#Like a journal entry but it’s her direct thoughts

[treehuggerthegreat]

whump inspiration/writing exercise

(A fictional writing exercise, this is NOT a vent post. This is me messing with my ocs)

TW: In depth description of depressive thoughts self doubt, domestic abuse, and passive suicidal ideation

I have friends now, I told myself once I had friends they’d be able to help me. I could get away or at least feel a little happier, but they can’t help. I can’t even ask them for help. Would they even care? What if I end up scaring away the one girl who has ever seen me. Why won’t anyone help me. Am I even worth saving? Is it even worth saving me if i can’t save myself?

I want to leave. I want to move out. But i can’t, can I? She could just… leave. But she doesn’t. She could leave me here with grandma. Yet she continues to suffocate me. There’s not enough from for me here anymore. What does she want?

Why does she hate me so much?

what did I

ever

do

to

deserve

this

Do I deserve this?

What if i just

let her

kill

me

Would any of my friends miss me?

But why would a friend miss a girl

when her own mother hated her enough

To

To kill her

…

would she really do that?

Would she kill me?

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝔅𝔢 𝔙𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔄𝔣𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔡

fandom: my hero academia

relationship: class 1a x gn! reader (platonic)

summary: you don’t typically use your quirk as to not frighten people, but you wind up using it when Mineta is bothering your girl friends.

contains: mineta being a perv, y/n being terrifying yet beautiful, maybe a little rushed at the end sorry

Upon first getting your quirk at age four, you and your parents initially thought they were merely angel wings. By junior high however, you came to realize there was more to it than that, and after a few small incidents that included you inadvertently making a classmate nearly pass out, you opted to keep your power on the down low most of the time. But your quirk still needed to breathe, so to speak, so you let your first pair of wings out.

Once you reached high school and enrolled in UA, you were still hesitant to use your power to its full extent, and not just for the sake of not frightening anyone, but also because you were fairly certain that if you did, Bakugou would see it as a challenge and become bent on one-upping you. And you didn’t have the time for that.

Either way, it actually didn’t take too long for the truth to come out. From day one, your shortest classmate made a pretty solid impression as a little pervert, and it had you on your toes a lot, not just for yourself, but for your friends. You had gotten used to using your wings to create distance between Mineta and the girls, but you were getting real fed up with it real fast.

There were only a handful of scenarios wherein you deemed it necessary to go the whole nine yards, and when you spotted him trying to sneak up on Momo, Ochako, and Mina, you didn’t even think twice as you speed walked towards them, sliding your jacket off of your shoulders and tying it smoothly around your waist.

You put yourself between him and the girls, activating your quirk so quickly that a gust of wind blew through the room, making the girls jump in surprise a bit and causing Mineta to stumble and fall back and several other heads to turn in your direction.

There they saw you hovering a couple feet off the ground, all three sets of wings out and a soft halo of light surrounding your head. You had opened a few extra eyes, all glowing like the sun. But there wasn’t a trace of mercy in your gaze as you stared Mineta down. You almost didn’t hear the soft gasps of your other classmates as they stared at you in awe.

“Be afraid. Be. Very. Afraid.”

It took a moment for Mineta to snap out of his horrified state, before he quickly scrambled to his feet and booked it away from you, stuttering apologies as he scurried off. And with that, you lowered yourself to the ground and sighed, your halo fading and your extra eyes closing back up. Looking over your shoulder, you looked at your girl friends and offered them a tender smile, in complete contrast to the death stare you were wearing just seconds prior.

“Be not afraid.” you said sweetly before Mina gave you a big hug which you returned.

“(L/n), you’re the best!” she exclaimed joyously. “Thank you so much.” Momo said.

“No worries. I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while now.” you said, mumbling at the last part. Ururaka went on about how she was sure that you would be an awesome hero some day, beloved by girls everywhere.

Midoriya was already flipping through his journal to add on to the entry he made about you and Jirou had a proud smile on her face, glad that someone was able to scare Mineta off like that. Iida was stunned, but honestly amazed by how gracefully you handled the situation, and Kaminari was simultaneously terrified and impressed as he made a mental note to never mess with you or your friends, even if he was one of them.

Kirishima’s look of shock turned into a beaming smile as he went over to compliment your quirk and how strong you were. Bakugou… wasn’t sure what to think. He was impressed, though he probably wouldn’t tell you that to your face, and maybe slightly intimidated by you upon realizing how much you must have been holding back during training and sparring. Aizawa on the other hand, made a mental note to try and explore this side of your quirk in future training.

[starmosaics]

Many Rohinis are known for being in the public eye and having an infectious presence— whether it’s good or bad, eyes are on them, but from my observations and my own personal experience along with having loved ones with Rohini placements, most of us feel like we’re playing a part.

You can find Rohinis sometimes unknowingly play into someone’s projections or fantasies of them, other times they’re entirely aware. This may leave the Rohini native feeling alone and misunderstood because of their tendency to show people what they want to see, not who they actually are within. I feel like people tend to have this “idea” about Rohinis that can be so far off from the reality that at times the Rohini native may unconsciously absorb whatever that idea of them is. The Moon is receptive meaning it is constantly receiving stimuli and is sensitive to its environment; it can be easily influenced. Rohinis also receive a lot of passivity, jealousy and anger from people when they don’t match that person’s idea of them. However you perceive a Rohini to be, in worst cases the Rohini can mirror it back to you as we know the Moon reflects.

Marilyn Monroe for example had a Rohini Sun and was either loved or totally loathed by the public and had this reputation for being this beautiful and sensual actress. She often publicly portrayed herself as this innocent woman with a teasing presence that made men go crazy for her, yet she had a very sorrowful and vulnerable side that not many people got to see.

She was known for something called “The Marilyn Monroe Effect” where she would alter herself into a persona which caught people’s eyes. Essentially, Marilyn was wearing a mask. She was a character perceived as a sex symbol by the male gaze.

In her journal entries, Marilyn wrote about loneliness. Bette Davis also said she could sense Marilyn’s loneliness when asked about the actress as she and Marilyn starred in a film together.

Another example is Rohini Sun Priscilla Beaulieu who was 14 when she met her future husband Elvis Presley who was significantly older than her. She was heavily idealized by Elvis and was deemed to have an innocence that Elvis favored. Elvis claimed that he could “train her anyway he wanted.” He ended up doing exactly that; molding her into his fantasy wife, treating her as if she was a doll. He made her dress a certain way, he made her wear makeup and told her to dye her hair and she willingly did out of love for Elvis to embody being “the perfect wife”. Once again, here’s an example of a Rohini playing a role and being shaped by those surrounding them. She also had a lot of Elvis’ fans show disdain towards her as she was dating one of the biggest stars at the time.

In the 2023 film “Priscilla” directed by Sofia Coppola, based on Priscilla’s book “Elvis and Me”, it dives into Priscilla’s backstory. The director perfectly depicts how lonely Priscilla was standing beside Elvis. Many of the scenes within this film show Priscilla being alone in a large empty house.

Rohinis often put their best foot forward to show the world and those they love much like Marilyn and Priscilla did and as a Rohini Sun myself, I can heavily relate. It would make sense for people with this nakshatra in their charts to do such since Rohini is Lunar in nature and the Moon has a mysterious and deep side; being selective as to what you present to the masses (Moon rules masses). There’s a very soft, vulnerable and somewhat melancholic side of Rohini that they possess.

It’s a very vulnerable thing to unmask and show the real and raw unfiltered self when you’re idealized by others or expected to show up a certain way, and it can be a very isolating feeling to not feel understood by anybody which is a very familiar phenomenon to those with Rohini placements. When people don't grasp your nature, thoughts and feelings, it can create a profound sense of isolation, making you feel alone even when surrounded by others, which is what I meant by in an earlier post about how Rohinis may feel alone in a room full of people. To be unknown or misunderstood is to be lonely.

[alessiasfreckles]

amnesia - part 4 (ona batlle x reader, alexia putellas x reader)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

warnings: none!

---------

“Well, what’s the story of our friendship? Is there anything I should know about there? Any drama that happened, any secrets? Please, no more secrets,” you said with a wry smile. 

Alexia took a deep breath.

“We became friends pretty quickly, when you moved to Barcelona. You’re a very easy person to be friends with, an easy person to like,” Alexia said. “You spent a lot of time with me, and a lot of time with Ona. At the start, I… I was jealous, actually.”

“Of me?” you asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe? Of Ona, of both of you, I think.”

“Why?”

She took a breath, picking at her nails. “Like I said, you’re a very easy person to like. You’re very pretty, you’re amazing on the pitch, you’re kind and funny.”

Her words hung in the air for a minute. 

“You liked me? As in, romantically?” you asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Si,” she said, looking down at her hands. Her cheeks were pink.

“Your hair- it used to be pink, right?” you said suddenly, images of a pink ponytail flashing to mind.

“I- si, did you remember?” she asked, looking up at you. 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Um, do you still like me? Like that?”

Alexia shrugged noncommittally, not meeting your eye, then sighed. “Si - but nothing has to change. I do not want anything to change between us. We are very good friends, I would never want to lose that.”

“Okay, then. Nothing will change,” you agreed. “Although, I don’t really remember much about what it was like before, so for all I know this could be entirely different to how things used to be. It’s kind of weird, not really knowing what I’m like or what my life was like. Really weird, actually.”

Alexia, who had been quiet since her admission, brightened up. “I have an idea!” she said, sitting up straight. “What if I show you what your life was like before? I can take you to your favourite places, show you what you usually would do!”

“That sounds great!” 

“It will have to be after training,” she said, frowning. “Will you be okay during the day on your own?”

You waved her off. “I’ll manage. It’ll give me time to go through everything here, try to remember more.”

By the time Alexia left for the night (after repeatedly asking if you were sure that you’d be okay on your own, and if you needed anything to call her, or anyone else from the team), you were exhausted, both physically and mentally. Despite how tired you were, getting into what was supposedly your own bed felt wrong, and you spent the night twisting and turning, unable to get comfortable.

Still, waking up and seeing something other than the hospital walls felt like a step in the right direction. You spent the morning going through everything you could find in your apartment that could give you clues about who you were. A journal from when you’d first moved to Barcelona (that you’d only managed to write three entries in before giving up) described your first days with the team, how nervous you’d been and how welcomed Alexia made you feel, and how you were so intimidated by Ona and how attractive she was but that she was so friendly to you, immediately putting you at ease. A paragraph about Alexia made you pause, the way you had written almost made it sound like you had a crush on her, the way you described her, raving about how good she was at football, how nice she was, how pretty. It was followed by another paragraph about Ona, and how amazing she was, and you rolled your eyes at your past self.

Reading about Ona felt weird, and you put the journal back, trying to push the thoughts of her out of your mind. Still, when you got hungry you were reminded of her once again, the fridge full of food that she had prepared for you. You pulled a covered bowl out to find a handwritten note on top, telling you what food was inside, with a smiley face and a heart. You told yourself that the funny feeling in your stomach was purely due to being hungry, nothing else, but you carefully left the note on the counter, not wanting to throw it away. 

By the time Alexia arrived you were starting to feel a little stir crazy, your leg making it hard to move around. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you told her as you opened the door.

“Hello to you, too,” she laughed. 

“Yes, hi. I miss going outside, and I’m all ready for our trip!” you told her, waving your crutches in the air.

“Woah, okay, I can see that!” she ducked as you waved your crutches a little too close to her head. “Okay, the first place we are going to go is a café nearby. It is your favourite. Usually you walk but I think we will drive.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you said, slumping a little. You’d been looking forward to moving a little, your body feeling tense from inactivity. “You’re too sensible.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards as she suppressed a smile. 

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the café. You took a deep breath as you hobbled inside, and the smell of coffee and fresh pastries filling your lungs. It instantly felt familiar, and you were drawn to a seat by the window. 

Alexia watched as you moved to sit down, smiling. “That’s your favourite spot. You always sit there.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I like to watch the people going past.”

She raised an eyebrow, and you cocked your head, then realised what you’d said. “Huh. I don’t know where that came from, but it feels right.”

You watched Alexia as she ordered at the counter, thinking about what she’d told you last night. You weren’t sure how to feel - remembering her words made your stomach flutter, but you weren’t sure why. When she sat down, a drink for each of you and a pastry on a plate, you felt a sudden wave of emotion. 

“This is my favourite, right? This is what I always get,” you asked, and she nodded, smiling shyly. “You remembered?”

“Of course, chiqui,” she said. 

As you ate, you talked about football, which seemed like a safe topic. Your mind kept wandering though, thinking about the way that Alexia had known where to take you. She knew your favourite café, your usual order, she had known all the right things to say to you. You felt your cheeks warming up as you realised how much she cared about you, your old journal entry coming to mind, and you caught yourself wondering why nothing had ever happened between you.

“You seem distracted,” Alexia said, interrupting your stream of consciousness. “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, uh, not much,” you quickly said. “Just about training, when I’ll be able to go back.”

“Ah,” she said, frowning. “I am not sure. Maybe you can ask the doctor on Friday?”

You nodded, your cheeks still pink. As you reached for your drink, your phone vibrated on the table. 

[Ona:] Please can we meet, and talk? Tomorrow?

[amongemeraldclouds]

Things I’ll Never Say

Why say things out loud when you can write them all down in a journal? No need to inconvenience everyone else with silly declarations of love that’s only guaranteed to break your heart. So what happens when your enemy - of all people - finds it?

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

Thanks to @thatdammchickennugget for the prompt. Here's my official entry for the Hogmarch challenge, prompt one. 1k words.

Author’s note: The way I screamed when this idea came to mind! Journaling is such a big part of my life, I’ll take any and every chance I can to incorporate it to my stories.

Indented text are journal entries.

Warning: Cursing, no use of y/n, slight angst but it’s kinda cute. Fluff express coming through!

✿ Masterlist

“Stop copying my notes!” I hiss at Lorenzo, moving my arm to cover my parchment.

“Come on, I missed class today. I need to catch up,” he says, tugging at the arm of my sweater.

“Go ask your friends,” I retort, moving my arm away from his grasp.

“You know they’re not in that class, just you,” he insists.

“Oh we’re not friends,” I deadpan.

“It won’t take long,” he tries again.

“If you weren’t busy sleeping around with everyone, Berkshire. You would have made it to class this morning.”

 He leans in to my ear and whispers, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

I grab the nearest hardbound book and swing it in his direction. Thwack! It strikes his shoulder.

The librarian looks at us sternly. “Your final warning was just given five minutes ago. No noise in the library!” She points her finger to the exit, “You two, out!”

“Great. Thanks for that, Berkshire. Good luck with your notes.” My face gets hot with embarrassment as I gather my things and rush off to the exit.

Enzo spots a black leather bound journal in the area you just vacated. He takes it with him as he exits the library. She’s always writing in this notebook. I’m sure she won’t mind if I take a peek, I’ll give it back to her anyway.

He damn well knew you would mind. When he reaches a quiet corner of the hallway, he proceeds to turn the cover anyway.

I know, I know. I’m not supposed to like Lorenzo Berkshire. Why the fuck did I just draw a heart over the “i”! That’s it. I’m losing my mind! I can’t be caught liking the boy who spewed the word mudblood in my direction our first year. Like it’s my fault I was born into my family. And screw him okay, muggles are awesome. I can break my own heart with my misguided affections, but I’d rather die before I ever let him break my heart. So before I check myself into a mental asylum, I need to just say this somewhere. Anywhere. A last ditch effort to save my sanity.

He’s the intrusive thought I love to entertain in my head.

As a dare, he took off his shirt at the party. My toes curled. I pretended not to notice him.

I heard him laughing with his friends. I love the way it lit up his face.

I saw him enter his dorm hand in hand with a girl. I never wish to be her, another one night stand. Once would never be enough. 

I nearly kissed him again.

He helped me pick up the pile of books I dropped at the library. He seemed kind and concerned. Ha! Who am I kidding?

I count down the hours until I see him again.

Maybe in another lifetime it wouldn’t matter: bloodlines, social status, and hierarchies. So unnecessary.

I noticed the veins in his arm at quidditch practice. I tried not to bite my lip. What must it be like to be wrapped in those arms?

And there he was again with his stupid hair breaking my stupid heart.

Enzo hears determined footsteps approaching and he shuts the journal, hiding it behind him.

“Fine, Berkshire,” I sigh when I reach him. “Here, take my notes,” I say, handing it out to him.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you so desperate to get them earlier?” I fold my arms. “I will not be part of the reason you fail in class.” I point at him, “you and your dumb ass can very well do it yourself. I have more important things to worry about.”

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

My brain short circuits, the fire freezing in my veins. How the hell does he know?

He smirks, pulling out a familiar black journal. My eyes widen.

“On second thought,” I say, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter,” I turn around and walk away. “Fail class for all I care.”

I’m yanked back when I feel Enzo’s grip on my wrist. “Wait.”

My heart thumps in my chest. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. He knows!

“I’m sorry,” he says. What? I turn back, my confused expression directed at him.

“That I called you a mudblood,” he explains. “I was a dumb ass when we were younger.”

“Finally, we agree on something,” I state, trying to mask the tremble in my voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you back then and I was prejudiced. Over the years, I enjoyed watching your passion for magic and studying. How you light up when you talk to your friends about a book you just read. And how you’re always the first to volunteer when someone needs help. You have this fire and warmth in you and I just need to be around it all the time. I’m reduced to being a moth to your flame and I don’t mind it at all.”

I blink, speechless.

He takes a step forward, voice softening. “Why do you think I tease you all the time?”

“Well how the fuck was I supposed to know?” The anger not quite there in my voice.

“I just wanted a chance to talk to you and I thought you hated me.” He brushes the hair from my face and cups my face. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

I roll my eyes, “Oh no, I do hate you.” I falter, “but maybe I kind of, just sort of, like you too.”

He grins. “It seems there are things we need to talk about. Will you go on a date with me?”

My heart stutters. “You already know my answer.”

He laughs, “stubborn as always. I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulls me in for a hug. 

Oh. Being wrapped in his strong arms is even better than I imagined. I rest my head on his shoulder when a thought occurs to me.

“You’re sure this is not just some elaborate ploy for me to keep giving you my notes?”

He sighs, “of course not, just enjoy this moment."

He moves his mouth to my ear, "But if you do, I solemnly swear I will make it worth your while.”

I don't hit him this time.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: For those who get the Avril Lavigne title reference, here's a tight hug for you! ♡

I may or may not have also had a place where I wrote down love confessions for someone I couldn’t have. Some of those may or may not have been included in the journal entries.

Two fics published in one day? Who is she?

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 1

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: social drinking, mechanical bull-related injuries lol

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.7k so far

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi! i'm aqua and this is my first ever fic so please be nice!! i will be crossposting this work and all future works on my ao3 of the same name. i'm figuring out how this works as i go, so please be patient with me. tags are subject to change with every update. i won't have a posting schedule for this one, but i have the first few chapters pre-written, so expect an update sometime next week!

Chapter 1: Lay Your Cards Down, Down, Down, Down

Although this is the furthest thing from your scene, you can’t help but think to yourself that you should invest in some cowboy boots. You could make them work, you’re sure of it.

Even if you know you would never pull the trigger on purchasing any, too far out of the comfort zone of your normal style, the thought is the only thing keeping you sane—that, and the sound of Cowboy Carter blasting through the speakers of the bar, a welcome reprieve from the drawling, boring country anthems you’d been suffering through for the past hour or so. 

You pride yourself on seeing the merit in all genres of music, you do. You were always the type of person who puffed up her chest when you told people ‘I listen to everything,’ uncaring of how pretentious it may sound. You mean it. It’s an asset in your line of work, and as far as you’re concerned, a little bit of pretentiousness is a small price to pay for the, quite frankly, baller route your fledgling career is heading in. 

But a Western bar? Not the kind of place you’d spend a precious Friday night willingly. Another hazard of the job.

After months of skillfully avoiding the weekly Friday nights out with the other rookie reporters at the magazine, you’d run out of excuses not to join them. If four years studying communications taught you anything, it was that connections are everything in the journalism business. Even more so where the music industry is concerned.

So here you are, at your fourth stop of your night of bar hopping with your extroverted and extremely drunk coworkers, nursing warm beer and observing from the least populated corner you managed to scout upon entry. All things considered, you had been a good sport at the three previous stops. You just draw the line at square dancing with the people you work with. College may have beaten your fear of impromptu phone calls and talking to strangers out of you, but your social battery can only take so much. 

Your phone battery, too, you think bitterly as you stare down at the low battery warning on your screen. Okay, so you’ll finish your shitty beer (because you’re not quite successful enough yet to afford wasting alcohol that you’re paying for) and then use your phone’s remaining juice to catch an Uber home. No biggie.

You’re in the middle of turning off your phone with full intent to work out the kinks of your exit strategy when you realize, with irritation, that your chosen corner is about to be invaded.

Your eyes land on a pair of black Jordans ( in a Western bar? your mind supplies, as if you have any room to judge in your Docs) and travel up, past torn black jeans and a black shirt, and just when you’re sensing a theme with this guy, your eyes reach a head of (regrettably, very nice) black hair and a pair of the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. Anish Kapoor would wail at the sight of these eyes, you think.

As if sensing your apprehension, your corner-thief raises his free hand (the other clutching a plastic cup of his own) palm out, as if to say ‘I come in peace’ and stops in his tracks.

“I can find another spot,” corner-thief says, the low rumbling of his voice barely audible above Texas Hold ‘Em. “I’m just waiting for one of my friends to get bored or injured so I can leave.”

“Injured,” you repeat, despite your better judgment to take him up on his offer and let him be on his way. But your phone is dead and you’re a little bit drunk, bored, and even for an unwanted partner in social evasion, this guy is nicer to look at than the frat guys playing beer pong you’ve been observing for the better part of an hour.

Corner-thief grins a stupidly charming gummy smile, leaning just the slightest bit closer to be heard better but still keeping a respectful distance. As if he’s still wary that you’ll lunge at him if he encroaches on your space any further. Good man.

“There’s a mechanical bull upstairs,” he says, using his index finger on the hand holding his cup to point at the ceiling above you both.

Of course there is. With your luck, you’ll also have to peel someone off of the floor later after going head-to-head with the bull.

“Not your thing?” you guess, glancing pointedly at his Jordans, and he shakes his head, huffing through his nose in what you can only guess is a laugh.

“No, I wouldn’t say so.” 

He pauses, shifting from foot to foot for a moment before speaking again. “So, will you share your wall? I can look around again but this place is more packed than I would’ve pegged it for.”

You nod and he smiles again thankfully, taking the spot on the wall next to you. That should be it. Two strangers who don’t want to be here standing in companiable silence next to each other while they wait for their friends–or coworkers, in your case–to put them out of their misery and let them go home.

But… You consider your options, your phone taking its dying breath in your pocket, and you sigh, turning to him.

“Y/N,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake. 

He takes it with his free hand, giving you an amused look. “Yoongi.”

“What’s that look for?”

He laughs again, a little bit more this time, and your heart does a stupid, funny thing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been greeted by a pretty girl in a bar with a handshake,” he says, causing you to flush and pull your hand away as if it’d been burned, your shoulders tensing as you take a sip of your beer. 

A western bar certainly isn’t your scene, but admittedly, neither are bars or clubs in general. You got all of that out of your system in college where everyone was awkward as fuck or too drunk to care that you were, and ever since you got your degree you have lived and breathed your work. Your social skills were never quite up to par, but you didn’t realize you were this fucking embarrassing.

“I came out with coworkers right after we got off, so I think I’m still kind of in work mode,” you lie, and as if sensing that you feel slightly made fun of, Yoongi shakes his head.

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, swear,” he says, tilting his head at you. Dark eyes considering you. “Honestly, I’m thankful you’re putting up with me at all. I don’t think I’d be so kind if the roles were reversed. I know firsthand how hard it is to find a spot to breathe in places like this.”

You feel your shoulder muscles relax just the slightest bit. “I thought about sending you away, but I couldn’t help it. My heart aches when I see an introvert in need of a hiding spot,” you attempt to joke. 

“At least I’m out with friends,” he says sympathetically. “I’ve done the coworker thing before. It’s a drag.”

“It’s weird ,” you correct. “I mean, I sit in meetings with these people. I avoid answering their emails all day. Why is it considered rude to not want to see them piss drunk?”

Yoongi hums in agreement, nodding his head. “What do you do, anyway?”

“I work for Look Here Magazine,” you reply, straightening up a bit in pride when Yoongi’s eyes flash with recognition, his body turning so his shoulder is against the wall now. You turn as well, facing him. “I write for the music section.”

“No shit? I’ve probably read your stuff, then,” Yoongi says, grinning. 

He’s cute. Hot. You can’t help but notice, no matter how hard you’re trying not to. The way that he seems to carry himself in particular, you think, might end up driving you crazy if you’re exposed to it for too long. Maybe you’ve been living under a rock, but you’ve never met a fellow wallflower that still exuded such confidence. He wears it insanely well.

“Look Here covers a lot of big artists,” you hear him continue. “I’m a little surprised you’re hugging the wall, honestly. This place is nothing compared to music industry parties.”

“Ah, I only started a few months ago,” you admit, looking down into your cup. “Not a lot of bylines yet. I haven’t made it into a room with an artist that big yet.”

“But you want to,” Yoongi guesses, and you nod, looking up to meet his eyes. He looks impressed, impressed by you , and that… does something to you. Huh. “Shit, that’s… That’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” you say. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, and you’re suddenly very eager to turn the attention away from yourself. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Ah,” Yoongi says, fixing his eyes to his cup just as you had a moment ago. “I’m a music producer, actually.”

You perk up at that. So that’s why he reads Look Here, why he seemed so interested when you told him what you do. 

“Anything I’ve heard?” you ask, leaning in like he’s about to tell you a secret. Networking never stops.

He watches as you lean, his mouth turning up at the corners in a smirk. “Probably.” 

You wait for more, but it doesn’t come. Shithead. So much for that.

“You’ve gotta give me more than that,” you say, and god, you can hear the pout in your own voice. Are you that drunk? Flirting for a lead in a story?

“I don’t,” Yoongi says simply, his smirk in full force now. Mean and annoying and hot. He hasn’t leaned away from you yet. “I want to know more about you, actually. Journalism is hard work. I’m surprised you have time to go out like this.”

“Like I said, I was forced.”

“Still. Spending time with your friends or family or partner or whatever must take priority when it comes to your free time.”

Why is he so interested? You scrunch your nose, trying to figure out what he could be fishing for here. You don’t make it a habit to divulge the details of your sad excuse for a personal life to strangers, but the alcohol has loosened your lips. Maybe you need to talk about it. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again, anyway.

“My family is back home. My best friend is this insanely talented playwright. She’s constantly traveling. I see her when she can get some time to fly out.” You take a quick sip of your drink, ignoring the pang in your chest. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, how lonely you are. “Other than her, it’s just me, really. The dating thing… Nobody really seems to get how demanding my job can be, and it always ends in hurt feelings.”

There’s a long pause, and you’re worried you’ve shared too much. You’re enjoying talking to Yoongi. You know it doesn’t matter, that you’ll likely never see him again, but it would really, really suck if his permanent mental image of you ends up being ‘lonely weird drunk girl,’ even if that’s what you are. You force yourself to look up at him. The look in his eyes makes your heart flip stupidly again.

“I get that,” he says, and his voice is soft, barely audible over the music filling the space. You’re reading his lips more than anything, honestly, and you don’t let yourself look at them for too long. He may be pretty—unbearably so, you’re realizing—but he’s a stranger. A mean, annoying, hot, pretty stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Every guy says he gets it. This needs to stay what it is, you think. Momentary companionship between introverts who would rather die than square dance.

You don’t get much time to agonize over it. Whatever is going on between you and Yoongi is intercepted quickly by his phone buzzing in his pocket and his responding grimace when he pulls it out to check it.

“Namjoon fell off of the mechanical bull,” he says, like he’s completely unsurprised by that news. He downs the rest of his drink and pockets his phone again, pushing off of the wall. “I’ve gotta deal with that.”

You nod, pulling what you hope is a sympathetic face. “Good luck.”

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you hold your breath. He looks like he wants to say something, torn between rushing upstairs to save his friend and staying, just for a moment.

You think you know what he wants to say, think foolishly that maybe he wants to ask for your number, and you honestly don’t know if you’d give it to him if he did. You’re so used to saying no.

He runs his fingers through his hair, opens his mouth to speak, and then he looks down like his phone is buzzing again. When he looks back up, it seems like he’s thought better of it.

“Thanks for sharing your wall,” he settles on, smiling congenially. You smile back, and then he’s heading towards the stairs.

Good, you think. You know better. If he really gets it, he does too.

★ ★ ★

You’re dragged out to one more bar before you finally make it home, your interaction with Yoongi having knocked you off-kilter enough to agree to a few more drinks.

It does wonders for your social status at work, you’re sure, but by the time you’re dropped off you’re dizzy-drunk, fighting to stay upright in the elevator of your apartment building.

You’re fumbling and failing at getting your key into the lock of your front door, tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration, when a voice calling your name a few feet to your right almost makes you jump out of your skin.

You yell, clutching your chest, and when you turn to face the owner of the voice that almost made you lose the contents of your stomach on your doormat, you’re greeted by none other than corner-thief-mean-annoying-hot-pretty Yoongi himself, leaning against the door to the apartment two doors down.

“What the fuck,” you blurt out dumbly, and he laughs. At you! How dare he stand there, lean there, all hot and annoying and in your apartment building for some fucking reason and laugh at you.

“I was going to ask if you needed help,” he says, and oh, fuck. You were safe from just how deep his voice was under the thrum of the music at the bar, but in the quiet of your apartment building this late, you can hear it just fine. Feel it, even. Feel it in places you do not want to humor right now. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you do.”

It’s obvious that Yoongi is faring much better than you are, although his night clearly didn’t end after the mechanical bull incident. Faster than you can react, he’s right in front of you, gently taking your key from your hands and turning it in the lock, like it’s easy.

“Gonna make it in okay?” he asks, looking down at you. You force your brain to make words.

“I’ll be okay,” you assure him, your tongue heavy in your mouth. “Are you stalking me?”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I think we’re neighbors.”

“Oh.” Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Just because he’s your neighbor doesn’t mean you have to do something stupid, like see him ever again.

“Give me your number,” he says softly. Oh.

You blink at him, and he grins. Gummy smile. You feel like you’re going to vomit all over his Jordans.

“In case you ever can’t use your keys again,” he clarifies. “I told you, those music industry parties are killer.”

And really, you’re powerless to resist. You give him your number, using all of your remaining brain power to remember the order of the digits. Seemingly satisfied, Yoongi pockets his phone and steps back, heading back to his front door.

“Goodnight, neighbor,” he says, unlocking his door with ease. “Sleep on your side.”

You swallow thickly and nod, slipping inside your own apartment as quickly as you can manage. 

Once you’re in, you sink onto the floor, your back pressed against the door behind you. Your cat, perched on your coffee pot, stares at you in your drunk, flustered state, unimpressed. Offended, even, judging by the way she licks her paw.

You’re so fucked.

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[yeonmuse]

MEDDLE ABOUT | DAY 7

PAIRING Guitarist Sunwoo x interviewer Reader x Drummer Eric

WORD COUNT | 2.4k

GENRE Smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️ pet names like sweetheart and princess, threesome, double penetration, fingering, degradation, use of the word slut, oral , vaginal, dom sunwoo, dom Eric.

SUMMARY The two decide to take you backstage for a more private interview.

MORE | Day 7 of the Groupie Love Series

You were nothing more than a simple intern so you were shocked to say the least when the day after your company had an opportuned interview with Kim Sunwoo & Sohn Youngjae you received a call from their manager. As per usual, you had been sitting behind your desk as bored as ever, your thoughts interrupted by the phone on your desk ringing, on the other line was none other than the manager of Kim Sunwoo and Sohn Younjae. Your company had had eyes on them for years now, the only company having been persistent in trying to get interviews with them. Usually when it came to interviews either the two of them rarely did them or they were usually always busy, but to your surprise this time their Manager called and asked for you specifically.

“Hello is this yn? The intern from Whisper publishing?”

“Mm yes sir this is she, do you need to be transferred to one of our journalists?”

“Actually you’re exactly who I was looking for, we received the copy of the interview entry and the boys aren’t too pleased with it, would you mind coming in for another interview today?”

“Um i’m sorry sir, but i'm only an intern, I actually have no clearance here at the company for interviews.”

“I’ve actually already spoken with your boss and she’s given us the green light, she thinks it would be a good trial for you and has agreed to let us borrow you for the day, so what do you say?”

Of course you said yes, so now here you were standing in the band's living room awaiting their arrival. You stood there taking in the art on the wall when you heard someone clear their throat behind you pulling your attention away from the art and turning to face the direction from which the noise came.

“You came.” Eric eyes you from head to toe as he slowly but surely makes his way inside the room.

“Of course, I'm sorry to hear that the journal wasn’t to your liking, I’ll try my best to make up for it today.”

“Well isn't that sweet.” Sunwoo makes his appearance only moments later, not even sparing you a glance as he enters.

“Maybe your coworker should have done their job properly yesterday.” His comment had hit a nerve, but this wasn’t the time nor place for you to let your emotion get the best of you, pushing your annoyance deep down you simply ignored his comment.

“Chill, it's not like it was her fault, it isn’t like she was the one interviewing us yesterday.”

“Yeah whatever can we get this over with.”

“Are you always this much of a dick?” The words had spilled from your mouth before you realized, earning a laugh from Eric. Sunwoo on the other hand was not so pleased.

“You should really watch your pretty little mouth.”

“Oh I'm sorry, did that bruise your fragile male ego?”

“Aren’t you an intern sweetheart, shouldn’t you know your place?”

“It’s best to just leave it alone sweetheart.” Eric warns earning an eye roll from you. You were completely fed up. Sunwoo was being a complete dick and they both expected you to just sit and take it?

“Intern or not, does that mean I’m supposed to submit to you and just take whatever the fuck you say to me simply for the sake of my job?”

“You don’t know how to watch your pretty fucking mouth, ill watch it for you then. I’ll make sure you leave here knowing how to speak to us.” Within seconds Sunwoo had been up out of his seat and standing in front of you. His hands were squeezing your face as you looked to Eric to stop him.

“Aw look at how she looks at you Youngjae, so cute you think he’ll help you when he’s just as bad as me sweetheart. He's the reason you’re here right Youngjae, seeing you in that white button up and cute little skirt yesterday I guess he couldn’t resist inviting you today.” Sunwoos hands rubbed your waist.

“Guess the secrets out then hm?” Eric sits back in his seat as he watches Sunwoo practically man handle you.

This very situation was something you hadn’t really seen yourself getting into, never had you thought you’d be standing here in their living room one towering over you while the other just watched intently. Sunwoos' voice and the words he spoke were immediately blocked out when his hand met your waist. Feeling his fingers brush across your skin you realized his touch immediately made your brain check out. Your own thoughts now in the clouds rather than your full attention having been on the two of them and getting them to stop. It wasn’t until you felt a tap on your thigh that you were pulled from your thoughts and back into the present.

“Hey sweetheart, you know you really should pay attention when spoken to, another lesson we’ll have to teach her.’’ Sunwoo places a finger beneath your chin forcing you to look at the two of them.

“Much better right Youngjae?’’ Sunwoo turns and shares a knowing gaze with Eric before his gaze shifts back to you. A glimmer in his eyes that had many unspoken desires hidden deep beneath them.

“Well, Since I'm caught there's no reason to play the nice card.” Eric chuckles and gets up from his place on the couch.

“But if you still want me to save you sweetheart I wouldn’t mind keeping you to myself.” Now there you stood trapped in between the two of them, you opened your mouth to speak, wanting to tell both of them off and curse them out for being such obnoxious assholes, but your body was betraying you.

“Nothing to say now sweetheart? You were so mouthy a few moments ago, we should teach her when to speak and when not to speak.” Sunwoos fingers slipped beneath your skirt, hooking his fingers around your panties he pulled them to the side and immediately buried his fingers inside your clit.

“I think she likes it, how pathetic.” Eric laughs and watches the way your face contorts upon feeling Sunwoos fingers enter you.

“What’s pathetic is you ignoring me here for some sick fucking fantasy.” You finally managed to choke out earning a laugh from him and Sunwoo.

“Oooo, so so mouthy, Guess I’ll have to stuff that pretty mouth and fuck it until you learn the way to speak to me.” Eric's gaze suddenly darkened as he looked down at you, any sign of his previous niceness having disappeared from his face.

Mere minutes later Eric was sitting back on the couch, fingers tangled within your hair as he watched the way your lips wrapped around his cock. He couldn't help but admire the way you looked at him like you absolutely hated him. Eyes full of tears, a face stained of makeup now ruined as he forced the entirety of his cock down your throat. Meanwhile Sunwoo seemed to have the most satisfying view, You legs spread wide as he had you bent over, breasts falling loosely from your lifted shirt as he filled you up from behind. His eyes traced her every curve. From the dip in your back to the curves of your waist, but the main visual was getting to watch the way his cock so easily pushed past your folds until he was completely bottomed out inside of you, your tight grip around him immediately pulling a groan from his lips.

“Fuck, if you keep clenching so much you’ll be full a lot faster than you should be sweetheart.’’ Sunwoo groans as he rests his hands on her your waist and his head falls back.

Eric gazes down at you, eyes full of hunger, he wanted to ravish you, to make sure every time you interviewed anyone else after this you’d think of them and the way they ruin you. Placing his hand beneath your chin he presses his thumb down against your bottom lip, not missing the way drool spilled down past your lips and chin as his grip on your hair tightened and he began to thrust further into your throat. Every gag and choke that came spilling from your lips made him eager to hear more of it.

“I knew those lips were good for something. Cant talk back with your pretty mouth stuffed full of my cock can you hm.?” He grunts as he feels your tongue graze his cock, he could never forget the way you had entered the room during the first meeting with your company your lips perfectly glossy and so plump, the moment you entered the room he found himself fantasizing about having your plump lips wrapped around him taking every inch of him without mercy.

It made him crazy, the moment he pulled his cock from the depths of your throat and he heard a soft gag spill from your lips.

“Are you gonna behave sweetheart?’’ Eric couldbt help but take you like art, looking up at him with your tear stained face and swollen lips.

“You're such a pervert.” A moan spills from your lips interrupting whatever it was you were prepared to say, Eric didn’t mind that he was enjoying you struggle with your words, enjoying how mouthy and disobedient you were when it came to talking back to them.

“Am i baby? Am i a pervert when you’re sitting here like a pretty little doll taking both our cocks like a good girl? Let’s not act like you don’t like being stuffed in both your pretty holes. Go ahead and show us your true colors sweetheart, go on.” He was right, he was completely right, as mouthy as you had been the entire time you citizen denied that now it was all for show. You loved it, loved being put in your place, loved them both filling you up and fucking the brat out of you, and Eric saw right through you.

Eric simply sits back and lets you take over, his eyes watching you intently as you gazed at him with such intimate eyes while working your tongue over his tip and shoving his entire cock back into your mouth, the force of Sunwoos thrust forcing him even further down your throat. Sunwoos cock shoved so deep into your cunt you’d have sworn you were seeing stars especially as his fingers met your clit. He rubbed rough circles against you as he watched how his entire cock pushed in and out of you with ease from how wet you were. He didn’t miss the way your legs trembled or how youd desperately fuck back against him which needless to say brought a smirk to his lips. Your moans were swallowed back up as you made sure Eric was also well taken care of in front of you.

“Such a needy little slut, Supposed to be here for an interview and you’re so pathetically taking both our cocks. How unprofessional.’’ Eric's gaze had lingered on you long enough to know that you were reaching your limit, too bad even when you surpassed that limit they didn't plan on being done with you.

“Shit she’s clenching so fucking tight” Sunwoo grunts, his nails digging into the skin of your hips earning a soft cry from you that set a fire in their eyes. As the two of them were closing in on their release it seemed the both of them grew rougher with you, as if competing with one another to see who could tire you out best. Each thrusting into you with rough and merciless thrusts of their hips until both your mouth and cunt were full to the brim with their cum. Eric pulls out with a heavy breath and you are given no time to breathe as you’re immediately yanked into Erics lap and Sunwoo now towered over you. With no warning Eric pulls your hands behind your back and holds your wrists together as he shoves into you making you let out a loud cry. Now you were being stretched out for the second time that night, your sensitivity of having been fucked by Sunwoo combined with Eric now stretching you out made your legs go numb and your eyes roll back. Sunwoo took in the dazed and fucked out look on your face with pride as he forced your head up by pulling your hair back. In no time he had you sticking out your tongue to take him down your throat without him ever having to order you.

“Look at that, such a good girl when you want to be’’ Sunwoo coos as he wraps his fists around your hair, his muscles bulging as he forces your hair into a ponytail and tugs your head forward before forcing his cock down your throat, not missing the gags that spill from your lips before you finally hollow out your cheeks to help you take it. The vibrations of your mouth seem to have quite the effect on him as they immediately provoke a moan to spill from his lips. All while Eric guides the rotation of your hips in his lap, his fingers playing with your nipples as if strumming the strings of a guitar. His hips bumping against your ass with each thrust, the sounds of moans and heavy breathing filled the room as they both drilled into you. Eric found delight in watching the way you bounced in his lap, while hearing the sweet sound of your pleasured cries as they both fucked some manners into you.

Both of them loved the way you seemed to fall apart, that mouthy woman from moments ago seeming to have gone away as you sat between the two of them taking their cocks like an obedient little thing. With a loud groan Eric forces you further down onto his cock, pressing his hips against your bare ass as he shoots his cum deep inside your cunt completely coating her walls. Sunwoo ,wasn’t too far behind, his cum spilling deep into the canal of your throat.

“Look at how good you are when you just sit and listen.” Eric chuckles as he spreads your folds apart with his fingers watching how both he and Sunwood cum came spilling out of you.

“I don’t mind her being a brat we’ll just have to fuck it out of her over and over again.”

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 17: A Man Possessed

GIF credit: @maikswen

Bearblr Promptober Day 17: Dumbification (Sub: Clueless)

Summary: Carmy has girlfriend (who he calls Darling) brainworms again, and he's even more of a disaster this time. (Or: the time Carmy had to leave work to go rail his girl)

Warnings: Smut, swearing, p in v sex, unprotected sex (she has an IUD but Carmy's not writing that in his journal), Dom/Sub dynamic, calling Carmy "sir", hair pulling, obsessed thoughts, mild spiraling, fem reader/rando lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

If you want to keep following this set of works, you can follow the #cb journal tag.

Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

This is is a two-parter. The first part is here.

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

17 Oct 2024

I handled the second incident of Darling invading my brain much worse than the first.

I couldn’t fucking focus for five fucking minutes on anything. I was pissed off at life two minutes after opening, worse so when the place looked a fucking mess from the night before. Assholes couldn’t even clean up after themselves. I don’t even know how many times I lost track of what I was doing or why because my mind went to Darling instead of staying at The Bear. Here she was, burying her face in my t-shirt again, letting out that delicious sigh, the curve of her hip still visible under the blankets, and I wanted so badly to just grab her. To squeeze her flesh in my hands, dig my fingers into the round of her ass, to drown in her soft skin and her wet kisses to my throat. I wanted to bite her. I didn’t even know what to do with that—I just wanted to sink my teeth into the inside of her thigh before soothing her by putting my mouth to use elsewhere. Why? For what purpose? How does that make sense?

Syd must’ve noticed that I was off because she started helping with cleaning—didn’t even try to talk to me. I hate that, by the way; hate when I’m so far away that people don’t even find words worth giving me. I might not talk much, but if people don’t talk to me, I start feeling like a bug on the window; tiny, inconvenient, gross, unwanted, easily forgotten until I make an irritating sound.

I had to step out in the middle of cleaning—I hadn’t even gotten to prep yet, that’s how bad it was—and I found myself dragging my hand over the side of my neck and my throat. My heart throbbed with such violence that I wanted it to escape so I’d stop being harassed by it. My hands trembled, breaths got erratic. I heard her voice again, telling me to breathe, to find sounds around me, but it came through as static. The apple leaf adagio, the skittering of dried maple leaves, her body fits so perfectly in my hands, strawberry lip balm, what’s not to love? Fuck, that feels good, Carmy. More of that, pretty boy.

Pretty boy.

Please call me pretty boy again, I’m begging you.

I struggled to make it through the rest of prep. I’m fairly sure Sydney figured out I was that same sort of fucked up again because she didn’t wait for me to fuck up a count or fail to give directions before taking over the reigns of the kitchen. I turned into a line cook, just mindlessly doing what was asked of me because it’s what I knew I could do without making a worse mess, and she had the rest under control.

Syd always had it under control; I was the one out of control.

Once again, near dinner service, just when I thought I’d be fine, I cracked under the pressure. I had stepped out to get a break from the relentless heat of the kitchen, try to get some air that wasn’t saturated with the aromas of food (it sounds nice, but trust me, when you’re hour 10 into inhaling sautéed onions, confit garlic, vinegar, cumin, black pepper, olive oil, it gets so deep into your lungs that you feel like you might cough up a prime rib steak). The snap of cold air on my face shattered the dam keeping any assertion of reality in check, and I was inundated with this… how do I even describe it? It wasn’t quite rage, but it wasn’t far from it. Like I needed Darling. I needed her so badly that if I didn’t have her, I was going to break something.

Possessed? Was I a man possessed?

I had this crawling sensation, yeah? Not quite like ants on my skin; the feeling was bigger, coarser. It started in my back, spread to my shoulders, blazed down my arms, into my hands. I clenched and relaxed my fists, trying to ward it off, but when that did nothing—and it did precisely nothing—I rubbed hard over my arms, dug my short fingernails into my skin in some faint approximation of what Darling’s nails felt like. When I thought about doing it again, even harder, hard enough to draw blood if I had to, I knew I was fucked.

I bailed on the kitchen staff again, but something tells me they would’ve hated me being there anyway.

“Sweetheart? You’re home early, what’s going on?”

She’s on the couch fiddling with yarn—I think it’s crochet? Or is it knitting? I don’t know the difference—and has the 2005 Pride and Prejudice on in the background at a low volume. I don’t even know if she can hear it with how quiet it is. I throw off my jacket, and that’s enough for her to figure out something is wrong. She puts the yarn thing on the arm of the couch and unfolds her legs to get up, but I can’t, okay, I cannot.

“No, you stay there.” I’m sorry, did I just tell her what to do? Who the fuck am I?

She froze and leveled a look at me that I can only describe as a deer in headlights. Entirely confused. Clueless. Maybe even scared.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” It’s tiny. High in her throat.

She follows my face with those big eyes as I approach. It’s weird that it didn’t bother me then. It bothers me now, thinking about it, that she was probably confused as all hell and I should’ve stopped to talk to her, but clearly, I was on one. Or something. That crawling sensation was worse, and overwhelmed by the need, the sheer fucking need to taste her. Taste that strawberry lip balm, lap at her tongue, to occupy my mouth with soft, warm wetness. Fuck me, she was wearing my t-shirt, too.

She squeaked in surprise when I crashed our lips together. Immediately shot her hand to my forearm when one of mine blanketed over her throat. The other seized a fistful of her hair, and she grabbed at my wrist. Probably startled. It bothers me that I didn’t care at the time.

“Open,” I growled.

She obeyed immediately, relented control to let me explore her mouth, and wove her hands into my hair. Fucking hell, I needed that. I was starved of her, plagued with memories of her taste for 10 entire fucking hours—fuck I needed her, all of her, I needed her hands under my skin, goddammit. I pushed her down onto the couch, wrenched her knees apart, and settled between them. She tugged my hair in surprise and then coiled her legs around me.

“Pull harder.”

“Harder? Carmy—”

I used my grip on her hair to tip her head back and aim a glare at her. “I said pull. Fucking. Harder.”

She whimpered and did what I asked. My eyes drifted shut against my will at the tension on my hair—not painful, a sort of raw pleasurable that only pain could seem to bring in that moment. It was too fucking warm. It was boiling again. Why is it always so fucking warm? It was almost as if she could hear my thoughts because she yanked my shirt up and off. I went right back to attacking her with kisses. She hooked a leg high up on my waist and tightened it—have I mentioned how fucking strong she is? College soccer player. She’s really fucking strong.—and it was enough to trigger the ache in my back and force me to pause for a moment with my lips at her neck.

“Carmy,” she gasped, “tell me where your head is, sweetheart.”

Her sounding breathless shouldn’t’ve made me feel powerful.

I yanked off her shirt. May have torn a hook off her bra when I wrested it off her. Whatever, I’d buy her a new one.

“Carmy, I need you to talk—” I cut her off with more fervent kisses. She patted my chest, squeezed her legs again. “Hey, pretty boy.”

That got me to freeze and meet her gaze. She rubbed small circles over my chest.

“Hi… hi, sweetheart.”

“Couldn’t—” Fuck me, I could barely think. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Her confusion was replaced with a wide-eyed expression.

I ducked down to continue that hickey on her neck. I needed to leave some kind of mark on her. What the hell was going on with me? She trailed a hand down my abdomen and rested it on the bulge in my pants. Took her about two heartbeats to start fumbling with my fly. This wave of cool relief washed over me—don’t know what or why it was about—but it was brief, just a momentary breather in the flames of arousal consuming me. She got me free of my pants and underwear, kissed my temple.

“That better, hm?” Was she really trying to soothe me right now?

Did she not see the animal trying not to devour her?

It occurs to me now that I might’ve genuinely scarred her when I stared her down in response. She froze, searched my face, darted her gaze between my mouth and my eyes repeatedly. Had shaky, jerky movements when trying to shove off her sweatpants. It was odd that she wasn’t speaking. She tends to talk. Her voice is pretty soothing, honestly. At first, something of a regular check in and reassurance for me to know that I wasn’t fucking up, but now a familiar, comfortable, soothing riff in the soundtrack of our lives together. Of course, at the time, I didn’t register any of this because I just needed to be inside her already.

She tensed up when I hiked her leg up my side. Babbled frantically into my mouth, “C-Carmy? Carmy, be gentle. Please be gentle—oh fuck!”

How gentle do you think a wild animal can be, baby girl?

She was unimaginably tight but also impossibly wet. My head spun and it took every last frayed fiber of wherewithal to not immediately sink into her cunt as deep as I could. Forget thinking straight, forget thinking about anything other than the tight, wet heat enveloping my dick. I was pussy drunk already, and I just barely got started.

She dug her nails into my back, had one hand on my abdomen digging into my muscle. “Baby! Baby, please, slow down… fuck, that’s so good, but please—”

“You can take it,” I snarled into her ear.

She took a second, but then withdrew the hand pushing on me and busied it with my hair instead. Mumbled a small, “Y-yes, sir.”

Sir?

She moaned something of a pitiful sound when I got to work. Whatever that version of me was, it wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t seem to care. She hiked her leg up higher when I hit her deep, begged for more, clung to me tighter when I sunk my teeth into her shoulder and did just that, mumbled praises in my ear as I relentlessly fucked her through her orgasm. Good boy; that’s it, you’re making me feel so good; fuck, baby, I’m so full; I can take more, keep going. It crossed the rat’s nest of busted wires in my brain further. All I can remember is this raw, unfiltered, white-hot pleasure burning a chasm into my core, this tension winding so tight I couldn’t get enough air in. Braided steel cable creaking under a construction load? How do I describe this? Tightening rubber band? No.

Sinew tensioning as a dull knife dug into it. That’s an apt descriptor. Like with the ice cubes in the kitchen that first time. Only all-consuming, raw, visceral, centered on her—her scent, her heat, her strained breaths, her wetness, her taste. 

I hid my face in the crook of her neck when I was right on the edge.

Her lips brushed my ear. Her voice was strained but still the same kind of soothing to my soul. “Come on, sweetheart. Let go… Cum, pretty boy…”

I clutched her like a drowning man when my orgasm finally hit me. It knocked the air out of my lungs, killed a scream in my throat, set off a thrumming sound in my ears, first bathed me in flames and then abruptly flooded ice water through my veins. My abdomen screamed from how violently it spasmed, the muscles in my back seized up. Everything stopped. Everything—never in my life had my entire existence been so blank, so empty, so quiet, so at peace. I might even have blacked out for a bit (or my memory is just as shit as it’s always been) because the next thing I remember is slow, gentle caresses over my face, neck, chest, shoulder, then back up to my face to repeat the circuit. Her lips pressed to my hairline at intervals. My eyelashes brushed her neck while I tried to blink the cobwebs away.

“You with me, sweetheart?”

Nope. Not even close. I don’t even know what planet I’m on right now.

She smoothed my sweaty hair back off my face. Planted another kiss to my temple. “That’s okay. You’re safe. Take your time.”

This is going too well, right? She’s too perfect. God’s a sadist; that other shoe is going to return from orbit, and because I am willing to give my whole being to this woman, it will kill me. This love will kill me.

[loverafey]

looking inside  !   cbf!rafe x reader.

          ꕀ warnings - angst, possible unrequited feelings, mentioned rafe x sofia though they've broken up, self deprecating thoughts from rafe, writing this ruined my mood. wc - 1.5k.

you have always liked to watch from the sidelines rather than get involved in the matter itself. observant — it was a trait many found rather uncanny — how you just seemed to be aware of everything. though it was something rafe found endearing. perhaps he’d just grown used to it from a very early age, when he’d caught you staring at him from the swing you were on when you were both still in primary school, the way you had nervously looked away still imprinted on his head.

but that didn’t mean there were times where he didn’t dislike this, no. rafe had started growing some sort of grudge against this side of yours, even if it was something you really couldn’t help. he knew that, fuck, obviously he did. yet the way he’d see your small glances thrown towards his direction whenever he’d be around sofia did nothing but make him feel exposed, vulnerable in a way even his new girlfriend didn’t notice.

sofia was like a fresh breeze rafe had been aching to inhale. surrounded by all the same kook bullshit, it was no wonder that he sought some comfort in sofia’s presence. normalcy tasted delicious. maybe he might have unintentionally pushed you aside in the process, oblivious to the hurt he caused. you were the same around him, the same sweet girl he’d been best friends with since ever.

it was true that sofia didn’t know him like you did, no one actually did. and he supposed that’s why his relationship with her never worked out. but the worst part? you saw all of it.

staring at rafe from afar was comforting for you — noting down little habits he had in your head and just observing his body movements. you used to make notes of such stuff you’d notice in your journal alongside many other facts you might’ve picked from your surroundings, though the entries had begun ceasing little by little when sofia had entered. you didn’t particularly resent sofia, she was harmless and innocent. her smile much like the sun. had rafe always wanted the sun in his palms? you wondered how one achieved that — being the sun. maybe you could do it too then, being his sun.

you felt nervous around her, and did your best not to talk to rafe when she was around. you didn’t want to feel like an unwanted presence, an intruder. or even give the slightest impression that you were dissatisfied with their relationship. truth was that maybe, you really were. rafe always had a way of making your heart feel light, devoid of all the problems. even with all the impulsiveness and anger packed within him, he was still your best friend.

maybe sofia’s presence made you feel as if you were thrown away like an unwanted doll. it was hard not to, especially when his texts had slowed down, so had his attention. you had attempted to make peace with that, content with silently observing them from afar. admiring the way his arm would always be around her waist, the way he would pat her head. imagining that you were her.

peeking through the window inside a house you weren’t really invited to. just a bypasser.

“you knew, didn’t you?”

rafe had cornered you in your house a few days after his break up with sofia. a conflict caused by something along the lines of her betraying him. you never knew the exact reason, but you had seen the way she was more tense around him, more avoidant. more guilty. you didn’t know whether to feel concerned or pleased, maybe you were just a horrible human for even considering the latter, but the relief in your heart was undeniable.

“i wasn’t sure.” you replied, not meeting rafe’s gaze. it was hard and desperate, making your hands tremble with a feeling unbeknownst to you. you couldn’t even begin to fathom how much emotion was begging to be released from within him at this moment. you didn’t want to know at all — it was a terrifying thought. everyone, most certainly knew, were aware of how rafe could get when he was like this, all agitated. a ticking time bomb.

“you weren’t sure or you just didn’t want to tell me?” he barked out a bitter laugh. rafe hadn’t gone out much after his break up with sofia, too tired to deal with everyone. his trust was betrayed for fuck’s sake, and for some reason, he was scared that you would do the same, backstab him and then laugh behind his back, mocking him.

“i wasn’t sure, rafe.” you replied quietly, looking down at the way your fingers fidgeted with one another. you didn’t do well with confrontations sometimes, and this moment was one of them. your eyes soon moved over to his hands, realising that his knuckles were bleeding. you didn’t say anything.

“you know everything, fuck-” his voice croaked a big and he was haste to clear his throat, punching his fist at the way behind you, right above your head, causing you to flinch in surprise. given those bruised knuckles, he was probably punching stuff before coming here too.

“you must be thinking that i’m so pathetic, yeah? couldn’t even keep a girl.” his breathing was heavy, as if on the brink of hyperventilating, words spewing out fast and at some points almost incomprehensible. he was leaning against you, body threatening to fall on you, just in the comfort of your arms. oh how he wished he could do that. “you’re always looking at me. you saw me. i didn’t like it at all, doll, i didn’t- shit- i looked like a fucking fool!” he yelled, not at you but more so at himself.

“rafe…”

“no, you don’t get-”

“rafe!” you tried a more firmer tone, eyes blown wide with concern. “i didn’t want to bother you by telling that she seemed suspicious to me…” you trailed off, sighing tiredly. hesitantly, your hands reached up to cup his face. he tensed for a second, before relaxing just a tad bit, eyes fluttering shut as he harshly bit onto his bottom lip.

“everyone leaves me… it feels like one big joke.” his tone held no amusement, just defeat. you felt hurt, knowing that he couldn’t see that you were the one who hadn’t left his side all these years, you were the one who was still loving him with everything. why couldn’t he, was he so blind?

or maybe he knew. that stung even more.

“i saw you looking at me, y’know. i see you everytime.” his fingers reached up to gently tuck a strand behind your ear and for a second, you foolishly believed that he’d lean in and kiss you, just the way you had seen in those movies you’d watch with him, or the books you’d read.

“i know…” you breathed out, trying to hide your frown when he pulled away. sliding a hand down his face as he groaned. he paced around the room, thinking. you wished you could open his mind with your very hands and take a look inside too. "did you love her that much?" you added on, arms unconsciously tensing in dread.

"i don't know if i loved her. but i thought i was being a good boyfriend.” he doesn't even know if he's capable of genuinely loving someone with all his heart. sofia was an infatuation, sure. but love? he wasn't sure.

“you were.”

“was it not enough?!”

“rafey, y-you are enough!” you mentally scolded yourself for stuttering, nervously reaching out for him. “please stop.” please see that i’m here.

rafe felt your arms wrapping around him, trying to keep him still. his arms stayed still by his side, contemplating something. as if afraid to dirty you. he was so, so disgusting that it hurt him to even think about it. yes, that was it. he had dirtied sofia and she’d ran away. he’d dirty you too. a foolish stray dog.

he refused to hug you back, feeling you stiffen up. after all, what if the blood on his hands were to stain your shirt? stain you?

“would you… like to crash here for tonight? i can patch you up too.” you asked, the genuine care present in your tone making his head feel guilty. he wasn’t a fool, he saw the way you looked at him, as if he were your whole world. he didn’t deserve to be anyone’s world, truthfully.

“fine.” he clicked his tongue. it was a bad idea, he knew that.

[boskadoff]

uh so Fiddleford is canonically likes men? And I guess Ford confirmed aro/ace hhksdkskdk

ok guys i- you-

I dont- post anything but the demons came back and they came back hard AhhHh

Why you making me write this why nobody else reporting this strong cannon

BoB confirmed two sexualities: Ford is aromantic and asexual, and Fiddleford likes men.

Lets start with Ford, cause its shorter:

BoB basically reiterated and highlighted that Ford is attracted to nothing.

Its actually very clearly pinpointed that Ford is aromantic/asexual. Why clearly? Like Alex chose, out of ALL the things to reveal about ford in Bills mind invasion section, is that he is "plansexual". He basically is indirectly says Ford feels no attraction. He is aromantic/asexual. Coupled with journal 3 entries "romance baffles me", and its confirmed.

Now Fiddleford, this is very interesting because it affects the story:

One, it clearifies why Fiddleford agreed to help with the portal. Bro just was GAY.

To extrapolate, he was from an area that expects traditional marriage Tennessee. He went through with it, probably wasn't super comfortable though seeing by how eagerly Fiddleford accepted Fords offer. So, integrating this new cannon, bro just always was gay for Ford and couldn't resist the opportunity to spend time with him.

Now lets gather all harder Book of Bill evidence

Bro knitted him gloves with many DRAFTS. (Shows how important it was to him to get it right)

Bro made him a snow globe of his lab.

Notice how it was HAND MADE.

He gave Emma-May nothing? He had time, he could have not made Ford two things, made one with for Ford and one thing for Emma-May. But he didn't?

The snowmen? And a whole picture of it??

Bill refers to Fiddleford as a third wheel.

They were roomates, obviously on very goods terms

"Try to forget"

"TheY emBraCed"

It was a very strong concentration on, and even mentioned in the same story, the gifts that Fiddleford gave. Notice how Alex SPECIFICALLY said Emma-Mays argument woth him was because Fiddleford gave her nothing. Which basically contrasts insanely with TWO HANDMADE gifts for Ford.

Lets couple with Journal 3 soft evidence where

His computer password was "Stanford"

The singular bed in the bunker.

Fiddleford knew when Stanford was possessed, shows how attentive he is.

He wrote up Fords research for him to publish.

Bro left his family for a while to spend time with Ford in isolation.

Disney decided to edit the phrase when Stanford says "happy to no longer be traveling this path alone" to " …happy to be traveling it with a friend". Basically showing the book was aware how gay these two sound.

Im note sure if Ford ever recipricated these feelings, he probably thought of Fiddleford as a very good friend, at most subconsciously some kind of QPR.

But BOY did Fiddleford fall for him.

In terms of why this might have been added to BoB:

I believe Alex saw how strongly Journal 3 implied Fiddauthor, (I watched too many interviews, and there were questions about those two, so it WAS on his mind) and just decided to finally clarify their bond. He eluded direct statements, but obviously made a call.

He may have also found the need to clearify why Fiddleford was so eager to jump in and help Ford for so many months, it is kind of murky evidence to say he just wanted to help out and leave his family for months for the heck of it while his son was still young. (Also in Twitter a long time ago, also kind of accepted that one jelous girlfriend meme of Bill Ford and Fiddleford where overlaid)

Moreover, the Alex didn't have to mention Fiddleford in the Book of Bill, all loose ends of his story were tied in Journal 3. Book of Bill was only supposed to be about Bills story, and clearification about his relation with Stanford. But he added Fiddleford anyway. And not only did he, but he chose to incorporate it in the Christmas scene: a very specific, often intimate time. This did not need to be included for any lore reason on than their relationship. It literally serves ZERO major purpose other than to elaborate on the relationship. Sure there were some minor mentions of fords childhood winter traditions for the funnies, a reference to dipper and mabel time traveling (footprints), and the santa goat story, but it revealed very little about any of it to defend the existence of that whole scene. It mostly supported already known lore with a silly santa goat story that circled around to Fiddleford being the hero anyway. Basically Christmas story = confirmed Fiddleford likes Ford more than his wife, which leads to gay romantic/QPR implications to his character.

Now, its clear that Fiddleford likes Ford, and by extention in some capacity likes men. So is he gay or bi? Not much evidence obviously, but I speculate he was gay, because if he had the ability to also like women as much as he liked men, why jump to the first woman so early in life and marry her? It feels like an impulse decision, he could have waited for others he liked more, to actually make gifts for them for christmas. He married her as if he was trying to hide something. Although no strong evidence to establish this.

And lastly, arguments may ensue because it was not "clearly stated given on a platter", but Alex communicates very indirectly about most lore, often leaving things for interpretation. Repeating the same information twice among two works, AND incorporated an INCREDIBLY specific scene about Christmas is pretty reinforced evidence of his intent.

I feel like Alex is kind of being devious and is toying with the audience because he knows there is a group kind of losing our minds over this particular relationship, hence the hazy statements and stories.

But I feel like summarizing what he wrote and the way he wrote it, there is no other reason why that content exists other than to confirm their sexualies and romantic preferences, and how it supports the plot of the story.

TLDR; update Fandom.con, Fiddleford likes men. Ford is aro/ace.

Like uh do you all agree or am I crazy or uh skmebody save me or 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

[skybrushus]

Note. To the best of my knowledge this is not based on any existing Fallout Equestria storyline, nor does it follow any particular plot in Fallout 4. This is just the narrative that popped into my head as I worked on this piece.

        Sweetie Belle sent a sphere glowing yellowish light down the partially collapsed hallway of the abandoned Stable. The sphere showed a reoccurring theme that she and Amber had observed since entering the ruins. Signs of flooding from the intrusion of rainwater. A lack of power or functional terminals anywhere in the ruins, and an extensive lichen, fungus, and crisscrossing plant roots on the walls, ceiling, and floor.

        However much to their surprise the Stable hadn't been picked clean by looters. Amber felt this was due to its remote location, and that the Stable's entrance had been partially buried by a landslide in the last 50 or so years. The lush local vegetation had camouflaged the rest.

        Sweetie thought looters had found it but had been discouraged by the moldy, mildew state of everything they'd encountered so far in this forgotten Stable. Also they'd encountered multiple hallways that blocked by what looked liked cave ins or impenetrable masses of dense, thick roots.

         Amber's flashlight made slow, constant sweeps as he checked the area immediately around them. Noticing something on a wall he spoke softly.

         "Sweetie hold up for a second." Slinging his submachine gun over his shoulder he approached it. There was lettering of some type that was barely visible beneath the accumulated dirt, lichen, and general muck. Donning a pair of heavy work gloves he started wiping the grime away. After few seconds he was able to read it.

          STABLE 420

          "Well now we know which Stable this was." The pony hybrid muttered. He looked over at Sweetie. "Ever heard of Stable 420?"

           The white unicorn came alongside and stared at discovery. "No Amber I haven't. But that's not surprising. Almost none of the Stables ever had direct communication between them, and StableTech was rather cagey about how many Stables they constructing at the time."

           Unable to glean more information they pressed on. As they did the crisscrossing roots grew more frequent, and on several occasions Sweetie swore she felt one twitch or squirm when she stepped on them. Amber thought that this was caused by the thick layer of spongy, organic detritus that blanketed the floor.

           As they progressed deeper and deeper into the Stable they started to notice a certain plant-based emphasis to facilities here. Seed vaults, indoor greenhouses, hydroponic gardens and laboratories devoted to botany in far greater numbers than were required to sustain the Stable's population. Which as they progressed deeper both ponies started to realize something was missing from this vault. Something they'd encountered in every abandoned vault they'd explored.

        Neither of them had seen any dead bodies or skeletal remains. Not even the usual carcasses of wild denizens that normally took up residence in forgotten Stables.

        It was in the rotting remains of laboratory desk that they found their first piece documentation related to the Stable. A soaked, mold covered lab log. Most of it was completely illegible but at the very back of it was one barely readable entry.

       It was suppose to a beautiful union. A marriage that would make Equestria flourish again one day! Ponies and plants working together to once again bring life and vibrancy to the land. But now it's become a nightmare. Where did we go wrong?

       Not sure what to make of this they pocketed the journal and pressed. A short time later Sweetie noticed that there was a slowly increasing source of light ahead. Also she was positive that a couple of times she felt roots squirm under her hooves as they advanced.

      Eventually the hallway Sweetie and Amber were in terminated a large circular atrium area. The source of the light came the fact that a large part of the ceiling in the Stable and the bedrock above it had been torn away to permitted dim light from the outside world to filter down. A dense canopy of the trees at the surface obscured most sunlight from reached this room, but compared pitch black hallways the two ponies had been in it was welcome sight.

      What occupied the center of the atrium was less welcoming.

       Perched upon a mound of earth and organic material was a massive bulb shaped plant. It appeared to have long tongue leaves/petals that were tightly drawn up. Emerging from the giant plant was mass of roots that snaked out in all directions. The circular room had an oddly heavy and unevenly bumpy texture to it. Only the sound of dripping water broke the silence. After second Sweetie spoke.

       "Okay. Giant plants that aren't trees are creepy."

       Both ponies stayed together but far away from the ominous vegetation as they looked around the room. Sweetie was peering around the room when something caught her attention. Moving her glow globe over closer to circular wall of the atrium she finally recognized what the texture of the wall was.

        It was pony skulls. Hundreds of skulls all facing inward toward the plant. Held tight to the wall by dense network of vines, tendrils, and roots. Only with great effort did she resist screaming.

        "Amber! I know what happened to the ponies of the Stable!" She hissed.

        The stallion turned to see what the mare was looking at when he stepped firmly on one of the roots when he did several things happened at once.

        First he felt the root violently twitch under his hoof. Second a long, moaning sigh came from the giant plant. Third the same plant began open its petals revealing squat, stump-like center.

        "Okay! Giant plant that move are even creepier!" Sweetie exclaimed as she drew her machine pistol.

        The two ponies were beginning to back out of the room when suddenly the center of the plant opened revealing a great vertical maw lined with thorn-like teeth. From this maw erupted mass of long tendrils that whipped out and wrapped around the ponies. Sweetie was physically yanked into the air and Amber found himself dragged toward the plant.

       "Aaaaahhhh!!!" Sweetie screamed. "I've seen some of those creepy pre-war EC comics and I know what happens next!" So she began firing burst into the plant.

       Trying to keep from being throttled by the plant Amber began firing one-handed into the plant at point blank range.

       With her one free hand Sweetie pulled a hand grenade from her belt, and then using her levitation she yanked the pin from it. Then she pitched it into the plant's waiting maw. For several seconds nothing further happened. Then there was a muffled THUMP and the plant suddenly bulged out like water balloon. This was followed by a geyser of green and red ichor that erupted from the mouth drenching Sweetie and spraying all over Amber. Then like some deactivated air dancers the tendrils went limp and Sweetie flopped to the ground. For several seconds the mare just looked down at herself before speaking.

     "I. I. I will never be able to eat guacamole in the Stable cafeteria again!"

     This was a Patreon reward for Skyline. The firearms in the picture are the Russian Stechkin APS Link, Link and the French MAT-49 Link.

Of course Sweetie was referring to those horrible Equestria Comic books from the prewar period.

[cherbexr]

Perhaps for Pokemon : Bianca (Black and White) X Photography Enthusiast! Male reader

A Perfect Snap

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

Eeeeee! First Pokemon request!

I don't know much about photography so I hope this is to your liking!

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

You stepped back and stretched after perching your camera at the perfect angle in front of a herd of deerling. They were in their spring coat and grazing on some berries, not knowing you were there.

You wanted to submit some pictures to the Pokemon Journal, hoping to get recognized as a photographer with high potential. It helped that you also enjoyed taking pictures of literally everything.

When you were done setting the rest of your area up, you leaned in a little through the camera, adjusting the lens and making sure everything was focused.

"three...two...and on-woah!"

A minccino rushed passed you and your setup, almost making you lose your balance and knock your camera over. You balanced everything back out and huffed a sigh of relief when nothing knocked over.

Next, you hear a woman crying, "Look out! look out! look out!!"

You look towards the direction of the source and see a blonde woman with a green hat speedily rushing towards your direction. You panicked and rushed to grab your camera.

It was too late!

The blonde woman tripped over the leg of your camera stand, which then made you fall and accidentally click your camera button!

She fell face first while you fell onto your back, bumping your head into a rock behind you.

"ughhh.." you groan rubbing the part of your head that was impacted.

The blondie got up and wiped some dirt off her face, "Ow...Minccino! Come back!" She then took off running in the direction the minccino ran off to.

You stared blankly, not processing what had just happened. You then got up and shook off the encounter and fixed your stand and perched your camera back onto it. You peered through and noticed the deerling had been scared off!

"Dang it, I'm going to have to find a new herd or something." You get ready to pack up and hear the snap of a twig and look over. The woman had appeared back with a minccino in her hands. She looked down to the ground with guilt and with a light dust of pink on her cheeks.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about what had happened! I didn't mean to startle you and make your stuff fall!" Her green eyes looked up at you and the camera in your hand and sparkled. "Wait! Are you a photographer?!"

You looked down at the camera in your hand and back up at her. "Yeah, I am. I was getting ready to take some pictures of a herd of deerling to submit for the Pokemon Journal." You said sheepishly, smiling that she had acknowledged your camera.

"Oh wow! That is soooo cool! So you must be the real deal then huh? Where are the deerling now? I don't see them, did I scare them off???? Oh man, I'm really sorry!" She frankly said.

"Oh, don't worry too much about it! I can always find another Pokemon to take pictures of." You comforted her.

She stared at her minccino who peered back at her with a confused look. Just then, a lightbulb went off in her head as her bright green eyes somehow got brighter.

"I've got it! How about you take some pictures of my Pokemon?! It can be my way of making it up to you for ruining your deerling photoshoot!"

You were taken aback at this and gave it a couple moments of thought and gleamed, "Hey that could work!"

You then set your camera and equipment back up as she called out her team. You instructed her team to ensure you would get great shots for your Pokemon Journal entries.

She stood next to you and was amazed at the scene. She cheered as her emboar flexed and blew out a stream of ember.

"Do you mind if I try?" she asked curiously.

You took a look away from your camera and back at her before smiling and letting her take the wheel. You put a hand on her waist and taught her how to use the camera before stepping back and letting her do her thing.

An idea sprung up into your head and you smiled. "Hey, why don't you get in the picture with your Pokemon?"

She looked at you before gleaming and nodding and getting into the frame with her team.

snap!

You looked back down at the picture you just took and smiled brightly. "This is great!"

She rushed over and peered behind your shoulder. "Hey, that really is good!"

-----------

As she helped you pack up and you too walked back to town together, you got to know some things about her.

Her name is Bianca and she's from Nuvema town. She's a trainer and she seemed very enthusiastic to be.

You really found her fascinating and she seemed to make your pictures glow even more. She left a tingly feeling inside of you every time she talked.

As you two got back to town, you offered to buy her a coffee as you sat and submitted the photos to the Pokemon Journal.

Just as you two were finishing up your snack, you got a message back saying your pictures were going to be used for the next issue featuring Bianca!

You told her the news and she cheered with excitement and she embraced you into a hug, congratulating you.

Your eyes widen at this and your face goes beat red as you hug her back.

"Hey, I'd love to have you in more of my pictures. You seem to make the perfect snaps."

She pulled back and stared at you with cute pink cheeks.

"I'd love to!"

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Not proofread!

[nats-revival]

𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙭 𝙖. 𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣

pairing: ellie williams x abby anderson

w/c: 1.2k

tags: kinda angsty, takes place during santa barbara era, not proofread, some descriptions of violence and injuries, ellie and abby need therapy real bad, uh description of trauma (?), i probably missed smth, but we know that i suck at tagging, what’s new

Before you continue, please read this! - I absolutely do not condone the purchasing of any other the last of us games. The Last of Us is heavily influenced by Isreali politics. Also, here are some ways to inform yourself about Palestine. Link 1 | Link 2 | Link 3. You can even help simply by clicking here.

A/N: tried to be in my descriptive era!!! also ignore that my user isn’t the same thing that’s on the lil banner thing, this has been sitting in my drafts since 1948. 😭 anyway yall i hope i ate down. also also, song title from the other side of the game by erykah badu (w song btw u should listen to it ONG!!)

Blows were exchanged in both directions. Ellie brought a knife to a fist fight, but that meant practically nothing to Abby. Water sloshed underneath their feet, swirling with the crimson of their blood. Each punch, hit, and stab was given with emotion. They grunt with effort as they try to take eachother down, yet to no prevail. Just when Abby thought it was over, she’s overpowered by Ellie. The girl had somehow managed to hold her down in the water, drowning her. Abby clawed at Ellie’s arms, attempting to wiggle from underneath her.

A multitude of emotions wash over Ellie. Hatred, sadness and anger. But the one that was the largest in this moment was regret. Regretting not making amends with Joel. Leaving Dina alone with JJ. Everything. Her face twists and she cries as all the emotions she had bottled up finally came out. Her grip loosens on Abby and she lets her free. Abby sits up as she catches her breath, coughing a little between gasps of air. After catching her breath, Abby looks at Ellie with disbelief. She was certain that this would be her last day on earth, dying amidst an apocalypse by the hands of the girl she loathed. 

“Go.” Ellie murmurs through her tears. Her legs are crossed as she sits, the bottom half of her body completely submerged in the water. The stiletto switchblade was gripped tightly in one hand as the other dropped blood where two of her fingers had been missing. Ellie thought initially that killing Abby would’ve stopped all her pain. Relieved of that false sense of justice Tommy convinced her she would feel if she had just gone after her and finished her off. But it only made her wallow more in her own self hatred. She’d turn back time if she could.

She’d make things up with Joel, become on good terms with Dina, and kick Tommy out of their quaint farmhouse before she could even hear what he had to say. But she couldn’t. After seeing Abby for what she thought was the last time at the theater, her brain chemistry had altered. She was craving to kill her. She had wrote many entries in her worn journal about it. Her nimble fingers gripped her pen as she wrote. She wrote fast and feverishly, her handwriting becoming damn near illegible. She hid these things from Dina and tried to drown herself in the task of raising another human. But she couldn’t. It was on her mind like the plague. She hated it. It made her wanna smash her head against a wall one hundred times.

Of course she understood the consequences of killing Abby. She thought it would mean nothing. She was killing another person wouldn’t matter. But she knew that killing her specifically would matter. It cost her relationship with Dina. She knows she should’ve just stayed home but she couldn’t. She needed to be in control of her mind. She hated the self destructive thoughts and how her moods were so irrational. She wanted that burden to be lifted off her shoulders. 

There was a sting of silence after Ellie’s words. Abby didn’t say anything, the waves sloshed and Levs breathing could barely be heard. Ellie slouchs. She didn’t hear Abby moving. She was confused. She’s just slinky escaped death, why didn’t she leave? Why didn’t she just go take care of Lev? What the fuck was wrong with her? Ellie couldn’t understand and it made her mad. “Why won’t you leave?” Ellie doesn’t actually look at Abby. She never looks her in the eyes. She can’t. 

“I’m not going to leave you here with no way home.” Abby said as she looked down at her. “I’ll get home. Just take the boy and go.” Ellie instructed insistently, raising her voice slightly. Abby hated how stubborn she was being. Ellie had a hard time accepting help and accepting it from someone she’d just nearly killed seemed well, outlandish. Abby walks infront of Ellie, crouching down to her level. “Ellie. Look at me.” Abby starts gently. Ellie turns her head in the opposite direction. “Ellie. Please look at me.” Abby asks again. Ellie won’t turn. A gentle, calloused and large hand comes up to Ellie’s face. Naturally, Ellie flinches a little. She hadn’t let anyone do this since like, forever. She had forgotten what a gentle touch was. “Listen to me. I want you to come with me and Lev. I’ll pick you up and bring you over there if I have to. I’m not leaving you here by yourself.” Ellie doesn’t say anything. She looks into Abby’s green eyes.

Despite the fact that her eyes were full of pain, they were still pretty, Ellie thought. She didn’t know why she’d been thinking about something at a time like this. A hazy fog settled around the girls, making it seem like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Ellie keeps her eyes on Abby as if something would happen if she looked away. Ellie was horrible with eye contact but right now? She was a pro. It almost seemed like Ellie was searching for something in the girls eyes. “But why do you want me to come with you? I just tried to kill you.” Ellie asks with a slightly raised eyebrow. “I just tried to kill you too. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. But you’re not, are you?” Abby asks, mimicking her raised eyebrow. 

“Huh. Well, I guess I’m not.” Ellie mumbles. Even though she was telling her that she wouldn’t kill her, she still wasn’t 100% sure. Ellie was already in enough pain as is. Abby had lost enough in life. They were two girls who were suffering in different ways. Abby seemed to also be searching for something in Ellie’s eyes. Solace. She would’ve been ridiculous to think the girl she’d just fought a handful of minutes ago would come with her. She didn’t even know why she proposed that. I mean, Ellie hated her, didn’t she? No way she’d— “Fine.” Ellie spoke again. Abby was a little shocked. “You’ll.. come with me?” “Yes. Now hurry before I change my mind.”

Neither of them smiled at their agreement. They moreover were relieved. This is what Abby was hoping for; a fresh start in their.. ‘relationship’ or whatever you’d call this. Abby goes to try and start up the boat, the sound of a sputtering engine could be heard. Ellie goes for her backpack. It drips with sea water as did her clothes. By now, it was almost entirely dark, a small lantern illuminated the boat. The fire inside flickered. The boat finally starts up. Wordlessly, Ellie treads across the water over to the boat. She sits next to Abby awkwardly because of the girls large frame. In one of her hands, she still held the switchblade as if her life had depended upon it. She hadn’t looked in Abby’s direction as the boat drove across the water, but Abby looked at her once and redirected her attention to what lay ahead. They were both painfully silent, not knowing what to say to eachother. The silence was awkward yet comfortable. Ellie wasn’t really ready to talk, nor was Abby. In their own way, they both understood that.

[cheerychoco]

JUNE'S JOURNAL

Entry 15:

Previously

Things between us are going great!

It's been a few weeks of us dating again. Going out to eat, trying new bars, staying at each other's apartments. I never thought we would get here!

We've even been talking about our first vacation together!

Things really feel like they're taking a turn to the right direction with us. We're progressing but it doesn't feel rushed like I feared.

I do still feel like there's always this lingering conversation to be had about Chance. Whether he's tried to talk to me or if I've seen him around. It's always like Kieran wants to bring it up but bites his tongue.

Then it happened. I knew it would at some point, I just didn't think today would be the day.

It all kinda happened quickly.

Kieran went outside to grab something from his car and Chance was there checking his mail.

It doesn't take a genius to realize this is the man that had his hands on my body a few months ago.

So, Kieran just let it all out.

Even though Chance didn't know about our relationship, and while Kieran did forgive me, he never got the chance to voice his grievances with Chance.

I think Kieran realized it wasn't his fault.

He found someone he was attracted to and did what any adult would.

But it still hurt him to be face to face with the man that could've ruined his relationship and he let him have it.

"I don't care if you two are friendly, if I ever see you talk to June again I won't hesitate to kick your ass!"

"Don't look at her, don't breathe near her, don't let your mind linger on her."

Chance wouldn't take some random guy who was dating his latest hookup talk to him any type of way especially in public.

He told Kieran to watch himself and there would be no issues.

Of course Olive had to be in the hallway during this.

Then it all happened so quickly.

-J.

EXTRA

[creepedverse]

Give us Arthur info dump

Personal Journal (tw for animal death!)

Entry 003, XX/XX/2008

Haaaaaah. Farnbury… What a place! I expected to be shell shocked when I got here, honestly! But, underneath the starry sky… I feel at home. I guess I’m home when I’m in the trees, no matter which direction I find myself! ^^ But, there are some differences compared to New York. For starters, it’s not as cold! I love the cold weather, so I never complained at home, but now in February, I feel overdressed! I also… I made friends!! Two of them!! Can you believe it!? Of course I can believe it, me! They’re both so… just wow!

I was just setting up my camp for the night when I met him! My first ever friend!! (Better late than never!) He seemed startled to see me out there, but I think he relaxed once he realized I wasn’t like a bear or something! (Even though being a bear would be super cool!) He was very quiet, and I started to fill the space by talking! I… I usually find it hard to start conversations, but talking to him came so easy! He just listened, and that was nice. I guess that’s what friends do! Anyways, that’s how we first met! Ever since then, I’ve been running into him here and there! He actually works at the diner I go to for breakfast! He’s probably used to my order by now, since I always get the same thing! (Pancakes, short stack, and coffee) His name is Tommie! And I think that name suits him marvelously! He is very much a Tommie! ^^

I made my second friend just recently! Here I am, braving the wilderness in hopes of solving the mystery surrounding the farnbury entity, but… well… this is taking longer than I thought it would! When I found that cursed picture online, it only took me two weeks to contain the entity! Bam! Done! No more silly dog! But… this entity seems… different. It’s… stronger than most. I have some theories about it, but I’ll detail them in my proper investigation journal. Anyways! Where was I? Right! It’s taking a long time to get to the bottom of this thing! So, I soon found myself almost out of money. And so, that means I needed a job! The only problem is that… well… no one wants to hire a guy living out of a tent! Except for one person! Bonnibel… Bonnie! My beautiful Bonnie! She saved me from total, utter despair!! Heh… okay that’s dramatic! But! She hired me to work at her antique shop! And I’m so proud to say we get along swimmingly! She’s so gentle and kind and doesn’t yell at me if I miscalculate change! Actually, now that I think about it… this is my first proper job! Huh! How epic!!!

Bonnie has a truly beautiful ability. She can see ghosts! What are the odds of her befriending me!? She’s surrounded by the paranormal, and I hope she’ll let me help if anything troublesome bothers her. I have a whole section in my notes dedicated to banishing spirits! I hope she can rely on me… She actually… She told me a ghost follows me. A small hare… hopping wherever I go. I… um…

Well I guess if I’m telling this journal everything, I’ll tell it everything. When I first encountered the farnbury entity, I lost control of myself for a second. The entity seemed to try and get in my head. It completely mixed my thoughts around, I couldn’t make out up or down, left or right. I started freaking out, in the woods, all alone. My tics started going haywire! I couldn’t control my body anymore and I just… spazzed. (I guess my high school peers were spot on with that nickname.) I ended up falling down a steeper-than-average hill. I must’ve hit my head because when I woke up, it was daylight. I was fine again. However… on my way down the hill, I… crushed… a rabbit. I felt so awful! The poor little thing! I started to panic! Luckily, my brother had taught me well, and I managed to calm my breathing (and my tears!) and took care of the rabbit by giving it a small burial. I didn’t really have any tools on hand, so I used what I could to make a little grave. I must’ve looked like I was going to faint when Bonnie told me she saw a hare with me! But, how I’ll choose to interpret it is that the rabbit is looking after me. After all, I think he knows it was an accident (I hope he knows!) Maybe he’s hopping around after me to keep me out of trouble! I’ll choose to look on the bright side!

In all my years, I’ve endured countless jabs and bullying and that one fight before I left high school. I can’t help but admit that I was losing hope I’d ever make actual friends… But… Here in Farnbury, things are different. I made friends. I have friends. And I will do anything to protect them, and any other future friends I might make. I will figure this entity out, nullify it, and invite Tommie and Bonnie to travel the whole country with me when I’m done!!!

[immajustvibehere]

Spark (4/8)

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 4 summary: You and Arthur slowly become closer while managing the trifles that come with running in the van der Linde gang. Arthur might even be ready to forgive you for your last offense...

link to my masterlist

first chapter, second chapter, third chapter

Hey. Sorry it took me so long. Aside from a full schedule, this was a hard chapter for me to write because its purpose is to display a transition and it might not be the smoothest thing I have written, but it's necessary to progress the plot.

4000 words, 20 minutes reading time

It was early in the morning, but Arthur had given up trying to sleep. Despite the sun not having risen yet, the light grey colour of the sky suggested that it wouldn't be long until the sun's warmth would touch the damp grass and shy away the small clouds that hung in the sky. Only a few people had already left their bedrolls and slowly started the daily business of running a camp. As Arthur opened his tent flaps some more, he lazily greeted Javier who had just finished his guard duty. Then Arthur sat down on his table, his journal in front of him.

You had been on his thoughts all night, he hated to admit it. So much had happened. And though yesterday Arthur was sure that he was anything but disgusted by your presence, he was concerned. Concerned that you had actually left camp, as he had threatened you yesterday. There was something in your features when he told you to leave, that stuck with him. An expression that haunted his dreams.

No. He had been seeing things. Better to stick to the things that he knew for sure; you annoyed him and had taken his journal.

Again and again, Arthur had reassured that you hadn't ripped out something, and he was almost disappointed to find out that you hadn't. It didn't fit the picture he had of you. For the tenth time since yesterday, Arthur skimmed through the pages, absentmindedly reading his entries when he overheard a conversation taking place.

He turned his head a bit to see you in the distance, talking to Abigail. He couldn't make out what the two of you were saying, but you looked calm - quite in contrast to the conversation you had with Abigail yesterday. Arthur curiously watched as you handed something to her. Then she closed in, it almost looked like Abigail wanted to hug you. But you stumbled back a couple of steps, extending your hand to shake hers.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing what to think of that, when you suddenly turned and walked towards his tent. Flustered, he sat up straight, directing his gaze to the table in front of him. Why did he react like that? He hadn't done anything forbidden. And still, Arthur grabbed a pen and scribbled away on an empty page in his journal. He didn't even know what to draw, he just started with some simple lines, hoping he wouldn't have to think of something.

Then he heard you clearing your throat.

"You awake, Mr. Morgan?", you asked, standing at the entrance of his tent.

"Depends", Arthur replied briefly. He clearly was awake, you could see him very well sitting and scribbling in his journal, but his voice was gravely.

"Look - I'm...I'm sorry", you almost choked on your voice and had to supress a cough.

Arthur snickered, not even looking at you: "Sure. For what exactly? For all of it?"

"Taking your journal", you added and since Arthur didn't say anything, you took a big breath to repeat: "I'm sorry for taking your journal. I shouldn't have done that."

"Alright."

If you expected to be forgiven, Arthur was far than ready to do so. Simply that you had mentioned that you had taken his journal made his heart beat faster in anger. Nevertheless, hearing you mumble an apology was some sort of satisfaction.

"For what it's worth I really like the drawings. They are well done and...you don’t have to worry about me reading your secrets cause I read none if it”, you explained.

"Course you didn't", Arthur replied sarcastically.

"I can't read", you admitted silently.

"Ya got a damn big mouth for someone who can't read", Arthur mocked. Then he looked up and wished he hadn’t delivered this line like that.

You looked...-well. You certainly didn't sleep much last night. Your hair was messy, your hands and pants dirty with soil as if you had been digging something. Underneath the dark circles around your eyes there was a blooming bruise on your cheek bone where John had hit you. It looked painful. Your eyes were glassy and additionally to your feeble appearance came a blush on your cheeks. Arthur looked you up and down and noticed that one holster was empty. So, despite searching for hours last night, and evidently not getting any sleep at all, you hadn't found the gun he had thrown over the ridge. Briefly, he thought about mentioning it, but decided against it. You broke the silence again.

"I knew you told me to leave but...I won't", you were almost scared of the last two words. Scared he would yell at you and throw you out nevertheless.

"Real shame", Arthur sighed instantly, before he looked at you again and decided the harsh treatment was maybe not the right way, "It's none of my business anyway. But if ya can't stop annoying people around here I can't guarantee for yer safety."

You sighed in relief: "Understood."

You looked around at camp and caught sight of the Indian who was about to heave up a ridiculously huge sack of flour. Despite his physique, he seemed to struggle.

"What’s the Indian's name again?", you asked Arthur without letting your eyes off the man.

Slightly confused, Arthur answered with: "Charles Smith." Then he barely caught your mumbled 'bye' and saw you disappear from his tent. You headed towards Charles, determined to offer help. You sighed when you got closer. Maybe two apologies and one offering of kindness was too much for 7 am in the morning, but Charles had already caught sight of you, so there was no turning back without making things even more awkward.

"Need a hand, Mr. Smith?” you asked, approaching him. He looked up surprisedly but replied with a "Sure" before even thinking about it. His eyes lingered on your bruise, and you watched his slightly sceptical look. It was clear that you had a sudden change of heart, but there was no way Charles could tell how this had come to be. Unless it was connected to the ugly bruise right on your face. But he hadn't been present when John had punched you in the face, neither had he noticed that Arthur had thrown your favourite gun over the cliff and that you had been searching for it all night. All that was clear to Charles was, that you were in a peculiar mood. Your cheeks blushed, obviously embarrassed but at the same time somewhere else with your thoughts.

You tripped over your own feet as you helped Charles to carry the sack to Pearson's waggon. They were fucking heavy, and you feared that you might be less actual help for the man that was about five times your size when it came to muscles, but you tried nevertheless. Tried, while thinking about stuff you had been mulling over the whole night.

Something about Arthur kicking you out yesterday had made you realize that you didn't want to leave. You never were someone who lived with many people. If you had been with a gang, it either ended with being stabbed in the back, a disastrous job with many casualties or just your misjudgement making you shake hands with people who didn't have any good intentions for you at heart. But last night, as you crawled through the bushes you had realized something: This was not your average outlaw gang. You swallowed at the term, but this wild mix of people was a family. There were people who needed to be taken care of, and there were others who stepped in and provided. Of course, a Jack or a Reverend is useless in a fight, but they made this random mix of people a family.

"Y/N?", you looked up to Charles who had called your names a couple of times now before you listened.

"We can drop the sack here", he said, waiting for you to let go of your end so the weight wouldn't overwhelm you if he let go first.

"Sure", you sighed at the realization that you hadn’t been listening. After the sack had been dropped off, you wiped your dusty hands on your jeans.

"That's a nasty bruise you got there", Charles remarked, "I could mix you something with some herbs that grow around here. It'll make it fade faster."

You looked at his like he had just suggested the most ridiculous thing ever, and without even thinking about it you blurted out a: "No thanks, I'll manage." You turned on your heels to get out of there, when you halted, slowly turning around to Charles again, who hadn't moved at all: "Though...if it isn't too much trouble...?"

Charles stated a short: "Not at all." You nodded, cleared your throat and mumbled a "Thank you."

A few uneventful days passed. While you still rode out every day, at least to bring in some fresh game or a couple of dollars that you robbed from the first fella that had the misfortune of crossing your path, you stayed around more often and helped out with the daily chores. On a rather warm afternoon, you were on guard duty, lazily walking up and down, when Dutch and John rode up to you. Strauss was on John’s horse and his face was unusually pale. The pace at which they had approached you and Dutch’s tense face told you that something wasn’t right.

“Dutch?”, you asked when his horse was next to you.

“Cornwall’s men found us. We had to shoot our way out of town”, Dutch sighed in brief explanation.

“Anybody got hurt?”, you eyed the men and your gaze found a deep red stain on Strauss’s leg.

“Not seriously”, Dutch answered. You heard Leopold mockingly repeating the answer under his breath. The sweat on his forehead suggested that his definition of seriously hurt might differ from Dutch’s.

“We’ll have to move soon”, Dutch thought out loud and kicked his horse into a slow trot again. You walked next to him: “Want me to go scout ahead?”

“That’s…very kind of you, Miss y/n. I’ll need to discuss it with Hosea first, but you might as well start packing.”

And only two hours later, you were called to Dutch who was surrounded by Hosea and Arthur. You walked up to them with crossed arms: “So we’re moving?”

“We are. South, for now. I want you to go with Charles and Arthur here”, Dutch said. Looking at Arthur’s face, he had already found out that you would be joining the scouting mission and surprisingly, didn’t seem too disgusted by the idea. There was just a hint of annoyance in his features.

“Sure”, you nodded complyingly, “Not a problem. I’ll get my horse saddled –“

“Actually”, Dutch interrupted you, “We might need yours to pull a waggon. Bill let his be injured so we are one strong horse short.” You were still processing those words and what they were supposed to mean, when Dutch shortened the pause: “I’m sure you’ll find some space on either of those fine gentlemen’s horses.” Then Dutch gave you a slimy grin and turned around, implying that this conversation was over and there was no room for discussion.

You silently followed Charles and Arthur to their horses. And when Arthur sat tight, he offered you a hand to climb on his horse, but you were already headed to Charles, asking with a questioning look if you were allowed to ride with him. He nodded, understanding your implication without any words being said and watched you mount Taima behind him, not even bothering to offer you a hand. Because he knew you were capable, and he knew you didn’t like to be offered help, even though you had started to accept his offers more willingly with every new day.

Arthur watched those happenings as if he wasn’t sitting on his horse, one hand reached out to where you had stood ten seconds ago. He felt like an idiot, but since you ignored him completely, he could live with the embarrassment. “Didn’t want ya on my horse anyway”, he mumbled under his breath, for nobody but himself to hear.

“So we are heading south…”, Charles assessed five minutes into the ride.

“Yeah, area called Dewberry Creek. We’ll make sure if it’s clear and a good place to lie low for a while”, Arthur explained.

“Man, I’ve been with you for like two weeks and in those two weeks you’ve done anything but lying low”, you teased.

Charles agreed with you and even Arthur kind of did when he said: “There ain’t no lying low. Dutch is not gonna hide away in a cave somewhere. Goes against everything he stands for.” Both Arthur and Charles must have heard you snicker but ignored it.

When you finally arrived at the destination, a dried-out rover creek, you couldn’t help but grin bitterly: “That’s a shit camp spot, even for your kind of lying low standards.”

The place was exposed, with barely any trees around to cover tents or two dozen of heavily armed people walking around. This was no nice camp spot, and you couldn’t even start to understand why Micah, of all people, would recommend it. Not that you had any trust in your stepbrother’s suggestions to begin with, but he usually was sharp when it came to things like that.

“Let’s look around”, Arthur ordered, and you rolled your eyes. “Waste of time”, you hollered sarcastically, but there was no way of riding off with you sitting behind Charles on his horse.

After a while though, you heard Arthur exclaim: “There’s a camp over there. Let’s have a look.”

With that, the horses were dismounted and you walked up to a couple of rather big tents, barrels and clothing lines. “Looks empty…”, Arthur assessed.

“Let’s make sure”, Charles chimed in.

“Looks like they left in a hurry”, you commented while you kicked a couple of still glowing sticks into the fireplace, “or hid in a hurry.” You saw Arthur pulling away some crates from a waggon with Charles help. When you had approached, they were about to uncover three figures hiding, one of them holding a double-barrel right in your face.

Instinctively, your hand went to your holster, only to grip thin air. You hadn’t got used to missing your main firearm, when you tried to go for your second one, Arthur gripped your wrist so firmly, you hissed in reply.

“It’s okay. You can come out of there”, Charles spoke to them in a soft voice while he raised his hands defensively. Arthur shot you a warning glare, before he let go of your hand to give you the opportunity to raise your hands too, which you unwillingly did.

“We don’t mean you no harm”, Charles affirmed and the three of you stood still, patiently waiting for the oldest of the three people, a woman probably around 20, to move the last crate to crawl out from under the waggon. As the three people moved, still very much holding you hostage with the raised weapon, Arthur shoved you behind him, moving away from the armed girl. You hated him for handling you like that. It might have looked like he wanted to protect you, shoving you behind his back, but you knew it was to prevent you from saying or doing something stupid.

“G-german?”, the oldest stuttered.

“No…”, Arthur replied confusedly, “no go on, get out of here. Go, we need the land. Go!”

When they didn’t budge, Arthur got louder: “Get the hell out of here.”

A blonde girl, probably not older than fifteen finally said something in broken English: “They took our father.”

“Who did?”, Charles asked without hesitation.

“Men. Last night”, the girl explained.

“Where did they take him?” Charles asked.

“Ain’t no business of ours”, Arthur said, turning to Charles offense as if he had just added useless stuff to do in todays list, “I don’t even speak their language.”

“You ain’t as tough and dense as all that”, Charles said, holding an erect index finger under Arthur’s nose. You worked hard to hold back a snort. Charles walked off to his horse, leaving you and Arthur standing there. A small giggle escaped your lips and you hit Arthur in the side with your elbow, secretly happy you kept your mouth shut the whole time, “Whose the insensitive bastard now, huh?”, you chuckled.56

Arthur clicked with his tongue before shoving you forward nonchalantly: “Come on.”

While hunting down the men who kidnapped the father, you found the perfect camping spot. Plus, you had the opportunity to gun down some men, which you gladly did after not having had the opportunity to practice with your other gun. The business was taken care of faster than you had anticipated, and before you knew it Charles was riding to get the rest of the gang, Arthur brought the man back to his family and you guarded the newly-acquired camping spot.

Arthur was back before Charles and while you rampaged the place for valuables, Arthur sat down underneath the big tree. No words were spoken, and distance was kept.

---

"What are you staring at?", you snapped at Arthur. His eyes followed you while you walked through camp and did chores. They had been for a couple of days now, but he never approached you or said anything about it. He just watched. And at some point, it had started to annoy you. It angered you even more that you cared about it, but you couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Just checkin' if yer behaving", Arthur commented.

"Don't give me that bullshit. I told you I don't need babysitting", you said.

"Well then maybe, you should stop doing all those dubious activities", Arthur almost whispered.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you gave him a quizzical look: "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"You know what I'm talking about", Arthur simply replied.

"I don't. But fine, keep your secrets. But stop stalking me."

"What was that thing that you gave Jack earlier?"

"What?", you hoped Arthur hadn't caught your look of surprise or the way you held your breath for a moment, "Nothing."

"Sure", Arthur chuckled darkly.

"Stop watching me", and then you walked off.

But as much as you would have liked to keep it a secret, it wasn't long until Arthur unveiled this mystery. To be fair, you had never done anything truly suspicious, he had just found it weird how well behaved you had become. It wasn't like you were going around throwing compliments at the others, but now you would stumble over a sleeping uncle and just curse him under your breath, in comparison to kicking and yelling at him to get his shit together. In fact, Arthur hadn't heard you fight with anyone recently.

Abigail had asked Arthur, who had caught up with her over a cup of coffee, to fetch Jack who should be playing nearby to help her get some chores done. It didn’t take long for Arthur to find him. He was just playing hidden behind Abigail’s tent, moving little wooden figures and thinking up a role play. And next to Jack? You, just as immersed in the little game that was going on.

Jack was quick to notice Arthur, jumping up and greeting him: “Uncle Arthur! Look! Auntie y/n made this for me because I lost mine!”

Jack was stretching his arms up to Arthur to present a wooden carved figure of…he wasn’t sure exactly. It could be anything from a deer to an elephant, so Arthur smiled and nodded, taking the carved monstrosity in his own hands: “That’s real nice, Jack.”

The boy nodded excitedly, but when Arthur looked down to you, you simply stared at the dirty ground with red cheeks. You didn’t mind if Abigail knew you spent time with Jack, Hosea had also seen you just a couple of days ago, when you were collecting flowers with Jack…but Arthur. His teasing could already be heard and he hadn’t yet said anything.

“Jack, yer momma is asking for you. Why don’t ya go and check if she needs something”, Arthur said to the boy, patting him on the back and watching him run off.

For a while, neither of you said anything. Finally, Arthur made a couple of steps to stand next to you and held the carved thing under yer nose.

“What the hell’s this thing? It’s damn ugly”, he said mockingly.

“Oh, that’s why it reminded me of you”, you shot back, a cheeky, half-assed grin on your lips. You looked up to Arthur who looked taken aback for a second before his lips curled into a soft smile. He squatted to place the - he had decided that it was most likely to be meant as a horse - on the grass next to the more professionally carved wooden soldiers.

“Yer not so wrong about that”, he mumbled. You barely made out the words, but when you did you knit your eyebrows together in a surprise. Arthur? Giving in? To one of YOUR snarky remarks? You swallowed thickly under the enlightenment that this conventionally handsome man just compared himself to your feeble attempt of a wooden horse, but didn’t say anything. There was nothing to be said.

“I got s’mthing for ya”, Arthur said, standing up again. Some smart replies came to your mind but you remained silent, following him to his tent. You watched as he opened his chest and pulled out a peacemaker.

“Here ya go”, he presented it to you.

“What’m I supposed to do with that?”, you asked, eying the gun all over. It was a beautiful gun. Clearly rather old, but well cared for with carvings all over.

“Take it”, Arthur assured.

You looked up at him to see him staring and you, almost pleadingly.

“You’re clearly a fan of double-wielding and if ya don’t, yer shooting’s off. I don’t want myself killed ‘cause you miss half the targets with one gun”, Arthur explained, pushing the gun into your hand.

You snickered, knowing damn well that this wasn’t the reason. The bastard was feeling bad because he threw away your gun. This revolver he gave you weighted heavily in your hand. It was a bit too big, clearly made for huge manly hands instead of your smaller, though trained, ones. You’ll make it work, you thought. The last thing you wanted to do is refuse it, it looked special. Arthur observed you inspecting the carving. When you discovered his initials carved in as well.

“It’s one of the first guns Dutch and Hosea ever gave me. It’s old, but still good”, he briefly explained.

“Sure”, you answered. You could tell. “Thanks.” With that you put the gun into your holster that had been empty for a while now. After you had made sure the gun sat properly, you looked up to find Arthur offering you a cigarette.

“What’s up with you today?”, you asked, taking it and putting it in between your lips.

“Good mood, I’spose”, Arthur replied. He struck a match, and you watched attentively how small sparks flew around and were gone as soon as you blinked. Arthur lit your cigarette first before he moved on to one he had placed between his own lips. You watched as he took a first drag, closing his eyes in the process. It didn’t struck you as a way of enjoying the nicotine, but more as a way of calming down. The old peacemaker put a nice weight on your hips, you felt more balanced again and you couldn’t help but imagine that Arthur had put off lending you his gun for a few days now. So having finally managed that, he must be relieved.

You smiled over this realization. You’d have never thought that…well…he’d forgive you for the whole journal ordeal. But this was probably his way of saying ‘We’re good’.

That’s that then, you thought.

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