#dutch/gn!reader

[lacrymatoryao3]

Bloedzuiger

Dutch Van der Linde/GN!Reader

Dutch Van der Linde is a vampire who crashes your family's party and targets you as his next victim.

#### 1,715 Words (AO3 Link)

You weren’t in the habit letting strangers into your home. You knew the risks of that from living in such a violent town full of cowboys, miners, and outlaws in equal measure. But on that evening your family was hosting a party. So when a knock came from the front door, you thought nothing of it. The man who stood in front of you looked familiar enough to you. Perhaps a distant relative you only saw one or twice in your life, or someone who lived in the area that your family was cordial with.

He introduced himself as a Mr. ‘Dutch’ Van der Linde. He took your hand in his with two gold rings on his fingers. On his pinky a circular one with the face of a lion that had two small rubies for eyes. On his middle was a larger rectangular signet ring with a gold D in black enamel in a Gothic font. He pressed his thin and abnormally cool lips to your top palm. His facial hair tickled your flesh, a black and well groomed mustache and an unshaven patch just above his chin.

He gave an odd energy. It was alluring, yet your deepest instincts shivered. Despite it, you were drawn to him. He was an older gentleman, but not elderly. Somewhere in his 40s, if you had to guess. He was quite tall and slender, but something told you he held incredible strength if the circumstances called for it.. His black hair was long, swept behind his ears and reached down to his neck. It was mostly straight, except with thick and loose curls at the ends. His almond shaped and wide set eyes were also dark. In the mixture of night outside and the kerosene fed lighting inside, they almost glowed like amber. Even stranger, they were piercing. As he gazed at you, it felt like he was reading your very thoughts and it only further fascinated you. It kept you looking upon his angular face, with high cheekbones that had a noticeable mole on the right one and a large well shaped nose.

His fine clothing was also dark. He had on a black velvet, wide lapel frock coat that made his figure striking. The lining of it a deep red silk, in the pocket was a well folded handkerchief that corresponded with it. His vest was also velvet and red, with gold buttons and a matching single watch chain suspended from one of them. His pants were black, the usual cut that men wore though a bit tighter than what was normal, covering his black leather boots.

It was only a brief moment that felt like hours. You welcomed him in. When he stepped over the threshold you felt and icy breeze. You led him into the large parlor where everyone else was. You offered him a drink, but he refused. He excused himself by explaining he doesn’t partake in alcohol. He wasn’t much interested in the table of canapes either, but he did help himself to a cigar.

You excused yourself to allow Dutch to mingle with the other guests. It was difficult to do so, like something had possessed you to desire to only want his attention in return for yours. You didn’t stray far. As he wandered around and chatted, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You weren’t the only one, except in the eyes of your families and partygoers there was a glimmer of deep unease when they were near him.

It was a short time later he returned to you. He found you sitting quietly in the corner with a glass of wine. His warm smile and gentle gaze intoxicated you more than spirit you were sipping ever could. He leaned over you playfully, the shadow of his form enveloped you and made you dizzy. His voice was more stimulating than the music playing over the phonograph.

Dutch extended his hand to you, “Would you care to dance with me?”

“Of course!” You replied, exhilarated by the offer.

Standing up, the both of you went to an empty spot in the room. He quickly swept you close to him, resting one hand on your lower back and taking one of your hands into his ringed one. Like his lips, they were abnormally cold. His firm hold that made your heart race, to the point you couldn’t feel his at all. It was as if he took control of your body as you twirled almost inhumanly around the floor. The people around side eyed the two of you nervously, but you didn’t care. Nor did you have any concern when you caught a glimpse of yourself – and only yourself – in a large mirror on the wall. He seemed completely absent.

You spent the rest of the evening in his company until it became late into the night when people began to leave. You felt so high, so alive, it was almost unbearable to think of parting with him. If it had not been scandalous, you would have begged him to stay. As you saw him to the door, it felt like he could sense it.

“Don’t worry,” Dutch said soothingly, “I’m sure we will see each other again.”

You deeply hoped that would be true.

When you crawled into your bed after everything was cleaned up and settled, you couldn’t help but feel a little lonely. What manner of a man, this Dutch Van der Linde, made you long for him so? What about him made you want? To throw away all propriety? To risk your reputation? You felt like you were missing a part of you, withdrawing from the strongest drug.

You turned onto your side, taking one of your pillows and holding onto it. You pretended it was him. Lying beside you, holding you in his arms, speaking all those pretty little things he did during the party. His voice soothing you into sleep.

In between the realm of slumber and wakefulness you started to hear something strange at your window. At first you ignored it, thinking it was a lucid dream. It became more insistent and demanding. It sounded like tapping against the glass. You sat up, trying to figure out what it could be. It wasn’t a tree branch, the elms and oaks weren’t close enough to the house. It persisted until you finally got up to investigate. You pulled the curtains back, flooding yourself and the room in bright moonlight. You lifted the lower pane of you window and stuck your head out. You couldn’t see anything when you looked around, except a blanket of mist on the lawn.

It moved with an intelligence you had never seen, one that hypnotized you. It crawled along the grass and up the outer wall of the house. It poured through the window and surrounded you in a cold embrace you welcomed. It felt like someone was taking hold of your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you backward to your bed.

You sat down and laid back obediently. In the mist, there were little flecks of dust. They whirled around in front of you, taking on a human shape as they danced quicker and gathered together. At first he was just a phantom, then materialized was the man who had become the object of your desire. It didn’t disturb your sense of soothing calm. You just stared at him with half closed eyes.

Dutch was sitting at the edge of your bed hovering over you. He looked just the same was earlier, except his eyes glowed more intensely and he changed his clothes to a brocaded black vest with a red back panel. The watch chain suspended from the button had a red gem suspended from it. He caressed your cheek with his fingertips. They then trailed down your face to the left side of your neck. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasurable and repulsive at the same time. You gasped, your head tilting over to give him better access to the delicate flesh. He leaned in closer until you could feel his breath on your skin, causing it to tickle in an unfamiliar way.

“Yes, yes, just relax…” Dutch whispered in your ear, opening the collar of your nightclothes and pulling it away from your body, “Don’t you worry. I only take what I need.”

His tongue darted out of his mouth. He pressed it against your shoulder and slowly dragged it along where your jugular vein was hidden beneath the surface. He stopped halfway when he found a particularly sensitive spot that made you groan under the pressure. He let out a low chuckle.

You could only pant when his lips latched onto that area of your neck, then the tips of two sharp eye teeth. Then you felt them pierce you. Your eyes widened as an unbearable and stinging pain tore through your body. It slowly dissipated, being replaced by a tranquillizingly warm numbness. You felt a hot wetness from the wounds he created, which he sucked and licked up with satisfied sighs.

He was drawing large amounts of blood, at least from your point of view. Even if you wanted to stop him, you couldn’t. The moment he bit you he controlled you. He owned you. He now knew every little thing about you. Your hopes, your fears. Your thoughts and desires. Your personality was bared before him as he drank.

Time seemed to slow. It felt like the entire night went by in your stupor, until he finally had his fill. He closed the wounds and lifted his head. You finally saw the face of a human man, a mask hiding the creature underneath. You could see the stains of your blood on his lips.

“You are a delight.” Dutch said, “I will make a visit to you again.”

He kissed your forehead and stood, leaving out of the window from where he came. You closed your heavy eyes. Weak and light headed, you fell into a deep and dreamless unconsciousness.

In the morning at breakfast your family noticed your paleness and how frail you seemed. They wanted to call for a doctor, which you refused. You would become strong again in time. When you did, you hoped Dutch would keep his promise.

[bitin-and-barkin]

Intertwined Fingers

What would the aftermath of your so called death look like?

Warnings: Arthur Morgan x Reader, Gender neutral reader, he's going a bit insane ngl, implied self harm, dog symbolism, smut, fun fact: Pomade was commonly used as lube in the 1800s, Dom reader, sub Arthur, soft sex (I finally did the soft sex thing), No mentions of your genetalia, you just jerk off Arthur because you wanted to take care of him tonight, sorry probably not what the people were looking for but its fine, weirdly described sex to the point where it's not even porn, just an art piece, more yandere shit in the next part but you can smell the start of it here, overuse of the word Intertwined

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + Pt 2 to another story, Pt 1 here, Pt 3 here

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That night in the hotel room, Arthur sheepishly asked if he could stay with you for the night.

You, of course, accepted.

After climbing into bed, he couldn't keep his hands off of you.

Well, he usually can't, always clinging to you like a koala bear. But especially not tonight.

Rubbing his hands up and down your chest. Feeling the grooves in your skin. The curves and marks. Wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

Making sure all of his touches were gentle, as not to cause you pain.

Feeling your stomach rise and fall as you slept peacefully. Hearing your heartbeat.

Still softly sobbing, keeping it quiet so you could sleep, not daring to let go.

He felt like sinking into you in that moment.

For the first time in ages, Arthur slept peacefully. He could sleep for ages with your hands intertwined with his.

When you tried to get up in the morning, he pretended to be asleep so you'd stay with him for longer. When you tried to get up anyways?

He pretty much begged you to stay with him.

You ended up laying in bed for another hour before you finally were able to leave.

While taking you back to camp you told him about the doctors. How you already went to the one in Valentine, but they could only do so much.

He said he was gonna get a doctor to come here and properly check you out again, as he knew one that owed him some favors.

Worries of discreetness be damned.

Once you had gotten back to camp, people stared at you like they were looking at a ghost.

In fact, Sean fainted when he first saw you. They thought you were dead.

You even looked the part.

Hours had passed and it was sundown. Arthur had brought in a doctor named "Alphonse Renaud." By now, he had been in there for hours, Arthur right by his side.

His hands were soaked in blood, helping the doctor deal with everything they did to you.

The sick fucks had put nails in your legs.

Nails.

Your back was ripped to shreds, with some marks looking even like they came from whips.

They were irritated too, and Dr. Renaud guessed that they had poured whiskey into your wounds.

He was wondering how you managed to let him hold you the night before without wincing and whining out in pain.

Just imagining how much pain you must've been in, when he thought that he needed to hold you?

How much pain you must've been in when he was asking you on the ride back home if you felt okay?

He felt like the worst shit on earth.

Alphonse estimated you'd live a lifetime of numbness and pain on certain, scarred parts.

At least you weren't in pain right now.

You were currently passed out from Morphine after Arthur yelled at Swanson to help alleviate your pain, when he heard you whimper as the doctor worked.

He silently cried into his hands next to your bedside after he heard your shallow breaths.

He was scared. So fucking scared.

A 3 days passed, with Arthur watching your every movement like a hawk. He was around you 24/7. All other priorities just seemed to fade into the background.

You were fading in and out of consciousness. Going through fevers and hot flashes, scaring everybody at camp.

Whenever you were awake, you seemed to be in a trance. Muttering about things that weren't there, unable to recognize anybody. Not even your husband.

Arthur hadn't slept in that time either. Afraid that if he looked away for one second, the O'Driscolls would swoop up and take you away from him again.

He didn't even think of letting Kieran near you, your horse, or the tent you were in.

He got antsy when you got home, gaining an even shorter fuse to match. Doing everything to make the place more comfortable for you. Cleaning your bedsheets, changing your bandages. Gently talking to you about his day and asking about yours while you were asleep, that way if you woke up you wouldn't wake up alone.

Hosea insisted he needed rest. But every single time he went to bed, he couldn't sleep. Wracked with anxiety. Knowing you were just 15 feet away, safe and sound in your tent, yet still wondering where you were.

Wondering where his darling was.

He snuck into your tent later that night and sat down next to you. Coming down here just to make sure you were still breathing.

Watching your chest rise, your breaths were still as shallow as ever.

He had just gotten you back and he was already losing you again.

And with his coddling and touching, he had only made it worse.

He'd give anything to go back to the way things were.

Before you went on that shitty sniping job, god, what in fucking hell made Dutch think that was a good idea?

He'd give up all his things. He'd kill every O'Driscoll known to man. He'd break his own legs. He'd trade places with you. He'd kill himself.

Just for you to be okay.

He reached down, tracing his finger against scars that weren't there before.

He started talking softly to your sleeping body,

Saying how later he'll take you to the city and get you anything you want. He'll take you out dancing, or to the saloon, or to one of those new picture shows if you feel up to it.

How later he'll shoot Colm for what he did. Make his death slow, make him feel every ounce of pain you did. Doubled. He'll make Colm beg for mercy, then leave him to rot to death in some shithole.

How later, if that stupid Tahiti dream ever becomes realized, he'll settle down with you. Have a kid or two if you feel like it. As long as he can raise them with you.

Only you. Nobody but you.

How later, he'll build a mansion for you and you'd never have to be afraid of anyone hurting you ever again.

How he's so sorry that you had to come find him.

That you'd kill him if you died.

He heard the bed creak as he nervously chatted on and on.

Felt your fingers intertwining with his.

He turned to you, smiling.

You had awoken, and reached out to him.

He tucked your hair behind your ear.

There you were.

For the first time in a long time you were coherent. Aware. Unafraid.

And for the first time in a long time, you saw him clearly.

He took your hand and raised it to his lips, gently kissing your bruised knuckles. Asking how you felt as he did.

He looked... tired.

There were scrapes on his palms and hands, deep cutting scars. Going up and along his wrists and forearms.

Now that you think about it, when you first saw him again, his sleeves were rolled down.

He never rolled them down.

There were new gashes on his face. Along his lips and jaw. He was starting to look like John.

His cheeks were gaunt, and he had deep eyebags. As if they've been festering for months.

His hair was longer, a bit tangled too.

You're used to him being so broad, and while he still is, he looks almost underweight.

You took your other hand and reached up to his cheek, gently stroking it.

He leaned into your touch. He looked exhausted.

God, What had happened while you were gone?

He was resting his face on your hand as he held your other.

You gripped his jaw and pulled him close, softly placing a kiss on his lips.

And placing his free hand on yours, he returned it.

Bodies intertwining like a jigsaw puzzle.

He tried to pull away, wanting to give you air, but you pulled him even closer.

God, you were gonna be the death of him.

He pushed his hands under your shirt,

with you hastily undoing his belt.

Whispering to you,

"Darling, you're so pretty it hurts."

Pushing you to the bed,

placing kisses on your scars.

You pulled your hand away and placed them on his jeans, groping him through his pants.

His head whipped back, letting out a shaky moan.

Whimpering something unintelligible.

You were toying with his tits through his shirt.

Biting down, leaving hickeys along his neck.

Continuing to grope his dick, making him sport a tent in his pants.

And just looking into his eyes, and he had the look of a kicked puppy.

Just begging for you to properly touch him.

Unzipping his fly, his dick sprung out. Slapping against his stomach.

No wonder he had that look in his eyes. He'd follow you like a dog, and worship you like god. At least, it looked like he wanted to tonight.

You took his dick in your hand, pumping him up and down. Pressing your forehead against his, telling him to just relax, that you wanted to take care of him. Helping him take his shirt off as he whispered "Are you sure?" Asking you if you felt well enough to do this.

His breath hitching, he fumbled to untie his bandana before resorting to just rip the thing off entirely.

Peeling off his shirt just to feel you more. To touch you, as you pulled him close. Asking him to tell you just how much he missed you as pre-cum seeped out of his dick, slicking your palm.

You pulled forward and gently kissed his collarbone, licking your free hand and playing with his chest as you stroked him at a steady pace.

Biting down on his neck, his flesh soft between your teeth.

Only yours though. Only yours.

He slotted his head into your shoulder, and began to mumble, kissing your neck up and down.

Cradling your head in his palm.

Running his fingers across your bones, licking stripes against healed wounds.

To whimper and to whine, just like he did the day before.

Like a dog doing all the tricks it knew.

Fucking like two instruments playing in tune.

His eyes were glossed over, his hot breath puffing like smoke, and his words weren't making any sense anymore.

The sensual turning the sexual into the unintelligible, just repeating over and over,

I love you,

I love you,

I love you.

People in camp always talked shit about Arthur, how he was "Van Der Linde's Bitch." His dog, broken in like a wild horse. Obedient, pliable, perfect. But they're giving credit to the wrong man.

It was all you. Only you, Only you.

He arched back on the bed, crying your name as he came. His seed splattering across his stomach, into your hands.

Begging you not to leave him ever again.

Not even once,

Not even once,

Not even once.

Pleasure sparked behind his eyelids like a gunshot.

You hushing him with silent kisses, telling him to quiet down.

Letting him rut and sputter into your hands like putty until he finally came completely undone, and the only noise was his labored breathing, panting.

His hands trailed up your thighs, eager to return the favor. But you gingerly grabbed his palms and brought them up to your lips.

Oh so gently kissing his knuckles, just like he did for you.

His eyes were still red from crying. Months of grief released in a week.

You pulled his face close, kissing him on the cheek.

Pulling him down into bed, slotting your hips in between his.

Sleeping together,

with your hands intertwined.

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Should I keep this story going???

@yyiikes

[thebookbutterfly]

°•. Arthur Morgan .•°

Fan fiction recommendations from BB’s Bookshelf. All my favourite Arthur Morgan works in one place.

⭐️ = One of my favourites.

ONESHOTS:

🦋 Goodnight and Goodmorning [Fluff] A tired, weary Arthur crawls into your bed late at night after he returns to camp. << Female Reader, Canon Typical Injuries, High Honour >> ⭐️

🦋 Touchy: Part 1, Part 2 [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, A Smidge of Angst] Arthur is touch starved, you're the most affectionate person he knows. So why don't you touch him? << Female Reader, Mention of Abuse, High Honour >> ⭐️

🦋 Rainy Days [Fluff] It's pouring and you're soaked to the skin. Arthur invites you in and warms you up. Sharing body heat. << Female Reader, High Honour >>

🦋 Winter Cowboy [Fluff] Arthur returns cold and shaking from his ride with Dutch. You're happy to provide some warmth for your favourite cowboy. << Female Reader >>

🦋 A One Time Thing [Fluff] Your new horse throws you off, right into a damn river. Luckily, Arthur is by your side to warm you up. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Logs and Campfires [Fluff] You fall asleep next to Arthur, who's the last one remaining at the campfire after everybody else has gone to sleep. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Graphite and Gratitude [Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Minor Angst] After Micah crosses a line, Arthur comforts you in an unexpected way - by sharing his journal with you. << Female Reader, Micah is an ass, Slightly sexual mentions >>

🦋 Dancing and Daisies [Fluff] Arthur and the gang celebrate your birthday with you. << Female Reader, High Honour >>

🦋 Safety In A Storm [Fluff] Modern AU, in which there is only one bed. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Cold [Fluff] On your escape through the snowstorm after the Blackwater Massacre, Arthur and you are looking for a place to get some sleep. << Female Reader >> ⭐️

🦋 The Caretaker [Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Slight Angst] You join the gang shortly before the Blackwater massacre and quickly find comfort in the gang's enforcer, Arthur Morgan. Even you seem to catch his eye, as he starts to flatter you with little gifts. When he flees from the O'Driscolls, you have the honour of taking care of him. << Female Reader, Canon Typical Injuries >>

🦋 The Rescue [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst] You go missing in the mountains when you were scouting ahead with John. Luckily, Arthur finds you. The near death experience gives both of you the courage for a confession. << Female Reader, High Honour >>

🦋 Drunk Kisses [Fluff] A drunk reader gives Arthur Morgan a kiss. << Female Reader, High Honour >>

🦋 A Quick Sketch [Fluff] You catch Arthur trying to draw you. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You [Fluff] Arthur realises he’s in love with you. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Sharing Cigarettes [Fluff] You and Arthur share a cigarette by the lake. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

DRABBLES:

🦋 Jus' A Little Longer [Fluff] Arthur claims that he doesn't need hugs. You're hellbent on proving him wrong. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Treat [Fluff] Arthur gifts you some chocolate. Valentines Day Special! << Gender Neutral Reader, High Honour >>

🦋 Those Lovely Words [Fluff?] Arthur isn't the only one who sweet-talks his horse. AKA you call your horse a "good boy" and Arthur wants to combust. << Female Reader, Suggestive >>

🦋 The Stars Aren't As Pretty As You [Fluff] A short, sweet night under the stars. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 RDR2 Men As Girl Dads [Fluff] Featuring. Arthur, Charles, John, Dutch & Hosea << Gender Neutral Reader >>

[twinkmusk]

here's some sexual dutch van der linde headcanons :3!

heavy dom/sub aspects, dutch is a sadist, gn and bottoming reader!

dutch needs to be in control at all times

like really, at all times.

even outside of his tent he likes to remind you that he's in charge, standing behind you while you're engaged in conversation and slinking a strong arm around your waist

if he's feeling especially bold or especially possessive he might go as far as pressing open mouth kisses onto your neck, regardless of who's watching

enjoys watching you fluster in front of your peers all because of him

everyone knows you're dutch's plaything, he makes it obvious enough, and you do as well with your volume levels at night

basically the master of whispering sweet nothings, always murmuring compliments and praise into your ear when deserved

would never admit it, but he loves when you're a brat and he gets to give you an attitude adjustment

if youre being especially unsavory he will punish you accordingly

always very serious when you're in trouble, he just likes to make you squirm under his gaze and make you nervous he'll do something drastic

spanking is his favorite punishment to give you by far, he absolutely adores how undone and submissive you become for him after the first 10 strikes

he won't take his rings off either, which adds an aching kind of pain to the already sharp sting of his palm

takes pride in his ability to both please you and make you cry <3

dutch uses sex to fuel his ego and to hear what he wants to hear, whether that's you underneath him moaning his name or you sobbing and apologizing bent over on his lap

on bad days, when dutch is sure people are losing faith, he'll edge you until you're blabbering about how loyal you are to him and how much you need him

wants you to be dependent on him, like you couldn't possibly survive or achieve pleasure without him

the use of honorifics make his pants tight, hearing a timid "yes, sir." is music to his ears

teases you by going real slow, loves feeling you roll your hips against him

loves to listen to you beg for him to take you properly even more

but don't you worry! he'll use you properly after some time, always leaving you choking on gasps from the brutal pace he sets

finishing on your face is his favorite, like he's marking his territory

and that will always end with him wiping it off with his thumb to make you suck it clean

hope this is okay n not super ooc :D im a daddy dutch truther sorry </3

[vanderlesbian]

rdr2 men as girl dads

arthur, charles, john, dutch, + hosea

technically gn reader, but some things may be interpreted as being more fem? you are the other parent of the child

arthur morgan

+ he would definitely go to the women in the gang (and you of course, but he'll be more shy about it) to ask them questions. "is this what you ladies like?" before he gives his daughter a gift.

+ he'll document basically her entire life in his journal; write entries about her biggest moments and their times together, and he'll draw her all the time. there will be pages that are just covered in drawings of you and your daughter.

+ the other gang members would tease arthur for being "so soft" around his daughter and he probably gets real flustered about it, but you think it's adorable how gentle he is with her.

+ she will make flower crowns or put flowers in arthur's hair and a lot of the time he'll forget about it, so he'll walk around camp or even go out riding with a braid and flowers in his hair.

+ of course, your daughter would have some kind of knowledge as to what the gang does, but arthur will still try to hide violence from her. he'll make up silly excuses as to how he gets cuts or bruises, and he tends to hide his guns when around her. hell, he won't even really smoke when in her presence.

+ arthur is very accepting, and that especially applies to your daughter. if she wants to travel the world, he'd support it. if she said she wanted to be a dinosaur, he'd try his best to help her achieve that. the only thing he would say no to is being a gunslinger.

+ arthur's daughter would be a girl constantly surrounded by love. i can imagine her being artistic and creative like her dad, with the ability to get along well with anyone she meets. she would also be very expressive and bold, feeling that she can be whatever she wants.

charles smith

+ crafts dolls and other toys for her!!

+ he'll take your daughter out on nature rides or walks and will teach her all about animals and their importance. especially when she's a baby; he just finds it comforting to have a little friend he can talk to, even if she doesn't respond.

+ charles would be SO protective of his daughter. he would definitely teach her important rules of survival and how to handle weapons because he believes she can take care of herself, but he also can't help but step in immediately when the smallest altercations happen.

+ he also knows how cruel the world can be, and he doesn't want his daughter experiencing any of that. he likes to keep everything pg around her; if micah or someone is being inappropriate around her, charles will get upset quickly.

+ you can learn a lot from children, and charles is well aware of that. he's such an attentive listener when your daughter speaks to him, and will act like everything she says is revolutionary. he'll bring up a fact you've never heard of in a conversation with you, and when you ask him where he learned that from, he'll nudge his head towards your daughter.

+ i think charles' daughter would be a mini version of him, minus his use of violence lol. she would be quiet and only open up to those shes comfortable with, and would be very passionate about those she loves and the things she cares about.

john marston

+ you will always be able to tell when john dressed her because what in the hell is she wearing?

+ the goofiest dad but he's trying his best he swears!!

+ he's not the most vocally affectionate dad out there, but he'll randomly show up with gifts because he'll remember his daughter mentioning that she liked a specific item.

+ he'll also show affection by teaching her things. he doesn't really know what young girls would find interesting, so he just kind of assumes she would enjoy horseback riding or something of the sort. will definitely feel awkward if she expresses that she's bored.

+ john is trying, but he doubts himself and will always come to you for reassurance. he feels a lot better after speaking with you about things. "i'm just...bad at this stuff. you think she even likes me?" "john, she loves you more than anything, and i do too."

+ he's so bad at playing pretend, but he tries his hardest and you think it's so funny. if arthur catches him playing dolls with your daughter, he'll definitely tease him about it later. "dad, use your girl voice!"

+ a daughter raised by john marston would probably be rather shy, but also very kind, patient, and understanding. she might also take on some of her dad's sarcasm.

dutch van der linde

+ he would spoil his baby girl ROTTEN. he just can't seem to ever say no to her and will end up going into town himself to get a new stuffed animal for the kid the moment she asks for one.

+ dutch would definitely boast about how smart his daughter is. he would teach her to read and write as soon as possible and would feel so proud when she tells him about the things she read or wrote about. "she gets it from me, of course."

+ he would quite literally kill for his daughter. he's definitely the scary dad, but like in a way that she will casually bring up "oh yeah my dad has killed people" on first dates.

+ dutch's daughter would definitely be one to have a rebellious phase. i think he would tend to insist that she stays at camp because it's safest, but he would raise a girl that's curious about what the country is like outside of her tent. there would be many instances where dutch will send someone out—or himself to go find her after she steals a horse and runs off somewhere.

+ i feel like he would want to name his daughter something like...antique, or based off of some character from literature. things like ophelia, elizabeth, athena, victoria...

+ i actually think that dutch would raise a rather fiesty daughter. educated and bold, i think a daughter raised by the leader of the van der linde gang would grow to be a leader herself.

hosea matthews

+ i think hosea was born to be a girl dad.

+ he would so have a nickname for her that would stick with her for the rest of her life. something cute like dew drop or honey bee; and sometimes even the other gang members would call her by that nickname.

+ with the way hosea sits and listens to the women in the camp, he would do the same with your daughter. although he can be a stern parent when needed, he'll always listen to her before doing anything else.

+ he'd love to teasingly embarrass her in front of the others. "remember when you were wearing diapers until you were four years old?" "dad!"

+ HE KNOWS HOW TO DRESS A BABY!! and he would be so proud of himself. he'd probably be more excited over baby clothes than you.

+ oh he would treat her like a princess. i imagine him reading her fairytales as a child and will play along with her when she pretends to be a princess. if he could, he would build her a castle.

+ i believe that hosea would raise a humorous, kind hearted girl, who can also be rather mischievous. i can imagine his daughter being very outgoing and friendly, but very serious when needed.

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 25 (Slow Dancing)

Dutch Van Der Linde x Reader drabble

Once Sean was rescued, a celebration ensued, You planned on sleeping in but Dutch insisted you at the very least sit by him as he makes sure no one ends up dying.

By now its midnight and most of the other's are drunk or passed out. The ones that are still lucid are chatting near the campfire. As you read a book, you suddenly hear the gramophone play something you recognize.

"Oh, I like this one" You comment as you get up from your seat and hold your hand out to Dutch. "Come on Boss" You say with a smile.

As soon as you offer your hand, he takes it without hesitation and stands up slowly. “Alright then,” he agrees. The tune reminds him of one his mother used to hum while cooking breakfast back home in Blackwater.

You pull him to the side so you can both dance yet still be able to see the others. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close enough for your bodies to brush together slightly.

He starts swaying side to side, moving fluidly with the music. It’s clear that dancing isn’t completely foreign to him; perhaps there were times during his youth when he had indulged in such activities.

He lets out a laugh that’s almost sheepish in nature “I suppose I have. Back when I was younger, there weren’t many opportunities for entertainment like this.” He glances around at the others who are either fast asleep or too busy partying to pay attention to the two of you.

You chuckle as you give his shoulders a playful squeeze. "Have you danced like this before, Boss?"

His hands move lower, settling just above your hipbones as he continues guiding you through the simple dance steps. Dutch holds you tightly, savoring each moment spent in your embrace

“But these days, things are different. We hardly ever stop long enough to enjoy moments like this.” There’s something in his tone you don't think you've ever heard from him.

You lean forward and rest your head on his chest. You close your eyes and relax as he sways you softly.

Dutch pulls you closer, relishing the feeling of having someone else share this peaceful moment beside him. He presses his lips against your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender that always seemed to linger around you. He pulls away slightly to spin you around.

Surprised but delighted by the sudden movement, you raise your arms instinctively, allowing him to twirl you gracefully before bringing you back into his embrace.

His gaze lingers on yours for several heartbeats before he dips you dramatically, eliciting a chuckle from both of you.

Meanwhile, Mary-Beth and Karen watch from afar, catching your laughter.

”Look! Look, Karen!” Mary points excitedly towards the couple slow dancing under the moonlit sky. “They look so cute together, don’t they?”

Karen raises her eyebrows skeptically “Cute? Those two? Really, Mary?” She squints at the sight before nodding grudgingly. “Well, I guess they do seem kinda... nice with each other right now.”

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[kylesgarrick]

now writing for red dead characters!! (favourites are : charles smith, dutch, kieran and bill)

[herbatalover]

Hey! Could you write some headcanons or possibly a fic on Micah as a dad? Thank you so much!

A/N: Personally, I love this idea. Micah, even tho he's a complete asshole and I'd put a bullet in his head, is one of my favorite characters. Hopefully you enjoy! (Gender isn't specified so reader is gender neutral)

Micah as a father

GN! Reader

Living is a Bell is absolutely humiliating. Everyone knows him, everyone knows he's an asshole. Most think you're just the same.

Now, there are exceptions. Hosea, Dutch, even Arthur. Ms. Grimshaw technically as well, but she still keeps an eye on you.

You did have some of his features. Mostly in personality, although you had the same nose and eyes. You had anger issues. You were quick to get in a fight. But you still tried to be nice, just to show others that you are not like your father.

Speaking of who, wasn't good in parenting. He was akward around you when you were younger. And while yes, he did soften up, laying off on making other's lives miserable, he was still annoying. It's not like he didn't try to be a good father, but he was simply bad at it. He did buy (or steal) some things for you. Clothes, trinkets, weapons. He taught you how to shoot, yet Arthur still helped you more, since according to him "that bastard is horrible at this".

Hosea taught you how to read. Since Micah didn't know how to himself. Dutch taught you how to swim. Long story short, the gang mostly raised you.

One day you brought a dog in. It was while you were still in Blackwater. Oh what a mess.

Most people were happy, loving the new companion. However when you brought it to your father...

"What the hell is that?!"

"It's a dog?" You smiled. "I called him Biscuit"

"It's a monster! Throw it out!" Your father screeched, ready to kick the dog away, but you made sure he's a good distance away.

"No, he's belongs to our family now!"

"I'll show you where that thing belongs!" He yelled, taking a gun.

.... He shot the dog.

Only pet he ever let you keep was a rat. (what a surprise)

You called it Plague. Everyone liked Plague. He died because Uncle stepped on him.

You still tried to make him proud. Because maybe, just maybe, he'll be nicer to everyone if he's proud of you.

You made sure to bring anything you find when you were in Colter. Freezing your ass off, refusing to rest, making sure everyone was well fed. It was hard, you weren't made for snowy weather, but you did anything you could.

"Y/N, please..." Hosea walked to you as you were making your arrows, trying to remember what Charles taught you. "Go rest"

"I can't. We need to survive. We won't survive without food"

"As much as I love your courage-" Dutch approached you, getting a side glare from his partner. "-I can't let you go out. You've been working hard... You have to relax before you freeze to death."

"I really can't" you sigh. You were so close to hearing from your father he's proud of you, you could feel it. You knew he was grateful, he had to be!

You ended up stuck to bed as soon as you got to Horseshoe Overlook.

It didn't last long, a week, maybe two, but you were back on your feet before you even got healthy. If your father caught you resting... You couldn't risk it.

When you found out he was in jail, you begged to let them go for you. Arthur was hesitant, but Dutch allowed it. You jumped on your horse as soon as you could.

You arrived in the town surprisingly quickly. You walked to the jail, looking around it before walking to the window on the side, kneeling down.

"Hey dad"

"Y/N? The hell are you doing here?!"

"I came to save you" you looked around, trying to figure out how to save him. He growled frustrated.

"Why the hell did they let you?! Idiots... You'll die out here!"

".... Are you worried about me?"

"I'm worried about having to drag your corpse all the way back"

"I can leave, I'm sure Arthur will come before they hang you" you got up, turning around, but stopped when you heard his panicked voice.

"No! No, forget it! Get me out of here!"

"We talked about this.... Magic word"

"Oh for god's.... Please"

"You got it"

You wanted to stick with him after, but he told you to go back and tell Dutch he's fine. You were sad, but did as you were told. Tho over the thunder as you left, you could say a quiet thank you... Or was it the wind?

When you moved to Clement's Point, you were happy to see him again. He said he wasn't because he has to deal with you again, but you knew that wasn't true. Hopefully.

You were scared shitless when they went to talk with Colm... Yet got mad when they came back without Arthur. He was like an older brother to you, and he was gone because of him. You haven't talked with either him or Dutch until Arthur came back. It hurt him. You think so. His eyes tell everything.

Saint Denis was pretty calm. Until the bank robbery... Watching Hosea die was hard breaking. He was what Micah couldn't be. You loved him like he'd be your biological father. You were miserable.

Guarma didn't help. If anything, it made things worse. You mostly stuck with Dutch, still trying to help to impress your father, and to help him with his partner's loss. He appreciated that, it seemed. He trusted Micah, and trusted you even more, since you were like his own child. He didn't like to talk about what happened, but was grateful for your presence.

After you got back to America, you went on your own. Trying to find your way to the rest of the gang wasn't easy, but you were one of the first. You did have a close call with law men and Pinkertons, but still managed.

You didn't get to be glad about everyone coming back because of the attack. You tried your best to shoot as many men possible, trying to make sure everyone was safe. You did get some close call, one bullet so close it hit your skin, but didn't get stuck in your arm. Even this didn't stop you from fighting for your gang. For your family.

Days went by. You spent them mostly with Dutch and your father, still trying to stay close to others. Arthur had noticed something going on between the two, he did ask you to keep an eye on them. You promised to do so, but Micah seemed to pull you away from everyone slowly. Or maybe it was you that was staying away? You weren't sure.

Now you were standing frozen. Staring at your leader, pointing a gun at your father and your brother. You watched as he walked to the side, both guns now on John and Arthur. You didn't know what to do. You were scared, confused, sad. And angry.

"Y/N... Get over here" your father looked at you. Others already chose their sides, now staring at you to see what you did.

"Don't do it!" Arthur coughed out. You never realized how sick he was getting. You were looking at the both of them, before taking a deep breath.

You walked to your father. He grinned, happy. It was a chance to finally make him proud.

But as you took your steps, you realized...

"I won't make you proud, will I?" You spat, just to be met with a slowly forming confused look. You continued "everyday I worked, tried so hard to make you happy, to impress you... I don't know if I was trying to win your love or respect. But I don't think I should even try to win it. You're my father, aren't you supposed to give those things unconditionally?"

Micah opened his mouth, but you kept going. "I'm done. I don't want to fight for it anymore. I will never satisfy you, no matter what I do" you sighed, turning to Dutch. "Think about what you're doing. Think about Hosea would say. Because for god's sake, he'd slap you across your face for even pointing your gun at your son's. But make your own decision. I'm done trying to make any of you happy"

And saying that, you grabbed your father's gun, pressing it to your head and pushing his finger to pull the trigger.

Oh the regret on his face.

"I think he was proud" Hosea chuckled to you. "But he was too much of a coward to say it"

"Hopefully I got him to think about his actions" You just sighed, petting Plague and Biscuit. They got along

R.I.P Plague and Biscuit, poor babies. 🙏

[clone-anon]

I wanna braid Tup's hair please

Tup stepped out of the shower and knocked on your door. You smiled when you opened it and let him in. His hair was still damp and smelled of a certain shampoo he was fond of using. It reminded you of soap and the way fresh rain hits mossy rocks.

You'd done this many times before, brushing his hair after a shower. You sat on the end of the bed and he sat on the floor between your legs, smiling to himself as he felt you start to run the brush through his hair.

"How do you want it," you asked, gently running your hands through his hair.

"However you want, but maybe something a little different?"

You started as if you were going to put it into two top knots or something silly, but then got an idea. You brushed his hair out again and took a small bit at the top and started braiding. You pulled the three strands underneath each other instead of over each other, adding more hair as you went. He had just enough that it held together nicely. You were gentle and smiled to yourself as it came together.

Tup could feel something different happening and without a mirror, he was in for a surprise once you were done.

You finished, the braid ending just below his hairline against the nape of his neck and you tied it off.

"All done."

He got up and went to the mirror. His smile broadened when he saw it. You offered a hand mirror so he could see the back and his eyes lit up a little.

"It looks cool," he said. "Thank you!"

"Any time, Tup."

[male-fanfics-for-days]

Rdr2 Fanfic Titles that I thought up while playing RdrO (Bonus Little descriptions) Im super gay so all of these are for the guys

P.S: these are things I thought about writing, and if anyone actually wants to read them I might write them so comment if you want to read one of them lol P.P.S: I listen to music while I game so most of these are based off songs

I Found An Angel In The Woods - Charles Smith or Javier Escuella x GN angel or supernatural Reader : He stumbles upon a holy scene with a winged individual in the woods, taking his breath away.

Snowflakes In Summer - Arthur Morgan x Male or Gn Reader : With the harsh cold now thawed from their body, that only left sprinkles of tears left to melt away like snowflakes in summer.

The Living Winters Spirit - Anyone guy could work x Gn or Male Supernatural Reader : There was said to be a bounty that roamed, and you only knew you were close when you could see your own breath as if it were the dead of winter, even in the hot sunny day of the desert.

O Widow Waly (based on the song O Willow Waly) - Arthur or Charles x Gn or Male Reader : Even in a time of great loss and sorrow, a new spark of light can be found and flamed.

My Love Will Never Die (also based on a song called My Love Will Never Die) - Arthur Morgan x Male Witch Reader : All you ever wanted was to live a true, good, long life with the love of your life. And nothing was going to stop you from getting that life.

As The Storm, I Am Quiet (based on the song Quiet from the Matilda musical ⁱᵗˢ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ʷᵃ��ᶜʰ ⁱᵗ)  - Anyone guy could work x Male Reader : Anger is Blinding. Rage is burning. Fury is deafening. All that remains is silence.

The Songs I Sing For You (Based on Her Sweet Kiss from The Witcher) - Arthur Morgan x Male Singer Reader : I sing for you till my throat goes dry, my lungs grow weak, and my voice cracks. But you will only see her.

With The Lords Blessing (based on the song Devil’s Backbone by The Civil Wars) - Anyone guy could work x Religious Male Reader : It is said that God as a plan for all his childeren, a path in which they walk and follow, a ‘right’ way to live. Was it truely his plan to have you fall in love with an outlaw?

Strange Sort of Medicine (based on Holler House by Spence Hood) - Arthur, Charles, Javier, John, Bill, Sean or Dutch x Male reader : They would enter, you would scream and make them scream, then? They’d leave healed and healthy as the day they were born.

[bitin-and-barkin]

Keeping him in line

Warnings: Gunfucking, facefucking, shoe humping, sub Dutch, he's like super pathetic honestly, humiliation (Dutch Receiving), degradation, gender neutral reader, dom reader, the reader is SO fucking mean, Dutch deserves it tho, masochism, pain kink, anal, smut, all consensual dw, I like to think this could've stopped the downfall of the gang

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Thinking about being an "old friend" of Dutch.

Used to go out robbing with him back in the day, until some crap went down. He thought you died, and you thought the same for him. But after the blackwater incident, a long overdue meeting happens when you both try to rob the same train.

Thinking about him "Inviting" (practically begging) you to join him, even though you both know you're doing damn well on your own.

Thinking about once you graciously agree, he's consulting you for every little thing, saying something along the lines of "let me consult the missus/mister" before he plans any jobs, finally taking SOMEONE'S advice other than his own. Treating you like Hosea, like himself. A higher up, a leader, despite you having never set foot in this gang in over 10, 15, years.

Thinking about him insisting that you don't have to do any of the "dirty work" if you don't feel like it. Barking orders at others to "take care of it" while dragging you back to his tent for no reason at all, other than to just smoke and drink and chat about everything and nothing.

Thinking about others being weirded out and slightly jealous of all the praise and approval you get from him, with even Molly questioning if he's sweet on you. Everyone is thinking it, that maybe he had something going on with you in the past. But, even when he was with Annabelle? He had never treated her this kindly.

Thinking about him catching glances at your fingers while you handle your gun, the way you draw it and shoot in the blink of an eye. Watching your hands move as you play poker at camp, making everybody else at the table go broke.

Thinking about him watching the way your chest heaves in and out after a gunfight. Watching the way your silver tongue talks them into money and out of trouble, even better than he or Hosea can.

Thinking about him stating he needs to "take a break" with Molly due to him "needing some time alone" while she watches him talk to you the same way he used to chat with her, but with actual longing in his eyes.

Thinking about you talking to him, almost down to him, with a certain smug look on your face as he looks at you with a certain devotion on his. You calling out the flaws in his ideas and plans, doubting him, doing things that would get anybody else labeled as a traitor. But not you. Anybody but you. As when you do it? All he can do is sit there and take it.

Thinking about you pushing him down by the chest where he sits anytime he does something or says something that you don't like. Knocking his drink out of his hand in front of everybody when he gets too out of line.

Thinking about punishing him for his behavior at night, taking long drags of his cigar and putting it out on his arm as you grip his hair and shove his face into his bed as you fuck him into the sheets.

Thinking about you leaving bruises on his neck after you choke him too hard for being too mean to one of his boys or after one of his infamous plans fuck up once again.

Thinking about making him rut up against your boot as you face fuck him, saying he isn't deserving of even touching you, and if he wants release he has to work for it himself. Stating that your shoes better be shining when he's done down there as he rubs his dick against your spurs, desperate for friction.

Thinking of you fucking him with his own gun after he begs you for more, with you degrading him for getting a hard on. Asking him what the Pinkertons, what his gang, would think if they learned that Dutch Van Der Linde himself is no more than a common whore. One barely good enough to fuck. Saying that maybe you should turn him in, that way you can use the money to buy a whore that actually does what they're told.

Thinking about him crying into your lap as he begs for release, and all you do is laugh at him and shove him off, leaving him alone and aching after you climax and he doesn't. Knowing that he needs this punishment to keep him in place.

Thinking about him palming himself for the rest of the night and choking himself with a tie you got him a long time ago, fucking himself stupid with your gun which you left in his tent. But it's not enough. Such a greedy boy. It's never enough for him.

That's why you have to keep him in line. It keeps him sane.

[landograndprix]

woman ✾ l.n - viii

❧ you love max, you really do but your little brother has been getting more on your nerves each day as he tries to set you up with one of his friends.

❧ being in love is hard when there's people trying to sabotage it but they aren't aware of the strong bond you and lando have formed over the last few weeks.

❧ lads (gn), I'm so sorry it takes me ages to update this fic pls forgive me :( omce again, spelling mistakes add 🌟 character 🌟 charles' a lil weird and these fans can suck my **** 🥰 verstappen!reader.

❧ prev part – next part

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y/nverstappen posted to their story

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y/nverstappen

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 81,564 others

y/nverstappen celebrating iris' 31st the right way ♥️

tagged: irisxo, martingarrix

view all 1,654 comments

irisxo best birfday baby 😘

↳ y/nverstappen ♥️♥️

maxmaxmax my favorite party animals <3

charleslec lmao time to act like adults then?

↳ norry4 life doesn't end after 25 💀

hamilt44n man y'all so pressed about older women living their lives lmfao just say your jealous

verstappenmax my favorite people

mrsnorris am I the only one who thinks her and martin are together?

landitonorris at least she's not in monza bothering lando lol

↳ norstappen not to burst your bubble but max pretty much said he's flying to ibiza with lando after the race 🥰

landitonorris when did he say this?

norstappen in a dutch interview yesterday

landitonorris oh well as long as she stays away from lando 😇

norstappen lmao why, you think you have a chance with him or something?

norry4 honestly hope they get caught making our or something just to upset y'all fake fans even more 💀

versthappenm don't listen to the haters bestie, we still love you ❤️

charlesgirlies 31 and still not settled down, maybe iris should focus on that instead of partying all the time 🤡

↳ carlandooo pretty sad you have to go and talk shit about y/n AND her friends just because she talks to charles, you're the clown here 🤡

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y/nverstappen posted on their story

charles_leclerc replied to your story

charles_leclerc

You're in Monaco again?

y/nverstappen

Yes

charles_leclerc

hanging out with Max?

y/nverstappen

Yes

charles_leclerc

And lando? 😉

y/nverstappen

You think I don't know what you did?

what do you want from me charles?

charles_leclerc

alright, I'm sorry..can we talk?

y/nverstappen

nah don't think that's necessary

it was never anything serious and never will be anything serious.

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Woman taglist @hockeyboysarehot @beatricemiruna @starwarssavy23 @be-your-coffee-pot @thecubanator2 @ironmaiden1313 @hanniesdawn @leclercdream @alexandralibbre @elliegrey2803 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @laneyspalding19 @whoreks @cha-hot @luciaexcorvus @emma34501 @sunny44 @roseseraj @goldenharrysworld @18754389 @graciewrote

[mistydeyes]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Task Force 141 and a reader that they never have seen out of uniform until one day they all go to a bar but the reader is late? Next thing they know the reader walks up to them dressed like they just walked straight out of the 2000’s?

(if you end up doing this request: thank you so much! I absolutely luv your writing!!)

thank you so much for requesting! i literally am in love with 2000's fashion like you'll be seeing me walking with low-cut jeans and a baby tee fr

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summary: After a tiring mission, the 141 invites you to drink away the night at the pub. However, you get into a lively argument about fashion when they question your choice in 2000's inspired attire.

pairings: taskforce 141 x platonic!gn!reader (codename: Storm)

warnings: swearing, slight bullying (they fr just don't understand fashion)

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"Didn't we tell Storm half-past eight?" Gaz asked, looking down at his watch. The pub was nearly empty as the men continued to add glass after glass to a growing pile. Despite reminding you with a string of texts, you still haven't made an appearance. "Still don't get why they had to change," Soap continued, choking down another drink, "Lt's still wearing his goddamn mask." The group laughed as their attention was directed to Ghost, still wearing his signature face mask. "They probably wanted a shower and some fresh trousers," Price commented and the rest of the group returned to a more interesting conversation.

As the group laughed at Soap recounting Ghost's out-of-character dialogue in Las Almas, their gaze fell on the pub's door as it swung open. The group smiled at the familiar face and gestured you over. You walked to the table quickly, feeling the attention in the empty pub. At first, you thought it was due to your late entrance but when you approached, you saw all eyes focused on your attire. It was like you walked out of the 2000s or robbed a Delias before your arrival. You felt a little self-conscious at the confused looks and wondered what all the fuzz was about. "What? Do I have a stain?" you questioned as you dusted off your low-cut, denim jeans. "No, it's just-" Gaz began to say but Soap interjected. "Why do you dress like that?" he asked and you raised an eyebrow. You looked down at your jeans and Von Dutch top. "But I normally dress like this?" you said with a curious tone. You dressed like this before joining the military and held on to the lively aesthetic of the early 2000s. You were embarrassed to admit but Britney Spears and *NSYNC were your fashion icons.

"Yeah," Ghost spoke up as he eyed the interesting font of your shirt, "you look like you could be an extra in a Spice Girls video." You rolled your eyes, grabbing at one of the half-drunk glasses on the table. "You've been quiet, Captain," you edged while looking at him, "what do you think?" There was a hush over the room as you waited in anticipation. "Clothes are clothes," he simply replied and the table roared with laughter. "Such a grandad thing to say," Soap loudly exclaimed and everyone clambered with sentiments of agreement. "Sorry I don't wear Wrangler jeans and black fitness tops," you mumbled. It was a subtle jab at your colleagues but Gaz took it to heart. "I have style!" he shouted as you shook your head in disapproval.

"Gaz, you look like someone trying to emulate an Instagram model or some teenager's Pinterest board," you argued and you were met by the howling of the tipsy men. "And Captain, I'm sorry but you look like a father going on holiday to the Swiss Alps," you directed towards Price as everyone realized this was becoming an insult fueled rage. Soap was still laughing wildly, shaking his head in agreement with your every word. "Oh you shouldn't be laughing, Soap," you said as you turned to him, "a navy blue sweater and black jeans are a fashion crime." He quickly turned red and looked embarrassed as he examined the mismatched colors. Everyone held their breath as you turned to Ghost. "And Lt," you paused, thinking of what you should say next, "you dress like you've never heard of color."

[vanderlesbian]

javier as a girl dad too?🫶🏼

EEK my first request hai...... >_< of course i can write javier as a girl dad :3

** other rdr2 men as girl dads can be found here!!

masterlist

javier escuella

- javier would be so proud to be a father!! his daughter would be his pride and joy and he would do anything to protect her. the other members of the gang know not to mess with him or his daughter, especially after micah made a cruel comment that earned him a near broken nose and a week's worth of snarky comments from the entire gang.

- definitely speaks to his daughter in spanish; he would love teaching her the language. when he hears her babble her first words in spanish, javier will have the biggest smile on his face. he'll probably tell the others about it for at least a few days, too.

- he would sing her songs!! when she's little and comes to him woken up from a nightmare, javier will pick up his guitar and play her favorite song. oftentimes his singing will gather more of an audience, and other members will stick around to listen to the lullabies.

- on the topic of singing songs for his daughter, i think javier would write his own for her, too. whether or not he's the best lyricist, his song will be loved by his daughter regardless. as she grows older, javier would teach her how to play guitar, and she would request to learn how to play that song he made for her when she was little.

- ohhh he would have a spanish nickname for her. mariposa, chiquita, luna, flor—something cute that would stick with her for the rest of her life. as she gets older, she'd get a little embarrassed by it, but javier would be insistent on keeping the nicknames.

- javier would be such a playful dad! he wouldn't be hesitant to play any games with his daughter that others might call "too feminine"; if his daughter wants to have a tea party, he'll put his entire soul into his posh accent. javier will always make time to play with his daughter, and if he happens to be too busy, he'll promise her to play later and will keep that promise.

- javier's daughter would be an energetic and playful girl who's probably very flamboyant. she would be a real daddy's girl and the best thing that has ever happened to javier (aside from you, of course). i think she would also get some of her confident snarkiness from her dad too lol

[killerlookz]

hiii!!<3 if you’re thinking abt writing for joost, can u pls write some thing abt an established relationship fic based off the song birds of a feather by billie eilish if u can! love ur writing!

Hi anon! thank you sm for the request <33 this song is so sweeeet omg!!! also... technically an established relationship, but i do recap how reader and joost met :-)

Birds of a Feather | Joost Klein

description: gn!reader reflects on all the special moments in your and Joost's relationship following an unexpected proposal.

content: so insanely cheesey! sorry! pure fluff! + lots of crying (mostly happy tears) literally the most tiny smallest sexual reference this fic contains rpf, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable

word count: 2426 (this was supposed to be under 1k words but i got soooo carried away)

/I don't know what I'm crying for / I don't think I could love you more/

Shaky fingers fiddle with the cold metal looped around your ring finger. Your hand flexes outward, watching as the light from your window reflects onto the small stone. Something warm rolls down your cheek- a solitary teardrop, caressing the skin of your face. Your hand reaches up to wipe away the tear, but it's too late, you can feel more welling up near your waterline, any sudden movement now would send tears streaming down your face. You look up, your eyelids brink rapidly in an attempt to prevent the inevitable waterworks.

You hadn't seen an engagement coming- in all the years you'd been together, it still seemed like a milestone that had felt so far away. Until Yesterday.

You and Joost had been nearly inseparable since just about the moment you had met- A nervous 20-year-old studying abroad in the Netherlands for your second to last semester of university. You sat on the stairs outside of the apartment building that stood as your temporary housing for the semester, on the brink of tears, your randomly assigned roommate had been a real piece of work. You were on your third argument that week alone, and, saying you were fed up was an understatement. You contemplated at that moment packing your things and just going back home.

"Gaat het?" (Are you ok?) A voice calls out, a goofy-looking blonde standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looks vaguely familiar, you think you may have seen him in the elevator of your apartment once or twice.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, "Ik spreek niet veel Nederlands," Using one of the few Dutch phrases you knew to tell him you don't speak Dutch. You shake your head, kind of hoping he would get lost, not wanting to be bothered.

"Ah," He nods, "Do you speak English?"

You stare at him for a moment, unsure if you should lie, after all he was a stranger but something is telling you to tell him the truth.

"Yeah," You sniffle, attempting to remove any emotion from your face.

"Are you okay?" He asks again, this time you understand.

"I'm fine," You weren't exactly searching for a deep conversation about your current struggles in someone you didn't know.

"People who are fine don't usually sit outside their apartment building crying."

You bite your lip, contemplating engaging the kind stranger in what was ailing you at the moment. You sigh, having a feeling he would probably keep pestering you if you continued to insist you were feeling in a way you actually weren't.

"It's just my roommate-"

Two months after your first encounter with the blonde man at the bottom of the stairs, you were standing in front of a mirror, doing a final check of your outfit before going on your first date. You had learned his name was Joost, he was 21, and lived in an apartment two floors above you.

He was unimaginably kind, with a wit unparalleled by anyone you'd ever met before, and truthfully, he was very cute- so when he had initially asked you out, you couldn't get a "yes" out fast enough.

It seemed a little inconvenient, given that you only had one more month left in the Netherlands- but he knew this, and didn't necessarily seem like he had been looking for anything too serious. Besides, it would be nice for you to have a good connection with someone outside of the people you saw in your classes.

There's a knock at the door, and your feet are quick to start shuffling under you, you're practically running to go open it.

You stop for a moment as you get to the door, letting a deep breath fill your lungs to capacity, before letting it out, whipping the door open as you do so.

Joost is standing behind it, a smile plastered on his face, hands behind his back. He's dressed up, now that you thought about it, you never really saw him in anything other than a sweatshirt or t-shirt and some jeans. It was a pleasant change- a white button-up shirt and some dress pants even if both articles of clothing had been obviously wrinkled.

"Hey," He greets, removing his hands from where they rest behind him, revealing a bouquet of flowers in an outstretched arm, "These are for you- I didn't know what kind of flowers you liked so I sort of just guessed." He's unsure of himself, in an entirely endearing way. He was trying.

"For me?" You grin, "Aww, Joost!" You take the flowers from his hands, "Let me go find something to put these in."

A month later you're sitting on Joost's couch after what you assumed would be your last date together. Your study abroad program was ending in three days, and you'd be returning back home.

There is an air of sadness that surrounds you, one that you hadn't expected to feel- you'd only known the man for three months, yet somehow it felt like you were leaving someone you had known your whole life.

Gentle fingers grab onto your jaw, Joost is turning your head to force you to look at him.

"You know," He starts, "I've really been enjoying our time together."

"Me too," You agree, a small smile peaking onto your face, you try not to give way to the sadness you were feeling.

"And," He says, "Y/n, I really like you, and I think if I don't ask you now, I'm never going to get the chance to ever again."

"What?" You perk up, your heart suddenly beating much faster, your breathing quickens, unsure of what he's going to say next.

"Well- I- what I'm trying to say is, do you want to go out with me? Like- officially- like dating." His voice is trembling, you'd never seen him so anxious before.

"Joost I-" You sigh, the reality of your situation crashing into you harder than it had before, "I'm leaving soon- we'll be hours away, when am I going to see y-"

You're cut off by Joost's lips crashing into yours, your thoughts suddenly disappearing the second your lips connect. You're entirely overwhelmed with emotion, every wire in your brain is fried, this move was an utter surprise, up until this point your relationship had been entirely chaste; the furthest you'd gone was sharing a hug at the end of your dates. Still, you kiss him back, your hand finding its way to his shoulder, tugging at it, begging him to come closer to you.

It had been seven and a half months since you had last seen Joost, but the two of you had talked at length each and every day during that time. By now, you had finished your degree in University and were ready to really start your life.

You could remember the cheer of excitement on the other end of the phone when you told Joost after a month of job hunting you had secured a job in the Netherlands.

"Does that mean you're coming back here?"

"Yeah, the job starts at the end of next month ."

A month and a half didn't necessarily give you much time to plan things out to the extent you would have liked, but Joost was more than ready and willing to help you out.

He had posited moving into his apartment- but the suggestion while sweet- was quickly thrown out. It wouldn't have been an ideal commute to your new job.

So the two of you got on to looking elsewhere, he had been kind enough to take the time out of his days to go to apartment showings for you near where you'd be taking your job, keeping you on Facetime as he viewed the places.

Eventually, you had found one you absolutely fell in love with, in perfect distance from the job. The problem had been- it was quite a ways out of your budget. You were heartbroken, it had basically been your dream apartment.

Joost, always swift with solving problems, suggested that the two of you move into the apartment together, that way he could cover the rest of the rent that you couldn't afford. And while you were over the moon about his offer- you worried about what living together would do to your relationship, the two of you had known each other for less than a year- would living together be such a great idea?

But as you're standing in the doorway of your bedroom on the first night being in your new apartment, staring up at Joost, who's leaning against the door frame- you just know you made the right decision.

A careful hand glides across your cheek, resting at the back of your neck,

"Thank you for coming back," Joost muses, gently massaging the spot where his hand resides. You lean into his touch,

"There was no other option" There's an undeniable twinkle in your eyes, admiring the man who stood above you, tired and messy from a long day of moving.

"I've been waiting to tell you this in person," His grip on your neck suddenly becomes still, rigid, "And- even if you don't feel the same yet, I just wanted to say that I love you." He's talking fast, simpering after he finishes his short words before resuming the gentle massaging motion of his thumb against your neck.

The breath is almost entirely knocked out of you- he loves you.

The words just about run out of your mouth, "I love you too,"

"You do?" His pupils are blown wide, "You love me too?"

You nod fervently, never having meant a statement so immensely in your life.

Joost is leaning down now, his head tilted so his lips can perfectly interlock with yours. It is possibly the hungriest kiss the two of you had ever shared, with the obvious implication of love now behind it. If Joost hadn't snaked his free arm around your back, you probably would have fallen straight to the ground, your legs tingling with excitement.

He pulls away, looking into your mostly empty bedroom, a smirk appearing on his face,

"What do you say we christen that bed I spent all day putting together?"

Five years later you're still living in that same apartment, the once-empty space now fully decorated with beautiful memories.

And now, the most crystal-clear memory sparkled in your brain, almost as bright as the ring itself. You'd been crying in intervals since then- since it happened since - You replayed it in your head.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Joost's fingers interlock with yours as the two of you walk down a familiar street- You were unsure of why Joost had insisted on taking you here, to the town where you both had lived when you met.

"How could I ever forget?" You grin, "Feels like just yesterday I was crying to some strange Dutch boy about my roommate issues."

"And how you told me, you never wanted to see the Netherlands again?" His words are slow as he looks deeply into your eyes, glimmers of adoration shining from every feature on his face.

"God, I was so dramatic- wasn't I?" You look away from him, scoffing as you look down at the pavement, thinking about your old self, looking back on it- it was a stupid decision to let one person ruin almost two months of your life, but back then it seemed like the biggest deal in the world. "Funny" You shrug, "The decision I made to talk to you on the day I was most certain I was just going to pack up and leave forever led me to making the Netherlands my home." You shake your head, "I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't met you on that day, but I don't think there's a reality that exists where we aren't together."

"Don't make me cry," He chuckles.

"I mean- I don't mean to be all sappy, but it's true- if soulmates are real, I can guarantee you're mine."

He's grinning now, you'd been so lost in your thoughts you barely noticed where the two of you had ended up, back at your old apartment, right in front of those very steps the two of you had met on.

He's pulling you up the stairs, and needless to say you're confused about this trip down memory lane.

"I think it's only appropriate that I do this here," His voice is low, and he's blinking more rapidly than usual. His hand slips from yours, and falls into his pocket- you watch anxiously for his next move. There's something in his hand now, and he's slowly bending down onto one knee.

The tears start nearly immediately, before he says a single word, you're cupping your mouth with your hand

"Y/n," He looks up at you, through the lenses of his glasses you can see there are tears in his eyes too, "Wil je met me trouwen?" (will you marry me)

"Joost," You choke out a sob- "Yes, Yes!" Your whole body is full of a tingling sensation, and your heart feels like it occupies more space in your chest than it did before, swelling with an overwhelming amount of love.

Joost grabs your trembling hand, caressing it tenderly with his thumb before slipping on the ring. You let him hold your hand for a moment more before you're pulling it away, desperate to see. You outstretch your hand in front of you, looking at the glimmering stone that sits on your finger. A visual confirmation of what had just happened.

He's barely stood all the way up before you're reaching for him, knocking into him with an embrace so energetically that it nearly knocks him over. As he catches his balance he wraps his arms right back around you, pulling you into him.

If you were to have gotten any closer, the atoms that make up each of your bodies may have actually fused together. Though you wish you could, despite how you fully braced Joost's body it doesn't feel like enough you want him closer to you.

Still, you're so warm in his tight embrace, letting out choked tears of joy against his chest.

A gentle kiss falls on the top of your head, followed by your favorite words to hear out of Joost's mouth, "Ik hou van jou." (I love you)

You shut your eyes, basking in the moment, you could absolutely get used to hearing those words every day for the rest of your life.

/I'll love you 'til the day that I die / 'Til the light leaves my eyes/

[mx-pastelwriting]

RDR2 HC - Running away together & what would it take

RDR2 x GN! Reader

Summary: Running away together & what would it take for them to.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Running away, Some Happy Endings

Characters: Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Hosea Matthews, John Marston, Josiah Trelawny

Dutch van der Linde

- A hard task in itself, prying Dutch away from his power over the gang, it's an almost impossible task. Though echoing Hosea's words to lie low would earn you some time in having a voice over Micah's, he would consider it.

- Nightly talks cuddled up in his arms, imagining life away from the one you have aloud; he entertains it, but not without saying some doubtful scenarios. Having to change your ways, almost manipulating him into taking that life as a real thing.

- Never leaving his side, hearing every thought, not giving Micah a chance to talk to him in private, in turn driving you crazy. Doing anything for that good life, leaving your intentions to change just to get your Dutch safe.

- Every day drained you; all that work had finally caught up to you. Slowly, you lost faith as the gang came into more trouble, making you come to a realization. You made your choice.

- A night of loving Dutch one more time, cuddled up into his arms, then having to leave them. Leaving him in a deep sleep with a final kiss. Taking your horse he had gotten for you a long time ago and what little clothes you had left from all the years of running. Finally leaving in the cold night, not daring to look back.

A year had gone by, and still you dreamt about that day and its many outcomes, but all you could do was smile at the memory of his messed hair loving him for that final night. Telling yourself over and over that it spared the both of you, there was no use to keep trying. Leaving to build your own life, living out your dream that you tried so hard to convince Dutch of so many times.

He would have loved it, just the two of you; he just couldn't see it. Getting up from your bed, dressing up for the day, and having to live off of the small land you fought to get months after. Making your way to the kitchen, readying breakfast before your day of work, but a knock interrupts you from the task.

Grabbing your old weapon, hoping it still worked, then walking slowly to the door, pointing the weapon from your hip. Upon opening the door, your mind and body went blank. Dutch was standing at your front door, looking like shit. "Dear," he says, voice cracking. Even after all this time, he charmed his way into your heart, igniting your love again.

-

Arthur Morgan

- You both have always talked about that kind of life and what it would be like, but it always ended as a joke and never as something to look forward to. Until you really thought about it, hearing Hosea's story of him and his wife fed into your dream.

- Bring it up to Arthur one night, making sure he took it seriously, not knowing what to say, only he couldn't leave the gang just like that. Over time, you pushed the matter, and he always listened but never said anything.

- Being with the gang for a long time, you watched it change as Dutch came into more trouble. Finally, it hit a breaking point when Arthur went missing from the meeting with Colm O'Driscoll. The camp had to calm you down, but it didn't stop the tears every night, fighting your mind to just leave, but it turned to worry that if he'd come back, you needed to be there for him.

- After days of the gang searching, you finally spotted Arthur's house with him on top, thinking you had just gone crazy. Hearing his groans of pain, you ran to him, crying aloud, causing the camp to spring into action, with some having to hold you back so the rest could work.

- After an hour of working on him finally letting you see him, never leaving his side as you waited for him to wake. Hosea brought you something to eat every day, knowing what you had been going through.

Snapping from your exhausted state as a groan came from Arthur, watching as he stirred from his rest. Tears once again spilled from your eyes while grabbing his hand and placing it to your cheek. Waking fully, he whispered your name, running a hand through his hair earning a hum from him as he rested his eyes once again.

"I thought you were dead," you whispered, kissing his hand earning another hum. "Okay," he whispered weakly, making you look at him meeting his blue-green eyes. Taking a minute for you to understand, you nodded, "Tonight." You responded, getting only a weak nod back. Quickly getting up to then plant a kiss on his lips before preparing your leave.

-

Javier Escuella

- Being so loyal to Dutch, as soon as you'd bring that idea of life up, he'd tell you of the time he tried to find that kind of life, with it ending with Dutch saving him, in turn needing to repay Dutch with his life. A life for a life.

- Still, of course, you stayed with him, but it didn't stop you from trying. From mentioning small things, such as telling him to look at the homesteads as you passed them or talking to couples who owned their land, hearing the stories of home life making sure Javier was near you to hear.

- Wishing aloud to love him behind closed doors, but he brought up the suggestion of a hotel quickly you shot it down with wishes of loving him in your own home. Unknown to you, it wasn't till the end that he would change his mind.

- Seeing as he buddied up with Micah breaking your heart, seeing what Micah did to Dutch, there would be no way he would sink his claws into your Javier. Realizing it even more after hearing Arthur's words confirming your Javiers changed, solidifying your thoughts. Having to do the only thing that was left.

- Grabbing a bag, you started to stuff your things into it. Hearing footsteps come closer, you didn't look up, knowing who it was. When asking what you were doing, you told him you were leaving him. Shocked, he begged, but you gave it to him in the end, giving him an ultimatum. You or Dutch.

Pain washed over his face. He looked to the floor, hoping it would have the answer, but you continued packing. "Amor," he begged, but you kept your back to him as much as it pained you. "I can't do this, Javi," you say, tears stinging the brim of your eyes. "Tell me," he says, putting a hand on yours.

"All of this, you hate Micah. What changed?" You asked, making him look away, but you brought his face back softly with your hand. Cupping his face, "I know you see it. He's not well. I'm not going to stick around anymore, Javi," you say, turning to zip up your bag.

"It's your choice," you say before grabbing a few more things. "I can't," he says weakly. "Okay," saying your final words before walking to the horses, putting your things onto yours before hopping onto your horse.

Taking a last look at the camp, not caring who chose to look. Hearing as the horse next to you stirred, looking to see Javier hop on his with his belongings behind him. Smiling at each other, you turned away from camp, taking off quickly to start your new life.

-

Charles Smith

- Having been in the gang for a small amount of time, he had never shut down the idea, though never did he start to make plans on it. Figuring it was from his friendships with Arthur and John or him just settling in having run with him before the gang, you were of course thankful for them taking you both in, but shaking off the idea was never going to happen.

- Taking long rides on the days he got off, hugging his waist while resting your head on his back, talking about many things: camp gossip, your past travels, the future. Sometimes passing by a homestead watching as the people worked away at their land, imagining out loud how that would be, it would be better than always running.

- He loved you dearly; it pained him whenever leaving you to do a job with the gang, but you hated it more when he came to you from a watch stumbling on his tired feet to then crashing into your arms falling asleep before he could even mumble, "I love you.".

- Making his choice after the bank job that had gone wrong, having to bury Hosea and Lenny's bodies, the both of you talked about the decision ending with a kiss and the start of packing your things. Though quickly interrupted by the law, causing you to run once again, making you both stick around the gang a little longer.

- Knowing it put the both of you in more danger, he tried to make it quick by using the gang to help the tribe, only meeting them once by going with him, you understood. Finally, the day came telling only Arthur and John and those closest to you, getting hugs and wishes of luck to your new life.

Waking to the cooing of birds wrapped in the warmth of Charles's arms, hearing him snore softly, kissing his scared cheek, waking him from his slumber earning a smile. Looking at you with tired brown eyes, taking a moment to admire your well-rested faces.

Wiggling out of his arms with an objection as he tightened them, making you both laugh before you headed off to the kitchen in your homestead, but not without getting dressed first from the night before. Having been years since that day, leading to a new life, though the past caught up a year later, causing Charles to go with John just to make Dutch and Micah pay for all those years ago.

Of course, coming back to you with a bullet in the shoulder and a promise to never leave you again, from John's home, you both made it up to Canada, living out your dream of a homestead. Ending your reminisce on the past as Charles wraps his arms around you once more, kissing your neck softly while you readied the morning drinks.

-

Bill Williamson

- It had never been an idea to the both of you from all the years you ran with the gang until going into town. Seeing how a couple talked about their lives after getting that first taste of that kind of life, you never looked back.

- Not telling Bill at first, wanting him away from Dutch a bit before springing it upon him after one of your hotel nights away, he entertained your thoughts, though laughing at some parts until he realized you were serious.

- His first feeling was anger at how he could never do that to Dutch, but you argued that Dutch doesn't control your lives. Finally, he calmed down, telling you he looked up to Dutch. Knowing how he wanted the limelight that Arthur and John had, you convinced him that even if it was painful to say and hear, he would never be them. His obsession can't control him.

- Even though he listened with understanding, even agreeing, he told you the time wasn't right. Giving your understanding back to his reasoning, you stayed with him. But things didn't stay still for forever.

- The bank job had gone wrong with the law running you out of Shady Bell, feeling as if it was years before you got Bill back in your arms after hearing tales of him on Guarma. Having enough, you started to pack your things, causing Bill to freak. Hearing none of it, you gave him a choice. Hoping he would pick the right one.

Standing in front of your horse, holding your bag tightly, "I've hit the end, Bill; I-I can't. I can't stay up every night hoping you're alive; it's not fair to me or you." You choked through your words, causing a scene for the whole camp to see, but you didn't care; you were done.

Seeing his hesitant look back at Dutch, who watched on calmly, you had your answer. His continuous seek for approval from Dutch would never stop, and you weren't going to be around to watch it kill him or you.

-

Hosea Matthews

- Having left before he would hear the idea once again, not shooting it down immediately though ending your talk with how his story ended, right back where he started.

- As time went on, his coughs had gotten worse, as well as his attitude towards it, helping with his cough fits earned a hand wave and a choked-out "I'm fine." But you kept pushing, knowing if it was the end for him, it should be anywhere but running with the gang.

- Bringing it up more, he entertained it a bit more, but other reasons would always pop up after, trying to understand you let it go after every talk. As the gang settled into Shady Bell slowly, you noticed that he became even worse; he barely came to bed, but when he did stumble in, smelling of booze, giving you a slurred "I love you" before snoring away.

- Not waiting for his final say any longer, you slowly packed your things over the days, making sure both of your horses were ready to go in the night. Thankfully, you met a couple who knew of a cabin not too far away at a cheap price. Saving up quickly, you bought the cabin, leaving it to wait for you. Taking note of when the watch shifts change and when the camp dies down for the night.

- Finally, you made your move. As Hosea stumbled into being his familiar drunk self, you went into action, calling his horse over by the back door quietly loading on what little you had left. Then, waking Hosea leading him to the horse with false words, finally, you were ready with Hosea in a drunken sleep on your back, fleeing into the dark swamp.

Riding through the night, keeping Hosea on the horse, with luck, you made it through the swamp and into the forest on your way to the cabin. Not knowing how long this would last not even sure if this was a new life. "Just enough for you to rest," you whispered into the cold night air.

Making it to the cabin, using all your strength to get him in the cabin, laying him on the bed, tucking him. Going back out, taking your things from his and your horses, then letting them rest in the small stable for the next few days.

Waking into the morning still hearing Hosea's snores with his warm arms around you. Slowly, you get up, readying his medicine, hoping he'll understand your actions. Being all for him in the end.

-

John Marston

- Having entertained the idea only came up two times. The first was for one of Hosea's cons, having you and John play as a married couple that lived on a farm just for another couple who actually lived on a farm to come along to buy into Hosea's con.

- As years went on, seeing how the gang dwindled, thankful for not taking your John, but not without a scare and a promise to stay with you. Getting out of the snow, helping John to Horseshoe Overlook, fighting to keep him down, and resting. John made a joke about you being his spouse and having a little farm. That was the second time.

- John wasn't the only one with that joke; being protective over him, Hosea started to joke about how the con act ended long ago, but you were still acting the part.

- Finally, John was ready for jobs again, so you loosened your protection, though you weren't afraid to give it to Dutch if he came back with so much as a small scratch. Furthering that joke in the camp led you two to talk. John agreed to the possibility, but it was different in his mind. You saw it coming sooner than him.

- Sadly, it wasn't until the very end you could live out that idea. The gang fell apart, pushing you both towards Strawberry, but not without making a rule for yourself. Never to live that life again. It was easier said than done. John helped the framer, and you fled, leaving your John behind.

Reading the letter over again as the carriage hit every bump on the road, making your impatience worse. Finally stopping, not wanting to look out the window, needing to see him up close, you hurried out.

Standing there face-to-face with your John, having been gone for so many months, your eyes stinging as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. "It's over," he whispered into your ear, making the threatening tears spill, tightening your hold, not wanting to let him go again.

-

Josiah Trelawny

- Living that dream already in Saint Denis, but unbeknownst to you, Josiah had dealings with a gang. Hearing the name of the gang from officers around town yet not thinking anything of them. Not even questioning his absence at home as his "office work" makes him travel a lot.

- Loving the stories of his travels made you susceptible to listening for things, but never did you think you'd hear about your husband from an officer's mouth on the street. Then the next day, another questioned you on your doorstep, being very hostile and pushing past you just to find nothing, but before leaving, accusing you of dealing with the "Van Der Linde Gang.".

- Hearing nothing from your Josiah in the few passing days got you worried—maybe you didn't know the man you married. Though finally, you saw him as he crawled up the stairs of your Saint Denis home, the sight brought you to tears.

- The damage to him was heartbreaking. He groaned and hissed through his teeth as you cleaned up his bloody wounds, then bandaged them up. Saying nothing, you let the silence fall with his story quickly following, but you didn't let him finish.

- Saying the name of the gang, seeing how his face turned pale. Telling him of what transpired days before, hit you hard speaking of what you knew out loud to him. Starting with a sigh, he told you everything with a voice filled with shame.

"Stop," you said, interrupting his explanation, doing as you said, looking to you. Not being able to handle the sight of him knowing every cut or possible broken bone was because of his deals with the gang. You started to question whether the life you built was even real; was the love you got from him even real?

"Love," he pleaded, placing a hand on yours looking into the eyes you fell in love with so many times. Still, you held your ground. "No more J," you say, making him look down watching as he nodded. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his upper back and shoulders, hugging him as he sat in your home, where he belonged.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!