IsolatedRose

Red Dead Redemption 2

🦋 Completed

🌱 In Progress

⋆˙⟡ Arthur Morgan ⋆˙⟡

🦋 His Eyes In The Sky | part 1, part 2

🦋 The Night's Enforcer | part 1, part 2, part 3

🌱 A Message In The Water | part 1, part 2

♬⋆.˚ Javier Escuella ⋆.˚ ♬

🦋 A Knight's Oath | part 1, part 2

☁︎‎‎‧₊˚ John Marston ‎‎‧₊˚ ☁︎

(this is a repost because tumblr flagged it as mature for some reason T-T)

Part I

Part II

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Mermaid Reader

Summary: Arthur picks up your precious jeweled comb, leading to a chance encounter between the two of you. He thought you were the stuff of legends. Reader is a mermaid.

Word Count: 2.2k AO3 Link

Notes: Not proofread yet, I’ll do it later. I also took a lot of liberties with the dialogue and progression of scenes in the game. I really appreciate the love this fic is getting, so thank you!

The metal tub the auctioneers shoved you in was too cramped for you, as your tail was hanging off of the edge. At the news of the auction holding a mermaid, the showroom was filled to the brim with investors, businessmen, and collectors eager to witness the sight of the creature of legends. A velvet curtain kept you hidden from preemptive prying eyes. 

The past events that led up to this moment were a blur. One moment you were dragged on a boat by fishermen and the next you were shipped to the nearest auction house to be sold to the highest winning bidder. 

You were exhausted, your limbs and tail depleted of energy from trying to resist your captors. The open air was also taking a toll on your lungs as you’ve never been out of water for this long before. The sellers simply filled the tub with a pitiful amount of water. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! I’m sure you have heard about our most exciting addition to our collection.” The auctioneer's booming voice echoed across the showroom.

“What we are about to show you, I can most definitely guarantee, is real despite what you might have heard.”

Two men at the outskirts of the stage began to tug on the pulley, slowly opening the curtains to begin the grand reveal that was you.

“It is my greatest pleasure to present to you, a mermaid!” The auctioneer gestured grandly with his arm towards you, the spotlight exposing you to the public.

Exclamations of all kinds exploded throughout the audience. Shouts were bouncing across the room, and people were already shooting up their auction signs.

“Now, now, settle down everyone. I will begin the bid at $500. Any takers?”

“600!”

“850!”

“1000!

“We have a $1000! Anyone for $1100?” 

Your eyes were blank and dull as you stared off into the crowd, all of the audience’s heading eyes blurring together. You heard prices being sounded off at every second. 

“$5000.” 

The enormity of the price made viewers go quiet, but for you it made your heart palpitate in your chest. The realization of you actually being sold hit you like a freight train.

“$5000! Anyone for $5100?” 

Voices were at a murmur at this point. No one could dare exceed that price unless they sought to fall to destitution.

“$5000 going once, twice, three times.” The auctioneer shoots off, yet no one chimes in.

“Sold! To Mr. Desmond Blythe!”

—————

Arthur adjusts his coat and blue cravat just before he enters the waterboat’s poker room. A grim frown was set in his face at just having his guns taken away from him. He wasn’t too keen on robbing empty handed like this, but as always, he had to put up with Trelawny’s plan and antics. He’d have to hold onto his words that “these people were virtually idiots.”

Arthur and Trelawny swing the ornate doors open, and the con man next to him switches tones immediately to one of fanfare and frivolity. 

“Now have a good time, but don’t lose too much money or your wife is going to kill me!” Trelawny clamps a hand over Arthur’s shoulder. 

“Whatever you say.” Arthur drawls. 

The chords from the piano music thrums loudly throughout the poker room. Arthur saunters casually across the floor, observing the poker tables where he knew men with heavy pockets sat. Arthur saw the empty seat left just for him, for Arthur Callahan specifically. He caught sight of Strauss, but knew not to let his gaze linger too long.

However, just before he took a seat, he froze in his tracks. His eyes were locked onto one thing. Right next to the piano was a grand, glass tank filled to the brim with water. Inside the container, was you. 

After you were sold to the highest bidder, the man acquired the largest glass tank he could acquire and shoved you in for his own and his business rivals’ entertainment.

At every tap or bang of the glass, you’d jerk away in fear, but to the spectators, they were thrilled at any movements you made, as your glittering tail moving through the water was spectacular enough. Desmond Blythe’ ego could not be inflated any further. He boasted to every onlooker about how he gained a magnificent piece that was once thought mythical to his collection. You attempted to ignore the humans gawking at you, but it proved little use as the tank’s size was nothing compared to the space you had at home. 

You kept your gaze averted from the continuing passerbyers, but one figure stood in front of your tank. You expected the same tapping and banging you experienced previously, but this person was stock still. Out of curiosity, you finally lifted your head.

You gasp as bubbles escape your lips. It was Arthur! You drew close to the glass and placed both hands against it, lowering yourself to be eye level with him. You looked at him desperately, so happy to see a familiar face.

Arthur eyes gazed at you, weak and tender. But his mouth was set in a grimace. You sensed something was wrong.

Your buyer, Desmond Blythe, strolled up next to Arthur. “Amazing specimen, is it not? Mr…?”

“Callahan. Arthur Callahan.” He turned his head and shook Desmond’s hand. 

“She— might I ask where you found… it?” Arthur is careful with his words.

“Oh it wasn’t me, but a group of fishermen. I paid a mighty fine price for it at an auction.” Desmond crosses his arms, his chest puffed out in pride. “I can still hardly believe my eyes, a mermaid.”

“Me neither…” 

Desmond pats his shoulder. “Well Mr. Callahan, I’ll bet that empty seat is yours, correct? You can still take a look at it after the game.” The businessman leaves Arthur and proceeds to walk to the poker table.

You looked between him and Desmond, confused as to what Arthur’s affiliation was with these people. A seed of doubt is planted in your mind, but it is swiftly brushed aside when Arthur takes a step closer to the tank. He overlaps his hand with yours, the glass the only barrier between you two. He gives you an almost imperceptible nod before he turns to take a seat at the poker table.

The game between all the men proceeded until it was just Arthur and Desmond left. You couldn’t fully make out the words from where you were, until you heard a distinct cursing from your buyer. He throws his hand of cards on the table.

“Shit… shit!”

Arthur opens his arms to gather the chips to his side. “You got something else to play with?”

“… I got a watch.” Desmond offers slowly.

Mischief glints in Arthur’s eyes. “Look at you.”

Desmond scowls, pissed at his sarcasm. “An expensive one. A Reutlinger, worth more than you.”

Arthur leans back in his chair, propping his elbow on the arm to rest his chin. “Not enough.”

“What?” Desmond quirks an eyebrow.

“The pot’s pretty big now Mr. Blythe, and the stakes are high. No, I want something else you can bet on the line.”

“And what is that?” He pressed Arthur, falling into his trap.

Arthur is quiet for a moment until he speaks again. “The mermaid.”

Desmond practically sputters while Strauss right behind him stiffens in his seat, knowing full well that this wasn’t the plan. He glances sternly at Arthur, but he ignores the old man. Even Trelawny wouldn’t be too happy with these turn of events.

“Excuse me?” His mustache can’t hide the obvious red growing in his face.

“You heard me. I want you to bet with the mermaid.” The playfulness from earlier is gone from Arthur’s voice. “Here,” he pushes all of his earned chips to the center of the poker table. “I’ll go all-in right now.” 

“Absolutely not! I paid a fortune for it!”

“Whatever you paid for her, I’ll match it and double it. In cash.”

“Double?” Desmond's eyes are wide, but now he’s enticed by such a tempting offer. 

“Gentleman, are we continuing then?” The dealer cuts in.

Desmond looks to the dealer, then nods. “Fine… but you’ll regret it.” 

Another round begins as two cards to each player is dealed. Finally, as the dealer lays down five cards, Arthur wins with an ace-high diamond flush. 

“Goddamn you!” Desmond bellows as he bangs on the table.

Trelawny meanders over to Arthur’s side. “Now, what luck we have here!” He laughs heartily. “Now now, there’s no need for the hysterics!” Trelawny is theatrical as he places both hands on his waist, turning to look at you in the take. “Now how are we going to transport it? Hmm…”

“There’s something I don’t like about the pair of you…” Desmond accuses with an undercurrent of anger in his voice.

“No need to be a sore loser.” Arthur gestures to your tank. “Now how about you send some of your boys so we can drag that big tub of water out of here.”

Without warning, Desmond brandishes a gun hiding in his coat, and points the barrel at Arthur. You cry out in the water, banging on the glass.

“You’re not taking it! I bought that thing with my own money, fair and square. Unlike you!” 

Arthur raises his hands in the air, but he stays calm.

“Going against your word now, Mr Blythe?”

“You cheated, I know it!”

A beat passes before you notice a man in uniform turns and shoots his fellow guard with his repeater and tosses it to Arthur. Absolute mayhem ensues as screams break out. Gunshots began to ring throughout the room, their bullets finding any target without discrimination, including you.

A bullet finds its way to the edge of your tank, creating a crack in the glass that eventually weaves its way through the surface, finally collapsing under pressure. Water floods out, and you with it, as you tumble out of your cage. 

You crash onto the ground, your tail now feeling heavier with it out of water. Arthur looks to you from behind an overturned table for cover, and he shouts your name. 

Before you knew it, another bullet clips your tail, causing you to yelp in pain. At the sound of it, Arthur rushes to your side despite the hail of gunfire. One of your iridescent scales is chipped off of your tail as it clatters to the ground. 

“Are you alright—” but both you and Arthur are left shell shocked at your tail now dividing into two, as if it was held together by glassy webbing. Your scales began to dissolve into your skin until you were left with two human legs, with a bleeding red wound the size of your scale left behind on your new calf.

Your eyes darted to Arthur’s helplessly, frightened and clueless as to what was happening to you. He was also witnessing your transformation in open-mouthed awe. Your mouth opened in a silent cry as you pointed to your scale left on the ground, begging him to grab it. You weren’t exactly sure, but you knew you would need it if you were ever to change back. 

Arthur gathers his wits and runs to nab the scale. He returns to you, but he’s unsure of what to do next.

“Can… can you stand?” 

You try to lift yourself up, but the unfamiliar sensation of gravity weighs on you. You shake your head desperately.

“I’ll carry you.” He moves to hook his arm underneath your knees and your back. “Wrap your arms around my neck.”

You nodded fervently, placing all of your trust in him. 

“Fellas!” He calls out to Trelawny, Javier, and Strauss in the chaos. “We’re gettin’ out of here!”

Javier, the man in the uniform that shot first you realized, waved Arthur over to the door that exits out onto the edge of the boat. “Over here!”

Arthur holds you tightly to him as he and his men rush outside. 

“Arthur, the hell are we taking that thing for?” Javier is incredulous. “And why all of a sudden it has legs?”

“I too, would like to know the reason why we’re taking the creature with us.” Trelawny chimes in.

You tuck your head firmly into the crook of Arthur’s neck, breathing in his scent to steady your heart essentially jackhammering in your chest. He tightens his hold on you in reassurance. 

“Just shut the hell up, and let’s get on out of here, got it?” 

No one argues with that. Everyone gathers at the edge of the riverboat’s opening, preparing to jump off.

“W-what about the alligators?” Strauss stutters.

“Just jump!” Javier and Trelawny dive into the waters. Strauss pushes up his glasses and has no choice but to follow soon after.

You and Arthur are the last ones, but he tilts his head down to you, entreating you to look him in the eyes. 

“I reckon you can’t swim with those new legs of yours. So you’ll have to hold on tight to me, just like you are now. I’ll carry us both to shore, you hear?”

You looked up at him, worry clear in your expression, but you nod nonetheless.

Part I

Part II

Pairing: Knight Javier Escuella x Princess Reader

Summary: You are the princess of a kingdom. Javier wins a sword competition and becomes your personal knight.

Warnings: Explicit Content, NSFW, Unprotected Smut

Word Count: 4k AO3 Link

“Good morning, your highness.” Javier respectfully greets you as you cross the threshold of your quarters into the hallway.

After being assigned as your personal knight, Javier diligently stayed by your side from dawn until dusk, making you wonder if he even found time to sleep. You would find him guarding your door in the early mornings and later accompanying you throughout the rest of the day until the sun fell. He’d then conclude his duties by bidding you good night and would continue the cycle again until the sun rose. 

“Good morning.” You nodded, responding back in kind. You were not yet entirely accustomed to being attended to in this manner besides by your attendants. This was mainly due to your identity being shrouded in secrecy before your debut, so a personal knight wasn’t necessary when you were kept in hiding for most of your life. But to see someone greet you so openly, especially it being Javier… you had little to complain about. 

You continued through the halls of the castle, and Javier easily fell into step behind you as the two of you made your way to the dining hall for breakfast. Once you settle down in your seat, the servants immediately take action to provide you with your meal, setting delicate plates of food in front of you. 

“Sir Javier.” You started. His head immediately lifts at the sound of you calling his name. 

“Simply Javier should suffice, princess.” He reassures you.

“Don’t deprive me of the pleasure of using your title.” You tease him as you cut up your food in bite size pieces. 

He shakes his head and chuckles, the sound low and warm that it makes you want to draw closer to close the distance between the two of you. “Yes, princess?” His lips are still quirked up in a smile as he urges you to continue. 

“How do you like your new home? Are you pleased with it?” 

His response is polite and courteous. “Pleased is an understatement. I am honored to receive such extravagant lodgings.”

You nod, happy to hear so, but you continue to press him further. “Are you sure? You’re being too modest, We can arrange for anything else you might need.”

He shakes his head and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. You start getting nervous thinking you were being too insistent until he speaks again. 

“I only require… that I remain close to you…” His voice comes out soft and gentle. 

Your eyes leap from your plate to look at him, your face reflexively blooming pink at his words. You weren’t even able to choke out a response until he spoke again. 

“To guard you– that is.” His tone becomes neutral and civil, as if wedging a wall between the two of you. Your heart deflates. 

“Y-Yes, of course.” You stammer out. You turn back to your food despite the unappetizing look of it now. What were you thinking? He spoke as a knight should. You admonished yourself for expecting something more and composed your racing heart. 

The hours of the day ticked by as usual. You routinely completed all of your royal responsibilities until the sun set, and you and Javier retired to your quarters. The two of you bid good night to each other before you shut the door, but this time you closed it more reluctantly as the frame slowly covered his visage from you. 

You changed into your night attire and gathered your hair to hang loose over your nightgown. As you climbed in the covers and pulled them over your shoulders, your eyes fluttered closed as you silently wished to dream of your knight.

—————

“...cess… princess… princess!” You jolt awake in a panic at the sound of your title and look around the room frantically, not yet registering that Javier was by your bedside, his hands clutching your shoulders to shake you to consciousness. The adrenaline running through your veins subsides, and your confused eyes find Javier’s.

“What, what’s happening?” You rose to your elbows, your eyes only able to discern Javier’s silhouette in the darkness.

He looks at you with eyes of concern. “Your highness, you were having a nightmare. I could hear you from outside.”

A nightmare? So much for dreaming of Javier, you thought. You rubbed the grogginess out of your eyes and combed your hair out of your face with your fingers, hoping to collect yourself. 

“I’m sorry.” You felt deeply apologetic. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, now able to fully see Javier. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He shakes his head. “You never need to apologize to me.” His voice draws you in, soothing your very being. “Your safety is my number one priority.” Javier is the perfect picture of honor. While his care for you was noble in nature, you couldn’t help but feel that he was too distant. If there was a way to bridge the gap between the two of you… 

He pulls his hands back to his side and straightens his posture. “I shall take my leave now, princess.” He bows and begins to leave, but he is frozen in his tracks when he finds his hand grasped by another. Your hand, that is. He turns his head and looks at you with wide eyes. 

You moved by instinct. Your hand sought his touch before you could even make a coherent thought. Realizing what you’ve done, you snatch your hand back. You were thankful for the darkness that hid your face flushed red. “Can… you stay?” You asked, voice timid.

You hurry to clarify as he continues to stare in silent shock. “I mean– until I fall back asleep.” You were scrambling for some sort of excuse. “I’m scared to be alone right now. After the nightmare and all…” 

He relaxes and his expression softens at your admission. “Of course, your highness.” He looks around your bedroom, searching for something. “May I borrow a chair?”

You nodded a little too enthusiastically. “Oh, yes of course.” 

He smiles and goes to your desk, lifting the chair pushed under it to your bedside. He walks around and takes a seat. You nestle back into the covers and lay on your side facing him, your eyes never leaving his figure. 

“I’ll stay until your nightmares turn back into dreams.”

Your heart swells with gratitude. No matter what, he would always meet you head on with steadfast loyalty. But within your feelings, there was affection and something more. Was this normal between a princess and her knight? 

He closes his eyes and begins to hum a tune. He hums low and melodic, the sound pleasant to your ears. It was akin to a lullaby without the words. Your head eases into the pillow, your once tense muscles from your nightmare relaxing into the cushions. 

“Do you sing?” You asked curiously. 

“Yes, but poorly, princess.” 

You shook your head. “Nonsense. This isn’t poor in the least.” 

He chuckles. “Perhaps next time I’ll bring an instrument.” Despite this proposition most likely made in jest, it was still very tempting to you.

Your eyes flutter halfway, not quite closed but almost shut. “Please do.” You speak again before you could think otherwise. “I like the sound of your voice.”

Before you could even see Javier’s expression, you were already drifting off to sleep, your consciousness slowly fading away. But you could feel the faintest touch dusting across your cheek. You could’ve reasoned for it to be your hair tickling your face, but slumber took over you completely before you could find out.

—————

From then on, you and Javier were inseparable. His immediate presence was as familiar to you as the back of your hand. Months passed by, and his duty to protect you was second nature to him. However, what he couldn’t protect you from was your inevitable fate as a royal princess.

“Soon the castle will host a ball.” His majesty made this announcement at the dinner table. Every so often, the king would arrange for a royal family dinner at the dining hall. Defying this tradition was out of the question and each of your royal siblings including you made sure to attend this dinner.

All movements halted. The spoon full of soup that you lifted to your lips stopped midair. All eyes were on the king.

He turns to look at you. His majesty never speaks. He orders. “Your betrothed will be attending. He is aware of our agreement, as should you.”

You delicately lay your spoon beside your plate and dabbed at your lips with a napkin. You keep your eyes on the table, not daring to meet your father’s gaze. “Yes, your majesty.” Defying a royal decree straight from the king was never an option.

And the dinner continues on in silence. As everyone returns to eating their meal, you raise your head and instinctively search for Javier. He is standing guard along the wall, similar to the other knights present in the room. Poised and resolute to protect even at dinner time. You almost plead with your eyes for him to look at you, wanting to find comfort in him. But his face is cold and empty. There was no solace to be found in his eyes. 

The ball came sooner than you expected. Before you knew it, the maids were already dressing you in an extravagant gown to prepare you for the event. Precious jewels lined your dress and your hair. Lydia brings forward to you a silver mask adorned with ornate, glittering gems. 

You raised an eyebrow. “A mask?” 

“Yes, princess. It’s a masquerade ball.” She helps you to affix it upon your face, securing the tie behind your head. 

“How grandiose.” You said but the comment is hollow and vacant. 

She looks at you sympathetically before making a final inspection of your appearance. She gives you an approving nod, and the two of you make your way to the event. As the two of you cross the castle grounds, Javier approaches you from the direction of his new quarters in the west annex of the castle. He stops momentarily in front of you to pay his respects, and bows deeply at the waist. He is in ceremonial garb made appropriate for knights at a social event. 

“Good evening, your highness.” His voice is even and cordial. 

You nodded to him in turn and hoped he would raise his head to meet your eyes. You didn’t know what you wanted to convey to him. Did you want to reassure him? Tell him that this meant nothing to you? But the relationship between the two of you remained unclear, as Javier made sure to never cross the line as a knight. 

You had no choice but to settle with just his greeting as he made no time for you to respond verbally. He immediately follows behind you, out of your sight. Your heart sinks at losing the chance to speak to him again. Ever since the announcement of your engagement, Javier was physically near but emotionally distant, the complete opposite of the knight who kept by your bedside until your nightmares went away. 

You and your retainers entered the Great Hall once more, reminiscent of your debut from long ago. This time the room was decorated in opulence and luxury. You felt that it was just yesterday that this place held your coming of age ceremony. Now you have returned to confirm your engagement with the neighboring kingdom’s crown prince. 

Javier wordlessly joins the other knights lining the outskirts of the ball. You looked after his turned back in longing before he completely disappeared out of sight. One thing that reassured you was that you knew Javier would still keep a close eye on you as he still was your personal knight.

You then turned to the festivities of the masquerade, easily integrating into the scene, falling back on your etiquette training. Everyone you met had their own masks of varying shapes and styles. However, you noticed that you were the only one wearing a silver mask. Despite the concept of mystery at a masquerade ball, everyone bowed to you immediately and spoke respectfully. There was most likely a tip that the royal princess would be wearing a silver mask. 

“My lady, would you care for some wine?” You turned to the source of the question and were surprised to find the face of another with almost the same mask as you. The man’s demeanor and garb suggested that he was any other nobleman from court, but the glint of his silver mask that reflected yours confirmed your suspicions that this person was to be your fiance. He bows at the waist and raises himself to meet your eyes. 

“No, I’m fine. But thank you.” You politely declined. 

The man continues. “If not wine, then may I request a dance?” He extends his hand towards you, awaiting your reply.

You took a look at his hand before your eyes turned to meet the king’s at the front of the hall, seated on his throne overseeing the ball. His gaze is stern as he covertly nods his head. So this person really was your betrothed. 

You lay your gloved hand on top of his, and your lips lift into a practiced smile. “It would be my pleasure.” Refusal would mean the wrath of your father.

He proceeds to lead you to the dancefloor and circles around to meet you head on. You lightly place your hand on his shoulder while he places his at your waist. The two of you move effortlessly to the orchestral music. He takes the lead by moving you across the polished marble, taking you for seamless twirls and spins. 

As you and your dance partner continue to step in rhythm with the music, he speaks once more with you. “By now, I’m sure you have ascertained my identity, your highness?” He addresses you respectfully with your formal title, verifying to you that he was the crown prince you were set to marry.

“Yes. I assumed that your matching mask was a testament to that.” 

“It was his majesty’s idea. He thought that this would help us to be acquainted.” He guides you for another twirl and brings you back in.

Your hand settles back on his shoulder once more. “Yes, of course.” You reply but your mind is far away. The two of you continue to engage in civil conversation, and you make sure to humor any of his questions, providing tame responses. 

“You are aware that once we are to be married, you will accompany me back to my kingdom?” He asks. “I understand you have made attachments here. So if you would like, you may bring any of your personal servants and retainers.”

Your heart once dormant since the start of the ball began to race. Attachments? Without warning, you see Javier standing watch by a marble pillar as the prince glides you across the floor. The two of you lock eyes but his are stormy and troubled as he has been witnessing you dance with the prince the entire time. He turns his head to avert his gaze and stealthily leaves to exit the ballroom. He takes the doors leading to the maze garden. His disappearance goes unnoticed as his departure was timed exactly with the ending of the song. The dance participants all bowed to each other, including you and the prince. All of the other guests clap in applause and silver goblets clink against each other, 

Your words hurriedly spilled out of your mouth, distracted now by Javier’s absence. “Thank you for the dance, your highness. But my apologies, I believe I must attend to some… female matters with my maid.” 

“Why yes, of course.” He lowers his head and doesn’t show an inkling of suspicion, believing that you just needed a couple of moments to powder your nose or some other touch ups for your appearance. 

You bowed in turn and gathered your skirt to swiftly make your way to the maze garden, making sure to use the commotion of the ball to mask your escape. Once out of earshot, you made a mad dash across the garden grounds. Etiquette be damned. You head darts back and forth as you desperately try to find Javier. 

Your heart sours when his figure comes into your sight. “Sir Javier!” You call out to him. His strides freeze at the sound of your voice, and he turns to you, his eyes neutral and lacking warmth. He stands still as he allows you to catch up to him. It disheartens you at first to see him act so cold, but you try to gather any ounce of courage within you to talk to him. 

“Princess, you should return to the ball. Your absence will be suspicious.” He says firmly.

“But…” You try to catch your breath. “Aren’t you my personal knight?” You were searching for any excuse to be with him longer. “You should be in there, with me.” 

“I have already arranged for my replacement for the night. He is just as skilled as me and will protect you without question.” He brushes off your attempts. 

You shake your head and remove your mask, stepping closer to him. “No, I want you.” 

Javier finally looks at you fully with his lips parted in surprise at your bold statement. But he collects himself, his jaw clenched. “Your highness, please do not speak like that. People will get the wrong idea.” 

“It’s not wrong, it's the truth.” You insist, drawing even closer to him. You even reach towards his hand to hold into yours, but unlike last time, he is prepared. He takes a step back to pull away from your proximity.

“Princess, please.” His voice comes out hoarse as he begs you this time. “Don’t associate yourself with the likes of me any longer. I made a mistake.” The words start tumbling out his mouth, and his eyes are dark with despair.

“I should’ve never tried to get close to you. Becoming your knight, staying by your side.” He gestures towards you. “Your place is with a prince, not with me.” 

“But you’re deciding that on your own.” You try to reason with him, anything to convince him otherwise. Your eyes were starting to burn with unshed tears. 

“On my own? As if this ball wasn’t a declaration enough.” He says bitterly.

You were already losing him. Your head was growing dizzy trying to find some sort of excuse to ease his worries. “I don’t know what to do.” You admitted reluctantly. “But at least with the time we have left–”

He scoffs. “If you think a man can stand by and watch the woman he loves be taken by another, you are mistaken.”

You couldn’t take it any longer. You close the distance between the two of you and collide into him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a tight embrace. He steps back slightly from the impact and he looks ahead incredulously. You bury your face into his chest and revel in the sound of his warm, beating heart. Finally, you thought. Finally you could touch him. 

“I can’t be, because I’m already yours.” You whisper, laying yourself bare to him. You raise your eyes to meet his, hoping, begging, for him to realize that your heart belonged to him. 

He stood stock still at first, scared to make any sudden movements. But then his hand drops to hold the small of your back, and the other he goes to cup your cheek. His unsteady breath washes over you, and you close your eyes to lean into his touch. 

“I want to kiss you.” He eyes your lips before looking back up. “May I?”

You nod earnestly and your lips join together, with you raising to the platforms of your feet and him lowering his head. He kisses you tender and soft as the fringe of his black hair grazes your cheekbones. Your mouth moves against his, and you open it to allow him access to your tongue. He grips you even tighter against him in response as his kisses grow more hungry and passionate, his tongue now inside you. 

You pull back panting for more air, and he takes the opportunity to drop his head to your neck, his lips creating a path down to your collarbone. Without you realizing it, something warm and wet was pooling within you down below. You were blushing furiously as his lips never left your skin. 

“Javier, I–” The both of you were struck still as you heard some of the party guests out in the courtyard for some evening air. There was laughter and bellows indicating that no one was sober any longer. 

Javier keeps his hand on your waist and brings the other up to hold his index finger against his lips, signaling you to be quiet. He reluctantly breaks your embrace, but reaches down to interlock your fingers together. He pulls you along with him further into the maze garden. “Come with me.” He keeps his voice low. 

You move hastily and try to keep pace with him. The hedges of the maze whip past you as the two of you move deeper inside, the voices becoming more distant. You stop to lean your back against the hedge wall, and Javier raises his arms to either side of you to lock you in. Javier keeps his head perked up to assess whether or not the two of you were safe out of sight. Once the voices die down, his posture relaxes, turning his eyes back to you and smiles at you sweetly. 

He threads his fingers through yours and raises them up against the wall, leaning in to kiss you again. His pelvis presses hard against yours, and he rocks his hips against you, his hardness seeking out your entrance. You gasp at the pleasurable sensation. He guides your hands to grasp the back of his neck as he drops to both of his knees and looks up at you with adoration. His hand sneaks underneath the skirt of your gown and finds your calf, his palm and fingers snaking up to your thigh to leave goosebumps in their wake. The fabric of your skirt lifts along the higher he goes.

“Wait.” Your voice comes out breathless. You hold his face in your hands, and he stops momentarily. He shuts his eyes to bask in your touch, driving you absolutely mad. 

“Is there something wrong?” He turns his head in your hands to press a kiss to your palm. 

“No it’s just–” You licked your lips growing dry. “I don’t know what to do.” Your face is warm from embarrassment.

“Don’t worry.” He reassures you. “I can teach you.” His hands find the waistband of your drawers, and he pulls the garment down past your thighs and down your legs. You step out of them once the fabric pools around your feet. But before he tosses them to the side, he groans realizing your slick left a wet patch on your drawers. A betrayal of how aroused you were. 

“Help me lift up your skirt.” He says gruffly. You gather up the fabric including the petticoat, and you shiver in response to your cunt exposed to the cold, night air. “Spread your legs wider.” He guides you patiently, step by step. But his self control is hanging on by a thread. 

You widen your stance, allowing him to bring his face between your thighs, licking a long stripe along your folds. Your breathing picks up speed, and your clit starts to pulse rapidly. He pulls back slightly to sink his middle finger inside you, all the way to the base. His finger curls, and he digs around inside your walls. 

A whimper escapes your lips as your head tips back against the hedge. No amount of wine could make you feel as intoxicated as Javier does. He adds another finger inside your cunt while his thumb circles around your clit. Then he does another quick swipe against it before latching his lips onto your bundle of nerves, sucking it firmly into his mouth. You cry out, but your hand quickly clamps it shut to muffle your noises. 

Your body moves on its own by rocking your hips into his mouth, but you were scared of hurting him. You draw your pelvis back, except he catches you by holding your thigh in place. 

“No, keep moving. Just like that.” He guides you to roll your hips against his mouth, wanting you to feel the highest of pleasures. You gain a rhythm, moving back and forth seeking out that delicious friction against your clit as you grasp his hair with both hands. Your breath comes out in short pants, and you feel the pressure deep within your cunt close to overtaking you. You grind against his mouth a couple more times before you cry out as your orgasm bursts and ripples over your body. 

He hums approvingly as he feels you coming on his mouth, making sure to not let a single drop of your slick go to waste. “Princess…” He groans. He moves to quickly undo his pants and lifts you up by your thighs, his body settling in between. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist, with your arms circling his neck to hold on. 

Javier kisses you again deeply as he bares his length free to gather up your wetness, slowly inching it inside you to revel in the feeling of your tight walls. You moan into his mouth in response. At first, he thrusts inside you slowly and deliberately to get you used to the feeling. The sensation was initially foreign to you, but you started to grow accustomed to it, eventually rolling your hips to meet his to chase after your own high. 

“I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.” He starts to rut into you more roughly, abandoning his rhythm once he has a taste of you. “Just like this.” His hips snap forward against yours, and you cry out in response. 

Your second orgasm fast approaches as you come undone, your body writhing and jerking in his arms at the euphoria of coming. His head drops to your shoulders and bares his teeth to bite down on your shoulder in response to your walls clamping around his cock. 

He looks up again to gaze into your eyes. Affection, devotion, laid bare in his. “I love you.” His voice comes out strangled as he continues to thrust into you. “I love you.” He says again like a prayer. He does one more thrust, his body convulsing to empty all of his cum deep inside you. 

Part II

Part I

Pairing: Knight Javier Escuella x Princess Reader

Summary: You are the princess of a kingdom. Javier wins a sword competition and becomes your personal knight.

Warnings: Explicit Content, NSFW, Unprotected Smut

Word Count: 4k AO3 Link

The princess without a face. That’s what they called you amongst the many corridors and chambers of the palace. Nobles, knights, and common servants alike all whispered about you, circulating rumors that perhaps the princess was horribly grotesque, giving reason for the king to postpone your coming of age ceremony. Or terribly ill, and thus you were not physically fit to make your social debut. You were already well above the age requirement to host the grand event, but for some unknown reason, the royal family hesitated to introduce you to court. Only the king’s closest confidants, and the princess’ most immediate servants have laid their eyes upon your face.

So imagine their surprise when they announced your long awaited coming of age ceremony to both the royal court and knights. No doubt whispers echoed between the two parties, both surprised and yet also curious to finally be introduced to the infamous royal highness. 

The knight commander was ordered by his majesty himself to deploy the highest security to take place. “My daughter’s safety and wellbeing will be your top priority.” He commands. The leader of the royal knights obeys without question, calling forth squadrons of soldiers to guarantee not even a strand your hair is sullied. 

“I heard once the princess’ ceremony is over, she’ll be in need of a personal knight.” A young squire notes at the training grounds. 

“Is she so precious that she must be kept hidden for so long?” A knight speaks this time but snark streaks his tone. “Perhaps they’ve been housing an ogre this entire time. She won’t be in much need of a protector then.” The squadron of soldiers all chime in with bellows and laughter. 

“What say you, Javier?” He calls out to his peer, a fellow knight of equal status but of even greater skill, Javier Escuella. 

He looks up at the mention of his name. He is dressed in a tunic and trousers, his well-kept black hair undone and loose on his shoulders. The man with the handsome visage gives an easy smile and stows his sword away in its sheath, approaching the men with a friendly air.

“I say once the nobles and gentry have their fill, we partake in the wine that remains.” Javier pats the squires on the back. “And if there is any left then you all will have your share too.”

Soldiers whether knight or squire alike all cheered in response and continued with their duties and training. While everyone was curious about the mysterious princess, Javier could be less concerned about the royal. They were all the same to him. They were cold, detached, and indifferent to the common folk besides the taxes they paid to the kingdom. He remembered when he was on special assignment to protect one of the young princes on their voyage to a nearby dukedom. The king sent him in good faith to help his son “mature” and “practice diplomacy” he called it. As Javier remained close to the young prince, he unwillingly had to witness the boy’s temper tantrum at the dining hall due to his steak not being seared to his exact liking. Diplomacy indeed, Javier thought.

And to him, the princess would be no different. Imagine his surprise when he first laid eyes on you. And not just you, but everyone in court with eyes of astonishment at the reveal of the princess without a face.

----------

“Your highness, the bath we have drawn for you is ready.” Lydia, your most trusted and immediate maid motioned you towards the steaming bathtub. You as the princess in question were preparing for your coming of age ceremony.

“Lydia, I have the most superb idea.” You say with a twinkle in your eye as the other servants assist in undressing you for the bath, the sleeves of your night garments slipping off of your shoulders. For as long as your maid had been by your side, your “ideas” were not necessarily superb in the least.

“Yes, your highness.”

“Well, do you want to hear it?”

“I always end up hearing your ideas, your highness.” Your maid speaks plainly. You settle into the tub, allowing the warm water to settle just above your shoulders. You glance at your outspoken servant out of the corner of your eye.

“Cheeky, aren’t you?”

“I am humbled by your praise, your highness”

You flick a soap sud towards her. “I was thinking for my coming of age ceremony, we put my little brother in a dress and powdered wig and announce it is me. We are of a particular likeness, are we not?” 

“Yes. I believe that is a trademark characteristic of siblings to share similar features.”

“Precisely, you agree, which is why I believe we should follow through with this plan.”

“I would suggest against it, your highness. His majesty would be beside himself if he were to witness the young prince in such a state as you envision.” 

“I beg to differ. At father’s old age, I hear humor is the cure to good health. Think of his face.” You laugh as you imagine the scene was right in front of you. You lather soap across your skin while Lydia massages shampoo into your hair. “I rather think my little brother would look striking in a woman’s gown.”

“I would prefer the gown to be worn by you, your highness.” The maid insists. “Please tell me you are saying this in jest. Your coming of age ceremony is today .” Lydia begs, exasperated by your eccentrics.

You wave your hand dismissively, an easy smile on your face. “Was I not always?” You raise yourself up from the tub and allow the servants to help dry your body and dress yourself in a bathrobe. They decorated your body with the finest perfumes and oils to give a pleasant scent to your skin. “Don’t worry. I won’t let father’s investment go to waste.” Your voice was even and steady, even at the mention of the bitter word.

At this, your maid remained silent, as did the other servants. The reason as to why your ceremony was postponed until now was due to the king’s perfectly curated plan of marrying you off to one of the neighboring kingdoms, a crown prince specifically. His majesty did not throw your coming of age ceremony at the typical age for a high ranking lady. For the reason of possible pressures from other noble families seeking to have royal blood marry into their bloodline. You knew this plan was in place since your infancy, and your childhood consisted of receiving the highest degree of etiquette suitable for a princess. 

Thus, your face remained obscure in the palace and throughout the royal court. Only your closest servants were allowed near you, and not even a single knight has come across your existence. You were no sooner labeled as the princess without a face, a familiar nickname to you now that it has taken popularity with many.

You faced the mirror as your maid and servants began their preparations and swathed you in your royal attire. They dressed you in a deep carnelian red gown lined with lace trim, the fabric sewn of the highest quality velvet. Your maid lays the finishing touches by hooking a decorative girdle embellished with precious gemstones around your waist. 

Once you were dressed in all of your fine regalia, you turned to look at your female retainers and gave them a twirl to admire their work. You smiled reassuringly at them, feeling apologetic for the forlorn atmosphere.

“Phenomenal job, as always.” You winked, hoping to lift the mood. The tension in the room momentarily subsided at that, with your loyal servants just happy to see your smile.

“Shall we go?” You ask. “I’ve heard it’ll be quite a bash.” You say with a knowing look in your eye. The ceremony was to take place in the Grand Hall, followed by plentiful food and festivities to celebrate the occasion. By now you knew the venue was filled with nobles, diplomats, and knights alike awaiting for you, the guest of honor. 

You took the lead through the castle hallways to make your debut with your handlers falling in line behind you. As you drew nearer, you could hear the animated noises of the guests from the Great Hall. No doubt, your father arranged for an extravagant event to transpire once you made your official debut. 

You approached the grand doors of the chamber. You drew your head high with your hands clasped in front of you. You resisted the urge to pick at your fingernails as a way to calm your nerves. You knew that the nobles would pounce at every opportunity to deter your poised demeanor. A sign of weakness left cracks in their wake for them to break through. Such was the nature of the royal court. You closed your eyes and silently prayed your etiquette training would be put to good use. 

You then heard the clinking of silver goblets, signaling the attention of the guests. Conversations turned to hushed whispers as the king spoke. 

“Honored guests.” You heard your father’s authoritative voice boom throughout the grand room. “Today, we celebrate a very special occasion. The debut of my daughter, the royal princess.”

At that signal, the massive doors swung open with a flourish to reveal yourself to the crowd. Your lips immediately lift to a measured smile, your eyes lay steely and resolved. You took your first step past the doorway and continued down the catwalk to the front of the Great Hall. 

All eyes laid transfixed upon your form. You were a princess without a face no longer. Mouths were agape and nobles turned to whisper to one another out of your peripheral vision. “Who was the one who claimed she was an ogre?” The gentry were astonished to find out that most of the rumors were falsehoods.

Despite the chatter, your eyes were set on the dais at the end of the room. Your dress trailed behind as you crossed the steps onto the platform, and you took the king’s outstretched hand to turn to face the crowd. 

“I bid her welcome to court.” He raised your joined hands. 

The room erupted in cheers, applause, and clinking of glasses. You were curious as to whether or not your future betrothed that your father arranged was also attending the ceremony. As your eyes scanned the room, they briefly met another, but this time, the dark brown eyes of a knight. You didn’t mean for your eyes to linger long, but you were startled to meet the intensity of his gaze. 

The fringe of his black hair carefully framed his face, and his eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape. He had an expression mixed with surprise, awe, and something else… 

It unnerved you. You quickly broke eye contact before your royal facade could falter. You briefly wondered what family the knight was from before you went to greet all of the high profile guests at the event. You would smile and nod agreeably with all of the guests, your etiquette training being put to good use. You aptly maneuvered through each of their questions as they hoped they could gain favor with you or push you in a corner. Each one was met with a composed smile. With every offer of wine, you were able to make practiced moves to drink, but the liquid never touched your lips. Each goblet was discretely handed over to your maid, Lydia. 

At one point, you were able to excuse yourself for some fresh air, and you made your way to the rose gardens of the castle grounds. The night was already growing late, and you knew that you could use this opportunity to sneak back to your quarters. By now, the guests were having their fill of wine to the point of intoxication. Your eyes were already growing weary, and your energy was low. 

But your half-lidded eyes flew open when you were alerted to the sound of footsteps on the paved, stone path behind you. You spun around and once again met the eyes of the same dark haired knight at the Great Hall. 

“Forgive me, princess.” He dropped his head low in a bow. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He holds out his hand with his other resting on the hilt of his sword, as if he was trying to calm down a frightened horse. 

You pressed your hand against your chest, hoping to ease your pounding heart. You forgot that your father arranged for tight security during the ceremony, and most likely, the knights were instructed to follow your every move. A moment of solace for you wasn’t allowed to be solitary.

You gathered yourself and gave him a small, reassuring smile. You shook your head. “Don’t apologize. I should’ve known father would have knights sent after me. What is your name, sir?” You inquired. 

“Sir Javier Escuella, princess” 

You clapped your hands together, your eyes lighting up with recognition. “You escorted my little brother to the duke’s territory, did you not?”

“Yes, that is correct. I was privileged to be granted the opportunity.” He spoke respectfully with all of the courtesy that an upstanding knight should have.

You grinned, a glint of mischief in your eye. “You speak well, sir. Privilege indeed. My brother is of delightful temperament, which I’m sure you are very familiar with.” You knew full well Javier had been dealt a bad hand with the young prince. 

It was his turn to be surprised as he looked to be trying to find the correct words. “I hope my words did not come across as malicious, your highness.”

“They did not. I am merely teasing you.” You waved off his anxiety. “Don’t worry. You won’t need to be on an assignment like that any longer.” Your eyes wandered off to the roses, not looking anywhere in particular. 

He lowered his head again and stepped aside, extending his hand back towards the castle to make way for you. “If your highness is willing to grant me the honor, I can escort you back to your quarters.” 

You gave him a small smile. “Why, I accept this generous offer.” You walked ahead of Javier, and he kept close behind you as the two of you left the rose garden. Not wanting to continue in silence, you hoped to engage the knight in conversation.

“How long have you worked for the royal family?” You ask.

Javier responds promptly with ease and eloquence. “It has not been eight years since I have been of service, princess.” 

“For that long? And you have not advanced to Knight Captain?”

“Out of my own choice. I find myself more useful following orders rather than giving them.”

“Well, you are an invaluable asset to the kingdom either way.” 

“Your words are wasted on me, princess.”

The two of you reached the door of your quarters. Just as you were about to dismiss him, he met your gaze fully this time, just as he did back at your coming of age ceremony. The look in his eyes made you restless, your heart picking up speed at every second that passed. 

“May I be so bold as to ask something of your highness?” He speaks slowly. 

You nodded earnestly. “Please, go ahead.” You gestured for him to continue. 

There is a brief pause before he speaks again. “Will you be attending the upcoming sword tournament?”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by his question. The king did require you to be present for the tournament as a part of your royal duties now that you have made your social debut. However, this requirement was merely for the sake of appearances. Swordplay was completely out of your repertoire.

“Yes, I will be crowning the winner.” You spoke matter-of-factly.

His lips quirk up into a knowing smile, his eyes seemed to be shining with secrets. Was there something about the tournament he knew but you didn’t? 

“If I may…” He extended his hand out to you. You momentarily hesitated before placing your hand in his. Slow and deliberate, he lowered his head to brush his lips against your knuckles. Tingles traveled down your spine at the contact. You withdrew your hand to your side before he could drop it, and you tried to keep your expression even, hoping he wasn’t aware of the effect he was having on you. 

You strode to the door of your room, standing halfway behind the doorway with your fingers grasping the frame. “I bid you goodnight, sir.” You nodded curtly to him, and shut the door with a boom that resonated through the castle hallways.

Your hands were behind your back as you rested against the door frame, your eyes staring unfocused in your room. Your eyes fluttered close as you lifted the very same hand that Javier kissed up to your own lips.

----------

As expected, the art of sword fighting remained a mystery to you. You observed the matches from the royal stands overlooking the arena, where participants ranged from a variety of people including squires, knights, nobles, and the common folk. The reason for the diverse pool of candidates was because of the reward promised for the final winner. This individual would be granted any wish that can be bestowed by his majesty himself. It was no wonder everyone wanted a hand in the competition. 

You sat in your designated seat with the royal family and your personal maid standing close behind. Your eyes fixated on the dueling grounds but focused on nothing in particular. Once the sound of clashing metal would cease, you made sure to clap your hands with the audience in moderate applause. Despite your lack of attention, Lydia nevertheless took to informing you the name and house of origin of each duelist, and you would nod absently in return.

Imagine your surprise when Lydia bends down once more to murmur in your ear, informing you of the next challengers.

“Javier Escuella, your highness. He hails from a low ranking family of a viscount.”

Your head perks up at the sound of his name, your eyes already searching for his figure. “Sir Javier?”

Lydia looks at you. “Do you know of him, princess?”

You clear your throat. “No, I-” You were interrupted just in time by the announcement of the two competitors as they made their entrance into the gravelly arena. The glaze in your eyes from observing the previous matches clears once you lay your gaze on him. You see him tread purposely towards the center, armed in more casual training gear not meant for real battle. He stands poised with sword in hand. Suddenly, the art of dueling becomes very interesting to you.

“I hear he is an excellent swordsman. The knight commander has attempted to promote him, but he has always refused.” Lydia continues.

“Then perhaps he is very… humble?” You offer to define his character as you watch the clash of blades begin between Javier and his competition. 

She hums in response. “Humble he may be as a knight, but royal court speaks otherwise.”

“How do you mean?” You ask.

“His reputation with the noble ladies precedes him. He has a habit of philandering within court.”

You’re surprised by the information that your maid is feeding to you. “Really?” Your voice drops to a whisper. “He didn’t give that impression at all…” You looked in awe at Javier easily taking down his opponent. He continues on to the next duel. 

“Pardon, princess?” 

“Nothing.” You witness Javier undertaking a multitude of fights with utmost grace and skill, up until he reached his final competitor. The event enters an intermission to prepare for the final match, both men taking time to sharpen their swords and adjust their gear. 

Lydia takes another moment to disclose more morsels of information circulating throughout the castle and its inhabitants. “It is rare for Sir Escuella to participate in a tournament such as this. He typically stays his hand from them.”

“Is that so?” You were growing even more curious about him.

“Yes.” Your maid nods. “I suppose the chance to have his wish granted from the king is enticing to him now.”

“Well you’re well-versed in the art of reconnaissance aren’t you?” You smiled playfully at her.

“I do my utmost, princess.” Lydia bows her head.

As you observe Javier prepare for the final, you see him tilt his head upwards towards the stands, his eyes searching for something in particular. He continues to survey the audience until his gaze sets upon you. His face breaks out into a warm smile as he meets your eyes directly, making you slightly flush at the cheeks. He gives you a small nod before striding over to the stage for the final battle to meet his opponent. 

His forwardness made you uneasy, but deep down, you felt a sense of interest and wonder towards him. What was his angle? What did he want from you? You were scared to find out. The metal of the blades clang and ring once again as they collide. You watched as Javier fought his opponent, using skills displaying his years of mastery in sword fighting. It was mesmerizing to watch. 

His competitor’s sword clattering to the ground signaled the end of the battle, and indicated Javier as the final winner of the sword tournament. The audience cheered and clapped at his win, excited to see such a display of skill. At the event’s conclusion, Javier is then guided by the event officers to the foot of the king’s pseudo throne in the stands. He kneels down on one knee immediately with his head lowered, showing respect to his majesty. 

“Tell me, Sir Javier Escuella. What wish would you have me grant for being crowned our champion?” The king enquiries. The winners of the annual sword tournament typically ask for land or other symbols of wealth. Perhaps he would ask for a neighboring territory and be named regent of the area. 

You remained in your seat with your other royal family members. They all waited for Javier’s response with mild interest and curiosity, as well as the other nobles in the audience. You, on the other hand, were much more keen to learn more about the knight. You leaned forward as you grasped the armrests of your chair. A closer look, that’s all you wanted. 

Despite the temptation of an entire territory, it seemed that Javier had other ideas. “Your majesty. I ask to be your daughter’s personal knight from here on.” 

A collective gasp reverberates throughout stands. The king’s brows raise in surprise, and you as the recipient of this request stare at Javier open-mouthed. Even Lydia is taken aback and glances quickly at you. 

His majesty turns his head to briefly look at you, and you quickly close your mouth to even it to a neutral expression. “That is a wish that can be most easily granted. I have been looking to appoint a protector for the princess.” The king nods approvingly, realizing how this will benefit the royal family. “Very well. You will be transferred from the knights’ quarters to the west annex of the castle.”

He keeps his head bowed, but his voice holds firm. “With pleasure, your majesty.” 

“Princess.” Your maid whispers to you. You blink, finally registering you needed to crown the winner. She holds a cushion with a glistening laurel wreath signaling the one responsibility you possessed for this event. You rise from your seat and make your way to stand in front of Javier, your maid following after you. As he remains kneeling, you hold the wreath in your hands and place it atop of his bowed head. Your fingertips grazed his dark hair, and you had this wild thought of trailing your hand down the shape of face. Your fingers under his chin to tip his eyes towards you. A closer look, a thought echoes through your mind. 

Part II

Part I

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Mermaid Reader

Summary: Arthur picks up your precious jeweled comb, leading to a chance encounter between the two of you. He thought you were the stuff of legends. Reader is a mermaid.

Word Count: 3.9k AO3 Link

You have never been this close to the shore before, much less this close to a human. But what could you do? The burly man with the hat and the gun (plus whatever weapons he could have on hand) took your jeweled comb. You cursed yourself for being so careless. 

The man sat on a stool at the edge of the wooden pier along with all of his other belongings scattered across the wooden planks, your precious comb included. Luckily, his holster and gun were laid to rest with the rest of the items as well. You just needed to be quick and stealthy, at least in theory.

Your tail swished back and forth in the water as you kept yourself in one spot, the water lapping at your face as you tried to hide as much of yourself underneath the surface. While your main objective was to retrieve your comb, your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the man. This impressively large human you noticed, hulking in form, was actually hunched over a notebook, silently sketching on the parchment pages. What could he be doing, you wondered. A man as intimidating as him could kill not just one, but several men, and even more easily a mermaid. But his intent seemed to be capturing the picturesque view of Flat Iron Lake.

You brought your hands together and dived into the depths, bringing yourself closer to the edge of the pier, circling around it to avoid his field of view. You broke through the surface of the water, and reached out to grab the wooden post closest to your comb, keeping yourself steady against the lake’s currents. You craned your neck to peek at the man, and seeing he was still focused on his notebook, you dared to stretch your arm out on top of the wooden planks. You were so close, the comb glittering in the sun as if to beckon you to return it to its original owner. 

Just a little more, you thought, outstretching your arm and fingers as far as they could reach, your other hand gripping the edge of the pier. Your fingertips were just about to graze the comb before you heard the unsheathing of metal. You froze in shock and horror at seeing a knife lodged in the wood, just millimeters away from piercing the palm of your hand. 

“What in the hell—”

Your frightened eyes darted to the knife grasped in the owner’s hand, and then to his face. His journal was discarded to the side, his lethal reflexes taking priority over his leisurely activity. His expression mirrored yours, eyes widened and lips parted in surprise and shock. You snatch your hand back to clutch to your chest, eyeing the man warily. You were this close to closing a limb and your comb. 

He’s speechless, his mouth moving to attempt to form coherent words. While Arthur Morgan has robbed and been robbed, he’s never thought someone would use underwater tactics to get the one up on him. But when he took a closer look at you, he was coming to a realization that something was off. Your wet hair was clinging to your skin and trailing behind you in the water, and he swore he saw something sparkle in the water, reflecting light.

He slowly pulls out his knife that was jammed in the wood and returns it to its sheath. “Miss?” Is that the appropriate title to call you, he wondered. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He raises his hands up to show his nonviolent intent. 

Your head lowers in the water as your eyes nervously flick between him and your comb. He takes notice of this and directs his attention to the object. He remembered he picked it up along the shoreline of the river, fascinated by the jewels adorning it. He’d never seen anything like it before, as it gave off its own luminescent reflection and glow. He thought it could pick up a good price if it got sold, and he could add the earnings to the camp ledger. But the gems looked to be so otherworldly that he wasn’t even sure if the pawnbroker would accept the piece unless it was clearly made of gold or diamonds.

He gingerly picks up the comb, and your eyes follow it. How can she hold her breath for that long? “Is this yours?” His voice sounds gravelly to your ears, but softens at realizing what you were looking at. He holds it out to you in his large palm.

You still don’t move as you cautiously look between him and your comb. What if he pulled that knife out on you again?

“Go on.” He nods towards his hand, extending his arm further to you. “It belongs to you right?” 

You lift your head fully out of the water now, realizing that he truly was trying to return your comb back to you. You drift closer to him and grip the edge of the dock while your free hand reaches for the comb, water dripping from your outstretched arm. Your fingertips grip the comb’s spine, but not before your skin makes contact with his palm, which was rough and callous to the touch. Being so close to a human, even touching one was such a novel experience for you. 

You allow yourself to take one last curious glimpse of him, but you made sure to not overstay your welcome. You fully enclose your hand over the comb and swiftly draw your hand away, whipping your body around to dive back into the lake’s depths. 

Before you took off running, or swimming as Arthur was witnessing, his jaw hung open at seeing your iridescent tail flick up at the surface of the water and disappear along with you. 

—————

You thought you would stay away and keep your distance, attempting to be cautious after your last visit to the lake’s shore. But all caution was thrown out the window at every instance you would see the same man from before at the wooden docks. He didn’t come everyday, but it was more frequent than the usual human visitors. Sometimes he’d come with his journal like last time, others he’d bring a fishing rod. If he’d exhausted every other activity, the man would just sit there with his stool, gazing along the water’s surface as if he was waiting for something, someone.

You dove head first in the water, and kicked your tail behind you to make your way to the wooden dock, avoiding his line of sight. You circled around a wooden pole just like last time, quietly inching closer, plank by plank until you were near enough to catch a whiff of his cologne. The scent was unfamiliar to you, as it one that couldn’t exist underwater. Everything you’ve observed so far from this particular human was so intriguing to you.

You thought it would best to gently alert him of your presence. Hopefully he wouldn’t be equipped with his knife this time. You softly knocked at the wood by his feet with your knuckles.

He immediately sits up straight, his ears perking at the sound. He turns to the source, and his eyes settle on you. He stares at you in disbelief, awe and wonder clear in his expression. The man takes off his hat and holds it to his chest, as if doing so would better clear his vision at seeing you again.

“It… it’s you!” He exclaims breathlessly. “I thought last time I was dreamin’ in broad daylight.”

You remain silent as you quietly observe him, taking in all of his features. You wondered if all humans looked like this one. He carefully draws closer, taking down to one knee on the wooden plank you were holding on to. This time, you allowed your tail to lay buoyant on the water’s surface, the water lapping at the scales catching the sunlight. His eyes are gawking at it in astonishment, realizing that he wasn’t imagining things.

“You are real.” He grasps his bearded chin, amazement clear on his face now knowing that the tail did belong to you. You still remained wordless during this exchange.

He shakes his head and collects himself, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry about last time. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just, you startled me, that’s all.” He rubs the back of his neck. He’s beginning to feel restless at your silence.

You nodded your head gingerly, hoping to show him that you understood. His blue-green eyes light up with relief at getting an actual response from you, a small smile touching his lips. Were you imagining things, or was your heart starting to beat just a little faster?

“My name’s Arthur.” He thumps the rim of his hat against his broad chest and then tips it towards you. “And you, Miss?”

You opened your mouth, but no words left your lips. The sound was as if you were fogging up a glass windowpane.

“You… can’t speak?” 

You shake your head. You lift yourself onto your elbows to hold onto the ledge.

“Well, here.” He turns to reach inside his satchel to grab something. “I got a pen and some paper. You can write it—”

Your arm springs forward to stop him, your fingers enclosing around his wrist. His eyes widen as he freezes in his tracks but lets you guide his hand closer to you. You look at him intently and motion with your eyes to your joined hands, entreating him to follow along. Arthur begins to get the message as he angles his torso towards his palm as you hold it up for the both of you.

You begin to draw into his palm, the residual water from your fingers leaving behind a trail of letters. Your index finger slowly drops off at the edge of his palm at the last letter, and you turn your head back to look at Arthur.

“Is that your name?” Despite the water-etched letters already disappearing, he keeps his eyes on you with rapt attention.

This time a small smile graces your own lips, and you nod, pleased at his understanding.

“You know, I’m with a group. Our camp’s just a couple miles down that way.” Arthur cocks his head inland, a place impossible for you to set foot without any feet to walk on. “I asked them if they knew anything about mermaids.” He shakes his head and chuckles at the memory. “I damn well could’ve grown a second head the way they laughed at me.”

You listened to him intently despite being clueless to what he was talking about. For some reason, you could listen to his voice for hours. But your meeting was cut short at the sound of hooves rapidly approaching.

“Oh, that must be them.” Arthur glances over his shoulder. “Wait! You’re leavin’?” His brows furrowed in dismay as you were about to dive off into the water.

You conveyed your concern with your eyes as you looked between Arthur and the trees. While you exposed yourself to a human, he was the only exception. You didn’t want your existence to be known by others with less than good intentions.

“I understand. Look, I won’t keep you.” He places his hand down on the space of the wooden dock right in front of you. “I’ll see you again though, right?”

You hesitate with your reply, but you couldn’t lie to yourself. You did want to see him again.

“I’ll be here tomorrow, same time. Promise me you’ll come back?” His eyes pleaded with you, and you knew it would hurt you to say no to him. 

You quickly nodded your head. You didn’t wait for his response once you saw horses and their riders beginning to break through the trees, kicking your tail to propel yourself under the water’s surface.

—————

You met him every day after that. While there was a communication barrier between the two of you, you both made do with your hand gestures and his guiding questions. Once, he asked you where you came from, and you realized that pointing in the general direction left much information to be desired. 

Arthur brought with him a map the next time to show you. He unfurled the parchment, and you placed your finger on the Lannahechee River before following the river’s path until you reached Flat Iron Lake.

“Why did you leave?” He asked.

Your eyes turned solemn, your fingertips brushed against the city that was Saint Denis, its bustling industrialization tainting the waters and forcing you to leave your home. 

And he continued to bring many things to show you, as well as your own treasures, despite little in quantity they may be. A lone mermaid such as yourself in these waters couldn’t afford to have many worldly possessions. This was why you were so determined to retrieve your comb at the risk of being discovered. 

Arthur even one time brought his horse to introduce to you. You were stunned at seeing one for the first time, and you hesitated at first to approach it as Arthur led the horse to the shoreline where you were waiting. 

“She doesn’t bite. Well, she does but only if you cause her grief.”

You looked between him and the foreign creature in awe, a thrilled smile forming on your lips. It comes closer to you as it bows its head, but you couldn’t help pulling away in surprise.

“She wants you to rub her head. Go on.” Arthur keeps a hold on the lead as he beckons you forward, bending down at the waist with his palm facing upwards.

You allow Arthur to guide your hand to the horse’s muzzle and feel its breath puff against your forearm. Your hand delicately moves back and forth against the creature’s coat, fascinated by the foreign sensation against your palm. The horse bobs its head to encourage your pets, and you let out a breathless laugh. 

Arthur gives you an approving smile as he pats his loyal steed’s neck. “I reckon she likes you.” While your attention is trained on the horse, his eyes are transfixed by the image of you full of wonder and amazement. He’d brand the scene in his mind if he could. But the closest he could get was sketching in his journal. The next time he’d see you, maybe he’ll build up the courage to show you how he sees you in his eyes.

—————

You absentmindedly traced the cracks of the dock’s wooden post, occasionally peaking over the planks hoping to see a familiar figure. By now, Arthur would hitch his horse and make his way towards the shore, his face brightening at catching sight of you. 

A couple days passed by, and you weren’t too concerned. But then those days turned into weeks. The worry transformed into fear at the possibilities. Has he grown tired of you already? Or even worse, he told your secret to his group? Even with all of the negative thoughts swirling in your mind, they all converged to one point. You missed him. You wanted to see him, just as much as when he begged to see you again all those meetings ago.

Just as you were about to dive back into the water’s depths, your ears perked at the familiar sound of hooves galloping in your direction. Caution was thrown out the window as you lifted yourself up on the wooden dock in full view to hopefully catch sight of the person you wanted to see most. 

You were elated to find that it was Arthur. But his usual friendly demeanor was replaced by a grave expression on his face. He hitches his horse nearby and makes his way towards you in the water.

He kneels down at the dock. “You should’ve checked that it was me before you showed yourself.” Arthur admonishes you but not unkindly.

Your tail flicked restlessly in the water as you looked up at him and drank in his features. You cocked your head to the side, curious as to why he hadn’t paid you a visit in so long.

Arthur looks over his shoulder to double check his surroundings. “I’m sorry I haven’t come in a while. Our group’s been put through the wringer, and we lost one of our own, a kid. We also got enemies on our trail, so we had to leave the area.” His explanation comes tumbling out, and you did your best to listen and make sense of it.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back again.” Upon seeing your crestfallen face, Arthur is quick to reassure you. “But I swear I’ll come find you again. I just need to take care of some things on my side.”

You nodded hesitantly, not sure of the implications of his situation, but there was nothing else that you could do. 

“Our camp’s moving towards the swamps, closer to St. Denis. Place called Shady Belle. It’s near where you used to live.”

Arthur looks back again, a more urgent tone rising in his voice. “I have to go.” Just as he was about to stand, you reached out to grasp his arm, a silent cry coming out of your mouth to stop him momentarily.

His eyes widened in surprise to be stopped in his tracks. You entreated him to give you his hand, and you placed the same jeweled comb that allowed the two of you to meet into his palm.

“No I… I can’t take this.” 

You shake your head and urge him forward by closing his fingers over the comb.

Arthur hesitates at first, but then he turns to stow away your treasure in his satchel. “I’ll keep it safe. You know, it’s like I have a little piece of you I can carry around.” 

A warm flush envelopes your face at the idea, and you nod in agreement. 

“I’ll see you soon.”

—————

You didn’t wait for him to come. Instead, you went to him. If the alligators didn’t eat you, that is.

The swamp waters were harder to navigate, with all of its algae and murkiness. You were careful to avoid any vegetation that would catch onto your tail fin. 

Eventually, your head peeked out of the water, and you saw the outline of a worn down, two story mansion, with a camp set up along the front porch. You kept your distance though, remembering that Arthur was with not just one but multiple humans.

You swam along the outskirts of the swamp until you reached the backside of the mansion, finding purchase on a wooden dock similar to the one at home. 

Meanwhile, as Arthur was upstairs in the dilapidated mansion, his eyes caught the glint of familiar iridescent scales flitting through the swamp water. He could recognize them anywhere. He rushes down the stairs as quickly as possible without drawing suspicion from the gang, occasionally looking over his shoulder. 

He kneels down at the dock and urgently whispers your name. At the sound of his voice, you emerge from underneath the water, a bright smile on your face that Arthur swears makes his heart ache.

“The hell you doing here for?” He’s all astonishment. 

Out of all of the times, you wished you could speak now, form the words you wanted to say to Arthur. Express how you feel. How you missed him so desperately that you sought him out yourself. But the only thing you could do was reach for him.

Arthur catches your hand without hesitation. Your breath hitches at him pressing your palm to his cheek, not caring about the water touching the scruff of his beard. 

“What if someone saw you?” His brows furrowed in worry. “The water here’s not safe, you know. It’s teeming with alligators.” 

He notices the bits of algae caught in your hair. “Look at you.” His fingers move to pick them out of your locks. “You’re too pretty for a swamp.”

You close your eyes, and Arthur takes this chance to dust his knuckles over your cheek. A shiver runs down your spine and all the way to your tail at the intimate touch. 

“You should’ve waited. I would’ve gone to you.” His voice is soft.

You open your eyes at that and shake your head, your expression forming into a sulk. 

“I… I have to tell you something.” He’s hesitant, a little fearful even. 

You cock your head to the side in curiosity.

“The way you look at me…  the way you make me feel. It almost makes me think I’m a good man.” He smiles bitterly.

You shook your head fervently. Why wouldn’t he be anything else but good?

“No, I’ve done bad things, horrible things. All for the sake of… well now I don’t know anymore.” Arthur’s eyes are distant as his gaze is trained on the ripples caused by your tail undulating in the water.

You sensed that you were losing him. You reach up and clasp his face in your hands, trying to ground him back to this moment. He’s startled at first, but then his eyelids lower as your fingers smooth out the lines in his forehead, tracing his eyebrows. Your thumb gently rubs back and forth across his cheek. 

“You make me want to be better.” His voice is a low murmur. He lowers his head towards the water, towards you, as his lips press against your forehead. Your heat picks up pace in your chest, a rosy pink staining your cheeks. He stares at your lips in longing, and you didn’t realize how you unconsciously raised yourself out of the water to meet your lips with his.  

The two of you were just a hair away from a kiss before noises erupt from the camp, and the two of you whip your heads towards the source. You heard Arthur curse under his breath.

“They’re back.” Arthur returns his attention to you, but his eyes are now frantic. “I can’t have Dutch see you. You gotta get out of here.” 

You didn’t know who this Dutch was, but based on Arthur’s tone, he was a person that was a danger to your existence. You nodded resolutely.

“Go, now!”

You give him one final look before you dove under the surface of the swamp. 

—————

You didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye. There was no guarantee you would see him again. And like how Arthur said, the swamp was a danger to you. You could’ve been an alligator’s next meal.

Just as you thought the water was getting clearer as you swam, you didn’t realize the dark shadow that was descending on you, a fishing net to be exact. 

An underwater gurgle escapes your throat as the net latches around you. You darted back and forth, clawing at the netting to try to escape its clutches, but it was no use as you were being lifted out of the water. 

You weren’t able to fully process the sensation of completely being a fish out of water as the net dumped you on the floor of an massive, industrial-looking fishing boat. 

There were shouts and exclamations from a group of humans at witnessing what they just caught. Other crew members rushed over to see the commotion.

“What the hell?!” 

You were breathing fast, hyperventilating even as you thrashed about, your tail fin lodged in the net’s openings. 

You felt helpless as these foreign humans crowded around you to catch a glimpse of the once thought mythical creature. 

“Captain, what do we do with it?” One human speaks up, his eyes practically bugging out of his eyes at the sight of you.

The leader of this fishing boat was also left speechless. But he eventually collects himself.

Part I, Part II

Part III

Pairing: Club Bouncer Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: Dutch owns a popular night club, with Arthur as its bouncer. You're Dutch's prized possession, and when you run in to some trouble at the club, Arthur comes to the rescue. When he gets you alone, he realizes why Dutch keeps you so close.

Warnings: Explicit Content, NSFW, Unprotected Smut

Word Count: 4.4k AO3 Link

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Arthur seems to come back to himself as the haze from his eyes clears, his labored breathing slowing down as he tries to steady it. The flush of his face looks as if he ran a mile, but the evidence of his high spread all over your spine spoke otherwise.

Your hair was pooled along the surface of a deep mahogany office desk, Dutch’s desk specifically, and you raised yourself up gingerly onto your forearms. You were fucked twice on this thing. It reminded you of the time Arthur walked in on you and Dutch, except this time you’re bent over and face down into the wood.

You slowly crane your neck to look over your shoulder, your body lethargic after he made you cum three times. Or was it four? You lost count.

You shake your head, a dreamy smile on your face as you come down from your orgasm, your hole clenching over the emptiness that Arthur left behind. Despite his size, he’s painstakingly gentle with you, to the point you have to encourage him to be rougher during your coupling. Today was the day he acquiesced to your request.

You turn to reposition yourself and lift yourself up onto the edge of the desk. “You could never hurt me.” You reassure him. You lean forward and relax against his chest, your arms wrapping around the broad expanse of his back and shoulders.

He responds by enveloping you with arms that could strangle a man, but the way they held you in a warm embrace was exclusively for you.

Arthur nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, and you feel his tongue slide over your skin, sending a welcome shiver down your spine. His teeth peek out briefly to graze over the area, and a moment of hesitation passes before he closes his mouth to press a kiss to your throat.

Your fingertips rub the hairs at the base of his neck, and you pull your head back to look at him, your nose and lips merely millimeters away from his.

“What’s stopping you?” You raise a hand to cradle the side of his face, his scruff rubbing into your palm. Your thumb swipes his bottom lip, and a deep groan reverberates in his throat. His eyes flick to your eyes and your lips, desire clear in his expression. “It won’t hurt me.” You tilt your head to expose more of your neck to him,

He holds onto your waist as if to anchor his last bit of self restraint, otherwise he’ll lose control of himself, falling victim to temptation that was in human form— you.

He desperately wants to mark you up and sink his teeth into the supple skin of your neck, to leave your inner thighs red with bite marks. But he knows better than to do that.

“Dutch’ll see.” Arthur says simply, but he can’t suppress the hoarseness of his voice.

“It’ll go away by the time he comes back from his trip.” Your hand slides over his shoulder and trails down, admiring the cords of muscle lining his bicep. “You don’t want to?” You look up to him from under your lashes, feigning disappointment.

“Oh, trust me. I do.” He has a rueful smile on his face as his fingers weave through your hair, pulling the strands away from your neck and face. “But I’d rather not risk a bullet to the head.”

He grabs a tissue and proceeds to wipe his cum off your back. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll handle things here.” You close your eyes as he kisses your forehead.

—————

The familiar club music was blaring in the background as you waited for Dutch in the private VIP booth. He was supposed to come back from his business trip tonight, and you were instructed to meet him here. What you didn’t expect was to see him and Angelo Bronte arrive together as the two of them approached the booth.

“Oh, you brought company?” Bronte's voice is light but the subtle hostility in his eyes speaks otherwise.

Dutch slides into the booth next to you. “She’ll behave, won’t you?”

Your lips lifted into a measured smile to prove your docility. “Always.” Dutch hated Angelo Bronte, so you were mildly surprised to see him here. But you didn’t question it any further. Technically he was the best arms dealer around, and the club needed firepower in case of undesirable fights breaking out.

Your eyes remained downturned as the two spoke business, your ears tuning out the finer details. The conversation was like any other that you made sure not to participate in, but it was at Bronte’s mention of you that set you on edge.

“I see you keep your little pet on a tight leash.” The Italian man’s eyes were on you now, mirth clear in his expression.

Dutch’s jaw clenches at Bronte unabashedly perceiving you. Bronte relished goading him on, finding any way to push his limits and upset Dutch.

“What are you getting at?”

Bronte casually shrugs his shoulders, but the playful smirk on his face speaks of trouble. “I’m just looking out for a… friend.” He tests out the term. “You know how you have to be careful with female cats. Let them loose while in heat, and they’ll let any male have their turn.”

Your muscles stiffen at the comment as you keep your eyes down, but you can only imagine Dutch’s face right now.

“What belongs to me is none of your concern.” You could hear the quiet anger simmering in his voice, waiting to erupt. “I suppose we’re done here.” Dutch ends the meeting there and steps out of the booth. You follow after him and leave Angelo Bronte behind with his men, catching a glimpse of his smile knowing the seed that he has planted.

—————

Your nails drag down the skin of his back, no doubt that they would surely leave marks. Your thighs were spread wide and open for him as he thrusts his cock deep inside you. Even as you let out a cry of pleasure, a voice still echoes in the back of your mind.

“Let them loose while in heat, and they’ll let any male have their turn.”

Still connected to you, Arthur pulls back and looks at you beneath him, slowly rocking his hips. His eyes are dull and glazed over as he relishes the sensation of your walls gripping his length so tightly.

Just as you feel the wave of your orgasm rising, Arthur slows down and brings a hand to your cheek, the back of his fingers stroking your skin.

“What’s wrong? You look miles away.”

You overlap his large hand with yours, leaning into his touch. You give him a reassuring smile as you raise yourself up and wrap your arms around him in a warm embrace. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

** MINORS DNI **

Part I, Part III

Part II

Pairing: Club Bouncer Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: Dutch owns a popular night club, with Arthur as its bouncer. You're Dutch's prized possession, and when you run in to some trouble at the club, Arthur comes to the rescue. When he gets you alone, he realizes why Dutch keeps you so close.

Warnings: Explicit Content, NSFW, Unprotected Smut

Word Count: 3k AO3 Link

“Careful!” You said breathlessly as you watched the fountain pen you got for Dutch’s birthday clatter to the ground, in addition to all of the other items with it. “That was a limited edition one you know.” You couldn’t help but sulk at seeing it possibly getting ruined after Dutch cleared his office desk like a destructive hurricane, hastily lifting you and shoving you down against the deep mahogany wood.

“I’ll get another one.” He growls as he unbuttons the front of your blouse, tearing the threads and fabric in the process. He stands over you as his hands move impatiently to tug your bottoms along with your panties down your ass and legs, not even bothering with the zipper. He tosses the piece of clothing along with the other objects that were previously on his desk. His eagerness to fuck you senseless overcame him, just from seeing you innocently flipping through a magazine as you lounged on the divan of his office. You knew to never interfere with Dutch’s professional life in regards to the club. But you never left his side either unless it was necessary. That’s why you were his pretty doll that would always sit patiently for him, to give him comfort, words of affection, or satisfy him carnally as his lover.

It wasn’t long before he settled himself between your thighs, burying his hot, throbbing cock inside you all the way to the base, claiming you as his. His hands are splayed along the curve of your hips with a tight hold to make sure you’re accommodating all of him. You responded with an unrestrained, loud cry as your chin tipped towards the ceiling, your walls clamped around him with a vice-like grip.

He ruts into your cunt like an animal in heat, pulling out partially and then thrusting his length back in, rocking your body up and down against the wood of the desk. He knocks the breath out of you, but the rhythm he maintains has you intoxicated, angling his hips to make sure he hits your most pleasurable spots to have you jerk against him.

It all feels so good, too good, and you never want him to stop. But, your body betrays you as that characteristic tightness coalesces in your stomach, aching to be unraveled. Without anything to hold on to, your hand drops to your clit throbbing like a drum. You press the pads of your fingers against the bundle of nerves to stimulate it and help you along.

“No.” Dutch’s tone was low and domineering as he snatches your hand to rob your clit of your rubbing and interlaces your fingers together to lay against the desk. He takes your spot by pressing his own fingertips against your clit, roughly making tight circles against the nub. He never loses pace as he thrusts in and out of you at the same time, but you see his hair coming loose from the pomade that usually slicks it back.

Tears start to rim your eyes at the stimulation, your brows furrowing together. You’re just about to snap, but your orgasm is cut short by hearing the click of the door opening and heavy footsteps treading in.

“Dutch, I needa talk to you about–” You hear Arthur’s voice abruptly stop as he enters the room, witnessing his superior fucking you hard on top of his office desk. Alarmed, your head tips back to see Arthur’s figure upside down and returns to make wide eye contact with Dutch.

He remains undeterred as he continues to fuck you, even possibly turned on at the opportunity to show off that you were his possession. He does a couple final kneads to your clit, and your walls clench around him to indicate you were close to reaching your high.

“Dutch!” You call out for him, your voice coming out small and desperate as your back arches off the desk like a pulled bow string. Your orgasm tips you over the edge as it erupts and spreads tingles down your thighs and legs, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Dutch in turn comes deep all inside you at the same time with his pelvis pressed up firmly against yours, ropes of cum released in your cunt. He does a few rocks into you before pulling out.

You bit back a whimper, mouth clamped shut as you breathed harsh breaths through your nose, as if you were trying to save Arthur from any further noises that Dutch caused. His subordinate remains standing there, grave and silent as Dutch pulls you upright by your arms and wraps his coat around your shoulders.

“What is it?” Dutch is short and brusque as he’s now all business with Arthur in the room, unbothered at being watched. He lifts a hand to set his stray strands of hair back into place. You, on the other hand, wished you could make yourself invisible at that very moment, but your only comfort was wrapping Dutch’s jacket tighter around yourself.

“A supplier wanted to talk to you about next month’s shipment.” Your back is still turned to Arthur, so you can’t see the expression on his face. But his voice comes out even and professional, as if you didn’t just violently orgasm right in front of him.

“Ah, yes. That’s right.” Dutch recalls. He turns back to you and lifts your chin to meet his gaze. “Get dressed. The car will be ready downstairs to take you home.”

You nod obediently, and move to hop off the desktop. Your footsteps are light as you walk to the door, but not before you look up and make eye contact with Arthur. You weren’t sure what to expect, but you found his eyes to be unreadable. He observed you neutrally as you quickly walked past him to leave, even lazily crossing his arms across his chest as he waited to speak with Dutch. You didn’t know what sort of reaction you wanted from Arthur, but it made your chest tighten at seeing him so close and yet unable to touch him.

You make your quick exit out of the office, but what you didn’t notice back then was the way Arthur eyes were boring into you as you arched your back off of the table, reaching your climax with your skin glistening with sweat. You didn’t know how much he wanted to be Dutch at that moment, to have his own cock gripped tightly by your walls, just like back then.

—

Your shower was short and speedy, not even bothering to dry your hair as it lay wet and clinging to your neck. You threw on a light cotton dress that fell just above your knees, something much more casual than what you usually wear during club hours. The car must be lined up by the curb by now, and you didn’t want to keep the chauffeur waiting.

You quickly walked past the threshold of the club out into the open air. The chauffeur waited diligently by the car, and immediately tips his hat at seeing you. You gave him a small smile as he moved to open the door for you. You were just about to slide into the leather seats before you froze at seeing who was on the other side.

Arthur turned his head slightly, noticing that you were here. He sat relaxed with his legs spread wide open across the seat, his arms crossed just like back in Dutch’s office.

“You comin’ in or not?” He’s casually smoking a cigarette, the scent of it along with Arthur’s musk trailing in the air.

You blinked out of your daze and bent down to climb into the seat. The chauffeur closes the door after you, and proceeds to start the car back to Dutch’s penthouse.

“You don’t mind I catch a ride with you, right?” He asks nonchalantly. A puff of smoke escapes his lips.

You shake your head but keep your gaze down, your hands folded in your lap. “No, it’s fine.”

He turns his head back forward, and the two of you are silent as the car continues along the road, with only the rumble of the engine filling the void. Your eyes eventually are trained out the window, staring at the buildings and trees blurring past you.

You thought the entire car ride would remain wordless until Arthur caught your attention as he spoke again.

“Why didn’t you dry your hair?”

You don’t know why but a rush of heat spread across your cheeks at the innocent question. “Oh.” You tucked a wet strand behind your ear. “I was in a hurry.” You said sheepishly.

He raises his hand and separates tendrils of hair that are plastered to your neck, the rough pads of his fingertips grazing your skin. Goosebumps raise down your arms at his touch.

“You’ll get a cold if you don’t do it properly.” He admonishes you but not unkindly, his voice deep enough to reverberate through your bones.

You nod weakly, your throat bobbing as you try to swallow your saliva. You attempt to appear unaffected, but it’s impossible when it comes to Arthur.

Just as you thought you could calm your speeding heart, his hand lowers to grasp the top of your knee. Your eyes dart to the rear view mirror only to see the driver absentmindedly driving his usual route to get to Dutch’s home, seemingly clueless to what was occurring in the back seat.

“Better not be an empty promise.” His palm starts to snake up the skirt of your dress, bunching the fabric along with it. His hand lands along your upper thigh, his fingers spread across the inner skin of it. Your folded hands, now shaking, were just centimeters away from his.

This continues for the remaining car ride as his thumb traces aimless circles into your skin. Before you were shocked, but now the repetitive motion was comforting. Your eyes began to lower as you felt your conscious fading, a light nap waiting for you before you got home.

You drifted off to sleep momentarily, but you were roused awake at Arthur squeezing your thigh.

“We’ve arrived.” The chauffeur announces to the both of you. He pulls up the car into the private lot, parks the car, and steps out to open your car door. Arthur wordlessly removes his hand from you, but leaves your skirt scandalously rucked up almost past your hips. You glance at him to see his lips quirked up in a playful smile, confirming he did that on purpose. He turns to go ahead to open his own door and steps out.

Just as you heard your side click open, you hastily yank the skirt of your dress back to your knees before the chauffeur saw. You swing your legs out to exit the car, stepping onto the sidewalk. You notice that Arthur waits for you patiently by the grand doors of the apartment high rise, and you lightly jog to catch up with him.

The both of you proceed to enter the building and are immediately greeted warmly by the concierge. The Van der Linde name was held in high regard since Dutch owned the penthouse of the building and other shares of the hotel. You and Arthur enter the elevator with a hotel worker who makes small talk with you both and presses the button that would take you to the top floor.

The elevator dings at reaching your desired floor, and the two of you step out, leaving behind the worker as the doors quietly close shut.

Arthur confidently strides ahead through the extravagantly furnished penthouse while you tread carefully across the polished tile floor, as if you were a stranger in your own home. Arthur was the culprit of your wariness.

“Go ahead, and take a seat.” He nods towards the velvet couch in the living room. Before you could fully settle down on the plush cushions, he briefly disappears, leaving you to look towards where he left in curiosity.

You went ahead and took a seat. It wasn’t too long before Arthur returned, but this time, a medium sized towel was held in his hand.

“Your hair is botherin’ me, all soppin’ wet. You didn’t even think to wring it out?” He chides you. “Come here.”

He stands directly in front of you, and you lean your head down, letting locks of your hair fall forward. Arthur takes it as permission for him to proceed to dry your hair. He covers the crown of your head with the towel and massages your scalp, making sure to wring out every strand.

“Thank you. This feels nice.” You expressed your gratitude to him as your body loses its tension. Despite the hint of snark in his tone, he’s gentle, just like when he touched you in the car and even back when he tended to your wounds at the club. “And for back then too.” You referred to the incident.

“I don’t do this for everyone, you hear?” He pulls the towel so it’s just above your hairline to expose your face to him. He clarifies further to make sure his message is as clear as day. “I don’t do this at all for anyone. It’s ‘cause it’s you.” His voice is a low murmur.

Your face warms at his words, and a sense of deep satisfaction rolls over you knowing you have the same effect on him just as he does on you. Feeling a bit bold in the moment, you let yourself take liberties at what you spoke next. “Will you do anything I say?” Your voice was soft as you gazed at him with innocent doe eyes.

His throat bobs at your question, and he eyes you curiously. “Surprise me.”

You tap your lips at him, egging him on. “Kiss me, Arthur?”

A strangled noise escapes his throat at your sudden request. He doesn’t waste any time before he bends down at the waist, his large frame encompassing yours as he keeps your head cradled in his arms with the towel still draped over your hair. You tilt your head up to press your lips against his, a taste of tobacco and alcohol entering your mouth no doubt from Arthur, but still familiar to you nonetheless from living at the club.

You pull a millimeter away, and your voice comes out a little breathless. “Sit down.” You pat the space of the velvet sofa right next to you as you pull the towel off of your head and toss it to the side.

He’s silent, but obediently listens to your every word. Arthur proceeds to sit down next to you, and you turn to straddle his hips, earning an appreciative hum from him as his hands find purchase on his hips. With Dutch, it was all about control for him. As his pet, you were never his equal, so experimentation and switching the dynamics were not a part of his agenda. That’s why you couldn’t help the sense of delight at having Arthur under your hands. You bring one up to cup and caress his cheek, before dragging it down to the crook of his neck. He turns his head to the side, allowing you better access to him. Your hands inch further down, tracing his abdomen, until you land on the buckle at his hips.

You’re happy to see him already hard for you as his bulge stretches the fabric of his pants. “Can I?” You speak so softly, so gently, as if you were the one begging when in actuality Arthur would fall at your every word, to kiss you or to kill someone else.

“I’m all yours.” His voice is gruff. His admission encourages you even further as you unbuckle his belt to free his cock, hard and throbbing for you. Your clit was already throbbing in response. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you lifted your cotton dress up, grateful that you wore something with such easy access. With one hand on Arthur’s shoulder to steady yourself, you pull your panties to the side, lowering yourself achingly low on his length to accommodate his above average girth. His head tips back against the back sofa cushion, groaning at the sensation of entering you.

Once you enter all the way to the base, his hands run up and down your back before he crushes you against him, his nose nudging the crook of your neck. “I missed you.”

His tight hold knocked the air out of you but in a way that sent tingles down your spine. You begin to roll your hips against his, and you pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Your head becomes quiet and empty once all of your focus is intent on reaching both of your highs. You start to pick up the speed, and Arthur thrusts up into you to match your own.

He groans directly into your ear at every roll of your hips, and it sends you into overdrive. You drop your hips lower as you feel yourself getting closer to your climax, the tension in your clit close to snapping and sending you over the edge.

** MINORS DNI **

Part II, Part III

Pairing: Club Bouncer Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: Dutch owns a popular night club, with Arthur as its bouncer. You're Dutch's prized possession, and when you run in to some trouble at the club, Arthur comes to the rescue. When he gets you alone, he realizes why Dutch keeps you so close.

Warnings: Explicit Content, NSFW, Unprotected Smut

Word Count: 4.4k AO3 Link

You needed a drink. That was what you thought amidst the thunderous boom of the music, the bass rocking through your very bones. The neon strobe lights criss-crossed the nightclub to illuminate the dancefloor and all other kinds of sordid activities occurring at the place. But to you it was comforting. It was like your other home. Because the operations of the nightclub were how the gang made its living, whether it be legal or illegal. 

And with the cash that the club rakes up, it also made its earnings through investments, loans and relationships with suppliers. Dutch held a tight ship with the club as its owner. He didn’t care about the method if the results ended up lining the gang’s pockets. Which was why him and Strauss were currently engaged in a discussion on the financial oversight of the club. 

“I’m not paying that much just for some fucking moonshine.” He snapped. You watch Dutch tap the end of his cigarette against the rim of an ashtray, his lips releasing a puff of smoke. With the amount of time that you spend here, it was like you were smoking a pack a day just from the second hand smoke you were inhaling. But the smell was familiar to you nonetheless. “Tell the Braithewaites to give me a better deal, or we’ll find a different supplier.” His words weren’t threats, they were promises. 

Sweat lines Strauss’ brow as he sits on the opposite side of the VIP booth. Even if he wasn’t the Braithewaites in question, he didn’t want to be at the face of Dutch’s wrath. He pulls out a handkerchief out of his pocket to dab at the sheen on his forehead, his round-rimmed glasses held a glare from the strobe lights. 

You also looked back at Strauss as if you were a part of this exchange, but anything to do with money or finance was absent from your repertoire. You sat on the same side as Dutch, your hands folded neatly in your lap as you kept silent during the conversation. 

Strauss nods earnestly, not even fathoming to go against Dutch’s words. “Yes, of course. I’ll make sure to speak to them again.” 

“Good.” Dutch leans back against the booth, raising the cigarette back to his lips, and a slight ember emerges at the end of it as he takes another breath. Momentarily satisfied that his demands were heard, he raises his arm and drops it back down to drape around you, his hand settling down to grasp your hip. You immediately nestle your body close to his as you settle against him, your head reflexively resting against Dutch’s shoulder. Strauss follows his movements and glances at you before quickly averting his eyes, making sure that his gaze doesn’t linger.

All eyes made sure to never stay on Dutch’s pet if they didn’t want to incur his wrath, and as his pet, you never strayed from that role. He was possessive of your very being, your mind and body wholly belonging to him. You never left his side as you attended all of his business meetings despite understanding next to nothing as to what went on in the conversations. And you kept him warm in his bed as he fucked you too, the scratches lining his back just from last night a testament to that. 

Strauss continues to update Dutch on the situation, but as he listens silently, his thumb starts to trace aimless circles onto your skin. You shift in the booth to allow him more access, wanting him to touch you under your silk top too. It was one of his favorite pieces of yours, and you made sure to wear it. Mostly because it was easy to take off.

But you really did need a drink. The conversation was going over your head as usual.

You turn your head up towards Dutch, your lips grazing against the shell of his ear to whisper to him. Even your smallest movements spur him to action as he immediately tunes out Strauss and leans down towards you to hear what you have to say.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

He frowns and looks at you. “Get someone to bring it to you.” He starts to raise his hand to snap his fingers for an associate, but you grab it into yours just in time. You hold it up to press his palm against your cheek and shake your head.

“But I want to get it myself.” You couldn’t help but sulk, hoping he’d give in. “I want to stretch my legs too.”

He’s quiet for a moment, deliberating on his decision. To be honest, he was weak to you when you pleaded with him like this. Then he holds your chin, tilting it up towards him to look you in the eyes. “Get it, and come back.” He says sternly. “No detours.”

You smile and nod your head. Your eyelids flutter closed as you raise yourself up to meet his lips in a kiss. His hand comes behind to hold a bundle of your hair, tugging on the strands enough to spread tingles along your scalp and goosebumps along your skin. He knows you like having your hair pulled. He deepens the kiss, and you open your mouth obediently for him. You see Strauss shift uncomfortably in his seat out of the corner of your eye. 

Once he’s had his fill of you, he releases his grip, and you slide out of the booth towards the more congested area of the club. The air becomes more thick and stagnant now that there are more bodies crowded together. You squeeze past the club patrons as you make your way to the bar. You lean over the counter and raise your voice over the blaring music for a cocktail. Recognizing your face, the bartenders almost jump over each other to get your drink to you as fast as possible. Your smile is almost apologetic as you watch their anxiety unfold.

You didn’t even have time to say thank you before one of the bartenders hastily hands you your drink in a cocktail glass, carefully attentive towards not touching your skin. Even when you weren’t by Dutch’s side, he had eyes everywhere to keep tabs on everyone, especially you. 

Just as you were about to leave the counter, your path was blocked by an unfamiliar club patron. You halt in your tracks to avoid bumping into him and try to not spill your drink as the liquid wobbles in the glass. 

“Excuse me.” You avoid eye contact and try to make your way around the man, but what you didn’t know was that his aim was you. He steps to the side in front of you again, a smirk lining his face as he eyes you up and down. 

“Where you heading to, pretty girl?” He places an arm next to you to lean against the counter top, pinning you in place. “Can I tag along?”

You don’t smile, but you keep your expression neutral and polite, trying to not antagonize the man. The fact that he was trying to make a pass at you made it obvious he was a new patron of the gang’s night club. Regulars always knew to leave you alone. 

“Sorry, I have to head back. Someone’s waiting on me.” You reply curtly. You spoke hoping none of the words coming out of your mouth were to encourage him. But you remained cordial. 

He doesn’t give in or let up the distance between you two. Rather, he steps even closer to invade your space, the musk of his cologne overpowering your senses. The smoke from Dutch’s cigarette smelled better than him, you thought.

“Come on baby.” He grabs your wrist, and this time, you start getting uneasy with his hands on your skin, your stomach churning at his unpleasant touch. “Don’t be like that. We can have some fun.” 

“I said, no!” You raise your voice, and this time, it garners attention from the other club goers. You didn’t want it to come to this. By now, one of Dutch’s people is probably already calling for him to deal with the situation. 

The man’s face twists into a sneer, now angry that the rejection of his advances are being made public. “Don’t be such a fucking bitch.” He forcibly grabs your wrist and shoves you against the counter. You try to break your fall against the granite, but his overpowering strength causes the glass you were holding to shatter against your hand. You cry out in pain at the shards embedding themselves into your skin. You examine the wound and hold your bloodied hand against your chest, glaring at the man. 

His eyes widen in alarm at the situation being escalated once the blood from your palm starts trailing down your forearm and tries to dodge accountability. “Look, I didn’t–” He doesn’t even finish his sentence when a large palm clasps firmly over his shoulder, holding him in place. The man freezes and turns his head slowly to find the source of it.

“Now that’s not how you treat a lady in our fine establishment, partner.” Arthur’s voice comes out as a gravelly drawl as he holds the culprit in place. He stands towering a foot taller than the man, with a large, muscular build that makes it useful for him to be the club’s bouncer. He’s dressed in a black, long sleeve button up shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose his chest and the sleeves rolled up showing his forearms. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave now.” 

“She– she caused an accident for herself! It was her drink!” The man makes feeble attempts to defend himself, but he stops when he feels Arthur’s grip tightening on his shoulder, causing him to wince in pain. 

“I won’t ask nicely again.” His voice rumbles with a simmering anger. The man shrinks back from the sheer domineering force of Arthur. 

“What, is all this commotion?” The crowd fluidly parts at Dutch’s presence as he approaches the scene, his irritation evident with his furrowed brows. Security follows close behind him as back up.

Arthur turns to him and nods his head towards you. “He was picking at our girl here.” You look to Dutch, an apologetic look on your face as you quickly hide your arm behind your torso, fearful that he would see the blood. You knew Dutch would never blame you, but his anger still frightened you either way. 

He makes his way to you at the bar in a few quick strides. He leans in close, his eyes demanding you tell him everything. “Did he hurt you?” 

You spoke quietly, praying that he wouldn’t overreact. “He startled me, yes. But I’m okay.” 

His eyes narrow at your side, noticing your arms suspiciously held behind your back. Usually with him so close, you would automatically link your arms around his to cling to him. 

“He made her bleed.” Arthur’s voice is grave. He grabs the man at the back of the neck with a crushing hold, paying him back tenfold when the man snatched your wrist from before. “You fucking grabbed her like this right?” The man’s flails around in Arthur’s grasp. 

Dutch’s eyes turn murderous when he learns the truth from his subordinate, ignoring the man’s painful cries. He flicks his eyes to your hidden arm and back to yours. “Show me.” He holds out his hand.

You reluctantly pull your arm out from behind your back and place it into his palm. A hiss escapes from his mouth as he assesses the damage done to you, the blood staining your skin. Despite his anger, he held your arm gingerly, careful to not agitate any of the wounds. His eyes turn dark when he turns your arm over to expose the glass shards embedded in your palm, committing the image to memory. 

Arthur’s eyes also widened at seeing how serious your injuries really were. His attention turns back to the perpetrator, his presence menacing even to those in proximity to him. “You’re fucking dead.” He deals out his sentence.

“Enough.” It was Dutch this time, his voice booming. “I’ll handle this myself.” He nods to the other security guards. “Fellas, take him.” On command, they come forward to close in on the man, with Arthur releasing his hold to pass on the torch. The man shrinks in fear as he is apprehended, but both Arthur and Dutch could care less as their focus is all on you. 

“Arthur, take her to one of the private rooms.” Even with you as Dutch’s prized possession, his trust in Arthur was indelible. He was the only other person allowed to touch you. And Arthur in turn was deeply loyal to the man, almost to a fault. 

 “Understood.” Arthur didn’t need to be asked twice. He begins to turn your shoulders around to guide you to a private club room before you turn your head back to take a glimpse at what Dutch was going to do to the perpetrator. Dutch looks at you with a grim expression on his face, but he nods to you in response to your weak eyes. 

You and Arthur enter one of the luxury rooms of the clubs, furnished with a bed and fine decor. You knew exactly what these rooms were used for. The VIP patrons liked using these quarters for their own personal debauchery. While Dutch took your body for himself, he preferred to fuck you in your shared bedroom at home. 

“Go ahead, and take a seat.” Arthur’s voice is low and gentle, the complete opposite as to how he spoke out on the club floor. You nodded and obediently sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking under your weight. He leaves temporarily to find a first aid kit and comes back to the room to kneel at your feet. 

“May I?” He gestures to your injured hand. You nodded and turned your palm upward to lay into his palm. He scowls at the actual damage that you took now under full lighting. “You’ll need stitches.” 

He uses tweezers to begin picking out the shards lodged in your skin and drops the pieces into a tray. You try to bite back any noises, but you couldn’t help the tears rimming your eyes at the pain. Arthur looks up at you sympathetically. 

“I know, it hurts.” He continues to delicately pull out the broken glass. A tear escapes and trickles down your cheek, and at this, he’s alarmed. “Don’t cry.” He tries to soothe you. “I won’t know what to do if you cry. And Dutch would kill me if I brought you back snifflin.”

You laugh softly through your tears at the image that Arthur created and wipe your cheeks. He smiles, relieved to see your mood lifting.

Once the last piece of glass is out of your skin, he moves swiftly to make the process as painless as possible for you. He uses a sterilized needle and thread to sew your skin back up, and while you still felt a pulsing ache in your palm, the needle felt more like pinches as he stitched you up. Lastly, he takes a roll of bandages to bind your wound, skillfully wrapping the material around your palm in a way that doesn’t apply too much pressure around your hand. 

He turns your now bandaged hand over and lightly pats the back of it. “There, all better. Why don’t you rest here for a little while before Dutch comes back?” You nod in agreement and move towards your shoes to remove them but wince as you try to flex your hand. 

“Now hold on.” He stops you, nodding at your feet. “I’ll get them for you.” His hands lower to your ankle to undo the straps around them. Once they’re loose, he has one hand on the back of your ankle and the other to slide the heel off your foot. He turns his attention to the remaining shoe to do the same process. But as he discards your heels to the floor, you find his hand lingering on your ankle, his eyes locked on it as if he was in a trance.

Your breath hitches when he traces his hand up against your calf, admiring the suppleness of your skin. 

“You weren’t… hurt anywhere else, were you?” He glances up at you beneath his lashes before returning his gaze back to your feet. His thumb moves back and forth against you. Heat starts to rise up your neck as he touches you so delicately but also so sensually. 

“No…” Your voice comes out quiet as you shake your head.

His head was bent over, so you couldn’t see his expression. But his actions speak otherwise as his other hand dusts over your leg, up towards your knee. “I can see why Dutch keeps a tight leash on you.” Arthur says. His eyes travel up to you to meet your gaze. He wets his bottom lip. 

He’s quiet for a while before he speaks again. “Well. We have to check, don’t we?” He rises up to his full height, casting a shadow over the bed, over you. You didn’t realize just how big he was now that he was in front of you. He crosses his arms and looks at you expectantly.

Your heart picks up speed now realizing what he means. You look down and reach for the zipper of your skirt at your hip. The sound of you pulling it down your upper thigh echoes throughout the room, with Arthur staying deathly silent. You discard it to the side and then cross your arms to grab the hem of your silk top, raising the fabric to pull over your head. You were left in just your underwear and bra. Goosebumps rise along your skin now directly exposed to the air. 

His eyes are boring into you, but now they’re flaming with lust and desire. He places his arms on either side of you, caging you in, and leans in to feel his warm breath wash over your face. It makes you salivate. 

“Don’t stop there.” His hand drops to your bare thigh. “I said we have to check… everywhere.” His husky voice reverberates throughout your bones. 

You swallow your saliva as you move your hands behind you to unclasp your bra, exposing your breasts to him. “See.” You managed to speak but the sound came out shaky, your face flushed pink. “There’s nothing.”

He moves in on you, causing you to back up on the bed all the way up to the headboard, his knees sinking into the soft mattress. His musk envelopes you, and it smells even better to you than the man who tried to make a pass at you. He nods to your underwear. “One last spot.”

Your core pulses, and you don’t say anything at first. But then a wild thought crosses your mind and spills out of your lips. “Then help me.” His breath turns uneven when you grab his rough, calloused hands and guide them to the elastic waistband of your panties. You lean in close to whisper in his ear. “You said you needed to check, right?” You tempted him.

He groans a deep rumble, and you notice his bulge growing hard at the prospect of undressing you himself. You keep your palms over his as he hooks his fingers in to peel the fabric over your thighs, following his movements as he drags them over your calves and out of your feet. You bite your lip witnessing him pocket your panties for himself. 

You spread your legs to him, and he dives in to press a warm kiss at your inner thigh, slightly nipping at the delicate skin. You were panting hard with parted lips, his intention to have you for himself driving you crazy with want. His thumb finds your clit, the pad of his finger circling the nub in tight, slow circles. Your hips jerk up, but his strength is twice as much as yours as he holds you still. 

“Easy, girl.” His other fingers gather up your slick while his thumb continues to rub against you. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself again.” He inserts one finger, then two inside you once you’re able to accommodate, all the while creating pleasurable friction at your clit. They move in and out at a steady rhythm, and the pressure in your belly starts to grow. But it wasn’t enough, you wanted more, you thought. If he just… 

As if reading your mind, Arthur replaces his fingers with his mouth, his lips enclosing around your bundle of nerves. You cry out in response and grab his hair, ignoring the stinging pain from your palm. He licks and sucks your cunt like a man starved. He grabs your ass and rocks your hips up easily into his mouth, your back arching off the bed as a result. You whimper out his name as the pleasure becomes almost overwhelming. He doesn’t even come up for a breath of air once your orgasm crests and explodes throughout your body. You cry out at the sensation overtaking you. Your thighs twitch around him, and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to feel you coming around his mouth. 

Your back drops against the headboard as you try to catch your breath. He pulls himself up, and your walls clench seeing your juices all over his lips. “Fuck, you’re addicting. Don’t tell me that Dutch gets to have a taste of you every night.” There’s an envious streak to his voice. “If I knew you tasted this good, I would’ve taken you for myself sooner.”

He starts to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants to free his cock, hot and throbbing. Your arousal heightens to new levels at the sight, wanting him to put it inside you immediately, to feel him deep within you. But Arthur has other ideas.

“Turn around.” He starts to rub along his length, and his breath comes out stuttered and needy for you. “I want you on your knees, pretty girl.” 

Your head grows dizzy, and you turn around to get on all fours, lifting your ass up to him. He grasps your hips to tug it towards him, and you yelp at his forcefulness. He aligns his length along your entrance and juts his hips forward, inserting himself all the way to the base. You moan as you clench the bed sheets, your eyes shut to fully feel him. 

He finds a steady rhythm and lowers himself to press his clothed chest against your back, his calloused hand snaking up your torso to roughly squeeze your breast. You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear his groans of arousal at being buried deep inside you. Pressure starts to build up and swirl in your belly, an indication of how close you were to your orgasm. 

His hand drops to your clit, but this time he rubs at it furiously to create delicious friction at the area. That was your undoing. You cry out loudly as you come, your orgasm exploding as it courses through your body. He grunts at your walls clamping down on his length. Your body slumps against the bed, your muscles losing their tension, but Arthur keeps a firm grip on you still to seek out his own high. He roughly thrusts in and out of your walls. Just before he reaches his peak, he pulls out of you, and flips you onto your back. He releases his cum all over your abdomen, his white spent leaving a mess. A whimper escapes your lips at the warm liquid spread all over you. 

“Come here.” He says gruffly. He lifts you up to kiss you, his tongue entering your mouth to taste you. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and press yourself close to him, aching for his warmth. You giggle into his mouth at the scruff of his beard tickling your cheeks. With Dutch, he kissed as a way to dominate you, to render you completely helpless to him. Arthur, on the other hand, kissed you tenderly, but there was still an undercurrent of heat in his kisses. 

His arms loop under your back and knees to lift you up as he starts to carry you to the bathroom. He places you delicately in the bathtub and kneels by it to turn on the faucet, allowing the warm water to run. Arthur smiles at you sighing in relief as you sink in the tub to allow the water to rise past your shoulders. 

“Dutch is probably done by now.” He rises to his feet. “I’ll go check in on him.” You nodded and tipped your head back to rest against the rim of the tub. Time passes as you bask in the warm bath. You also make sure to wash off Arthur’s cum on your abdomen with soap, knowing that Dutch would be enraged to find his closest subordinate laying his hands on his most prized possession. 

You heard the door of the bathroom click open and footsteps approaching you. You don’t open your eyes immediately as you know exactly who it was.

“How is my girl?” Dutch says, his voice gentle just for you. He’s kneeling at the exact same place Arthur was just a while ago. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. You sit up to grip the rim of the bathtub, your elbow hanging out of the tub towards the marble floor. 

“Even better, now that you’re here.” You looked at him with a lazy and content smile. You knew exactly what to say to make him happy. 

He hums in satisfaction, raising his lips to press against your forehead. You close your eyes in response. “I’ve taken care of the scum.” He refers to the man from before. “Once you’re done, we’re heading home.” 

**Minors DNI**

Part I

Pairing: NASCAR!Arthur Morgan x Spotter!Reader (fem reader)

Summary: It's time for the big race, and Arthur is ready to collect his prize.

Warnings: v@ginal penetration, cl!t stimulation, cum, nsfw, smut

Word Count: 3.7k AO3 Link

Each metal step you took up towards the grandstands clanged loudly against your weight. Once you reached the platform, you garnered brief looks from the other competitor’s spotters. Were they eyeing their competition? Or worse, could they tell just moments ago you were about to be fucked by the Van der Linde Crew’s Driver, Arthur Morgan? You pressed the back of your hand against your cheek, hoping you would have already recovered from your short escapade.

You took long, quick strides to your reserved position at the metal railing.

While the audio system possessed an adequate enough noise canceling system, the microphone could pick up outside voices if the individual was close enough. That’s why this time you could hear a different voice aside from Arthur’s.

“Arthur, what happened? Got something on your knee there.” Javier says, his voice accompanied with slight static. 

“Ah, this?” He grins. He gestures towards the very spot that was a declaration of what was his. “Needed a sweet treat to gear me up for the race. Might’ve went a little overboard.” 

Your palms jumped up to clamp over the ear muffs of your headphones, as if your hands could block the conversation. You frantically turned your head side to side, paranoid at the chance someone might hear. But your fear remained unnoticed, as all of the spotters showed no interest in anything else besides their own driver. 

The roar of the crowd snaps you back to reality as all of the individual competitors are projected on the jumbotron. The MC riles up the crowd as he narrates the introduction of each racer. 

“Next up is the underdog of the series, Arthur Morgan!” He enunciates and drags each syllable of his name for dramatic effect. 

The energy of the crowd grows in intensity at the sight of Arthur’s handsome visage on the screen, an indication of how his popularity has grown throughout his career. 

You leaned forward, fingers grasping on the metal railing, no different than the adoring crowd wanting to catch a glimpse of him up close. He catches sight of the camera aimed at him and presses his middle finger against his earpiece. His lips begin to form words that everyone can see but only you can hear.

“Missin’ you already, my lady.” He says with a gentlemanly drawl, the audio laced with a soft crackle. “Once this is all over, I’ll be back to collect my real prize.” His seagreen eyes fixate on the lens of the camera, bestowing upon it the gift of a quick wink. 

Your heart swells with anticipation. The crowd’s going wild, including you and even the other spotters in the grandstands with you, a tad flustered at his laid back charm. You were thrilled at the fact that his message while public was at the same time private just for you. After all those times you observed him from afar, you’ve never felt closer. 

At the signal of the flag marshall, all of the drivers approach their cars in position. You watch Arthur swing his legs through the window of the car in one swift move. It was time.

Just as Arthur drove like it was second nature, you prepared the line of communication as efficiently as you knew the back of your hand. You swiveled the stem of the mic to cover the surface of your lips, the foam making direct contact with skin. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” The MC bellows through his microphone. “Start your engines!”

The engines roar to life, hand in hand with the thunderous noise of the crowd. You say a silent prayer. 

“5… 4… 3…” Each spoken number lines up with the flashing of the stoplights. The flag marshall stands poised with his pistol aimed towards the sky.

“2… 1…”

He pulls the trigger, and the shot bangs loudly through the rumbling of the race cars as they all launch forward past the starting line with lightning speed. The cars all rush to hug the inside of the track, as one cycle through here covered the least amount of distance. 

You saw Arthur’s car follow suit, steadily parallelling himself between two cars. At this point, Arthur was in 7th position in the midst of 20 total race cars. Since it was in the initial laps, you weren’t too concerned. Arthur always said there was no use stressing to keep the lead position in the very beginning when you had nowhere else to go but down. 

Now that all of the drivers have maneuvered themselves into a set formation, the cars maintained a consistent speed, on the lookout for any possible opening to overtake another car. 

Your eyes catch sight of a car in 10th place and begin to accelerate and propel forward, hoping to bump up their spot. 

“3 back to the 37.” You alerted Arthur to the distance of Car No. 37 approximately 3 car lengths behind him.

“Right side.” The same car was maintaining speed on Arthur’s right hand side.

“Looking right.” Now Arthur’s car and No. 37 were locked in a struggle to overtake each other. Both cars kept parallel, maintaining both speed and acceleration. 

Trying to make a pass three cars up was gutsy for sure. But you remained calm. You still had a job to do and that was to make sure to play the part as Arthur’s eyes. 

“Copy.” Arthur’s voice breaks through the static, his tone steady and unfazed by the current development.

Arthur allows no openings. His car continues to surge forward. He holds onto his spot and keeps bumper to bumper with the car just ahead of him. 

Realizing it was a useless struggle, Car No. 37 gives up on making a pass and falls behind again. 

You let out a shaky breath and take another to calm your beating heart. You reminded yourself this was only the start of the battle. The Pinkertons at this point were in 5th place, not too far ahead of your crew. 

This particular circuit was a length of 500 miles, equal to 200 laps around the race track. Besides the couple of passes that were occurring in the lower positions, the top ten remained as a tight formation, leaving no room for any possible merge.

You continued to sound off quick and efficient traffic updates to Arthur. You ignored the pressure that was building in your eardrums with the earmuffs tightly enclosed around your head. The pain was obsolete and temporary compared to the prize money on the line.

20 laps of the race now remained. The tension within the grandstands were palpable now that the circuit was close to reaching its end. No doubt the crowd as well was either apprehensive or hopeful based on who they were placing their bets on. 

At this point, the Pinkertons were unsurprisingly taking the lead at 1st place, considering they were the reigning NASCAR Cup Series champions for generations. 

But Arthur Morgan wasn’t to be underestimated, as he was the runner-up just behind the Pinkertons’ driver. He confidently climbed up to 2nd place up until the last 20 laps, making the appropriate passes at the drivers who even allowed the tiniest margin of error. 

The two cars fell into a world of their own with the remaining cars falling substantially behind. You were glued to Arthur and his surroundings, the vessels in your eyes becoming more prominently red at being strained.

You glance briefly at the jumbotron to relay the number of laps left to Arthur.

“5 to go.” You pause momentarily. You weren’t expecting a response because any words meant for the race was wasted time, and Arthur knew that but…

“You’re doing great by the way.” 

It wouldn’t hurt to offer a small affirmation right? Every muscle in your body was locked in place. Your body was reacting involuntarily to the stress. Maybe the comment was more for you than him.

He responds with a warm chuckle, your favorite sound sending a tingle down your spine. He doesn’t follow up with a comment, but you understood. A bottle of his laugh could send you into intoxication for hours.

The flag marshall waves the white flag, signaling the final lap of the race. 

The MC’s voice roars over the speakers. “And here we are folks! The last lap! Who will be our champion tonight?” 

This was it, the final deciding round.

“Clear.” You let Arthur know that besides the Pinkertons’ driver in the lead, there were no cars overlapping with his. It was also a message to Arthur that it was now his turn to make a pass at the Pinkertons. This lap was his last chance to upset the Pinkerton dynasty and establish the Van Der Linde Crew as a household name.

Arthur begins to sway his car to the side, taking the risk of no longer hugging the inner track. He surges forward at this moment and gains momentum, eventually keeping pace and overlapping with the Pinkerton’s driver. 

The two racers were now side by side, faced with just the straightaway towards the finish line. 

You being Arthur’s eyes was useless at this point, as there was no other way but forward. The same went for the Pinkerton’s spotter. This was the conclusive moment.

You yank off your headset and clench the curvature of the device in your hand down at your side. Cold railing meets the palm of your hand once you grasp at it. Lifting yourself onto the platforms of your feet, you lean forward in absolute hysteria to witness the first car that crosses the black solid line.

“We now have our finalist! Our NASCAR Cup Series Champion–” 

You have three minutes to get down.

You whipped around and dashed towards the exit, shuffling quickly down the stairs as they echoed in your wake. Not even the MC announcing Arthur Morgan as the NASCAR Champion could keep you from running off.

People and faces whip past you as you continue downwards, floor after floor, either taking flights of stairs or whichever elevator was unoccupied. Unfortunately, you weren’t the only one taking off as you were forced to squeeze past large crowds of people celebrating after the crowning of the winner.

Three minutes was impossible, you thought. Maybe Arthur was setting you up from the start. 

You slow down to a light jog and eventually a brisk walk once you enter the garage pit reserved only for crews and staff. You didn’t need to search very far for him. Your crewmates were already causing a scene with the champion in tow. 

Your heart soars at catching sight of him. Arthur’s uniform collar is relaxed, and his gloves are half tucked into his pockets, the fingertips trailing off midair. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to expose his forearms. Hair is slightly tousled from his helmet, and he’s all smiles.

Everyone took turns clapping a hand over his shoulder and enthusiastically shaking his hand in congratulations. He was amazing out there, they said. Others more familiar with Arthur engulf him in a bear hug. 

Dutch isn’t as over the top with the congratulations, but it didn’t mean he was any less delighted as the others. You see him holding Arthur’s hand with both of his own, his voice more subdued in the midst of bustling celebration. 

“Job well done, son”

Once the high of your mad dash settles down, it finally registers to you that you’re just as ecstatic. The entire crew’s hard work paid off, and now their reward was bragging rights and a grand prize of 1 million dollars. 

You silently keep to the outskirts of the crowd, not wanting to disturb Arthur’s well deserved spotlight. It wasn’t until you felt a hearty slap to your back that your presence was made known. You jolt at the sudden impact and realize that it was Javier.

“Well look who it is!” He draws everyone’s attention to you. “Our lady of the hour is finally here!”

A second round of celebrations begin, rinsing and repeating the same congratulations they gave to Arthur now to you. You give everyone sheepish but grateful smiles as they respectfully shake your hand or pat your back. 

A crew member shoves you lightly towards Arthur. “Get over here!” They say. You stumble forward but right before you could land straight to the floor, Arthur stops you in your tracks with his outstretched arm. You reflexively clutch at his forearm to steady yourself. A moment passes before you raise your eyes to meet his, and you couldn’t help the giddiness rising to your head at being in such close proximity to him.

Arthur’s also happy to see you. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and he flashes  you a knowing smile. He proceeds to help you gain your footing, but not before his ungloved hand trails slowly down your arm appreciatively. The tiny hairs on your skin raise at the contact. 

Once he reaches your wrist, his fingers move to thread through yours and clasp your hands together, just like before.

“Well fellas, we’ll meet you at the bar.” Arthur says, tugging your hand to pull you closer to his side and eager to get you alone for himself. “Tab’s still on Marston’s, right?”

The crew breaks out in cheers and whistles as Arthur stealthily leads you away. You give a quick wave to everyone, and you hoped they didn’t see the obvious blush dusting your cheeks.

You take quick strides alongside Arthur’s long ones to his personal car. His hand was rough, callous, but warm in yours, and it makes you tighten your grip in his even harder as a way to decrease the distance between you. He turns to look at you in response, giving you a cheeky grin. He raises your hand to his lips and presses against the back of it a firm kiss. 

It sends you into a frenzy, and you wish you could jump into his arms at this very moment. But not before he opens the passenger door of his car for you. He waits for you to climb in the seat, shuts the door, and circles to the driver’s side. 

As he starts the engine, you notice a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You’re up to something…” You try to press him for answers.

“I told you three minutes, didn’t I?” He pulls out of the driveway and takes the car onto the main road. You open your mouth to protest, but he renders you speechless once his hand falls down to rest against your inner thigh and the other to steer the car.

“I get to claim my prize and then some,” his voice low and husky. His thumb starts to trace lazy circles against your skin. 

You cease any attempt to argue, not when you and him now have the chance to be together. Instead, you look out the window, watching the scenery pass by you. It was dark now, so you couldn’t see much. Despite that, the change of pace was refreshing.

Arthur drives for a while until he pulls the car over an outlook to the beach. Daytona 500 gets its namesake from the city Daytona Beach, Florida. Despite how close by the shore was, the crew was on a tight schedule for the big race. Detours were off limits. 

He opens the door on your side and waits for you to step out before closing it behind you. You begin to walk closer to the edge of the outlook and gaze out towards the shore in awe. Even in the darkness, you could see the white foam of the sea just after the waves crested and crashed onto the sand. 

“Thought it would be nice for you to see before we went back to home base.” Arthur says.

“Oh– Thank you.” You were surprised but also deeply grateful for Arthur’s thoughtful gesture. “It really is beautiful.” You take a moment to relish in the seabreeze.

You heard the crunching of sand underneath his shoes as he treaded closer towards you to embrace you from behind. You slightly jump in surprise, but he holds you firm and steady. One of his large, strong arms drapes across your stomach to rest on your hip while the other sneaks under your shirt to touch your skin. You shiver in response at the contact, and you feel his fingertips tuck under your bra to graze your breast.

Warmth and heat rush throughout your body. Arthur drops his head to press his lips against the nape of your neck. You tilt your head to allow him more access, and he opens his mouth to nip at your skin. You reflectively wince, but even the slightest pain becomes pleasurable once you feel him lick the hickey that was growing. 

He roughly palms your breasts and drops his hand that was once on your hip to snake inside your pants. He deftly unbuttons and unzips your pants to  desperately rub at your folds. He demands entrance after having a taste of you. You gasp at the sensation as you feel your slick pooling in your cunt. You thread a hand to grasp onto his hair and have the other lay over his to guide his movement over your bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck.” His breathing turns heavy. He rests his forehead onto your shoulder, and you could feel his cock growing hard against your ass. He holds you firm and grinds against you. 

“Do you like that?” He inserts a finger inside you and prods your inner walls. Once he finds you stretched out enough, he inserts another.

You nodded weakly. You were tethering on pleasure and delirium in Arthur’s hands. He picks up speed as his fingers move in and out of you, curling inward when they sink inside you to the base. He keeps his thumb on your clit and deftly rubs tight circles against it. 

Heat pools in your stomach. You cry out as your orgasm crests and crashes over your body, reminiscent of the waves on the shoreline. He captures your lips in a kiss to consume your noises. Your hips buck forward as pleasure wracks throughout your body, but Arthur keeps you pinned against him. As he holds you tight, he brings his fingers up to his mouth to suck off your cum. 

You yelp as he slings you easily over his shoulder and brings the both of you to the hood of his car. He lays you gently over the cool metal and hurries to strip you bare. His fingers hook into the waist of your unbuttoned pants and underwear. He tugs it down your thighs and legs in one go as if he can’t get to you fast enough, the fabric rucking in his grasp. 

You also start to pull your shirt over your head and unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side. Once you were successfully rid of all of your clothes, you were completely exposed to Arthur’s heated gaze. 

Lust and desire were apparent in his eyes as his eyes raked over your body. He looked at you as if you were like a precious gem to him. He lowered his head and pressed a trail of kisses from your sternum, between your breasts, all the way down to your belly.

“Pretty girl.” You feel him pant against your skin. 

Your cunt clenches at the praise. “Your turn.” You say breathlessly, slightly embarrassed and wanting to take the attention off of you. He chuckles low and gravelly, and you help him pull off his clothes. You admire his muscular body as your hands travel down his shoulder, over his biceps. Your hands dust over his abdomen, and reach lower.

He groans at you grabbing hold of his cock, hot and throbbing and leaking with pre-cum. Your heart continues to pick up speed, and you feel lightheaded. All you knew was that you needed him inside you. You raise your hips and he grabs the underside of your thighs to settle in between them. You guide him to align with your entrance. He gathers up your wetness before sinking inside you all the way to the hilt. 

“Arthur.” You pleaded, your eyes wet with unshed tears. Your hands held onto his broad shoulders.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He pants through gritted teeth. His hips circle against you to rub his pelvis against your sensitive clit, sending pleasurable tingles down your thighs and legs. He languidly draws his hips back and then pushes forward, starting a rhythm that has you seeing stars.

He spreads his hand against your abdomen and traces it up against your skin to cup your breast. He clenches it in his palm, and you moan in response. He thrusts into you more roughly, the sensation so addictive you move your hips in tandem with his. 

You grab his hand at your breast to intertwine with yours, and you bring it towards you to kiss his knuckles. He growls with satisfaction, and his pace starts becoming stuttered and uneven. A second orgasm was fast approaching for you. The heat building in your cunt bursts and courses through every muscle in your body. Your walls wrap around him like a vice, and he groans at you tightening around him. 

He continues to seek his own high and pounds his hips against yours. He’s close to his release. You rub up against the hood of his car in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Mine.” He murmurs like a man possessed. His pelvis snaps forward, and he comes inside you hard, emptying all of his spent to paint you white. He rides out his orgasm, rolling his hips lazily. Your thighs twitch, already sensitive from your second orgasm. He slumps against you, and you wrap your arms around his, holding him tight against your racing heart. Despite the difference in size between you two, his weight felt comforting against your body, now sticky from your combined sweat and cum.

**MINORS DNI**

Part II

Pairing: NASCAR!Arthur Morgan x Spotter!Reader (fem reader)

Summary: Arthur Morgan is the up and coming NASCAR driver for the Cup Series, and you are his spotter, his eyes in the sky.

Warnings: Edging, cl!t stimulation, cum, nsfw, eventual smut

Word Count: 3.8k AO3 Link

As the crew’s spotter, you were their “eye in the sky” – or at least, as high in the sky as you could be atop the grandstands overlooking the speedway. All NASCAR spotters took their positions here on competition day, but for now, you were the one lone figure during this early morning, when the fog could still creep through the air without the sun burning through it. Not really the best conditions for a spotter but Dutch, the crew chief, was adamant on the entire Van der Linde crew practicing from dawn to dusk to prepare for the Cup Series.

Come hell or high water, we need to be prepared for every possible situation he said.

Much to everyone’s surprise, your team climbed to the upper echelons of NASCAR racing despite coming from mainly humble beginnings. With the 1 million dollar prize money and the crew’s reputation in the NASCAR world on the line, practicing for the upcoming race was of utmost importance to Dutch.

The issue was… the star of the show was late to practice. The crew’s driver, Arthur Morgan.

Your hands were shoved into your pockets, the zipper of your crew jacket inched all the way up to your chin. With the morning chill still in its wake, your nose and cheeks were flushed pink, and the only protection against the cool temperatures was the headset enclosing your ears, muffling the sounds of the outside world.

Suddenly, your ears were able to register the familiar sound of static coming from the head set. You pulled your right hand out of your pockets, unclenching the unconscious fist you made to fumble with the mouthpiece. You quickly adjusted the stem over your mouth, the foam just a millimeter from grazing your lips.

“H-Hello?” Your voice came out slightly hoarse as this was the first time you were putting your vocal cords to use today.

“Missed me?” Arthur’s voice rumbles through the channel. His signature southern drawl was tinged with slight static.

Speak of the devil. You approached the metal railing of the grandstands and couldn’t help but instinctively look down the speedway to find him yourself. If your headset was able to register the input of his voice, surely he was finally on the race tracks. As you leaned over the railing, your eyes scanned the asphalt… settling right on the outline of a figure that you knew had to be Arthur, sauntering slowly to his car– his baby girl he calls it. The pit crew was currently working on the car, servicing any of its parts that needed maintenance.

“You’re gonna get an earful from Dutch,” You warned him. The crew chief wouldn’t be too happy to hear that we were off schedule.

“But I already get plenty of that from you darlin,” He teased in a low voice. Arthur stood a couple of paces away from his race car. Despite how far away you were, you were able to make out his easy going countenance. You saw him standing with his weight shifted to the side, and his hands loosely grasping his waistband, the velcro collar of his NASCAR uniform relaxed and open to expose his throat.

You shook your head, but he managed to earn a smile from you. “How anyone puts up with you…” Your voice trailed off into the mouthpiece. You usually were able to deal with his antics, but it took some getting used to in the beginning. Dutch, perhaps a little less, but for him, it was like a father admonishing his son. He’d always forgive him. In the end, Arthur’s driving skills spoke for itself.

“That’s why I have you.” Despite the maybe half mile distance from you two, he spoke as if you were right there standing in front of him. “Take care of me today too, alright?” He spoke softly into the mic. Cockiness and arrogance gone without a trace from his voice. His middle and index finger were pressed against his earpiece as he tilted his head up towards you.

And you would. Without question. Once he was on the race tracks, it was just you and him. If you told him to do a somersault on the pavement, he would. One time, for fun, you told him to sing “Old McDonald Had a Farm,” and without skipping a beat, he bellowed out the song through the channel driving 200 mph. He sang the E’s and I’s zipping straight to your eardrums. That was the sort of trust between a driver and a spotter. You never hesitated.

But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. Not yet.

“Cute. Now get in the car, Morgan.”

He chuckled. “Yes ma’am.”

He turned his back towards you, but secretly, you wished you could watch him there forever, not strapped inside his car and hidden away from your vision. As a spotter, you were the closest to the driver but also the furthest.

Arthur’s easygoing stride quickened to a purposeful pace towards his car. He stopped to talk to the car chief and the engineer while handing off Arthur’s helmet to him. Most likely they were updating him as to what alterations and adjustments they made to his vehicle. There was no sound output on your side since Arthur would usually cut off the channel until he was inside the car. With a practiced motion, he slipped the helmet over his head, securing it snugly in place. You saw his hand clasp the top of the window frame and deftly swung his legs through to the inside of the racing vehicle, like putting thread through a needle.

Members of the pit crew moved quickly to make last minute checks on the car. With Arthur now in the driver’s seat, they helped pull the straps and click the buckles, securing him tightly into place.

You let a few more minutes pass by before you spoke into the mouthpiece again. Without his figure directly in your sight, speaking into the channel felt like you were probing your way blindly in the dark, searching for some sort of sign or signal.

“Morgan? Are you there?” You received only static as your response.

“Morgan?” You tried again. Did he forget to dial back into the channel? “Arthur–”

“Missin’ me already?” His husky voice entered your ears again. “Don’t worry. You know I can’t stay away.”

Damn him for making you feel the slightest bit worried. Sometimes he really liked to push his luck with you. “Just start driving,” You replied curtly, a frown on your face. You felt sympathy for him when Dutch would be on his ass about practice, but now you were starting to share the same feelings as the crew chief.

“Alright~ you know I’m just playin’ with cha” He spoke easily trying to diffuse the situation, as he always ends up doing with you. You could hear him revving up the engine now as it roars to life. “In position.”

You nodded and used your fingers to press the foam piece tight against your lips, making sure the morning wind had no chance to garble the transmission. No more games now.

“Clear all around.” You announce to Arthur, letting him know that there were no cars in his immediate vicinity.

“Copy,” He responds promptly, the humor clear out of his tone.

And at that, you watch his car from high above propel past the starting line at lightning speed. The next time after this, he would be driving in the Daytona Cup Series.

----------

It was only hours away from the big race. You could hear the roar of the crowd in the stands outside and the bustling of the other crews scrambling to get ready in their section of the expansive NASCAR garage. Your crew had their own section as well to tend to the maintenance of Arthur’s car. There could be absolutely no mistake tonight.

All of the crew members including you were standing in a team huddle formation, with Dutch maintaining position as the forefront and you and Arthur standing next to each other in the circle.

“Now son, I won’t deny that you’re the fastest driver out there” Dutch motioned to the direction of the race track. “But I’m tellin’ you, you can’t be too reckless. Understand? Keep a clear head and keep yourself tight on the inside track.”

You nodded your head in agreement with the crew chief, turning to look at Arthur. “O'Driscoll's driver will be at your bumper constantly during the race.” You knew the patterns of the rival NASCAR gangs extensively from both live races and previous tapes. The Pinkertons also ran the Van Der Linde crew for their money.

“They’ll drive to overtake you at any chance they can get. Pinkerton’s driver likes to play dirty too.” You warned him.

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” Arthur says gruffly as he slowly rubs his hand across the back of his neck.

“If we win, drinks are on John,” Javier, the crew’s car chief and Dutch’s right hand man, comes up behind Arthur and claps a hand over his shoulder in friendly gesture. He grins over to John standing on Dutch’s left hand side and winks. John gives him a heated glare, clearly not looking pleased that he’ll be taking the tab for the entire crew’s drinking expenditures tonight.

Arthur’s eyes light up mischievously with this new information.

“Well, I’ll be~” His hands briefly disappear into his pockets to pull out his pair of black leather gloves. “Then I guess I can save some of that prize money for a rainy day.”

And with that, the tension that was unconsciously in the air for the entire crew dissipated as all of the members let out easygoing laughs and jokes.

“Alright, now y'all know what to do” Dutch reigns in the crew with his authoritative voice. “Do your jobs and clear out.”

He didn’t have to repeat himself. The crew immediately disperses and gets to work. Arthur takes his time though and slides his fingers snugly into his gloves. Even at the most important point of his career, he’ll still take his sweet time with the same demeanor as if he was just at practice.

You were beginning to follow suit with the others. Your place wasn’t here, but at the top of the grandstands. Your headset was already prepared and hooked around your neck.

Just as you were about to set off though, a booming voice freezes you in place.

“Hey. Where do you think you’re goin’?” Arthur asks pointedly.

It felt as if you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t commit. You awkwardly pointed your index finger up towards the top of the stadium, motioning with your eyes as well.

“Up towards the box… like I usually do…” Your voice wavers with uncertainty. Was there something wrong? You could sense a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“You run off without even a ‘good luck’ for me?” He frowns.

You immediately feel apologetic. “O-oh! Sorry. Good luck…” You respond half-heartedly by mistake. It was hard to muster up the enthusiasm when it felt as if you were being put under a harsh spotlight. It was strange. Through the radio transmission, you had no hesitation exchanging banter with Arthur during practice. But in person? That was a different story. There was no channel or static that could hide your expressions or body from him when the two of you were face to face.

“You upset with me or somethin’?”

“Upset?” Your eyes widen in wild confusion. “With what?”

Arthur grows frustrated as he tries to find the right words. He tightens the velcro that fastens around his wrist into place.

“Just– you been distant.”

“Morgan, what are you talking about? I see you practically everyday. The job kind of warrants it.” Your voice held steady, but you started getting nervous trying to deflect his questioning, your palms sweaty.

“That ain’t it.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m talkin’ outside of work.” He finally looks straight into your eyes this time, his eyes peering through you to find an answer. You felt like a butterfly pinned under a magnifying glass for observation. “Before we got big. You weren’t cold like this.”

You thickly swallow down your saliva. Maybe you did try to keep your distance from him. But you couldn’t help it. Arthur Morgan the NASCAR driver was a big star now. People knew his name even if you didn’t know much about the sport. He’s Dutch’s prize pony and workhorse at the same time. Not only did the crew’s success hinge on his performance on the racetrack, but on his public performance too. Press conferences, interviews, even late night shows, Dutch made sure he was there to set his image and establish his fame.

You remember one time when you watched Arthur on a screen backstage for a press conference after a big upset at a different circuit race. This took place back when the crew was still building up its reputation. He didn’t even need his own PR team. He had this laidback charm and easygoing grin that could pull his audience in.

Despite all those years as Arthurs’ spotter, you noticed fame didn’t get to his head. It was mainly just him getting busier.

That’s why you were scared to take more of his time. It was reserved for the crew and for his career as a NASCAR driver. He didn’t belong to you in the first place. Out in the stadium, up on the grandstands, you were just a voice in his head. But you still made sure to take your job as his spotter seriously. At least with the headset, you were able to hear the sound of his voice. Because it was a one way radio channel between just you and him. You could delude yourself into thinking he was yours, even for a little bit.

“Sorry…” You apologized again as you turned your head to the side, avoiding his eyes. You felt so stupid. “If I came off that way, I didn’t mean to.”

He crosses his arms across his chest. He was silent and grave as he kept you standing there, still not satisfied with your answer.

“I–” You were fumbling for any sort of explanation. It was tough with Arthur looking at you so intently. An involuntary blush was rising up your neck.

“I didn’t want to distract you.” You shut your eyes in embarrassment. There, was he happy now?

His eyes widened in surprise.

“Distract me?” It was his turn to be completely bewildered by your admission. “Darlin’ you’re in my ear 24/7.” He taps his earpiece lightly. “It’s tough not to be. What are you goin’ on about?”

You held your hands together, fidgeting with your fingers. You could talk about how just speaking with him makes you happy. Or the giddy feeling you get when he gives you his signature lazy, gentle smile just before he slides on his helmet. And that you want to be more than just his spotter. But usually before any of those thoughts come to fruition, he gets whisked off immediately to attend to more important matters for the sake of the crew.

You don’t want to just be the voice in his head anymore. You want to touch him.

You finally looked up to meet his gaze, but this time your eyes met his with astonishment.

“You…?” He asks you softly.

You clamped your fingers over your lips that had just betrayed you, feeling absolutely mortified. The heat in your face having risen to make your cheeks flush pink. Did you just…?

You held a hand up in defense, already thinking of a million excuses, most of which made no sense.

“That’s not– I wasn’t–” What had gotten into you? Just before the Daytona Cup Series too. Maybe the pressure of winning was getting to your head as well. “I didn’t– I didn’t mean to say that.”

You stood there withstanding Arthur’s unbearable silence, your head held low. This was the absolute worst moment you could let your feelings get the best of you. Arthur was at the height of his career, and all of the prize money was on the line for the crew. You were frightened that you could be responsible for jeopardizing that.

“Come with me.” He uncrossed his arms and extended his palm out to you. You didn’t have any time to read his expression. His frame was already turned away from you, but he kept his arm out, waiting for your hand.

Hearing the authority in his voice, you knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to refuse him. You stepped towards him and reached your hand to rest in his. Without hesitation, his fingers move to interlock with yours, and he pulls you along with him to who knows where. Heat and pleasure bloom in your chest as your gaze lays fixed on your hands clasped together, not even noticing that he was guiding you to a more secluded area of the garage pit.

The two of you ended up in a dimmed hallway, still accessible to the other NASCAR crews but not warranting enough attention to the presence of you both.

In that moment, you realized how close Arthur was to you as you saw his body looming over yours. He took slow, deliberate steps that forced you back to the wall of the corridor. As your backside collided with the hard surface, his large, bulky frame leaned in towards you, pinning you in place. He placed his hand against the wall as it was millimeters away from your head.

“What are you–” Your question was cut short. The breath was knocked out of you when you felt him step his leg forward to nestle his knee between your thighs.

Surprised at the sensation, your hands helplessly found purchase on his hips, holding on for dear life.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this to you?” He leans in towards your ear, breathing down your throat but his lips never quite land on skin. He brings his other hand to have his fingers slowly skim down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake even with his gloves on.

You look at him with weak eyes, affection but also embarrassment clear on your face. He stares back at you darkly with lust and desire clear in his heated gaze.

“Every. Single. Time.”

You gasp as you feel his knee drive up towards your cunt, drawing tight circles against your clit. You hook your fingers in the loopholes of his crew uniform to hold yourself steady. Eyes turned glossy, you rolled your head against the wall to look towards the end of the hallway, crew and pit members still scrambling about to get ready for the race, but paying no mind to anything else despite the two of you being in such a public place.

“Just when I think I have you, you slip outta my fingers.” He says gruffly.

You close your eyes to bask in the deep rumble of his voice, resonating through your bones. You instinctively arch your back at the sound, seeking more pleasure as you raise your hips.

“And that cute voice of yours in my ear.” A guttural groan escapes his lips. “Always imagining how I can mess you up.”

His hand hovers down the silhouette of your waist, over your hips, to cup over your ass, lifting it up to give him more leeway in driving his knee up your entrance. You were mesmerized by this point, your cheeks tinted pink as you licked your lips growing dry from the short breaths you were taking. In the deepest crevices in your mind, you wanted him so desperately, and your wish was coming true. You tilted your chin up towards him as the back of your head rested against the wall, meeting his gaze. There was no turning back now with your feelings laid bare.

Arthur was creating delicious friction between your clit and his leg, soaking your panties with your cum and even leaving a stain on the fabric covering his knee. He groans at the sight, but keeps rubbing you until you supposed the stain was large and wet enough to satisfy him. Fortunately his uniform was black with red accents, so any questions asked could be easily explained with his trademark charm and grin.

“Arthur.” You begged him, eyes pleading. You dug your fingers into his hips to compensate for the orgasm creeping down your belly straight to your cunt, threatening to consume you.

“Pissed me off when you’d just run off without as much as a word.” His voice was rough as he was getting off on your own pleasure. He gives an appreciative tug at your ass. “But now I know you’re my own personal pussy. Isn’t that right?”

You laugh. “Brute.” You teased him, even when you were at his mercy.

He chuckles softly. “After all of this is done and through…” He splays his hand along your jawline and presses his thumb against your lips, demanding entrance. You part them open obediently, and you felt his finger prod deeply to play around with your tongue.

“You have three minutes to get down from the top once the last car crosses the finish line. Three minutes. Anything over and you’re in trouble. Understand me?” His grip on your jaw was firm as his breath washes over your face.

With his thumb still in your mouth, you could only nod your head in response. Your body shuddered at the idea of even just being a couple seconds late and what he would do to you.

“Good girl.” He wasn’t talking about the car this time. You couldn’t help but whimper at the sudden praise. He draws his thumb out of your mouth, bringing it to his lips to take a quick swipe at your saliva, as if he was getting the last remnants of his meal off his finger.

He draws his knee back too, leaving your core feeling weak and empty. You didn’t want him to stop, but it was just moments away from the race. Dutch would be furious if he wasn’t ready by his car, set to go. He glances down at your headset hung around your neck and lifts them up to enclose the ear muffs over your ears.

“Talk to you soon.” He winks at you and taps his earpiece, clearly rejuvenated enough to win the Cup Series. He backs away, keeping his longing eyes on you before he spins on his heel, walking away to meet up with the car crew.