whereisloe

[whereisloe]

sometimes the best fanfics are written by middle aged adults with years of writing experience who simply know how to craft a good story. but also sometimes the best fanfics are written by a sixteen year old girl with something deeply wrong with her

[whereisloe]

[whereisloe]

chat I have a confession to make. chat.

[whereisloe]

could u pls do more of sevika and reader w/ a child from a past relationship which our child is jealous of both reader and sevika like sev can’t even try holding our hand cuz little fuckers will literally be demanding for sev’s hand and vice-versa

this is so. fucking. cute.

men and minors dni

there are a lot of things you didn't expect when you first introduced sevika to your kid.

you didn't expect them to get along so well so quickly. the moment they met, a bond was forged between the two that you doubt anything could break.

you didn't expect your girl to start referring to sevika as 'babe' the same way you do.

you didn't expect her to call you the same, either.

you didn't expect sevika to become so clingy and attached to your daughter, calling you every night she isn't at your place so she can talk to your girl on the phone and coming to each and every one of her school performances or conferences or field trips.

and you certainly didn't expect your little girl's jealousy.

the first time you notice it, the three of you are walking to pick up your dinner. your kid's a few feet ahead of you and sevika, jumping in puddles and stopping to examine rocks and leaves. sevika's fingers are intertwined between yours, your hands swinging between your bodies as you walk.

your girl turns around at one point, grinning as she holds up a rock she wants the two of you to look at, only for her smile to falter when she sees that you guys are holding hands. she pouts, dropping the rock to her side, and you and sev swarm around her, worried.

"what's wrong, babe?" you ask. your daughter huffs.

"stop holdin' hands without me!" she whines, smacking your joint hands with her little fists.

you laugh and let go of sevika's hand, only for your kid to shove her way between the two of your bodies. she grabs sevika's hand in her left and yours in her right, and only then does her pout lessen.

"you jealous?" sevika teases. your daughter nods.

"'s no fair! i wanna hold your hands too!"

the next time it happens, sevika's playing with your rugrat while you're cleaning up the house. you can hear the two of them laughing, and there's a soft smile on your face while you work.

sevika sneaks away a few minutes later to check in on you where you're cleaning the stovetop.

"you okay in here?" she asks. you smile and twirl around to wrap your arms around sevika's waist, burying your face against her chest. she hums and presses a kiss to your head.

"i'm good. almost done." you mumble against her.

"hey!" a little voice pipes up from behind you. you both turn to look at the entrance of the kitchen where your daughter stands, both of her hands on her hips and a furrow in her brow. "leave sevvy alone mom, it's my turn to play with her!" she shouts.

you snort, and hug sevika tighter toward your body. "you're gonna have to take her from me babe." you tease. your daughter huffs, then runs forward to grab sevika's wrist, tugging her away from you.

"c'mon sev!" she whines. sevika laughs.

"she was mine first!" you cry.

"too bad, so sad!" your daughter responds, sticking her tongue out at you. you laugh, and let go of your grip on your girlfriend, sighing.

"sorry babe, we got a game of dinosaurs to get back to." sevika says as your daughter marches her out of the kitchen. you just roll your eyes and laugh.

one night, sevika wakes you up in the middle of the night with kisses to your neck.

you smile as you roll over, capturing her lips against yours and humming happily against her mouth. she sighs.

"think you can be quiet?" she whispers as her hand trails up your bare thigh and starts fiddling with your underwear. you grin.

"can you?" you ask. sevika snorts as she shoves her hand under your waistband.

"i'm not the one who's gonna be cumming my brains out in a few minutes." she whispers.

"yeah, but you got that dirty mouth on you-- can never shut the fuck up when you got your hands on me." you tease. sevika bites your throat and you gasp.

"fuck off." she whispers as she starts rubbing circles against your clit. you bury your face against her shoulder, muffling your moans against her sleep shirt. "can't get enough of you." she mumbles. you whimper.

"you too." you say. she chuckles.

"what're you doing?" a quiet, tiny voice suddenly asks. you both gasp, sevika launches herself toward the other side of the bed and you shoot up in bed to look at your daughter.

she's standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes, her teddybear held close to her chest. you blink at her, and beside you, sevika starts to laugh.

"w-we're cuddling." you say. your daughter huffs.

"without me!?" she exclaims. you laugh and lean back down against the bed.

"c'mon." you say, resigned to the fact that you likely won't be cumming your brains out anytime soon.

your daughter laughs and launches herself into your bed, cuddling up against your side, then tugging sevika toward her.

"c'mon sevvy, you gotta make me a sandwich!" she demands. sevika laughs as she rolls over, holding your daughter from the other side, the two of you squishing her between you. she sighs happily. "that's better." she says. you snort, and press a kiss to her head, and sevika follows suit, kissing her cheek before settling down against bed.

"goodnight kid." sevika whispers.

"night sevvy. night mom."

"g'night babies." you reply.

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

[whereisloe]

oh my god , beautifully soul crushing😭

The Endless Sunrise.

The raid on Piltover starts and the tension rises noticeably amongst everybody in the city. Though for you, it’s different.

Summary: You’re stuck in a time loop; One that repeats your day every time you fail to save Steb.

TW!! Warnings/Content!: TW! Suicide!!! (from the reader), Death, Angst, No happy ending, also ngl there isn’t as much Steb in here as I would’ve liked but eh 🤷

Word Count: 4.1k Quick mention: rushed and not proofread, ngl i got impatient with this.

Now, on with the show!

───• ° . 𓆟 ° ⋅☼⋅ •  . 𓆟 . °───

Pearlescent clouds drag across the horizon, reflecting the new dawn's bronze light brilliantly. From the oceanside to the polished gold atop buildings, the morning landscape would blind you unapologetically; glittering like a beacon of the coast. 

You woke up to a morning that– given different circumstances– would’ve been too comfortable for you to leave your bed. It was an eerie calm that settled in the air of your room, unfiltered light beginning their glow between the cracks of your curtains. 

A resounding knock at the door snaps you out of your reverie, making you sigh wearily as you receive new orders from the messenger from behind the door. Just great. With an annoyed grunt you get up, parting the cloth just a bit to let out the cool remnants of the twilight, marveling at the russet sky burning to brass. Lighting up the white feathers of birds that soar past, taking the chance to admire the sight of what you have before… well, before what awaits you today. 

The Noxian raid against Piltover.

You watched as grand ships sailed towards the jewel of the city. Standing with your back to the hex-gate, hands tightening against the metallic weapon in your hands, ready to defend your home from the foreign invaders.

You unconsciously relax as you catch an aquamarine figure grow in your peripheral. Expression softening slightly as your fingers slide and pull away from the hex-weapon in your grasp, raising an arm to give the blue eyed boy a playful nudge to the side. You turn your head to him, offering a grin, one that only he could manage to draw out at a time like this. 

You have half a mind to tell him that, throw out a comment and make him privy to your affections for him. Maybe you will, one day, when this is all over; as for now, you shall stand unwavering by his side.

“Beautiful sunrise this mornin’ hm?” You muse, though your solemn tone betrays your friendly words. “Hey Steb-,” You sigh halfway, giving up on a witty remark and instead choosing something more fitting. You shake your head lightly, dawning a lax smile as you turn to face the foreboding ships that stalk the waters. “Whatever happens, keep yourself safe Steb, got it?”

It was simple– not as personal as you’d like– but hopefully it’ll do the job. He doesn’t seem to mind your choice of textbook reassurance words as he gives you a nod, eye softening as he watches your profile. He quietly decides that he’ll make sure that you keep yourself safe too.

Finally, he resets his posture and stands beside you dutifully. Ready for war.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

A baritone war-cry accompanies a hefty silhouette that knocks you down, leaving to you watch in fear as the hulking soldier lifts his spear with the intent to drive it down into you chest– A similar shout is heard from your left as your teal savior drives a dagger between the plating of the Noxians armor, the injury forcing the attacker to stumble and slump to the ground. You huff, catching your breath as you turn your attention to Steb who dashes to your side, careful eyes of a trained medic studying your condition as they look you up and down before eventually looking you in the face with concern.

You return his gaze with a grateful one, “Yeah– yeah ‘m alright,” only half-convinced yourself you try to assure him, shakily chuckling thanks to your nerves, you manage to give him a thankful nod, taking his hand as he helps you up to–

Thwish!

His body falls.

Thump.

“Steb!”

The shout tears from your throat before you can stop it, lurching upward from your place on the ground, gasping for air, eyes wide in shock. instinctively, you raise a hand to drag down your face before pulling away to look at it, expecting to see the same crimson that splattered onto your lap. 

You freeze, reeling your hand back and away from its search as you refocus your gaze. Your bed. Your pillow, your room, your… window? 

How the hell did you get here? Your brow twitches in thought, instantly you look down and rip the blanket off yourself, searching for injuries. No bandages, bruises, cuts, or any sign of physical harm. You weren't knocked out were you? No, you can remember the last moments clear as day. There’s no fogginess to the way you fell, to Steb as you accepted his help, to the arrow that pierced through his neck. 

The arrow.

The arrow that…

Your heart is barely given a second to beat, frozen in place as your eyes widen in shock. Steb. he, he–

Your hand slaps over your mouth in shock, tears unknowingly pricking at the corners of your eyes, you hum and force your eyes closed to re-assess. A shaky breath is all that fills the silent room, your thoughts become a raging whirlpool filled with blame and disbelief, making the world inaudible to you as your ears are stuffed with cotton.

The only sound that breaks through is a knock on the door. A triadic rap that sounds vaguely familiar.

You muster just enough of your composure to call out, albeit frustratedly, and glance up with furrowed brows as you half-listen to the tenor voice beyond the heavy door. New orders about your position, moved to the front of the hex-gate. Word-for-word, you remember them from yesterday morning. An awful feeling rushes through from head to toe, shivering at the inkling of déjà vu, your breakdown slightly suspended as the feeling meddles with your judgement.

Sliding out of bed and tiptoeing to the window, you push the curtains aside, a light gasp is drawn out by the staggering ships. Broad and imposing, you grit your teeth at the sight of them, but somethings off.

The city is unsullied by dust, grime, or even a speck of blood.

Regardless, the ships are returning. Your job isn’t done.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You walk by the day in a daze. 

Over the first half-hour outside your room you’ve come to the realization that you were terribly mistaken in your perception of time. That this was the morning of the raid, not yesterday– in fact your ‘yesterday’ had to have been some oddly lucid dream that you still have trouble believing. Try as you might, there's a feeling of uncertainty that you can’t seem to shake off, even when you hear light footsteps approaching your flank.

You try to remedy your spastic heart the moment you see him. Chest feeling airy as a heavy weight has been lifted at the realization that your baseless concern was proven wrong: Steb wasn’t dead. It seems as though your brain conjured a sick nightmare as the aquatic man you know and love stands beside you again, alive and well. You find yourself smiling with upturned brows, relief practically seeping through your bones, releasing your taut grip upon your arcane weapon. The glittering cobalt orb that sparks below your fingers could never compare to the ones before you.

“Steb,”

You pause as he turns to look at you, his earnest full attention often catching you off guard. Your half-assed cocky comment dies on your tongue as you look at him, rethinking carefully, what should you even say? You could be confident, but that sounds so insincere, if these could be your last words to him you’d rather not say something stupid. Your last words to him…

Oh God… Could you admit your feelings?

To your irrational mind, the dream felt like maybe a second chance, maybe you should take it.

You swallow thickly at the idea, no, of course not. Now would be the worst time to admit something heavy like that, there’s no point in getting him worked up for something that's your problem. You won’t dump that burden upon him now.

“I have something to tell you. So live, alright?” You return his gaze with a determination that swells in your chest, “Survive Steb. I won’t take anything else for an answer.” 

Whatever answer you receive in the form of a look or gesture, you don’t pay attention to it. Gaze turned steely at the thought of your foes, refusing to pass up this opportunity to fix your mistakes.

You decided to use your awful case of déjà vu to your advantage, somewhat testing your luck in the process, but as it turns out– it has come in rather handy in regards to a strike here and there. Finding yourself avoiding a few mistakes you’d made in your “dream”, you ought to think about it later on after the battle, though the itching feeling of misfortune never left you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You hear a cry.

Your world goes dark.

Your eyes shoot open and in a panic you whip your head to the side, your hands feel empty, frantically grappling for a weapon within reach. Soft bed sheets and plush pillows grace the nerves upon your fingertips, sliding against- Wait, soft? You pause in your scrambling and look down slowly, taking the fabric in your hand as your brain stalls. 

No.

That can’t be right, what sick joke of a nightmare is this? You throw the covers off yourself as you stumble haphazardly out of bed, tearing your way to the window and shoving the curtains away as you look down to the streets. 

Clean and untouched. The polished white stone and golden inlay remain void of scarlet streaks.

A knock on the door.

No, no, no, no. No!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

What the fuck is happening.

You walk by in suspicion, haunted by knowledge of the coming events. 

You’re beyond anxious, what kind of screwed up dream could that be? To have a dream within a dream and wake up twice, is that even possible? You let out a breathless laugh, mirthless as your chest feels hollow. “What a bad omen” you manage to slip, your muttering catching Stebs attention as he raises a brow at you before returning his attention forward. Your unfocused gaze follows suit, quiet and eerie, you are unable to discern if the ships look closer this time or not.

Everything was the same. Both times– well, three times now– have just been ghosts of the day before.

Is that it? What the hell is the point of the day resetting if you're just doomed to reach the final destination of this nightmare.

That's not right, you held him this time. 

The world went black before you could feel the warmth seep from his body, thankfully, but you could feel it this time, unlike the days before. His last breath that ended pained gasps and sputters. You got to watch as the light left his eyes. The thought makes you angrily wipe away a tear, but your gaze hardens to one of determination. It was different, it can change.

You were grasping at straws, but with your predicament, it was worth everything in the world to you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Not him, please, why of all the people did it have to be the one who captured your heart. The aquatic man with gentle hands and eyes too soft for his sharp features. The kind medic who would’ve preferred to help lives over harming them. 

You’ve tried and failed again at following your orders. What good will it do if you can’t stop an army's worth of attacks from killing the one person you care most about in this pretentious city full of high and mighty assholes.

Enough of this running around and expecting everything to go right out of sheer blind luck, you can’t afford to keep getting distracted.

It’s been proven you can change things, now you have to test the limits– without ruining your own image in case it does end up working to break the loop you’re stuck in.

So, time to try something drastic, however stupid and see the outcome.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

That little rule of yours didn’t last long, at this point you didn’t give a shit about your “image” anymore. So much for that– how could you even dare to prioritize that over the life of your comrades? Of your friends?

A thump crashes against your back, the wooden door behind you bending back into place after the hit. You wince slightly, remembering where you are now, it’s an increasingly bad habit to space out like this. 

“Hey–” you start out evenly before another bang hits the door, forcing you to stumble forward  before you push back against it, “Hey! It’s me!” You shout in protest, and you faintly hear the man's feet shuffle again. You could only wonder what thoughts ran through his head as he woke up locked in some random enclosed space– a janitor room to be exact.

“Listen Steb! You- You’re gonna die okay? It’s- no, I gotta keep you safe.” 

You stammer for your words, not having found the proper explanation for him if or when he woke up, you did kind of hit him rather hard upside the head. You sigh, letting your head fall back and lightly hitting the door you lean on.  

“I’m sorry, I know that–” Another bang smacks at your skull. “I know you won’t understand! But I have to, alright!?” you plead, keep a tight hold on his tonfas that you took and used interlocked on the door to keep it shut.

You fall quiet as the minutes tick away, the dawn inching so slowly to noon. You consider yourself beyond lucky that there weren’t any passerbys, choosing an unassuming room in a scarcely used passage. Stebs' barrage of attempts to break out were eventually stifled, though the sounds of clattering and shuffling of what seemed to be boxes and bags could be heard. 

He never knows when to give up, always driven. 

The thought, such of little comfort, still brings a small smile to your face. After a moment, you decide to slide down, ignoring how your uniform ruffles unpleasantly at being pressed against the wood as you come to a sit. “Y’know” You start, quiet and muffled to him, but you can imagine his spiny ear flickering. Cute.

You note that the sounds cease for a minute before returning, barely stopping his search for something to use to escape. Oh, yeah– you were saying something? He even stopped to listen. It made your heart lurch at his thoughtfulness in even the worst situations.

“You’re too fucking good of a person Steb.” You say, a sudden anger that bubbles in your gut and overflows into a venom on your tongue. “How dare you. I can’t let you throw away your life like this, I don’t care about your duty or honor or whatever the fuck you chose to be an enforcer for,” You gasp, lungs feeling empty as you pay little attention to your blurring vision, “But I refuse to let you die! To let the world lose something– someone so, so–” 

A sharp whistling goes ignored.

In your teary eyed vision, you can’t even begin to make out the concrete that crumbles and gives way to a cannonball.

A strangled shout rips at your vocal cords. 

The sound makes your door-knocking harasser call out in concern.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Facing the floor below would remind you of the blood to be spilled, And facing the sky above you bring all your memories to him and his stupid cornflower colored iris. You close your eyes, grunting in annoyance at his dastardly ways of flooding your mind at any time of day. How silly you are, somehow still getting wrapped up in this awful little crush of yours you can’t stand it. 

“Focus, dumbass”

You grumble kicking a stray rock, face scrunched in frustration at your series of continued failed attempts. You felt like such a stupid fool in disobeying direct orders and ending up in no different a situation in the end.

What an idiot blinded by hope, thinking you could change your new fate by such fickle means. 

Hope? No, desperation.

Even now you feel like a coward. Each step taken to create distance between you and piltover's looming presence etched a cavity into your dignity, your honor, for abandoning your friends. The only thought pushing you forward and away from the fight was the hope that something might happen differently, even if you weren’t a part of it. 

Would you have to label yourself a traitor for leaving? Most likely, but it was a small price to pay.

You don’t even make it halfway through the city before your sight is suddenly enveloped by darkness.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

After so many “days”, you picked up your weapon. The arcane thrumming beneath your grasp and reverberating in your mind, the idea flashed for a moment before being snuffed out the second you realized the implications.

What if you were the one who killed him?

Like being struck, you threw the weapon down, careless to the sound of the valuable machine crashing against the floor. You stumble back and swallow thickly, the guilt immediately making itself known. No. You’d live a thousand times over before resorting to doing the very thing you’re trying to prevent.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Could you try explaining it to him? Again? You had tried to allude to the idea on the fourth morning, in the end you sounded more like a paranoid fool worrying about the day– which was understandable. Though on the seventh morning you brought it up without any thought behind your intentions, muddled words and half-baked assumptions that changed his perception of you; mentioning how you’d managed to survive to see what became of Maddie, it was a mistake to try and explain that to him. Oh how your heart squeezes at the memory of the look he gives you, the disbelief and hurt when you tell him Maddie’s a spy. Accusing his friend, one longer than you have been, of being a traitor? His disappointment hurt you more than you could've ever expected.

Your heart beats erratically at the thought, it’s too unprepared– too hasty of a decision. You doubt you’d get anywhere with the limited time you have to explain, much like last time. Strewn out guesses and trailing off conclusions that didn’t get you anywhere, it more often than not put you and Steb in worse conditions. There was so little you knew, as it seems that whatever curse that’s consumed your waking moment has been hellbent on preventing you learning anything useful about your predicament. With no lead to track or even the chance to follow it if you did have a clue, you were absolutely lost.

You slide your hand out, knocking your helmet off the table unceremoniously in an attempt to ground yourself, clutching the oaken hardwood with stiffened gloves that you can only hope lessen the shake that you hold yourself with.

A pained groan escapes you, screwing your eyes shut as your heart tightens, the burn that flares at your closed lids, warning you of tears. You exhale sharply, almost scoffing at yourself for unraveling, shakily inhaling and holding your breath afterwards. Getting your breathing under control wasn’t difficult, but it took a certain amount of patience to allow your feelings to choke out before stuffing them back into a dark corner. 

Your foot madly taps at the resounding flooring, almost losing yourself in the sound before a hollow knock steals your attention. Your head snaps a bit in the direction, pausing for a moment to slowly rise, intending to give the intruder a glare.

 “Can I hel–” 

Startlingly baby blue eyes.

Wide. Dull. They lack their shine.

Your words catch in your throat, the aching feeling that subsided now threatens to return tenfold. You tear your eyes away from him, not willing to fall into the trance his glimmering gaze causes.

You can’t bear to think of his eyes now. Not now.

Half-lidded, they rest unfocused. His muscles relax as his breath is ripped away by an iron blade.

Your face tightens impossibly, twisting in all the fancy words for hurt.

You shouldn’t have to know what he would look like, like that. If it would save you the sight, you’d avoid his gaze for the rest of your life. Oh how your gut turns with every step he takes, approaching you in a way that makes you ashamed for forcing your head down. Forcing yourself away from him.

He tilts his head slightly as glances down at your helmet on the floor. There’s a silence in the air that grows heavier by the second. Seeing your lack of initiative to speak, he continues his approach to your side, stopping within arms reach.

“Steb.” You acknowledge him, loose and in passing– as if bumping into him in a hallway before continuing on. 

The ribbing along his eyes stir, a rather expressive motion in consideration to his otherwise impassive exterior. His ears swivel and flicker, subtle shifts in his face as he determines what could be your issue, his eye flickering between your wavering arms and your stuttering breath. His hand reaches out to rest on your shoulder in a comforting manner, tentative and ready to pull away if needed.

What he doesn’t expect however, is for you to turn and pull him forward, not giving him a second to think as you crash into him. He stumbles back, a grunt escaping his chest as you knock some of the wind out of him. His eyes widen as he looks down at you, keeping your head bowed low and pressing your forehead to his shoulder while his hands hover over your back hesitantly.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered into the armored shoulder of his navy uniform, feeling the warmth of his hands as they gently came to rest on your back, returning the embrace despite his confusion. 

He lets out a hum, curious, and the sound nearly rattles your skeleton with how much pressure you press against him. You sigh shakily into his shoulder as you allow yourself this one moment of peace, clutching onto the back of his uniform like a lifeline. “Can we just,” you muffle into his shoulder, “Can we just stay here, like this, for a while?” You ask, practically pleading, in a quiet voice that makes him hold you impossibly closer.

After given a moment to think, he hums again in a complaisant manner this time as he tilts his head ever so slightly to rest atop yours.

His comfort nearly makes your heart shatter, and you’re not sure if you can stave off the waterworks this time.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You awaken. 

Eyes shoot open and there’s a flinch that racks your body, but you stay down this time. You don’t make a move to acknowledge your given orders, remaining quiet enough to hear the faint shouts as the city around you as the people ready to arms. You haven’t slept in days, you realize, and close your eyes with a weary sigh.

Facing the ceiling, you’re tempted to fight the tears that begin to arise but you ultimately allow it to pass. You wonder if his tears would be as pitiful as yours, would he be given the chance to cry at all.

Maybe if he were the one crying in your place.

﹌﹌﹌﹌

You stand on the marble balustrade. You’ve stood on this overlook so many times now, and the vertigo has never been worse. 

“Hey Steb..?”

He looks at you. Before you met him, you’d argue that there were only so many ways to describe someone’s eyes. Insist that you could only use the words ‘soft’ or ‘bright’ or whatever obscure color so many times before it all becomes nonsensical. But with this man, you believe even the most illiterate fool could compose a thousand poems with just one glance.

God, please save me from this torment. Save him.

“I love you.”

You don’t take the chance to register his reaction. Ever the coward, ever the fool, you shy away from his answer, too afraid and ashamed of your selfishness. 

Up to this point, you haven’t tried killing yourself. One of your last resorts.

His eyes get lost among the brilliant sky. The roaring hurricane in your ears grows as you plummet, your gut feels the familiar pull down; accompanied by all the guilt you carry. Finally letting it drop, you go right along with it.

He calls your name, though you cannot hear it, his shout becoming lost throughout the wind whipping past your ears. Your blood is the first to stain the floor that morning.

Your vision is as dark as the night that you hope comes to pass.

﹌﹌﹌

.

.

.

───• ° . 𓆟 ° ⋅☼⋅ •  . 𓆟 . °───

A/N: Yello! Damn uh! I finally finished something! I struggle to commit to my projects so i'm surprised i managed to get this out, and honestly this only took so long as it did because i spent most my days playing minecraft 😭🙏

It feels like it has too much plot and not enough interactions which is something i have trouble with but practice makes better 🫶

[whereisloe]

drawing Zaun revolutionaries as kids because I REFUSE to consume more angst

(and bonus slide)

[whereisloe]

my taste in fictional men is just the unstable, traumatized and dangerous ones who radiate strong "I'm not a bad dog. I'm a wounded and terrified dog who bites to survive" vibes honestly

[whereisloe]

sb needs to track down that mf on ao3 that made a young silco x reader au where he was a pianist and the reader was some type of theatrical dance director and force them to write more bc UGH they just did such a good job only to stop 2 chapters in 😩

[whereisloe]

to anyone missing my writing please know i am also missing my writing

[whereisloe]

that damned jukebox - Silco x gn!reader

Notes: I strongly recommend listening to 'Our Love' from season one while reading this Warnings/Rating: none!| E for Everyone Wordcount: 1k Synopsis: A certain song has Silco jarred, but you just want to dance

There's a girl in town and word's gone around she's just fine So I don't worry my head 'cause I know her heart is tied to mine

It took less than a second of the song for Silco’s eye to shoot open. He lurched forward in his chair as the music wafted up from the bar below. Almost choking on his cigar smoke, he stubbed the half-burnt smoke out in the tray, knuckles going white as they gripped the chair arm. A noise one could only liken to a growl clawed from his throat as the lyrics continued, muffled through the walls, but clear enough to send him reeling.

The life that we live and the love that I give to her Each day it grows more and more I'm sure, it shows

He pushed himself up, allowing the chair to groan as it slid across the uneven wooden floor. Taking measured steps to his office door. A burning bile rose in his throat as he swung it open. Swallowing hard, he forced it back down his gullet, but it weighed heavily in his chest. He could have sworn the marbled skin around his eye twinged of its own accord, forcing him to grimace as he prowled down the dingy corridor.

Our love, is a bubblin' fountain Our love, that flows into a sea Our love, deeper than any ocean Our love, for eternity

He stepped out onto the mezzanine above the bar wearily, eyes darting around the seemingly empty bar to find the culprit who started the decrepit jukebox.

He was so sure he had damaged it beyond repair. He remembered the night clearly, despite his best efforts not to. Ripping at the wires like a man possessed the night he had regained control of the bar, drunk out of his mind, seething - but not entirely sure why. It was the one of the few times he had allowed himself the base privilege of losing his inhibitions, forcing old memories down into a bitter, watery grave. And he had sworn it would be the last.

His knuckles gripped the bannister furiously, fingers turning whiter and whiter under the pressure. 

His eyes fixed on the back of your head as you leaned against the now somehow fully functional music box, hips swaying just a little as you looked through the long-forgotten tracks. Suddenly, his grip loosened, hands going slack against the cool metal. 

Ooh, like Sunday I'll pray our love will always stay pure Ooh, while the world turns around, he holds me down for sure

The metal groaned under his weight as he took a slightly staggered step back from the edge and your head snapped up. The shock in your eyes quickly replaced with a grin. “Jinx fixed it for me,” you offered an answer to his silent question, beaming up at him before looking back to the brightly lit jukebox again, the soft glow of neon lights brightening your eyes in a way Silco rarely saw in the darkness of the lanes. As you continued tapping your foot to the beat, he slowly made for the stairs, descending them carefully. Then he realised, you were singing along. He had never heard you do that before. He liked it. 

Our love, is a bubblin' fountain (Ooh-ah) Our love, that flows into any sеa (Ooh) Our love, deeper than any ocean Our lovе, for eternity

You looked back at him as he reached you, your smile suddenly dropping, “What’s wrong, my love?” you broached him cautiously, his gaze was fixed firmly on the jukebox now, unable to tear his eyes away from the spinning record, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” you laughed lightly, your hand resting on his shoulder yanking him from his daze like whiplash. 

“Heard one, more like,” he paused, trying his hardest to push his memories of that night out of his mind. “I thought this was broken for good,” he said through a clenched jaw, trying to prevent his anger from getting the better of him. 

“Well, we have always called Jinx a wonder.” Your smile returned again as you looked back through the tracks. Your hand entwined with his and you pulled him with you gently. 

“Dance with me?” you asked, eyes softening as you pleaded with him. “I love this song,” you gushed as he almost tripped over his own feet in delirium. 

“I don’t dance,” he said firmly, trying to stiffen up to avoid you pulling him again but not pulling his hand from yours, your warm skin almost making him feel more alive again. 

You simply pouted, pushing your bottom lip out, “Don’t do a Jinx,” he warned with a sigh as you continued to give him puppy dog eyes, suppressing a smirk. “It isn’t working,” he warned, but it was. It very much was. Something about this song made him feel sick, something else about it reminded him of what fun felt like. 

Our love, is a bubblin' fountain (Ooh-ah) Our love, that flows into any sеa (Ooh) Our love, deeper than any ocean Our lovе, for eternity

“Do you love me?” you asked softly, stepping up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He rolled his eyes, “of course I do,” he sighed, trying to be irritable but failing as the warmth of your body radiated through his, your faint perfume (the one he knew you rationed out like a precious wine) instantly intoxicating him, its effects on him stronger than even the most potent of shimmer. 

“Then dance with me,” you whispered against the shell of his ear as you started to rock, reluctantly pulling him along with you. He tried to stand his ground for a moment before he finally melted into your touch. The sound of your gentle singing in his ear pulling down each of his defences one by one. 

Our love, is a bubblin' fountain (A bubblin' fountain, yeah) Our love, that flows into the sea (Flows into the sea) Our love, that flows into the sea (Flows into the sea) Our love, deeper than any ocean (Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh) Our love, for eternity

His hands found your waist tentatively as you sidestepped together slowly. For a moment, he blocked out the sound of the song itself, focusing solely on the hum of your voice in his ear. For a moment, he felt like perhaps this song wasn’t so bad after all. For a moment, he wondered if an old part of him was still in there after all. 

Our love Our love Our love Our love

[whereisloe]

silco writers doing the world a great justice

What if Astrid find a pic of young Silco by accident hehhehehehhehehehehhe

Snapshot

A Drink With Me ficlet

870 words || Established relationship || Silco x Astrid (but can be read as gen f!reader) || SFW but suggestive || MDNI

“Oh my Gods.”

“What?”

“Oh. My Gods.”

Time has stripped the photograph between your fingers of its glossy sheen and has left the edges blunt and frayed, but you would recognise those features anywhere; no less sharp nor striking through the faded sepia.

“This is you.”

It had slipped from between two ledgers as you’d perused Silco’s bookshelves – an activity more to entertain your idle hands than a genuine search for reading material. The image itself is simple and candid: A young man, seemingly oblivious to the fact his portrait is being taken, sat at a familiar bar, with eyes downcast toward a spread of papers.

That same man looks up at you now from a very similar spread of papers. “What is?”

“This.” You drift over to his desk and perch on its edge, all the while unable to tear your gaze from the photo in your hands. The pitch dark hair swept back into a low bun. The familiar strays – the same ones that even now will always be the first to escape any styling under the combing of agitated fingers – falling forward into his face, only far longer and thicker than you’re used to. His skin, unblemished and smooth, save for the chronic furrow between his brows – etched there long before time and tragedy ravaged the rest.

Silco hums absently; an indication that he acknowledges your discovery but finds little interest in it. You can imagine the man in the photograph making the exact same noise, were someone to distract him from his paperwork for a reason he deemed benign. You flip the photo over. No date.

“How old are you here?”

Silco exhales through his nose, places his pen down with a pointed clack, and extends his hand wordlessly toward you.

“Hah! Do you think I’m wet behind the ears?” you hold the photograph out of his reach, “You can tell just fine from over there thank you very much.”

He cuts you a scathing glance, before leaning forward in his chair with a foreboding creak to peer more closely at the image. His scarred lips purse slightly in thought.

“Mid–late twenties. I can’t say for certain.”

“You were hot.”

“Were?”

“Were and are,” you coo, reclining backwards over the desk into his space, one elbow pitched on his paperwork to hold your weight whilst you flap the photograph in front of his face, “Can I keep this?”

“For what reason?”

“Dirty ones.”

“Hardly necessary,” Silco says, the very corner of his mouth creasing upwards as he catches your wrist to halt your photo-flapping, “You have access to the real thing.”

“True, true, and you can be sure I’ll continue taking advantage of that.” You grin, shoving your captured, photo-wielding arm a little closer to him in emphasis, “But right now I’m talking about some alone time with this guy.”

Silco scoffs under his breath and releases your wrist. You twist onto your front, weight propped on both elbows as you admire the photograph in your grip. You trace a finger down the slender throat of the man in the photo, over the generous wedge of chest exposed by his open crimson collar.

“D’you think he’d notice me? If I came into that bar?”

“Oh I’m certain he would.”

“Yeah?” You lift your gaze from the man in the photo to the one before you – as equally breathtaking. More so. You catch your lower lip between your teeth. “What line would he use?”

Silco hums, low and thoughtful, leaning forward in his chair, closing in on your space. He picks up his abandoned pen, briefly twirling the implement until it’s poised between his elegant fingers like a cigarette. Nib safely facing his own palm.

“After downing the dregs of his drink for courage... he would have approached you.”

With sensual tenderness, he brushes the barrel of his pen along your cheek, warmed metal against warmer skin. Catching at the curve of your jawline, and tracing over your pulse in a way that makes it fumble a beat.

“Cast his gaze over each of your pretty, pretty features. One by one,” he murmurs, slowly drawing the end of the pen down your jugular, down the slope of your collar bone, to leisurely trail through the cut of your cleavage. The corner of your mouth hooks up. The warmth low in your belly coils a little tighter.

“He would have leaned in close,” Silco whispers, demonstrating just so, “Close enough that you’d almost taste the whiskey on his breath.”

Blunt metal drags a purposeful line up your throat, and your lips part softly as he tilts your face toward his with the barrel of his pen flat and firm beneath your chin.

“And asked you – very nicely – to stop leaning on his paperwork.”

You press your tongue against the inside of your cheek while Silco’s dual eyes sizzle with smug mirth. It’d be unthinkable, really – to forfeit either one for the sake of a matching pair.

You straighten and push off his desk, hips swaying as you saunter over to the bedroom with the photograph in hand.

“Well,” you say, pausing in the threshold and turning to him with a smirk, “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”

[whereisloe]

my angel ໒꒱

“come from way above” ❀ sevika x reader 𓆝. 𓆟

Got this idea while writing a Silco fic and realized not enough people are writing for this fine ass woman OHMYGOF

I miss my wife, tails. i miss her a lot.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” you’d ask as you treated Sevika’s wound, carefully watching every faint expression on her face as you did so. She only grunted in response before letting her head fall into her hand. Considering the positions you both assumed, the woman had been towering over you as you sat comfortably between her legs dressing her abdominal wound. “Aaw , we’re almost done. Just keep being good for me, yeah?” You’d tease with a passive pat to her thigh as you prepped yourself to wrap her waist.

“Shut up” She’d force through a wince as you applied pressure to the deep cut, wrapping it as you did so. “You talk too much”

Once you finished the wrap your hands were quick to roam. Snaking up her chest, and latching onto her neck as you pulled your lips onto her jaw. “Keep getting hurt like this and I might just have to give Silco a little visit for all the trouble he keeps putting you through” Sevika scoffed, half-amused at your wit as she leaned back into the chair. “That man would eat you alive, sweetheart” The petname came off more condescending than endearing as Sevika undermined your words, even brushing off the genuine concern behind the joke with a bittersweet smirk.

“Oh, you promise?” Now it was your turn to laugh as you watched that smirk wipe clean off her face when her expression grew darker. You ignored her very obvious mood change and continued cleaning up your gear. “Y’know, maybe I could get you that pay raise. What do you think?” You’d stand from your crouched position and slowly spin around, flaunting your body at the woman. You even grabbed her rugged hand and bring it to your hip as you knelt into the seat of the chair that had been exposed between her legs.

“Hilarious.” She wouldn’t even half mind you as her hand quickly replaced your hip with a cigar. You rolled your eyes at her passiveness before returning to the ground to clean up your mess. At some point you even walked away allowing Sevika to smoke in peace as you cleaned your equipment.

Once you reentered the room, you’d find Sevika casually reclined on your couch with an unlit cigar still hanging out the side of her mouth. As you got closer her eyes locked on to you, roaming you up and down but once they reached your face, they softened. Just two gentle, big eyes admiring from a distance as you admired back. You were snapped out of your trance when she threw a lighter at you. You caught the metal with ease and examined it. “You forgot to light me” She said plainly, attempting to hide the sentiment she held toward the action. It was reminiscent of the first time the two of you met outside a brothel. Long story short, Sevika was quick to describe you as a huge distraction to her mission that day despite your short interaction that even you barely remembered.

“How cruel of me” You knelt down in front of the couch, now back to admiring your partner from below as her half lidded eyes met your wide ones. Her hand, rough as it was, gently held your cheek as her thumb brushed over your bottom lip. You felt yourself melt into her warm palm as the contrast between her calloused hand and your plush skin sent chills down your skin. You sparked the lighter twice before bringing it to the end of Sevika’s cigar.

She watched you. Allowing the flame to illuminate your soft expressions, and in her eyes, manipulating your features. Making you resemble yourself that night many years ago. She wasn’t any less taken by your more aged features if anything she appreciated them. Glad to see you grow older alongside her than having to admire your beauty from an ageless photo. You would notice her unwavering stare once you tossed the lighter aside and decided to make brief conversation. “You know, I don’t remember much of the first time we met” Sevika took a puff of her cigar before nodding urging you to continue. “But I remember without a doubt the second time”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t” She chuckled under her breath as the memories came flooding in. You took note of her already flaking cigar as she held it between her two fingers. Quickly, you placed your ceramic tray gently to her stomach just in time to catch the ash. “That guy had a lot of nerve putting his hands on you, you’re lucky I was there. Otherwise, who knows the things he would’ve did—” Sevika cursed at the thought.

“Well, you were there and I am forever grateful for you,” your voice was low as you rub senseless shapes across her wrist with the pad of your thumb. “my angel” the words were hushed as you kissed the base of her palm, then her wrist, down her arm, and back up her shoulder until you reached her nape where you took a moment. In this time, you pushed yourself onto her, feeling her shift to a more seated position to accommodate for you, you straddle her hips as you tossed your arms carelessly over her shoulders. The ceramic tray had fallen out from under you meeting the concrete with a shattering sound as the shards dispersed. “Damn it” You sighed as you began shifting away from your partner only for her to rest a heavy hand on your waist.

“I’ll clean it, later” Sevika gently guided you back into herself only to latch onto your neck. A shaky breath left your agape lips as you laid helplessly above Sevika. The heat in your cheeks only spread as she shamelessly left those sticky love bites all over your neck.

The sounds that fell from your lips only further egged her on as she found herself getting lower and her hand higher as it slid up your stomach. Eventually, you grew fed up with her slow teasing and brought your fingertips to the seams of your shirt and watched as Sevika’s gaze grew harsh with anticipation. You were ready to lift the cloth but quickly felt your blood run cold as three heavy knocked fell against your front door. You practically jumped out your skin as Sevika scowled at the source of the noise. “Fuck, I’ll get it” You held a hand over your heart as your slowly opened the door, meeting the eyes of a man who seemed to be one of Silco’s goons.

“Sevika, boss needs ya” The man completely disregarded you. You huffed under your breath and glanced up noticing how she was already behind you, prying the door further open. “Gotchu, now get the hell out of here before somebody sees you” Sevika’s voice was cold and harsh as she talked with the man, her tone almost foreign to you as you waited behind the door for Sevika to finish. Once she did, the door was shut with a frustrated grunt as she leant up against the door contemplating her next move.

“You need me to kill him?” From behind, you brought both your arms around her, pressing your face against her shoulder, you felt her laugh. “I’m sure you could.” She turned around and pressed a brief kiss to your temple. “Drinks on me next date to make up for this”

“Drinks are always on you” Your thumbs rubbed anxiously against her waist as you become increasingly aware of how much you hated when she left.

“Guess I need to stop fucking up, then” She gave your cheek on last stroke before turning to leave only to be stopped when you grabbed her mech hand. “You’re off to a bad start if you’re just gonna leave like that” You pulled yourself into her chest, standing on your toes as your lips locked with hers. Moving in tandem, Sevika fell against the door as you cupped her face in your palms and grew warm as her hand fell on the small of your back. Toward the end of your kiss you felt that warm, genuine smile of hers form against your lips as you fell back onto your heels.

“Be sure to fly back home to me, my angel”

god punishes me by making my wives fictional :( also have yall read that hexstrap fic??? sevika please just the tip 🙏😩

[whereisloe]

“how’d your act 3 experience go?” idk something like this i guess

[whereisloe]

“I miss my wife tails.”

[whereisloe]

once a girl reported me to an administrator at school bc i was breaking dresscode and she didnt like me. so i pushed her down the stairs. i just kept walking and i dont think she saw me and i never got caught. i know she got very seriously injured and they had to call an ambulance and she transferred schools bc she knew SOMEONE pushed her and she didnt feel safe. ive never regretted it. its been years since i graduated and im on mood stabilizers now, but sometimes when someone is testing my patience i calm myself down by thinking about how good it felt to snap once and how i cant do that again bc i would go to prison probably

[whereisloe]

[whereisloe]

Rosemary

Summary: who would have thought that a small piece of paper could be the very thing that would crush your dreams with Arthur ?

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

content: suggestive, angst, hurt/no comfort (for now) probs grammar errors srryy

wc: 2k

a/n: hear me out, I thought about writing a jealous!reader oneshot with Arthur but,, I got a bit carried away and so many ideas came into my mind so I was thinking about making this a mini series with a pt.2. Let me know if you’d be interested in a pt.2 <33 (gif from pinterest)

Nothing was more relaxing to you than fixing some of Arthur’s shirts and pants while sitting outside your shared tent.

Seated on a small cushion placed on the ground with your back against one of Arthur’s chests your hands worked delicate but precise movements mending the cotton of his favorite black shirt. The rays of light sparkling from the east coast of the flat iron lake at Clemens Point casting a golden halo around you and the usual buzzing of camp making you feel at ease, letting you loose yourself in your thoughts.

During these moments your mind often drifted to thoughts about you and Arthur, the way he would make you feel all warm inside like a young naive teenager with just his soft glances and loving touches, how he would make you dream some of the craziest things for a couple of outlaws like yourselves like having a proper family with him, getting proper married before god and maybe even owning your very own ranch at some point.

Your dreamy stream of thoughts was soon interrupted as Mary Beth’s light footsteps on the dry grass could be heard coming towards your direction, with a strange expression you couldn’t quite decipher on her face and a small letter in her hands. As she saw you sitting down near yours and Arthur’s tent her fair features twisted into an anxious manner, her expression resembling the one of someone who just ate a whole lemon in one go, her steps faltering almost imperceptibly before continuing her path towards your shared tent.

“Hiya Miss,” she said in a chirpy tone, her voice higher than usual as she stopped in front of you, her eyes looking around avoiding your confused gaze as she played with the paper edge of the letter in her delicate hands.

“Arthur hasn’t come back yet ?” Strange. Her voice cracked a little at the end. She quickly cleared her throat with a small smile. Mary Beth's usual cordial and friendly façade cracked the more she was near you, letting you see her unusual unease.

“‘M afraid not, he said he was going into town for some ‘deputy thing’ with the Grays, why ? Did something happen ?” you replied imitating Arthur’s low voice and accent as you put down his shirt which was now fixed and your sewing kit. At your failed attempt at imitating his accent Mary Beth let out a small laugh, covering her smile with her free hand, relaxing just a tiny bit before regaining her previous composure.

Smoothing out the white envelope in her hands she handed it over to you, as you took it you couldn’t help but notice the sender’s name written in what you called a ‘fancy cursive’. You weren’t exactly good at reading or writing but the fancy ink swirls made out a familiar name.

The sender was Mary Linton.

“It’s for Arthur, it arrived this morning,” she told you looking at you with something in her eyes you couldn’t quite make out. Was it a shared distaste for the woman in question or was it perhaps pity toward you what you could see reflected in her eyes ?

You weren’t a stranger to who Mary Linton was, having joined the gang when you were eighteen and Arthur fresh of twenty-six you knew who Mary was, how she was Arthur’s first love, the woman he almost married if it wasn’t for her strict father not approving his lifestyle. The woman who completely shattered his heart.

You knew that after his breakup with Mary he was distraught, drinking and sleeping around almost every night before eventually getting one of the girls he slept with pregnant with his son Isaac. How he, from time to time, went to Eliza’s cabin and visited them, never failing to bring sweets and shiny toys for his Isaac who met him with a toothy little smile every time Arthur visited them until one day the only thing Arthur was met was an empty robbed cabin and Eliza’s lifeless body hugging Isaac’s one.

For almost a year you helplessly witnessed Arthur, the gang’s main enforcer, spiraling more and more into a toxic lifestyle. He began to drink more, often found sitting near the campfire drunk every night, his actions during jobs sloppy and reckless not sparing a single ounce of mercy for whoever dared to wrong him. His mood around camp bringing everyone down until one day you decided you had enough.

He had just come back from a job went wrong with Hosea, the older man's sour mood perceptible from miles away as he hitched his horse and quickly walked away to his tent, leaving Arthur behind talking pretty much to himself how it wasn’t his fault and he didn’t do anything wrong, the pungent scent of alcohol surrounding the space around him. Seeing the scene in front of you you quickly put down your cleaning rag and marched towards him giving him a loud earful in front of everyone in camp not caring that he was a 6’1 massive killing machine of an outlaw and eight years older than you and that you were the last addition to camp making you a nobody in the eyes of what was basically Dutch’s golden child. You simply had enough.

From that moment onwards Arthur started to get better, letting go of his usual whisky bottle and surprisingly starting to pay attention to you rather than avoiding or despising you, eyeing you with respect each time you expressed your opinion around camp, coming to your tent almost every night for advice or just to talk about life opening up to you about his family and past love building day by day an unexpected friendship which blossomed years later into your current relationship.

Seeing her name now again after so many years left you with a sour taste in your mouth.

You took the letter and placed it on Arthur’s nightstand as you thanked Mary Beth and began to tidy up your things.

The sky was beginning to lose its rosy color making space for a deep blue when Arthur came back, the gallop of his and Dutch horses announcing their arrival into camp.

You were chatting with Karen and Javier at the round table near the fire when you felt his hand on your shoulder, the scent of wood and gunpowder filling your nose letting you relax under his soft touch. He bent down to quickly kiss your cheek, a small show of pda which left you all warm inside, almost letting you forget about the letter. Almost.

“Hello sweetheart,” he said in his usual low tone near your ear, a shiver traveling down your spine at his vicinity a soft blush making its way into your cheeks.

“Miss Jones, Javier” he greeted your company before taking your hand in his calloused one letting you up from your seat and guiding you towards his tent leaving Karen and Javier sharing knowing glances between them.

As soon as you walked into your shared tent he made quick work of closing the flap before taking your face in his hands and kissing you. His soft kisses soon turned into hungry ones as his right hand left your soft cheek to trace down your neck then your collarbones before settling on your hips using your hips to guide you to lay on the bed.

“missed ya a lot today sweetheart,” he breathed on your neck as he positioned himself on top of you before kissing your sensitive spot, your eyes closed as your soft hands traveled onto his hair, tugging at his dirty blonde strands.

“got you in my mind the whole day, damn near made Dutch real name slip in front of them Grays. Jus’ couldn’t help but think ‘bout your pretty face.” he continued to kiss your sensitive skin, his words and his lips working like magic on you. His hands exploring your body inch by inch toying with the buttons of your white shirt.

As you open your eyes to look at Arthur you couldn’t help but remember the envelope sitting on his bedside table.

“Arthur,” you sighed trying to keep your voice stable but failing miserably as his teeth playfully bit your neck. The pleasure and the warmth of his body on top of yours was heavenly making you melt like butter under his touch but you were too curious to see what was in that letter to continue, your hands came on his shoulders to try and get the man off of you. “darling you, fuck, you’ve got a letter.”

As soon as you finished your sentence Arthur stopped his actions at once, his hands dropping on the soft mattress before getting up into a seated position beside you. He sighed as he ran his hands into his hair before taking the letter, his eyes quickly scanning the sender’s name before opening the envelope.

As his eyes read the elegant handwritten letter of Mary you couldn’t help but feel your heart beat out of your chest with anticipation, you knew it was stupid to feel this way but you couldn’t help but worry. Why is she mailing him after all these years of radio silence ? What did she want from him and how exactly did she know how to contact him ?

Deciding it was best to feign ignorance than to straight up get defensive and be viewed as possessive with Arthur you scooted closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder as you asked, trying your best to keep your façade, from who was the letter.

“Mh, nobody jus’ a sorry fellow I met.”

Your heart sank.

He lied to you. He lied to you without even an ounce of hesitation. A small ‘Oh’ left your lips as you didn’t know exactly how to respond, mind racing with many thoughts, the knowledge of his lie felt like an iced bucket of water was thrown at you, freezing you in your spot unable to move. A sense of nausea overtaking your body.

With a swift movement, he folded the letter and put it in the bottom drawer of the nightstand where other papers filled the small space. Turning back to face you he put one of his large hands on your cheeks caressing you with a delicacy that in that moment only made you further nauseous about the situation. His lips met your forehead, then your nose descending further down to your lips, too caught up in your thoughts you sat there unmoving. Arthur sensed your unusual attitude.

“y’alright sweetheart ?” he asked, you internally scoffed at his seemingly concerned expression. The nerve he had to be asking you that after he blatantly lied to your face.

“yeah just tired that’s all.” you dismissed him shifting on the bed and laying down on your side of the bed. You needed space to think, your mind going haywire. Was this the first time she mailed him ? Why was that as soon as you mentioned a letter he seemed to already know it was from her ? Why did Mary Beth act so strange when giving you the letter ? Why did he lie ? Why.

You wished you could let this go, forget about everything and melt back into his warm embrace, but you couldn’t. You had to find out what was going on.

Later that night when the outlaw was fast asleep beside you and the only sounds that could be heard were his soft snores that filled the space in your tent you found out that the other papers in the drawer were not random papers.

The drawer was full of Mary’s letters.