Hehehehe

mmgnnnggjjhhhh

18+ | afab!reader

you're drooling; body quivering hard as vi slams into your cunt without mercy. she's pulled two orgasms from you already, each one more ruthless than the last. you swore you blacked out for a moment, your whole world disappearing behind a screen of white-hot pleasure.

it's almost too much, the overstimulation has you near choking. it's too much, and it hurts, but it hurts so fucking good.

vi's fingers slide through the slick of your folds, the sudden touch making you jump. they tease at your stretched hole, pried wide around the girth of her strap, and the sensation has you whimpering, hips twitching. then she's rubbing at your clit, swollen and wet, and you hide your scream into the pillow against your chest.

"fuck, you're so pretty," vi rambles, lost in her own pleasurable madness. "so pretty and sweet, clenching me so tight."

her name is lost on your tongue as every drive in of her hips leaves you speechless. she's so deep, she's hitting it rough and she won't stop rubbing at your clit—

your mouth falls open with a silent scream, body convulsing as you gush around vi's cock. you claw at the bedsheets, desperate to ground yourself as you threaten to slip far away.

"good girl," vi praises, still working her hips into your sopping cunt. she lowers herself until she's pressed firmly against your back, her breasts soft on your skin. her thrusts slow to a grind, the movement having you gasping for breath. "good girl."

you mewl pathetically, still shivering from the force of a third orgasm. vi trails tender kisses across the span of your shoulders, sinking them into your skin. it's soothing, calming as you regain your senses that pleasure snatched from you.

it takes a minute before you reach back to pull at vi's harness. you pull at it a few times, weak but determined, and vi hums a puzzled noise into your neck.

"you haven't come yet," you say softly, turning your head to the side so you can look her in the eye. "i...want you to ride my pussy."

vi goes quiet for a moment, and it's only a moment before she's flipping you onto your back.

you smile up at her expression; it's dangerous but also desperate and a little needy. you watch as she rips off the harness and go pilant when she grabs your thighs to spread your legs wide.

you arch your back, a perfect image of debauchery, and vi curses beneath her breath.

you spread your cunt between two fingers, already wet and aching, as you whisper, "please?" with feigned innocence.

vi has you screaming again in less than a minute.

couldn't fight to save your life (but you look so cool) ❀˖꩜˚࿔ - e.w

loser!ellie x popular!reader | 3.2k words

a/n: guess who rewatched bottoms for the billionth time (me. it was me.) :p loser!ellie won't leave my mind and neither will crush by ethel cain so here's somethin' random i came up with, enjoy!

cw: cursing, bullying, a little violence, mentions of blood, two idiots that are obviously infatuated with each other, mentions of reader wanting to punch ellie for being too cute cuz they’re strange like that

˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

you're an angel, she's sure of it.

ellie watches with glassy eyes, practically in a trance, as you absentmindedly play with your hair. she drinks in the way your perfectly curated outfit adorns your body; you always look flawless to her. you were laughing at something your friend had said, ellie's ears straining to hear the saccharine sound over the chatter buzzing. she just heard it, and god, what she would do to have a recording of it to listen to over and over again.

the two of you weren't friends by any means, but she knew you.

most of ellie's time was spent staring at you during class or when you passed her in the hallway. her eyes would shy away every time they met yours, the intensity of your gaze leaving her a flustered mess within seconds. 

when she wasn't looking at you, her head was buried into her journal, pencil dragging fervently across the pages. her entries always had your name embedded somewhere within their sentences. it was like you were all she could think about. when she would draw, the lines and curves always morphed into you, capturing a moment of you daydreaming in class or whatever other snapshot her mind had taken of you that wouldn't stop plaguing her.

she'd listen to your conversations when she was close enough to hear - not to be a creep or anything! but how else was she supposed to learn more about you?

sure, the obvious answer would be to talk to you, but she was a nervous wreck from just seeing you. you'd only had a few brief interactions before, and she swears she almost fainted when you remembered her name when you asked her for a pen once.

while she believed the popularity contest that was high school to be ridiculous, her very low place in the school's hierarchy was a definite set-up for failure, she was certain. ellie kept to herself, mostly, aside from her few friends, but that didn't stop her from becoming the target of relentless bullying from some of the other students, the ones at the top of the food chain.

you were well-liked amongst your peers, but your popularity never merged you with those people. you were known for your sunny disposition, whereas they tormented their way to the top.

you'd seen it happen a couple of times, the sound of their jeering always catching your attention, especially when you heard them say ellie's name in that disgusting tone that made your heart ache for her. in fact, it's what snapped you out of your current conversation as an irritated, "what the fuck, williams?" sounds throughout the hallway.

in her lovestruck daze, ellie hadn't been looking where she was walking, which conveniently caused her to bump into one of them - a girl you didn't care much for, quinn was it? all you knew for sure was that she was trouble.

ellie winced and scrunched her face at the sound of her voice, internally cursing at herself because now she had to deal with her. she opened her eyes to see that everyone was looking, including you.

"shit, sorry. wasn't looking where i was going, won't happen again," ellie's tone is curt, trying to move past her and continue with her day before things got worse.

but of course, she wouldn't get let off the hook that easily; that was just her luck.

"where do you think you're going?" she probes, moving to block ellie's path. ellie has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes in her face, not wanting to escalate things if she could help it. how naive of her to think that nothing could ever be easy for her.

"c'mon, dude. i apologised. can we move on and-"

suddenly, it feels like the wind was knocked from ellie's lungs, and she's… falling?

a little stunned, she looks up from her newfound place on the floor after quinn has shoved her to the ground. all because of an accident that could have been easily brushed off and forgotten about. such a dumb fucking reason, and yet it has ellie seething.

"you should watch where you're going, williams. always lurking where nobody wants you to be." quinn spits, taunting ellie to get a rise out of her. 

it was likely that ellie's indifferent reactions to quinn's bullying irritated her, unable to fathom why ellie wouldn't buckle and submit like every other one of her unfortunate victims.

while the teasing and mean remarks were an unfortunate constant in her life, this never mellowed ellie. she was always quick-witted, her slight temper always having her ready to argue back and stand up for herself, and this time was no different.

ellie rises from the ground and delivers an equally hard shove, an irate, "what the fuck is your problem?" leaving her chapped lips. being the drama-obsessed hive mind that high schoolers were, it didn't take long for people to start crowding around the two once things intensified.

you had been watching the whole thing from afar before a wall of people began forming, not realising it'd evolve into this. you heard a pained groan rip from ellie's throat after what you presumed was the first punch being thrown. now you are only able to listen to the commotion but not see the situation, making your anxiety skyrocket. 

you liked to keep an attentive eye on ellie from a distance despite your paths rarely crossing, feeling some strange obligation to watch over her. you knew quinn and her posse of assholes always gave ellie a hard time, but she seemed to handle herself just fine, sometimes hearing one of her clever comebacks that made you giggle.

while the brawl entertained everyone else, you grew increasingly agitated. you were never one for drama and kept a relatively peaceful circle of friends, but the idea of just standing and doing nothing felt like a personal failure.

so, before you knew it, you were excusing yourself from your friends and pushing your way through the crowd to get to ellie.

once you breached the crowd, you found yourself in the eye of the storm, your eyes wide. after a while of their struggle against each other, quinn was now situated on top of ellie as she delivered a particularly hard punch to ellie's cheek. the wounded groan she let out was what urged you out of your frozen shock, rushing towards the tangle of violent limbs, grabbing quinn's shoulder and pulling her off of ellie with a hard tug.

"get the hell away from her!" you yell, trying hard to ignore the disappointed groans of the audience as you interrupt their entertainment. "assholes." you thought to yourself. 

wiping the blood from her nose, the sight of the trickling crimson more satisfying to you than it should be, quinn looks at you confused, clearly not expecting you of all people to come to ellie's rescue.

"the fuck are you doing?" she sneers, looking between you and ellie, who is still on the floor, propping herself up on her elbows with the nastiest glare you'd ever seen on her face. "don't tell me you actually give a shit about this loser-"

"back off, don't touch her," you snarled, pushing past her to kneel beside ellie on the ground.

you had this untouchable air about you, something that was a little lost on you but not to quinn. she knew you had people to back you up, her targets usually being the loner outcast types, being the coward she is. the same ruthlessness ellie received was not given to you, an irritated scoff being all you heard from quinn. she was the least of your worries right now.

"are you okay?" you ask, a little breathless from the adrenaline of putting yourself in the middle of a fight in front of an audience. your brows furrowed at how quickly deep purples and blues had already started blooming around ellie's eye and her freckled cheek. 

ellie looked at you blankly, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, and she tried desperately to find any words to say to you. how was she supposed to think straight? the rush from the fight and now having her crush come to her aid rendered her speechless. her lack of answer only worried you more, pinning her silence on being stunned from the fight still.

"ellie, i need you to answer-"

you were cut off by the sound of the principal pushing his way through the mass, his stern voice demanding that the two battered girls follow him to his office.

you watch doe-eyed and nervous as ellie pushes herself off the floor with a wince, looking at you with eyes that have so much to say yet a mouth that cannot quite verbalise it. but she couldn't stay, so without a word, she reluctantly trudged behind the principal with her head hanging low, utterly fed up, and man, that one punch hurt.

˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

you peered around the corner to the row of chairs lined up outside the principal's office, eyes fixated on ellie's slumped figure occupying one of them. you had been watching for at least a minute or two now despite there being the opportunity to approach her like any other normal person. but this was comfortable for you, familiar. if ellie believed she was the only person with a staring problem, and she did, then she was painfully wrong.

it felt routine for you to watch her like this from afar, a look in your eyes brimming with so much more than just innocent curiosity.

it was like you could sense her presence in a room, your gaze always finding her so easily amongst the hoard of other students. your eyes would rake up and down as you shamelessly drank her in, that camo jacket of hers that she wore like a safety blanket hanging loosely from her frame. she wore it infuriatingly well, paired with her unbothered demeanour that looked oh so good on her. a witty remark was always ready on the tip of her tongue when one of her tormentors dared to speak to her, her scarred brow furrowing into a scowl that made your stomach flutter.

you knew what cuteness aggression was, but that surely couldn't be what you felt now. but it made you mad how badly ellie affected you even from a distance, what was once just a silly hallway crush twisting into a near-violent obsession. you spied her fresh bruises, almost filling you with a little satisfaction. serves her right, your voice whispers quietly inside your head, as if you were scared someone could hear you. you almost wished you had been the one to give her the bruises only so you could plant two gentle kisses over the skin to soothe the sting afterwards. the deep plum colour blooming across her skin still somehow made her look pretty, and you had to take a moment to ask yourself if that was a fucked up thing to think. probably. 

suddenly becoming aware of how much of a creep you must look, lingering but not daring to approach, you decided to finally go check on her. it wouldn't feel right for you not to ensure she was okay.

ellie wonders how hard she was punched when she looks up to see you, a concerned and bashful smile on your face.

"hey, ellie. i just wanted to check on you after what happened with… y'know." 

ellie spends a moment in silence as she processes what's happening. you're fidgeting with your hands, rocking back and forth on your heels like you don't know what to do with yourself. she could have scoffed in bewilderment, as if you had any right to look so nervous standing in front of her, effortlessly beautiful and so sweet.

"ellie?" you repeat her name again, softer this time. ellie almost wants to stay silent just to hear you repeat it. but she needs to respond, fuck think, think, think-

"o-oh, hey. i uh- yeah, i'm okay. nothing i can't handle," ellie finally manages to get out. you nod in acknowledgement, tearing your eyes away for just a moment to compose yourself.

"do you mind if i sit?" you gesture to the empty chair beside her, which has her perking up almost immediately. ellie nods, a simple "sure," leaving her lips in a tone that sounded far more curt than nonchalant like she intended. really, she was just trying to focus on not bursting at the seams. you were so close to her, and now she had to keep her cool.

"thanks for stepping in earlier and pulling her off of me. you didn't have to do that."

"i wasn't just gonna stand there and watch it happen," you say it like that wasn't what anyone else would have done, what they did do. all more than happy to watch her get her ass beat just to spice up what otherwise would have been another boring school day.

"i'd say i held my own somewhat well," ellie quips, her tone a little lighter than before. you giggle softly, deciding not to remind her that she had been floored by the time you got to her. she had definitely lost the fight, and in her defence, that girl was notoriously scrappy, but fortunately for you, she made losing look so good. holding herself up on her elbows, the meanest look on her dishevelled face as she stared up at the girl with an unwavering glare.

"and what did the principal have to say about that?" you press for details, head tilting curiously. you looked like a puppy, sitting all cute and pretty next to her. ellie swore you were trying to kill her; such a simple movement made her heart rate spike. 

"got a firm slap on the wrist and the usual 'you're better than this' speech." you hum in acknowledgement, a breath of a laugh exhaling through your nose.

"well, for what it's worth, i think you gave her what she deserved." your statement caught her off guard, and she was not expecting you to condone any of what went down earlier.

"oh, you think?"

"oh definitely. the only time i see her is when she's making some poor person's life hell. i'm glad to see her get a taste of her own medicine."

ellie couldn't argue with that, shrugging in agreement as she tried to keep the pride bubbling up in her chest at bay.

"i am a little surprised, though. i wasn't expecting you to entertain a fight with her." this makes ellie raise her eyebrow inquisitively. did she not look tough enough to be in a fight or something? she knew she was nerdy, but surely she didn't look utterly defenceless, right?

"how come?" she questions, leaning back more comfortably in her chair, legs settling into her usual manspread that had you reeling just from seeing it from a distance, never mind being right next to her. your eyes darted around the hallway, desperately trying to focus on the conversation.

"well, y'know, i see you around, and you're usually so…" you trail off as you wave your hands in soft, fluid motions, whimsical and a little silly as you try to explain the softer side of her you had always noticed in what looked like some strange interpretive dance. 

"but back there, you were all like-" you're swinging your arms a little more frantically now, a poor recreation of some generic karate moves. you would feel like a total idiot and you very much do if it wasn't for the cheesy smile spreading across ellie's face at the sight of you.

"yeah?" she feels like she's getting lightheaded from how giddy she feels.

"yeah." you parrot back sheepishly, twiddling your thumbs to ground yourself. so cute.  

all ellie seemed to be good for was being riled up by the other students, so hearing that you had acknowledged her enough to make up your own mind about her made her feel like she was short circuiting. she was quickly snapped out of her temporary high when she felt a sharp sting on the side of her face, her sappy smile irritating her bruises.

"shit, are you okay?" you ask worriedly as she tries to brush it off with a wave of her hand.

"yeah yeah, i'm fine; this could've been way worse. you don't need to worry." her thoughts didn't quite match up with her words, though, silently begging that you'd keep doting on her. she was basking in having your undivided attention.

"ellie, these bruises are pretty big, i'm allowed to worry after i watched you get your ass handed to you," you ramble, ignoring her dismissal. 

"hey! she didn't have that much of an upper hand against me-"

you don’t reply, your hand absentmindedly reaches out to cup her jaw, being careful not to press into where it hurts as you inspect her injuries.

"has anybody checked over you yet?"

she feels like she's on fire, palms sweaty as she silently lets you examine her. she barely managed to respond to your question with a simple "no." she swore she could feel everywhere your eyes landed on her face, and fuck, your hand is so warm. the mess of a girl was surprised that steam wasn't radiating from where your skin met. 

as you give her face a final once over, you catch that frazzled deer-in-headlights look in her eyes and realise what you were doing, immediately removing your hand. if ellie wasn't frozen in place, she would have chased your touch, already missing the feeling of you on her skin.

"s-sorry, i just- i didn't mean to touch you out of nowhere. i was checking for my own peace of mind and got carried away-"

"no!" ellie interrupts a little louder than she meant to. "i mean, it's totally fine," her voice is shaking, "thank you for caring. you don't even really know me, and you're doing all this for me, so thank you."

her abruptness halts your apologetic rambling. you look at her wide-eyed for a moment before letting a soft little smile tug up the corner of your lips. if only she knew just how well you'd come to know her from all of your stolen glances, committing her to memory like she would disappear.

"don't mention it."

silence falls over you, both fidgeting shyly as you struggle to find something else to say. but that was okay. the giddy smiles you were both biting back said everything they needed to.

"i should probably get back to class, i've been holding this hall pass hostage for a while so i could come to check on you." you huff out a little disappointed sigh, reluctant to leave now that you'd finally been able to talk to ellie after so long spent longingly glancing in her direction.

"oh right, sorry. don't let me keep you, like i said i'm fine, really." ellie felt herself deflate a little now that she knew you had to go. the word pathetic came to mind when she realised how silly she must have looked, sulking like a kicked dog.

"i'm glad you're okay, ellie. i'll um… i'll see you around, yeah?" you couldn't help the hopefulness seeping through your words, and ellie noticed. the slight lilt in your sweet voice, your awkward shifting as you stood up, ready to leave.

"yeah, i'll see you around." ellie smiled up at you, ignoring the sharp twinge where her bruises were. maybe she should get beat up more often if it meant getting your attention.

hhhhhh so cute ;-;

Rosemary (e.w): Part One

"𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧, 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬."

content / warnings: jackson ellie / fem newcomer reader, loser! ellie, the majority of tlou has not happened (joel and jesse are still alive), mentions of joel (will be in part 2), mentions of cat, jesse and dina are romantically involved, near-death situations (patrol gone wrong), mild violence, slight angst with comfort, lots of swearing, eventual smut (in part 2).

word count: 4.4k

link to part two ( status: unfinished)

Description: Newcomers come and go through Jackson, and Ellie doesn’t pay any of them much thought. However, she catches a glimpse of you. You’re the exact opposite of her, soft and sweet like cotton candy (if that were a thing in Jackson). Now she feels 14 all over again, palms clammy and freckled face hot when you’re around. When you’re not, she buries her face into her pillow and hopelessly pines. Jesse and Dina just won’t let her fumble, though.

Ellie locks the stable door behind her, the creaking of the hinges accompanying her huff. As usual, Ellie is quite sweaty and admittedly cranky after a patrol that lasted longer than it should’ve.

She and Jesse spent hours clearing out a portion of the town North of Jackson, only to find the ammunition cabinets empty and the pantries bare. To come back almost empty-handed leaves Ellie in a particularly sour mood, and now she is in no state to deal with another social interaction for the day. No offense to her best friend Jesse, but he can be annoyingly talkative on the longest days. 

“Hey, have you heard about the new group who just arrived?” Jesse’s voice snaps Ellie out of her own thoughts, and she shrugs. She walks alongside Jesse back to the weaponry to store their pistols. 

“Yeah. What about them?” Ellie has never understood why everyone makes a big fuss out of new arrivals. Jackson gets plenty of travelers. Besides, folks stay and folks go. She won’t be surprised if the entire group is headed South by tomorrow morning.

Jackson isn’t for everyone. It’s mainly for the type of people Ellie is–fine with the harsher, okay with hours of stressful patrols, and usually content to kick infected ass. Also secluded, far from larger settlements that remind her too much of a QZ. 

“There’s a girl. Maria is sayin’ she’s around our age, too.” Jesse informs her.

Ellie snorts at that, shaking her head. “So?” She opens the door to the weaponry, unloading her pistol and storing the gun on the wall alongside his. 

Jesse gives her a ‘what do you mean, so?’ look, and almost laughs at her attitude. He knows that she is more reserved when it comes to new people. Really, people in general. For the longest time, the circle was Jesse, Dina, and Ellie. Like a holy trinity that Cat occasionally popped into before departing when she and Ellie broke up. Ellie has never needed more social interaction than her friends, Joel and Tommy, and maybe a girlfriend. The only problem is that she has the social skills of an incel when it comes to women, save for the fact that most incels were taken out on breakout day. 

“We had new people just last month. What’s so special about these?” 

Jesse rolls his eyes as they walk out of the weaponry, holding the door open for Ellie despite her bitterness. “I was just informing you, jeez. What’s with the pissy mood?”

Ellie sighs, pausing outside of the building. “My bad. Just..didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, and patrol didn’t help.”

Jesse raises an eyebrow. “Were you up on that PlayStation you’ve got in your mancave?”

“For the last time, it’s not a man cave,” she speaks with light disapproval in her tone.

Jesse laughs at his friend’s attitude, enjoying teasing her. “Right. Well, you go home and get some damn rest. I’m tired of dealing with your cranky ass on patrol.” He pats her shoulder, giving her a small wave before walking towards his house.

Ellie sighs and mumbles a “whatever” before turning in the other direction and heading for the small garage she has behind Joel’s house, looking forward to sleeping until she is forced to get up in the morning. 

-

Patrol is early, earlier than usual. Luckily, Ellie got plenty of sleep the night before. In her straight jeans and (against Dina’s advice to not risk hypothermia) canvas sneakers, everything is ready, and she feels lighter this morning. Not in a particularly grumpy mood, she walks down the streets to find Jesse. She is a tad bit confused–usually, Jesse is knocking at her door on patrol mornings. She grumbles under her breath at the thought that he is probably at the Tipsy Bison on some cheesy breakfast date with Dina. As much as she loves the two, she hates third-wheeling. Things are already awkward as it is. 

Ellie gets stuck in her mind as always, until a particular view cuts the thought train. There you are, in a pen filled with baby sheep, giggling and petting behind their ears. It’s an overwhelmingly sweet sight, something Ellie would usually find herself thinking of with disgust. Too sweet, like a tooth-rotting confection. But that’s not the case here, no. 

Ellie has seen plenty of pretty girls in Jackson. What is it that makes her hands clammy, and causes her face to redden in pure embarrassment? Her cheeks are so hot you could fry eggs on them. She’s embarrassed to be herself next to a pretty girl. You’re sweet and soft, and you remind her of peaches or a fluffy cake. But really, the thing that truly gets her isn’t the sheep or the way you smile at them in a way that makes even Ellie feel safe around you. It’s that outfit. 

Something she would find in a damn magazine for girls. Ellie would find herself thinking that wearing cute, feminine outfits is just dumb. In this world, where anything can happen, why wouldn’t you go for the practical? Why lace yourself up with soft frills and pink hues? You can’t run in a skirt. But looking at you, how the fabric seems to be made for you, she finds herself wondering how soft it is (and how soft to the touch you are). 

You’re the type of girl Ellie could see herself writing shitty journal entries about, your initial next to hers. You’re the type of girl she imagined tasting when she practices kissing her hand. You’re everything she needs in a daydream she could never confess to anyone else.

And then, the moment is over just before she could introduce herself to you. 

“Earth to Ellie? Whatcha staring at?” Jesse asks from behind her, causing Ellie to quickly turn around. 

“Nothing. Let’s just go.” Ellie’s voice doesn’t hide her defensiveness, and Jesse notices your figure a little bit away. He has a knowing smirk on his face, and Ellie groans. “C’mon, I’m not-”

“Didn’t say anything,” he points out with a surrender. 

The patrol goes normally. Kill infected, raid for supplies, endure Jesse’s dirty jokes. The only difference is, Ellie feels the need to ask about you on the way home.

Mounted on horses, Ellie decides to speak up. “Hey..do you know anything about that new girl?” 

Jesse shrugs casually. “She’s good friends with Dina already.” Ellie nods. Dina is the most social out of the trio, so it makes sense. 

“Is she nice?” Ellie asks, taking a small glance at Jesse. 

“Why? Interested in her or something?” Jesse replies, slightly smiling. It’s clear that he enjoys the fact that he knows how to get to her. 

Of course, she scoffs, raising her defenses. “No! Why do you think that?”

He laughs, eyes roving over her face. “Well, your cheeks are red. That’s the first sign. Secondly, you keep interrogating me over this chick.” 

Ellie sighs and looks down at Shimmer’s mane, trying to focus on something other than Jesse’s stupid face so that she can admit it. “Yeah, maybe I think she’s pretty cute. But she’s probably straight, so it doesn’t matter,” she mumbles quietly. 

“You’re such a pessimist, Ellie. You don’t know what she is.” He reminds Ellie, tone laced with tough love. 

“Yeah, well, how am I supposed to?” She asks though she doesn’t expect an actual answer. 

Jesse almost laughs at that. “By asking her?”

“What?! I can’t just ask if she likes girls! What if she gets offended?” 

“Dude, chill. I mean, just talk to her. Don’t you have a gaydar or somethin’?” He quips, making her crinkle her nose in protest.

“Yeah, right. All gays can just sense each other.” Ellie says with a half-hearted glare.

Jesse sighs. “Look, why don’t you just ask her to that summer festival thing? You know, the one with the dance?”

Her eyes widen at that. “A dance? That sounds like a nightmare.” 

“You are a lost cause,” he says as he rolls his eyes. 

It was around 7 p.m. when Ellie and Jesse made it to the gates. Ellie sighs outside of the Tipsy Bison. 

“Do I have to come in with you?” Ellie asks while already knowing the answer. 

“Yes! I need one of those cheesesteaks for dinner, and you could use some grub other than whatever is in that pathetic fridge of yours.” Jesse says, giving Ellie a smirk that suddenly sends her stomach feeling uneasy. He knows something she doesn’t. The only other time Ellie was given that look was the day before Jesse put a corn snake in her garage house as a “prank” for her 17th birthday. Still, Jesse is right. All she has in that mini fridge of hers are leftovers and a pack of instant rice. Her stomach growls in contrast to her protests.

“Ladies first,” Jesse teases, holding the door open for her.

Ellie sighs, feeling a bit cranky as usual at the end of the patrol, but walks into the building. She finds herself immediately freezing at the sight of you there beside Dina, laughing at an inside joke and munching on cheese fries. 

“Oh my god, fuck me.” Ellie curses under her breath. She can already feel the heat rising to her cheeks, pink mixing within the freckled surface. She just hopes that you won’t notice. 

“Don’t be a wimp, go say hi.” Jesse orders lightly behind Ellie, pointing to the area where you’re seated. Ellie swallows, and her boots feel almost like bricks on her feet. Jesse rolls his eyes, practically dragging her over to Dina and you. 

You seem to look up from your meal, eyes scanning over her. She feels like she is being evaluated. God, you must be thinking about how awkward she looks. She can feel her hands get all sweaty like they did when she first laid eyes on you, and her hands shake. She tugs her jacket sleeves down and nearly expects the worst. 

“Hi!” You smile, and you tell Ellie your name. All of the anxiety bubbles into a mix of dread and something giddy. Dread, because she can’t function properly around the one girl who makes her nervous as fuck. Giddiness, because you’re so sweet and lovely and pretty and kissable-

“Hi.” She manages to croak out, struggling to make eye contact. Fuck, how do I look at her? Do I focus on one of her eyes or can I blink and look away? I could wink. Oh, hell no. Don’t do that, Ellie. Instead tries to force an extremely nervous smile onto her face. “Name’s Ellie.”

“I know.” You simply say, still smiling slightly before stabbing a couple of fries with a plastic fork. There is some awkward silence before Dina fucks up Ellie’s momentum with the most nerve-wracking conversion starter. 

“Ellie here has a tattoo.” She brags to you, gesturing to Ellie’s arm. Your eyes light up, and you turn towards her. 

“Really?! I’ve always wanted one, but my parents would kill me.” You say excitedly. “Can I see?” 

Ellie quickly nods, a little flustered with the attention thrown onto her. She shimmies her jacket off, leaving her in a pale blue sweater. Pulling the sleeve up to her elbow, she shows you the moth and fern inked into her skin. You scooch to the edge of the booth, closer to her, and she swears she can smell your perfume. Something sweet like vanilla, perhaps? It just reminds her of cake and whipped frosting. Her mind is suddenly less focused on your eyes roving over her arm, and more on wondering how you taste. She realizes how shitty that is and quickly tries to back out of her thoughts, but she looks down to find you looking up at her expectantly. 

“Ellie here zones out 24/7, don’t mind her,” Jesse informs you, trying to push the sudden agenda he and Dina have going on. Ellie is practically burning right now. The air in the room feels limited, and the clashing of dishes in the background that she suddenly can’t seem to tune out isn’t helping. Ellie suddenly clears her throat, pulling away and putting her jacket back on. 

“Woah, where are you going?” Dina asks, not paying attention to the obvious nerves emitting from her friend. 

“Gonna go home and take a shower,” is all Ellie can find herself saying before making a beeline for the door. 

The air is humid, but it isn’t much different from what Ellie felt inside. Ellie sighs, leaning against the wall. She really fucked tonight up. You were so sweet and inviting, and all she could do was tremble like a leaf and say a few boring words. Not only that, but you probably think that she is rude now, just walking out right after meeting you. She just hopes your feelings aren’t hurt in any way. 

-

The universe officially hates Ellie Williams. 

There, in bold letters, are the patrol assignments for the week. The paper is pinned to the corkboard outside of the town hall. This morning, with you? Ellie can’t tell if she wants to cry or laugh. Either way, she is dreading today. 

“Hey, partner!” You greet her, clearly in a cheerful mood. She wants to kiss the corner of your lips on both sides just to feel your smile against her lips, but she is way too much of a pussy for that. Plus, you could be straight. You’re probably straight. 

Ellie has to process how fast you found her, but when she wraps her head around it and finally can think of a coherent thought, it’s a confused one. 

“Uh, hey..aren’t you new here?” She asks, scratching the corner of her mouth. 

“Yeah. Tommy said you would be helping me out with our patrol today?” You told her, watching Ellie’s face grow from confused to almost panicked. “I can find a new partner if you don’t-”

“No!” She basically shouts at you, visibly cringing when people nearby stop to look at her. “I just mean, it’s fine. I just haven’t trained anyone in a long time.” 

“Right. Well, we better head out then, huh? I was warned that the trail Maria gave us is one of the longer ones.” You say, looking at Ellie for a response. 

Ellie doesn’t know what it is about you, but you make a conversation feel like a trip down to the first ring of hell. Even thinking that may be rude, and she curses her thoughts, but you’re pretty and kind. Ellie is a sweaty, awkward loser. She knows it must probably be hell for you to have to talk to her, too. 

She swallows, nodding. “West trails go on for a while, but it’s fine. We’ll make it back to Jackson before night.” 

You smile and nod in response, seemingly unbothered by her odd behavior as you follow her to the stables. 

One thing about horse riding is that it is one of the most calming activities Ellie has available for her. Even when Jesse or Dina yaps her ears off, she finds peace on the back of a horse. After a long, stressful patrol, Ellie can always have a bit of respite with Shimmer. A girl with plenty of nerves can surely calm herself with the feel of coarse hair, accompanied by a comforting neigh. However, on this particular patrol, nothing about the horse ride along the Western trails is peaceful, or even tolerable. 

Your soft chest is pressed up against her back. Even through the thickness of her hoodie, she can feel your rapid heartbeat. Her mind wanders–not to filth, but pure curiosity for you. If she were to confess, you’d surely find her obsession with you to be weird and possibly creepy. She just can’t help but wonder what makes your heart race so fast, though.

Are you not used to riding horses? It could be possible that in past experiences, you just had to walk from place to place. That doesn’t make sense, though. You have a family, don’t you? Your parents came with you, and there is no way you all just walked from the middle of nowhere to Jackson with just–

Ellie’s internal rambling ceases when she feels your arms, currently wrapped around her waist, squeeze her. Suddenly is she so conscious of the fact that your palm must be able to feel her stomach expand and falter with each breath she takes? That means you know how uneven her breathing is. You probably don’t ramble in your head about Ellie’s stupid lungs, though. 

“Sorry. I’m just trying not to fall off of this huge thing.” You say, and Ellie can hear the hint of fear in your voice. It makes her heart jump, and a strange feeling of protectiveness enters her system. She stops herself from showing it though, not wanting to scare you away from her.

“This huge thing?” She questions, never hearing that term used for a horse before. 

“Yeah, yeah!” You laugh softly, the sound music to her ears. “I just have an irrational fear of falling off of horses, okay?”

“Fair. I’m just, uh.” Ellie trails off, trying to find her train of thought as it keeps slipping through her grasp. “I’m used to horses, bein’ here in Jackson for a while.” 

Your hands are warm, resting against her stomach. She can feel the heat through the fabric of her shirt. 

Through the nerves bubbling up in her stomach like the usual acid, she finds the courage to take one hand off of Shimmer’s reins. It finds your hand, giving you a comforting squeeze. She is half-expecting you to be uncomfortable with her action, but to her surprise, you let out a soft sigh. 

Like music to her ears. 

-

Ellie is still tying Shimmer up as you scope out the area. Her hands are sweaty from the contact with yours, and her heart is beating through her chest so fast it almost hurts. 

The sudden croak stops her in her tracks, her head turning towards you. You’re stepping back and nearly tripping over yourself to scramble away from a clicker, the gross-looking creature emerging from a hole in the fence you were just studying. 

“Shit!” Ellie grits through her teeth, her feet carrying her fast. 

Ellie has always been on a sort of adrenaline through every patrol she goes on. She has good instincts. She works well under pressure. For some, thinking so impulsively can be fatal. For Ellie, it’s just natural–how she was raised. 

Ellie fights for reasons other than survival, however. Her own life isn’t always plugged into the equation along with the actions she takes. However, her mind flashes with a thought: what if I died right now? Would she be able to defend herself?

And suddenly, her life means everything. The fight becomes more intense. 

Her hand harshly grips the creature’s jaw, tilting it upward to plunge her switchblade into its throat. It lets out a blood-curdling yell and falters. She lets its body drop and rushes toward you without another thought to the corpse a few feet away. 

You’re on the ground, tears brimming your sweet eyes. The adrenaline rush still courses through her body as her eyes scan your body for any sign of a bite. 

Not again, please. Not after what happened. 

A relieved gasp leaves her when she realizes you’re safe. She looks over your face, and her chest aches when she sees the fear in your eyes. 

“You’re okay. It’s all okay, it’s dead.” 

You only nod in response, not trusting your voice at the moment. Ellie doesn’t mind. She crouches in front of you, fingers stroking through your hair, coaxing you to calm down. The only sounds left in the area are your quiet sniffles and the wind blowing through the trees behind you. 

During the ride back to Jackson, you clutch onto Ellie just as tightly as the first time. 

-

The summer festival. The small group that plans social events in Jackson hosts one every year in July. Ellie has always preferred winter when she could layer up her body and subtly admire Wyoming mountain ranges on lookouts. Summer is hot and filled with mosquitos, but Dina and Jesse love the summer festival, so Ellie goes every year. 

The summer festival always left Ellie overwhelmed. She gets sweaty in her flannel, couples love to swap spit in the lines for face paint, and little kids get especially loud after sugary treats. The worst part? They include a dance along with it. The majority of Jackson dancing with each other accompanied by hot weather is as much of a nightmare as it seems. It isn’t Ellie’s ideal Friday night, especially when she could be at home strumming her guitar, or even just asleep. 

“She’s going to the festival with us, by the way.” Jesse grins, leaning against Ellie’s front door. 

“Oh, great,” Ellie says, a failed attempt at sarcasm. In all actuality, her pulse races when she pictures dancing with you.

Jesse laughs. “Dude, don’t act like you haven’t been daydreaming about her every day since that patrol.” 

“Sure.” Ellie rolls her eyes. “It’s not like I’m in love with her or anything. I just think she’s cute.” Even admitting that causes embarrassment to plague her cheeks, however.

“That is exactly how it starts, smart one.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ellie asks, voice thick with exasperation. 

“It starts with a ‘oh, she’s just cute.’ And then before you know it, you’ll be wearing matching ugly Christmas sweaters with her every year, just like me and Dina.” Jesse says.

“Oh, for god’s sake. I’m not whipped like you are. I just think she’s pretty, and I wouldn’t mind getting to know her.” She explains. 

“And she wouldn’t mind getting to know you, either.” 

“Oh my god, will you stop talking in riddles for five minutes?” Ellie groans, lightly smacking his shoulder. “Can’t you just..say what you mean?”

“I mean that she’s been gushing about you ever since you saved her. Something about a patrol and you comforting her. She has this crush on you, it’s adorable.” Jesse tells her, a grin on his face. 

Ellie’s heart skips a beat. So you like her, too?

“Like I said before, you gotta ask her to be your plus one,” Jesse suggests. 

The thought of spending her night with you instead of being the festival’s wallflower seems appealing. Even more appealing than just staying in like a recluse. Still, her nerves nag at her. 

“Are you sure I should? Isn’t she already going with us?” Ellie asks with uncertainty in her tone. 

“Yeah, but you want to make it clear you at least want something to do with her, right? If you don’t talk to her, she’ll think it’s just a friendly thing.” 

“True,” Ellie mumbles. 

“So do it. Go talk to her.” Jesse urges. 

“Jeez, okay. I don’t have to right away.” 

-

Joel has always conveyed the importance of gift-giving. He is a man who isn’t the best with his words. He bottles it up so easily and explodes just the same. Ellie has the same habit, so she uses that advice–gift-giving. 

Joel himself has given plenty of gifts and services. He’d gifted Ellie with her first guitar. He made sure she didn’t go without a nice meal when she holed herself up in her room after her and Cat’s breakup. That voice is simply lodged in her head after the amount of times she has had to hear him say it. 

“How are you doin’, kiddo?” 

Gifts come in all shapes and sizes. Some gifts are the ones you think thoroughly about before you offer them. Some are unintentionally impactful, the type you keep with you for years after, even if the person who gave it to you doesn’t realize what it means to you. 

Ellie likes to think gifts can be physical, too. You can give a kiss or a hug, and that proves the notion that certain gifts are special to certain people. You’d want to be given a kiss from someone you romantically love. 

Ellie thought it over before knocking on your door. She heard things about what people had given their love interests before the apocalypse. As Joel said, bouquets and candy were cheesy but it worked. Ellie doesn’t have a local grocery store, however, unless you count the one with its workers being infected and its interior neglected, surrounded by overgrowth. 

Ellie isn’t much of a baker, either. Her garage home’s oven is sparsely used, her microwave in favor; the previous night, her oven was used. Three times, actually. Two times resulted in charred, burnt remains of what was supposed to be a cake. The third time, Ellie put her dignity aside and went to Joel for help, and she reluctantly let him in on her intentions. 

So here she is, in her red flannel that doesn’t have any holes in it and a pair of boot-cut jeans, painfully styled with crusty Converse. She knocks at your door, a container with a vanilla cake in the other. 

Ellie’s eyes fill with hearts when your head peeks out. You open the door wider when you recognize her face, and your eyes naturally trail down to the item in her hands. 

Ellie clears her throat. “Uh, brought you something.” 

And of course, you’re already smiling ear to ear. “Yeah? What’d you bring me?” 

Something as sweet as you. That is what Ellie thinks, but instead, she gives the blunt, not unkind answer. “Cake.” 

Ellie holds out the container for you, and you accept it without hesitance. For just a split second, she feels the warmth of your fingertips as they brush against her rough, calloused ones. And then for another second, she lets herself dwell on her deepest thoughts–she wishes she could intertwine her fingers with yours and know what it’s like to be loved by the sun herself. 

“Also–” Ellie scratches her lip, trying not to sputter out her thoughts. “Since Dina and Jesse are going to be all over each other at the festival, I was thinking we could hang out. If you don’t mind.”

You beam as brightly as the sun. “Yeah! And thanks for the cake, Els.” 

Els. That name has her face hot and her hands clammy. She just stares at you for a moment, giving a nod and as polite a goodbye as she can manage before she heads back to her garage house to think of the fact that you just called her the cutest thing you could possibly call her. 

Els it is, then. Els is taking you to the summer festival tomorrow. 

taglist: @hotpinkskitties, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @elliesngirl, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @starryeyedlovergirll, @l0veylace, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @meow4510, @eriiwaii, @g4ys0n, @mitskimisfit, @ruelezz, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs

fic taglist: @piercedome, @violetszn, @ellieshothousewife, @natscloset

want to join my taglist? click here

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.

that one steven universe meme

anyways, don't forget your daily click to help palestine!!!! 🇵🇸

crying and throwing up /pos

first kiss with abby ୨ৎ

summary: after the romantic tension between you and abby reaches a peak, you two finally share a sweet kiss.

content: answer to this req and part two to this!! fluffyfluffyfluffy! ehehehehehe. i love fluff i love writing fluff. nothing nsfw. just lowk domesticity with abby and then super cutesy pie origami stuff and then a kiss 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋 ok toodles enjoy

notes: three weeks of no post i’m sorry my children. i am back!!! classes just finished and now i have summer break so i just had to soak in my freedom from my fuckass med teacher. he can choke fr 💯

(wc 1.6k)

a series of vibrations from your phone rudely pulls you out of your sleep and you swipe your hand across the bed to silence the notifications. you find your phone connected to abby's charger on her vacant side of the bed, the sheets cold without the warmth from her skin to heat them up. she always ran hot—especially during the night—which usually resulted in her yelping at your cold feet pressed to her thighs and trying to absorb her warmth in the hours of the night. 

you raise your phone to your face and are met with four notifications from abby on your home screen. 

abby :p otw back with our loot  

abby :p two berry pastries for the missus and one cream cheese puff pastry for me 

abby :p and nadia gave us two chocolate croissants bc we're super cool 

swiping to unlock your phone, you head to messages and reply to her. 

you YAY thanks you're the best 

you we gotta get nadia a gift card or somethin

you or a bottle of liquor 

you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth with your toothbrush abby got for you for her apartment since you slept over so often. while you load your brush with toothpaste, your phone lights up with a notice from messages: "abby :p loved 'or a bottle of liquor.' " sticking the toothbrush in your mouth, you smile around the minty foam and continue freshening up before abby returns. 

around ten minutes later, you hear the jingle of her keys at the front door and practically skip to the living room to retrieve your pastries. 

abby unlocks the door and pushes it open, a brown bag with a cafe logo printed on it in one hand and a drink carrier with two coffee cups hanging from her ring and pinky fingers in her other. with her few remaining fingers grasping onto her car keys to not drop them, she nudges the door back shut with her hip and locks it. 

her blonde head donns a blue and white trucker hat, the brim of it blocking her from seeing you standing and sheepishly smiling a few strides away. she calls out to you to signal her return. 

"hey, i'm back! and i come bearing gifts. i got-" it's then that abby takes her hat off and notices you inching ever closer. "oh, hi. i got you herbal tea. there weirdly was a lot of traffic today, even though it's, like, seven." 

she continues on as she unpacks everything that she got for you. "then again, i guess kids have school. man, i hated that about high school—waking up early and getting to class on tim- you know what? you're not listening anyway with your food right in front of you," she chuckles. "go on. release! free!" she pokes, using command words for a dog. 

you kiss your teeth and scowl at her, mumbling a "whatever" before tearing into the paper bag. you're met with your two fruit pastries first, then you spot the chocolate croissants abby mentioned under them. 

the two of you stand and eat in comfortable silence in the kitchen, you sipping on your tea and abby picking at her puff pastry. when you finish, you clean both of your spots and abby throws away the paper bag and pastry wrappers, washing her hands after.

after breakfast, you guys ping pong around her apartment, moving from her bed to the couch to the floor and then back to her bed again, all just to talk or scroll on your phones.

hours pass, and after a brief joint nap in her bedroom, you guys now sat on the floor of her living room, light filtering in from her large windows and warming your skin. the floor was littered in origami squares of all different sizes and colors, the origami book abby had gotten for you split open between you two. 

there was a village of origami figures surrounding you, from hearts to frogs to ladybugs to cranes. the book was flipped to a particularly challenging page of an elephant, and you looked over at abby in confusion. 

she was just as confused as you, if not more. her hair was tied in a messy golden knot at the nape of her neck, loose strands crazy and framing her face. her brows were pulled tight on her face, her eyes bewildered and looking at the same piece of paper in her hands as if she'd never seen it before. 

"what step are you on?" she asks, looking at the square in front of you that you were working on. 

"twelve. out of..." you flip the page twice. "god. thirty." you sit up straight to stretch your back out. "i get it, though. kinda." 

"what? show me. i’m on, like, seven. i swear they skipped a step. or forgot to add a picture. just something is wrong." 

you scoot over to sit next to her, pulling your leg to your body and propping your cheek on it. abby places her piece in front of you puts her hands in her crossed lap, her eyes wide and waiting for you to make sense of her issue. 

"okay, let's see." you pull the book closer to you to confirm the step she's on. "step seven is... rotating and folding the back of the elephant." 

"which i did," abby verifies. 

you rotate the piece and immediately find her mistake. "which you did not." 

"what?! where?" 

"here." you trace your finger along the missing crease. "you see how on mine, this part is creased and pointed? like a peak?" 

"uh-huh..." 

"and yours doesn't do that." 

she simply hums, so you look over at her to confirm that she's listening. her eyes are unfocused and locked on your face. they flit between your own and then drop to your lips for a second. the single second feels quite long, though, when she looks so deeply at you in the way that she does, or when her baby hairs draw attention to her blonde lashes, long and very slightly curled around her sapphire eyes. 

she seems to snap out it—whatever it was—and she deeply inhales, licking her lips and refocusing on the task at hand. 

"can you repeat that?" she asks. "sorry, i... i zoned out." 

it was your turn, now, to lose focus and examine her. you stare at her lips, rosy and still glossy from her just licking them. you stare at the corners of them and the ever so slight frown her mouth always pulls into when she's focused. you stare at the little creases in them, the dozens of lines that- 

"are you looking at my lips?" she questions, interrogative and almost paranoid. 

"oh, um, sorry. i was-" 

"why were you looking at them?" she interrupts again, her eyes wild and demanding an answer from you. 

"because, i- well, you just licked them, so- i don't know. because." you swallow, mumbling, "what, can i not look at them or something?" 

her stone stare softens after noticing your flustered state, and the two of you exchange a long and quiet look. 

abby held her breath nearly the entire time. she didn't want to assume anything or read the situation wrong, but your eyes were dilated. they were dilated from looking at her, and just from that. 

as if it were out of your control—like you were magnets—you started moving closer to her. abby could not seem to remember how to control a single muscle in her body, so she just sat and watched you move closer as her cheeks grew pinker and pinker. 

you stop right in front of her face, the tips of your noses kissing and your breaths shared. after a few seconds, you realized abby wouldn't initiate anything, so you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers, short and sweet. when you pulled away, abby's eyes remained closed for a few seconds before they slowly fluttered open. 

"you just kissed me," abby whispers in disbelief, pointing out the obvious. 

"i just kissed you," you echo back. 

it's abby who leans in for the second kiss, thick and intense with emotion, her hand sliding up your arm. her hand reaches the back of your neck, and she pulls you closer and deepens the kiss. 

you press your forehead to hers and stop kissing her, an infectious smile taking up your features instead. 

"are you.. are you seriously smiling right now?" abby gasps theatrically with mock offense. 

your smile breaks out into giggles and you press your face into her cheek to hide. 

"wow, i cannot believe this. you are laughing at our kiss!" she teases. 

"stop, no i’m not!" you plead, still laughing. 

"whatever you say." she grabs your chin between her fingers and pulls your face back to look at you. peppering kisses on your cheeks, she relents on her taunting.  

"are you gonna show me what i did wrong, or what?" she says, referring to the initial topic of her paper elephant. 

you smile back at her. "yeah, i will." 

"okay." she presses one last kiss to your temple and then waits for your instruction. 

"i was saying, there's supposed to be a crease here, on what'll be the back of the elephant." 

abby nods and hums like she's listening, but really, she smiles at your profile as you continue to speak. 

@abbysbug @abbyonmars @abigails-gf @picklesarenice69

heheheh all done!!!! this was so cute to write especially the end like i was talking to @abbyonmars while i wrote the end and we were fangirling over typed words and pixels. but what else is tumblr dot com for if not to fangirl!!!!

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Thinking very hard about Logan talking you through it

He knows you're close ultimately before you do. Seasoned by his many years of life, your tells are specific but not impossible to discern.

It's different each time he's come to realize. A different scent to you based on the mood you're in, how quickly he brings you there, your vulnerability, and how he speaks to you.

Logan's a greedy man. He knows that. And he knew as soon as the first time it'd happened that he shamelessly selfish in getting what he wanted.

You smell like cinnamon and vanilla and fuck if it wasn't better than all the drugs he'd ever tried combined.

A part of him still thinks he might be chasing your high.

He learned quickly how to manipulate you to get different responses. Testing out what you react to and which scent meant what.

When it's a euphoric intimacy, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla isn't so strong. It's diluted some, like a soft cloudy mist.

More emotionally frustrated intimacy smells far more tart, almost coppery. It often reminds him of blood in his mouth, soaking into his lungs and taste buds like tar.

When you're in a far more glum mood, you smell like rain on cement. He's starved for it.

You're so pretty beneath him. Eyes lidded and swollen lips parted loosely as he scissors his middle and forefinger against your velvet walls.

Logan bumps his palm against your clit and you let you a gasp – your hand jumping from the bedsheets to grip his forearm.

"Right there, huh?"

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you give him a nod at that, tucking your chin to your chest as he moves his other hand to press one of your thighs upwards to where your knee almost hits your breast.

He slips his hand from your cunt, moving to pull your other hand to hold your own thighs to your chest.

Wordlessly, he kneels and pulls you by your hips to the edge of the bed before hooking his arms around your waist.

Without warning, he runs the flat of his tongue up the length of your cunt to your clit with a deep hum.

You know he can feel you shiver beneath him by the way he smiles against the sopping folds of your cunt.

"Feel good?" He chuckles softly, looking up at you from between your thighs.

You're reduced to broken whines and choked gasps, but you manage a hum in response, readjusting your grip on the backs of your thighs as Logan slips his tongue past your folds.

You smell of faint cinnamon.

"Lo," you sigh, throwing your arm over your eyes with a chipped whine.

Logan hums into your cunt, the sharp of his nose rocking back and forth against your clit.

He unwraps his arm from around your waist, reaching upwards to weave your hands together with a soft squeeze.

"Haa... ahh." Your voice grows watery as Logan brings you closer to the edge.

"M'close, Lo," you breathe, readjusting your hand on your thigh to keep it close to your chest.

"I know, sweetie." He circles his tongue around your bundle of nerves before blowing a stream of air onto your clit, "m'gonna get you there."

When he sucks on your clit again, you're cumming almost immediately with a shiver that simmers itself down your spine to your toes.

"There we go. It's a big one, huh."

A wave of vanilla woven with cinnamon washes over him and he nearly cums in his jeans.

You hear Logan before you've noticed he's moved from between your legs to stand above you, thumb circling your clit softly.

Whining, you turn your head into his forearm beside you.

"Doin' so good, sweetie," He coos, stroking his hand, still held by your own, down the side of your face before placing a kiss on your temple.

Your smell is much more prominent there, as though it travels through the roots of your hair and tickles itself through your soft skin.

Another shiver runs down your spine, causing the air on your arms and the nape of your neck to stand.

"Need you." You sob, voice muffled by the skin of his arm.

He settles down beside you on the bed, chin propped up on the flat of his right palm, squeezing your hand with his.

"You're okay."

The vanilla sinners throughout the room, and he swears he can see it in the dust that floats past the Amber hues of his room.

my chloe price brainrot is returning hehehehehe

being chloes passenger princess

pairing: chloe price x fem reader

mdni,fluff,nsfw,perv!chloe,v fingering(r! receiving), thigh riding, semi public sex mentioned.

a/n: oh lawd i need her.

❥ chloe loves her truck and always wants to pick you up and drive around with you. you accompany her whenever she runs errands or just drives around blasting music.

❥ chloe’s your personal uber driver and you both love it. makes her feel wanted and it also makes you feel special.

❥ calls you up asking if you wanna go for a ride, you’re immediately putting your shoes on.

❥ the truck feels like you and chloe’s safe space. the one thing that’s truly yours and hers and your escape from your shitty town.

❥ she lets you graffiti her truck however you want.

❥ random stuff of yours as well as hers is scattered all over her truck, if you ever lose something it’s most likely somewhere in there.

❥ you’ve taken over her truck with how much of your stuff is in there, the passenger side glove compartment has your snacks, makeup, jewlery, skincare, or whatever else is all stuffed in there.

❥ you helped her not get speeding tickets or parking tickets by forcing her to park properly since we all know this girls parking is atrocious

❥ picks you up from school/work no matter how late you finish.

“wanna grab something to eat?”

“fuck yes.”

❥ always buys you a sweet treat.

❥ loves it when you lean on her while she’s driving

❥ parked car conversations with her hit different. especially at night.

❥ even if she complains and tells you “my ride my tunes.” she allows you to play your music sometimes, bonus points if you share the same music tastes as her, but will try to like your music taste if it’s different than hers. that’s how much she loves you.

nsfw

❥ always has a hand on your thigh as she drives, her hand slowly moving up and casually tracing patterns on your skin.

❥ car sex is a must with her. she can’t keep her hands off you.

❥ her pulling over on an empty road and smoking a cigarette while you’re riding her thigh with her music mixing with your whimpers and moans.

❥ or pulling into an empty parking lot and finger fucking you until the windows are fogged up from your combined heavy breathing.

❥ or if she’s feeling real bold will pull your panties to the side at a red light and play with you with her other hand on the steering wheel.

❥ “chloe stop.. someone’s walking there..”

“you’re too paranoid babe.”

❥ honestly she doesn’t give a shit who sees. she has a bit of an public sex kink but still tones it down if it’s a really public place. she ain’t tryna get arrested.

❥ your panties got left in her truck and chloe being the LOSER PERV that she is shoved them in her pocket and would sometimes sniff them as she was driving, the scent of you still there and giving chloe her fix for now when you were away.

❥ my god what a weird LOSER <3333

‎

jesus fucking christ.

Hiiiii! I love your work! Do you think you could do Vi x reader hcs where the reader is like very day-dreamy? Like head stuck in the clouds a lot? Tysm <33

♱ gf!vi x daydreamy gf!reader ♱

hey!! so excited to put something out 4 violet!!

you could interpret this as a modern!au or arcane!u 😌

cw: sfw & nsfw, dom!vi + sub!r, wholesome at the beginning, vi is an amazing and understanding gf, vi is v flirty, teasing, dirty talk, mild choking/slapping, possessiveness, dumbification, degradation/praise, vi's a bit condescending, etc!!

+ strap usage, she eats you out + uses her fingers!!

♱ vi LOVES the fact that you’re so daydreamy and always in your own world. she appreciates your uniqueness + the way your mind works!

♱ vi thinks you’re so adorable when you slowly trail off in the middle of speaking to her—the vibrant imagery, thoughts, and inner workings of your mind too overwhelming for you to handle! she lets you look off into the distance for a bit before you’re quickly scrambling to apologize for getting lost in your own head (again lol)!!

♱ she’s quick to shut down your apology with a, “nah, babe it‘s okay. take your time, yeah?” + “you in your own head again, huh?” (EVERY SINGLE TIME!)

♱ after boxing/the gym, she often comes home to your shared apartment to you blasting music through your headphones. you’re bopping your head and bouncing your leg at your desk. lost in how the music speaks to you and flows through your veins like a constant electric current. you don’t hear or even notice her until she comes up behind you, wraps her arms around your shoulders, and nuzzles her head into your neck, “whatcha doin’, pretty? what’re you listening to?” + “love comin’ home to you all happy and shit—makes my day sweetheart.”

♱ in public, when you’re walking together, holding hands, and enjoying each other's company in silence, you can’t help but get in your head! your brain buzzing with thoughts about how nice vi’s hand feels in yours and how nice they feel in… other places… all of a sudden, you’re not paying attention to where you’re going and she gets a little stern with you. before you run into anyone or anything she’s telling you to, “watch where you’re goin’, hmm?” + “careful, babe. don’t want you gettin’ hurt now, do we?”

♱ when you're upset, whether it be because you're self-conscious about something or having other negative thoughts, you get sort of locked in your own mind--endless flashes of darkness encompassing your headspace. when this happens she's whispering comforting praises into your ear, "it's okay, princess. 'm here. not goin' anywhere." and she's pulling you into her chest to tell you to, "listen to my heartbeat, come back to me." + "hey. hey, look at me, baby."

♱ vi nudges your cheek with her fingers to get your attention when your attention has strayed away from her, "talkin' to you, babe."

♱ she totally notices when you’re fantasizing about her.

WHAT!! who said that?! 🤭

nsfw incoming...

♱ you and vi love to partake in your separate hobbies while in each other’s presence so when she’s cooking, writing, or boxing in the corner(?), you’re almost always on the other side of the room reading a book. she knows the books you read get a little dirty. when she glances at you from across the room she isn’t surprised to see you staring off into the distance (again) with your book loosely resting in your lap. you’re biting your lip and pressing your thighs together. she smirks knowingly and stops what she’s doing to walk over to you, “what’s got you thinkin’, baby?” + “wanna show me what’s got you so worked up?”

♱ she won’t stop teasing you until you’re reading her the sentence that threw you in for a loop—thinking of her hands and mouth pleasuring you. images of her muscles rippling against your skin as she fucks you into the mattress with her strap momentarily stunning you.

♱ your daydream does become a reality when she's doing just that. minutes later. she's forcing you to make eye contact with her, to give her your full attention and focus when she has you in missionary with your legs propped up on her shoulders. her pace is brutal, plunging her strap deep into your cunt with her hand wrapped around your neck; choking you and holding your head in place so you can't look away.

♱ she's a sucker for dirty talk so you know she's all up in your ear like: "fuck, baby. yeahhh, yeah. look at me when you take this dick, pretty girl." + "don't want you goin' off in your own head when i'm fucking you, need you to see exactlyy how i'm treating this fuckin' pussy."

♱ she will NOT let you cum until she knows for sure that you aren't thinking of anything except for her—she wants your brain to be mush by the time she's done with you. she wants you to let go, fall, and trust that she'll catch you. take care of you.

♱ she's not afraid to rough you up a little if you aren't listening. she'd tap your cheek and tighten her grip on your throat as she stuffs you even fuller; as deep as she can go, "*thrust* look. *thrust* at. *thrust* me." she's drilling you now, "c'mon, babe, can't you follow a simple direction? or are you too cockdrunk to function?" + "yep, thaaat's it, baby."

♱ vi also enjoys eating you out from the back while she shoves her pointer and ring finger into your sopping wet cunt. as she eats you out like it's her last meal on earth, tongue zigzagging and sloppily mouthing at your heat, her fingers are curling up against your g-spot. she knows your brain thinks nothing but her because of every whimper, moan, and chant. "yes, yes, fuck yes! right thereee, vi. fuuuck" you're practically screaming at the top of your lungs. not long after she's pulling her mouth off of you and rising up to lean over your back and dig her fingers deeper inside, "there, huh? that's what she needs, isn't it? pussy's swallowing my fingers whole. greedy girl."

feel free to send more reqs about vi!! love her real bad 🤠