imhisknife

[imhisknife]

FANCY DATE (pt. 1/?) JAVIER x READER

AN RDR2 ONESHOT 

-   FANCY DATE (pt. 1/?) (Javier x Fem Reader)

WC: 2,800

SUMMARY: 

You and Javier have a fancy date planned, but unlike him, you haven’t always been the best dresser. He takes you to the Saint Denis tailor to “help” you out. (BASICALLY... SHOPPING WITH YOUR BF JAVIER)

CONTENT:

- fLUFF!!! - but ummm... a bit more hOT AND STEAMY THAN MY OTHER STORIES WILL BE 

NOTE:  some parts of this is lowkey inspired by the AO3 story HorseFeathers... (sorry, but I loved that shit, js)

　··　　　°　　　　　　.　•　　　　.　　　.　　　　　 　　　　.　°　　✸*　.　　　✶　　　　　　　　　°　°° 　　　        "What's wrong with what I'm wearing, huh?" You rested a hand at your hip, while your other hand held a silver pail. You were in the middle of chores when Javier pulled you aside to discuss his weekend plans with you. You were touched that he thought of it all, but you were suspicious about needing ‘fancier attire’.

        "Oh, nothing, nothing—but um..." He tilted his head, talking carefully as if he didn't want to offend. You had a grey shirt on with the sleeves rolled at your forearms. It had a simple design embroidered into it — but that was all it was — simple. You wore a long, silk skirt along with it. It had been a pretty thing... once. It was red, hemmed up to your knees to show a bit of your black leather boots beneath; but now it was faded by the sun, worn by the work, and in some areas there were small tears and rips. 

        "I can get these stitched in no time," You say, following his eyes and feeling a little embarrassed. "There's really no need to—,"

        Before you could object, he was scooping at your waist and pulling you close to him. You dropped your pail and it rolled away on the floor. You were about to complain, when Javier suddenly held your face so you couldn’t look away. His touch was gentle though, just like his tone. "Although you'd look beautiful wearing old rags, mi amor, what man would I be, to not spoil you? Hmm? And you can't say no to me this time,"

        Lost in his brown eyes, you knew you really couldn't say no. Besides, you remembered all the different occasions he had offered to buy you things. To take you places. To dote upon you. You were just so difficult. 

        "Well, Javi...” You still tried to protest, “I do have other dresses, you know—?”

        He spoke over you, as if he didn't hear. "Hmm, you would be so stunning with a new ensemble. So stunning with pearls at your neck. Matching earrings... a shawl over your shoulders. I could you get in a white dress too someday—,"

        "Alright, alright," You say, flushing a deep red. "Let's just get it over with...”

        Javier smiled wide. "Vamanos, mi hermosa,”

*        *        *

        When you and Javier get to Saint Denis, your heart ached for him. You noticed all the staring, heard all the racial slurs being whispered as you and him passed. You glare back at them, grinding your teeth in your mouth. You want to do more, however. You want to turn back and throw up a-not-so subtle gesture but it's almost like Javier could read your mind, sense your distress, because he grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight. You felt comforted, and paid a lot less attention to it everyone else. Though it might've worked for a little while... you had just about reached your limit when you two walked into the tailor.

        "Are you lost, sir?" A voice said, colored with disgust.

        You hardly looked at the guy who said it, before you spoke up, loud and curt. "No," You answered, before Javier could. You pulled him close to you. "We're not,"

        The man was old with a bald spot at the top of his head. He looked shocked by your words. He studied the both of you, still doubtful. "Well... a lot of what we have in stock here is quite expensive, are you sure that—?"

        Having dealt with these kinds of things all his life, Javier might have known how to keep his cool. But you didn't. You pulled a revolver from your satchel and held it in front of the man's face.

        "Just close the shop and give us fifteen minutes,"

        When you did it, Javier sighed. He couldn't help but grin a little though, seeing you so stoic and resolute. A part of you wished you were like him in more ways that one... sure, at the end of the day you may come out dressed significantly better but there was no changing your ill-temper and boldness. He knew it himself.

        "Knowing us, mi amor," He chuckled lightly, "I'd say we need a little longer than that," He didn't try to stop you as he passed, instead he was already scanning the place.

        You agreed with a shrug and looked at the cashier. The man had his arms thrown up in the air and was staring at you with wide eyes. You smiled fleetingly. "Just keep quiet until we're done, please?" You looked to his side and saw a door. It must have been a closet. 

        While gesturing with your gun, you told him to get in there. The man nodded more than once, gulping as he obeyed you, twisting open the door and vanishing inside.

        "Alright..." You say, stuffing your gun away. “What’s this expensive stock?”

        Your eyes glossed over the mannequins. Ridiculous hats stood on display and you flicked your fingers at a long feather sewed onto one of them. You rarely ever went shopping much — and never in a fancy place like this. Seeing the options, though, a part of you felt like you weren't missing out too much. 

         “Javier,” You groaned in annoyance. “I don't know about this...” 

        "Ah, be quiet,” He said over his shoulder. “This’ll be fine,”

        You went on for a few minutes struggling to find something you liked. It didn’t take long for Javier, though. 

        He had something in his hand and he was waving you over to him. “C’mere and try this for me,”

        “Me?” 

        “No, the tailor... yes, you!”

        You walk over and look at what he was holding with a grimace. When you made no move to take it, he cocked his head.

        “Do you need me to put it on for you, or—?”

        Half-annoyed by his teasing, you snatched the dress and set it beside you as you began to undress.

        You had to crane your neck to the floor every time you undid the ties of your corset. But once it was off and your blouse dropped loosely at your shoulders, you felt yourself being pulled away. Without warning, your back was against the wall and Javier had his arms at your sides, keeping you there.

        “Or...” He said, smiling at the sight of you trapped by him. 

         “Do you need me to undress you...?” His voice trailed. And so did his hands. He went from kissing your open mouth, to grazing your bare shoulders.

       “Javier,” You said, stiffening behind his touch. Although you didn’t want him to stop, you couldn’t bring yourself to match his building aggression. “I pulled a gun on the tailor to be in here... I think we should be quick, don’t you?”

        He laughed against your neck. “Oh, I can be quick—,”

        “That’s not what I meant—,”

        “No?” Your blouse fell lower and he started kissing your collarbone. 

        ”Javier!” You hissed.

        ”Ay, I’m just toying with you,” He withdrew, turning on his heels. He was chuckling to himself while you rolled your eyes, flushing with heat. You held the dress close to your chest as you watched him look through the store, whistling.

        He threw two more dresses your way and you sighed, taking them into you arms as you went to head into the changing room. 

        "Why don't you just change in here?" You heard him say. 

        "It would be too much excitement for you, it seems,"

         He made a tsk sound but let you go. 

        You went to the other room. You had no trouble... until you slipped inside the new dress and found that you couldn't tie up the laces at your back on your own. With pursed lips you shuffled out to get his help. He smirked devilishly when you did. And boy, did he take his time with it. He was humming, his fingers brushing the bare skin of you back. It sent tingles down your spine, but you tried not to show it. You knew what he was doing. Knew he was stalling. After a few seconds you folded your arms across your chest impatiently. 

        "Having trouble?" You huff, your voice thick was sass. Just as you said it, he took the strings and gave them a tug - one so sudden and forceful it made you yelp.

         "Fun—actually," He corrected, tying a knot and speaking close to your ear.  "Now turn around,"

        You did as he said with a deep scowl. When you turned, Javier had a hand at his chin and his eyes moved over you lazily. 

        "Mi amor,” He drawled after some time of silence. “You’re so sexy when you're angry—,”

        "Oh, save it. Is it good enough or what?"

        "Sure, it’s beautiful... but all I want to do is take the dress right off you again—,"

        Before he could touch you, you stormed back into the changing room to see for yourself. In there, you realized the dress looked a lot better than it did when handed to you. Javier had an eye for this kind of stuff, and you couldn’t deny it. But the longer you looked, you found that you didn't feel comfortable in it. It seemed to much. Too cluttered. It just wasn't you.

        You told him that — and he was more than happy to help you out of the dress and keep looking. Every now and then, though, you’d feel him from behind you, pulling you back against his own body. Sure, he was a lot more helpful you could’ve hoped — but he also had a habit of getting carried away, too. You had to cut him some slack though. It wasn’t every day you two could be alone. You yourself wanted something more than the simple pecks you would give each other at camp, but still you knew that someone had to have an ounce of restraint. You had to remember... your goal was to tease him just like he was teasing you... and this date tomorrow? You wanted it to be special. You couldn’t spoil all the fun now.

        The next time he made a move on you, he had taken you in by the waist and slumped into a chair, bringing you down with him. He had you in his lap, your legs hanging over the arm rest. He kissed you long enough to leave you breathless and when you felt his hands moving over you, you heart was racing wildly. Before he could get too far, however, you stopped them.

        “Javi,” You whispered into him, drawing back.

        “What is it? Am I hurting you?”

         Far from it. But you didn’t tell him that. Instead, you sighed, turning away from a kiss — knowing fully well how that drove him crazy — and tapped your fingers lightly against his chest.

         “Javi, if we were to... you know...”

         “Yes...?” He asked, the slight impatience in his voice making you crack a smile.

         “Well... I...”

         “Yes, Y/N...?"

         “Well, I wouldn’t want to in place where an older man is an earshot away,” You slipped off his lap and stood in front of him, shaking your head like you were talking to a child. "Can you control yourself, please?"

        Javier lolled back into the seat, looking upset, but huffing in agreement. "Fine,"

        Though he finally stopped trying to grab at you, it didn’t lessen that lusty look he had in his eyes whenever you put something new on and went to show him.

         You tried on a few more dresses, skirts and blouses, some you picked, some he picked — but you still felt yourself getting more and more annoyed.

        “You can’t just say you like them all,” You chided Javier, yanking at the skirt of your dress so it laid straight against your legs as you stood before him.

        He looked confused. “But I do,”

        “Oh, please, that last dress had pink ruffles—,” You grimaced incredulously, but he cut you off. 

         “On anyone else I’d say no. But you — you can pull it off," Javier gave a shake of his head. "Y’know... I don't think you're aware of your own beauty, mi amor. You’re always trying to hide it, but there's just too much. And dressing modestly like you usually do... it isn’t gonna stop people from looking... it never stopped me,"

         You start to argue, but stammer and shut your mouth. You found it hard to believe him when he said things like that. You never thought of yourself as beautiful, let alone all that attractive. You knew, however, that if Javier caught you doubting his compliments or being critical of yourself and your looks, he’d go on an even longer rant of flattery and praise, with sadistic threats in between. Then he'd end it off with saying he ‘was only trying to make you love yourself just as much as he loved you’. Your heart fluttered and not wanting him to have to go off again — you sighed.

         “Alright, fine... but eventually you’ll have to make up your mind up and help me pick just one. I—I don’t want to go back to camp with 10 pounds of clothes.”

         “Fair enough,” He said. “But you be honest with yourself, alright? You’re saying no to these dresses because it’s not what you’re used to. But if you know you like it, then hermosa... it’s all yours,”

         A few more minutes passed until you had finally pulled into something that made you stop and stare at your reflection. It might’ve been the one... but a part of you was still unsure. 

         When you came out, Javier was sitting down at the table, rocking back in the chair. Once he turned to you, he stopped rocking and let the chair fall hard against the floor. 

         “That’s it. That’s the one,” He said, pointing at you. 

         “Oh, c’mon," You started to blush. "You’re just saying that because you want to get out of here...”

         He snorted. “You’re kidding, right? You’re over here strutting around half-naked and you think I want this to be over with?” He stood up and dragged you over to the mirror again. 

        "Look. You know it, too. I see it in your eyes. You like this one... admit it,” He was beside you, brushing his fingers through your hair as you looked at yourself again. You started to smile with him.

        “Aha! Eres una preciosa mujer, lo sabes también,”

        You tried to force the smile down as he planted kisses all over it. “But vanity is a sin, Mr. Escuella—!” (You knew bringing that up always drove him crazy too).

        “Oh, shut up. Killing's a sin too, but it’s just part of our lives, ain’t it?”

         He gave you another kiss. Then you went out picking the smaller things, shoes and accessories, to complete your new ensemble. When you were done — you found that Javier was still browsing as well. 

        “Wait—why are you looking for more clothes?”

        He almost looked offended. “We have to match,” He said to you, before continued. Soon Javier had found a black suit, with a tie and vest that went beautifully with the colors of your own outfit

        And finally; the two of you were done. A part of you was against the idea of bothering to wake up the tailor at the front of the store, but the better of you had you doing it anyways. You knocked on the door with your revolver and let the man out. You had found him in the fetal position and you almost felt bad. 

        “Sorry,” You tell him, "but we’re ready to pay now,”

        The man looked baffled, walking back to the register as you smiled sweetly.

        Javier pulled a wad of cash out of his vest pocket and slapped it onto the counter. You weren’t sure of how much it was, but you did know it was enough to get the owner drooling and Javier grinning as smug as a peacock. 

        He hit the guy's shoulder. Although it was nothing more than a teasing hit, the man looked like he had jumped out of his skin. Javier smirked even bigger. “Why don't you keep the change?"

        You kept your gun on the man as he collected the money. "Oh, and... this never happened, understood? You never saw us,"

        The man only nodded.

        Then Javier hooked you by the arm and hauled you out of there. His smile grew bigger as you both hit the streets. 

        “Look at that... they’re already staring,” He whispered close to your ear.

        “I know. Thanks a lot — it’s all ‘cause of your skin color,” You said sarcastically.

        He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and snatched up your hand. Your fingers interwove with his and he planted a kiss on them.

        “Te amo, mi amor, even though you are difficult,” 

        “I know I am,” You smirked. “Por eso te amo, Javier..."

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄ 

  AN: if my Spanish is wRONG, I AM SO SORRY & please correct me.  but anyways, thanks for reading! Please let me know if I should write about the date ;)

​​​​​​​ ⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

ig / wattpad: @imhisknife 

#rdr2 #rdr #javier escuella #videogames #fanfiction #xbox #pc #playstation #oneshots #javierxreader #cowboys #countryboyiloveyou #thisisbadimsorry #sombrero #old town road

[imhisknife]

Arthur Morgan X F!Reader ༺ Paint this life

Summary : ( pt 1/? ) You’re new to this whole outlaw scene, being forced into a gang doesn’t help much either. When trying to get your mind off of things, an unexpected someone helps you with it.

Category : Fluffy fluff in second person 

Word count : 3.5k+ I got carried away oops

Warnings : Cussing + Arthur being too cute you may explode

A/N : Twitter has swayed me to get Tumblr, so here I am. I’m not a professional author, but, the point of me writing these are simply because I constantly have ideas buzzing; making it nice to let some of them go once in a while. I also, NEED to practice my writing. This is my first RDR fan fiction; I would appreciate if you go easy on me hehe

—(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)—

The baby blue sky that was scattered with white clouds seeped into the orange sunrise, and dusk turned to dawn and dark turned to light. The soft mist in the air damped the morning weather, leaving behind a glistening scent. Almost like the wet smell of old clothes, but masked with the perfume of the watery grass. Flowers and smiles alike flourishing in the psychedelic presence of the love wavering in the air. Your eyes haven’t had the chance to shut just yet, as your mind was awake with worries and agony. You’ve only been present in the camp for five sleepless nights, but you knew that the outlandish gang of outlaws somehow contained peace in its centre core. Despite the ironic and surprising calm feeling that seeps through the gang’s persona, you still feel uneasiness. Most of the outlaws sensed this, Abigail, the strong-headed lady who has a small boy, has tried to comfort you through these times but even her soothing words haven’t been able to give you any relief. 

As the sunlight finally seeped into the eyes of the tired, groans can be heard from the leathery flaps of the tents. Their eyes not yet gleaming, but hearts already yearning. The gang’s notorious leader has yet to give his daily lengthy morning speech, which couldn’t help but give you a grin. The new camp was far from what they were used to, but luckily for them, they were far from detected by the law. The open land was covered by forests around the perimeters, and small swamps, although the stench lingered, you knew this was better than whatever you would have had if you hadn’t taken the chance to leave with these folk. Your parents weren’t high society, which led them to borrow some dirty money from an old man behind that barn you grew up on. You knew something dreadful would come if your parents weren’t able to pay the debt when it was due, but never did being abducted cross your mind. Luckily the gang of outlaws you were with now had saved you from the hands of the other outlaws. You still couldn’t wrap your head round the fact that some outlaws did have a good conscience, even if it rarely surfaced. You had suffered many hits from the previous gang that took you from your family. However, the physical pain you had endured was ephemeral, nothing, compared to the emotional mental trauma that was etched into your mind.

Usually when there were times like this, you would grab a piece of paper and start sketching her feelings. You would pour your heart and soul onto the flimsy material just to put your mind to ease. You picked up the journal you always kept in your satchel, and the pencil that was drooled over the edge of the table on the floor. You peaked your head out of the leather flaps that stood as the barrier between you and the scent of stew being brewed by the camp cook. The smell indulged you as you almost melted into the ground, not realising how hungry you had been. When you stepped outside, there was a serious dilemma on choosing what to do; draw your feelings into your journal or help yourself to some of the stew. Your stare wandered the camp, seeing all the flaps still draped shut over the wooden stilts. All except for two, Pearson’s tent, the camp cook, and Arthur Morgan’s, the leader’s “golden boy” as they called him. Arthur hadn’t spoken to you much, other than the muttered “Good morning, miss” he would nod your way. He was hardly seen around the camp as well, he was always out on some mission or hunting trip that the gang leader set for him to do. You figured that he was probably off in the woods, on the lookout for a small rabbit or a fleshy boar to be put into the camp stew.

“Maybe the stew isn’t cooked yet,” You thought as you shrugged off the idea to secretly eat some of the nourishment. Then you slipped away into a more secluded area by some towering trees, only a couple feet from your tent, which was at the edge of the camp anyway. Your fingertips lightly brushed the scarred bark of the tree, noticing the rustling above you, from a bundled up bird’s nest. The faint sound was followed by high-pitched chirps, and the slow gush of wind that hit your sun-kissed face softer than a mother’s touch. You pressed your back against the tree as you slid down to the ground, to sit against it. You flipped the book open, your eyes scanning for a clean, blank page. Your eyes lit up slightly at the empty page in front of you. You couldn’t wait to have your pencil meet the now vacant canvas waiting to be splattered with your emotions. Your head jerked up at the sound of movement in front of you, you were met with beautiful doe eyes that belonged to a glorious stag that was bathing in the light of the sun that was seeping through the holes in the tree leaves above. The stag then lowered its head to continue grazing on the grass in front of it, your eyes looked at the stag then back at the journal. You suddenly felt the urge to draw the gorgeous scene in front of you, the tan brown stag with honey eyes in the newly found sunlight surrounded by impeccable trees and bushes of mother nature. You truly couldn’t resist now could you? 

The tip of your pencil grazed the paper with light strokes and you effortlessly moved your wrist in circles, to get the first structural layer right. Your tongue wets your lips every few seconds as you start slipping in and out of the “drawer’s conscious”. You look up at the stag ever so often, to see it tilt its head at you in confusion as to what you’re doing, a tiny smile crept onto your face as you see its confuzzled look. Your hand continues to move without specific thought as drawing has always come easy for you. Birds chirping merely in the background started to get louder and closer as time went by; An American robin then zooms past your face, startling you. Causing a yelp to escape from your lips. Unfortunately in the midst of the moment the stag had scurried off as well, followed by the American robin. When you realise that the Stag has left it’s position you look around in shock, only to not be met with the silhouette again. You huff in defeat and lean back into the tree bark. Your dress creases at the sudden movement. You shut your eyes as you try to regain a calm state to overcome the pit of disappointment. The gushes of water from the river nearby is the only thing you try to drive your attention towards and you attempt to keep yourself from crying. You admit it would be over-dramatic to cry over a stag running away, it was indeed part of nature, but after everything that’s happened in the past couple of days. You truly felt more than overwhelmed by even such a simple loss. You start to count your breathing to make sure it’s on a specific slow rhythm. The counting under your breath was interrupted by a man clearing his throat, sounding out “ahem”.

Your eyelids separate to familiarise yourself with who was standing beside you, to see Arthur in a blue buttoned down shirt with two buttons unlatched, a brown jacket with a black colour, dark blue pants dappled in dirt by the calves all the way up to the thighs and a gun belt with holsters clipped at the sides, used to hold his single-action cattleman revolvers. He hooks his thumbs at the front of the gun belt and quirks up a question, “What are you doing out here at this time, Miss?” You blinked a couple times to ensure that it really was Arthur speaking to you, you even made sure to look around a couple times. “Yes, I’m speaking to you” He chuckles as he brings his hand up to his chin, rubbing off an itch off his stubble. 

You finally register reality and push out an answer. “I was feeling a bit… uneasy is all, Mr. Morgan” He nodded as you were speaking, looking understanding and continuing to rub his stubble. Although he was looking down at you, it was still tough for you to meet his gaze due to his cowboy hat being worn low.

He noticed you trying to look for his eyes and used the hand that was on his stubble to adjust his hat. While lifting his hat to place it higher atop of his head, some of his brown locks slipped away from the mold given by the hat’s previous positioning. Some of the pieces of hair are absolutely drenched in sweat, you can blame the humid and hot weather. “Arthur.” He corrected me, “So, you went with drawing?” 

You looked back down at your sketch and closed the book, “I didn’t get to finish it…” You look back up at Arthur, seeing him nodding for you to go on. “The stag that was over there” You point to the bush area, “Ran away, so now I don’t have a reference” 

“Is that why you were looking all frustrated?” You flush a little and whisper a little ‘yes’, in embarrassment. His hands start to emphasise his words, “So you’re just gonna lean back on this tree and give up?”

“Well, there’s nothing else I can do…” You place the pencil next to you and your other hand outlining the journal’s hard cover, fiddling with it slightly, like a small child being scolded.“I haven’t exactly drawn a stag before.”

Arthur paused; thinking. He looked down at his satchel then back at you, looking deep in thought “I can help, well teach you, ma’am” His southern accent definitely evident as he spoke out the word ‘ma’am’. He brought his right hand onto the back of his neck, rubbing it in anticipation. “If you want…” 

You have seen Arthur sitting at the edge of camp, his knee bent to support his own journal, a pencil in the other while his lips are wrapped around a cigarette. His hand pulled the cigarette out every few breaths to puff out the smoke. You consider the offer, as you’ve seen him draw in his own sketchbook before, he must be fairly skilled. Not that he’s let anyone see his drawings but, you can only guess. “Only if you’re sure?” You see the corner of his lips tug into a smile, and sit next to you as a response. He places his hat next to him and pulls his satchel over his head, rummaging through for his journal. Who would’ve guessed? The mystery of a man, Arthur Morgan himself would be here, speaking to you. 

He flipped through the pages of a journal, although you’re trying not to intrude, you find your eyes trying to take a glimpse at the pages. He was flipping through them fast, like he knew what he was looking for. Despite the speed, some of the images you caught managed to leave your jaw dropped. He saw your mouth parting in surprise, and he continued to grin harder than he already was. “I draw a little too, here and there, you know? It helps me calm down after a train job or something.” The man’s voice was mellifluous with each syllable strung together. 

“I’ve always done that too.” You reminisce on your old life, which seems like your past life at this point. As if this version of yourself is a reincarnation of some sort. “Before…” Your sentence trails off as you try not to destroy the mood. 

“Yeah, I understand.” He offers a smile in your direction, which you gladly respond the same way back at him. “So you were drawing a stag, right?” He changes the topic when he catches the sadness in your eyes. He shows you a drawing in his journal, the drawing on the right page and some writing about his day on the left. “It ain’t much.”

You feel yourself beam at his self-deprecating comment, “Nonsense!” You set your journal on his lap as you take his onto yours. He just holds your journal, not wanting to pry. As you were touching the almost-come-to-life Stag drawing that Arthur claimed to ‘not be much’, but you knew that even Arthur wasn’t aware of his talent. It wouldn’t surprise you if he had claimed to be attending Art School or even be a secret professional artist. “This… This is beautiful, Arthur.”

His ears perked up at your compliment and shyly looked away. “Thank you…” He started playing with the flaps of your book. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight in front of you. The broad-shouldered, hot-headed, stubborn Arthur Morgan, blushing over a compliment.

“I would love for you to teach me.” You looked at him through your hopeful eyes, wishing that he hasn’t just had second thoughts. But your doubts were eased when he looked at you and asked if he could open your journal, you of course, agreed. He really was being careful with you, his thumb slid far down the journal and opened the book to an empty page. He started flipping the pages one by one, to find the latest drawing without looking at the rest of them. You felt bad for prying earlier, but no one can deny art.

“Do you have the pencil?” You handed the wooden art tool to the man, he took it from you and his knuckles brushed your fingers. He took it as a small act of contact, but you could feel yourself retract a little bit, caught off guard at the sudden feeling. “You were working on the body, right?” He questioned again, while analysing your progress thus far. 

“Yeah, I was about to finish the base structure but then I lost my reference.” You laugh, and it intertwines with his. You’ve never heard him laugh before, usually it was a pressed up smile and a ‘Hello there, Miss.’ Arthur also never attended any campfire sing-alongs. There’s a Mexican in this gang who sings and plays the guitar every night, and the whole gang seems to know the lyrics to every song. His favourite song to sing is ‘angel de amor’, who knows why, but, I find the lyrics soothing.

“Well you’ve actually already done most of it,” He points at the pencil strokes you have drawn out. He looks attentively to the sheet of paper. “When the body connects to the neck of the stag, you have to remember to leave space for the chest area. It shouldn’t be straight onto the neck either… “ He draws on your journal and rubs it off, to show you what he means. “It should be curved, to make it look more natural.” He then draws this out for you as well.

As much as you were trying to pay attention to the context of what he was saying. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, your gaze focused on the pure beauty before you. Everything about the man in front of you was beautiful, from his eyes to the delicate way he spoke, thinking over every word and spilling them from his lips in a gentle stream, like the low trickle of water over smooth stones. His hair, a rustic brownish-blonde with little trickles of blood, not that you seemed to mind. His hair fit him so perfectly, bounced in small curls atop his head, moving with each movement he made. His hands moving with each word and punctuating the story he told. His eyes, a soft yet bold blue that glittered like flames with tiny specks of a green, a small fire compared to his inferno soul. He was perfect, graceful, and every other word that never compared to his real, raw beauty. He was ethereal, not meant for any lowly streets. He was meant for palaces, royalty. Even if Arthur didn’t see it that way. But, you saw everything great and glorious in this man. 

“You listenin’ ?” He looks over at you and catches your stare, to have you look away; blushing. He chuckles under his breath and tries to hide it but you knew he was flattered. He gave you the pencil, and when you looked down at your leather-bound journal, he had already finished explaining the body structure. “Here, you try.” 

A frisson of exhilaration came over you as his left shoulder rubbed against her right one. You were having doubts about today but was quickly outshined by a myriad of different unknown, positive emotions. “Arthur… ” she smiled at him. He looked over at you, and his eyebrows raised in question. But, you said nothing in response. You wrapped your fingers around the pencil and began practicing what he just taught you. You move on to making the lines thicker, since you’ve now moved on from the ghosting lines for the structure. Arthur watched you intently and he simply knew that in the midst of his chaos, you were elysian.

The wind howled slightly, knocking the chimes against each other with such determination that the delicate pieces melded together and the strings intertwined in a mellifluous melody of absolute senseless cacophony from their positions against the substantial tree. Arthur looked into the sky, and that’s when the first thunder rumbled the ground. Followed by the second one almost right after. You jolt at the sound, putting your things back in your satchel, ready to leave. But, that’s when he stops you with his hand; motioning for you to sit. “You can tell how far or close the storm is by counting the second in between the thunder storms and that” On cue, as if the thunder storms were the musicians and Arthur was the conductor, the next thunder was heard. “Is about half a mile away from us, we’ll never make it to camp in time” Within the next 5 minutes, it started to pour. 

You enjoyed the sound of the melodious water drops hitting the ground, and the gang leader yelling, ‘Where the hell is Arthur?’ It was hilarious to say the least. You and Arthur would exchange glances every few minutes, but other than that, he was silent. “Dutch really can’t do nothin’ without you huh?”

He snorted from beside you, agreeing to disagree. “Come on, Dutch can handle things himself.” It was your turn to snort, Dutch? Without Arthur? It would be like a dog without a bone. You’re sure that you had put your thoughts on display through your facial expression, when Arthur had quickly rambled: “Alright, maybe he does need me sometimes…” You raise your brow; non-verbally questioning him further. “I’m just trying to be loyal to what matters… But sometimes I feel like I should run and never look back…” 

You were shocked, your mouth gaped and your eyes widened. He had just opened up to you, you were terrified to ask further. But, something about the man next to you, that you just wanted more of. Or maybe it was the intoxicating smell of the rain and the sound that drowned out your rational thoughts. “Arthur?” You said in a softer tone, attempting to push him a little.

His eyes looked empty, with an eerie glaucous sheen but you could still see the shards of his old self if you looked deep enough. Only now he was void of hope, of love, loyalty and of passion, of all the things that made him, well him. All was gone except those broken shards. “I had a son once…” 

You place your hand on top of his and squeeze, “Did you love her?” Referring to the mother of his son. You would have mentally self-shushed yourself if it weren’t for the tension and animosity in the air. 

He shook his head and smiled. “She was just a kid, nineteen… A waitress at that saloon downtown.” He explained. Little did you know, he was eager to know more about you too. The moment you arrived in camp, he felt the need to pull you into a hug and assure you everything was going to be alright. Arthur had admired you from the moment he laid eyes on you. He hadn’t noticed, but his saddened eyes’ gaze had been placed forward, but they definitely weren’t there. His mind was wandering through memory lane. That’s when you recognised the familiar face of regret and reminiscing. You have no idea what came over you, but, much like what you knew you would need if you were in his position. You leaned over, and tucked your arms around his shoulders. He was taken aback by the sudden tight embrace, but after what felt like eternity, his hands finally rested on your waist pulling you closer. “Thank you…” 

—(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)—

A/N : Hope you liked it! Let me know what you think :) 

WRITTEN BY @REENPLE_ OR @VINTCGECOWBCY ON INSTAGRAM