I’m Dizzy

this series is my new favourite thing oh my gosh please read it, spider hazel has my entire heart

The Masc Behind the Mask (4)

Summary: Hazel gets into a fight at the bank. And of course, you just have to save her.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), violence, mentions of bruises, cuts, and blood, threats of death, fainting, just Spider-Woman stuff

Word Count: 5019

Note: I got really annoyed at writing action because uhm it ls hard so the fight scenes are really lame. I also added a special character in here who you might recognize from Spiderverse teehee - Bia <3

Hazel hid in an obstructed alley, quickly scanning her surroundings before kicking off her shoes, sending them tumbling towards the nearby garbage can. She reached into her backpack to retrieve her suit while wrestling her jeans off, hopping on one foot, causing her to tumble into a heap of discarded cardboard boxes– before she managed to put on her suit in place. She shot her backpack to the dumpster with some webs to keep it in place, then leaped onto the roof. 

Perched on a ledge high above the street, Hazel looked down at the neighborhood and took a deep breath.

"Okay, this is fine. You’re fine! You basically left (Y/N) all alone in your room without a proper explanation and she probably thinks you’re robbing a bank! But this is fine," Hazel mumbled to herself, adjusting the web-shooters on her wrists before jumping down. 

She swung through the neighborhood, listening intensely to the sound of police sirens. As she descended upon the robbery at the bank, she surveyed the area, calculating her approach. The bank’s door seemed to have been blasted open by some form of intense firearm, but other than that, it was hard to see exactly what was going on inside. 3 police cars flashing red and blue circled the scene of the crime, yet the officers seemed to hesitate to interact with the building.

Hazel silently swung closer, landing behind a familiar officer. 

“Officer Morales,” Hazel said, startling the officer. Morales swiftly turned to the voice, a hostile glare etched across her face when she saw the outrageous Spider-Woman standing before her. 

“We’re handling it,” Officer Morales scoffed, tossing her braid. “We don’t need help from unidentified vigilantes in spandex suits.” 

Hazel laughed, giving a slap on the officer’s back. “Come on, Rio. Are we going to do this every time?” 

Rio glared at Spiderwoman, sighing before reluctantly pulling out her notepad. 

“Three suspects inside the building. They’ve got high-tech gear– dangerous stuff I’ve never seen before. The bank’s closed, so no civilians are in there, but we’ve lost a few officers already.” She glanced at Spider-Woman. “It’s risky going in.” 

Hazel gave a nod. “That’s why I’m here. Soon as I send out the officers, take them to a safe distance.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do…” The officer grumbled, but nonetheless, waved her fellow police over to update them on Spider-Woman’s appearance. 

Squaring her shoulders, Hazel strode towards the bank’s entrance. Her priority was clear– evacuate the officers, contain the threat, and get back to you and clear up the misunderstanding of her being an ex-convict/bank robber. 

You know, if you haven't left and called the cops already. 

As Hazel entered the bank, her eyes darted from corner to corner– rubble and cash were scattered all around on the ground, with the chairs and ATM machines smashed to pieces. It seemed like the robbers had already emptied out the ATMs, and had moved onto the teller drawers and vaults. As Hazel moved deeper into the bank, her senses heightened– sounds of shuffling footsteps, obnoxious laughter, and some form of– technology?

With a swift, controlled motion, she jumped onto the wall then to the ceiling, climbing the walls upside down towards the noise. She first saw a group of officers pinned to the ground by something invisible, placed by a robber holding a dark trumpet-shaped device. The second robber was holding a massive firearm, with a series of circular indentations giving off an odd blue glow. Hazel deduced that was what blasted the door off. The last robber seemed to be wearing a backpack that extended 2 long metal arms and talons that was grabbing as much cash as it could from the vault, stuffing it into a bag. Each of them wore a black mask, with only their eyes and mouths carved out.    

“Trumpet Man, Blaster, and… Noodle Arms,” Hazel mumbled to herself, giving each of her targets nicknames so that the author doesn’t have to write ‘robber’ a bunch of times.

Hazel slowly descended down, hanging from a web upside down until she hovered in the middle of the distracted robbers. The trio didn’t notice her until she cleared her throat. 

“Hey, guys! Can I make a withdrawal real quick?” 

In a swift, calculated motion, Hazel webbed Blaster and Noodle Arm’s eyes as soon as they turned around. Their shouts of surprise were muffled as she leapt towards Trumpet Man, where the hostages were pinned down. Trumpet Man tried to hit Spider-Woman with his weapon still pointed at the officers— and Hazel easily dodged the pathetic attempts, giving a good punch to his face. The device fell to the ground, and the officers were free. 

“Get out of here!” Hazel yelled to the officers. They obeyed as Trumpet Man tried to reach for the device on the floor. Hazel used her webs to grab it first, then attempted to rip it apart. 

“God, what is this made of?” Hazel mumbled at the complicated design of the weapon. After a few hits, a crack echoed through the room as the weapon gave away. She was surprised at the energy core— a small orb, the size of a marble, which radiated blue. It was unlike anything she had seen before. Hazel pocked the orb and threw the rest of the machinery pieces towards Trumpet Man as she felt her body snatched by two forceful hands— Noodle Arms had lunged, catching her off guard. 

“Looks like Spider-Girl’s come to play,” Noodle Arms sang, pulling Hazel’s body forward then smashing her to the ground. As her body made contact with the concrete, she grabbed onto a fallen chair and threw it towards Noodle Arms, causing him to fall back and lose grip on Hazel. 

She twisted her body and broke free, somersaulting backward and landing in a crouched position. “Nice try, but I’ve already dealt with a guy with 6 extra arms. 2 arms? That’s child’s play.”

She moved closer towards Blaster, who had been completely disinterested in whatever Hazel and the other robbers had been doing. As Hazel stomped closer, his attention shifted from the money bag to Spider-Woman, his eyes completely apathetic. 

“Alright, let’s finish this up,” Hazel said. 

Blaster cackled. He pointed the weapon towards Hazel, its entire shape pulsing with a blue electric glow. Electricity crackled around its barrel, as an unsteady vibration filled the air. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

And he pulled the trigger. 

Your breaths came in shallow gasps as you approached the bank. You had run for what felt like a good 20 minutes, which was enough to get you winded. Which was lowkey embarrassing, but you had no time to dwell on your lack of stamina. You latched onto the nearby policeman, heart beating out of your chest. 

“Officer, please, my friend is in there–”

The officer gently pulled you away, attempting to hold you steady. “-There shouldn’t be any civilians in there, kid. Calm down.” 

You shook your head. “No, You don’t understand— my friend, she was in juvie, and I think she’s being blackmailed into helping the robbery or something, and you need to help her–” 

“-Juvie?” The officer cocked his head, then leaned in closer, serious. “Okay, I’m going to have to write this down. So you’re saying one of the robbers is a teen?”

“She’s not a robber— At least I don’t think— I—” You fumbled, not wanting to get Hazel arrested. She didn’t exactly say what she was doing, and you didn’t want to get her into deeper trouble than she already was in. But what could you say to the officers without handing Hazel over to them as if she was a criminal? 

Before you could continue your words, a loud BANG exploded from the bank. 

Without thinking, you ran into the building. You could hear the officer trying to stop you but you ignored them, sprinting towards the door– or rather, the lack of one— and you immediately began screaming. 

“Hazel! Hazel!” You screamed, running into the building. You ignored the mess of broken concrete on the floor, eyes scanning for any signs of your friend. “Hazel!”

You could hear coughing from the deeper part of the bank, and you ran up to the sound, waving off the dust that settled all around you. Your eyes caught sight of the far away wall which had completely smashed down, creating a gaping hole identical to the one of the bank’s door. The air hung heavy, making every breath a struggle. Amidst the confusion, you spotted the friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman sprawled on the ground, her body heaving with coughs as she struggled to regain her breath. Around her was a chaotic scene– remnants of a recent explosion littering the area. 

You suddenly felt an immense amount of panic seeing Spider-Woman, the literal hero of this entire place in such a shaky state. You slowly backed away, your body reacting and telling you to fuck everything and run out of the door– but you stepped on a particular chunk of wall, making a very loud CRUNCH. 

Hazel immediately turned towards the sound, her heart dropping when she saw you. 

“Don’t come any closer!” Hazel screamed, scampering to her feet. “Turn around and run!” 

You tried to do as you were told– you really did. But your body froze up in a state of fright, your eyes focusing on the three robbers that slowly emerged from the wall’s hole. You pointed towards them and Hazel turned, groaning before running up to you. 

“What are you–” -Hazel deepened her voice. “-I mean, what are you doing here, uh, miss?” 

“I-I’m looking for my friend,” You choked out, suddenly realizing what a stupid idea this was. Spider-Woman was here, which meant this situation was a Spider-Woman level threat. You could be in real danger. But so was Hazel. “Her name is Hazel and she- she’s in here. She has blue eyes and– and dark, really messy sort of hair.”

“It’s not that messy,” Hazel mumbled, grimacing at the word ‘friend.’ She then grabbed you and pushed you out of the way as a concrete chunk from the wall was thrown towards the two of you. “Watch out!” 

You tumbled to the floor, and Hazel quickly grabbed you and got low behind the mess, whispering to you. 

“Listen to me. You’re going to do as I say.”

“But my friend–” 

“-She’s fine. She’s not here. She’s waiting for you outside, okay?” Hazel argued. “I’m going to distract the robbers, and as I’m doing that, I need you to run towards the door. Just run, don’t look back, and I’ll handle everything, okay?” 

You hesitated. 

“Answer me!” Hazel yelled. “Okay?” 

“Okay!” You yelled back, letting Spider-Woman give you a pat on the head before swinging towards the robbers.  

You scrambled to your feet, the only thing in your ears the rushing sound of your own heartbeat. Spider-Woman’s familiar voice echoed in your mind; Just run, don’t look back. But as the floor rumbled and walls cracked, you couldn’t stop yourself from turning around, your eyes following Spider-Woman as she confronted robbers. 

Hazel, not knowing you were stubbornly still in the building, intensely fought against the robbers. She moved with austere agility, using her webs to swing between the men, landing kicks and punches through the bits of rubble they threw at her. 

Trumpet man, without his weapon, pretty much rendered useless hits before Hazel managed to web him by the wall. Noodle Arms lashed out, trying to capture her, but Hazel was always a step ahead, dodging and weaving through the attacks. 

While she was distracted, Blaster adjusted the dials on his weapon, his fingers moving over the controls with an angry precision. Recovering the weapon’s blue glow, he aimed it at Spider-Woman. 

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw you, amidst the wreckage and dust— face pale with fear as you stared at Spider-woman’s movements. 

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered, realizing you have been noticed by a robber. You had to move. You had to move. But your legs felt like twigs, about to break if you tried to take another step. 

An amused grin spread across Blaster’s face, as he redirected his aim towards you. 

Hazel’s spider-senses instantly flared, a tingling sensation shooting through her body. Her head turned towards the warning, just in time to take in the sight of a weapon aimed directly at you, its blue glow intensifying. 

“(Y/N)!”

Without a second thought, she pushed off the ground with all her remaining strength, launching herself through the air.

The weapon fired, a blinding burst of blue energy hurtling towards you. 

Your body recoiled as a reaction, eyes shutting tightly expecting the blow. 

A sudden, violent crash echoed through the bank, followed by a strangled cry. 

You braced yourself, waiting for the inevitable.

But seconds passed, and the expected pain didn’t come. 

You braced yourself, eyes tightly shut, waiting for the inevitable. But seconds passed, and the expected pain didn’t come.

Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, looking through the haze of smoke and debris. Spider-Woman was on the ground, her body shaking from the attack. She had flown into the path of the blast, twisting mid-air to take the full force of the hit meant for you– sending a shockwave through the room and throwing her back against the floor, which had spiraling cracks showing the brutality of the hit.

The impact of the blast had knocked the wind out of Hazel, her every breath a struggle against the pain radiating from her chest and back. She blinked away the dust that clouded her vision, trying to push herself back up on her feet. But each movement sent sharp jolts of pain through her body, making her fall back down with her every effort. 

Noodle Arms, encouraged by the hero’s weakened state, closed in on her. His mechanical limbs headed straight for Spider-Woman’s body, as she forced herself back up. Swaying, she attempted to fight off the strikes, protectively staying in front of you.

 “You’re done, Spider-Girl,” Noodle Arms sneered, his metallic hands heading for her face. In a quick defense, Hazel pulled her face back, letting the claws snag just a bit of the fabric of her mask. With a yank, the fabric tore free. 

Fuck. 

A split-second of disbelief froze Hazel in place. The rush of adrenaline that had sustained her through the battle ebbed away, leaving her momentarily defenseless— letting a blow directly in her stomach. 

Hazel fell back, landing right by your feet as you flinched back. She immediately tried to cover her face with her hands— but you had already seen her, your eyes widening at the sight of the familiar face.

Hazel’s heart stopped.

Not like this. 

Not like this.

I didn’t want her to find out like this. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Not like this. 

You stared at the familiar face with a stunned expression, your mouth agape.  

“...Hazel?” 

Your body went rigid, realizing that the hero you thought could withstand anything, save anyone— was your Hazel Callahan. 

And she was bleeding out in front of you.

Your shock gave just enough time for Noodle Arms to grab you. Before Hazel could scream your name, she felt a cruel blow to her head. She toppled to the floor, body completely limp. 

“Hazel!” 

Noodle Arms laughed, grabbing Hazel’s body and tossing her over his shoulder. You struggled against the strong grip on you, eyes tearing up in utter panic.

The man then nodded towards you with a hungry expression. “What about her?” 

The man with the glowing weapon walked closer to you, examining your fearful face and then back at the unconscious Spider-Woman, as if to deduct the relationship between the two of you.

Then he grinned. 

“Bring her with us.”

“She’s slept enough.”  A voice rang. “Wake her up.” 

Blaster raised his leg, delivering a merciless kick to Hazel’s head. You gasped as she crumpled to the ground, pain searing through her head as her consciousness started to return. 

“You hear me?” The man sneered. He grabbed her by her head and pulled her up to his face. “Get up.” 

“Hhng,” Hazel groaned. Her vision started to return– and within her blurry sight she could see you, sobbing on the concrete ground. You weren’t even tied up, just far too scared to move even an inch from your submissive position. Hazel instinctively tried to reach you, but realized that she was chained– her arms tied up behind her with some metal cuffs. Hazel pathetically struggled against the restraints. “Don’t— not her…”

“Keep your eyes on me,” said Blaster, gripping Hazel’s head tighter. “If you want to keep her alive, look at me.” 

Hazel gave you a weak look of reassurance before glaring at the man in front of her. Trumpet Man and Noodle Arms sneered behind him. 

“Yeah, alright, you got me,” Hazel taunted, head spinning from the brutality of the hold. “How does it feel to win against a teenage girl?” 

The man grinned in amusement, scoffing at Hazel’s unwavering humor– before throwing an intense punch to Hazel’s stomach. Before she could properly process the blow, the fingers tangled in her hair forcefully jerked her head with a savage force. Her head snapped backward, setting her up for another brutal hit aimed at her jaw. The impact sent her body to the ground, slamming her onto the cold floor.

“Hazel!” You shrieked, quickly shuffling to her side. Her chest barely moved up and down as you panicked, pulling her to her knees and caressing her face. “Hazel, Hazel…” 

“You okay…?” Hazel whispered. You tearfully nodded. 

Good. Hazel sighed, leaning into your hand against her cheek.

“Teenagers these days…” Blaster grumbled, frowning at the two girls on the floor. “Why did you have to show up to our little robbery, huh? Now everything is complicated.” 

“It’s not that complicated, really,” Hazel wheezed. “You’re bad guys. You do bad things. I’m a good guy. I make sure bad things don’t happen.” 

She earned a cackle from the men, as Blaster crouched down in front of Hazel. 

“A good guy, huh? You think what you’re doing is good? And what we do is bad?”

“Oh, here we go with the villain origin story,” Hazel mumbled. “It doesn’t matter what your motivation is– you were hurting people. You were hurting officers.” 

“And what do they think about you?” Blaster scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he paced around the floor. “Spider-Woman, a vigilante who ignores the righteous law and pursues evil… even the cops hate you. You think you're so righteous, but you're just as much a problem as we are."

You watched Hazel clench her jaw. He had hit a nerve— Spider-Woman did not entirely have a positive image in the eyes of the law. 

Angry, you spoke up. “That doesn't justify what you're doing here. You chose this path. You chose to hurt people.”

Blaster nodded, as if to reminisce about his decision. "Choices, huh? We all make choices. Some of us choose survival. Some of us choose power. And some of us," he glanced pointedly at Hazel, "choose to play hero, even when no one asked them to."

He knelt down beside Hazel, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You think you're better than us? That you're untouchable because you wear a mask and swing from buildings? You're just as much a criminal in their eyes."

Hazel glared right back at him, but her mind was trying to figure out exactly where she was. It was definitely not the bank— based on the interior, it seemed to be an abandoned apartment somewhere, probably a hideout of sorts. There were two doors in the room.

Blaster stood back up, the blue glow from the weapon in his hands casting light on his hardened features. He saw you eye the color suspiciously and grinned.  

"You want to know about this stuff?" He fiddled with the machine, pressing a couple buttons and taking out a blue orb. "It's not just some fancy power source. This blue glow is the key to everything we've been planning.

"Years ago, I was a nobody. Scrapping for something, anything, in the mines for money. Until one day, I hit a vein. Not just any ore—a new material for a source of power. Unstable, unpredictable, but damn powerful if you know how to capture it and handle it."

“And you chose to build weapons with it?” 

Blaster straightened up, his gaze piercing through the orb in his fingers. “Smart girl. With weapons like these, the higher ups would want in. They can finally change the game. No more petty crimes. No more wars. I want recognition, respect—the kind that comes when governments realize what I can offer. This bank heist? It's not just about money. It's about making a statement. Showing them what we're capable of— what we can sell."

The man placed the orb back in his weapon, firing the machine on. You watched Hazel gulp as the machine whirred back to power. 

“Okay, well, that’s great for you, but my arm is falling asleep,” Hazel rasped, in a sort of pleading way. “Can we go?” 

“Oh, sure.” Blaster grinned again, with the same sadistic hunger as before. “But, before you go, I think there should be a lesson of what happens when a little girl acts like a hero and messes with the big bad guys.” 

Hazel’s breath hitched as the men behind him stepped forward. 

Blaster gave a nod towards you.

 “Kill her.” 

“No,” Hazel spluttered. “No!” 

“No, please, no,” You tried, stumbling away from the man who walked towards you with malice in his eyes. 

Hazel thrashed against her chains, causing her to fall to the floor again. “Stop! I’ve learned my lesson! I’VE LEARNED MY LESSON!” 

“Bet you have, doll.” Blaster chuckled. “But I gotta make sure we don’t see your ass swinging through my neighborhood ever again.” 

Hazel's heart raced as desperation hit her body, fighting against the chains that bound her. The cold metal cut into her wrists, sending sharp pains up her arms with each futile tug. Her eyes met with yours— she had never seen you so scared. 

“Please…” Hazel begged. 

Blaster's expression softened, but it was gone as it had arrived. Unmoved by her pleas, he nodded once again, ordering the arms to creepily stretch towards you. The metallic talons grabbed your throat. You tried to fight the pressure, clawing at the machine. But you had no chance, feeling your airway close as Hazel’s voice began to fade.

Before he could snap your neck, a sudden commotion erupted from the entrance of the room. Shouts and footsteps echoed through the apartment, startling everyone in the room. Noodle Arms spun around, his arms losing grip, momentarily distracted by the unexpected intrusion.

“It’s the cops!” Trumpet Man yelled. “How did they know we were here?!”

“It’s your fault! I told you we gotta get farther from the crime scene than this.” 

“Shut up,” Blaster grumbled, looking outside the window hastily. “Alright, this is our chance to leave another mark. Let’s blast through them. ”

As the men started to gather the bags of money from the floor while bickering, you quickly crawled back to Hazel. 

“Hazel— Hazel, we gotta go.”

“Yeah, just— help me up, please?” 

You helped her up, eyeing the door behind you. That was the door you came through— the door to the stairs. You supported Hazel’s body, your arm bracing her shoulders. She winced in pain as you practically dragged her to the stairs, giving a quick look back at the robbers. 

Blaster stared right at you, then at your reddened neck, as if to give a final warning.

You hastily turned back, hurrying Hazel to the stairs. 

Every step felt like eternity, Hazel’s weight heavy against you. Hearing her breath so uneven and haggard made your body run cold— you couldn't help but worry— what if she died here? The cuffs on her wrists weren’t helping either, clinking with each motion. 

You could feel Hazel leaning more and more heavily on you, her feet faltering as she struggled to keep pace. You had to admit your own fatigue— the stairs were too steep, too long. Your legs trembled as you heard footsteps above you— was it the police? The robbers?

“Come on, Hazel,” you whispered urgently, coaxing her down another step. Hazel attempted to put her foot down but she stumbled, gripping you tighter. 

“I’m sorry,” she gasped out, holding you so, so close. You could feel her entire body temperature dropping. The tears she did so well to hold now were dripping down her cheeks. “I can’t. I can’t do it, I can’t.” 

Her broken voice shattered your heart. You placed her gently down the stairs, helping her sit down. 

“Hey, hey— it’s okay. We’ll take a break. Just for a moment, okay? You’re doing so good.” You wiped her tears from her face, moving the strands of her hair out from her vision.

“I’m sorry-” Hazel continued. “This is all my fault I’m so sorry-”

“-No, it’s not your fault,” Hazel coughed. “It’s not your fault. You saved me.”

You stared at Hazel’s appearance— her usually shy and vibrant features were now marred by blood and streaks of dirt. Her dark hair was tousled and matted against her blue and purple face— she was a mess. So were you. You two had to get out of here.

“Hazel, we gotta get down,” You said. “We have to get back home.”

“No– not home. Not to my mom,” Hazel tensed. “Not my mom. She doesn’t know. No– no one can know.” 

“So where do we go?” 

Instead of answering, hazel’s eyelids drooped. She leaned her head against your shoulder as a weak groan escaped her lips.

"No, no, no, Hazel, stay with me," you sniffed, struggling to keep her upright. You adjusted your hold, keeping her steady as panic settled in your stomach again. 

You found yourself sobbing, clutching onto Hazel’s body as it slowly lost warmth. You couldn’t possibly bring Hazel down all on your own— and even then, you were sure where you were and how to get back home. 

“Hazel, I don't know what to do,” You begged, looking around the dark, empty stairwell. “I don’t know what to do…” 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. You turned around as a bright flashlight shined into your face. You flinched at the light cutting through the darkness, hugging Hazel tighter. 

“Police! Don’t move!”

It was an officer with dark brown hair braided in a ponytail. She lowered her gun as she saw you crying, her eyes landing on Hazel’s spider-suit. Her stern expression morphed into shock, walking closer to you. 

You held onto Hazel, protecting her from the stranger. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” The officer insisted, her eyes traveling to the cuffs on Hazel’s wrists. She stared in silence for a moment before turning to you.

“What’s your name?” 

“...(Y/N).” 

The officer sighed and looked around the stairwell. Her walkie talkie buzzed, asking for a response. Your anxiety spiked— if people found out Hazel was Spider-Woman, wouldn’t that put her in danger? 

Sensing your terror, the officer put a hand over your mouth before answering the walkie talkie.

"Stairwell is clear. No sign of the suspects. Proceeding to the next floor. Over."

You stared at her with glistening eyes as she let Hazel fall into her arms, carrying her bridal style. 

“Can you walk?” She asked, to which you quietly nodded. 

The officer began descending through the darkness. You followed her, tears still streaming down your face as the officer silently guided you down the stairs.

You never thought you would ever be in the backseat of a police car, but here you were, in the middle of the night, with an unconscious Hazel leaned against your lap. The officer had managed to break the cuffs, letting you see the cuts and bruises on Hazel’s wrist. It matched your neck.

You looked outside a window. Rain had begun to fall, each sound of raindrops hitting the roof of the car. It was almost calming, if you weren’t thinking about the fact that Hazel Callahan was Spider-Woman and that both of you almost died today. 

“How old is she?” 

The officer’s voice interrupted your thoughts, making you jump. You turned your head to the front of the car. You realized she was talking about Hazel.

“...Eighteen.” 

The answer seemed to hurt the officer, as she muttered a curse word under her breath.

“...I have a kid her age,” she said. “I’d do anything to keep him safe.”

You immediately understood what she meant.  

‘I’m not risking my son’s life by bringing you to my home.’ 

Instead, you gave her your address. You couldn’t bring her to a hospital, at least, not with what she was wearing. You just had to somehow sneak the two of you to your room.

The officer continued. “You begged me not to take you to a hospital tonight, but I want you two to get checked tomorrow, alright? My husband works as a nurse. Tell him I sent you and he won’t ask questions.”

“Thank you, Officer…” you searched for her name. 

“Morales. Don’t thank me.” She stared at you from her rearview mirror, a stern look in her eyes. “And kid?” 

You stared back. 

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” 

Her words were sharp, but once again, you understood the soft meaning behind them. 

“Yes, ma’am…”

Officer Morales gave a slight nod, her eyes briefly softening in the mirror before focusing back on the road.

You looked down at Hazel, watching the passing street lights illuminating her battered face. So fragile, yet so strong. You reached down to hold Hazel’s hand, hoping the heat from your skin will warm her. You leaned your head back, closing your eyes for a moment, listening to the rhythmic sound of the rain and the hum of the engine. 

The city continued to blur outside the window. And you too, felt yourself blur. 

Previous Chapter: The Set-Up for Chapter 4

Next Chapter: That One Patch-Up Scene in Films

@hardbeingcasual @koryianders @lottiematthewsceo @sourgummywormsss @1-danid @awenthealchemist @butterflymagic415 @samoozi @kyleeservopoulos @treehuggerfrvr @yokurts @hikaru97 @randomhoex @damnkehlani14 @byhuenii @ship-enthusiast @lamolaine @lovepityparties @cinematicdifls @sndixz

i ♡ arthur morgan

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.

DO NOT SCROLL PAST.

@zeanyahya4

This is Muhammad Shehab from Gaza. He has two beautiful sons Zaen and Yahya.

They are in dire need of help. They have been displaced nine times under less then human conditions. This is an absolute injustice, donate what you can. Please please please help them find safety. he reached out to me through my dms, and quite frankly I think it’s disturbing and sad how bad this situation has gotten. He’s reaching out to my Sonic fanblog in hopes my follower base might pay attention.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Zaen and Yehya to get out of Gaza, organized by mohammed shamallakh

I am Muhammad Shehab from Gaza These are my sons Zaen and Yahya … mohammed shamallakh needs your support for Help Zaen and Yehya

this is their gofundme, they are slowly working towards their goal but I know we can speed up the process, please donate, please help them.

Verified by: @90-ghost @sar-soor@vakarians-babe @sayruq @@@raelyn-dreams @plomegranate

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my silly )): i want her so bad raghhh

vi x reader (fluff) - modern au ; around the house

→ she/her pronouns!

self-indulgent, personal headcannons i have for VI! suggestive and pervy! you've been warned!

an absolute BEAST if she sees you around the house in your loungewear. you won't be able to walk by the kitchen, do laundry, ANYTHING without her hand somewhere on your ass.

she especially loves when you wear just an oversized tee and underwear; goes apeshit if the shirt lifts and she catches a glimpse of your butt while you're doing something mundane like reach for a mug on a shelf.

It's a lazy Sunday at Vi's apartment, meaning that the both of you have most likely haphazardly thrown on each other's clothes as a slim effort at modesty.

Vi has on a raggedy black wifebeater, no bra of course, and some random pair of plaid boxers. You've thrown on a shirt you found on the floor, which you didn't know said, "BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN" until you looked in the mirror. Oh well.

Suspecting that Vi would probably be playing Call of Duty in her room or something, you frolick off to the kitchen, thinking you can just make yourself lunch and binge a Netflix show.

You were very wrong. She already started getting bored as soon as she entered the lobby, thinking too much about how she should be with you since you're at her flat anyway.

Discarding her headset to the side, Vi leaps off of her desk chair, excitedly wandering around the apartment to see if she could find you. And she does, finding you reaching up on a shelf for a bowl.

Her eyes aren't on you though, moreso on the literal SLIVER of ass that shows as the t-shirt lifts. You're standing on your tippy-toes too, since Vi purposefully puts the bowls on the top shelf for this exact reason.

Whilst stirring your ramen, you feel a rough palm slide up against where your thighs and ass meet, giving you a good squeeze. It's almost ignorable at this point, since she does it so often. Vi's all up on you, gently pinching your butt before sliding her palms up onto your waist. She pulls you into her as you stir up your ramen, aligning up her front to your back.

A kiss is pressed to your nape, before she leans her cheek on your shoulder. A whiny groan escapes her lips, where she squeezes your waist tight.

"Mmph, you're so cute... you know that?" She murmurs into your ear, like she can't handle it.

The airy giggle that escapes your lips almost has Vi's head spinning, in which she rests her chin on your shoulder to see what's on the stove.

"What'cha making?" She asks, and you affectionately place your hand on top of hers.

"Shin. You wanna share?" You answer, turning the stove off as steam starts to wafe from the pot.

You feel a nod against your shoulder. "Mhm."

౨ৎ ――

has these strangeeee cravings/struggle meals, mannerisms too. she grew up in prison for most of her teenage-to-adult life, so she had to get creative when it came to food she wanted to eat.

sometimes she'd crush up dry ramen noodles and sprinkle the flavoring packet as a snack, or dip plain bread in applesauce

she will eat ANYTHING, no complaints, she's seen the worst, probably has a stomach of steel

she eats so fast too, so quickly. like those reels about the girl taking her time to eat and the boyfriend finishing his meal in 20 seconds.

i reckon she eats alot too, either fast metabolism, or just that she burns alot of calories in general from being so active.

her body runs warm

DUDE she'll look at people weird too; i feel like she has a staring problem sometimes. if you're at a sephora or something she'll give you some space, but then stare at you from afar like some creep

(i dont know anything about prison)

Over the years of dating Vi, you're noticed the 'prison' behavior that never really washed out of her. She's opened up a lot to you about her experience in jail; what she was in for, how she felt, the types of thing she's had to do to get by. You treat the subject with upmost gentleness, something that Vi's never really used to as someone who's been traumatized her entire life.

You've started to see reoccurring comfort meals that she eats sometimes. Once, you asked Vi if she wanted anything from the supermarket while you out. She texted you; can u get me cheese ritz crackers.

It's almost like you knew Vi was up to something silly; when you came home with the crackers, she did a little, "oooh, yay!" before pressing a wet kiss to your cheek.

"Why'd you want these?" You asked, kicking off your shoes at the door.

She grabbed the packet from your hand, in which you notice a tender, nostalgic expression on her face as she peered at the packaging.

"Mac & cheese." She just said with a cheeky grin, heading over to the kitchen.

You watch as she would scrape the cheese filling off the crackers, put them into a bowl, and melt them down in the microwave with a bit of butter and milk. While that's happening, she'd boil a packet of instant noodles, and then dump the noodles into the 'sauce' and stir it up.

"Y'know, I made this a lot in jail. It's my favorite." She'd explain to you with a full mouth, groaning with every bite she took.

And now, sometimes you make it, just to make Vi happy.

౨ৎ ――

your first christmas with Vi was super cute. though Vi used to celebrate christmas in early childhood, she doesn't really remember it. christmas time during jail was just receiving small goody bags from charities; nothing heartfelt or meaningful.

vi almost doesn't know what to do with herself during christmas, especially when you're feeling all festive and making gentle decorations around the apartment.

she used to not care about holidays, but now she does, because you do <3

Knelt on the soft, carpeted floor of your apartment, you sit across from Vi. She has on these silly Christmas-themed pajama pants on that you gifted her mid-December, along with the hoodie she likes to sleep in the most. You're bundled up in warm pajamas, complete with a silly Santa hat on top of your head.

Reaching underneath the decorated tree, you pull out a wrapped parcel, handing it to your girlfriend with a warm, excited smile. The way she looks at the present is so confused, so awkwardly cute. Hesitantly, she takes it in her hand.

"Is this for me?"

"Duh! Yes, you can open it." You say with a smile.

You watch as Vi peels back the layers of colorful wrapping paper with a tiny smile on her face, fighting the urge to pull your phone out and start recording like a proud parent.

A little gasp escapes your breath when Vi finally reveals the present; a black, cat-eared beanie you crocheted for her in secret weeks prior. The way her face utterly lights up has your heart melting inside. You realize how big this might be for her; one of her first real Christmases, one of her first real handmade gifts.

She peers up at you, with the beanie in her lap. "Did you make this?"

You nod. "Yeah, you wear beanies a lot so, I thought a kitty-cat one would be cute."

You watch as Vi's face starts to twist whilst looking down at the beanie, her eyebrows loosening while her chin starts to wrinkle just a little bit. She quickly sinks her head low, using the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe away at fat tears that dribble down her cheek.

At first you don't know how to handle it, until you shuffle closer to her on your knees, placing your hand on her knee. After sniffling a few times, she looks to you with reddened eyes, a quivering lip.

Setting the beanie aside onto the carpet, Vi hoists you closer to her with two palms by your sides. She wraps you up in a warm, tight bear hug, digging her cheek into the side of your neck with sniffles against your ear. Vi practically rings all the air out of you with her strong arms, but you tolerate it anyway because you know it's all love.

Smiling, you soothe her with a pat on her shoulder, trying your best to match her level of hug-strength. You then feel muffled words against your shoulder, before Vi sits up.

You can barely ask what she said before Vi tenderly pulls you into her with arms around your shoulders, pressing up her soft lips against yours. The tears on her cheek smear onto your face as Vi pokes and prods at your mouth with her lips, kissing you sweetly with the tiniest sobs in between.

When finished, she hugs you tight again, almost knocking you over onto the carpet.

"I love you." *sniffle* "I'll keep it forever."

౨ৎ ――

she's a thighs girl, through and through. you literally have to watch when you wear shorts or a skirt because she'll go apeshit like a pubescent teenaged boy.

does dumb in the head when you sit and your thighs squish up against the chair, ESPECIALLY if you sit on her lap.

likes to grope em up with her hands, or rest her head on them

sucking hickeys on them is fun too ;)))))))

"Vi, you really gotta stop doing this in public."

You say with as much of a serious tone as possible, crossing your arms whilst looking up at her. You're both towards the back of the Sephora, amidst searching for a specific perfume that you wanted to try.

Vi only replies with a cheeky smirk, crossing her own arms before trailing her eyes back down towards your thighs. She's insufferable.

"Doing whaaat?" She slyly asks, shifting her weight onto one side.

"Feeling me up like a perv, that's what!" You exclaim in fake annoyance, walking away from her and quickly busying yourself with one of the isles of lipgloss.

Vi makes light grabby hands as she chases after you, playfully whining while you test out a gloss color on the back of your hand.

"But you're so soffttttt-"

Your glare is enough to silence her, walking away like a kicked puppy to make odd mixtures with the makeup testers.

౨ৎ ――

she's such a goofy goober at heart <333

it's the small silly things that make you giggle the most; putting something odd on her head, staring at you with funny faces, mewing at you, tickling your sides; kid-like stuff.

and when you playfully roll your eyes, she'll just respond with the cheekiest, cat-got-the-cream kind of smile.

she'll go to great, weird lengths to hear you chuckle or laugh.

cackling with her is rare, but literal gold like i'm talking tears coming out the eyes, flip flopping like a fish while laughing, lightly hitting eachother on the arm, scream laughing.

Your girlfriend practically beckons you over to the Spencer's with a spring in her step. Letting her wave you over like an excited puppy, you step into the dark store, whilst Vi eagerly heads over to the t-shirt section. She has a thing for gag-gifts, like odd mugs or silly socks.

You let Vi loose like a child into a park, while you stare at the odd cups and lanyards. Browsing through the very extensive belt collection towards the back of the store, you notice a familiar head of pink hair out the corner of your eye.

"Babes, look!"

If she had a tail it'd be wagging right now, holding a wad of dark grey cloth in between both of her silver-ringed hands. With a sly smile on her face, unraveling the ball of cloth in her hand to put up a large shirt.

It says "two-seater" in the middle, one arrow pointing to the neck of the shirt, while the other points to the bottom of it.

You short, your eyes flickering from the big shirt to Vi's smug face.

"It's perfect for you." You say, and she eagerly nods, folding it over her forearm. She then gives you this silly look, like fluttering her lashes and peering at you with oddly pursed lips. She looks half like a baby that ate a lemon, half like a peasant begging for food.

She steps closer to you, holding the shirt and tugging on your sleeve.

"Can I wear it while you sit on my-"

You harshly hit her on the arm, in which Vi rubs where you hit with fake hurt.

"Shhh, people will hear!"

She stops you before you turn away towards the belts with a hand on your arm, goofily fluttering her eyelashes at you like it's actually going to work. She does that thing you like, ghosting her hand onto your side with a little squeeze.

"...."

The cashier gives you both a look when Vi hands them a few dollar bills, placing the shirt into a paper bag while scroll through your phone.

౨ৎ ――

extras:

knows how to do that thing where she presses her palm onto your lower tummy while finger-fucking you to make you cum faster

i see her at-home outfit as a band/silly tshirt with the sleeves torn off, plaid boxers, and mismatched fandom socks

sends you godawful memes when you text

never learned to spell properly; sometimes gets certain words wrong too and its a little funny

takes up the whole damn bed, snores, it's like she's having a seizure once she shuts eyes

your first impressions of her are flirty, nonchalant-ish???, and overall genuine. once your relationship gets deep, you start seeing how silly she is, her smaller flaws, how she actually acts around people she loves

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

alright, blondie 🌞💐⭐️✨💟

i’m dizzy…

this with cowboy!abby ooouuughhhhh

sadie adler covered in the blood of dozens of men that took her husband is supposed to be a very emotional and heart wrenching scene, and it is, but the first time I witnessed it, it also unlocked something in me that i did not know was there before and have never recovered from.

i just think women should be covered in other peoples blood. i think that's natural. i think that's right.

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

‎

hi!!! don’t forget that even though hbo tlou2 promo might be exciting, the creator (neil druckmann) is a zionist!!!!! PLEASE do not give him any more money. do not watch tlou2 when it comes out. do not fund somebody who openly supports genocide.

the themes in tlou are hugely based on israel vs palestine conflicts. not only are there israeli themes and propaganda in tlou2, but neil druckmann also gets money from the show. do not fund a zionist!!!!!!!!

if you’d like to hear more about neil’s zionism, here are some posts by amazing writers on tumblr!! here and here and here.

one final thing, i’m not here to argue. neil druckmann is a zionist. you should not be funding him. and for the love of god, do not start arguments in the comments. this is not up for debate!! thanks!!!!