#rdr2 fanfic
This is a really delayed @rdr-secret-cupid piece for the wonderful @alwaysbeliev. This one got re-assigned pretty late, but I do hope you enjoy. I wrote a little piece about how Arthur got into art. I included a little drawing of Arthur’s first sketch, since it was so late, I hope you enjoy!
Leather and Graphite
Characters:Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews, Bessie Matthews
Themes:Fluff
Warnings:None
Words:2,929“What the hell were you thinking?” Hosea growled, releasing Arthur’s arm as they approached a bored looking horse.
“The guy started it!” Arthur argued, rubbing his arm.
“We were supposed to be scouting only, now we gotta move on, they are gonna be on alert now.” Hosea couldn’t look at the boy and he stepped into the saddle.
He thrust out a hand for Arthur, who climbed sullenly onto the horse. The ride back to their camp outside of town was silent.
“Oh, you’re back early!” Bessie looked up from her darning, putting her work down as Hosea and Arthur dismounted.
Her smile fell as she looked up at Hosea’s face, her eyes slowly moving to Arthur’s shrunken form behind him. “Is everything alright?”
Hosea scowled and turned to face Arthur. “Why don’t you tell her about our trip to town.”
The kid held his hat in his hands, a sheepish and pained look on his face. Hosea turned and took the reins, leading Amelia off to get her settled with the rest of the horses. Bessie patted the crate next to her.
“Come and sit, tell me what happened.”
Arthur plopped heavily beside her, his heels digging into the soft earth as he pushed his lanky legs out in front of him. He had grown so much in the last couple years, Bessie thought, looking down at him. She knew what this was about, he had started another fight, blown their cover.
“So, what was it this time.” She said gently, picking up the pair of trousers she needed to mend.
“It weren’t all my fault!” Arthur started, his voice cracking.
“It never is,” Bessie hummed.
Happy Valentine’s day @boedkerillustrations ! I hope you enjoy your angsty piece about Arthur, it was fun to write!
Arthur leaned up against a brick wall, enjoying the shade on the hot summer day at the park in Saint Denis. Droves of people swirled around him, mingling and mixing together with the same ebb and flow of a river moving leisurely around a rock. To be honest Arthur enjoyed the indirect attention. It allowed him to watch the people fret over little details of their day that seemed oh so important in the moment but tomorrow would be forgotten. The colors of their dresses. Who was coming to dinner. Where they should vacation next.
Blah, blah blah.
Talk was a worthless currency to a walking dead man. It didn’t matter. But stealing these little moments away drowned out the other words that constantly rang in his ears.
I don’t feel inspired to do art these days, I don’t have ideas and I dont particularly like the things that I do create so if anyone wants me to draw something RDR2 related I’d be happy to try!
If you don’t want a drawing or dont like my artstyle you can also ask for some RDR character reactions or imagine type scenarios
(if you want any sort of romance its an M/M or F/F event only)
A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 67)
Glimpse
Sorry for such a long wait for this chapter I’ve had some big life changes (moving to another country for one lol) so I’ve not been writing much. But it’s here, and it might be formatted weirdly coz I’m posting from my phone instead of my laptop. I’m also having some issues connecting to tumblr so this is going up a little later than it went up on ao3. Anyway, to those who are still here, enjoy!
(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)
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When I woke up in the morning Arthur was asleep by my side. The attack on the O'Driscoll’s must have been a success. I laid on my side next to him and watched him for a while, noticing the flecks of red on his cheek. They weren’t overly obvious at first glance, but the way I studied the face of the man I loved was close enough to notice even the smallest of details. The blood was dry and by the looks of things, not his. I reached out and traced my thumb gently over his cheek; with a few easy swipes the blood flaked off and he was clean again. I pressed a kiss to his forehead before laying back down and closing my eyes, snuggling closer to him to have a few more moments of sleep.
The day ahead was busy. People were preparing to move on, having made their plans and starting to pluck up the courage to actually leave. We knew that we couldn’t stay here for long and so there was a weird mix of urgency and hesitancy among us all.
Sadie – now content in the knowledge she’d done as much damage to the O'Driscoll’s as she possibly could, though far from at peace – mentioned bounty hunting. Still clearly on the hunt for justice in whatever form she could deliver it, being a woman with good aim and a ballsy attitude.
Lenny was gearing up for a long journey, compacting his belongings into just a pair of saddle bags that poor Maggie seemed only just about capable of carrying. He refused a wagon, wanting to travel lightly. He was going to be on the road for a long time, stopping wherever he could along the way in the sleepiest towns he could find, on his way to Washington like he had mentioned a few nights prior. In search of education. A better, more honourable future. I couldn’t be prouder of him.
Miss Grimshaw had heard from her potential moonshine partner. She’d sent off a letter to a Maggie Fike, who had seemingly written back right away, giving Susan information on her current whereabouts, organising a midpoint where the two could meet. Apparently she’d already started up a moonshine business with rather an odd character; never said a word, but got the job done. She said she’d appreciate the company of someone who could offer a little conversation, however, and welcomed her with open arms.
Abigail, John and Jack were all packed up too. Like Lenny, they packed lightly, taking their most important belongings and fitting them into saddle bags, and selling the rest for some extra pocket change. Their plan was to leave by boat, put some real distance between them and the folks who were after them. They wanted to take Jack to safety and lie as low as possible for as long as possible.
Charles was packed up too. In fact, he had been for the entire time we camped here, just unpacking the essentials when needed. He knew more than anyone that if he needed to go, it would be quick, given the ever changing situation at the Wapiti reservation. He’d found another family there, I believed. He’d always have one with us too, the remaining few good souls of the Van Der Linde gang… if we’d even be able to utter that name as part of our identities ever again. But the Wapiti people understood him in ways that we couldn’t, and I was overjoyed that he’d found that kind of love and support, despite the horrendous circumstances.
So, that left just Arthur and I. I took the liberty of starting to pack our things onto the remaining wagon that none of the others had claimed, my palms clammy and my heart rate elevated the entire time. We were leaving. Today, tomorrow, maybe the next day, but soon! Finally! It was happening! I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as Arthur helped me, collecting his clothes and his belongings and sliding them neatly across the wooden planks of the wagon. He knew it too, he knew this was it.
And then a man rode into camp. One I’d never met but knew within seconds who he was.
“Mr Morgan, Charles, my friends… It doesn’t please me to ask you for assistance yet again but I fear my son has made a grave mistake. He visited your old camping place not half an hour ago and he is riding towards the oil fields as we speak… with those men you used to ride with, and so many of my people at his side,” Rains Fall, a man with long hair and a pair of tired, kind and pleading eyes called out as he climbed down from his horse and came swiftly over to us.
“Dutch? He’s riding out there with Dutch?” Arthur hissed incredulously, “after we told him about everything that happened?” He wasn’t angry, he was in shock.
“Unfortunately so, I believe he went to him in spite of all this because he knew that he would help. Mr Van Der Linde has always encouraged his more reckless ideas,” Rains Fall sighed, eyes dropping to the ground as he shook his head. “Please, will you go there and assist him? I worry that with only Mr Van Der Linde and his followers at his side, he will lose all sense and put himself and everyone else in unnecessary danger!”
Arthur’s eyes met mine for just a moment, wide, indecisive, pained. I was too in shock to give him even a hint of what I was feeling, only staring back with just as much surprise. But Charles’ actions sealed his fate as he mounted up.
“Of course. I’m not letting Dutch take advantage once again, all he cares about is giving the authorities a bigger target than himself!”
“Charles–” Arthur began, stammering once or twice before giving up with a sigh and running to mount up too.
“Thank you, thank you!” Rains Fall breathed out in grateful relief, his hands pressed to his chest, “you are good men!”
Charles and Arthur began to ride, Lenny, Sadie and John joining them without hesitation, following them out of camp in a thunder of hoof steps. I stood and watched with a slack jaw, unable to muster enough rational thought to react.
“I must go back to the reservation, my people will need to move after this, no doubt,” Rains Fall explained, mounting up on his steed and leaving just as quickly as he came.
Momentarily my heart ached solely for him as I watched him ride away, until I was left in the stupefied silence of the camp and realised that I was alone again. Arthur had gone again. He was in danger, again.
I glanced over at Abigail, who’s face betrayed the same dumbstruck emotions as myself, watching after the small speck in the distance that was John. Her hand was loose around Jack’s, who stood and looked up at his mother and quietly asked where his father was going. He didn’t get a response. I stepped forwards, closing the gap between us, reaching for Abigail’s shoulder when I was close enough. She just let out a sigh when she felt my presence, shaking her head.
“I guess their work ain’t over yet,” her tone was a mix between defeated and angry. Harsh but soft at the same time. She turned and walked out of my arm’s reach and I let the hand drop, watching as she continued with her preparations for leaving.
“I’m sure they’ll catch up with ‘em, talk things out and stop it before anything happens,” I offered pathetically and she laughed without a drop of humour.
“You think so?”
I looked down at the ground, where the hem of my skirt dragged just a little and was covered in dust and frayed threads. “No,” I deadpanned, and turned to return to our wagon. There was little for me to do but I fiddled and rearranged things just to give my hands, and my mind, something to do. I needed to be occupied. Because that creeping sensation in my gut and in the back of my mind was back, the one that filled me with enough dread to completely consume me until I saw Arthur again.
But this time it was different. Because we were so close. So damn close! We had packed our things and were planning to leave over the next couple of days and then we’d be free! Free from all of the violence and the danger and the crap that being in Dutch’s gang had always brought since the very start. I was under no illusion that going it alone would come without its challenges and dangers, but at least we’d be fighting for ourselves. We’d be putting our necks on the line for us. Not getting swept up in other people’s problems.
It wasn’t that I didn’t think Arthur should help Rains Fall. It wasn’t that I thought his problems should be ignored, or weren’t worth the fight. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Arthur was doing the right thing and I wouldn’t for one second feel good about attempting to stop him from doing it; this was the man I fell in love with. One of the reasons why. His drive to do the right thing despite his upbringing and his time with Dutch. In his heart he was morally good and of course he would help people in need.
But.
We were so close.
An immeasurable amount of time passed before I let out a growl of frustration, as if something had been wearing me down for ages and ages until I had to give in to it. Then I found myself storming over to Rayna.
“Where are you going?” Miss Grimshaw yelled across the camp.
I didn’t consciously think of my response, it burst from my lips without input from my brain, it felt; “to the oil fields.”
“No you ain’t!” She hissed, whirling towards me as I mounted up.
“Don’t try and stop me Susan, I got a bad feeling about this and I ain’t sitting idly by waiting for them to bring Arthur back with a hole in his chest. I’m going over there and seeing the situation for myself,” I shouted back, not looking up.
“You’ll get yourself killed, girl!”
“I can look after myself just fine.”
“And Mr Morgan can’t? He ain’t alone out there, they’ll handle it. He don’t need to be worrying about you–”
“Please!” I sighed, scrunching my eyes shut, feeling them ache with the tears that wanted to come.
There was silence for some time, and I heard no further protests. I urged Rayna forwards and into a gallop, and followed the hoofprints that had been left by Arthur and our friends.
—
I arrived in good time, but my haste brought no relief; the oil fields were a gruesome sight to behold. Bodies littered the vast expanse in front of me and my mouth was dry. The fight still was not over, in the distance I saw men in uniform turning up on their horses, barely able to dismount before they were ambushed by a group of men that I recognised to be friends of Eagle Flies’. It looked as though I had missed most of the battle, but I urged Rayna forwards anyway.
As I got closer I decided to dismount, making my way across the wooden walkways stained with black sludge and blood, and closer to the main building where most of the men I saw were gathered. I made my way through the little village of huts and through the open doors of a train cart, through to the other side; gulping down my dread as I passed the gatling gun inside.
I spotted Charles. Standing by a door into the building, watching something intently. Relief of some sort washed over me but it wasn’t as strong as the fear I still felt; I was yet to hear or see any proof that Arthur was unharmed.
I closed the space between Charles and I, not making any noise, unsure of what I was walking into. As quiet as I tried to be, Charles still took notice of me, and his eyes widened as he realised who he was looking at. He made a beeline for me.
“What are you doing here?” He hissed with just as much surprise and disapproval as I had expected, if not more.
I ignored his question in favour of demanding an answer to my own. “Is Arthur okay?”
“Yes, but he’s in there with Dutch—”
“Dutch? Why on earth did you let him go inside with him?” I cut him off and immediately went for the door. Charles halted me with a strong hand wrapped around my forearm.
“I didn’t let him do anything; he insisted. He said he wanted to talk, try to make an agreement with him. I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen, so I said I’d wait outside,” he explained to me, eyes wandering to the building, “I was keeping watch to make sure nothing went wrong, until now. So I’ll ask again, what’re you doing here?”
“I came to see if you all were still alive, I was worried sick!” I told him as he walked back over to the door, still holding onto me to keep me by his side. “Where are the others? And what agreement does he wanna make?”
“Shh,” he put his free hand’s index finger to his lips and listened for a moment before answering. “Lenny and John just headed back to camp to protect it until everyone can leave, Sadie’s still here, keeping guard around the other side. And Arthur wants to make sure that Dutch won’t come after anyone after all this, he just wants… a truce?” He sighed and shook his head.
Shouting caught our attention from around the side of the building and Charles let go of my arm, readying his gun. It was clear that more men were turning up, and Eagle Flies and the others needed help.
“Stay out of trouble, hide somewhere inside,” he ordered me before running off out of sight. My arm tingled as the blood flowed back into the spot where he’d held me, and I ducked in through the door. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the dark interior, mostly lit by a furnace to my left. There were a couple of desks in the room, and I contemplated hiding under one of them, but then I heard Dutch speaking from the floor above, through the doorway to the next room.
“You betrayed all of us, stole from me,” his voice echoed over the sound of the machinery that filled the next room. “I had to bury my most loyal and valuable man yesterday because of you.”
My mind went to Micah, remembering his weakness when we left and realising that he must have only gotten worse. It didn’t make me happy but I’d be pretending if I felt any grief whatsoever.
I tiptoed through the doorway, eyes peeling upwards to the walkways above. I couldn’t see them, but I knew it’d be best if they didn’t see me. So I found my hiding place, under the walkway and between a pair of big metal pipe things, I had no idea what they were but they’d hide me, so I squeezed in close to the wall so I couldn’t be seen from any angle besides right in front of me. It would be good enough with the dim light.
“And now you want my word?” Dutch continued incredulously, then my heart raced at the sound of the voice that followed.
“I ain’t asking for much, just peace. I don’t wanna be a part of this no more, you gotta understand–”
“I don’t understand! I never understood you, Arthur, not at all these past months. You just got further and further from the man I thought I could trust, and after all I’ve done for you, you destroyed all my plans and my work,” Dutch’s voice raised.
“I didn’t ruin nothing, it was all falling to pieces already, you know that. And you think I’d let Micah shoot the woman I love for your sake? You ain’t that special Dutch, you don’t deserve nothing from me. That man was a snake the whole time, working for the Pinkertons, and I did you a favour by killing him. And I didn’t steal from you, I took what was ours, what we earned,” Arthur ranted in a stream of anger and unleashed frustrations, the likes of which I never expected to hear from him like this.
“All I’m asking is for you to give me your word and shake my hand, and tell me that you’ll do just as I’ll do and move on. No revenge. No fighting to the death. We can both get out of here and do whatever the heck we want, nobody has to spend their lives hunting someone down for vengeance,” he continued.
“How do I know you won’t stab me in the back as soon as I shake your hand?”
“Well, I s'pose you just gotta find what’s in you that trusted me all those years, and do it one last time,” Arthur said after a pause.
There was another stretch of silence.
“Or,” Dutch began, with a nonchalance that made my blood boil, “I could just shoot you now and rid myself of the risk.”
“You think you’ve got a quicker hand than mine? You and Hosea taught me how to use a gun. I know everything you do, plus everything I learned without you. You reach for that gun and it’ll be the last thing you do,” the coolness of Arthur’s voice made me shiver. It was so ruthless, so bare of emotion, so frightening. “You’re forgetting that I’ve got far more to live for than you do, Dutch.”
“What’s that, son?” The word made me turn my nose up, he was no father figure, far from it! “That floozy, that hopeless woman who did nothing but drag you down and take you away from everything that used to matter to you? This life, Arthur. This is what we used to fight for, our freedom! And you’re throwing all that away because of–”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Dutch. That was your dream, living like a crook all these years. I went along with it 'cause I had nothing, you were all I had. And it’s down to her that I realised that there’s more to life than you, than the gang, than this so-called freedom that just entails us lookin’ over our shoulders every damn day. There’s more to me than what you moulded me into,” Arthur was speaking with such diction, such certainty. It made me proud. It made me want to step out and applaud him but with things on such a knife edge, I remained hidden.
“Women, they always did have a way of rotting a good man’s brain,” was Dutch’s only response and I rolled my eyes.
“I won’t bother trying to get through to you Dutch, all I ask for is peace. I don’t wanna interfere with you, and I don’t want you interfering with me. If you can’t shake my hand like a man then I’m telling you Dutch; I ain’t afraid to solve this some other way.”
“Meaning you’ll have no qualms about killing me, huh?” Dutch said incredulously and released a heavy sigh.
Outside I heard more activity. There was a door near my hiding spot, just on the other side of one of the pipes, there was yelling and some gunfire. I prayed that Charles and the others were okay, and contemplated going out there to help. Something held me back though, I wasn’t sure what, but I felt as though I should stay. It was probably for the better, I wasn’t great with combat and my interference would probably just get me or someone else killed.
“We ain’t got much time Dutch, you gonna shake my hand, end this thing? Or are we gonna get shot by the army once and for all while we stand here like fools?” Arthur’s words gave me a clear image of what was happening above me. I imagined him standing before Dutch with his hand extended, waiting. Perhaps the other hand was carefully poised to grab his gun if things weren’t to be solved peacefully. Dutch was probably staring at him with that gaze that seemed to have the ability to freeze a person in place with its iciness despite the warm brown tone of his eyes.
“Fair enough,” Dutch finally said. Though his tone was a little light and apathetic, I got the impression that it was his pride that was doing it. He did not want Arthur to think he was doing this out of fear. He wanted to seem as though he was doing him a favour, in a way that was pretty inconsequential to him. But I knew better, because Dutch was scared. I had no doubt that after everything that had transpired over the past few days that Dutch wouldn’t hesitate to kill Arthur if he didn’t think that his own life would be in danger with the attempt. He wanted Arthur dead, his resentment was so clear.
He just didn’t have the balls to do it while Arthur was standing in front of him so impregnable and fierce.
I heard the clap of two hands coming together, and I envisioned the two men shaking hands. Calling a truce and, with any luck, putting this whole ordeal behind them. With any luck, though? We never had much luck. And I couldn’t say with total honesty that I trusted that handshake.
“Thank you,” Arthur said solemnly. “Now we better leave, these men will just keep coming and we can’t stay here much longer if we want a chance of actually getting out of here.”
“If you say so, Arthur,” Dutch’s voice was tired and nonchalant. I heard the creak of the floorboards overhead and the footsteps as the men made their way down the stairs. I froze up. Shit! I wondered if I should make myself known before I caught them by surprise. Would they even notice me? Was I well hidden enough? Fuck! I panicked as I scrambled for an idea about what to do but in the end I had no choice. A group of men rushed in through the door, yelling.
“There’s more in here!” They exclaimed, eyes peeled up towards the walkways, too focused on them to notice me. I cowered against the wall, huddling into the space as best I could, knowing that if someone saw me, I’d probably be dead before I had the chance to do anything.
I had to wait it out while I listened to Arthur work together with Dutch to clear the building. One last job together. One last glimpse of what they used to be.
DESERVING
Title:Deserving
Summary: A one-shot love story featuring Arthur Morgan and John Marston in which John struggles to understand Arthur’s new behavior around camp.
Word count: 1.6k+
Notes: mild cursing | feedback is appreciated!!!
Tags:@southernlynxx@rdr-secret-cupid
I’m your secret cupid, @southernlynxx !!! I’m so sorry this took forever dear; the past few weeks have been totally insane and out of my hands to control. I chose your first wish and decided to mix it up with some good reassurance (happy) angst which i found fitting for the theme;
John trying to understand & accept Arthur’s affection around camp! I hope you enjoy it, happy late Saint Valentine’sday!!!
P.D → I was inspired by this photo I took in my game! Totally worth it.
John never thought it would be like this.
At first, it was awkward—maybe bizarre. But that was just the beginning.
As the sun rose from the West, John walked out of his tent like a dead man; dark bags under his eyes and scratching his side, yawning without shame. Thirty minutes of sleep—or less—felt great. Just what he needed, right? Taking guarding rounds at night for the past few weeks to avoid him. Yes, that man. The one who had become his greatest relief and headache at the same time, Arthur Fucking Morgan.
While John agonized, Arthur was at his best. Refreshed, clean, and glowing like a damn pearl who had found its way to the surface, gleaming under the Sun—too shiny for John’s liking. Thankfully, his tormenting and seductive eyes were nowhere to be found yet. But, why was John avoiding him as if he was a pest? It’s complicated, you’ll understand later on.
John walked to the empty soup cauldron and grabbed the coffee pot next to it and a metallic cup nearby. He sighed as he sipped from the coffee he had just poured himself; feeling the smoke coming off his mouth like locomotor steam. He needed it to be functional, it had become his coal and main source of energy.
He stood next to the fire in the common area, waiting for Dutch to give a speech he had asked everyone the night before to hear. Why the hell would he give a speech so early in the morning when even the rooster hadn’t yet given his call to the sky? He wondered, staring his distorted reflection in the coffee in his hand.
It was a quiet morning, everyone who woke up, quickly waved at John and left to grab a coffee, or so it remained until the feared one appeared. He walked graciously without effort, his shirt had some buttons undone that showed his chest and collarbone, looking like a damn angel. He rinsed his face and John saw with detail from afar how every drop of water dripped down his face and neck. It made him thirsty. That man was no other than Arthur Morgan.
Arthur ran his hand through his hair and over his nape. To John, that man could’ve been the Devil himself walking on Earth, an angel who had fallen from Heaven for his ego. He was too full of himself, afly in making everyone blush in a moment’s notice. Before John could realize, Arthur was staring at the red in his cheeks and grinned, satisfied from his reaction.
“Damn you!” John whispered, looking anywhere but at him as he burned his tongue and narrowed his eyes.
Arthur, with his smug grin, quickly grabbed his coffee and sat next to the fire a few feet away from John, who didn’t know Arthur was just mesmerized with his foolishness, head over heels for a stubborn and reckless but loveable little piece of shit—a nickname truthful to his nature. A true rascal! Against his better judgement and all prognostics, an all-standing jinx befell upon him like rain in a desert.
He admired John from the ground, his strong jawline, the scars on his cheek that ran to his nose and the corner of his lips. However, his foul mouth didn’t catch up with his beauty—quick witted and far too fast for his train of thought that always got him in trouble. Arthur drank from his coffee and looked at John in the eye who, this time, didn’t turn their gaze away but held it dearly.
“What are you thinkin’ about?” John asked with his raspy voice, trying to sound uninterested but contradicted by the widened pupils in his curious eyes.
A walking contradiction, Arthur thought with a grin. “Wanna’ know?” He took a long swig of his cup and let it sit in his lap.
John hesitated for a moment. "No.“ Nevermind.
The blue-greened eye man cleaned the corner of his mouth with his thumb and licked it and slightly blushed. "What a shame.”
John couldn’t stop staring Arthur, something had lit in the corner of his mind.
“Anyway, what does Dutch want this early in the morning?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Arthur rolled his eyes and looked at his feet.
John gulped, bothered by Arthur’s sudden behavior to which he decided to blind the eye on.
“He’s been acting… strange,” John mutters, making a long pause.
He was right. Dutch had changed; it was the gleam in the eye he had always told them to not have—those of an ambition far too great, burned by being too close to the Sun. Everybody had noticed but kept quiet, making a silent agreement in not talking about the matter. John had a hunch of what it meant, but also kept quiet.
“No more than you; what’s going on with ya’? Did the wolves eat the brain whole? You’ve been avoiding me!”
Did he notice? He knew he wasn’t hiding the fact so well, but admitting it hurt his pride.
“The hell you sayin’?! No, I haven’t!”
Arthur smiled in response, as if it was the answer he was expecting.
“Why?”
John narrowed his eyes.
“Why what?”
“You know.”
He stood up, spilt the coffee left in his cup into the fire and slowly walked to John. His body swung with temptation, a fierce cat-walk with a daring look in his eyes. John felt like his feet were stuck to the ground, unable to take just one step aside to avoid the storm walking straight to him. His metallic eyes were bewitched by Arthur’s; he sure knew how to charm him every damn time.
He didn’t stop until he towered over John, trapping him with his voluptuous figure.
“Why are you so shy?” He whispered to John in the ear with a burning breath that heated and tinted his cheeks in deep red.
John forgot how to breath. He was so close that he felt their bodies touch and their minds collide.
“I, uh…”
“you what, dear?”
How shameless could the bastard be? Didn’t he have any limit?
“I don’t wanna talk here; let’s go somewhere else.” John imposed in a soft mutter.
“Alright.”
They went to John’s tent taking hands. They were cramped in such a small place, where their breathing burned eachother’s skin and only a dim light shined through the entrance. A long pause arrived when the world had seemed to stop rotating and time had gone somewhere else, making everything but them oblivious and unimportant.
“I don’t understand why are you doing this,” John said with long sigh, finally giving in.
John rested his head in Arthur’s shoulder, feeling his body finally relax after the tense moment.
“I thought we were a secret, ya’ know?” he muttered, “a thing only you and I knew. Our thing.”
Arthur combed his fingers through John’s black hair, softly caressing the back of his head and humming in agreement.
“I don’t seem to understand why you smile at me every time you see me or why you, like, want to touch me every time you can—or when you look at me like that.”
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“No! I, ugh… I don’t know.”
Arthur chuckled. “I get it.”
John sighed in relief. Did it mean he would stop acting weird? I mean, Arthur would always be a bastard no matter how you look at it, but he called it an improvement.
“I’m sorry” he continued ”, but there’s no stopping me in loving you.”
What. In. The. World. That’s not what he meant!
“Arthur, you’re not listening—”
“Every damn word, of course I do…”
“Then why are you doing this?!” John buried his head deeper, frustrated. “I’m an asshole, okay, I get it. But that’s not a reason for you to do this to me.” Enchanting me, making me drunk with every word you whisper. Damn you.
“John, I—”
“I don’t deserve it.”
A long silence between them came to be except for the more recurrent footsteps outdoors, stumping into the grass and dirt. John held tighter to Arthur, who stepped back only to take a closer look to his face, eye to eye.
“Listen closely, you little piece of shit.”
John flinched to the sudden grab by his collar, wanting to look away but Arthur only held his gaze closer.
“There’s no denying that you are an idiot— but my idiot. I’m a fool myself, an old dirty bastard that’s only getting older with every day that goes by, thinking that I’m the happiest man alive every damn time I look at you and even though I know I don’t deserve it either. I ain’t a good man, John. And you fucking know it.” He grabbed his collar stronger as if it was a threat, with that dead look in his eyes that had seen the deeds their owner had done.
After Arthur realized what he did, he let John go.
“If it was about deserving, John, you would’ve never been mine.“
He gently took John’s hand laid it in his face, placing a gentle kiss in the back of his hand.
John couldn’t speak a word. His mind had gone blank except for the beautiful image of Arthur lovingly playing with his fingers, laying kisses in the tip of his fingers, and the words that uttered in the corners of his mind, echoing Arthur’s whispers.
"I’m sorry, John. But I beg you, let this damn fool love you and show it to you.”
John placed his hand in Arthur’s earlobe. As if both had read their minds, they looked into each other’s eyes before leaning into a soft, gentle kiss.
Their kisses never tasted sweet. It was rough, with sweat and blood that was so common in there lives. Neither of them deserved the sweet taste of paradise, but they were making one of their own.
“You make me feel like a fool, Arthur.”
“You too.”
John wished this moment lasted forever. He wanted to enjoy the moment when their souls had gotten closer, but a voice outside called.
“Arthur, John, Where are you?!” Dutch called, irritated of waiting.
They separated and held each other’s gaze for a moment.
“We should go,” John whispered tenderly as he rolled he eyes.
“Let’s go,” Arthur chuckled.
Arthur gently held John’s hand before heading out of the tent, ready for the world.
RUN KID RUN
Title: Run Kid Run
Summary: Dutch and Hosea are trying to teach John how to read but he runs off after they got frustrated and Arthur goes deep into the woods looking for John.
Word count: 2298
Notes: mild cursing | brief scene despicting an almost hanging | feedback is appreciated!!!
Happy late Christmas and Happy new year! I’m sorry I’m so late, this took me forever; I’ve been giving it a long thought and decided to comply to your second item in your wish list!
2) i love DUMB ASS John Marston and his better looking brother Arthur; give me a slice of life with the two of them pre-canon, or a story about them helping the other thru a tough time.
I’ve decided to combine both ideas and so this story came to be.
When Arthur was twenty-three, he saw a boy—dirty, savage and with a look in his eyes that had given up on living. This boy was with a rope in his neck, ready to be hanged. Dark gray with no reflection but death itself; no tears, no regret. Dead Eyes that held onto dear life with a fierceness reflected in his fists.
Next to the boy, an unnamed man spoke words of dead wisdom and nonsense which to the eyes of Arthur was meaningless.
“We have come to see the of law enacted. We will not sit idly by as people take the law into their own hands!”
Heavy kind of bullshit that Arthur didn’t enjoy a bit.
The crowd of the town roared loudly in excitement and agreement. For them, it was only entertainment, a show that made Arthur’s gut churn with anger. He tilted his hat lower and turned around, ready to move on. However, Dutch’s hand landed on his shoulder and stopped him.
“He looks like you did, a while ago,” Dutch said with a smirk before the gun in his hip shot the rope on the boy’s neck.
“He doesn’t.”
The boy’s shine returned in a glimpse that Arthur caught with both his eyes and heart. A will to fight and survive, to get the hell out of the mess that was about to start.
“What the hell Dutch?!”
“He was not meant to. Not yet.”
A sense of relief in his chest appeared with a long deep breath. He was glad for the boy that had gotten a chance to live, what was Dutch and Hosea thinking when they brought him into camp?
Arthur got wounded in the dirty fight they had in town for freeing the boy and he was resting in his tent, with Susan on his side cleaning his injuries. When Dutch and Hosea walked in, he asked: “What took ya’ so long?” with a warm grin that quickly faded into disbelief.
The boy stood between the two men, pouting his lips, frowning and crossing his arms as means to make himself more intimidating. The way Dutch smiled, looked and treated him with his gentle gestures and Hosea had given his jacket to protect him from the chilling breeze of that night was so familiar to Arthur; he had been in that place after all. What was that boy doing in camp? Similar to himself in the past, why did they needed to bring someone as intense and dumb as him? Wasn’t one dumb enough? He wondered.
“What’s your name, kid?” Arthur asked after he noticed Dutch’s gaze on him.
The boy stood silent.
“Come on boy, tell him.” Dutch crouched to his side and whispered words to him that Arthur wasn’t able to hear.
He remained silent.
When Arthur was twenty-four, he met the boy. A month had passed from his rescue and Arthur’s birthday quickly arrived with the cold and mean air of winter. There was no snow landscape yet, the skies had become dark and gray like the boy’s eyes and the fallen leaves
“John Marston,” the boy said with a mean streak that left Arthur with a bad taste in his tongue.
“Arthur Morgan.” He extended his hand to greet but John had already abandoned and left him with the words unsaid in his lips.
Arthur sighed and placed his hands on his gun belt; he could see John’s silhouette far away, hiding somewhere where he thought no one could see him, and grinned. A part of him still refused to acknowledge John, prouder than a bull and wilder than a cougar in a midnight sky, and another part of him found itself in that boy who slept with a knife under his pillow.
“John, come here!” Dutch called the next morning.
Arthur was laying in comfortably in his bed, with his worn-out leather hat covering his eyes, thinking about what to draw in his journal. A bird? A flower? An herb? His imagination was as dull as dishwater and his brain couldn’t tell skunks from house cats. Boredom was partly guilty of the dullness, too.
“John, come on.” From his closed tent, Arthur saw how Hosea’s figure grabbed John’s arm and took him somewhere beyond the reach of their shadow. A loud growl, from the boy, echoed through the whole camp that Arthur scoff. The boy was that stubborn?
The blue-eyed man closed his journal, stood up from his bed and walked out of his tent to do the chores of the day. As he chopped wood, he could see Dutch and Hosea, with John between them, sitting together in one of the round tables near the food station with a book in hand. This was going to be fun to see, Arthur thought.
“Okay, let’s try this again,” Dutch said firmly. “Read this part here.”
“No,” John scowled.
“Why not? It’s not that hard if you try. Here. The king in his…” Hosea slowly talked
John went silent.
“Boy,” Dutch lowly growled.
Arthur swung his axe over the log and splat it in half. When he was putting the wood aside, he peeked at John. The boy had his arms crossed, frowning and giving the book in the table a deadly gaze. Did he hate reading that much? Arthur laughed to himself and got caught by Hosea who looked at him with disapproval. Oh shit, oh shit, ohshit. He tried to slowly walk away, feigning ignorance, but the older man approached quicker than he predicted and grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Arthur.” Hosea squeezed hard the shoulder blade and grinned in a way that created grimace in Arthur’s expression, “wanna’ join us? I thought I could show you the new book I got!”
Arthur grunted.
Justgreat. He knew Hosea’s way of scolding Arthur and thinking about it annoyed him, however, he didn’t expect to see Dutch vexed, red-faced and squeezing the book with both his hands, yelling to John.
On the other hand, Hosea was perplexed. He dragged his hands over his now tired face and sighed.
“He wasn’t this troublesome!” Dutch said to Hosea, referring obviously to Arthur.
Something in that statement made Arthur chest puff in pride. Oh boy, he really liked that. Even if he refused to acknowledge this feeling to everyone else, he liked it when Dutch or Hosea praised him.
Arthur remembered the days when Dutch and Hosea were teaching him to read. Hot summer days, mosquitoes everywhere and that smell he couldn’t forget, berries and lemon, which brought his mind ten years back, when he was a thin, small and young boy. He grinned to the loveable thought and looked at Dutch fighting with John.
“Dutch, what’re ya doin’!? Don’t ya’ grab him like that and rub his head!”
“I know he can do it, but he’s not even trying!”
Something Arthur knew is that Dutch would take as “true” whatever he assumed; and hardly took back his words—standing for what he believed, a true blessing for the wise and a curse for the ignorant. Later on, Arthur didn’t know which of those Dutch was. A true mystery until the very end.
“Dutch, calm down, you’re gonna scare ‘im…”
“But I know he can—"
“Shut up, you pair of dimwits!” Susan yelled from afar as she sewed one of Arthur’s shirt.
And before any of them could say any further word, John slammed his hands against the table and ran away into the woods that surrounded the camp.
“Get back here, boy!”
What a mess. When Arthur saw no signs of Dutch calming down or Hosea backing down, he decided to look out for the now goner.
“John! Where are ya’!?” Arthur yelled as he stomped over some broken sticks. Definitively John.
“Ya’ damn bastard, dontchu’ ever get tired?” he whispered to himself, wondering as he furrowed his brows and rushed his pace.
As he walked deeper into the woods, the stars that normally would be faded under sunlight, had come out without any shame, telling Arthur to hurry. The breeze got colder and the sky darker and even if he found clues of where he could have gone to, the boy sure knew how to keep out of sight. He was going nuts; what the hell was the kid running from?! He had nothing to run from and nowhere to go, what was he thinking?
“John!” He called once more before he heard a gasp to his side.
The moment he turned his head, he saw a terrified boy who had fallen into the ground. Unlike the first time he saw him, fierceness shone in his eyes despite of the fear that his thin body could not hide—however, that didn’t mean it wasn’t agile. He quickly got up into his feet and started running towards the glowing moon.
“Oh no, you ain’t!”
He could hear John’s broken breathing and how he gasped for the air he didn’t have; it broke Arthur’s heart.
“Watchu’ running from, kid?!”
Arthur got closer with every step he took and grabbed without any restrains John’s wrist to stop him, quite brusque for his liking but there was nothing he could do. Those iron eyes gazed at him with the loathe and anger he deserved which left a sour flavor in his mouth. John struggled to free himself from Arthur’s grip but it only got stronger.
“Lemme ask you again, kid. Watchu’ running from?”
John struggled again and Arthur grabbed his other wrist. He took a deep breathe and closed his eyes for a moment. Was it this hard for everyone else to deal with him? Being a kid in the streets wasn’t easy, it roughens you up in a way that shatters what you truly are, breaking and eventually rotting every corner in your mind. But he was no kid in the streets no more, he could finally begin living and not just survive.
“He wanted to kill me,” John replied in a quick low whisper.
Arthur raised a brow. “Dutch was shootin’ his mouth off and by now Hosea and Susan must have given ‘im a black eye for that.” He tried to sound reassuring.
“Let go!” John fought with all his strengths to free himself; Arthur tightened his grip.
“Listen to me, kid. You got nothing to run from; here you got a bed, food and people who want ya’—”
“Dead…” John interrupted.
“Let me finish! Goddamit—as I was saying. None of ‘em want ya’ to be a goner.”
“How can I trust you? They all said I was an idiot, useless. They all hate me and they’ll kill me. It’s better if I’m gone.”
“We’re family.” Arthur meant it. He had found a part of himself in the little black-haired boy that wanted to keep running; running to never look back, from all the things he didn’t deserve.
“We ain’t.”
“Listen to me you little piece of…! You became part of us the very moment Dutch cut that rope on your neck and brought you into the camp.”
“Still; that doesn’t mean I can trust you guys. You’re outlaws.”
John wasn’t buying a single bit of what Arthur was saying. Shit. At this rate he was gonna run off by himself and God knows what would happen to him.
“They took me in when I was your age.” John’s eyes widened in curiosity; “I… well, my momma died when I was real young and my daddy… let’s say I wish he did too. They taught me how to read and Hosea taught me how to draw.”
Despite of the nervousness inside him, Arthur took the journal out of his satchel and gave it to John without letting go of one of his wrists. He eagerly flipped through the pages and stopped to look at some of the drawings it contained; some of the graphite stuck into his fingers, but it didn’t stop him from eyeing with detail each illustration.
“Why didn’t ya’ read? Back then, when Dutch and Hosea asked you to.”
There was a long pregnant pause. “I did—read it, I mean. I, uh, wasn’t sure to er, say it out loud.”
“Really?” Arthur smiled from ear to ear. “See? You’re smart, John! Ya’ ain’t that bad, there’s potential.”
John blushed at Arthur’s praise and kept looking at the drawings until he reached the last one, that page that had remained blank for the whole day.
“They are family to me. Family is everything; I’d die for it.” His voice didn’t shake even once.
John closed the journal and gave Arthur a gaze full of admiration that Arthur wasn’t worthy of. He could be one nasty son-of-a-bitch, rash to anger and emotions; unfamiliar to giving inspirational speeches like Dutch would do or smooth-talking like Hosea the Conman.
“And I will…” he stuttered, “I, uh…”
“You what.”
“I won’t let them kill ya’; just in case.”
A mischievous grin appeared in John’s face. “That won’t stop me tho.”
Arthur had let his guard down. John escaped from his grip and started to run the fastest he could. Where the hell was he going to and, most importantly, where the heck had he gotten all that damn energy from?
“Cuz’ I’ll kill ya’ myself, you little piece of shit!”
“Thank you, brother” John screamed in the distance.
“You ain’t got the right to be my brother!” Yet, he wanted to say but kept it to himself.
That day, when Arthur was twenty-four, his family grew by one member. Even if mocked him every now and then and behaved like assholes, it was the most important thing to Arthur. It was everything he had—not like money or gold; those two could go straight to hell unless Dutch and Hosea gave the word.
Spy Awry 2: Mail Room Boogaloo (RDR2 Fanfic, Low Honor Arthur x F!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)
Summary: You had been caught during your mission to infiltrate the FETA corporation, but fortunately you had struck a deal to keep your cover. Unfortunately, however, the deal was not on your terms. A very dishonorable Arthur Callahan had you paying for his silence in his apartment, but he had never brought the terms of the agreement to the workplace. Until now.
Author’s Notes: I wasn’t expecting to write a sequel, but I got horny.
Tags: low honor Arthur, modern AU, bad spy plot as a cover for porn, porn tropes, doggy style, dirty talk, rough sex, office sex, standing sex, creampie, ambiguous ending
Word Count: 4083
——————–
“Have you found him yet?”
Arthur shook his head and looked at his client straight in the eyes. “No sir, haven’t found him. He’s stopped his movements. Maybe he left?”
The rotund man stroked his beard with all the cliché slowness of a James Bond villain. He looked as if he was stuffed into a business suit purchased off the shelf with shoulder seams that lined up with the top of his arms rather than his shoulders. “Maybe he’s biding his time until the heat is off of him. You said you nearly caught him after you started monitoring the 14th floor?”
“Yup.”
The man let out a sigh. “Well, stick around for another couple of weeks. At least find out what he took and report back to me.”
***
You typed away, filing reports and organizing meetings with the ease of a veteran party planner. Getting ten busy people to agree to one time slot wasn’t nearly as hard as everyone made it out to be; it was just a simple matter of tenacity and patience with these kinds of people. Alpha personalities, all who need their needs catered to, could easily be manipulated into cooperating if they smell profit for themselves.
When taking that into account, it was easy to cajole partners into coming to the office for in-person meetings by luring them in with promises of free lunch and opportunities to line their pockets with extra profits.
You were damn good at your job.
But you were supposed to be a corporate spy. What were you doing, performing actualwork?
You had to lay low. After your “run-in” with Arthur in the warehouse last week, the two of you had agreed that he would turn a blind eye to your actions, but that you had to be very careful not to be caught by anyone else, as he was sure he wasn’t the only investigator on the payroll. In exchange, you would visit him after work for, as he called it, “insurance.”
Every night, you’d go up to his small studio apartment and knock slowly on his door three times followed by another three quick raps. He’d open it, drag you inside, and fuck you silly. It was animalistic, pure lust that drove the two of you to tear off each other’s clothes and fornicate wildly. And in the end, you always begged him to come inside of you, and he always gave it to you, a wicked grin on his face.
And every time, you would quickly wash up and leave, despite his attempts to cajole you into staying. He never threatened to blow your cover at those times; perhaps the post-nut bliss made him a little more tame, more forgiving. But you always left as quickly as possible, not wanting to foment any intimacy. You couldn’t afford any emotional connection. This was purely physical.
You knew it was twisted, this farce of a relationship. At work, you were fierce and he was friendly. At his place, you were compliant and he was commanding. In a strange way, coming to him felt like a release from the control you held tightly in your white-knuckled grip during the day.
The familiar sound of a mail cart being rolled around on the threadbare carpet was Pavlovian in its effect on you. Squeezing your thighs together, you took a deep breath and continued to work, ignoring the heated gaze that Arthur directed at you once he rounded the corner.
“Hey there,” he said amicably, waving his hand once. While anyone else might see him as a nice guy with a placid smile, what you noticed immediately was the smirk on his lips as he passed your desk, and the subtle flick of his wrist as he dropped something from his shirt sleeve to land quietly on top of your keyboard. He walked away smoothly, not a single step out of pace as he headed back towards the elevators, but not before shooting you one last, suggestive glance.
A moment was all it took for the lust in his eyes to hit you like a fireball. You swallowed and continued to type, although for a good ten seconds, you realized you were typing the previous paragraph over again. Glancing around and noting that no one was around, you took the small piece of paper, folded up into a compact triangle, and unraveled it.
Meet me in the mail room at lunch.
You looked up at the clock. It was 11:35am. You checked your schedule. Realizing that it was open for once, you wrapped up what you were doing and made your way down to the elevator hallway. Your heart thumped harder with each step, your hands growing a little clammy. Was it nerves? Or was it anticipation?
Perhaps a little bit of both.
***
“You made it, darlin’,” Arthur said delightedly as he looked up and saw you enter the mailroom. The place was small, but well kept. You weren’t surprised; Arthur’s apartment was just as organized. There were shelving units all along the walls, with a desk in the middle of the room, flanked by two folding tables, one labeled OUT and the other labeled IN. The desk had very little on it, just a dusty all-in-one computer with a dingy keyboard and mouse.
“Why am I here?” you asked. You already had a hunch, but he wouldn’t do this here, would he? He might blow his own cover.
He got up from his shitty hand-me-down office chair and stalked towards you. Instinctively, you backed up until you hit the door. His eyes held yours as he reached down and locked the handle.
“Yer a smart girl,” he said softly. “I think you know why you’re here.”
You swallowed, then nodded slowly. Yeah, you knew. Your body certainly knew, as heat pulsed between your legs.
A warm thread of desire wound its way through the tone of his voice, making him sound raspy, barely on the cusp of control. “Spread your legs.”
You took in a deep breath as you widened your stance. You knew better than to touch anything; Arthur was the kind of man who wanted to do everything himself.
He took the hem of your skirt and slowly lifted it. The fabric dragged along your thighs until it bunched up around your waist. Your turquoise lace panties barely hid the fact that you were wet, had been since you had received his note.
“Naughty girl,” he murmured as he placed two fingers over your slit, pressing against the damp fabric. “Thinkin’ dirty thoughts?”
“Your fault,” you breathed.
“Oh? How so?” He slowly rubbed his fingers against you, pressing down on your clit as he did.
Your mind short-circuited, and you couldn’t quite come up with a witty response. “Your stupid note.”
Arthur chuckled. “I could’ve just been askin’ you out for lunch.” His fingers pressed harder, stroked you faster through the fabric.
Your attempt at a sarcastic huff came out as a soft moan instead.
“Admit it. You like this.” He leaned in closer, crowding you against the door, his breath on your ear. “You want this. You needthis.”
You whimpered. His deep voice vibrated into your very bones.
He growled softly as he slipped his fingers past your panties, gliding them inside of your slippery channel. “My dirty little spy,” he crooned in your ear. “You want to come on my fingers or my cock?”
Without hesitation, you answered. “Your cock, please, your cock.”
You could feel the smile on his lips against the sensitive skin of your temple before he placed his other hand around your mouth. You had a millisecond to wonder why before he started to rub your center at a furious pace.
“Quiet now, darlin’,” he said as he fingered you. “You don’t want anyone to know what a little slut you are, do you?”
You shut your eyes and controlled your moans, but as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, you couldn’t help yourself and let out a whine of desperation.
Arthur’s deep rumble in reply sent shivers down your spine. “You need it, don’tcha?”
You nodded. You tried not to show how desperate you were for his touch, but a small, pathetic noise escaped your throat anyway. You were a heated, trembling mess.
He nibbled on the shell of your ear as he slowed his touch. “Too bad, I ain’t ready to end this just yet.”
Letting you go, he caught you by your waist as you crumpled, barely able to stand. You were so damn close, frustration welling deep in your bones.
“Dammit Callahan!” you hissed as he led you back to his desk. You opened your mouth to shit talk him, but your words died in your throat as he grabbed your neck and guided you slowly down until you lay on top of his desk.
“The only words I want to hear from that pretty mouth of yers is ‘yes sir’, ‘please sir’, and thank you sir’,” he growled. “Otherwise, you better be moanin’ my name.”
HIs eyes pinned you down as effectively as his big hands. “Y-yes sir,” you said automatically, easily submitting to his command. If only life were so easy: give this man what he wanted, and he would take care of you.
But at least for a little while, you didn’t have to think.
“Good girl,” he said, smiling as he released his grip on your neck. He let his hand trail down your chest, and gave one of your breasts a playful squeeze before he stroked down your belly, then rested his hand over your mons and patted you there gently. “Now, lift yer skirt, sweetheart.”
With a quick, dutiful nod, you obeyed, lifting your ass up just enough to tuck the fabric up around your waist. As you started to slide your panties down, he lightly batted your hands away. Instead, he took the turquoise fabric in his hands and slid it off of your body. His fingers skimmed over your skin as he lifted your legs and pulled your panties off, leaving your legs hanging over his shoulder.
“I’ll keep these fer now,” he said, pocketing your panties. “You certainly won’t need’em.”
“But—”
He slapped your ass. “Are you questionin’ me?”
You bit your lip. “No, sir.”
Leaning down, Arthur gripped your jaw firmly. “You goin’ to be my good girl, ain’t that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiled before he kissed you, a surprisingly gentle kiss, his lips lingering on yours before he pulled away. Spreading your legs, he kneeled down and pulled you close to the table’s edge. He moved your legs, one hooked over each shoulder, and leaned forward.
His tongue on your clit was an epiphany, no matter how many times he did it. The licking, the teasing, the perfect pressure he applied when he knew you needed it, were all so goddamn euphoric that you felt like a goddess being worshiped by her most devout believer.
“Oh god, oh god,” you mewled.
Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed as he moved his head away, and you whimpered. He licked your essence from his lips and pinned you with an intense stare, his pupils dilated with desire. “Beg for me, darlin’, not god.”
“Arthur, please Arthur, Arthur!”
He went right back to your core, his lips wrapping around your center and sucking abruptly.
“Oh fuck, Arthur!” You were so close. So damn close
He hummed. The vibrations went through your body and straight into the pleasure center of your brain. You instinctively reached for his head and dug your fingers into his hair, lifting your hips off the table as you ground down on his face. His tongue pressed against your clit and he licked effusively as he pushed one finger inside of you and curled it upwards.
You exploded, a climax of colorful fireworks exploded behind your eyelids as pure bliss shot through your veins. He reached up and clamped one hand around your mouth to stifle your moans as you shook with your release. Your hips shuddered and your body went rigid as you felt the stress of the world, of everything, slip away, and time lost all meaning. All you were left with was this wonderful, light feeling of pleasure. You could only hear the beating of your own heart for a few moments, followed by the low chuckle of a man who knew he could get what he wanted.
Opening your eyes, you watched Arthur lick his lips before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Delicious,” he purred as he stood up to his full height, towering over you. He reached down to his pants and unzipped his fly.
No matter how many times you saw his full length, you always had a visceral reaction to him. Your body pulsed with desire.
“I can see you droolin’,” he said as pulled out his cock, hard and dripping at the tip. He reached up to your cheek and held it gently for a moment. “Don’t worry girl, I’ll give you what you need.”
Then his grip changed to cover your mouth, and his visage turned feral. With a grunt, he shoved himself inside of your wet channel.
After your initial cry of surprise, you devolved into a moaning, whimpering creature of need. His cock was so thick, so filling, so damn good. You wrapped your legs around him as he fucked you. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk to keep yourself steady. His staccato rhythm laced with a tone of near desperation echoed in the space where the two of you gave into a primal lust.
Arthur leaned forward, his pelvis rubbing against you in all the right ways as he slowed his thrusts. “You want it from behind, pet?”
Without meaning to do it, you tightened your channel around him.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said smugly as he pulled out of you and flipped you onto your belly. Taking your left hand, he covered your mouth. “Keep yerself quiet while I fuck you.”
You muffled your own cries as he gripped your hips and did as he said. He fucked you with a passion, his moans intertwining with yours as you stuck your hips out, begging for more. Deeper, harder, you wanted all of him, and you wanted him to make you his.
Arthur leaned forward, his forearms caging you in. You felt the puffs of his breath on your ear, the low growls as he sped up his pace. “Gonna fill you up, darlin’. Can’t wait for you to walk around with my cum dryin’ on your thighs.”
You let out a whine of need.
His hand covered yours over your mouth. “Such a loud li’l spy,” he murmured. “This what you need? Need my cum?”
You nodded vigorously.
Arthur’s breathing hitched. “Fuck, then take it all, sweetheart.”
He tightened his grip on you. You swear his fingers were going to leave bruises on your hip, but you didn’t care. Your mind was so focused on pleasure that you didn’t think about anything else. Turning your head as much as you could with his hand on your mouth, you saw his fierce expression as he barreled towards his climax, a slight snarl on his hips. He looked truly feral, rutting you like a beast.
“Every. Last. Drop,” he gritted out, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust of his hips as he came inside of you. His head leaned back and his eyes closed as he let out another low moan of satisfaction. He held you down, keeping his hips against yours until he caught his breath.
When he finally let you go, you felt some of his cum leaking out, dripping onto your inner thighs. You quickly squeezed your legs together. Turning to him, you held out your hand for your panties.
He smirked and pulled your panties out of his pocket. “You want these?”
You reached for them, but he took a step and pulled them away. “I think I’ll keep these, sweetheart. As a trophy.” He tucked your panties back into his pocket.
“You bastard,” you grit out, but the afterglow made your words sound less harsh than you meant.
Arthur chuckled. “Been called worse.” He then leaned forward and cupped your cheek gently. Your heart started to beat hard as his face turned serious. “Darlin’, the boss is startin’ to get impatient. I can’t keep holding them off. You need to quit in a week, or I’ll have to turn ya in.”
You stared at him in shock. “A… a week?”
He nodded. “Get what you can and get out. Can’t protect you any more than I have been.”
For a moment, there was only silence. The two of you stared at each other, you trying to figure out what to do, and him, waiting for your answer.
Finally, you came to a conclusion. “Alright. I’ll be quick.”
***
“You sure you haven’t been caught by the company?”
You sweated as you stared at the phone screen. You had just video-called your boss, your real boss at SpiralX, to report back, and now he looked at you in disbelief.
“I’m sure. I made a deal,” you replied. You weren’t lying.
He gave you a long sigh. “Even if the one who caught you was a third party, that doesn’t mean they still won’t turn you in later. You better leave town and cover your tracks.”
“I will.”
“Alright.” Your boss leaned back in his chair and regarded you with the same mix of irritation and resignation as one would their guilty child who had just broken a window with a wayward baseball. “So what’s the price?”
“Don’t worry, I already paid it,” you said. You hoped your face was as blank as possible, but your boss also taught you everything you knew about spywork.
Your boss raised an eyebrow, but only nodded without questioning you any further. “Alright. Get going.”
The video call ended, and you breathed a sigh of relief.
***
Your meager belongings were packed, your car filled with most of your boxes. The last things in the apartment were the air mattress you had been sleeping on for the past two nights, a pillow, and a light blanket. You were in the middle of letting the air out of the mattress when you heard the doorbell.
Not knowing who it could be, you carefully went up to the door, sidling up to it in case it was someone dangerous. Peeking out of the peephole, you were surprised by your unexpected visitor. So surprised, in fact, that you didn’t move.
“I know yer in there, darlin’.”
Sighing, you finally opened the door.
“Hello, Arthur,” you said quietly. You had hoped not to see him. You weren’t supposed to become attached. Ever since you had quit your job a week ago and walked out of the office, you had thrown yourself into cleaning and getting rid of the few pieces of furniture you had acquired.
You had been pretty successful at not thinking about Arthur for the first few days. But then on the fourth day, in the morning, when you woke up ravenously horny and needing satisfaction, you jilled off so hard to the thought of Arthur holding you down and having his way with you that you cried out his name. You immediately felt frustrated and vowed to not do it again.
Except that you did the next day, and the next.
And now, he was here, in front of you. Your gaze unconsciously wandered down his body.
“I see where yer lookin’,” he said with a smug grin. Without asking, he sauntered right into your empty apartment and shut the door behind him. “Yer not goin’ to ask how I found you?”
“You’re a private eye. I can guess how.”
He shrugged. Then he looked at you thoughtfully for a moment, then took another step towards you. “Then can you guess why I’m here?”
You looked down at his pants. Reaching down to cup him, feeling his cock hardening under your touch, you grinned. “One last fuck before I go?”
Without words, he gripped your jaw and kissed you hard, not letting you up for breath until you gripped his cock harder. When he did let you go, he grabbed you and pushed you up against the closest wall. Crushing your body against his hard chest, he ground his hips against you like a man possessed. He rapidly pulled your pants off and stripped the T-shirt from you. Your panties and bra were pulled off so quickly that you didn’t even know where they went before he was unzipping his jeans. He pulled out his shaft and rubbed it against your slick folds.
“You need this, don’t you?”
“Yes, please, fuck me,” you begged.
Arthur laughed softly before he reached down and began to toy with your core. “First, let me see your face when you come.”
You reached down to grip Arthur’s arm as he rubbed your center. His other hand played with your nipples. He stroked you so expertly that your climax came barreling down and caught you off guard.
“Fuck! Arthur, yes, fuck, Arthur!” you cried out as you came around his fingers, shaking with the pent up need that had finally been properly released with his touch.
“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he murmured as he watched you climax in his grip. As you began to slink down the wall, he grabbed your leg and lifted it up, wrapping it around his hip. Angling himself, he aimed for your channel and thrust inside.
“OhArthur,” you gasped at his intrusion, breathing hard as he filled you completely.
“That’s right, take it,” he growled as he began to thrust. “Show me that needy look on yer face when I fuck you.”
You looked up at him and knew you looked like an addict getting their fix. You didn’t care. You mewled and moaned for him, just the way he liked.
“Good girl,” he praised as he thrust more rapidly. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, takin’ my cock.”
He pulled you into his arms and suddenly you were riding his cock as he held you up with the pure strength in his arms, standing in the entryway of your apartment.
“I wanna come inside you,” he growled.
“Do it,” you whisper. “Fill me up, fill me until cum spills down my legs.”
“Oh,fuck,” Arthur moans before he presses you against the wall again and thrusts hard, twice more until he stills, his cock twitching inside of you. His forehead rests against yours, and he lets out a guttural groan as he spills everything within you.
For a blissful minute, the only sounds in the apartment are your ragged breaths, synchronizing with each moment that passed.
And then he stepped away, guiding you to stand on your two feet, his seed spilling down your legs, just as you wanted.
In your dirtied state, he looked at you with a dizzying amount of tenderness. He cupped your cheek and kissed the tip of your nose. “I’ll always remember you, Darlin’.”
For a moment, you almost wanted him to take you away, to keep you as his fucktoy forever.
He took a step back and tucked himself back into his pants, look as if he hadn’t just fucked your brains out. Pulling your panties out of his pocket, he grinned. “I’m keepin’ this pair too.”
“Arthur!” you gasped. All your clothes had been packed now, so you’d have to dig through your duffel bag in your car if you wanted another pair.
He laughed as he stuffed them back into his pocket. From his other pocket, he pulled out a business card, handing it to you. “Call me if you want’em back, sweetheart.”
Unable to respond, you could only take the card and watch silently as he opened the door and walked out, leaving you alone, naked.
It took a few moments, but reality finally came back into focus. Sighing, you pulled on your clothes and pocketed his card without a second thought. Finishing up cleaning your apartment, you dropped off the key at the office, and headed to your car. As you passed by a trash can, you pulled his card out again. You stared at the cell phone number. You looked at the trash can. You looked back down at the card.
You pocketed the card and drove away.
——————–
End Notes: Did I just leave the ending open? Sure did. Never know when I want to come back to this AU. But for now, consider this series as done unless I think of some other dirty filthy thing to do with a spy and a private eye. Thank you for reading, I know this is pretty similar to some of the other things I’ve written, but I really needed a dirty low honor Arthur fic to fulfill my filthy desires.
Many many thanks to @shootybangbangand@reddeaddufus for being the bestest beta readers a horny writer could ever ask for.
Hello all! It has been a sweet age since I last posted a piece of RDR2 fanfic/headcanons etc. But this week I’ve really been enjoying Autumn and wanted to write a little something involving Javier. Not overly sure what this is but it’s a small comfort fic for this time of year and being cosy.
No real warning aside from ‘reader’ does smoke. The reader’s relationship with Javier in this is very much open to whether you read as platonic, romantic etc.
Characters: Javier x reader I Word count: 1,005
The view from Horseshoe overlook was one you could never tire of. Indeed you wished to watch as the Seasons changed year after year, the colours of the trees reflecting the shortening and lengthening of the days. It was a nice dream to hold on if only for a brief respite from the usual daily chaos.
It’s then it dawns on you that neither yourself nor Javier have said anything in a while despite being sat side by side. It wasn’t unusual though, the two of you just got along, felt comfortable with one another and sometimes words weren’t needed to fill the silence. You turned slightly to the side and saw Javier staring out into the horizon as you had been. The expression he wore was slightly glazed and not what you were used to.
“It’s cold,” you say stating the obvious as you rub your arms hoping the friction will garner what little heat they can.
Sometimes it was okay to break the silence.
“It’s only gonna get colder,” Javier replies as he lights up a cigarette, offering one to you afterwards.
You accept, grateful for the warmth it will provide just momentarily.
You shiver, you know even under the layers you’re wearing that they’ll be goosebumps on your skin, you’re not used to this weather or the extreme drop in temperature at night.
But Fall and Winter were always so beautiful back home and from the change of colour in the leaves to the stars above on a clear night you knew it would be beautiful here too.
This was what you wanted wasn’t it? The adventure, a change of scenery and a chance to prove yourself. But to whom you were trying to prove yourself to you weren’t exactly sure, to yourself? To friends and your siblings who doubted you? To God… God in your mind had died long ago and somehow you’d made peace with it as you sailed across the Atlantic ocean waving your old life goodbye.
Lost in your thoughts you hadn’t heard Javier speak to you again, his question unanswered caused him to move closer to you and check you were okay.
You jumped back into reality, “Sorry, I’m sorry I just…I get lost in my thoughts some times,” you explained as you lit up the cigarette and stared across the valley.
“We all do, I guess…I think it’s called being human,” he offered a supportive smile.
Smiling in return you looked at the ground, “I guess.”
“Although,” Javier quickly jumped in, “I get in…we all get lost in our thoughts but some of us…we’re dreamers. Real dreamers. Some of us,” he paused again as he took a long drag of his cigarette, “Have an all too vivid past.”
Looking back up at him you noticed his eyes were now closed. A small gust of wind caused more than the steady flurry of leaves to tumble from above. Orange, red, yellow, brown, colours so golden like sunset, you could feel the warmth spread through you just watching them.
You placed a hand on Javier’s shoulder, you knew exactly the past he was referring to much like he knew the past you had been running from.
“Thank you,” you whispered.
Javier’s eyes opened, “It’s so beautiful up here.”
“Yes,” you agreed.
“Right now I mean,” Javier looked up at the stirring branches, then back across the soft damp grass where patches of fungi grew and pinecones had fallen, shelter and food for small beasties. “This moment, right now.” He repeated.
You nodded in agreement, “Can we stay here forever?”
Javier was silent for a moment as you finished your cigarette, before you’d even put it out he had opened his flask of coffee and started to pour, “It’s a nice dream to have.” He agreed.
That’s all it was, a dream. You both knew the peace couldn’t last but it was too perfect a moment to not just sit and appreciate the cool air of the dying day as the sun dipped beyond the horizon.
Your hands wrapped round the mug of coffee, an appreciative involuntary shiver ran up your spine.
Silence again, normally a silence you so appreciated but in that moment you found you could have talked to Javier all night. But what to say next?
“I heard Pearson is making Pumpkin pie tonight,” you said hopefully suddenly thinking of something to say.
Javier wrinkled his nose and chuckled, “Just don’t get too excited.”
You gave a snort as you sipped the warm coffee, true, Pearson wasn’t exactly the finest cook around and it often left something to be desired. But…equally it was nice to have hope, it was, after-all the thing that drove the gang on. It was what drove both you and Javier on.
You rested your head on Javier’s shoulder and although you couldn’t see his expression, you had no doubt that he was smiling. Javier’s smiles were rarely big or even that obvious to those that didn’t know him, but you did know him. You knew every part of him.
“Still cold?” Javier asked a moment later.
“I’m fine,” you lied.
He sat up for a moment and wrapped his poncho round your shoulders, “No use saying you ain’t cold when it’s as clear as day you are.” He was right, you were shivering against him, out of everyone surely you could at least be honest with Javier?
“Thank you,” you mumbled quietly grateful for the gesture as you pulled the material in close around you.
It was five minutes, maybe ten of silence and listening to the bird song and breeze, perfectly content in the Autumnal wonderland and with the company of one another. But it didn’t last long, it never did. Soon the moment was disturbed by the sound of Dutch calling out for both of you.
With a heavy heart and a sigh you went to stand up when Javier stopped you, “Just a minute longer, after-all the sun hasn’t finished saying goodbye.”
