun in hand. Steve watched him go, before looking back to Eddie, a nail bat sitting on his shoulder leisurely.

"Welcome back from the dead, Munson. And welcome to our home."

-----------------------------------------

Okay, so this idea has been in my head for a while, I had to get it out there. (I may just post this on AO3...should I?). Is anyone interested in reading more? I honestly feel like it is a really strange idea... but I really wanted to write and share it so here it is. If anyone also has questions about this AU feel free to ask, like I said, it's a crazy idea that's very undeveloped in this post XD. Also, I think I'm going to call it the Upside Down Clone AU.

#stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #stranger things au #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfic author #steve harrington #upside down #steve stranger things #barb holland #jonathan byers

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withoneheadlight · 2 years

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(lipstick) stain | part 2/? |

the one where steve finds the lipstick stain on billy's denim jacket, and his whole world comes crashing down.

“You keep staring at him like that, you’re gonna burn him faster than the sun. And he looks like, about medium-well already”

Robin jerks her headphones back. Purses her mouth in that characteristic gesture of hers, the one that makes every sentence inevitably end in dingus. Wet hair, black bikini, green eyes shielded behind the Ray-Bans she’s just snatched from him. And his mistake, Steve realizes, is that he keeps surrounding himself with people who are way too smart, and way too observant and―

Very, very nosy.

“And that’s your business ‘cause―?

The Ray-Bans are dark-glassed and reflect the June sky and Steve can’t, strictly speaking, see the way she’s rolling her eyes but, he so, so can feel it.

“You could accidentally make Heather Holloway burn, too. And that is my business”

“Uhm” he grins, this is also something that she does, no matter how shitty he’s feeling “More like you wish, Rob”

Robin pokes him with her foot. Steve pinches her small toe. And truth is―

Steve does like Heather. Likes her a damn lot, actually. Has the best memories from that time in sophomore year they hooked up.

Right now, he could burn her to ashes.

Because Steve hasn’t seen him in three days. Three days with their three nights. An emptiness in the pitch of his gut that feels raw and dry and cold, because he can’t stop thinking about the who, and when, and how. Of that kiss he carries.

(From behind. Hips pressed flush against soft, plush flesh and fucking them from behind. Same as Billy’s fucked him so many times. Same as Billy’s making him moan and bite, so many times. On that same spot. Leaving a similar mark on the skin of his forearm.

Except from teeth instead of―

Lips)

And Billy’s chit-chatting with Heather. Heather, who’s got lips shaped like a heart, the kind that, if she put lipstick on, would probably leave the prettiest, most perfect mark. And Billy― he hasn't even darted his eyes to Steve. Not once. And he’s leaning against one of the white poles of his lifeguard chair and a little towards Heather, giving her his undivided attention and that grin he’s got, lips oh so slowly spreading. The one that makes Steve want to devour all the space between them, get his hands on all that sun-kissed and golden, throw him into the water for being such an asshole and for so many other reasons that make no sense at all. Drag him out. Hold him close. So close he just won’t see anybody else. Nobody but Steve and then, kiss him and―

He stands up.

“Hey!” Robin calls after him, her ears deafened by music; high-pitched, wavering voice “Where you going?”

“Bathroom” Steve scoffs. Leans in to pull the headphones off her ear and whisper “So I don’t ruin the view for you”

Robin flips him off, glasses sliding down her nose. From over the plastic bridge, she peers at him: smeared black mascara and worry. Steve’s throat works.

“Do you― want us to get outta here? Have a smoke or so―”

“No” Steve shakes his head. Slowly. Steps away, walking backwards “I’m good, Buckley” he lies and hopes for the music to deafen it too, the way his voice sounds broken and hoarse “be back in five, uh?”

And turns around before he’s the one who burns.

Hey, Billy says. Only and exclusively that, “Hey”

And in the eternity that follows, there’s only them and the heat clinging to the pastel-blue walls and the question of whether it's that or Billy's closeness, what’s making the air almost unbreathable. Or if it is perhaps the way in which, when Steve answers with another,

“Hey”

Just as tiny. Just as drowned. Billy crosses his arms over his chest, hands clasped under his armpits, and he squares up, biceps bulging, all hard lines and that dormant violence of his curves but. What he really looks like is small, like this. Small and lost and fragile, where he’s always, always seemed so immense to Steve.

And, it tiptoes past the fogged clarity of the sun reflecting off the mirrors, this eternity. Tries to catch its breath as the slimy moisture from the showers swirls up in ragged-clouds, a summer storm gathering up the ceiling. Until―

Billy leans to the side, shoulder against the wall. Blocks him the way, somehow. Because it feels impenetrable, that barrier built of his mere presence, and―

Of that way he always, always looks at Steve and,

“Eh. Pretty boy. The other day. What―” He starts. Pauses. And he’s got those lips, so red they look permanently stained. Of kisses. Of lipstick. Of somebody else’s heart. And Steve’s being a brat. He’s been making all this up in his mind because it’s actually never― “Happened. Did― did something happen?”

“No” Steve shakes his head. Tears his eyes away from Billy’s lips “Nothing at all”

Because they’ve never, ever talked about it. Not really. Because Billy kisses him like a caress and Billy calls him baby and keeps on asking if he can ‘See you tomorrow?’ and because Billy keeps on looking at him that way like. He wants. This. Steve. And moremoremore. So much more. As if they were actually―

Together. Togethertogether. But―

In reality, They’ve never been more than desperate fingers aching for touch and starving hands searching for the heat in each other's pants. Finding. Billy’s cock rock-hard against his palm and Billy’s cock throbbing inside his mouth and never. Ever. In seven months. Has Billy told Steve. Or Steve told Billy.

And he’s being such a fucking brat because Billy doesn’t owe him anything. They’ve never talked about anything.

And Steve. Steve ain’t got the right.

“Oh” Billy breathes in deep, deep, deep. And it seems like, at least for one of them, the air becomes breathable, again “I thought―”

“What?”

Billy lets out a crooked laugh, shakes his head like he’s shaking off some absurd, stupid idea.

“Nothing”

Nothing.

And Steve ain’t got the right to ask him not to kiss anyone else because they’re exactly that. They’re nothing.

Except―

Sometimes. It feels impossible. Not to think they are because of―

They way Billy lowers his voice. His eyes drop to Steve’s mouth.

The way Billy says Ok, says Good and peels off the wall and steps close and pushes him back. Gently. Carefully. Into one of the showers. Shuts the curtain tight. Billy presses him against the beads of condensation weeping down the tiles, tears against his back. Grazes Steve’s lips with his own and Steve's heart is trembling, trembling, suddenly breaking when he says,

“’Cause it’s been three days since the last time I kissed you”

And it’s―

It’s Steve, who catches his lips. It’s Steve who kisses him long, and deep and like that sting in your eyes when you want to cry but hold back. It’s Steve who licks into his mouth, throat aching with the knowledge it won’t ever be enough, he won’t ever feel satiated. Three days of emptiness and his mind overflown with Billy and with For me, too. ‘Been for me, too. I want to never stop kissing you.

He pushes down the elastic of his swimsuit. Feels it drop around his ankles. Yanks his feet out of it, kicks away the fabric. Wraps his leg around Billy's hip and gasps, when Billy's hand slides up his thigh, grips him tight, tighter. Touches him in that way that splits Steve in two, like he’s never wanted anything as bad as this, as bad has he wants to touch him.

Even though maybe― maybe he does. Maybe there’s someone else he touches. Like he touches Steve. Maybe he does remember, too. Who those red-stained lips belong to.

He fumbles for the tap. Smacks. Opens it.

Cold. Warm. Hot. Billy groans a "What―?" then laughs soft, and pretty. Hides his face in Steve’s neck as the water pours down "Whatcha doin’, baby?" but he keeps laughing, soft and delicate, perfect against his pulse.

And the wise thing, Steve knows, would be letting him go but. He can’t resist him.

So he drags his lips along his cheek, searches for his mouth. Catches it with his tongue and a little teeth, kisses Billy deliberate and wet and slippery and open-mouthed. Kisses him with his whole body and with all this emptiness devouring him up from the inside out. Holds Billy close, heartbeat against heartbeat, shuts his eyes. Gives himself this: the water deafening everything that’s not the way Billy’s kissing him back. The fantasy of them dragging for just a little longer and―

It’s easy. When Billy holds him fast. When Billy kisses him like there’s nothing else for him, either. Just them, and the water washing away the whole world outside. And he― God, he moans. Broken. Pained. When Steve yanks his swimsuit down, too. When he springs out of it and their cocks bump and brush. Slide. Sweat and heat and that sweet, sweet stickiness dribbling between their cocks as they rock. Billy runs his fingers down the small of his back, and further, the barest touch on the tender skin of his crack. And the contact is so light, so not enough, when they graze his entrance, with an aching, hungry feeling, and all Steve can think is Billy opening him up with his tongue. Billy thrusting into his ass till. Billy’s making him full. Till he’s all Steve can feel inside.

Half a broken breath, half a plea, he whispers it in Billy’s ear “Baby. Baby. I need you inside of me. Need you to fuck me” It makes Billy moan obscenely loud, fingertips pressing into Steve’s hole, pads slipping in, sweet and rough.

"Shhh" he ghosts his lips along the shell of Billy’s ear "Shhh" Thinks It's okay. Thinks This is enough. This fantasy. This thing they’re doing none of them has put a name on. This is enough for you, Steve. Good enough for you. But― He knows it's not true. Kisses Billy softly, mouths the cold ring hanging from his earlobe, grabs his wet, darkened curls,

"Down. Keep it down, sweetheart. I don't want anyone else can hear you when I make you scream my name"

part 3

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #(lipstick)stain #billyxsteve #stevexbilly #xharringrove

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burlveneer-music · 3 years

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My WVUD playlist and stream, 1/15/2022

Clara Engel - Heart of Rags Michael Arthur Holloway - Peacock Spit Piero Umiliani - Laguna Tropicale Sun Ra - New Horizons High Pulp - There Are Other Worlds Apifera - Beyond the Sunrays Bitchin Bajas - Island in the Sun Sara Serpa & Emmanuel Iduma - Night The Memory Band - Bells Psychic TV - The Orchids Museum Of No Art - Textile Trance Mind Maintenance - Complete Rain Yasmin Williams - Sunshowers Hayden Pedigo - Something Absolute Compassionizer - Your Gold and Silver is Cankered Roy - Love (Sky Sister) Houeida Hedfi - Appel Du Danube (feat. Planningtorock) Circuit des Yeux - Stranger On Our Own Clock - Cuts & Pieces Al-jiçç - Zadar Turn On The Sunlight - Warm Waves Justin Walter - Plastic People Mas Aya - Momento Presente

(listen on Mixcloud)

#wvud #playlist #mixcloud #permutations

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comparativetarot · 3 years

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The Moon. Art by Emily Kay Holloway, from Doodle Tarot.

As the two walked further down the path, the darker it got. Then, the moon rose high in the sky and brought a little light. They followed a stream, where Spot heard howling! The Fool did their best to see in the dark, and on the other side of the stream there appeared to be a wolf. Spot ran over and howled along. As the Fool got closer, they realized the Moon was creating an illusion! Using the intuition that the Fool had gained on their journey, they could see the wolf was just another dog, and the grass was not actually greener on the other side!

#Emily Kay Holloway #Doodle Tarot #The Moon #Major Arcana #Tarot

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embersrpg · 3 years

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IT’S TIME ----

No one feels ready or prepared for the Reaping that has come on the early summer day. For some, the sun shines bright and hard, beads of sweat running down temples, sweat causing shirts and dresses to stick to backs. For others, it’s raining hard and there’s no refuge, leaving everyone soaked and shivering as they await for the bitter fate of the two tributes that will be heading into the Quarter Quell.

The Escorts stand amongst the crowd, before them, a massive bowl stands, littered with papers of the names of the victor’s loved one. No questions have been answered. Will Capitolites be in the pool? Will victors be in there? What about loved ones crossing over districts?

The moment is tense but it goes forward without question.

ONE:

Saffron Sky

The name which is first drawn in One summons Saffron Sky to the stage. Thirty-nine, she’s beautiful, tall, fit. She’s wearing a long silk dress as she blows a kiss to her cousin, a victor from a time long before she was able to win. She holds her head high. There’s absolutely no telling what the expression on her face says. She is a complete wildcard. Maybe that’s what she wants.

Gold Farlock

Gold is built. Standing at 6′6, people have always wondered if the Farlock family bread, or maybe even genetically altered, a perfect soldier. He’s standing beside Tiberius, who looks prideful as she shakes his nephew’s hand and he ascends to the stage. He’s far past the age of being able to fight in the Games in a normal year. It can’t help but raise questions; coming from a family such as this, why hadn’t he fought back then? And why were they so excited now?

TWO:

Osa Pittsmith

Elegance has never looked so clear on a face before. Osa Pittsmith, older sister to the brutal victor, Teal, was always rumored to be brighter, more charming, more attractive, but what she made up for in personable skills and looks, she lacked in sheer brute force. As far as you can tell, she’s an enigma. But both she and her sister share a long, meaningful glance that is hard to define.

Terra Ivornary

The audience freezes as they all cast their eyes to the older woman. In her early sixties, she’s plump, but she walks with pride up the stage. She’s a baker from the square, but she has confidence. The only noticeable mark of her age, regardless of the graying hair and withered skin, is her trembling hands. To come from a Career district, reaping a simple baker seems shocking.

THREE:

Zero Holloway

Someone clears their throat when the name gets drawn from the bowl. The young man fixes his glasses before he starts for the stage. Someone tries to reach for his wrist but he slips from their grasp before it’s too late. It’s cold. It’s quiet, but Zero stands among the rest, accepting fate.

Citron Gulwether

No one even knows who Citron is, who they’re connected to. Seventy, withered, and looks tired. There’s someone far off that you could mistake for calling to volunteer as tribute, but it goes ignored. Citron moves slowly towards the stage, but manages with no help. Their breath is loud, they’re running out of steam but it’s all for the game.

FOUR:

Marina Tidestrum

She emerges from the crowd, but not confused. Just a slow step forward as if this is a declaration of sorts. The ex of Roux Selkirk Her fingers rub together nervously as she tries to search for eyes that will give her the answers. She doesn’t get them. She just gets to the stage where she’s championed like an icon. It feels far from that.

Abe Iss

Abe stands tall. He’s built well enough that there are some that clap at his reaping. A lot more reassuring of victory than the previous draw. He’s smiling, or at least, it looks like it’s supposed to be a smile. He’s not particularly attractive or charming, but he’s built. He’s a mentee to an old victor, much like a grandson. His fists clench and he looks brutal, but also, for some reason... uncomfortable.

FIVE:

Darby Skiberry

Darby Skiberry was a nurse. Specifically, one that took care of the children. She was in her mid-forties, been a nurse for thirty years. She was a mother figure to many, including the victor for the 67th Games, Ambro Forge. There’s some sobs from the crowd as she climbs to the stage, her fear is evident.

Kin Rosesand

The youngest child in the Rosesand family, youngest sibling to Aven, perhaps the most needy in the bunch, but now a young adult, trudges onto the stage and cries. Openly. They do not want to be there, and the eyes of hundreds on them, gives them a visible tremble. This was not what they were prepared for.

SIX:

Helena Clearwater

She’s forcing a smalls mile on her face, dusting off her dress as she starts for the stage, no guidance needed. Pista Clearmark’s mother, ever the beacon of warmth, has now found her time. It’s hard, judging from the audience, if she’s happy or heartbroken.

Cabil Stulvurg

Stulvurg is an old name. Cabil is young. Twenty. Everyone knows that boy is twenty. He was birthed in the river from his mother who didn’t get to see the face of her new baby boy. Stulvurg designs the very trains they build. Baster Stulvurg, Cabil’s father, was intense but never terrible. But Cabil was warmth. Cabil, who made the mistake of falling in love with Haldi Commonbo, the winner of the 70th Games. Haldi, who shrieked and cried as her lover sauntered onto stage. Baster, a cold and collected man, yelled for his son’s freedom. For once, power couldn’t buy safety.

SEVEN:

Nettle Blume

She can’t exactly see straight. She walks with a cane even though she’s in her thirties. After a lumber accident, Nettle was considered useless. Her family was going to perish after she couldn’t work any longer. Caspan Roseleaf, who was a victor over forty years ago, hired her to tend to his home in the victor village. For over a decade, the two have had a tight bond, and watching her struggle to get on the stage makes the crowd uneasy.

Harbor Gazel

There’s confusion that settles over every one. But Harbor... he’s not around anymore, is he? Doesn’t matter, next thing everyone sees is a frail, weak figure being tugged onto the stage. Harbor Gazel, is hard to recognize. There’s no hair to be found on their face. None from their head, their eyebrows. There’s wisps of eyelashes but they look near transparent, and there’s small adjustments to his face. Different cheekbones, mainly. He looks... kind of like Harbor. Then raises the question, has he been in Seven this whole time? No one can know, because before questions start being asked, he looks to the camera, and raises his hands, beginning to form gestures and movements. And then---... the camera cuts out.

EIGHT:

Beck Baxwoll

A younger sibling to Emory Baxwoll, not so small anymore, looks tired and worn from the day’s work as he steps onto the stage. It’s like there’s no room to process the pain of it all before he stands there. This is just another job he has to do, isn’t it?

Chrysanthe Silverhair

The local clothes maker. Sewist of all things even remotely appealing within Nine. Chrysanthe became friends and primary caretaker of Dahilia Feher years ago. A victor, now in her nineties, with no living family. Chrysanthe has always been a beloved force within the community, and there are sobs heard when they step onto the stage.

NINE:

Sola Honimoore

The reaping of Perri Honimoore’s son is met with silence. There are some in the crowd who are old enough to remember the story. The birthing of the young boy who became attached to Perri’s leg. The boy scooped up in the wreck of the Games. And now, as much as Perri has fought against it, it seems his ties to the Games is not ready to release yet.

Holly Nightwing

“It’s not fair!” She shouts only seconds after her name is drawn. “I didn’t ask to be loved!” She’s young. Maybe her mid-twenties. She looks at stocky as the grain that blows in the wind behind them. Only in whispers do they know of Holly’s secret companionship to victor Kuds Full, a victor from the 72nd Games. A Victor who had been married to someone else only monthsafter returning from victory.

TEN:

Ginger Flatlock

The daughter of the 32nd Hunger Games winner, Archer Flatlock, ascends to the stage with trembling knees, if only for a split moments before her back straightens into something that resembles forced confidence. Looking to her father, his face is pale, almost green, but makes no noise. He’s frozen in silence.

Bire Wildvale

Tall, but not especially built. Bire had a tendency to work on the fields. Just a simple man, in his late twenties. Bire married Fennel two years ago, the son of Archer Flatlock. Bire, while not blood related, was just as much a son in the Flatlock house as his husband. His eyes are read and he’s squinting from the son but he stands beside Ginger, hand on her shoulder. The Flatlock family, and specifically Archer, feels no mercy this year.

ELEVEN:

Birch Peaceroot

It’s a swift reaping. Elven is far too sued to their loved ones and their promising youths being ripped from their cracked fingertips. The young Birch, Rigg’s Nephew, hurries to the stage. It’s hard not to spot the horror that’s on his face as he looks out to his expansive district, and their forced apathy.

Parsley Fairwillow

There’s not many victors in Eleven. Not that are alive anyways. But Parsley, who’s close to middle age, peppered with silver makes in her hair, looks confused as she steps onto the stage. Her father, a victor of the 13th hunger Games, had died thirty-four years ago. As she’s lead on the stage by Peacekeepers, the horror registers on the face of some of those in the crowd. Even in death, your loved ones aren’t saved.

TWELVE:

Wren Thornewood

There’s an audible wail that comes from the crowd the second the name is drawn. Though it’s hard to find, without much fight, the young girl ascends to the stage, her hands joined together at her front. The crowd looks disturbed. The girl they came to know and adore. The girl who just barely got by last year from her sister. Her time as finally come.

Gage Overgrove

It’s horror on the man’s face as he starts for the stage. He looks back towards his wife, who looked plump with her pregnancy, that she was about ready to give birth at any moment. The Overgrove family doesn’t console, only stands frozen, and Gage can’t even look their sibling Hudson in the eyes as they stand beside the young Wren.

OOC --- THE MEAT AND BONES

Let’s just get into it. You guys voted, shockingly unanimously, wow. So, this is just a quick drop! We will have this plot drop for two days (two for my sanity because the next drop is huge and I need some time to write it all up), which is mainly meant to give you some time to write a self para reacting to this drop. It’s not mandatory. If you’d rather take the break, by all means, please do! I just ask, if you plan to write a self para, please take this time to get it up before the next drop.

For in character timeline, from here there will be quick movements. Characters get rushed to the train and there will be no meeting with loved ones (similar to Catching Fire, Katniss didn’t have a chance to talk to her family before being sent in again). You can write of your character getting on the train but do not write further than the first night on the train. The next drop will begin on the morning of the train ride to the Capitol.

Plot with other members if you’d like to mention conversations or interactions between characters in your self paras. I do not recommend this time to have threads since there will be so little time. But hey, if you can write a thread in two days, go off.

If you have an fc for your designated npc, send it my way (or if you want me to pick, bc I can def feel some vibes from the ones you guys have). I might make a graphic since I definitely have some npcs in mind for some folks on this list. Not guaranteed but... I might make one.

You might be wondering if you will be able to write against any of these npcs. The answer is... maybe. 24 npcs sounds like a lot to me so I’m trying to figure out how to best write npcs that doesn’t burn me out and gives everyone a chance to write with and npc (doesn’t have to be the npc tied to your muse, could be any of them). If that’s something you might be interested in, message me. By gaging how many people are interested in how many npcs will give me an idea of the work it’ll take. It’s not a guarantee but it is a check for level of interest.

Many characters talked about volunteering in their threads, it’s up to you whether they did or not but if they had, it wouldn’t have been successful, and their volunteer would have been rejected. I am kind of bending some rules because I assure you, putting your character in the games would be really boring and not as much juice as what I have planned for what happens outside of the game. I don’t plan to metagame/godmod this hard as an admin beyond this, but hopefully you guys understand that I am just trying to keep everyone from writing themselves into a corner.

Also just want to say, I know not every character has a loved one that were reaped. I had tried to keep things pretty strategic and fair. The hope is that this creates an interesting dynamic to potentially cause conflict. Those who have loved ones at stake vs. those who have love ones that were spared. I am always open for feedback and if you feel that this plot doesn’t set your character(s) up for success, please let me know! We’ll try to work something out.

I think that’s all I’ve got to say. You know where to put questions. Happy Hunger Games. Heh

Start date: Right now

End date: April 28th

Tag: The Reaping (this is not a chapter because there is no time threading.)

#embersplot #heheeheheh

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korgbelmont · 4 years

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Now Added

As we are in the quiet period between a new book release, the next Insider’s email, and now the news of a newsletter or article thing in regards to sequels, I have been working on getting more Transparents from older books and trying to catch up on current books.

And now the following characters have now been added to the Transparents folder;

A Courtesan of Rome

Cingerix

Cornelius

Euthymios

Gnaeus Rufus

Isis

Iuna Pythia

Legate Aquila

Locusta

Lucanus Flavius

Lucius

Marcella

Marcus Brutus

Rufus Glycia

Baby Bump

Bao

Gavin Covington

Lori

Selma Hayes

Bachelorette Party

Frank

Superfanda

Big Sky Country

Bentley Johnson

Blades of Light & Shadow

Grobtar

Grobtar Chief

Solerne

Bloodbound

Iola

Desire & Decorum

Batholemew Chambers

Bishop Monroe

Constance Parsons

Cordelia Parsons

Donna Bowman

Ezra Harper

Felicity Holloway

Gideon Payne

Harry Foredale

Madam Raisa

Mary

Prince Regent George

Queen Charlotte

Rupert Foredale

Thaddeus Parsons

Vincent Foredale

Viscount Westonly

Viscountess Lavinia

Yusuf Konevi

Distant Shores

Ambassador Moreno

Bronte

Dorothea

Governor Smith

Grace

Lady Moreno

Officer Alvarez

Officer Doyle

Pierre Dupre

Tripp

Foreign Affairs

Dean Lundqvist

Professor Masako

Winston Torres

High School Story / Class Act

Alan Park

Greg

Mohit Bhandari

Rita

Samir Bhandari

Shruti Bhandari

Hot Couture

Brandon

Bridgette Gardner

Kimia

Otto Thorndyke

Mother of the Year

Hugo

Tallulah Copeland

My Two First Loves

Dave Price

June Price

Open Heart

Baz Mirani

Bryce Lahela

Elijah Greene

Ethan Ramsey

Jackie Varma

June Hirata

Passport to Romance

Elliot Langdon

Queen B

Thomas Stiles

Red Carpet Diaries

Thomas Hunt

Ride or Die: A Bad Boy Romance

Logan

Sunkissed

Alexis

Bill

Nate

The Elementalists

Kavya Mistry

Ward

The Freshman Series

Claire Pierce

The Nanny Affair

Carter

Jenny

The Royal Masquerade

Emery Beaumont

The Royal Romance / Heir

Bartie Walker

Bradshaw Achillies

Camellia Nevrakis

Constantine Rys

Isaac Achilles

Jackson Walker

Leona Walker

Lionel Nevrakis

Lyra Achilles

Wishful Thinking

Harry

Witness: A Bodyguard Romance

Cassian Keane

Finn McDonough

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

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My Little Secret part 9

Summary: Your next date with Arthur takes an unexpected turn when Sam invites the both of you to Saint Denis for the night.

Warnings: Alcohol mention

Friday evening arrived before you knew it. You powered through your schoolwork and got a few hours’ worth of studying in. It was early evening before you turned your attention elsewhere, nighttime would be soon and that Arthur would be arriving shortly afterward. You weren’t sure if it was to be a date or just…hanging out, you supposed it could be both. You debated on whether to dress up or keep yourself as is.

You also didn’t want to bore Arthur by just asking him a bunch of questions all night. You had a decent DVD collection and a few more movies on demand, and wondered what kind of genres he was into, if he were into movies at all. It was a different setting; normally you reserved dates at home for later into the relationship. Then again, you weren’t in a normal relationship.

Not much more time passed when you heard the ring of your doorbell, and you pranced forward in excitement to answer. You opened the door to find Arthur was standing there patiently, greeting you with a smile.

He was wearing a dark red button-up shirt, though some of the top buttons were left open to give you a nice view of his chest with just the right amount of hair peeking through. The sleeves were rolled up, and his hands rested on the belt that held up his dark jeans. Jesus did he look good.

“How do you manage that?” was the first thing that left your mouth.

He tilted his head in curiosity. “What?”

“Look so damn fine,” you answered, reaching out to selfishly run your hands on his chest without second thought. He felt solid beneath your fingertips. “Like some sorta model.”

He chuckled in response, his own hands reaching for yours to hold them and entwine his fingers with you. Stepping closer to you, he drew you in for a gentle kiss. Had it lasted longer than a few seconds, you would have melted right then and there. “Could say the same about you, ya know.” He murmured.

You glanced down at yourself. You wore a pair of form-fitting yoga pants hugged your legs and a loose fitting t-shirt that had the school’s logo printed across it. Your hair had been pulled into a loose bun. It occurred to you just then and there you definitely should have changed into something much more decent. “You like this look?” you asked him.

“I like you,” he answered sincerely. “Don’t matter what you’re wearin’, sweetheart.”

Heat of a blush flared in your cheeks as you smiled bashfully, and you tugged him in past the threshold. “Then tell me more how pretty I am inside.”

He laughed in response, keeping in step with you as he entered your apartment. You released his hands and glanced behind you toward the couch. “So, you wanna watch something?” you ask.

“I thought you wanted to ask more questions.” He pointed out.

“I do, but I don’t want that to be the basis of our whole relationship, ya know? We might as well try some other things, like a regular couple would.” You explained. “And then I’ll ask after.”

“Fair ‘nough,” he said with a nod. “Sure, I’d love to watch somethin’.”

You smile and gestured toward the couch, to which he sat down on while you moved over to your shelf of DVDs. You picked out something easy: a simple action movie that didn’t involve too much blood or gore. Could a vampire be sickened by that sort of thing? Or perhaps it would remind him of a time of his outlaw days. Either way, you were testing the waters. Plucking it from between the other cases, you straightened back up and faced him. “How often do you watch movies, Arthur?”

He shrugged. “As much as any other person. I’ve seen that movie before, nice choice.” He approved.

You let out a mental sigh of relief and moved over to the TV to place the disk in before you sat on the couch. Just as the movie started, your phone rang. Sighing heavily and apologizing to Arthur, you pull out your phone and glanced at the screen. You hit the answer button. “What is it, Sam?” you ask, keeping your voice as light as possible.

“Hey girl, wanna head to Saint Denis tonight?” Sam greeted off the bat. “I’m bored as hell and everyone else is busy.”

“Sam, I’m with Arthur at the moment.” You answer.

“So bring him along! I wanna get to know the guy dating my best friend.”

“I don’t think he –”

“Ask him,” Sam interjected. “C’mon, just try. I can pick you guys up and we’ll do whatever.”

You sighed again and turned your attention to Arthur. “Sam wants us to go to Saint Denis with her, you wanna go?” you ask, although already knowing he’d refuse, remembering what he said to you when you ran into him last time in the city.

“Saint Denis?” he repeated, rubbing his chin in thought. “I ‘spose it’ll be okay for a bit.”

You blinked in surprise, taken completely off guard by his response. “You sure?” you mouthed to him, and when he flashed you a small smile, you answered Sam. “Alright, I guess we’re going.”

“Awesome, I’ll come by in a half hour.” Sam bid you a goodbye before hanging up.

You placed your phone down, and gave Arthur a look of curiosity. “I thought you didn’t like Saint Denis.”

Arthur shrugged again. “She said she wanted to get to know the guy who’s dating her best friend, might as well.”

“Yeah but I just wanted a night in.” you murmured, standing to your feet. You definitely had to get dressed now.

“You coulda said no.” Arthur reminded you, his voice rumbling with a laugh.

“I know I could have, but Sam’s too damn persistent. If I don’t do it tonight then she’ll keep pestering me to bring you around sooner or later,” You explained while you rolled your eyes. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Y/N. We’ll still have many more nights ya know.” he flashed you a smile.

Your smile mirrored his. “True, let me go get dressed. You hang tight.”

You opted to change into a low-cut shirt and a pair of skinny jeans that had metallic studs running up the sides of your legs. Taking your hair out of the bun you put into a high ponytail, and completed the look with a denim jacket and a pair of high-heel ankle boots. You didn’t feel like dolling completely up, but at least it was something to make you feel a little sexier in front of Arthur.

You stepped back out into the living room, catching his attention. He peered you up and down with a gleam in his eye that you caught easily.

“You…” he averted his gaze shyly before clearing his throat and turning his attention back to you. “Sorry, you look amazin’.”

You giggled, stepping closer to him. “Thought I might as well give you something prettier to look at.” You said.

“Darlin’, you could be wearin’ a potato sack and I still think you’re the prettiest woman in the room,” He spoke. “Not that I’m complainin’.”

With a few minutes of downtime you gave Arthur a baseline of what to expect from Sam. She’s been your best friend since your undergrad days and always loved to learn more about the guys you dated. Even if it seemed overwhelming, she was always good at sniffing out those who were worth more time than others.

A little more time passed before Sam texted to inform you she was outside. Together you and Arthur made your way out of the apartment complex, stepping out into the humidity to see the large SUV idling at the curbside with Sam leaning against it, waiting expectantly.

She was as enthusiastic as ever, greeting Arthur excitedly before ushering you into the car. Arthur offered to take the back seat while you took the front passenger seat. Sam pulled away from the curb and you were on your way.

The first few minutes were full of Sam’s chatter, getting to know Arthur more herself. She asked him easy questions before moving on to inquiring about how he was treating you. You interrupted then to assure her he was treating you just fine. She however insisted Arthur answer the question, only satisfied when his answered mirrored yours.

“Sorry Arthur, grilling people is a specialty of hers.” You mentioned, which only prompted Sam to laugh.

“Only when my best friend breaks her own vow to not date while still in school. You must be one hell of a guy,” She joked. “You’re cool, though. I’ll back off.”

“Appreciate it,” Arthur chuckled. “Uh, mind if I ask ya somethin’?”

“Sure,” Sam answered. “If you’re wondering how hard a partier she is, I’ll tell you that –”

“Sam.” You warned.

“Nah, nothin’ like that,” Arthur continued, resting his hand on your arm. “It’s ‘bout you, Sam. Is your last name Marston, by any chance?”

Sam glanced back at him. “Holloway. But my mother’s maiden name is Marston, why?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a small smile cross Arthur’s lips. “Think I might’ve met your family at some point. You jus’ remind me o’ them.”

“Really? Most of my family are in the Blackwater area, you’ve been?” Sam responded.

“Plenty o’ times.” He confirmed.

You turned your head to look at Arthur fully, only he leaned back into his seat. You wondered if he really did know her family, though you suppose it could be possible.

The rest of the ride consisted of you and Sam talking or jamming out to music on the radio. Arthur was mostly quiet, and you attempted to bring him into the conversation a few times. You didn’t want to intentionally leave him out. He didn’t speak too much, although the look on his face told you he was just fine where he was. His immortal age aside, he was still a 36 year old man in the company of 27 year olds. He was more than likely allowing you two to chatter amongst yourselves about your own interests.

That however didn’t stop you from reaching over and taking his hand in yours. He smoothed his thumb over your skin rhythmically the entire time.

Soon the dark sky broke to the amber lights of Saint Denis. The city was bustling as usual, multiple people out and about enjoying the night.

“So, any ideas for our entertainment tonight?” Sam asked.

You hummed in thought, considering what would be enjoyable for the three of you. Since Arthur couldn’t eat nor drink, your usual suggestions flew out the window.

“How ‘bout I treat ya both to dinner?” Arthur suddenly spoke up.

You blinked in surprise, turning to look at him.

“Both of us?” Sam questioned. “That’s not necessary.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to do that.” You agreed.

Arthur shrugged. “Repayment for drivin’ us. It ain’t exactly a short trip.”

A smile crossed Sam’s lips. “Y/N’s right, you really are a gentleman.”

Arthur chuckled in response. “No reason not to be.”

Twenty minutes later found yourself in one of the less populated diners of the city. Both you and Sam were enjoying delicious meals while Arthur sat with you. Sam had asked why he didn’t order anything himself, and he answered with the same lie he told you on your first date: food intolerances. She didn’t question it further, instead brought the conversation elsewhere. He was more talkative then.

When your food was finished, the three of you stepped back outside. The night was still fairly young and alive, prompting you to ponder what else you could do.

“So what’s next?” Sam spoke out, voicing your thoughts. “How about our favorite bar?”

You opened your mouth to answer, only to have Arthur speak over you.

“You two can go on ahead, I’ll join ya in a bit.”

You gave him a look of confusion, catching his eye to notice an emotion you couldn’t detect. “Where are you going?”

“Jus’ gotta take care o’ somethin’. I’ll meet ya there.” He answered, stepping forward to plant a quick kiss on your forehead. While his lips were pressed against your skin, his voice dropped to a low mumble. “Be careful, alright? Remember what I said ‘bout… others.”

As he retreated giving you a subtle but pointed look, it only then occurred to you what he meant. You remembered what he told you about “other” vampires, ones that drained their victim’s blood without second thought. Somehow you’d forgotten about what happened here in this same city. But by the amount of people that still roamed the streets, it was clear the concern over it was pushed to the wayside.

It then led you to your next thought: what was Arthur doing? Perhaps he needed some blood himself, and you reminded yourself that he only went after bad people. At least so he said.

Your thought was cut short when Sam tugged on your arm. She pulled you toward the direction of the bar, which was only a few blocks away.

The place was as busy as you expected to be, the air conditioned building stuffy with the amount of bodies. You procured a drink and kept off to the side, swaying your hips to the music that played overhead. Time wore on and your vision slowly grew more unfocused with the influence of liquor. A half hour had passed and Arthur hadn’t returned, this solidifying your suspicion from earlier. He most likely was looking for a blood meal, hopefully tracking down some fool with less than pure thoughts for that night.

Unless something else happened.

You shook your head and mentally scolded yourself. Arthur was more than capable of handling himself. After witnessing him crush Tom’s hand with little effort in protecting you, and the fact that he was once a gunslinging outlaw.

You smiled to yourself. That little reminder of you dating a once-famous outlaw still sent your heart into a tizzy. How many others would be able to say that? Hell, how many others could say they’re dating a vampire?

Sobriety soon began to slip through your fingers with even more time passed. You moved through the bar, observing others and occasionally holding a small conversation with Sam or a stranger. With more people filing in every once in a while, the air is was beginning to grow stuffy. Another drink down and you stepped outside. Not that the weather was much different, it provided you with a little space. There were a few others standing around, smoking cigarettes or just chatting. You craned your neck to see if Arthur was among these faces, and sighed in disappointment. Did it really take that long just to acquire a blood meal?

You shuddered with that thought. It certainly wasn’t a normal thought to cross your mind. You instead shifted your focus elsewhere. Your eyes slowly drifted back and forth between others; young couples out and about, not a care in the world with their faces bright and cheerful.

Your attention was soon broken when someone had stumbled in front of you. Stepping back in time to avoid being trampled on, you blinked and watched an obviously drunk man clamor his way down the sidewalk. You grimaced as he smacked his hand onto a light pole, but he paid no mind as he turned down an alleyway next to the bar.

Somehow this concerned you. He was clearly too inebriated to really walk straight, and you wondered if he knew what direction he was going in. You also wondered if he was alone or possibly had friends. Either way, you didn’t want him to accidentally injure himself or get lost.

You scurried toward the alley. The sound of metal trashcans slamming to the ground told you he was thankfully still there. His drunken yelp was to follow. He certainly felt that more than the pole, somehow.

You rounded the corner to face the alleyway. The cans were on their sides with bits of trash strewn about. The poor fool kept stumbling haphazardly further in, and you quickened your pace.

“Hey, stop!” you called after him, but he either ignored you or just didn’t hear. Up ahead he turned and disappeared again. You grumbled and started to jog, or as much as your shoes would allow. “Sir, hang on!”

You rounded another corner he disappeared to, spotting him on the far side of that conjoining alleyway. You were impressed by how far he’d already gotten despite being absolutely shitfaced.

Until he tripped over his own two feet and landed face first onto the concrete below. You sighed heavily, partially in relief. You made your way toward him, squinting into the ever growing darkness. As your eyes adjusted you could see him struggling to get to his feet. He was moaning in pain and slurring under his breath.

“Sir?” you called out gently. “Hey, you okay?”

The response you’d gotten sounded like a cross between a yes and some other incomprehensible stuttering. You stepped up next to him and bent down to help him to his feet, realizing he was heavier than he looked. He grunted and leaned his body weight against you to straighten up.

He muttered a thanks, the liquor strong on his breath as he began to stumble off in the direction he came in. You moved to follow him when something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. You only had time to turn your head a fraction of an inch when a blurred figure suddenly appeared in front of you, slamming into the drunk.

You jumped as the sound of his body smacking against the wall echoed in the alley. Your eyes took a moment to adjust what you were seeing in front of you. A figure had him pinned against the wall in an embrace that almost seemed intimate. It was too familiar to you, knowing it was anything than a kiss.

“Arthur?” you spoke automatically.

A disgusting squelch sounded when the figure pulled their mouth from the drunk’s neck. The smell of fresh blood tainted the air as they turned their attention toward you. Even in the dark you could see the reflection of a predator in their eyes. A gaunt face framed with thick dark hair told you this was not Arthur.

This new vampire opened his mouth wide, revealing a pair of long razor sharp fangs.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #arthur morgan #vampire AU #vampire!Arthur

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ipaintwithwords · 4 years

Text

Christmas Short Story Exchange

Wolves Without Teeth

Fandoms: Life is Strange, Life is Strange 2 Characters: Sean Diaz, Lyla Park, Daniel Diaz, Chloe Price, David Madsen (mention), Brody Holloway (mention) Tags: Post-Redemption Ending, Post-Save Arcadia Bay Ending, light angst with happy ending, mentions of depression/antidepressants, reminiscing, ambiguous/open ending, POV heavy, pretty scenery and dogs and ghosts

And I run from wolves breathing heavily at my feet And I run from wolves tearing into me without teeth

♪♫♪♫♪♫

Millions of stars lit up the vast, deep indigo canvas of the night sky along the coast of Oregon. It was a quiet, peaceful night, the kind that was made for intimate strolls and heartwarming conversations and marveling at the beauty of the ocean, hand in hand, barefoot on the shore, accompanied by the light April breeze and the soft whispers of the waves. It was made for campfires and laughter, grilled fish and cold beer, and acoustic guitar covers of songs that people don’t listen to enough on Spotify, even though they really should - it was a night made for moments ephemeral and eternal at the same time, a series of overexposed polaroid images in the sand.

However, for the young man driving under the endless rows of majestic pine trees, the night was but a spectacular backdrop for his hours spent on the road. Slightly more memorable than the day before, and infinitely longer than any other day of the past week he’s spent driving, one hand on the wheel, the other one either stroking the gentle crosswind with a cigarette between his fingers or buried in the thick, brown fur of the adolescent wolfdog snoozing on the passenger’s seat, curled up like a content, well-fed little roll with her favorite blanket between her front paws.

That night, he was holding onto the wheel with both hands. Eyes fixated on the highway, his anxiety was skyrocketing in his chest, flooding the back of his mind with dark thoughts and his head with an unbearable migraine, building up slowly but steadily, creeping into his skull, even the empty - and otherwise numb - socket of his left eye. Not that he was a stranger to headaches, but unlike all his past encounters with nasty migraines, this time he had no idea what to blame: the cigarettes, the lack of sleep, all the synthetic food he shoved down his throat the past few days, his ridiculous deadline drawing near by the minute… Or perhaps the fact that for the first time in fifteen agonizingly long years, he was back on a road he never thought will see again.

The only difference was that this time, he was on his own. There was no comforting presence beside him, no hula dancer figurine on top of the dashboard, no excited chatter coming from a kid high on adrenaline on the backseat. It was just him and the shores of Oregon, his sad music and his snoring dog (who wasn’t exactly the chatty kind, which, honestly speaking, never truly bothered him; he adopted her for the very same reason) and this stubborn, intrusive, demanding migraine that seemed to have made a cozy little home for itself in his forehead like it was meant to live out the rest of its life under his skin. And somehow, it managed to grow even stronger when out of the blue, the music was interrupted by the steady, low buzzing of his phone.

All of a sudden, violent waves of frustration crashed down over him as he took a quick glance at the device’s screen. Tightening his grip on the wheel until his nails started digging irritated crescents into the faux leather, he grit his teeth while staring at his phone, its buzzing resonating in his temples as if someone was trying to drill into his brain. The buzzing lasted for a solid two minutes before the screen would finally turn dark again and the pulsating sensation in his temples quieted down a little - only giving him a few moments of calm and quiet, though, as his phone started ringing again the moment he was about to sigh in relief.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”, he grunted loudly in anger, waking the peacefully sleeping wolfdog pup with either his hoarse voice or the annoyed dash of his hand as he reached out for his phone to pick up the incoming call and be over with it as fast as possible. He knew exactly what’s coming for him, and he was in the mood for anything but fighting with his best friend on the phone right now.

“What the fuck, man?!”, hissed a young woman on the other end of the call with a furious whisper-shout, as soon as he pushed the green button. “Are you being serious with me right now? Where the fuck are you, Sean?”, she hissed, and Sean heard a door slamming shut behind her, most likely the backyard door, to be precise, as she stormed out of the kitchen for a smoke.

“You knew I’ll be busy this weekend”, much to his surprise, he magically managed to keep his voice calm and his words collected when he answered after a few moments of hesitation. “I DMed you and I also texted the group chat yest-”

“Yeah, and I thought you’re just trying to back out of going to Walmart with us!”, his feeble attempt of coming up with explanations was met with an angry snap from the young woman. “And I actually can’t believe that we’re having this conversation? Like I can’t comprehend the fact that for whatever fucked up reason, you are actually ditching your own brother’s birthday weekend”, she scoffed, lighting up a cigarette with two impatient click-clacks of a cheap 7-Eleven lighter.

“I have a deadline, Lyla, and it seems like you’re the only person who can’t accept that”, answered Sean with a deep, resigned sigh, only trying to resist the sudden urge of smoking for a brief second before he rolled down the window and reached for his cigarette case. “I talked to Daniel about it, alright? He was the first person I called”, he murmured under his nose, shoving a crooked cigarette between his lips. “And to be honest, I still don’t understand why you guys insisted on throwing this huge ass party for him for an entire weekend... Y’all know he prefers his PS4 and pizza over twenty of us being all over him for three days, right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was me who’s about to ruin his birthday! Fuck, man, thanks, now I can see that it was me all along”, Lyla let out a burst of dry laughter, more threatening than the sharpest blades in the world. “You are unbelievable, Sean.”

“I’m doing everyone a favor by skipping, y’know”, said Sean, sticking his hand out the window, unleashing the tiny smoke-dragons of his cigarette into the night. “‘Cause let’s be real, we both know that it’s me who’d ruin his birthday” he added with a shrug, making Lyla snort in disbelief.

“I can’t think of a single reason why his favorite person in the world would do that, so please enlighten me with your wisdom, Sean-Wise”, suddenly, her tone softened, bringing a massive lump to Sean’s throat.

“The last thing he needs right now is his useless, depressed brother”, he answered quietly, unable to resist the suffocating grip of anxiety on his neck. “And thankfully, he understands that his useless, depressed brother needs to submit an unreasonable amount of work ‘til next Wednesday, so… Yeah. We’re both doing each other a favor, to be honest.”

“Sean, I… Useless? Why would y- What do you even… Hollup for a sec” sighed Lyla, slightly frustrated, as a small voice suddenly called for her. “Yes, baby, what’s up?”, she said, words and smile warmer than the morning sun, and Sean couldn’t help but smile too when he heard her switch to Korean the next moment, most likely reaching for her daughter Hannah, and gently pushing a strand of dark, silky hair behind her ear like she always did.

“Sorry for that, Miss Thing is getting cranky because she only ate five times today”, Lyla returned to the call after a good minute, and Sean could clearly see her roll her eyes as the door shut close behind Hannah. “So where were we…”

“You were about to give me a Ted Talk on self-love because I called myself useless”, said Sean with a faint smile, before carefully flicking the cigarette butt out the window. Lyla didn’t answer immediately, at least not with words - her silence, on the other hand, was heavy with worry, a calm before the storm Sean knew too well. After all, thirty-three years of friendship teaches a thing or two about another person, especially a friendship like theirs was.

“You know, I had a feeling this is gonna happen”, when Lyla finally broke the silence, she couldn’t conceal the sad, resigned bitterness in her voice. “At least tell me where you are, man…”

“I’m in Oregon… Driving along the coast, actually”, Sean answered, giving his dog an affectionate scratch behind the ear, and making her turn her all-knowing, golden eyes from the night view on him. “Don’t worry, I’m not alone. Chestnut’s here too.”

“Dude, she didn’t even bark when she heard my voice”, said Lyla, with a very obvious and even more dramatic pout on her face. “But wait, what the fuck are you doing there? In Oregon?”, she asked, and this time, it was her confused frown that Sean could see crystal clear as if Lyla was sitting right next to her.

For a brief moment, he truly wished she was.

“I’m chasing ghosts”, when he spoke eventually, it felt as if there was someone else talking with his mouth, unseen powers forcing the air out of his lungs and his tongue and teeth to form the words that echoed for a seemingly endless moment in the car and inside Sean’s head.

And before he could even blink, the echo sunk even deeper, into the darkest pits of his scarred, hurt, lonely soul, as he found himself staring at the unmistakable silhouette of Arcadia Bay in the distance after a slight turn in the road.

He spent the night at Otter Point, in his car, right next to the very same visitors plaque he broke down at, for the first time since fleeing Seattle on that nightmarish afternoon all those years ago, to a man he just met - a man who changed everything, although fifteen years later, Sean wasn’t sure anymore that it was for the better. He wasn’t sure whether he’d still be alive at all if it wasn’t for Brody and his golden heart that night, but he was certain of one thing: that compared to all the horrible things that happened to him, to them, death would’ve been but a merciful release.

Death didn’t come for them, however, at least not in its form that’s known to most people. Instead of taking them, it decided to befriend the Wolf Brothers and tag along on their journey, from the suburbs of Seattle to the iron gates of the Mexican border - and after that, the lifeless, ashen grey walls of a suffocatingly small prison cell in Washington. It was there that night too, in Sean’s car, a worn, cherry-red station wagon just like Brody’s, and inside his head, too, buried deep under the quiet, unsteady chaos of his thoughts. It was in every breath he took, every pill he swallowed, every minute he spent awake wondering what is he even doing, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that could make it go away, that could make death change it’s stubborn mind and to leave Sean Diaz alone, because, throughout the years, it simply grew too fond of him.

And with time, Sean just… Accepted it. He accepted being handpicked by death itself and stopped fighting it because no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, to get rid of it, to pretend that everything was fine, nothing helped; nothing but the acceptance and the handfuls of numbing bitterness he consumed at least two yellow tubes of each month for the past, God knows how many years. Of course, things could’ve been a lot worse, and Sean was fully aware of that - he knew that he was extremely privileged for being able to settle back into society relatively easily after being released from his sentence of nearly two decades spent in one of the country’s biggest federal prisons.

Frankly speaking, it wasn’t about settling back into society as much as it was about doing something he secretly always dreamed of, even before the story of the Wolf Brothers began on that chilly Friday afternoon, in a completely ordinary, perfectly average October of a past, long-lost life. In fact, if someone told sixteen-year-old Sean that everything that’s about to happen to him will eventually lead to a new life in which he is a comic book artist who gets paid for drawing the weird shit in his head, sixteen-year-old Sean would’ve probably laughed until his stomach hurt and happy tears started rolling down his cheek.

And yet, there he was that morning, on top of a hill above the Oregon coast, moderately enjoying his cheap instant coffee in the back of his station wagon (and after a glance at his peaky-faced reflection in the mirror, extremely judging his lack of self-discipline regarding taking care of his beard) while waiting for his tablet to charge fully so he can proceed with the next strips for the fifth chapter of The Adventures of the Pack. Chestnut was running around in excited circles, chasing grasshoppers and butterflies and occasionally, her tail, not particularly minding either her owner or the breathtaking view of the coast, and along with it, the quiet town of Arcadia Bay.

At first, he didn’t even think of making a stop at a seemingly insignificant place like Otter Point on his not-so-spontaneous journey - for some much-needed inspiration or for bittersweet reminiscence, he wasn’t entirely sure anymore -, but while going through dozens of maps and routes and painful memories on a sleepless night before his trip, he stumbled upon a picture Daniel sent him for one of his birthdays spent in prison. A picture from Away, to be precise, of a cozy little bonfire and four people with marshmallow sticks in their hands and tipsy smiles on their faces - a picture that kept him up awake for the whole night, with tears stuck halfway in his throat, desperately trying to fight their way through the walls Sean has built around himself. And the moment he saw David in the picture, he decided that after all the phone calls and visits and almost fatherly check-ins from the man throughout the past fifteen years, the least he can do is stopping in David’s hometown for a quick page or two on his way down South.

“Man, it must be tough being you”, Sean chuckled as he put his empty mug on the small writing desk in the corner of his on-the-go bedroom, looking at Chestnut playing in the dry dirt alongside the road with a wide, amused smile on his face. “Careful, though… I’d rather not break my neck trying to rescue you if you fall down” he added, climbing out of the back of his car with nimble reflexes, the sudden movement answered with excited bark coming from the wolfdog pup.

“Would you look at that”, said Sean with an impressed little snort, walking up to the fence and bending over to rest his arms on it, eyes roaming the endless, unbelievably blue ocean and the gentle waves washing up against the pale sands of Arcadia Bay’s shores. “Can’t decide if it’s beautiful or the most boring shit I’ve ever seen, to be honest… What d’ya think, huh?”, he raised his eyebrows, peeking down at Chestnut yelping next to him, and giving her a loving scratch behind the ears. “Come, check this out”, he beckoned to the visitors plaque next to them with his chin, patting Chestnut’s side gently as he stepped up to the laminated board, full of colorful images of the local wildlife and the town’s various attractions.

“Yeah? That’s where you wanna go?”, he laughed, as Chestnut suddenly stood up on her rear legs, front paws propped against the plaque, curious golden eyes fixated on the picture of Arcadia Bay’s imposing lighthouse. “Y’know what, why the fuck not, we got all the time in the world… At least ‘til next Wednesday'' Sean sighed, looking up from the slightly faded photograph to the actual lighthouse in the distance, peeking out from countless majestic pine trees, its bright, white light rotating with a slow and steady speed on the opposite end of the bay on top of a cliff.

There was something strange, something unsettling about the tall, robust tower that Sean couldn’t exactly put his finger on. He found himself staring at the lighthouse as if it held all the secrets, all the answers to all the questions he’s been searching for all his life - he couldn’t move, he couldn’t blink, he couldn’t even catch his breath for what felt like an eternity, even though it was but a mere moment. As if something was calling him, an invisible, eerie force locking his eyes on the lighthouse, Sean just stood there petrified, and if it wasn’t for Chestnut and her eager little woof startling him back to reality, he probably would’ve stayed there like that until sunset.

“Yeah, why the fuck not”, he murmured under his nose, shaking his head like he just woke from a weird dream as he turned away from Arcadia Bay and walked up to his car, trying to ignore the uncanny tingling in the back of his head - and the unmistakable feeling of being watched by a pair of all-seeing, otherworldly eyes.

It took surprisingly long to get to the other side of the bay from Otter Point. By the time Sean reached the lighthouse, the sun was high in the spotless blue sky, radiating its warm light so dazzlingly he had to shield his eyes with his hand as he exited the car. He parked the station wagon in a small clearing surrounded by fragrant, sky-high pine trees, at the bottom of a meandrous set of wooden stairs half-eaten by the soil, and began his short hike up to the lighthouse with Chestnut trotting by his side. The forest around them was peaceful and bustling with cheerful and welcoming Spring life; they saw busy bees and chirping birds and dancing butterflies everywhere as they made their way uphill, following the glimmering sunspots on the ground.

“Alright, same rules apply, okay? No running along the edge, it’s rocky down there”, said Sean when they reached the top of the stairs, grabbing Chestnut’s collar the very last minute before the pup could just storm off to explore the uncharted territory. “Stay… Staaay…”, he raised his eyebrows as the pup looked up at him with giant eyes full of excited sparkles, wagging her tail like the clearing in front of her was the last one on Earth to roam. “Good girl. Run along now, but carefully, please”, he said after a moment or two, as he let go of Chestnut, watching her dart off as a fired arrow with a proud, fatherly smile on his face before following the pup to the clearing.

The lighthouse stood tall on the edge of the cliff, watching over Arcadia Bay like a robust, all-seeing guardian. Seeing the tower up close, Sean felt the same magnetic energy that practically hypnotized him from all the way across the bay, only this time, he felt it ten folds stronger, as he stood there and stared at the lighthouse, tilting his head back as much as he could to take in the breathtaking sight in all its mesmerizing entirety. It felt like he arrived in another dimension where time didn’t work as it did on his own; as if a heavy, velvety curtain fell on the world, closing around the cliff and creating an odd, languid void where the pace of time just wasn’t the same. It was quiet, yes, peaceful, even, but at the same time, the air was strangely disturbed, unsettling and mysterious - and eerily inviting.

After what felt like half a lifetime of staring at the lighthouse, Sean noticed a worn bench on the edge of the cliff. He watched Chestnut sweep across the clearing, very much occupied with chasing something that looked like an azure-blue butterfly at first glance, before walking up to the bench and sitting down on it, turning his gaze towards the magnificent view of the bay below him as he reached for his cigarette case in his pocket. With the first puff of bitter smoke, he closed his eyes, and for a while, he just listened to the waves crashing against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff and the squawking of a few stray seagulls circling around the lantern room, before bringing himself to unzip his backpack and pull out his tablet and sketchbook from the messy depths of it.

He only hesitated for a brief moment before he put the tablet back in his bag, and along with it, his deadlines and professional responsibilities, settling with his trusted sketchbook instead. He preferred drawing on actual paper with an actual pen anyway, and he felt like procrastinating a little before letting his work swallow him in one bite. Flipping through dozens of pages of unfinished drawings until he finally reached a blank page, Sean started sketching Arcadia Bay with strainless ease, his eye constantly moving back and forth between the sketchbook and the view until the chaos of thin, black lines started to come together and he didn’t have to look anymore.

And this is when the time truly stopped around him, as it always did when Sean took the pen. It was just him and his vision of the world under the sun, and of course, Chestnut running around the clearing, her lanky, brown form always somewhere in the corner of his eye.

“You’re really pressed about this butterfly, aren’t you”, he chuckled as Chestnut ran across his feet relentlessly, making Sean look up from the content little wolf he’s been sketching for a while without even realizing that he started adding it to the drawing. He didn’t even notice anymore, since this was the case with many, if not most of his drawings - as if he was physically incapable of finishing a drawing without wolves in it, or for that matter, drawing for someone who wasn’t his brother.

“I mean, it’s a pretty fucking stunning butterfly if you ask me”, answered a mischievous voice beside him, completely out of the blue, startling Sean so unexpectedly that he almost fell off the bench.

“De puta madr-!!”, he exclaimed in fright as he turned his head, and the next moment, he found himself staring at a young, slim girl, leaning against the crooked fence on the edge of the cliff. “I mean, ugh Jesus. Sorry, I didn’t see you there” he added quickly, clearing his throat as he looked the girl up and down, wondering how long has it been since she got there - and most importantly, how in the world didn’t he notice her when she arrived.

“It’s kinda rare that anyone does, to be honest” shrugged the girl, stepping away from the fence, piercing blue eyes shifting from Sean’s colorless face to the sketchbook in his lap. She was tall and slender, wearing ripped jeans with a leather jacket and a black beanie, electric blue hair framing her narrow, elfish face. She looked like she was in her late teens, early twenties, maybe, and even though Sean was certain he’s never seen her before, somehow it felt like he’s known the girl for his entire life. “What are you drawing? Can I see?”

“Sure, take a look” he said, scooting over a little so the girl could sit next to her. “It’s a… I don’t even know what, that started off as a landscape sketch” he explained, scratching the inner corner of his empty eye socket and suddenly wishing he put on his eyepatch before coming up to the lighthouse. The girl, however, was way too invested in his sketchbook to even notice that there was something unusual about his appearance, and even if she did, she didn’t seem to be taken aback by it - or at least she didn’t feel the urge to stare, unlike most people Sean has met throughout his life.

“This is really cool, dude” the girl said after a while, looking up at him with a wide, impressed grin before turning her gaze back to Sean’s drawing. “Are you like, an artist or something?”

“Artist is an overstatement but yeah, I draw comics for a living” Sean answered, reaching out for Chestnut when he noticed the pup is running towards him. “This one isn’t for work though. It’s a… Gift. For my brother”, he added, his smile suddenly fading with the words, and not returning even when Chestnut wriggled her way in between his legs and placed her head in his lap, staring up at him with giant puppy eyes.

“Something gives me the impression that he’s the small one”, the girl chuckled, pointing at the younger wolf on Sean’s drawing, chasing a butterfly on the edge of the cliffside looking over Arcadia Bay, next to his bigger, scruffier, one-eyed brother, relaxing under a pine tree.

“I have no idea what makes you say that” said Sean with a faint smile on his face, gently fondling Chestnut’s head in his lap. “The older I get, the more it feels like it’s the other way around, to be honest”, he sighed quietly, feeling his entire chest harden all of a sudden as he took a glance at his sketchbook between the long nails of the strange girl next to her.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” asked the girl bluntly the next moment, carefully closing Sean’s sketchbook and putting it between them on the bench. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in Arcadia Bay before, and that’s pretty shocking considering that we’re talking about a town of 200 people where nothing ever happens…”

“Yeah, I’m just traveling. Thought I’d drive through town and check out the view from here” Sean answered, and as he pulled out another cigarette from his pocket, he couldn’t help but notice the sudden sparks of longing in the girl’s eyes. “You want one?”

“Not gonna lie, I could kill for a smoke… But no thanks. I… Can’t”, the girl gulped, watching with eager eyes as Sean reluctantly put the cigarette in his mouth. “Oh, no, it’s okay, I don’t mind. The smell’s gonna do the trick” she said, exhaling the smoke of the first huff with a strange, almost euphoric smile as Sean lit his cigarette at last.

“Oh man… You got some superior shit right there” she said, her smile slowly growing into a content, wide grin. “But anyway… As much as Arcadia Bay is the most boring shithole in the whole wide world, I hope your trip was worth it in the end.”

“Sounds like you lived here for a while, huh?”, Sean asked, eyebrows raised, to which the girl let out a sarcastic snort. “Oof. That bad?”

“There are no words to describe just how bad, my dude” the girl answered, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around her long legs pulled up to her chest. “I’ve been stuck here my whole fucking life. Wanted to leave since I was fourteen” she continued, the playful cheer suddenly leaving her voice and leaving behind gloomy shadows on her face. “Should’ve gotten the fuck outta here the first chance I got”, she said sourly, planting her chin between her knees and staring blankly in the distance, to a faraway place Sean couldn’t follow her to - and even if he could, he wouldn’t want to.

“So why didn’t you?”, Sean blurted out before thinking twice, but before he could even think of a way to apologize for possibly having crossed a line, the girl laughed out loud and dry.

“Have a wild guess, dude. ‘Cause of love, of course”, she snorted again, only this time, sarcasm was replaced with something much darker in her tone. “I was just waiting for the right time y’know. Back then, I had no idea that no such thing exists. Not for anything, not for anyone. There is just you and time, and time is nothing but a massive fucking trap, waiting for you to get stuck in it” she said, eyes darker than the coldest nights of winter. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to explode like that.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for anything”, Sean shook his head, placing his burnt-out cigarette butt under the bench next to the previous one. “I’m just not sure I get what you mean.”

“No worries, I wouldn’t expect you to get it anyway” the girl shrugged, and the next moment, she turned her gaze to Sean, all-seeing blue eyes staring right into his soul. “You know, people hardly ever come to the lighthouse anymore, except when they should be somewhere else. And even if they come, they barely notice me. It’s nice that you did. And that you listened, too. I’m not sure where you’re supposed to be now, but I’m glad you’re here” she smiled, patting Sean’s hand with a surprisingly cold palm briefly, retreating almost immediately as he shuddered next to her.

“Yeah, I’m glad I took a little detour too” he smiled back at the girl before his glance wandered off to his sketchbook lying between them on the bench. “But I think I should get going now. I’d love to stay and chat, but… I’m ridiculously late already”, he added, a concerned frown taking over the upper half of his face, and a bewildered grin the lower, as somehow, at that moment, he realized there’s a chance that perhaps he has given into the nonsense of his own depression slightly more than he should have in the first place.

“Yeah, you probably are”, said the girl with a playful wink, standing up from the bench and stretching her long arms above her head. “Man, what a spectacular fucking afternoon. I mean, look at the Sun. Such a radiant bitch boss, for real”, she declared lovingly, making Sean laugh out loud for the first time in the past few days, or even weeks, maybe.

“Need a lift?”, Sean asked the girl as they turned their backs on the lighthouse, and started walking towards the staircase leading to the small clearing at the bottom of the cliff.

“Nah, thanks, but I’m not done here yet”, the girl said, shoving both her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans. “Got some wandering to do, y’know… Contemplating the beauty of Spring and all” she looked at him with a somewhat shy smile, and Sean decided not to risk crossing any more lines with any more questions.

“I guess this is where we part ways then” he nodded his head when they reached his station wagon, waiting patiently next to the tourist map of the cliff. “Enjoy contemplating the beauty of Spring, I guess?”, he smiled at the girl, opening the door of the passenger’s seat for Chestnut.

“Yeah, thanks, man. You take care too, okay?” answered the girl, and the next moment, before Sean could say anything, her eyes suddenly widened. “And don’t forget to sketch up a cool portrait of me or something if you got the time, will you?”

“Stop reading my mind, a’ight?” Sean laughed, waving at the girl before sitting in his car, a sudden burst of energy washing over him as the door closed behind him. The urge to drive as fast as he just can was stronger than he’s ever felt it before, but somehow, he managed to control it, closing his eyes and leaning back on his seat for a long, silent moment before reaching for his phone. Swiping away dozens of notifications, he then opened his contacts and pressed call on the first name on top of the list - the only number he’s ever called, really.

The ringing stopped right after he pressed his phone between his ear and shoulder, and turned the car key under the steering wheel.

“Hey enano. I’m on my way.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hey! Thank you for reading! ❤

This short story is my contribution to a Christmas Short Story Exchange we did with my best friends. (It is also my first ever fanfiction in English!) I was writing for one of my best friends who got me into Life is Strange years ago, so when we pulled each other’s names and I found out I’m writing for her, I immediately knew that I’ll work with the Diaz brothers and Chloe.

2020 Christmas Short Story Exchange Word count: 5353 | Written December 22nd-27th. I’m on AO3 now! Head over for more fanfictions. ❤

#fanfiction #Life is Strange #Life is Strange 2 #Sean Diaz #Daniel Diaz #Lyla Park #Chloe Price #Post-Redemption Ending #Post-Save Arcadia Bay Ending #under 10k #story #writing #writers on tumblr #short story #fan fiction #fanfic #light angst

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strangestdrabbles · 5 years

Text

This Just In: I Love You

A/N: I LOVED WRITING THIS,, i hope it turned out well though because it was such a fun ride to write,, i hope i did the characters justice

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Fem!Reader

“I still can’t believe that you got the job at the Hawkins Post.”

Y/N laughed softly while packing her bag, not facing Steve as he leaned against her door frame. If she was honest with herself she couldn’t believe she got the job either, the newspaper run by a group of men that found amusement in throwing snide remarks at women and feigning ignorance; her stomach twisting slightly but she knew that she was strong and could take care of herself.

“Well I can’t believe you got the job at Scoops Ahoy.”

It was after that that Y/N stood up and faced Steve, bag on her shoulder and choppy hair framing her face perfectly. Her body was clad in a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow and the first few buttons undone, tucked into high waisted dress pants that elongated her legs and a pair of old skool vans because she wanted to be able to handle a full day of work.

“You look amazing.”

A pretty blush settled on the high points of Y/N’s cheeks then before she grabbed her car keys and walked out of her bedroom, Steve quick to follow her after closing the door. The sky was an opalescent blue and the sun was winking while providing a soft heat, both Y/N and Steve thankful as they got in the car.

“So are you glad that you’re working with Nancy and Jonathan?”

Y/N reversed out and began to drive before she answered, turning her head to face Steve momentarily before looking back at the road.

“Yeah it makes working easier and I’m glad I have people that mean the world to me alongside me every day.”

Steve didn’t bring up the fact that the reason Y/N enjoyed working with Jonathan so much was because she was in love with him, wanting to tell her that she should just confess to him because Jonathan felt the same; not noticing that Y/N turned her head momentarily to take Steve in before turning back to the road.

“So how are you and Jonathan?” Steve asked, his voice soft as the sun winked across the windshield every few moments and providing periods of delicate warmth; Steve’s eyes slipping closed to truly enjoy the rarity.

“I- um,” Y/N began while a rose blush began to flush on the apples of her cheeks, her heart skipping while her stomach filled with an addictive warmth and momentarily her hands tightened on the steering wheel, “we’re good. We’re really good actually. I really love him.”

Steve smiled while turning his head to face Y/N and watch the soft bursts of sunlight hit her, allowing her words to just settle before getting more comfortable.

“You love him?”

Y/N quickly turned her head to make eye contact with Steve before facing the road again, laughing while soft rosiness settled on her cheeks.

“Shut up. Yes I do.”

The smell of coffee overwhelmed Y/N as she walked into the Hawkin’s Post building, running a hand through her hair while the sound of typewriters filled the space; Y/N quick to put her stuff down at her desk. She didn’t notice Jonathan and Nancy standing next to the coffee machine, Nancy talking casually as she poured coffee and Jonathan staring at Y/N with hearts in his eyes and a honey feeling filling his stomach. The sun hit Y/N in a way that made her look absolutely ethereal in Jonathan’s eyes, a faint rose blush staining his cheeks as Y/N pushed some hair behind her right ear before turning; a smile stretching her lips when she made eye contact first with Jonathan and then Nancy.

“Your hair looks incredible,” Nancy said in a soft voice, taking a sip of her coffee before looking at Jonathan with a smirk, “doesn’t it Jonathan?”

Jonathan choked on his spit while his cheeks heated a bright red, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth because there was the girl he loved staring at him with stars in her eyes; Y/N’s hand resting on her cheek while blinking up at him.

“O-Oh yeah it does. It looks beautiful.”

Y/N laughed while running a hand through her hair, the light catching which left Jonathan breathless because of how ethereal yet untouchable she looked and seemed.

“Thank you darling.”

Y/N stepped forward then to be closer to Jonathan before wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. Jonathan’s right hand rested on his camera while Y/N and Nancy spoke, the sound of conversation and constant typing filled the gaps as the sun filtered through the windows and provided the space with quick warmth. Jonathan left a soft kiss on the crown of Y/N’s head while holding her close because the need to show affection and be close to her was overwhelming, whispering a soft ‘I love you’ into her hair because he needed her to know.

“I love you too.” Y/N whispered before squeezing his bicep, enjoying the warmth radiating from Jonathan and the constant of his heartbeat.

There was a soft moment before Jonathan pulled away but not without lingering his hand on Y/N’s for a few brief moments, giving her a soft smile as she walked back over to her desk to grab a few things; walking into Tom Holloway’s office after. Jonathan’s hands quickly went to hold his camera while his heart slowed down and the flush on his cheeks faded, not noticing that Nancy was watching him with a soft smile on her lips; only coming out of his reverie when Nancy giggled and rested her hand on his bicep.

“You really love her don’t you?” Nancy asked, her voice sweet and light.

Jonathan looked at her with wide eyes before an involuntary smile appeared on his lips, the feeling of flowers blooming in his chest causing him to feel warm.

“Yeah I-I do. I really do.”

Nancy smiled wider which caused a soft blush to settle on the high points of Jonathan’s cheeks and ears, turning his body to try and will away the heat. It was at that moment that Y/N left Tom’s office, running a hand through his hair before closing the door; beelining it to her desk and grabbing her bag.

“Hey Jonathan?”

Both he and Nancy turned their heads towards Y/N then, Jonathan tilting his head which made him look like a puppy while Y/N walked over to the pair.

“Yeah?”

A smirk settled on Y/N’s lips before she held her notebook up, her eyes bright which made it feel like a hook pulled in his stomach.

“Do you wanna come with me on my story?”

“Yeah that sounds great.”

Y/N laughed before heading off towards the door, Jonathan quickly grabbing a few things before leaving after her; the pair quick to intertwine hands once they were out on the sun drenched street. Jonathan leaned over and left a soft kiss on her head because he couldn’t help it, in awe of how confident and sure of herself she was.

“You’re a vision my love.”

Y/N smiled before looking at her boyfriend, the love of her life.

“Cheeky.”

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