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spongeyspot · 1 year ago

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Toxic Traits/Red Flags HC

Characters: Arthur, Javier, John, Lenny, Dutch, Micah, Charles, Sean, Hosea, Mary Beth, Abigail, Tilly, Karen, Sadie, Molly

(A/N): WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS DAWG. I LOVED @cowboyfromh3ll 's take on that shit sm and these hcs have literally been swimming in my head for weeeeeeeeks bro

Edit: some of these were kinda hard because there's not a lot of bad in the characters themselves... I had trouble with specifically Charles, Lenny, Mary Beth, and Tilly. Sorry if they may be OOC. IM EVEN DOING THE GIRLS BECAUSE IM IN A SILLY GOOFY MOOD

Content Warning: female reader, jealousy, self hate, narcissism, gaslighting, physical abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, mentions of murder and violence, mentions of infidelity, mentions of sex (Sean, Micah, Sadie kind of) (MINORS DNI)

Not edited btw

The boys

Arthur Morgan

- Honestly, I feel like Arthur would have this insane, crippling fear of rejection, especially when it comes to dating. - His self hate/deprecation plays a huge part in this, and quite honestly, him and Mary not working out probably also probably contributed to it. - Very emotionally distant. Has a hard time expressing his feelings openly due to that same fear of rejection.🚩 - Bottles shit up until he feels like he's gonna explode 🚩 - His impulse control is almost nonexistent 🚩 - Will resort to saying things that he doesn't even mean. He just says things when he's angry🚩 - Will hate himself even more if he makes you cry - Won't hesitate to run away from camp for a while to cool off. This isn't necessarily a bad thing per se, but he usually takes his time away to overthink the fuck out of everything - Prone to acting violent. (not to someone he cared about, but to other people, absolutely)Also due to his poor impulse control. 🚩

Javier Escuella

- Has a flirty personality, but around women, it just seems to get worse. 🚩 - Tells you you're overreacting if you tell him it bothers you🚩 - Overprotective of you. Always has his eyes on you, and practically orders you to stay in camp where it's safe. - As if you step one foot outside the camp without him, you'll spontaneously drop dead - Jealous asf. Are you laughing at what Bill just said? It wasn't even that funny. Why are you standing so close to him? You should be at least 6 feet away from him, not 5 and a half. 🚩 - Also has a problem with how you dress sometimes. God forbid your shirt is ever low cut. He'd probably ask you to change. 🚩 - And if you get offended or upset, he'll lie and tell you it's because he can't stop staring at your chest, and he'd like to focus of whatever it was he was doing.🚩

John Marston

- Stubborn as all hell. Doesn't listen to anybody for anything.🚩 - Commitment issues up the ass - Says mean things out of anger and sometimes actually means them 🚩 - Won't apologize half the time. He thinks kissing it better actually makes it better 🚩 - Regularly ignores his own bad habits instead of actually facing them 🚩 - Will run away from problems like Arthur, but worse. He'd be gone a really long time.🚩 - Gets annoyed with you if you get angry at him for leaving and staying away for a while. He told you he needed space, didn't he? What else do you need from him?? 🚩 - Ignorantly clueless half the time. Head empty, no thoughts.

Lenny Summers

- Not assertive in the slightest, and usually, respectfully, keeps to himself. -Takes orders without verbal complaints but inside he's annoyed as fuck 🚩 - Even if he hates doing something he'll probably just go "Okay" and do it anyway, and he'll sulk all day afterwards - Refuses to tell you what's wrong because he thinks he'll sound childish.🚩 - If you push the issue, he might snap at you out of annoyance like "Would you just let it be??" - Immediately feels guilty and shameful, and he'll hide away until he's ready to apologize and face you again - Also kind of a know-it-all... He'll correct you a LOT. It would get annoying 🚩 - Would blatantly tell you you're wrong before correcting you🚩 - Not necessarily an asshole about it but he still tends to get under your skin sometimes

Dutch Van Der Linde

- The BIGGEST Narcissist you'll ever meet.🚩 -He loses another piece of his mental state with every breath he takes. Slowly but surely losing his mind.🚩 - King of gaslighting🚩 - How could you even think that about him? He could never do anything wrong! You must be crazy...🚩 - Tries to recite his "pretty words" from Evelyn Miller to try and sound smarter than he actually is 🚩 - Expects you to just feed his ego without him actually doing anything to earn it🚩 - Will try to correct you even when he's wrong🚩 - Refuses to admit he's wrong. He can never be wrong. That word isn't even in his vocabulary unless he's talking about literally anyone but himself🚩

Micah Bell

- Where do I even start with this guy - Not above putting his hands on you if he doesn't get his way. Let's be honest here.🚩 - Mega Narccisist, almost as bad as Dutch 🚩 - Will brag and share every sexual encounter you've ever had with him like he's talking about the weather🚩 - VERY prone to Violence 🚩 - NO impulse control. Murders people for fun.🚩 - Backhanded and borderline abusive compliments 24/7 "You'd look so good if you weren't so fucking fat..." 🚩 - Selfish lover. Thinks just sticking it in will do the trick, and it does, for him at least.🚩 - Little to no affection. What are you? His girlfriend? Wait...🚩 -If he actually does show you affection, and you react in surprise, he'll tell you to go fuck yourself, and that that's the last time he ever does anything nice for you.🚩

Charles Smith

- Impossible to read sometimes - Like Arthur, Charles tends to keep a lot of his emotions bottled up until he feels like he's gonna pop 🚩 - Like most of the men in the Van Der Linde gang, Charles is also prone to acting violently. I mean, he started a bar fight with a fucking chair, and he fights in street fighting rings, let's be real for a second.🚩 - He's incredibly quiet and reserved a lot of the time, and sometimes you just assume that he's listening to you when you talk, but a lot of the time, he's lost in his own thoughts. - Will do everything anyone asks him to at the expense of his own free time and energy, and sometimes he works himself to exhaustion just to try and please everyone.🚩 - In doing so, he sometimes doesn't have time for himself at the end of the day. It also seems like you spend time together less and less as the days go on. - If he ever got himself hurt and you tried to help him, he'd decline any help with anything to save his own pride. The last thing he needs is you thinking he's weak. 🚩 - Extremely Overprotective. Like to the point where he'd beat the shit out of anybody you asked him to🚩

Sean Macguire

- An Alcoholic🚩 - horny 99% of the time, but half that time he probably has whiskey dick. Still asks you to try but doesn't understand that it's like trying to play pool with a rope... - If he can manage to be sober enough to actually get it up, and you're not in the mood, he'd get pissy and annoyed with you for "wasting his boner" 🚩 - Will probably also brag about having sex with you to everyone🚩 - Needy as all hell - Bro sulks on purpose - Low key loves the attention you give him when you continue to ask him what's wrong, but he never actually tells you and constantly says "I'm fine..." or "It's nothing..." 🚩 - But then sighs dramatically and continues sulking and dragging his feet so you keep giving him more attention 🚩

Hosea Matthews

- Ignores his physical health until he's practically dying. You've told him to get that cough looked at for literal years and he just says "I will" and does nothing 🚩 - sometimes talks to you as if you're a child especially if he's around Dutch -low key gaslights you sometimes 🚩 - and he says it with such a gentle tone, its hard to catch it 🚩

The girls

Mary Beth Gaskill

- Daydreams way too much - Likes to live in her romance novel fantasy land rather than face reality 🚩 - Cries a lot - Tries to be angry but can't help but cry instead - If crying makes you feel bad for her, she'll probably do it on purpose so you comfort her and give her attention🚩 -If you're in a fight, she'll turn on the crocodile tears to get you to stop being angry with her or whatever it is you're arguing about.🚩

Abigail Roberts

- She can be verbally abusive if she's pushed far enough 🚩 - Holds in a lot of her emotions🚩 - Neglectful of her own personal needs to make sure you or Jack are fully provided or cared for🚩 - a lot of the time, when she's upset with you, you're probably given the cold shoulder and the silent treatment - incredibly protective. Not necessarily a bad thing, but she can sometimes be super overbearing.

Tilly Jackson

- Tells it how she sees it, sometimes accidentally sounding a lot colder than she means to 🚩 - Too sarcastic for her own good 🚩 - Laughs a little too much sometimes when you tell a joke, and you can often tell it's actually incredibly fake🚩 - gets irritated really easily, especially if she's bothered while doing her chores. The last thing she needs is Grimshaw on her ass again.🚩 - irritable a lot of the time, unintentionally becoming short or snapping at you - like john, she also believes that kissing it better is better than actually apologizing

Karen Jones

- An alcoholic 🚩 - picks fights with you for fun, finds it entertaining to see how red your face can get from anger 🚩 - Screaming matches are a regular occurance between you guys, and she starts it almost every time 🚩 - Pretty jealous when it comes to the opposite sex🚩 - Has self doubt and believes that she can't give you everything a man probably could

Sadie Adler

- The nosiest woman in America. No chill. She reads everyone's mail. - Makes a lot of loose threats 🚩 - Anger issues🚩 - Low impulse control🚩 - Can be a little too rough sometimes 🚩 - If she's upset with you, she'll either yell or storm off. Sometimes both. 🚩 -(She tends to walk away a lot more often because she's actuall self aware that her anger issues are a problem) - She'd never admit that to you though.

Molly O'Shea

- Even more jealous than Javier🚩 - Glares at and envies anyone you talk to that isn't her🚩 - Has immaginary conversations with people in her head🚩 - Rubbing her hands together when the real life conversations are following the script she had planned out in her brain - Needs constant reassurance - "D'you even love me anymore?!"🚩 - Overthinks everything 🚩 - Paranoid as hell about infidelity - Gets mad at you when she dreams about you cheating on her🚩

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garfieldblunt · 1 year ago

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Random VDL Headcannons I thought about on my 10 hour road trip

Dutch- Uses big words he doesn’t know the meaning of to make him seem smart

Arthur- Will eat an entire watermelon, all of it, rind included

Hosea- Uses a lot of midwestern dad phrases (No more mister nice guy, Who’s ready to rock and roll?)

John- had an emo phase (galaxy wolf shirt n all)

Javier- will sometimes speak gibberish and pretend like it’s Spanish to confuse John on purpose

Abigail- Loves perfume

Jack- Quotes Vines to his mom and dad

Uncle- rips the most vicious and violent farts when he sleeps

Micah- motherfucker loves cheese, can’t get enough of it, he *NEEDS* it

Kieran- kisses the horses on their forehead before he goes to sleep

Sadie- can down a bottle of whiskey without flinching

Josiah- married his wife for tax benefits

Swanson- Speaks perfect Latin

Pearson- Loves canned fish

Grimshaw- Helps curl and braid all the women’s hair in the camp

Molly- uses her hand mirror to spy on Dutch

Tilly- serial killer podcast listener (so she can get inspired)

Mary Beth- Frequent Tumblr user

Charles- Has a Disney Princess affect on Animals (all the deer and birds n shit just lovingly flock to him)

Bill- Slept with Cain next to him (sometimes in his arms)

Lenny- huffs book smell like it’s gasoline

Sean- Avid Jerma enjoyer

Karen- Sings herself to sleep (sometimes Sean too)

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polakina · 1 year ago

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on his knees for you

pairing: javier escuella x reader

rating: mature

outline: a robbery goes sideways, and your already rocky friendship with a fellow camp mate is put to the test as you evade the guards of Van Horn

warnings: cursing, so much bickering, canon-typical gore and violence, flirting, slightly suggestive (this is by far the tamest thing i've ever written)

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

a/n: i can't believe how many notifications i've gotten about my works over the past week. its fucking crazy. thank you so much, you're all absolute stars

masterlist

It was a simple job, really. Get in, steal the bonds, and get out.

But nothing ever went as simple as the original plan, did it? Not with the Van Der Linde gang. There was always a little bit of improvisation to be had. Which was exactly what you were doing right now.

Bullets firing past your ears, blood running down your leg, the target’s personal guards chasing you down the winding paths of Roanoke Ridge.

One day earlier.

The plan was set. Arthur, Bill and Lenny were to infiltrate the building and steal the bonds, while Micah and Charles handled the guards. You and Javier were on lookout, posted at the entrance gates.

You were all stationed just outside of Van Horn, your target being the mansion and its occupiers. Trelawny had brought intel of bonds on their way through Van Horn to Annesburg, stopping off at the mansion overnight. Roanoke wasn’t a place anyone wanted to be caught up in at night.

“It’s fucking freezing out here,” you muttered, leaning further against your horse, absorbing his body heat as much as you could. It had been hours of waiting around and checking on the mansion. No movement whatsoever since the sun began to set. Darkness was nearing and the coach was nowhere to be seen.

Javier stood beside you, rifle in hand, eyes fixated on the road to the right, where the coach should appear from. “Want my poncho?” He asked, glancing at you briefly.

You didn’t even cast him a look as you responded. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your style, Escuella. I think I’ll survive without it.” You sighed, and moved from your position, heading further down the road, hiding in the trees to watch from a different position, seeing the road winding down Roanoke Ridge to New Hanover.

The two of you had never gotten along. He didn’t like your attitude one bit. You were snarky, cold. Something you’d developed after years of running with Arthur and John. He’d try and make conversation, you’d brush it off. He’d invite you on a fishing or hunting trip, you’d decline and say you preferred to hunt alone. He couldn’t win. You never sat with the camp during his songs or meals, you were always perched somewhere else, keeping lookout. That’s what you did. That’s all you ever did.

So after a few months, he gave up. Not exactly understanding your harshness to him, he just accepted it instead. He returned your cold comments and your mean stares. Years passed and you bickered like enemies living beside one another.

You whistled out to the group as you spotted the coach. Your whistle blended with the birds, so it was undetected by the gourds watching the bonds.

Everything went smoothly, Arthur, Lenny and Bill making quick work of breaking into the bonds lock box, and you heard the guards grunting and groaning as they hit the floor from Micah and Bill’s attacks.

Through your scope, you spotted as the boys grabbed the bonds, throwing them into their satchels. Drifting your rifle along the side of the mansion, you sensed something wrong with Bill. He was arguing with Micah. More so than usual.

“What’s going on?” Javier whispered, lying beside you, hidden between the trees.

You shushed him, focusing on Bill. Their argument grew even more heated, and you caught a glimpse of lantern light behind them. You watched as they turned, cursing loudly before returning fire. Micah had scurried off during the brawl with the guards, seeking other treasures and getting himself caught in a scuff with guardsmen minding their own business.

“Shit, shit,” Javier cursed, throwing an arm over you and holding you down, protecting your head as bullets fired your way. “He can’t keep his head for one mission, puta madre!”

Arthur had ordered for, if the mission went south; which you had good money on it that it did, that you scatter. Split up and evade Van Horn at all costs, go the long way around New Hanover until it was safe to return back to camp so you were sure you weren’t followed.

They had the bonds, all they needed to do was escape without getting caught. But you wouldn’t have minded if Micah got murdered in the. Just when you thought he’d found your last nerve, he managed to hit another one.

“I think this is our cue to leave,” you said through gritted teeth, pushing yourself onto your feet and grabbing your gear. Javier was on your heels, close behind. You hiked deeper into Murfree Brood territory, constantly keeping an eye over your shoulders for lantern light.

“Our safest path is through Roanoke,” Javier said from behind you, following your path through the trees. “The guards won’t dare follow us through there this late at night.”

You halted suddenly, whipping around to face Javier. He was caught off guard, almost stumbling into you, a surprised expression on his face. “Are you crazy, Escuella? Murfree Brood hunt here at night. If it’s not the guards who get us, it’ll be them. And I’d rather take my chances with bullets rather than-”

A bullet shot through the wind, straight through your leg into the tree behind you. It caught your words in your throat and you almost crumbled to the ground under the pain firing down your leg. Javier didn’t even blink as he wrapped an arm around you, catching you before you fell. He pulled his gun from its holster at his hip, pointing it over your shoulder and firing it straight into the head of the guard who fired at you first.

It drew attention. Of course, it did. Javier pulled you away from the scene, down the winding path leading to New Hanover. His arm stayed firmly around your waist, and you tried to hold in your groans of pain as your feet collided with uneven terrain, worsening the sting of the wound.

You both heard voices, coming from the top of the hill of which you had just descended. Javier pulled you around a large oak tree, pushing your body against the bark which pulled a pained gasp from your lips. “Fucking hell, Javier. At least try to be gentler with-” His hand clamped over your mouth, his body pressed against yours as he looked past the tree trunk to the guards making their way past you, checking their surroundings as they went.

“You need to learn to shut up once in a while,” he whispered, looking back to you. His hat was tipped down his head, shielding his eyes. “I’m trying to save you and you’re still complaining.”

You looked up at him, your mouth still firmly covered, your hand wrapped around his wrist, instinct from when he shut you up. He smelled of whiskey and firewood, his scent filling your nostrils. His hand wrapped around your waist protectively, tightening as the footsteps grew closer.

Pulling his hand down, you noticed his skin never left yours. It rested around your neck. Softly, no pressure in his fingers, but the heat of his palm burned against your pulse, and he felt your heart rate jump. “Thought you would have wanted to get rid of me, Escuella,” you whispered, looking up at him.

But he just looked down at you, surprised. “What?”

“Get rid of me. Hand me off to some guards searching through half the woods for us.” Your gaze never wavered. “Would certainly save you the trouble of dealing with me back at camp.”

He just smirked, tilting his head up, his eyes turned down to look at you. “And why would I want to get rid of you? Perhaps I enjoy the trouble you cause me. Ever thought about that?” His eyebrows raised as you stood there, unable to form words. “So are you going to shut up and behave yourself while I get you out of here? Or are you going to keep talking until they figure out where we are?”

Javier waited for your response, but it never came. You just bowed your head, sealing your lips in a thin line. He took that as a sign that you’d ‘shut up and behave’.

The men eventually left, abandoning their search for you, leaving both you and Javier a window of opportunity to flee.

The sun poked out above the trees from the makeshift camp Javier had set up in New Hanover. You were shielded by the canopy of branches, the fire in front of you keeping you warm. But it wasn’t doing anything good for the bullet wound in your leg. You stretched out your leg, wincing at the pain shooting through your body.

“I told you not to try and fix it by yourself,” you heard Javier say as he emerged with an armful of firewood, dropping it by your bags. “Your hands will shake before you’ve finished stitching it.”

You glared up at him. “Would you suggest I just leave it? Cut my leg off?”

Javier rolled his eyes at you, kneeling in front of you, his knees on either side of your wounded leg. “I would suggest…that you should wait for me. I’ll stitch it for you.”

Pulling his knife from the holster at his ankle, he sliced the blade through the fabric of your pant leg like butter. All the way up to your hip. “Hey!” You called out. “They were new pants.”

“I’ll buy you a replacement. Now shut up.” He was always harsh with his words, but now, it was even more so. A slight pang of worry soaked his tone.

“You’re such an ass sometimes-ow!” His fingers pushed against the wound on your leg, blood pooling out to the floor. “The fuck was that for?”

He looked indifferent as he looked up at you. “Feeling for any shrapnel. You don’t have any, thankfully, or else this would have hurt a lot more than its about to.”

“I could have told you that,” you grimaced as he began cleaning the wound. Applying pressure to one end of the bullet hole only forced blood through the other side. You could see both the entry point and exit point of the wound, stretching across the left and right sides of your leg.

You were both silent as he cleaned your leg, but you gasped as he pulled out a needle. He saw a panicked flash across your face, seeing it appear as quickly as it fled. “Easy,” he soothed, patting your knee. “I’ll be quick. You won’t feel it.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you whispered, your eyes only focused on the needle.

He sighed, leaning closer, tipping your chin up to meet his softened gaze. “Okay. You will feel it. But not much. A bee sting, that’s all it feels like. But it’ll be easier if you lie down.”

“Why?”

“Your muscles tense when you sit upright. You could at least be comfortable while I stitch you up.” He helped you into a more comfortable position. Javier still straddled your shin, one of his hands pressed against your thigh while his other stitched the hole closed. You laid there, his poncho acting as your pillow as you looked up at the trees.

You ignored the sting you felt each time the needle pierced your skin. Javier wasn’t wrong, it did feel like a bee sting. What’s more important, was that you could manage that sort of pain. “Thank you,” you said quietly, but you weren’t certain he heard you at first, until the needle stopped in your skin, his actions immoveable. Lifting your head and straining your neck, you met his eye. There was a small smile on his face, the corners of his moustache turned upwards with his laugh lines driven deep into his skin. You always did like his smile. That was the one thing that never changed about him.

“It’s the least I can do,” he smiled, turning his attention back to your stitches. “It’s sort of my fault you got shot in the first place.”

“Sort of? You mean ‘entirely’?” You laughed as he playfully slapped your other leg with the back of his hand.

“Quit laughing,” he chuckled with you. “Or I’ll end up stabbing you in the wrong place.”

He finished quickly, wiping away any trace of blood before gently bandaging your leg. His soft touch lingered for a little while, his thumb gently rubbing soothing patterns into your skin. Your breath stopped in your throat as his touch rose higher. Higher up your thigh. To where your thigh met your hip. He was so fixated on it, he didn’t realise what he was doing until he felt your pulse beating at an ungodly rate at the top of your inner thigh.

His eyes flicked up to yours, where you laid, patiently. You were curious what sorts of thoughts were running through his head right now. What sort of cogs were turning in that brain of his.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your face closer to his than it had ever been before. “What?” You coaxed, too curious to keep quiet now.

“Nothing,” he moved to lean back, his hands drifting down your thighs, but they never left your body before you grabbed the front of his shirt, holding him in place.

“What did I say? Don’t lie to me, Javier.” Your voice never raised above a whisper. It didn’t need to. You were so close a whisper felt like a shout.

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t speak. The close proximity had rendered him faulty in speech. So instead he closed the gap. His lips touched yours, his body melting against your touch. You didn’t expect it. All those years of bickering. All those years of cruel comments and nasty looks. Nothing prepared you for this. But you welcomed it.

Javier leaned you back, your head meeting the poncho as you felt his body settle on top of yours. Breaking away for air, you saw a softened, kinder look in his eye when he looked at you. “Is this your apology for me getting shot?” You asked, smiling against his lips as he kissed you once more.

“Is it working?” His lips moved to your neck, hovering above your skin to a point where it tickled.

“Hmm…maybe.”

“Then perhaps I’ll try a different angle,” he smirked, unbuttoning your pants, encapturing your lips in a soft kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He had a lot of making up to do.

#fluff #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption x reader #javier escuella smut #javier escuella rdr2 #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption two #red dead fandom

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omgwhatchloe · 1 year ago

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REASONS WHY HAVING SOME RDR2 CHARACTERS AS YOUR PASSENGER IN YOUR CAR SUCKS:

Charles: Only talks to points out every single animal he sees. Other than that, it’s just silence unless you start the conversation or you’re Arthur. Oh but trust me, he wants the AUX. He’s just not gunna ask.

John: Either demands the AUX cord or just connects it anyway, then proceeds to be musically inconsiderate with what he plays. You despise this song with every ounce of your being? Too bad. This song reminds you of your lowest point? Suck it up buttercup. This was playing in the car when you crashed and killed the person in the passenger seat? Womp womp.

Dutch: Seems to think it’s his car. In fact, he feels completely free to change the music, turns up the heat as much as he pleases, winds the windows up and down, moves his seat constantly etc etc.

Reverend Swanson and Mary-Beth: Car sick. So very car sick. Your two options when driving them anywhere is the sound of heavy breathing with the sounds of the highway being blasted in through the open window, or bags rustling with the sound of puking and groaning. Trust me, they’d rather have walked as well.

Javier: Awful navigator. It’s fine when you know where you’re going, but absolutely awful when you need navigation. Half the time, you look over and he’s gone off the navigation app and is playing subway surfers and texting. The other half of the time, he’s misreading the directions then yelling at YOU. Not to mention it’s completely unsurprising to wonder why you’ve been driving for so long then find he’s clicked on the entire wrong destination without a second thought.

Sean: Acts like he’s never eaten before in his life as soon as he gets into the car. Sees a Wendy’s? He’s suddenly starving. Burger King? He hasn’t eaten in three days. KFC? He’ll pay you back, he swears! In fact, the man has absolutely no problem being late for anything if you stop for food. You could be on the way to Davey’s funeral, already running late and suddenly pull into the Krispy Kreme carpark and you would not hear a single protest from him.

Micah: Yaps a whole lot of waffle about how he’s all this n all that to the point you don’t even know what he’s saying anymore and neither does he. Also enjoys flipping random people off and yelling shit out of the window. Expect to be chased by an angry driver for at least 12 miles.

Bill: Eats and then just throws his trash on the floor without a single second thought. If you ask him to pick it up, he will, but not without angrily grumbling and snatching it up. Is in a bad mood for about 2 minutes before he realises he wants to yap so does.

Karen, Uncle, Abigail and Sean: Distracts the driver. Whether it’s with yapping or loud videos or drinking or messing with the music volume, they somehow keep it up from the start of the drive right to the end.

Hosea: Puts his feet up and puts his seat back like he’s in bed. Just won’t sit normally. Will give you a ‘look’ when you ask him to put them down.

Lenny: Makes things awkward, because the first thing he does is comment on the dirtiness of your car then looks extremely shocked and uncomfortable at himself for saying that for about 7 seconds before pulling out his phone and facetiming Sean for the whole drive and giving you the same looks Hosea does when you try to speak to him. When not on the phone, he tends to respond with shrugs and “Okay then,” while folding him arms and staring out of the window. Seems to be in an awful mood until he’s out of the car. He hates car rides if it’s not with his favourite people.

Molly: Acts like you can’t drive. Struggling to see what’s right in front of you? Molly’s got your back! Seriously, she will yell at you to stop at the red light you had already seen 7 seconds ago and started to slow for. Old woman crossing (while you’re already stopped)? She will yell at you not to go so loud you debate kicking her out and making her get her own car, since she knows so much.

Tilly and Strauss: Tries to get you to speed. It’s like they’ve never heard of laws before, and will insist you ‘go faster’ even though your way is blocked by other cars. It’s painfully obvious they both can’t drive and have never had to pay for gas money.

Miss Grimshaw: Absolutely disgusted by your car and wants to make that very clear. It wouldn’t be surprising if halfway through, she started to clean it herself.

Jack: Really really really wants to press that horn. You’d find it cute at first, but so goddamn annoying when your car starts honking in the middle of a busy crossing. It’s like a constant slap-fight except you’re pushing his hands away every-time they come for the horn.

Arthur: Constantly asking to pull over. He’ll casually say “stop here” as if you’re a taxi, not to mention you’re in the middle of nowhere on the highway and you really don’t understand what a stranger mission means. Commonly, you have to explain things like how you’re already an hour late and you literally do not have the room to drive that family of five that’s broken down anywhere, nor can you stop at an empty warehouse and potentially get arrested for trespassing because he wants to explore.

Kieran: Terrified when you go slightly over the speed limit. He acts like he’s in an F1 race with no seatbelt being hung out of the window.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan #red dead headcanons #headcanons #fandom #john marston #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #sean macguire #lenny summers #uncle #abigail roberts #jack marston #dutch rdr2

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kaznejis · 7 months ago

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Forever is the sweetest con- Dutch Van Der Linde x Reader

Turning your gaze to the paper, your eyes instantly zoned in on a particular collection of capitalised words. Your breath stuttered in your throat, lodging itself there as you felt John’s mournful gaze burning into the side of your face. His name. The notorious reputation that followed him no matter how far he ran was proceeding him, though it appeared that he hadn’t run far this time. Dutch Van Der Linde was in Tall Trees- the same patch of forest located only a short ride from the Beecher’s Hope's front gate.

A/N: Hi! I actually wrote and posted this to AO3 YEARS ago, but after a recent replay of RDR2 I decided to fix up some mistakes in this fic and post it on here! I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 9287 / Read it on AO3!

NOTORIOUS BAD MAN ALIVE —--------------------------------------------

A dispatch from Tall Trees reports a sighting of infamous outlaw Dutch Van Der Linde, who has been on a bloody run from the law for many years now. The notorious Dutch’s Boys gang once plagued this state, but it was believed to have disbanded as long ago as 1899. Two of his henchmen - Hosea Matthews and Arthur Morgan - were both killed in separate raids by Pinkerton agents that same year. Gang members Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, John Marston, and Charles Smith are still believed to be at large. But most notably, Dutch’s supposed lover - rumored to have allied with the opposing powers during the gang’s infamous civil war - Y/N L/N has been seen haunting our states, donning bounty hunter wear. Will our young outlaw-turned-heroine be the one to finally end Van Der Linde’s tyranny?

Either way, law enforcement have pledged to continue searching for Van Der Linde, who still has one of the largest bounties on his head for kill or capture.

Eventually, the hands that were once calloused from gun slinging and knife wielding grew used to the arduous task of milking Betsy, Beecher's Hope’s famed prize cow- tuning to the rhythm of milking a cow that only really took a liking to the young Jack Marston. Swiping a palm through the mounting sweat on your forehead, you glared at the cow as it huffed.

“I hate this as much as you do, honey,” You turned slightly to retrieve the second bucket to be filled, “But we all want to eat, so you’re going to give me every last drop of that milk of yours.”

The cow’s ears merely twitched, the animal equivalent to a relenting eye roll.

You gave one right back.

“You tell her.” Abigail chuckled from behind you, pacing forward to lean against Betsy’s stall, “I’m not surprised John has you down here today, Ol’ Missy here tried to feed him a hoof at the slightest sign that he was about to milk her.”

You snorted, an image of John’s hat flying from his head and into the neighboring stall entering your mind, “She’s just stubborn is all, she’ll like me more than Jack soon, you’ll see.”

“I don’t doubt it,” She laughed, easing the weight of one of the buckets brimming with milk as you stood, ”Hey, walk back to the house with me. John said he has something to show you.”

“Oh?” You furrowed your eyebrows, a thick feeling began to lodge in your throat. The cautiousness of years on the run still lingering despite the secure life you now lived. “Any idea what it was?”

She shrugged, “He refused to tell me so probably some bounty hunting stuff. The silly man.”

You nodded; calming yourself as you deposited the contents of the bucket into a jug. You were safe, things had been relatively safe since you’d stumbled into the last remnants of the gang in the Blackwater Saloon. You had entered the building desperate for a comfortable bed and a hot meal- only to leave brimming with whiskey and laughter, a permanent room available to you mere minutes from your original destination. You had stared up at the stars that night, laying in the comfortable night time breeze upon the house’s deck as Rufus had snuffled at your hands, excited at the premise of a new friend.

Fatigue rotted the depths of your being, having followed the cold trail of Micah Bell for the better part of eight years. You had vowed that fateful night, as he forced you to point a gun at the only man you had and would ever truly love, that you would kill him. Globs of spit and blood flickered from your mouth as you had fled upon your steed, screaming likewise threats of revenge and murder as he had hunted you- the red of his vest merging with the rage in his eyes.

Micah had always wanted you dead.

You had been an obstacle before his beloved leader, the gem in the notorious Dutch Van Der Linde’s eyes. His sweet, his darling, his largest weakness.

The O’Driscolls had known it, the Pinkertons had known it and Micah Bell had known it.

His hackles raised everytime you neared, steering Dutch away in order to discuss his new “plan”. It had grown severe in Beaver Hollow, the drapes of Dutch’s once-welcoming tent consistently closed as he drowned within his own mind. You had moved into Tilly’s tent, terrified of Dutch’s inherent darkness breaching your own soul even despite the love you felt for him.

Micah had pounced then- Dutch’s last flicker of lightness being efficiently snuffed out. His once dormant toxicities were pampered and brought to life; riches and Micah became the forefront of his racing thoughts. You were simply lost in the tide.

“Now that I come to think of it,” Abigail placed her jug into the cart and spun to face you, “John looked like he was holding a newspaper of some sort- I think there was something of interest in it.”

Squinting, you turned to face the house- sure enough, John was sitting upon the front steps; a newspaper open within his hands. His face uncharacteristically devoid of emotion, “I’ll head over to him now, thanks Abigail.”

You spared a wave as you both went your separate ways, meeting eyes with John as he somberly raised his eyes, “Who died?” You joked, standing before him with your hands on your hips, “You look like you’re preparing to draw.”

John only swallowed, his jaw tightening as he looked away- almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes.

“John?”

“I think you’ll need to sit down, Y/N.” You quickly obliged, the scratch of his accent carrying a sorrowful timber; rougher than ever. lowering yourself beside him and wringing your hands together- the previous dread now returned at a higher fervor, taking residence within the pit of your stomach.

“What’s going on?”

John finally turned to you, his eyes filled with a dangerous mix of pity and anger, “I’m so sorry Y/N, I knew I shouldn’t have bought this place. I really should have looked into the area first.” he stood suddenly, his boots scuffing against the gravel as scrubbed at his face. Almost as if he was punishing himself for his supposed mistake.

“John?” You guffawed, straightening in your seat as you gaped at him, “What are you talking about? We’ve been over this, this is the perfect place for your family. It’s where Abigail wanted to be!”

The gravity of the situation weighed upon your conscience suddenly, John hadn’t been this stressed in months- having left the life of an outlaw to become an established father and farm handler. Whilst the weight of his past did prevail, the future had not previously posed any issue.

John nodded somberly, his eyes fixing upon a huddle of trees in the too-near distance.

“You know what happens in Tall Trees, don’t you?” You nodded and turned towards the trees yourself, urging him to continue. You’d had many runs in with the Skinner Brothers since moving in. “It’s filled with dangerous people, a fugitive paradise for people who are still like how we used to be.”

He stopped then, looking down to the newspaper within his hands. You noted that it was heavily crumpled, as if he’d been about to tear it up though decided against it at the last second, “You need to read this for yourself, I think.”

“Okay.” You spoke tentatively, peeling the newspaper from his hands as he gripped it reluctantly- as if to protect you from what you were about to read. You loved that about John, always willing to take the brunt at his own expense in order to protect the ones he loved. A trait carried from Arthur, you thought, stealing a look at the worn hat upon John’s head.

You looked away, the pain of loss forever present at the back of your mind. It lingered like a festering wound- oozing and growing at the merest memory of the pain. Arthur had given up everything for the safety of the remnants of the group; sometimes you wondered if it should have been you.

Turning your gaze to the paper, your eyes instantly zoned in on a particular collection of capitalized words. Your breath stuttered in your throat, lodging itself there as you felt John’s mournful gaze burning into the side of your face.

His name.

The notorious reputation that followed him no matter how far he ran was proceeding him, though it appeared that he hadn’t run far this time. Dutch Van Der Linde was in Tall Trees- the same patch of forest located only a short ride from the Beecher’s Hope front gate.

“So, to dismiss the elephant in the room, are you going to hunt the bastard down?”

“Sadie!” Abigail choked, glaring at the woman across from her- having just barely managed to coax you out of your room and into a seat at the dinner table.The news had left you partially catatonic- a haze feeding into your limbs as you had fled from John, curling up against the wall of your room until the cool glaze of Abigail’s palm had rubbed your shoulder. The usual buzzing cacophony of sound during dinner had become a mournful silence prior to Sadie’s announcement; each member treading on eggshells around you. Even Jack had barely spoken, having heard scattered tales of the time of the Van Der Linde gang, much to Abigail’s disapproval.

“What?” Sadie shook her head, stabbing a lump of beef with her fork threateningly. “The only reason I’m not already knee deep in those woods is for Y/N,” she turned to you then, her blonde plait glowing in the evening tint, “It’s your call hun. If anyone other than me had taken action against those damn O’Driscolls in Jake’s name; I’d never have forgiven ‘em.”

Abigail nodded in agreement, placing a hand beside your plate barely skimming your fingers, “We will support you in whatever you do Y/N.”

A scoff sounded from the end of the table, Uncle spat crumbs across the table as he spoke, mouth filled with stew, “I say we kill the bastard, especially if he’s allied with those wretched Skinner Brothers.”

The group stayed silent at that- all too aware of the extent of Uncle’s horrific injuries. You or Charles would regularly return from a hunt with ointment, to which Abigail would apply to Uncle’s injuries; her hums attempting to drown out his screams and cries. But nothing could amount to the nightmares that Uncle endured- reliving the torture he endured night after night. His alcohol dependency had only seemed to worsen. Not taking action against a Skinner-allied Dutch would only feel like betrayal.

John was the first to speak up, taking on the authoritative tone he seemed to muster during severe circumstances, “Either way, we need to decide what we’re doing fast.” John spoke, ever the strategic, “No matter the connections we used to have with Dutch, he’s going to be as unpredictable as ever. He cannot be trusted, not so close to Jack.”

“He could be here for us.” Charles regarded the matter for the first time, his deep baritone carrying a rougher tone, “It’s too much of a coincidence that he’s here so soon after you properly settled down.”

The sound of your spoon dropping filled the silence that followed, everyone turned as you placed your head into your hands- grinding your palms into the tears that filled your eyes, “I’ve gone so long.”

“Y/N it’s okay-”

“I’ve gone so long,” You repeated, dribbles of snot clouding upon your upper lip, “'I've been able to forget about him. All these years, I’ve been able to focus on other things-” A sob escaped from your lips as you refused to meet the sympathetic eyes surrounding you. “Why did he have to do this now?”

You broke down then, folding into Abigail’s embrace as she stroked your hair, coaxing the pained cries out of you. “Why don’t we run you a bath? A hot bath and a good nights’ sleep will do your mind some good.”

Nodding slowly, you wiped your face without a care towards the stains that would now grace your sleeves. Abigail led you towards the comfort of the chair before the fireplace as Charles jogged ahead to prepare you a bath- promising to add an array of the herbs he had recently discovered to be of abundance in the area. The joy you had felt during previous dinners had been long abandoned.

When the bathwater had long gone still and cold, the longer-lasting bubbles floating alongside the waves traced upon the water- the memories finally set themselves free, the tranquility of the soak loosening the long-secured walls within your mind.

The days spent leading up to the initial heist in a camp not far from your own, long morning’s tucked up in animal furs and Dutch’s arms as the Blackwater heat and assurance of soon-to-come-riches washed over you. The subsequent plight, Dutch’s eyes constantly swiveling back towards you from his wagon as you had chosen to ride upon your own horse; the way he had protested against this decision, digging his heels in even despite the fangs of the law snapping at them mere minutes away. Your safety being his first priority.

You had shut him out during the short stay at Colter- furious that he had prioritized you before his duties as the leader of the gang. Furious that he had put you before young Jack, the other women, the wide span of injuries slowing the gang to a desperate stagger. But no, he had snapped at you; waving desperately towards the wagon the last of the women were piling into as you shook your head- tightening your horse’s reins. He had cast your wrist into his iron grip then, his eyes hard and swarming with anger; a mirror image to the swaths of the law’s blood coating his shirt sleeves. The blood of an innocent woman.

With shaking limbs, you had snatched your hand away and mounted before kicking your horse into a gallop, following the others who had already enacted their hasty departure.

With only mere seconds free to himself during those cold days, Dutch had tried- he’d stared determinedly at you during every speech and attempted to corner you at every given moment. You had successfully evaded his advances every time, opting to escape into the mounting snow outside of your cabin in opposition to being with a man you weren’t sure you could trust anymore. It was Arthur who successfully infiltrated your movement, joining you at one of the scarce campfires the gang had managed to light.

“You’re driving him mad, Y/N.”

“Oh, Arthur.” You shook your head, poking the embers with a stick. “You of all people know that he’s already there.”

He sniffed, a short flash of amusement crossing his face before it was replaced with sobriety. “Maybe. I wasn’t at the massacre, I didn’t see exactly what he did-”

“He killed an innocent woman, Arthur. Right in front of me and then had the audacity to claim that my safety was the most important thing to him.”

“Yes, I want to beat him senseless for the way he’s damned us too, I promise you.” He scratched his beard tentatively, almost searching for the correct words to say, “But… no matter what he did, we need to stick together, Y/N.” A pause. “And if his only source of light is snuffed out, there’s no way we’re getting out of here.”

“Don’t make this my fault, Arthur.”

“I’m not, Y/N. You know I’m not. But we are all starving and cold and tired. We need a right-minded leader to get out of here and once we do, we can judge Dutch all we want.”

You laughed then, a foreign sound in the somber setting; Arthur had grinned crookedly too, wrapping an arm around shoulder as he pulled you into his side. “Alright, I’ll talk to him..soon.”

Arthur had simply huffed, rolling his eyes and giving you a pat on the head as he rose- behind on his schedule of carrying the burden of the gang. You had remained at that campfire for some time after that, dwelling within your own conflicting thoughts.

Sitting in the bathtub, you felt the same affliction as you did all of those long years ago, even despite being so much younger and naïve at that time. You wanted to run out there, into the darkness of the forests and deep troughs of moss, into the arms of your lost love. But another part of you, the part that had grown and hardened with age, the part that hated Dutch Van Der Linde with every fiber of its existence- wanted vengeance. It wanted to provide Sadie and John with your vital blessing to go out there and capture him, kill him even.

Despite the years you had garnered since settling eyes on Dutch, you didn’t trust yourself to follow through with ending it all yourself; you didn’t trust yourself not to melt entirely within his presence. His charisma would sway you, his ability to flirt and coerce would be an instant match for your own stoic toughness. You couldn’t possibly know what he looked like anymore- but your betraying conscience conjured an image of his trimmed mustache complimenting his sharp jaw, his towering stature and taut muscles- those same muscles that had pinned you down night after night, the same ones that belonged to the only body that had ever truly pleasured you. The rings that adorned his fingers, each one a symbol of masculinity and fabrication, glinting in the moonlight as he smoked his complimentary, post-orgasm cigar.

Your insides tingled as you recalled the way he used to ravage you, the hungry glint of his eyes from between your thighs or the heavy pants that would spill from his lips as he buried his head into the sweaty base of your throat, his sex-tousled hair drawing paths against your skin, lighting the fuses beneath your jaw and throat.

Mr. Van De Linde had always been the embodiment of seduction- whether in his manipulative nature or in the coital bed you shared. You doubted that this feature had hardly changed.

Which is why you could-

“Y/N?”

You sprung from your dazed position within the tub, jumping and wrapping linens around your soaked body, “Sorry- uh- Yes?”

“Are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while now?” It was Jack, probably worried sick about you alongside the rest of the family.

“I’m fine.” you spluttered, desperately wringing out your sopping hair as you opened the door, plastering on a half-convincing smile, “I won’t burst into tears on you again, I promise.”

He simply nodded, a concerned look in his eyes that frighteningly reminded you of his own father. A look far too old for his youthful features, “I just wanted to check that you weren’t drowning in there. The bath is far too deep for me sometimes.”

Ruffling his hair, you laughed- mood slightly improved, “Don’t worry about me Jackie- just had a little blast from the past is all.”

He nodded, though a pensive look flashed across his face.

“What?”

“I don’t have many memories from back then,” you nodded, encouraging him to continue, “but I do remember you and Uncle- sorry, you and Mr. Van Der Linde.” He looked at you sadly, possibly seeing the shock and grief that instantly sunk into your face, “Sometimes, you’d be so happy but then other days all that could be heard was your fights… I remember once it got so bad that Ma wouldn’t let me out of that room in that big house. But I also remember when you went missing for a day or two, he’d practically torn the place apart with the worry that you’d been taken.” He paused again as you watched him through tear-blurred eyes, “I’m sorry that he’s come back Y/N.”

Sniffling, you wrapped your arms around Jack, allowing your tears to slip into his hair, “I’m sorry that you had to experience that, Jackie,” you pulled back, cupping his cheeks and tightening your lips, “I hope to God that you never have to deal with something like that. Promise me you won’t let it happen?”

“I promise, Y/N,”

“Good. Good boy.”

“But… Do you still love him Y/N?”

Your teeth clacked shut, the sound resounding throughout the thin hallway. Not even when you and Dutch had been together had anybody dared question the true status of your relationship- opting for sympathetic smiles or knowing looks alike in respect for their brash leader. Shaking your thoughts, you attempted a warm smile, guiding Jack towards the living room. “Love is a complicated thing Jack, part of me hopes that you’ll never have to experience the woes of it but the happiness it brings outweighs everything,” tightening your robe around your chest, you sat beside Jack before the hearth of the fireplace, “Dutch could render me happy or sad at any given moment, the power he held over me was…terrifying.” Jack nodded, his eyes glinting curiously with the fire’s light, “But I think I did love him. Maybe I still do, but that doesn’t matter anymore because he’s not a good man.”

“You deserve a good man, Y/N.”

You chuckled, a real source of warmth and comfort finally replacing the cold of the bathwater, “Maybe. I look forward to the day that I finally meet one.”

“I think Uncle Arthur was a good man.”

“Yeah.” A lone buck sauntered along the hills surrounding Beecher’s Hope, its ears pricking towards Tall Trees. “He was.”

Shadows of branches intertwined and floated amongst the ceiling of your room, a light breeze filtering in from the opened window. You had opted to retire to bed early, skipping the usual drinks you would share with the rest of the family around the fire. You couldn’t face them, the pitious glances and the sway of alcohol would be too much, an easy passageway into spilling your darkest secrets.

The smell of alcohol had a tendency to remind you of Dutch, anyway. The acrid taste of whiskey and cigars mixed to create an unashamedly addictive scent; the taste of it upon his lips practically doubling the initial effect.

Not only had Dutch Van Der Linde always been an object of seduction, but he had become an object of addiction too. He had been the one to tie your dependency to cigarettes during your time in the gang, having quickly picked up his habit of smoking a cigarette in the event of anything extraordinary. You would regularly smoke together post-sex, bathing in the privilege of sharing one, or even two, of his prized cigars- picking up on his ever-watchful eyes as you wrapped your lips around the blunt and puffed; always making sure to add an air of extravagance as you exhaled.

The thought had you scrambling at the bottom of your mattress, searching for the stash of cigarettes you had stowed there for the event of emergency. You swore to yourself you had quit, but living a Dutch-less existence required other outlets.

Low and behold, you had smoked the last of them after attempting to round up a herd of sheep the week prior.

You swore, jumping out of bed and pulling the mattress back further to no avail. “It’s fine.” You mumbled to yourself, checking your wardrobe and dresser subsequently, “It’s fine.”

In all honesty, you could do with the fresh air- your room had quickly begun to forego the open window and grow stuffy with the weight of your own sinful mind. Though, your objection to facing the others still remained steady- leading you to hoist yourself out of the bedroom window and onto the saddle of your horse.

Blackwater remained a constant bustle of energy even within the darkness of night, having returned to its pre-Van Der Linde glory as a portside town. The city itself acted as a constant reminder to what Dutch had done, marking the beginning of his true tyranny as the blood of the innocent Heidi McCourt had splattered along the sidewalk and his very own shirt sleeves. You had only learned her name from the bench before the boardwalk- “We remember Heidi McCourt” scratched into the base of the wood, only a minute of research informed you of exactly who that was. But upon further residence within Blackwater- you learned of the hatred felt towards the notorious members of the gang; cutouts of previous gang members pinned to dartboards and littered with darts and even bullets alike.

Despite your pardons, the people of Blackwater had never forgotten what you had done.

Your hair was longer now, providing the disguise necessary to lay low. Besides, your bounty hunter escapades had quickly taken over any true resemblance to the you that had resided within the gang; the very newspaper detailing Dutch’s return had coined you a “heroine”. It was good to know that people knew you mostly for your good, the version of yourself eight years prior would have feared your very being.

Dismounting your steed, you patted her side as you pulled out a set of twin revolvers- ever aware of the new threat that lurked nearby. The thought that he could be anywhere made you shiver despite the warmth of Summer as you jogged towards the grocer, apologizing for your late arrival as it was near closing time. The man waved you off, rolling his eyes as he continued to sweep the shop floor.

Maybe chivalry was dead, you smirked to yourself as you requested a pack of premiums. The man nodded, but before he could bend to grab the cigarettes he paled, sweat beginning to bead at his temple as he whimpered- seemingly catatonic in place. Rising your eyes to the dusty window, your lips pursed as you spotted at least four figures behind you in the reflection, all obviously armed.

“Raise your hands darlin’.” A gruff voice spoke, the traditional accent carried by the Skinner brothers.

“I’m just grabbing some cigarettes,” You spoke firmly, your hands lowering towards your revolvers, “Just let me leave and we don’t need to have any issues.”

The men began to cackle at that, you could hear the sound of them clapping at each other’s backs and howling like dogs. The shopkeeper remained cowered beneath the counter, frozen in place as his eyes pleaded at you to do something- the stoic shopkeeper from mere minutes ago was no longer present.

“You think we’re just gonna let an infamous bounty hunter like you leave just like that?” The speaker spat at the ground, a display of disgust. “Do you know how many of our brothers you’ve killed?”

Chuckling, you rose your eyes. “I think they use the word infamous for a reason, you know.” You turned, spinning your revolvers and executing two of the men in a split second; time slowing as bullets lodged into each of their skulls. Tearing through skin and bone, the sound of the bullets pinging into the wall shattered their amusement, the fallout spraying their faces with blood.

The remaining men had barely even reached for their weapons before you delivered bullets into their heart and kneecaps respectively, the latter would live but never walk again; able to enforce the resounding fear of your presence into the outlaw community. Stepping over the bodies, you leaned over the survivor- clutching his shattered legs as he screamed and cried.

“Never underestimate me again.” You spat, mimicking his revolting action from earlier.

Despite his cries, the man laughed at your statement- his rotten teeth and stringy hair coated in the blood of his assailants. “Oh, Sweetheart,” he rose to rest on his elbow, his hitched breath releasing in pained pants, “We didn’t.”

Your eyes widened, you were only rewarded for a split second to prepare for the barrage of gunfire that attacked the storefront. Rolling backwards, you surveyed the frenetic gunfire from behind one of the many shelves and calculated how grossly outnumbered you truly were- at least ten men awaited outside, the group very obviously having not underestimated you.

You quickly discovered that the shopkeeper had locked himself in the back room- leaving you isolated with the threat of the Skinner Brothers. Without a second thought, you scaled the shop counter- loading your revolvers with bullets and replacing the empty space with the money in your pockets; it would serve you little purpose now.

You had no choice but to fight, your stubbornness making cowering and hiding not an option- if you went down, it had to happen fighting. You knew that your death would be gruesome, the feeling of the rough, splintering wood against your back and the tight press of your boots against the wall would not be the last thing you ever saw. You knew that you would be waking up again. Closing your eyes, you said a prayer- for your family. For Jack’s strength and innocence, for Abigail’s love, for John’s unwavering loyalty and for Sadie’s strength. You prayed for Dutch, prayed that despite all of his evil and wrongdoing, that he would not see you in the condition you were bound to be in. That he would not be the one to inflict the pain to come upon you.

Time slowed once again as you rose, meeting the men as they slammed open the shop door- grossly outnumbered as you had calculated. Vision blurring, you shot widely- fighting for your life as men collapsed throughout the room. The flash of gunfire and the glint of throwing knives blinded you.

Finally, you ran out of bullets. The bodies of vile, disgusting men surrounded you. The bodies of the men that had terrorized your family. As an arrow lodged itself into your unguarded chest, you felt nothing but vindication.

Blinking, the sound of dripping rang throughout your brain as your senses faltered. Slower than usual.

You couldn’t move your arms or legs.

“I can’t-” You stuttered, fidgeting and shaking, “I- can’t…I can’t move.”

No one replied, only the sounds of your unsteady breaths could be heard, each one followed by that dripping sound. The horror of the situation dawned upon you, you had been right. You had woken up.

The skinner brothers hadn’t killed you.

Your cheeks felt wet, slicken with tears and something else as you heaved and pushed against your confinements.

Boots crunched along grass then, the sound of a rolling glass bottle rung beside your head.

“Who’s going to shut her up this time then?” A misty voice spoke nearby, it was followed by a mixture of sounds, to which your brain couldn’t decipher. It almost sounded like they were fighting over who would finish you off. You continued to cry then, your brain running at a speed faster than you could manage as the pain outweighed any coherent conscience. Finally, your eyes managed to peel themselves open.

To your horror, the dripping sound was your own blood- oozing from a cut on your arm that dribbled down through your fingers and onto the gravel below. You were tied to a wooden frame, similar to what Uncle had been tied to- though the fire had not yet been lit below you. The shine of the sun above you told you that not only had it been multiple hours, but that they were saving your sacrifice for the following night. Your body adorned a number of cuts though the arrow wound within your stomach had been messily patched up.

“They’re keeping me alive.” You mouthed, your eyes flitting around your surroundings as they welled with tears. You were within tall trees- deep in the forest and past the border lines you had previously ventured towards; they were ensuring that you would not be found.

“Have you found any takers for her?”

“Hm?” A large man looked towards a smaller man only a few steps from you.

“Any takers?” the smaller man rolled his eyes, socking the larger man in the arm, “Has anyone posed any offers to purchase her?”

Your ears rung as you squeezed your eyes closed, feigning sleep as you listened in on the conversation. They were keeping you alive to sell you, they were aware of your worth as a ruthless bounty hunter. It was their job to strip you of everything you had so they could sell a bounty hunter reduced to nothing to the highest bidder- a fate potentially worse than the fate of the Skinner brothers.

Before you could squirm frantically, the larger man spoke, “We have actually- some man spotted the poster up near Manzanita Post, claims he has some personal business to settle. Hefty sum, he’ll be here within the hour.”

The younger man grinned, his molten teeth dull in the sun’s light, “Personal? Damn, she must have taken out someone close.”

The larger man hummed as they departed their posts, moving towards the larger group of men. Your heart thumped in your chest as you squirmed- using any tactic you had ever learned from your fellow outlaws to perform any attempt at escape. But all was to no avail- the Skinners knew damn well how to hold a hostage.

Closing your eyes, you laid back. Every ounce of fight that had resided within you during that initial fight had vanished. There was nothing left, you had nothing left- all you could do was wait for what came next.

“Look at this pretty lady.” A voice spoke above you soon after that thought, a Skinner with a patchy ginger beard hovered in your eye line, a menacing grin upon your face. “What are we gonna do with you?

Fellow skinners laughed as a sharp pain, a knife, punctured your side- you’d experienced stabbings before, but not in this state. You succumbed to the urge to scream, the sound tearing from your throat and laced with terror. The man grinned, twisting the knife before wrenching it out and watching as you panted through the pain.

“It’s alright Darlin’. We all have to pay penance for our actions sometimes, seeing as you killed my father and all.”

You grinned, the feeling of blood dripping from your scabbing lips pushed aside as humor filled you, “Am I supposed to know who you’re referring to?” The mans’ eyes darkened at that, though just as he went to resume his torture, a deafening shot resounded throughout the forest.

You could only watch as the man collapsed backwards, blood spraying your already coated skin in thick beads. The background noise within the camp instantly dropped, all present turning to face their attacker- though none dared to retaliate.

“For the sum I’m paying, I’d hope my investment would be in pristine condition.”

The worst of your nightmares paled in comparison to what you saw as you turned. Dutch Van Der Linde stood at the edge of camp, tall and boisterous as ever. A repeater laid pointed within his hands, complimented by black rings adorning his fingers and aimed ready for whoever dared to step forward. The black waistcoat and linen shirts had been replaced with a silk black shirt, the sleeves rolled and the top button undone in respect of the humidity of West Elizabeth. No hat laid upon his head now, his hair curling at the nape of his neck and slicked back with pomade. He looked rich, luxurious. He didn’t look like the most wanted man in America.

It seemed that his obsession with finery had never dispersed.

You heaved, grappling at the wooden frame as you hoped, prayed, and begged for any way to escape. Any route other than having to go with him. The mere sight of him invoked sickness, suffering and fear- you felt like you had regressed, all progression made dispersed at the sound of his voice.

“Sir…You are free to take her.” The larger man whimpered, despite Dutch’s smaller frame, the man lowered himself to one knee; bowing his head. You scoffed, shaking your head as tears of anguish and defeat rolled down your face.

“Free?” Dutch sneered, his lips curling as he stepped before the cowering man, “I would hope so- seeing the state of her. What am I supposed to do with her if she looks like that?”

“Of- of course, Sir.” Multiple Skinners nodded in agreement, joining in bowing before the renowned criminal mastermind.

“Good.” Dutch spoke calmly, his features void of all emotion. You shook, in fear of what was to happen. In fear of the man you had previously thought you had left behind, the man you had presumed long dead. But part of you, the long cold and dormant part that had loved him. The part of you that yearned and starved, that had dragged you on that late-night outing in the first place- it longed for him.

Before anyone could blink, fathom the possibility of Dutch’s evolved tyranny over the years- he pressed the repeater’s trigger; ending the lives of the men bent to his will with a parade of clean headshots. You were no stranger to brutality, especially not Dutch’s, but your position was significantly more vulnerable than theirs; you could do nothing but bend to Dutch’s will.

As the last bullet sounded and the last man fell, Dutch wasted no time in slinging the repeater upon his shoulder and advancing towards you. Dutch reached you then, staring down at your dwindling and shivering form. Your groggy brain registered the crease of his brow, the red lining of his eyes and the worried curl in his lips.

He composed himself quickly, a mask settling as he moved to cut open your bindings. “The man was right, what am I going to do with you Y/N?”

You faded in and out of consciousness in the back of a cart- effectively bleeding out onto what felt like boar pelts. Dutch had instructed you to hold on as he fled from the camp, leaving the Skinner’s to decompose in his wake- a fleeing devil and all. The canopy above Tall Trees swirled above you, the sun remaining high in the sky throughout the journey. It could have been minutes or hours.

“Alright Princess,” Dutch said from the driver’s speech above, refusing to look back at you, “Hold on, we’re nearly there now.”

The use of your old, long unused nickname made you recoil- Dutch had always been one for sweet remarks, but he especially favored Princess- he was the beast, you were the innocent beauty. It created the rhetoric that you were to be protected, despite the major contributions you had made towards the camp on many occasions. You had to fight to be sent on missions, Dutch would respond with cold refusal; opting to insult you brashly in order to supposedly keep you safe. At his worst, you had stormed from camp; jumping onto the back of your horse and galloping away, ignoring the pleas of the gang. It was only when you didn’t return that worry had set in, three days you had been missing- later found by Arthur near Emerald Ranch. You had later learned that Dutch had practically torn the camp and nearby settlements apart; his shirtsleeves painted in red as he had searched for you- knocking down anyone in his way.

“Don’t call me that.” You mumbled groggily, using all of your energy to deliver a retort.

“What? Princess?”

You gritted your teeth, Dutch-induced-irritation felt like home- the gritting of your teeth and press of fingernails all too familiar when in his company. As the cart halted to a stop, Dutch leaped over the back of the wagon, instantly picking you up and taking you into a nearby tent.

“Okay Y/N,” he spoke hastily, flitting around the tent as he artfully bandaged up your wounds and poured health cure down your throat, “You’re going to stay alive because even though I did get you for free in the end- I’ve put a lot on the line for this.”

The utterance of your name blindsided you, the specific phonetic variation of your name on Dutch’s lips a foreign concept to you. Though at the same time, it felt right. Like returning home. But he hadn’t changed, you told yourself. He was still rude, materialistic, and conniving. You may have been better off staying with the Skinners. As he pressed into the stab wound in your side- you felt your consciousness fading, the pain blurring your vision and eliciting shouts from your throat.

“Go to sleep,” he mumbled as you felt a hand ridden with jewels caress your hair, “We have a lot to discuss.”

When you next awoke, the hum of night surrounded you as the crackling of a fire sounded nearby. You were laid upon a pile of warm pelts, a thin cross stitch blanket laid over your frame, covering the injuries that each individually created a cold ache. The tent you laid in was a decent size, though smaller than what you had previously slept in with Dutch- it was filled with mismatched furniture; pieces that he had presumably scavenged due to the inability to show his face anywhere. A thin cloth shirt lay beside you; to which you awkwardly pulled on, careful to avoid the extent of your injuries, in favor of losing your long destroyed and stained clothes. From your position you could see a horse, the Count, strong and faithful as ever though its once pristine, shining coat was greyer with what could be presumed as turmoil and age.

Dutch filtered into your vision next, sat beside the horse and facing away from you- his back solid and strong as ever, posture perfect as he cleaned the repeater that you had only seen to inflict pain. You attempted to rise from the bed, instantly wincing as a burn resounded within your side- that gained Dutch’s attention as he spun, his features wearing a look of shock.

“Finally,” He smirked, placing the gun on the ground and rising to come and meet you, “I thought you’d never wake up Princess.”

You glared at him, both for the nickname and his forceful attempts to lay you back down, “I’m a renowned bounty hunter now, you know.”

“Oh, I know that,” A grin marred his features, though it didn’t quite meet his eyes, “I’ve seen you all over the papers- the wonderful tales of justice and empowerment. Always a great read.”

“It isn’t a fantasy story to enjoy over breakfast,” You snapped, “I’m finally doing something good with my life, going straight and working alongside the law. Not against it.”

Dutch scoffed, always the cynic in the face of accomplishment “You’re nothing but a tool to them Y/N- one wrong move, one slightly unlawful kill and you’re finished.”

You cut him off with a laugh then, scrubbing a hand against your eyes in disbelief, “You are seeing me for the first time in eight years and you are seriously giving me a lecture right now?” You paused, preparing to deliver a punch, “The public are betting on me to do it you know, to kill you.”

Dutch stood then, an unbridled rage in his eyes as he towered over you, though he only spoke two words. “You wouldn’t.”

You shrugged, smirking up at him cynically, “How would you know? We haven’t seen each other in eight years, Dutch- the last time we did see each other, you betrayed me.”

“Betrayed you?” Dutch raged, “I never betrayed you; my gun never faltered in your direction though I remember you sending a number of shots my way.”

“You killed Arthur.”

Dutch swallowed, his throat bobbing; the weight of your accusation infecting the strength of his shoulders and setting stone within his chest. He spoke slowly, each word laced with venom as spit flew from the lips, “How would you know?”

“I saw,” your voice shook with anger, “I followed him up there. I saw what you did. I saw the way he begged. I saw the way you left his body lying there. If I hadn’t been there- he would have been left behind to rot.”

“I did what had to be done.” His voice cracked, emotion tiding the way over any rational thought, “I did…what had to be done.”

Shaking your head, you turned from him; the severity of your injuries rendering you useless, unable to run. Dutch refused to move from your peripheral, his gaze heady and severe upon the back of your head. “Leave me alone.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Dutch paused, his fists clenched and hair falling into his eyes, the pomade long worn off, “Because, I miss you Y/N.”

“Bullshit.”

“Y/N,” Dutch was pleading now, grasping at your shoulders and arms, his hands skimming any skin he could find; the actions of a starved man, “No matter what I do, no matter where I go, who I’m with, what semblance of riches I am able to grasp- you never leave my mind,” He gulped, no stopping now, “I’ve been reading about you for years but when I saw that poster up in Manzanita Post, I went insane with worry- I thought I’d be collecting your dead body but when I saw you strung up there I felt even worse; I practically felt the pain you felt.”

“Seriously?” You spat, “You felt my pain? I was being tortured and you spin this to be about you?”

“Princess that’s not-”

“Leave it Dutch,” You growled, slapping away his encroaching hands, “You haven’t changed.”

“What was wrong with me before? I was a leader, I kept you all alive. And what do I get for that? Nothing.”

“You ruined us!” You yelled, “You ruined me! My life since leaving you has been reduced to nothing but surviving, I can’t fade into the background anymore because of the target you placed upon our backs Dutch.”

“You had a choice, you could have left whenever you wanted.”

“But, I couldn’t. Anytime I left I’d be watched like a hawk Dutch. I was finally free, but now you’ve reigned me in again.”

Dutch laughed then, a fabricated cackle as he clutched his stomach- though the grin above his face did not reach his eyes. “I saved your life, Princess.”

“My fate there would have been better than this.”

“Ah, I see.”

The two of you sat in petulant silence then, too stubborn to back down as the weight of trauma and regret outweighed any semblance of forgiveness. The stale air of silence continued for days as you recovered- Dutch would check your injuries and bring you meals whilst you were still bedbound; allowing for only small glimpses of contact as he opted to spend as much time as possible outside of the tent; favoring humidity and his horse over your company. As you recovered, you began to venture outside of the warmth of the bed- opting to explore the surrounding wilderness, ignoring Dutch’s ever watchful gaze. It seemed his possessive streak had never ended, possibly having worsened seeing as though he had the gall to stroll into the camp of some of the most ruthless killers in the state.

In your solitude, you thought of home. You thought of your little bedroom in Beecher’s Hope, a place you could finally call your own. You thought of the family dinners you were missing; Abigail’s horrendous cooking feeling like a distant memory as you ate only scavenged animal meat and local berries. You thought of nighttime bonfires, morning coffee and the glow of the sun upon the crops during the afternoons; sweat congregating at your forehead as you had earned your keep. You missed home, you missed home like you had once missed Dutch.

The knowledge that you couldn’t have both was heartbreaking- serenity and Dutch was not an amicable match. Dutch only brought destruction and suffering; you hadn’t spoken properly in days due to his inability to see the point of others, his leading mindset never faltering. Dutch could simply never be a part of a family. You glanced over at him from your perch then, watched as he brushed down The Count; taking care to smooth down its hair and whisper sweet nothings into its ear.

Everytime he acted contrary to his real self you felt your heart shatter.

You stood then, unable to bear the weight of loaded silence any longer. “I spotted a river down the hill, I’m going to go and wash myself down.”

Dutch paused, seemingly shocked by the sound of your voice, “I’ll join you.”

“Dutch-”

“No, Y/N.” Dutch spoke firmly, raising a hand towards you, “Your injuries are too severe, if you slip and open up your side, your death will be in my hands.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him and sauntered down the hill; listening as his footsteps followed. The silence continued as you walked, all too aware that you would have to remove at least some articles of clothing before him. It was nothing he’d never seen before of course, but it had been years since a man had seen your body in that way- you couldn’t account for your actions if his heated gaze met yours after so long.

“Turn around.”

Dutch grinned, turning slowly with his hands on his hips, “It’s nothing I’ve never seen before, Princess.”

You knew he would say that. You merely scoffed in reply.

As you stripped, you became too aware of the sensitivity of your injuries; the ache in your shoulder, the sting in your stomach and the pain in your side. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Dutch called, back still turned.

“I don’t-” You screwed your eyes shut, dreading what was to come, “I don’t think I can wash myself.”

“Okay,” Dutch spoke slowly, turning though his eyes remained closed, “Do you want me to help you?”

Gulping, you nodded frantically, “Yes.” You spoke hastily- terrified that if you didn’t respond quick enough then the moment would be over. Part of you felt disgusted at yourself, disgusted at your lack of resistance towards the man that had broken your heart. But, the other part of you felt thrilled; electrified, brought back to life at the thought of him truly touching your skin again. Rolling back his shirt sleeves, he approached; his uncaring facade refusing to break as he helped you peel your shirt from your arms, instantly exposing your bare breasts as you had foregone upper undergarments in favor of allowing your injuries to heal. You gulped, refusing to look at him as he moved to unbutton your pants, stifling groans as you felt the linen brush over a sore spot. He shushed you comfortingly, discarding your pants to the side. Beads of sweat had formed at the base of his temple.

He began to lower you into the cool tide then, cupping water within his palm and pouring it onto your head; shushing you soothingly as he did so. His finger constantly skimmed your body- the edges of your breasts, the inside of your thighs, the corners of your mouth. Your lips pursed as you stared up into his eyes; to which he resolutely stared back, the mask finally breaking. He could’ve done anything to you in that moment- pinned you down beneath the water, stolen your last breaths.

You dwelled on whether that would be the case if anyone other than you laid within his arms.

“Dutch,” you gulped, your throat running dry as you attempted to voice your feelings, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your voice came out as a whisper.

Dutch blinked at you, his finger tracing a path down the side of your face- his voice croaked as he spoke, half-speaking half-groaning, “Princess.” The sound of his resistance breaking was mesmerizing and you laid compliantly as his finger began to circle your nipple; creating goosebumps in its wake.

“Tell me to stop, Y/N.”

“I- I can’t.” Your head spun as he moved his hand downwards, holding you steady as he reached down to swirl a ringed finger around your clit. The feeling of the stark cold of the ring matched with the heat of his skin elicited a guttural moan, your eyes rolling backwards as he began to pleasure you. His throat bobbed as he stared down at you, his eyes darkening and intense as he watched you break apart, a familiar mirage of the past. The semblance of a woman could break even the strongest of men.

You broke entirely, gripping Dutch’s hair and smashing your faces together; drenching his shirt in water and kissing him messily. His tongue dove into your mouth as he pinned your face against his own with his free hand, continuing his ministrations upon your clit. You groaned into his mouth, working at the sopping buttons of his shirt. You were all too accustomed to his rough nature during intimacy, often opting to pin you down and clutch your hair over soft, sweet actions. You had cared in the past, but now you couldn’t, opting to claw at his back and hair; scratching his scalp and drawing lines down his back.

Just as you reached for his pants, he stopped; pulling away with swollen lips and ruffled, wet hair- “I’m sorry Darling, we can’t do this here,” he breathed, moving his hand upwards to cup at your breast, “Let’s get you up to my tent and then we can continue.”

You shook your head, eyes pleading and begging, “We can do it on the shoreline, please we can’t stop now.” You knew that if you stopped, you wouldn’t be able to continue; the disgust and horror would set in. Dutch nodded reluctantly, a tinge of suspicion lingering in his eyes. You stumbled out of the water; collapsing together as you hastily pulled his pants from his body before lowering yourself onto his cock. He groaned huskily, his hands flying to your hips as he threw his head back. He had been craving this.

As you rocked and rolled together- you knew that this couldn't happen again. Dutch Van Der Linde was not safe- you could not let him enter your sphere any further. You moaned and cried and whimpered- relishing every last touch and taste and feeling. The sweat congregating between your bodies was slick and hot- connecting every last fiber of skin.

This couldn’t happen again, you told yourself, this couldn’t happen again.

Afterwards, you laid together at the shoreline- naked and bare to the forest as you laid in Dutch’s arms. He told you stories- stories of his time on the run, moments where he thought of you, moments where he caught glimpses of you in the paper, glimpses of you told in the fireside tales of other outlaws. You laughed, smiled, complied- gave him exactly what he wanted- you told him stories of the gang; neglecting important details though providing him with the skeletons of true stories. He too smiled, his lips curling genuinely as he placed a kiss into your hair.

Just before sleep overruled him, he informed you of his plan. His plan for the two of you, how you would travel together in his wagon; find a farmhouse and make a living there. You smiled, agreeing.

But it was the life you already had.

When dawn hit, you crawled out of his arms; allowing yourself one last look before you fled- into the dangers of Tall Trees and the semblance of home that lay just past it. You had to return to your family.

#dutch van der linde #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde fanfiction

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zarkishere · 9 months ago

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chat i've decided to download the sims again and make the vndlnd gang but also they're gonna be mostly non-human

here's the list so far but do give me opinions plz (also i feel like im forgetting people ough help)

werewolves :

hosea, bill, john, jack, abigail, sadie, tilly, sean, mac n davey(?

vampires :

dutch, molly n grimshaw (turned vampire by dutch), micah?, javier, strauss, lenny?

spellcaster : trelawny, charles, arthur, karen, mary, pearson???,

human : uncle, maybe pearson??, kieran????? (he's gonna be a horse rancher for sure tho)

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charthurlover · 11 months ago

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What perfume/cologne would the Van Der Linde gang wear

hi!! this is my first tumblr post, and i don’t exactly know how to do this or work the app, so forgive me if this is horribly worded or confusing.

anyways, this is my opinion on what colognes or perfumes the gang would wear. horses and cain included, since they are technically a member of the gang!!

Abigail -

something woodsy, maybe like the forest or a campfire, cedar wood, trees, plants.

examples:

- G-Water

- Tam Dao

- Snoqualine

Arthur -

tobacco, scent of alcohol, mud, outdoors.

examples:

- Jasmin et Cigarette

- Rien

- Earthworm

Baylock -

ashes, grease.

examples:

- Tobacco Blaze

- Garage

- La Yuquam Homme

Bill -

any popular male fragrances, or like gunpowder and fire.

examples:

- 9mm Ballistic Therapy

- High Noon

- Campfire Nights

Boaz -

dynamite, money.

examples:

- Wall Street

- Don Xerjoff

- 1805 Tonnerre BeauFort London

Branwen -

oatcakes, apples, water.

examples:

- Lostmarch Lann-Ael

- Be Delicious

- Cavalli Acqua

Bob -

blood, gunpowder, sweat.

examples:

- Vena Cava

- Richard Dark Side

- Secretions Magnefique

Brown Jack

pomade, alcohol, blood.

examples:

- Classic Fragrance

- Heeley Agarwood

- Molotov Cocktail

Cain -

dog, mud, grass.

examples:

- La Panthere Edition Soir

- Grass

- Zoologist Bat

Charles -

light florals, nature, clean fur.

examples:

- Coach Floral

- Super Cedar

- Coyote

Dutch -

blood, metal, tears.

examples:

- Vassago

- Spacewalk

- Rainy Season of Dresden

Davey -

snow, wood, fire.

examples:

- Waltz of the Snowflakes

- Tobacco Vanille

- Inquisitor

Enis -

whiskey, beer, grass.

examples:

- Tom Oud

- Stout ‘n Smoke

- Dune Road

Grimshaw -

sulfur, metal, cinnamon.

examples:

- Bloody Smoke

- Vanille Absolu

- Jupiter

Gwydion -

birds, leather, salt.

examples:

- Seemannn

- Black Saffron

- Millésime Impérial

Hosea -

moonshine, stew, metal.

examples:

- Moscow Mule

- Starfish & Coffee

- Santal 33

Jack -

water, horse, corn oil.

examples:

- Petrichor

- Cuir de Russie

- Seems Legit

Javier -

mahogany, cotton, musk.

examples:

- Redwood Leaves

- Lazy Sunday Morning

- Urban Musk

Jenny -

snow, wool, wood.

examples:

- Redwood Mist

- Battaniye

- Grey Vetiver

John -

sweat, musk, grease

examples:

- Flores Negras

- Silver Musk

- Cristina La Veneno Ni Puta Ni Santa

Kieran -

blood, grass, oats.

examples:

- Hora de la Verdad Sombra

- Figuier Eden

- Harran

Karen -

beer, guns, whiskey.

examples:

- Beguile

- Wicked John

- Kutay

Lenny -

blood, books, bullets.

examples:

- Seems Legit

- Diamonitirion - elixir atonit

- Moon Child

Mac -

metal, bullets, kerosene.

examples:

- Craft

- Iron Duke

- Nuvolari Rubini

Maggie -

dirt, stone, bog.

examples:

- Le Sillage Blanc

- During the Rain

- Swamp elixir

Mary-Beth -

books, ink, gold.

examples:

- Bibliophilia: Love of Books

- Supreme Vanilla

- Royal Blood

Micah -

rot, corn, mold.

examples:

- Saint Louis Cemetery #1

- Funerie

- French Kiss

Molly -

roses, grass, trees.

examples:

- Roses Musk

- Leila Lou

- Colors de Benetton

Nell II -

sweat, cows, pig.

examples:

- Amyi 3.17

- Cuir de Russie

- Hyrax

Old Belle -

carrots, beer, hay.

examples:

- Carotte

- Sónar

- Basilico & Fellini

Old Boy -

musk, tears, cow.

examples:

- Another 13

- Ozone

- Osmanthus

Pearson -

meat, vegetables, crawfish.

examples:

- Gino: Steak Scented Eau de Parfum

- Eau de Cuisine

- Wild Carrot Oud

Reverend -

whiskey, incense, coffee.

examples:

- 7 Loewe

- Bourbon e Fava Tonka

- Black Opium

Sadie -

blood, tears, gunpowder.

examples:

- Bull’s Blood 2nd Edition

- Cool Glacier

- Rendez-Vous!

Sean -

whiskey, sweat, bullets.

examples:

- Malt Akro

- Monochrome

- Amour Nocturne

Silver Dollar -

fire, wool, metal.

examples:

- Encens Pyro

- The Sheepfold, Moonlight

- Rosenrot

Taima -

deer, blood, meat.

examples:

- Ma Bete

- Trinity Blood

- Good Girl Gone Bad

The Count -

sugarcubes, peaches, pears.

examples:

- Pixie Dust

- Allure Eau de Parfum

- First Base

Trelawny -

doves, rabbits, silk.

examples:

- Ruğa Sablo

- Wet Garden

- Baklava Musk

Tilly -

bullets, baby powder, swamps.

examples:

- 266ts Pontiff’s Harley

- Cashmere Mist Eau de Toilette

- Haxan

Uncle -

manure, horse, cow.

examples:

- D’zing

- L’heure Fougueuse

- Zoologist Cow

again, this is my first post so i’m very sorry about it being bad or isn’t looking right for tumblr. so sorry.

#rdr2 #van der linde gang #arthur morgan #john marston #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #micah bell #red dead redemption 2

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zafill · 3 months ago

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RULES!

IMPORTANT : i will not do nsfw fanfics for anonymous people or people who doesnt have age in their bio. (i will do fluff for the minors and anonymous people. but if you get caught reading my fanfics as a minor, its not my fault.)

please also remember to be specific when u ask for a fanfic. like, if the characters are seprate or polu, a specific scene you want or how the y/n looks etc

hi! my name is zafill. idk how to make a cutesy acc, soooo sorry :d i write for a lot of fandoms, like: mouthwashing rdr1-2 tlou1-2 mha kny-demon slayer kemono jihen Beastars Avatar(both navi and atla) squid game (plz include number) most movies (please tell me and ill see if i know them or not) and if its not on the list, still tell me and ill see if i can do smth! yes ill write: fluff, sfw, death, fighting, gore(to a degree) Oc x character, Y/n x character, female y/n, male Y/n, Gn Y/n. - No ill not write: Heavy Nsfw (i write mentions, not the sex part) r@pe, minor x adult, sadism/Masochism, piss, scat (all the underage characters i mention is meant for brother/sister x reader or Child!Character x Parent reader) -

characters i write for

rdr1-2:

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch van der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, Lenny Summers, Sean MacGuire, Sadie Adler, Karen Jones, Tilly Jackson, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Molly O’Shea, Susan Grimshaw, Leopold Strauss, Reverend Orville Swanson, Simon Pearson, Kieran Duffy, Uncle, Josiah Trelawny

tlou1-2:

Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Tommy Miller, Tess, Marlene, Bill, Frank, Henry, Sam, David, James, Dina, Jesse, Abby Anderson, Owen Moore, Mel, Manny Alvarez, Nora Harris,

Mha:

Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Ochaco Uraraka, Tenya Iida, Momo Yaoyorozu, Fumikage Tokoyami, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Kyoka Jiro, Mina Ashido, Tsuyu Asui, Mezo Shoji, Mashirao Ojiro, Yuga Aoyama, Hanta Sero, Rikido Sato, Koji Koda, Toru Hagakure, Neito Monoma, Mirio Togata, Tamaki Amajiki, Nejire Hado, Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, Nemuri Kayama, Toshinori Yagi, Enji Todoroki, Keigo Takami, Tomura Shigaraki, Dabi Todoroki, Himiko Toga

Demon slayer:

Tanjiro Kamado, Nezuko Kamado, Zenitsu Agatsuma, Inosuke Hashibira, Kanao Tsuyuri, Genya Shinazugawa, Giyu Tomioka, Shinobu Kocho, Kyojuro Rengoku, Tengen Uzui, Muichiro Tokito, Mitsuri Kanroji, Obanai Iguro, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Gyomei Himejima, Kagaya Ubuyashiki, Muzan Kibutsuji, Kokushibo, Doma, Akaza, Hantengu, Gyokko, Daki, Gyutaro, Kaigaku, Enmu, Rui.

Kemono Jihen:

Kabane Kusaka, Akira, Shiki Tademaru, Kon, Inugami Kohachi, Mihai, Nobimaru, Yui, Kumi, Aya Tademaru, Momiji, Raiden, Inari, Hishiki Yoichi

Beastars:

Legoshi, Haru, Louis, Juno, Jack, Gohin, Ibuki, Bill, Riz, Pina, Dom, Kai, Collot, Durham, Miguno, Voss, Sagwan, Tao, Free, Kibi, Agata, Seven, Sheila, Rokume, Melon, Yahya, Gouhin.

Avatar - Atla:

Aang, Katara, Sokka, Toph Beifong, Zuko, Azula, Iroh, Ozai, Ursa, Ty Lee, Mai, Kuei, Long Feng, Jet, Hakoda, Kya, Pakku, Bumi, Jeong Jeong, Zhao, Piandao, Hama, Roku, Kyoshi, Kuruk, Yangchen.

avatar - the way of water:

Jake Sully, Neytiri, Neteyam Sully, Lo’ak Sully, Kiri Sully, Tuk Sully, Tsu’tey, Mo’at, Eytukan, Ronal, Tonowari, Tsireya, Aonung, Rotxo, Miles(spider)

squid game:

(i lowkey only remember gi-hun, Thanos and Nam-gyu. but ill do all if u also say the number)

- this acc is on my pc, and i dont check tumbler that often due to school etc, but ill get to your request some day!

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bat-gwuck · 1 year ago

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lmao so these two games have like nothing in common other than they’re both in my top 5 re-occurring hyperfixations but idc I’m having fun 😼👍

ong rdr2 and dragon age (esp origins) are my two all time FAVOURITE games so I thought ykw fuck it im gonna make a crossover AU - never done an AU before so NGL there’s a lot of kinks to iron out but I’m kinda digging it

started off with a lil’ character sheet for Arthur - I flip flopped between what I would make him (Templar, warden, keep him as a street thief/outlaw etc.) before finally settling on a mix of both warden and street thief/outlaw!! idk Arthur just gives me really strong Grey Warden vibes - a tragic hero (sometimes on a path of redemption depending on the origin/how they played it) who also has smth in them that will eventually kill them, despite having some weird benefits (in Arthur’s case, mentally)?? they’re twinning fr

I also just fucking LOVE the grey wardens so…

so it starts off relatively similar to normal: Arthur joins up with the gang at a young age, becomes a thief yada yada, and after a disastrous robbery, they end up camping in Ferelden, just before the Blight starts (unlucky)

for the purposes of this fic, the gang is only comprised of the camp girls (minus Sadie, for now), Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, John, Jack, Swanson, Pearson, Micah, Bill, Sean, Lenny and Javier - Sadie and Charles appear a bit later!!

shit goes down as normal but for story purposes, a heck of a lot faster, and the gang starts to fracture

seeing this, and wanting better for everyone, especially in the midst of the now upcoming Blight, which Dutch, for whatever reasons, does not acknowledge the danger of, Hosea (WHO LIVES IN THIS SCREW YOU ROCKSTAR) gathers as many people as will listen to him (everyone minus Dutch, Micah, Bill, Javier) with him and splits from the gang and heads towards Denerim in hopes of finding safety/starting anew

during their travels however, the group ends up getting caught up in a battle between a group of grey wardens and dark spawn - in which, because he has the worst luck, Arthur is nicked by a darkspawn which only means one thing: death.

(Literally just realising this is basically carver in the deep roads)

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you view it, the grey wardens offer to take Arthur back to Ostagar with them, they were impressed by his fighting skills, and arguing that the only way for him to live was to become a grey warden

after a lot of hesitation, and a bit of arguing, as he doesn’t want to leave his family behind, Arthur agrees to go with them and parts ways with the remains of the gang, promising that, once this was all over, they’d find each other again

SO I feel like this is enough for now! I definitely have more to write on this and NGL I might even write a full blown fanfic of this BC ITS SO MUCH FUN??

if anyone is wondering, Arthur will meet Sadie n Charles at Ostagar

I’m not entirely sure if I want Arthur to be the HoF in this AU?? I am very much planning on him being a prominent figure in the fight against the Blight and the Archdemon but idk?? ALSO there will be characters from both games in this AU bc I love some of them too much to leave out (I’m looking at you Morrigan and Shale…)

I did kind of want him to be a Blackwall type figure but like if Blackwall acc became a Grey Warden 💀

I hope you liked this and if anyone has any ideas for this AU PLEASE let me know I’m so lost 😭

I’ll be doing some more of these character sheets so keep an eye out for them!!

also Arthur absolutely nicked the fur collar off a rich noble

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanart #red dead redemption 2 #digital art #dragon age #dragon age au #rdr2 au #dragon age origins #grey warden #the blight #hero of ferelden #ferelden #dragon age fanart #alternate universe

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allzelemonz · 2 years ago

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RDR Ships Masterlist

Red Dead Redemption Masterlist

Never Again: Kieran Duffy/Bill Williamson

Fictober Prompt: Day 4, Hurt/Comfort Pairing Type: M/M Rating: T/Language, References to sex Warnings: Referenced/Implied forced prostitution, trauma, mentions of past torture, the tongs, Dutch is an asshole, soft Bill Williamson, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, protective bahavior, hugs, internalized homophobia, Bill is at war with himself Summary: Kieran finds himself forced into something he doesn’t want to do in order to make money for camp, Bill is there to keep that from happening.

Little O’Driscoll Dog: Micah Bell/Kieran Duffy

Fictober Prompt: Day 5, Collaring Pairing Type: M/M Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Smut, fluff, tooth rotting?, repressed Micah Bell, kinky Kieran Duffy, admittance of feelings, established relationship, slow sex, kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, marking, protectiveness, possessiveness, top Micah and bottom Kieran Summary: Micah and Kieran spend their first night in a hotel room, giving them both the opportunity to admit things.

Wake The Bear: Bill Williamson/Micah Bell

Fictober Prompt: Day 12, Somnophillia Pairing Type: M/M Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Smut, sleep sex, slightly dubious consent, insomniac Micah, thicc (™) Bill, clingy Bill, established relationship, kissing, marking, possessiveness, top Micah and bottom Bill Summary: Stuck in Bill’s bear-like cuddles, Micah comes across something to entertain himself.

Trustworthy: Arthur Morgan/Albert Mason

Fictober Prompt: Day 13, Cuckolding Pairing Type: M/M Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Smut, established relationship (Arthur/Albert), fluff, kink negotiation, domestic themes, soft sex, gentle sex, masturbation, exhibitionism, cuckolding, kisses, oral sex, blow jobs, anal fingering, anal sex, cuddling, fantasies come to life, top Charles and bottom Albert with viewing Arthur. Summary: Arthur finds himself thinking of a new dirty fantasy and he is lucky enough to have a sweetheart and friend that are willing to help him fulfill it.

At His Lowest: Dutch Van der Linde/Micah Bell

Fictober Prompt: Day 19, Exhibitionism Pairing Type: M/M Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Exhibitionism, epilogue setting, power dynamics, dom/sub undertones, anal fingering, anal sex, bottom Micah/top Dutch, mentions of past grief, Dutch is not mentally healthy Summary: Now that Dutch has reunited with Micah, he has an opportunity he should have taken years ago.

A Dynamic: Dutch Van der Linde/Arthur Morgan

Fictober Prompt: Day 26, Grooming Pairing Type: M/M Rating: M/Grooming, references to sex Warnings: Underage, dead dove, grooming, dark themes, Dutch’s mind is a wasteland, bad father Dutch, groping, head kissing, cuddling, affection Summary: Dutch doesn’t think what he does with Arthur is all that wrong. A/N: Goes without saying this is your extra dead dove warning. This is an interesting dynamic I had read a few fics on and I wanted to explore Dutch’s odd interest in ‘younger women’ that he has in the game. It’s short because it’s gross.

Finding and Feeling

Pairing Type: M/M Rating: E Warnings: Internalized homophobia, canon typical violence, kidnapping canon events, swearing, mutual pining Summary: A retelling of Kieran and Bill’s story. What could have been.

Two Heats (A/B/O)

Pairing Type: m/m Primary Sex: m/m Secondary Sex: o/o Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Omega Arthur Morgan, Omega Kieran Duffy, mating cycles, a/b/o, omegaverse, scenting, anal fingering, anal sex, fisting, riding Summary: On a regular ride, the two Omega mates realize they’ve both entered their heats.

A Familiar Scent (A/B/O)

Pairing Type: Platonic and m/m Primary Sex: m/m Secondary Sex: a/a Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Alpha Micah Bell, Alpha Bill Williamson, Omega Kieran Duffy, Micah misses his brother, mating cycles, a/b/o, omegaverse, scenting, anal fingering, anal sex, knotting, rough sex, toxic relationship Summary: Micah catches a familiar scent from that new O’Driscoll boy, one that reminds him of his little brother. He needs a distraction.

Nest (A/B/O)

Pairing Type: Platonic Primary Sex: background m/m Secondary Sex: background a/o Rating: M/References to sex Warnings: Omega Micah Bell, Omega Hosea Matthews, mating cycles, a/b/o, omegaverse, scent blockers, heat, mentions of omega pregnancy, good father Hosea, hint of John and Arthur being Hosea’s actual kids, background relationships: Hosea/Dutch, Arthur/CharlesSummary: When Dutch’s clothes go missing when Hosea needs them to nest, the older Omega tracks them down. He never expected what he would find.

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azures-bazar · 2 years ago

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Gang members (Arthur, Sadie, Charles and Mary Beth) reacting to their fem S/O who is Turkish. How they react to her language, culture, beautiful olive skin and brown curly hair, golden honey eyes and teaching them about her culture (food, music, arts, belly dance, etc) and she shares her culture and language with the rest of the gang aswell! Also how they would defend her if anyone was ever racist towards her! 🥹❤️✨🥰

Headcanon - Turkish Beauty - Female!Reader

Hey there sweetie ! Thank you again for your request ! + Javier ! 💖

I'm sooooo sorry if it took me so long ! As you know, my life now mostly consists in my job lol (and in the family I'm currently building).

This headcanon was hard to write since I know very little about Turkish Culture in general. At least I tried, any corrections are welcomed !

I tried making it as accurate as possible (but ended up creating a rather weird mixture between Turkey and Ottoman Empire, since it's supposed to be 1899 lol). If anything is offensive towards the Turkish culture, just let me know and I'll either edit my mistakes or completely delete the headcanon !

Request : Female!Reader

Characters : Arthur Morgan, Sadie Adler, Charles Smith, Mary-Beth Gaskill + Javier Escuella

Relationship : Romantic, settled

Lines : About 9 per character

A/N : The Reader is Agnostic !

Arthur Morgan :

Let’s be honest : Arthur doesn’t know much about what is outside America (and perhaps Tahiti). When you tell them you’re Turkish, he is a little confused. "Wait up, ain’t Turkey a large bird ?" is the very first genuine question he asks when you talk about your country. After you explain him a few basics, he profusely apologises for his mistake, telling you his just a "dumb cowpoke", which he isn’t. He’s just clumsy.

You wear a nazar as a necklace. Arthur is curious, often asking you about the meaning of this beautiful eye-shaped pendant, staring at its dark blue, white, light blue and black colours. When you explain its use, Arthur is even more curious, asking you if he can have one for himself. "Maybe a nazar can be a lucky charm for me too, so the Pinkertons won’t ever find us !".

On some occasions, you can be heard talking to yourself in Turkish, either when you think out loud or when you’re a little pissed with folks like Micah or Bill. Arthur doesn’t show it, but he’s thrilled when he hears you talk in Turkish, finding it beautiful. As he often says, he can barely speak English, but he still tries his best to learn a few words while listening to you !

Believe it or not, but Arthur knows how to count up to ten in Turkish. He made this surprise to you while the two of you were in his tent after a long day on guard duty. "Hey, listen to that, bir, iki, üç, dört…". You were so amazed by it, listening to his raspy voice and heavy Southern accent when he tried his best not to mess up ! When you asked him how he learnt how to count in Turkish, he just told you he has his own "sources".

Yes, he indeed went through your belongings to snatch a book written in Turkish. Still, how he managed to translate Turkish words into English is an absolute mystery even Arthur himself can’t really explain. He isn’t as dumb as he believes he is, him trying his best to learn a few words in your language is a proof of his hidden intelligence.

At some point, you tried your best teaching Arthur to say a few basic sentences, such as "benim adım Arthur". Your favourite Van der Linde boy struggled a lot, but was indeed thrilled to make you even a little happy. Arthur is not as fast as John when it comes to learn things, but he is definitely devoted to whatever he does. And your proud gaze is absolutely worth any single grammar mistake (which might also be heard as a potential ancient invocation due to his mispronunciation) he would make.

In case you’re being harassed by anyone, Arthur is very quick to jump in and defend you from all these folks causing you harm. Since it’s the United States in 1899, many folks are just blatantly racist. If you’re a few feet away from him, he will proceed walking towards you and wrap his arm around your shoulders. "Get away from my girl, I doubt ya wanna have a hole in your head, partner." is what he often says to calm things down. If it doesn’t, the situation ends up in a fist fight which often results in the two of you having to run away because Arthur "unexpectedly broke someone’s skull".

Arthur is absolutely in love with your looks. Each time the sun shines on your face while you’re both around camp, he will proceed caressing your olive skin. And when your golden eyes meet his, he nearly faints due to your exquisite beauty. Your eye color is so unique that he can’t avoid blushing a little whenever you’re looking at him. A few pages of his journal are dedicated to you, as well as some drawings. He loves describing your golden eyes in his journal, comparing them to the sun. You are the light of his life, literally speaking.

Each night, Arthur runs his fingers through your thick brown curls, slightly brushing them away from your beautiful face. You’re one of the most beautiful women he had the opportunity to meet, and your natural beauty made him fall in love with you on the day Dutch had brought you to camp. But don’t worry ! You’re so beautiful that he falls in love with you every day, even if he’s too proud to say it.

Sadie Adler :

For some reason, Sadie somewhat knows more about the world’s geography than the rest of the gang. She can’t forcibly place countries on a map, wherever they are republics, kingdoms or empires, but can actually tell that there is a huge continent across the Atlantic Ocean. So, when you tell her you’re from beyond the ocean, Sadie is indeed quite curious !

Sadie loves listening to you when you’re talking about your culture. She just sits there with starry eyes, gazing at you whenever you talk about its traditions. She is indeed fascinated by it, it feels so mystical compared with the life the Van der Linde gang is currently living. Having you tell stories about your country or about your culture and beliefs is certainly much better than Dutch’s speeches about freedom and MONEY.

She is pretty much your personal bodyguard whenever you’re alone. She knows you know how to fight, but she just loves you so much… and even ends up wanting to know more about Turkish fighting techniques. "How do folks fight in your country ? Like us ? Or do they still use swords ?". Her question seems pretty innocent for a woman who went through so much, but you don’t mind.

You eventually end up telling Sadie about the Ottoman Slap, which is one of the Ottoman martial arts. "I wanna try it, I wanna try it !" is the very first thing an excited Sadie tells you when you explain her that it implies using her hands. You don’t even have time to explain anything to her that she is already on her way to give Micah an absolutely massive slap.

Sadie loves being around you when you do to town, and is quite protective towards you for a variety of reasons she can’t even explain. So, when she hears a few folks criticise your looks, your skin or your clothes, if not even your origins, she is quick to get into a violent fight and, quite often, wins it. Sadie even tries doing the exact same Ottoman Slap��you told her about, but is likely to take out her guns to finish a fight if the situation goes worse.

You two have fun altering Mr. Pearson’s stew with a few ingredients which match the Turkish recipes you have collected in one of your books upon traveling to the United States. Sadie loves the Tavok Sote, which is a Turkish chicken stew, and is even willing to chop vegetables for you, something she wouldn’t have done for anyone else. She just wants to spend all her free time with you, even if, as she says… she "ain’t gonna chop vegetables for a living".

Sometimes, when she is on guard duty, Sadie will just slightly turn her head and look at your for a few seconds, analysing your beauty. Your black hair is often beautifully tied in a braid, your nazar bracelet hangs on your wrist, your colourful dresses make you look divine. She loves you, and if you pass by her while she is on guard duty, she will gently stroke your chin. "Here’s my beautiful balım." she would say before dropping a kiss on your lips.

At some point, after you told Sadie about belly dance, she is excited to learn it from you ! The very first time she tries it, she laughs as the feeling it gives her. She is not used to it, but absolutely loves it ! You like seeing her so happy to try new things, and can’t deny you did not expect her to enjoy belly-dancing this much ! She isn’t really good yet, but she really tries her best to impress you !

Sadie tries really, REALLY hard to learn a few words in Turkish. She already knows how to say some sweet words, like "balım" or "güzelim", and… a little set of swearwords. In fact, whenever you swear in Turkish, you can hear Sadie repeat the word after you, even if you told her you would rather want her not to say any swearwords in a foreign language.

Charles Smith :

Charles is well aware about the countries surrounding the United States, such as Mexico and Canada, and knows a little about Europe due to him listening to Herr Strauss. He is very respectful towards you and asks a few questions he repeated to himself a few times. Charles doesn’t talk much, and each word he says are filled with a wisdom a very few 28 year olds have. Needless to say that, compared with John who is just two years younger and eager to ask foolish questions, Charles just thinks twice before saying anything.

Charles is, again, the quiet type, except when he is drunk or around Javier and Arthur at the saloon. And he is even more quiet whenever you’re talking about your culture by the fire. He just gazes at you with starry eyes, interested and fascinated by your country's customs and traditions. Charles doesn’t interrupt you, he doesn’t want to spoil your stories with his questions. He will have all the time he needs to ask them after you will finish.

If he is on guard duty with you, there is a huge chance that Charles will likely end up asking you some details about your country. "What do Turkish people eat ? How do they fight ? How do they talk to each other ?". He is curious, and just wants to be around you, and only around you, to ask his questions. Even if he only answers with a soft smile whenever you answer him, he is so thrilled to learn new things.

The simple presence of Charles near you is quick to make people shut their mouths whenever they want to insult you. Charles, being himself a man of colour, as the son of a Native American woman and an African American man, knows what it feels like to be downgraded due to the colour of his skin, especially in 1899. If he sees anyone offend you, he will just stand before you and calmly tell people of. "Please, leave this lady alone.". If it doesn’t work, after a few good punches, he will take you to someplace safe, apologising for all the mess he is not even the responsible of.

When he has the opportunity to rest, which is often rare since he is one of Dutch’s strongest men, Charles just enjoys gazing at you. He loves the way you look, the way your beautiful hair flows around you whenever you make even a subtle movement. But what Charles loves the most about you is your voice, and how beautiful it sounds whenever you speak to yourself in Turkish.

Charles doesn’t speak much, but he secretly mumbles each word you say in Turkish, and sometimes asks you what you just said means. He then proceeds repeating the same word once again. "Did I say it right ?" is the question he asks you the most whenever he tries talking to you in Turkish. He does his best, and it's a beautiful thing to watch. His smile in the end is worth it !

Like many folks, Charles is not indifferent to your golden eyes. Whenever you’re close to him, even if it’s already clear that the two of you are in a very stable relationship, his heart beats faster and his eyes twitch a little, he even blushes and stutters at times ! You, Y/N, are the only person who can make Charles Smith loose his words whenever he is around you ! Charles even commented your eyes more than once. "So your parents put all the gold of the world in these eyes of yours.". That’s quite a compliment !

You managed to bring up a Hookah with you, and a lot of gang members often ask you if they can use it. Charles was very curious to try it at first, especially knowing that you can sometimes combine the effects of tobacco with other plants. You made him try a mixture of regular tobacco with vanilla flowers, and Charles surprisingly loved it. "Damn. I like it. I like it !". It was probably the very first time you saw Charles so happy !

Charles loves laying next to you whenever people are already asleep or far enough from him, his head either on your thigh or on your shoulder. He knows that you will naturally start singing. You can’t resist singing a few beautiful Turkish songs you know, especially with Charles being so close to you. "It’s beautiful, breathtaking." he often tells you between two songs.

Mary-Beth Gaskill :

Mary-Beth is quite aware of where Turkey is located, having red so many books about everything, and not only romance books as Ms. Grimshaw often says. She is thrilled to meet anyone who is not from the United States or from America in general, apart from Herr Strauss, indeed. But a woman like you is more interesting than an old loanshark !

You tried making a lentil soup based on what Mr. Pearson had in stock, and it made Miss Gaskill happy. "It’s peculiar and so different from Pearson’s stew ! How did you manage to do it ?" she asked. Mary-Beth barely knows how to cook, but is interested by your Turkish cookbook you brought with you upon being inducted into the gang.

Sometimes, Mary-Beth daydreams while listening to your stories about your country. She just pictures so many people wearing bright colours, women doing bellydances while men are trained to fight. Mary-Beth is quite a romantic and re-interprets your stories inside her head, but genuinely likes asking questions about your culture. "What does a Turkish marriage look like ?". You try your best to answer, making Mary-Beth’s eyes get filled with stars.

When the two of you are in town, you often get a side-look from passerby because of your origins. Mary-Beth is eager to fight for you, quickly taking your defence if someone tells you something inappropriate. Even if she knows how to fight, the two of you most likely end up in trouble if many folks try attacking you. But Mary-Beth is courageous enough to defend you, telling people off and throwing a few more or less impactful punches if needed. You two can’t even count the number of times you ended up at the Sheriff’s Office after a fight, having Dutch, Hosea or Arthur bring you back to camp. But a good fight was worth saving your honour.

Even if you told her about henna and its use on very specific occasions, Mary-Beth is eager to try some on herself, on Tilly or on Karen, and even on Arthur who just grumbles when he sees her drawing figures on his wrists when he’s around camp. She doesn’t care about the fact that henna figures she made on herself is a temporary tattoo, she just loves it so much and is very skilled !

Mary-Beth loves reading, and it’s no secret for anyone. So when she genuinely asks you if she can borrow one of your books and read some pages out loud, you can’t say no. You just love listening to her when she tries her best to read some Turkish words properly with her sweet voice and adorable accent, and she loves the way you look at her and how proud you are whenever she tries either reading something out loud, or talking in your language.

She likes asking you if she can borrow your dresses. Her favourite is a traditional Turkish gown you brought from your country, white and red coloured, with a matching headscarf. Mary-Beth loves it and often likes putting it on whenever she knows you will be around camp. She respectfully wears it and twirls around with it, thrilled to wear something as beautiful as a traditional Turkish gown. She sometimes digs into your jewerly, but you don't mind much.

When you told Mary-Beth about belly dancing, she was eager to give it a try ! Despite she did not know much about this dance or about the moves, looking a little uncomfortable while trying her best, she just gave you a rather nice performance, which was both funny and adorable. You fell for her as much as she fell for you. Between two moves, she even got to stroke your olive skin while blushing, which made you love her even more than ever !

She loves brushing your hair. It’s so thick and beautiful, she loves running her fingers through it, or combing it to create the most perfect hairstyles which could fit you on a daily basis. Mary-Beth loves you enough to compliment you anytime she tries something new on you. After all, you’re so beautiful ! So, mesmerising ! She keeps reminding this to you almost three or for times a day ! And this even in bed…

Javier Escuella :

Javier is definitely smart enough to say that Turkey is a part of the Ottoman Empire as of 1899. He is genuinely curious about everything, and loves asking you so many questions that you sometimes end up struggling to find a correct answer. "What are your people doing when they’re angry ? How tall is the Ottoman Empire ? Are all Turkish women as beautiful as you are ? What music do they play ? Do they believe in god ?". Many questions, too many.

You don’t know how he managed to do this, but Javier has, very soon after you were inducted into the gang, tried talking to you in Turkish. Since he already speaks English and Spanish, he is willing to learn another language, just for you ! Javier tries his best, he really does. He even repeats the words after you whenever you correct him, and often compliments your language. "Ah, Turkish language is quite beautiful, mi amor ! Hard, but wonderful !".

Privately, between two trees, while the rest of the gang was having fun by the fire, you showed Javier how you belly danced. He is absolutely not familiar to it, but spends his time gazing at your moves, at the way you shake your hips, the way you twirl at times. He loves it, and even ends up asking you if men can try doing it too ! He is genuinely interested, which is a pleasure to see !

Javier is often lost into his deepest thoughts when looking at you. Your golden eyes make him loose every word, even his most romantic ballads can’t express how smitten he is to you. He often tried singing about it, playing his guitar by the campfire, but nothing can describe the "hermosa chica de ojos dorados." that crossed his and the rest of the gang’s path.

Whenever you’re out, Javier doesn’t let go of you, not even for a second. Sometimes the two of you get side-looks from people seeing two non-white people just enjoying their day in 1899. Javier doesn’t usually jump into fights and tries his best to tell people off. However, sometimes, random folks don’t cooperate, and it ends up in a brutal fistfight. "You won’t ever insult my girl again, puto !" Javier usually says when his opponent is either unconscious, or dead. He won’t let anyone insult you. Never !

When you joined the gang, you had a few belongings coming from your country, among which a few musical instruments such as an Oud, a Kaval and a Sipsi. Javier taught himself to use the Oud, pretty proud of himself whenever a nice melody was coming out of it. "It’s as easy as playing a guitar, but the sound is so beautiful !" he always says whenever he plays it… when you don’t play it yourself.

Sometimes, when you’re the one playing some Oud, you like singing a few ballads from your country. Javier loves listening to you, often getting distracted if he is on guard duty. Your voice is so beautiful, so mesmerising ! Enough for him to loose the track of time whenever he listens to you. He usually doesn't understand your songs, but genuinely loves them !

At some point, only to make you a rather nice surprise after you went back from a robbery with Dutch and Micah, Javier decided to sing a personal song just for you, playing the Oud, while Uncle played the Sipsi, and Lenny used a barrel as a drum to add some rhythm. Javier just wanted to make you happy, especially after a robbery with your absolute friend Micah Bell. "Look ! Look Y/N !" he had told you, so excited. The song was in Spanish, played with two Turkish instruments and a barrel as a drum, but it was awesome !

Sometimes, late at night, when the two of you are nearly asleep, Javier usually tries his best to mumble you some sweet words in Turkish, running his hand through your black curls while gazing at you with a loving smile. He just loves making you happy, and knows how excited you are whenever he tries speaking your language. "Seni seviyorum, mi chiquita.". A rather peculiar mixture between Spanish and Turkish, but very sweet !

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #azurestales #sadie adler #charles smith #mary beth gaskill #javier escuella #rdr2 headcanons #I'm not turkish please folks don't be mad at me if I did things incorrectly I'll edit it right away #female reader #my gifs #bad english incoming lol #and turkish words too

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