I'm Aiden, the owner of the blog and I'm very glad that you're around here.
Here you'll find:
â Fanfiction because I'm fckn delusional
â A bit of suggestive or outright NSFW (+18)
â Dark Romance from time to time
â Probably some random rambling here and there lol
Rules:
Cause every home needs some rules!
â Minors DNI
â Be respectful
â Be patient
â I do not allow to post my stuff in other sites
You know the drill.
Just if you feel curious about the person behind all the red stuff.
I'm Aiden, as it says in the image above I'm a 19 years old, no binary person. I don't have any preferences in my pronouns so you can call me whatever you wish!
I draw, I write and I play videogames.
I'm Mexican so, English isn't my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistake I make in my writings but I'm always focusing on ways to improve so if you notice something, say something! Politely pls or I'll cry. Im a Cancer zodiac sign. So I cry about everything, duh.
And only if you get a little curious! I'm into this list of FANDOMS:
Call Of Duty
Banana Fish
Until then
Genshin Impact
Death Note
And probably some others that I don't remember... But! You can expect some content from at least a few of these (specially COD)
My favorite song at the moment:
And if you ever wish to support me and my works here's the link so you can buy me a cup of coffee:
Iâve been so busy that I didnât have time to write and now that Iâm finally free I have no idea what to write about or how to finish my drafts, this is hell đ
It's not hot outside, which you really thank the Lord above, it's insufferable, the way the sun always felt so suffocating, and for you and Simon it was just the perfect weather to go for a walk.
You two didn't get much days like this, calm, with nothing "special" to do, not that this wasn't special, it's just that you're both so busy with your own work and your own things that it's harder and harder every time to find quiet moments like this, where you walk one besides the other. But even then, there's something "wrong".
Simon's a big man and can be wrongly typecast as someone uncaring or just overall distracted, but he did notice things, he cared, a lot, so he stared at you while you both walked, he had noticed something, it was rare the occasion you held his hand, he had noticed before but he never questioned it, and he already had an idea of why, he had seen you clean your hands on your clothes a couple of times since they seemed wet all the damn time, so, he asked.
"Luv, hold my hand"
It wasn't a demand or anything, more like a plea as he held our his big and calloused paw, and you stared at him, unsure.
"it's not that I don't want to, baby, but..."
"But?'
There was a beat of silence before you sighed, defeated and you stared at him a bit embarrassed to say so.
"My hand is sweaty"
He rolled his eyes, since when had he cared about a little of sweat, he was quick to grab your hand, and you adjusted your grip to also grab his, but you could see the little flicker of surprise on his face when he noticed how sweaty it actually was, but he didn't comment on it, he even stroked his thumb slightly over your knuckles.*
"is that why you avoided it?"
"Yeah... I know it's uncomfortable..."
"it's alright, it's not like you can control it"
He says in his usual gruff voice, and when he sees that doubtful expression on your face he stops his pace and turns to stare at him with those dark eyes that you sometimes fail to decipher. His hand moves as if it's haunted, he doesn't even register, but it comes natural, he lifts your hand up, still holding it oh so tenderly, and leaves a kiss on your knuckles, looking down at you, with just that stoic expression on his face, but that warm and soft look on his eyes that is only reserved for you, and only you.
That just warms your heart, he warms your heart.
Hi! Hello! I got this request like two months ago I'm sorry to the person that requested it đđđ, I've been super busy with college but I'm already in vacations so I finally got to finish this! It's been sitting on my drafts for like a month, I hope you liked it! I'm not sure if you wanted to be tagged so I didn't but I hope you see this! That's all, I hope you be posting more constantly, bye bye. đ
El apellido Marston siempre habĂa sido una sombra en la vida de Evelyn.
Un apellido susurrado en viejas fotografĂas, oculto en cartas descoloridas y cargado de un pasado tan misterioso como trĂĄgico. Su familia hablaba poco de ello, como si fuera una vergĂźenza recordar a los suyos.
Cuando encontrĂł el artefacto (una reliquia que conectaba con su familia), Evelyn solo querĂa una cosa: respuestas.
Pero robarlo desatĂł consecuencias que jamĂĄs imaginĂł mas que en puras fantasĂas.
Ahora, perdida en un mundo de polvo, pĂłlvora y caballos que solo conocĂa por historias de hace decadas y fotografĂas antiguas, Evelyn Marston es encontrada por azares del destino con alguien cercano a los suyos.
Un forajido.
El mas cercano en su ĂĄrbol familiar.
Arthur Morgan.
Y mientras el sol de 1899 se alza sobre un futuro que ya no le pertenece, Evelyn entiende la verdad:
no ha viajado en el tiempo solo para observar como transcurre la historia.
Ha viajado para cambiarla.
Aunque eso signifique enfrentarse a la banda Van der Linde⌠y a las consecuencias que pueda traer
Disfruten jsjsjs
DespuĂŠs de asegurarse que todo estaba bien, el forajido saliĂł del cuarto con una ultima mirada a la puerta cerrada. Solo le dijo un "no le abras a nadie", no dijo "volverĂŠ", ni "cuĂdate" al menos. SentĂa que no hacia falta decirlo.
Pero bajo las escaleras con el ceĂąo fruncido, su andar era tenso, como si no quisiera alejarse de esa habitaciĂłn aun.
Curtis lo miro de reojo desde el mostrador.
âÂżY la muchacha?
âDescansando. ârespondiĂł Arthur seco.
âÂżEs familia, dijiste?
âLejana. âgruùó sin detenerse
No querĂa hablar del tema.
Desamarro a su caballo no sin antes darle una caricia y una manzana. Al montar en el saliĂł del camino rumbo a un camino que ya conocĂa de memoria. Para cualquiera que pasaba a su lado solo podĂan ver a alguien concentrado en el camino que tenia delante, pero nada lejos de la realidad. Su mente estaba en un lugar muy aparte.
Porque apenas se alejo de Valentine, soltĂł un resoplido de esos que hacia cuando algo le revolvĂa mas la cabeza de lo que querĂa admitir.
"ÂżQuien demonios es esta mujer...?"
No confiaba en ella.
Pero tampoco podĂa dejarla sola.
Aun con las mentiras que le habĂa dicho, se notaba que ella no era de por aquĂ, estaba perdida como si todo lo que habĂa a su alrededor fuera nuevo para ella...
No sentĂa que era lo correcto dejarla sola. Su cĂłdigo moral gano esta vez.
Cuando las luces del campamento se asomaron entre los ĂĄrboles, Arthur enderezĂł la postura y respirĂł hondo.
De vuelta al caos familiar.
.
.
.
La fogata central estaba encendida. Se escuchaban risas, discusiones, el tintineo de platos.
Un dĂa tranquilo por lo que veĂa.
Al verlo llegar Charles solo lo saludo con un gesto de cabeza.
John solo lo miro de reojo desde donde estaba comiendo.
Arthur respondiĂł al saludo con un gesto de cabeza, desmontando de su caballo.
âMiren quiĂŠn llegĂł. âsoltĂł Micah desde una silla, sonriendo con hipocresĂaâ. CreĂ que estabas entretenido con cierto comerciante en Valentine.
âCĂĄllate, Micah. âle cortĂł Arthur sin siquiera mirarlo.
Charles levanto la cabeza confuso.
âTodo bien?
âMĂĄs o menos. Necesito a Mary-Beth.
La muchacha levantĂł la mirada desde su tela bordada.
âÂżArthur? Vaya, eso no lo veo todos los dĂas, que necesitas?
âSolo medicina. Algo para el dolor.
Ella frunciĂł las cejas preocupada.
âEstas herido??
Arthur negĂł con la cabeza.
âNo, para alguien mas
âÂżPara quiĂŠn?
Arthur exhalĂł, resignado a contestar.
âPara una chica.âAl decirlo escucho el resoplido de John alado suyo
âÂżTe metiste en otro lĂo recogiendo gente del camino?
âNo. ârespondiĂł frustrado de tanto interrogatorioâ. La encontrĂŠ herida. Eso es todo.
Mary-Beth dejo lo que estaba haciendo y se dirigiĂł al carro de suministros para un ungĂźento y un pequeĂąo paquete de compresas.
Antes de que volviera, Dutch apareciĂł en escena, como si fuera un fantasma que decide materializarse justo cuando oye algo interesante o que le podria beneficiar.
âArthur⌠hijo. ÂżUna chica, dices?
Arthur sintiĂł el peso de los ojos del lĂder encima.
âNo la traje aquĂ, Dutch. Solo estĂĄ en Valentine. Se lastimĂł. Necesita descansar.
Dutch sonrió, suave⌠demasiado suave.
âOh, ya veo. ÂżY es⌠de buena familia?
El forajido se quedo frio por un instante al notar sus intenciones.
âAcaso importa?
âSolo pregunto.âVolviĂł a sonreĂrâ. Ya sabes, a veces el destino nos puede poner oportunidades delante hijo. Seria una lastima dejar pasar algo que nos beneficiaria a todos aquĂ.
Arthur clavo la mirada en el.
âNo es ninguna oportunidad. Solo es alguien que necesita ayuda.
Dutch alzĂł las manos como si lo disculpara.
âComo digas.
Entonces Mary-Beth volviĂł con la pequeĂąa bolsa.
âDale esto. Y que no duerma sobre el moretĂłn, puede empeorar.
AgradeciĂł guardando la bolsa, y despuĂŠs de aquello volviĂł a montar para ir de regreso a Valentine.
Mientras se alejaba, pudo sentir la mirada de Dutch en su espalda. Una mirada pesada que evaluaba.
Sospechaba.
Arthur maldijo entre dientes.
***
El cuarto estaba silencioso.
MĂĄs de lo que le gustaba.
Evelyn se recostĂł, pero su costado latĂa como si tuviera fuego bajo la piel. Y la ansiedad no ayudaba. Cada ruido en el pasillo la ponĂa en tensiĂłn.
HabĂan pasado no menos de unas horas, o eso creĂa, no habĂa ningĂşn reloj en la habitaciĂłn y su celular se habĂa roto en la caĂda.
Hasta que escuchĂł unos pasos mĂĄs pesados, tambaleantes.
Luego un murmullo grueso, arrastrado.
âÂżCariĂąo?⌠¿DĂłnde⌠dĂłnde te escondes?
La joven se quedo helada al ver la sombra del hombre bajo la puerta. La manija se moviĂł. Al abrirse vio a un hombre desalineado y con el rostro rojo por la bebida. Llevaba aun en su mano una botella casi vacĂa.
âOiga⌠esta no es su habitaciĂłn. âdijo ella con voz tensa.
El hombre empujĂł mas la puerta.
âAgh, vamos⌠solo busco compaĂąĂaâŚ
El olor a alcohol era mas que claro.
Ella sintiĂł un escalofrĂo subirle desde la espalda.
âPor favor⌠vĂĄyase. âpidiĂł.
El borracho solo se rio.
âVaaamos... No seas tĂmidaâŚ
El hombre se acerco a paso tambaleante agarrĂĄndola con brusquedad del brazo y jalĂĄndola a su cuerpo.
âSuĂŠlteme!
âCĂĄllate pequeĂąa zorra... si bien que quieres...
Dio una rĂĄpida mirada a su alrededor alarmada.
No veĂa nada con que defenderse.
Hasta que vio la botella que sostenĂa el borracho, asĂ que con rapidez se la arrebato.
CRACK.
EstrellĂł la botella contra su cabeza. RompiĂŠndose la botella.
El hombre soltĂł un gruĂąido y cayĂł hacia atrĂĄs, desplomĂĄndose en el pasillo.
Ella quedĂł quieta, respirando como si hubiera corrido un kilĂłmetro.
Sus manos temblaban. Mirando asustada al hombre tirado en el suelo.
SoltĂł los restos de la botella como si la quemasen.
Acaso ella habĂa lo habĂa
.Â
.
.
Los pasos firmes subiendo las escaleras hicieron eco.
Arthur apareció en el pasillo justo cuando Evelyn, temblorosa, dejaba caer los restos de la botella. Vio al borracho tendido en el suelo⌠y sus ojos cambiaron al instante.
Primero sorpresa.
Luego enojo.
Luego algo sutil: preocupaciĂłn.
âÂżQuĂŠ diablos pasĂł aquĂ? âpreguntĂł en voz baja y enojada.
La joven tragĂł saliva.
âQuiso entrarâŚYo... dije que se fuera⌠y no lo hizoâŚ
Arthur observĂł al hombre inconsciente, valorĂł si debĂa rematarlo o simplemente dejarlo ahĂ. Pensaba seriamente ir a amenazar a Curtis por no cuidar quien entraba al maldito lugar. Pero se detuvo al verla.
Su cuerpo temblaba.
Mirando con miedo al borracho en el suelo.
ParecĂa a punto de quebrarse.
En ese momento Arthur tomo una decisiĂłn.
âNo es seguro aquĂ. âdijo con firmeza, casi gruĂąendo.
Su tono dejaba claro que no aceptaba discusiĂłn.
Que, quizĂĄ por primera vez, no iba a dejarla sola.
Y Evelyn sintiĂł, por un instante breve, que podĂa respirar.
âArthur⌠yo⌠âintentĂł decir.
âLuego hablamos. ârespondiĂł ĂŠl, con voz mĂĄs suave pero firmeâ. Ahora mismo, solo sĂgame.
La ayudĂł a salir, cuidando que no tropezara.
Y mientras bajaban las escaleras, Evelyn notĂł que Arthur mantenĂa una mano cerca, sin tocarla⌠pero lista por si se caĂa.
Como si por primera vez, esa preocupaciĂłn fuera sincera y no por obligaciĂłn.
De pensarlo Evelyn se sintiĂł mas segura, estaba en buenas manos.
.
.
.
El atardecer habĂa caĂdo cuando salieron del lugar. La brisa fresca golpeando contra su rostro la hizo sentir aliviada, ya sentĂa una eternidad dentro de ese cuarto.
Arthur caminaba a su lado, no demasiado cerca, pero lo suficiente para que Evelyn supiera que la estaba vigilando. Vigilando en el buen sentido.
âSĂşbase. âdijo ĂŠl, seĂąalando el caballo.
La joven trago saliva. TenĂa miedo de lastimarse mĂĄs, pero aĂşn mĂĄs miedo de parecer una tonta frente a ĂŠl. Finalmente, el forajido colocĂł una mano firme en la montura.
âSuba despacio. Pongo el pie aquĂ⌠eso es.
Cuando ella estuvo sobre el caballo, ĂŠl montĂł detrĂĄs, no tan pegado como antes, dejando un espacio respetuoso que Evelyn agradeciĂł mĂĄs de lo que admitirĂa. Pero sus manos aĂşn estaban cerca de las riendas⌠y eso era suficiente para que se sintiera un poco menos desprotegida por toda la situaciĂłn.
El ritmo del caballo era suave, diferente al trote brusco anterior. Arthur lo mantenĂa asĂ a propĂłsito.
âLo que pasĂł allĂĄ arriba⌠âdijo nerviosaâ. Yo no quiseâŚ
âNo fue su culpa. âla interrumpiĂł ĂŠl, tajante.âEl tipo estaba borracho. âaĂąadiĂłâ. Y estĂşpido. No habĂa nada que usted pudiera hacer excepto defenderse.
Ella bajĂł la cabeza.
Arthur murmurĂł, casi inaudible:
âHizo bien.
Evelyn sintiĂł un nudo en la garganta. Que ĂŠl lo dijera⌠se sentĂa como un alivio para su conciencia.
Las luces de la fogata se veĂan desde lejos, parpadeando entre los ĂĄrboles. El murmullo de voces y risas llenĂł el aire cuando se acercaron.
Arthur desmontĂł y luego la ayudĂł a bajar. Esta vez lo hizo con mĂĄs cuidado que antes, como si recordara el moretĂłn bajo su ropa.
âCamine conmigo. âindicĂł ĂŠl.
La chica lo obedeciĂł.
En cuanto cruzaron la lĂnea de carpas, las miradas se clavaron en ella.
Uno dejĂł de limpiar su arma.
Escucho a otro silbar por lo bajo.
Y una seĂąora la evaluĂł de pies a cabeza con una expresiĂłn que decĂa âÂży esta quiĂŠn es?â.
Y un hombre bien vestido fue el primero en acercarse.
âArthur hijo. âsaludĂł con esa voz suave, encantadora, ensayada para caer bienâ. Dijiste que volverĂas, pero no mencionaste que traerĂas compaĂąĂa.
Evelyn se tensĂł, pero Arthur dio un paso un poco adelante, como un gesto automĂĄtico para quedar entre ella y el hombre.
âSolo estarĂĄ aquĂ esta noche Dutch. âexplicĂłâ.Nada mas.
El hombre conocido como Dutch sonriĂł aun mĂĄs.
âÂżY cĂłmo se llama nuestra invitada?
La joven abriĂł la boca, nerviosa, pero Arthur respondiĂł por ella:
âEvelyn.
Dutch inclinĂł la cabeza hacia ella, inspeccionĂĄndola con la mirada.âUn nombre bonito para una chica que parece haber pasado por algo terrible.
Ella querĂa responder, pero la voz se le atoro. Algo en el hombre la hacia ponerse alerta, no sabia si era amable, manipulador, o ambas cosas. Sus ojos... parecĂan querer ver dentro de ella, que pensaba y asĂ.
En eso apareciĂł en escena una joven de cabello castaĂąo, con su sonrisa cĂĄlida que contrastaba con todos los aquĂ presentes.
âÂżTĂş debes ser Evelyn? âpreguntĂł dulcementeâ. Soy Mary-Beth. Arthur me contĂł que estabas lastimada. ÂżPuedo ayudarte con la medicina?
El alivio de Evelyn fue inmediato.
âS-sĂ⌠gracias.
Mientras Mary-Beth la guiaba hacia una de las tiendas, Arthur se girĂł a Dutch, que seguĂa observĂĄndola como quien evalĂşa una pieza nueva en un tablero.
âEs solo por esta noche. ârepitiĂł Arthur, su tono firme.
Dutch levantĂł las manos.
âComo digas, Arthur. Claro que sĂ.
Pero Arthur conocĂa esa mirada.
Dutch estaba pensando.
Calculando una posible ganancia monetaria.
John fue el primero en acercarse cuando Dutch se fue.
âÂżQuĂŠ demonios pasĂł, Morgan? âpreguntĂł en voz bajaâ. ÂżTe encontraste a esa chica por caridad o quĂŠ?
Arthur resoplĂł.
âLa encontrĂŠ en el bosque. Herida. Un oso casi la convierte en cena.
John lo mirĂł con la misma duda que siempre tenia cuando el forajido hacia algo que no entendĂa, algo poco comĂşn en el.
âÂżY la traes aquĂ? ÂżA Dutch? ÂżA Micah? ÂżA esta banda llena de idiotas?
âNo iba a dejarla sola estando herida, y el pueblo no resulto tan seguro que digamos. âgruùó Arthurâ. No pienses demasiado las cosas, Marston. Se te va a chamuscar el cerebro.
John chasqueĂł la lengua.
âTch como sea.
Y asĂ lo dejo de una vez.
.
.
.
Mary-Beth la habĂa llevado a una carpa mĂĄs tranquila. El ungĂźento tenĂa un olor fuerte pero agradable, a hierbas y mentol.
âTe va a arder un poquito. âadvirtiĂł
Cuando lo aplicĂł sobre el moretĂłn, Evelyn apretĂł los dientes. Pero el dolor se mezclĂł con un alivio fresco inmediato.
âArthur casi me sorprendiĂł cuando pidiĂł esto. âcomentĂł Mary-Bethâ. No suele preocuparse por nadie que no sea del grupo.
Evelyn bajĂł la mirada.
âNo lo pedĂ⌠solo⌠pasĂł.
La castaĂąa sonriĂł.
âBueno, sea lo que sea⌠Êl no lleva a cualquiera aquĂ.
Evelyn solo pudo sonreĂr sin saber muy bien que decir. Solo pensaba que Arthur lo hizo sin ninguna razĂłn.
Una vez que termino,
Mary-Beth ladeĂł la cabeza, observando a Evelyn de arriba abajo con curiosidad tranquila, pero evidente.
âOye⌠espero que no te moleste que lo pregunte âdijo mientras tomaba una pila de sĂĄbanasâ, pero tu ropa es⌠bueno, no es como nada que haya visto por aquĂ. ÂżDe dĂłnde la sacaste?
Evelyn sintiĂł un nudo en el estĂłmago. MirĂł sus propios pantalones ajustados, su blusa demasiado moderna. DemoniosâŚ
RespirĂł hondo e improvisĂł:
âAh⌠es algo que... hacĂa mi hermana, si âmintiĂłâ. Ella⌠modificaba ropa vieja y la dejaba asĂ. Era como⌠su pasatiempo.
Mary-Beth abriĂł los ojos con un âÂĄah!â comprensivo, como si la explicaciĂłn hubiera encajado a la perfecciĂłn en su mente, aĂşn cuando no tuviera ningĂşn sentido en ese siglo.
âPues tu hermana tenĂa talento âdijo sonriendoâ, aunque sĂ que es diferente. Pero si vas a quedarte un tiempo aquĂ⌠âMirĂł hacia un viejo baĂşl que tenia alado de su cama provisional.â creo que podrĂa prestarte algo mĂo. Nada muy elegante, pero serĂĄ mĂĄs cĂłmodo para ti⌠y bueno, menos llamativo.
Evelyn parpadeĂł, sorprendida por la amabilidad.
âÂżEn serio? No quiero causarte molestias.
âNo es molestia ârespondiĂł Mary-Beth con una sonrisa cĂĄlidaâ. Somos varios aquĂ que hemos llegado solo con lo que traĂamos encima. CrĂŠeme, te entiendo.
âSe levantĂł, dejĂł las sĂĄbanas a un lado y abriĂł el viejo baĂşlâ. Veamos⌠creo que tengo un vestido que te quedarĂa bien. Y un par de faldas que ya no uso mucho.
Evelyn no sabĂa cĂłmo agradecerle sin sonar torpe.
âGracias⌠de verdad. No tienes idea de cuĂĄnto lo aprecio.
Mary-Beth le guiùó un ojo.
âSolo promĂŠteme que si tu hermana vuelve a hacer ropa rara como esa⌠me enseĂąas alguna prenda. Tengo curiosidad.
Las dos rieron suavemente.
La tensiĂłn que Evelyn habĂa sentido al entrar en el campamento se aflojĂł un poco. Y, por un momento, casi olvidĂł que estaba en un siglo que no era el suyo.
.
.
.
Arthur habĂa regresado luego de haber tomado comido un tazĂłn del guisado que preparo Pearson, llevaba en sus manos otro para dĂĄrselo a ella, ya que por todo esto ni habĂa comido nada. Tuvo que aguantar la mirada curiosa de Pearson, que hasta el habĂa querido chismear.
Una maldita noche tranquila no puede existir en este lugar, pensó mientras cruzaba entre las tiendas.
Estaba recordando todavĂa la conversaciĂłn con Dutch cuando se detuvo en seco.
Evelyn estaba justo a la entrada la tienda de Mary-Beth, iluminada por la luz tenue de una lĂĄmpara.
Pero⌠no llevaba su ropa extraùa.
Ahora vestĂa una falda color marrĂłn que rozaba sus botas, y una blusa color crema, ademĂĄs de verse con una sonrisa al hablar.
Le daba un aire completamente distinto: menos fuera de lugar⌠y, para desgracia de Arthur, mucho mĂĄs difĂcil de ignorar.
Evelyn levantĂł la vista cuando lo vio acercarse.
âArthur.
Ăl tardĂł un segundo en responder, como si su cerebro necesitara un momento para procesar el cambio.
ââŚBueno âtosiĂł, incĂłmodoâ,veo que Mary-Beth le consiguiĂł algo que ponerse.
Evelyn sonriĂł tĂmidamente y se acomodĂł un mechĂłn detrĂĄs de la oreja.
âSĂ. Fue muy amable. Dijo que⌠serĂa mĂĄs fĂĄcil para mĂ moverme por aquĂ si no llamaba tanto la atenciĂłn.
Arthur soltĂł una risa breve, seca.
âSĂ, bueno. AquĂ todos son buenos para hacer preguntas. Y para imaginar cosas que no vienen al caso.
Ella asintiĂł como respuesta, bajando la mirada.
âAunque yo, bueno... siento que me veo rara
Arthur negĂł con la cabeza.
âNah. Es solo que⌠âbuscĂł palabras, se rascĂł la nucaâ se ve mĂĄs como⌠alguien que encaja aquĂ.
Pausa.
âMenos⌠perdida.
Evelyn lo volviĂł a mirar, sonriendo de forma suave. Mendiga o no, ese pequeĂąo halago la tomĂł desprevenida.
âGracias⌠creo.
Arthur carraspeĂł y acerco la mano con el tazĂłn del guisado.
âTraje esto. No ah comido en todo el dĂa. Pearson tal vez no sea el mejor cocinero, pero nos mantiene con el estomago lleno.
Evelyn tomĂł el tazĂłn con cuidado, rozando sin querer los dedos de ĂŠl. Arthur fingiĂł no notarlo, pero su mano retrocediĂł un poco mĂĄs rĂĄpido de lo normal.
âGracias, Arthur ârepitiĂł ella bajito.
El solo pudo asentir, incomodo al estar aun desencajado por verla.
Evelyn dio un sorbo al guisado, aĂşn caliente, y un suspiro casi involuntario escapĂł de ella.
âWow⌠esto estĂĄ mejor de lo que pensĂŠ âadmitiĂł, sorprendida.
âNo se lo digas muy fuerte a Pearson âgruùó Arthur con un amago de sonrisaâ. Su ego se va a subir demasiado y no quiero aguantar su habladera en todo el dĂa.
Ella rio, y por primera vez ese dĂa, el sonido no sonĂł quebrado ni asustado.
Mary-Beth saliĂł entonces de la tienda, secĂĄndose las manos en una manta. MirĂł a Evelyn, luego a Arthur, y una sonrisa suaveâde esas que siempre parecĂan leer mĂĄs de lo que uno decĂaâse formĂł en su rostro.
âBueno⌠hice un pequeĂąo espacio aquĂ adentro. âSeĂąalĂł la tienda detrĂĄs de ellaâ. Para que Evelyn pueda dormir esta noche conmigo. No tiene sentido que duerma sola sabiendo que todavĂa estĂĄ algo perdida y ademĂĄs dolorida.
Evelyn parpadeĂł, sorprendida.
âÂżEstas segura? no quiero ser una molestia...
âNo eres una molestia tranquila. âMary-Beth le guiùó un ojoâ. Te prometo que no ronco tan fuerte como estos sucios hombres de aqui.
Arthur soltĂł una exhalaciĂłn breve que pudo haber sido una risa contenida.
âMejor que estĂŠ aquĂ. âasintiĂł ĂŠl, serio nuevamenteâ. Con alguien que pueda
ayudarla si se siente mal.
Mary-Beth levantĂł una ceja divertida hacia Arthur, como si lo hubiera atrapado siendo mĂĄs empĂĄtico de lo que pretendĂa.
âÂżVes? Hasta Arthur estĂĄ de acuerdo.
âNo pongan palabras en mi boca ârefunfuùó ĂŠl.
Mary-Beth se inclinĂł hacia Evelyn.
âCuando termines de comer, puedes entrar. Ya puse una manta extra por si te duele al moverte.
La joven asintiĂł, agradecida.
La pelicastaĂąa regresĂł a la tienda, dejĂĄndolos solos nuevamente.
Arthur se empujĂł el sombrero hacia atrĂĄs y resoplĂł, incĂłmodo por la quietud repentina. Trato de volver a su actitud de siempre.
âBueno⌠âdijo rascĂĄndose la barbaâ. Si necesita algo, estarĂŠ por ahĂ.
SeĂąalĂł con la cabeza hacia su propia tienda, mĂĄs alejada del centro del campamento. Al ver que se daba la vuelta para irse, Evelyn bajo la mirada un momento, respirando hondo antes de atreverse a hablar.
âArthur⌠âlo llamĂł suavementeâ. Gracias. Por traerme aquĂ⌠por no dejarme sola.
Ăl se detuvo a unos pasos apenas, como si sus botas hubieran dudado de dar el siguiente paso. No se girĂł de inmediato, murmuro algo entre dientes, luego dejĂł salir un resoplido resignado.
Cuando finalmente la miró por encima del hombro, su expresión era seria⌠pero no dura.
âNo significa que confĂe del todo en usted. âadvirtiĂł, con ese tono grave y directo que usaba cuando querĂa dejar las cosas clarasâ. Ni que vaya a hacerlo maĂąana.
Evelyn tragĂł saliva, pero no apartĂł la vista.
Arthur continuĂł:
âPero⌠âapretĂł la mandĂbula, buscando la manera menos emocional de decirloâ. No iba a dejarla a su suerte en Valentine. No despuĂŠs de cĂłmo la encontrĂŠ. No serĂa⌠correcto.
La palabra âcorrectoâ la dijo como si le pesara admitirla.
âAdemĂĄs⌠âaĂąadiĂł mirando al sueloâ. EstĂĄ herida, y no conoce este lugar. SerĂa una maldita locura dejarla sola.
Evelyn sintiĂł una calidez inesperada que hizo que se sintiera tranquila, menos extraĂąa en este campamento.
âAun asĂ⌠gracias âinsistiĂł ella, con una sonrisa suave.
Arthur negĂł con la cabeza, inquieto ante cualquier muestra de gratitud.
âNo me agradezca. âgruùó, volviendo a su tono habitualâ. Solo⌠haga caso. No se
meta en problemas. Y si pasa algo, me avisa. Eso es todo.
Se dio la vuelta de inmediato, como si temiera que quedarse un segundo mĂĄs lo obligara a decir algo mĂĄs amable de lo que querĂa.
âBuenas noches. âmurmurĂł mientras se alejaba hacia su tienda.
Evelyn lo siguiĂł con la mirada, sintiendo que, por debajo de ese caparazĂłn rudo, Arthur Morgan acababa de mostrarle la primera grieta.
ExHusband!Simon who also happens to be your coworker.
You had been together for a total of seven years, had worked together for more than ten, which made the separation way too much troublesome than it had to be.
He's a stupid man, you told him it was his loss when you two decided to leave it be for good. You two just couldn't work together, he's too closed off for his own damn good.
You tried to be patient, real patient but... Every woman has its limits, and he certainly had them too, and after a bit too much fighting over insignificant things, you decided to have the talk, the hard talk, you had dated for three years, had been married for four, you really tried to fix things but... Things got complicated when you realized you really wanted a family. When you started dating with Simon it was a bit in doubt for you, weren't too sure, too young to think about it, but years had been giving you time to think.
It's nothing you hadn't discussed with him in the past, you told him you weren't sure, that you didn't want them at the moment but that you might change your mind. It was safe to assume he thought you wouldn't ever decide, or that you would give it up.
But you didn't, and that's when trouble started. And that's also how trouble ended with divorce papers and a sour taste for something that was meant to be heaven.
But now that you were divorced there was still some matters to attend. This was just a few days after your divorce, you made sure to just take the essentials when you were leaving to your new small and chic department, but... Well, there were still some things that had some sentimental value to you in the house that you used to share.
You had been avoiding him like the plague back at base, you were John's Price assistant, not one of those that looked all slutty and pretty, you were really an assistant, professional and highly respected by the guys, you took no bullshit from any of them. Even from Simon when you both were together, work and house life were almost always to be put separated.
You knocked on his door, and when you're about to use your key since no one answers, another woman opens the door for you. You freeze, and she does too.
The silence it's long and akward.
"Huh... Uhm... Is Simon around here?"
"Who?"
"Simon?... The... The owner of this house?"
"Ah- is that his name? Yeah- Uhm- let me go... I... I was already leaving by the way He's... He's in there... Haha you know... In... In the bedroom"
The other woman let out, she looked embarrassed and she left the scene as quickly as she could. You just sighed in exasperation, and walked inside the house. It hurted, it hurted knowing that you could get replaced just like that, as if your marriage didn't mean anything to him, it was hard not feeling replaceable.
And that started turning into some anger and some frustration towards him, you could feel it, the tingle in your skin as you walked upstairs, scared and angry at the state you would find him, that when you reached the bedroom and you opened the door, you had outburst.
"What the hell is wrong with you Simon?!"
He was still laying on his bed, just boxers as he smoked a cigarette, same distant look on his face he had been using ever since you had started the divorce process.
"What is it that you need? Thought you asked me for divorce?"
"Real funny now... I came for the thing I texted you I needed. Didn't send"
The silence was loud, and you just grunted, moving around the bedroom you once shared looking for the item you wanted.
"Who was that by the way?
"None of your business"
"Really now? I'm your-..."
You stoped. He was right, you had no right to berate him about it, not anymore at least. The realization hit you like a truck and you just grew quiet. Akwardness filling the room.
"What were you looking for?"
He lets out as he lazily gets up from the bed, the bed is unmade and the place looks dirtier than when you left, no wonder. It smelled like that nasty cigarette brand he loved. He didn't need to know that you started buying it too.
"My iron, for my clothes"
You let out, softer this time, sounding almost defeated. And as you move around looking for it you feel his gaze on you.
"You've been avoiding me, Price told me you had to give me some papers, I never saw them at my desk... Love."
He took a pause as if considering if he still has the right to call you that, your hand clenches as you look at him side eyed, with a scowl on your face.
"Don't"
Again, silence as he takes a long drag of his cigarette.
"We can be divorced, but you're still my assistant"
He said, confidently and it made your blood boil, you turned around clearly annoyed.
"YOUR assistant? Oh, I didn't know you paid for my salary, BOSS"
You let out, in a snarl, and he was smirking, he knew what he was doing. It was infuriating.
"John said to treat us like you treat him, didn't he?"
"John says a lot of things"
He let out a chuckle, which does not help on the task on making you less mad, but that was not his intention at all. He finally gets up from the bed and opens a drawer, taking the thing you were looking for, and he puts it on your hands.
"There, there, stop whining, woman."
He lets out, exasperated. And it frustrated you more, you were still sore, still hurt by his words and... You might've lost control for a bit, enough to raise a damn iron and be about to throw it at him, of course he was smart and strong enough to hold your wrist in a mean grip.
"What the fuck?"
"Stop making fun of me!"
You let out, frustration seeping through every pore in your skin.
"No one i-"
"You are!"
After that silence sets in again, he stares at you with this serious look in his face, but if you stare too much into his deep orbs, you might see a little bit of pity too. You keep scowling, and he sighs, deep and slow.
"Look, I'm sorry, I don't know why you're so mad but-"
"You don't know?! It's not like y-"
"Let me finish, god damnit!"
Silence again before he just stares at you, now equally frustrated. He seemed to want to say something, but he shuts himself up, barriers up again.
"Is that all you needed?"
"Yes, that's all"
It´s particularly quiet evening, just the sound of leaves creashing against leaves, and the soft background hum of the motors of cars driving by, yet in that moment it felt like the world stopped around you two, you hated how things had ended, you hated that he couldn't change for you, you hated that he moved on so quick, or it looked like that for you.
"You should go, this isn´t healthy for us and you know it"
He lets out in that smart ass mature tone of his, that one that was closer to a whisper, and you stare at him, your face going back to frowning slightly.
"You asked me why was I avoiding you and now you say that? Make up your mind, Riley"
You let out and you hear him chuckle, was he making fun of your or himself?
"You´re impossible woman, you sure you really wanted this?" - His hand gently gestured to the scene surrounding you, the place looked empty, mundane, as if you hadn´t been living there just a few weeks behind, looked dull and boring, which made it harder for your heart to ignore your own longing.
You wanted to dip into the empty right spot of the bed you used to share, craved to be buried on his chest once more, to be cradled by him. But you also craved other and greater things, you craved for motherhood, for parenting, to build a home, a place of your own, but the man you pictured had said "I´m not the right one". So now everything was crumbling down. Everything was reduced to this.
"No, but it's what we have"
You let out, and he sees right through you, probably becasue in the back of that deep skulls of his, he's always wanted to make you happy, to fulfill every one of your needs, to make you the happĂest wife of all, even when he was a right ass at doing so. And he did crave for a family, maybe not as fiercly as you, but the thought was there, hasd lingered through his mind, yet, he dared not to entratain it, he knew it was useless, so that´s where dozen of excuses came to mind.
I don´t want to
My job
My past
My hands are bloody
I´ve taken too much life, how can I create some of my own?
How can I take care of an infant when I was never properly taken care of?
What if I end up being like my father?
What if I ruin your life?
What if?
I´m scared
But that would be dumb to admit from a man like him, a man who fought the greatest demons of humanity on a daily basis like it was nothing, a man so big, so serious, so focused and violent as him. How could he fear that? How could he fear the greatest miracle of life itself?
But he did.
"Look... I... I know I was a total asshole about everything, I never was a good husband, or a good man for you, I fear, but, I never meant things to end up like this, I tought that I could... That I would find a way to make it work but... you didn´t help me much, woman"
"I was as patient as I could be, Simon, I really was so don´t go blaming this on me, you need to see that your actions have consecuences! And now look at yourself! You´ve already found someone to fill my place, or so it seems"
"It´s nothing like that, sweetheart..."
"Don´t you sweetheart me!"
Both of you still had a very interesting journey on navigating the waters of being freshly divorced, but it seemed that your favorite activity was to annoy the other by accident.
A few days passed, you had to go to his office to deliver some papers at work, you did it reluctantly after John had spoken with you two separatedly, he was sick of our antics, and he treathened with reporting us if we couldn´t behave oursleves.
Your hands moved to push his door open without even knocking first, his eyes landed on you, annoyance rolling of his shoulders at the mere sight of you, and you moved to silently place a bunch of papers on his desk.
"John made me send you these, he says that he wants them filled by night"
To be fair, John had also asked you to help him, but you felt more inclined to let him do all the hard work, of course, he did not find much amusement on your attempt of tricking him.
"Yes. he said you were helping"
The not so gentle reminder made you sigh, so that´s how you ended up trapped in his office, sitting across him and typing reports on my laptop, scarcely speaking to him if it wasn´t to ask information to fill the forms.
"Hey, so, who was that girl the other day? New girlfriend?"
It was probably a very bad idea to ask about it, you knew it, specially at work, and he seemed to want to avoid the question, but the akward silence stretched loudly and he couldn´t resist.
"No, just a girl I met at a bar"
He kept it simple, and you could just hum, almost codescendlingly, and when he noticed that, he had to try and pull at your leg too, to make you uncomfortable too.
"What about you? Found anyone who´s made you come yet?"
He speaks lewd and low, like a warning, but just soft enough no one else would hear, this were not things to be discussed at work, yet he seemed pleased at seing your flustered and annoyed expression.
-------------------
Hiii I´m back, im finally out of my creative block, I MIGHT start doing writting comissions soon, what do you think? leave me a comment if you would like that.
Edit: I´ve just started doing comissions, visit ko-fi to get details or support me! <3
Youâre leaning against the chain-link fence at the arrivals bay, cherry lollipop balanced between your teeth, eyes lazily scanning the comings and goings of soldiers. Itâs one of those rare moments where the world slows down, and you can almost convince yourself that nothing serious exists beyond this patch of concrete and sunlight. Youâre flicking your gaze from one figure to another, thinking about who you might tease next, when something catches your attention.
Simon.
Heâs striding across the asphalt with that habitual soldierly precision, but his hand is pressed to his forehead, clutching a rag thatâs already smeared with red. The cut over his eyebrow is small, not life-threatening, but enough to make your stomach tighten. His jaw is set, eyes forward, clearly trying not to admit that he might need help â which, of course, only makes you smirk.
âOh, this is rich,â you murmur under your breath, pushing off the fence. The lollipop bobbles between your lips as you stroll toward him, deliberately slow, giving him just enough time to notice.
He glances up, jaw tightening, and you catch the subtle flinch in his posture. âWhat are you doing here?â he asks, voice clipped.
âLooking for trouble,â you answer airily, letting your gaze drop to the rag pressed to his forehead. âAnd speaking of trouble⌠what happened to you?â
âItâs nothing,â he mutters.
âNothing?â you repeat, feigning disbelief. âThatâs a lot of blood for ânothing.â Youâre lucky Iâm here. I happen to be very skilled at patching up stubborn soldiers.â
You lean down, manicured fingers resting on the tiny hoops of your denim shorts as you flash him one of those million-dollar smiles.
He huffs softly, a sound halfway between irritation and surrender. âFine,â he mutters, glancing around as if to make sure no one else can see. âHelp me. But⌠donât make a big deal out of it.â
You grin, sliding your lollipop from your mouth and tossing it into your hand, fingers curling around the stick. âOh, I wouldnât dream of making a big deal.â
Leaning in, you carefully pull the rag away, your fingers brushing the skin near his brow. He flinches slightly at the contact, and you smirk. âYouâre such a drama king,â you tease softly.
âIâm fine,â he mutters again, but thereâs a catch in his voice, a tension you recognize all too well.
You crouch slightly to get a better angle, the sun warming your back, the faint scent of his soap mingling with the sharp tang of iron. Your fingers linger over his skin as you dab at the small cut with antiseptic. Each movement is slow, deliberate, almost torturously careful. His eyes flick to yours, dark and intense, and you feel the electricity in the space between you.
Neither of you speaks for a moment, but the silence is heavy with all the words you wonât say. The heat of his body so close, the steady, unspoken rhythm of his breathing, the way his hand hovers near yours without quite touching â itâs torture in the best possible way.
âCareful,â he murmurs finally, voice low and rough. âDonât⌠overdo it.â
âOverdo what?â you tease, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. âIâm just helping.â
âHelpingâs dangerous when it involves hands like yours.â He doesnât move, but you notice the slight tilt of his head, the way heâs letting you.
Your fingers linger, tracing the line of his brow as you finish dabbing at the cut. When you finally lean back, the tension hasnât eased â if anything, itâs coiled tighter, winding through every glance and lingering touch. He watches you, unreadable, and you canât help the teasing edge in your voice.
âYouâre lucky Iâm gentle,â you murmur, letting your fingers brush against his temple as you step back slightly.
âYouâre⌠something else,â he mutters, jaw tight, and the way he says it makes your chest flutter.
Then, almost before you can process it, he leans in just enough, plucking the cherry lollipop from your hand. Your eyes widen as he places it between his own lips, teeth catching the candy in a slow, deliberate motion.
âTastes like you,â he winks.
You freeze, stunned for the briefest moment, a blush creeping up your neck. But you bite back a smile, cheeks warming, because the audacity is infuriating and thrilling all at once.
He straightens, hands slipping back into his pockets, and the corner of his mouth quirks up in that maddening way only he can manage. The cut on his brow is small, insignificant to anyone else, but right now itâs an excuse â a reason for the lingering touch, the shared glances, the quiet electricity that neither of you can admit out loud.
The lollipop in his mouth and the way heâs looking at you are all the words you donât need. You know, as he knows, that neither of you are leaving this space without knowing exactly how badly you want each other â and yet, neither of you are willing to say it first.
You lick your own lips, a small, playful smirk tugging at your face. âCheeky,â you murmur.
âMaybe,â he says, voice low, still holding the candy. âBut you like it.â
And in that quiet moment, the sun hitting his shoulders and the faint tang of blood lingering from the cut, you realize â this game of teasing and touch, this tension and unspoken desire, is far from over.
Sorry for not posting anything yet, I've been playing rdr2 for the past weeks and I'm not even at half the story mode, I'm getting impatient but also so fucking in love with Arthur Morgan, expect oneshots of him when I finish the game đ
