#rdr2 javier escualla

[red-dead-simp]

[javierduffy]

replaying this game after the second game is making me honest to god so beyond miserable … javier looks so absolutely defeated here. it’s genuinely breaking my heart. please don’t make me think about the thoughts he’s having now- perhaps ones of regrets, or flashes of laughter and singing around the campfire, of clanking beer bottles together and sharing stories, of looking at the shine in dutch’s eyes during a speech and how he felt, somehow, the warmth of the mexican sun. and how that sun never felt the same when he got home again. and how the only time in the past eight years that he ever felt warm was when john’s hands wrapped the rope around his hands and legs. when john’s rope was the noose around his neck, and he finally, finally could stop running. guilt, fear, regret … relief. please kill me im so sad

[josephquinnswhore]

mi vida - javier escuella x female reader

summary: life with a romantic outlaw.

word count: 1.9k

content warning: not much tbh. mentions of murder, robbery, theft, conning.

The late afternoon breeze swells through the camp between the natural barricade of trees surrounding your current campsite, Horseshoe Overlook. Many go about their duties, few of the men are often gone more days than not, returning with food for Pearson to prepare or things to contribute to camp, mostly money.

That comes in many forms of succession, theft, robbery, conning, and murder. No women in camp were partial to what the men did to keep everyone afloat, yet—amongst the many people who committed these atrocities. Never had you felt safer, they were loyal, protective.

Profoundly your boyfriend, Javier. Fiercely loyal, even to Bill, who constantly harassed Javier over his ethnicity. The name calling, sniggering and remarks about Javier’s tendency to groom himself.

Regardless—it was Javier who left camp yesterday, gun in his holster and urging Boaz out of camp when he had found out that Bill had been captured by bounty hunters. To save that same man who had been relentless in attacking and attempting to humiliate your lover.

The smell of Pearson's warm stew that had been simmering all day over a small fire makes your stomach ache with anticipation and creates a welcome distraction rather than your disdain for Bill Williamson. Warm food to fill your aching stomach as many of you only ate one meal a day. The same thing that was prepared every day. A mix of meat, vegetables and bland stock.

But you were grateful that you had the opportunity to eat. Thankful for those, often Charles or Arthur bringing back food for Pearson to prepare. Often, you take it upon yourself to go searching for herbs to make the stew more flavoursome.

Many had noticed and pleaded for you to forage enough for all those daring to ask. The bundle of herbs that had been carefully clipped and placed into your sachel earlier this morning.

There were plenty blossoming, thyme was your favourite, it was accessible being close to camp and growing in abundance.

It gives a sense of trepidation, as you sit on a small chair by your and Javier’s shared tent, small fire beckoning you in with it’s promise of warmth, the flames licking up the logs into devour.

This routine you'd created for yourself was one your body had recognised.

Same time of afternoon each day, preparing your thyme by picking the herb off the stem meant you’d be sitting down before long, next to Javier and eating some supper. The routine is something you find solace in amongst the chaos.

Being in a relationship with an outlaw was a first for you. Correction—your first relationship was with an outlaw. How couldn’t you have fallen for the man, driven with such confidence and unprecedented power. The divine will of his words and his actions of care he puts into the way he looks. A man like that was sure to draw your attention, sweeping you off of your feet the very first morning you met.

Thought of the memory is often shared between the two of you privately when most are sleeping, no one to hear your secrets but the moon itself. Uttered words in his native tongue make your ears warm, still able to fluster you months later into your partnership. His words, not hollow like most, but full of promise.

Promise to love, cherish, care for you. His life. Or as he calls you. Mi vida.

This day in particular was not out of any ordinary you’d become so used to. Miss Grimshaw made her demands to all the women, expecting perfection and efficiency with each due task. Tending to the dishes, washing clothes, hand sewing patches of material onto clothes that had been torn.

Dutch often sat in his own tent, a pondering gaze upon his brow with his nose buried in a book. The same book he often quoted his own inspired wisdom.

When it gets to this time in the afternoon, when everyone returns and feeds together. Daily tautness no longer separates folk, drink is readily accessible for anyone who abides by the bitter liquid. Few wooden crates found around the camp are stocked with beer and whiskey.

Of course—Bill is one of those men who seems to create his own problems, blaming the bottle as if it weren’t his own hand to take the glass and gulp the poison down so greedily. As if he needed it, you never understood his dependence upon something so harmful.

Setting aside your personal mound of carefully plucked thyme into a small wooden bowl, you stand and pour yourself a cup of hot coffee. The pitcher sits by the fire by your camp, grateful for such an accessible commodity. Nursing the steaming black substance, you take a moment to blow the steam and look. Really observe the world moving around you.

Above the trees, the sun is beginning to set, illuminating an orange glow around the camp, where your eyes finally lay upon Javier, sitting with Arthur at the table halfway across the grassy field of the campground, playing five finger filet. He—of course wore gloves at your discretion, knowing how concerned you are that he’d cut off a finger one of these days.

Still, as the two men sit, fisting the handles of their sharpened blades, the 40c pot is sitting in the middle of the table, pending the winner.

“Tu pinchazo.” He utters as he knicks his finger with the steely blade. Another attempt, and he curses again.

“Hazlo bien tonto, concentrate.” The lick of his tongue on his upper lip is a sheer sign of dedicated concentration.

That, and he had one more attempt at getting this right, or he would lose the game. Being Javier, that was not a notion he could accept, defeat. He was a prideful man in every aspect of life.

Miraculously, the man managed to concentrate and successfully overcome the second round with a victory, taking the 40c pot and sliding the coins into his jean pocket. “Good game Arthur, perhaps we will play another time.”

Left alone only for a brief moment, he begins sharpening his knife at the table, red stains of his blood are splattered across the wooden surface as the aftermath of the victorious game. Yet, something more profound approaches, Bill with an opened bottle of whiskey in hand..

Tightly, your fingers curl around your mug, sipping on the coffee anxiously, your heart pounds against your skin with worry.

“Whatcha doin’ greaser?” Bill taunts, approaching Javier to which he’s met with silence.

Again, Bill takes a large mouthful of liquor and tosses the bottle onto the soiled grass. “I said, whatcha doin, greaser.” His boot kicks into Javier’s crate, getting more aggressive, prying for Javier’s attention, any kind of reaction.

Javier shoots up from the wooden crate, welding a knife in hand as he puts Bill into a steady headlock.

“Just playing with my knife, sheep fucker. Just playing with my knife.” The sound is cold and callous, holding the sharpened blade against Bill's neck, holding him hostage for a few moments before shoving Bill to the ground, sliding his knife back into his holster.

“Saco de mierda borracho.” He mutters bitterly to himself as he crosses the campsite to join you, when his dark brown orbs meet yours, he realises you’d been watching him, the interaction.

Finally finishing the last of your coffee, you set the mug down on a wooden barrel inside of your shared tent and Javier approaches with a sheepish expression on his face. “Hola mi vida.” He utters softly.

“Hi.” Gazing into those brown orbs you sigh. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I cannot believe he’s still doing this after you saved him yesterday.” With a gentle gesture, your thumb runs along his cheek.

“He is forgotten, the love of my life is here beside me, in my arms, how could anything else matter?” His leather gloves are warm and damp on some fingers with his blood from his earlier game of five finger filet.

Wordlessly, you take it upon yourself to remove the barrier between your eyes and his wounds, they’re minor, but you insist on doting over him. “Sit.”

His body is sat on a chair before you could urge him a second time, always listening to your requests, giving into you. Anything you yearned for he would give.

“Will you ever stop playing that foolish game?” The scolding makes him laugh, the sound has become so familiar and comforting to you.

“No, mi amor. I did win after all.” That prideful smile, beaming at you with his skin glowing with the orange illumination of the setting sun, another day being spent with the love of your life.

“I figured you’d say so, you’re a stubborn man.” The comment is met with a hum of his own as you tent to his wounds, although they would be fine unattended to, Javier loved when you doted on him, he saw it as affection. Being cared for unconditionally was all he ever needed.

“Let me make it up to you, for worrying you.”

“That’s not necessa—“ before you could finish, he’s interrupting you.

“Not another word, mi vida. Tomorrow we will ride side by side, to a nearby location by a small pond, I will pack some cheese, bread and berries into your wooden basket. We shall feast and relax without the constant hounding or senseless noise at this camp. Your presence is obligatory.”

Slowly, your fingers retreat from his hands as you finish cleaning his wounds, listening to the utter reverence of this man, his words are true and written as if needed to be followed. Guidance, and devotion.

“Of course I will join you.” His own hand grasps yours so elegantly bringing it up to his face before pressing his lips against your knuckle, the kiss lingers for a moment before he reaches to caress your cheeks.

“Mi vida, let me sing to you.”

Sitting on your bedroll beside his own, he reaches for his guitar and strums a familiar tune, one of a love song he had sung many a time before because it’s your favourite, Cielito Lindo.

“De la Sierra Morena, Cielito lindo, vienen bajando. Un par de ojitos negros, Cielito lindo, de contrabando.

Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay.

Canta y no llores. Porque cantando se alegran, Cielito lindo, los corazones. Ese lunar que tienes, ceilito lindo, junto a la boca.

No se lo des a nadie, Cielito lindo, que a mí md toca….”

As your life partner sings, his angelic voice caught in the gentle breeze as folk around camp are compelled to join around the campfire to hear the melodic tune. They fail to understand in their joy, that Javier was declaring his love for you in song.

It was a touching gesture that the two of you share alone. In many ways — would remain ignorant to the rest of them. At the end of this day, you would fill your bowl with stew and fill your stomach. But for now, you sit united with your lover, taking every moment revelling in each other's proclivity.

[pinkysberg]

when u make a munchies run n he offers 2 pay

[reddeadreference]

Guarma - Camp Details/Layout

There are technically two camp locations for chapter 5. The one on the island of Guarma and the one at Lakay. -For the camp in lakay click here-

-Click here to return to the index page for Chapter 5: Guarma-

In the cutscene where they all first find the area and sleep, they’re in the top right shack.

Below is the left side, same side shown as above.

Below is the right side.

The top left shack has the ammo and limited weapons.

Between the top two areas is the “medic” area. you can see a few health items in the bottom right of the photo below.

The food area is a makeshift table in the bottom left of the main photo.

If you choose to do the mission where you save Javier first, you can see him in the bottom left of the camp as seen below.

[detective4blog]

Round 25, featuring the gay wild west

Lenny- bisexual, polyamorus

Javier- mlm/gay, polyamorus

Kieran- bisexual, asexual, polyamorus

Seán- bisexual, polyamorus

Karen- pansexual, polyamorus

Mary Beth- non binary, queer, polyamorus

Anyway yeah welcome back to "Rayx's favorite chaotic polyamorus crew"!

[pimsri]

Playful flirting ❤

[yeehawbfs]

I saw something modern boys in modern clothes and then a friend and I came up with some modern au where dutch and Hosea are fostering john and Arthur and then everyone mostly goes to the same highschool and MAYBE I should write the actual hcs so I dont look like an idiot

[fandomsforyourthots]

Modern Valentine's Day HCs no one asked for

Y'all didn't ask, but imma do.

Just a couple of modernHC's for a few of our sweet outlaws for valentine's day and how they treat their SO.

Dutch:

-Think Of The Fanciest restaurant you know.

-That's where y'all gon be.

-Dutch has a love for the extravagant so you're getting SPOILED™

-New jewelry, new dress/suit, a bouquet of 100 roses, you're getting it all fam!

-Slow dancing

-"My god, how did I get so lucky?"

-Spends the whole night showing you off

Arthur:

-Arthur "country boy" Morgan is gonna do some country shit.

-He'll take you out to your favorite place to eat.

-You think that's it but instead of taking you home he drives out to the middle of nowhere

-"What are you doing Arthur?"

-"You didn't think that was it did ya?"

-He loaded a fuck ton of blankets into the back of his big ass lifted pick up with the intention of watching the stars with you.

-100% asks Charles for recommendations on the best spots for star gazing.

-Memorizes as many constellations and their locations as he can so he can point them out to you.

-You both end up falling asleep wrapped in blankets and each others arms.

John:

-John is a simple man, so it's gonna be a simple date, most likely dinner and a movie.

-Doesn't make it any less romantic though.

-He's on his best behavior. Opening doors for you, complimenting you whenever he can.

-When he spots people looking at you he wraps his arm around your waist and beams with pride.

-Will definitely be the one to be cliche and get you flowers and chocolates, maybe even a nice sized teddy bear.

-Stares at you all night, literally can not take his eyes off you.

Javier:

-Boiiii, off top you can bet you're getting serenaded that night.

-A dozen red roses show up at your house that morning though, completely unannounced with a little card that only has a heart on it.

-He takes you all over town to pamper you.

-Need your hair done? He gotchu. Need a new outfit for the day? He 👏🏾 got 👏🏾 chu 👏🏾

-For the actual date he decks out his house with the cheesiest romantic stuff. Rose petals on the floor and the dining table, candles everywhere.

-He runs you a bath and while you're in it he throws down in the kitchen, whipping up a full course meal cause you deserve it.

-Serenades you as you eat.

-You already know after the food is gone that you're getting that bomb D.

Charles:

-Hope you like nature, cause you're gonna be all up in it.

-He takes you to the peak of the tallest mountain he knows right before sunset.

-When the car can't go up anymore he 100% piggybacks you the rest of the way.

-Brings a whole assortment of food with you so you can eat while you watch the sun go down.

-Gifts you with the prettiest turquoise necklace and earring set that he made himself.

-"This is beautiful Charles, thank you."

-"Why are you thanking me? I'm the one who gets to see you wearing it. I should be thanking you."

-If you think he's not gonna make love to you on top of that mountain while the sun sets, you're wrong.

Hosea:

-He's also gonna take you to a nice restaurant, though not as over the top as Dutch.

-Brings you a bouquet of carnations.

-I hope you're ready to hear how amazing you are all night.

-Holds your hand as often as he can.

-Buys you a simple teardrop diamond necklace.

-Definitely puts it on for you.

-"You are absolutely stunning, my dear."

-Will also slow dance with you, a proud and happy smile on his face the whole time.

-Rest your head on his shoulder while you're dancing, he'll melt.

Sean:

-You already know y'all are gonna end up doing some fun shit.

-An amusement park or carnival is his go to.

-Will try to win you ALL the things.

-"Sean, I don't need another stuffed animal."

-"Course ya do! Can never ave' enough furry friends."

-Cheesy couples pictures on Instagram.

-Will definitely try to make out with you in the tunnel of love.

-Tries to impress you with that strength test thing.

-Fails, but he makes you laugh so that's good enough for him.

-You two stay all day so you can watch the fireworks together at night.

[cowboy-canoodler]

Javier HC’s: Thigh Riding

Anon asked: “thigh-riding with javier hc?”

Gimme that Mexican bussy

Javier

He loves pulling you up onto his lap in front of everyone at the fire, this lets you know what he plans for you later

Public displays of affection are rare for Javier, they’re reserved for foreplay and silent announcements of your impending sex.

“Well I’m gonna hit the sack” he’d announce to the gang but bring his lips close to your ear and whisper, “Care to join me, Corazón?” His voice a low purr that sent shivers down your spine

You’d obviously agree and walk hand in hand towards a private tent excited for whats to come

Javier will experiment in the bedroom, he’s open to new things, within reason of course, and will always try something you recommend

So when Javier asks for something you’re all ears, “I’d like to try something new tonight mi amor”  he caresses your arms as he presses his chest against your shoulders, craning his neck down and his lips resting against your ear, hot breaths sending waves through your nerves

“What is it?” you reply turning to face him as he brings a hand to your cheek, his thumb caressing in small circles.

Javier loves your eyes and could spend hours staring at them so when he sits down and pulls you to straddle his lap you happily comply and let him lead you by the hands, not once letting your eyes drift away from his as you let him take control of your body

NSFW

Your thighs each side of his, Javiers hands resting on you, one on your cheek the other on your hip

“Move your hips for me, my love” and you comply slowly grinding your hips and bringing your lips to meet Javiers

His cock started to get hard as your hips rubbed their way around his thighs and crotch, his breath latching in his throat with each grind

Your hands were all over each other, Javier’s lips caressed your throat and left love bites showing his admiration of you

His hips start thrusting into you, bucking you to go faster 

“I’m close mi amor, please” hearing him beg for you sent you into overdrive

Your hips worked faster and harder with your lips biting into Javiers, moans erupting from his throat as low growls, hands caressing and grasping at your clothes

When he comes he kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you, pulling your entire body close to him, brow kitted together and a stifled moan of your name

It takes a little while for Javier to release you, you stay on his lap with your arms entangled within each other, whispering small compliments back and forth.

After he changes you sleep cuddling each other, with Javier as the big spoon to thank you for earlier

[red-dead-simp]

[hello-mishki]

Warm Water - A Red Read Redemption 2 FanFic

Pairings

John Marston x Original Female Character

Javier Escuella x Original Female Character

Summary 

John Marston is a man torn between a family he feels obligated to and a woman he can't have.

Chapter 1 - Drowning

When word got to John that the gang were back in camp after pulling off a bank robbery in Valentine the previous day, he instinctively needed to seek her out.

Every fibre in his being needed to see that she was unharmed and safe, he couldn’t explain this urgent need, even after talking to Arthur and Karen briefly the night before about how it all went down. He needed to see her with his own two eyes like he needed air to breathe.

Where are you Rosa...

John knew that she loved to read in the solitude of the early hours, so he had made a point to be up just as early to catch her, away from prying eyes and before the toll of the day took its place.

‘Mornin’ John!’ Pearson greeted him cheerfully, John acknowledging the pudgy man with a grunt as he quickly scanned from tent to tent around the camp.

‘Have ‘ya lost somethin’ ?’ Pearson enquired when no greeting was returned.

I sure as hell hope not...

Pearson shrugged off his friend’s disregard and lit a cigarette, watching John as he marched out in the direction of the pier.

That’s when John finally saw her, bathing in the warmth of the sun’s first rays as she sat at the edge of the pier smoking a cigarette and reading a leather-bound book, curvaceous silhouette surrounded with a halo of golden light. John exhaled a long relieved breath at the sight, he gathered that she must have just woken up as it was only in these rare moments that he saw Rosa with her wild raven hair cascading freely down her back and over the soft full curves of her ample bosom, constricted within the white bodice she wore to bed, no shift underneath.

Bed. His mind stuck on the word and in that moment his mind raced to thoughts of how she looked in bed, how she felt. Tasted.

You goddamn fool. He chastised himself as he felt the his manhood tighten against his jeans with lustful daydreaming.

He knew damn well a woman like Rosa would never see him as anything other than just another criminal in this dysfunctional little family of degenerates. Thinking about them all, Javier stood out  amongst them suddenly and John’s jaw clenched at the recollection of Javier serenading Rosa in Spanish while he played the guitar by the campfire, how she’d throw her head back in laughter at Javier’s jokes. Jokes that he could not understand.

The spiral of ugly thoughts were brought to a halt when Rosa’s gaze lifted from her book and to John, piercing green eyes locking with his, making his heart catch in his throat. How long had he been standing there staring at her?

‘Mornin’ John.’ She spoke quietly. ‘You’re up early.’

John coughed at being caught off guard but her soft voice eased him, he had noticed that about her during her first weeks with the gang all those years ago. Whenever he had managed to speak to her alone, her tone was completely different to the gruff blunt manner she used when running jobs with the group, it was quiet and soft, a quality that Charles shared with her.

John didn’t fancy himself the sharpest when it came to people in general but he understood the need for Rosa’s pretence, how it must be real hard to be a woman in this world of blood and gunpowder. To command respect and to be heard above wild ego and hot-headed masculinity. It also didn’t go unnoticed to John that she didn’t keep up the pretence around him, that she felt comfortable in being herself.

John gave her a nod of acknowledgement, sitting beside her on the edge of the pier, searching her face for any trace of a clue as to how she felt in his presence, was he bothering her?  Her stoic expression remained as unreadable to him as the day they’d met, that was one veneer John couldn’t crack, no matter how hard he tried.

‘I heard you came back last night... I..” His raspy voice trailing off as he lost himself searching those bewitching doe-eyes of hers. She tilted her head to the side, waiting to hear the rest of his statement, the movement breaking John’s concentration as his gaze fell to the curve of her exposed neck. He was so used to seeing her in buttoned up collared shirts to disguise her figure, that he had forgotten just how feminine her frame was underneath the flannel and dirt.

“Yeah, we did. There were no casualties. Well... not on our end...” Rosa filled in the silence and John’s attention shifted back to their conversation. “The score was good. More than good.”

“Well ain’t that somethin ’ !” John gave her a gentle smile and Rosa looked away, finally breaking eye contact with him. He felt a pull at his heart at the lack of reciprocation.

They sat in silence, as they often did. John felt as though he never knew the right thing to say to Rosa, never had the right words, the right confidence. Not like Javier did...

He watched her soft full lips taking a deep slow drag of the cigarette between her fingers as she stared out at the horizon before offering it to him.

“What’cha got planned for today then?” She asked nonchalantly, breaking the silence between them, her gaze still fixed in the distance.

“Well... Arthur told us last night to go easy and lay low after the bank job you guys pulled... so I don’t really know what I’m plannin’ to do with myself if I’m bein’ honest.” John replied, taking the cigarette from her fingers, softly brushing her knuckles.

Rosa turned to him suddenly. “How’d you like to accompany me on an outtin’ today?”

The question caught John off guard, he smiled and cocked an eyebrow, brushing back the long strands of hair from his face before taking a quick drag of the cigarette.

“What you got in mind Rosa?” He asked, intrigued. He had never known Rosa to be vague. With her, there was always a place, a time, and a purpose.

He searched her face for answers during her moment of hesitation, she bit down on her lower lip for a moment before locking eyes with him, he felt a heat rise through him and his heart was racing with the possibilities playing out in his mind.

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Uh- I don’t think we gotta do any more jobs for a while... We’re pretty set thanks to you guys’ efforts last night.” John threw out a guess as to what she might have had in mind, she laughed softly and he didn’t know whether to feel stupid or happy for eliciting that reaction.

“I don’t wanna go robbin’ John.” Her emerald eyes sparkled with a tender laugh and his heart seemed to quiver whenever she spoke his name in her soft accent, but especially when she laughed and seemed happy as a direct result of him, in those moments where it felt like he had peeled away a layer to get a glimpse of the real Rosa.

She rose to her feet and tucked the book into back of her jeans, her tan hourglass figure towering above him before she reached down and gently shook his shoulder. “Are you commin’ or not? We should get going now before everyone wakes up and Grimshaw whips us all into chores.”

John immediately flicked the cigarette away and jumped to his feet, she didn’t have to convince him too hard. He’d be happy to shovel cow shit if it meant he could have some of her time to himself, but more to the point; he was deeply intrigued by what she had mind.

He followed her to where the horses were hitched, his eyes falling to her shapely behind. The way those black high-waisted jeans hugged her every curve, swaying rhythmically with each step as she crossed through the camp, watching her move was hypnotic to him. He especially loved watching her dance to Spanish songs that Dutch would play for her on his gramophone sometimes, the way her body moved could make a man commit a thousand sins. He knew it, Dutch knew it too. That old bastard had a soft spot for Rosa, much to Miss O’Shea’s blatant disdain.

"Get ‘yer horse and follow me."  Rosa directed as she stuffed her book into the saddlebag on her majestic ebony Arabian. John remembered Charles once saying how a horse often reflected the characteristics of their owner.

Charles couldn’t have been more right when it came to Rosa and her mare. Rosa had named her Black Belle, after the famous gunslinger, and her most prized cigarette card that she had won from Arthur during a bet. Black Belle was an elegant and speedy beast, fearless with a fiery temperament, could no one get near it but Rosa and god help them if they tried, might just end up with a broken rib or two.

John mounted his own horse, a thick and stubborn Rocky stallion, chuckling to himself still thinking of how right Charles’ analogy had been.

Rose shot him a look over her bare tan shoulder, the strap of her bodice hung lazily around it, waves of unruly black hair falling away at her back. ‘You ready?’

John gave her a short nod, not really knowing if he was truly ready for whatever Rosa had in mind.

 ***

 They rode out in silence, a knot forming in John’s stomach as he kept pace beside Rosa, a nervous excitement bubbling up inside as he galloped into this unknown venture. All he knew is that it felt good, he felt free. Free from the camp and his responsibilities. If just for a short while, he would savour this.

“So where we headin’?” John had to ask, the suspense was killing him after riding in silence for what seemed like an eternity.

“You’ll see soon enough John.” Rosa said, turning to him with a mischievous smile spreading across her lips, in turn stoking the fires of John’s nervousness.  “We’re nearly there.”

They diverged from the dirt path and cut through the forest, branches wiping their shoulders every now and then to remind them that they were in untrodden territory.

Is she planning to rob a camp? O’Driscolls perhaps?

Making their way deeper into the forest, she slowed her horse’s trot to a complete stop as a small secluded lake came into view. John was stumped by the beauty of the scene but also by the motive.

Rose slid off her horse gracefully and hitched the beast to a nearby tree. The sun’s heat was in full effect, today was going to be a scorcher and John for one was glad they were protected by the cooling shade of the trees all around them.

“We goin’ fishin’ ?” John asked as he unmounted, searching for clues as to why they were out here without asking again outright. “That’s more of a you and Javier thang, ain’t it?”

John regretted it the moment he said that, he didn’t realise he couldn’t say Javier’s name without a sting of envy, he prayed Rosa hadn’t noticed. If she had, she didn’t say a word, instead she gave her head a quick tilt towards the water, motioning him to follow her.

John let out a small sigh of defeat and followed her to the bank of the small lake, the emerald water sparkled in the sun’s rays filtering through the trees above, ripples twinkling like stars in the night sky. The longer he looked out into the lake’s waters, the more he began to notice the darkness beneath the surface, the bottomless unknown that lurked beneath the beauty, ready to swallow him up.

John shook off the dark thoughts and turned to Rosa, attempting to get some answers but fell short, his jaw slackened before any words came as he watched her nimble fingers make short work of unlacing the front of her bodice. John’s pulse quickened and he felt his heart begin to race. Rosa stopped her work as she felt his gaze upon her and stared back at him like she was waiting for something.

“Well c’mon then, don’t just stand there!” She motioned towards him with a nod of her head before turning her back to him and letting her bodice drop to the ground, then tugging at the belt around her waist. “Clothing makes swimmin’ a hell of a lot harder John, even harder when ya don’t know how to ‘ta begin with.”

John swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and let out a tumultuous groan as a war of emotions waged within him. He found himself both fearful and aroused, feeling slightly betrayed that she hadn’t been honest with her intentions, for letting him think... for letting him hope.

‘But would you have come had you known where she was taking you?’ The logical voice inside John’s head emerged.

The soft thud of Rosa’s belt falling to the ground beside her followed by her tight jeans got him out of his head and back to reality, a reality where she was naked, paces in front of him. And before his brain realised what his body was doing, he was unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it to the ground with furious haste.

Rosa’s long black hair covered most of her shapely backside as she walked into the water, yet John could still catch glimpses of her voluptuous figure as the soft breeze flickered her hair around her bare curves.

No. No. No! Not now. John hesitated shedding his jeans as he felt himself harden at the temptation of seeing her naked form before him. He tore his gaze away from her and inhaled sharply to steady himself.

Looking back up in her direction to see if she was looking his way before continuing to undress, but she was still wading into the dark waters with her back to him, so he let his well-worn jeans drop to his feet, placing both of his hands over his manhood as he stepped out of them and began to slowly make his way after her.

The cold water that lapped at his ankles stopped him in his tracks, the panic of the situation  rising.

“John?” Rosa called to him and his head rose from staring at his feet to see her ahead, deep enough so that the water was just covering her chest, he could vaguely make out her form in the water but she seemed so far away, as if being swallowed by depths of the dark waters.

I can’t do this.

Rose swam forward a few steps before stretching out her arms above the water’s surface towards him, motioning with both hands for him to come to her.

“John...” Her voice was soft as it called out to him and John swore he heard hint of pleading in her tone. “...You see where I am?”

John nodded, he felt a wave of embarrassment washing over his face, he lowered his head trying to hide the feeling from Rosa, his long hair falling over his face and he almost instinctively raised a hand to move it away.

“Ok, see here? I know it looks deep because you can’t see down in the water, but it’s not.” She continued in earnest. “I’m standing. My feet are planted firmly to the ground.”

Rosa gave him a few moments but he was frozen in place by fear and shame.

“You can walk right on over to where I am. You don’t even gotta swim to get here.” She coaxed him softly and waited.

John realised just how much of a scared little boy he must’ve looked to her in that moment, his hands covering his privates and too scared to walk in the damn water to her side even as she encouraged him with the patient of a Saint. John clenched his jaw with frustration at his foolishness, he knew Arthur would not have hesitated had he been in John’s place, Arthur was a real man. The sort of man John always wished he could be.

‘Be a goddamn man!’   Arthur’s words rang out in his head.

That was enough to stir him onwards, one foot after the other until he was waist deep, the water cooling the temper rising within him.

“If I drown in these here waters I’m gonna come back to haunt you ‘til the day you die!” John yelled, masking his nerves with a playful gesture to break the tension within him, bringing his arms up and slapping the surface of the water in her direction.

Rosa’s head dropped back in a fit of laughter as she brought her arms up to shield herself from the barrage of water, the sound of her laughter was a soothing melody that eased over John’s embarrassment and made him feel comfortable again.

“So lemme get this straight - “ She teased softly, arms still raised.  “Dutch forcefully pushes you off a harbour, into deep water mind you, and I’m the one you gonna kill?”

At hearing her mock indignation, a roguish grin spread over his lips as he began to lurch towards her and Rosa let out a scream, she knew she was done for.

John broke into a run, the water pushing against his movements slowed him and sent water shooting around them. He was surprised by the sluggishness of the movements as he pushed against the weight of the water, felt almost like he was trying to run through mud.

The sound of her throaty laughter spurred him on to move faster but just as he reached for her, she gracefully dove beneath the surface of the water and out of sight.

John stood there panting and out of breath until everything around him fell quiet and still, her laughter was gone and all that was left was the sound of the buzzing insects and the pounding of his heart in his chest.

He looked out to where she once stood and to where he now stood, he could barely make out his lower body, it vanished in the darkness of the water below him.

What else is down there?.... He could feel the panic slowly creeping in again.

“Rosa?” He called, his heartbeat quickening in his chest when there was no reply. “Rosa!”  A little louder this time, a little more urgent as he felt the dread setting in to his bones, rendering him unable to move and escape the abyss that threatened to swallow him whole.

“Woman this ain’t funny!” He shouted at surface of the lake, willing the last of his bravado.

In that moment Rosa emerged behind him with a soft gasp for air, sliding her slender arms underneath his and wrapping them around his chest, his heart beating at a million miles an hour from panicked adrenalin and at their newfound closeness.

John couldn’t remember the last time he had felt the touch of woman. Abigail barely looked at him these days. He felt like he was going to fall apart in her arms.

“I’m right here John.” She reassured him softly, sensing his tenseness in her embrace. Her breath hot on the back of his neck as she spoke, making hairs stand on end. He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice and the relief it brought, slowing his breathing and easing into the embrace.

John could feel her pressed against his back, all of her, as she held him. It took every ounce of strength he had not to turn around in that moment and take her in his arms.

“Breathe...” Rosa spoke in a hushed tone. “I’ve got you, John.” He could almost feel the scrape her soft lips on his neck, testing his resolve, sending shivers down his spine. He shut his eyes tighter to steel himself.

Dear lord have mercy... Her soft breasts against his back and the way her hands rested on his chest as she held him made it impossible, he instinctively spun around to face her but held back from doing anything foolish when her arms pulled away from him and back in to herself.

He stood, a head taller than her, frozen with indecision. Looking down into that doe-eyed expression that made his heart melt every damn time, searching them for a sign to guide him. His gaze trailing the water droplets that fell from her long dark lashes when she lowered her eyes, running down her pretty face where they settled on soft, full pink lips.

Was this a sign?

He extended a calloused hand to the side of her face, gently bringing it upwards to face him, he needed to be sure that she wanted it just as much as he did.

John watched with bated breath as her gaze lifted to meet his at his touch, her breath quickened and lips parted at the gesture, sending his desire for her reeling.  He desperately searched her eyes for reassurance but instead found a melancholia that surfaced in them, piercing his heart and straight to his soul. She was hurting from something, but she had never let anyone see it through her mask of indifference.

How did i never see this? John felt that hurt deeply, his hand falling away from her soft cheek, letting the tension between them grow heavy and thick, simmering in the silence.

“The first step is learning how to let go...”  Rosa’s voice broke the stillness that threatened to suffocate them both, realising that the words that came tumbling out her mouth may have been confusing for him.

“Learning how to float, i mean... That’s the first step.”  

And with that, Rosa slipped behind John again as if she were hiding herself from him. His heart heavy with disappointment in himself for not being able to fix what troubled her and longing for her closeness.

“Do you trust me?” She asked, the question bringing John out of his head.

“Why you gotta ask me somethin’ like that?....” John almost sounded hurt, he turned his head to the side and spoke over his shoulder to her, the scars on his face glistening wet in the faint rays of the sun. “O’ course I trust you Rosa.”

There was silence for a moment and he wished he could see her face. Did she still look sorrowful?

“John, I need you to lay back, into my arms...” She guided him. “I’m right behind you, ‘ya hear?”

John instinctively turned around to see just how far back she was and was met with a disapproving glare.

“I thought you said you trusted me?” Rosa’s mock upset tone almost worked until she chuckled softly at his hurt expression of protest. She splashed water at his face and spun her finger in the air, motioning at him to turn around again.

John shook his arms out, cocked his neck from side to side and took a deep breath, as if he was preparing himself for an ultimate feat of strength and endurance. The pantomime eliciting an easy laugh from Rose, he smiled at himself, proud of the reaction.

“Stop messin’ around Marston.” Rose laughed.  “Just lay back, I promise I ‘gotcha. Cross ma’ heart.”

John took a moment to regain his composure, he hesitated briefly, taking a deep breath before leaning his torso backwards slowly.

“That’s it...” The soft words of encouragement soothed his nerves but he was starting to feel himself tense up as it felt like his weight was dragging him backwards for the longest time and never hitting any support, like he was falling into the abyss. He panicked at the thought and it sent him reeling violently as he tried to stand himself, arms thrashing wildly, he couldn’t find his footing again and he swore something brushed his ankle.

The same dreadful feeling of helplessness and despair that had gripped him when Dutch had pushed him off the harbour came flooding back. Choking on mouthfuls of water in his panic as he tried to fill his lungs with air.

“John!” Rose called and in a flash her arms were around him, however in his wild state of terror, his lashing out was too strong to settle and she found herself being dragged into the writhing panic of his limbs and the pull of the water.

“John stop!” Rose spat out a mouthful of water after being dragged under the weight of his arms momentarily, she wrangled them into her body and brought him in close, arms wrapped tightly around him in an attempt to hold him still.

“Ssshh-shhh shhh....”  Rosa hushed as she attempted to soothe him, bringing one arm up to hold his head against her chest, resting the side of her face against the top of his head as she spoke. “Nothing bad’s gonna happen to ‘ya i swear... I got you.”

“Rosa....I- I’m...” His breath came harsh and ragged.

“You’re ok now. I got’cha.”

John brought his arms around her and held her tight, like she was beacon in a storm, he held on for dear life. Her hushed voice comforting him, guiding him back to the present. John felt the quickened beating of her heart as his head rested against her chest. He closed his eyes, feeling ashamed of acting like such a frightened child who needed to be coddled.

Some goddamn man you turned out ‘ta be... An image of Arthur came back to mock him.

When Rosa was satisfied that John had come to a stillness she pulled out of his grip, cupping his face in her hands, he prepared himself for a scolding at being so foolish and nearly drowning them both, but what came was confusing.

“I’m sorry, John.” Her apology came out in a shaky near whisper, he couldn't understand what she was sorry for.

“What for? That I’m a fucken’ coward?”

“Stop that.” His harsh words had made her snap, but she softened just as quick, her thumb gently caressing the scars on the side of his face, the touch felt electric. “Don’t... Don’t talk like that.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry...” John spoke quietly, ashamed. “Here you are, wasting your free time on an ol-”

“I am not wastin’ my time.” Rosa cut off his self-loathing speech before he had a chance to get started, still holding his face as she spoke, pulling him in closer as if she wanted him to hear her very clearly. “Helpin’ someone is never a waste of time. I.. I wanted you to learn how ‘ta swim because it’s a life skill anyone should have. Like ridin’ a horse or shootin’ a gun.”

There was a deep sincerity in her voice and the kindness of her words touched John in a way that he wasn’t prepared for.

“Remember when you taught me how to tame a wild horse?” She asked him.

How could he forget? Days after her horse had been shot as a result of an ugly bit of business, John had tracked a herd out near Manzanita Post in the hopes of getting Rosa a new one. He’d taught her how to approach the Thoroughbred with calmness, something Rosa sorely lacked herself at the time. He’d never forget the moment she’d broke the horse in, a smile so bright he’d never seen it since, laughing excitedly as she called his name and he beamed with pride, and later that afternoon when they got back to Blackwater, how she unexpectedly hugged him tight and planted a kiss on cheek. He thought about that day, more than he should perhaps.

“You taught me somethin’ so valuable John... and alls i keep thinkin’ is on how sad it would be to have to tell little Jack that his outlaw daddy drowned...”  Her tone was jovial as she spoke of him drowning but John’s jaw clenched at the word “daddy”. She had felt that reaction and let her hands fall away from his face and onto his chest before continuing. “...that it wasn’t some heroic last stand endin’ with a bullet ‘tween the eyes. That it was the water what took him.”

“Rose... Jack, he -” Rosa pulled her arms away from his chest suddenly.

“And ya can’t be leavin’ Abigail again. Not like that.” She continued, not giving him the opportunity to remind her that it was his strong belief that he wasn’t Jack’s biological father. As if that would change anything.

“I think she would’a rather lost ‘ya to the wolves...”

At hearing Abigail’s name and the way Rose had withdrawn herself from him, he saw it again, a look of pain that surfaced in her eyes. The realisation was like a slap across the face to John.

He didn’t know how to start, so he stood speechless, the hurt now reflecting in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I tried ‘ta force it...” Rosa looked away, she had never been one to let anyone see her vulnerability, the life she’d lead demanded it for self-preservation, she turned back towards the river bank. “...we can try this again whenever ‘yer ready.”

John knew he wasn’t a bright a man when it came to dealing with women but he felt in his heart that in this moment Rosa wasn’t talking about swimming. That realisation, along with her turning to leave, was like a knife to his chest.

“Rosa, stop.”

“C’mon, let’s get ourselves dry. I have to go to Valentine for supplies... I’ll catch ‘ya back at camp later on...” Rosa ignored his request.

“Rosa, please.”

John reached his arm out through the water to find her wrist, clasping it in his hand to make her stop.

“Please...” He pleaded with her softly, not wanting the move to come across in an aggressive manner as he pulled on her arm gently, guiding her to face him again. Her gaze continuing to evade his.

“What is it John?” The hint of frustration in her voice made him think twice about pushing the subject but he couldn’t bare to let her continue to think things that may not be true.

“You know, that boy ain’t mine.” He started, but unsure of how to proceed.

“You don’t know that he ain’t.”  Rosa shot back, she’d heard this story before from the women around camp, even from Arthur once.

“I don’t know that he is.”

“So?” Rosa challenged him, her tone defiant with eyes full of fire. This was the woman he was familiar with in camp. The one who never backed down from confrontation, the one who passionately stood up for others when they could not do the same for themselves even if it put her at great risk, even if it got her horse shot in the past.

“So?” John repeated in confusion, suddenly feeling defensive.

“Whatever the case may be, that sweet child looks at you and sees his daddy. Blood ain’t got nothin’ to do with being a good father.” Rose’s sharp tone wavered at the last words. John knew this was a tough subject for her, he had heard the stories of her Father, a vile excuse for a man.

“But it does have everything to do with this right here....” Rosa closed the distance between them and placed a hand over his heart. “... and I know you’re a good man John.”

At her touch, John conceded without saying a word, simply placing his hand over where her’s rested on his chest.

“I don’t feel like a good man, Rosa.”

Her expression softened and she offered him a tender reassuring smile, her free hand reaching up to tuck long strands of John’s hair away from his face and behind his ear, her fingers lingering there in a moment of hesitation before pulling away, John catching them before she could completely. A soft surprised gasp escaped her lips at his impulsive gesture.

John brought her hand to the side of his face and turned into it, sinking a kiss into the palm of her soft wet hands, his eyes leaving her still parted lips to meet hers.

“I try.” John’s hoarse voice lowered to a whisper. “I-... I wanna be a good father to the kid. I really do.”

“You are John.... You just gotta stop with all this nonsense talk that he ain’t your Son. Could you imagine what hearin’ somethin’ like that from the man he looks up to and calls daddy would do to that poor little angel’s heart?” Rosa paused for a moment. “There’s a lot of people in this here world that can hurt us John... but ain’t nothin’ hurt more than the disallowance from those we hold dear in our hearts.”

John felt the white hot flush of embarrassment at being scolded like a damn fool fill his face, but he knew she was right. He never really knew his own parents but he understood the pain of being denied by the very people in this world who were supposed to love you. John never talked about it, but it haunted him.

Rosa gently slipped her hand out of his grasp and stepped away, ripples of water sparkled in the sun’s rays all around them.

“I should be gettin’ on...” She said softly, he nodded. He had made enough of a fool of himself for one day. Why did it feel with every step forward he took in getting to know her, he always ended up two steps back from where they’d started.

John followed her out to the shallows, silently contemplating how he had messed up a perfectly good opportunity with her. He fought the urge to grab her arm and beg her to not to leave, that he was ready. But instead he left her to the privacy of dressing herself by her horse as he did the same, fighting a heavy feeling in his heart.

John listened to her movements, she had mounted her horse and was ready to go. He turned to see her off, Rosa’s long raven hair slicked back, still wet. Her tan complexion and full lips dotted with beads of water. She was a stunning natural beauty, exotic and fiery. How in the world had he ever gotten the idea that a woman like that would ever be interested in him.

“Rosa...” He walked over to her and gently patted Black Belle as he spoke. “Thank you for today... I really mean that. Was real kind of you.” He paused, willing the nerve to ask the question hanging over him.

“Can we try this again some time?” His throat suddenly felt dry, he swallowed hard, bracing himself for the rebuff.

“Sure. Just don’t you go around tellin’ people how kind i am John! I need ‘em to keep believin’ I’m a sour bitch, ok?” Rosa joked with a soft laugh, she often did so in a way to dismiss the seriousness of a conversation. He had noticed that about her, she never took a compliment or a kind word.

“Do you know remember the way out?”

John nodded, feeling a sense of relief at her previous response. “Yes ma’am, cut through the forest straight ahead until you hit the path and head West where it forks.”

“You got it! Ride hard and you’ll be dry in no time.”  Rosa gripped the reins and steered her mare in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” John called. “Are you sure i can’t be of some help to you in Valentine?”

Her head turned back to him, she hesitated briefly and John was praying that she would consider letting him stay with her a while longer.

“You can’t help me with what I need John.”

John stood there confused, trying to understand and find meaning in her response. Before he even had a chance to ask, Rosa and Black Belle had bolted into the forest.

Chapter 2  | Chapter 3

[pinkysberg]

hello friends if u wanna read along w my john marston character study where im writing him as autistic feat. both jovier and abigail x john uhhhh here u go I'll b updating steadily but probably not posting it here

[reddeadreference]

Guarma - Outfits

So the only characters from the Van Der Linde gang that are on the island are Arthur, Dutch, Javier, Bill, and Micah. They all have the same clothes as the bank heist (only missing pieces) and only wear those while on the island.

For comparison, above is what they were wearing on the boat and below is how they looked on the island.

(Arthur is the only one who lost his shoes...)

[red-dead-simp]

[red-dead-simp]