If You Don’t Fw All Butches You Don’t Fw Any Of Us-

these are so funny oh my god

texts with silly gf ellie short smau

synopsis: no plot just texts with your girlfriend ellie williams and she's a dork!

cw: swearing, mentions of sex (pussy eating lolz), ellie loves adventure time fornite n roblox as she shoulddd, ellies a nerdy freak n readers kind of a mean freak (sometimes) they're inloveeeee

oh my god it’s everywhere

On my hands and knees begging for a fic where vi mocks the readers moans and the reader is super into it

bitch you’re fucking sick in the head. i love it. some kindaaaa spicy, borderline bdsm stuff below so read forth with caution! there’s aftercare tho. and 18+ as always.

vi’s trying to commit this version of you to memory: dazed and fucked out, tears streaking down your cheeks, your hands tensed around fistfuls of the bedsheets. your cunt is spread wide and puffy for her, so slick it damn near glistens in the dim bedroom lighting. dark, angry-looking hickeys decorate your complexion, and vi can’t even remember when she sucked bruises into certain parts of you - had she really spent so much time latched to your left hip? the inside of your wrist?

whatever, it’s not important. shes supposed to be focusing on giving you what you want - what you need. what you’ve been begging for since she’d first bit into the flesh where your shoulder and neck connect. it’s been two orgasms since then, and though you’re certainly more delirious now, drool weeping from the corner of your lips, eyes all faraway, you’ve still managed to keep up with the begging.

“please, vi,” you whisper, “please.”

your watery eyes search her frame, something akin to relief washing over your features when you process the fact that vi’s already slipped into her harness. there’s a wrinkle between your brows when you pout like this, and vi wants to lean over and kiss it.

“so needy,” she says instead, shuffling forward on her knees to settle herself between your legs. “can’t stop begging for it, huh?”

she grins when you nod along with what she’s saying, and through your lust-foggy gaze, you think briefly how hot it is when she smiles like that, lip scar stretching just so.

the thought disappears as quickly as it came, though, because now vi’s pushing the tip of her strap through your folds, moving with ease through the wetness spread through your twitching cunt.

“fuuuuck,” she hisses. her gaze is settled on your spread pussy, watching it drool onto the silicon. there’s something else she’d like to commit to memory.

she plays with you a bit more - she’s always liked to play with her food. you’re whimpering and gasping as she curls her hand around her strap, working it upward from your entrance to the puffy bud of your clit. the slick, wet sounds of each movement go right to her own clit, and she’d be lying if she told you she wasn’t leaking through her briefs right now.

“god, vi, i can’t—” you cut yourself off with a high, drawn-out moan, eyes crossing, because vi’s drawing circles over your clit with the strap.

“please,” you say again. and again, and again - a chorus of “please, please, please” until vi’s finally had enough. she pushes her hips into yours, sinking so deep inside of you that you swear you can feel her in your throat.

“that what you need, princess?” vi asks, voice hoarse. battle-rough hands smooth over the soft curves of your hips, and she digs her thumbs into the flesh to steady herself as she pulls out again, only to sheath herself back into you a moment later. all you can manage is a shaky moan in response, front teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“what was that?” vi says as she slams into you again, repeating the motion in quicker succession. “couldn’t hear you.”

you moan again, back arching off the bed, and this time, vi laughs. but as humorous as she finds your inability to answer, it doesn’t keep her from fucking into you faster, rougher. your cunt opens smoothly around her, takes her like it’s made for this.

“try that again,” vi tells you. she waits for that soft, whiny, pathetic moan again, and when the sound tears from your throat, she chuckles again - then, throwing her head back in a melodramatic imitation of you, she makes that same sound herself. she moans like you do, like you are right now - too fucked out to say any real words.

vi’s still fucking you through her mocking imitation, though. “hear that? s’what you sound like, cupcake. fucking needy.”

your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there’s another flood of warmth elsewhere - your cunt gushes impossibly wetter. you moan again, trying for that over-exaggerated, pornstar-type sound, and whatever you do works, because vi’s red-faced and lust-drunk. she fucks you into the mattress at a dizzying pace, and all you can do is lie there and take it, moaning and gasping her name, your mouth releasing an endless stream of ah, ah, ah…

and vi mocks you at every opportunity, laughing with that self-satisfied grin on her lips, hips snapping forward to pull more of those sounds out of you.

after, when she’s made you cream on her strap at least twice, she smooths a hand through your hair and kisses that wrinkle between your brows.

“that was hot, you know,” you say, nuzzling into her jawline. she smells like sweat and sex and musk, that characteristically vi scent that’s always so intoxicating. “you mocking me, i mean.”

“figured you liked it,” vi says with a poorly-concealed smirk. “guess i’ll have to humiliate you more next time.”

“shut up.” you shove her away, but when she pulls you back in against her naked chest, smothering you in kisses, you can’t help but beam.

oh my god help me

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER ✶ ft. bbf!ellie williams. prequel to this.

cw. smut, nsfw, angst if you close your eyes and look away, fingering(r!receiving), dryhumping, reader is intoxicated but it’s all consensual, mentions of a man, gin slander lol, modern au, afab!reader and fem reader. wc. 5.2k(what the helly???) note. the plot was lost halfway through so it’s just basically smut mixed with nonsense…i’m really sorry :/

the music felt way too overbearing; mixed with the alcohol you’ve consumed over the past hour or so it all felt way too heavy—almost suffocating. bittersweet clung to your tongue, sharp and herbal, the aftertaste of gin curling at the back of your throat like smoke. dry. piney. something bitter underneath, like citrus peel left to burn.

you hated gin. you only drank it because it was the first thing that was handed to you.

pushed into the far corner of your kitchen, your clothes felt too tight, and your shoes didn’t fit right. you knew they didn’t. it wasn’t because you were overwhelmed and on the verge of a breakdown, it was because they were a size too small. you wore them because they looked good with your outfit, thinking you might’ve at least gotten one compliment about it. but no. not a single person mentioned to you how your shoes looked like they were personally customized for the outfit.

you weren’t mad, or annoyed for that matter. people came here to party and not to tell you that your ass looked fantastic, and your boobs sat so perfectly they might not be real.

none of that mattered really, at all even.

you’re sweating. you feel the cup in your hand feel slippery against the softness of your palm, it might fall to the floor and ruin those shoes you should really get rid of because they don’t fit. these fucking shoes.

it wasn’t even about them. it never was. you’re just pissed they don’t fit you the only time you decided to wear them. and you were pissed because she was talking to her and not you.

it wasn't jealousy.

it wasn’t.

you were just upset. that’s all. upset because she’s been hitting on you for at least two years now and now she was talking to someone that wasn’t you.

you had no right to be jealous. you turn ellie down every time she says anything remotely suggestive, you don’t let her get anywhere pass a flirty comment, maybe two or three more get by, but that’s all.

you don’t like ellie. i mean how could you?

(but it really was more like who doesn’t? ellie was pretty, gorgeous even. with her stupid freckles, green eyes that shine so brightly under the sun of dawn. the light over her face and those freckles. and her hair, it was so pretty, soft with the most addicting smell. every single fucking time you look at her you feel unwell. this sickening feeling in your stomach, it aches.

you have no good reason to turn her down, you do it because you’re confused about why a girl like her likes you.

you‘re clumsy, anxious, you let your mouth run when you shouldn’t. you talk back when enough's been said. your comebacks are snarky. you know you shouldn’t speak, but your mouth moves anyway—quick and defensive. regret always comes later. you feel as if there isn’t much to look at if you look at a mirror.

but that’s the thing that ellie likes the most. you’re different. not in the ‘i’m not like other girls’ kind of way—but in the way you flinch when you laugh, the way you don’t know what to do with your hands. in the way she notices. she doesn’t say anything, but she sees you.

but that’s what pisses you off the most.

because ellie doesn’t like you in spite of those things. she likes you because of them.

she likes the way you get flustered when you’re cornered. she likes when you talk back. when your voice shakes, but you say it anyway. she likes how your mouth runs when it shouldn’t. how you can never just leave things alone. she likes that you’re messy, and mouthy, and unsure of yourself. and maybe that’s why you keep pushing her away.

because if she sees all that and still wants you—you don’t know what that makes you.)

with your eyes shooting laser beams into the wall right next to her, as to not seem like you’re watching her because she’ll get all cocky about it if she catches you looking. it’s not ellie if she doesn’t tease you to death. smothering you with her words, like a pair of hands around your neck—gentle at first, like she’s cradling you to kiss—until they tighten, deliberate, marking you with nothing but words. words that leave an effect they shouldn’t, and it bothers you more than you’ll ever admit.

and now she’s gone, and so is the girl she was with.

wonderful.

you unstiffen your shoulders, dropping them, trying to relax when you feel so uncomfortable. you hear your bed practically calling your name. you’re so fed up. this was supposed to be a fun party, just like every other party your brother throws. but all you could think about was that ellie hasn’t talked to you once, and that some random guy, you were pretty sure wasn’t even invited, kept trying to hit on you, giving you this disgusting drink and telling you to come find him later.

he didn’t even ask you if you like gin, just poured it into a cup with a mix of diet coke, it’s the most nasty after taste you’ve ever tasted. who would drink such monstrosity and like it?

you set your cup down—finally. the stickiness from your palm feels gross; it’s sweaty and moist, like thick mucus. you’re about to disappear upstairs when you hear her.

“you always make that face when you're annoyed. d’you know that?”

ellie.

her voice is too close. low, amused. like she was watching you from the other side of the room and couldn’t help herself. and maybe she was.

you don’t turn around. not right away. you know how this goes—she says something cocky, you get defensive, she teases you until your thoughts melt into something you can’t name. it’s always the same. always her and her dumb words.

you roll your eyes instead, loud enough for her to hear it in your silence. “didn’t know you were watching me.”

“always do.” she says, like it’s obvious. like it’s nothing. you hate the way your heart stumbles at the sound of it.

then she moves closer. you feel it more than see it, her presence sliding in beside you, the press of her arm almost grazing yours. not touching. never touching. but close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin, her breath ghosting near your jaw.

“you looked like you were about to murder someone.” ellie murmurs, glancing at the abandoned drink.

“watcha got there?” she picks up the plastic cup you had just set down on the counter. her curiosity is shut down by the awful taste that appears in her mouth when she takes a generous sip from the cup.

“what the fuck is this!?” ellie’s face scrunches up into a look of disbelief and disgust. “what human fed you this?”

she sets the cup down and moves it further away on the counter like it’s radioactive.

“uhhhh. him over there.” you search in the crowd of people for the dark haired man that shoved the cup into your hand and smirked at you when you forced yourself to take multiple sips.

ellie follows your gaze, spots him almost instantly. the guy’s leaning against the fridge like he owns it—shirt half unbuttoned, drink in hand, grinning at someone who’s definitely not you.

she scoffs. “that guy?”

“that guy.”

“he looks like he harasses women on the street.”

you bite back a laugh, lips twitching. “that’s mean.”

“you drank his little science experiment. i’m being merciful.”

she turns to face you fully now, leaning her hip against the counter, one hand tucked into her back pocket. you glance at her, finally—just a flick of your eyes, quick and stupid—and she catches it. of course she does.

“you’ve been avoiding me all night,” she says, like it’s a casual observation and not an accusation.

“i haven’t.”

“you didn’t say hi.”

“you didn’t either.”

she tilts her head at that, amused. “so it’s my job now?”

“didn’t say that.”

“but you thought it.”

you huff, crossing your arms. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet.” ellie grins. “here you are. still standing next to me.”

you look away. again. the floor is suddenly very interesting.

ellie leans in just slightly, drops her voice to a hum. “you look good, by the way.”

you don’t respond. not right away. your brain short-circuits a little, glitches like an old tv. there it is again. the teasing, the soft menace in her voice. the compliment you weren’t expecting but still secretly hoped for.

“shoes don’t fit.” you mutter.

“doesn’t matter. your legs look great.”

your cheeks burn. you hate her. you want to crawl out of your own skin. skin yourself alive, bash your head into a wall.

“stop it.” you say, weakly. it’s barely above a whisper.

“stop what?” she asks, already smiling like she knows. like she can feel the heat radiating off you.

you don’t answer. you can’t.

ellie shifts closer. not by much—just enough that you have to fight the urge to lean back, or lean in, or do something other than stand there, vibrating with everything you’re trying not to feel.

“you always get like this when i say something nice,” she murmurs. “all twitchy and silent. like you’re waiting for me to take it back.”

you scoff, but it doesn’t land right. too shaky. too soft.

“i’m just saying,” she continues, voice syrupy, “if you’re gonna stand there looking like that, all flushed and pretty and bitey, you can’t expect me to behave.”

your breath hitches. that’s not fair. that’s so not fair.

“i’m not bitey.” you say, eyes narrowed.

“sure you’re not.” she grins, teeth sharp. “you’re a terror.”

you glare. or try to. but your face won’t cooperate—it wants to smile, to give in, to break in all the ways she makes you break.

ellie takes one step closer, and now she’s really in your space. the music blurs behind you both. voices fade to a dull, distant buzz. it’s just her, now. her and that look in her eye. the one she saves just for you.

“you miss me?” she asks, soft and unserious and too real all at once.

you could lie. you’ve done it before. you’ve done it so many times—shrugged her off with sarcasm, buried the truth under something wry. but right now?

right now you’re toeing the edge of something dangerous, and it’s never felt more tempting.

you don’t answer. you just let her look at you. let her wait. and ellie…ellie takes that silence like for a yes.

her grin fades, just a little. her eyes dip to your mouth, then back up again, slow, like she’s memorizing the way you’re holding yourself together for her.

“come upstairs with me,” she says, gentle now. no teasing, no game.

your heart slams against your ribs. you shouldn’t.

“okay.” you say.

and she doesn’t smile this time just nods, once, like this is the moment she’s been waiting for. like she knew you’d say it eventually.

ellie takes your hand. she doesn’t ask. just does. and you let her. because of course you do. because it’s ellie. and you’ve always been hers, even when you swore you weren’t.

you follow her out of the kitchen like a shadow, steps quiet, careful. she doesn’t look back. she doesn’t need to. the music is louder in the hallway, vibrating through the walls like a pulse. it drowns out everything—your thoughts, your doubts, the little voice in your head telling you this is a mistake.

she leads you up the stairs, weaving past bodies draped over railings and sitting cross-legged on the floor. no one notices you. no one stops you. it’s like the two of you are moving through a world that doesn’t quite exist. like this is some strange little pocket of reality where everything is charged, unreal, and fragile. only you and ellie.

her hand is still in yours when she opens the door to your room. she only lets go once it’s shut behind you both, the lock clicking into place with a soft finality.

the room is dim—just the string lights across the ceiling casting a golden glow over everything. a mess of clothes on the chair. an unmade bed you can’t stop staring at. why couldn’t i clean up after i got ready for this shit of a party?

ellie sits first, casually, like this is just another friday night. leans back on her hands, legs spread, jaw set. watching you carefully. the smallest movements you make she’s there to catch them. you stay near the door. back pressed against it like it might keep you grounded.

“you okay?” she asks after a moment, like the tension isn’t loud enough to swallow you both whole. the blurred absence of the music and shouts makes you feel somewhat better. but that bitter feeling doesn’t seem to slip away.

you nod. too quickly.

“you’re lying.”

“i’m not.”

“you always do that thing with your hands when you lie.”

you look down. fuck—she’s right. your fingers are twisted together, knuckles going white.

“i didn’t come up here to fight.” you say finally, voice thinner than you want it to be. ellie doesn’t move. she just keeps looking at you. her gaze is steady, unreadable.

“i know,” she says. “i didn’t bring you up here to make you uncomfortable.”

“then why’d you bring me up here?”

a pause. her eyes soften.

“because i couldn’t look at you all night without wanting to touch you.”

your breath catches.

“ellie—”

she cuts in, quick. “i won’t. not unless you want me to.”

the silence after that is almost unbearable. you stare at her. she stares back. her face is open, honest in a way she rarely ever lets it be. you want to say something sharp. something deflective. but the truth is boiling over in your chest, and it’s too hot to ignore. you want her to touch you.

“you scare the shit out of me.” you say, with a breathy laugh feeling awkwardness flair up inside of you.

ellie blinks. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

she lets out a breath—quiet, amused, fond in that infuriating way of hers. you hate it.

“you scare the shit out of me, too.”

and just like that, the air shifts. the room tilts. everything feels precarious, like a match held too close to the fuse. your face heats up again.

“come here,” she says, barely above a whisper.

you hesitate. only for a second. then you do.

your feet move before you know it. you walk to her with your heart in your throat and your guard barely holding, and when you stop in front of her, ellie doesn’t move—not until you do. not until your knees brush against hers, light as a question.

she answers it by reaching up, slowly, fingertips grazing your hips. her eyes stay on yours. you’re confused again. you don’t understand why she wants to touch you, like this of all ways.

“still okay?” she murmurs.

“yeah,” you whisper.

and then she pulls you in. you crash into her, not fully losing control of your body but enough for her to take control and maneuver you to straddle her. her touch isn’t rough nor is it rushed. it’s small but has power. ellie knows what she’s doing.

she doesn’t kiss you. not yet. she waits. waits for you to decide.

and god, you want—no, you crave it, in that feral, bone-deep way that makes your skin itch. you want her mouth on yours, soft at first, maybe, just to mock you—but you want it to dissolve, fast, into something hungry. something unholy. you want her to kiss you like she’s starving, like she’s trying to crawl inside you through your mouth.

you want the spit. need the spit. thick, hot, shared and messy—her tongue in your mouth, sliding against yours, teeth knocking when it gets too desperate. you want it to drip, to smear, to cling to your lips and chin, to mark you in the most revoltingly human way. like her saliva belongs in your mouth. like yours belongs down her throat.

you want her to spit into you. mouth parted, eyes half-lidded, breath panting between kisses—and when she pulls away, you want it to trail between your mouths in slick strings. sticky, glistening. you want to taste her down to the root of your tongue.

you want it to ruin you. make your lips swollen, red, wrecked. make your jaw ache. you want to feel her breath enter you and exit in shudders. to drown in the taste of her, sweet and sharp, like blood and peaches and the end of the world.

the silence was killing you. like a sword penetrating skin. you stare into her eyes, deep and honest. if ellie wanted, she could get every confession out of you. she could make you admit how much you like her, she could make you say how badly you need her. make you tell her all the nasty thoughts your intoxicated brain is frying up.

your hands sneak to rest on her shoulders and you just hope she doesn’t say anything about you being desperate for her. she knows you are but ellie isn’t any better, after all, she did bring you up here for the exact reasons you’re thinking.

ellie moves in closer now—much closer than she was back in the kitchen. she’s always been bold like that. you’ve seen her before, at one of your brother’s parties, hand already halfway down some girl’s pants like it was nothing. she never cared who was watching. didn’t even seem to care how the girl felt about it, not really. maybe it was a distraction. maybe she just needed something to do with her hands.

if she wanted, she could’ve had you like that in the kitchen, but she chose to bring you to your room and be more open with her words. none of the teasing that make it seem that she was joking. she’s serious about this. she really does want you, needs to touch you.

her nose is touching yours, she doesn’t blink, just looks at you with a shine to her eyes, if you looked deep enough you could see that she’s holding back. she could take you right here right now but she chooses not to, she waits for you. she doesn’t want to take advantage. because it’s you, and she couldn’t live with herself after if she were to do so.

“ellie…” you say her name breathless, eyes trailing towards her lips. your tongue sticking out slightly licking your upper lip. you move your eyes back up to hers, reaching you hands to the back of her head to twist her hair between your fingers.

she answers you by slowly crashing her lips into yours, moving them against the plush skin when you open your mouth a little for her to slip her tongue in.

she kisses you like she means it—like she’s been waiting. her mouth is warm, slow at first, but there’s weight behind it, like she’s trying to memorize the shape of you. her tongue grazes yours, testing the waters, and you hum into it, your fingers tightening in her hair. she breathes in sharp through her nose, like she wasn’t expecting that.

ellie’s hands wander off around your body squeezing at your waist and hips, needing the flesh above clothes. she unsure about her touch, as if she squeezes you in some way you’ll tell her to stop, she careful but needy at the same time. she’s not rough or aggressive, but there’s a possessiveness to her hold, and it’s dark and full of desire.

ellie pulls back just barely, lips brushing yours as she speaks, her voice low and raspy. “you don’t know what you do to me.”

and she’s kissing down your neck, toying with the skin between her lips, making sure she leaves a mark to tease and laugh at you tomorrow. you know this but let her mark you either way, you’ll yell at yourself when you’re sober; realizing this was a mistake on your part because you gave in this easily.

but it was going to happen sooner or later, so why not now?

and you know exactly what you do to ellie. maybe not everything, maybe not the exact details, but you know what your presence does to her. the way she looks at you like you’re a loaded gun—dangerous, tempting, too easy to lose control around.

“then show me.” you whisper, a challenge and a plea in one. you move your palms to cup her face, tugging her up and kissing her harder this time, and she answers with a soft groan against you, her hands sliding beneath your shirt, palms flat against your spine as they pull you flat against her body. her hands, they’re calloused, warm, grounding. she doesn’t rush. her touch is reverent, tracing you like you’re something fragile and holy.

but you’re not, and she knows.

her teeth catch your bottom lip, not hard, just enough to make you gasp. she pulls away again, panting now, forehead pressed to yours. “if we do this…” she swallows.

“i need to know you want it. really want it.”

your thumb brushes the edge of her jaw, and she’s watching you like you’re the only thing in the world worth watching. she’s so close you can feel her heart racing against yours.

you nod. “i do.”

and ellie’s restraint finally snaps.

her hands move down to the plush flesh of your thighs, feeling the warmth of your blood beneath her fingertips as they grope you hard.

she kisses you again, rougher this time—hungry, desperate, her hands slipping further under your shirt, palms splayed wide across your bare back. her fingers dig into your skin, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that you know she’s grounding herself with you. your mouth parts against hers, a quiet, needy sound slipping out before you can stop it. ellie swallows it down like she’s starved for it, chasing the noise with her tongue.

she shifts underneath you, tugging you impossibly closer by the hips until you’re straddling her properly, your thighs bracketing her waist. the heat between your bodies makes you dizzy. she presses her forehead to yours, breathing heavy, like she’s trying to hold herself back, but failing.

“gonna lose my mind,” she mutters, half to herself, before she kisses you again—messier this time, open-mouthed, your tongues sliding together with a slick, desperate sound that makes you ache in places you didn’t know could ache.

your hands roam too, almost frantic, pushing under her hoodie to feel the solid lines of her stomach, her ribs, the thin cotton of her tank top clinging to her. you tug at the fabric and she gets the hint, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank the hoodie off over her head, ruffling her hair and making her freckles stand out sharper under the low light.

“better?” she teases, breathless, voice wrecked and full of something dark.

you just nod, too stunned by the sight of her like this, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from kissing you. and she’s looking at you like she wants to ruin you, hands resting heavy on your thighs, thumbs stroking lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt.

ellie tugs at the hem of your shirt, fingers curling into the material. she doesn’t pull it off yet, just slips her hands under it again, feeling your bare waist, the dip of your lower back. her thumbs brush just under the edge of your bra, and you shiver.

“can i?” she asks, and you barely hear her over the pounding in your own head.

“please.” you whisper.

and that’s all it takes. she lifts your shirt over your head slow, almost reverently, like unwrapping something she’s been dying to get her hands on for years. your hair gets a little messed up in the process and she smiles at the sight of you, like you’re the best thing she’s ever seen.

her hands come up to cup your face, thumbs brushing your flushed cheeks. her eyes are wide, a little wild, like she still can’t believe you’re here, half-naked in her lap, asking for her.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” she murmurs, leaning in to kiss your jaw, your neck, the slope of your shoulder. anywhere she can reach. you’re squirming in her lap now, needy and impatient, your hands clutching at her tank top like you’re afraid she’ll disappear if you let go.

ellie groans low in her throat when your hips grind down, just a little, testing. the friction pulls a sharp breath from both of you. she grabs your hips, holding you still.

“easy,” she mutters, voice thick, “wanna take my time.”

you whimper at that, and she grins against your skin, proud and a little smug. ellie mouths at your chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the top of your bra, teasing, teasing, until you whine and tug at the straps, silently begging.

“okay, okay.” she chuckles, voice rough and fond, like she’s never heard anything better than you falling apart for her.

she helps you shrug out of your bra, tossing it somewhere across the room without looking, too busy staring at you. her hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing experimentally over your nipples, watching the way your body reacts—your back arching, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp.

“jesus christ,” she mutters under her breath, more to herself than to you. “look at you.”

and then she’s leaning in, mouth closing around one nipple, sucking gently, tongue flicking, while her other hand toys with the other breast. the heat of her mouth sends sparks shooting straight to your core. you gasp, hands threading into her hair, holding her there like you might fly apart if she stops.

you rock your hips against her without thinking, chasing any kind of friction. ellie growls low in her chest, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“needy.” she mutters, pulling off you with a wet pop, dragging her mouth back up to kiss you again—deeper, messier, less polished than before. her hands slide down your back, squeezing your ass, dragging you harder against the ridge of her thigh.

“wanna feel you,” she rasps against your mouth.

“wanna make you cum just like this. fuck.”

you moan, high and broken, grinding shamelessly against her now, feeling the roughness of her jeans against the soaked fabric of your underwear. the friction is almost too much. almost not enough.

ellie kisses you harder, teeth clashing, spit slicking your chins together, hands everywhere—your hips, your thighs, your back, your ass. she rocks you against her thigh, murmuring filthy things into your mouth, barely coherent.

“so wet for me.” she pants, pulling back just enough to look down, to watch you rut against her thigh.

“fuck, look at you. makin’ a mess all over me.” you whimper, desperate, lost in it. in her.

“c’mon, baby,” ellie coaxes, voice rough and tender all at once.

“wanna feel you cum for me. just like this. show me how bad you need it.”

you shudder, the pressure building, unbearably sweet and sharp and right there. ellie keeps rocking you, keeps whispering in your ear, dirty, soft, wrecked herself.

and when you finally cum—when you break apart with a soft, bitten-off sob against her shoulder—ellie holds you through it, arms wrapped tight around you, grounding you, anchoring you.

“that’s it,” she murmurs, kissing the side of your head.

you slump against her, boneless, trembling, feeling like you might float away if she let go.

but she doesn’t.

she keeps holding you, kissing you, whispering promises you don’t have the strength to hear yet, not really. but it’s okay. you believe her anyway.

because it’s ellie. and she’s always meant it.

and just when you think she’s done, ellie shifts you, pushing you gently but firmly onto your back on the bed. climbs over you, fitting herself between your thighs like she belongs there. her hands trail down your sides, slowly, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your skirt, dragging it down your hips with agonizing patience.

you lift your hips for her without thinking, needy and frantic now, again. ellie’s mouth trails down your body as she goes—kisses on your belly, nips at your hips, leaving little stinging bites that make you gasp. she’s taking her time, savoring every inch of you like she’s been dreaming about this. maybe she has. maybe you have too.

when she gets the skirt off, she sits back on her heels for a second, just staring down at you, panting and trembling under her.

“you’re unreal,” she murmurs, voice rough with something almost reverent.

you reach for her, impatient now. “ellie—”

she smiles, wicked and sweet all at once, and leans down to kiss you again—deeper, slower, taking her time wrecking you. her hand slides between your legs, over the damp patch of your underwear, and you whimper into her mouth at the first touch.

you whine, hips bucking up into her hand, chasing the friction just like you did on her thigh. ellie shushes you, soothing, almost tender, rubbing slow circles over the wet spot right over your clit.

“gonna take real good care of you.” she promises, voice thick and syrupy.

you nod frantically, desperate for her, dizzy with it.

she slides your underwear to the side with one hand, not even bothering to take them off, and runs two fingers through your folds—testing, teasing. when she brushes your bare clit you gasp, clutching at her shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to earth.

ellie’s watching your face the whole time, eating up every little reaction you give her like it’s her new favorite meal.

“you’re gonna let me make you feel good?” she murmurs, voice low and wrecked with want.

“yes—yes, ellie, please—”

that’s all she needed to hear.

she slides one finger inside you, slow, careful, watching you for any sign of hesitation. when you moan—high and breathy—her restraint snaps. she pumps it in and out, building a rhythm, adding a second finger when you start grinding against her hand like you can’t help yourself.

her thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight circles, and the pleasure starts to crest fast—faster than you’re ready for.

“that’s it,” ellie coos, mouth brushing your ear. “god, you’re so fucking pretty like this. wanna see you fall apart for me.”

you sob out something that might be her name, might just be a broken noise, as you tumble over the edge, more overwhelmed this time—clenching around her fingers, trembling so hard your vision whites out. ellie fucks you through it, slow and sweet, murmuring praise into your skin until you finally, finally go still beneath her.

a dragged out orgasm flushing inside you, stick around her fingers still deep inside you, toying with the squishy spot.

ellie doesn’t pull away immediately—just presses kisses along your jaw, your neck, the shell of your ear, whispering how good you were, how gorgeous you are, how she’s never wanted anything so bad in her life.

and when you finally catch your breath enough to open your eyes, she’s smiling down at you—soft, adoring, like you hung the stars in her sky.

“still scared of me?” she teases.

you laugh, too weak to reply.

you whisper something incoherent, and pull her back down into a kiss. because if this is what being scared of her feels like, you never want to be brave again.

©opt1mistic

CHRISTTTTTTT

vi x reader ࿐

18+ minors dni, use of strap, pet names, literally js porn idk the word count but it’s longer than my usual work in honor of 1k oomfs

‘ ssss .. it feels— vi .. please— ‘

‘ feels like what, hm ? tell me all about it .. ‘ the tone of vi’s voice is soft enough to soothe you some more, but deep enough to bring you to unintentionally clench around her. your warm walls smothering her cock, and your eyes watching her move in and out of you as your chest heaves. ‘ feel so full, ‘ you babble and she hissed out a laugh. that’s when you spread your legs wider, feeling comfortable enough to get into the hang of it. you only found yourself suddenly wanting more.

‘ mhm, pussy’s eatin’ my fuckin’ dick up, isn’t she ? i know you’d feel so goddamn good .. ‘ vi keeps her steady pace, delivering deep, slow, strokes to your cunt before sitting up to lightly massage your calves. she keeps eye contact with you, and even though yours refuse to keep their focus on hers, she doesn’t stop. she doesn’t stop losing herself in you, squeaking with every dirty line leaving her lips. your arms reach out to wrap themselves around her neck, and she easily picks up on your gesture. now hovering directly on top of you, balancing herself on one forearm while her opposite hand grips at the headboard above you, minimizing the weight of her body on yours.

‘ sh-shit— ouuu, vi ! ‘ for a moment, there’s only silence in the room. besides your minimal breathing and vi’s small groans that she failed to suppress were the only sounds that could be heard through an echo. both of you bask in one another’s presence while you let the tranquility of the moment steer you of to sea. ‘ h-harder, vi .. please. ‘ you lightly tap her shoulder with your fingers to gather her attention, eyes batting rapidly as you try to keep consciousness from the amount of pleasure you were feeling right now.

‘ harder ? baby, you look like you can barely keep your eyes open, ‘ she laughs attentively, looking down at the droplets of sweat beginning to fall down the sides of your face. yeah, she was right, you could barely open your eyes, but you had enough strength to flutter them and give her an annoyed, yet needy, glance. a soft sigh escapes her lips and that’s when she seizes your request, pushing her strap further into you, as deep as it could go and then right back out again, a suckle being left behind. you whine — no, you scream, ‘ oouu— fuck, vi, just like t-that .. ‘ almost loud enough to send a concerned expression to vi’s face.

when you claw at her arm she soon realizes it was a scream of pure ecstasy. ‘ ah, shit. yeahyeahyeah, talk to me, baby. you’re takin’ it so fucking good .. ‘ her tone is taunting and well past just casual dirty talk. she was digging deep, verbally and physically, saying shit just to bring a reaction out of you, curious of what she could say and do to make you squirm and sniffle around her. ‘ greedy lil’ pussy. taking me in so easily, you’re bein’ so good to me, princess. ‘

‘ baby— oh my god .. r-right there, right there, right there— shit, vi ! ‘ her words had gone right over your head. too lost in the the way she dips her hips deep into your core to even dare to speak anything more than a string of moans. your lips form a pout, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when you suddenly feel her tip poking right at your g-spot. which, she proudly didn’t take very long to find. you didn’t know it yet, but the constant pressure against your womb would be building up soon, creating a rather diabolical sensation for both your mind and body all in one.

‘ where ? right here ? ‘ the question is followed by a strong, but still conscious thrust. slow, yet powerful. vi now driving herself into you right where you wanted her. ‘ awe, baby, did i find your spot ? like when my dick kisses you right here, don’t you ? ‘ you can’t speak, nor can you begin to fathom why on earth vi was making you feel so lightheaded. disregarding the pleasure and the present circumstances, you felt alive. you felt like you couldn’t get this amount of euphoria from anything or anyone.

it wasn’t just the movement of her hips, or the nasty serenading words leaving her mouth, or even those angelic eyes that held an untold story. no no, it was the amount of emotion she brought you. the amount of love she’s shown you. the way she held you with such grace and tenderness like you were easy to shatter. it was all too surreal. the feeling, the gestures, the warmth, everything .. she was everything.

‘ faster ! faster, please baby— y- you’re so deep .. ‘ you clench around her, your pussy sucking her in more and more as she continues to drive you into shambles. your eyes travel down, focusing on the way she had to pull in and out of you with more force than needed simply because of how hard you were squeezing her. with each passing thrust, you could see her tip poking at your tummy over and over, forming a bulge right below your belly button.

‘ aah, shhhit, gonna’ make me fuckin’ cum, b-baby. ‘ she nervously whines, trying to hold in as much as she could, and god was it hard. with the friction against her, vi could almost find herself becoming overwhelmed. there were too many things to focus on, between your expressions, lustrous eyes, and small grunts, she could cum right then as she spoke. ‘ o-oh, so close .. c-close, m’ so close vi .. please let m-me cum with you .. ‘

your hands reach the sides of her face, carefully pulling her in closer for a kiss. you feel her meet you half way, closing the space between you both by kissing you like you were an an antidote she so desperately needed. she tugs on your bottom lip softly, closing her eyes and melting into you as she tries her hardest to bring you both to the finish line.‘ c’mon, baby, c’mon. cum with me— cum all over this dick angel, ‘ vi unconsciously fastens her hips, sending strong, and now sloppy, thrusts to you. you feel her deep, deep in your stomach. so much that you feel the urge to push against her toned stomach due to the overwhelming power she had over your body, ‘ nah, don’t run. t-take it just how you were. i know you wanna’ let it go .. ‘

‘ vi .. i’m cumming, baby .. i’m cumming— oh god .. ‘ your eyes slam shut and your swollen clit is caught by vi’s thumb as she rubs circles over the agitated flesh. the wet squelching sound of your cunt was almost loud enough to drown out your moans as you find yourself shakily wetting up her strap, ‘ vi vi vi, wai— mmph ! ‘ your legs stutter closed and she opens them right back up, only this time, grabbing onto your hips and fucking you at an angle to carry you all the way to the end.

‘ fuckkk, you’re a goddess. ‘ she praises, you push your head back deep into the plushed pillow underneath your neck, bawling your fists as the commotion in your stomach is finally fulfilled. there are tears in your eyes, followed by desire and pleasure — not to mention the creamy noise of your pussy sucking in vi’s dick with no problem. ‘ y-yyes .. yesyesyes— vi ! ‘

she’s quiet, or rather focused, concentrating on your trembling figure while feeling her own orgasm begin to pool over rapidly, ‘ fuckin’ christ baby, i’m cumming, ‘ she groans hoarsely, her hips bucking as she’s reaching her end. her body nearly smothers your own as she loses her balance, hugging you close as she finishes. she buries her head in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, onto your skin as she tries her best not to go limp.

‘ are you okay .. ? jesus .. yn that was— ‘

‘ so fucking good. ‘

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐘𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐋 | all rights reserved — do not modify, copy, or plagiarize any of my works.

i’m dizzy

warnings: strap on usage (r!receiving), top ellie, bottom reader, overstimulation, bunnygirl reader, afab reader, mentions of reader wearing a skirt. not proof read cause i'm half asleep sooo

"god, fuck– fuck, just like that, baby." ellie moaned as her eyes watched your swollen, sopping pussy suck her strap in deeper for what felt like the thousandth time tonight.

you squealed from your spot below her, your hands meeting her abs in an attempt to push her away. "ellie! shit, babe, it's too much!" you babbled desperately, your legs flailing so much that ellie had to grab your ankles, slamming her hips against yours particularly harshly for almost kicking her in the face.

your ears flopped down on either side of your head, nose scrunching up with every sniffle, "watch what you're doing, bunny." she murmured, pushing your legs up against your chest.

a weak cry tore from your throat, your fluffy cottontail twitching against the mattress. ellie's eyes were fixed on your breasts, leaning down to latch her lips onto one of your sensitive nipples. your hands clawed at her back, giving up on pushing her away.

this was, what, the third orgasm she's pulled from you tonight? you knew there was nothing stopping her. not when you saw the way she was eyeing you in your pretty skirt earlier, watching how your bunny tail peeked out from the little hole you cut through your skirt so it'd be more comfortable for you.

you loved your girlfriend, you really did, and you loved how much she adored your bunny parts too. your exes weren't the most... accepting. but ellie was, and that made you happy.

cut to tonight, you'd lost track of what hour it was, whimpering and scratching her back to try and find some kind of solace.

ellie's teeth grazed your nipple and you cried out, your back arching off the bed. your skirt was bunched up uncomfortably around your hips, making you squirm even more. you wanted to take it off, but ellie just pushed your hands away, muttering "stop tryna ruin my fun, bunny"

the tip of ellie's silicone cock was hitting your cervix with every thrust, and you could just barely take it. your pussy ached, but you couldn't get enough of her cock.

"e-ellie." you stammered out, your pussy tightening around her cock. ellie groaned as if she could feel it, her hands grabbing your hips to ram into you a little easier, "so fuckin' tight around my dick, babe. can feel her squeezing me, tryna keep me inside." she was rambling, burying her face into the crook of your neck.

"she wants me to stay inside, right? wanna stay full of me? til my bunny gets nice and round– oh fuck." the base of her strap bumped against her clit just right, and the idea of breeding you? shit, that just made her so much more desperate. you could feel it in the way her thrusts got a little sloppier, in the way ellie let out whimpers against your skin.

your hands found their way onto her shoulders, nails biting into her skin, little squeaks leaving your mouth like it was all you could bring yourself to do. but you wanted to make her cum, to be a good bunny for her.

"breed me, ellie– ah!" you were barely able to get the words out before her thrusts picked up, her energy somehow coming back full force, having just enough to make herself cum.

ellie's arms circled around your middle, holding you against her as her hips slapped against yours with an obnoxious clap, clap, clap!

she buries her strap to the base inside of you one last time, her whole body twitching and convulsing atop yours. pathetic whimpers tumble from her mouth and spill into the dip of your collarbone along with her drool. the feeling makes your hole clench around her, and you can't help but push her onto her back, sinking down onto her cock one last time.

and fuck, ellie thinks she'll die from how unexpected it was. "m'sorry, ellie, mff!" your nose wrinkles up so adorably, she can't find it in her to be mad at you. even when the base of her strap bumps against her clit with every slow grind of your hips, making her hands grip your hips so tight it'd definitely leave bruises.

she just bit back a whine, because how could she be mad at her pretty bunnygirl bouncing on her cock?

hi guys can we all say thank you half asleep and horny jamie 🤟🤟 (/j)

soso perfect <3

hi! do you take requests? if not you can discard this but i really love the way you write emotionally charged moments so i’d love your writing style on this prompt, it can be a one shot or more of a blurb whichever you like: so perhaps taking place post canon where arthur is found half dead on that cliff and reader is nursing him back to health, trying hard to stay strong and believe he’ll get better but arthur is just waiting to die any day now and wishing he hadn’t been found, until he hears reader in another room crying to herself having to see him so deathly ill like that and slowly losing hope. so he starts feeling more determined to at least try for her sake and maybe see her smile one last time. but in the end he does get better, not quite back to his full strength yet but better 🥹 hope i didn’t ramble too much, i absolutely love your work and the way you write and i can’t wait to see what you post next 🫶🏻

IN TREMBLING ARMS

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | While the world you had built around yourself seemed to crumble right before you, the last measures to sustain your happiness grew hard to take as the man you love fell deeper into his own despair. Tags | Angst-heavy, description of violence and wounds, fluff somewhere... :o Word Count | 11.4k A/N | Hiiii lovelies! ♡ I recently got this request that I really liked the sound of, which meant I obviously had to write it;) I hope what I wrote was in tune with what you had in mind! Enjoy! Also, thank you for the kind words♡

The pain of recalling an old life is surely something we’re all familiar with. Undoubtedly, it’s a brutal world we live in, one that sometimes takes too much and only gives small crumbles in return. You often found yourself crawling the ground to pick up these crumbs, laden with dust and dirt, just like your joyous memories are tainted in blood and pain–small glimpses of happiness amidst the hardship in day-to-day life, the tiny things that make living worth fighting for.

They were all thanks to Arthur. You’d been aware for quite a while that he didn’t think highly of himself, meaning he couldn’t possibly estimate how much his presence impacted your life. He couldn’t see that every good memory lately was in his favor–how he held your entire world in the bare palm of his hands. He could never understand, and you could tell he didn’t.

Every part of you was clinging to the last remains of a man who dropped the world’s weight off his shoulders, preparing to breathe the last breaths on this earth, alone and without you. It was so close now that you could almost taste it. You could tell by how his shoulders dropped heavily in resignation, the words that grew dull and lifeless, and his wit that never failed to bring a smile to your lips disappeared. 

Even so, you saw glimpses of the man you fell for, and if you looked closely, you could find those few crumbles that gave you hope, even though they were ridden with filth. He’d still pinch your waist lightly to jest when you were in a bad mood, always putting your comfort above his own, even though he needed it more.

The burden on his shoulders was heavier than ever when he returned from being out. He was no doubt following Dutch's careless orders that, with time, became more uncaring and, worst of all, unsafe. It bothered you heavily that there was no regret anymore as he bid his orders around like Arthur wasn’t hunching down in exhaust with every step, more often than not needing a seat as coughs so rough wrecked through him, never failing to make you cringe.

Of course, Arthur could take care of himself, never stopping short of explaining that to you. But now, times were different, and you could see his eyes grow slightly more hollow every time he returned to you, and his bloodshot eyes grew into normality.

So naturally, you never stopped short when voicing your concerns to Arthur, but he was so headstrong he refused to acknowledge the toll everything was taking on his body. Deep down, you wondered if he continued since he had come to terms with his fate, putting other’s safety before his own because he had simply stopped trying. 

He damned you for not listening to him, but his words held no real threat because he couldn't find it in himself to force you away against your will. So he let you stay, and through his violent coughs and wheezing, he always felt you rub his back soothingly, knowing that his time was running short. Because of this, he took every chance to bask in your gentle touches that felt more like home than anything else.

"Did you find out anything about John today?" Speaking softly, you run your fingers through his tousled hair, undoubtedly from wearing his rugged hat all day, observing his tired face as you were on his lap, Arthur sitting down as he came back to rest his aching legs.

"Mmm, we did." Thumbing at the fabric of the shirt you had stolen from him, he let the words rumble softly against you, breathing warmly against the chilled skin of your cheek.

"Abigail's real worried, you know, begged to come with us." Humming, you pondered over his words. Your dear friend has been over her head in worry as of late, the disappearance of John not doing the slightest to ease her anxiety.

"We'll get him back." You weren't sure if you were reassuring Arthur or yourself, but then again, there wasn't much you were sure of anymore. It seemed unlikely that anything you would say would comfort him, but that didn’t mean you didn’t try–every chance you got, you wanted to make him see reason.

Bringing you closer, he breathed heavily into your shoulder, throat whistling slightly from the strain, as his hands gripped your waist firmly, sighing in contentment when you hugged him back.

"How are you feeling?" you whispered, earlier taking notice of his eyes that had grown redder than usual and the slight blood stain he hastily wiped when you approached him, hoping you didn't get the time to spot it.

"The usual, I guess." Nodding slightly to appear positive before you, he let out a heavy sigh.

As the silence stretched, he kissed the top of your head lovingly after a while when you nuzzled your head further into his shoulder, savoring the moment since you hadn’t seen him much these past days. 

"Tomorrow, me and Sadie thought about goin’-" You didn't give him a chance to finish, lifting your head from his shoulder as a frown appeared. God, you knew it was coming, but you had hoped he would still see reason and not do something stupid like that in his condition.

"Couldn't someone else go with Sadie? You not-" Catching yourself before you said the words you knew would get him riled up, you sighed slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm just so worried about you, Arthur. About everything."

"Hey." Cradling you closer, he softly grabbed your chin between his calloused fingers, beckoning you to meet his warm gaze. "What did we talk about, hm? I'll be alright." 

You grabbed his cheek and stroked your thumbs against the scarred skin. He was so beautiful to you, just like he had always been, and you were sure he would scoff at you if you voiced your thoughts. But it was true. That face had seen you through the most challenging times of your life, and never had they been the reason for your tribulations and sadness. 

"Now you're just lying to me to make me feel better." A long silence followed as you stared at each other, both stubborn beyond means, until the corners of his mouth raised slightly, a low chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile against your will, trying to keep your previous frown on your face. 

His eyes, often weathered and wise, turned into soft pools of warmth and affection as they gazed at you. The world’s weight seemed to lift every time, even now, leaving only the tender vulnerability of a man deeply in love.

"Now, now," he spoke, words growing into his usual teasing tone as he grazed his hands along the fabric covering your sides, a wicked smirk growing on his lips. There’s an intoxicating allure to how his lips curve, never stopping short of making the butterflies in your stomach go haywire. "There's that smile I've been looking for." 

Slightly tickling the sides of your stomach, you gasped as you tried peeling his hands away when a giggle left you from the unexpected sensation. Damned be Arthur and his refusal to let you worry about him, always trying to lessen your pain when he was severely worse. 

"No, Arthur! Stop it!" Laughing merrily, he placed small kisses in the small crevice of your neck, relentlessly tickling your sides as you squirmed in his arms, an ugly laugh leaving you as you found it harder and harder to breathe amidst his torture. He snickered audibly at the sound leaving you, always finding humor in the strange quirks he loved so much.

The moment didn't last long, though, for the gut-wrenching coughs that left him amidst your banter made the cheerfulness of the moment quickly grow into a distant memory. Arthur would tell you he was okay and that all he needed was a few moments, just like he always did, but you both knew the disease was growing more severe as time passed.

Your precious memories grew less and less, though, and as time passed, there were hardly any crumbs left for you to pick up. The ugly paint of power, distrust, and hatred covered them. A hatred that grew so deep in every single being that surrounded you, and even in yourself. Hostility from one’s upbringing, misfortune, and wrong-doings. Bitterness for striving towards a goal that doesn’t have a finishing line, only a no-return sign at both the start and end. 

A selfish disdain, it is, and oh so human. How could you possibly find the end where everyone could make amends when they had no will to change? How could you save him when he didn’t want to be saved? His only interest now was to get everyone away from the gang that he could for the time being. It had been apparent for some time now that whatever this was, it was over.

Because of this, Arthur told you to leave some time ago. He had begged you on his hands and knees as the blood he coughed up dripped like rain down his paled, gray skin. A beautiful tragedy it was, one that would leave people in a theater with tears glistening down their cheeks as the sight before them clenched at their hearts. That wasn’t how you experienced it, though. It was more like someone cutting through your numb skin and laying your heart down on the table to unfold every crevice and nook to prod at every part that hurt so terribly with a knife. 

It made you wonder if hearts could bleed. You weren’t sure, but somehow you knew yours did as every strained cough from the man you love caused the tears that fell from your eyes to turn into a deep red, mingling with his on the ground. 

As he begged, you could only stare at the ghost of a man you once loved: the warm skin turning cold under the palm of your hands, calculating and mischievous eyes growing vulnerable and exposed, and strong arms that once held you tightly, weak and skinny. They gripped your skirt for dear life like the sullen fabric covered with filth kept his weary body alive. And god, how you tried, despite the pitying looks thrown your way and resistance from Arthur's side, you wanted to keep him alive.

You had hated no one in your meager, seemingly insignificant life, but you hated Arthur. You hated him passionately for trying to make you leave behind the only thing that made you feel even the slightest bit of happiness. The only reason you had stayed with these people for so long was him, only him, and now he asked you to leave so he could spend the rest of his short time either getting shot or dying from his disease?

“You go now, or I’ll drag you on that train myself and tie you to the seat.” Silence had followed his last attempt to push you away, thick with a wave of heated anger from both of you as the remnants of your love grew shrouded in an unwillingness to understand. You didn’t want to recognize his worry, for you knew it would be the end for you and him.

“I ain’t got much left to lose now, so I must do this. You have to understand. Go.” The bitterness in his words grew colder as he spoke; the conversation that started so filled with passion grew harsh.

“Don’t get much to lose?” Your meek voice was choked up with frustration as you felt your heart drop to the ground. “What about me?!” 

Everything hurt deeply, like he had set your whole body alight and then stomped on the remaining ashes. You had tried so hard to keep your head straight for Arthur through these challenging times, following every step he took loyally, never once questioning his decisions. Him telling you to leave had been the final straw. For him to expect you to give up everything you had done for him made you wonder how much you were worth to him.

“You can’t just tell me to leave!” Broken sobs left you when you spoke, hands trembling where you tried to rip his hands off your skirt, anything to lessen the tightening in your chest. When he didn’t ease his grip, your hands hit his chest as tears flowed down your warm cheeks. He closed his eyes from where he sat, the grip on your skirt turning his skin ghostly pale as you tried to create some distance, refusing to let you back away. 

In your head, he was supposed to want you with him until the last second, and you could not dare imagine it any other way. Because of this, it wounded you deeper than he could imagine.

The hands that never once had grown harsh with you only pulled you closer, letting you bat tirelessly at him while your eyes grew heavy with a furious sadness gnawing at your insides. The surrounding air had become thicker than it usually was in the confines of Beaver Hollow, so it left you gasping for air as the distress wound its way around your throat.

His eyes were as warm as they always seemed when looking at you, and you damned him for it. Even when Arthur broke your heart, he rendered you entirely at his mercy the way he kept this gaze reserved for only you–like he understood you.

“I hate you.” Growing weak, you sank to your knees and rested your weary head on his chest, letting him hold you as you trembled in his sickly arms. 

Soon after that, it seemed everything had reached a breaking point, and it couldn’t have been late enough. Arthur put you behind Sadie on the tall horse, making her promise to get you somewhere safe while he went and risked his life. Risk it for what you thought, kicking and screaming at him as he lifted you. Sadie was trying to comfort you, her hand on your waist as the worry for you and Arthur filled her mind.

"Let me down!" Tears were falling from your bloodshot eyes, filled with endless pools of agony and sorrow as the man before you avoided your gaze. "You're not sending me away!" You attempted to swing your leg over the saddle as you spoke through the hiccups that wrecked through you, fighting against Sadie’s hold.

"Please, sweetheart, come on." Broad arms caught your waist hastily, lifting you to put you back behind the worried woman. "Go with Sadie, now; she'll keep you safe." His voice grew distressed as you resisted, a deep worry for your safety that he always kept as a priority clouding his thoughts when you didn’t comply.

Not listening to him, you shimmered down the horse and threw your arms around Arthur's familiar embrace, burying your head in his shoulder as you breathed in his familiar scent. "Don't leave me here; please take me with you." 

You knew now that his death was inevitable, an end you had refused to acknowledge as possible ever since you first set your eyes on him. Despite this, the love you kept for him made everything pale in comparison, not wanting to spend the endless days of the remaining part of your life without him. If he would find his solace in death, so would you.

He didn't answer you, instead wounding his arms around your smaller frame as he hugged you tightly against him, trying to map out every part of you into his mind so that even in death, he could remember the feeling of you forever. 

"Don't go." You begged him without shame, holding onto him tightly as your tears darkened the material of his shirt. "I'm begging you."

You felt a pair of hands cover your cheeks, the blue orbs you knew so well staring reassuringly into yours, hiding the endless anguish taking cover behind its facade.

"I love you, sweetheart." His voice shook as he spoke, gazing with a terrible agony into yours. "I love you so much, you hear me?" Shaking your head slightly as he said, you could only weep as you realized your attempts to save him were useless. 

"I love you too, Arthur," you said through sobs. Arthur was stroking the tears from your eyes as he pulled you in one last time, face scrunching together from having to leave you as he kissed the top of your hair.  

So, in the end, he watched you leave as you stared after him in disbelief when Sadie set off, your body growing numb as he disappeared between the forest trees, hugging the woman as sobs wrecked through you.

"God." Crouching down, he panted as coughs broke through the silence surrounding him after you departed. But it didn’t seem to be the only thing rendering him on his knee as the dirty ground prodded at his knees, the all-to-consuming thought of never seeing you again clamping at his heart something so fierce he thought he might heave.

He had never been a stranger to heartache, having lived a life full of gut-wrenching memories and stories that were not for the faint-heartedly. But this, this was something entirely else. All these years of fighting, never knowing where he would rest his head the next night, and for what? So he could be free? He had been angry, so very angry at the world. 

It all felt meaningless now, the constant blood on his hands, the pain he had brought others that might as well have been him had he chosen another path, the choice to drag you with him to the gates of hell instead of taking your hand and running off so he could keep you forever. 

And in the end, as he lay there on the mountain, bleak eyes staring at the rising sun, he could feel an unfamiliar peace crawl up his feet, relaxing the very troubled muscles that had never rested up to his chest where a heavy weight had been present his whole life. In it, the heaviness had torn a big hole in his chest that pulled every good thing that had found him in his life into the prolonged darkness. 

 But somehow, a relief was spreading in his mind as he figured peace was closer than he thought, slowly and surely beginning to unfold in front of him. Darkness spread around him as the last lights reached his eyes before the tired lids grew shut, the now ever-so-strong memory of you branded into his mind.

–

You were no stranger to the rain. As a child, you reveled in the droplets that fell from the sky when the clouds formed. It was so simple, yet a memory so strong that it stuck with you throughout your life. Now, though, the rain that clung to your clothes only made the numbness grow worse, unable to feel your fingers as you rode on the muddy path that stretched before you, slippery and treacherous. It was no longer comforting, raking through your body like ice, chilling you from tip to toe.

Although not sure of your actions, there wasn't a single regret in your body for leaving both Sadie and Abigail when they found John, taking the first chance to head back the way you came from, the glimmer of hope that you would discover Arthur alive pushing you on, even though it dimmed with time. 

When John returned, he could only look at you sadly while shaking his head, the look in his eyes enough for you to understand that Arthur hadn’t come with him. But you knew, of course you did, that he wasn’t coming back to you; his words and your knowledge of his ways are telling enough.

You had calmed down now, thinking more logically, but you preferred how you felt before instead of the hole beginning to form in your chest. It consumed you, growing bleaker and bleaker with time, making you wonder if you would ever find Arthur.

You found him eventually, but the torment of seeing him lying lifeless as the warm, lingering evening sun glazed over his skin beat at your bruised heart. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looked so small, like his body was cowering against the ground, seeking shelter from the cold breeze and a world that had grown so cruel, so malicious. 

If the anguish following his departure was anything to go by, the sheer pain that shot through you after your bewildered moment of silence could only be likened to a thousand times worse. What you had feared the most seemed to be reality now, and it couldn’t have hurt any less.

Your aching feet, sore from climbing the far way up the mountain, ran the muddy path up to him as your hands enclosed his cold cheeks–swollen and purple with bruises as dried blood covered the majority of his skin. 

“No, no, no!” You mouthed the words since you couldn’t get a single sound to leave you, a force so firmly clamping at your throat. You grabbed his clothes, shaking him as if it would make a difference and show a sign of life. It didn’t work, so you could only wrap your trembling arms around his neck, wailing out his name while begging the heavens above to bring him back to you, for the pain was too much to bear.

How would you continue life without him? The thought was too heavy to consider, your distressed mind refusing to believe he was gone. He’d always rise back up the moment something brought him down, so strong mentally and physically that you sometimes wondered how he was real. Why couldn’t he do that now and spare you all this hurt?

“Do you remember when we first met, how you always told me we would run away, just you and me?" Grabbing his hand, you placed small, lingering kisses on the battered knuckles, intertwining his fingers with yours as your voice trembled fiercely. 

There had been a magnetic pull in the way his gaze had lingered on you when he spoke of his deepest wishes as if every word was a silent vow etched into the very fabric of your relationship. It’s something you both said of often when everything grew heavy, like an escape from reality to what things could be.

“How can we do that now if you’re going to leave me?” Sobs wrecked through you, gazing at his closed eyes while you internally begged for them to open. “Why are you leaving me?!”

Resting your head on his chest, you breathed in the scent solely your Arthur as he flooded your senses. Your guttural cries of anguish filled the air until your voice broke, eyes growing heavy with strain while you could only lay there with him, imagining he was alive under you.

Your head had grown empty after that, laying upon the body you had so many times before. You remembered the moments of complete and utter peace when he held you in the confines of his tent, warm hands always managing to find sanction around your waist no matter how exhausted he was.

The thought made you smile, remembering how his heartbeat would pick up as you intertwined your fingers. He was in many ways stoic, rarely sharing how you affected him, but you knew. In secret, of course, you knew, and you would kill to feel that again.

But when he fell asleep underneath you, the beating pattern would cease and instead follow a slower thud, never failing to bring you to sleep. Just like it beat now, you felt the lids of your eyes that were still wet with tears grow heavy under the comforting thudding of his heart, lulling you closer and closer to sleep.

Your eyes shot open so fast that you almost got a whiplash, raising your knees in disbelief. Arthur was lying still even now, body still beaten and bruised, but as you put your fingers on his pulse, you could feel it.

There it was, the slight thud of a pulse buried deep between the layers of skin and flesh, keeping Arthur alive despite the turmoil that had rendered his body almost inert. Grabbing the sides of his face, you shook it slightly, hope now filling your mind even though he didn’t move a single muscle. 

God, he was alive, even though barely. The air got lodged in your throat as you felt puzzled, having been dead set on having to bury a corpse. 

“Arthur, can you hear me?” Not a single indication left him as you spoke, wiping the hair covering his eyes so you could get a better look at him. A slight fluttering of his eyelashes could be seen as your voice broke through the stillness of the mountain. The more you grabbed his body in disbelief, the more movements you saw from him: fingers twitching slightly, small intakes of breath, and brows furrowing in small motions. 

Raising on your feet, you sat down with his head in your lap, stroking his cheeks gently before you started tapping at them briskly, anything to wake him up. It didn’t work, so you started calling for him loudly, hoping it would reach him wherever he was. 

“God dammit, Arthur, wake up!” 

That did it. Unfocused eyes began to open up from underneath you, though Arthur found it difficult because of the swelling around the eyes. Seeing him so beaten up hurt you heavily, but you put all your energy into making him regain consciousness, forcing the turmoil far away from your mind. 

“Hey, look at me. Can you see me?” The slightest motion of a nod could be seen, and you thanked whoever above that he responded to you.

Although through blurry eyes, he could see a slight indication of you hovering above him, wondering if he somehow had ended up in heaven to be able to gaze at you one last time. But maybe it was hell after all, the torturing fire replaced with you, barely in reach where he couldn’t touch you, which was the worst kind of torture he could conjure up.

You could see his fingers flex slightly, in your mind trying to show signs that he heard you, but in his stretching so he could reach out to you to touch the softness of your skin with his sinful hands.

“I need your help, Arthur. I can’t carry you alone, so you need to try, okay?” To be quite honest with yourself, you had no idea what you were doing, never mind if it was even possible to get him to move to the state he was in. But you had to try, at least. You weren’t leaving him here to fend for himself in search of help, pondering if those few moments could lead to his death. It was the only way.

“I told you to leave.” Amidst his close-to-death confusion, Arthur had grown more conscious, managing to speak as his eyes closed again. He realized you weren’t conjured up; instead, you were as real as could be as you prodded at his exhausted limbs. 

You ignored his hurtful words, putting your arms under his head so you could assist in getting him to raise. He wasn’t light, that was for sure, but still, you tried until he was sitting up, although his head was hanging low and his back was arched forward in exhaustion.

“Come on, Arthur, I need you to help me.” Amidst your tries to keep him upright, you felt the all too familiar flood of tears threatening to flood from your eyes when the challenge felt impossible. You never felt so weak as you did right now, the possibility of helping him stay alive fading against the man's heaviness and your weary muscles. 

“Honey, go. You-” Arthur slurred out as he almost dropped. “You shouldn’t be here.” Yelling in frustration as he once again fell towards the muddy ground, you put your hand over your face as the dam of tears broke.

“I’m not leaving you here to die, Arthur!” Taking a deep breath, you bent down again to try once more. His eyes were barely open now, staring at you in pain. “Please, just try.”

A loud grunt left him as he raised again, hands gripping the soil underneath him, damning your stubbornness. Although weak, you managed to get him to stand, leaning most of his weight on you. It was hard, no doubt, to feel his body supporting your smaller one, but it worked, for now. The breaths leaving him were awful, and he gasped out loud as you stepped forward slowly. 

“This ain’t gonna work, honey,” Arthur mumbled, not a single hope left in his body to survive the long way to safety.

“Yes, it is.” You refused to listen to him, mind set straight on getting him to the horse. 

Far back in your mind, you remembered a place Arthur used to take you, always going on about a man he used to hunt with until your ears bled. He had told you of its location when the poor man had died, bringing you there once. That should be fine, you thought. Hopefully, it was empty. If not, you have another problem on your hands. 

The way back to the mare was challenging, with both of you falling countless times as the ground underneath you was uneven and riddled with stones. But your stubbornness wasn’t in vain because, after some time, you saw the familiar black coat of the horse appearing in front of you like an angel.

Not a single sound left him, eyes now almost closed as coughs left him then and again, both body and mind tired. He was taller than you, so he got on the horse much faster than you initially thought possible. Soon after, you swung your legs over the saddle in front of him, letting him lean his weight on you as you circled his arms around your waist so he wouldn’t fall off. 

“Stay awake, Arthur.” Glancing back when you didn’t get an answer, you only met a tuft of hair as his head fell on your shoulder. “Come on, I can’t do this without your help.” 

The road to the house you barely remembered was long, and you couldn’t ride too fast, worried about the grip on you that grew less by the minute. Thankfully, he had managed to stay awake the whole ride, but you felt his breathing grow more unstable and shallow. 

The weather on that mountain had been forgiving, like time and space had stopped moving in sorrow, the warm sun covering you in its blanket. Now, though, the howling wind surrounding you made your surroundings bitterly cold, arms held in front of you to see where you were going.

Many times, you tried to speak to make sure he was still with you, but your voice grew muted against the forceful wind, so you gave up, hoping his weight on you meant he held some sort of consciousness.

As time passed and darkness began to spread around you, a small house by a lake appeared behind many trees and foliage. It was different from what you remembered, but still, somehow the same, staring back at you like some sort of angel, the promise of comfort egging you forward.

Not a word was exchanged as you helped him down the horse, a solemn resignation making him follow your will without a complaint, or maybe he was too tired to complain; you weren’t sure.

Stumbling through the doorway, it felt just as cold as outside, shivers shooting through you. It felt strange just barging into a dead man's home, but you deemed your selfishness just, Arthur’s health at the forefront of your mind. Empty of life, it was, and it made you relax slightly, not having to worry about someone else taking refuge here.

Soon, you could rest your heavy arms; you thought as the bed in the right corner of the house appeared before you like a halo. With the door closing behind you with a slam, you waste no time pulling Arthur with you in clumsy steps, letting him lay down on the soft mattress with a huff, dust flying around you as the bed creaked audibly under his weight. 

Glancing at Arthur, his face was still contorted in pain as it had been since you found him. You carefully lifted his legs on the bed, removing the filthy, wet shoes from his feet and throwing them to the floor. Leaning over him, you touched his freezing cheek, finding him already passed out.

Hastily, you removed the wet clothes from his shivering body, laying them by the foot of the bed as you hurried to drape the sheets as well as some pelts you found over him to warm him up. Looking around, you tried to get your hands on some firewood to warm up the house, thankfully finding some not too long after your search. Your arms complained, though, from the weight already spent from the strenuous day–blisters on your fingers only worsen it. 

The room soon filled itself with an orange glow, bouncing in heavy shadow on the walls, and your whole body huddled close to the fire as you warmed your hands for a moment, not realizing amidst your frenzy that you, also, were almost freezing to death in the chilly night.

It only lasted for a moment, though, the reminder of Arthur making you rise on your tired feet, rummaging through the cupboards and various wardrobes to find some supplies. Luckily, it appeared that the veteran kept quite the supplies on him, which you thanked him for under your breath. Some bandages you were sure you could still use were pushed into your arms, a few tonics that could lessen the pain, and, best of all, coughing medicine. 

Walking back on the creaking floor, you dragged a side table closer to the bed and placed what you had found in your search, running outside quickly to get the water pouch hanging off the mare. 

It wasn’t easy tending to Arthur; the number of hits he had taken was noticeable. Some kicks to his ribs, it seemed, amidst the various other bruises that loitered his skin. Stopping in your tracks, you wondered who could have done this. You hadn’t thought about it until now; your worry for his safety has been on your mind this entire time.

Micha.

The sudden thought of him sullied your mood even further, making you realize that no Pinkerton would leave him at the brink of death like that. Undoubtedly, they would have finished him off or taken him with them, another way to get to Dutch, for sure. 

Cringing deeply at every purple bruise you dragged your finger over, hatred for the man laying his hand on Arthur grew. It was more fierce now than ever, the persistent name-calling and teasing he put him through when the disease started taking its toll not nearly as severe as this. You knew Micha was capable of this; deep down, you had known.

And where was everyone else, you wondered. Thinking logically, everyone had most likely run away the second things went downhill, but Dutch and Charles? Javier? Had they lost Arthur as they escaped from Beaver Hollow? And why did John not return with him if he had been alive?

The questions were running wild in your mind, but you had to put your questions aside for now; there was enough time later to wallow in contempt and confusion. Instead, you focused on cleaning the rest of Arthur’s bloodied face and bandaging the more gruesome gashes on his body. You knew getting him better wouldn’t be easy, but you weren’t ready to give up.

Sighing audibly, you put your head on your knees when you had done all you could and dragged the sheets over his shivering form. Gods, you were tired. It felt like your whole body had been running on spurts of adrenaline until now, and now that you got the chance to sit down, it rushed over you like a tidal wave. The whole ordeal, by any means, had felt like a fever dream.

No, more like a nightmare, you concluded. It was strange, and everything had happened hastily like the time had been fast-forwarded. Quite the difference from now, as the only thing audible was you and Arthur’s breathing and the slosh as the water hit the bridge just outside, time seeming to stand still in the tiny house by the lake.

It felt nice, though, you concluded as your eyes grew heavy. It was like the air around here cleared your sullied head slightly from all the months of stress and worry–gaining some distance even though it wasn’t by much. You could see why the man who had lived here chose to stay, finding the landscape calming yourself. 

Often, Arthur would tell you about the man. Hamish, you believed his name was. A veteran, he said as he stroked your hair, telling you about the days he spent with him, softly lulling you to sleep. You had always found their relationship endearing but were only met with a scoff from Arthur every time you voiced your thoughts about their camaraderie. The idea made you smile.

You turned your gaze toward him, gazing thoughtfully. The swelling on his face was severe but not yet rendering him unrecognizable. You admired him for a moment, the rugged masterpiece under the purple bruises that the harsh strokes of life had always weathered. Yet he had always seemed to have been carved with a pen so beautiful everything it created couldn’t be anything less. Every scar, like poetic verses, had always added to his allure.

In many moments, Arthur’s gaze had been a haven for you, a refuge where you could peer into his most profound thoughts when he kept himself away from you. It was a place where you could find solace amidst all the chaos, a silent dialogue–a gaze that showed what he never said. But now they were closed, and the thought left you sadder than anything.

–

You had tended to Arthur many times before, and even though the scrapes had been nasty, this was something entirely else. His disease only worsened the state of his injuries, taking you ten steps back every time you thought you could see a flicker of consciousness in the following days.

Yet, he remained motionless on the bed for days on forward, awful coughing episodes making him shoot straight up from the mattress. Succumbing to the relentless coughing, it echoed in the room with harsh, hacking sounds. Each one seems to wrack his body, the force evident in how his shoulders tense and his grip tightens on whatever’s within reach, the strain etched on Arthur’s face, lines deepening with each cough. 

Your hands reach his back to reassuringly rub the warm skin, feeling helpless. Unable to stand his pain any longer, you retrieve the cough medicine you put on the side table, the label on the glass bottle promising relief. 

Too out of it to register what you were doing, he only lays there as you pour the liquid down his throat, and as soon as his sore throat swallows the last drops, his eyes flicker close, body relaxing in resignation on the bed.

“You would hate me if you were awake right now.” A breathless laugh left you, hand stroking the hair away from his face as you pondered how long he would stay like this. It seemed that’s what filled your days and nights now, constant worry as you sat plastered by the side of the bed, holding his hand tight as you prayed for whoever would listen to give him back to you. 

Rarely did you take the time to open the various cans loitering the cabins, filled with canned food and other things that would fill your stomach well? Instead, you grew nauseous at the thought of it. You took the chance to spoon Arthur some soup, though, the small moments between sleep and wakefulness, hoping it was enough to give him some energy.

Some nights, when the pain was too much to bear, you would wound yourself around Arthur like a snake, being mindful of his injuries as you rested your head on his chest. You would listen to the slow thumping of his heart that had grown steady, slowly falling into a deep sleep, letting your heart rest, if even for a moment.

–

You were unsure how much time had passed in that house, endless days bleeding into each other. Most time was spent looking after Arthur, and when you weren’t, you were perched on the wooden steps of the house, gazing into the flickering water of the lake. Your bleak eyes always stared heedlessly at the scenery before you, and although beautiful, it did nothing to lighten the intricate knot growing in your chest.

Despite trying to keep your head straight, doubts always come to mind whenever you don’t have your hands full. What if you had been wrong all this time, and Arthur wouldn’t get better? The possibility was big, but you couldn’t imagine doing it any other way as you thought more of it. But all this chaos and energy you put into keeping the very soul of him alive, what if it wasn’t enough? What could you do that would be enough?

You walked down the porch steps with light steps, bending down on the bridge to wash your face, hoping it would ease your mind. While it didn’t, seeing your drained face and bleak eyes greying your features worsened it. You could only sigh as the sight of your exhaust reflected in the water.

“God.” You said, sitting back on your heels as you stared into the distance, horrified. No wonder you hadn’t taken the moment to care for yourself in the drastic days of apprehension, having been too wrapped up in the horrifying complications. With closed eyes, you rinsed your face, refusing to give yourself another lookover as you walked back towards the house.

The sight that you saw when entering through the door made your heart rise your throat. Blue eyes you adored so much were staring back at you, and although laden with fatigue, they were halfway open, gazing at you indescribably.

Quietness followed your surprise, and after a moment of contemplation, Arthur mumbled out under his breath. “Why'd you come back?” 

His question hung heavy in the air; the only answer you could provide him was a face of bewilderment, mouth dry like cotton. 

“I can’t-” As Arthur closed his eyes, a sluggish arm came to rest over his eyes. “-can’t save you now.”

You motioned to speak, but the words were lodged somewhere deep down where you couldn’t bring it up. Instead, you stepped closer to Arthur with small steps, like he wasn’t real. He couldn’t be; you hadn’t been given that hope for the longest time. But he was breathing before you now, moving. 

You were so quiet at this moment you even surprised yourself, but as you crawled your way beside Arthur and draped your arms around his neck as you had done so many times before, you found that the bridge holding your tears at bay had blocked the words so they couldn’t escape you. But the bridge overflowed, tears now running freely down your cheeks as the feeling of his arms finally circled your waist. 

He held you in that cranky, old bed for a long while, drowsy, sunken-in eyes closing in content regardless of his earlier concern, basking in the warmth your body provided his shivery one as his hands memorized you. The sunlight mirrored its way on your skin, the feeling now warm and tender, unlike the cold and empty touch it grazed with you before.

Arthur’s raspy voice pulled you closer in his embrace as he consoled you, tears wetting the skin on his neck as you gripped the strands of his hair tightly in your grasp.

“Hush, now.” He murmured out, voice so comforting it only increased your sobs.

"Breathe, sweetheart, breathe." Whimpering into his shoulder, you gasped for air between your snivels, breathing erratic that grew somewhat more stable as he ran his broad hand over the small of your back, hushing soothingly.

Things seemed to ease up from that day onward, and now that Arthur grew more conscious, you didn’t feel the draft of loneliness waft through you anymore. Still, he wasn’t up on his feet yet, heavily bedridden as the slightest movement could set off his coughing.

While his recovery gladened you something immensely, you could tell it put a heavy strain on his confidence; not used to being so weak and counterproductive. You could see how his eyes faltered when you tended to his wounds and how he avoided your gaze as you helped him eat, a deep confliction noticeable.

In these moments, he grew quieter than he usually was now. It was like he was waiting for something–something that was just out of his reach, putting a distance between you that wounded you deeply. You had to tell yourself many times to give him some time, to provide him with some peace of mind as he recovered from the trauma to both his body and soul.

So, you took the struggles daily, and as you stayed with him, you could see a glimmer of the Arthur you knew–the stubbornness, the humor, the fierce loyalty. But they are fleeting moments, overshadowed by the weight of his conviction that he is destined for a different path that doesn’t intertwine with the life you could offer.

“You know,” He told you one night, surprising you as you were plastered on the chair beside his bed, stroking the back of his hand while deep in thought. “I always felt at peace out here, like the air is different somehow.” He only got a hum as your eyes were locked on his fingers, intertwined with your smaller ones. 

“It’s something I always imagined for us.” He murmured, staring at the ceiling as he searched for the words to voice his thoughts rightly. “Well, when times grew hard, I thought about it quite a lot.” 

After some time, a small smile graced the corners of your lips, never having heard him be so open with you. You often voiced your wishes to run away together, towards something more fulfilling, something that would ultimately be safe. An ordinary life with Arthur was more than you could ever ask for, always opting to tell him about it late at night when he was too tired to react fully to your words.

It wasn’t possible; you both knew it, so it was only decided as wishful thinking. Also, Arthur always shot the idea down when you steered the conversation that way. He was too loyal to Dutch, finding your words unthinkable, constantly shaking them off as nonsense. Now, if it was because he felt that way or finding the thought hurting too much, you didn’t know. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” You spoke quietly, meeting his warm gaze as he stared at you, lifting your hand to his chest, where he placed it against his heart. 

“Mmh. Well, every time I passed here, I thought about you.” He smiled slightly at you, continuing as a rumbling chuckle left him mid-sentence. “Hamish asked about you quite a lot, found you fascinating, he said.”

“Me?” You raised your eyebrows, half-endearingly for the thought that Arthur talked about you and half-suprised that you made an impression on the man. “How come?”

“He wondered why a woman like you stayed with someone like me. Said you were doin’ charity work or somethin’ like that.” You rolled your eyes slightly in jest, bringing his hand to your lips as you placed a nimble kiss on the coarse fingers.

“Well, I happen to like doing charity work,” you mumbled against the skin, breath warming the cold tip of his fingers, finding Arthur gazing at you indescribably.

But some days, he let the words that he pondered about day in and day out be heard, and those moments were the hardest for you.

“I don’t understand you.” He would mumble as his head finally began to clear. You told him that John, Abigail, and Jack had likely gone to safety. It made his mouth’s corners chirp slightly, content they got on alright. But as matters turned to you, he suddenly became cold, eyes crinkling when his eyebrows screwed together.

“You get the chance to go and live your life to the fullest, yet you go back to try and save a man that already died a long time ago.” It appeared impossible for him to wrap his head around the thought, looking at you as if you were a scientific experiment. 

“You’re not dying.” 

“YES, I AM!” You gasped slightly as his voice grew loud suddenly, yelling out the words as his hand pointed at you, eyes wide open where he lay glued to the bed. 

“And all I want before I die is to see you safe, and you can’t even give me that!” 

He had never yelled at you like this if he had even yelled at you at all. Arthur had always tended to take the image of the rugged, unforgiving brute, but never had he been that way with you. It was always tender touches, calculating glances, and a sense of utter contentment when you were around–acting like you would break if he didn’t keep calm and collected.

It differed from now, the usually calm sea of his eyes now a stormy whirlpool, harshness lining the edges, and it was pointed towards you. You pulled your hands against your chest nervously, wishing to shrink into the ground to avoid his, to you, unjust fury.

“Stop.” Your voice grew quiet as the air in the room seemed to lessen, eyes shooting towards the ground. 

Groaning, Arthur raised his arms, gasping when he had to support his weight on it. Stepping forward to help him, you were only faced with his palm begging you to stay away. 

“Of course, I couldn’t leave you,” you reply gently. “Besides, I had to know what happened to you.” 

“Stubborn woman, didn’t I tell you to go? It ain’t safe anymore.” You backed away, not wanting to listen.

“Now I don’t know where the hell Dutch is, where Micha is, which means this is far from over. That’s why I’m sayin’ you shouldn’t stay!” He tried to reason with you, make you realize that your part in this was over.

He felt conflicted. Whenever he thought of you, he struggled between being selfish and thinking of what was best for you and what he needed to do to keep you alive through all of this. On one side, he longed for every part of you to remain with him, but on the other side, he couldn’t stand you being hurt on his behalf more than you had already been. 

He knew he crushed you in the process, it was undeniable, the cries that left you when placed behind Sadie before telling enough–but it had to be done, despite how much he despised himself for putting you through this. You were always so calm and level-headed that he couldn’t be anything more than heartbroken when you called after him that day, the distress so unlike you.

Arthur didn’t like it, which fueled him to push you away even further when he realized you didn’t see reason, deciding that the only plan left was to show you what kind of man he was, or rather, what kind of a man he was to everyone else. 

“This isn’t you talking, Arthur.” 

“What do you mean it ain’t me talkin’?” His face grew red with strain as he spoke, alerting you as you bent down to meet his gaze, placing your hands on either side of his cheek. He scrunched his eyes together, heart pleading to give into you as your ever–so-gentle hands closed around him.

“You're sick, Arthur, and you’ve been beaten to a pulp. Now, I don’t know what transpired on that mountain, and I’m not sure finding out would do me any good, but I thought-'' Stopping in your tracks, you closed your eyes. “I thought you had died, Arthur. I, I cried for you, thinking I would never see you alive again.” 

“I ain’t less than a ghost now, darlin’; you should have left when you had the chance.” He stared tiredly into your eyes and then turned away from you. “You have to accept that. It’d gone much easier if you left me on that mountain.” His heart beat as he voiced the reality of his thoughts, knowing it would hurt you, but the statement was also true.

Silence followed for a long time after that, the turmoil inside you breaking, seeping like blood from the cracks of your heart as you were left staring at the side of his face. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Arthur, but it has never felt like I’ve known you entirely.” While he gazed at you, the fury still raced deep in the blue orbs, coloring them darker with pain. 

“You have a barricade around your heart that I can never breach. And I tried; believe me, I did. For the longest time, I tried to be there for you, be something for you to come home to, to ease your mind that always was off somewhere else, somewhere I could never follow!” Your tone that started quietly grew loud as you spoke, heart racing inside your chest as the words fell like liquid out of your mouth.

“I can’t-” Your voice hitched, angry tears falling unwillingly from your eyes. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in!”

“I don’t need your help!” You could see Arthur close off from you even more, pushing you away as the harshness of his voice cut you like a razor. “I never had!” His voice broke as he yelled, panting as he sat on the bed, hunching forward as frustration rose.

“Arthur!” You felt anger grow in your chest, finding him unbelievable as you swatted at his chest lightly, standing up to put some distance between you, seeing him trailing after you. “I’m done with you telling me to go when all I live for is you!” Fiery and consuming anger flared within you, setting your cheeks ablaze as you spun around to face him.

“Well, I’m over you being so stubborn all the time! Never listen to me when I only want to see you off safe, caring for me like it’s a glimpse of hope that I’ll survive!” A scoff of disbelief left you, staring at him as you almost laughed in shock.

“Me!? Stubborn!?” Your palm found your forehead, voice laced with anger-filled frustration. “That is very rich coming from Mister. I never listen to anyone other than myself!” You paused before you yelled. “Ever!”

“Because I know what’s best, alright!? And I know that you should be far, far away from me!” A fire started to show in his voice, but it also crept into your bones, warmth spreading on your cheeks. 

“Oh, and what?! Find some boring, middle-aged asshole who’ll tie me to the kitchen and make me have tea-party with some lifeless, dreary, pompous, old ladies?!” Your breathing was hectic as the words spilled out in a heated rush.

“Yes, that’s what I want, ‘cause that would mean you would be safe!” He stalked closer, cornering you at the door.

“I’d rather die, Arthur,” you said. “I’d rather die with you than face the long, bleak years of this world alone! You backed away, feeling suffocated when he didn’t give you any space to breathe.

“The only place I feel safe is with you, Arthur!” Your voice broke slightly, gripping his shirt to shake some sense into him. “It’s with you I’ve always felt at home!” Gripping his stubbled cheeks in your palms tightly, you pleaded with him as he gazed into your eyes. “I’m not leaving you; get that through your thick, dumb skull!”

“Stop being so goddamn unselfish and think about yourself for once!” He met your gaze, dark as he stared at you from underneath his brows. “Get out the hell out, leave!” 

You only stared at him, cold shivers like freezing water wrecking through you, backing towards the door as his shadow grew more prominent, stepping unbalanced on his feet towards you. Grabbing your shoulders in his broad hands, he stepped so close that all you could see were his eyes blaring into yours.

“Come on!” He yelled, shaking your body as if to shake some sense into your stubborn mind. “GO!”

Choking on your tears in distress, you were left gasping for air as you tried to breathe, feeling his body falter above yours. The coughs that now raked through him made you sink on the floor with him, and as the blood splattered on your dress, covering your chest in a deep red that contrasted the ivory fabric, you sat on the dirty floor, a man devoid of the will to live anymore laying in your trembling arms. 

After that, you only felt his lips that sought yours, entangling your limbs together like snakes in a snake pit–not a gentle surrender but a clash of hunger, a collision of lips borne from ages of holding back the reality.

Bloodied lips against bloodied lips met in a fierce urgency after taking a quick breath, fueled by the unspoken desires and the acknowledgment that, despite your disagreements, the love you kept for one another was deeply engrained in both of you, hearts unable to stand the hate you felt.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping as if seeking reassurance as the world blurred. Anger melted into a raw vulnerability, frustration giving way to the unspoken plea, and the desperation grew more considerable than it ever had–and as you both pulled away, breaths heavy and gazed locked, the air crackled around you as he instead hoisted you up in his arms so you could fall into each other’s embrace yet again.

Your tears now rubbed their way down Arthur’s cheeks, your breath hitching as sobs still found their way through you. His broad hands pulled you tighter against him, the inner fight that took place in his mind showing as he wanted to push you away, only to draw you closer to his dying limbs.

“You know I ain’t a good man, honey. That ain’t going to change, ever.” His gaze was gravely and serious as he stared into your eyes, an uncanny vulnerability etching them deep down. “This life lives within me; I can’t escape it. I can’t escape the sins that I carry. I’ve done horrible things, things you couldn’t even dream of.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. “You know that.”

Your eyes softened as you saw the wrinkles in his face release, finally hearing something real coming from him. “You’re not your sins, Arthur. And even if you were, I’d carry them with you, lighten the burden.” Stroking his cheek with the tips of your fingers, he opened his forever lonely eyes, now staring into yours.

“God, I tried, honey. I tried to get you to leave, talkin’ to you in ways I’ve promised myself I never would–everything to get you to leave.” He pushed your head against his shoulder, resting his head on yours in defeat. “It was harder than I thought, see you cryin’ like that.” Sighing heavily, he continued. “But somehow, you always stay.”

“I’m not leaving.” You mumbled against his skin.

“There’s no mistaking that.” He chuckled, stroking your back. “Everything I do is to keep you safe; you’re so stubborn not to realize that.”

“I’m safe when I’m with you, Arthur.” He didn’t answer you for a while, holding you comfortingly. He felt the strings that held his will up loosen, giving up on trying to push you away, the sight of you sobbing tugging at his heart.

“I feel like all I do is make you cry lately.” Staring at your smaller arms that hugged him, the doubt that he still wasn’t good enough for you clouding his mind. 

“You make me cry when you push me away,” you admitted, your voice steadier now. “It hurts, Arthur.” He sighed, fingers still entangled in your hair, twisting your hair strands with his fingers.

“I know, honey,” he murmured, a concession to the unspoken ache.

“Then stop.” He lifted your head to make you look at him through wet eyes.

“Stop hurting me; I can’t handle it anymore.” He felt like you had shot him right in his chest as you begged him, staring through vulnerable eyes he rarely saw. He had done countless horrible acts in his life, but this was indeed to be pivoted as the worst, never having felt the pang of agony quite so brutal.

He couldn’t tell how long he would live now, down to his last breaths, but he didn’t have the power to keep you away from him any longer, not when you were so adamant about staying. Had you been angrier at him, he was sure you would take your things and leave him, but there was a part of you he so adoringly loved, a part that always seemed to care too much, love too hard. 

Somehow, he praised whoever made you that way because were you not, he would no longer have the light of his life in his arms, even if his time was running out. No longer would he be able to feel the graceful touch of your fingers on his skin and the sparkling in your eyes as you stared up at him in mischief, making him feel more alive than he had ever felt in his miserable life.

Hugging you closer to him, he captured your soft lips in his, feeling the ache only increase as he basked in the way you sighed, relieved. You felt the promise of not pushing you away anymore lingering in the corner of his mouth, dragging you closer to him as hope finally seemed in reach.

–

“And as the last light of day shone through the window, he realized how it felt like to hold the world in the palm of his hands, for her eyes were the window to everything he wishes for, and more.” Glancing mischievously into Arthur’s eyes through the pages, you conclude. “The end.”

Pushing the book’s pages close with a loud bang that echoed through the sunlit room dramatically, you presented him with a toothy smile.

“I never took our dear friend for being such a romantic, Arthur.” Raising from the bed, you spun around to face the man who seemed reluctant to let you go, bending down to stare into his eyes cheekily. “Are you sure you went hunting together? With all these books, maybe you spent your time cooped up here reading romance?” A giggle left you as you walked towards the stove, checking on the stew bubbling deliciously, the smell making your mouth water as it passed your nose when you opened the lid. 

Behind you, you could almost hear how Arthur’s eyes rolled back into his head, arms still outstretched towards you. “Sure,” he drawled, staring at you warmly as you teased him. “Our favorite pastime. How did you know?”

His sarcastic tone reached you as the warmth of the cooking burned your tongue slightly when you tried to get a taste, hissing as you dropped the spoon back into the pot. 

“You can’t fool me, Arthur; I know you’re a true romantic.” Pushing your finger against the sore part of your tongue, you turn to face him, resting against the counter. 

“It’s something I always imagined for us.” You mocked slightly, puffing out your chest as your voice grew into his familiar southern drawl, imitating your earlier talk with him some time ago.

Scoffing at you, he suddenly rose from the bed, the book falling from the floor as he stepped towards you. Perking up at his motion, you found yourself stuck as his arms encased around you, the warm scent of him mingling with the food as he stepped closer. 

Cowering slightly under his gaze, you giggled nervously as you leaned back. “Have you ever heard of personal space?” He didn’t answer you as you jested with him, palms finding each side of your face as his eyes observed you tenderly. 

God, he loved you like this. Ever since your fight, every obstacle that hindered you from growing closer to each other was breached. Every time you laughed, it filled his heart with warmth, finding the life he once fell in love with reaching you again as you settled; the hardest of times now passed.

He couldn’t help it as he pressed against you, sighing deeply as your lips found his in a loving caress, smoothing over one another as the sound of your slight humming broke through the silence. 

It felt like a blessing to have Arthur close again. Some time ago, you feared you had utterly lost him as he remained a shell of who he once was, shielding himself from you and everyone else. Although at ease now, the heavy shadow of his disease still lingered over you like a cloud, most times reminding you of the sad realization that all was not well.

Despite this, you could see how much better he was faring, now both up on his feet and with a sane mind–much more like the man you fell for. At times, the anxiety still clawed its way into your mind, wondering if all of this was too good too last. Although, since both you and Arthur realized that relying your thoughts and fears on one another was fatal if this was going to work, he always kissed your worries away, driving the somber mood gone with his hands.

“Where did you go?” The words rumbled quietly against your lips as your eyes lifted to gaze into his wondering ones, feeling him push your hair behind your ear. You gave him a small smile, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“Secret.” You whispered when you felt him lean closer again, the tension growing in sparks around you. 

“Oh, I see. We keepin’ secrets now?” Raising his brows in fake mock, you felt his hands circle your waist so he could lift you around his torso. An innocent smile covered your lips as he hoisted you up, slightly pinching your waist so you let out a breathless laugh.

Stalking back towards the bed, you realized his only plan had been to bring you back all this time, giving Arthur a knowing look. “I am allowed to have some secrets, you know.”

“Are you now?” He smirked at you, kissing your nose before laying you on the soft bed, hovering above you. “I think I know a few ways to get you to speak.” Crawling up your thigh was a hand filled with sinful intent.

“Well, I won’t tell, you brute!!” You laughed as you squirmed against him, wishing his hand away as they traveled further.

“Oh, I’ll show you, brute, darlin´.”

All the wounds and hurt weren’t healed by any means, but as time passed, it started to mend the damage it created. The crumbs that once were so few grew larger and larger, now swapped out with a special love that you were sure was destined just for you and the man who always had it in the palm of his hands–only the need to accept himself in order to let it reach you. 

And while this story certainly isn’t over, the worry about Arthur’s health and the glimmer in his eyes he still kept for the life he had lived and would never escape still existed. You could tell he was aware you saw it, noticing him staring longingly into the wild, fingers flexing with anticipation.

But those were thoughts for darker days. For now, as you lay with Arthur’s arms wound around you and the sparkling of the fire cracking into the silence, you would bask in it for as long as you could. With the soup long forgotten—you realized you would follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked you, even if it meant your death.

What if we were silly sylvanian families characters in love

I hate when people (usually men on reddit) are like “if you met arthur back then he would murder you for breathing in his existence!” Oh would he? When? Before or after he’s finished doodling bunnies and flowers?

silly cowboy :/

every woman when they see arthur on the street: HELLO HANDSOME! you sure brighten up a girls day! I WANT YOU SO BAD! I NEED YOU! *barking* PLEASE BRO PLEASE

arthur: i’m ugly ☹️